#and that's in a familial love kind of way mind you

[one-green-frog]

Family Knows Best

Platonic Yandere Batfam x male reader

(I couldnt really find a good gif)

The signs had been obvious. Almost too obvious. But here you were, trapped within the walls of Wayne Manor, surrounded by a family whose love for you was more intense, more consuming, than anything you had ever known. The strangest part? You didn’t mind.

Maybe you should be scared. Maybe you should be fighting to leave. But, really, wasn’t this what you had always wanted? A place where people actually cared about you? Where they loved you unconditional?

It all started with a simple visit.

Damian Wayne had walked into your small pet clinic one late afternoon, accompanied by a boy his age. In his hands, Damian held a tiny duckling, its fluffy yellow body trembling against his hands.

"It was alone," he had said, his voice sharp but carefully controlled. "I suspect its mother is dead. What are the chances of its survival?"

The look in his eyes told you just how deeply he cared and how scared he was for it's survival. He was young, but his concern for the creature in his hands was genuine. You reassured him that with the right care, the duckling would grow strong. You even offered him advice on raising it, though, deep down, you had wanted to keep it for yourself. Unfortunately, due to the lack of space you opted for another option. This boy, Damian Wayne, had probably enough space for the duckling, not to mention the resources he had and most importantly, the heart to care for something so small.

What you didn’t realize then was that your kindness had sealed your fate.

In the weeks that followed, the Waynes began appearing in your life in a frequency that couldn't be coincidence. First, it was Jason Todd, walking into your clinic to ask for advice for a "stray" cat he "found", you later realized that the cat was already part of the family for years. Then Dick Grayson, whose excuses were flimsier—he had seen a stray dog outside and thought he should check if you had seen it, then he lingered in your waiting room, babbling on and on about the most random things. Tim Drake came next, standing awkwardly in your doorway as he asked for information on exotic pets, his eyes scanning every inch of your tiny clinic as though analyzing everything about you.

It felt... odd. Wayne money didn’t typically find its way into the rougher parts of Gotham, yet here they were, weaving themselves into your routine, your space, your life.

Then the flowers started arriving.

Every morning, a fresh bouquet sat at your doorstep—rare, expensive arrangements that made it clear this wasn’t some random act of kindness. No name. No note. Just a silent reminder that someone was watching. At first you thought it was an accident, but the bouquets continued to show up, it made it obvious they were meant for you.

You told yourself you should be creeped out. But no one had ever sent you flowers before. No one had ever gone out of their way to make you feel special. No one would be bothered if you took them into your flimsy apartment. No one would complain and the flowers made your apartment kinder, nicer and just lovelier to wake up to

Then, one evening, Bruce Wayne walked into your clinic.

It was different from the others. The moment he stepped inside, the air in the room shifted. He didn’t rush, didn’t hesitate. He moved with an easy confidence, his deep blue eyes fixed solely on you. His usual playboy smile on his lips that could melt anyone, and yet here he was, looking at you as if you were royalty.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, his voice smooth, warm.

You were frozen in place. The billionaire, the man Gotham worshipped, was standing in your dingy little clinic, smiling at you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world.

That was the beginning of the end.

He returned often. Sometimes he brought gifts, small, thoughtful things that showed he had been paying attention. A book you mentioned wanting to read. A coat after he “noticed” the thin fabric of your usual one. Every gesture was perfectly calculated, yet felt so natural, so effortless, that you found yourself leaning into his presence without a second thought. He came by at the same time everyday and you found yourself watching the clock closely, heart speeding up whenever it was almost time for his visit.

When he invited you to dinner at Wayne Manor, it felt inevitable.

And when he suggested you stay the night after a few glasses of wine? That, too, felt natural. It was late, Gotham is dangerous, not to mention that you didn't want to bother the nice butler.

When you woke the next morning, disoriented but warm beneath the heavy silk sheets, Bruce was already there, waiting with a tray of breakfast. His smile was soft but filled with something deeper, something darker.

“I’m so glad you’re here", he said with the same sweet voice.

Something was wrong. You knew something was wrong. The prince of Gotham not only invited you to dinner, let you stay the night and now he is in the room with a tray of breakfast? It was simply to weird to be true. But he was looking at you like you were the most precious thing in the world, and for the first time in your life, you felt seen. You felt like you belonged on this place

So you stayed.

And stayed.

Days bled into weeks. You told yourself you could leave if you wanted to. That nothing was keeping you here. No one really forced you to stay. And yet... you couldn’t leave, it was like i higher force told you that you were right where you belonged, where you were cared for and loved. And then there was the family, so warm, so eager to keep you close. You weren’t a prisoner. Not really.

You were theirs.

Dick was the easiest to get attached to. He was light, warmth, and safety all wrapped into one human.Movie nights with him turned into deep conversations about life, love, and loss, his struggles with relationships, especially with his family since he works outside of Gotham. He would confide in you, let himself cry against your shoulder, and then whisper how much he needed you to stay, how no one had ever made him feel this way before. “You’re the only normal one here,” he would say, his fingers tight around your wrist. “You make everything feel right.”

Jason was different—quiet, intense, always hovering near but never too close. He would accompany you on walks through the gardens, listening more than speaking. When you talked about books, about the things that made you happy, memoriesfrom your childhoos, he would nod along, his face unreadable but always at peace. But you noticed the way he would subtly recommend books you might like, covering it under the guise of "a friend recommended it, but i haven't had the time to read it yet, why don't you give it a try", the way he perked up when you actually listened and bought the book and said you enjoyed it. He was quiet, but you could feel it—the way he held on to every word, the way his presence lingered long after he was gone. His action spoke of how much he looked up to you, a father-figure that he had a normal relationship with.

Tim was an enigma. He barely slept, barely ate, but he always seemed to be there. At dinner. During family time. During late-night kitchen visits where he would sit across from you, a coffee cup in hand, while you ate a bowl of cereal. He would ramble about theories, about mysteries in books he read, some "case" from a the series he watched and though you hardly understood half of it, you nodded along, letting him talk. He needed that. He needed you. A presence that didn't tell him to quiet down, didn't butt in to tell him he was a bit too paranoid.

And Damian? Damian clung to you. Always following you around, like a puppy. It started small—sitting beside you, leaning against you, watching you with sharp green eyes. Then came the possessiveness, the way he would glare at his brothers when they got too close, the way he fell asleep in your bed without asking. Not much time had passed before he called you brother

“I will not betray the honor of being by your side,” he had murmured one night, curled up against you. It was meant to be a statement, not a question.

And then there was Bruce Wayne. The man that looked at you as if you hung the stars. He cared for you like no other, always making sure you were alright. He spent most of his free time with you and he made sure you knew that he appreciated the way you brought the family together. Family time before you would often lead to fights, regret or just utter silence, but with you here, someone so ordinary in a special way the time spent together was peacful. Even Alfred the butler always smiled at you.

At this point you couldn't leave, be it because of you or because of the family that would made sure you wouldn’t.

They weren’t going to let you go. You were part of their family, their brother and son, the light of the manor.

And worse?

You didn’t want to leave.

Because no one had ever loved you like this before. No one had ever looked at you like you were the most important thing in the world. It was sick, it was wrong, it was obsessive.

But it was also love.

And maybe that was enough.

Being a part of this family was probably the one thing in your life that felt right.

DC has a grip on my life rn, so feel free to request something. But other than that, i hope you all have a great day :)

[sageshouldknowbetter]

In Defense of Mark S

Post S2E4, Helly is going to be mad at Mark. I can’t see a way around it. He not only didn’t know someone else was “behind the wheel” of her body, he continued romantic pursuing of that person… thinking it was her.

But though Helly has valid reasons to be angry, a) victim blaming isn’t okay and b) I can totally see why Mark didn’t realize something was amiss!

First: impossibility and sheer absurdity. To Mark S, it would be unthinkable for an outie to ever enter the severed floor. That’s a violation of his universal laws, immutable as gravity.

Water is wet. Coffee cups fall down when you knock them off the table. And outies do NOT come down to the severed floor, because the chips are spatially triggered.

And sure, he knows about the OTC and that it’s theoretically possible — but why would any outie want to, and why would Lumon ever LET them? If he ever thought, “Oh, Helly’s acting strange,” Mark’s mind would go through a million different logical steps before landing on something outlandish as that.

Maybe she’s sad she was alone when she woke up during the OTC. Maybe she’s just having a bad week. Maybe she’s acting differently around him because of their first kiss. The idea that she’s being possessed by another being? Never would have occurred to him!

Remember how his outie plays into this as well. Irving B has the subconscious of some kind of anti-Lumon revolutionary with the paranoia that only comes from a military background. (“She’s a mole!”) Of course he clocked her.

But Mark? Mark Scout a) doesn’t know the entire family of his CEO, and b) has the subconscious of a history professor grieving his wife. While Irving’s outie’s knowledge bled through to him in the subconscious of his dream, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mark’s subconscious was actively TRYING to suppress any suspicious thoughts.

Of course it’s Helly. It NEEDS to be Helly. Because Mark’s brain is tired of grieving. His subconscious will shut down any accusations that she’s acting differently and cling to the idea because she CAN’T be gone, right? It’s not happening again… right?

And then we circle back to the first kiss. Mark S is in love — head over heels — with Helly R. He’s trying to find Gemma, sure, but that’s for his outie’s happiness, not his own.

If you’ve had one, do you remember your first crush? Remember the butterflies in your stomach and how much you were laser-focused on your own behavior? “What should I say?” “How do I look?” “Am I being weird? Why is she looking at me like that?” Mark S doesn’t notice Helly R is off because he’s too busy worrying about how he comes across to her. And because he has no idea she’s Helena, he has every reason to believe that’s how she’s thinking about him, too! He thinks they’re both dorks in love trying to figure things out. Irving doesn’t have this disadvantage — he’s on the outside and can see everything play out.

All I’m saying is I get it. I hope Helly at least kind of gets it too. What I’m wondering is, will Mark even tell Helly about his assault? Will he hide it out of some misguided belief that it would make her even more angry? Will she yell at him, not knowing that he’s a victim of someone wearing her own face? Much to think about.

[bunji-enthusiast]

thought of another request !! (Obviously platonic, love being used in a more parental manner bc yk,, found family)

so, doey is one of the few toys you managed to save and bring back home. He unfortunately has a anxiety meltdown from being outside for the first time in years and reader having to comfort him, talking to him softly and holding him in their lap while he just sobs bc it's so much at once,,

They're like "shh, it's okay, i know, love, i know.."

Idk if that would make sense for a one shot 🙏

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫

Sypnosis [Being outside for the first time in years can take a special toll on a person, especially if that someone is Doey in particular.]

Character [Doey]

Note || I believe I understand what you mean, correct me if I don’t lol.

The day had been quiet, almost too quiet. The toys, having found their way to your home after months of struggling for survival, were finally beginning to settle in. The factory was far behind them now, the haunting memories of the place slowly fading into the recesses of their minds. The Safe Haven was a place where they could breathe again, feel safe. You, having escaped the nightmarish grip of the factory, had taken it upon yourself to provide for them, to help them heal. You had promised yourself that no matter the cost, you would make sure they were never subjected to the horrors of the factory again.

But even in the safety of this new home, some wounds never healed. You watched as Doey, the plump dough creature, sat at the corner of the living room, his normally playful demeanor replaced by something more distant, more uncertain. His eyes—holes in his head, just faint shadows in the dim light—seemed lost, unfocused. He was far from the carefree toy who had led the Safe Haven group with bravery and kindness. No, this was a side of Doey you had never seen before, and it was clear that something was wrong.

You walked over to him, kneeling down so that you could meet his gaze. He flinched slightly at your approach, and you noticed the subtle trembling in his yellow and orange arms. You had seen toys face the horrors of the factory, but nothing quite like this. Doey had always been strong, calm, a beacon of hope for the others.

But today, that strength had crumbled.

"Doey," you said gently, your voice low and calm, "hey, what’s going on? Talk to me."

Doey's mouth, that simple line of dough, quivered slightly as he took a deep, shuddering breath. He could barely hold it together, his usual bubbly nature drowned under the weight of something far more sinister.

“I... I’m not sure I can do it anymore,” Doey muttered, his voice thick with emotion. It wasn’t like him to sound so fragile, but you recognized the desperation in his tone. “I’ve tried. I’ve always tried... But it feels like no matter how hard I try, I’m just going to fall apart.”

You frowned, reaching out to place a hand gently on his arm. The warmth of your touch seemed to help, though Doey flinched at first. He wasn’t used to being touched like this, not in such a vulnerable state. You could see his struggle, the fear of being broken, of losing himself to the horrors of his past.

"Hey," you said, your voice steady despite the situation, "it's okay. You're safe now. We're all safe."

"But I don’t feel safe," Doey whispered, his eyes downcast, avoiding yours. "Every time I close my eyes, I see... I see them. The factory. The screams. The things I did... the things I couldn’t stop. And now I can’t stop feeling like I’m just one bad thing away from falling apart. What if I’m just a... a toy? A toy made to be broken? What if I’m not strong enough to lead them, to keep everyone safe?"

You could feel the weight of his words, the burden he was carrying. Doey wasn’t just a toy to you. He was a friend, a confidant. His strength was a shield, not just for himself, but for all the toys in the once Safe Haven. And now that shield was cracking.

You knew that the other toys were counting on him, but even they didn’t know the full depth of the struggle he was going through. Doey was made up of the memories and personalities of three children—Kevin, Jack, and Matthew. Each piece of him brought its own light, its own shadow. And while Matthew's kindness and gentle spirit were a dominant force within him, there was also the fiery temper of Kevin, and the deep yearning for something lost within Jack. It made Doey... complicated.

"Doey, listen to me," you said softly, but firmly. "You're not alone in this. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to keep going. And we’re all here to help you. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”

Doey's right arm—yellow and thick—shuddered as he reached up, his hand going to his face, his body folding in on itself as though he could hide from the world. A soft sob escaped him, and your heart ached. You had seen him lead, seen him face danger with a brave face, but this... this was something entirely different. The weight of the factory’s horrors, the responsibility of being a leader, had taken its toll.

"Doey, it's okay to feel broken," you said, your voice trembling just slightly now. "We all have our broken pieces. But that doesn’t mean you can’t still be whole. You’re not just a toy. You’re not just the past. You’re Doey. You’re the one who stood up for all of us. You showed us what it means to keep fighting. And we’re not going to let you fall now.”

Doey looked up at you, his doughy face streaked with tears—tears made of the very clay he was formed from. You could see the conflict in his eyes. The fear of what might happen next. The anger bubbling up from deep within, the fiery Kevin side of him, just waiting to lash out.

But you didn’t let him retreat. Instead, you gently cupped his face in your hands, the warmth of your palms pressing against his cool, doughy skin. “Doey, I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. We’re all here.”

A long moment passed, where Doey simply breathed, shuddering in your hold, trying to steady himself. Slowly, his trembling ceased, his body slowly relaxing into your touch. There was still an undercurrent of fear within him, but you could feel him starting to regain control.

“I... I don’t know if I can lead anymore,” Doey said quietly, his voice still uncertain. “But I... I don’t want to let anyone down.”

You smiled softly, your hand brushing his long orange arm. "You don’t have to lead alone, Doey. We’re all here for each other. Here—it’s not just you. It’s all of us, together."

His yellow and orange arms hung limply at his sides for a moment before he slowly, carefully, wrapped them around you, his stubby red legs shaking beneath him. His embrace wasn’t strong, but it was filled with a sense of quiet gratitude. He was fragile, yes, but he wasn’t alone.

And that was enough. For now, it was enough. You’d be there to help him, just like he had helped so many others before.

"Thank you," Doey whispered, his voice muffled against your shoulder. "I’ll try. I’ll try to be strong. For them. For you."

And as the two of you sat there in the quiet of the room, surrounded by the other toys, you knew that, despite everything, Doey would find his way. Because sometimes, strength wasn’t about never breaking—it was about finding the courage to put the pieces back together when everything felt like it was falling apart. And you’d be there to help him do just that.

[illusionremember]

If I may add on here... I have a couple thoughts related to this.

I think a lot about the episode Abandon All Hope, in S5, in which Lucifer meets Cas. He tries to persuade Cas that, as a fellow rebellious angel, they should be allies. Lucifer almost always posits himself as not being your enemy, of being the one who was betrayed by his brothers. His approach at first is always to coax someone into trusting him. He does it with Sam, with Nick, later on with Vince Vincente, with Michael and Gabriel and every other angel that he tries to sway to his side. So it stands to reason that the other angels would eye Castiel with suspicion — "a dangerous seducer," as OP put it. After all, isn't that Lucifer's gig in the first place?

Second, diving in on what you also said about "the kindness is a conscious choice but the violence is ever present," we know that Cas himself views Dean as his catalyst for change. That's reinforced over and over again throughout the show. But we also know from Naomi that Cas has a long-standing record of not doing what he's told, and it's heavily implied that even this previous defiance is related to his morality. He's devoted to the charge of protecting humans, not slaughtering them. He genuinely likes humanity, but he also loves the angels. It tears his heart open to fight them. It's that kindness that Dean uses to appeal to him in 4x22 Lucifer Rising, in the beautiful room. It's not that Dean changed something in Cas that wasn't already there. It's that Dean was the first person to tell Cas that he wasn't wrong to choose kindness and mercy on humankind. "People. Families. That's real." When all his long, long life, Naomi and Zachariah and all the other angels told him that it was divine justice, that it was right for him to slaughter innocents, even for something as petty as to send a message.

Cas is a soldier. He's always been a soldier. You're absolutely right about "the violence is ever present." We see his gut response over and over again is to defend, but specifically with violence. He is willing to commit truly horrible acts of violence for the greater good. He's ruthless; he makes the hard choices — making the deal with Crowley, opening purgatory to use souls, stealing grace, breaking into Donatello's mind, etc. — in order to do what must be done.

But he never acts without purpose. He's not cruel by nature, and would always rather choose gentleness. If he sees a way to achieve peace, to avoid further violence, he will take it. It's this dichotomous capacity for violence and gentleness that makes him so compelling to me.

That's also why Dean is so important for Castiel's arc, not just as his friend or his love, but as someone who can get him to step back, to look for another option. Gentleness comes a lot more readily to Dean, and he draws out the best in Castiel. That's why Cas sees him the way that he does. Personally, I'm a real sucker for relationships where one or both of them is like "you make me strive to be a better person".

ANOTHER thought I had today is that Cas' ability to get angels on his side post Godstiel breakdown and especially post being responsible for the fall is kind of wild and something that I feel like might be most attributable to how he becomes more and more gentle in the way he treats people as the show goes on. Like I think early seasons Cas was pulling people to his side as much or more by the strength of his ideals as by the pull of his character but I think that balance shifted significantly as the show went on. Like, I just think about Hannah meeting Castiel after a massively traumatizing experience and having him heal her and treat her gently and the way that clearly translated into a profound loyalty, and I think about how the environment of heaven is always shown to be cold and cruel and sterile and it makes me wonder about how much of the influence Cas manages to pull in defiance of all logic is just down to angels having very little experience with basic kindness.

And I think it would be most fun for this to translate into a reputation as like. A dangerous seducer with the power to corrupt people's minds. Like there are angels who are deathly afraid of even speaking to him for fear of falling under his sway and he's frequently accused of straight up mind control but all he's doing is being gentle and a little bit kind.

[thetardisisnotourdivision]

Ok we have another one to add to the list!!!!!!

So I've seen a lot of people arguing about the whole "but Marinette made the decision for him!" thing in Werepapas, and honestly I think it's another Lady Macbeth/Baby It's Cold Outside scenario.

So the argument here, if you don't know it, is whether Lady Macbeth pressured Macbeth into killing the King, or whether she saw that it was what he wanted to do, and encouraged him because his conscience was getting in the way of something he clearly wanted to do. I can't be arsed to explain Baby It's Cold Outside but you get the gist.

So, the argument here is - Adrien still doesn't get to make his own decision. But did Marinette make the decision for him, or did she encourage him towards the decision he was always going to make? To me, the part where Adrien said he didn't know what he wanted was VERY in character. It read very much as him not wanting to offend anyone or cause another fight (like the one they literally JUST went through). But, really, was he ever going to make a different decision? He was choosing between Nathalie, who from the flashbacks and *gestures* the Rest Of The Series clearly cares about him, he knows her well, she loves him. Or a couple of strangers he just met that day. Adrien clearly, throughout the episode, expresses that he wants to stay in Paris, with Nathalie, and he is repeatedly ignored. To me, this moment is not Marinette making the decision for him - it's her standing up for him and saying to him that he can speak his mind. Remember, Adrien's spent his whole life under his father's thumb. He never could say what he wanted for fear of retaliation.

There IS a theme of other people making decisions for Adrien, obviously with the grandparents, but also with Nathalie herself. I will defend her until the ends of the Earth, but she did decide on her own that Adrien would be better off with biological family - granted, there's CLEARLY something influencing this feeling, plus the grandparents talking about how she's not family and has no right to look after Adrien, I wouldn't be surprised if there's some kind of backstory there - but once again, even though she thinks it's for the best, and the best thing for Adrien even if it hurts her (which it clearly does), she's still making a decision for Adrien. She's blinded by the fact that she's obviously at some point been told that she's not his family and never will be (the guilt from being Mayura and aiding and abetting his father is probably coming into play too) and so she makes a decision that ultimately, Adrien should have had a say in. And Marinette, like she did in the Special, puts her foot down and says, actually, you are his family, or the closest thing left, so listen to him when he says you are. I also found it very funny when Marinette literally tells Nathalie "you're an adult", and follows it up with basically "so do something about this". But you get my gist - ALL of the characters are making decisions for Adrien, and Marinette SEES this, and encourages Adrien to make the decision HE wants, and not the one that will please his grandparents.

[writingwithfolklore]

I Cut Out Social Media for 30 Days and It Changed My Life

Okay hefty title, but I mean every word of it.

Over January I followed a book called Digital Minimalism by Cal Newport. I'm sure you've already been lectured to death about how bad technology and social media is for you, so I won't repeat the statistics here. What I will say is that Newport suggests that there are also positives to technology and that abandoning it altogether is not realistic. Instead, he proposes that we define our values, and then use technology to attain them--rather than allowing technology to define what values we should hold.

To do this, Newport suggests a complete "detox" of non-essential technologies for 30 days. That means abstaining from social media, netflix and other streaming services, videogames, etc. But of course still being able to phone loved ones, email for work, and use google maps if you're going somewhere new, etc. In doing this detox, he proposes that we will be able to better understand what values we hold as people, not just as consumers of technology.

He was right.

At first I found it really hard. Right away I noticed that any activity other than doomscrolling and watching endless hours of Youtube took a lot more brain power. I started doing puzzles, reading, writing (a lot!), cooking and baking, and taking many walks with my dog. By the end of the day I'd be fuzzy and exhausted, and all I wanted to do was curl up on the couch and watch my favourite shows. I didn't, but I wanted to.

But then I started to notice my "brain stamina" (I'm sure there's a better term for it but oh well) started to improve. Instead of writing for two hours before getting fuzzy, I could write for four. And then six. And then eight. Slowly, I found myself being able to do more in a day, to focus for longer on one task, and I didn't feel as drained by the end of it. I had a clearer mind, I could remember things a lot better, I was no longer struggling to find really easy words--they just came to me.

This all also resulted in me spending so much more time with my friends and family. I realized that I really valued this time--and that it wasn't something I could replace by hitting 'like' on an instagram post from them. I rediscovered community, passion, and in many ways, humanity.

It was like I was looking at the world in a new way. I started to notice more, be curious about more. I kind of remember being this way as a kid, and I couldn't believe how I had ever let that go. Now, the idea of sitting on my couch and watching hours and hours of Youtube in every moment of my free time feels inconceivable.

However, my 30 days are up, and so Newport suggests setting some rules to reintroduce what technology I believe supports my values. I've decided not to return to Instagram, but that I do value keeping up to date with the gaming community and pop culture, which I do on Youtube. Now, Youtube is something that I watch for a couple hours on weekends, instead of eating up every bit of free time I have. I also value interacting with other writers and the writing community, so I've created a couple hours in my schedule to check Tumblr and my Discord and keep up to date with you guys here.

But now most of my free time is spent reading or writing, or being with my family and friends, and I value that most of all. To demonstrate how much has changed, in the months before my detox, I wrote maybe 2500 words. Since my detox, I've written 40 000. Last year, I read about four books. In just one month during my detox, I read 10.

If this sounds like something you'd be interested in trying for yourself, feel free to reach out to me! I'd love to talk more about my experience and things that worked or didn't work for me. I'd also really recommend the book, it was incredibly helpful in determining what rules were healthy to set and how to get out of technology and then back in with success.

Back to usual content soon :-)

[agoodflyting]

I'm kinda in love with the idea of a dragonborn Dark Urge who was adopted and raised by a wealthy family in the Upper City. I want a Dark Urge who had private tutors as a child. Who can play the piano. Who had servants and tailored clothes. Whose mother wanted him to become a doctor.

It makes such a fun contrast to Gortash's 'started from the bottom and now I'm here' vibe if the Dark Urge started at the top and let himself fall from grace.

Gortash clawed his way up from nothing. He taught himself to talk like a gentleman and to dress like a gentleman to hide the fact the he's common as muck. He technically only has a grammar-school education, but you'd never know it because he reads voraciously. He's not ashamed of his background, but he also wants to make it very clear that he's risen above it. It galls him more than anything to be mistaken for poor.

Meanwhile, the Dark Urge had everything handed to him from birth, and willingly gave it up to embrace his role as the prophet of the mad and the forgotten, who lives in a sewer and is constantly covered in gore, because that's what his father demands of him. He rejects his background as much as Gortash does, though for very different reasons. Death is the great equalizer. What does he need airs and graces for? Why should he mind his manners? He is Death Itself. He doesn't need to be polite or cultured. He only needs to kill.

But he remembers. Occasionally, he will thoughtlessly correct Gortash - the kind of little things you tend to pick up when you grow up rich. That's damask, not brocade. The fork goes on the left. It's pronounced Ahm-nian.

It both infuriates Gortash beyond reason and makes him wonder about his partner's background.

Once, when he was waiting for Gortash to finish writing a letter, the Dark Urge went over to the piano in Gortash's office - the one he only keeps around for the look of it and has never touched - and played a few perfect, measured scales, like someone remembering an old lesson.

On the other hand, it's Gortash, in his gold-embroidered clothes and expensive boots, who will steal an unattended apple from a grocer's cart on instinct, because a part of him has never forgotten what it feels like to go hungry.

The Dark Urge is the one who sits with perfect posture and occasionally, unthinkingly, says 'please' and 'thank you' to those he is in the process of murdering.

Gortash is the one who, when weapons and guards fail him, will put up his fists and swing for the throat or the stomach, because he knows from experience that punching someone in the face risks splitting your knuckles on their teeth.

Gortash lives in the Upper City and surrounds himself with luxury because he thinks he deserves better than the poverty that he was born into, but he can't entirely cover up the stain of the Lower City.

The Dark Urge inherited a mansion but chooses to sleep among rats and filth because he thinks it's where a creature like him belongs, but the gore he surrounds himself with cannot entirely hide the Upper City underneath.

I just love the dynamic of the gentleman monster and the monstrous gentleman ok.

[dadexpertheart]

Okay, let’s talk about daddy kinks because I know the name alone can make people cringe a little. But here’s the thing—it’s not always about being into older guys with salt-and-pepper hair. Although, let’s be real, George Clooney could make anyone rethink that. It’s really about the dynamic between two people.

One person takes on a dominant, protective role—usually called “Daddy”—and the other leans into a more submissive, sometimes younger-feeling vibe. It’s about trust, power, and a little playful role-play. And just so we’re clear, this isn’t some “girl thing.” People of all genders and orientations can enjoy it. It’s kind of like pineapple on pizza—some people love it, and others don’t get the appeal.

I know what you’re thinking, and no, it’s not always about your Dad. This is about a role in a relationship, not biology or family ties.

Think of “Daddy” like calling someone “baby” or “honey.” You don’t actually think they’re a child or a jar of honey—it’s just a name that fits the vibe.

So, if someone mentions their daddy kink, don’t let your mind go to awkward family dinners or childhood memories. It’s just one of many ways people connect in their relationships, and at the end of the day, everyone likes different things. No judgment!

[sharky-teeth]

anyone looking for more wincest fic recs?? nobody?? okay here you go anyway. i have a bunch of fics i couldn't fit into the other list, so i needed to make a brand new one with more variety this time around. i organized it by wordcount to make things easier, however i rarely read long fics, so these are mostly pretty short. once again this list got way out of hand...

(for mature or explicit rating, you can assume it's [sometimes implied] bottom sam, or it isn't discussed. for bottom dean or versatile samdean, i made a small separate section of my favorites.)

1k~5k

Remember the Mountain Bed by nigeltde (G, 1k): post canon. sam and dean jr. one of the only fics that have ever made me cry and with only a thousand words! this one is so very dear to my heart, heartbreaking in its details, yet warm and soothing at the same time. just gorgeous.

Are You by lovetincture (G, 1k): one of my favorite gen fics. i adore second person POV and this is a great example of how it can maximize impact.

I Was the Dirty Little Boy (E, 1k): a quick weecest sparring session turning into spanking... you know. the good stuff.

Stealth Run by LaughableLament (E, 1k): late seasons + established relationship + possessive dean + slutty sam. i love this author a lot.

State of Mind by lovetincture (M, 2k): the summary goes "It's legal in the state of Ohio." yes it is as good as suggested. the tension in this fic mwahh

The Euphoria Emporium by Laughable_Lament (E, 2k): sam and dean visit a sex shop and dean gets jealous. quick and nasty.

Be Mine by De_Nugis (T, 2k): first part of a short series. for people who love silly, goofy samdean. this is no plot, pure crack. the kind that actually makes you laugh out loud.

Dating for Dummies by sevenfists (M, 3k): there's not enough first time aftermath fics. this has ruined me because it is the exact level of lighthearted i love, where the brothers continue being brothers first and foremost, even after boning.

We Are Drinking Beer at Noon on Tuesday by whirlpoolsleep (M, 3k): neat outsider POV. always love seeing the brothers through normal people's eyes.

With Mercy for the Greedy by whiskyandoldspice (E, 3k): unmatched weecest pwp. the amount of hits/kudos doesn't always mean quality but for this one it absolutely does. this is pretty much flawless in my eyes.

August 5th, 2001 by coricomile (M, 4k): established weecest! this was cute and tender with the right amount of angst surrounding sam's imminent departure. bittersweet ending.

Run It All Over by runawaydr3amer (E, 4k): first part of a series. the classic "brotherly handjobs" scenario, but it immediately stood out to me. really on point voices and hot amosphere.

Dean's palm would be rougher by FrancesHouseman (M, 4k): hand kink! i think we can all relate to sam here. this has a scene that's hotter than many pwps i've read lol

Know when to walk away and know when to run by deirdre_c (E, 4k): brothers playing strip poker goes too far... set in s3. great sexual tension and a super satisfying first time.

At Least It's Only One Song by ADeedWithoutaName (E, 4k): dean-gifting-sam-a-lap-dance fic. another outsider POV with an instantly likable OC. she can tell there's something off about those guys...

sticks and stones and weed and bones by aeroport_art (M, 5k): sam seeing a therapist at stanford. really great character study and winchester family dynamics. the conclusion to this story is just... crazy. so well done.

Shadows on the Sun by Linden (M, 5k): soft weecest first kiss! the thing i liked most in this story is how protective they both are. nice brotherly feelings.

wretched creation (M, 5k): one of my favorite reads of last year! criminally underrated work with less than a thousand hits. angsty feels and an unsettling atmosphere. dean facing a demon who knows more about his feelings toward his little brother than he'd like.

Forty-One by themegalosaurus (E, 5k): angsty unnegotiated kinky sex with lots of hell trauma. the kind of porn that's so nuanced and well written it doesn't get me horny (that's a compliment!)

Monumentally Stupid by strive2bhappy (5k): dean helps sam shave and it was hotter than i could ever imagine. great banter, tension, and emotional weight.

Double Solitaire by objectlesson (M, 5k): post mystery spot. amazing character study through a very creative concept. this is one of the authors who really knew how to write dysfunctional wincest.

6k~10k

this bullet inside me by missroserose (E, 6k): who's up for angsty first time in a long time? if you enjoy hathfrozen (i'm sure you do), this will definitely hit a similar spot.

Belonging by strive2bhappy (6k): wifey sam. i repeat Wifey Sam!!!

Lucky Streak by merle_p (M, 6k): thirsty pining done so right. incest that gives you butterflies in the stomach, believe it or not.

You Can't Lose What You Never Had by nigeltde (E, 6k): nigeltde is an incredible writer. from beginning to end this fic is insane. angsty, desperate, emotional, shameful, this takes you on a rollercoaster of emotions. top notch characterization.

How it Works by Dyed_Red (M, 6k): this is probably in my top ten fics of all time, peak codependent, obsessive, dysfunctional samdean. this particular fic really nails their dynamic and the most delicious, fucked up aspects of it.

Taking to Give by Dyed_Red (M, 7k): lovely character study. this one is a bit softer than most Dyed_Red works, it offers an emotional view of sam and dean growing up. heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time.

Wire Inside Me by merle_p (E, 7k): the sam-is-carrying-lucifer's-baby fic. this story is great for how it deals with the pregnancy pushing dean over the edge. the first time tension here is excellent!

Dean is badass. Sam has always known it. by FrancesHouseman (E, 7k): very interesting dynamic with sam and dean playing mind games to see who gives in first. i like this cocky sam a lot.

Hush Little Baby by hellhoundsprey (E, 7k): CNC weecest. sam and dean go to a haunted house and get up to some nasty freaky shit. it's even better than you can imagine. fyi there's dean in a clown costume.

they said it was the fall of man by jukeboxhound (M, 7k): set in s6, the aftermath of sam getting his soul back through dean's POV. pure angst and overwhelming emotions, beautifully written, it hurt so good.

Man of Steel by glovered (T, 8k): THE lighthearted incest fic for me. along the lines of paxlux's 'Artery', at least to me. this borders on crack, a hilarious, feel-good story that always makes me smile when i think about it.

Disney Princess Hair by Dyed_Red (T, 8k): gencest/weirdcest in its best shape. sam as sleeping beauty! and obviously dean being very very very weird about handling the curse. i loved how this touched on the obsessive aspects of their relationship while keeping the tone light.

Architecture of Choice by Dyed_Red (E, 9k): yes another Dyed_Red work bc they're my favorite author. this one has one of my fave tropes (fuck or die) and it deals with sam's lack of bodily autonomy in a visceral way.

Pull over by jjtaylor (E, 9k): for my piss play enjoyers! this has lots of great tension and it goes way beyond kinky sex.

This Is All Very Meta by road_rhythm (E, 10k): loss of virginity roleplay fic. except it's sooo much more than that. i thought this would be fun and lighthearted, couldn't have been more wrong. the emotional depth delivered here caught me by surprise, but it shouldn't have, given the author. flawless characterization as usual.

God will forgive me but by sammyatstanford (E, 10k): weecest with lots of pining!sam and angsty yearning. brothers who need each other in sick, twisted ways. there was also a great amount of actual brotherly feelings, which is always a plus in my book.

>10k

Acid by Goshen (E, 12k): to this day one of the most insane things ever written. this fic is a classic, it's a surreal experience, a fever dream. dissecting the brotherfuckers, no stone left unturned.

Baby Blue by Edwardina (E, 13k): sam gets hit with a curse that makes him need to suck on a pacifier 24/7. it turned out to be way less sexual than i expected, this is for caretaker!dean lovers.

Learn to say the same thing by glovered (T, 14k): great case fic. sam and dean go to a single's retreat in the mountains for a case and eventually have to confront their incestuous feelings. every glovered fic just fills me with joy.

Supersize Me, Sammy by awabubbles (E, 16k): sadly one of the only size queen sam fics ever written, but it is absolutely perfect so i made my peace with that.

Only Natural (Be My Hands) (E, 17k): sam manages to break both his wrists so dean steps up to take care of his needs. and i mean all of his needs.

Relapse by ani_coolgirl (M, 21k): lebanon AU. i adore this fic, i'm in love with it, i think about it all the time and will think about it forever probably. everything here was done incredibly well, one of those fics that feel specifically made for me lol

Edges by glovered (M, 23k): amazing banter and lots of UST. set in stanford era but it's not really angsty. the tone was just perfect for me, this fic had me GIDDY.

Driving Down the Darkness by Nutkin (M, 39k): one of my faves in terms of Brotherly Feels. extremely well written and thoughtful, super slow burn. outstanding early seasons getting together fic that everyone should read.

Like a Ghost with Two Voices by Dyed_Red (E, 46k): my favorite demon!dean fic. some of the wildest scenes i've ever read. pretty disturbing and incredibly delicious. if you're into fucked up consent stuff, this is a must read. it has a happy ending!

bottom dean and versatile samdean recs:

Take Backs by saltandbyrne (E, 2k): swesson + switching. hands down one of the best PWPs i've ever read, which was to be expected from saltandbyrne. it really doesn't get filthier than this.

How to Wear Polka Dots by homo_pink (M, 6k): swesson. this one is so so weird. and so charming. interesting and refreshing writing style, i had so much fun reading this.

Here's Your Future by autoschediastic (E, 7k): weecest with teasing!dean for a change. loved the power dynamics here, and the intensity throughout the whole fic. desperate, guilty first time, badwrong at its finest.

Enduring Love by oschun (E, 7k): really enjoyed the relationship study here, insightful and well written.

there will be better days by deadlybride (E, 9k): my favorite heaven fic! so warm and peaceful and emotional, full of love and longing and happy reunited soulmates. just thinking about this story makes my heart ache in the best way. really really beautiful.

Yeah, I'm a Back Door Man (E, 22k): established relationship. dean's hell trauma. this was a rollercoaster, great character study, good mix of angst and schmoop as well. probably the best bottom dean i've read so far (along with a couple Goshen works)

Yesterday, minnesota by Goshen: (E, 29k): speaking of applecrumbledore... this fic truly rewired my brain. the queen of "fucking for years without talking about it until one of them snaps". brilliantly executed, one of my favorite deans ever.

yay it's finally over! still i wish i had more long fics to rec lmao do check tags carefully before reading! enjoy the wincest goodness!

[iwasbored777]

I've been reading posts about GUN and I know they're going to be so bad in the fourth movie. Because not only is it possible that Rockwell, you know the openly xenophobic agent, will be the leader, but we're also going to have the Metal Sonics. When GUN sees alien threats built from the image of the alien they hate the most and can't chase, it's going to be the perfect excuse to want to capture Sonic and also Tails and Knuckles for sure. Not only that, with Amy in the movie it's going to get worse! If she really can travel through time with her chaos energy, I have no doubt that GUN will want to capture her too so they don't get this insane trump card. I dare say that a Team Heroes X GUN conflict is kind of inevitable.

Thanks for this ask cuz I feel so honoured to shame GUN for everything they've done. That previous post about Shadow wasn't enough, they did so many terrible things and I can't believe I didn't write this before your ask.

I can barely list all the worst things they did but I'll try and I'll answer to your other stuff so I hope you're ready and I hope you don't mind this whole analysis 😅 but I really wanted to talk more about GUN and since you clearly hate/dislike them just as much as I do (and many feel the same way) I really want to complain about them to someone who'll listen:

They were the ones that sent Robotnik in the first place. At least at the beginning he was just doing his job.

They knew that Gerald was Ivo's grandfather and alive all these years but they chose to not tell Ivo and let him think that he has no family his entire life. They used him because he was a genius and wanted him to make all those inventions for them and when they thought that he died they just acted as if he never existed.

They hired one of their agents to seduce Sonic's aunt, propose to her, and plan the whole wedding so that they would capture Sonic (I'm sorry I'm trying to stay serious but what the hell is wrong with GUN?! I don't know if I should cry or laugh and this is only the beginning). Poor Rachel too! They didn't care about anyone whether it was humans or aliens. I kinda wasn't happy that Rachel couldn't stay mad, what they did to her was horrible.

They captured Sonic and Tails. Tails was injured when they captured him and they didn't do anything about it, they simply put him and Sonic in cages after they tased Sonic to make sure he's unconscious too, they arrested Tom too when he tried to defend his son. This scene always breaks me, poor babies 😢

They found Shadow when he landed on Earth, kidnapped him, held him in a cryo pod and were doing experiments on him. (Gee, I wonder why Tom and Maddie didn't trust GUN with Sonic and kept Sonic hidden in their house instead after the first movie).

They were responsible for the death of a child, Maria (Walters did try to protect her and Shadow but when others killed her he mistreated Shadow. He definitely had more sympathy for Maria, she was a human child after all.) This moment right here physically hurts me cuz not only that they don't seem to care about the child they just killed but also they're surrounding Shadow and Gerald with weapons as if Shadow and Gerald were the ones who did something terrible here... They didn't care about the child they just killed, they only wanted to capture Shadow, that was their priority and Maria was just a collateral damage.

Right after they killed Maria they threw Gerald, her grandfather who loved her, in jail for 50 years and forced him to make Eclipse Cannon, that can destroy the planet. He went crazy because of all that and WHO WOULDN'T?!

They froze Shadow for 50 years (would definitely stay frozen way longer if he didn't escape) because they just didn't know what to do with him and kept him awake and fully aware of what they were doing to him during the process. I'll once again remind y'all of Walters' comment that Shadow was "too valuable to destroy", because Shadow was property to them and not a young living being with feelings and trauma that they gave him. His face here breaks my heart... Look how helpless he was here...

I added as many examples of how terrible GUN is as I can remember but if there are more you can always add them in the comments. I could easily add every scene and every screenshot with GUN cuz even at their better moments, they're still really bad, but I tried to pick the most important parts.

As for Rockwell, yeah she's gonna be a handful. She's definitely worse than Walters. At least he realized in his last moments that you can trust some aliens, but she isn't going to be easy to convince. They'll probably be even worse from now on and they probably didn't learn their lesson after Shadow. They better not hurt my baby girl Amy or the Colorful Bunch. I have some theories but I'd rather wait and see what's next.

Amy was hiding her identity here from Metal Sonic but I'm not sure if she doesn't want GUN to find her either cuz she's not hiding from Sonic, she let him see her.

Either way, it's not going to be easy for our alien kids and GUN gave me no reason to trust them so far. It says a lot that Robotnik and Stone were WAY more likeable to me than GUN. I hope GUN will leave Shadow alone and if they can't, I hope he'll kick GUN's butts again.

[katsu28]

sent and delivered

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader

summary: after your scheduled coffee date with bradley, your friendship progresses into something more over time. (7k)

part 2 to return to sender

warnings: swearing, some use of Y/N

a/n: hello again my tgm family!! went a little overboard with this, but thank you to my sweet @familyvideostevie, who came up with this beautiful friends to lovers plotline for a part 2 literal ages ago, and the lovely @starryeyedstories for putting me in my rooster feels again <3

You shouldn’t be so nervous for coffee with Bradley as you are right now. You’ve already changed your outfit at least twice, sifted through your pantry for a suitable accompaniment to coffee so many times you’ve lost count, and as the clock ticks its way to noon, genuinely debated on making an excuse to bail. 

A few careful deep breaths clears your mind a little, reminds you that no, you aren’t going to bail on Bradley. You’re going to see this thing through if it’s the last thing you ever do, fight or flight response be damned. 

You’re a jumble of nerves as you finally make your way over to his apartment, just like the first time you met him.

Only this time it isn’t because you were afraid he was an asshole (you know now that he was the in fact opposite), but because your crush on him has grown tenfold just overnight. 

See, you’d spent a good chunk of the time you were meant to be asleep last night on the phone chatting with him about anything and everything, never a lull in the conversation until the sun started to peek through the curtains and the birds began their daily morning song.

He’d sounded sad when you announced you had to grab a few hours of shut eye, but murmured a soft see you later that had your heart thudding a little faster in your chest. 

Maybe you even buried your face in a pillow and squealed a little the moment you hung up, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

You knock on his door firmly, shifting the package of Oreos from hand to hand nervously as you wait. 

The door swings open to reveal a smiling Bradley, and suddenly all your worries seem to fade away. 

He’s wearing jeans and a well-fitting Hawaiian shirt this time, which would’ve looked tacky as hell on anyone else, but Bradley found a way to pull it off. He still looks way too damn good for someone who’d been up the whole night. 

“Hey!” He exclaims, beckoning you inside with a smile. You mirror his smile, but before you can return his greeting, he brings you into a hug. He smells of fresh laundry and sea breeze and something heady that you can’t quite put your finger on but like nonetheless. “Long time no talk.” 

You let out a huff of amusement. “Right, because seven hours is just such a long time.” 

“Sure felt like forever,” He replies, reaching around you to shut the door. His arm grazes against the small of your back as he does, a fleeting touch that still manages to make you shiver. Maybe Bradley notices, because he lets his hand linger for another second, expression shifting into something softer as he eases the cookies out of your hands. “This for me?” 

“Uh, yeah! I hope you like Oreos, ‘cause it’s really all I had,” You say sheepishly, folding your arms around yourself in an awkward attempt to seem normal. 

“I love Oreos. Thank you.” He bobs his head quickly. “Anyways, welcome, come on in, make yourself at home.”

Bradley’s apartment has the same layout as yours, but other than that it looks like a completely different place. 

While you’d decorated your space with all sorts of odds and ends, posters and paintings and a plethora of knick knacks adorning your shelves, Bradley’s is…kind of empty, save for a few sports posters and some workout gear scattered in the hallway leading to the bedroom. A piano sits over by the window that gives the place some character, but other than that it doesn’t really look like this is anyone’s home. 

It’s as if he feels you taking in your surroundings, because he chuckles awkwardly, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “It’s plain, I know. Definitely won’t be winning any awards for interior design.” 

“Oh, I dunno, the minimalistic look is really in these days,” You hum, shrugging nonchalantly. 

“You’re too nice to me. I’m not here a lot of the time, so I haven’t really done the whole ‘making it feel like home’ thing yet. I’ll get to it though.” He admits, kicking aside a lone pair of shorts. “Anyways, uh—forget this, why don’t we keep moving on into the kitchen?” 

The kitchen is much more interesting than the rest of the apartment, mainly the wall of postcards and photos next to the fridge that catch your eye immediately.

“Now, this is more like it!” You gasp, beelining for the wall to look at them. Postcards of sandy beaches, snowy mountains, and everything in between. Pictures of a younger and current Bradley with whom you assumed were his fellow Navy buddies, smiling wide for the camera like he’s having the time of his life. A few more older photos of a woman and a man who looks just like Bradley with a kid who you assumed was Bradley. 

You feel Bradley’s presence come up behind you, hear him inhale a sharp breath. “Those are my parents.” 

“You look just like your dad.” 

“Yeah, that’s what everyone says.” 

“And your mom is beautiful.”

“She was.” You know better than to pry any further than that. One day, maybe, but not any time soon. He sniffs once, then clears his throat. “You, um, you want some coffee?” 

You leave the wall to come settle on one of the barstools across the counter from him, propping your chin up in your hand as he pulls open a cabinet.  “Ah, the infamous coffee maker! Damn that thing is huge.”

“Don’t come for me, but I’ve still only figured out how to make one thing,” He warns, pointing at you with a mug. “Hope you like black coffee, ‘cuz that’s all you’re getting.”

“Black coffee is perfect.” 

“I have milk if you take yours with some. Only almond milk though. Supposed to be better for the bones, according to Hangman.” Bradley nods his head towards the fridge. “S’in there if you need it, help yourself.” 

“First the machine, now the milk—this Hangman must be a trustworthy guy if you take all your coffee tips from him.” 

Bradley laughs, a loud belly laugh that sends a tumbling feeling through your chest. “Dude’s a total knucklehead, but he means well. I think you’d like him.” 

“What’s that thing they say about a person’s friends being a reflection of themselves?” You muse teasingly, tilting your head. 

“I know you didn’t just call me a knucklehead!” 

“Your words, not mine.” You lift one shoulder, letting it drop with a look of feigned innocence. 

“Funny.” 

As always, conversation with Bradley is never dull. Even though you’d talked for hours on end the night before, there is no shortage of stories to be told, life stories shared over coffee and Oreos like you’ve known each other forever. 

Somehow you wind up here, talking about how you both ended up in the same apartment complex. You’d found this place on your own and were immediately sold on it. It was affordable, not too small but not too big, and quiet enough for you. Seemed like a perfect deal had fallen right into your lap. 

Bradley, on the other hand, had found it a completely different way. His friend Nat had been going out with a total douchebag of a guy who just so happened to be looking for a place at the same time Bradley had been, sharing his apartment hunt findings with her. 

She found out he’d been seeing another girl behind her back the whole time, kicked his ass to the curb, tipped Bradley off on the open spot in the complex, and Bradley swooped in to nab the place before the cheating son of a bitch could even blink. 

“You did not!” You gasp, covering your mouth with your palm in shock. 

“I did!” Bradley laughs, nodding enthusiastically. “Never liked the guy anyways. And what was he gonna do, confront me about it? Dude was a total coward, he wasn’t gonna come accuse me of jack shit!” 

“You’re smart, Bradshaw, I’ll give you that.” 

“Apparently not smart enough to know that my mail was being sent to the wrong apartment for months. Again, I’m really sorry about that.” 

“It wasn’t a big deal, I keep telling you that,” You insist, shaking your head. “I didn’t mind, really.” 

“How come you didn’t tell me earlier?” 

“Honestly? I thought you were kinda scary,” You admit sheepishly, ducking your head in embarrassment. 

It feels silly even admitting it, knowing now who Bradley actually is doesn’t fit your perception of him by a long shot. But at the same time, admitting it feels somewhat freeing, like you’re letting go of someone you never knew to make way for someone you’d really love to get to know more. 

Bradley’s eyes widens, mouth falling open just the slightest bit in shock. “Scary? Me?” 

“Yes, you! I dunno if you’ve seen yourself from another person’s eyes, but you look intimidating! You’ve got that whole big tough guy look going on, and I’m not great with confrontation.” 

“And what do you think of me now?” He asks softly, settling his chin in the palm of his hand as he meets your gaze intently. There go your nerves again, swirling in the pit of your stomach like a whirlpool threatening to suck you in. 

You inhale a deep breath, letting it come back out as a sort of breathy chuckle. “I think you’re not at all what I thought you’d be.” 

“In a good way or a bad way?” 

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Anything I could do to sway the odds in my favor?” 

Your mouth is suddenly drier than a desert despite all the liquid you’ve been downing, palms clammy against the ceramic of the mug clutched in your grasp. 

You aren’t ready to answer that question, even though you already have an inkling of the things he could do. So you do the only thing you could think of to get yourself out of this situation. You change the subject. 

“I…um—I really loved the chandelier when I took a walk through of the place,” You blurt, jerking your chin over at the sleek fixture above the dining area to draw Bradley’s attention to it. “Really brings the whole place together. Or, it would if mine would stop flickering all the damn time.”

His face falls just the tiniest bit at the sudden change of subject, but his features twist in curiosity within a split second. “Wait, really?” 

“Yeah, yours doesn’t?” 

“No, mine’s been fine since I moved in. Have you tried taking a look at it, see what’s wrong?” 

You offer him a sheepish smile, bashful now. “This is really embarrassing, but I’m—I’m kind of scared that it’s gonna fall on me if I mess with it. Y’know, revenge of the light fixtures and all that?” Bradley’s mouth lifts at the edges, and you could tell he’s fighting another smile. “Don’t laugh at me! It’s a legitimate concern!” 

“Not laughing!” He clears his throat, giving his head a little shake to keep his composure. But even then, there’s no mistaking the amusement in his eyes. “Chandeliers are very scary.” 

“I knew I shouldn’t have said anything,” You groan, hanging your head. Bradley’s soft chuckle brings a flaming warmth to your cheeks. 

“I could…take a look at it, if you want?” 

Your head whips up to stare at him. “Right now?” 

“Today, yeah. If you’re free after this, I mean.” He shrugs, giving the spoon in his cup a few stirs. 

“For real?” 

“I have tools. I’ll take a look, see if it’s an easy fix and if not, we can call maintenance.” 

“You’re walking a slippery slope, Bradley Bradshaw. If you can get the chandelier working again there’s no guarantee I won’t be calling you for every other household problem in the future.” 

“No complaints here.” 

After you’ve both finished your coffee, Bradley grabs his toolbox from under the stairs, and now you’re both standing in the entryway of your own apartment. You feel him taking in your space the same way you did his, your cheeks flaming hot at the clutter of things all around. 

“It’s usually a lot tidier than this, I swear. I’ve just had a lot of deadlines at work and I haven’t gotten the chance to put everything back in its place.” 

Bradley just smiles, giving a noncommittal shrug. “S’no big deal. I like it.” Everything he got from spending more time with you, he could see it reflected in your space. And as cliche as it sounded, he felt more at home here than he did in his own apartment. 

He sets his toolbox down, grabbing a set of pliers and hopping up on the table with ease to poke around the chandelier for a while before fiddling with something. 

He climbs back down, wiping his hands on the front of his jeans and tossing the tool back into the box, planting his hands on his hips. “Looks like one of the wires was just a little loose. The bad connection caused it to flicker, but I tightened it a bit so it should be fine now. Maybe try it and see?” 

You hurry over to the light switch, flicking it on hopefully. Normally it would start to flicker immediately, but when ten seconds go by and the light shines bright, you beam. “So you’re an electrician too, huh?” 

“Hardly. One of my buddies is though. Sometimes he needs an extra set of hands so I tag along with him, see what I can learn.”  

“Well either way, you’re a godsend!” 

“Just glad I could help.” 

“Let me cook you dinner! I have—” You exclaim, shuffling over to the fridge and pulling it open only to be met with nearly bare shelves, save for a few containers of old fruit and condiments. “—nothing. I have nothing, because I was supposed to go to the store yesterday. Well, this is embarrassing!” 

Bradley had followed you to the kitchen, sliding onto one of the barstools coolly. “No, this is all very reassuring, ‘cause I’ve been meaning to go shopping too but I keep putting it off. Glad to see I’m not the only one with poor weekly grocery trip skills.” 

“I’m sure that was meant to be reassuring, but it really just makes us both sound sad,” You groan, slumping over onto your own stool.

“Your words, not mine,” Bradley chuckles, echoing your earlier words with a cheery smile. 

You roll your eyes playfully. “Okay, I can fix this!” You exclaim, holding up a finger as you open UberEats on your phone. “We could do Thai, burgers, pizza—” 

“You don’t have to buy me dinner, really, I’m just happy I could help.” 

“You can say no all you want, Bradley, it doesn’t really matter to me. You’re staying for dinner, and we can either compromise and get something we both want, or I’ll order something you hate,” You insist, trying to sound as firm as you could. 

“You don’t give up easily, do you?” 

You grin at him, eyes alight with mischief. “No, I don’t.” 

“I like that.” I like you, he wants to say. He doesn’t. 

“What’ll it be then?” 

“I wouldn’t say no to some pizza. Got a six pack back in my fridge I could bring over too, if you want.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

“Of beer, that is,” He adds. “No relation to my giant package.” 

“Oh, you asshole! You swore you’d never bring that up again!” You huff, leaning over to swat at him. Bradley dodges you easily, an easy smile playing at his lips. 

“Okay, okay! I won’t say anything else about it, I promise.” 

“You’re lying.”

“Yeah I’m totally lying.” 

-------

And so it began, a saga of texting Bradley to see if the things in his apartment were as defective as yours, him coming over to help fix various things, and you scrambling to show your utmost appreciation for his help.

A broken thermostat meant going downtown for dinner and drinks at some new restaurant “just to try it out”, a leaky sink resulted in him guilting you into a Mission: Impossible marathon (and a whole lot of insisting the main character looked exactly like one of his Navy higher ups). 

That soon turned into you and Bradley spending more and more time at each other’s places, doing fuck all but enjoying each other’s friendship. And over time, that friendship grew a bit more-than-friends-like—he’d always flirt with you, you’d flirt right back—but neither of you had the guts to do anything about it.

Lingering glances, brushing hands that lasted a little too long to be innocent, inside jokes only the two of you were privy to. You’re almost positive he feels the same way about you as you do him, but every time you want to act on it, you chicken out. You've never been one for putting yourself out there, and that hasn’t changed. 

You’re about to turn in for the night today, going to close the window in your bedroom only to realize that the lock on the frame isn’t sliding into place the way it usually did. 

After jiggling it a few times to see if it would prove a quick fix and finding that it most certainly doesn’t fix a thing, you reach for your phone, instinctively sending off a quick message to Bradley without even really having to think about it. 

y/n: quick question! what should i do if my window won’t lock? 

Not five minutes after you hit send, your phone buzzes, Bradley’s name flashing across the screen for a video call. 

It’s odd, because usually when you text about something in your apartment not working the way it's supposed to, he just shoots back a message saying he’ll be right over. It’s nighttime, so you were honestly kind of looking forward to seeing him in his grey sweats and bicep hugging black tee combo. 

You give yourself a quick once over in your phone camera, smoothing down any flyaway hairs before hitting the answer call button. There’s a few beats of nothing as the call connects, but he’s on your screen soon enough, somewhere you don’t recognize and half-shrouded in the dark like he’s under something. 

“Something’s wrong with your window?” He asks, brow creased in concern. 

“Hi to you too, Bradley.” 

“Sorry, hi. But your window, is the lock broken?” 

“I think so? Usually when I go to turn the plastic lock thingy it clicks into place, but I tried it like four times and it’s not clicking, so…” You trail off, pouting. “D’you—I mean, are you busy right now? Would you mind popping over to take a look?” 

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m actually not home right now. Won’t be for another few weeks.” Bradley frowns, scratching at his cheek. “I’m overseas.” 

“Oh my god, Bradley! I’m so sorry, I didn’t know!” 

“No, you’re good! If I was home, I’d be over in a heartbeat, but uh, unfortunately,” He sighs, gesturing vaguely at his surroundings. “Here, flip the camera. Lemme see if I can see what’s wrong from here.” 

“Are you sure?” You ask, gnawing on your lip. It seems wrong, still having Bradley be your on-call maintenance guy even when he’s somewhere probably a thousand miles away. But he nods enthusiastically so you oblige, flipping the camera so it’s facing the seemingly broken lock. 

You watch him blink a few times and squint at the fuzzy video screen for a little bit before sighing again. 

“Sorry, Y/N. I can’t see shit from here.” 

“Yeah no, it’s fine.” You shrug, flipping the camera back to face you. You prop your phone up on your windowsill, settling into a more comfortable position to chat with him. “Where overseas are you?” 

“Afraid that’s classified, ma’am.” He bows his head in apology, but there was a teasing smile on his face. “See, I could tell you. But then I’d have to kill you.” 

You let out an amused chuckle. “Oh, really?” 

“Unfortunately. And you’re too pretty to meet that end, so I’m gonna have to keep my whereabouts a secret to save us both the hassle.” 

Pretty. Bradley thinks you’re pretty. 

You have to fight the smile threatening to break your composure. “How gracious of you.” 

“Isn’t it? I surprise myself sometimes,” He sighs good-naturedly, looking all too pleased with himself. “But seriously, talk to the super about your window, have them get the maintenance guy to take a look. Don’t think I’ll be able to sleep til it gets fixed.” 

“Aw, you worried about me, Bradley?” You tease, pouting playfully at him. 

He rolls his eyes. “You know I am.” 

“I’ll call the super tomorrow.” 

“Not today?” 

“I’ll let you know if someone breaks in through my third floor window.” 

“Hey, you never know! People are stealthy,” Bradley protests, shifting to a sitting position and subsequently hitting his head on the bunk above him. He lets out a hiss of pain, rubbing the top of his head with a grimace. 

“Some people are, but you’re definitely not,” You snicker, to which Bradley gives you another eye roll. “Are you about to go to bed?” 

“I was gonna, but I’d much rather talk to you.” 

That nearly makes you swoon. God, Bradley is good with his words. Damn him. 

“Go to sleep, I’ll let you know when it’s fixed. Wouldn’t want you worrying your pretty little head about me all night.” 

“Pretty little head,” He echos, tilting said pretty little head to the side. 

“It’s, uh, it’s just a figure of speech,” You insist, feeling your cheeks grow embarrassingly warm. Funny how they always do that whenever you’re talking to him. Or thinking about him. Or thinking about talking to him. 

Bradley just smiles again. “Sure is.” 

“Goodnight, Bradley.” 

“Night, sweetheart. I’m expecting that text to be there when I wake up.” He hangs up before you can register the nickname, but you can’t stop the giddy grin breaking across your face when you do. 

First he calls you pretty, now he’s calling you sweetheart. He’s getting bolder. You aren’t sure if that means he feels the same way about you, or if it’s just his personality. Even after you’d known him for almost six months, you still can’t tell. 

-------

Bradley rouses from his sleep at five on the dot, throwing himself into his Navy enforced routine until lunchtime, when he could finally sit down and check his phone. Upon powering it back on and glancing at the homescreen, he sees that he has two notifications from you. One of them is a selfie of you beaming next to your newly fixed latched window, sending him a thumbs up. 

Shit, you’re so pretty. It makes his heart ache to be away from home this time, not able to help you when you need it. 

The other is a text to accompany the photo. 

y/n: window is fixed. hope you sleep well tonight knowing no stealthy people are gonna break in :)

He snorts softly, a smile overtaking his face as he taps out a reply. 

bradley: i won’t worry my pretty little head about it anymore. 

y/n: you better not be texting me from the jet!! 

bradley: and so what if i was? i’d call it multitasking. 

y/n: i’d call it damn stupid, lieutenant. can’t have my handyman ditching me, so come home in one piece, k? 

“Now who in the world could you be texting that’s got you cheesin’ like a big ol’ idiot right now?” Hangman’s voice drawls from across the table, drawing Bradley’s attention away from his phone and to the rest of the squad, who all look at him with the same expectant expressions. 

“Five bucks it’s his girl from back home,” Payback chimes in, smirking knowingly. 

“I’ll take that action, please and thank you,” Fanboy replies, smacking his hand into Payback’s for a shake to seal the deal. 

“She’s not my—have you guys been creeping on my texts?” 

“Well, not creeping per se,” Phoenix reasons, holding her hands up in defense. “I was only trying to send myself that picture of Bob sleeping with that marker mustache when she texted.” 

Bob makes an incredulous noise, head whipping towards his front seater. “You guys said there were no pictures!” 

“Nothing, nevermind,” She hums, waving him off. “Back to the subject at hand. Y/N. Rooster’s girl.” 

“How d’you know her—hold on, how the fuck did you get into my phone?” 

“Your password is your birthday, dumbass. You should really change it, by the way. Cybersecurity is no joke.”

“Whatever. She’s not my girl, by the way. If any of you cared to know. We’re just…friends.” 

“See that hesitation between just and friends? Bradshaw’s a liar!” Hangman whoops, drumming his fingers on the table. “He wants to be her boyfriend!” That last word comes out a teasing singsong, making Bradley roll his eyes. He’s right, of course, but he doesn’t need everyone knowing that. 

“Real mature, Hangman. Real mature.” 

“Can’t argue with the truth, Rooster.” 

-------

You soon discover that life is pretty boring without Bradley around. There’s nobody to bother when you get bored, nobody to make dumb jokes while you watch a movie, nobody to force you to go out even though you don’t want to. Bradley was always the one to do all those things with you, and he isn’t here. Sure, you’re still able to text and talk, but it isn’t the same. You miss him. 

So when your doorbell rings and you aren’t expecting anyone, your mind immediately goes to Bradley. You quickly give yourself a once over in the mirror in the foyer, making sure you look at least halfway presentable before pulling open the door excitedly. 

Bradley’s already beaming when your eyes land on him, but his smile gets even wider as he takes you in. He looks the same as the last time you saw him, although definitely better than he did on a grainy video screen. He’s a little tanner than you remember, shoulders a smidge broader, but still the same Bradley you’d grown some big feelings for. 

“Remember me?” He jokes, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

You give him a once over with a tilted head, frowning. “Sorry, no. I think you might have the wrong apartment.” 

“Oh, she’s funny now!”

“Okay, ouch. I’ve always been funny, Bradshaw,” You huff, but the smile stretching your lips tells him you’re anything but annoyed. “Welcome home.” 

You aren’t sure if you should hug him but you do anyway, wrapping your arms around his neck, breathing in his achingly familiar cologne. Bradley settles into your embrace almost like he’s melting, letting his nose drop into the dip of your neck as he hugs you back a little too tightly. Not that you’re complaining about it. 

“Glad to be back. Missed you.” He straightens up as soon as those last two words leave his mouth, backing away almost jerkily with a hand flying to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“I missed you too, Bradley.” 

The edges of his mouth quirk up into the beginnings of a smile. “So me and my buddies were gonna head to our usual spot for drinks tonight, kinda like a being back stateside, welcome home type thing. I’d really like it if you came with me.” 

“Oh, no, I couldn’t.” You shake your head profusely, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. Bradley’s head cocks in confusion. “It’s your time with your friends, I don’t want to impose.” 

“You won’t be. I want you there, I want you to meet them all,” He insists, looking entirely sincere. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive. Come with me, please.” 

You gnaw a little on your lip in contemplation, only managing to hold out a few seconds under his intense gaze before giving a small defeated sigh. “Okay. I’ll join you.” 

“Great!” He beams, looking rather pleased. “Now tell me everything that happened while I was gone. And spare no detail either, I need to catch up on the complex gossip. Did that kid Andrew ever stop banging on his drums until three in the morning? Does that family across the parking lot still go on walks with their wailing baby or has that sucker settled down yet? I need to know.”

After bringing Bradley up to speed on everything, it’s time to meet his friends. 

Rowdy isn’t sufficient enough to describe the Hard Deck. A Navy joint through and through, the whole place is decked out floor to ceiling with model jets and patches and other various related memorabilia.

The group Bradley leads you towards seems to be the loudest of them all, scattered out around a pool table in the back corner chatting amongst each other and looking happy to be home. 

The first person to notice Bradley’s arrival is a dark haired woman with a pool cue in her hand, which she swings his way upon sight of him coming up next to her, nearly taking off his head had he not stepped back a little. “Bradshaw! Tell Bagman he’s insane if he thinks he can chug a beer in under five seconds, tell him that!” 

“No, you tell Phoenix that I can do whatever I—well, hello there,” The blond man—Bagman, you assume—stops mid sentence when he lays eyes on you, dropping the offended look and aiming a pearly white smile your way. “And who might you be?” 

“Not gonna happen, Hangman,” Bradley warns. He looks entirely serious about it too. 

“Oh, so you’re the Hangman this guy always talks about,” You lilt, ignoring the gentle shove Bradley gives you in return. 

“Aw, Roo, you talk about me?” Hangman drawls, grinning wildly. “Way to make a man blush!”  

“Yeah, yeah, don’t flatter yourself.” Bradley rolls his eyes playfully, giving his head a shake before introducing you to his friends. Each of them has a unique callsign that seems to fit them perfectly. Your favorite name is Coyote because of how cool it is, but you’d never let Bradley know that. 

The woman Hangman had been bickering with, Phoenix, inhales a sharp breath, her eyes bouncing between you and Bradley with barely contained glee. “Oh my god, you’re Rooster’s girl! He’s been—”

Bradley clamps a hand on Phoenix’s shoulder before she can continue, cutting her short. “Alright!” He blurts, giving her a quick few pats. He angles his head towards you, offering a guilty smile. “Sorry about her, she’s drunk. Doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” 

“Move the hand or you’ll lose it, Bradshaw,” She says slowly, pinning him to the spot with a death stare. Bradley retracts his hand instantly, looking intimidated as he does so and Phoenix aims a grin your way. “He’s well trained, I promise. I think maybe you’ve had something to do with that?” 

“I dunno about training, but I’ve taught him a few tricks.”

“What am I, a dog?” Bradley splutters, looking from your grin to Phoenix’s and huffing out a sigh when you both nod. “I feel attacked! This is so unfair.” 

“I like you. We need to get you a drink,” Phoenix says very as-a-matter-of-factly, holding up her empty glass towards you as proof. “Any preference?” 

“Surprise me?” 

“Copy that.” 

You watch her retreat over to the bar, casting a quick glance at your surroundings to make sure nobody is paying attention before leaning in towards Bradley, who mirrors your actions almost instantaneously. 

“Rooster’s girl?” You chuckle, raising an amused brow. You’d never admit it out loud, but you like the nickname. It meant that he told his friends about you. Maybe not in the way you’d wanted them to learn about your existence, because he’d probably told them you’re just friends, but nice nonetheless. 

Bradley goes positively pink in the face. “It’s, uh—s’nothing, my friends just like to mess around.” 

“Okay.” You shrug trying to play it cool while simultaneously fighting the urge to squeal like a damn schoolgirl on the inside. You ought to earn some sort of medal for your performance. 

You soon fall into easy conversation with Phoenix and her backseater Bob when she returns with drinks. It isn’t until Bradley finally leaves your side to go play a round of pool with some of the other guys that she props her chin up in her hand, smiling knowingly at you. 

“So…you and Rooster?” 

“What about us?” 

“Are you guys…y’know,” She gestures vaguely in the air, tilting her head over at Bradley. “A thing?” 

“Oh my god,” Bob mutters, so soft you barely even hear it. He looks mortified at his partner’s very not subtle insinuation. “Nat, you can’t just ask her that.” 

“Oh no, it’s okay! We, uh—Bradley and I are just friends.” 

Phoenix doesn’t look like she believes you one bit, but she just nods reassuringly. “Well, just friends or not, you’re good for him.” Then she moves onto a new topic like it’s nothing, but her words echoed in your mind. 

You cast a glance over at Bradley a little ways away, where he’s chatting idly with another one of his buddies. 

You’re good for him. 

If anything, Bradley is good for you. He pushes you out of your comfort zone, he helps you come out of your shell. He’s the reason you’ve grown into a new person, one that the old you would never have even dreamed of becoming. 

Maybe your attention lingers a little too long, because he tears his eyes away from his conversation partner to meet your gaze, lips curling up into a grin as he nods at you in acknowledgement. Even from across the bar, you can see the soft twinkle in his eyes, the fondness and warmth in his smile causing your heart to swell in your chest. 

By the time you and Bradley decide to call it a night and head home, you already have an indefinite invitation to any and every squad function in the future (whether or not Bradley was present, Phoenix had added with a wink). 

“So…what did you think of ‘em?” 

“I like your friends. They’re nice,” You say earnestly. You mean it.

“Good. I’m glad. They really like you too, Phoenix and Bob especially,” He says casually, flicking on his blinker to turn left. You let out a pleased chuckle at that. 

The two of you chat like normal the rest of the way home once you both settle back into your usual back and forth, exchanging more stories from your respective lives until Bradley pulls into his assigned parking space. 

“Before I forget, I brought you back something.” 

“Oh?” You raise a curious eyebrow. 

He reaches over to your side of the car, fumbling around in the glove compartment for a few seconds until he procures what he’s searching for—a small postcard with a photo of a very picturesque beach. The corners are a bit bent from being shoved in there, but Bradley straightens them out as best he can before holding it out to you.  

Turning it around in your hands, you spot a note in his familiar chicken scratch on the other side, much tinier than you remember but only because it details how much he hated sharing a tiny bunk with Hangman, who was an avid sleep talker when he wasn’t snoring as loud as humanly possible throughout the entire night. 

One thing stands out to you though, the last sentence before he’d signed his name with a rather crooked looking smiley face—I miss you. 

“This town was near where we were stationed. I was gonna mail the card, but I wanted this first one to be special.” 

“Special?” You echo, tilting your head. 

“Yeah. Thought maybe it’d be fun if I send you one of these every time I’m deployed and you could start your own wall. That way whenever I’m gone and you miss me, it’ll—I dunno…remind you I’m coming home?” He finishes awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

You try your hardest to fight the smile threatening to overtake your face as you study the card intently. It’s very sweet of him, you think, that he wants to share this tradition of his with you. 

“Thank you, Bradley,” You say softly. “I love it.”

"I was hoping you would. I'm glad you do."

When he walks you right up to your door, he looks nervous, which isn't like him. You're about to ask him if he's feeling okay, but then he speaks.

“Hey, look, I—um, I’ve had a really good time these past few months, being your friend."

You frown a little. “Uh oh. Why do I feel like there’s a but coming?” 

“No! I mean, yes, but also—shit, okay, lemme start over.” Bradley shakes his head as if to clear his mind, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I’ve really enjoyed being your friend, but I don’t wanna be friends anymore.” 

Oh. 

Your heart may as well have fallen out of your ass at his words. Bradley didn’t want to be friends with you anymore? 

You must not have as good of a poker face as you mean to, because he quickly backtracks, eyes wide. 

“Fuck, no that’s not what I meant, I—jesus, I meant to say that I don’t want to be just friends anymore,” He blurts, letting his hands drop to his sides. “I really missed you while I was gone. More than I should’ve. And at first I just thought it was because we’re such good friends and because of how much time we’ve spent together lately and that’s why I felt like there was this chunk of me that was missing, but I realized it was more than that. I like you. A lot. So I don’t just want to be your friend anymore, I want to be…more.” 

Oh.

Bradley likes you. And you like him right back.

So, you do the only thing you can think of that will show him your feelings towards him. 

You lean forward, closing the gap between the two of you and kissing him right here and now. 

His palms smooth themselves down your back, fingers splayed across the expanse of it as he kisses you like his life depends on it. His mustache is scratchy, but you don’t mind one bit, not with the way he’s holding you against him, like you’re puzzle pieces slotting perfectly together at last. 

You pull away first with a hand against his chest, only slightly, just enough to look him in the eye when you tell him, “I like you a lot too, Bradley.” 

“Best news I’ve heard in a while,” Bradley sighs, tipping his head back with a sigh of relief. Then his brows furrow, eyes focusing above your heads. “Your light is out,” He says bluntly, squinting at the darkened bulb. “Did you know that?”

“Yeah, I know,” You chuckle. “I would’ve changed it, but the damn thing is rusted over, and my handyman has been out of town for a bit.” 

Bradley snorts, rolling his eyes playfully. “Hilarious. You got a spare lightbulb? I could change it right now.” 

“You could.” Now you’re feeling bold and you run with it, walking your fingers up his chest until they link around the back of his neck. “Or…you could change it tomorrow, after breakfast?” 

His brows fly high at that, tongue darting out to wet his lips nervously. “Tomorrow. Like, as in, you want me to stay the night here, and stay for breakfast in the morning?” 

“Well, yes. We’ve got some more catching up to do, don’t you think?” You ask innocently, though your insinuation isn’t quite so. Bradley’s inhale hitches in his chest at the silent message and he nods quickly, antsy now as you go to unlock the door. 

He’s on you the moment you get the door open, lips glued to yours even as you stumble across the threshold and into the foyer. 

“Wait, wait—” Bradley pants, pulling away only slightly. He’s got a hand skimming over bare skin under the hem of your top, mouth shiny with your lipgloss, and he’s telling you to wait. You raise an impatient brow. “As much as I want to—y’know, and I do, can we just…have a quiet night? I wanna take things slow, make sure everything is perfect.” 

“Okay,” You say, straightening out the collar of his shirt. You can get behind taking things slow. It takes some of the pressure off you to adjust to this big change. “Wanna find a movie to watch?” 

He perks up at that, grinning widely. “Hell yeah! There was some action comedy I wanted to see before I got deployed and I’m pretty sure it’s out on streaming now. Mind if we watch it?” 

You won’t tell him just yet since things between you are the newest they’ll ever be, but you’d gladly watch anything with him. Instead, you just nod. “Go for it. Mind if I go change into some comfier clothes really quick?” 

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be here.” 

Bradley’s queued up the movie on the TV already by the time you return, setting his phone aside when he hears you come back in. 

You’re not quite sure where you should sit, but then he extends a hand out towards you, beckoning you into the cozy space under his arm, and all your questions are answered. It feels like you fit right in when you nestle against him, head falling against his shoulder like its second nature to do so. 

“All good?” He asks, giving you a little squeeze and a fond smile. 

“Never better.” 

There’s no mistaking the happy gleam in his eyes, and you’re sure you have something of the same too. 

You think the whole mail mix up situation from a few months ago had been the best mistake to ever happen to you, because it led you to Bradley, who—and you might be a little forward with this thought—might just become one of the best things in your life. 

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[arcaneorphic]

A New Addition

Pairing: Sirius Black x Wife! Reader

Genre: Slice of life, Domestic fluff, fluff

Summary: Sirius and his wife navigate the ups and downs of parenthood.

Chapter One | Chapter Two (For Them, Always)

Word Count: 2,190

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Sirius couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper night’s sleep. The days blurred together in a way that felt like some kind of cruel hazing into parenthood—a relentless cycle of late-night cries, nappy changes, and the kind of exhaustion that settled deep into his bones. He had faced battles, had endured sleepless nights on the run, had fought wars both literal and personal, but nothing had prepared him for this.

And yet, he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Even with the exhaustion clawing at him, Sirius took it upon himself to do whatever he could—any task, any chore, anything to make things easier for her. It was the least he could do, he reasoned. After all, she had spent nine months growing their child, bearing every ache and pain and discomfort while he had only been able to stand by, helpless to do anything but watch. His wife—the absolute goddess that she was, is, and always would be—deserved rest, deserved to sleep peacefully knowing that he was here, by her side, ready to shoulder as much of the burden as he could.

And so, he powered through.

When their baby cried in the dead of night, Sirius was already moving before she could stir, whispering for her to go back to sleep, pressing a soft kiss to her temple before slipping out of bed. When their child refused to settle, he would pace the nursery for hours, rocking them gently, murmuring nonsense and lullabies and quiet promises of I’ve got you, little one, you’re safe.

It was hard. It was exhausting. But when he looked down at their tiny, perfect baby—the child he had never imagined having, let alone deserving—none of it mattered.

Because this was his family. His home.

And there was nothing he wouldn’t do for them.

It was late. If asked, Sirius couldn’t say exactly what time it was—only that it was some ungodly hour of the night, when the world outside their home was silent and still.

He could feel the exhaustion deep in his bones, weighing down his limbs with every step he took back to their bedroom. It was a tiredness unlike anything he had ever known, a heaviness that settled into his muscles and refused to let go. He had been exhausted before—sleepless nights spent running, hiding, worrying—but this was different.

This was the exhaustion of parenthood. Of nights spent pacing the nursery, whispering to their newborn, rocking them back and forth in the dim light until they finally drifted off. It was the kind of tired that came from love, from responsibility, from the overwhelming need to be everything his child and his wife needed him to be.

And yet, he didn’t mind.

Because when he finally reached their room, when he slipped into bed and felt the familiar warmth of her beside him—his wife, his partner, the love of his life—some of that exhaustion eased.

She stirred slightly, reaching for him even in her sleep, her fingers brushing against his chest before settling.

Sirius let out a slow breath, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

No matter how exhausting the nights were, no matter how long the days stretched on, he wouldn’t trade any of it.

Because this was everything he had ever wanted.

Sirius wasn’t sure what had roused his wife from sleep—surely it wasn’t the way he had practically flopped onto the bed, nor the not-so-gentle kiss he had pressed to her head. All he knew was that one moment she was sleeping peacefully, and the next, he was met with a pair of tired, droopy eyes blinking up at him in the dim light.

“Christ, doll,” he started, voice low and rough from exhaustion. “Thought you were asleep. You should be asleep.”

She hummed, barely awake, shifting just enough to nestle closer to him. Sirius felt his heart squeeze at the sight.

Merlin, he loved this woman something fierce.

It wasn’t just in the grand, sweeping gestures or the way he would throw himself into a fight if it meant protecting her—it was in the quiet moments, too. The way he watched over her even when she insisted he didn’t need to, the way his hands instinctively sought hers, the way he memorized every detail of her face as if it might slip away if he didn’t hold onto it tight enough.

Gently, he brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek, his fingers lingering just a little longer than necessary. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I’ve got everything handled.”

And he meant it. Whatever exhaustion weighed him down, whatever chaos the night still had in store for them, he’d take it all—gladly, willingly—if it meant she could rest a little easier.

“I’ve got the next one,” she murmured, her voice so soft, so thick with sleep, that it made Sirius’ heart ache.

He let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he ran a gentle hand down her back. Of course she’d say that. Even half-asleep, she was still thinking of their son, still trying to share the weight of parenthood despite everything she had already done.

“Course, doll,” he agreed easily, though he had no real intention of waking her when the baby stirred again.

She had done enough. More than enough. And if he could spare her even a few more moments of rest, he would.

So when her breathing evened out, when she melted against him with the kind of trust that never failed to undo him, Sirius pressed a lingering kiss to her temple, letting his lips linger for just a second longer than necessary.

“Sleep, love,” he whispered against her skin. “I’ve got you. I’ve got both of you.”

And with that, he settled in, prepared to take on another sleepless night, for them. Always for them.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

He woke up the next morning to the sound of music playing softly downstairs. He shot up in bed, ignoring the way his sore body protested. 

How had he not woken up? 

Panic flickered through him for the briefest of moments. He had meant to take the night shift, had sworn to himself that he would be the one up with their son so she could get the rest she deserved. And yet, here he was—waking up late, tangled in the sheets, with no memory of the baby stirring at all.

She let me sleep.

The realization settled over him like a wave of guilt. As much as he had wanted to take on everything, as much as he had convinced himself that she needed the rest more than he did, she had seen right through him.

Sirius ran a hand over his face, exhaling sharply before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He pulled on the nearest shirt he could find—one of his, oversized and soft from wear—and padded toward the door, following the sound of music downstairs.

And there she was.

Standing in the kitchen, swaying slightly with their baby cradled against her chest, humming along to the song playing on the record player. Their son—so tiny, so impossibly perfect—was resting peacefully against her, completely at ease in the warmth of his mother’s embrace.

Sirius felt his heart skip.

He should have been the one up with the baby. He should have been the one rocking him through the early hours, making sure she got the sleep she needed. But this—seeing them like this, wrapped in a quiet, gentle kind of love—made him pause.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, watching them for a long moment.

“You’re a menace, you know that?” he finally said, his voice thick with sleep.

She turned to him with a soft smile, eyes still heavy with exhaustion but filled with something so warm it made his breath hitch.

“You needed sleep too, love,” she murmured, adjusting their son slightly in her arms. “Figured I could handle a few hours on my own.”

Sirius let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he pushed off the doorframe and made his way to her. He wrapped his arms around them both, pressing a slow kiss to the top of her head before resting his chin against her hair.

“Still think you should’ve woken me,” he muttered, voice low.

She only hummed in response, pressing a kiss to their baby’s tiny forehead before looking up at him. “I don’t want our baby thinking their father always looks like a sleep-deprived madman, letting you sleep in is a courtesy for us both”.  

He saw it then. The woman he’d fallen in love with, the one who gave as good as she got, who never failed to have an answer, retort, or correction to whatever he said. 

Even now, exhausted and running on fumes, she was still her. Still strong, still unrelenting, still the woman who had captured his heart so completely he had never stood a chance.

Sirius shook his head, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Doll, I hate to break it to you, but I think our kid is going to figure out I’m a madman sooner rather than later. Might as well let me look the part.”

She rolled her eyes, but he could see the way her smile softened, the way the weight of the night eased just a little.

And Sirius? He knew then—just as he had known every single day since she had come into his life—he would never love anyone the way he loved her.

She pretended to weigh her words before responding, “True, but I married the pretty boy, not the madman. We do need to keep up appearances.” 

Sirius laughed, something surprised and honest at her teasing, “Is that so?”

She looked at him as if he asked the most asinine question, “Yes? Darling, I thought you were aware that you were my trophy husband.” 

Sirius gaped at her, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. “Trophy husband?” he repeated, voice full of faux indignation. “I’ll have you know I bring so much more to this marriage than just my devastatingly good looks.”

She hummed, as if humoring him. “Oh, of course, love. You also bring unmatched levels of dramatics and a very specific talent for waking up the baby every time you insist on declaring something loudly.”

Sirius gasped, eyes wide with exaggerated betrayal. “You wound me.”

She smirked, leaning up just enough to brush her lips against his. “Oh, but you love me for it.”

He exhaled against her mouth, his arms tightening around her and their baby, a slow, lopsided grin spreading across his face. “More than anything,” he murmured.

And Merlin, wasn’t that the truth?

“Mhm, I thought so,” her voice was softer as she responded. She pressed her lips to his and even now, even after all this time and his ‘supposed’ play-boy persona, he melted. Because, if it were not for her he would have none of this—a home he longed to return to after a long day, a love so deeply embedded into his being that he hardly remembered a time before it, or even the gift of fatherhood. The very notion had once been unthinkable to him. In his youth, he had sworn off the idea entirely, laughing at the absurdity of bringing another Black into the world. He had once declared, with all the arrogance and conviction of a teenage boy, that it would be a plight against humanity to continue his family’s bloodline.

But that was before her.

Before he knew what it meant to love someone so deeply it altered the very foundation of his existence. Before he realized that it would be a disservice to the universe itself to deny it the privilege of having another piece of her in it.

So, he would ‘endure’ her teasing, take it all in stride, because he knew—deep in his bones—that every word she spoke to him, even in the midst of a disagreement, was laced with love. A love so profound, so unwavering, that it had reshaped the very foundation of his life.

She could tease him, challenge him, roll her eyes and call him a trophy husband with that knowing smirk of hers, and yet, at the end of every day, she was his, just as he was hers. They had built something together—something real, something good—a life that was once unfathomable to him.

And if her love came with sharp wit and playful jabs, Sirius would gladly take it. Because beneath every remark, every teasing insult, every deadpan look, was a devotion that ran deeper than words could ever express.

So, he laughed, shaking his head as he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to her forehead.

"Enduring this kind of suffering," he mused, voice low with affection, "might just be my greatest achievement."

She huffed a laugh, curling closer to him. “Well, at least you finally understand your place in this marriage.”

Sirius grinned, holding her and their child just a little tighter.

Yeah. He understood his place just fine. It was here. 

Always here.

[oldrecrds]

He doesn’t like the cold anymore.

Not after moving to Hawaii, where the sun never fails to warm the air and light up the vast blue skies. Not since traveling all the way to the other side of the world, in places with air so humid it’s heavy and summers that seemed endless.

In his head, the cold feels like shoveling snow with a relative he hasn’t spoken to in years. Like holiday parties with the entirety of his big and chaotic family. Like distant memories he can’t go back to.

In his head, it feels like being someone he hasn’t been in a long time.

So no, he doesn’t like the cold anymore. Especially after the time of his life he’d rather forget. His mind has funny ways of reminding him, though. 

On nights like these, it’s by giving him dreams so vivid he thinks he’s back in that cell in the middle of winter, curling in on himself, hoping for warmth that won’t come. Because in a place like that, there is only frigid cold—the kind that permeates your bones and settles deep. The kind that reaches your soul and takes years to thaw out, if it even does. 

He wakes up shivering, heart pounding and the hair on his arms standing up. His breaths heave, and he wraps his arms around himself out of instinct. In the space between dreams and waking, it’s easy to forget that he’s not in a cold, dark cell anymore.

The sheets rustle, warmth envelops him, and slowly, his senses start to catch up to his surroundings.

The first thing he realizes is that the warmth that surrounds him is you—your arms wrapped tight around him. Next to register is a voice, soft and gentle in his ear.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. ‘M here, you’re safe.”

And he breathes easier, because he believes that voice. That voice is the one that consoles him and teases him and laughs with him. That voice is his anchor and his lighthouse. That’s the voice he’d listen for in the loudest rooms, the one he’d follow the sound of anywhere—yours.

His eyes adjust to the darkness in the room. A sliver of light from a small gap in the curtains paints the room a deep blue—you did say something about a full moon earlier—and from where he’s laying, he can see the outline of the lego set the two of you are working on carefully placed on the table in the corner of the room.

“S’okay, honey. You’re with me…” you keep coaxing, voice still roughened with sleep.

He woke you up, again. It doesn’t happen often anymore, but the guilt is just as sharp every single time, and that’s what fully brings him out of his stupor.

He turns around to face you, and it’s good that he can only see the outline of your body, because it means you can’t see him all that well either. You won’t see the guilt and shame coloring his expression. You won’t feel the need to comfort him when he was the one who woke you up from a peaceful slumber.

He should’ve known you didn’t need to see his face to know what he needs, though, because you pull him close anyway, tucking his head into the crook of your neck where it fits perfectly. Your hand rubs his back up and down, lingering over where you know it hurts sometimes, and no, he’s not in a jail cell. Nor is he sharing a cold, cramped room with a bunch of other men.

“Bad dream?” you ask, though the both of you already know the answer. He feels like he’s talked about everything ad nauseam, but you still listen tirelessly everytime.

He doesn’t feel like dwelling on it anymore. He breathes in your scent and sinks further into you, pressing the cold tip of his nose into the underside of your jaw, earning a sleepy giggle out of you. He smiles against your skin. This is all that matters to him now.

“Luigi?” Concern still laces your voice, attentive and understanding and loving even half asleep, and he thinks he must’ve done something right.

“I’m good, princess. Just a bit cold,” he whispers. “Sorry I woke you.”

“Sorry I fell asleep first.” You raise the blanket over both your shoulders, hugging him tighter to your body. 

And the apology is nonsensical. The reason behind your logic more so. You can’t keep the nightmares away by letting him fall asleep first, but you try anyway, and there’s something about the naivety of that idea—the purity of it—that he’d die to keep.

There are a lot of moments in his life where he's thought, what led me here? But this, he knows, is not something he should question. So for the first time in his life, he’s content with not knowing. Whatever led him to you, it’s worth it.

He must’ve done something right, indeed.

[momo-minomo]

Fic Fairy Friday: Dick and Tim being brothers

I want to start regularly posting fic recs with one larger rec post of at least 10 recs centered around a theme, trope, or relationship every Friday. Since this is the first one I'm gonna go with my favorite: Tim and Dick being brothers! And as a bonus, a couple of playlists I made for these two on Spotify to listen to while you read if that's your thing. ❤️

Good Fellows by thatcuriouscat

Summary:

After rescuing Bruce from floating around the past, Tim is Not Okay. What comes next after losing everything that really matters? Tim’s got some thoughts. So do the rest of the family. And Ra’s al Ghul. …And the Joker. Jason looks murderous. “God DAMN it, Tim, this was not the situation I had in mind when I generously taught you how to be a younger brother out of the kindness of my heart!” Even more shocked by this, Dick asks incredulously, “You, Jason Todd-Wayne, tried to give younger brother lessons? Where did you even get the audacity?” Jason rounds on him hotly. “Bitch, you wish you knew how to be a younger brother!” “FOCUS,” Tim demands. “We’ve got like, an hour to pull this off.”

Momo's Notes: Starting this off with my all time favorite Batfam fic. It plays fast and loose with comic canon but the actual characterization for everyone in the Batfam is so freaking perfect. This fic focuses on all of the Bat boys (in this fic Cass hasn't met them yet) and Bruce in the immediate aftermath of him being saved from the timestream but a big part of the plot is the reconciliation between Dick and Tim. Unlike a lot of Tim-centric fics set in this time no one is being unfairly bashed and Tim's stubborness and avoidance of his problem is just as much of a stumbling block in their relationship as Dick's actions in Red Robin. And Dick isn't demonized for making Damian Robin so much as he's criticized for HOW he did it.

tiptoes by thirdgleam

Summary:

Tim wakes up in an alternate dimension. One where he's eleven and living on the streets. One where Batman really does work alone, no Robin by his side. One where Dick is eight years old and the Flying Graysons are still flying. It would all be much easier to deal with if he remembered how he got there. or Tim: Older Brother Extraordinaire (eventually)

Momo's Notes: God this is one is heart-wrenching. Tim struggling with his grief over the family he's been separated from even as he slowly grows to love the versions of them who are adopting him here just shreds my heart. His internal war over wanting to go home but knowing his new little brother Dickie NEEDS him is just SO good. And bonus: if you REALLY want your heart ripped out of your chest check out the side stories from the point of view of Tim's original Batfamily as they struggle with their own grief over losing him. I was in tears SO FAST.

Five Times Dick Was Tim’s Safety Net and One Time Tim Was Dick’s by PrinceJakeFireCake

Summary:

“Tim forced his gaze away from his phone, took a moment to breathe deeply, then tried to figure out the best way not to die anytime soon. For Bruce. For Alfred. For his friends. For Dick.” Dick has always been there for Tim, even before they knew each other.

Momo's Notes: Inspired by the Young Justice comic with the suicide prevention hotline number. One of the things I love most about Dick and Tim's brotherhood is that they lean on each other as equals. When Tim needs help to keep going he calls Dick. When Dick is in over his head, he calls Tim. I love them.

Code Cryptid by SummerKnight717

Summary:

In which Dick Grayson and Tim Drake tag team to make both Bruce and some very unfortunate kidnappers regret all their life decisions. Jason Todd is definitely not the only theatre kid in the family... Dick really doesn't like putting on the Batsuit, thank you very much. So when he has to, he is at least owed some fun in it...

Momo's Notes: How about something short and cheerful after how heavy the last two were? This is in Bruce's pov and is a perfect showcase for how similarly unhinged Tim and Dick are when they work together lol

only you will have stars that can laugh by silverwhittlingknife

Summary:

You coming over is possibly the only thing that’s gonna stop me from wanting to punch your dad in the face, Dick doesn’t say. My current Christmas Day plans are 1) pace around at home, and 2) try not to obsess about what Bruce is up to, so trust me, you’ll be an improvement, Dick doesn’t say. Tim's alone on Christmas Eve. Dick finds out, and fixes it.

Momo's Notes: This is based on (and expands upon) the DCU Holiday Bash 3 comic. It's early in Tim's Robin career, before Babs even knows his name, but after Jack Drake woke from his coma and continues to be the worst. This is such an indulgent big brother Dick fic for me. Him daydreaming about Tim still being his little brother even if his parents hadn't died, that they'd grow up in the circus together, shredded my heart. This fic is just one in a series called A Thousand Ninjas based around Tim and Dick's brotherhood and I recommend reading all of them, they're so good!

Show Me Who I Used To Be by Fairy527

Summary:

While Tim is living with Dick and temporarily stepping in as Nightwing, he helps Dick work through a few memory issues (AKA, a scene from an alternate version of the Ric Grayson plotline)

Momo's Notes: I will never forgive DC for choosing to do the god awful Ric Grayson storyline over Tom King's suggestion to have Tim fill in as Nightwing while helping Dick recover. We could have had SO MUCH brotherhood content! Thankfully we have fics like this one exploring the scenario, though I wish it were longer.

do more harm by dizarys

Summary:

"Hey," Jason laid a hand on his shoulder, "We’re gonna get him back." "Yes," Dick growled, drawing his escrima sticks and clenching them tightly. "We are." He flipped off the stack of shipping containers with a tight somersault, landing lightly. A split second later Jason landed heavy and solid behind him. The four guards didn't stand a chance. --- Dick's temper isn't usually a problem. But when Robin disappears...crossing the line seems a lot easier.

Momo's Notes: I love how feral Dick gets in the comics when Tim is in danger. The number of times Tim's had to physically pull Dick away from beating a dude to death because he hurt/threatened/looked funny at Tim is ridiculous lol. This fic is a double pleasure because it also has some yummy brotherhood moments between Jason and Dick and explores Dick's feelings towards his own rage issues.

how to feed your local demon by InkpotSprite

Summary:

“Oh, don’t forget your–” A few papers fell out as Dick lifted it up, revealing pictures of Nightwing, Robin and Batman in the middle of a fight with Poison Ivy. “Files.” “Ah. Those.” Tim laughed nervously, the sharp, citrus-like taste filling the air. - Dick is an incubus, starved for affection after the loss of Jason. Tim isn't affectionate by nature but wants to help anyway.

Momo's Notes: This is adorable. In an AU where supernatural creatures are normal Dick is an incubus (not necessarily sexual they feed on emotions in general) and kid!Tim is worried that Bruce's emotionally stunted ass is starving his oldest son. So he takes it into his own hands to keep Dick well fed with hero worship and affection.

a soft place to land by unchosenone

Summary:

Tim rubs the back of his head, trying to affect a joking tone. “I knew I should’ve just gone for the new escrima sticks.” Dick is ready to be a good big brother to his grieving little bro. Tim flips the script.

Momo's Notes: Yes! THIS is the Tim and Dick I know and love! Dick is always ready to put aside his own issues to support his little brother but he never quite gets that Tim is just as willing to support him in whatever way he needs. They're equals and they balance one another.

CONTENT WARNING: This last rec deals with aftermath and trauma of a canonical sexual assault

In the comics both Dick and Tim have been repeatedly assaulted and then DC pretends it never happened. This fic deals with Tim having been nearly SA'd by the Daughter of Acheron in Red Robin and Dick finding out about it and both of them dealing with it together. It's well written but if that content will trigger you please avoid it!

Pinned by orphan_account

Summary:

"It’d been a long time since the catacombs. Cass had been there, she’d saved him, he knew that. But in the rush of everything that came after that night, he hadn’t exactly had an opportunity to think about it. Hadn’t wanted to process any of it. The whole thing had been shoved into the back of his brain and locked up tight. Now, it was like everything was throwing itself against the chains in protest, begging him to think and feel and remember, and he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t." Or The aftermath of Red Robin #24/#25 with Tim and Dick talking together. TW for past attempted rape, please read the tags and check the notes for more specific tw's

Momo's Notes: If DC is going to use SA in their comics I wish they'd be brave enough to actually address the trauma and long lasting effects SA would have on the characters. This story deals with the realistic consequences Tim would have to face after Red Robin 24/25 and explores how Dick would respond to it considering his own trauma.

Spotify Playlists!

Tim Drake & Dick Grayson - Chaos Robins

Tim Drake | Red Robin - Genius and Loyalty

Dick Grayson | Nightwing - Cheerfully Kicking Your Ass

[gingerteafairy]

𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 + 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬

𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐞: 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭

Your story with Jonathan began with the classic forbidden cliché: a psychiatrist falling for his patient. You didn't know you were being analyzed since you met him in the lab, but as he took notes on your characteristics, he began to fall for your complexity, your twisted way of being. He constantly showered you with gifts and specific compliments that he knew would get to you, keeping you attached to him. Despite being manipulative, Jonathan is unstable and needy, relying on you far more than you rely on him. He’s clingy, possessive, and jealous, often interrupting your routine just to pull you into a room and inhale your scent, soon convincing you to move into his apartment so he could continue his addiction.

𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐥 𝐥𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐬: 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

Neil is definitely unconventional. You would have a deep and consistent relationship with him for a while, where you were Neil’s first choice to show a new film. Though he was a devoted cinephile, he would never belittle you for your movie choices, even submitting to watching silly mainstream films like Camp Rock, which he affectionately dubbed a "C-rank movie," a typical pun. Though he never formally asked you to be his girlfriend, he would cry in the middle of the night at the thought that one day you might leave him for some hot brainless gym blonde.

𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫: 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝

Miller is quiet, to the point of being terrifying in how mysterious he is, but he notices every tiny detail about you. At some point, you stopped asking him about what he did, and he was grateful for that, comforting you with a “don’t worry, leave the problems to me.” Despite all the pampering and affection, Lenny saw you as a strong woman, someone who couldn't be broken by any jewel, and that was incredibly important to him in order for you to be his. His bodyguards would watch you 24/7, with the exception of the bathroom and dressing up time, which was strictly off-limits.

𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫: 𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝

Vulnerable, almost pathetic in some ways, forced to marry you by his father, the condition to inherit the company being that he would start a family. Being an emotional person, Robert would soon fall in love with you through your time together, learning that not everything could be solved with money. Still, he’d irritate you to no end, giving you $1,000 “to clear your head somewhere.” He would regret it later and buy you something to try to make up for it. Small steps.

𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐧𝐞𝐫: 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

Jackson Rippner is dominant to the core, naturally drawn to a submissive girl, whether innocent or entirely attracted to that kind of thing. Being with him felt like walking a tightrope, a thrill for someone addicted to adrenaline. Public displays of affection and embarrassing situations in public places were common, as he used his charm to escape countless situations. Yet, inside his sick mind, he felt something human for you, attaching it to some cannibal analogy to not relate to simply love. It was too committed for him.

𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐨: 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥

Raymond keeps track of everything, including friendships, where he keeps track even more due to their frivolous nature. Every encounter is calculated. With you, however, it seemed different—rare moments, of course—and he would dare to spend a few more hours in your company, talking about stress and sharing some human warmth in this messed-up, superficial world.

𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡: 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

Jonathan Breech is a case apart. He would treat you as the reason for his life, as you gave him a reason to live after his father’s death. At times, he would catch himself saying self-deprecating things in front of you, but you would quickly reprimand him. He would be upset if you said anything bad about yourself since he saw you as perfect in every way. After the near-death experience, he would want to live life on the edge with you, getting into situations that were sometimes dangerous. That was the most fun part.

[lonelyroommp3]

pls what's the zephy saga (if you don't mind) i love fandom drama

okay gather round the fireplace kids it's zephy retelling time. i feel like i do this on a practically annual basis at this point. it's tradition

anyway first i must set the scene. around christmas 2012, tom hooper's star studded cinematic adaptation of the iconic musical les misérables, itself based on victor hugo's magnum opus, was released. within a few months, the film and its healthy sized gaggle of shippable twinks (including, of course, patron saint of fujoism george blagden) would gain enormous popularity on tumblr, causing the fandom to explode in size and leading to other more storied dramas like the great enjonine war of spring/summer 2013. this is not a story about the fandom in that era of expansion.

prior to that, the tumblr les mis fandom was essentially divided into two, maybe three if you squint, camps, who basically only interacted - as far as i'm aware - to beef with each other. it was, in the grand scheme of things, a very small fandom even before you divided it, so within the camps it was very much an everybody knows everybody kind of deal. on one side, you had people who took things like canon era historical research very seriously, very much favoured the book over the musical, had mostly moved here from places like livejournal and forums, skewed older, had their own insane drama (crow!jehan cult anon come back to me my love...) but aren't really a part of this story. on the other side you had a younger (almost exclusively teenage, maybe some of them were early 20s at the time) cohort who took things altogether less seriously, were more appreciative of the musical, favoured modern aus and shitposts over serious meta, etc etc. they were called the les mis jokers and when i tell you i literally made my account on here after months of lurking because i wanted to Be a les mis joker. i went about this in a sane way compared to the protagonist of this story

(the kind of third clique of fans were people who were into the musical more than the book but took themselves more seriously than the les mis jokers. they do not matter in this story)

anyway, i joined tumblr in late november 2012, the movie came out christmas 2012, ALSO around christmas 2012 another new aspiring les mis joker entered the ring. this was zephy. zephy was a little bit older than most of the people on this side of the fandom (25 or 27 depending on what post you read. #subtleforeshadowing), married, pregnant, and (very very cool thing to be in the eyes of any teenager obsessed with les misérables) french. although she moved to new york city mere days after making her account. not only this, but she came in and just immediately had the tumblr way of speaking down pat, knew all the blogs to follow, seemed to come in already knowledgeable in les mis joker injokes (lurking without an account was, as my own story shows, a completely normal thing to do on here at the time, so this didn't raise any alarm bells), immediately integrated herself in with this side of the fandom with absolute ease and became a very beloved and popular blogger very quickly

sadly, all was not plain sailing for zephy. as her blogging career continued, over the first few months of 2013 her personal life became marred by a sequence of increasingly horrible events. in rough order going by the eventual callout post: her sister attempted suicide, she miscarried her twins, she separated from her husband, her husband then took his own life, she was fired from her job, became estranged from her sister, and THEN (remember we're in spring 2013 by now) her entire family were present at the boston marathon when the bombing occurred. zephy was, understandably given all she'd been going through, very very suicidal herself, and-- WAIT! what's this? it's PEYTON BEACHDEATH WITH A STEEL CHAIR

that's right, peyton beachdeath was in (or adjacent to? i'll be honest i don't remember this entirely. never followed him) the les mis fandom at the time, and was alerted to the many concerning posts and suicide notes zephy was posting. "alright," thinks peyton beachdeath, "i'm going to go back through zephy's blog archive and see what contact information i can find so i can get in touch, maybe get this really vulnerable and distressed woman some help and prevent her from harming herself." a genuinely kindhearted gesture!

however. it turned out that when you exposed yourself to zephy's entire blog history in one sitting... things stopped making sense very rapidly. i'll let the artist formerly known as lalondes' findings speak for themselves here

(yes, for those who clicked, zephy's url was felixtholomyes, aka fantine's dirtbag ex who deceived, betrayed, and abandoned her. i have never figured out if this was a mere coincidence in the post-movie scramble for the last remaining canon urls or if zephy was playing us like a fiddle all along with that one)

tl;dr for those who cba reading the entire callout - various crucial things did not add up in zephy's lore, including but not limited to inconsistencies in her age, her supposed email address, and even the number of children she was supposedly pregnant with (eta: other zephy contemporaries have said they remember her posting when she found out she was expecting twins as opposed to just one baby but she just deleted the post, hence why peyton couldn't find it). she also managed to pull off an intercontinental house move and start a new job while obsessively keeping up her brand new les mis fandom blog (peyton hypothesises, and i have to agree, that this move was so whoever was behind the zephy account could post more easily in their own time zone after realising that their initial ploy to be Very Interesting And French was going to be a logistical nightmare)

essentially - at the very least, several key facets of zephy's life story were fabricated. at worst, zephy did not exist whatsoever

after the callout post, zephy deactivated, and to this day i don't know that anybody has figured out who she was. a few people at the time posted that they had theories but nobody (much to my consternation as a certified nosy bitch) shared them with me, and i have no leads other than peyton's aforementioned theory about what time zone they probably lived in. and basically as soon as this had happened the fandom experienced its aforementioned exponential growth and subsequent world war thrE/É so everyone rapidly forgot about it anyway in favour of our new hobby (queer erasure slapfights)

the detail that really vexes and haunts me is zephy posted selfies - they were all the grainy mac photobooth gpoys we were all taking at the time, they were clearly of a person none of us had seen before (EVERYONEEEE was posting face on main in 2012/13 tumblr fandom), so who knows if this was the actual face of zephy & we were really being infiltrated by a whole new face in the fandom, OR it was an extremely elaborate and well done catfishing ruse. idk if anybody ever reverse image searched or even had the thought or opportunity to do so before the blog vanished from existence.

anyway. that's the zephy story. if you were around at the time and have theories i still want to know them 12 (TWELVE) years later. i got my laptop out at midnight for this