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roosterforme · 8 months

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The Younger Kind Part 32 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is used to feeling comfortable around you, so when he arrives home and things feel strained, he wants to understand why. The more you tell him about what has you so upset, the more he wants to try to fix everything. But you don't know if he can do anything to mend your confidence.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 5600 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Nat called and texted the next day to check in with you and Noah. It didn't matter how many times you lied and told her that you were just fine, she said she wanted to be sure. But you knew you were barely holding on, and the next two days without Bradley were going to be really hard.

Because now it wasn't just the USB drive. It was also your hand. And the broken glass. And the way Noah cried. You were currently curled up in Bradley's bed with Noah sound asleep in your arms, and you didn't even want to go to work tomorrow. Your hand was aching, and the gash looked terrible. Even though you had done your best with it, you knew you should have gone for stitches. But you also knew it was too late for that now.

After a moment of contemplation, you decided to keep Noah in bed with you for the night. You opened up your email one more time with the arrival instructions from Bradley even though you had them memorized. But you didn't want to mess this up.

When you got to work the next morning, while you were still trying to decide if you should report the break in, another layer of embarrassment was added. Dr. Kelly pulled you aside and glanced down at your hand as she said, "Would you like me to take a look at that?"

You'd done a pretty terrible job of bandaging it up on your own. "Sure," you said softly, and she unwrapped it and winced.

"This didn't happen at work, did it?"

"No," you replied quickly. "At home."

She met your eyes with startled ones. "This is a nasty, irregular cut. You live with your boyfriend, correct?" When you nodded, she added, "If there's any sort of issue with... violence at home, please know that you can always come to me."

Your jaw dropped open, and you gasped. "No! He's not even here, he's deployed! It was an accident!"

"Okay," she said right away. "I believe you. Let me get it cleaned up. It's looking angry, and you should have probably gone somewhere for stitches over the weekend."

Instead of responding, you silently followed her to one of the exam rooms where she carefully disinfected your palm and applied an adhesive that would work on your skin. "I can reapply it later this week for you."

"Thanks." As you got back to work, you were starting to think you should have reported the incident with the police. Panic rose inside you as you were instructed to prepare some vaccination syringes for the ten year old in exam room five.

Should you wait until Bradley got home on Wednesday? Should you call the police after work today? Your cut up hand was bad enough, but Noah could have been the one who got hurt. And you'd honestly never be able to forgive yourself if something happened to him. You had protected him from Meredith in the park, so why was this any different?

You rushed back to Bradley's house after work and ran inside, completely exasperated by his old man tendencies. You had to search for the list of phone numbers he gave you which would have been much better if he just saved them to your contacts in your phone.

Noah needed to be picked up in the next forty minutes, and you didn't know how long she would be in her office, but you tried to reach Tracy anyway. When you gave your name to her receptionist, you were shocked that he put you right through to Bradley's lawyer.

"I hope Bradley thanked you for me. The Red Bulls were very sweet of you."

You laughed at Tracy in spite of the fact that you felt like crying. "It's the least I could do." Then you took a deep breath and said, "I was wondering if there is any way you can help me? I don't want to end up with Bradley having to pay you if you give me advice over the phone or anything like that. But I think I need some help right now even though he should be back on Wednesday."

"Your boyfriend basically has me on retainer for you. What do you need?" Tracy asked.

"Retainer?" you asked. No, that couldn't be right.

"I was given explicit instructions to help you with anything you might call about. We're not going to worry about any billing, because he certainly wasn't worried, okay? What can I do for you?"

You sucked in a deep breath as you paced around the kitchen. You felt defeated. That damn USB drive was on top of the refrigerator. The coffee machine you could barely figure out how to use was on the counter. The list of phone numbers in Bradley's handwriting was on the table. So you walked out back and forced yourself to say, "I think Meredith broke into my rental which I had already moved out of. And I saw her at a gas station before that."

There was a long enough pause that you were about to repeat yourself, but then she said, "I think that if she did break into your rental, it was purely out of spite. Because I actually have some news about Meredith that I was waiting to tell Bradley. But I think you and I should have a conversation first, and then you should decide if you want to call the police."

---------------------------

Bradley just wanted to get off this aircraft carrier. He had one night left in this fucking bunk with Carl, and then he could go home to his cozy house and sweet son and your warm, welcoming body. Maybe you'd let him snuggle with you and Noah on the couch, and then after Noah's bedtime, he could take you to bed. He couldn't stop thinking about every single way he wanted to have you. And then he could fall asleep with you wrapped up in his arms and your soft breath on his skin.

He was almost getting hard just thinking about it. It had been a long time since he had someone to come home to, someone who was waiting just for him. He felt like he wanted to reward you for it. God, he wanted to give you everything. He had to tuck his hands up behind his head in his bunk and force himself to try to go to sleep. But he dreamed about your voice and your fingertips on his face.

The following day went quickly as they docked in the afternoon. Once he was able to text you, Bradley was pleased to see that you were more responsive.

I'm docked, Princess. We got in a little early, but I haven't deboarded yet. I know you're at work, but I can't wait to see you whenever you can come pick me up.

My Princess: I'll be there by four with Noah. We missed you so much!

When he was able to finally collect his things and start down the ramp, Bradley's heart was thudding in his ears. It wasn't four o'clock yet, and he knew he might have to wait for you to get there, but then he was pleasantly surprised. As he started walking along the fence to the parking lot, he spotted his Bronco in the last aisle. You had parked it away from everything and everything else, and that brought a smile to his face.

And then he saw you, carrying Noah and hurrying toward him in your new work scrubs that he hadn't even seen yet. A smile broke out on his face as he rushed to close the distance. "Noah! Princess!"

"Daddy!" Noah squealed with delight, practically jumping from your arms to his. Bradley wrapped Noah up in his right arm and kissed him all over his face, reaching for you at the same time with his free hand. "I love you, Bub. Did you have fun with Princess?"

But you hesitated. And when Bradley met your eyes, he was still reaching for you, but you were only very slowly stepping toward him. "Come here," he rasped, slipping his arm around your waist until you were snug at his side. "I love you." Those words seemed to do the trick as you melted against him, and your chin tipped up as you looked at him.

"I missed you so much," you told him, your voice soft and maybe a little sad? And Bradley kissed you hard and heady in front of everyone including Noah, letting his hand rest on the swell of your butt. He didn't care. You belonged with him. He wanted you there forever.

But even though you were clinging to his uniform shirt now and returning his kisses with a soft moan, he could tell you were holding back. He trailed a few kisses along your jaw back toward your ear and whispered, "I love you, Baby," and you shivered for him. But when he reached for your hand, he found it was bandaged up. And you looked at him with barely concealed frustration. He could just tell something was wrong.

"What happened?" he asked, repositioning Noah in his arm and letting his son's cheek rest on his shoulder. He kissed your fingers and ran his thumb along the bandage. "What's wrong with your hand?"

You tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let you. "Can we talk about it later? Tonight?"

"Yeah," he agreed, suddenly even more apprehensive. "We can."

"Great," you replied, leading the way to the Bronco with your fingers loosely tangled with his. And while Bradley walked with his lips pressed to his son's forehead and his duffle bag on his back, he was worried about you.

You were still quiet when the three of you pulled into the driveway and headed inside. "I have a lasagna ready to go in the oven," you told Bradley when he followed you into the kitchen. "Should we start doing your laundry?"

He laughed softly as he put Noah down in one of the chairs and dropped his bag to the floor. "Princess," he whispered, reaching for your soft cheek. "Baby, I don't care about my laundry. I don't even really care about dinner, but I love that you have something ready to go. I just want you to tell me what's bothering you."

He watched you swallow hard, and he thought he saw your eyes dart toward the top of the refrigerator. "Bradley," you muttered.

"You know I thought about you nonstop, right?" he whispered, remembering how it felt to have his fist connect with Carl's face as he made sure he got his polaroid back. "On repeat. I just wanted to be home." He kissed your lips over and over again, stroking your soft skin with his thumb. "So I'll take care of whatever has you upset. You know I will."

You just nodded and let your eyes flutter closed. And all you offered him was one word. "Later."

After dinner was eaten and cleaned up, Bradley spent some extra time giving Noah a bath. The tub was absolutely filled with toys, and Bradley ended up removing his soaking wet undershirt, kneeling on the floor in just his underwear and service khakis. "I missed you so much," he said, kissing his son over and over again. "But I know you had fun with Princess."

Noah held out a green duckie for Bradley to take before he said, "I want Princess to be my mommy."

Bradley met brown eyes that matched his, and he easily said, "I do too, Bub. She would be really good at it." You already were good at it. But something was wrong, and he needed to figure it out. The two of you weren't acting the way he had hoped you would after being apart for weeks. And now he was questioning whether or not you'd actually want to marry him someday.

It was late. Definitely after Noah's usual bedtime. He was yawning now, but Bradley had been so excited to see him, he let him stay up. With one more big yawn, Bradley scooped his son out of the tub with a towel and drained the water. Then he stopped in the living room where you were sitting on the couch, and he let Noah give you a goodnight kiss. And he leaned down and kissed your cheek as well. "I'll be back out in a minute. We'll talk."

"Okay," you said softly, and then Bradley was thankful that Noah was already falling asleep as soon as he was in bed. On his way back out to the living room, he stopped in the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of merlot and a bag of Skittles he had stashed away.

After he opened the bottle and took a sip, he met you in the living room. Your gaze took in his naked torso as you bit your lip, and when he handed you the wine with no glass, you took a sip from the bottle as well.

"Let's talk?" he asked, settling down next to you. He opened the bag of candy and patted his thigh. "And snuggle? I've been saving the wine and Skittles for our reunion, but you'll have to remind me which color goes best with merlot."

He could tell you were trying not to smile as you scooted across the couch and onto his lap while you sipped the wine. "Red, Daddy. Red Skittles pair with merlot."

"Yes," he rasped, kissing the side of your neck. "That's right. Now that I'm all yours again, just like I'm supposed to be, why don't you tell me what's bothering you?"

You handed him the bottle in favor of the candy, and you crunched on a few pieces before you said, "I moved all of my stuff in. And I used your address for my new hire paperwork."

Bradley had to hold back a moan. That sounded so fucking perfect to him, he wanted to take you on the floor right now, right in the middle of the area rug. But instead he just tightened his arm around your waist. "Mmhmm, you know just want to say to make me happy. And you did so great with Noah. I knew you would be perfect, Princess."

But then you met his eyes and held up your bandaged hand. "I had to call Tracy on Monday," you said, and Bradley's heart dropped.

"Why?"

You pressed your lips together and looked down at the bottle of wine before taking it from his hand and drinking some more. "I saw Meredith at the gas station near Noah's daycare," you whispered, your voice soft and harsh.

"She broke the restraining order?" he growled. "What the fuck?"

"It was just a gas station," you replied quietly. "And I think she was already there when I pulled in." Bradley was about to rage, but then you kept going. "But then someone broke into my rental, and I cut my hand when Noah was with me. And it must have been Meredith, so I called Tracy, because you weren't here, and I wasn't sure what to do." When you took a deep breath there was a little sob with it that made Bradley clench with the need to protect you.

"Shit! I wish you didn't have to do this by yourself," he replied, heart skipping faster. "But I'm proud of you. What did Tracy say about Meredith?"

"She helped me file a police report, and they said they are looking for evidence, but my landlord is pissed off that the window is broken. He was supposed to have a new renter move in this week, and he's threatening me about paying for another month. He told me to fix the glass, but the police won't even let me. And you and I are supposed to go meet up with Tracy tomorrow." You hiccupped when you finished talking.

"Shh," Bradley said, setting the bottle down on the end table and pulling you to his body so your cheek came to rest on his chest. "Baby, I'll take care of it. But back up, and go slow. Did Meredith threaten you or Noah?"

You shrugged against his body, and Bradley focused on every single word you had to say about the gas station and your broken windowpane and the note that was left. And how the police and Tracy both agreed that there's probably not enough evidence to prove anything one way or the other. And then you seemed wrung out as a tear slid down your cheek when you said, "Tracy did tell me that Meredith was on trial for the fraud charges I brought up against her during the custody hearing. When I saw her at the gas station, she told me I ruined her life. And then my window was smashed, probably just because she's such a horrible bitch."

"Make sense," he mumbled against your hair. No wonder he had several unread emails from Tracy that he knew he still needed to go through. Shit. You'd dealt with an awful lot in his absence. He wondered if that meant Meredith was being sentenced. "And we have an appointment with Tracy tomorrow?"

"Yes," you whispered, curling up tighter against his body. "During my lunch break."

"Okay." He kissed your forehead and ran his hands up and down your back. "I'm still off tomorrow. I'll drop you off at work in the morning, and then I'll come back for you whenever you want. And we'll go talk to Tracy, and I promise you, I will take care of everything." You were practically shaking as he added, "Because you take care of us."

You were nodding as you finally looked up at him, and as angry as Bradley was about more bullshit from Meredith, you and Noah were safe. And Tracy would probably have more information for him tomorrow. But right now, you needed someone to take care of you for a minute. "I love you," he promised, considering how exhausted you looked. "Let's take a shower and get in bed?"

Whether you were nodding in agreement or because you were still shaky, Bradley wasn't sure. But he carried you into the bathroom and set you down gently as he turned the shower on. Once you were undressed he helped you in and carefully unwrapped the bandage on your hand. There was a jagged cut on your palm that made his heart lurch. "I'll clean it and rebandage it, Princess," he said, trying to hide the anger in his voice. You didn't deserve any of the shit you'd repeatedly gone through since you met him.

"Okay," you whispered, and as soon as he was out of his khakis and underwear, you were pulling him in with you. Bradley was helpless in his feelings for you. Very carefully, he took his time and washed you so you didn't irritate your cut further. And he let himself just enjoy the feel of your body against his as he gently held your hand.

When he turned the shower off, he wrapped you in a towel and carried you to the bedroom. Everything looked exactly as it should: your purple crown was on his bedpost, everything was tidy, and the bed looked inviting. But you still didn't look relaxed as he helped you into his gray sweatpants and a soft undershirt before bandaging your hand again.

"What will make you feel better?" he asked, pulling on clean underwear as you climbed into bed. "Tell me, and I'll do it. I just want you to know how much I missed you and how happy I am that you moved all your stuff in while I was away."

You peeled the blanket back on his side of the bed and whispered, "Snuggle with me?"

You looked so perfect and innocent, and Bradley slid in bed with you and collected you in his arms. "Come here, Baby. Let me tell you how much I love you."

----------------------------

You started to fall asleep in Bradley's arms while he rubbed small circles on your back through his undershirt which you were wearing. You had been on the brink of erupting into tears all night, and you hadn't even mentioned the USB drive. And now that he was home, you didn't know if you were strong enough to bring it up at all.

If he knew it was in that box in the attic, then you were going to make a fool of yourself. And if he forgot about its existence, he was going to think you were snooping through his things even though he gave you permission to use the attic. Either way, you weren't going to mention it, at least not yet.

There were too many other things to think about anyway. Like whether or not the police found anything in your rental. And how you were going to fix the window. And if Meredith was actually going to attempt something with you or Noah, or if she was just bitter that she might be facing jail time.

"Daddy," you whispered, and Bradley's arm tightened around you as he kissed the top of your head.

"Just sleep, Baby. I'll be right here."

As you dozed off, you realized you didn't have to be on full alert at the moment. For the first night in so long, you could just sleep and know he was with you and Noah. And then you were out.

Next thing you knew, it was light inside the bedroom, and Bradley was waking you up with gentle kisses on your face. You reached for him, and then his body weight was on top of you as he chuckled. "Baby, we'll be late."

"Good, I want to stay in bed all day," you whined, but soon you were dressed in your scrubs and making breakfast while Bradley got Noah ready for daycare. You hated the way you felt like you were holding back being as physical as you wanted to be with your boyfriend.

And then a flash of panic shot through you. He must have been expecting you to have sex with him last night, when instead you fell asleep as a bundle of nerves. You were still a bundle of nerves, but now you felt like crying as well. But he was acting so normal when he brought Noah into the kitchen to eat pancakes. "Just leave the mess in the sink, and I'll take care of it later," he said casually, reaching for your good hand to give you another kiss.

But you were thinking about the USB drive, and your meeting with Tracy and your job. And you barely kissed him back this time. "Okay," you agreed before picking at your breakfast.

Bradley looked concerned now, and he continued to look concerned a little later as he pulled into Noah's daycare parking lot. "I can take him in," you muttered, but he had already turned off the Bronco's engine.

"Let's go together," he replied, eyeing you skeptically as he climbed out to get Noah. And when you were walking in, side by side, Bradley asked, "Will you tell me what else is on your mind?"

You just shook your head, because you didn't want to get into this right now. But he took your hand anyway. And of course the same girl was working at the front desk with her clipboard.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw! Good morning!"

"Hi, Casey," he replied smoothly, his fingers laced with yours.

"How was your deployment? We really missed you here." She gave you some serious side eye, and you just knew she wished you weren't even around.

"It was fine," he replied, setting Noah down and kissing him. And then Noah turned to you for a hug before he walked back to the playroom. Then Bradley tugged you a little closer to him and wrapped his arm around you before signing the clipboard with the back of your body snug up against the front of his. He kissed your neck while Casey watched. "Let's go before you're late for work, Princess," he whispered next to your ear.

He handed the clipboard to Casey without even looking at her, and you were so mixed up inside, you wanted to scream. Five minutes ago, you were dreading the idea of being intimate with Bradley without showing him the USB drive first, and now you wanted to fuck him in the front seat of the Bronco.

"Listen," he said, voice stern as he pulled out into traffic and headed toward your medical complex. "Something is bugging you. I want you to be honest with me. After we talk to Tracy together, you and I are having a conversation later today. And by the end of that conversation, I want you and I to feel the way we are supposed to feel again. Because you moved all your stuff into the house, which I think is us officially taking the next step in our relationship. And I'm used to feeling comfortable when I'm with you. Okay?"

You pressed your lips together. There was no getting around it now. "Yes."

-----------------------------

"I really like Tracy and all, but I was hoping I'd never have to come here again," Bradley said as you and he rode the elevator up to her office.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, running your hands down the front of your now wrinkly scrubs. "It's probably my fault."

Bradley did a double take. "Your fault? How would this possibly be your fault, Baby?"

You sighed and exited the elevator, and Bradley just wanted you to look happy again. "Because I'm the one who mentioned all of Meredith's insider trading and shady deals in the first place."

"Hey," he said, leading you down the hallway with his hand at your back. "This is one hundred percent Meredith's fault. And the fraud charges were probably coming whether or not we said anything about it during the custody hearing."

Then Tracy's receptionist was waving the two of you past his desk without question, and Bradley thought that was either a very good or a very bad sign.

"Meredith is in custody," Tracy announced as soon as her office door was closed behind Bradley.

You gasped and said, "She's in prison."

"Yes. Now have a seat," she replied, pointing to the small conference table. "Because we have some things to discuss. Welcome home, Bradley." Then she set down a copy of Meredith's mugshot and arrest information.

"What a warm welcome," he muttered, skimming the paperwork. "She turned herself in?"

"She did," Tracy told him, taking the empty seat across the table and cracking open a Red Bull. "Probably broke the window at your place for fun as her last hurrah before turning herself in."

"Did the police find anything?" you asked her. "My landlord is so mad about the window."

Tracy just kind of shrugged. "Like I told you before, it's probably a lost cause. Nobody picked anything up on a doorbell camera, and it's impossible to tell exactly when it happened since you haven't actually been living there for a few months." You nodded, and then Tracy asked, "But if they do find evidence, would you like to press charges?"

"No," you replied immediately, and Bradley leaned in a little closer.

"Are you sure? We can absolutely press charges if you want to."

"Come on, Bradley," you said quietly, even though Tracy could still hear. "I don't want to cost you any more money. And I can't afford Tracy on my own."

You looked at him with pleading eyes, and he leaned in even closer to you. How many times had the two of you had this fucking conversation? Too many for him to keep track of, and it annoyed him every single time. "Look at me," he whispered when you started to turn away. As soon as you met his eyes again, he kissed you softly. But his voice was rough around the edges as he said, "I would defend you with my life. Why would my money be any different? Why is that the thing that is always too much for you?"

With a soft gasp, you gaped at him. "Your life?"

"Yes, of course," he said, brow furrowed. "So I really need you to stop making a fuss about everything else. Because it doesn't matter compared to you. Or compared to Noah. Or compared to us. And I'm getting pretty fucking sick of having this conversation over and over again with you."

"Bradley," you whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck. He chanced a glance at Tracy, but she was simply scrolling on her phone now. And he could hear tears in your voice as you said, "Money isn't as important as you either."

"Exactly," he growled, holding you tight. "Fuck, Princess... don't cry. I didn't mean to make you cry. I'm sorry. But if you want to press charges, if there's even a reason to press charges, I will gladly pay for Tracy. She's expensive as hell, because she's very good."

"That's right," Tracy murmured, still scrolling.

You pulled away from him and kissed his scarred cheek a few times before you said, "Can I think about it? I mean, Meredith was probably just acting like a petty bitch because she could."

"We can wait for a police report," Tracy supplied, setting down her phone. "And I can get more information about Meredith as well."

You nodded and looked up at Bradley. "That's what I want to do."

"Then that's what we'll do," he agreed right away.

"Tracy, do you know when I'll be able to replace the window? My landlord is threatening me with another month of rent."

She just snorted. "Send me a copy of your lease agreement. I'll make him cry."

When the three of you stood, Bradley could tell you seemed more relaxed, and he kissed the now dry tears from your cheek. "How much do I owe you for today?" Bradley asked Tracy as he took your bandaged hand in his.

"No worries. I'll bill you."

"Worth every cent," Bradley told you once again as you rode the elevator back down.

You had your head resting on his chest as you pulled out your phone, and he could see your screen as you said, "Dr. Kelly texted me. She told me to just take the rest of the afternoon for myself."

"Do you want to head home?" he asked as you tucked your phone away again.

"Yeah, I'll make us lunch."

"Perfect," he replied. "And then we can talk."

And you seemed fine on the way home, changing radio stations in the Bonco and talking about how you hoped Meredith would have to serve the full fifteen years she was being threatened with. Bradley didn't really give much of a fuck about Meredith as long as you felt safe and happy. As long as things went back to normal for the three of you.

But as soon as you walked into the kitchen, you seemed apprehensive once again. He watched you carefully get some butter and cheese out of the refrigerator, claiming you were in the mood for a grilled cheese sandwich. But then you tossed everything onto the counter and spun to face him.

"I can't take it any more, okay?" You were nearly shouting at him, fists clenched at your sides. Your pretty face was all pinched like you were in pain.

"What?" Bradley asked, rushing to you. "What's wrong?" And then he saw one rogue tear streak down your cheek. Something was making you cry again, and he needed to know what it was.

"She's so many things that I know are horrible, but she's also so many things that I wish I could be... but I'm just not." You took a deep breath and reached up on your tiptoes to take something down from the top of the refrigerator. "I just want to know why it's here, okay?" you asked him, your hands shaking as you reached out with a blue USB drive on your bandaged palm. "Just don't lie to me about why you have this, Bradley. I know it's a few years old, but I just don't understand why you had it in the attic with Noah's baby clothes."

He took it in his own hand, and it seemed familiar. When he looked up and met your eyes, you were crying and trying to swipe the tears away. "I'm confused..."

You pointed at his laptop which was charging on the table, and said, "Just tell me the truth," as you sobbed.

Bradley opened the computer and tried to keep a wary eye on you at the same time. But as soon as he inserted the USB drive and the folder automatically opened up, he heard you softly say, "I can't," before you rushed out of the room.

He was still baffled as he tapped on the video thumbnail. And then he wanted to throw the computer across the room. His blood ran cold as he remembered making this video. The details were hazy, but when he heard himself tell Meredith that he loved her, he wrenched the drive back out of the laptop and heard it clatter across the floor as he ran after you.

"Princess!"

----------------------------

Fix it now, Daddy!! You better fix it! I hope you enjoy your babysitter story @beyondthesefourwalls and thank you @mak-32

PART 33

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928 notes · View notes

celaenaeiln · 7 days

Note

On note of the Blockbuster thing and Dick’s over working himself, I can recall a time when after the first time Blockbuster got taken out, Dick was so lost emotionally and mentally, he went for months on end getting the absolute hardest cases and capers imaginable, getting more illnesses and injuries so much and frequently. It got so bad Bruce and Alfred had to drag him to the Batcave and Bruce had to get some tough love across.

He let Dick know that he was upset at him for failing to take care of himself and self forgive for what happened to Blockbuster. He forgives Dick for the latter case but will not tolerate Dick losing the value of his own life in self pity and guilt

Thoughts on this?

YES!!!

Dick overworks himself so hard that he kinda passes out and dreams so vivid that they're almost hallucinogenic but when he wakes up-

Nightwing (2016) Issue #117

Bruce is PISSED. Ofcourse it's gotta be because Dick let Blockbuster die right? He just stepped aside and let Catalina take the shot despite the no kill. He broke the OATH the two of them had forged. That's why Bruce is mad right?!

Nightwing (2016) Issue #117

WRONG WRONG WRONG!!

Nightwing (2016) Issue #117

"You have no right to expect me to excuse you - for losing sight of the value of yours."

CMON BRUCE!!

He basically said "I don't care if you killed someone. If you want me to forgive you fine. But don't you dare fucking think for one second that I'll forgive you for almost dying."

Bruce is crazy about Dick. I've already talked before how he has control issues regarding Dick life but I want to reiterate that Bruce wants control of Dick's everything. His life, his relationships, his death.

You can see the visible rage in Bruce's body. You can see how hard he grips Dick's chin. He's furious that Dick would put his life below anyone's.

This isn't the only time Bruce gets furious at Dick almost dying either. Remember Forever Evil?

Nightwing (2011) Issue #30

His sole reason for beating Dick is LITERALLY beat his frustrations and fear that Dick almost died!! He's the one that died Bruce!! Why are YOU mad?!

The thing about Dick and Bruce's relationship or rather Bruce's relationship with Dick is that Dick could literally be standing in a room of blood and corpses and the first thing Bruce would do is rush over to him and check if he's okay. And then scold him because "what if they're blood accidentally got into you, Dick? Haven't I told you the dangers of bloodborne pathogens and other transmittable viruses? How dare you let them hurt you!"

Bruce has a no kill rule but sometimes when Dick's life is in danger he definitely looks the other way. No punishment if Dick does something to someone else but he travels at the speed of light when Dick lets something bad happen to him.

Not only that, he doesn't mind other people dying if it means saving Dick's life. Between the world surviving and Dick, he will always choose Dick. And how do I know that? Because he's done it before.

Forever Evil Issue #5

"No, this is a search and rescue mission first--"

"Richard Grayson?"

"Yes, Luthor. Once Nightwing's safe, we can take down the syndicate."

The world is in SHAMBLES.

Central City

Forever Evil Issue #3

Metropolis

Forever Evil Issue #3

The justice league is gone.

The villains who actually wanted the end of the world are so shocked by the state it's in now that they've decided to become heroes. But none of that matters. It doesn't matter to Bruce that half the population is gone, people are killing, stealing, and dying. As long as Dick is alive - it's okay.

In fact an entire world could be corrupted beyond saying but as long as Dick isn't then it's a world worth saving.

Forever Evil Issue #3

Do you realize what this means? It means that Bruce's scale of measurement for evaluating the quality of a whole fucking planet IS Dick Grayson.

Even an hyper-intelligent construction questions what happens if his favorite, Dick, dies.

Infinite Crisis Issue #3

What happened after Blockbuster, where Bruce completely ignored the death of him. Ah-I said ignored but the reality is created an excuse for - is completely in line with his relationship with Dick and more importantly highlights two things.

Breaking the no-kill rule is acceptable if it's Dick Grayson or relates to Dick Grayson.

Bruce is crazy about Dick and he will go crazy for him.

#dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #batfamily #blockbuster #clark kent #superman #lex luthor #rogue gallery #alfred pennyworth #cl paladin of nerdfandom65 asks #thanks for the ask!

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heeliopheelia · 11 months

Text

"this is not your fault" (jake x reader)

genre: angst, fluff word count: 0.8k requested by nonnie ♡

warnings: crying, mentions of an argument

You check the clock for the nth time this night. 3:32 am. With your throat tight, you turn on your side, somehow unable to find a comfortable enough position on your couch. The guilt has been eating you from the inside for the past two hours.

You're well aware that you're the one who was in the wrong for the whole time. It took you three hours to let go of your pride and stubbornness and finally acknowledge that. All the yelling and mean words you spat on your boyfriend keep running over your mind like a broken record and you have to cover your face with your hands to try and somehow block these thoughts out for even couple minutes.

There are no excuses for your behavior, you know that. No bad day at work, no matter how frustrating, should ever make you snap like that and take all of the increasing tension out on your boyfriend. Jake has always been nothing but patient with you, calmly enduring your mood swings and every tiniest outbursts of yours. Which is why you feel such resentment towards yourself for hurting him this much.

You're facing the backrest of the couch, eyes squeezed tightly as you try to force the tears to stay unshed, so you get really caught off guard when you feel a fluffy blanket draping over your body.

"You're gonna catch a cold, silly," he mumbles quietly, thinking you're asleep.

He carefully tucks the blanket around your shivering body and your heart swells in its size at his kindness. The second that you hear him shuffling away from you, you swing your legs to the side and sit up on the couch, trapping his waist in between your arms.

"Don't go," you let out a whimper, letting all of the tears flow down your cheeks.

And he listens to you. Jake doesn't move an inch, hating to see you suffering so much. He's already used to dealing with your pride, and although he can't say you didn't hurt him today, he hates witnessing you breaking down even more. He can clearly hear the shortness of your breath as you sob quietly, fingers clenching tightly on his tank top.

You stay like that for couple minutes - you clinging onto him with all of your might, face buried in his stomach as his fingers gently comb through your hair. After another moment, he finally loosens your grip on his middle and crouches down in front of you, letting you snuggle into his neck instead.

His lips press to the crown of your head lovingly, hands holding you closely to his chest as your tears soak through his clothing.

"I'm sorry," you mumble incoherently, sniffling between your words. Your breathing comes out sharp and stuttered but Jake's hand still stroking your hair slowly starts to soothe you. "I'm so sorry."

"Hey, this is not your fault alone," he says, leaning his chin on your shoulder before placing a kiss on your neck. "I could've been more understanding too."

"No, this one's entirely on me," you manage to say as you clench your hands on the back of his tank top. "And I'm really sorry, Jake. Please forgive me. I'm never gonna let my frustrations out on you, I promise."

With a sigh, he pulls away and cups your face in between his slim fingers. Your tear-stained cheeks glisten in the dark room and Jake wipes them away with the back of his hand, leaning in to kiss your brow bone warmly.

"I forgave you the second I left the room. I came to check up on you cause you haven't come back to bed, love. If I knew you were here wide awake for all this time, I would've come and get you sooner instead of letting you cry in here all by yourself."

"It's what I deserved, Jake. How do you even still put up with me after all this time?" You ask, reaching your hand out to stroke his cheek softly. "You're so sweet. Way too good for me."

"Don't say that," he scolds you gently before leaning in and pressing your lips together. His kisses are slow and so full of love that you find yourself on the verge of breaking down again. You can feel his fingers swiping underneath your eyes, getting rid of all the tears that have managed to escape your eyes again. "No more crying, okay? Wanna go to bed now? We should probably get some sleep."

You nod your head, letting him wrap his arms around you and lift you up. He pulls you closely to his chest and pecks your head, muttering a quiet love you in your hair.

As all of the previous guilt and self-loathing slowly starts fading away, you catch yourself falling asleep the second your bodies hit the soft bed, safely tucked in Jake's arms.

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @venividibitchin

#carly's 1k event ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა #1k event: requests ✎#jake sim x reader #jake imagines #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader

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stuffeddeer · 2 months

Note

hii hru? i have a fic request umm i have this idea thats been sitting in my head for TOO LONG... i need to get it out how would bsd men (your choice) react to a reader who is too nice of a person, basically an ANGEL but seeks love from people who treats them like shit.,,.,. n theyre always like "nono theyre a great friend" (i need to stop doing this though it happens too many times)

ok bye!! have a lovely day!!!!!!

if someone treats me wrongly i will treat them wrongER. i do not start shit but i will End It. i included Dazai, Ranpo, Nikolai, Atsushi and Chuuya :) ive never written for Chuuya and Atsushi but i just kept typing so umm mb!! don’t read the last two unless ur crazy

Dazai would be so frustrated internally. He had been one of those people you give such patience to, and he knows everyone else is only preying that kind nature. He’d subtly try and point out that what they’re doing is bad, but he has always preferred a less direct approach. Threatening. Okay, yes yes, Dazai has turned over a new leaf, but as long as he doesn’t hurt or kill it’s fine, right? Are mild and “empty” threats really that bad? He’d chase away those people easily, helping you to meet others like his coworkers at the Agency or reminding you of the good friends you have and how you should spend more time with them. If you’re the type to tolerate rudeness from others but Not tolerate it when people are rude to your friends, Dazai would lie and claim that these assholes wronged him in some devastating way so you never forgive them.

Ranpo would (metaphorically) hit you upside the head. What do you think you’re doing, letting anyone treat you as less than you are? Not because he cares for you (so he claims), but because you’re associated with him! By allowing these, for lack of a better word, losers to treat you so awfully, you’re taking down his image with you! How would people react if they knew that the greatest detective allowed his friend (..?) to be treated so horribly? That he of all people couldn’t knock some sense into you? He’d huff, reminding you that you’d only need him and the Agency anyway, so why waste your time with such imbeciles 🙄

Nikolai is the one who treats you like shit. He hadn’t originally meant to — not any more than usual, that is — but watching you defend horrible actions from people that didn’t matter made him wonder if you’d do the same for those that do (being him, of course). He’d change at the drop of a hat, doting on you and cherishing you to kicking you out and ghosting you for weeks. But when he messaged you once again, you’d find yourself back on a bus approaching his apartment. Because of course you are, how could you leave Nikolai when he’s been so kind to you? He said he was busy, and what reason did you have not to believe him?

Atsushi would see himself in you but it’d just be a cycle. You’d see others treating him poorly and get angry, and he’d see people doing that with you, but you both would defend your “friends” up and down until exhaustion kept you from continuing. Atsushi is used to being used, so it’s fine, and seemingly so are you, so you’re fine, and it just repeats forever. But, if Atsushi’s options are to hang out with you or those jerks, then you’ll just have to spend more time with him. And if your options are to hang out with him or those jerks, he’ll just have to spend more time with you. The cycle ends, but without any real confrontation, which is how the both of you would prefer it.

Chuuya: your loyal guard dog. If he can’t convince you not to see “those piece of shit, dumbass jerks” ever again he’d tag along. Everything except barking would be on the table - he’d growl when they talked over you or break a finger if he had to. This is the man you want by your side, because he’d fight for your honor when he needs to or take you back to his place for a soothing spa-adjacent bath with amazing scented candles and over the top bubbles, maybe a glass of expensive wine, to unwind and forget it all. Also he’d block their numbers from your phone and threaten them to never contact you again 💀

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atl4ntxc · 1 year

Text

𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞.

protecting your boyfriend from being talked bad by random students. how does he react when he finds out?

RIDDLE ROSEHEART

“housewarden riddle is such a stuck-up. all he does is scream at us for not obeying the ridiculous amount of rules that the queen of hearts made!” you stopped walking and continued to hear into their conversation.

“if i was the queen, i'd definitely have him as my lap-dog! it would be so satisfying to look at his face that would be pleading for my forgiveness.” another student added, laughing at the comment that his friend made. you clenched your fists and side-eyed them from a far, the atmosphere suddenly growing tense.

you could feel your blood boiling as they continued to slander riddle's name. then, you waited until they walked in front of your figure. putting your hand on the student that called riddle a lap-dog, he turned around to be met by a fist.

“w-what the hell?!”

“what's your problem, dude?!”

“haven't punched someone for so long. feels good, doesn't it?” you cracked your knuckles and glared at them. “i may be magicless, but that doesn't mean i'm weak.�� slowly walking towards the student that was on the floor, he backed away before being pulled by the hair by you. “talk about him like that again and i'll make sure that you won't only leave with a bruised cheek.”

at the end of the day, you were met with an outrageous riddle that walked his way towards you. “rose, why would you commit such heinous acts? you could've been hurt and i wouldn't of known until later on!” he scolded, inspected your hands and face for any cuts or forming bruises.

you stared at him and chuckled, “i couldn't stay quiet when i hear my lover's name get played like some dog's chew toy, could i?” riddle still had his eyebrows furrowed when he felt the blood rush to his cheeks. he looked away and kept quiet before speaking up.

“i appreciate it, my rose. next time, just— just don't act as violently as you did.”

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

to him, it wasn't unusual to hear people talk behind his back.

he was the second born after all, and is always compared to farena. it’s not like he cared, he was used to it anyway. to him, no matter how hard he tries, nobody would change the views that they have on him anyway. he was shocked to hear that his herbivore got into a fight under his name, and rushed towards the infirmary to see you.

“herbivore, what were you thinking?” he gently cupped your face, worriedly looking into your eyes. “they were talking bad about you, leona. i'm not the type to stay quiet whenever i hear people i care about get insulted.” you smiled and showed him your fist that was wrapped up in bandages, making his attention go to your fists instead of your face.

“plus, i only bruised my knuckles and gained a few cuts here and there. they're all in the same area though, so i'll be fine. you should worry about the others.” he could see that you were amused with yourself, making leona sigh and softly growled, “what did you do, anyway?” you closed your eyes and grinned, “i only punched them both in their jaw. nothing too serious! only one of them got a dislocated jaw.” leona can't help but let out an amused laugh, proud of you.

“i'm glad that you're not hurt, herbivore. i'm proud of you for winning the fight, but don't injure yourself for me. now move over, i want to sleep.”

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

usually, he'd have the leech twins take care of people who talked bad about him. but today was different, because this time it involved you.

“hey boss! you have to guess what shrimpy did today!” floyd opened azul's door with a loud bang, his sharp teeth showing in his smile. azul's head snapped up once he heard your name, well... ‘shrimpy’, curious to what floyd had to say. “what happened to the prefect?”

jade, who was behind floyd, chuckled and brought a gloved hand under his chin, a sadistic smile present on his face. “they punched a student for talking bad about you.” floyd whined and looked at jade with an offended look, as if jade insulted him. azul looked at the twins in horror and quickly stood up, his chair falling to the floor. “what?!”

floyd grumbled and stared boredly at azul. “shrimpy beat up a guy for you, boss. you should thank shrimpy for their kind acts, you know! they let me squeeze that guy too~” azul could only turn his head towards a now grinning floyd, annoyed. “where are they now?” jade laughed and pointed towards a vacant table at monstro lounge, who had only one customer attending at said table.

azul rushed and quickly went to the table to see you with your phone out. “dear, are you hurt?” he grabbed your hand and checked for any present or forming injuries, making you gently smile at him. “not at all.”

“please leave all the violent stuff to the leech twins. i wouldn't want you getting hurt because of me.”

KALIM AL-ASIM

why would anyone talk bad about kalim? it was clear to you that the reason that this student talked bad about kalim was because of one reason, envy.

kalim is a sweetheart. but each person, no matter how loved they are, there will always be one person that dislikes them— no matter how kind they are. they would highlight the bad doings of the person they are envious of, instead of their rights.

“kalim is too naive for his own good. he’d be quite easy to manipulate, don’t you think?” you kept quiet as you walked beside the student that decided to change the topic from something irrelevant to kalim; who was your boyfriend. “i mean, if i told him to go against a wild and rabid dog, he’d probably say that every dog is nice and try to approach it!” he laughed.

is he serious? talking about your boyfriend when every single student of nrc knows of how protective you could be of kalim. “don’t talk about kalim like that.” you quietly spoke, glaring at him from the corner of your eye. “you’d rather side your boyfriend than side by your friend?” he asked, grabbing onto your wrist.

“we were never friends to begin with. who even are you?” you scoffed, harshly pulling your wrist away from him. “keep your hands to yourself— i don’t need your filth.” your voice sounded sharp, making the student sweatdrop. turning your figure around, your eyes spotted kalim in the distance— who was making his way to you. “next time, learn how to keep your mouth shut.”

you told what happened to kalim, and he could only sweatdrop and smile nervously at you.

“are you okay though? i wouldn’t want you to get insulted as well :(”

VIL SCHOENHEIT

vil knew that some didn’t like him. but does he care? no. he’s a model, a famous and widely known model across twisted wonderland. everyone knows that when you get into modelling, you would have haters and fans.

“vil thinks he’s all that when really, he isn’t. could you imagine being so obsessed with beauty that you force other people to follow your routine?” a student said, catching your eye. you could agree, vil does tend to be strict about beauty but that student doesn’t need to describe him like that. “strip away his beauty and let’s see how he reacts.” the student laughed along with their friend, slapping his friend’s shoulder in the process.

“i bet he’s worth nothing if he didn’t have beauty. people wouldn’t even look at him!”

vil rushed to the scene, shocked to see his potato in a quarell. out of all people in nrc, he couldn’t imagine his sweet potato getting into a fight with... his own dorm members? “potato! what is the meaning of this?” you looked at vil to see his worried face (and obviously graying hair that is bcs of you), and glared at the student from the corner of your eye that was holding his stinging cheek. “they slapped me! i didn’t do anything!”

“you couldn’t control your mouth, could you? and the same was for me, i couldn’t control my actions.” vil furrowed his eyebrows and looked between you and the student, slowly regaining information of what was happening. “so it all started because of you?” vil scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest, squinting his eyes at his dorm member. “i am greatly disappointed. i will require a full fledged explanation from you at the dorm. don’t think that you will get away without punishment.”

the student let out a huff of breath and closed his eyes in surrender, “yes, housewarden...” vil now turns to you, “and you, potato, i want an explanation too.” you looked at him and nodded, knowing he wouldn’t do anything anyway.

“so that’s what happened... potato, i appreciate the concern— but putting yourself in potential danger is irresponsible. i would say that ignoring them is better— but i will never understand your ways.”

IDIA SHROUD

idia wasn’t a social person at all. only God knows how he pulled you, because surely nobody does. it was clear to everyone that no matter how cold you could be, he was your one weak spot.

“that ignihyde housewarden? idia, yeah— he’s such a freak.. how did he manage to date the ramshackle prefect anyway? is the prefect blind or just stupid?” now, insulting you was one thing, but insulting your boyfriend?.. that’s too far, even for you. idia wasn’t a freak, he was just less sociable than others. what he said made your blood boil, and it raised your temper to the core.

you kicked the back of the student’s knee and made him kneel, a shadow resting on your face. your hand moved over to grab him harshly by the hair, forcing him to look at you in the eye. “not only did you insult me, you insulted idia as well. you think you’re higher than me just because you have magic?” the way that venom dripped down your voice made the student in front of you quiver in nervousness, his eyes glinting in fear. “prefect! what do you think you're doing?! to the headmaster's office!”

you turned your head to look at the source of the voice to find Crewel with his hands on his hips. scoffing, you let go of the student and found strands of hair on your palm. it disgusted you, making you immediately remove the strands. “i'm sure you would love to know the full story, sir.” your eyes moved to look at the student that gulped, making crewel raise his eyebrows. “both of you, headmaster's office. now.” your lips curled into a thin smile.

“it was just detention for a month, idia.” staring at idia, who had his eyes wide open. he knew of your violent behaviour from ortho, and rechecked the security cameras to make sure it was you. “s-still! what if you got hurt because of me?” idia quietly voiced out, concern visible on his face. he looked quite adorable, making you laugh out a little. “don't be silly. it'll be worth it in the end, won't it?”

“im used to being called a freak... you don't need to endanger yourself for me,”

MALLEUS DRACONIA

malleus was quite sensitive to the topic of relationships, mostly platonically. so, this person knew what to rub into the wound of malleus, making you scowl.

“nobody actually likes malleus, that's why he is never invited to any gatherings!” your eyes squinted to glare at the student in front of you, who was laughing. the student stopped laughing to huff out a “you don't actually like— 'love' him do you?” , making a vein of yours pop. this guy was truly getting on your nerves. is he asking for a deathwish?

“i'd prefer it if you avoid talking about my personal feelings for others—” the student jabbed you with his index finger at your chest and scoffed in your face, making you grumble in silent anger. “wait, don't tell me you've actually fallen for that dragon?” he retreated his finger and huffed out a laugh. “hah, that's quite pathetic!”

you grabbed his wrist. “what the— let go!” the hold you had on the student's wrist made him whimper in pain, begging you to let go. “speak of malleus like that again and i'll break your wrist.” you tightened the grip making the student's eyes water, before releasing his wrist and turning around to face the opposite side.

“child of man, i heard that a student was injured because of you. did he provoke you?” malleus questions, curiousity written on his face. your eyes moved from his hands to his face, letting a gentle smile decorate your features before answering his question with a soft tone. “tsunataro, he was being disrespectful. i couldn't of stood silent as your name get slandered, could i?” he smiles.

“oh, how lucky i am to meet you. you are too precious, child of man.. but don't risk your safety for me.”

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footballfanficwriter · 6 months

Note

Kylian Mbappe with major baby fever but you’re not buying it

Let's have a baby

Kylian and I are in bed having a conversation

"So uhm what do you think about having a baby?"

I'm silent, I don't have a response to that question, fuck what do I say

"Uhhhhh, yeah maybe in a few more years"

"How many years is a few more years"

How about 10-15

"3-4 years maybe"

"What that's too long"

"How long do you want it to be then"

"Maybe in the next year"

Is he mad the next year, that is way to soon

"Kylian we can't have a baby within the next year"

"Why not?"

"Because I-I I don't want to"

"You don't wanna have a baby or you don't want to have a baby with me"

"I don't want to have a baby"

"Why not?"

"I'm not ready"

"I've seen how you are with kids you are great with them, you'd be a good mother"

"Thanks"

"So can we have a baby?"

I get out of bed and walk to the bathroom to get ready for the day, he follows me and waits for my answer

"Not yet Kylian"

"But the last time we had this conversation you said you were ready"

"Well I changed my mind" I say getting angry that he keeps pressing on about the matter

"What made you change your mind?" He says getting frustrated with me

"Kylian I don't want to have a baby" I say getting louder

"What changed your mind?" he asks sounding even more frustrated

"I realised I wasn't ready to be a mother" I say

"You were ready the last time" he says

"We're going around in circles you realize that right, you keep asking me the Same question and everytime I give you the Same answer"

"Well maybe I wouldn't be asking you the same question if yourself explained properly"

"Kylian it's a new day and we're starting it on a bad note"

"You've been avoiding this topic for months now and everytime I bring it up you come up with an excuse"

"Because I don't want to talk about it"

"Why do you have to be so difficult"

"Kylian I know you keep asking me the same questions because you're not satisfied with my answers"

"Oh wow look at that, see this is why I married you, you know me so well"

"Stop patronizing me"

"What you don't like my responses,see how it feel?"

"You're hurting my feelings Kylian that's not funny"

"You're also hurting my feelings"

"Because I don't want to be pregnant?"

"But you know that for the longest time I've wanted to a father"

"You seem to forget whose body this is, you're telling me what to do with my body?"

"I'm not I'm just suggesting"

"Well I'm not talking your suggestion"

"WHY?"

"Don't shout at me Kylian"

"WHY DON'T YOU WANT TO HAVE A BABY?"

"BECAUSE THE LAST TIME I WAS PREGNANT I HAD A MISCARRIAGE"

"What?"

"There was a time when I found out I was pregnant, and I didn't tell you because it was that time you and Neymar were fighting and the world had seen you as an arrogant person, I didn't want to tell you because you always looked exhausted, and angry about the whole thing I didn't think it was the right time to tell you

Then one day when you were gone for the international break, I was having stomach cramps, and I knew it was bad because I can't be on my periods and be pregnant, so I went to the doctor and I found out I had lost the baby, and I didn't want to tell you because you looked much happier and I knew if I told you it would make you sad, I hadn't seen you that happy in a long time, so I decided not to tell you and you were never home so that made it easier to hide my pain and hurt"

"Mais pourquoi"

"Whenever we were together I wanted us to be happy because I knew the moments would be short lived and you'd have to go back to playing"

I look at him with hurt and he looks at me with shock and hurt

"I'm sorry Kylian, please forgive me"

"I-I-I can't" he whispers

He walks out the bathroom then down the stairs and out the front door

I then cry, cry for my husband, cry for my unborn baby, cry for the life I would have and cry because of everything that has happened

After wiping my tears and fixing myself I continue with my day

But every now and then I think about the events of the morning and Kylian has ben gone for 6 hours now and I've been calling but his phone keeps going to voicemail

After 8 hours of being absent Kylian finally comes back home, I'm sat on the sofa when he walks in

"Hey"

"Hi" he says

He walks to the kitchen and grabs a bottle of water

"Are you ok?"

"Mhm"

"Can we please talk"

"Yeah"

He walks towards me and we sit on the sofa

We sit in silence until I break it

"Kylian I'm sorry, for not telling you about the baby and keeping it a secret from you, but you have to understand that I was doing it to protect you and your happiness"

"I went out to clear my head, and to think about what you told me and I thought about it and at first I was angry and upset at you for not telling me what was going on with you, but then I realized you've suffered so much all on your own and I wasn't there to walk you through it"

"I am your husband and I'm supposed to be there for you, we are supposed to face problems together and that's why I say we are both at fault here, you are at fault because you didn't tell me what was going on with you and I'm also at fault because I wasn't there for you and I didn't give you an environment where you can tell me, I'm sorry"

"I'm sorry as well"

"Do you forgive me" we both say at the same time

"Yeah I forgive you"

"I forgive you aswell"

He pulls me in for a hug and says

"And we don't have to have a baby now, we can wait until your body is ready and until you are ready I won't bring up the baby topic anymore unless you bring it up"

"Ok, thank you Kylian"

"You're welcome amour"

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undercoverpena · 6 months

Text

vii. take care of me

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter seven of i like the way you

best friend! friends with benefits! frankie morales summary: what starts off as an offhand remark, quickly becomes a regular, scheduled 'stress relief'. the only problem is, both of you are in denial that you feel anything outside of friendship for the other.

warnings: friends with benefits. fwb! rules. flirting. idiots who are so in love it’s stupid. feelings. smut - p in v. reader has a bad day, soft romantic fucking.

word count: 4.7k

an: the biggest thanks to @thetriumphantpanda who read this before bake off and left me a bunch of comments that made me so excited, you almost had this chapter yesterday.

You had seemed downtrodden before he rocked up and ‘broke a rule’.

His pretence at forgetting all quickly seen through, as though he’s transparent. He had wanted to explain that he had only wanted to cheer you up, but you looked less in the mood for an apology than you did an explanation.

So he swallowed both.

From the middle of the week, he had suspected something was wrong. When he had finally managed to call you, you had sounded so close to tears, that he wondered whether he should drive back sooner.

Especially when you had barely laughed at a joke he made on one of his commutes back to the hotel—barely even answering when he asked it if was his movie choice or yours.

I don’t mind. You always mind. If I remember right, you have a real thing about me always pickin’ the movie, querida. Well, I don’t today, okay? You can pick—I—Frankie, I have to go.

When the end call tone flooded the bed of his truck, he’d strongly suspected that you’d fought your way off the phone with him so you could crumble. Cracking yourself open into a bunch of shards, all pressure-cooked by the weight of everything you take on, only to say you’re fine.

It’s why he had driven past your place the day before he had made plans to see you. Fighting with himself about getting out and going up to your door. Weighing up the options as to whether checking on you tonight or waiting for tomorrow would be best.

Then there was the fact he wasn’t sure if it was as your best friend or as someone who hopes for something more.

The lines blurred, practically erased. A speech is likely needed, but he’s as poor with words as he is with owning how he feels, so it’s easier to stuff them down—to drive away, wait.

It’s why he grabbed it to begin with. Why he’d been grabbing them since you put the darn rule in place anyway. A habit, a part of his routine seeing you—a thing he did to show you that you mattered, were important, cared for.

Which is why he’d wrestled with him again on whether to leave it in the car when he walked up to your front door or not.

“You broke a rule.”

You look glum, defeated. Whatever your working week had done to you, it had stolen more from you than you’d been able to—never mind willing to give.

And it fractured a part of him. Made his shoulders sink, his heart sinks—because nothing hurt him more than the look on your face. The one which should be full of smiles and twinkling eyes.

Kissing your cheek, he closes your front door behind him. “I think you’ll forgive me.”

You just snort. Momentarily smothering the sadness that had been there before he’d showed you the bottle—whatever had upset you buried, all of it being quickly hidden as you placed the wine down and picked up your water bottle.

It forces more confusion to swirl inside of him, more so as you begin to go back and forth with him on food, on what he wants to watch, and whether he wants to share a blanket or have his own.

He replies in his usual tone, even if his attention is split into equal parts—one part focused on the little things you do, the mannerisms you’re not aware to pretend. The other on the IKEA furniture he built, the memories pricking him, needling, making the zipper of his jeans suddenly feel uncomfortable over his cock.

“Work been okay?”

Your mouth falls open, all set to answer, but then something shifts in your eyes. A shadow—possibly—it dancing across the plain, suddenly all but desperate to thump its way out.

Then the words never come. Swallowing instead, discarding whatever you'd been about to say—pushing it back before any lingering parts of it are blinked away as you offer a nod.

“Yeah. Yours?” you answer, but your tone isn’t right.

It’s flat, without its usual infliction. There isn't any edge to your words, nor a tease or taunt, not even a Morales in sight. And, the smile you paint doesn’t quite reach the eyes.

It’s practically humming now, the fact something is wrong. It simmers, hanging around, whistling through the air.

Yet, you don’t break, don’t confess it all to him like you had once done with such ease. Instead, you just smear another smile on your face, nudging him, phone in hand as you mumble about food options and what he wants as you lead him to the sofa.

He knows on the surface, it looks the same—how the night is playing out. But it’s different. In all the ways he doesn’t want to put his finger on, and doesn’t want to acknowledge. Not as you order food, not as you chew the inside of your cheek as you wait for the order to be accepted.

Even less so when you mumble about the film, reaching for your remotes.

It's then he decides what he wants to do is take the remote from your hand as soon as you pick it up. Frankie wants to hold your fingers in his, even place a kiss on your wrist. He wants to place two fingers under your chin, and ask you again to tell him what has happened—wanting to be let him in, be shared with.

He wants you close, and not like friends do. A need to have your head to his chest, his fingers sliding gentle strokes against your cheek and neck, offering comfort, providing it in plenty.

His own head turns the options over, planning it out, trying to guess what the various outcomes are. Which, by the time he reacts, instead of managing to grasp your hand, he knocks the remote from your hand with a clatter.

Ears burning, he feels your glare before he truly appreciates it. It ripples out over him before it’s blinked away—a momentary flood of fire licking at his skin.

In the oddest way, it’s at least reminiscent of the person he knows. The sharpness in your eyes is more a friend to him right now than the gnawing going on in his chest. Especially, while the rest of you is lost to whatever you’re trying to pretend doesn’t exist.

“What?”

It’s simple, one word.

Almost feels normal. It's all sharp and layered, just like it usually is. Followed by your body sinking into the array of cushions you decorate your sofa with as you pull up his pick, rolling your head to him—nail-picking at the battery cover on your remote.

And he wants to ask again—just like he always would have done.

Instead, Frankie places his hand on your knee, thumb and index swirling over the cloth-covered bone as you look at the television briefly, before flicking back to him.

In the silence, it’s louder—the whistling. It's suddenly accompanied by the noticeable noise of your brain whirring, your cogs turning.

“Talk to me,” he whispers, but secretly he's pleading, begging.

He watches as your teeth pick at your lip, snuggling yourself further into the couch—knee abutting his leg as you sigh. “It's... nothing. Can we... can we just watch the movie?”

“Hey, of course we can. Is…”

He can't ask.

Fearful of asking. A lump forms in his throat, sticking, thickening second by second as he flicks his eyes over you.

Before you can blink it away, he spots it again. The shift in your eyes.

This time instead of a shadow, they fill with water. They vanish any part of your truth that wished to escape in its drowning. Before he can poke and push, you blink it away as quickly as it had first arrived.

And it needles him, pricks at his skin and stabs into his chest, twisting and twisting and twisting—

“I just… wanted my best friend,” you mumble.

“That it?”

You seem to fight it, whatever it is inside of you, before you curl against his arm again, tugging your blanket up closer. “I really missed you this week, that's all.”

It’s been on his to-watch list for ages, and yet he’s one hour into it and he has no clue what is happening.

The pizza box is still half-open on the coffee table, your plate still remaining with picked-at food that you never really made any dent in, and he blames that as to why he doesn’t even know who the good guy is and who is bad.

Because all of the parts of his brain that usually begin working on undoing and arranging what he thinks will and is happening, are working in overdrive on you.

It's also stopping his heart from hammering even louder down your ear. Because, even if the two of you have cuddled before—lots of times—it's not been post the whole sleeping together thing.

And, it feels nice having you against him, normal, right.

He likes the way your fingers occasionally clutch him a little closer, head turned in the direction of the television and the movie he should be watching.

Instead, he's piecing together the puzzle you've thrown on the floor. The one without the box lid, so no image to compare it to. Trying to assess where you missing him, lines up with the way your bottom lip almost wobbled as you confessed it, as though it was a sin and not a virtue.

Frankie tries to line it up with the fact he knows whenever he's found a moment to himself, he’s texted you. The sea of other unread messages piling up, collecting.

It adds to the knowledge that all of the normal conversation he has with you, quickly derails, slipping into something foreign yet wonderful. Casual phone calls, divert into him with his hand around his cock, listening to you breathlessly say his name and that you wish he was there.

And that somewhere between collecting the sweet noises you make and those innocent-but-not-innocent moments, are the soft moments he has where you’re resting—where Frankie has realised, decided and accepted, that there is nowhere else he likes being.

Not a single place.

Because he wants this.

Frankie wants the calmer person he is when he's around you, the thoughts which are less intrusive. He likes that the rain barely bothers him when he has you in his arms, that he doesn’t even overthink, if anything he just plans. Considering things, turning them over, thinking of a future that begins to sketch itself out and colour itself in.

Something which has been doing so since the time in the car.

Your words rolling and rolling, stitching themselves to other phrases you’ve let slip, until he’s sewing things together to create a gallery, a museum of moments he loves admiring and replaying when the world goes silent.

That's when he notices the movie, the shit-show of a plan formed involving a helicopter, and the words roll from him without stopping.

"That would never fuckin' happen. Not—can you imagine, if I said to you—" and he rambles. Feels himself doing so. So comfortable and at ease more and more things just flow and fall from his lips.

Even when the scene changes in the movie, more bright light than the softer one from before, forcing him to blink—he is still detailing how inaccurate it is. Only slowing to nothing when he realises you’re looking up at him. Hanging on to every word as though he's a poet reading something beautiful.

He feels the way they tracing him then, lightly glazing over all his features as he slowly holds your stare.

Because it’s the kind of gaze he sees in the movies you make him watch. The lingering ones—a blend of both fiery and craving. It all peppered with yearning, and swirling in so much he suspects you don’t want to say.

“You’re going to miss the movie.”

Blinking, you smile. Feeling you flick your eyes from him to his mouth. “Am I?”

Your smile slides further into your cheek, and he can’t help but brush his thumb over it. A dire need to touch you, brush your soft skin and remind himself how you feel.

He doesn’t expect it, but he likes that you curl into his hand. It allows him to trace his fingers along your jaw, down the side of your neck. Half-expecting you to tell him to stop, that tonight isn’t about that.

You don’t.

Instead, your hand cups his against your cheek, staring at him, lit up by the flickering scenes neither of you are paying attention to.

Faintly, blooming out in the shimmer of your eyes, he thinks he sees it again—what he thinks is adoration. It mixing, blending, swirling with care, love…

“Thought you wanted your best friend?”

“I do,” you say, low, just above a whisper, “So, take care of me.”

A second passes as your words drip into the air.

So take care of me.

His eyes flick over you. Likely needing you to say it again, give permission, tell him you want this.

You do. Fuck you do.

Your heart hammering against your chest like a drum because of it. All unable to speak, fearful, fucking petrified, with how much you want him.

Because all you do is want him, and if you speak, you worry you won’t stop telling him that.

Let it fall, leak. Slip out and stain like oil on a sheet.

Because you know it's only normal to miss him this much for one reason, and one reason alone. It's the same reason why you want him, crave him, and feel so desperate for him that you can’t think or breathe. It is all-encompassing, looming, forever there in between the days you don't see him and the waiting on replies to texts.

It’s so close to your tongue, held back only by your teeth.

It could come out, could escape. So you keep your mouth clamped shut. It is better, easier, and less bothersome than telling him you’ve been counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds until you could have your hands on him. Not for this, not because he makes you feel good and beautiful and wanted, but because you feel better. Happier. More you. You feel safe, like no bad work day could ever touch you.

“Querida…”

“I want y—”

The rest of your words are swallowed, stolen. Frankie seals his mouth over yours, barely needing a sentence, just enough.

And it’s searing, full of ache as his hands pull you close, your body singing, itching to come alive—has been since the scent of just him hit your nose.

The worst of days doesn’t matter when he’s around you, less so when his lips marry to yours, when he licks into your mouth, when he breathes you in, and you breathe him.

No one else has ever made you feel like he does.

Not the way your feet almost kick out when his message arrives, a smile gracing your mouth without control when he calls you.

Because he’s different, but then he always has been.

There's always been something, it thriving and growing, embedding vines you pretend are just because you're good friends. But you know, you do. It's hard not to.

Frankie saves you, oblivious to the silent plea for rescue—he just knows. He gets you. Understands every inch of you now, you're unsure how anyone else can ever read you as well. He's someone you could confidently rely on, knowing he’d never leave you alone, not even in the dark—forever a light, a way home.

You think you’re that for him too. Hope so anyway.

He moans your name. Kissing you like he never wishes to stop. He acts like he wants to drown in you, be overflowed by you, and fuck you want the same.

Mine. That’s what you want to say.

Instead, you bury it in a low moan when his mouth captures yours, tongue sliding past your teeth as his hands come to rest on your cheeks. Each touch softer, gentler—from the way he moves his fingers over your cheek, to the way he slides them over your jaw, landing on your neck.

Then, his mouth comes to your ear, breath dancing, all flooded with the flickering television—let’s go to your bed.

He doesn’t rip, he peels your layers off, leaving a trail leading right to your room. He smothers your body with his, his palm remaining flat to your spine, leading, hooking his fingers around the back of your neck as he steers you.

Careful, hermosa.

The consideration dripping from his lips like syrup, all adorned in affection, a taste you have to capture, spinning in his hold, hooking your arms around his neck as you pull him flush, close.

“Tell me you want me,” he hisses.

There's an edge that isn’t usually there but it’s pounding now, all sparkling and fucking shimmering.

You’re more sure of it when he lies you back on your sheets, his mouth exploring, taking his time, taking you to the edge with his mouth as you plead and plead—one hand sliding up over the softness of your stomach, as your back arches into him.

And you shudder, so close to your high—hips held down by his arm. “I want you, Frankie. Always want you. Want you inside of me.”

He pauses—cool air blowing over you as he flicks his eyes up from between your thighs, his skin flushes, a light beading of sweat at his hairline as he comes up onto his palms.

Watching him crawl up you, eyes enamoured, unable to look anywhere else even if they were commanded to. Because he’s more than a sight for sore eyes, he is the sight. He’s the best-looking thing you’ve ever fucking seen, clutching his face in your hands, feeling him drag the head of his cock through your slick walls, staring at you in waiting, like he couldn’t believe this is happening.

“Again,” he asks.

Taking your hand in his, he slots his fingers between yours, fitting, ever so perfectly, before he places your conjoined hands above your head. Eyes tracing up and down your frame, more so as you arch into him, hearing the breathed-out expletive as you wait for his stare to land.

“I want you.”

And, thankfully, Frankie doesn’t let you linger on it. Doesn’t allow you to hyper-focus on it, slowly sliding in, pushing in by inch until you’re full of just him—no more of him left that you can greedily take.

“Always take me so well, baby—“

“Frankie.”

You’re breathless. The air punched from your lungs—his hand remaining knotted in yours, grounding, your nails digging into his skin as his other hand finds a place on the back of your thigh, eyes dropping, all fixated on where the two of you are joined.

“Y'so good for me. Always so good for me,” he adds when his hips are flush with yours. “Take my cock so well.”

Letting his gaze return to you, you’re suddenly so grateful for the bedside lamp you’d left on hours ago because now you get to see him. Admire him, so much so, it makes your throat dry.

Able to watch his muscles contort when he moves, lips parting as he slowly cants his hips into yours, all deep strokes.

And, you know it’s still fucking, but it’s also not.

It’s a unique blend of need that feels right, and also wrong—lips messily finding yours, burying confessions as you eagerly swallow them.

Hoping your throat, lungs or stomach could begin to decipher them as you feel his hand slide down your wrist, and arm until it's cupping your face. His lips slide over your cheek, resting close to your ear, whispering compliments. Because he has to tell you that you’re gorgeous, he says; that you're always so stunning.

Each word that lands has more than an effect on you, as he stutters when you clench around him.

Mouth wrapped around an exclamation of his name as he slides out and sinks back into you.

Frankie has always felt big, but from this angle, like this—he’s somehow deeper, filling you more. He's in your soul. It all filthy and romantic and obscene, but it feels so good, makes heat bloom through your hips and up into your spine, it twisting, eroding the bad day, the bad week.

In a sense, he’s the perfect antidote. A person you trust, care for, lo—

“You’re perfect, you know that?”

Frankie’s hand slides back to grip yours, pressing it down—lightly against the pillow above you, before placing the other beside it. And he’s enveloped in part shadows and the light from the table, blessed in golden hues, giving just enough to see how wild his eyes are and how deep the brown in them goes, how blown his pupils are.

“Do you know how beautiful you look right now?”

You feel your cheeks warm, your ears—every bit of skin on show suddenly inflamed because of his words. His mouth lapping at your breasts, all arched into him, hips steadily meeting his.

“Always are, really.”

“Well. You’re handsome, Morales.”

It’s intentional, adding his surname. Taking the softness out of it, removing what you can, and adding barriers and throwing up walls.

He still sucks in a breath, eyes lingering on yours, fingers dropping to brush a line up and down your cheek as he continues to slide his cock in and out of you. You moan as the head of him keeps kissing that part deep inside you.

It’s different.

You know it; he likely does too. Thankful he slants his mouth over yours. Slowly rocking with you, thrusting into you as you murmur his name, it falling enriched in moans.

From the way you both kiss, to the way you keep an arm around his neck, desperate to keep as much of him against yours.

“You feel so good, Frankie.” Your fingers scratch at the base of his neck. “Always make me feel so full.”

Stuffed really. Packed in. Clenching around him, all tightening, purposefully wrapping your walls around him until he groans right into your ear. Each drag of his cock in and out feeling exquisite, perfect, amazing.

It’s never been like this with others, never been like this even with him. His fucked out face, the grunts and groans coming from deep within make your thighs unable to stop their twitching as fire floods up your spine and the way he plunges you in lust-filled brown.

And you clutch his face, feverish from him, quivering, shaking. Burying the words, “So close, I’m gonna—fuck, I’m close baby,” against his mouth.

Pressing each letter in, stamping it—ensuring he knows it’s him doing this to you. Making a mess of you. The only person you ever want to make a mess out of you.

It thumping inside of you, hammering—all balled up fists and desperation because you want to tell him. Shout it at him. Paint the walls in it as he paints yours in white.

“Need you, Frankie.”

It’s close to the truth. Barely an inch from it.

“I know, need you too. Need to feel you come around me, hermosa. I need it, please. Please give it to me. Let me feel—fuck—feel you coming around my cock.”

And you hear it, the way he pleads—as well as realise the double meaning. You in the car, whispering words so close to the ones he’s spilling now.

“I will if you stay.”

He doesn’t still, but he does jolt. A hesitation in his pistoning.

Then he drops to his elbows around your face, cradling you, caging you in, as he kisses you—sloppily, messily, sweetly. It’s soft, but also full of heavy moans he wishes to force down your throat. It’s indulgent, a thing you never thought you’d have so now you take as much of it as you can get.

“Course I’ll stay. Never—fuck—anywhere I want to be but here, baby. Nowhere else.”

His eyes fix on you, digging the words in.

And, even if you knew it before, you realise how under your skin he is. How he’s woven in around tendons and ligaments, found a home, left marks against your bones you never want to rid.

You’re sure it’s that and not the words which make everything else mute.

Even if it’s all you can hear. Not the television in the other room, not the headboard clattering against the wall, not the sounds you’re making each time he drags his cock through your walls.

Just his words. Whatever he blesses you in. Your thoughts are all incoherent other than that. All shaky, practically vibrating; all gasping and torturous heavy heat, all unable to breathe and yet never wanting any of this to stop.

His hand slides around your thigh, pulling on your knee, bringing it closer as his grip almost grows bruising on you. He’s deep. Fucking into you so hard, hearing the concoction of his hisses, gasps and moans, before his mouth lands back on yours.

It’s overwhelming. The height you’ve reached, the way your mouth is only able to say his name as you watch him lick his thumb and distinctly feel it slide between the two of you. Finding it. Barely struggling to press the pad of it to your bundle of nerves before you lock up, the knot tightening, almost ripping inside of you.

It fraying from how much you’re fighting it, so close to bursting—

Then he draws quicker circles, all persistent, expertly, and you snap.

It surging, all white-hot, all blistering and mind-melting. You become both light and heavy all at once, your nails finding purpose in his side and your sheets, twisting, knotting to root yourself in this, in him—in how much you fucking love him.

“Fuck, querida—that’s it.”

You can’t respond, can’t even think up a response, but you do yank his mouth to yours. Pressing those three words there, laying them down, as well as thanking him, over and over until you slide your mouth against his cheek.

“Be good for me now, Frankie.”

His eyes flick to you, all ablaze and engulfed in want. And so you nod, knowing he can see it, feel it.

“Look so good, baby,” you add.

The noise is strained that comes from him, all sucked in breath. Then, his hips stammer, convulsing, all strangled, tightly entangled in a mess of your name and fuck.

And you kiss him.

Happily licking into his mouth to taste how delicious his moan is.

You try to fight the way your heart drops when you return from using the bathroom. Biting the inside of your mouth as you see the bed empty, sheets a mess, your throat swallowing back whatever sob wishes to escape.

Because the edges of your happiness crumble, your arm wrapping around the other, bottom lip almost wobbling.

That is, until you feel his hand on your lower back. Your head turns quickly, seeing him there. All hair-wild, and soft smile.

“Water, baby?”

Smiling, you thank him, taking several sips before handing it back to him, watching him do the same. Studying the way his throat bobs as he does, the faint marks of your mouth still lingering there on his skin.

“C’mon,” he whispers, kissing your cheek. “Let’s get in bed.”

“Oh, but the—“

“I’ve sorted it. Turned it off—folded the blanket, put the plates in water.” His hand wraps itself around yours. “So, let’s sleep.”

All you can muster is an okay. It leaves soft, slightly webbed at the edges from the way it catches on the growing lump in your throat.

It isn’t until you’re curled against him,

“Is this okay?” you whisper.

He lets out a laugh, little and breathy. “More than okay, hermosa.”

Guiding your leg to hook over his. Keeping his body flush as the two of you cuddle. His thumb swipes across your cheek, forehead close to yours as his fingers fan out over your hip, and he presses a kiss to the space between your brows.

You’re pretty sure your heart just tripled in size.

And those three words, the ones which have amassed into a chunk in your chest have suddenly begun pulsing all on their own—a beat completely separate, you find, to the one which pumps blood around your body.

CHAPTER EIGHT ->

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales smut #Frankie morales x reader smut #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #jo: iltwy #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #frankie morales smut #triple frontier smut #frankie morales x f!reader smut #pedrostories

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yuikomorii · 4 months

Text

// Ok I didn’t want to go this far but at this point, you guys are hating on Ayato just for clout and it shows. It’s okay not to like a character but straight up spreading misinformation about him is not okay. If you lack reading comprehension, just admit it.

What makes Ayato’s past so sad isn’t only the fact that Cordelia was mean towards him. She mentally and physically abused him, yet what genuinely hurt Ayato the most was the way Cordelia treated ALL the triplets. A part of him didn’t even want to kill her, given that he CRIED in the MB flashbacks because, despite being a huge abuser, he STILL felt sympathy even for someone like her. No matter how horrible Cordelia was, Ayato still wished for Karlheinz to reciprocate her feelings only to finally see her happy.

Don't even get me started on the Adam curse. He was practically used as bait and abandoned to death by his own brothers, but he still hoped for their safety after escaping. That curse literally destroyed his entire life because its purpose was to make the person who ate the fig drown in despair and go insane. That's why he was sooo obsessed with Yui's blood. Heck, he's cursed in routes other than his own, as he goes insane in Ruki's MB one, to the point that his brothers had to lock him inside the dungeon. In addition, in his MB Vampire Ending, he falls into a coma because he refuses to hurt Yui and keep drinking her blood.

Other than that, Laito was the one who made him believe that he wasn’t special, hence he adopted the “I will never make someone special again” mentality. He also wanted to kill him when he was younger (no hate towards any of his brothers though). Kanato was the only one who never did something bad to him, considering that when Ayato was a child, Reiji called him the disappointment of the family after failing a test.

Ayato did twisted stuff too; no character is a saint, but he always tries his best to fix things. Even when not dating Yui, he’s capable of showing compassion, support and a desire to improve his relationship with his brothers BY HIMSELF. Check this analysis for example.

Other than that, despite every time being hurt when trying to show kindness, he still became a very selfless guy who’d sacrifice himself for anyone at any given time. What makes this even more admirable is that according to Karlheinz, he’s literally the only one who actually VALUES his life. This guy who loves life would risk it all for Yui, even when not dating, or for any of his brothers.

Credit to: dialovers-translations and tournesolia on Tumblr

On top of that, he's incredibly empathic?? He forgives everybody, no matter what they do to him, and seeks to maintain good relations with them. In Kino's LE route, for example, he tortures and burns Ayato, but Ayato is the first person to recognize him as his brother because he wanted Kino to feel that he, too, belonged to a family.

Last but not least, nobody silences Karlheinz as good as him. He was also the only one who connected the dots by himself about his dad being the root of all evil (Laito too but that was after the letter), including being the only one who didn’t want to kill him only because he didn’t want to fall into his plan. Check this post.

Oh and, Ayato is actually really big; it’s not that only his fans make him that way! This post basically proves that he’s the IT boy of otome games and I should also mention that he’s the character that sells the most in Japan and China! Just look what Japanese fans think of him. ;)

You can dislike him as much as you want but nobody can deny how brave and pure-hearted he is. He’s the definition of from zero to hero.

As I mentioned earlier, it's fine to dislike him, but don't become obsessed with it, lol. At the end of the day, he's merely a fictional character with endearing characteristics and the male lead. It's really not that deep. Besides, it's embarrassing when the hate comes from Yui stans because she definitely wouldn't be happy of any of you talking about her man in that way.

#diabolik lovers #ayato sakamaki #dialovers #sakamaki ayato #admin

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mamayan · 5 months

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Hi! Can you do a yandere hawks please?

My first request for Hawks~ Of course Nonnie~♡

Yandere Keigo Takami x GN! Darling

For Your Safety

cw: NSFW • Obsessive/Possessive Themes • Abuse of power • Gaslighting • Stalking/Breaking & Entering • Noncon/Forced relationship • Pet names • Delusional Themes • Sub! Reader

You shouldn’t have answered the door.

You opened it without even checking through the peephole, to find no one else but the infamous pro-hero Hawks standing on your door step.

“Hello~ Ya know, sorry to bother you so late but…,” he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, eyes closed in a harmless sign as he raises his free hand up sheepishly, “I got a call for a health and wellness check for you.”

Those sharp yellow orbs were like a predators as he opened his eyes.

“You wouldn’t be in any danger…would you?” His voice drops an octave, and you immediately feel the danger you’re in the second pieces of a puzzle begin falling together.

The feathers you’d find in your home. The feeling of being watched constantly. The strange and delusional love letters.

You weren’t anything special. So why was this happening to you?

“N-no… I’m okay, th-thank you though—,” you can’t close the door, his foot wedged between the little opening.

“You sure? You seem a little nervous~ you wouldn’t mind if I came in and just checked around right?” That smile is anything but harmless, lips angled up in a grin that doesn’t reach his hard and calculating eyes.

Boxes of unfinished packing rests in your nearly empty living room. The last moving truck gone for the day, back tomorrow morning for the last few loads to your new apartment in a different city.

“I’m fine, really, I don’t think—,” then you’re on your ass and the door is opening. He’s not a big man, in fact, his stature is average at best, but the complete lack of strength used by Hawks proves he’s more than meets the eye.

“I really wasn’t asking chickadee~” then your door is closing and the deadbolt locking in place.

He appreciates the view you’re offering him, sat on your butt on the floor and looking up at him with tears brimming in your depths.

“Aww~ don’t worry baby, I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you.” He coos at your fear, even placing his hands on his knees and bending down like one might to a toddler. “See, I just got worried when I saw you were making such a big move, all by yourself, you know?” He’s following you as you shuffle back on your hands, hands in his pockets casually and he looks at all the quick work you’d put in to getting out of town as quickly as possible.

“Really hurts my feelings, ya know? Man, it’s a pain too, calling up the moving company and having them change addresses. They overcharge these days.” Not that money was even a problem for him, he just enjoyed the terrified realization dawning on you. He loves the attention, the focus you give him now, as if a bomb could go off but you wouldn’t notice with how centered you were on him.

“It’s okay baby, I know change can make us do stupid things, it seems scary now, huh?” He’s got you backed against a wall, crouching down to your level on his haunches as he gives you what seems like a reassuring smile. “I’m a forgiving guy, so I won’t hold this time against you.”

“Why…?” His head tilts in amusement as you ask the one question driving you crazy.

“Why what, chickadee? You’ll need to be more specific for me.”

“Why this… why me…?” He’s smiling genuinely this time, cheeks flushed and pupils dilated. Then he’s closing in on you, cool thin lips pressed against your warm tear soaked cheeks as he speaks lowly.

“You’re just so pathetic, how can I leave you alone? Always so clumsy, never paying attention to your surroundings, so weak. You’d be dead without my supervision. I like you though, even if you’re incapable of existing without me, so sweet and cute.” It doesn’t matter that you’re sobbing, he’s merely hushing you and dragging you to your bedroom, mattress on the floor without your bed frame.

“It’s okay, chickadee~ you’re good for something at least!” He chirps happily, tossing you on the bed with a smile as he goes for his pants. “I’m sure you’ll make a wonderful mate, staying home and safely inside is the best for you anyway.” He’s crazy, truly delusional as he strips shamelessly before you, stroking his hard cock with a wild gleam in his eyes.

Red feathers dust the ground as he grabs you before you can escape, easily tearing off your clothing as you beg and sob for this to stop.

“Shh, it’s okay now, I’ve got you, you don’t need to scared anymore~♡” Not even for a second considering what you fear is him.

Even as he tears multiple orgasms from you, fingering your hole and licking you wet and sloppy, you still cry.

“Look at this chickadee, look how full you are!” He’s elated when he stuffs his thick cock inside you, stretching your poor hole out around his girth while he moans above you. All you can do is muffle your own pleasured moans into the sheet, shame washing you as your body so easily gives in to his touch despite your begging for him to stop.

“Please, Hawks, no more—!” Your pleas only spur him on, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy as you clamp down tight on his cock. “Just like that baby, gonna fill you up, make you mine.” He’s fucking you hard and fast, going as deeply as possible each thrust like he’s trying to imprint the shape of it inside you.

He laughs at your tears, huffing against your pudgy swollen cheeks and licking a strip up your face to taste the salty bitter liquid. “You need to cum again baby? That what you need?” He doesn’t notice or doesn’t care when you shake your head, shifting to sandwich his hand between you and working you over into another harsh orgasm that makes you see white.

“Fuck—that’s it chickadee, milk my cock, so fucking tight—,” his balls slap against your ass as he feels his orgasm approach, sticky with your cum and fluids as he finally settles deep and releases thick spurts of cum inside you.

“No!” You whine, trying to pull away.

“Yes!” He hisses, panting and sweating as his wings spread wide and cover your form like a protective blanket as he collapses on you, pinning you down.

He’s happy to kiss and fuck any lingering tears away until you’re pliant and doughy. Easily movable as he works to get you dressed again for the trip to your new home. He sleeps good that night knowing you’re tucked safe in his nest.

Dividers by the lovely @benkeibear

#Yan answers #tw: yandere #tw:noncon #hawks #keigo takami #mha takami keigo #keigo x reader #yandere hawks #yandere keigo takami #yandere keigo takami x reader #hawks smut #keigo takami smut #mha smut #bnha smut

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rainbowchaox · 6 months

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Qsmp Characters Analysis: Wilbur Versus Missa

A common thing I have been seeing off and on is people not really understanding why Wilbur absence is treated more harshly in canon than Missas. Therefore I wanna explain in more detail the reason why. Yes, they are both absent fathers because of In real life commitments. Wilbur canonically being forced to go on tours by the federation and Missa having to be off island for reaper duties (always imagine Philza saying YouTube as him being like reaper job never done).

But the fact of the matter when Chayanne and the rest of the eggs had to be taken care of at the start. The egg missions were daily. So Missa and Chayanne gained a strong connection. Tallulah only had a couple days. The main issue is that yes Tallulah does love Wilbur. She’s hurting but does love him. They don’t really have a connection. And it’s visible clearly how much Philza and Chayanne care for Missa. Despite him being gone for practially four months. People are easy to forget why Chayanne and even Philza cares so much for him.

In the time since Wilbur went away he popped in like once while Missa popped in about four times. Not to mention the times he went on off stream. If one wants to consider absence as something to measure. Then Wilbur is the more absent parent. Missa actually gets on more.

Missa is trying his best. He doesn’t want to be considered a bad dad. His character is openly trying to be better. For Philza and Chayanne. For his family. Even though his family don’t need him to show that he is a good dad. He already is. He loves Chayanne so much. Missa is just good. Even when he met Tallulah he wanted to know more about her. He wants to be part of their life.

And it’s stupid to think his family doesn’t know this. They know he is trying. So yes they always forgive him with open arms. They mention him off and on missing him. But not upset at him. They understand. Philza if anything is always thinking of him. He misses him so much. You can miss someone and selfishly want them to be with you. And not be upset and not be angry. And Philza and Chayanne can never be upset or angry at Missa.

But with Wilbur? Tallulah only had him and he left. He only came once when she was going through the worst time of her life. When she was scared. So of course she is upset. Of course she is angry. In her point of view her dad failed her again. And worst of all she doesn’t have that strong connection she can see other parents have with their eggs. So she’s jealous that she is the only one without her actual dad. Of course this isn’t true. We know that Wilbur canonically loves her and wants to be back on the island. But she is a child. She can be upset and still love her dad.

So despite being similar being absent dads. They are utterly different. Missa is loved and will be loved. Wilbur doesn’t have the connection with Tallulah anymore. It’s sad but Philza is her dad now. Philza has that connection with her. So completely different situations. And we shouldn’t really compare them.

We also know that the first week that Chayanne had a favorite dad and it was Missa. There’s reasons why Chayanne never say anything bad about him. Solidified by Philza openly missing or mentioning him. Tallulah only had letters and eventually memories to remember him by. But she does love Wilbur. She loves Wilbur so much. That’s why she so upset.

#qsmp #pissa #qsmp pissa #Qsmp Wilbur #qsmp chayanne #Qsmp Tallulah #qsmp missa #Qsmp Philza #OKOKOKOKOK ENJOY

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mikareo · 6 months

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“ ࣭⸰ ★ WHEN SPRING COMES . . . ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀呪術廻戦 ; megumi fushiguro x fem reader

⊹ ⠀⠀ your love for megumi can be compared to a snowflake; delicate and beautiful, stunning and unique. however, spring is coming— and eventually, all snowflakes have to melt. (1.2k)

contains; hanahaki au, rejection, angst, implied death author's note; this is 2 years old pls forgive me,, n hanahaki used to be my favorite trope IM SORRY I POST IT SM ajskl

it’s been over a decade, fifteen years really, of the never-ending winter that you’ve grown so accustomed to. the settled snow has been your comfort zone, a weighted blanket tying you down to his presence since primary school, freezing the ribbon that tied your heart to his for eternity— though only now, you realize that ribbon is a chain, shackling you to a hopeless series of unrequited feelings that could never be returned. you’ve imprisoned yourself to an idea of love that never was. love that you viewed as your personal one-of-a kind snowflake between the two of you; something special and passionate with no barriers or boundaries, which softly flurried around you for your entire lives...

...but snowflakes melt when they touch the ground.

the soft powder is nothing but water now; dirtied water on the blood-ridden pavement, speckled with pink petals of a flower that you used to love. the snowflake is dying. it’s dead. and spring has come.

“tilt your head up,” megumi murmurs with the softest, most lovely voice you’ve ever heard. “you’ve still got some on your chin.”

he’s being generous with his words. you know your skin is stained red, dripping with blood and broken leaves that refuse to be wiped away. luckily for you, he tells you that red is his favorite color— that the scarlet shade compliments your complexion and makes you look beautiful— but you know he’s lying.

the deep clots and black chunks would send anyone into a nauseous fit, he’s too kind to you.

you wish he would be horrible. that he’d hurdle insulting comments, awful remarks, and unforgivable curses— but he’d never.

— and you love him for that.

it’s too bad that he doesn’t feel the same.

he never has.

he never will.

“does that feel alright?” his washcloth is cold and damp. it’s a muddied mahogany after previously being a gorgeous forrest green. “it’s still warm, right?”

you nod, believing that one more lie won’t hurt your already dreadful situation. “i think you’ve got it all,” the reflection before you is one you recognize, a person of the past that you can’t seem to let go of no matter how many hours you spend wishing them away. “thank you, really.”

despite the normal appearance you now display, with rose-tinted cheeks and swollen eyes, there’s a garden growing in the sink. vines slithering their way down the drain as the water stream attempts to rid them from view. torn tulip petals are strewn across the bathroom floor, and in another life perhaps it would have been romantic to see a flower petal pathway leading towards the bedroom— that’s not your life though. you’ve been left with emptiness and a void of feelings with no return.

“i’m always here to hold your hair back, i hope you know that.” he smiles with kindness, a genuine goodness that can only be portrayed by him. he’s the best person you know. there’s no mystery as to why you fell for him all those years ago, and why that love has followed you through adulthood. “it’s almost pretty…y’know, in a morbid way.”

hm, funny. morbidly beautiful.

“yeah,” you reply in a snap. “maybe they can be my funeral flowers.”

you've made him angry.

“don’t even joke about that, what the hell?” megumi always gets upset when you say those type of things. his vision turns red and he’s blinded by his own sadness that he forgets that he’s the cause— he’s the calamity that uprooted your formally blissful life. he’s the one who fell in love with someone new.

winter could’ve lasted forever had he not gone to class that day.

it could raged onwards had he not met her.

you could’ve been hand-in-hand dancing beneath the moonlight on a snowy eve if she hadn’t asked for directions to the library. his kisses could’ve been peppering your face rather than hers if only you’d been more fun, more outgoing, more persuasive, more everything, then maybe he would’ve stayed.

but megumi didn’t stay...

...he left.

he left as the leaves grew on the barren trees and pollen drifted through the breeze. he said his brief goodbyes to your heart while his chased her’s in yearning. he didn’t so much as glance your way as the hanahaki roots planted themselves in your heart— only choosing to show concern after they’d already grown terminal. he disappeared from your point of view before you could even acknowledge his absence— which was and continues to be unfair.

megumi was yours and now he isn’t. it’s as simple as that. as awful and simple as that.

“we both know i’m dying.” you murmur, hands folded together as if they're the only things you have left to hang onto. you wish one of those hands could find their place in his warm palm, but the black marker ink etched onto his skin in the shapes of mini hearts and smiley faces are more than enough to drive you away. “there’s no point in denying it anymore. i can barely breathe.”

he shakes his head, backing away from you despite your obvious need for physical comfort.

you thought he knew you better than that. you thought he’d know exactly how to ease your pain, but he doesn’t. he’s very clearly not your soulmate, but for some reason your heart tells you otherwise.

“you’d be able to if you’d just get the surgery,” he says. “please.”

he's begging for something he could solve.

megumi's eyes look dark under the overhead light. “please don’t make me have to see you in a casket.”

the surgery in which the roots are removed from your heart is a tricky one. a procedure that many endure and survive, where they get to continue living their lives healthy and happy— though, are they truly living if they’re void of the love that once consumed them?

“i wouldn’t be able to live with myself, you know that.” your voice is firm, after having had this conversation many times before, “i’d know a part of me was missing. you’re too important for me to just…erase.”

if you’re being completely honest with yourself, you’d rather remain in your eternal winter for the rest of your soul’s existence. yes, it’s cold and dreary, with little to no sunlight and hope of a new love or progression in your relationship with him— but it’s familiar. you find it comfortable and there’s no fear in the feelings that you’re already so accustomed to living with everyday. the thought of spring is terrifying. the season following your beloved winter that represents rebirth and new blossoming love is one that you’ll never come to know— which is completely by choice. there’s no point in limping yourself towards spring when there’s no one you’d rather love than megumi.

these hanahaki tulips won’t see the sunshine they yearn for when the grass regains its color. they’ll simply wither away with you and the lock that refuses to fall, holding your feelings for him in an eternal slumber that will never be woken.

“i love you.” you say, whilst knowing that that’s the last thing he wants to hear. “i love you so much.”

your confessions of love are a reminder of your little time left, and he hates it.

he wishes it would all stop; but it can’t and it won’t.

perhaps he should’ve given you a chance when the opportunity arose. then you may have been happy. however, he knows that there’s no forcing love.

you’ve been doomed since the moment you’d laid eyes on him.

love isn't your happiness.

“i’ve only ever loved you.”

it's your demise.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

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soulprompts · 2 years

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"𝙎𝙃𝘼𝘿𝙊𝙒 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝘽𝙊𝙉𝙀" - 𝙄𝙉𝙎𝙋𝙄𝙍𝙀𝘿 𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙈𝙋𝙏𝙎.

hi friends!! basically, i watched the teaser trailer for season 2 of shadow and bone, got excited, began to reread the soc duology, and then these happened! or rather, i found an ancient unpublished fic i wrote after the first time i read the duology, and decided to make that a problem for everyone else! i hope you all enjoy these, you don’t need to have seen the show nor read the books, i actually think many of these are fairly fandomless! i just wanted to explain my inspiration! DON’T ADD TO THIS LIST! i’ll make more lists like this one! ily all, bon appetit, go forth and write or read or nap or watch tv or something!

" my goodness, you're not nearly as stupid as you look! "

" you have all the answers right in front of you. you just need to look at it differently. "

" don't presume that you know me just because you've heard a few rumors and read a few articles. "

" there's certainly more to you than meets the eye, isn't there? "

" i urge you to remember exactly who it is you're talking to. because while others might appreciate your tone, i assure you, i do not. "

" i'm concerned that you mightn't understand what discreet means. because the path of chaos you've just created is exactly the opposite of discreet. "

" you owe me a favour. i'm here to collect. "

" i thought it was a good time to pay you a visit. it's been so long, after all; and we have so much to catch up on. "

" you are not your father/mother/parent's child. not by anything other than blood, and that's not even on the spectrum of importance. "

" i was wrong about you. "

" you know, i was warned not to get involved with you. people insisted it was a fool's decision. but i held out hope that you'd prove them wrong. now's your chance. "

" i'm not the sort of person to fuss over hurt feelings. you're either of value to me, or you're worthless. so prove to me that you're not the latter. "

" you honestly think i don't know where you go each night? i'm not blind nor an idiot. i just trust your ability to return home unharmed. "

" have you told anyone else about this? "

" there are no children anymore. only survivors. childhood and innocence are luxuries afforded to the privileged. not us. "

" i offered you an opportunity once. to build a better world together. we both know how that turned out. and now, you come crawling back, begging for... what? mercy? forgiveness? "

" i'm with you. always. no matter what happens, i will be right by your side. do you understand? "

" we're a team, aren't we? teams stick together. even when the leader is being a prick. "

" ...i was really worried about you, you know. you scared me earlier. and i'm not saying it to make you feel bad, it's just... promise me you'll tell me if things get bad again? "

" i can't pretend to understand all this stuff you've got going on. but i do promise that i'll be here to help you through it all. alright? "

" there's a job that needs to be done before we get to work on the big task. that's why i'm here. you'll be helping me/us to complete both jobs. payment upon completion. "

" you and i aren't as different as you want to believe. that must be why you're so angry. because looking at me, all that i've done... it's like looking in a mirror. isn't it? "

" people are scared. they need a leader. and right now, like it or not, they're looking to you. so go on. lead us. "

" you've come up with some really insane plans over the years, but this is just defying any amount of belief. "

" look. i don't care if people underestimate me. i actually enjoy it. they see me as an idiot, they drop their guard, the end. but i need you to know that i'm not an idiot. okay? "

" people have died. we can't let that go unpunished. "

" the world is changing. and if we don't get ahead of it, then they'll be the ones to decide what it changes into. "

" right! what's the plan, then? and god help the lot of us if you don't have one. "

" not all of us can afford the luxury of a conscience. "

" don't make the deadly mistake of presuming my actions reflect weakness. too many have made that same presumption. and not a single one of them lived to tell the tale. "

" you're scared. i can tell. the shaking, the look in your eye... you want to run. don't. you'll waste precious time and energy, and you'll need it all if you want to live. "

" everything is gone. it's all smoke, ruin, obliterated. is that our legacy now? our reputation? destruction, devastation, death? is that who we are? "

" we've fought against powerful enemies before, but this is beyond that. if we want to get out of this alive, we need to be smarter, stronger, better than we've ever been before. "

" don't forget why we're here. there's far more at stake than our lives if this goes wrong. "

" you're the only person here i trust. we need to stick together, watch each other's backs. just because everything's changed, doesn't mean we have to, too. "

" i can't think of anyone i'd rather be doing this crazy, ridiculous, nearly definitely lethal mission with. let's go out with a bang, eh? "

" you people are completely insane. but you're also insufferably good at this sort of thing. so let's go save the world, shall we? "

" why are we fighting so hard to save the lives of people who hate us, anyway? "

" you're the best there is at this sort of thing. i'd hate to see the one who got the better of you... "

" look at them all. going around, fussing over money, clothes, land... do they ever realize what's going on around them? do they ever see the bigger picture as we do? "

" you're clever. good. it's nice to have a challenge. but you should know now, you'll want to be a hell of a lot smarter than that if you want to go up against me. "

" you and i both know the risks. we both know what people like them are capable of. tell me it's all okay, and i won't question you. but if it isn't... we need to be ready. "

" it's lonely and vicious at the top. i can handle that. but you... you wouldn't survive five minutes of this life. "

" you can't survive in this world without growing a thicker skin, and erasing that naive belief that you can trust anyone you meet. least of all me. "

" if you're knocking on my door, i can only imagine it means you're here to collect. and by your demeanour, it's one hell of a favor you'll be asking, too. "

" i understand your anger. i've lived with that sort of rage for many years of my life. but you need to set it aside, understand? we need you calm if we want to get out of here. "

" oh, don't get all sentimental. i saved your life because you're worth more to me alive than dead. it doesn't signify any degree of care or affection. "

" you have one hell of an inflated ego, you know that? we were told this job was impossible. that's not a challenge. that's a fact. it is not possible. even for you. "

" i've heard it all before. one more job. one more mission. one last heist. but there's always more. it's like some sort of obsession for you. searching for another thrill. "

" enough! this is it! don't you see that?! we almost died! you almost got killed! if the saints are kind enough to save us today, it's only so we can quit while we're ahead! "

#rp meme #rp prompts #rp memes #rp prompt #roleplay prompt #roleplay prompts #roleplay memes #roleplay meme #writing prompts #writing prompt #dialogue starters #dialogue prompts #dialogue prompt #rp starters #roleplay starters

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