#i'm not even tagging this i don't want this shit in my tag

[rafesdespair]

taking the edge off

ׂ╰┈➤ rafe shows up to your house on the verge of a panic attack. you do your best to calm him down, but he has his own ideas of what could help his mind go blank. [wc: 2.5k]

tags; smut, edging, slight choking, very mild manipulation, technically dubcon kissing but overall the entire deed is very consensual! there are no pronouns or gendered language used towards the reader so this is entirely gender-neutral. [18+] only ★ [read this on ao3!]

Rafe showed up to your house pacing, hands running through his hair anxiously as he muttered expletives. You were sitting on your porch when he showed up speeding in on his bike. He threw his helmet to the ground and walked right by you and through your front door. He was already in the living room when you followed, practically panting while he walked back and forth.

He wasn’t the type to show up like this. You were hardly friends; you’d seen each other at bonfires or at the occasional party, but mostly at Barry’s. You weren’t involved in the drug scene, but you and Barry had been friends for years. Whenever you saw Rafe, he was either fucked up, erratic, or in a frat-boy-party mood. But the Rafe in front of you then was different. 

When he sat on the couch, you took the chance to finally ask what the hell was going on.

Rafe pushed his head into the heels of his hands and inhaled a stuttered breath. “I fucked up bad, like, real fucking bad. I’m so fucked, dude. I’m fucked.”

You furrowed your brows together. “Okay… I mean, how bad? Like, jail bad? Am I harboring a fugitive right now?” you tried to joke lightheartedly, but it fell flat. 

“I need-” he swallowed and wiped his hands down his face. “I need… fuck. I don't know. Something. What do you have?” He stood up now, looking around.

“Rafe,” you said quietly, shaking your head. “I don't do any of that… Why didn't you go to Barry's? Why are you here? What did you do?”

His face twisted into something angry and he tensed his hands at his side. He took a deep breath and visibly held back the urge to yell or break something.

“Barry wasn't there. I thought he might be here, but-” he threw his hands up, exasperated. He sat on the couch again and tears brimmed in his eyes. “Shit, man.”

You didn't know what to do. You've never seen this side of Rafe; you didn't even know he had a side like this. You knew him as someone detached, maybe a bit cold hearted– someone entirely different than the person sitting before you now. 

You, somewhat cautiously, sat next to him on the couch and put your hand on his knee. “Rafe, just breathe. You need to tell me what happened. Maybe I.. I don't know, maybe I can help.” The fact that he hadn’t told you what brought him to this state to begin with had started to worry you.

He tensed and untensed his fingers multiple times until he spoke. “It’s better if you don't know. Don't get involved in my shit. Just… Give me a minute.”

“Don't get involved in your shit? Rafe, you showed up to my house halfway to a breakdown- literally almost broke down my door. You involved me in your shit. Give me something to work with.” You didn't want him to leave in this state. He was already a reckless driver and you were sure he was far too out of it to get on his bike. 

He shoved your hand off of him and gritted his teeth. “I did some shit I can't come back from. Not just light jail time, this is serious life sentence shit I'm in. Prison type shit.” His voice cracked at the end of his sentence and he shook his head. “It’s over.”

You opened your mouth and closed it again, unsure of what to say. You doubted he would tell you any more, and honestly, knowing any more might’ve made you an accomplice. You shoved all questions out of the forefront of your mind and focused on the current situation. 

“Rafe,” you started. He looked up at you, eyes glassy and eyelashes clumped together. “Just breathe. Take a moment to relax. Think. Make a plan. You can't do anything if you're high out of your mind or spiraling. You need to reset.”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, unconvinced. “I can't. I can't stop thinking. I feel like I'm losing my fucking mind. Everything in my head,” he tapped aggressively at his temples, “it's all a fucking mess.”

You grabbed his wrists in your hands and locked eyes with him. “Breathe. Take some deep breaths with me.” You loosened your hold and inhaled long through your nose, waiting for him to follow. 

His eyes searched your face for a moment before he surged forwards, crashing your lips together. He held your head still between his hands, preventing you from quickly pulling away. Your eyes widened and you pushed at his shoulders, but he didn't pull back. He kissed you harder, one hand moving down to cup your jaw. 

You took that opportunity to shove him and lean out of his embrace and stand up. “What the fuck are you doing, Rafe?” Your heart was racing and you were entirely tense. 

“You told me I need to relax,” he said, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “This helps me relax. No drugs.” He puts a hand on the back of your thigh and pulls you closer until you stumble onto him.

You lean back and sit closer to his knees than in his lap. “This isn't what I meant!” His hands traveled up your thighs and rested there.

“Please,” he sighed out. “I need this. My life’s falling apart. I- I can't even think straight. I'm probably going to jail. Just,” he paused, “give me this.” His eyes are big and pleading. His hands moved up to your waist, squeezing gently. “You need to help me.” His hips slightly arched off of the couch, emphasizing his desperation.

You'd be lying if you tried to avoid the way your body is reacting to this– the way your skin was heating up and desire was working through your veins. You let yourself slip closer to him, but shook your head. “This won't make you feel better. It won't change anything, Rafe.”

He held you tighter, maybe leaving a bruise. “I don't care.” One of his hands moved between your legs. “I don't think you do either. I think you want this.”

You closed your eyes for a moment and huffed out a laugh. “What is happening right now, Rafe? What do you want?”

“To make my mind go completely fucking blank.” He fully pulled you into his lap now where you could feel him pressed against you. “Will you do that for me?”

“You're fucked in the head,” you said, but there was no malice behind it. His grin in response made you bite your lip. Maybe you were just as fucked.

You leaned in and kissed him with an open mouth. You started gentle, but he grabbed the back of your neck and slid it into your hair, taking a handful to control your head. He bit and tugged at your lower lip before licking into your mouth. Your ‘mmph’ of surprise encouraged him further.

Pulling back was difficult with his hand holding you and your own want telling you to stay like this, but you did. His lips chased yours, trying to reconnect the kiss. 

Before he could protest, you ran your thumb over his lower lip. “If we're really doing this, we're doing it my way. You're letting me take care of you.”

“Oh, I am?” he replied, smirking while taking your thumb between his teeth. You slipped it into his mouth and pressed it down on his tongue. 

“You are.” You slid your thumb out of his mouth, swiping it over his bottom lip before moving down to unbuckle his pants. “Just lean back.”

He settled his hands on your thighs again and leaned into the cushions, watching your movements with amusement. You were taking your time unzipping his jeans, stopping to palm at him and run your fingertips down his bulge. 

You slipped your hand beneath his waistband and held him loosely, moving your hand tauntingly slow. He bucked his hips a bit to encourage you, but you only used your other hand to push him back down. 

You took him out of his pants and take a moment to just admire, which seemed to amuse him. His cock was pretty. The tip was a blush pink that matched his lips and the color that tinted his cheekbones. You ran your fingertip from base to tip, smearing the bit of precum that had gathered. The sensitivity made his cock twitch.

You spit in your palm and watched the way his pupils dilate, his teeth biting down on his lower lip. Motivated, you wrapped your fingers around him and started jerking him off. You started , watching his expressions and seeing what he responded to the best. When you twisted your hand around the head, he gave a quiet mph. 

“I wanna hear you moan,” you said before leaning forward and letting spit drip from your mouth and onto his cock. You moved your hand faster, following the way his breathing picked up.

Rafe gave a proud smirk and said, “make it good then.”

Keeping up pace, you leaned forward to kiss at his jaw. They were gentle and almost teasing until you moved down to his neck. You left open mouthed kisses everywhere and could feel his pulse increase while you sucked bruises into his skin. You loved watching marks slowly decorate him from his collarbone to his jaw.

You kissed your way back up to his lips and spoke against them. “Am I doing good?” you whispered, quickening your speed.

He placed a hand around your neck, applying a pleasing pressure. “Mm, you could do better.” The warmth that spread up through your head made your eyes flutter with a soft whimper playing from your lips.

You doubled your efforts, focusing one hand on massaging his balls and the other working him top to bottom. The two of you held each other's gaze as his breath stuttered, pupils eclipsing the blue of his eyes. He thrusted his hips lightly, nose scrunching in pleasure.

You slowed down then, keeping one hand steadily stroking him and took the other to cradle his jaw while you kissed him. He sighed and licked into your mouth with a needy groan. You let him deepen the kiss and let out another mewl when he squeezed your throat again. 

His head fell back against the couch when you tightened your grip around him, followed by a breathy, “fuck.” Absentmindedly, you rolled your hips against nothing, your body seeking some kind of friction. Rafe almost laughed as he sat himself up a bit.

“Y’want me?” Rafe asked with amusement lacing his voice. “Want my dick, baby?”

Your cheeks flushed as you chewed the inside of your cheeks, shaking your head. “This isn't about me.” You thumbed at the underside of his tip, ignoring the pulsing between your legs. “I'll let you pay me back later.”

You spit on his cock again, putting an end to the retort about to slip from his mouth. Instead, he let out a sigh mixed with a moan before biting his lower lip again. He watched your hand move up and down, his breath unsteady with every exhale. You could tell he was getting closer with every stroke. His chest rose and fell faster and his hips stuttered beneath you.

Then, you took your hand away.

Rafe whined, which caught you by surprise. He let go of your neck and grabbed your wrist hard enough to bruise and scowled. “The fuck?” His voice was hoarse and confusion bordered with frustration was etched on his face. “Why’d y'stop?” 

Your wrist throbbed but his strength and desperation turned you on more. “It'll feel better if you wait,” you said while running your hands up and down his stomach. “I told you I'd take care of you,” you leaned forward to kiss below his ear, “so let me.”

“Why're you fuckin’ around?” He dropped your wrist and squeezed at your hips instead. “S'posed to be helpin’ me.” He tilted his head over, giving you more access to kissing his neck. 

Speaking in between kisses, you said, “I am helping. You feel good, don’t you?” When Rafe mumbles out a weak mhm, you stroke him faster. “I’ll let you come soon, just hold on a little longer.” You palmed his balls and added, “you think you can do that for me?” He nodded hungrily.

You were watching him lose control by the second. You knew the Rafe that everyone else knew: hot-headed, combative, cold. But this version of Rafe was entirely different. He was loose under your hands and unraveling more and more. His eyes were hardly open anymore, brain completely fuzzy.

He reacted the most whenever you would take your hand away when he would get to close to coming. You’d work him up, then go slower until the rush subsided. You’d get him there again, then let go entirely. You felt almost cruel as he practically clawed at your thigh, silently begging for more stimulation.

When it was clear that there wasn't a single thought in his head that didn't revolve around his pleasure, you knew it was time to give in. Precum slicked up each movement, filling the room with a sound that seemed to make him want more and more. You worked one hand steadily up and down while the other took care of his balls. You matched your movements to what made his breath hitch— what made him twitch, shudder, and whimper for more. 

You kept eye contact with him, or as much as he was able to, as he reached his peak. His lips were glistening with spit, parted and panting. His eyebrows were furrowing and his whines and grunts were full on moans. His nails left darker trails in their wake along your skin; you couldn’t wait to see all the marks he had left on you. The finger shaped bruises on your wrist, hips, and neck excited you more than anything else. You knew you’d be pressing on them for days, reliving this.

”Oh fuck,” Rafe hissed and thrusted into your hand. “Gonna come, gonna come, fuck, please.” His clutch on one side of your hips was so tight that it ached, and it only got tighter as he got closer to his climax. His entire body was tensing up alongside a long moan that reverberated through the room, broken only with gasps of air. His cheeks were flushed darker than you’d ever seen them and sweat along his hairline left his hair stuck to his forehead. He looked wholly fucked out and satiated.

Ropes of cum pooled on his stomach and up to his chest. It was more than you’d ever seen before. He finally let all his muscles relax with a splintered sigh and sunk into the couch. “The fuck did you just do t’me?” His voice was debilitated and rough.

“Fulfilled my promise.” His blue eyes were glazed over with a fading lust and relief. His pupils were still dilated, though not as much as before. He was all soft around the edges now.

After basking in the aftermath of his pleasure, you traced a finger through the mess on his stomach and sucked it into your mouth. “All this from a hand job?” you teased.

He weakly shoved at your shoulder with a groan. “Mm, fuck off.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Look, Don't Touch 6

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, stalking, breaking and entering, possible blood and violence, and femcel energy. Tags are not exhaustive and more may be added as the series progresses.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get bored of watching and that makes you careless. (dark!reader)

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Note: mondayyyyyy

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like snakes love Woody’s boots. Take care. 💖

“Captain wants you nice and clean,” Steve says as he removes the cuffs from your wrists. You’re as good as vibrating with excitement. “Don’t worry, I’ll deal with the sergeant.” 

“Yes, Captain,” you breathe. 

His lips curve, only slightly, and his cheek dimples. He grabs your arm and walks you down to the bathroom. He nudges you through the door. 

“Don’t come out until I say so.” 

“Captain,” you face him. “I’m not afraid of Bucky. You don’t have to--” 

“He’s done enough,” Steve gently pushes your further in. “Now, let’s get rule one out of the way. When I give you an order, you do it. No arguments.” 

You blink, “Yes, Cap--” 

The door snaps shut before you can finish. You stare at it for a moment. Your natural stubbornness is at odds with the glee of your victory. It’s kinky, isn’t it? Steve giving you orders. The way he’ll use you like an object. That’s everything you’ve dreamt of and more. 

What makes you even wetter is that Bucky lost. Fuck him. That guy has an inferiority complex the size of his ego. 

You sigh and turn around. Is this how women feel when they’re giddy? Are you swooning? 

You turn on the bath and let the water pour out into the porcelain. Would Steve fuck you in here? You would like him to break you against every surface of this place before all is done and said. And what does that entail? You’re not that worried. You’ll die happy if that’s what it comes to. 

You lower yourself into the hot water. As soothing as it is, it only underlines all the damage Bucky’s done to you. Nothing you can’t handle but still. That fucker has issues. 

You hear his return. His voice irks you. Puts the tension back into your muscles. You should be so bothered by the Winter Prick but he really is annoying. If you cared, you might ask Steve why he even bothers with the rabid dog. 

You close your eyes as their voices come closer, their footfalls too. 

“Buck, please, I gotta clean all this up--” 

“Steve, you’re making a mistake. She’s a criminal--” 

“I’ll deal with her.” 

“How?” 

Silence. 

“How?” Bucky repeats. 

“She’s my problem, Buck.” 

“Pfft, sure. You’re not really going to do this, are you? She’s of her fucking skull. She’s been breaking in. Do you know what she did in your bed?” 

“Yeah, I do, pal,” Steve counters. “And I'm gonna do worse to her. So go. You’re done here.” 

“Steve--” 

“Buck. I asked you to water the plants. Look at that ficus? It’s about to die.” 

Bucky sighs. You know it’s him because he’s so damn pathetic. There’s a thump then a clamour of steps. The front door slams and Steve chuckles. 

You stir the water and smile to yourself. You’re not one of those dreamy girls, wishing the captain would save you, but it doesn’t feel too bad. It makes you a little tingly to have him send away that idiot. All for you? 

There’s a tap at the door, “almost done in there?” 

“Yes, Captain,” you preen back as you sit forward. Shit, time to make yourself human. 

“Ten minutes. I want you waiting.” 

“Yes, Captain,” you echo. 

You are thorough in your scrubbing. You feel tainted. More than usual. Fucking asshole had his hands all over you. You clench at the thought of what he was about to do when Steve walked in. Stop that. 

You pull the plug and stand. You dry yourself off on the mat. The door swings open. You flinch, startled at Steve’s sudden entrance. 

“Let’s go. Time to get your uniform on.” He says. 

You squint. What does he mean? Well, whatever he wants. Maybe he’s into some freaky ass roleplay. You could be the cadet and he’s the captain... 

He points you down the hall, back to the front room. You almost sigh in disappointment. You’d prefer the bedroom. Still, if he wants to fuck you on the couch like one his sluts, you’ll go for that. 

You slow as you look around the apartment. It’s still a mess. You suppose it will take some time to restore it to its previous tidy perfection. 

“On the table.” He says. 

You think he’s ordering you onto the table and a thrill flows over you. As you follow his command, you’re disappointed. You find a pile of clothes waiting for you. Not a military uniform, something worse. You sift through them; a dress, stockings, satin and lace lingerie. Heels! 

“The hell is this?” You mutter. 

“When you address me, you will speak clearly.” He looms behind you. “And you will speak to me with respect.” 

You hesitate but shrug. 

“Stand up straight. Ladies don’t slouch.” 

You turn to look at him as you hold the flimsy underwear. He tilts his head as his hands go to his hips. His eyes are icy. It’s hot but the context is lacking. You don’t want to dress up like some fucking lady. 

“And they smile,” he warns. 

You stare at him. Alright, this is actually getting weird. And that’s you saying so. 

“You know what, I’m not sure--” 

“Rule one,” he marches at you.  

“Ah, jeez,” you drop the underwear as he seizes you. He twists you around and bends you over the table. You purr. “Oh, Captain, that’s what I’m talking about.” 

He huffs and swipes up the underwear. He leads one of your feet through, then the other. He rips them up and jerks you away from the table. He swats your ass with a growl. 

“Get dressed. Now.” 

You push yourself up slowly and grimace at the wall.  

“Yes, Captain.” You mutter. 

“I can’t hear you,” he cuffs your head. Alright, you’re starting to get pissed. 

“Yes. Captain.” You enunciate. 

You hook the bra around you. Really? You’re a sports bra enthusiast. This is a ledge. Your tits are going to spill out at any moment. 

You ignore the garters and reach for the dress. He tuts, “everything.” 

You roll your eyes at the wall. You don’t know. You’ve never put this shit on. Garter belt first, then the stockings. He sighs again and clips the lacy tips himself. Christ. 

You grab the dress and pull it on. Not much better. The dress is shorter than you like despite looking like an old lady’s. You face Steve and shrug. He steps forward and ties the strings by the collar in a bow. You miss your tee and jeans. 

He points to the shoes and you put them on. They are too small. Not to mention too high. 

“Perfect, now, I’ll have to get you some makeup and probably some hair pins but you’re already looking better,” he grins and squeezes your arms. “You’re all ready.” 

“Oh yeah?” You perk up and reach for his chest. He draws away. You drop your hands in disappointment. 

“Yep. Better get to work,” he looks at the chair and the tarp and everything else. You cross your arms and curl your lip. 

“You want me to... clean this up?” 

“You’re questioning me again,” he puts his hands on his hips as he faces you. “You made this mess.” 

“What-- no, Bucky--” 

“You broke in, sweetheart. Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? To be Cap’s best girl?” 

You nearly gag. That’s nasty. Still, you figure you can play along if it gets you a little something. Your eyes stray down to his pants. You never expected to get this close, can’t blow it now. You only want to blow him. 

You wobble around on the heels. It’s ridiculous. You start by folding the tarp. You’re sure to keep as much of the mess on it as you can. You drag it to the bathroom to dump in the tub. Ugh. 

“I told you to smile,” Steve says. 

You look back as he fills the doorway. You force a smile and go back to rinse off the plastic. You fold it up and carry it out. Then you start on the front room. God, Bucky is ruining your good time even when he’s not here. 

You’re not stickler. Your apartment is a shithole so you don’t put much into keeping it tidy.  You get all the clutter up and look around. 

“You’re not done,” he scoffs, looming. “Well?” 

“Yes, Captain.” 

“The couch. Fix the blanket, fluff the pillows. Still got sweeping, mopping, dusting, vacuuming...” he lists off the exhaustive list of bullshit. 

The only thing that keeps you from snapping it the promise of him. You get through this and the Captain will have better orders. Maybe you can get down on your knees and polish something else. 

Sweat forms on your brow as you go through it all. You take a break, leaning on the mop, and tug at the collar of the dress. It’s damn hot. 

You look over as Steve tilts his head, watching you as he leans in the doorframe. His hand is on his crotch. Now that’s what you’re talking about. You smirk and his brow arches. 

He turns and marches away. What now? Can’t he just get to it? Bucky got you all worked up and now-- 

No, you don’t want Bucky.  

Steve comes back. He has something else in hand. He unfolds it. 

“Put this on, honey.” 

You rest the mop against the wall and take the apron. You tie it on as you stare at him. “Sure I can’t do anything else? Hm?” 

“Maybe, keep going,” he insists. 

You hide your chagrin as you snatch the mop. You go back to your cleaning. Friggin bullshit but you expected worse. You expected to be choked out by now. 

You sense him following you. He’s like a drill sergeant. He points out when you miss a spot and makes you go back over what you didn’t do right. You sneer at the floor as his shadow trails you around. 

All at once, he’s in front of you. You’re surprised to find his dick above his pants. You stop as he pumps himself furiously. He spills onto the floor in front of the sponge mop and you back up. He grunts and groans in his release. 

Is he cumming all over your clean floor? Better yet, cumming over you cleaning his apartment dressed like some oppressed housewife? He’s fucking weird. 

“Goddamn, you look so good in that dress,” he puffs as he lets go of his dick, his hand shiny with cum. 

His lashes flick open. You grip the mop and stare. He glances at his hand and back to you. 

“Well, clean it up,” he holds out his slimy palm. 

You squint then look around. You take a step and he clucks. 

“Nope,” he shoves his hand toward your face. “Clean it. With your mouth.” 

You cringe and he brings his other hand up to flick your ear. You flinch and whimper, “ow.” 

“Captain says clean it up.” 

“Yes, Captain,” you grit out. 

You lean in and brace yourself. You stick your tongue out and drag it through the salty, sticky smear. It’s hot when you think of it but still sickening. You’re a freak. You always wanted to taste him but you hoped it wouldn’t be from him playing with himself. You’d prefer maybe some yourself. 

Before you can get all of it, he covers your face with his hand. You jerk back but can’t pull away. His other hand wraps around your head and he wipes his cum all over your face. He pulls you close as he drags his touch down to your neck. 

“Take the dress off.” 

He lets you go. You chew on the order before you eke out the response. “Yes, Captain.” 

You peel off the dress. He swipes it away. You go to wipe your face and he snaps his fingers. 

“Leave it. You’re not done.” 

He grabs the mop and holds it out to you. You take it reticently. You swallow down your protest. Just be cool. You can do this. He’s working up to it. It’s foreplay. 

As you wash the floor, you flash back to the videos. Those nights of you watching. Him rutting behind a woman as she clings to the couch. Smacking her ass as he threatens to break her back. Only this time, it’s you. 

“Good job,” he praises. “Now, time for breakfast.” 

You nod and he stares. You search his face. “Oh, you mean... me?” 

“Well, what else is a woman for?” He nears and taps your cheek. “Bacon, egg whites, and rye toast, sweetheart.” 

He takes the mop and marches away. You look around the apartment. Nice and tidy. At great effort too. 

You slowly cross the room and enter the kitchen. You’re no cook. You throw ramen in a bowl and add water or eat yogurt straight from the container. This is fucked. 

You go to the fridge and open the doors. Hm. Where to start. You take out the eggs. 

“You gonna ask me how I want my eggs?” Steve appears in the kitchen door. 

“Yes, Captain, how do you want your eggs?” 

“Omelet. Remember, white only.” 

“Captain,” you flip open the carton. 

“You should start the bacon first. Eggs cook fast.” 

“Right.” 

He sucks his teeth, “you should be able to figure this out, sweetheart. It’s in your blood.” 

You look at him and scrunch up your nose and eye brows. 

“Smile,” he orders again. “Don’t make me tell you again.” 

[tenacioustridesagain]

Jim Gordon's first impressions of each Robin

Seeing Dick

Jim: Is that a 12 year old with a grappling hook?

Batman: And?

Jim: No, no, why did you give a 12 year old a grappling hook? And why the hell is he doing gymnastics on my squad car?

Batman: Kid needed some exercise, and I'm getting bored of doing this alone.

Jim: I mean, I'm all for getting kids involved in their communities, but I think this is pushing it.

Seeing Jason

Jim: Goddammit Bats, another one already? And why this one? I don't know what the hell he said to Montoya, but now she's crying in the bathroom.

Batman: Maybe it was something about the cheap perfume that smells like cat urine

Jim: Did I mention he gave Bullock a black eye and stole his cigar?

Batman: So Bullock isn't the biggest bully on the playground anymore, what are you whining about?

Jim: For fucks sake man, he pulled Riddler's arm out of its socket and called him a pussy for crying.

Batman: Harder to break out of Arkham with a bum arm

Jim: But in all fairness, he made my night easier. I don't know whether to lock this kid up or give him a medal.

Seeing Tim

Jim: So Robin #2 got brutally murdered by the Joker and you barely wait 6 months to hire his replacement

Batman: Gotham needs Robin, too. Gotta keep up appearances

Jim: I thought the last one was a nutcase. I just watched that kid shotgun a Monster, pull out a Bo Staff from thin fucking air and break Killer Croc's bones in alphabetical order

Batman: Ruthless efficiency. Gotta love it

Jim: And then he bagged, tagged, and categorized all of the necessary evidence in order of misdemeanors to felonies immediately after?

Batman: I fail to see the problem here

Jim: Why do I even bother

Seeing Damian

Jim: Bats I'm getting too old for this shit

Batman: Okay what's wrong

Jim: Your newest pet psychopath pulled a Katana on Bane and nearly killed him

Batman: With veins the size of garden hoses, how's the kid NOT gonna knick an artery or two?

Jim: When I said I wanted the venom out of his system, I didn't mean let emo Peter Pan over here treat him like a Dark Souls boss

Batman: There's no fucking way you know what that is

Jim: Just take the sword away before Bullock tries to shoot him again

Batman: Again?

Jim: Yeah, new Robin paralyzed him with some Ninja shit before he could do anything though

Batman: Aren't you gonna ask me how I got him?

Jim: No. I don't want to know where you got ANY OF THEM. LEAST OF ALL THE ASSASSINS CREED CHARACTER YOU GAVE A YELLOW CAPE TO

Batman: Yeah he's my biological son

Jim: See how I'm not even remotely surprised anymore. THATS A PROBLEM

[egophiliac]

don't think I'm not still obsessing over 7-12

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Look what we've become.

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[marlodramatic]

pick me! pick me!

I literally became a fan like a week ago and I have some insane insight still fresh in my mind. I will disclose: I knew sorta about them. I am younger than them but don't remember anyone directly speaking about them in my presence. I heard their names mid 10s but not sure related to what, and I remember Tumblr exploding when they came out, but again, none of my mutuals in my previous blogs were phans. I again heard about them when they came back from hiatus in the form of trending topics on this site.

Now, I think anyone who boils down DNP's popularity to "are they or aren't they?" (including baby boy Danny) are oversimplifying it, and it's horrendously self-deprecating of Dan, which, mood.

With my limited knowledge of them, the above points of awareness in my small corner of the world were more the introverted weirdos happy to have serotonin. Games, banter, comfort.

My many blogs across this site and my subscriptions on yt were like anime (hello, sailor moon revival blog) and I was cosplaying as a (secretly) bisexual christian good girl who didn't even know what trans or cis was. So I did see a few very rare strays of assumptions which were always clapped into silence by people asking for respect.

When they came out, I didn't see anyone ship in my newer, more closeted blogs. Instead, again, an outpouring of love and support and applause for the videos. (I think at that point I just assumed they were married and had a strong fanbase atp)

When they came back and blew this shit up again, I only ever saw happy humans. Again, games, some bunch of shit I didn't recognize then but now realize was the weird ass alien language???, and just overall chaotic disbelief that they came back. (And bets whether 1D were next.)

I did see a few more theories then that they might be romantic but not the creepy, mouth foaming insane and perverted assumptions about them. These things fizzled away under the countdown. (Ig to the next video? Idk, weird time for me irl)

My impression from the very far outside has been they're weirdo gamers on yt with their niche super fanbase.

In fact the many people, besides my Cynical Friend, I've spoken to irl have the understanding that Dan and Phil are just a comedic pair of gamers.

That was why when I was having an almost 24hr panic attack after literally fleeing my whole life, I tried them out. Anyone even scrolling through my posts in the tags has seen me fall for them. My anxiety is much better, my mind is on them instead of Death™️ snd I've laughed so hard I almost had an accident at 32.

It really is so easy to believe and fed the negative assumptions about ourselves. Dan has inspired and helped MILLIONS. Dan has done publicly what some of us cannot think privately. Phil has probably saved more lives than he can imagine. Phil probably couldn't understand his mere existence is comforting, with his breezy attitude and smile. It's not a fatal flaw to fail to see how others perceive us, but it is a tragedy that the viewpoint we focus on is negative.

When I spoke to my Cynical Friend, she went off about shippers. She always does. And three years after learning about real people ships, I've never been able to put into words that I'm not spying or prying or obsessed with these perfect matches.

I couldn't explain why I found Ryan Bergara looking at Shane Madej in the early years spark some vague recognition, or why when I found out about the Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson ship I literally LITERALLY almost died. But after watching Dan and Phil, I knew exactly why some people might comb over thousands of moments with a fine tooth comb or play videos at .75 or read interviews in magazines they'f never even heard of. The answer fell off my lips and after, I understood, "I just want to see gay people happy." And it wasn't "gay people in love."

It is so easy to simplify and explain away your success and accomplishments with dribble. It's easy to overlook someone else's feelings because of your own. It's not easy being known, it's not easy being overstimulated with the same damn shit, but it's your responisibility to improve the way you think.

So on the off chance Dan or Phil see this, you're looking at a very loud section of the Phandom. To the majority of us, we tune in, rewatch because we like the content you show us.

Source: youtube comments, phans who have talked to me, people blogging in tags, phanart, the far and old reaches of the community they have built.

Ok I’ve just had a truely eye opening conversation, I was talking to a non dan and Phil fan friend of mine and she casually said “oh well people only really watched them because it was like the mystery of whether they were together or not”

and then I remembered the line in Dan’s diss track where he says “the only reason you get views is because you’re another white guy that people ship with his friend because they think it’s kawaii” and now I’m thinking, is this true?

like I personally would watch them no matter what, like even if they both had secret other spouses, it makes me sad though that the general public and maybe even dan and Phil themselves could think that the only reason they’re entertaining is because their relationship is ambiguous, I think they’re genuinely very smart and incredible entertainers and they should be proud of that

[underthebluerain]

just encountered a ‘s*ra is b.b.s kairi’ theory and wow! I never want to see that bullshit again! :)))

[babacontainsmultitudes]

RIP Will Campos the only person who was murdered this episode.

[welcometogrouchland]

(ID in alt) I literally said I was gonna post this month's ago and then never had the wherewithal to describe it and so I didn't Lmao (said with pain). But since I'm thinking of opening my commissions I figured I should remind ppl that I. Yknow. Can draw.

Lots of Steph here (I had major art block making all of these and my brain worms for her kept me going) + some sprinkles of stephcass for Cass nation to enjoy!

[seitmai]

Many thoughts, so read more it is

"Didn't you hear that? Someone's crying" "That's just a girl who got what you promised me", she retorts, but it only makes him cringe. If this is how she imagined the sound of a consenting couple, he sure as fucking hell didn't want her in his bed.

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

For a moment he wondered if he should call Phoenix or even Penny to make sure he wasn't doing more damage than good, but then he saw how a ring caught the light from the Hard Deck entrance.

Fair, I would trust Phoenix and Penny with my life more than anyone 🫡

"Are you...", he begins before he stops himself. Was he really just about to ask you if you were ok?

Clearly not lol

The woman for the impossible jobs and who you call when shit hit the fan and you need someone to fix it. A woman tough as nails and level-headed who always has a backup plan for the backup plan to make sure you got your people home safe and you were fucking brilliant at it. They named you after the goddess of victory for a reason. Whenever he was on a mission you were responsible for he felt a lot calmer and he knew he wasn't the only one. People trusted your competence and your judgement. They trusted you.

Period

"Then say what you need Nike. Please?", he pleads feeling completely helpless. He has never seen you so utterly terrified and there is a feeling rising in his chest that makes him want to knock on the door of whoever left you so scared and very impolitely beat the shit out of them.

Valid 🤷🏻‍♀️

"It's ok, Nike. I am here", his voice is low and raspy as he places one hand on your back and bends down, placing the other under your knees to pick you up bridal style. He felt the way your body seemed to relax in his hold, face buried in his neck as he rested his head on yours before he murmured into your hair. "Let's get you home"

🥺🥺🥺

The thought that someone treated you so badly was infuriating him. You had dedicated your life to protecting people, making sure that they get back home to their families and loved ones unharmed. To treat someone like you bad enough to send you spiralling called for a grade-A asshole and a part of him hoped you'd tell him the name later. He would gladly pay that asshat a visit and he would bet, the rest of the dagger squad would happily tag along.

Oh they are ready

"I'll be right back, Nike", he hears you stifle a sob while you tremble. Whether it's the chill night air or your fear, he is not quite sure and so he leans to the side to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. "You tell me when you are ready", he adds, pulling you into an embrace as the two of you sit here in his car. He'd stay here with you for hours if you needed it. "Promise you'll come back" "I promise", he looks down at you and you nod. Letting go of his hand so he can get out of the car. Brad cannot remember any other time when he ran up the steps to his house this fast, unlocking the door and grabbing the quilt from his couch before he gets right back to you.

I'm obsessed with how considerate and thoughtful he is 🥹

"Told you, I'd come for you Nike", he steps closer and gently places the blanket around your shoulders and when he picks you up again he feels how you instantly melt into his embrace. "I'll always come for you"

🥹🥹🥹

"I'm back", he announces himself and sees how your entire body relaxes, shoulders lowering and fingers no longer playing nervously with your ring. "I'm gonna take your shoes off first"

His communication skills are chefs kiss 👏🏻

He is looking up at you from his crouched position. He wants to seem as non-threatening as possible for what comes next.

🥺🥺🥺

"Whatever it is, if I can do it, I will" "Can you help with the stockings?" You don't meet his eye, probably embarrassed to make yourself vulnerable in front of a coworker like this but right now Rooster doubts that there is anything in this world he wouldn't do for you.

I'm melting🥺

You give him a small nod, hand moving from his shoulder closer to the crook of his neck, fingers lingering on his scars and Brad couldn't help but close his eyes at the gentle touch, willing his body to stay perfectly still to not destroy this moment of peace. Not for you and not for him.

They both deserve this little moment of peace 🥹

"Thank you Rooster", he's had your voice in his ear so often, assertive and commanding, but now your voice was gentle, as much a caress for him as your fingers. "For you, always", he looks up at you and for a moment he feels like the world stops turning and he wonders if given another chance at a different time, you would return to his home and allow him to prove to you that there were men out there who could treat you right.

"No" "What no?" "No", you looked Hangman straight in the eyes, pretty brow arched, and everyone in the room could feel the fury start to simmer in Hangman's veins at the way you're dismissing him and his points so easily. "No is a complete sentence, Lieutenant Seresin. Considering your reputation as base casanova I was hoping you'd understand the concept" That was the moment Rooster knew that he liked you.

Iconic, no notes 👏🏻

He knows that this is far more than a simple statement. It is your way to ask for him to stay, to have him around for your comfort. It's not like he doesn't want to, but there is a part of him that wonders if this would be something you'd come to regret the next morning. He had always known you as someone who loved her personal space, avoiding even handshakes whenever you could. He had his hands all over you tonight and he didn't want to push his luck, but then he saw your pleading eyes and he smiled down at you.

Urgh I can't with how sweet he is 🥹

He couldn't remember the last time he had been this soft around someone and yes, the circumstances were shitty at best, but there was a part of his heart that revelled in the gentleness of these moments.

It was probably his mom which makes this hit even harder 🥹😭

When he reached the bed where you had curled up already, he crouched down to be on eye level with you. "Tell me what you need from me", his voice is soft and quiet as he talks, pushing a strand of hair out of your face and behind your ear. He sees how you try to sink even deeper into the pillow as if you wanted to hide from him and that makes his heart ache. "Remember Nike. Whatever you need as long as I can make it happen, you'll get it" "Can you...", your voice is barely above a whisper and when he tries to meet your gaze you turn around and scoot over on the bed to make room for him. "I just really don't want to be alone"

🥺🥺🥺

Never Alone

paring: Bradley Bradshaw x female!IC!reader (callsign Nike )

wordcount: ca. 3700 (only because this will be a multi-part thing XD)

synopsis: When Bradley stumbles out of the Hard Deck with a pretty tag chaser he has a plan for the night. Take her home, fuck her, kick her out. Not that this was something he did often but with the stress at work he needed to let off some steam. That is until he hears someone crying and his night takes a turn he hadn't expected at all.

note: I initially intended to post the whole thing (currently at almost 12000 words 🤯 ), but I really wanted to post a new piece and since I started a lot of new WIP instead of finishing something I thought this would be a good idea. Also, my Rooster debut so to speak (you can thank @mynameismckenziemae for this one. The fact that Rooster is the hero in this one is kind of on her 😅 . Thanks for helping me decide and for listening to my rambles on the regular. I am really thankful for the support) and I hope you all like it. And you know that navy inaccuracies are a given with my stuff, but this time I went a bit more ham than usual. The role of IC (Incident Commander) is existing in crisis and natural disaster management but fuck if I know if some work for the Navy. I made all of that up for the sake of the plot. Don't like that, please skip this one. And last but not least, yes this is yet again very self-indulgent stuff and it will get only worse with the next part, so if you don't like it, click off 😘

Trigger Warning(If I forgot something or you want me to add to the list, my inbox is wide open. You are responsible for your media consumption, so proceed with caution, you know the drill): plus-size!reader, military/navy inaccuracies, non-canon (not even sure if this is canon compliant so, take that as you will), allusion to trauma/dissociative episode, written by a non-native speaker

|| Masterlist ||

divider by @sweetmelodygraphics banner by @firefly-graphics gif by @jensens-ackles

!!!Minors do not interact! I block blank blogs/without age/Minors!!!

When Bradley stumbles out of the Hard Deck with a pretty tag chaser on his arm he knows how this is gonna end. Take her home, have some fun and then kick her out. He wasn't one to indulge often, but considering how Maverick had been on his ass during training all week, he really needed to let off some steam. His arms were wrapped around her waist, lips wandering over her neck as he manoeuvred her back towards his Bronco until he stopped in his tracks.

There it was again. He had almost missed it with the busty brunette giggling into his ear, but he was sure that he heard right. "Hey Casanova, I am down here", she puts a hand on his cheek to pull his focus back to her," You wanted to show me a good time, remember?" But Rooster couldn't focus on the way her hands were roaming his body or the way she began to kiss his jaw, leaving a trace of lipgloss in her wake. "Didn't you hear that? Someone's crying" "That's just a girl who got what you promised me", she retorts, but it only makes him cringe. If this is how she imagined the sound of a consenting couple, he sure as fucking hell didn't want her in his bed.

Untangling himself from her limbs he walked over to the dark place next to a huge palm tree. The curled-up figure was barely visible in the shadows, but the sniffling was getting louder the closer he walked. "Hey what about me?", the woman whines, stomping her high heel sandal-clad foot on the ground. "Go in and find yourself another set of tags", he growls back annoyed, regretting the tone of his voice and the volume the moment he sees the figure flinch.

This was bad.

For a moment he wondered if he should call Phoenix or even Penny to make sure he wasn't doing more damage than good, but then he saw how a ring caught the light from the Hard Deck entrance. He knows that ring. The silver laurel branches that are winding around a delicate finger. He has seen it more than once.

"Nike?", he freezes for a moment unable to compute the situation. He had been at the Hard Deck all night and was sure he would have spotted you in the crowd. Not to mention that you weren't one for bars. You said as much yourself whenever one of the others had invited you for an evening out. "Hey Nike, it's me. Rooster", he tries to make himself small as he approaches, not wanting to intimidate you, voice soft and gentle. "Are you...", he begins before he stops himself. Was he really just about to ask you if you were ok? It's so goddamn fucking obvious that you are not, so he settles for something else. "What happened, Nike?" You were still sitting there, legs pulled close to your body, head resting on your knees as you cried. He moved another step closer when you suddenly looked up at him as if only now you realised that someone was there. "Rooster?"

Your chest was heaving, your fingers nervously drumming on your kneecaps while you tried to focus on him, clearly struggling with the situation "Yeah. It's me. Shall I call someone?", he asked and as soon as he mentioned the call you began frantically shaking your head, reaching a trembling hand out to him to grab the wrist of the hand that was about to reach into his pocket. "No, please don't" He pulls his hand back out of his pocket and lifts it up in the air to signal surrender. "Ok, I'm not"

Bradley only knows you as IC. The woman for the impossible jobs and who you call when shit hit the fan and you need someone to fix it. A woman tough as nails and level-headed who always has a backup plan for the backup plan to make sure you got your people home safe and you were fucking brilliant at it. They named you after the goddess of victory for a reason. Whenever he was on a mission you were responsible for he felt a lot calmer and he knew he wasn't the only one. People trusted your competence and your judgement. They trusted you.

Hell, you were probably the only person on planet Earth to tell Admiral Simpson no if you thought something was a shitty idea and lived to tell the tale.

"Then say what you need Nike. Please?", he pleads feeling completely helpless. He has never seen you so utterly terrified and there is a feeling rising in his chest that makes him want to knock on the door of whoever left you so scared and very impolitely beat the shit out of them. You loosen the grip on his wrist and let your hand glide down his arm until yours is in his and he gives you a reassuring squeeze. Even with his fingers wrapped around yours, he can feel the trembling. When you finally answer him your voice is barely above a whisper. "A place to stay"

He didn't need to hear anything else. He just nodded and pulled you up by the hand that was still clinging to his own. Your feet were wobbly and the heels didn't make it any better. His eyes wandered over you, assessing whether there was any injury that he had to be mindful of before he let go of your hand for a second, the terror lighting back up in your eyes immediately. "It's ok, Nike. I am here", his voice is low and raspy as he places one hand on your back and bends down, placing the other under your knees to pick you up bridal style. He felt the way your body seemed to relax in his hold, face buried in his neck as he rested his head on yours before he murmured into your hair. "Let's get you home"

At a red light on the drive to his place he looks down where your hand is still holding his, his thumb gently petting the back of your hand while your head rested on his shoulder. In all the years of knowing you, he's never seen you so close to someone else. You usually prefer to keep people out of your personal space. It was something everyone on base respected and that makes him wonder.

You were so strong, so resourceful and intelligent. You had seen so much shit in your life and 9 times out of ten they called you in when it already hit the fan, so you were no stranger to working under immense pressure, the lives of people depending on the shots you were calling. How could someone bring you into a position where you would be so utterly terrified that it'd push you into a state that looked like a full-blown anxiety attack?

Considering the pretty dress, the heels and your by now smudged make-up it was likely you'd been out today and since bars and clubs are not your scene, he figures it must have been a restaurant. The thought that someone treated you so badly was infuriating him. You had dedicated your life to protecting people, making sure that they get back home to their families and loved ones unharmed. To treat someone like you bad enough to send you spiralling called for a grade-A asshole and a part of him hoped you'd tell him the name later. He would gladly pay that asshat a visit and he would bet, the rest of the dagger squad would happily tag along.

It's not much later when he puts the Bronco in park in front of his house, feeling the way you instantly stiffen next to him. "I'll go ahead and open the door", your grip around his hand tightens even more. You are holding on to him for dear life. Bradley Bradshaw was your lifeline right now and to be someone you trusted so much filled his heart with pride. He only wished he would have found out under different circumstances.

"I'll be right back, Nike", he hears you stifle a sob while you tremble. Whether it's the chill night air or your fear, he is not quite sure and so he leans to the side to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. "You tell me when you are ready", he adds, pulling you into an embrace as the two of you sit here in his car. He'd stay here with you for hours if you needed it. "Promise you'll come back" "I promise", he looks down at you and you nod. Letting go of his hand so he can get out of the car. Brad cannot remember any other time when he ran up the steps to his house this fast, unlocking the door and grabbing the quilt from his couch before he gets right back to you.

Seeing the way your eyes light up when you see him as he opens the car door makes his heart soar and ache at the same time. "Told you, I'd come for you Nike", he steps closer and gently places the blanket around your shoulders and when he picks you up again he feels how you instantly melt into his embrace. "I'll always come for you"

He tried to kick his front door closed as quietly as he could to not spook you even more and kept the lights off too as he made his way to his bedroom. From there he goes into the en-suite and sits you down on the counter. "Blanket on or off?" "Off" He nods, taking the colourful patchwork off of your shoulders and throwing it in the corner where he usually stores his dirty laundry. He could deal with that some other time. "I'll turn on my bedside lamp in the other room. Close your eyes and I’ll tell you when to look”, he was looking for any sign that you needed another moment but you nodded.

So he turns around and walks into his bedroom, turning on the lamp and throwing the next best piece of fabric over it to dim the light. It was enough to see something but not too much on your eyes that had probably gotten used to the darkness outside. "You can open your eyes", he says, turning back to look at you, eyes wandering over you for a moment to see if there was any injury that he had missed in the darkness outside the Hard Deck but he couldn't find anything. On his way back to you he rummaged around in his drawer, finding a Phillies jersey that could fit you if the dress wasn't comfortable enough for you to sleep in.

"I'm back", he announces himself and sees how your entire body relaxes, shoulders lowering and fingers no longer playing nervously with your ring. "I'm gonna take your shoes off first" He throws the jersey over his shoulder before he goes down on his knees, unlacing your oxford heels, every move slow and deliberate, before he places them down on the floor under the cabinet, to get them out of the way. He is looking up at you from his crouched position. He wants to seem as non-threatening as possible for what comes next.

"Do you want to keep your dress on or change into a shirt?", he asks, taking the jersey from his shoulder and showing it to you. He sees the way you are contemplating for a long while, brow furrowed and teeth sinking into your lower lip before you reach out for the worn-out material. It's soft and you are digging your fingers into the material and holding onto it the way you'd been holding onto his hand. Holding on for dear life.

"Want me to stay or wait outside?", he asks, not wanting to put you into a worse situation than you are already in. Damn, he wished you would have allowed him to get Phoenix or Penny, then this would have been not as bad by a long shot. You are quiet for a while and he wonders if you've drifted off again the way he found you in front of the Hard Deck, but then your gaze finds his and you take a deep breath. "Can you help with the zipper?" "Of course"

He gets up and watches you jump off the counter, your stance much more stable now that the heels are off. It's more the look he's used of you and it gives him the feeling that he's at least doing something right here. You turn around, his jersey still pressed to your chest, looking down at the washed-out red and white fabric as if it gave you some form of solace. Bradley takes a step closer, his eyes searching yours in the mirror to make sure you know what would come next and when you give him a nod he reaches out his hand, gently pulling down the zipper. Underneath the fabric is some sort of underdress all laced up with a pretty bow. Fuck. He would have never taken you for the corset-wearing type of gal.

You let the dress slide down to the floor before you pull his jersey over your head. He wants to help you to smooth it down your body but you shake your head and his hands are off immediately. "Sorry" "No...Can you untie...?" This time he's the one nodding, letting his hands glide under the fabric, pulling at the laces to undo the bow and then loosening them enough so you could let it glide down your body too and step out. The pile of fabric, tulle and boning is on the floor and he sees that you attempt to lean down, your hand on the counter for balance in order to pick your clothes up but he's faster. "Thank you" “I can put this on a hanger for you”, he nods over to where he usually stores his drying shirts. “There are loops...”, you start and he easily finds them, placing them on the hanger's hooks before he puts them on the clothes rail. As his eyes wander over the dress, he's wondering for a moment who you had met to doll up like this. "Anything else?"

He sees the way you are thinking, fighting with yourself "Whatever it is, if I can do it, I will" "Can you help with the stockings?" You don't meet his eye, probably embarrassed to make yourself vulnerable in front of a coworker like this but right now Rooster doubts that there is anything in this world he wouldn't do for you.

So for the second time tonight, Bradley Bradshaw lets himself fall onto his knees, feeling your hand on his shoulder for support while both hands are smoothing up your calf to your knee and under the jersey, feeling where the nylon ended so he could pull it down for you. His eyes are glued to the ground to make this at least a little less awkward for you. Once the fabric is gone, he switches to the other side and repeats the same movement before he looks up at you, the bunched-up material ending up under the sink next to your shoes.

"You good, Nike?", he asks, eyes searching your face for any sign that he's overstepped but all he finds is that gentle expression of fondness on your face, not quite a smile but considering the circumstances, Bradley would settle for this. You give him a small nod, hand moving from his shoulder closer to the crook of his neck, fingers lingering on his scars and Brad couldn't help but close his eyes at the gentle touch, willing his body to stay perfectly still to not destroy this moment of peace. Not for you and not for him. "Thank you Rooster", he's had your voice in his ear so often, assertive and commanding, but now your voice was gentle, as much a caress for him as your fingers. "For you, always", he looks up at you and for a moment he feels like the world stops turning and he wonders if given another chance at a different time, you would return to his home and allow him to prove to you that there were men out there who could treat you right.

When you finally pull back your hand he slowly moves up to stand before you, towering over you but you don't flinch. Bradley Bradshaw doesn't make you feel you need to and he cannot help but feel a pride rising in his chest that of all people, you chose him to put your trust in. "Now let's get you into bed", he steps to the side, letting you walk past him with his hand hovering over the small of your back. His hand wants to touch, but he doesn't want to push. Not after the night you had. That is until he realises that you are walking towards the door.

"Where do you think you are going?" "Couch" Fuck no. He would not make you sleep on that thing that was short and so worn out that it'd surely break your back. But what was even worse than the idea of you on his couch was the fact you believed that he would allow, let alone want that. Getting his hands back on you he picks you up bridal style and carries you back over to the bed. "You take the bed" "Rooster..." "No" There is a small smile playing on his lips. It reminds him of the first time he met you way back when.

You had just finished the mission briefing when Hangman suggested a change to the plans and your only reply was: "No" "What no?" "No", you looked Hangman straight in the eyes, pretty brow arched, and everyone in the room could feel the fury start to simmer in Hangman's veins at the way you're dismissing him and his points so easily. "No is a complete sentence, Lieutenant Seresin. Considering your reputation as base casanova I was hoping you'd understand the concept" That was the moment Rooster knew that he liked you.

Rooster was a navy guy and could sleep wherever, even on the hardwood floor if he had to, but you needed some proper rest. He lays you down on the bed as gently as possible and when he straightens his back he sees the expression on your face. It's such a wild swirl of emotions that are washing over your features, ever-changing like the ocean, that he doesn't know what to expect next, but it sure as hell wasn't this. "I'm scared of being alone"

He knows that this is far more than a simple statement. It is your way to ask for him to stay, to have him around for your comfort. It's not like he doesn't want to, but there is a part of him that wonders if this would be something you'd come to regret the next morning. He had always known you as someone who loved her personal space, avoiding even handshakes whenever you could. He had his hands all over you tonight and he didn't want to push his luck, but then he saw your pleading eyes and he smiled down at you. "I'll just get into some comfortable clothes and then I'm right back", he leans down and presses a soothing kiss to your forehead. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this soft around someone and yes, the circumstances were shitty at best, but there was a part of his heart that revelled in the gentleness of these moments. "Thank you, Bradley"

He has to stop himself for a moment, eyes wide with surprise as he looks at you. Never before have you used his first name. It was always Lieutenant, Bradshaw, Rooster or a combination of those three, usually depending on how pissed you were at him for fucking around with your meticulous mission plans. There was a flicker of fear that washed over your face as the realisation hit you what you just said but he reached out his hand, gently resting on your cheek, thumb caressing your skin. "No need to thank me, Nike. I am glad if I can help"

He allows himself another moment to enjoy the feeling of your soft skin against his before he pulls back and turns to grab some fresh clothes to sleep in and heads to the bathroom. His movements are hurried, almost frantic while he gets out of his clothes and ready for bed. All the while feeling a fear creeping up on him. He closed the door, to make sure to respect your boundaries but now he regretted it. It meant he couldn't check in on you, couldn't make sure that you were ok and not spiralling. Throwing his worn clothes over to the hamper without caring if he actually hit or not he just pulls on his sweat pants and opens the door, muscle shirt still in hand as he walks into the bedroom and pulls it over his head.

When he reached the bed where you had curled up already, he crouched down to be on eye level with you. “Tell me what you need from me", his voice is soft and quiet as he talks, pushing a strand of hair out of your face and behind your ear. He sees how you try to sink even deeper into the pillow as if you wanted to hide from him and that makes his heart ache. "Remember Nike. Whatever you need as long as I can make it happen, you'll get it" "Can you...", your voice is barely above a whisper and when he tries to meet your gaze you turn around and scoot over on the bed to make room for him. "I just really don't want to be alone"

You feel the way the mattress is dipping under his weight but you cannot bring yourself to turn around and look him in the eye. "You are not alone Nike", his voice is close to your ear and you can feel the way his breath is fanning out over your cheek and neck. And then you surprise him when you reach behind him and take his hand to place it over your waist, your fingers interlaced with his as your thumb drummed a nervous rhythm into the palm of his hand. "You are never alone"

Part 2

likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated as always

If you want to read more you can find my masterlist HERE

[simaraknows]

i see your "'does he want to lick my boots or chop off my hands' is a Nicki reference" and raise you "what if Armand's relationship with sex is so fucked that his two modi are total submission and 'don't touch me or I'll chop off your hands' and Louis is still clowning on his trauma" in this essay I will

[silusvesuius]

nnnnnnnnnnnnno maa'am

[queerofthedagger]

i love fingon so much just. he's so good and so reckless and he loves so fiercely it makes him do the most stupid shit, and in turn no one ever quite puts him first. I'm going to eat glass

[officeobject]

(Half-related vent to Tumblr, no need to read, not recommended to read, nothing personal, etc):

Why am I still being recommended an account of a person I'm never gonna meet anyway, when I thought my interests (aka myself), and my fears (aka teens), were made very clear, as well as what triggers my addiction. It's great that this person is having birthday, but I wouldn't know that, if Tumblr would stop recommending them. I'm not gonna block them, as that's extreme, and I have no reason to, and they're welcome to talk to me, I just expected this to go away on its own. I know how this person is, coming back isn't a welcome - it's like coming back to school, aka an arena full of teenagers - as they have, like, a BILLION notes every time, especially compared to me, and, what, I'm supposed to praise them as well?! What am I supposed to do?! You want me to see their posts?! FINE, I'll SEE their posts, but don't come YELLIN' at ME when I vent in them or whatever! I have a hard time enough ignoring things as it is, and then there's half this person's posts, which are presumably about some other hormone-having thing - and as blockable as I am, I don't wanna be RUDE or anything (even though romance and other stuff should be tagged and I don't tag all my posts almost every single time, just to end up reading stuff that makes me side-glance my damn addiction), and like, good for them ... what now though? And WHAT ABOUT ME? Isn't my ACCOUNT, about me? Like, PLEASE, can we focus on the one I have regular contact to (aka ME), who DOESN'T have a thousand MILLION notes at my feet at each vent or each unfunny post, and who I NEED, to focus on, because "just don't think about things that trigger your addiction", and, "think about things that make you happy, not scary teens!" - and like, I didn't WANT, to be back - TO A PERSON WHO REMINDS ME OF PEOPLE I WISH I NEVER MET BY THE WAY - but anyways, in order for this to not just be a roasting session (that's later today, with marshmallows, and not with the flesh of some hormone-container), I do wanna add some compliments, because I don't hate this person, but I do fucking hate my fucking life, right now: they seem nice, nice positivity or whatever when they're being happy and positive for no reason, nice cohesive memorable Picrew, grammar not bad except for lack of capitalization, points for honesty, paragraphs are nicely spaced out (not relatable LOL - shit I didn't even space THIS one out) - pretty Picrew person, and that's all I guess. I don't wanna come off as rude (after I just came off as very rude), and yes they don't need to know that, but like ... actually, it's not like my choices in life always make sense, or are always nice or anything - I don't know why I just don't or what is wrong with me or why I just DO, but it's in my personality, and I have a weird tendency to follow that, which contrasts with what my addiction even is.

i dont know why im doing this, but

hi, my name is rin.

you might know me already, seen me in passing, hate me or know nothing about me.

you may also know me as batman, or ria, or ren or even sometimes raf.

i like a lot of stuff, like music and poetry and writing.

I love my partner. a lot

i do some sports, like archery and rock climbing, but thats not really my thing. i also write songs, play flute and ukulele.

i like math, and design, i enjoy reading and writing essays, i got gifted kid burnout but i love doing stuff too much to stop.

sometimes, i feel rather old. but im just a kid in this fucked up world and sometimes that makes me sad.

im depressed, and have anxiety, and a slew of mental health issues. i'm also probably neurodivergent.

im not very normal, in a lot of regards, but i think that adds to my character.

im trans, specifically genderfluid, but im getting to a stage where im starting to not give a shit.

im aroace, aroflux technically. but as far as im concerned i like my partner and i dont really know what else.

i do a lot of stuff, i consume a lot of media, you will never catch me lacking cus im really chronically online and just a little bit insane.

my birthday is soon, which i suppose is why im writing this, but i thought i should reintroduce myself to me. as i age i've managed to be the same person, in a lot of different ways. i dont always recognize the person in the mirror, but i think thats ok.

i hope its ok.

and ive come to realize maybe i dont need to be fixed. im definitely not normal but i've never wanted to be either.

id like to be someone who does cool shit, and someone who makes and advocates and does what i love. but normality is simply not for me and i really rather be a crazy bitch in the middle of the woods than a normal bitch in the suburbs.

so yeah, i'm rin, welcome or welcome back to my shitshow of a brain.

[lunarharp]

if i just told you i love you would this world change

[anti-marauders]

Its funny remembering that in a way Mulciber and Avery are more respectful than The Marauders.

Cause The Marauders bully Lily's ex best friend Severus, despite James being in love with Lily and them claiming to be the good guys. Like bro if you want the girl befriend her best friend, damn.

And Mulciber and Avery, who are friends or acquaintances with Severus which is said by Lily, apparently don't do shit to Lily cause when she tries to get Severus to see how bad they are she only brings up the shit Mulciber did to Mary, someone Severus doesn't even know. Avery & Mulciber are clearly blood purists so they would obviously talk shit and I really think they'd talk shit about Lily wether they were friends with Severus or not cause she's a muggleborn and a gryffindor.

Yet Severus still hangs out with them and has no other issues with them especially cause he'd throw a fit if they talked shit about Lily. And if he did they'd clearly hex him cause they won't take shit from a half blood. Like wether they left Lily alone in an effort to keep Severus on their side to recruit him or not, they seemed smarter then the marauders. Cause while they didn't try to befriend her obviously, they knew if they wanted Severus on their side they didn't target the one person he truly cares about.

Now wether Mulciber and Avery were really close to Severus or not they still didn't target Lily or say shit cause I feel like they would considering how much James goes after her so they'd hear a lot about her. I feel like they'd attack her out of annoyance or berate her incase they thought she believed she was all that but apparently not cause Lily doesn't bring anything up and I know damn well she would have. Severus probably would have left them if they did.