#why didn't i do this more since earlier???

[spaceycat]

bob.

BAWB. he's my boyfriend, he is the most boyfriend to ever boyfriend (i havent seen the movie yet)

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༄.° ɴᴏ�� ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ...  ╰┈➤ 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 🧸ྀི

♫ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: i'm inlove with you by the 1975 (4:22)

✰ pairing: bob reynolds x fem!reader

✰ cw: pathetic asf!bob, but also brat!bob?? oral (f!recieving), bob is also a munch, p in v sex, riding, a little bit of angst, but we make up for it guys

✰ word count: 1.3k+

✰ summary: you've been busy with work, practically neglecting bob. he has enough of it after you returned home from work late and finally gets what he wants, he practically takes it from you.

✰ a/n: credits to juni for the request and the plot line for this fic, id be dead without her

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༺colour chart༻ reader ❀ bob ꩜

You've been busy lately, both you and Bob knew that. You didn't have much time for sex, but even then; you didnt even have much time for dates or simply just cuddling on the couch. It was a routine:

Wake up

Ignore Bob's advances to keep you in bed for longer

Go to work

Do said work

Go home

Eat

More work

Get ready for bed

Sleep

A simple routine at that. You felt guilty having to say no to Bob's advances every day, but you had work to do and Bob knew that. But it didnt stop the feelings that were created.

It's been atleast a week since this routine has been set in place, you're doing work on your computer in the living room. Nursing a cup of coffee as you sat on the couch.

"Sweetheart?.." Bob's soft voice broke you out of your trance. You looked up at him, his eyebrows furrowed. "What's up?" You set down your coffee, noticing his expression. "Listen I know that you're-- busy with work and stuff.." He paused for a moment, moving to sit down beside you. "But I miss you, y'know?" That sat with you for a moment, you were at a loss for a words. "Bob--" "I don't care what it is, I dont care if you just hold me-- hold my hand, I dont care."

Nothing really came of that night, nothing to note. The next morning the routine continued.

Bob found you in the kitchen the next day, leaning against the counter as you cooked dinner for the two of you. "Why are you cooking so early?" "I've got some meeting at 7, have to have dinner earlier." His smile faltered, "What time are you going to be back?" "Late." "Late." He'd repeat. "You'll be in bed by the time I get back." He bit the inside of his mouth, watching as you plated the food.

He was getting frustrated, he wanted to keep you at home - all to himself, you barely gave him the time of day anymore.

The next few days were similar. Until one day, you came home from work particularly late. Bob was standing near the entry way of your apartment.

"Hey Bob." You looked confused by his positioning as you placed down your bag. Without another word, Bob walked up to you - placing a gentle hand to the side of your face, kissing you deeply. You were confused at first, pulling back for a moment. Watching as he chased your lips. "Good evening to you too." "I just-- I need you so bad, okay? I want to feel you, I need to feel you, please?" He whined, his hands hesitating for a moment as he placed his hands to your hips. You frowned a bit, jesus - you really were neglecting him. You ran a hand through his hair, "Yeah-- yeah, of course, baby."

Bob pulled you towards the couch, sitting you down on it, kneeling down infront of you. Leaning into your touch as you placed a hand to the side of his face. "Thank you.." He mumbled, placing kisses into your palm. Slowly kissing up your arm, to your shoulder, to your neck, finally - placing a kiss to your mouth.

He made his way back down, resting on his calves as he looks at you. Hesitant hands working on your suit pants, pulling them down your thighs until they were tossed beside him.

He placed a kiss to your thigh, muttering another thank you as he kissed your inner thigh with another mumble accompanying it. He looked up to you, fingers feeling the edge of your panties.

You nodded, he pulled aside your panties - diving in like it was his first meal in weeks, tongue circling your clit as his hands settled on your hips. A groan coming from him as you placed a hand into his messy hair.

His tongue licked a stripe up your entire pussy, looking at your reaction the entire time - eyebrows furrowed as he watched you intently. He'd pull your leg over his shoulder, pulling back.

His chin and lips slick with your arousal, absolutely pussy drunk off you. "Thank you." He'd mumble once more, place a kiss to your thigh, moving back in. His tongue lapped at your clit, sucking it into his mouth as he coached you through your orgasm. He was intent on staying down there forevermore, his nose bumping into your clit as he overstimulated you. You were whimpering, pushing away his head. Bob eventually let up, leaning back on his calves. Watching as you wiped some of the slick away from his mouth. "I love you.." He mumbled. "I love you too, Bob."

You then pulled him up onto the couch, he just simply watched you. "I'm sorry for being so distant lately, sweetheart." "I dont care-- I don't give a single shit, okay? I just need you now." As you moved into his lap, you felt the evident bulge in his sweatpants. "Must be really pent up.." "Don't start." His hands gripped onto your hips rather tight after grinded down into his lap, his god-like powers shining through. His lips crashed into yours, tasting yourself on his lips - but you didnt give a slightest shit. You'd place a hand into his messed up hair, pulling him in closer to you. "God-- please, I need to feel you, need you on me." Bob leaned back, making work of his jeans. When your hands stilled him, "Slow down a bit, and let me do this."

You pushed his jeans down to his knees, noticing how hard he was - straining against his boxers. "Oh baby.." You'd tut, dragging a finger up his length. Earning a small groan from him and a buck of his hips.

His hands moved up your slick soaked thighs, "Please- sweetheart... haven't touched me for weeks, missed you.." You'd watch as his cock twitched when your fingers ghosted over the red, leaking tip.

"God-- if you actually would touch me once in a while, I wouldnt have to jerk off in the shower every morning." He muttered, more to himself - almost like he was thinking it but too overwhelmed to keep it out of his lips.

"Say that again?" A smirk landed on your face, when you saw him get flustered, his face a twinge of red. "I said if you--" You interrupted him as you sunk down onto his cock. Your thighs on either side of him, his hands moving to your hips.

"Finish your sentence, Bob." Raising your hips, his cock nearly slipping out of you before planting yourself back on his cock. Feeling him twitch inside of you as his head dropped back into the couch pillows. "I-- just.. stay- fuck... stay still for a moment, let me think--" You kept rolling your hips ontop of him. "I'm giving you what you want, no?""Baby-- I.. oh god--" Groans and whimpers were filing out of his mouth as his hands had an iron grip on your waist. He then wrapped his arms around your waist, practically pulling himself up. He'd place his head into the crook of your neck, his moans silenced by your skin as you ran your hands through his hair once more.

You felt him meet your pace, his hips snapping up into you. "God-- please.. I missed the way you felt, so soft." He'd mutter once more, as his hips stuttered you knew he was so goddamn close. "Cum for me baby.." With that he came deep inside you, hot sticky ropes covering your walls. hips soon falling still. His cock twitching and softening within you.

"Did you cum?.." He'd mutter, voice a bit hoarse. Safe to say that Bob didnt let you leave that couch until you came atleast 5 times. A couple times from his mouth and with his fingers.

[meiyvsdesire]

VII. HIS VESSEL

Ryomen was never a soft spoken person and likes to say it as it is without considering how the other person would feel, what was important to him is the answer his looking for. Which was you, admitting that you were after something much more than just this marriage.

"I'm positive that this marriage was all your father's idea, correct?"

This wasn't his first rodeo. He had been offered marriage many times because of his status but because some families were greedy, he proposes to meet with the candidates alone to get to know them but mostly to investigate about their intention.

But you were an honest person yourself, it is very hard to communicate your own emotions to your family so you learned that speaking in an honest manner is what gets attention. You desire transparency with anyone you communicate because you knew how it felt being misunderstood. You nodded with your eyes down on the table like it wasn't a hard question at all.

Ryomen proceeded to ask.

"Why didn't you oppose to his idea?"

The question made you smirk as if you never tried and your mind just flashed back the day you ran away after finding out your father's plan.

"Do I look like I have a choice?"

You questioned as you shifted your eyes to look at him.

"You do. Everyone has a choice."

He answered quick finding bluff in your previous words and he leaned back on his seat crossing his arms against his chest.

"Unless you're in it for the prize."

At first you never really understood what he meant about the prize, like what prize? This is basically torture. But then you slowly realize that he was hinting the wealth his family possess and it you scoff feeling offended of how he thinks of you. Do you look like a woman who's after money? For all he knows, your family is wealthy too but just not in the same level.

You wanted to walk out, tell him to fuck off. You wanted to say keep your fucking wealth. You shook your head thinking this was gonna be somewhat peaceful meeting but who are you kidding? your marrying into a group of criminals, of course their gonna interrogate you.

The room became silent as you still thought of your answers and Ryomen allowed you take your time because no lies can escape his ears. No action can go unnoticed. His been too experienced in this things that every move you make similar to the people he handles in the basement he'll be able to read.

On the other hand you can tell he was observing you but you were into psychology as well but didn't go deep into it. Saying what you thought of earlier will only make things bad for you so you decided on answering him with the facts that you experienced growing up.

"As you know, I am my father's eldest and being a woman in this role doesn't give as much as freedom as a son is given."

Ending your answer with an isn't obvious? tone. Ryomen didn't speak after realizing your answers could be true and factual. He had been seeing women in the industry with less opportunity and always standing behind their husbands. Suddenly, all the questions in his mind started to fade as if they were quickly answered with one word.

It was his turn to be silent, eyes down on the table trying, to think of other questions to throw at you. But the silence made you feel awkward and it helped made you think of a question. Since he started fo asking you questions, you decided that you'll be doing that as well.

"What about you? Don't you feel tortured by all of this?"

Ryomen was quick to shift his eyes back on you and shook his head confidently.

"Not at all, my grandfather's choices were always of great intention."

Your eyebrows slowly furrowed after realizing that this was his grandfather's doing. You thought he had a word on this but it seems like he too was in the same predicament as you, only that he wasnt reacting to it negatively.

"So you just trust him to decide for you? in this marriage? Or in everything?"

Hearing your question Ryomen felt slightly offended, that to you he portrayed himself as a fool following another man's order. He soon realized that you'll think his in the same situation as you but no, his was different. His more independent, unlike you he is a man of his own decisions, although sometimes in order to have his grandfather trust him with the family throne he had to follow his commands until the grandfather decides for him to get married.

"For the meantime, until I'm able to take his position."

"Position? What position?"

Ryomen scoffed and shook his head finding your question ridiculous. Slightly covering his smile by rubbing his fingers under his lips.

"Have you not done this before?"

He smiled in a mocking manner, like he was talking to a fool. He couldn't believe you asked that. The seriousness of your face made him realize that you weren't joking at all and just shook his head but his smile remained.

"Boss, as boss."

You tilted your head to the side trying to make sense of the term boss, like isn't he already a boss? A CEO?

Ryomen smirked clearly seeing your cluelessness upon entering this marriage.

"The family ruler."

Your mouth slightly gaped open now that you slowly have realized he meant being the head of the family. The ruler, the monarch, the once who call the shot. Ryomen saw the change in your expression and smirked, grabbing this opportunity to pressure you.

"And if this proceeds, that makes you the mother of the family."

He placed an arm on the table with his index finger reaching out and started tapping on the table while the other fingers folded.

"Are you even able to cater on that responsibility?"

Your eyebrows furrowed at his question not completely understanding of what he meant by being this mother. Ryomen was ready to eat all that confusion up and tear you slowly a part. Maybe then he'll get answers from you or get you to back out?

"The mother is the representation of her husband's ruling. She takes care of young affiliates and mediates between them and her husband. Wives and partners of the members support the group in a peripheral way."

Ryomen licks his lower lip not even close to bring done about torturing your mind.

"Although you won't be participating on business activities because you'll be baring the most important responsibility aside all that."

You lifted your eyes and met his sharp red once staring down at you as if he was sucking all the life out of you. Your body language changed into a timid type crossing your arms and legs, showing how uncomfortable you are.

"Baring the future heir."

Your brain slowly connecting his words but you could barely utter a reply and suddenly noticed him eyeing parts of you that you felt sensitive about. He scanned you from your head to your breast as if he could see through your clothes and you just felt the need to cover your chest.

Ryomen exhales sounding a bit disappointed. It was clear to him that you knew so little of the position you were going to have and caught himself having his own second thoughts about this marriage.

"You know little yet you never opposed to your father's idiotic plan."

His comments were true, no one really prepared you for the responsibility. You were just told that you were going to be married which you greatly opposed too because who would want that!? And now his telling you that your greatest purpose in marriage is baring his child?

"It's clear that you're a family of leeches."

What. The pressure on your shoulders suddenly felt more tensed, your mind quickly shifted to the most offensive thing you ever heard. Hearing him insulting your family struck you and easily boiled your blood, getting into your skin.

You scoffed admitting to yourself that it is true, this is an idiotic plan that your father decided on but what gives him the fucking right to insult your whole family? Calling us leeches? Parasites? when this is something his grandfather initiated.

Your eyes couldn't help but shift into a glare once you laid your eyes on him with anger filling your thoughts. Suddenly all your fears and worry were replaced with anger and without you noticing.

Ryomen did not feel a single fear from you though he does feel offended that you suddenly got some guts starring at him like you can take him down.

"Don't look at me like that."

He commanded but you only stood up from your seat with both of your arms placed on the table.

"You, do not. Insult. My family. You desperate fuck!"

You say as if you spat at his face with venom in your mouth. Although your intention was only to say how rude he was and to never say such thing again, to him you sounded like you were warning him - giving him an 'or else' tone.

Now Ryomen can take any insult you throw at him, all his life his been hearing how much of a dinasty child he is, how criminalized his family is and how much of a mole they are in the industry. He was able to take all the harshest things in but what he doesn't take lightly is when you raise your voice at him.

He demands respect at all times and for him, respect is given to him all his life that even the person who wanted him to get killed had given him that.

Ryomen was quick to hear that change of tone, he was a ruler himself and no one under him has ever again raised their voice at him especially after an event where he had to cut out an affiliates tongue. Ryomen felt disrespected and carefully stood up himself with his shadow slowly took over your small figure. His face blank but his demeanor carried so much authority.

Slightly your body twitched in fear that you hoped he didn't noticed it.

"Do not. Raise your voice."

His tone was deep and frightening. It was weakening the strength of your feminity but you kept your stance cause one thing you've learned from your family is being a hard head gives you peace.

"Then don't. Disrespect. My family."

A stare off is happening between the two of you but the longer the seconds came by, the awkward it was making you feel inside since he wouldn't back down. Your anger subdued by the second and your eyes shifting back into your normal round once where they were round and filled with emotions that can easily be read.

Ryomen remained silent, still in the same aura but once he started to notice the change in your eyes, his mind started to question about the sudden change of mood in the room. Is this fake? A tactic? Usually in business it takes a lot of days or even years before enemies become allies but in this case those puppy eye orbs was giving him a feeling that he hasn't come to understand yet.

Women have always been so submissive and pleasing towards him. They were the once to make the first move. At first he didn't understand why but two things were always reaching his ears and those were his looks and status. He had come to understand his gifts and once took advantage of it to which got him in trouble from his mother, who telling him how important his genes are and that it must not be thrown away nor given to reckless decisions for it was far more precious than gold. Thus why he never physically acts on his lust and releases it on other activities.

Ryomen trust his mother but she was always scaring potential women away, the reason why his grandfather always had a hard time finding him the proper partner because he wasn't the only final boss these women have to face.

Ryomen's mother reminds him to look for someone who was is pure and true to her traidtion, religion, family and most importantly to herself.

Suddenly the small event between the two of you went back into his mind and realized how protective you are to your family even though you were being forced into something against your will, you remained loyal and respectful to your blood. That was something that didn't go unnoticed.

"Welcome back, Master."

Uraume greeted and watched his master enter the passenger seat behind him. He was observing his Master's expression since he looks preoccupied.

Uraume gave him a moment to relax before he decided to ask how he was.

"Did it go as you expected, Master?"

Ryomen releases a heavy sigh. He barely rested everyday, an 8 hour of sleep is never enough to get him through the day of facing the fuck ups of the people in his life and now he has to deal with this arranged marriage that will probably be another disaster on his shoulders considering how clueless you were.

"No."

Ryomen coldly answers and leaned his head back on the seat and slanted a bit starring at the ceiling of the car before closing his eyes. He doesn't know what to think because he was too tired.

Uraume kept silent seeing how tired his master is and proceeded to start the car.

As Ryomen was relaxing, his mind suddenly remembered the look on your face as you tried to fight the cowardness crawling in your skin. Yes, he could see through you. It's a talent he was able to possess, the ability to read people during their weakest moments. It was always so funny to him watching the iris of his prey shiver in fear, but you? It wasn't so funny when your eyes strated to shift back to normal. He suddenly asked himself if your eyes had always been so round and...beautiful.

They weren't begging for mercy, your eyes they were...deep and empty. Pitch black and mysterious that every second he looked into your eyes, it made him feel fragile. Just like how he saw fears, yours were telling him that you saw his past. Your eyes were speaking for Sympathy. To be understood. They looked, Authentic...Innocent. What the fuck is this? It felt like witchery.

Ryomen felt the vehicle's vibration as it was turned on. He opened his eyes and turned his head to the window next to him seeing his other vehicle that he told to take you home. It wasn't as heavily tinted as his but it was dark enough to blurr the person's face inside. He easily spots your figure sitting at the back seat. He tried to analyze what you were doing without realizing that you were looking out your window as well. As soon as he knew you were looking at his window he turned his head to the front of the car catching Uraume's blank stare at the rear view mirror, starring back at him.

"Should we head home, Master?"

But Ryomen ignored his request only looking out the window. He didn't want to to answer because answering might just show an emotion he wasn't familair with and he doesn't want to be unprepared for whatever it is this annoying emotion was.

Uraume hasn't moved and looked to the side without moving his head, the car you were present in had started to leave the parking. His eyes then shifted back to the rear view mirror where he found his master still looking out the widow with his chest heavy breathing.

Now, Uraume had been standing beside Ryomen for decades, through thick and thin. Uraume can easily tell if something is of his master's insterest. The moment your vehicle was out of view, his master then shifts his head to the rear view mirror. It was clear to Uraume that his master found some interest in you which will be good news to the boss.

This is actually not his master's first time to meet up with his brides. His been offered a lot of marriages for years considering their family's background in the industry, a lot of families have been offering their daughters to him. Some were genuine, some were greedy and some were simply trying to get by life.

So far, a lot of these women have not caught his interest simply because Uraume could see how his Master can barely spared a glance at them after meeting them in person. His master was always putting his responsibilities first. But this meet up with you gives a different air judging by how his Master reacted after parting ways with you.

"How was it, darling? Was it bad as the others or perhaps even worst?"

Mrs. Sukuna had approached his son the moment he stepped into the living room of the house. She had been waiting for him the whole day as she usually does, a mother simply wants to check the health of her child every moment she can.

Ryomen doesn't answer her and let's her remove the coat he was wearing. Mrs. Sukuna handed the coat to the maid on her right before grabbing the glass of whiskey from the maid on her left, handing it to her son and dismisses them.

"I saw her pictures, read her background and ugh! I must say she looks cheap. Not in our level, your grandfather always picks the worst one."

His grandfather experienced this many time during his lifetime thus why it was their role to lead the grandson's future. Old Mr Sukuna had introduced a lot of candidates to his grandon that he found suitable but they don't last after meeting up with his family.

Ryomen's mother has a bit of a high pitch voice when she finds interest in the topic she talks about. One of those topics were judging the women that her son meets. Sometimes these women look good but never fit enough to be married to her son.

But Ryomen doesn't really care much about marriage or women. He just wanted the throne, the sole purpose of why his allowing himself to be married, wanting his own way of ruling the clan, his authority. His grandfather has been feeding him all his life the ego he has now and thus why he was always been aiming for the throne.

But because of his mother's judgment, it causes the delay in dethroning.

"Xayah is the perfect choice and I am sure of it."

To the mother and son's surprise, old Mr. Sukuna had joined them in the living room. The old man usually rested in the west wing of the mansion, loved his own peace without hearing any nags since he became a widower. He adores his alone time and likes to be away from Ryomen's mother since she was a fiesty, mouthy woman whom his son married but barely understood the tradition of the family.

On the other hand, Mrs. Sukuna is indeed as he described but only wanted the best for her son...and the fact that old Mr. Sukuna doesn't let her in the decision which causes her to intervene more.

"You're always so sure of the women you introduced to my son yet where are they now? They cannot bare the responsibility of being his wife. If anything, I should do the picking."

Mrs. Sukuna snobbishly answered as she sat at one of the single seater.

One of the reasons why Ryomen doesn't interfere is because of this ridiculous opposing statements that his mother and grandfather have. He just sits back at one of the single seater and let's them argue.

Old Mr. Sukuna shook his head feeling displeased with the mother's idea and tapped the edged of his wooden cane on the floor causing a thud that echoed in the room.

"A woman who is blinded by her son's worth could not choose a proper partner. Thus why I take over since Ryomen here barely knows anything about dating."

Ryomen smirks after taking a sip of his glass and comments.

"I believe I was told that violence is far more important than dating."

Old Mr. Sukuna took a seat at one of the velvet couches facing the lightened fireplace.

"That's your mother's doing."

He mumbled before landing himself on the couch. Mrs. Sukuna rolled her eyes since she was always hearing the blame as to why her son thinks so highly of himself but in her eyes it was all the Grandfather's doing since her husband was mostly ruling the clan in Nagoya, the one that was able to shape Ryomen was the grandfather since he spent so much time shaping him to be his next heir.

"So tell me, how is she? I personally haven't met her but her father tells me so much about how wife material his daugther is."

Mrs. Sukuna couldn't help but role her eyes hearing the old man's words. She knows how naive he can be when it comes to trusting people, especially where these people agrees to his accord.

Meanwhile Old Mr. Sukuna wore this hopeful look on his face that his grandson indeed had a great time. False, he did not. After you raised your voice at him he found you disrespectful and not emotionally intelligent. His moral compass is too weak to make him realize his fault on the situation because what he said was factual to him.

Ryomen circled the glass of whiskey that his fingers held as he recalls the meeting with you. He remembered how you told him so easily that you did not like the marriage at all.

"She's...tactful."

And how you asked him about his point of view on the marriage.

"Nosy."

How you didn't know much about the position you were going to be responsible for.

"Naive."

And the reaction he received when he insulted your family.

"Reckless."

Old Mr. Sukuna's hopeful face slowly changed into disappointment. His face suddenly looked drained losing hope in his grandson's case. Meanwhile Mrs. Sukuna felt victory was on her side once again wearing that small smirk ok the side of his face as she took a sip on her glass.

Meanwhile Ryomen was still in his thoughts remembering how you glared at him, raised your voice at him in defending your idiotic father's honor.

And those deep...depths, in your eyes. That made him feel...fragile, weak.

"She should be kept near me if that's the case."

⊹ ⊹ ࣪ ˖🪷₊ ⊹ ⊹ ࣪ ˖🪷₊ ⊹ ⊹ ࣪ ˖🪷₊ ⊹ ⊹ ࣪ ˖🪷₊ ⊹ ⊹ ࣪ ˖🪷₊ ⊹ ⊹ ࣪ ˖🪷₊ ⊹ ⊹ ࣪ ˖🪷₊ ⊹ ⊹ ࣪ ˖🪷₊

[angelltheninth]

Vampire Boyfriend Gets Distracted by the Scent of Your Blood

Pairing: Male!Vampire x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, kissing, distractions, blood lust, teasing, established relationship, domestic fluff

Prompt: "Mhm, you smell good." - List

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: This prompt fit so well for vampires that I just had to write a little something for it. Enjoy, comment, reblog and all that good stuff.

Ever since this morning your boyfriend has been acting a bit strange. He walked by you quickly, he kisses you for just enough to make your lips tingle for more, he didn't breathe around you, and that last one was the strangest one of all. Normally he didn't need to breathe that much at all, he was a vampire after all, his heart wasn't beating, breathing was just a habit that was left over from when he was still human, hundreds of years ago.

He wasn't sick, at least you didn't so. Could vampires even get sick? And if he was he would have told you. You've been dating for a few years at this point, and have recently started living together. You told each other everything.

You caught him staring at you more than once today too, he would always look away, his ears downcast the tiniest bit. Then he would do it again, and so it went for the entire day. He was clearly hiding something from you, something embarrassing.

"And here we go, one romantic candle-lit dinner for my beautiful darling!" He carried the plates of food like an expert, having worked in the food service industry several times, with several identities. The food had a strong, almost overpowering scent spice and meat. It was making your mouth water. "Hungry?"

"When you're cooking, how can I not be?" You smiled at him before taking off your sweater, and the moment you did you heard a crash. Shattered glass and wine spilled all over the floor of your kitchen while your boyfriend just stood there, frozen.

"Fuck, I'll get the broom!" He yelled after a moment. For as long as you ate he cleaned. Odd given his superhuman speed, you knew he could have cleaned it up in less than a minute and joined you at the table.

At least he joined you on the couch, you were watching Nosferatu, the new one. It was a warm night so his cold arms were more than a welcome heaven.

"You're stiff." You commented, not taking your eyes off the TV.

"S-Sorry, that scene was really hot... I can move if you... oh..." He paused when he saw the raised eyebrow and your serious look. "You mean stiff as in not relaxed."

"You've been like that all day today. Whenever I get close to you it's like you freeze up, you stop breathing. Earlier you dropped the glasses and the wine bottle. You never do those things. Am I doing something to make you uncomfortable? This was originally your apartment, so if I'm overstepping somehow I want to know." You almost wanted to move away from him. If it weren't for him holding you and you wanting honest answers you might have.

He sighed heavily and took a deep breath, his pupils dilating as he did. "You didn't do anything wrong, sweetheart." His cold nose pressed against your neck and he took another deep breath. "You smell really good. It's becoming hard to ignore. Very distracting. I didn't know it'd be like this when we started living together. But I don't want you to move out! I love having you here!"

"Do you want to suck my blood? I'm not opposed to that, as you know." You rubbed your thighs together, remembering the bite marks that were still there, glanced down at your arms, also covered with more, all but faded marks. They take a long time to heal, which is why even though your blood tastes the best to him it's rare that he drinks it.

Only on special occasions.

"I'm not hungry exactly, it just gets me worked up. Not in that sense. It's gonna take some time to get used to this new living situation. I've never had a roommate that made me hungry in more ways than one." He kissed your neck, the fangs prickling at your skin for a brief moment. "I'll get used to it eventually. Hopefully with less and less incidents."

"You should have said so sooner! For a moment I thought you were avoiding me cause I was annoying you." As soon as the words left your mouth your boyfriend gasped dramatically, offended.

"You could never, I love living with you! I want to live with you until you're old and gray, and even beyond then." His cold lips found your warm ones, exchanging different temperatures, a cold tongue against a warm one. The two of you were fundamentally different, but together, you could always make something beautiful, no matter the obstacle.

Dividers by: @/cafekitsune

[vyladerz]

Ah season 10, I certainly have feelings. So after watching season 10 I took a long needed break. I was letting this show consume too much of my time and I felt like I needed to come back with an updated perspective. I'm just gonna yap away now without trying to cut anything out, just my unfiltered thoughts like no one's reading.

-Demon Dean. Oh hell yeah. Definitely the highlight of this season for me. It's so unfair that I have to let go of Dean's overgrown hair. I'm so glad he was put in reds and blacks in terms of his wardrobe, man does it suit him so well. He's everything I hoped for and more when it came to demon Dean. I love the hints of humanity you see within him, I'm glad the real him manages to shine through somehow. Those details are powerful for a character who doesn't believe he has many redeeming qualities. It made me appreciate the best parts of Dean that make him so well rounded, the love he shares in small unassuming ways and the selfless pain he endures for the ones he loves. His misogynistic attitude as a demon really made me want Dean go back to normal. Similar to when souless Sam kept pushing his asshole behavior, just made me appreciate these characters more. The only underwhelming part of the demon Dean arc was the ritual scene. Didn't have the same kick as Crowley's, too quick with not enough emotional tension. Also why did the mark of Cain arc go nowhere for so long? I love some good filler but there should've been priorities with such a high stakes plotline.

-Castiel. Well it's sorta his paragraph, just his relationships so far. His dynamic with Hannah was nice. Didn't love nor hate it, just felt sorta awkward at times. I did like Hannah's adjustment to humanity and her growing appreciation for it overtime. My favorite instance of this is when she realized she had robbed her human vessel of their rightful autonomy and choose to let go. Which inspired Cas to make amends with Claire. Giving us a sweet father and daughter duo between the two. I don't get the Claire Novak distain personally, I find her and her relationship with Castiel endearing. Sometimes she can be a bit overkill with the angst but that doesn't deter me from appreciating her. There's not much else for me to note for Castiel on his own cause he wasn't given anything, well noteworthy to do. Last season he was passive for good reason but now I found myself patiently twiddling my thumbs, waiting for my king to do something. As long as the next season doesn't continue this trend then I'm good.

-Rowena. I've been dying for her appearance since I started watching during the earlier seasons. I'm a sucker for a gorgeous manipulative witch. I hope this show gives her more to work with besides her relation to Crowley. Her side plots that involved Crowley were less than favorable. A whole lot of nothing happening but now that she's back on her own by the end, I have hope.

Rant time.

-Crowley. I've noticed a concerning trend with Crowley that has been rearing it's ugly head blatantly this season. This show has stopped trying to make him a powerful threat and instead, a sad caricature of himself. Yes he is a silly guy and was first introduced as such. He is also a scheming bastard that would do anything to achieve his goals as the KING of hell no matter what. Now the whole Crowley becoming vulnerable due to being injected with human blood has a fair argument here. IF it was done intentionally and in favor of his character. However that is not the case. Almost every time Crowley shows vulnerability it doesn't show intrigue into his psyche rather just makes him look like an idiot with no foresight whatsoever. Everyone talks about Castiel's lobotomy but I'm here witnessing Crowley's and I feel like I'm going insane watching this iconic character get turned into a shell of his former self. I'd lose all hope if it weren't for that brilliant scene in episode 22 'The Prisoner.' Thank god that scene exists or I would've lost faith.

-Charlie & 'Dark Dynasty'. So this is easily my least favorite episode from Supernatural. (Ignoring last season's objectively worse episode 'Bloodlines') I had put off ranking season 10 mostly because I knew I had to revisit this episode. Well now I'm going to stop stalling. Fuck whatever the stupid Frankenstein and Nazi thing was. They were devoid of anything remotely interesting. Moving on. The character interactions this episode were so stiff and unbelievable. (I'm blaming most of that on the dialogue and pacing.) Each character felt completely dumbed down. Charlie leaving to an easily trackable motel, Castiel doing nothing, Rowena bitching too much this time, Crowley doing demon chores or whatever, and Sam having to babysit fully grown adults while Dean is...well there. None of that compares to what they did to my dear Charlie. Oh why oh why oh why did they kill her???? Her death served NO PURPOSE. "Actions have consequences teehee" AHHHHH I'm losing my mind all over again.

Oh Charlie you deserved so much better. When I say I genuinely have not cried this hard to a stupid shock value type of death before. I mean I had to turn away from my screen and stare at the wall while the next episode continued. I felt nothing for the burning of her body because there was no emotion in the scene except for resentment and rage. How am I supposed to care after there's been so many of these pointless salt and body burning scenes?

The real take away.

-Sam's devotion and drive towards saving Dean is something I really appreciate here especially in stark contrast to him not searching for Dean in purgatory. (Hey this sounds like my season 9 review) Gaining a better perspective after finishing this season, Sam lying and isolating himself from others is very much in character. This version of him descending into a frantic panic by searching for a way to save Dean parallels him in season 3. Boy oh boy do things get scary when Sam starts to lose control. (Mystery Spot mentioned?) I haven't seen this layer of deep unfettered rage from Sam since the early seasons 1-4. It's also clear that the brotherly resolve from the season 8 finale hasn't totally healed Sam of his emotional scars. That guilt is still haunting him and the heavy burden of the mark isn't just on Dean. It's kind of poetic actually how Sam seems to have a greater gradual downfall than Dean, the one with the actual mark.

-"Close your eyes Sammy." This show will put me through heaven and hell through an entire season and then manage to yank my heart out by the season finale each time. I don't really have words for this part. The final episode, 'Brothers Keeper' has a crushing emotional scene that just keeps the tears flowing in a good way. Dean being this close to taking Sam's life felt inevitable from the moment John told him he would have to. I completely lost it when Sam showed Dean the photos and told him to hold on to them. What a cruel show, I should know this by now. I wasn't kidding by having no words left but sometimes that's the best compliment to give.

Even though I'd say this would be one of my absolute least favorite seasons I wouldn't drop this show ever. Plus this season still has a lot of great episodes overall so I still count it as a win. I seriously couldn't imagine ever wanting to drop this show for any reason. At the end of the day it's just a show and although I was fairly upset before, that really never compares to how much love and appreciation I have for it.

[ohitslen]

Living together.

The snail video if you are interested :)

[slayerdurge]

A Deal with God (Post-Ending Durgetash Fanfic)

CHAPTER TWO - THE REUNION

Enver re-entered his body screaming.

As The Dark Urge listened in transfixed stillness, his screams gradually changed into a strange and discordant mixture of laughter and sobs, and all she could think was that she’d heard that sound before.

But she couldn’t place it until a series of sensuous fragmented memories crashed into her mind—the damp stone walls of an underground dungeon, the thrust of steel as it penetrated flesh, the tantalizing ferrous scent of fresh blood, an influx of saliva pooling in the bottom of her mouth, and the howling keen emanating from the pile of meat in front of her. Then came the feeling of satisfaction. The knife clattered to the floor, and as she wiped her mouth, she heard the sound change.

It was the sound of a torture victim who’d been offered a moment of reprieve, and the only coherent thought she could form in the mangled, macerated caverns of her brain was that that sound should not be coming out of him.

She couldn’t say exactly how long the sound continued, but eventually she became aware that it had stopped, and that his eyes, which had been alternately twitching and rolling backwards into his head, had refocused. He was looking at her.

She became aware of what she must look like, standing stock-still and staring at him in paralyzed silence, but she could rouse herself to neither speech nor movement. 

Slowly, he sat up, supporting his unsteady balance by spreading his hands flat on the rock’s surface. He looked around, taking in the sizeless expanse of the Astral Prism. His gaze seemed to sharpen. “How long?” he asked.

“How long…” She didn’t immediately understand the question. 

“How long was I dead?” he repeated, over-enunciating each word impatiently. 

The twinge of annoyance that caused within her brought her fully back to herself. “Less than a day,” she said. “Maybe slightly more. I lost track of time during the battle.” She glared at him pointedly. “You’re welcome, by the way. For your life.”

He stood, wobbling slightly but catching himself and righting his posture quickly. He walked towards her, stopping when there was only a few feet of distance between them, and met her gaze evenly. “Thank you,” he said, without a trace of sarcasm. “For my life.”

The Dark Urge found it suddenly difficult to maintain eye contact. 

[read more on ao3]

[nomidreams]

god i finally watched new episodes my honest reaction is jgiwoaoKzmxmkwkakkak

[seaofreverie]

NEW CONCERT ON THE HORIZON..... Going to see Franz Ferdinand next year !!!

[transmasc-rose]

I was talking to Curtis about how certain aspects of Doctor Who would be treated if they were episodes of Torchwood and/or had that rating leniency of Torchwood (imo the limitations of Doctor Who make for better TV than Torchwood in general, but not always) and when I brought up Amy's Choice, Curtis said I should do an episode rewrite and.

Hm. Hmmm. That could be really interesting. Amy and Rory and the Doctor's dynamic would be so... different in a Torchwood rated show, given the things they do with them in Doctor Who, and if they actually used the Dream Lord as an interesting villain (and they'd actually be able to play into the Doctor's worst traits in an adult show! For better and for worse!)...

However I'd have to actually rewatch Amy's Choice, and also decide how much I want to stay faithful to the episode, how much I want to stay faithful to "what would/could Torchwood have done here, and how much I actually want the result to be. Good.

Because "what Torchwood would do" and "what would be interesting" are not necessarily the same things.

(Accidentally wrote a Novel in the tags also. Whoops.)

[starry-bi-sky]

Just as it was in the air, the drive to wherever they're going is a mess of orange-streetlight smeared blurs and rapid-passing buildings. Danny keeps his head rested against the door, forehead pressing against the cold window, and breathing slowly through his mouth.

From his unfocused peripherals, the man -- of whom with the passing lights, Danny can see is dressed as... some kind of bat? Honestly, not the weirdest thing he's ever seen. -- routinely keeps glancing over at him. He's never seen someone grip a steering wheel so tightly.

"Do you know what your godfather poisoned you with?" The man eventually asks, his voice just as soft and raspy as it was in the air.

It takes Danny a moment to realize he spoke at all, his brain sluggishly catching up to his ears. "Hrm?" He blinks, lifting his head. Danny regrets it immediately, his vision swims nauseatingly and blurs dangerously. He rests his head again. "Oh. Y'h. A flow'r called blood bloss'um."

They pass a streetlight, shining just enough light that Danny sees the Bat-Man's lips purse. Danny's mouth opens, but he makes no sound, his mind trying to find the words he's looking for. "I'z- it's extinct."

He huffs a laugh just as the man snaps his head to look at him, regretting it with a sharp cough and a feeling of dust in his lungs. Weakly waggling his fingers to make jazz hands, Danny slurs; "Shcience."

A coughing fit overtakes him then, and without the adrenaline of flying and running away from Vlad to distract him, the ache and burn of consistently coughing returns and hits hard and sharp. He's been stabbed before, and somehow this still hurts more.

(Well, one is being stabbed. The other is the result of a toxin made from a flower specifically evolved to eat ectoplasm. Something Danny is 50% made of.)

Whining low and through grit teeth, Danny turns and curls back up into the corner of his seat, arms boxing over his head as if that will make him hurt less. Tears spring into his eyes, and he tries to use the feeling of breathing to distract himself.

If he's still breathing, everything will be okay.

Wherever they're going, he hopes they get there fast.

----

("You're a hero, right?" The boy said, but the way he said it made it sound like he was only asking as a formality. That of course Bruce was a hero, it was obvious.)

(He didn't know how to tell him that no, he wasn't. Then he didn't have the time.)

Bruce's hands would be shaking if it weren't for the white-knuckle grip on the car's steering wheel. Every time he focuses back on the road in front of him, his eyes are drawn back towards the boy coiled like a ball in the passenger seat.

He can't tell if it's rage or fear that's making his arms tremble.

The boy -- Daniel, if the voice of his godfather was to be believed -- is small. Bruce could wrap his thumb and forefinger around his wrist, and he's positive they would touch. A waifish, slip of a thing, and Bruce thought he'd been small as a child. His clothes -- simple, unremarkable; a hoodie that hangs off his shoulders and a band shirt he doesn't recognize -- look too big on him, and Bruce wonders if Daniel even knows he's shivering.

This was not how Bruce thought his night would be going -- he was following a lead on Falcone and his people. Now he was rushing back to the cave with a boy who couldn't be any older than fifteen, a boy who was dying of poison because of his godfather.

Hurt and fury bubbles beneath his ribs.

(Who does this to a kid?)

He glances at Daniel again. Messy, sweat-slicked black hair clings to his forehead, and gathers around his ears. It looks like it hasn't been cut in months. He's unnaturally pale, and Bruce isn't sure if his paleness is from the poison, or his natural color. It highlights the dark circles beneath glassy blue eyes, peering unfocused and teary out from lidded eyes.

The blood dripping off his chin is damning and stark against his skin. Some of it is half-dried against his cheek, but most is a horrifying dark red and wet, staining down his throat and into his shirt. Every time the boy coughs, Bruce fears that blood will spill from his mouth next.

He breathes in shakily, and swerves around a left corner. The boy moves with the momentum. Bruce throws his arm out to catch him, and keep him in his seat, the boy jerks, and grunts quietly.

Guilt turns the back of Bruce's neck red. That, and embarrassment. "...Apologies." He murmurs, retracting his hand quickly. Daniel blinks slowly, Bruce nervously keeps an eye on the unsteady rise and fall of his chest.

He's pulled away when, much to his surprise, the boy smiles. It's weak, barely even there and trembling like the rest of him, but glazed in fondness. "S'ok'y." Daniel mumbles, blood sticking to his mouth as he slumps back into the corner. "M'dad drove the same way."

...There were a lot of questions there. But the hurting, discomforting squeeze of Bruce's heart turns his tongue to lead. His throat swells shut, grows a cancerous lump, and keeps his lungs thick. "..Hh."

(What does he say to that?)

A silence, ugly, falls over them again for a few minutes more. Bruce should keep the boy talking -- it's confirmation that Daniel was still alive, still breathing, Bruce hasn't failed yet -- and yet, he can't think of a single thing to say.

They're coming close up on the cemetery, Bruce turns down the road leading to it. His eyes flick to Daniel again. The boy is staring at him, the sickly yellow streetlights catching shadows on his face, leaving a glow lingering in his eyes.

(In his lazy eye, his mind tricks him into seeing a corpse. Bruce suppresses a flinch, and looks over again.)

(Daniel is still breathing. Good. Good. Good.)

He breathes in shakily, something dark and angry rearing its head once again. Who does this? Who does this? He grits his teeth, biting back the scowl pulling on his face.

("You're a hero, right?")

(No, but for now he can pretend he is.)

----

They end up in a tunnel somewhere. Danny's not quite sure where, but the road gets bumpy and the uncomfortable, rough jostling brings a groan out from him. His eyes pound in their sockets, the discomfort ricocheting to this temples and circling to the back of his head.

His head lolls, and Danny shoves it back against the seat with a thud, ignoring the dull pain it rings through his skull. "Are w'there yet?" He asks, blood spilling into his mouth that he tiredly tries to spit out. He's done with drinking it instead.

The numbness he'd been so graciously left with was starting to fade now, returning back to a burning, rhythmic soreness spreading through his limbs. It clustered up around his joints, feeling like pins and needles in his fingers and down his spine.

Bat-man guy grunts shortly, shifts the gearshift into a new position, and glances over to him for the nth time that night. "Almost."

Almost. Almost was... good? Probably. Hopefully. Danny doesn't give a response, just nods mutely.

The car comes to a stop some minutes later, parked in a wide open space with LED lights spread erratically through the floor that hurt Danny's eyes.

Bat-Man barely has the car in park before he's flying out of his side. If Danny didn't know better, he'd have thought the man had phased right through the metal. That's not what happened, and he watches the guy zip around the front of the car to his side.

He's barely understood that he's even gotten out of the car before Bat-Man has Danny's door open. He jolts involuntarily, sitting lame in his seat as Bat-Man gets him unbuckled and pulled out of the car.

The lights are still painfully bright in Danny's eyes as Bat-Man pulls him out, and he whines involuntarily, tilting his face inward to hide it against the armor-weave.

"--sleep at a reasonable-- dear god! What happened!?"

Oh, forget the lights. Danny turns his head and braces against the brightness -- and his tilting, whorling sight -- to see who else was here. He sees an older man with a cane standing near one of the tables.

"His godfather poisoned him." Bat-Man growls, Danny nods heavily. "I need my antidote kit. Alfred, I need you to stay by him, make sure he doesn't start choking if he throws up."

The older man -- Alfred? Scoffs, and when Bat-Man passes by he follows after him. "As if you need to ask me. But where do you even plan on putting him?"

Without answering, Bat-Man shifts Danny until he's being held in one arm, and then approaches a metal table covered in nuts, bolts, and half-finished gadgets and gizmos. Without blinking, Bat-Man uses his free arm to shove it all off the table with a crashing, clattering, banging sound.

Then he lays Danny down.

The metal is freezing, sinking through the fabric of his jacket and shirt, and Danny turns his head to watch Bat-Man. In the process, he catches a glimpse at Alfred's expression -- and the sheer exasperated affront written on his face forces a laugh out of him.

Bat-Man's hands still from where they're tilting him onto his side, and Danny covers his mouth with his hand to stifle his giggling. "Sorry." He says, trying to catch his breath. "th'look on his face was funny."

The Alfred man sends a look at the Bat-Man when he glances at him, one eyebrow arched, before stepping over as Bat-Man gets Danny full on his side. Bat-Man disappears down somewhere, his footsteps echoing through the room.

"I hope he knows that he'll be picking all of this up when we're done, because I am certainly not." Alfred says stiffly, procuring a pristine handkerchief out of thin air. One of those nice looking ones that are probably made of like, butterfly silk.

Danny almost smiles, but Alfred starts reaching for his face, so instead he suppresses a flinch. There's a pause, before Alfred's hand glides over his cheek. Despite the callous padding on his palm, his touch is resoundingly gentle.

He cups Danny's jaw, and starts wiping the blood from his face.

...Oh.

Danny blinks uncomprehendingly up at him. He hasn't felt an actual affectionate touch in months. Vlad tried to be, but every touch to Danny's skin felt oily; disgusting. Danny wanted to scrub at the spot every time he pulled away.

So this was like warm sunlight on his face, and he hums low and pleasantly. "Tha'feels nice." He mumbles, relaxing unconsciously.

"I would hope so, young man." Alfred-guy says, folding his already blood-stained handkerchief in half for a cleaner square and moving to clean the blood from his throat. "All this blood couldn't have felt pleasant."

No, no, Danny thinks slowly, not that part.

"May I ask for your name?" Alfred asks before Danny can correct him. "It's not every night that the young master brings someone back with him."

Danny stares. "Danny." He says, "Mnh... just Danny. M'godfath'r calls me Daniel, an' he poisoned me."

Alfred nods, and pulls his handkerchief away. It was stained right through with blood. Danny cringes with shame. That probably won't come out. "I wish we were meeting on better circumstances, Mister Danny. It's a pleasure to meet you."

His good midwestern manners kicks in, and Danny nods curtly. HIs head spins in revenge for the movement. "Y'too, sir."

Bat-Man reappears in that moment, clearing off a space on the table across from them with a kit of various bottles and vials and other doodads that Danny's too unfocused to recognize.

He watches him yank off the vambraces wrapped around his arms, and then the gloves on both his hands. Alfred brushes the hair off his forehead, gathering Danny's attention again.

"If you don't mind, how did you two meet?" He asks, Bat-Man glances over his shoulder at them both, but says nothing. There's a clattering of bottles before he bounds off again down a tunnel. Danny takes that as his sign to explain instead.

"All'y." Danny says, shifting when the pressure on his shoulder grew too uncomfortable. His stomach flips, and he freezes in place to breathe in slow. He swallows dryly when the nausea passes. "Um-- I w'z runnin' from Vlad, an' I saw him in one 'f the alleyways."

Bat-Man reappears again with more things, and starts messing around with his collection of bottles and tubes and whatever -- probably to fix an antidote.

...Would he even be able to make one? Fuck, Danny hadn't thought of that. Blood Blossoms interact with him differently.

He forcibly keeps his breathing even, and zeroes in on Alfred. "I thou' he was a hero, n' I was right. He is." He smiles, and Alfred's expression softens out.

Danny breathes in sharp, pain ricocheting up his spine. "He's-- mine, at least."

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[cxffecoupx]

seungcheol's mad. the members know just how to calm him down.

"YN! yn! you need to come to the practice room right now. seungcheol's furious!"

that's all you need to know before you leave your office in the pretext of grabbing lunch and head towards seungcheol's company building. even in the crazy traffic of the afternoon, the only thing running in your mind is the image of your angry boyfriend, eyes wide and lips pouted in annoyance.

which is exactly what greets you when you reach the boys' usual dance practice room that seungkwan called you to. you push open the door and see a few of them sitting down, faces pale from exhaustion, a few scattered doing some random tasks, and jeonghan standing next to seungcheol, chewing on his lips.

but seungcheol doesn't notice anything: he doesn't notice the way chan gently tugs at his shirt; the way his teammates take tense, heavy breaths in worry; the way jeonghan now pats his back, and certainly not your arrival into the room. you sidle over to seungkwan, who's face melts into relief at seeing you. he pulls you aside to brief you about the situation.

"the thing is, last week, we were told that we could take tomorrow off. but then they came in a few minutes ago, saying that we'd have extra practice tomorrow, since they pushed the broadcast recording a week earlier," he takes a moment to pause and looks over at seungcheol, who's still very unaware of everything around him.

"hyung's losing his mind because we'd all made individual plans for tomorrow. some of us were gonna go home for the weekend..." seungkwan's lips turn into a pout as he becomes aware of the fact that now he won't be able to. you turn around to look at your boyfriend.

"i want you to tell us why you preponed the date without consulting us first. it's not the extra practice we're worried about. it's the fact that you didn't care to ask us in the first place! aren't we the artists- no, i need you to listen to me right now- don't tell me to calm down!"

your lips press together in concern as you walk over to him. he doesn't see you even when you're standing right beside him, more intent on getting his point across.

"we've been working overtime since last month..."

"seungcheol..." you call him.

"...and yet, we haven't gotten a single break day-

"seungcheol."

"-and then you expect us to do our best and get more wins-"

"love..."

you hold his chin with your hand and gently turn his face towards you. the sudden shift in his glance is noticed only by you. the angry, outraged expression of his turns into a soft, meek look with just a single touch, sparkles automatically forming in his eyes as they focus on you. the staff beside you bows and leaves the room. your eyes follow them until they shut the door before moving back to his.

he slumps into your hand as you lean in to press a kiss, and wraps his around you, body feeling heavy. jeonghan nods and you lead seungcheol out into the breakroom.

his face still hangs low, lips losing their pout only when you press your lips to them. his frown turns into the smallest of smiles.

"thanks for getting me out of there. i was starting to lose my mind."

"kwan told me you were furious. i had to come running," you hold his cheek and he leans into your touch. his stomach grumbles in response.

"you might have been a little hangry back then. come on, let's get you some food," you drag him out of the building to a cafe nearby you often visit.

"sho you mean to shay you'd alwaysh come for me?" he mumbles through a mouthful of the hideously large croissant he'd ordered, a few crumbs and some chocolate filling dusting his lips.

"i don't like to be rushed..." you lean forward to wipe it off with your thumb with a fond smile, before licking it off.

"...but for you, i'd always come running."

inspired from this video on twitter (that completely, absolutely destroyed me because LOOK AT HIM?! adorable pouty cutie pie

[fireinmoonshot]

unreal | robert reynolds x reader

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR MARVEL'S THUNDERBOLTS*.

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x Reader Summary: Bob offers for you to share his room while your room in the Watch Tower gets renovated... there's just one problem – he didn't think about the fact that he'd have to share a bed with you. Warnings: General mentions of mental health issues (nothing specific) Word Count: 2.1k A/N: Okay, so it's been over a week since I last wrote for Bob and the response on my last Bob fic is insane. I cannot believe how much love it's gotten 🥹 I have since seen Thunderbolts three more times and I love Bob even more. This was the fic idea that won in the poll I posted earlier today and it was so enjoyable to write. I am really looking forward to writing more for him (including the other ideas that I had in the poll). I hope you all enjoy this one as well. Requests are always open! 💗

“You can share my room” are five words that Bob regrets the second that they’re out of his mouth. Not because he doesn’t want you to share his room, but just because now that it’s out in the open, the prospect of you saying yes is terrifying.

When you’d all moved into the Watch Tower, you hadn’t considered the fact that most of the building was still a work in progress. There were so many rooms that still needed to be built and while there had been bedrooms, there weren’t many and Valentina had insisted on building you all your own. Nothing but the best for my New Avengers, she’d said.

Your bedroom was the last one to be renovated. Every other member of the team had gone through the room-sharing phase while their rooms were completed. Yelena and Ava had always shared, though they’d hated every second of it – both girls loved their personal space. Both Bucky and John refused to share with Alexei. Bob had managed to come out the other end without sharing a room at all. 

Until his offer to you, that is.

“Seriously?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest as you look around at the others. “None of you are offering to share with me so you’re making Bob offer?”

Walker scoffs. “You think we put him up to it? Please.”

“No one put me up to it,” Bob shakes his head. “I just thought I’d ask you since… y’know… none of the others have… and you probably don’t wanna sleep on the couch out here.”

He’s not really sure why he’d offered, actually. The words had been out of his mouth before he’d had a chance to think them over, which was strange for him. He supposes it might have something to do with the fact that he’s been crushing on you for a solid few months. It would be fine, though. He didn’t have a couch in his room, but he’s slept on his fair share of floors before and this one would be no different. Sharing a bedroom with someone he was slowly falling head over heels with was definitely going to end well.

You cross the room and put a hand down on Bob’s shoulder. “Are you really sure you want me to share with you? I know you haven’t had to share before and I really don’t want to intrude on your space.” Your voice is soft, for Bob’s ears only.

He nods once. “It’ll be fine. I promise.”

You don’t completely believe him. He’s undoubtedly the most independent out of all of you, but it’s been proven that he really does love being around other people. The last thing you want is to get in his way or make him uncomfortable.

“Bob,” you meet his eyes. 

His lips turn up into a small smile at the tone of your voice. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to share with you.”

That seems to do the trick, because you nod your head and step away from Bob after that before announcing that you’re going to go and start getting all your things together. 

That afternoon, you move your things into his room so that the renovations can start on your own. Bob makes some space for you – not that he has a lot of things himself – but he wants to make you feel comfortable. He doesn’t want you to feel like you’re living in his room. He wants it to feel like it’s yours too.

It only starts to feel real once it’s gotten dark outside and everyone has started to retire to bed. Once he’s in his room again, sitting on a bean bag in the corner, a book in his hand and he sees you walk into his room, hair a little bit wet from your shower. 

“I just realised,” you say, stopping in the centre of the room and looking around, “that you don’t have a couch.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bob nods, closing the book and sitting up a little straighter. “I just sit here. I, uh, I changed the sheets on the bed earlier so that you don’t have to sleep in dirty ones.”

You frown and look over at him. “Me? I’m not sleeping in your bed, Bob. I assumed I’d sleep on the couch. But I can just sleep on your beanbag. I’ll go and find some blankets…”

You turn to go and leave the room when you see Bob standing up in the corner of your eye. He stumbles a little, the blanket on the ground in front of him briefly catching his feet, and then rights himself. 

“No, you don’t have to do that,” he says. “You take the bed. I’m fine with sleeping on the floor. I’ve done it more often than you think.”

“Bob… you’re not sleeping on the floor.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s really okay.”

He really doesn’t mind. As long as you’re comfortable, he will be too. He’s slept in worse places. Plus, he doubts he’d even be able to sleep soundly knowing you were uncomfortable on the cold, hard floor. How could he let the person he likes sleep there rather than on his perfectly comfortable bed?

You cross your arms over your chest and shake your head, slowly starting to walk towards him. This is a losing battle, you can see that. There’s no way that Bob is going to relent and let you sleep on the floor or the bean bag, and there’s no way you’re going to let him sleep there either. You couldn’t live with yourself if he did.

“Why don’t we both take the bed?” You suggest.

Bob’s eyes widen a little and he opens his mouth and then closes it again without saying anything. That’s the last thing he’d expected you to say. Sharing a bed? Had any of the others shared beds when they’d shared rooms? He highly doubted that. The members of the New Avengers weren’t particularly comfortable when it came to physical contact. 

“I don’t think we have to do that,” he mutters.

“Why not? I don’t mind it. That way, we both get to sleep on the bed and neither of us have to be uncomfortable on the floor. I promise I’ll stick to my side.”

Bob stares at you for a moment. You’re really suggesting this. You really want to share a bed with him. But how is he supposed to share a bed with you? This is not going to be beneficial towards his crush at all. It’s definitely not going to help him in his mission to get over you… he hadn’t started on that mission yet but he was definitely going to start soon… oh, he really shouldn’t have suggested this…

“All right, then,” he hums, and then squeezes his eyes shut as he winces. What the hell is he doing? Why are the words he’s speaking and the thoughts he’s having so out of sync?

You smile at him – one of the beautiful smiles that always sets his heart alight – and then move towards the bed. “Which side do you usually sleep on?” 

“Closest to the door,” he says, starting to walk towards it.

“A man after my own heart,” you grin, voice teasing as you pull the sheets back to the other side of the bed and slip underneath them. “Can you get the lights?” 

Bob tries his best to ignore your words, thinking about how he is actually after your heart, and slowly walks towards the light switch. He turns them off, then makes his way towards the bed in the dark. His heart is racing in his chest. It’s not until he’s sitting on the bed, hands fisted in the sheets, that he realises he’s sweating bullets.

He’d forgotten. How could he forget something like this? He’s always run hot. He’s been known to wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, especially after a nightmare.

Maybe, once you’re asleep, he can slip out of the bed and go back to the bean bag without waking you up… surely that would be okay. He could make up some excuse in the morning about not being able to sleep in the bed…

“Everything all right?” You ask from beside him.

The room is so dark that he can’t see you to tell how far away from him you are, but your voice is close. He trusts that you’ve stuck to your word, though, and that you haven’t crept over to his side of the bed.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea actually.”

He hears the sheets rustling and can somehow tell that you’re sitting up now. 

“Why not?”

Bob sighs and tucks a piece of his hair behind his ear. He doesn’t know why he’s so embarrassed about this. It’s not like you don’t know. You were there in the vault. You heard him admit it to Yelena. You’ve seen so many parts of him that he hates and you’ve never judged him for any of them, so why would you judge him for this now?

“Hey,” your voice is gentle. “You can tell me. If you don’t want me here, I can go.”

“No,” Bob shakes his head, quick to respond. He doesn’t want you to feel like you’re not welcome here when truthfully, all he wants is to have you here with him. He just wishes he wasn’t so awkward about it. “It’s not that. It’s just…”

“There’s no rush.” 

He turns to look at where you’re sitting, his eyes now adjusted to the darkness so he can see you just barely. “I run hot,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable if I sweat a lot during the night. I should just sleep on the floor by myself.”

There’s silence for a moment and Bob takes that as your answer. He swings his legs off the bed and is just about to stand up when he feels the mattress shift underneath him, and then he feels your warmth pressed against his side.

“Hey, no,” you hum, leaning your arm against his. “Don’t do that. You don’t have to worry about things like that with me. If you sleep on the floor, I’m sleeping on the floor too. You’re not giving up your comforts for me.”

Bob turns to look at you through the darkness. “I’d just make you uncomfortable.”

“No,” you reach down and find his hand, entwining your fingers together. It’s true that the members of your team are bad when it comes to physical contact, but you don’t mind it. Bob’s always been a little concerned about touch ever since the incident that had happened a few months back but you can tell by the way he doesn’t tense up at your touch that he doesn’t mind it. You’re surprised to find you can actually feel him relax a little. “You won’t.” 

“I won’t?” 

“No,” you repeat. “I’m really glad you offered for me to share your room, Bob. I don’t care if you run so hot that the whole bed feels like a giant inferno. I’m not going to leave unless you ask me to.”

“I won’t. ” 

You give his hand a squeeze. “Okay, so should we get back into bed and try and get some sleep then?”

Bob nods and then remembers it’s dark and you probably can’t see him. “Yeah, all right.”

He hates the feeling of emptiness when you let go of his hand. He can feel the mattress shifting as you move back to your side of the bed. It takes every part of him to swing his legs back up and to lay down. It’s only once his head hits the pillow that he feels truly relaxed. It’s strange, even just knowing that you’re right beside him puts him a little bit at ease.

“I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” You say, voice so close to him that he almost jumps.

“Okay,” he murmurs, staring up at the dark ceiling above him. 

He’s so certain he’s going to wake up in the morning and all of this will have just been a dream. Not a good dream, not a bad dream. Just an unreal one. One where you hold his hand and sleep beside him. One where, as he’s drifting off to sleep he can feel the warmth of your body inches away. One where he can remember the feeling of your arm pressed against his with such clarity it almost feels real. 

But when he wakes up in the morning, the first thing he sees is you sleeping soundly beside him and he knows it wasn’t a dream. A small smile makes its way onto his face. He can’t remember the last time he slept through the night without waking up… not until right now. 

[whorelaud]

bf!rafe making it up to his stubborn girlfriend a/n a lil smthin based on this post eheh!!

A weary sigh escaped your throat, as you boredly scrolled through tiktok, with your boyfriend mere inches away, too busy conversing with Topper on the phone to direct his attention to you. 

You knew how important business was for Rafe, but sometimes it got out of hand, with him forgetting himself on the phone, taking one call after another, completely abandoning you on his bed (like you’re one of his night stands; in your words). 

Your lips tugged into a smile when you stumbled upon a funny video, chuckling as you sent it to Rafe, though you could’ve easily moved across the bed and shoved it in his face. That wasn’t a choice right now, as you were mad at him, too upset to humor him with silly cats whom you referred to as ‘us’ when you sent it to him. 

The ping ringed through Rafe’s ear, earning a puzzled look out of the latter when he checked the notification, and noticed it was a video from you. He turned in your direction, eyebrows quirking with confusion, almost as if he was seeking an explanation for his silent question. 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you shuffled around in bed, until you were no longer facing your boyfriend, giving him your back instead. You got back to scrolling through tiktok, hoping Rafe would get the hint and finally call it off for the night. 

And he did, coming up with a random excuse to get rid of Topper, not giving him a chance to question Rafe before the boy already hung up, immediately checking the video you sent. You suppressed the smile forming on your lips as the sound of his giggles erupted through your ears, spiraling a fit of excitement through your chest. 

“What is this?!” He asked, leaning against the bed frame, lips pursing into a pout when he didn't receive a response in return. “Hello? Baby?” Rafe paused for a moment, gaze fully fixed on you, in hopes of earning your attention. He scoffed, finally understanding what you were doing. “Are you ignoring me?” 

His attention shifted back to the screen when his phone pinged with another notification from you, your said message causing him to grin from ear to ear. 

‘shut up.’ and another, ‘dont speak 2 me.’ 

“Are you mad at me?” He cooed, tossing his phone to the side, before he eventually joined your side, nuzzling around to get comfortable now that your back pressed firmly over his chest. “C’mon, speak to me, why are you giving me the silent treatment?” 

You remained silent, choking back a giggle when his face found the crook of your neck, planting soft kisses to your skin as his breath fanned over the flesh, the sensation like feather to your skin. 

“Is this about Topper?” He questioned between kisses, voice slightly muffled. Rafe then wrapped an arm around your waist, pressing you closer to his chest, even more close than earlier, if that was even possible. “I’m sorry, you know I get busy sometimes, I don't mean to purposely ignore you.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Rafe perked up when you spoke, smiling as he took in the side of your face, your frown instantly replaced with a sheepish smile. “Might as well jus’ break up with me, since you’re so busy n’ all that stuff.” 

“All that stuff?” He repeated, fully straightening in his position. He poked your cheek with his finger, giggling when you smacked his hand, feigning oblivion to your amused expression despite how annoyed you seemed. “Didn’t you just compare us to cats? You do that with everyone you break up with?” 

“Hmm,” you hummed, giving in when Rafe tugged your chin, forcing your face in his direction. You pretended to think, grabbing his hand and kissing it, the gesture slightly catching Rafe off guard, well aware of how stubborn you are when you're upset. “Only with the handsome ones.” 

“You think I’m handsome?” He muttered, voice dropping barely above a whisper. He leaned down, brushing his thumb over your lip. He pecked your forehead, the press of his plush lips tickling your flesh. “I’m sorry, I love you.” 

“It’s okay,” you reassured, levelling yourself with Rafe as you straightened up, now face to face with him. “I jus’ missed you s’all, you know I require a lot of attention.” 

“And I’m willing to give it to you,” he mumbled, “Missed,” a kiss, “my pretty,” and another, “girl.” You giggled, throwing your head back in an attempt to playfully dodge his kisses, merely for Rafe to chase after your lips, now fully pinning you to the bed. “Let’s watch more cat videos,” he said, grabbing your phone from the night stand. “Stop sulking with me, yeah?” 

You rolled your eyes, maintaining a blank expression as Rafe set your phone in front of your face, waiting for face ID to work. “You’re so annoying.” 

“And you love me,” he replied, face twisting into a frown as his fingers hovered over the screen. “Where the fuck is tiktok?” 

[dokyumms]

seventeen's reaction to you hiding an injury from them !

pairings: ot13 x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2.2k (lowkey estimated bc word counter isn’t working)

cw: injuries (sprained wrist/ankle, concussions, etc.), blood mentioned but not descriptive (woozi) way too much backstory bc i'm a d1 yapper

a/n: for the record i've never sustained a major injury (thankfully!) besides when i dislocated my shoulder when i was 4 years old so this may not be accurate. SO sorry that this took so long i had a brain fart or smth 😔

scoups - you really didn't think he'd notice immediately, but he does. you accidentally rolled your ankle trying to catch the subway. it wasn't too bad; the doctor said you'd minorly sprained your ankle, but all it needed was a couple weeks in a splint.

so deciding it wasn't that big of a deal (and lowkey a win since you got to skip work), you didn't think of telling seungcheol because one, you didn't feel like listening to him scold you for staying up too late the night before, and two, he'd just gotten off tour. he didn't need to spend the next couple of weeks babying you over an injury that didn't even require surgery. in some attempt to hide it, you put on some sweatpants and slippers and call it a day.

but when he returns home from a day out and catches you instantly put down your leg from where you'd been elevating it on a footstool, he immediately grows suspicious of something. "why were you doing that just now?"

"eh? i think you're being paranoid- oh, um..." you try to play it off, but then he comes closer and inspects your body for a bit before pulling up your pant leg to reveal the splint surrounding your ankle despite your protests.

his eyes widen and he looks up at you from where he's kneeling. "you got hurt? when? why didn't you call me?" he asks rapidly. you sigh, listening to him scold you even more than what he would have if you'd told him earlier, finally promising him to never hide anything from him again.

jeonghan - basically, you slipped in the shower and gave yourself a concussion while jeonghan was at practice. out of pure embarrassment, you didn't tell jeonghan because let's be real, it sounded a little stupid and someone like him would never let you live it down.

and honestly, you thought you'd exceeded. jeonghan had come home and didn't mention anything to you, just complaining about how he hates all his choreography (he says this everytime he has to learn new choreo...). that was until you went to bed.

all is well, but then those massive headaches roll in one by one and now you're stuck with an unbearable migraine. trying not to disturb your boyfriend, you uncurl yourself from him and barely make your way to the kitchen.

the headache only gets worse as you fumble with the advil bottle while cursing your concussion aloud when suddenly a hand takes it and opens it. "here," you turn around, only to find jeonghan offering the bottle with a confused, sleepy look.

"and what were you muttering around? a concussion or something?" you gulp, taking the advil as you try to come up with an excuse. he takes your (literally three second) hesitation as an answer, "wait- you actually got a concussion?" avoiding the question, you attempt to usher him back to bed, but now he's somehow gained consciousness and doesn't back down. "y/n, what happened? and why didn't you tell me?" and when you finally tell him, he's... disappointed?

"baby, you really didn't tell me you got a concussion because you thought i'd make fun of you?" he sighs, shaking his head before putting his hands on your shoulder, "i'm your lover before a jokester or best friend, okay? i care about you more than anything. don't hide things like this from me."

joshua - in this situation, you would say "snitches get stitches" but the only one who actually got stitches was you.

you got a pretty bad arm wound while bike riding with your friend. it hurt and the only thing you really remembered was crying from the pain. anyways, joshua had just gotten off tour, and you'd feel bad for making him worry, so you made your friend promise to not mention it to him.

but the only warning you get when you return home from the hospital is a text from that same friend saying, "sorry y/n...." before you open the door and are greeted by a very worried joshua.

"y/n! i heard about your arm, are you okay?" you try to brush him off, but he doesn't let you. "hey, your friend also said you were going to try to hide it from me. why's that?"

"it's really not a big deal shua-"

"don't lie to me, she said you were crying, babe. why are you trying so hard to keep this from me?"

you don't know what to say and joshua just embraces you, "here, i'll take care of you okay?" and you let him, because it's joshua.

jun - ugh, he's so oblivious yet somehow annoyingly observant that he finds out without trying.

someone ran over your toe with a shopping cart during your grocery trip. it truly didn't hurt that much in the moment, but the hours after that? oh boy were they torturing.

it still didn't seem like enough to tell jun about, so you simply went about your day suffering in silence.

during dinner, however, he asks you through scoops of chinese steamed egg, "did you hurt your foot while shopping?"

taken aback by the accuracy of his question, you literally drop your spoon and he's just like, "what?? you just seem to be lighter on your feet today, that's all."

he takes the whole situation pretty lightly (oblivious i tell you) that he doesn't even believe you when you try to tell him the truth 😭 "okay, okay, you're just trying to make me seem smart now." so then you take off your sock at the dinner table and lift your bruised foot to show him and he looks at you like this: (°ロ°)

hoshi - unlike jun, he does NOT take it lightly. he's almost offended.

yes, you shouldn't be trying to walk around too much with a bad ankle, but you can't help it okay? sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do, like walk hoshi's dog, latte, while he works on his album.

he's been really busy, okay? you never told him about how you tripped around a week ago, so you'd just been living as if it never happened. honestly it's no surprise that you kind of automatically accepted his sister's request without thinking of your ankle (that was praying you'd stop putting pressure on it).

but then you make the grave mistake of posting your walk on instagram with just a sliver of the bandage wrapping up your ankle. he literally hearts the story, removes it, and replies with an angry face.

he calls you, "y/n! what are you doing walking around with an obviously injured leg? and why am i finding out through your instagram story?"

you're not sure what to say, but he talks for you, "i'm leaving practice right now so i can take care of both my babies, don't move. you'll make your ankle worse, babe."

"right, because you'd know-" and he hangs up on you,

wonwoo - silently observant...

you were surprised that you'd been able to go this long with a cast around your wrist, only using hoodies to conceal it, but turns out wonwoo's like those shop employees who wait for people to steal $1000 worth of stuff before dropping that lawsuit on them.

one day, you're both just sitting on the couch when he grabs ahold of your wrist. he literally waits for you to be distracted, doomscrolling on social media, to do it.

but then you feel him roll up your sleeve, and now you're doomed.

"what's this, y/n?" he asks firmly, holding your arm tight enough to where you can't move, but somehow gently as to prevent any discomfort (how cute of him).

"you really didn't think i would notice it? you wearing hoodies when it's 70 degrees, eating with your nondominant hand, taking forever to shower because you have to wash your hair with one arm, why didn't you just let me take care of you?"

you sort of shrink back in shame; wonwoo read you and you were stunned. he simply takes you into his arms, murmuring, "i'm not mad, i just want you to know that you don't have to struggle like that when i'm here. i'll notice either way."

woozi - ouch. you accidentally cut yourself while cleaning up the remnants of a glass cup you dropped. the cut was deep, but somehow still in a sleepy daze, you cleaned it to the best of your ability, slapped some gauze on it, and went back to bed.

whenever jihoon comes home, he follows his normal 2 am schedule, but then notices the blood-stained towel in the hamper. he rushes to your room, only to find you sound asleep.

still, he shakes you awake, "y/n, why's there a towel with blood all over it in the laundry room?" you kind of look at him, confused, before simply lifting your arm to reveal the amateur work you did you bandage it.

at first, he sighs in relief, but then you see his brows furrow. "when did this happen? seems kinda serious..." he inspects it closely as you mumble, "i dunno, couple hours ago? i dropped something."

"what? why didn't you call me? i could've come home earlier to take care of it." he says, feeling guilty about not being there.

"it's really nothing, you've been really busy anyway. this isn't something you should worry about-" but he shushs you. "i'm never too busy to help you, y/n. i don't want you thinking like that."

dk - like hoshi, he doesn't take it lightly. you took a heavy fall while rushing to work a couple days ago. it wasn't a big deal until your arm started to bruise pretty badly.

you knew seokmin would freak out at it, so you planned on wearing long sleeve shirts to cover it up, and it'd been working pretty well.

but unfortunately for you, this had to be the time where you forgot to bring a shirt with you to shower, accidentally bringing two pairs of pants instead.

you tried to dash in and out of your room as fast as possible, but seokmin was plopped on your bed, getting a clear view of your arm (you had a towel wrapped around you okay?).

his jaw drops, you grab a shirt, water is dripping everywhere, and you yell “i’ll explain later!” as you run back to the bathroom.

when you come back, his jaw is still in the same position. “seok, it’s really not that bad.” you assure him, but he barely pays attention, just reaching for your arm. “it looks bad though…” he mumbles, poking at the bruise like a little kid, “that didn’t hurt, right?”

ugh, he’s so cute.

mingyu - you somehow manage to slice your hand open while cooking dinner for whenever mingyu comes home.

do you tell him? absolutely not. you definitely do not need him locking you out of the kitchen after you try to cook one time.

you really don’t have time to go to the hospital (which you definitely should’ve done??) so you opt to put some pressure on it with a towel until it stops bleeding, and because you have terrible timing, mingyu enters the apartment.

at first he says “smells pretty good! what are you-“ he strides into the kitchen to see the food you were unable to plate at the dining table (that actually looks pretty good), your distressed face, and then your hand.

“at least i got here on time,” he says, taking your hand and looking at it closely. “don’t worry, i was like trained for this stuff.” he smiles, heading toward what you used to think was an overstuffed medical cabinet.

“you didn’t even call me. were you planning to take care of this yourself?” he asks, wrapping your hand with precision. “i’m here for a reason, you know? you just gotta let me help you, baby.”

the8 - you had a feeling minghao would notice immediately, but there was a very slim chance he’d miss it this time. he’d just got done filming for his survival show, and you knew he’d be tired when he got home.

you’re a pretty clumsy person, and you always felt bad for making a usually calm minghao worried. so, when you tripped and got a concussion the day before, you didn’t tell him.

it was going fine, painkillers acting as your savior, but then you ran out of them. groaning, you decide to wait for minghao to leave the house to go buy more, but he doesn’t?

it’s like his subconscious knew your plan, and eventually you just can’t take it anymore, calling your friend and asking her to drop some off.

then you go to take a nap on the couch as an attempt to sleep off the headache you have, unaware that your friend’s at the door.

minghao gently shakes you awake, bottle of advil in his hand and a concerned look on his face. “i knew something was up with you. you should’ve just told me, y/n.” he says, explaining how your friend gave him a weird face when he asked about the medication and then dropping how you got a concussion like it was obvious.

“we shouldn’t hide things like this, okay? it’s not good for you.”

seungkwan - let’s just say, you may not be cut out for volleyball.

you were just goofing off with your friends, playing volleyball, when you dislocated your shoulder. seungkwan was hosting a variety show, and you didn’t feel like bothering him, so you didn’t mention it, not even when he video called you during his lunch break.

it wasn’t that bad of an injury, the doctor popped it back into its socket and you were sent home with some medication.

a week passes with no problem, but then seungkwan offers to play some badminton (like the LAST sport you should be trying to play during recovery), and thinking it wouldn’t be too bad, you accept.

it’s only till you’re actually swinging the racket that you realize that your shoulder has definitely not healed, let alone healed enough to really be playing a sport. you suddenly pause, “wait- just give me a minute.” he runs over from his side of the court. “hey, what’s going on? you look like you’re in pain.”

trying to get out the fact it’s because you got a dislocated shoulder, you ramble “it’s fine, just a dislocatedshoulderigotaweekagowithouttellingyou 😄”

and he’s like “WHAT? are you crazy?? why are you trying to play on it?” and proceeds to grab that same arm and drag you out of the court. he definitely scolds you for the rest of the day…

vernon - normally he’s chill, but right now he’s lowkey tweaking out.

while he was visiting his sister for her birthday, you broke your leg. you didn’t tell vernon because you wanted him to have a good time with his sister (how nice of you 😊), but when he comes home, he doesn’t think of it as such.

you’re laying on the couch, watching a show, whenever he enters the apartment. there’s a blanket over you, so he doesn’t notice the leg immediately.

“finally, this jet lag has got me *yawn* out of it.” he says, lifting the blanket just enough so he can slide in next to you.

he still doesn’t notice until his leg touches your boot, yelping in surprise. “why are you wearing shoes on the couch?” and then making another surprised noise when you reveal its a medical boot.

“did this happen when i was gone? you should’ve told me…” he gently scolds you, mainly because you made him so surprised, and then just lays back with you on the couch like nothing happened.

dino - you really wanted to tell him, but he just looked so happy in singapore and you really didn’t feel like ruining his time there.

on the way to class, you fractured your wrist while trying to catch yourself. since then, you’ve been struggling trying to do basically anything: changing clothes, showering, cooking, the list goes on.

but you didn’t tell him, just choosing to get through it until he comes home.

“y/n~ i’m home!” he calls out, walking in with his luggage. you’re in the shower, arm sticking out as far as it can away from the water, trash bag wrapped around that arm, and ultimately, just in a bad position.

“um, in here! can you help me?” you holler. you feel bad for making him help you as soon as he got home, but you’re going through hell and back trying to shampoo your hair.

he walks into the bathroom, “you sure you want me in here?” and all he sees is a fogged up shower with a trash bagged arm sticking out of it. surprisingly, he immediately understands what happened.

“babe, you should’ve told me earlier.” he says, helping you wash your hair properly. “i don’t like to think that you’ve been struggling like this without me there.” he frowns, kissing you on the forehead.

[angelbby555]

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Summary: The admiral's daughter is teasing Bradley about his push-up game. But once he does the push-ups with you sitting on his back, you are left speechless.

Word count: 900

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"Do you call that a push-up?" You mused, staring down at the back of Bradley's head. The plan was to go eat lunch with your father Tom Kazansky but somehow you ended up outside in the tarmac watching pilots do push ups.

Your golden excuse? Wanting to greet Hondo and admire the cool aircraft. The truth? You had a thing for Bradley Bradshaw's massive arms. The curve of his bicep was absolutely gorgeous. It should have been illegal the amount of time you dreamt about sinking your teeth into his arm.

As a little girl it was okay for you to think the base was your personal playground, running around asking officers for piggy back rides. Now you were older and knew better. Your father told you to treat the men with the utmost respect, and not to mess around with any of them like GI Joe's.

You followed the rules but Bradley was the one guy you itched to play with. There was so much to love about him. Bradley was nice, attractive, funny and a shameless flirt. Wasn't afraid to put the moves on the Admirals daughter like the rest.

"I've seen little girls do more push-ups than you."

Bradley let out a breathy laugh. Beads of sweat were falling off his forehead to the concrete, while he pushed through the exercise.

"Really? Because I don't see you doing any."

The only part of you he could see was your low-top converse. He would kill for a glimpse of you in your small sundress, but Bradley would hate to face you when he was ready to collapse.

"I would, except I don't want to." You stretched a leg out behind you. In the corner of your eyes you caught a glimpse of how scrumptious his shoulder blades looked, strained against his black t-shirt. Lord have mercy. "Plus I would hate for you to get embarrassed by someone wearing a dress."

Bradley was pissed you hadn't seen him earlier breeze past his first round of 500 push ups. In his second round, he was slower, sweatier, and sloppy. The only motivation was to last until you left. But you didn't look like you were moving any time soon, enjoying front row of his struggle.

"Down 460"

"I didn't know we were doing yoga today. Nice plank bro."

It was certain that you wouldn't be saying this around your father.

"Down 470."

"Are you working out or massaging the floor?"

A few chuckles, even Hondo smirked

"Down 480."

"Damn with that form, the floors gonna start pressing you." You had jokes Bradley would give you that. But he had ambitions. And he really wanted to impress a pretty girl and get her to shut her mouth.

"Get on my back, and I'll show you some real push ups."

You blinked "Please your chicken arms would snap."

"Why don't you get on and find out?" His voice was strained but cocky, earning a round of ‘oohs’ from Hangman and Coyote.

That's when Bernie spoke up on Bradley's behalf. "Alright since Rooster wants to show off. Let have him take the final 10 home."

Instantly Hangman and Coyote dropped all their weight to the tarmac once Hondo had let them off. Bradley tapped your shoes with his hand. Which he instantly regretted since he was about to topple over

"Get on." Bradley voice was firm.

"Okay." You put your hands up in defense and took a step forward. Suddenly you were feeling a bit shy at the proximity. But if Hondo insisted, that's fine by you.

You lowered yourself down and smoothed your skirt out before you sat sideways on his back. You were barely putting any weight on him, hesitant.

"Nu uh pretty girl, properly." His voice left no room for argument. Your stomach flipped as you stood back up, then straddled him properly. Then you sat right down putting all your weight on Bradley. But to your surprised his spine didn't sink down and he kept his firm posture.

"Bradley you dont-"

"Down 490."

Hondo cut you off and Bradley was lowering himself on the ground making your shriek. Bradley wasn't shaking, his form was perfect and stable as he raised back up.

"Down 491."

To say you were impressed was an understatement, your pupils were definitely dilated.

"Down 492."

Being on top of Bradley felt like riding a carousel, his back lifting you in smooth, controlled motions.

"Down 493."

At this point you weren't sure if it was Bradley's soaked shirt that had you wet or your own arousal.

He didn't shudder once doing clean push ups like he wasn't tired. Your hands wandered on his back and when your hand brushed against his shoulder you let out a small gasp from how hard his muscle was.

The two exhausted boys on the floor were rooting for Bradley and you were internally as well.

"And Down 500."

Bradley didn’t stop. Just for good measure, he gave you five more.

You scrambled off him as soon as he was done, pulse racing. That might’ve been the hottest thing you’d ever seen in your entire life. And worst of all? You were pretty sure he could’ve done twenty more.

Hangman, Coyote and Hondo were all whooping and cheering for Bradley.

Bradley pushed himself onto shaky legs, his palms stinging, his body aching. But he still had that award-winning grin on his face.

"Not to bad for chicken arms huh?"

Iceman definitely had Bradley's ass, once he found out about this.

[hallasimss]

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