#and of course no one else moves the way he does

[soleminisanction]

So a while back I ran the numbers to confirm a suspicion that fandom trends towards a trans Tim Drake, and there's a lot of bits and pieces around his canon material that I think contributes to that interest. But there's a particular, subtle one that's been poking at my mind a lot because I think it might actually be a pretty significant factor that nobody really notices:

His costumes.

The original Robin costume, the one Dick and Jason wore, is childish but exposing. It's innocent enough when they're being drawn as spunky children, but during the period when Dick's still wearing it into his late teens and early 20s, it's practically as revealing as a lot of the women's costumes (and, in retrospect, almost certainly laid some of the groundwork for him sometimes being sexualized by the art and writing the way female characters normally are -- George Pérez, at least, absolutely put him on display every bit as much as he did Starfire and Donna).

Damian's costumes, meanwhile, lean more into archaic/fantasy armor designs and are thus largely genderless outside some vague allusions to the codename's Robin Hood roots. And Steph's is, well, a minidress, and one designed to show off her figure, drawing explicit attention to her femininity.

But then you have Tim's most iconic costume, his original one, which is not only fully covering in a way the original look isn't, it also, by virtue of being designed in the 90s, sports a very specific feature: molded body armor shaped to look like pectoral and abdominal muscles. In other words -- an idealized male body.

Not every artist always included that detail, but it was an explicit part of the design that you don't see as much these days, at least not for teen heroes. Which means it's inadvertently the perfect costume for a trans masculine Boy Wonder. It's got built-in body shaping. The cape and tunic layers even help to make his shoulders look wider.

Tim's second costume, the OYL later suit, doesn't explicitly have this body shaping element, but some artists still hint at it in the same way that Dick's Nightwing suits do (ie, we assume they're not showing off their real muscles with skintight suits for safety reasons, but who knows). Plus it comes with the bonus gay longing of changing the colors to mourn the dead crush he's too deep in the closet to recognize.

And then you've got his modern Robin look which has the same kind of shaping going on in a sleaker, more subtle way, though it can vary from artist to artist how much the red part of his suit is drawn as a breast plate vs. a part of the bodysuit.

As a bonus, the design also has a tendency to make him look lean and lithe, in an interesting contrast to Damian who, despite being physically smaller than Tim, tends to have a presence that makes him come across as stockier and more solid, possibly because he's more heavily armored.

You even see this with some of Tim'snon-Robin looks. I've mentioned this elsewhere but, the original Red Robin look making him look older when the cowl was up honestly makes a lot of sense. That suit was originally designed for a Dick Grayson who was pushing 60 to conceal the extent of his age while still communicating his maturity and development. It makes sense that it'd work the other way, to make 17 year old Tim look like he's in his late 20s/early 30s.

It's tunic over a body suit design is also just aesthetically pleasing in terms of forming an elegant male body type, the same way a well-cut suit can be. Again, it does especially nice things for the shoulders, which is why I personally prefer it to the fully bodysuit redesign they give him in the latter part of the series. Although as we can see from the details in Marcus To's art, even that body suit has seams strategically placed to suggest muscles.

And then of course there's the 2016 Rebirth era Red Robin costume, which is just a more heavily-armored version of his classic Robin look that's trying really hard to make him look masculine and mature, which means... exaggerated muscles.

And the thing is, it's not that this doesn't happen with other characters' costumes. But for various reasons it specifically didn't happen with the other Robin costumes, like I described at the start.

Which is not something I think people consciously notice. But I do know that, when I was writing my transmasc Tim fanfic a few years before realizing that I myself was also transmasc, one of the images that solidified the story for me was how good it would've felt the first time a transmasc Tim put on his new Robin costume and saw the Boy Wonder looking back at him. And I remember specifically thinking about how nice the shaped armor would be for that sort of thing.

It's kinda funny how an obvious attempt to enforce gender norms wound up, for lack of a better term, backfiring, at least in my opinion. There's just something about exaggerating the masculinity of Robin, a role designed to contrast and foil the already exaggerated masculine ideal of Batman, that makes it feel like a performance.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Cold Jealousy

I am back once again with more Silco brain rot. Feeding all of you who need the content as well as myself.

Summary: Who knew jealousy was all it took for to have your first kiss with Silco?

He hates the coiling in his stomach that arises whenever you laugh at something a patron says. It sickens him, seeing you lean in so close to another man, your lips moving as you say something and then smile, causing the table to burst into laughter. He knows you're simply close friends with them, after all they are your childhood friends, people who grew up with you, so of course you'd act overly familiar with them but he can't stop his chest from tightening, his fingers twitching.

The nib of his pen pierces through the page he was writing on and he scowls angrily at the mess, trying to drown out your voice but it's intoxicating, a melody that snatches his attention away from the numbers in his notebook. Your laughter is like a drug, leaving him wanting more every time he hears it, and the thought that it's someone else eliciting it drives him insane.

"You alright there?" Vander slides him a glass of scotch, worry clear gentle grey eyes.

"I'm fine," Silco spits back, a little harsher than intended. Of course Vander would notice something was off, Vander knew him way too well. He turns back to his notebook, trying to suppress the whispers that begin to cloud his mind and stares at the numbers, willing them into his brain.

"You know they only have eyes for you right? They don't look at anyone the same way they look at you." Vander glances over at the table where you're currently playing a game of cards, and from the looks of it, losing.

"I know," Silco scowls, stabbing the page with his pen. Vander simply huffs and turns to attend to the customer who just pulled up at the counter. Silco rolls his eyes and closes the notebook, he's done for the night. There's no way he can continue concentrating when you laugh like that, when butterflies flutter in his chest and turn to stone as he remembers you're not laughing at something he said or did.

"I'm going to get some air," he grunts, slipping out the back door.

Out of habit, he makes his way to the rooftop, sitting at his usual spot and looks out at the sprawling underground city beneath. Neon lights flash from various stores like stars, illuminating figures as people walk past but the silhouettes disappear just as quickly, fading back into obscurity. It's the same pattern every night, he's memorised some of the figures already, knows the habits of certain individuals, and has noted the important ones. He spots the lady with twin brown hair buns who frequents the brothel opposite, the two enforcers who always sneak into the nearby drug store during their nightly patrol and nearly misses the sound of your footsteps.

"Hey." You take your seat next to him.

"Y/N." He barely spares you a glance before looking back at the city below. The night wind whistles through the air, sending shivers through his body and he curls up, hugging his knees to his chest. Dammit, he forgot his coat. The air here is chillier at this time of the year, being so far away from the hustle and bustle of the city's nightlife, but it brings a sense of peace that he treasures, especially when it's with you. Tonight, it just feels cold, probably from his lack of a coat, but there's a numbness he can't explain.

The clink of glass snaps him out of his thoughts and he glances up to see you produce a bottle of wine as well as two glasses.

"Sorry, I couldn't swipe a bottle of scotch so I grabbed the next best thing before anyone could catch me," you smile at him and pop the bottle open. The red liquid sloshes in the glass as you fill it up and hand it to him, "peace offering?"

He wrinkles his nose but takes the glass anyways, mumbling a thank you before letting the liquid slide down his throat. It doesn't have the same burn as scotch does, but there's still a pool of warmth that sits in his belly, although it does little to alleviate the chill he feels.

You smile and pour a glass for yourself, taking a sip, following the direction of his eyes. Silco swirls the red liquid around in his glass, biting his lip. The silence is awkward, but he won't be the first to break it, his pride won't let him. Fortunately, you shift closer to him and shrug your jacket off, wrapping it around his shoulders.

"Don't catch a cold on me."

He snorts in response, tugging your jacket tighter around himself. It smells nice, smells like you with a hint of his cigar's smoke. He can pick out the scent of wine, the smell of the soap you use to wash the jacket, the remnants of Piltover's smell from your afternoon stint and a small smile makes its way onto his face as he remembers the way you threw yourself at him, clutching a bag of freshly baked bread, laughing as you yelled at him to run for his life. The pool of warmth resting in his belly spreads to the rest of his body, sending tingles up his spine as he buries his face into the jacket's fabric. The fabric is worn but still maintains a certain level of softness, and it feels as nice as it smells.

He watches as you finish your glass and exchange it for the bottle, remembering his own unfinished glass and takes another sip. Scotch was still the best drink, a shame you didn't manage to filch a bottle of it. You down half the bottle in one go, sighing in satisfaction and gesture at his glass.

"You don't have to force yourself to finish it, you know?"

He scowls, and finishes the rest of his wine, all the while staring right at you. "As if I'll let you have any of mine."

You laugh, and he finds that your laughter sounds better when it's because of something he said than when it's because of something someone else said, besides, there's the added bonus of giddiness that fills him. He smiles, for the first time tonight and sets the glass down next to yours. The awkwardness has been broken, much to his relief and he feels as though he can breathe easier.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" You gesture towards the myriad of lights. "Piltover's lights can't compare to this."

"That's because most of their lights are the same colour," he snorts, "but yes…it is beautiful."

You beam, taking another swig from the bottle and set the bottle down, leaning back on your hands. The night breeze ruffles through your hair, playing with its strands and Silco watches as a couple of strands fall between your eyes, causing you to huff and puff at it until it falls off your face. The next gust of wind is stronger and you shiver, shifting closer to him. He shakes his head and throws the left half of your jacket over your shoulders so it covers the both of you.

"Don't you catch a cold on me either."

"Thank you for sharing my jacket." You roll your eyes, nudging his shoulder with your own. He nudges you back, the back and forth going on for a while until the jacket slips off your shoulder and he leans over to pull it back on. Electricity crackles from where his skin brushes against yours and he feels his heart leap into his throat when he looks up at you, realising how close the two of you are.

Sure, the both of you know how the other feels, knows the unspoken truth but continue to dance around each other, fearful of what acknowledging the feeling would bring, but tonight just feels right. He feels your hand intertwine with his and he leans in, throat bobbing as he swallows hard. You lean in as well and your lips meet for the first time.

The feeling is addicting, Silco quickly learns. The way your lips lock with his perfectly, the way you lean in as his fingers run through your hair, the way your free arm wraps around his waist, pulling him closer, all of this makes him wish this moment will never end. Unfortunately, the both of you need to breathe and so he reluctantly parts from you, pressing his forehead against yours. It feels natural, to feel your warmth, to hold you underneath your jacket, and from the way you're looking at him with such adoration in your eyes, you feel the same way.

It doesn't need to be said, nothing needs to be said, the only thing he needs to do is close the gap once more and taste the wine on your lips, savouring the sweetness of it all. This is the one time he will admit that wine tastes good, but he still prefers scotch.

Your hand gently cups his cheek and he finds himself leaning into the touch. Your thumb runs over his skin, brushing along his cheekbone and he sighs, surrendering to your warmth. A small smile graces your lips and he can't help but smile back, although his smile is rather lazy.

"We should head back before Vander has to come and haul us away," you murmur and Silco reluctantly extracts himself from your touch.

"And before he closes the bar up so that we don't have to wash the glasses." He picks said glasses up, nudging the empty bottle towards you. "You are still going to throw the bottle away, I'm not touching that."

"Why? You were so eager to touch my saliva just moments ago," you tease, mirth decorating your features.

"I'm not about to deny you your responsibilities." He ducks out of the way as you try to shove the empty bottle into his arms, quickly making his way back into the bar before you can succeed in making your problem his. He hears your annoyed shouts behind him and laughs, sliding into the bar's counter.

Vander raises an eyebrow as Silco places the glasses in the sink and darts off, then shakes his head as you come barreling in, demanding that Silco help you as payment for the wine he drank. He grabs the both of you by your collars and drops you both at the sink. "I believe washing everything in the sink will suffice as payment for the bottle of wine."

You groan when you see the amount of empty cups in the sink and Silco laughs, turning on the water tap. At least you're trapped in this with him, the washing should go by faster.

As the both of you hunch over the sink, you give him a little nudge with your elbow. "Next time, if you're jealous, just step in. I'll leave with you, I promise."

"Jealous?" He splutters. "I wasn't jealous!"

"Sure you weren't, Mr 'angrily stabs an innocent piece of paper with his pen'. Keep trying."

He huffs, turning his attention back to the glass he's currently wiping dry. "I wasn't jealous."

"Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that. I doubt that changes facts though."

"Nobody said that was a fact."

You lightly punch him in the shoulder with your damp fist and he mock glares at you, smacking your arm with the drying cloth but can't stop the smile that's forming on his face.

"Don't ever doubt yourself," you say softly. "You mean everything to me."

And you mean everything to me too.

[twoflowers]

Stiff Shoulders, Weak Knees: Sanji x Reader

Read on AO3

Description: Sanji has been hard at work in the kitchen; you decide his stiff shoulders need a bit of attention. Predictably, Sanji is a mess. You didn't realize it would be quite this easy to get Black Leg Sanji on his knees. (SFW, suggestive)

Tags: Massage, nosebleeds (of course), light fdom, female reader, no use of Y/N, no description of reader, AND: (Sanji's constant need for validation of his cooking skills, Sanji's eternal need to be of use to the people around him, and Sanji's fantasy of being a fairytale knight kissing the hand of a beautiful queen he has pledged undying loyalty to. This man is a dork, people!)

Word count: 1276. Something short and sweet while I work on a longer fic based on a prompt by @mere-mortifer

Give this video a thumbs up if this man should actually get a massage in part 2!

Stiff Shoulders, Weak Knees

Sanji startles when you put a hand on his shoulder, not because he didn't sense you behind him (he could never fail to notice you entering a room, has been feeling pleasant, anticipatory prickling on his scalp and the back of his neck since you entered the kitchen), but because you've never touched him like this before. An occasional brush of arms, sure. A slightly more frequent brush of fingers, absolutely. He only seems to lose his grip on dishes when he's handing them to you, which is by complete coincidence. 

But your hand is firmly on his shoulder, fingers settling above his collarbone even when he turns to look at you.

“May I make anything for you?” He asks automatically. He carefully avoids looking at your hand in case you're touching him by accident - best not to remind you.

You smile fondly. “After tonight's dinner, I don't think I could eat anything else if I tried. It was excellent.”

Sanji can already feel his knees weakening. Excellent: now there's a good word, a perfect word, that he'll hold onto for later. 

“I'm so glad you think so. I thought of you especially while making it.”

“You say that to all the ladies.”

“It's true.”

Your hand is still on his shoulder. You tighten it a bit, perhaps appreciatively, perhaps condescendingly. He isn't sure which option he likes best.

“I brought my plates back down.” You gently set them in the sink with your other hand, and Sanji immediately picks up his sponge again. He doesn't know when he dropped it. 

“I'll get them done right away,” he stutters. “You're sure you don't want anything? A nightcap? Some tea? - I have a wonderful hibiscus from our last time on shore that would pair nicely with-”

“Sanji…” The quirk of your lip makes it certain: you are condescending him. A small shudder racks his shoulders.

“Mm?” His eyes flicker back and forth from you to the dishes. 

“You're working too hard,” you squeeze sharply at his shoulder, and he jumps at the pain. He's biting his lip when he finally makes eye contact, cheeks already starting to flush.

“See? Your muscles are so stiff.” You move behind Sanji, slipping your other hand up his back and to his opposite shoulder. You dig your thumbs into the muscles bracketing his spine, and he jerks forward toward the sink as if pulled by an invisible force. “Does that hurt?”

“You could never hurt me,” he breathes. 

“Oh?” You tighten your grip, thumbs poking deeply into his stiff back and stroking upwards to his neck. Hard, firm pressure. 

Sanji’s hands reach out to grip the edge of the sink. The sponge falls forgotten into soapy water. His knuckles are white, arms trembling. “Nothing… you do to me could ever hurt me.” His voice is wavering in a delicious way. “Even if it’s painful.”

You hum thoughtfully, dipping one of your thumbs under the collar of his shirt. Skin swipes against skin, and Sanji lets out a whine. 

“We can’t have our cook in anything less than peak condition, can we?” You mumble, still thumbing his soft skin. 

Sanji lets out something halfway between a gasp of pleasure and a laugh of disbelief, hands clenching still tighter.

“We need you healthy,” your hands move down his back, resting just under his shoulder blades. “I need your cooking.”

Somehow, that’s what breaks him. He arches forward with a groan, shoulders shaking.

“Let me help you relax,” you offer. “How about a massage?”

One of Sanji’s hands shoots from the sink to under his nose. He audibly swallows; blood dribbles down his fingers as he pulls his hand away. He nods weakly.

“What was that?” You can’t help but prod, not when he’s this vulnerable. Sometimes you feel like Sanji is a big bruise that you can’t help but poke at.

He nods again. Your hands instantly find his waist, thumbs stroking circles through his suit jacket.

“Use your words.”

“Please. Anything.”

“Such good manners,” you coo. You slip your hands away from Sanji, savoring the way his body freezes in anticipation. You take a lace handkerchief from the counter and gently cup his chin, turning his face towards you.

He looks so small, curling forward like he can’t trust his knees to hold him upright. His face is an impressive shade of red, almost as dark as the blood dripping over his plush, bitten lips. His eyes, surprisingly, aren’t as gleaming and heart-shaped as they usually are around you. 

You can’t help but grin at having finally caught him so off-guard. His eyes become wide, almost frantic, as you swipe a thumb over his chin. There you are. Finally, finally, I’ve reached underneath.

You hold his face more firmly and bring the towel up to clean him, but he flinches. Not away from you- you have a feeling he couldn’t move away if he tried.

“I don’t want to stain it,” he all but begs. “It was… I was planning on using it for plating your evening tea.”

“I told you I’m not hungry.” It’s blatant, obvious teasing, but Sanji’s eyes droop miserably nonetheless. 

“Here we go…” You wipe the handkerchief under his nose. Blood saturates lace, and Sanji’s eyes flutter shut in defeat. 

When you’re done, you pull away and fold the cloth carefully. Sanji watches in equal parts confusion, misery, and awe. When you tuck it into your pocket, Sanji gasps, another trickle of blood falling onto his lips.

“I just finished cleaning you up,” you scold. 

Sanji’s lip quivers from the humiliation, but you quickly lean forward and place your lips under his nose. It’s barely a kiss. You pull away shortly after, tongue darting out to taste his still-warm blood. 

Sanji drops to his knees so hard you hear bone hit wood. His shaking hands grasp one of yours, pulling it to his lips: no contact, just puffs of hot, frantic breath. One knee up, and he’d look like a soldier being knighted by his queen. 

“May I?” He’s trembling. He almost looks like he’s salivating. Your hand is small in his, but his are so much softer, skin scrubbed down from washing dishes, still red-tinged from the sink’s hot water.

You nod, and he gasps into the first kiss. His lips linger on the back of your hand, wet and bloody. You flip it over, and he moans, kissing your palm and trailing up your inner arm. The entire time, his eyes are on yours, searching for the faintest hint of displeasure. 

“Sanji?”

He immediately pulls away, breathing hard, still tentatively holding your hand. 

“Yes?” He looks ready for any command. Blood is smeared across his face and up your arm. You didn’t realize it would be quite so easy to get Black Leg Sanji on his knees, but you should have expected as much.

“The goal was to make you more comfortable. You look like you’re hurting your knees.”

Sanji shakes his head with enough ferocity that his bangs are knocked out of place, almost covering his other eye. “I could never complain about being allowed this.” 

He looks at your arm with some panic, then begins to wipe the blood away with his own shirtsleeve. 

“Sanji. Stand up.”

He obeys immediately.

“We are going to go to my quarters,” you say. 

He nods along dumbly. 

“And you are going to lie on my bed.”

His face flushes a brilliant red.

“And I’m going to give you an incredible massage.”

He swallows, swaying forward on his feet. You take the cue to grab him by his tie and lead him down the hallway, dishes long forgotten.

[ghouljams]

Hi, another nerd here— in a more “meta” sense, Hephaestus is married to Aphrodite because he’s the only god who works! He’s slaving away at a forge n shit while all the other gods fuck around and feed each other grapes! Do with that information what you will

Of course he's always busy when you make your way to the forge, waving you off when you try to talk to him, and glaring at your feet when you try to pick your way closer. He never responds to you with more than a grunt, always ignores you in favor of whatever work he's doing, never has time for you. You don't think your husband likes you very much.

But you like the forge. It's the one place you're allowed to be dirty, the only place that let's you be quiet. You may cough on the soot and sweat from the heat of the fire, but where else can you go where the air sticks to your skin and sloughs off you to darken your bath water? Where else can you go to see the flex of your husband's powerful muscles, the tension in his back as he brings a hammer down on glowing lightning bolts, or the sheen of his sweat in the light of the forge? You think it's unfair for the other gods to call your husband ugly when every part if his body betrays his power, his strength, his firm resolve. Your eyes follow the deft twist of his fingers, the blunt press of his nails, as he does fine detail work, and you wonder how the other gods can call him a brute?

You get a peak of tiny gears and tightly wound springs, miniscule screws and golden nails, from the wooden stool you're so often relegated to in the corner of the forge. Intricate machinery, insects and animals that move with a life you know no other god could impart. Maybe it isn't love, but it's certainly admiration that keeps you coming back to the forge.

Even if you still go to bed alone.

[inkyarcturus]

I think there’s two ways that Harry could react to this continued mistreatment, implosion or explosion. While I love a good implosion, I think that’s a lil too much angst for the night, so explosion it is >:D (I gave u some fluff at the end)

Harry’s jealousy starts getting the better of him. He starts screaming a lil louder, mouthing off more often, disobeying Severus more.

It starts slow with Harry muttering more insults under his breath, it becomes automatic whenever he sees Severus treating one of the other kiddos.

Then, he starts rolling his eyes, sighing, huffing, nearly stomping like a child whenever Severus does something. He recognizes how infantile it all is but he just can’t seem to stop himself.

Then he starts insulting him in his face, purposefully putting the wrong ingredient in while brewing, turning in poor work, coming in late to class more often than not.

At some point he stops thinking of this as retribution for the pain hes caused/missing Harry’s abuse, or as a way of protecting his friends, and instead starts seeing it as more a desperate cry for help.

A desperate “HEY LOOK AT ME!!! IM BEING A PROBLEM, WILL YOU HELP ME NOW?”

Throughout the entire time, Hermione is watching this unfold with keen eyes. She tries warning Snape, he does not listen.

It gets so bad he starts trying to get Ron and Nev to stop going to the lil check up meetings the Snape has for them throughout the year. He notices how much he’s changed and all it does is make the feelings feel bigger and worse. He is tearing everyone else apart and himself in the process.

Everything comes to a head when Snape catches one of his comments while helping Nev. Snape asked Nev to stay after class to check up on him. They had just got done with a potions class where the two of them partnered up together and their potion exploded, causing them to get harsh burns on their arms. Harry quickly hides that he was affected by the explosion.

Snape only asks Nev to stay after, not Harry. Harry stays anyways, stalling to watch as Snape grabs some burn ointment to help Nev.

“It doesn’t hurt THAT bad, it’s just some burns you don’t have to heal him.”

Fuck.

Snapes head snaps up at him and he glares.

Double fuck.

Harry winces at his own words, still pulling down his sleeves so the burns don’t show. He regrets it as soon as the words come out of his mouth. Cuz he has the same burns as Nev and he knows they hurt like hell, he knows his jealousy is what’s speaking.

Snape looks back at Nev, done applying the burn ointment and sends him off, voice soft. He forces Harry to stay back.

The argument is catastrophic. It includes Harry’s accidental magic going haywire, it includes screaming, crying, attempts at running and too many realizations to count on Snapes side.

While Harry tries to run out of the classroom, Snape grasps at his injured arm, causing him to yelp in pain. It’s the catalyst for Severus’s noticing. He pulls Harry back and pulls his sleeve back, revealing the burn. It’s quiet, it’s still as Severus is forced to confront his own negligence.

Then he moves, quickly as he can accioing a bottle of the burn ointment (a stronger dosage, of course potter was injured worse than Longbottom) he tries his best to calm the wriggling Harry in his grasp, softly shushing him as he puts on the ointment.

Harrys sobbing trying to deny it, screaming his frustrations over why Snape just couldn’t fucking see it dammit, it’s written in his mind, in his body, in his soul.

All the while Severus just continues to softly apologize for it all in hushed tones, continuing to apply the potions, not letting him run and hide from him this time. Because while Harry is right, in a way it was obvious the entire time, his body kept the score, but his brain just couldn’t seem to let anyone see the score board.

And in the end, It is not the best, but it is better. It is a start.

(Something something, Harry ending up on snapes lap sobbing his eyes out and Snape just letting him until he falls asleep, tension gone from his body as he finally feels safe and seen)

Tw: Child abuse

While I don’t envision Harry to be a particularly jealous person in the books, I can’t help but think about certain situations with Severitus where that emotion might come out.

I especially think about it when fanfics depict Severus as a protector for abused children in slytherin or Hogwarts as a whole. I think Harry seeing how Snape treats other children compared to him would enrage him.

Just seeing everything that he could have if things were just a little bit different, if he was sorted into slytherin, or if he just had a different father, or some other insignificant thing, he could have had the love, care and protection he always wanted. He could have had someone on his side who actually fought for him, was willing to do the hard stuff for him.

But he doesn’t just get jealous of how Snape treats other children, he gets jealous of the fact that Snape FINDS OUT about the other children’s abuse. He sees how easily Severus seems to pick up on other kids flinching, hiding injuries, or peculiar behavior, taking them aside after class within the first year, first month of school. Yet, after years of knowing him, Snape seems to have no clue. He sees that and can’t help but think why not him as well, he gets so so angry.

The anger and jealousy doesn’t stick however as he just ends up thinking maybe the way the dursleys treat him isn’t so bad, after all, if the number one person in the school for detecting abuse can’t see it, maybe it’s not actually abuse. And anyways, he should be grateful the other kids have someone to go to.

And somewhere deep down he thinks it’s his fault, because he has gotten rather good at covering up their tracks over the years. How can he blame the Professor when he purposefully hides the evidence?

Anyways hope yall enjoyed this rant :D

[son1c]

i had a dream last night about the sonic movies. they were different, though. instead of staying put once he lands on earth, he keeps moving. he travels from place to place, always out of sight, staying safe with his speed and momentum. he gains a real appreciation for earth's environment this way, since he's basically "roughing it" through north america's many biomes.

he manages to go undetected until he's about 10 years old. his discovery happens like this: he's tramping through the woods like he always does. he's pretty far in there--don't want to risk running into any hikers, right?--but there's someone else there. at first, he thinks it's just a bird or bobcat making some noise. so, he turns the page in the stolen "borrowed" library book he's reading and ignores it, but it doesn't stop.

he closes the book. strains his ears. now that he's listening harder, the noise almost sounds like someone crying.

of course, sonic has his 1 golden rule: don't let anyone see you. he's stayed true to that for all these years, and he's not going to break that rule now... but what's the harm in a little investigating? it'll just be a quick peek.

as it turns out, the noise wasn't coming from a bird or a bobcat; it was the faint crying of a human kid. sonic can tell even from a distance that the kid is hurt--there's no way an ankle is supposed to bend that way--but he's also hesitant to get any closer. what if this is a trap? isn't it a little suspicious that there's a kid all the way out here? and, most importantly: does he really want to break his golden rule?

well, yeah. there's no one else out here but him and the kid. help isn't coming--if there's gonna be a hero in this situation, then there's no other choice. so, sonic steps out of the bush and toward the kid with his hands raised in what he hopes is a peaceful gesture. his heart is beating a million miles a minute, but he's not scared, not really. his entire being aches with this opportunity; the opportunity to shed his years-long loneliness and make a connection, if only for a moment.

the kid hears a twig snap under sonic's feet and stiffens, her sobs catching in her throat. in a trembling voice, she asks, who's there?

sonic pauses. he's barely 10 feet from her now. looking directly at her, with nothing in between them but air. and yet, it's like the kid doesn't see him. her eyes dart around, searching, but always jumping right past sonic. trying to keep it casual, sonic replies, your hero has arrived.

sonic holds his breath. the girl looks confused, her brow furrowing, but at the same time, her shoulders relax. under her breath, she mumbles something that might be, a kid? then, she looks directly at sonic... kind of. her head turns toward the direction his voice came from, but her eyes don't focus on him. what are you doing way out here?

you know, sonic says, a smile tugging at his lips despite the anxiety coiling in his stomach, i was just about to ask you the same thing.

the girl frowns. she turns away from sonic as a stormy expression overtakes her face. none of your beeswax, she replies, but her venom is halfhearted. she's clearly hurting right now.

tentatively, sonic steps closer. his golden rule is beginning to slip from his mind. ooo-kay, he says slowly, keep your secrets. now, sonic kneels down in front of the girl. if he wanted to, he could reach out and touch her, and it took every ounce of his self-control to stop himself from doing just that.

the girl turns toward sonic again. this time, her eyes don't slide past him like he's made of slippery syrup. she squints, her nose scrunching up as she appears to focus very, very hard on what's barely a foot in front of her face. then, finally, she asks, you just gonna stand there and stare?

sonic grins. hey! it's not every day i get to stage a rescue operation in the woods. i wanna savor the feeling of being a forest ranger. sonic pauses, the girl's shallow breaths bringing him back to reality. he notices the old backpack clutched in the girl's hands and asks, what's in the bag? please tell me it's a smartphone. preferably of the apple variety. but i'd accept a blackberry too--those are cool. either way, we can use it to phone home. you know, like in E.T.--

i'm not an alien! the girl snaps. besides, i don't have any home left to call. she tightens her grip around the backpack as her eyes narrow into tiny slits. when she does this, sonic notices the deep, dark circles under her eyes. either rescue me, or go away. i don't care.

sonic matches the look of angry despair on the girl's face with one of stubborn optimism. i thought you'd never ask, he says. then, he pulls an old t-shirt out of his quills and tears it into strips. alright, so, he starts to say as he reaches for the girl's twisted ankle, i've watched almost all of grey's anatomy, and the first two seasons of house m.d., which means i'm basically a doctor. right?

the girl blinks. no?

sonic stops, his fingertips millimeters away from her bloody sock. you have a better idea?

the girl bites her lip. no.

great! i'll be fast. promise. true to his word, sonic wraps the girl's ankle in a flash. then, he says, yeah-heah-heah! now we're talkin'. if i didn't know any better, i'd say that was a professional patch job!

the girl loosens her death-grip on the backpack and slowly wiggles her toes. it hurts, but not as much as before. not bad, she mutters.

beaming, sonic offers her his hand. but she doesn't react at all, so sonic slowly lowers his hand. then, he scratches his head. he's missing something, but what? he looks around, scanning the dirt-and-leaf-covered forest floor for any clues until eventually he finds it: a white cane poking out of a nearby bush, caught in the root of a particularly gnarled tree.

forgetting himself for a moment, sonic uses his super speed to grab the cane before returning to the girl's side. he goes unpunished though, as all she does in response is widen her eyes and ask, what was that?

just the wind, sonic says, a little cheekily. then, he tells her about what he found. the girl snatches the cane from him rather rudely, but sonic lets it go without comment. then, because she's still sitting on the ground, he asks, need a hand?

and then the dream ended. i think it was pretty epic because a visually impaired companion would mean sonic could have a friend without letting his secret (i.e. the fact that he exists) get out. he'd just have to be veryyyy careful about not touching her or letting her touch him. cuz while he can explain some things, like his arms are fuzzy cuz he's wearing a... ""fur coat""... and his hands are big cuz he's still ""growing into them""... other things, like his quills, are a bit harder to explain.

i'm also not entirely sure what her deal was but i know she was a runaway orphan. her family died tragically etc etc. i was imagining a house fire. the flames of disaster, as it were. idk.

[elvensorceress]

tuesday teases

Haven’t been around in a million years but the show baited me with delicious Eddie angst. So. Hello lovely little gay people in my phone. Would you like some Tuesday fic teases?

@tizniz @hippolotamus @chaosandwolves @inell @smilingbuckley @spotsandsocks @daffi-990 @exhuastedpigeon @blutterlie @thelikesofus @ronordmann @dr-shortsighted-owl @lovecolibri @eddiebabygirldiaz @fiona-fififi @thekristen999

Here’s the ridiculous boys after the realtor phone call meeting…

“She probably wasn’t thinking anything one way or the other. She’s just focused on her job and finding us— me. Me, technically. A house.”

No. Not just Eddie. Their house. It would be theirs. Even if Buck isn’t there. Even if he never steps one foot into it. Eddie’s home is still Buck’s home. That won’t change. Ever.

But he can’t say that. How does he say that?

He gets up from the couch and grabs his empty mug. “You still want to make snickerdoodles? Or some other cookie? Or, what did you call it? Cake masquerading as loaf bread?” Eddie doesn’t wait for an answer. He goes into the kitchen and gets out the stash of flour he’s recently acquired.

He stocked up. Just in case. Can’t have the alternative of Buck without his baking.

Eddie sets one of the ten pound bags on the counter then grabs a pack of butter and the carton of eggs from the fridge and finds the measuring cups and spoons in their drawer. The basket Buck made years ago during quarantine is next. It holds the vanilla, the baking powder and soda, various flavored extracts, finishing salt, molasses, packets of instant yeast, chocolate chips, other baking essentials. He takes the jar of cinnamon from the spice rack in the cupboard, goes to put it with everything, but finds Buck staring from the kitchen doorway.

He looks too wistful. Too heartbroken. And all Eddie can offer is a kitchen and ingredients. He doesn’t have anything else.

Was it really that much of a loss? They were only together for six months. Did Buck really want to spend his life with the guy? It couldn’t have been that serious. It never is.

None of the people Buck’s dated are good enough for him.

Maybe Buck isn’t thinking of his ex right now. Maybe he’s thinking about the kid who was like a son to him.

Or the whole Eddie moving to El Paso thing. He seems fine, for the most part. He’s helping. But that’s what Buck does. He helps. He supports. Even when he shouldn’t.

But Buck has bad relationships to get over. He’s not really thinking about Eddie or Eddie’s problems. He’s focusing on a task so that his mind doesn’t wander where it shouldn’t.

Buck would be fine without Eddie. Hell, he’s probably better off. Or he will be.

Eddie asks too much of him. He takes up too much of Buck's time with his issues.

Eddie looks through the little stock pile he’s put together. “Anything else you need?”

Buck looks, stands beside him, and answers, “Sugar?”

Sugar.

Eddie’s stomach twists. It’s not a pet name. It’s an answer. Not a term of endearment. Answer. And of course it slipped Eddie’s mind. Why wouldn’t something that huge and essential be missing from his offering. He should have some though. Buried in the back of the pantry. He finds white, brown, and confectioner’s, and adds them to the supply. “All yours. Whatever you want to make. I’ll run to the store and get more if you need anything. We should have plenty of flour though. I got you five bags.”

Buck’s head snaps toward him. “Five bags? You got me five bags of flour? Like, two pound ones, right? Or the five pounders?”

Eddie shakes his head and gestures. “No, the tens. Like that one.”

“You bought me fifty pounds of flour?”

“Well, you’re the one who decided his coping mechanism was snickerdoodles and sourdough. I’m just being supportive. Since you’re my wingman and I’m yours or whatever you said when you stole my tablet and my realtor call.”

Buck huffs but smirks. “More like saved your call.”

More like saved Eddie’s everything but who’s counting?

[mylittlepimp]

(okay I had more thoughts)

Emperor Geta found his brother's tears to be weakness. She's his wife! Why the hell does his brother need her? He seeks the company of men! If his brother wanted a wife, Geta would've gotten him one!

Emperor Caracalla continues to cry and beg. No one else was nice to him the way that she is! No one saw him the way that she did! She's the only one that he feels can help him!

She can't take the tears anymore. She runs over to Emperor Caracalla, wrapping her arms around him, and shushing him while she rocks him back and forth.

Emperor Geta feels disgusted by this, he grabs her by the wrist pulling them apart.

Emperor Caracalla screams in protest as he tries to grab her hand and keep her.

She tries grabbing Emperor Caracalla's hand in return, but Emperor Geta yanks her away.

Emperor Geta decides to change how he treats her. At night he chains her to his bed, only by her wrist or ankle... Nothing more. As cruel as he's known to be, he does want her comfortable.

She's miserable. Sulking on the floor next to the bed. Being forced to listen to Emperor Caracalla cry at night or stumble around drunk. She wants to help him, but she can't.

In public Emperor Geta has added to her jewelry. A chain on her hand and wrist. He doesn't keep her physically confined to him, but he does make a display that she's only his. Trying his best to be... Somewhat discreet without drawing too much attention.

(visual representation of what I had in mind)

Of course it's only made from the finest gold. It matches every outfit he puts on her.

In public is the only time that she can see Emperor Caracalla. But they don't speak or interact together. They only exchange glances, small smiles, or looks. Like a silent conversation only they understand.

Emperor Caracalla looks miserable. Just as she feared. He tries replacing her every night with a different woman, but they aren't her.

Emperor Geta gets angry with his brother, finding his misery a distraction. Especially during their war plans and their gladiator games.

It finally gets to a point that Emperor Geta confronts his brother in a big argument. Wondering why he can't just get over her? Why can't he just move on? That wasn't Caracalla's wife he stole. In fact he didn't steal her at all! She's always been Geta's wife!

Emperor Caracalla explains in tears and a shaky voice, that it wasn't what Geta thinks! It wasn't about sex, he never touched Geta's wife that way!

Emperor Geta looks at his brother confused. Assuming the worst that Caracalla, had infected Geta's wife with his disease this entire time.

But it wasn't about sex.

While Emperor Geta was seeking the comfort of other people at night. Geta would leave his wife alone. That's when she came across Emperor Caracalla, crying to his monkey about how horrible Geta was to him.

She sat down next to Caracalla, gently placing her hand on his shoulder, and he pulled away from her out of fear. She didn't move or say anything. She just sat there next to him.

Emperor Caracalla stared at her for several minutes. He wasn't sure what to think or what to say. Eventually he offered her a grape.

She smiled at Emperor Caracalla's offer, even giggling a little.

Emperor Caracalla liked that. It made him smile in return. He decided to tell her silly stories, even acting out some of the scenes himself. Just to make her giggle.

She soon decided to add to Caracalla's stories. Doing her best to act out the scenes as well.

Emperor Caracalla started to like her. Especially since she was nothing like his brother and his other wives.

She made Emperor Caracalla comfortable, safe, and seen.

That's how she ended up in his quarters every night listening to him, comforting him, and making him feel seen.

When Emperor Geta walked into his brother's quarters and saw him with Geta's wife. That's why had assumed Caracalla poisoned Geta's wife.

But that wasn't the case.

Emperor Geta doesn't change his mind on keeping his brother away from Geta's wife. But now he knows what really happened.

She watches from around the corner, silently hoping that Emperor Geta will change his mind.

(y'all keep reacting to this and I'll end up adding more again! Haha)

It was meant to be a marriage of politics, and instead she finds herself as the caregiver. Surrogate mother most days.

Emperor Caracalla is sweet. Often child like. Innocent. But easily manipulated.

Emperor Geta is not as sweet or innocent. He's often angry. Hungry. Fearsome.

Both are troubled and unloved. Both somehow lean on her, and only her for their needs.

Emperor Geta loves to show her off during the day. Parade her around on his arm, dress her in the finest gold accessories and beautiful fabrics that compliment her skin. She's his after all. His wife.

But by night.

Emperor Caracalla seeks her comfort. To be held by her, while he mumbles on and on about how mean Geta is to him. She'll hold Caracalla's head in her lap, run her fingers through his hair, and she'll listen to him.

These routines have been going on for years.

Until Emperor Geta finds out that is.

Emperor Geta shouts at his brother, screaming at him like a rabid hound to stay away from his wife!

Emperor Caracalla is reduced to tears, begging on his knees to stay around her. He doesn't want to lose his only lifeline to the care, the love, and the longing he so desperately desires.

Emperor Geta throws his cup of wine at his brother. He won't hear of it. His brother's tears mean nothing to him. His begging pointless. She's his wife and he does not share with anyone!

(I don't know where that came from but I had to write it down)

[l-in-the-light]

About Trafalgar Law and his vitiligo

Feel free to ignore this post if you so wish, but I chose to speak up on this matter. I have seen so many fanarts that portray Law with his white skin patches, often looking like a dalmatian and it bothers me. Are you all aware that animal-like patterns for vitiligo are considered insulting? And you all might look at me weirdly now and ask "how can something so cute/wholesome/unique possibly be bothersome to anyone?!" Read further on your own risk, slight tmi.

Law's disease is of course fictional. Visually it looks the closest to vitiligo, but it has a lot in common with autoimmune skin diseases as well. I happen to know how it's like to live with a skin disease. Meds for my condition aren't really for curing anything, they just make the symptoms dimnish, but in return they leave white patches on my skin that are resistant to tanning for a long while (also those meds are very dangerous for your kidneys apparently if used too often, as a side note). Why would anyone use them? Well, because it's a hereditary skin condition: it never goes away and there's no way to cure it, those meds are literally the only thing that does anything. I just get lucky whenever symptoms aren't visible for some time until they inevitably come back anyway. And believe me, this isn't "wholesome", "cute" or "unique" to have discolored skin patches. You all probably have no idea (why would you have anyway, it's natural that you don't) how it's like in summer, when you go on a bus or tram, you wear a t-shirt because it's freaking hot and you can't hide under the clothes or you risk melting or fainting. And people see your discolored skin or red patches on your skin. You know how they react? They stare at your hands/arms and then they move away. That's the default reaction whenever your skin looks unusual. People would rather move away, just in case it's something contagious. They will also stare, a lot, and you can feel it's judgemental, even though my condition is in no way my own fault (or anyone else's who also has it), thank you very much.

That being said, I doubt Law would be happy parading openly with white patches visible on his skin. Most people wouldn't realize that's it's just a leftover from his old, cured disease. They would simply assume what people always assume: that it's something contagious. Evidence below, if you need it:

And Law's reaction to their reaction:

He doesn't look very happy, of course.

People would isolate him, avoid him and *stare* disrespectfully at him like he's a weird specimen, at best. Law would quickly learn to hide it under his clothes, long sleeves, long pants, gloves etc. No one truly wants to attract negative attention like this, especially not someone who already went through a lot of traumatic experiences, like Law. And sure, as a child he didn't really hide it:

But take into account those are the clothes he was wearing ever since Flevance happened. He didn't have any other clothes. As soon as he's accepted as part of Doflamingo's family he starts to wear different ones, and he covers up the spots on his arms by wearing long sleeves:

And oh boy, I can totally relate to that.

Sure, in ideal world, no one would assume Law has a disease just because his skin is discolored. But we're not living in ideal world. Some people, just like me, have hereditary skin conditions and feel bothered by fanarts that exoticize skin disease or skin disorder. Yeah sure, why does it matter, Law is a fictional character with fictional disease, right? But vitiligo is very similar to this and is a real condition which is part of life of real people. Those aren't freckles that are just cute and make you look unique (and some people might have freckles and still hate the extra attention drawn towards it, and it's valid if they feel like that!).

Just wanted to get that off my chest. I don't need sympathy for my disease, this is not why I wrote this post. I just wish people would realize that by drawing a vitiligo Law they're toying with a lot of emotional baggage there, please treat it respectfully. Maybe one day the world will be wholesome enough to think of it as normal (normal, not fetishized, ugly, contagious or exotic!), but I assure you it still doesn't. If you think it's just a "me" thing, check out this blog: https://www.tumblr.com/vitiligo-is-not-a-trend/765530242896003072 and many other posts of theirs. Not everyone with skin conditions might react the same way, but keep in mind people with actual vitiligo and skin diseases can and often will be really sensitive about it, and for a good reason.

Yes, that being said I also think it's wholesome if Luffy accepts vitiligo spots on Law easily like it's not a big deal, especially in comparison to the rest of the world which would fear him instead. It's definitely something Luffy would do. But that's completely different from fetishizing it. Please, you're stepping on a thin line here, tumblr.

[soonyoungs]

hiii love ur writing!! if you can, could you write for ot13 or your bias' reaction to their s/o kissing them on a variety show or live broadcast? (+ their relationship is public and accepted hehe) thankyouu!!

hi there angel, i appreciate you so, so much! i’m so sorry this took forever but i hope you like it! 🥺♡︎

scoups: how dare you! he’s meant to be the big, tough leader and now you’ve reduced him to complete mush. he’s staring at you with soft, glowing eyes and a small pout on his lips. he knows there’s no way he can recollect himself enough to bring him back to full leader mode, not with how his cheeks are glowing dark red and everyone mercilessly teasing him 

jeonghan: smug, smug, smug! smirking into the kiss, fingers twitching as he resists the urge to pull you in, deeper. continues to smirk as you return to your seat and get settled back in. makes a show of running his thumb over his bottom lip as he looks in to the camera.

joshua: confused! freezes in place thinking you’re planning to trick him or do something for the show, but when you lean in and kiss him he softens and gives you a kiss back. ears turning red as he pretends to be cool and suave. waving a hand to thank everyone when the studio claps and cheers.

jun: stunned! eyes wide open, mouth puckered and completely frozen to his seat. he was not expecting this from you. his brain is completely fried and will be speaking in stutters and incoherent sentences for the rest of the program.

hoshi: he’s so giddy that you’re kissing him he forgets his current situation. gives you smalls pecks back all while letting out loud giggles. when you’ve had your fill and move away from him he wipes the excess spit from his moth with the back of his hand, feet wiggling the entire time.

wonwoo: doesn’t see it coming. literally. he’s not wearing his glasses so when you move in to kiss him he almost dodges you completely. it’s only when he feels your hands on his head, keeping him in place, does he realize what’s happening. let’s you kiss him as you please and when your finished he just can’t stop grinning

woozi: eyebrows immediately raised in surprise. he’s not overly physically affectionate, especially not publicly so he isn’t sure what to do or say. can’t help but go “oh?” when you release him from the smooch

dk: someone else who starts off confused and then just melts when you give him a soft kiss. a soft giggle leaves his mouth and he’s looking at you like you are his whole world. isn’t able to focus on anything else because he’s too busy staring at you, touching his lips, or quietly giggling to himself. ends up needing your help to complete the show

mingyu: flustered of course. he’s incredibly affectionate so he has no issues with your kiss, but he is incredibly easy to embarrass. ears are red as soon as you move in close to him. constant whispers of shy “why? why? why?”s as you lean in. as soon as you give him a peck he’s kicking his feet back and forth, his entire body fidgeting giddily. continues to hold your hand and be as physically affectionate as possible 

the8: tries to stay calm but isn’t great at keeping a poker face. the minute you plant your lips on him to the time you release him his fingers are fidgeting and he’s trying to contain his happy laughter. 

seungkwan: the theatrics! he will be loud with his surprise. yelling about why would you do that, how he’s utterly embarrassed and now no one is going to take him seriously and also how he loves you and you’re so cute and sweet. cheeks are on fire and he’ll be huffing and puffing erratically for a while because he’s so overwhelmed.

vernon: slow to react, torn between wanting to kiss you back and preserving his idol image. avoiding eye contact with the hosts as he continually nods, pretending to listen to what’s being said to him while trying to process what just happened. 

dino: just happy to be here, honestly. equally parts thrilled that you’re confident enough to embrace him so publicly and embarrassed that you did it in front of his older brothers and everyone watching the program.

[gabessquishytum]

PA anon's fic about alpha student Dream stalking and impregnating omega professor Hob is so, so good! Like, it's kind of unethical, but in such a hot way? And (please consider 1K+ words of mildly controlling/manipulative fluff) Dream takes such good care of Hob during pregnancy, doesn't he? Hob's an omega and he should know some of these things, true, but he's never been pregnant all his life and he's never even conceived (lol) of it till Dream, and really, all the things he had learned as a then-younger and still-perceived-as-fertile omega have become out of date. And since he's such a busy, hardworking professor, dealing with the hormones and the pregnancy brain, Dream is the one who plunges in, arms deep, and does all the research for him. He knows exactly what the stages are, what vitamins are needed when, how to soothe Hob for pains and flares in the here and now, and how to help Hob in the longer term for the marathon that is pregnancy. Dream also entertains casual ideas about not just this child, but the next, and the next. It's not something he's brought up with Hob yet, and really they should wait to see what kind of toll this pregnancy has on Hob's older-than-usual body, but...it can't hurt to think long term. And so it begins. The very first thing is medications, one day, just popping up in neat little sets all over Hob's kitchen counter and workplace desk and lecture podium, each labelled with his name, what symptoms they're for, how much to eat, and how often. A bottle of mineral water sits beside each of the pill sets, just in case. There are a whole variety of them - for headaches, nausea, body aches, feverish flares. The whole lot of things any pregnant omega would go through. Then, vitamins. In tiny little vitamin organizers, right beside his various stashes of medication. There are so many, Hob's given up on reading the labels and understanding them. He doesn't even know what he needs, and what he's eating - he just does. *That's* how much he trusts Dream. And some of the vitamins are very necessary, and very much recommended, of course. Many things are needed for their baby, and to strengthen Hob's immune system, sleep, and digestion. Things like that. The rest of it, well, it's discretionary. And if Dream pumps Hob full of what's just slightly more than necessary... if Hob's hair and body hair and lashes are getting fuller and finer and ever more doll-like, if his skin is getting shiny and dewy, his body plump and soft, and his brain just a little more humble and pliable than what his hormones would achieve on their own...well.

Who can say it's a bad thing, when it means Hob allowing himself to be taken care of more easily? When it means less of a protest, when he comes through the door all burdened from his day, and Dream tells him to just let everything go and trust him? When it means he melts more readily into Dream, putting down the need to be self-sufficient and independent that's been conditioned into him all these years? He'll cling and whine in the doorway until Dream picks him up, bridal style, relieving his poor, swollen feet of their weight, and carries him all the way into the nest Dream's built for him, where he can eat and cuddle all night without worrying his little head about anything else. Dream's so good to him. He would never do anything to hurt him. After medications and vitamins, comes the food. Dream, who has low-key moved in by now, having not wanted to move an omega away from familiar surroundings and essentially his nest during a pregnancy, does a thorough inspection of Hob's kitchen. Look, Hob cooks, and in fact he's a great home-chef, but he's going to have different needs now. Most of what he has is fine, but Dream upgrades some of Hob's appliances, swaps out everything that's processed garbage, donates whatever he doesn't want his omega eating, and proceeds to stock the fridge up with fresh, new, nutritious whole foods. Look, the food industry is tricky. You have to be exacting about these things. That's exactly what he tells Hob, when the pregnant omega whines tearfully about wanting some of his favorite treats. It's garbage! It's ultra-refined! Dream says no at first and hands Hob an avocado with cashew butter and flax seeds. But Hob insists it's an emergency, and Dream relents in the end and stocks up on a box of Hob's favorites for times like these. Dream prepares all his meals, too. He has Hob on a very strict diet, though you know wouldn't know it from how good it tastes and even looks. Every lovingly packed lunch (Hob's stomach is too tender for a proper breakfast) is just packed with vibrant colours and flavour. And it smells so good, even from a distance! Many a comment has been made about his gorgeous lunches, and it's become a thing for a handful of students and faculty to camp by him during lunch and wait for him to reveal the meal of the day. Oohs and aahs and compliments inevitably ensue. The attention's a little too much! It's all getting rather embarrassing! Don't get him wrong, he loves everything Dream's done for him. It's so thoughtful and well-organized. But it's just that it's all so *public*, and it makes his students and colleagues have a certain view of him. He wants to insist that he'd taken good care of himself before, and he's not now some spoiled princess!

But his protest never lasts long. Nobody's judging him that way, and everyone's cooing over him and praising and celebrating his circumstances. Everyone keeps telling him that he's such a lucky, deserving, omega, and that he looks so good when he's all pampered and relaxed.

And Hob frets and frets over whether Dream's spending too much time and money and just too much on him, but always gets shushed and told that Dream's the one who's lucky. Hob just needs to sit back and enjoy it all. And enjoy it he does, secretly, even when he doesn't always get his way on some of the smaller things. He enjoys having things handled for him, so that all he needs is to do what he's told. He enjoys being told no, on some of his lesser habits. It's all for his own good. It even makes him a little hot when Dream's being strict, and treating him like a child he needs to be firm with! It just makes him so wet! Finally comes the exercise. It's a given by now that Dream will have a say over what he does during his day and how. He swaps Hob's schedule around (writing letters to the faculty head about expedient family needs) so that Hob gets late morning and early afternoon classes, the very best combination which groups his work periods together. This leaves his morning and evening hours free, which Dream promptly fills with a bevy of healthful, nourishing activities. Mornings are for light jogs, barefoot trail-walking, weight training, or yoga and stretching in the nearby park. Evenings are for strolling, spas, indulgent belly massaging, occasionally more weight training, and more, of course more, stretching. Dream intends to keep all those muscles and ligaments and tendons healthy and flexible for many more pups. All of Hob's activities are accompanied by Dream. Of course, he's there to make sure Hob gets his form right, and just in case anything happens. Many a student or teacher has caught sight of them doing yoga in the college courtyard and coo-ed at the sight, or entered the gym and run away quickly, red around the ears, at the too-intimate sight, smell and sound of a sweetly sweating omega puffing away at the weights, his alpha growling praise and encouragement into his ear. And again, this is all a little too public for Hob, but it's well within his alpha's rights to train him in a public gym. Even the doctors agree that it's doing him good. All his previously fair stats are within excellent range now.

Hob doesn't know yet, but with every passing day he's becoming healthier and plumper and ever more docile. He'll stay this way not just during the pregnancy, but for life. Dream can't get over how good he looks and how excellent things are like this, and he fully intends that Hob will stay, pupped or not, as his spoiled, behaving, beautiful omega doll.

HELL YES WE WIN AGAIN, MORE STUDENT ALPHA DREAM/PROF OMEGA HOB!!! Here is the link to PA anon's fic, in case anyone missed it <3 this is SUCH a good little continuation, I love all the small details. Dream’s incredible care and devotion to his omega. And oh, the sweet, gentle bimbofication...

Of course Hob has these moments of sharp lucidity where he wonders what the hell he's doing. He has a career that he practically sold his soul for, and he had the respect of the faculty and students! Now they treat him so differently. Like he's nothing more than a silly little pregnant omega, like he's worth nothing more than the pup in his belly! But the truth of the matter is, Hob is beginning to find his work a little too straining. He finds the usual regime of meetings and grading papers dull and straining. Why would he want to do that stuff when he could be with Dream? Shopping for the pup, or studying the parenting books, or snuggling up for a naked massage... before he knows it, Hob is looking forward to his parental leave more than anything in the world!

Sometimes he looks in the mirror and doesn't recognise his fecund, soft form. He's so chubby and round with the pup, his hips and chest are so much larger than before. He looks so different, and he knows that these changes are probably permanent. He's already accepted that he'll have another pup after this one, so he'll be pregnant again... there's no way he can "bounce back". The truth is that Dream seems to like him even more when he's plump and squeezing into his clothes. He says that Hob is doing such a good job for their pup. Dream is so proud of him!

And Hob is... Happy. How could he not be? His life is pleasant, and Dream takes such good care of him. Hob never has to worry about a thing. He just really hopes that he can be the omega that Dream deserves...

[rafescherie]

INFATUATED (b.) — perv!bsf rafe cameron

synopsis ᝰ.ᐟ perv!bsf!rafe & his infatuation for his bsf!reader

warning ᝰ.ᐟ 18+ MDNI. blurb, not fanfic. rafe being a pervert, mentions of t*pper and k*lce, descriptive scenes of smut & fantasies, naive reader

everyone else had already caught on to the way rafe felt about you, i mean, anybody with eyes could see it. your pervy best friend rafe had grown quite an obsession with you for nearly a year now. poor stupid girl, of course you hadn’t caught onto the fact he had eyes for you. nobody else’d say it out loud though, scared rafe’d smash their face in for even bringing it up.

naturally, he wasn’t good with his emotions — with vulnerability. we all know this, that man has some serious temper problems, not even mentioning the obvious daddy issues at play either. but it was different with you. he’d known you so long that it just came natural.

i mean, god. it’s like you two were already dating, the way he’d be there for each of your demands, buying you anything you wanted, and going out of his way for you. the bottom of his stomach twisted each time someone’d bring up the rumour about you two dating — and he definitely wouldn’t shut it down either, claiming he ‘didn’t know’ when you’d ask him about it — too naive and manipulated to question the severity of the truth behind his shrugged off lie, of course. why would your best friend lie to you?

he’d absolutely lose his shit when he finds out you were still a virgin. drunkenly confessed one night after the both of you had managed to drink an entire bottle from his father’s wine collection, it had opened up a whole new world of never ending fantasies for him, wondering how it was even possible you were still completely innocent and practically untainted.

and with that confession, came the thoughts. rafe’d thought nearly hundreds of times about how he’d absolutely love to be the one to wreck that tight virgin pussy — i mean, you practically owed it to him at this point. without his help, you’d probably still not have had your first kiss. it was on his mind for an entire week straight after you’d told him, finding himself pumping his fat cock within his palm, imagining how it’d feel if it was your wet cunt instead of his hand. it was definitely wrong of him, you were his best friend after all, but that definitely didn’t stop the thoughts from reoccurring.

poor guy wants to fuck you so badly. he’d have to conceal the bulge within his pants any time he’d be around you, thoughts of bending you over and having you drip onto his cock swirling within his troubled mind instantly. he’d do anything, just to feel the soft skin of your ass as you needingly grinded against him.

getting you high was his favourite thing ever — the way you’d practically spew out confessions about how you’d never properly made yourself cum, and about all the things you desperately wanted to try. he’d memorized it all (and definitely jerked off over it a few times but we won’t mention that) he wanted to be the one to take care of you, have your body trembling after ripping three or four orgasms out of your poor cunt, he could only imagine the sweet sounds that’d escape your mouth each time his fingers’d skim against your g-spot, jeez.

ward adored you. you’d come from a good family, and he knew how good of a person you were, especially when it came to rafe. ‘better make a move on her before someone else does’ he’d tell his son, and rafe knew he was right too. you’d be the perfect girlfriend for him, and an even better wife. he’d love nothing more than to fill your sweet cunt full of his fertile seed, impregnating you with his baby. you’d look so cute, all swollen and round after he’d bred you. he needed to have you.

he’d scare off any guy that approached you, making it known you were off limits, and he was willing to do ungodly things in order to have you stay single for him. it’d break his heart, otherwise. he was your best friend, and he was protecting you, right? pretty baby couldn’t handle it all by herself, he thought.

god, he was so whipped. sometimes he’d catch himself doing shit he’d normally never do for anyone, ultimately reminding himself it was for you, and continuing. that man would do anything just to see you smile. he loved you — he was obsessed with you, truly. topper and kelce rolled their eyes even at the simple mention of your name leaving his lips. he didn’t know what he was going to do with himself, that was for sure.

[bloodlinesceo]

Credits: WWE for the pic & @tsunami-of-tears & @strangergraphics-archive for the amazing dividers!

A/N: I couldn't find this song on Spotify 😭 & I thought this would be the perfect theme for this chapter. So I had to use a YouTube video.

Part 1 (if you haven't read it)

Pairings: Roman Reigns (Bf) x Fem! Reader

Tama Tonga (Ex) x Fem! Reader

Summary: Roman gets occupied when fans meet him & The Bloodline. However, Tama takes that as an opportunity to speak with you alone.

Warnings ⚠️: 18+ Fluff, angst, swearing, stress ofc, emotional wreckage, dirty talk, mentions of sex, arguing, violence, past relationship, alcohol consumption & cheating mentioned. Non-consensual kissing. Past beef. The twins have no filter & Roman punishes them for it 😭 Tama is the villain in this, sorry Tama girlies. Not proofread!

Heads Up ‼️ This needed to be separate : Yandere Tama, he gets obsessive, delusional, aggressive & pushy. ( No r*pe it's wrong & I will never write that. Also respect wrestlers to not write that about them. It was tough to write Tama like this, cause we know he's bbygirl IRL).

WC: 3k

Tag list: @wishyouloveme @jstarr86 @reignsboy19 @yana3sworld @rose-bliss

(if anyone else wants to be on the tag list for the next upcoming chapters let me know!).

Of course this is written for fictional purposes only & is based on their characters, it does not depict who they are in real life. Respect to them & their families.

Enjoy ☝🏽

"So Uce, I'm thinking for our next merch, 'cause they the twos & we the ones?" Jimmy suggested to Roman. Roman nodded his head in agreement "I'm interested." "Who's they?" asked Solo furrowing his brows. Jimmy chuckled. "I hate you" scoffed Solo.

"What are we on about?" asked Jey taking a seat after returning from the restroom. "Merch ideas, thinking cause they the twos, and we the ones" said Jimmy, "yeet!" smiled Jey. "Which I don't approve of, so no yeet!" said Solo, Jey waved him off "our merch not yours, you don't have a say in this."

"Maybe I should get them to put yalls faces on it too!" teased Jimmy, "with an X on top" laughed Jey, high fiving his twin, only angering their little brother more. "Alright Jimmy & Jey, that's enough leave your baby brother alone" you laughed. "They're back" whispered Jacob. You looked at Roman, his expression changed from jovial to irritated seeing Tama & Loa coming back to the table, you kissed his cheek calming him down. They both sat down. 

You rested your head on Roman's shoulder, and you swore at the corner of your eye you saw Tama looking at you both with a blank expression. You tried to not let it get to you. You hoped that he's probably moved on by now, and doesn't see you that way anymore, but when Roman mentioned about him looking at you, he probably hasn't. Roman rested his head on top of yours, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You were grateful that you found him.  After joining WWE at the beginning of 2019, you met him when he returned in February & welcomed him back with open arms, praising him & his hard work & how much you look up to him. He was elated. You were immediately attracted to him by his warm & down to earth personality. He welcomed you to the company & wished you the best on your makeup career. He even brought the twins over to your studio to do some face paint on them for fun since they miss it like old times. Your friendship went on from there & then in 2021, that friendship grew into love & you both started dating. Like you mentioned to the 4 Fatus, it has been the best 3 years of your life, and you wouldn't trade it for the world, he is the man of your dreams. The light in your life. 

"I love you RoRo" you said to the man above you. "I love you too babygirl" he smiled. "Thank you for bringing me out here & to the movies, definitely needed this break from school" you said. "Of course" he said "don't overstudy yourself, it's okay to have fun once in a while too, but also keep that focus. That hard work will pay off" You heard someone clear their throat, you looked towards Roman's side & saw Jey with his arms crossed.

"What?" you asked. "I'm sure Big Uce ain't the only one who took you out, who's idea was it? Especially The Waffle House treat" he said, Jimmy agreed with his younger twin "yeah, where's our thanks?" Roman laughed "give them their holy grail" "okay, thank you twins for taking me out too, to the movies & for organizing The Waffle House lunch. You two are the best, yeet" you praised. "Exactly!" said Jimmy. You looked over at Solo "and thank you & your Bloodline for joining us" you smiled, making Solo smile too. "Of course, missed you & wanted to see you." "We love you sis! Go get that degree!" exclaimed Jacob. "Now seeing us hopefully you're all charged up & ready to kick school's ass!" said Loa, making you nod. "Will do anything to see you happy" spoke up Tama. 

Solo's smile immediately dropped, his eyes widened, he looked at Jacob & he shrugged taking another spoonful of his food. "I appreciate that Tama, thank you" you smiled, making him grin too. You felt Roman tense up, you squeezed his bicep for comfort.

"Big hug!" yelled Jimmy next to you wrapping his arms around you & resting his head on your shoulder. "Yeet!" said Jey hugging Roman on the other side. "Your twin cousins are crushing us" you said "I know" whispered Roman shaking his head. "Nice! Let's get this on camera!" said Solo taking his phone out & snapping a pic of you all. "I'll send that to you Y/N, it came out great!" he said.

"Thank you Solo, now Jimmy get off of me you're crushing my bicep!" you said trying to pry him off of you. "My skull's getting crushed" you whispered to Roman "sorry baby" he said lifting his head off of you. "It's okay, I don't mind getting crushed by you just not on my brain. I need that for school" you joked rubbing your neck. 

"Here let me get that for you" said Roman massaging your neck. The pads of his fingers pressing against your neck felt so good. It's like he had healing powers. You couldn't help but let out a moan in content. "Geez, wait until y'all get home" cringed Jimmy, making you flick his forehead "ow! That's abuse!" he said rubbing his head. "Ohh Daddy that feels good" mimicked Jey in your voice. Roman forcefully pulled Jey's hood over his head forcing it down, with a smirk. "I can't see Uce!" he exclaimed fighting him with his arms. He finally let go, going back to massaging you. "Rude" scoffed Jey, "yup" responded Roman. "Look at them tag teaming on my annoying brothers, they're meant to be" smiled Solo, making Jacob nod in agreement.

Tama huffed in annoyance, "what happened?" asked Loa. He shook his head & looked somewhere else. Roman rubbing your neck reminded him of the time he did it to you after your shifts in New Japan Pro-Wrestling. Since there were times you'd be craning your neck down or up to put makeup on the wrestlers, it'd hurt. You'd come home & Tama would be the one to massage your neck hearing you groan & moan in satisfaction which made him move his lips onto your neck, leading to something more. Vice versa, you'd give him massages too after his long & brutal matches at times, he missed it all, he missed your touches. 

After he was done, Roman whipped his phone out & texted the chat while you started talking to Solo. 

Roman: @Jimmy @Jey What's with all the hugging & clinginess??? 

Jimmy: Hey! We meant that! We needed one big hug, especially you Uce! Turn that grumpy frown upside down. 

Roman: @Jimmy stop trying to play therapist. 

Jey: @Roman Tama got all lookie with Y/N again. Uce needed to cover her 👀

Roman: I knew it, it was all for show 😒

Jimmy: I mean a bit, but we still needed one big hug. 

Roman: @Jimmy We're not the Teletubbies, we're leaving now. I've had enough of him. 

Jacob: But I haven't finished! 

Jey: @Jacob Damn, you eat slow. 

Jimmy: @Roman Y/N needed that hug don't you think Uce? She looks much happier now! 

Roman: You're right & that's all I want for her...is to be happy 🙂

Jimmy: Pretty Huuurtsss 🎶

Jey: We shine the light on whatever's worst 🎶

Roman: It's not karaoke night, stop it 🙄

Jacob: PERFECTION IS A DISEASE OF A NATION 🎶

Everyone: JACOB!

"Alright y'all, Y/N & I are gonna be heading home now. She's got stuff to do & so do I" said Roman standing up. You stood up with him wrapping your arms around his waist as he wrapped his arm protectively around your shoulder. "We need rides back home, Uce!" said Jimmy, making him roll his eyes. "You & Jey paid the bill for the meals?" "yes Uce, but you owe us" said Jimmy. "I don't owe y'all anything, you chose to be mean to Y/N so you had to pay for it yourselves" said Roman. "Should've just kept your mouth shut" said Jey to Jimmy. "Told ya he got a big ass mouth why else do you think we don't tell him shit?" said Solo, making his big brother give him a dirty look. "Aww, come on Ro. It was just harmless joke! I make worse jokes to them" you said laughing. "Yeah, and our feelings get hurt sometimes" said Jey fake crying. 

Some fans noticed The Bloodline & came up to take pics with them. "Sorry babygirl, you don't mind?" asked Roman looking at you sympathetically. "Of course not! I'm glad we had some quality time spent together" you said, pecking his lips making him smile. He grinned going up to meet the fans, same with the twins. Fans also came up to the new Bloodline too getting pics & autographs.

You told Jey you're gonna head to the restroom to freshen up & you'll be back, he nodded. You made your way towards the bathrooms what you didn't notice is Tama watching you leave. He saw that Roman was occupied & so were the twins, Solo, Jacob & his brother with fans. He quietly got up & snuck his way towards the restrooms following you. 

You washed your hands, touched yourself up with your hair, makeup & perfume, freshened your breath with mouthwash & left the restroom. You walked 2 steps before you saw a figure in front of you, Tama. He had his arms crossed leaning against the wall, looking at you. Tight fitted black shirt, dark washed jeans, his gold chain dangling from his neck, you froze.

"Hey Tama" you said waving awkwardly at him. "Hey Y/N, long time huh?" he said smirking at you. "Yeah, it has been" you said awkwardly smiling at him. "I'll get out of your hair, you probably need to use the restroom room right? I'll see you later" you said trying to walk past him, but he grabbed your wrist making you stop. "I don't need to use the restroom, I want to talk to you, but not here" he said. You started to shiver. You knew you should've went to the bathroom when Jey went, he would've been by your side coming out. 

"That's nice Tama, but I really can't right now. Roman's probably waiting for me" you said. 

"He's meeting fans right now & is caught up talking to them, we have time. Come on" he said taking your wrist & leading you out. 

"Where are you taking me?" you said. He didn't respond, he lead you towards a patio outside which was on the side near the bathrooms. You tried to withdraw your hand from his,but he wouldn't budge. "I'm not going anywhere with you, let me go!" you nearly shouted. "Shhhh" he said putting his finger in front of his mouth. You felt butterflies in your stomach & disgust within you. "Listen, hear me out. It's been a while since we've last seen each other" he said playing with your fingers. You yanked your hand away from him, making him chuckle & raising his hands up in surrender. "Okay, I guess you're still upset with me" he said. 

"Upset? I'm more than just upset with you Tama, you broke my heart, you cheated on me, treated me like an object. Did you really love me? Cause I don't think you ever did, I bet you wanted me for my body only" you fought. "That's a lie! I've always loved you ma chérie-" Don't you ever fucking call me that again!" you gritted through your teeth, cutting him off. "Ouch, okay, but still hear me out" he said. "What is there to hear out?" you questioned. "COULD YOU PLEASE LET ME TALK?!" he yelled. You were shaken up by his words & stopped. He saw fear within your eyes & regretted his tone.

 "I'm sorry, but please listen to me. Yes, I did a horrible thing years ago when we dated & it was very low of me to do that. I never should've cheated on you & I don't know what came in my head to do that. Even the days I'd come home drunk, I know I get stressed out with work & being away from home, but drinking & begging sex from you were definitely not the ways to cope & looking back at it I'm so disgusted with my past actions. Hell, after you left I beat myself up for it so much. I was a fucking mess without you, you were the best I ever had. I loved you for who you were Y/N, your bubbly personality, your amazing makeup skills, especially the cheetah print face paint you did on me, I adore it so much when I look at those pictures & it reminds me of you, your smile every time I see you, how you were never afraid to speak your mind when you saw injustice, your style, your humbleness, the way you were like my personal cheerleader every time I had a match, the time we spent together-" "okay Tama" you interrupted him "I get it, but please get straight to the point" you said, he nodded.

"I'm sorry, I'm so very sorry for everything for making your life a living hell, for breaking your heart, giving you a hard time. I couldn't even look at myself after what I did to you. My brothers & The Bullet Club gave me an earful after what I did & I know I fucked up bad. I regret losing you & it hurts to live in a world where you hate me, I apologize so much. God, I'm so cruel, I let the best thing go" his eyes started to water up.

"Tama" you said sympathetically. "I don't know what to say..." you trailed. "Just forgive me, that's all I ask for" he pleaded. "Okay, I forgive you" you said, a small grin appeared on his teary face. "But I won't forget what you've done, you really hurt me. I had to risk my job because of this. You made it hard for me to believe in love again. You were not just a love to me but a friend whom I felt I could always confide in & vice versa & not only that you need to apologize to Roman too for the shit you said to him years ago. You can't be near me if you don't respect my man" you said. "I know & I'm so sorry, let me make it up to you. I'm a changed man now" he said. You raised your brow "huh? You mean make it up to us right? Me & Roman?" you said confused. 

"No, give me one more chance, I promise you I won't let you down" he whispered taking a step towards you, making you take a step back. "I thought you said that all you wanted was to seek forgiveness? What's this now?" you questioned. "Yeah, that was to break the ice, but I want to give us another go. I'll treat you like a Queen Y/N" he stepped closer towards you. "Tama, you're getting too close" you panicked. He walked closer towards you, smirking.

"I can't get back with you, I'm dating Roman now & I'm happy with him. We're not letting each other go. You need to move on Tama, please. If I can, so can you. There are plenty of beautiful women out there who will love you. If you've changed, you'll do that & if you truly love me, you'll let me go" you said. "I don't want those women!" he snapped, making you jump. His voice softened "I want you. Why can't you see it Y/N? I miss you baby. I think about you every fucking day." "Please, stop. You need to move on! Roman's gonna be pissed if he sees us! And it's not gonna end well for you" you said creeped out. 

"I don't care what Roman thinks, he's too busy with his fans to even care about you. That's your knight in shining armor?" See? I'm better. I could never abandon you like that bitch, baby" he chuckled, shaking his head. You slapped him across his cheek which echoed throughout the patio. He held his cheek, breathing heavily. "Don't you dare say another word against him, you fucking psycho!" you yelled with tears in your eyes. He looked at you through his lashes, stomped to you, pinning you against the outdoor brick wall of the restaurant, making you yelp. "The audacity you have" he chuckled darkly before turning serious, " I don't give a fuck though, it makes me want you even more."

"Get the fuck off of me, you sick freak!" you shouted attempting to push him off, but he was too strong. "You need me, you miss me, and I know you miss my touch, right my pretty little psycho?" He whispered into your ear nipping at your ear lobe. You pushed his head away. He cupped your face in his hands & crashed his lips against yours silencing your whimpers, he moaned in content finally tasting & feeling your lips after years of craving it.

TBC...

A/N: Feedback is appreciated!

[guksvault]

HOUSE OF BALLOONS | JJK

03- Loft Music

synopsis: fleeing the pressure and pretense of your elite life, you stumble into the seductive chaos of the House of Balloons. there, Jungkook waits— ready to make you question everything you thought you knew.

w/c: 3.3k

warnings: partying (ofc), drug/alcohol mentions & usage, tae makes an appearance, reader makes jk almost smile?? gasp, hobi being yummy, jk has a boner, so does hobi, light foreplay?, make out sesh, cockblocking :(, think thats it???

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Waking up at 2:30 in the afternoon by your mother telling you to get your shit together and put on a face was not exactly the wake up you had planned.

Also didn't plan to spend the rest of the afternoon having to sit next to Taehyung at the dinner table as both your parents tried their hardest to convince you that you two looked like a match made in heaven.

"Oh the grandchildren you two could create. Models. Would be models" Taehyung's mother rambled on, glass of red in her hand never empty.

Taehyung's hand had found its home on your lower back, tracing small circles with his thumb. You would have found it comforting, endearing even if your father hadn't told you the day prior that he wants to marry you to ensure the safety of his future.

The glass of Chateau d'Yquem becoming increasingly harder to swallow. Think it would be easier downing a shot of whatever the fuck they poured into the Grey Goose bottle at the House Of Balloons.

So that's what you tell yourself when you excuse yourself from the table and retreat back upstairs to your room and change into something more, you.

Of course I would rather be anywhere else, could be anywhere else. Only going to escape the reality of this mess. Isn't that the whole point of their parties anyways? Everyone there is running from something.

"Going out?" Taehyung spoke with curiosity, leaning against the frame of your double doors, his eyes on you through the reflection of your mirror as you adjusted your dress.

"Looks like it, no?"

He let out a small laugh, no emotion behind it. Took a few steps into your room and stood behind you in the mirror.

"They were right, you know. We would make pretty offspring" He smiled, placed his glass down on your vanity and returned behind you, moving some of the hair over your shoulder and gently brushing it down your back.

"Mm, the prettiest. Too bad they would come from a home with no real love or respect" You spit, moving away from Taehyung's proximity.

"No real love? You know that's not true"

Taehyung has supposedly been in love with you since he was 16. He hasn't been, you just took his virginity one spring night whilst both your parents were downstairs striking up a business deal.

The idea of you and Taehyung ending up together had been a never-ending conversation since you guys were kids. He doesn't love you, just thinks he's supposed to.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

So, rightfully so, after the evening you've had. You've ended back at the House Of Balloons. Swapped the wine glass for a red solo cup. The Chateau d'Yquem for Smirnoff lemonades.

You had only been there for approximately 7 minutes before a little teary eyed pocket rocket of a woman dressed in a short black bodycon dress had snatched the vodka from your hand and ran off to cry off the clumpy mascara coating her eyes.

Approximately 9 minutes in, Jungkook had stormed past you. If you hadn't seen the cigarette between his fingers you would have believed the cloud of smoke following him was coming from his ears.

Face like a slapped ass.

Yoongi had shrugged when you asked who pissed in his cereal, "Who hasn't."

As far as you were concerned, Jungkook walking out of the party was only a benefit for you. If he wasn't inside, it was one less pair of daggers being shot your way.

Which is why you want to knock yourself out when Yoongi excuses himself for five minutes and you end up right in-front of Jungkook. Pretty baby blue pumps shining in-between his worn out converse.

Half think you should turn around, take the bottle of Smirnoff and down it whole. Would probably do less damage than whatever choice words Jungkook will have for you.

He looks up, his eyes round and glassy for half a second before they are narrowed, brows pinched together.

"Yes?" His tone was laced with disgust, no effort put behind his words.

"You look like shit." You take a seat beside him on the bricks that line the side of the garage. Unevenly laid, empty wine bottles with plants growing inside them sitting along the bricks that Joon had planted.

"You look like a fuckin' moron" he hangs his head again, slightly kicking up the dirt with top of his converse.

You let out a small laugh. Reach into your YSL purse and grab your own cigarette.

Jungkook watches you from the corner of his eye, not surprised that even the packet of cigarettes you own look like it would take half his paycheck. A sleek black and gold pack of 20s.

You look at Jungkook, hold the open packet towards him. "Sobraine. My father gets them imported from Russia, try it."

He takes one. Definitely not because he's curious if it tastes like money and power. Just has never been one to turn down a freebie, even if the one giving it was an insufferable spoilt bitch.

He brings the flame from his lighter to the end of the cancer stick and drops it on the bricks beside you.

Inhales. Inspects the cigarette. Exhales with a scoff.

"You pay a shit ton of fuckin' cash to have a shitty cig imported. Eat the rich." Shakes his head, inspects the cigarette again, keeps smoking it anyways.

"You snort your cash" you retort.

Jungkook lets out a small scoff again, more air behind it this time. Lighter. Kinder. "Didn't take you for a smoker."

"Mm, and what did you take me as then?"

Jungkook turns his head, looks at you. Pushes the locks of hair back that have fallen over his forehead and lets out a somewhat condescending chuckle.

"Spoilt. Annoying. Immature. Inexperienced. Conceited." Each word spoken a tad harsher than the last, followed with a slight shrug.

You flick the cigarette with your thumb onto the ground, stand to your feet and look at Jungkook.

"It's cute, really." You smile, your words spoken so softly.

"What? Whats fuckin' cute?"

"You." You tilt your head slightly, "You're cute. Thinking of me so often. Very cute." your words are teasing, a pretty smile on your lips. Want to rile him up, know it's not a fair shot to come for his background like he does you. It's not hard to spot that Jungkook holds up a hard front, will make him question it.

"Yeah, fuck off, you were tolerable for all of two seconds. Fuck off." His expression looks like you've just told him he's got 7 minutes left to live. Absolutely bewildered.

You smile, walk backwards towards the house, "Don't want you staring at my insufferable ass."

Jungkook wedges the butt of his cigarette between his teeth, sticks each of his middle fingers up at you.

If you hadn't already made your way inside Jungkook would have yelled out that he was a titty guy anyways, and your tits may have just made his cock twitch- No. No they did not. Repulsive. Horrible tits. Bad, bad, bad tits.

You spot Yoongi back inside sat on the same ugly, worn and torn brown couch as last night. Grab a new drink and make your way to sit beside him.

He's on his phone texting, said something about his dropper fucking around, wouldn't be here on time.

A petite, long legged brunette sits beside you. Dressed in some black ripped up skinny jeans with an oversized band tee that she had DIY'd into a crop, more bra on display than shirt.

"You're Bee, yeah?"

You nod slightly, her tone was polite, her lips coated in crimson red in a small smile.

"Valerie." She extends her hand, shakes yours, comments on the pretty quartz stone ring decorating your index finger.

Her brunette bob was slightly messy, chipped red nail polish matching her lips. Eyeliner in a sharp wing. Pretty. High cheekbones, a small button nose. Could have been a Runway Model you think.

Yoongi had left upstairs to handle whoever had been fucking him around with his order of drugs. Would hate to be on the receiving end of that call.

Jungkook had returned, sat opposite to you in the middle of the couch. His face had relaxed slightly, no more crease between his brows, his shoulders relaxed.

Joon was sat on the couch to your left again, the same girl as last night under his arm. He had taken a much kinder approach in talking to you tonight, had asked you about your hobbies, if you had a private car to drop you where you desire, asked you if you had any fancy champagne bottles he could use for his bottle-garden.

Jimin was out of sight, Hoseok in his usual place behind his decks.

The conversation was light, mostly engaging with Valerie. She was kind, each taking turns to refill each other's cups. She had told you she had been coming to these parties for around a year, and had gotten friendly with the guys. Hasn't missed a weekend here since she first came.

Yoongi had returned, repeated the same actions of last night, dumped the black bag holding the tiny bags of snow and then retreated upstairs with a different girl.

You watched as he led the girl upstairs, hand on the small of her back and guiding her to his bedroom, assuming he was going to get high and fuck through his high.

You would be wrong though, he just didn't want you seeing him snort a line. Felt wrong. Knows you wouldn't judge him for it, but a part of him is still scared of letting someone from his past down.

Jungkook had wasted no time in getting his nose to the bill. Two lines snorted clean. Leans his head back, smiles. The ring at the end of his lip flips as the corners of his mouth lifts..

He looked at Valerie, gestured towards the coke, was met with a shake of her head. He turns to you, "not even gonna bother asking you."

"Don't be such a prick Jungkook" Valerie spoke up, offered you a smile. "Don't let him get to you, he's a dick."

You laughed softly, shrugged slightly.

Valerie was up onto her black glossy heels, holding her hand out for you to take. "C'mon. Need to dance."

You took her hand, a little hesitation, eased when she gave you a smile. She leads you through the crowd of Hoseok's makeshift boiler room. Found the perfect place just in-front of where Hoseok was set up.

She grabbed the bottle of vodka Hoseok keeps beside his set up, took a swig and held it out to you.

You were buzzed now, no, drunk. You were drunk. The champagne from lunch that you kept refilling, the countless vodka lemonades and cheap Jelly shots had definitely settled into you now.

Valerie's hands were holding yours, her back pressed against your front as you both moved to the music.

You can't actually remember the last time you had felt this carefree. Sure, you had been to your fair share of parties, had ran your hands over countless bodies as you danced, drank yourself sick. But, you had always remained in control, alert, aware. Would have never risked someone snapping a photo of you with your head in a toilet bowl or your tongue down an elite's throat just to end up with a scandal.

Have never felt this feeling before. Carefree. You didn't care who was watching, you didn't care that people kept accidentally spilling their drink of choice down your legs as they bumped into you and definitely didn't care if Jungkook was shooting lasers from his eyes towards you.

This is why people came here. To escape. To live. To express themselves.

Valerie's arms were hooked around your neck, your bodies moving together almost as one. Your eyes move around the room, countless people moving just like you, hands touching themselves or whoever was pressing their bodies against theirs.

Until your eyes found Hoseok.

He had been watching you with a half smirk as soon as you started moving your body, missed a transition or two as he did. He saw the way you had eased into the movements of your body. How your dress hiked up ever so slightly every time you lowered your body to grind against Valerie's.

Your eyes locked onto his, your movements becoming more deliberately sinister. Your hands roaming down Valerie's sides as you danced. Watched as his adams apple bobbed slightly as he swallowed.

Only took two more songs for him to knock his head towards the back sliding door and ask his friend to spin his decks for him. Grabbed your hand and pulled you through the crowd and out to the garage.

Pressed in the code that locked the door, ushered you inside.

He was dressed in a pair of blue baggy jeans, an oversized black hoodie, shut the door and pressed you against it.

Wasting no time, you crashed your lips against his, grabbed his hoodie and pulled him against you.

His tongue met yours, said hello, decided not to be friends and fought for dominance against yours. A soft grunt into your mouth when yours fought just as excitedly.

He pulled away just barely, took his lower lip between his teeth, moved his hand from your waist to the side of your neck, eyes drinking you in.

"Fuck." Starts to pull his hoodie over his head, gets stuck from moving too fast, succeeds and wiggles his eyebrows at you, "Meant to do that."

He cuts off the small giggle that leaves your lips by pressing his back against yours. Your hands trail down his chest slowly, no need to rush. Want to feel this reckless and carefree forever.

His hand palms at your tit, kisses down your neck, pouts when you tell him not to leave marks.

His other hand slides up your thigh, lifts your leg slightly to his hip, his fingers just barely under the hem of your dress. Looks up at you, looks for any signs of you wanting to back out, watches as you nod and push his hand a little further up your leg.

His hand traces your slit over your panties, lets out a moan of approval at the feeling of the lace. "Fuck, so fucking wet."

Your eyes are half lidded, looking down at him as he kisses down your chest, lips parted, "More."

He leans up, kisses you hungrily, leans his forehead against yours, presses his thumb against your clothed clit, smirks when you let out a sharp breath.

His finger moves slowly in circles over yours clit, lets out a moan of his own as your hand starts to palm him over his jeans. Thinks he would be happy to cum just from this. Never leaves his sets to enjoy in his own pleasures. Wants to enjoy this.

"Fuck, yeah, feels good. So pretty," He kisses you, fastens the pace of his thumb, watches as your lips part further, "Want you cumming on my fingers, hm?"

"Fuck- Just touch me, more. Please." Your eyes are locked on his, your hand moving over his own hardened cock. Can feel his cock twitching every time you move it upwards.

His hands push the bottom of your dress up, your black laced panties on full display for him now, "Mm, care if I rip em'?".

You shake your head, please. Touch me. His fingers trace lightly over the waistband of your panties, eyes never leaving yours, starts to inch lower.

Your back presses against the door, pushing your hips closer towards him, your body begging for him to hurry the fuck up and finger you.

"Fuck, Hoseok!"

The words he wanted to hear from you so badly echo.

Except, they aren't your words. Their Jungkooks, from the opposite side of their door you're pressed against.

Hoseok fucking groans, "Busy, piss off."

"Open the fucking door, I'm not fucking playing with you." Jungkook barks, his fist pounding against the door.

"Fuckin' bit busy right now." His fingers are still hooked under your waistband, his jaw clenched, mouthes a 'sorry' to you.

"Fuckin' cops are here man, sure you can get your dick wet at a later fuckin' time."

Hoseok's fingers fucking fly out of your panties, the waistband smacking against your skin, pushes your dress down and moves you by your shoulders from the door.

He opens the door, Jungkook stood on the other side with a black backpack pressed to his chest. Looks at Hoseok then at you, cocks his eyebrow and rolls his eyes.

You can see the lights on in the house now, 4 cops in view from the back sliding door, ushering people out, all holding torches, hands on their duty belt.

"Fuckin' cock blocks!" Hoseok yells out to them.

"Yeah, fuckin have about 2 minutes until they make their way out here, needa hide the stash." Jungkook mumbles, lets himself into the garage, barges your shoulder as he does.

Cops are rarely a problem for the House of Balloons. They had tried to shut down the parties when the boys first started hosting, and quickly realised that if the people were here, they weren't causing issues on the streets. Had organised a deal with them, as long as there were no drugs, they could continue on with the parties.

Idiots.

The only reason they had been called in tonight was because someone made an anonymous call that people were smoking crack and overdosing.

"Crack? Who fuckin' does crack these days? Ain't no fuckin' crackheads here" Yoongi had argued with the constable as he said he needed to do a search.

"Nowhere to fuckin' hide it. We're fuckin' screwed." Jungkook was pacing now, he and Hoseok eyeballing the room for any potential places.

"Give it to me." You turn to Jungkook, holding your hand out.

"Yeah, fuckin' right" Jungkook spat at you. Give it to you? He'd may as-well go empty the bag out in front of the pigs and dob himself in.

"Seriously. I'll take it, leave with the crowd. Will bring it back when everything's cooled down."

Jungkook and Hoseok look at eachother, Hoseok's eyes screaming 'Hand her the fucking bag', Jungkook's 'Are you fucking insane?'.

"Or don't," you shrug as you turn around and head towards the door, "Have fun sober in a cell. You will make a pretty bitch boy in there.”

"Fuck- Here." He throws the bag towards you, tells you to not fuck it up and fuck off.

You throw the bag over your shoulder, slip out the door and right into the middle of a group leaving down the side of the house.

You make your way down to the front, two extra cops stood outside, ushering people away, waving off the people who piss and moan at them for the shut down.

As naturally as you can, you start to pass them. Have no idea where the fuck you're gonna go, tell yourself you'll order a driver in the street over.

"Hey, you. Stop". The voice came from behind you, a slightly older cop looks at you, gives you a once over and tilts his head.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. They know. They know I would never possibly carry an ugly bulky black bag with this dress. Or maybe Joon was right and I do look like a hooker. I'm done. Off to prison I go, Possession Of Drug Paraphernalia, definitely going to be somebody's bitch, will make a lovely trade for a coffee stick.

“Nevermind, looked familiar. Keep walkin’.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

As you step back into the familiar setting of your bedroom, you can still feel your legs shaking from the adrenaline. Stuffing the backpack to the very back of the top of your closet, you lay on your bed and send Yoongi a text.

| 5:57am

You: ur drugs are safe and sound

| 6:00am

Yoongles: Owe u big time Bee.

Thanks again x

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[sleepisaweakness]

Personally, I don't understand the appeal of Buddie Happpening because Eddie might move to be with Chris, and Buck in the end of that Episode was his oh moment and It will lead to him Stopping eddie or going with eddie to bring Chris back instead......like NO I'm sorry that's isn't cute or appealing to my eye that's childish, selfish and just not it to me because this Situation isn't ABOUT BUDDIE it's not about buck at all it's about Eddie and His Son Christopher his first priority his teen son who he traumatized and hurt and I see people also state things like "Chris would never" "Chris needs to just come home " "He wouldn't ignore hin for this long "......people pls he is a teenage boy who while in L.A has been through so much stuff literally every year of course he might not want to come home and forgive so easily and as much as people and I myself like to belive Buck is his other parent the reality is that he isn't he is his dad best friend The diaz parents might not be the greatest parents but clearly so far Chris is making a Life back in Texas so Eddie thinking of moving Back is Vaild he hurt Chris unintentionaly enough that he probably doesn't want to hurt him more so Yes he should move for Chris if that's what he needs and It's just so unappealing to have to were Buck starts to pull way or tries to change his mind becaue he realized he loves him ....like pls No also we haven't even gotten a eddie coming out story and why does he have to be gay and not Bisexual or demisexual like pls don't get me wrong I love buddie but I feel like people are pushing it too much now because Cleary Eddie is attracted to woman their isn't some catholic repressed boy going on here maybe buck is just that one person and only person and also guys seriously of course they are gonna sit on the couch ...ITS A COUCH WHERE ELSE ARE THEY GONNA SIT COMFORTABLY.....uhgg I'm sorry I love buddie but I don't want it if this is how they are gonna give to us it's giving My step-mom doesn't like child her husband had before marriage and therefore She is what's more important to the husband

[bcolfanfic]

universal sound au•gender-integrated 100bg

house fire

authors note: hi! writing this kind of au is new for me so i hope its alright. massive s/o to ww2 rpf is fine discord server for being so lovely and encouraging <3 bare bones run down: halona is a ball turret gunner, elowyn is a pilot + lesbian who was involved with tatty back on base and has been projecting missing her onto halona :p and cj was a navigator.

cj is *not* dead, while all this is going on she's a train evading via the comet line. which of course crank nor anyone else has a way of knowing.

---

Crank took a breath in before he knocked on the library door, the quiet murmur of conversation coming through from the other side.

When a few seconds went by without any movement he opened the door himself. Brady was seated in the far corner, his back slightly hunched over a stack of papers that sprawled across the table. Halona was pressed shoulder to shoulder next to him, leaning into his space to tell him something he couldn't quite hear- but whatever it was made Brady laugh under his breath. He tilted his head to look at her, eyes soft.

Better Clark sent me than Elowyn, Crank thought to no one.

Brady reached toward Halona’s hair, his fingers ghosting near her face before Crank cleared his throat, loud and pointed. Both of them jolted like they’d been burned.

Turning his head towards him, Brady sucked in his bottom lip.

"Hm?"

"Colonel Clark wants to run us through some escape stuff,"

Halona gathered her things and stood with a soft, Thanks Crank as she brushed past without meeting his eyes. But Brady didn’t move. He just stared at the table in front of him, shoulders tight.

It chipped at his patience.

"Come on, lover boy," Crank muttered, turning back and giving the door frame a pat. "we’ve got more important things to do."

"You're acting like El." Brady finally said as he pushed in his chair and stood, budging past Crank- shoulder pushing against his side hard enough that he had feeling it was intentional.

Crank paused for a beat before he followed him, boots brushing against the dust collecting on the floor. "And how am I doin' that?" He called out after him, edge of his voice biting at Brady's heels.

He could sense him rolling his eyes without seeing his face, tone annoyed. "By acting like the sky's gonna fall if I look at Hallie one way or another."

Crank inhaled, flexing his fingers at his side, knuckles aching to be popped. It was more complicated than that- for Elowyn of all people especially. But the root of the way her eyes narrowed at the two of them made enough sense to him. Johnny had never been good at compartmentalizing. And distractions were a liability, now more than ever.

Halona was a good girl; he'd seen enough of her around CJ to know that. He had more faith in her to not get distracted than he did Brady.

It was only the secondary reason that he felt like he could understand the way Elowyn's face twisted every time Brady's hand lingered on her friend's back- and every time he designated himself the one to swipe at the grime that managed to collect itself on the edges of the band-aid patched over her eye.

It made him miss having someone- miss CJ- so much it made his chest ache.

"There’s a whole lot to do around here without you trippin’ over yourself about her. We’ve got more important things to worry about." He said with a gesture at nothing. "El's right about that much."

"El’s just pissy ‘cause she’s jealous." Brady cut in, words sounding somewhat practiced as his tone dropped. "Halona knows it, and so does everyone else with a brain in their skull."

"Doesn’t mean she’s wrong," Crank mumbled, jaw feeling tight as he pushed open the door to the bunk room. Brady was so close behind him he could feel his breath on his neck.

"Yeah and you'd be singing a real different tune if CJ was here." He said, loud as he pushed past him into the room.

Crank froze where he stood in the doorway, suddenly feeling lightheaded. The girls had known from the beginning, and he had a hunch Croz did too if for no other reason than navigator proximity.

But not anyone else, Brady least of all. When he blinked and found his bearings, there was a proud grin tugging at Johnny's mouth.

"The hell 's that supposed to mean?"

Brady didn't miss a beat, stepping back towards him. "You know what it means, you were screwing her." he said, edging on shouting. "And you," He continued, jabbing his finger almost right into his face "wouldn't be acting like we all oughta' take celibacy vows in here if she showed up tomorrow."

Crank’s face burned, and he could sense everyone's eyes on him even when he didn't find he had the gall to look back. Settling for the safest bet he looked away from Brady at where Elowyn was sitting on the edge of her bunk, gaze flicking between the two of them, impassive. Halona had sat herself down at by her feet, looking up at her with one side of her cheek sucked in. Elowyn leaned down to say something in her ear.

Brady scoffed, expectant, and Crank felt like his strings had been cut.

"You know what- go fuck yourself," he spat as he stepped to him, enough that Brady dropped his finger away. "Or go screw Hallie, don't need my bles-"

Before he could even finish the sentence, Brady lunged, his fist meeting Crank's jaw with a crack.

All the air was sucked out of the room at once and Crank staggered back, blood rushing to his mouth. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, tasting copper as he stumbled to keep his footing. Who he was pretty sure was Bucky came over to haul him up by one arm, barking something at Brady that felt like white noise to his ears.

When he looked at Elowyn again her face had hardened, and it looked like she might say something, but the words never came.

"You think you got everything out of your system there boys?" Colonel Clark said as he walked out from where he'd been in the corner of the room, brows furrowed with his arms crossed over his chest. He clapped a hand on Brady's shoulder and motioned for him to go stand where he'd just come from- as far away from Crank as he was going to get in the small space.

Hearing Elowyn's voice, low and urgent pulled his attention back to her and when he looked over, she had shimmied out of her bunk to sit next to Halona on the floor. Halona looked back at him when he figured that she could sense his staring, lips pressed in a thin line- wet glint in her eye that wasn't bandaged.

Crank swallowed, guilt settling his gut like a stone. If CJ was here, he thought, she would've killed him for making Hallie cry. She'd about knocked a RAF prick on his ass over much less.

Every move he made feeling forced, mechanical, he made himself sit in the empty chair next to Buck at the table, furling and unfurling his fingers around nothing.

"Just this place talking." Buck had taken up saying to all of them.

Crank found himself wishing this place would just shut it if it didn't have a damn thing useful to say, or an MIA navigator to spit out through the fence.