#he just makes weird gurgling noises every so often

[ilistentothedark]

my boiler makes weird noises but I like to pretend I have a ghost living in my house and I talk to him sometimes

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Black Light 3

Warnings: namecalling, violence, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

He’s gone. You only realise as you get to the corner that you’re going the exact wrong way. Duh. You turn back and head back down, mourning the cookies as you approach the remnants strewn along the street. He could just say no, you would’ve liked those even if he didn’t.

As you get close to the doors, you brace yourself. Knowing your timing, he’ll come back out and think you’re looking for trouble. From him? Nope. He’s big and scary and you aren’t into that.

There’s an alley just before the facade of the club. You hear a groan as you pass by. You stop, at first you think it’s just a random noise, like a hinge or maybe some weird bird. Then it comes again along with a one very clear word.

“Hello?”

You stop. Strange. The only birds you know of that speak at parrots and they don’t hang around in alleys. You stare down the narrow walkway and a subtle movement catches your eye. A clunky heel sticks out from behind the dumpster.

You look both ways and venture forth. This better not be a trap. You should’ve thought of that sooner. As you get close, the smell of garbage fills your nose and makes you want to wretch.

There’s a girl sitting with a bag of rubbish. She holds her head as if it’s splitting in two, her teeth bared in agony. As you come into her sight, she gurgles.

“Where am I?” She utters, wincing with each syllable.

“Um, in any alley,” you answer.

“Where?” She repeats.

“Outside a club. Uh, shoot, what was the name–”

“Fuck,” she grumbles and plants her hands. She bends her legs and puts her heels to the pavement. She tries to stand but merely shakes and falls back onto her ass. 

“Here,” you offer your hand and help her get up. She sways and you let her lean against you. “What happened? Drink a bit too much?”

She looks at you venomously but the edge slowly fades from her eyes. She hangs her head. “I don’t… know.”

“Are you hurt?” You ask as you hold her up.

“Hungover, head is pounding,” she croaks coarsely.

“Yeah, must be,” you agree. Her eyes dart to you again, another sharp look. “Sorry, I know that’s not very helpful. Sometimes I talk without thinking and… I’m doing it again.”

“It’s fine. Can’t believe those bitches left me,” she scowls as she stands straight, clinging to you before she gains her balance, “fuck, I need coffee.”

“You know, there’s a place nearby. They do great coffee. Better cookies.”

Her eyes drift around as she examines every inch of the alley. She limps, the strap of her left heel loose. She catches herself on the dumpster and touches her hip.

“So, how often do you find strangers passed out with the trash?” She moves her leg gingerly, shimmying as if trying to pop her hip back into the socket.

“Well, you’re the first. How often do you wake up in the trash?”

Her brows arch and she sighs, “also my first.”

“Oh wow, that’s special. I mean, we get to share this moment.”

“Very special,” she drones dryly, “are you fucking with me?”

“Uh, no,” you answer with a nervous chuckle. “Um, I’m…”

You give your name and hold out your hand. She seems hesitant but she shakes it and returns her own. She manages to steady herself and rolls her shoulders.

“You seem like a nice girl. Don’t know why you’re hanging around here,” she rasps.

“Well… long story,” you shrug.

“Entertain me,” she begins down the alleyway and you catch up to her.

“I was here last night. With my friends. Kamlai and Amanda. Amanda just broke up with her boyfriend so she was tryna make him jealous, but it was my birthday too so we came out to dance and meet some guys. I met this one guy, Cole, and he wanted to dance…”

She spins her finger, signaling you to speed up as you come to the mouth of the alley. She whimpers as she stumbles and her fingers touch her skirt briefly before she retracts them.

“You okay?” You ask.

“Finish the story. You obviously didn’t stick around, it’s well past closing.”

“Ah, yes,” you finger gun her but quickly holster it, “that guy, Cole, he put something in my drink and the big guy at the door, I guess his name is Auggy, he saw and he saved me!” You smile, “I came down to thank him but I guess he doesn’t like snickerdoodles.”

She squints at you and crosses her arms, “uh huh.”

“That doesn’t make much sense, does it?”

“You’re too nice for your own good,” she says, “you don’t belong somewhere like this…” she looks back down the alley, “where assholes are spiking fucking drinks.”

“Yeah, I’d hate to think if anyone fell for it. Could you imagine? What kinda person even does that? That Cole guy seemed real nice too.”

She nods and considers you. Her eyes scan past you and she looks at the cookies on the ground. Her brow wrinkles and she feels around her body until she clutches her purse. Her cheek twitches but she quickly wipes her expression.

“I owe ya,” she says, “how about I buy you a cookie? For you birthday or whatever. You said they have good coffee, right?”

“The best. So I hear. I’m not a coffee person. But I love their hot chocolate. Oh, they have a white hot chocolate that I love,” you turn and direct her down the street, “I’ll show you! And the furniture, so cute! They have beanbag chairs…”

As you start forward, the front door opens again. You stop short as Auggy emerges again. He growls as he sees you.

“I thought I told you–” He spots your new friend and hesitates, “to go home.”

“I am,” you stick out your tongue, “it’s a public street.”

“Who’s this?” He points to the other girl.

“Mind your business,” she retorts sharply and grabs your hand, “come on. I need coffee and less of this asshole.”

You hiss her name. He’s gruff but you wouldn’t call him names. She drags you past him and you bounce to keep up with her. She stomps despite her uneven gait.

“That guy threw your cookies on the ground?” She asks without looking back.

“Mmhmm,” you confirm with a creaky hum.

“Well, fuck him. He didn’t deserve your cookies anyway,” she peeks at you from the corner of her eye, “you’re too nice for your own good, you know that?”

[pandolfo-malatesta]

...“but on his way back to Riverrun he left his tail and went off with a woman.”

Once they’re spotted making for the camp calls ring out to herald their arrival.  “She’s back!  She’s brought him.”  There is no welcome in the calls, no comradely greeting; instead the words lift like snouts scenting blood.  “The lovers!” someone chortles, and he is upon a plodding horse again, pressed against her, can smell the ghost of his rotting hand.  “The Kingslayer and his whore!”  Upon hearing that she makes a choked noise.

He bristles, though not at the epithet so often flung against him.  Why would they call her, so obviously a chaste and honest maid, such a thing?—other than to mock her, to wound her, to humiliate her.  Her shoulders have crept high, her elbows drawn in; she is trying to make herself small enough to overlook.  His pulse quickens as he tries to make a fist of the hand he does not have.  Even if the golden hand cannot hold a sword, it can dispense retribution of its own.  Ronnet Connington has learned as much; if Jaime has the chance, these men will, too.

Anger at hearing her insulted because of him is expected.  Less so is the lightning bolt of desire, quick and pure and devastating, that the words send through him.  He shivers at it, even as shame fills him.

Wisdom would let the slander stand unanswered.  “My lady’s name is Brienne,” he warns, relieved that his voice is steady, if a bit loud in his own ears.  “And if ever I’d had her, I would remember it.”  He doesn’t need to glance over to know that her flush has deepened, darkened.

As they rein in their horses, men swarm them.  Rough hands drag them from their saddles; they jerk his arms back and wind a rope around his elbows, rip his sword belt free.  He notices that they leave Brienne’s hands loose.  Ice spikes through his veins as he realizes that they aren’t afraid of what she may do to them.  If they aren’t afraid of her, injured though she is, they can’t be afraid of him, and his bonds are meant to show him his place here.

His heart sinks as their captors herd them toward a hole in the rock.  They duck into a cavern, dotted here and there with fires that cast weird shadows onto the walls.  Men mill about the place, all of them with metal glinting somewhere about them: a long knife in a belt, an axe within arm’s reach.  Their attention is fixed on the new arrivals.  Whatever brought Brienne and him here, they have little hope of an easy exit from this place.

There is a gurgling, rattling noise, the like of which he’s never heard and that can only bode ill.  Then, as if translating that hideous rasp, a northern voice calls, “Get him on his knees!”

As they force him to the ground Brienne struggles against the hands restraining her, though without much conviction.  “I would see them first,” she demands, sounding not as firm as she would probably like.  He follows her gaze to see that she is addressing a ghoul in grey.  The figure is strangely familiar: something in its erect bearing, in the matted auburn hair.  

Yet more captives shuffle out—neither of them a highborn lady of three-and-ten; just a boy and a hedge knight, both of them bruised and unremarkable in every way, though the latter eyes him with unconcealed disgust and the former looks fit to cry at the sight of her—and Jaime reckons he knows why he’s here.  Even so, he huffs out a laugh.  She glances sharply at him.  “I’m only worth two lives to you?” he murmurs lightly.  “You wound me, wench.”

“Jaime,” she keens, just at the edge of his hearing, and his slight smile disappears.  He must spare her from this.

He surveys the motley assemblage, ending with the ghoul.  “Who commands this?” he asks in the voice of the lord commander.  “At whose order am I to die?”

The redheaded ghoul hacks and sputters and the northman says, “Your own hand signed your death warrant.”  Jaime raises an eyebrow—would raise his golden hand, no longer good for signing anything, if he could.  “You have broken faith with my lady.”

He shrugs.  “More fool her, to be surprised by it.”

Brienne tries to stride forward.  “Let him live, please, my lady.  We are sworn to find your daughter, and we will, together.”  He will remember the warble of her “please” for the rest of his life, be it five minutes longer or five decades.  To have such a one as Brienne of Tarth—protector of innocents, loyalty made flesh, the finest knight in Westeros but for the chance of her birth—plead for his life humbles him.

The northern youth shakes his head.  “Lady Stoneheart spared your life, and theirs.”  He gestures to the captives.  “The Kingslayer must die.  Keep your word and prove yourself true.”

Jaime nearly laughs at that, his eyes narrowing.  Brienne has proven herself true time and again, across miles and months, through blood shed and sheer stubbornness.  What she has never been is a skilled liar, so that something is amiss has been obvious from the moment she returned to him.  Her eyes have been turned from him, never meeting his gaze; her speech has been unusually shy.  He’d expected perhaps to have to fight for Sansa Stark, side by side with Brienne.  He’s known for ages that he might die with her, though not like this.  The men holding her let go, none too gently; one shoves a sword into her hands, and for a moment she looks down at it as if she’s never held a weapon before.  Then she pulls Oathkeeper from its scabbard and pivots to face him.

Jaime Lannister’s lot in life, it seems, is to kneel before one woman or another.  First Cersei, then Catelyn Stark, who has become an eldritch creature who wants him dead; and now it will end with him on his knees before Brienne, the Maid of Tarth.  For so long he’s thought that he would die in battle, on his feet or astride a horse with a sword in his hand; he finds he doesn’t mind being at Brienne’s feet.  He only hopes she won’t blame herself too much, afterward.

He looks up at her and smiles.  It’s not the expression he’d like to wear, an insouciant smirk in the face of the Stranger; it’s softer, fitting for the woman who has planed away his carefully constructed self-conceit.

“Go away inside,” she whispers; he isn’t sure if it’s to herself or him that she speaks.  He won’t do it, not this time, not in their last moments together.

He’s never been afraid of death, but with the hour at hand he finds himself reluctant.  “Brienne,” he says. The glistening of her eyes is more precious than any gemstone.  Would that he had knelt before her in peaceful times.  “I trust you.”  With his life, and now with his death.  It will be quick—she will make sure of it.  Her sword is sharp, her arm strong.  He, at least, will not suffer.

Though her expression does not lighten she straightens, drawing her shoulders back and her head high.  In her eyes he sees rekindled that defiant spark, and bites back a grin.  Her fingers tighten around Oathkeeper’s hilt.  “Jaime,” she says, “you—”

As if possessed, the hedge knight bursts from where he’s been standing and barrels toward the undead Catelyn Stark.  All eyes turn to him, including Brienne’s; surely Jaime isn’t the only one to see the northman pull his dagger and aim it at the knight’s gut.  The knight himself sees and dives forward, under the dagger and at the northman’s knees.  The two tumble down and Catelyn—Lady Stoneheart—stumbles back, hissing.  While Jaime considers staggering to his feet Brienne whirls away from him, crossing to where the two men grapple in the dirt and, in one stroke, separating Lady Stoneheart’s head from her body.

As the blow is struck all sound is sucked out of the cavern, and the fires extinguish.  With ears ringing and eyes wide, he wonders if he’s died, if someone has finished the job for Brienne.  Then, dead or alive, he hauls himself to his feet.

Across the cavern—or maybe nearer than he can tell—there is a faint glow, a pale wriggle of movement in the air.  With his luck it will be some creature that thrives in darkness come to feast on human flesh; or maybe it is merely madness taking hold, his mind so starved for light, even after just these few moments, that it has imagined itself a source.  The sweep of it to and fro through the black is entrancing; streams of light linger in the air, making it hard to discern the thing’s shape.  But now he can see that its light is blue, and that it seems to be searching for something.  Strange though it is, the light does not alarm him as it approaches—except when it now and then disappears.  Its blue is kindly, comforting, and he stands straight and still, ready to welcome it.

When the light reaches him it is enough to illuminate its immediate surroundings.  A band around his chest loosens with the darkness pushed back.  Now he can see that the glow comes from a sword, and can’t imagine why he didn’t recognize it earlier.  He’s been here before: in a dream with Brienne lighting his darkness.

A hand he knows extends toward him.  The fingers run from the crown of his head to the nape of his neck, then across his throat, pausing at his pulse point to feel the thrum of blood there.  Her hand splays against his chest, drags down toward his stomach; his breath catches at the warm press of it as she ensures that he is uninjured.  I am well, he wants to tell her, and wants to ask if she is, but doesn’t know if his voice will work or if the sorcery surrounding them will leave him mute.

And then she touches his face: the faintest brush of fingertips against his cheek.  For neither the first time nor the last Jaime is helpless before her, helpless without her.  He closes his eyes, none the blinder for it, until she takes her hand away.

Then she is cutting through his bonds, propping the half-dead hedge knight halfway onto Jaime’s shoulder, and leading them and the boy out of the cavern.  They emerge, squinting, into daylight.  In the light the sword is as ordinary as it’s ever been; in the light so is she.  He takes her hand in his, and takes up his place beside her.

[manicplank]

This might be a weird ahh prompt, but I was wondering how the Pizza Tower fellas would react when they enter in a giggling/laughing fit. You know, those in where you try to stop laughing but fail miserably (It happened to me recently at 5 AM so yea-)

Also I love your blog so much bye <3

I know exactly what they're talking about and I love it

Laughing fits

Peppino: He probably heard or saw something really stupid and can't stop thinking about it. Every time he almost stops laughing, it pops in his head again, and he bursts out in laughter. He'd be on his hands and knees with tears in his eyes. As soon as it goes quiet, he thinks about it again and screams with laughter.

Gustavo: Giggles a lot. Laughs until he can't breathe, catches his breath, then starts laughing again. His jolly little laugh turns into wheezing as he gasps for air. He ends up rolling around with his hands on his belly, kicking his little legs around.

Mr. Stick: Starts laughing at whatever he finds funny. His laughter is contagious, even to himself, and it just leads to even more laughter. Imagine Waluigi going "he he he he HA HA HA". It's hard not to laugh at that. He kicks and stomps his feet trying to cope with the silliness.

Pepperman: I imagine he has a dumb laugh similar to Patrick Star's. He painted something stupid and can't get over how dumb it is. He'd probably end up falling and rolling around. It's not even funny. He just has no sense of humor.

The Vigilante: Instead of his normal laugh, he's wheezing. He heard someone fall over drunkenly at the saloon and just couldn't hold his laughter in. It gets funnier every time he thinks about it. Funniest thing he's seen in a while. He might also be a little bit drunk.

The Noise: He's absolutely laughing at one of his own jokes with Noisette. He's laughing so hard that it's silent. He's rolling on the floor and slapping his knee. He tries to collect himself, but as soon as he does, he bursts out laughing again.

Noisette: Laughing at the stupid joke Noise told. She's on the floor curled up. Her stomach hurts from laughing, but she just can't stop. She's wheezing uncontrollably with gasps for air interrupting, she also laughs so hard she snorts. She tries to stop laughing but repeats the joke and loses her shit again.

Fake Peppino: He saw someone slip and fall. How silly! He laughs in reverse. When he laughs, his body moves like a cat who's about to throw up. He can't stop laughing! He gets the goggles for the rest of the day. Everything makes him laugh.

Pizzahead: Gets laughing fits quite often over the smallest of things. He finds The Noise especially entertaining as he can be incredibly clumsy. Once Pizzahead starts laughing, he can't stop for at LEAST an hour. He laughs so hard that he probably gurgles. He has the tendency to scream when he laughs, too.

Pillar John: He's a relatively silly guy despite how miserable he looks in the tower. His hatred for Pizzahead has its advantages. When Pizzahead gets hurt, it's HILARIOUS. He can't stop laughing, especially when Pizzahead scowls at him for thinking it was funny. The look on his face makes John laugh so hard that the tower shakes. (People in the tower thought it was an earthquake.)

Gerome: He doesn't laugh often. In fact, he has a broken sense of humor. There was one time Pizzaface slammed face down on Pizzahead and flattened him. It made Gerome laugh SO HARD that he fell on his back and needed help getting up. He still chuckles when he thinks of it.

[dorothea-jpg]

The Mysterious Octopus And Her Rabid Pet

Characters Used/Mentioned:

Koia Van Der Zee (Octo Merfolk)

Artee Hynx (Goblin)

Iva Urosi (Moon Elf)

Minnie Qikalyn (High Elf)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Who is this mysterious watery goddess' was something Iva often thought of. Ever since she had transferred to Elk Grove, Koia Van Der Zee, Iva had been infatuated with her. He remembered the exact moment he saw her, he was finishing up his digital homework in the school's library, and he was bored out of his mind, just pressing random keys on the computer instead of actually doing his homework. 

It was Minnie's idea to do his homework in school anyway since she knew that he would do absolutely nothing at home. For once, Iva took his friend's advice a got to work. Well... not exactly work. He got bored in the first five minutes and he had been sitting in that uncomfortable plastic chair for thirty minutes.

But then... she walked in. As gracefully as a swan, she made her way over to the computer next to Iva and sat down, beginning whatever work she had to do. 

Who... Who was this beautiful enchantress? Iva's heart was beating a mile a minute as he stared at the strange girl's orange tentacle hair, her amazingly flawless and moisturised white and orange skin and the gorgeous blue dress she had worn.

Iva wanted to marry her on the spot. 

He didn't dare to talk to her, he couldn't even ask her name. By the time he had mustered up the bravery to talk, she was getting up to leave and Iva inevitably missed his chance at a happy life. He thought that that was it. He thought he would never fall in love again and that he was going to die alone surrounded by creepy-looking cats even though he was allergic (Probably what killed him tbh) but he was astounded to find the very same girl when he went to school the very next day.

His teacher introduced her to everyone as Koia Van Der Zee. She was an Octo Merfolk that moved to earth to live with her Elven brother. He also discovered that Koia could not talk normal Eheanian, she was only able to make little gurgling noises that no one could understand or translate but she was able to understand everyone.

That didn't deter Iva from his goal to wife this girl up though. What stopped him in his tracks was the guide that Koia was assigned. It was that feral little Goblin, Artee, that got in the way of his conquest. 

If Artee could have it their way, they would've given up their babysitting job up in a heartbeat. They didn't want to look after a weird-looking octopus girl with an extreme language barrier problem. They just wanted to cause a little bit of mischief like they did every day but they were stuck with her.

That's what they thought of Koia until she made herself useful in their mischievous pranks. 

Iva didn't want to admit it to save his ego but he was terrified of the little beast. Artee only came up to around four feet tall but they were the type of person to bite and bark at someone while foaming at the mouth, Iva wouldn't want to go near that, he didn't want to catch rabies so he was forced to steer clear of his beloved while Artee grew more attached to their accomplice, leaving Iva fewer and fewer chances to talk to koia.

Iva walked down the street with Minnie as cars whooshed past them. He was on his way to the local supermarket to do some grocery shopping for his mum when he bumped into Minnie, who was just out walking her perfectly groomed poodle. They were just conversing and catching up when Iva saw her once again. Koia Van Der Zee. She looked as breathtaking as the day Iva first set his eyes on her. 

Minnie immediately caught on to Iva's distracted gaze as she pulled him back from walking into traffic. She sighed at him "Please just go and talk to her before I do it myself"

Iva let himself be convinced. Gods knew what kinda secrets Minnie would spill to embarrass him in front of his one true love.

The Elven boy gulped as he drew closer to Koia. She was standing outside of the very supermarket Iva was supposed to enter himself while tapping away at her phone. He almost chickened when Koia lifted her four-fingered hand and pushed one of her tentacle hairs out of her face, giving Iva a perfect view of her soft face. Iva began to wonder what kind of games Koia was into. Would she have the same interests as him? Would she like to play video games with him? Would she cry when he proposed to her with a certain video game?

Iva snapped out of it when Minnie snapped her fingers in his face. Right! Operation: get the lovely maiden Koia to accept your love is are go!

"Uh, hey! You're Koia right? The new girl?" Iva's heart skipped a beat when Koia looked at him and tilted her head which made him want to squish her because she just looked so damn cute! 

Koia scrambled to retrieve something from her pockets. Iva waited patiently until Koia pulled out a stack of cards that had the label 'Casual Answers'. She pulled one of the cards out, the card wrote the word 'Yes' on it with a bunch of colourful doodles decorating it. Koia pulled out another card with the word 'You?' written on it.

Iva grinned "My name is Iva Urosi! We're in a few classes together and you sat next to me in the computer area in the library that one time!" Koia once again tilted her head softly before a smile lit up her round face.

'I remember' 

Another card said. Iva's grin grew even wider if that was possible.

"That's great! I just wanted to tell you that I think you're really gorgeous and i-" Iva continued to converse with Koia while Minnie was in the background, smiling proudly at her friend.

The moment was interrupted however when the supermarket doors dinged and the feral goblin themself casually walked out with a small plastic bag full of snacks. Iva felt his heart stop and not in a good way this time. Artee locked eyes with Iva and for a second it was silent.

Iva watched in horror as Artee dropped their normal act and dropped down on all fours, barking at him like they were some sort of animal. 

"Uh... Koia? Could you pretty please with a super juicy cherry on top get that thing away from me? Please?" Iva's voice came out in high-pitched squeaks and this only seemed to egg Artee on. Koia looked around in her deck of cards, she wasn't in a hurry. Artee wouldn't actually hurt anyone while they acted feral, it was just an act.

That was until Iva let out a blood-curdling scream which caught the attention of both Koia and Minnie. 

Artee had bitten him.

Koia stared in shock as she watched her best friend gnaw on Iva's arm. She could only stand back and watch the chaos unfold as Minnie tried to tug the small Goblin off of her friend.

[gatitties]

Incorrect quotes

─ Dbd x gn!teen!reader

─ Summary: just you being you

─ Warnings: none

*(I will be using y/n for this chapter)*

6 < 7 > 8 

You: Bad things keep happening to me, like I have bad luck or something.

Amanda: You don't have bad luck. The reason bad things happen to you is because you're a dumbass.

Ghostface: Ok, maybe playing ‘whose family is most dysfunctional’ wasn’t the best idea we’ve had. Y/n have been crying in the bathroom for an hour. We can’t get them out...

You: You know, not every problem can be solved with an axe.

Huntress: That's why I carry more than one axe.

Dwight: What are your goals?

You: To pet all the dogs.

Dwight: No, fitness goals.

You: To be able to run fast enough to pet all the dogs.

Demogorgon: *happy noises on the background*

Feng Min: It’s dark in here.

You: Don't worry, I got this.

You: *Stomp your feet*

You: *Skechers light up*

You: I love you guys, you're the best thing that's happened to me.

Ghostface: We're the best thing that happened to you?

Frank: I'm starting to feel a little sorry for you.

Nurse: You know those things will kill you, right?

You, pouring another glass of whiskey, lightning a cigarette and taking a raw cookie dough: That’s the point.

Meg: David, I'm sad.

David: *Hold out arms for a hug* I'ts going to be okay.

Steve: Hey y/n, I'm sad.

You: yeah, me too.

You: Is stabbing someone immoral?

Julie: Not if they consent to it.

Joey: Depends who you're stabbing.

Susie: Do it.

Dwight, banging on the door: Y/n! Open up!

You: Well, it all started when I installed Twitter...

Kate: No, he meant-

Claudette: Let them finish.

You, threatening the others with an amongus suit: Listen... life comes at us fast. We don't know what life is gonna give us... and today, it's gonna give you... amogus inflatable suits!

Entity, going over your resume: Okay, so right here, it states that you’re creative.

You: yes.

Entity: Okay... may I know what you create?

You: Problems.

Jake, addressing the survivors: And if you have any suggestions feel free to put them in the suggestion box.

Nancy: But that's just a trash can.

You: Innovative, I like it.

Quentin: You often use humor to deflect trauma.

You: Thank you.

Quentin: I didn't say that was a good thing.

You: What I'm hearing is, you think I'm funny.

You, arriving at the exit of a game: Sorry I’m late... I was... doing things.

*Sounds of running footsteps progressively getting louder*

Trickster: THEY PUSHED ME DOWN THE FUCKIN’ STAIRS.

Yui Kimura: We need a distraction.

Tapp: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises?

You, whispering: My time has come.

*Some characters reacting to y/n saying 'I love you'*

Claudette: Thank you!

David: Oh no, what do you want?

Demogorgon: *Happy gurgles*

Bubba: *A flustered mess*

Freddy: Sounds fake but okay.

Jake: can I get a refund?

You: There are seven chairs and ten kids. What do you do?

Huntress: Have everyone stand.

Wraith: Bring three more chairs.

Amanda: The most important ones can sit down.

Freddy: Kill three.

Tapp: Good morning.

Kate: Good morning.

Cheryl: Good morning.

Ace: Ya'll sound like robots, try spicing it up a bit.

You: MORNING MOTHERFUCKERS *throw a slice of cheese in Ace's face*

You: Fool me once, I’m gonna kill my self again.

You: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Ghostface: Oh yeah? You're the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD.

You: I'm leaving you, and I'M TAKING SUSIE WITH ME.

Julie, picking up the monopoly board: I think we're gonna stop playing now.

You: Sometimes I drink milk straight out of the container.

Hillbilly: The cow???

*Preparing to sleep*

You: Goodnight moon.

You: Goodnight tree.

You: Good night ghost that only I can see.

Ghostface, looking from the window: no one had ever cared so much about me.

You: So apparently the 'bad vibes' I’ve been feeling are actually severe psychological distress... welp *keep watching tiktok*

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Mysterious old sentient armor finds an admirer, and they’re such a willing participant that they keep him around, “admirer” keeps them well fed, oiled, and polished

I think that sounds cute!

The old antique shop was out of place in the middle of a city, but that's what helped bring in customers. The guy who ran it looked way too young for a shop that seemed so old, but Willy was what he went by and it's the name plastered on the sign out front so people just chalked it up to him being an eccentric. That eccentrisim certainly resonated with the clutter that lined every shelf and table in the store, junk upon junk practically overflowing. But no matter what item people took interest in, Willy always knew everything there was to know about it off the top of his head.

There was always one thing that got plenty of people's attention, though: the large set of armor that sat just behind his counter, practically looming over him. Whoever it had once been made for must have been huge, given how tall the armor was, and its large, bulky stature. It even had a belly, with the round dome of a gut jutting forward, as it made for someone heavyset. The black metal shined like new, though, clearly well cared for, and people often came in just to find Willy polishing that metal himself. People who do happen to notice he seems to be talking to the thing, and well, rumors like that often spread.

People that get too curious about it tend to ask the same questions. How much does it cost? Nothing they could offer. Where did it come from? It came with the store. Who made it? No one knows. Can they touch it?

Wally always grins when that gets asked. He's more than happy to let curious customers come behind the counter and get close to the armor. the metal is smooth, polished to a sheen, and...warm. And it almost sounds like someone is inside of it. By the time people start to find it weird, it's too late. Metal hands hoist them off the ground as if they're light as a feather, letting them look into the glowing blue eyes that exist in the darkness under that visor...a darkness that will consume them.

No one has ever gotten away. Wally has seen man of all shapes and sizes come in and go down and no amount of kicking, screaming, begging, cursing, or struggling has ever stopped the inevitable descent down the armor's hungry gullet...or whatever it has in place of that. Wally can't say, it's always empty when he peeks under the helmet, but he can hear the thick gulping of prey sinking down the hatch. By the time it's all over, the person is sealed away, and the armor loves to belch and feel along his stomach when it's gotten live meat. Wally loves to feel it, too. The armor of the belly is always deceptively soft and warm, like he's feeling a real stomach. He can sometimes make out the noises the men make inside but the heavy gurgling tends to drown it out. A full belly always gets an extra polishing from Wally, and the groans from the armor always tell him it's well received.

Besides, when people walk in seeing him polishing the armor's stomach, there's no reason to think it strange. And if any weird sounds come from it around customers, he does love spinning a tale of his haunted suit of armor--it always gets a laugh, no matter how true it may be. That armor is one of Wally's most prized possessions and he'd always working to keep it content. After all, letting something as amazing as this go hungry would simply be a waste.

[whats-k-popping]

80, 23, 69, sick namjoon?

Thanks always for the request! The chosen prompts went so well together, this was so fun to write! Hope you like it!! <3

Pairing: Namjin - platonic

Prompts: “Stomach makes loud gurgling noise” “Yeah, sorry, my stomach’s just going haywire.” || *swallows thickly* “No, I think I’m gonna be sick” || “Well, I’m still alive.”

Words: 1268

Warnings: Emeto || Graphic Descriptions of Illness | Inducing Vomiting (not ED related) || Sick Member

Namjoon says nothing when Seokjin throws himself onto the open couch. He doesn’t even turn to look. He’s come to expect Seokjin to wordlessly invite himself inside. Seokjin will probably take a nap, and Namjoon will just continue on with his work. Seokjin’s been finding himself in Namjoon’s studio more and more often recently. It’s become a sort of safe space. A place where he can relax and destress between his schedules. A place where he can avoid the shenanigans of the maknae line. A place where he can enjoy Namjoon’s simple company. 

It’s always so quiet in Namjoon’s studio. Unlike the other studio-holding members, the leader doesn’t blast his tracks while he works on them. No sound spills from Namjoon’s headphones. It’s truly the perfect place to nap. So Seokjin closes his eyes and starts to drift off. He’s optimistic he can get in a good two hours before his solo recording session. 

He’s teetering in the limbo between consciousness and unconsciousness when a loud gurgling noise startles him. At first he thinks it might be his own stomach requesting more food. But he feels fine, comfortably full from his light lunch. So he rolls over to face the leader. He’s clutching at the fabric of his sweatshirt, rubbing his stomach lightly. 

Namjoon can feel Seokjin staring. He swivels his chair until he’s looking at his hyung. “You didn’t hear that, did you?” He hopes the answer is no, for his own sake. His stomach’s been feeling weird since breakfast. But it’s embarrassing to admit. 

“I most certainly did.” Seokjin replies,“Are you okay?” It’s a simple question, no accusations or speculations. He doesn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing. But if it happens to be something, he will make the biggest deal. 

Namjoon’s stomach gurgles again, loud enough for Seokjin to hear. The older’s eyes divert to Namjoon’s abdomen. Namjoon covers the area with both his arms, like that will somehow make it soundproof. “Yeah, sorry,” the younger man replies, “my stomach’s just going haywire.” 

“Do you think you’re getting sick?” No hints of judgment, just brotherly concern. But if it is a bug, Seokjin doesn’t want to catch it. 

Namjoon shrugs, “Probably just some indigestion. It’ll pass.” He’s trying to be confident. He doesn’t want Seokjin to worry too much about him. 

Seokjin’s satisfied with the answer. It happens to all of them sometimes. Having to follow such strict diets often messes with their digestive system if they deviate from their meal plan. So he resumes his attempt to get some shut eye. He keeps facing Namjoon’s workbench, just in case. 

But it’s hard to sleep with Namjoon’s stomach gurgling angrily every few minutes. And between the gurlges, the leader hiccups and burps unabashedly. Seokjin thinks it’s starting to sound more like nausea than indigestion. He voices his concern again, more firmly this time. His doting hyung persona takes over. “Namjoon-ah. It’s not passing. Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Namjoon tries to answer, but his mouth fills suddenly with thick saliva. He swallows heavily. It feels like molasses sliding down his throat and leaves a metallic aftertaste on his tongue. “Actually, no. I think I’m gonna be sick.” There’s a particularly acidic burp to follow that burns in the back of his throat. 

Seokjin shoots to his feet. “Not in here you’re not.” He guides the leader out of the studio and to the nearest bathroom. All the stalls are thankfully empty. They make their way into the largest stall. 

Namjoon kneels before the toilet in anticipation. He sits with his mouth open, letting gravity pull at strings of saliva. He spits and sputters when they refuse to separate from his lips. He forces himself to gag, sucking in his bloated belly until it hurts. But nothing comes up. He moans, he feels so unwell all of a sudden. He just wants to get it over with. He’s not sure how long they’ll have the luxury of having the bathroom to themselves. 

Seokjin watches as Namjoon struggles. Nothing’s coming out but saliva and hiccupy belches. He knows Namjoon doesn’t want an audience for this. But as his oldest hyung, Seokjin feels obligated to stay with him. “Joonie, is there anything I can do to help?” He takes careful steps closer to Namjoon, squatting beside him. He feels Namjoon’s forehead. It’s cool; there’s no fever. That’s a good sign. 

“Not unless you can,” he’s cut off by a belch that ends in a dry retch, “make me puke.” 

Namjoon means it sarcastically. He doesn’t actually intend for Seokjin to be able to help. It’s a battle between him and his stomach at this point. He hopes his stomach will surrender soon. But Seokjin hesitates for only a moment, fiddling with his fingers. “Actually, if you really want me to.” 

The leader’s too desperate to turn it down. Whatever helps him get through it faster. The nausea is unbearable now. He’s on the verge of tears. He wants his insides out. ASAP. “Whatever you can do, hyung.” He trusts Seokjin. 

Seokjin kneels behind Namjoon and wraps his arms around the leader’s middle. He presses one hand on top of the other and slides them both under the hem of Namjoon’s sweatshirt. He can feel Namjoon’s stomach bubbling under his fingertips. He can imagine just how miserable Namjoon feels. “Tell me if it’s too much, okay,” Seokjin waits for Namjoon to nod before following through. He presses down hard, in and up. The contents have nowhere to go but up, their current location becoming too cramped. Once he hears the rush of liquid shooting up Namjoon’s throat, he stops squeezing. 

Once it starts, it won’t stop. Namjoon’s whole body is curled over the toilet. He’s white-knucking the rim of the bowl in terror. Every heave jolts him uncomfortably more forward. It feels like all of his organs are in his chest. He forgets how to breathe. He feels like each heave might be his last, like he could keel over and die at any second. He can’t recall ever feeling so sick, ever being so sick, in his entire life. He’d love to know what caused it, if just to avoid it in the future. But when he looks into the bowl, he just sees mixed shades of brown and yellow slurred together, no recognizable food remnants that could help explain the episode. 

Namjoon slumps back against Seokjin’s chest when it finishes, exhausted from the effort. He rubs at his stomach. It feels like he just finished an intense abdominal workout, his muscles ache. He’ll be feeling the effects for days to come. And the persistent hiccups that follow the ordeal do nothing to help his already sore tummy. But he has to admit, even with the aches and cramps, he feels a lot better than he did before vomiting. 

Seokjin starts rubbing circles against Namjoon’s bloated stomach without having to be asked. “There we go, Joonbug. It’s over. Feeling better now?” 

Namjoon huffs. “Well, I’m still al-alive, so it’s a start.” 

“Well let’s keep it that way.” Seokjin counters, rubbing the tension from Namjoon’s shoulders. “So it’s back to the dorms with you as soon as you’re ready.” 

“M’kay, hyung. Just 5 more minutes.” Namjoon sounds about the edge of sleep.

Namjoon’s able to squeeze in a 30 minute nap before Seokjin finally forces them out of the stall. Seokjin’s only a little jealous; that was supposed to be his nap. He arranges for Namjoon to be escorted back to the dorms, helping himself back to Namjoon’s studio. Someone needs to shut everything down.

A/N: As always, thanks for reading to the end! Feedback is always appreciated. And please let me know if I missed any tags or TWs. Please call me out for any errors you notice!

With drabbles, my goal is to keep them under 1500 words. But I'm pleased with how much I was able to fit into this. Please keep the request coming! <3

[alicanta77]

[7:13am]

You felt the throbbing ache in your head before you had even properly registered that you were awake. Every part of your body was slow, it felt as if you were constantly moving through tar, and after the simple act of opening your eyes made you question whether you’d need to do an emergency run to the bathroom, you abandoned all idea of sitting up.

Hazy memories of the night before flashed through your mind, some of them making you screw your eyes shut in hopes that that would make them disappear. If you hadn’t felt so worn down, you would have groaned, but the thought of making any noise at all made you feel more nauseous than you were willing to admit.

However, you were definitely not the only one in that state, because the stuttering gurgles emitting from your boyfriend’s chest as he lay beside you, proved that he was dealing with just as bad of a hangover as you were. You rolled your head slowly to the side, ignoring the way your brain seemed to roll around your head as you did. Hyuck did the same thing and one look into his tired, regret filled eyes made you burst out into a chuckle.

Hyuck immediately laughed at the state of you, making you know immediately that you looked like a trainwreck, but he wasn’t looking that fresh either so you weren’t fussed. It wasn’t a joyful laugh by any means, it was a quiet messy laugh, one where you can’t really believe what you’re looking at. Hyuck forced himself to sit up, and you followed, the two of you pausing when you caught your reflections in the floor length mirror opposite his bed.

If your head hadn’t felt as though it was about to implode, you would have died laughing. Your hair was a mess, a complete lack of control to the way it was hanging over parts of your face and bending in weird directions. Your makeup was smudged, half of it being left on your pillow. You were missing an earring, still had one shoe on and wearing some else’s trousers, which confused you since you came in a skirt.

Hyuck looked just as bad. His hair was sticking up in all directions, the same way a cartoon character’s does when they’re electrocuted. He had dark bags under his eyes, a lipstick mark on his neck that you vaguely remembered being your doing. His shirt was inside out, and, at some point in the night, he had found some neon leg warmers and put them on his arms, meaning the bright yellow was blinding against the black of his shirt.

Neither of you said anything, just halfheartedly laughing at your appearances, until Hyuck just picked up his phone and pointed it at the mirror, snapping a few pictures. You turned to look at him, squinting your eyes as you croaked out a threat.

“If that goes anywhere, I will end you.”

“Yes ma’am.” Hyuck replied, attempting a mock salute but instead just flopping back down on the bed.

The sudden movement seemed to be a very bad decision as Hyuck groaned at the way his stomach was thrown around in its current sensitive state. You rolled your eyes at him, lowering yourself back down a lot slower.

The two of you lay in silence for the next few hours as you tried to get the courage to get out of bed. While the silence was comfortable, your physical states were decidedly not.

Gradually over the time you had pulled yourself into a sitting position and by now you were ready to get up. You hadn’t slept much over the last night, knowing that the few hours you had slept was nowhere near the amount that you needed. You pushed yourself up to standing, stretching slightly before beginning to slowly shuffle out of the door, moving remarkably similarly to a zombie.

You registered the sound of shuffles behind you and assumed that Hyuck had decided to follow you. Somewhere on your way to the kitchen you paused to take off the one shoe that was left on your foot, carefully stepping over a sleeping Chenle to find Jaemin and Jeno in the kitchen.

As the two of you entered, Jaemin’s laughter disrupted the previously silent and healing atmosphere. Since Jaemin doesn’t like alcohol, he never has to deal with the next day effects of drinking too much, leading to him almost always making fun of those of you in a slightly more fragile state than he was. While Jaemin was casually wandering around in his mint green hoodie, making a cup of coffee without a care in the world, Jeno seemed to resemble the two of you.

Like Hyuck, his hair was a catastrophic mess and his eyes were almost fully shut as he leant on his hand to keep himself upright. Every so often he slipped down slightly, startling him into sitting back up again. He gave you a groan of some kind in greeting, one that you both returned just as inarticulate.

“Well, aren’t you a cheerful bunch today.” Jaemin grinned, sitting across from the three of you and taking another photo.

You sighed at the knowledge that yet another person has proof of your sorry state. Hyuck pulled out his phone, immediately selecting a food delivery service and you rested your head on his shoulder in silent thanks. He moved slightly to place a soft kiss to your forehead, never taking his eyes off the screen in front of him.

You watched him add your favourite order, before adding food for himself and then sliding the phone over to Jeno. Jaemin then took over, adding some stuff for the other boys who hadn’t even appeared yet, and a small something for himself.

You kept your head in Hyuck’s neck, his natural scent covering your senses and bringing you an indescribable feeling of comfort. For the first time that morning, you didn’t feel your hangover at all. You didn’t feel your pounding head, or your stomach that was both excited and nervous at the thought of putting food in it. You didn’t feel embarrassed by any of the memories you have from last night. 

You just felt Hyuck.

His hand reached out, grabbing yours and pulling it onto his lap and he allowed his head to land on top of yours. His thumb rubbed gentle circles into the back of your palm, a silent reassurance that he was here and he had you.

But you knew that. You knew that, no matter where you were, what you looked like, how hungover or unresponsive you were, Hyuck would have your back. He would be there for you, ready to catch you if you fall. He didn’t just bring comfort, he brought comfort, safety, security all within a gentle touch. Hyuck had always been a physical being, but you’d just assumed that it was because touch brought him comfort. You soon learnt that it was also the way he gave it.

Whenever you had a bad day, you never felt better until you’d had a hug from Hyuck, and Hyuck never felt okay until he’d given it to you. You were the person he wanted to cuddle, annoy, love for the rest of his life. You were the person that understood him better than anyone else had ever done. You were the person that could wake up with him, look like death itself and look at him like he put the stars in the sky. You were the person that made him become the person he was today. You were the person he wouldn’t exist without. You were the person that completed him.

You were his person.

[red-doll-face]

I just found your blog and I LOVE IT.

If I might ask: What’s your saddest dbd headcanons (killers or survivors)

Call me crazy, but I must know! ❤️

Ohh this one was a good one but it hurt me so badddd, ahhh. I’m glad to share , I have some bad dbd brain rot lmaooo I didn’t do every character so I hope these are ok 🥺 these are a bit long too

Sad Dead by Daylight Hcs

Claudette Morel:

Claudette is one of the criers. Probably cries while getting mori’d and can't help the tears during the really bad matches. Her pain tolerance isn’t very high, hence the willingness to waste time healing herself if it means she can stop being in so much pain.

Meg Thomas:

Spends time alone thinking about her past life. Her mother is a subject that makes her really frustrated. People mentioning their moms makes her a little standoffish. Wishes she had a chance to say goodbye in some way.

Ace Visconti:

Ace doesn't have much family to even miss him. He wonders if they noticed he’s gone or hasn’t come back. Maybe they think he hit big bucks and left them behind. Ace is stuck really. Even if he were to go back, he’d be dead or working off his debt.

Feng Min:

Gets super mad when she loses, it makes her so angry that she doesn’t control the trials. She blames other people for her losses but actually is very critical of herself. Casts the blame on others so she doesn't have to face her own mistakes.

David King:

All of his perks are about putting his ass on the line for his teammates yet everyone seems to think he’s selfish and a dumb brute. David doesn't know what to do to be more approachable; genuinely wants to be seen as a friend.

Laurie Strode:

Laurie never got the chance to mourn her friends. She thought she won. Finding out she’ll never truly escape Michael or be able to forget him makes her so mad. When she gets Michael in trials she makes sure the glass in her pocket is extra jagged and serrated.

Jane Romero:

Jane only wanted recognition and acknowledgement. Everything she's worked so hard for feels like a waste for her now. She should have spent more time on herself or with her father. Jane feels like she has no purpose anymore besides running and screaming for the enjoyment of the entity.

Yui Kimura:

Yui can’t stand the Clown or the Stealth Killers. Reminds her of bad memories. When she loses against killers like ghostface, she is especially angry.Her fighting spirit can’t help her actually get back at them.

Zarina Kassir:

Spent so much time fighting inequality only to spend the rest of her life where the odds are never in favor of the survivors. Where the oppressed are destined to lose. Each one of the people is subjugated, both killer and survivor and there's nothing she can do to free them.

Cheryl Mason:

She's been through literal hell and back just to end up in a weird recurring nightmare. At least Silent Hill had an escape. She's killed a god and somehow someone her size with a boxcutter can kill her? Huh.

Élodie Rakoto:

Feels guilty over the loss of her parents and feels extremely disillusioned by this realm. It's so much more boring than she thought it would be. All of her searching and traveling was not worth this shithole.

Steve Harrington:

Steve, though 18, is very much still a kid. Steve is naive about certain things and his optimism gets chipped away at a lot. Wasn’t too enthusiastic at having to care or look after Dustin and his friends but misses having people to protect.

Jeff Johannson:

Someone who definitely ends up taking hooks for people and ends up dying. Has a reputation among the killers as a survivor who is easy to leverage during the endgame because he will try for that save.

Kate Denson:

Feels very lucky to even have her guitar. The other survivors didn't get to bring many things with them. Makes her feel a little bad when she Often feels too worn out and exhausted by the trials to play it.

Quentin Smith:

Unfortunately stuck in pseudo-hell with his abuser. Gets really anxious against Freddy. Leans on his fellow survivors. Will sometimes accidentally bring Freddy to others in an attempt to get Freddy the hell away for him.

Evan ‘The Trapper’ Macmillan:

Actually has tried on numerous occasions to remove the metal rods and shrapnel embedded in his skin. It hurts like hell and just when he thinks he’s got it, he loses grip. These attempts never work.

Philip ‘The Wraith�� Ojomo:

When he’s alone, Philip will try and talk to himself. His vocal cords are warped, his voice a scratchy growl and garbled gurgle. He remembers what he used to sound like but he tries talking less and less.

Max ‘The Hillbilly’ Thompson Jr.:

Besides being named after someone who locked him away for most of his life? Max has to rest a lot between trials. The constant movement puts strain on him and causes him dull pain. His back causes him a lot of grief. The Entity is barely merciful.

Michael ‘The Shape’ Myers:

Meant to be forgotten by everyone who ever knew of him and he knows it. Loomis, after deciding that Michael couldn't be ‘fixed’ just hoped that the system would swallow him. If it weren't for the entity, Michael knows he'd either be dead or caught and back with Loomis.

Bubba ‘The Cannibal’ Sawyer:

Used to be one of the nicer killers to go against and might have been sweet to certain survivors who deserved kindness. But the Entity punished him for it. Bubba isn't very nice anymore. Probably a little meaner to avoid being in trouble again.

Amanda ‘The Pig’ Young:

Another one down to give second chances, much like the second chance she saw in John Kramer. Doesn’t do this a lot however, therefore escaping the ire of the Entity. She’s spent a lifetime hurting others emotionally and physically. Now, she’ll spend an eternity.

Rin ‘The Spirit’ Yamaoka:

The pain and anguish is so heavy but time is no cure in a place where time is nonexistent. No happiness to replace her rage. Especially in a place where her anger is a weapon for a greater power. Also has tried to pull the glass out of her skin and press her limbs back together. Can’t stand to see herself in the mirror.

Adiris ‘The Plague’:

Her body is always on the precipice of falling apart. Her skin rots; her flesh aches and feels like it will tear away at any moment. She is immortalized yet so close to death. Her body hurts so much but she has a purpose to serve. (makes me even sadder bc jannneeeee my mainnnnn😔)

Kazan ‘The Oni’ Yamaoka:

Misses his son. Never got to see him grow up, considering he;s already met his descendant. Proud from a distance because that's all he can be. The beginning of something so angry that it passes down his family line.

Caleb ‘The Deathslinger’ Quinn

During his life, was under the control of people who made him work for their gain who used him. The Entity emphasizes the killers as a position of power but Caleb does much of the same here. Works and works. Never for himself.

Pyramid Head ‘The Executioner’:

His existence has always included pain. He’s not quite sure what it’s like without it. He’s made several efforts to take the pyramid off. It pulls painfully at his neck. Makes awful groaning noises and roars.

Ji-Woon ‘The Trickster’ Hak:

Has never been much more than entertainment for other people since he was a child. Never expected to be much more. To the point that now, if he doesn't feel impressive in some way, he feels incomplete. The entity is his way to really indulge his ‘true artistry’.

Yun-Jin Lee:

A bit selfish when it comes to surviving. A few people around the campfire dont like her for that reason. Some of the meaner people will even leave her behind because they remember all of the times Yun-Jin might have done something similar.

Thanks for reading!!! I’m sorry I don’t post often but I have Shit ton of hw and I recently started a new project sooo ya know 💖💖💖

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

erotica, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Your roommate, Min Yoongi, catches you masturbating. You catch him masturbating. Well then, dear reader... This should be interesting, shouldn’t it?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, smut (fem reader, f and m-masturbation, cum eating); non-idol!AU; switches between Yoongi’s POV and your POV

--

Being in the music industry was rough. It meant long nights struggling for inspiration, fervent mania when it did hit, and crippling anxiety when it was being evaluated. But being a music producer was all Min Yoongi ever wanted.

He had given up a lot to chase his dreams, moving to the big city alone, friendless, trying to find his way, living meal by meal. He needed a roommate, but finding a trustworthy one was difficult. Friend of a friend of a friend and he finally found someone who seemed alright. A young woman in the middle of grad school, who was looking for a place to stay. At first Yoongi thought it would be weird to room with a girl, but one conversation and he realized it would be a good match. Her first question was if he was going to have guests over often. Of course not, Yoongi had music to work on. Her second question was if he was clean, because she couldn’t stand a dirty living situation.

In short, he now had a quiet, paying roommate who kept to herself, holed up in her room all day studying or rushing to class.

Yoongi worked for a small entertainment company, but he also had a home studio because he couldn’t afford to rent a space. This was enough for now. He asked if she was fine with a little noise and she responded by holding up her over-the-ear headphones.

But Min Yoongi had a secret.

Nothing that incriminating. Nothing like drugs or a gambling problem or a recurring STD or something like that. It was in innocent secret, a very small one.

Min Yoongi liked to read erotica blogs.

Now, Yoongi could watch porn. He could go through all the hoops and find some to jack off to. That wasn’t why he preferred to read smut stories online. He just liked to use his own imagination. He liked closing his eyes and painting the scene, but he wasn’t creative enough to dream up all the freaky scenarios he could read online. Some people had some… big brain energy. Some wrinkly brains. He was pretty sure all his gray matter was used on music, so why not let someone else craft the story for him? It took the work out the equation and he could get off. Win-win.

Also, it was much easier to hide it in public. All people would see is him scrolling on his phone, the same thing everyone else did.

Yoongi had his favorites he went back to. They were updated often. Every week there was something new. He checked at least once a week, since that was his usual routine his body wanted. And it was fine. No one knew. He could do it whenever he wanted and relatively quickly. So, all in all, not that bad of a secret, really.

It was six in the morning and Yoongi was scrolling on his phone, mildly horny. Oh! One of his favorite blogs had updated late in the night. Nice. He chewed on his lower lip, reading the summary.

There was a knock on his door.

He nearly dropped his phone. The door was locked, thankfully.

“Yoongi-ssi?” He heard his roommate yawn sleepily. “Did you drink the last of the milk?”

He screwed up his face to think. “Maybe? I’ll buy some the next time I’m at the store.”

He heard the sounds of teeth being brushed and a muffled, “Nah, I’ll place a delivery order right now. I need stuff.”

And that was that. He heard her wander off.

Okay, a very, very, very small part of him did kind of want to get caught. Not embarrassingly or shamefully caught. Just… maybe if it ended in something kind of sexy. Like the stories.

That was would fun.

Yoongi went back to his phone.

-

You cracked your neck in the mirror, yawning again as you brushed your teeth. You rubbed your eyes, inspecting your dark circles. Ugh. Maybe a little concealer today couldn’t hurt.

You had stayed up late again, writing.

You hadn’t meant to. It happened every once in a while, when the scene played out in your head and you needed to write it down immediately. When inspiration struck, you couldn’t let it run away from you. Sometimes the best things come in short bursts of energy.

At least you didn’t have class today. You were caught up on your classes, so you could spend today writing for your blog. What you posted last night was written several days ago. You had a slight backlog so that you could review things multiple times before posting. Even if it was something as meaningless as smut posted on the internet, you took that shit seriously. This was your outlet and you wanted to personally like everything you posted.

If what you wrote didn’t make you horny, it wasn’t going to make anyone else horny either.

You spat and rinsed out your mouth.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, your tired eyes looking back to you. Maybe you needed some socialization. Real socialization, not you eventually venturing outside because you needed to get laid for… research purposes. You chuckled. Well, you weren’t going to get that here. All your male roommate ever did was work on his music or eat. Which was alright; people were allowed to do what makes them happy. And besides, it was better that way, because you did actually need to study and eventually write your thesis. Less distraction at home was always better.

You turned off the lights in the bathroom and stepped out.

A strange noise came from Min Yoongi’s door.

You blinked, staring at the door several feet away from you. Then you shrugged. He probably just tripped. He was kind of clumsy sometimes, knocking shit over with his fat ass. Well, not really, but it was funny to think of it that way.

You went back to your room.

-

Oh fuck.

Yoongi stared at his door, clutching the toilet paper roll he hid in his nightstand. He was usually quite skilled at keeping quiet, but he accidentally moaned a little too loud. His hands were still sticky. He waited.

Her bedroom door down the hall closed and he sighed with relief.

-

When you got back to your room, you made the online grocery order. You needed pads anyway. Then you checked your blog. At this point, you had some familiar usernames you watched for. People rarely commented. Maybe their hands were busy or something. You could forgive. Besides, there were likes and that was enough. To be honest, you never expected anyone to actually do more than read. It felt kind of nice, knowing someone out there was willing to take one second to press one button to let you know.

It made you grateful, even if it was a small thing.

Your eye paused at one particular username. You only noticed it because it was gendered.

daeguboy0613.

Huh.

For the life of you, you couldn’t understand why someone would put their location and gender in their username. Maybe it was a reference to their favorite singer or something. Probably. You shrugged it off and flopped on your bed.

You fell asleep.

Big surprise since you had posted at four in the morning and only gotten up to brush your teeth because your mouth was too disgusting to exist. Ah well. Sleep was good.

-

You woke up, super groggy. You stared out the window, seeing that it was already dark. With a sigh, you looked into the tiny mirror beside your bed. Yikes. A master yikes even.  You climbed your hair with your fingers and got out of bed, your purple pajamas rumpled and crazy. Maybe a shower would do you good. Or a bath. Oh! That sounded nice.

You looked around for your slippers. You found one. Ack, so annoying. You weren’t a messy person, but when you were preoccupied with something, you forgot everything else. You straightened your room and found the other slipper. It was in your blankets, oof.

You opened your door and realized you forgot clean underwear. You stuck your head out, looking around. Faint bass was coming from Yoongi’s room. He’d be there for a while. Eh. You still had your violet pajamas, with long sleeves and long pants. Fully covered. He wasn’t going to know in the two seconds it would take you to get to your room. A good shake of the fleece fabric and the wrinkles would fall out. You’d look way less crazy after a good bath.

You hummed to yourself as you made your way to the bathroom.

-

Yoongi rubbed his neck, frowning.

It wasn’t coming out the way he wanted. The sound just wasn’t right. He leaned back in his chair, furrowing his brow. Maybe he needed to move on for now. Leave it and work on something else. He spun around in his chair, lazing about. He hadn’t heard his roommate make much noise all day. Was she dead? Yoongi heard the water running in the bathroom. Oh. She was taking a shower.

He thought about her for a moment. She was generally calm person, quiet and reserved. The only time he had ever seen her panic was when she was late to class, which wasn’t often. Other than that, she was kind of boring. It was like the only thing she thought about was school. She was pretty in a casual sort of way. Yoongi rarely saw her dressed up, but the few times she left at night, she always looked very nice in a short black dress and black heels. Probably a recurring outfit she used at every outing. He could respect that. Being strapped for cash meant a lot of repeating outfits.

Anyway, they didn’t interact much at all. They had their respective things to do, so they co-existed in a mutualistic, symbiotic relationship. It was nice not having to be distracted by a bad roommate, so for that he was grateful.

-

You pushed back the shower curtain, dripping water.

That was nice. You waited as the bathwater drained. Your hair was wet, kind of by accident, but whatever, you needed to wash your hair anyway. Your brushed water off your body absentmindedly, poking your nipples. They were hard from the cold air.

Hm.

The water gurgled as you rubbed them slowly, sighing softly. That was nice. When was the last time you masturbated? You couldn’t remember. You looked at the bathroom door. It wasn’t locked, but what was Yoongi going to do? Open the door on you? Yeah, right. You pinched and pulled your nipples, sucking in a breath. It was nice to touch yourself, to cup your breasts and press them together, grazing your nails over the hardened nubs, imagining someone else’s hands touching you, wanting you.

You slid against the wall, moaning quietly as you played with your breasts, water beading on your skin. One of your hands slid down between your legs and slid around your folds. The wetness of your pussy was different from water, thicker, more viscous. Your eyes closed as you stroked your clit, slow and gentle and pretty. Imagining a tongue there, licking you softly, giving you just the right amount of pressure to build your arousal. No rushing, letting it last.

You ended up sliding to your knees, spreading your thighs wide to give your hand space. Your other hand played with your nipples leisurely, pinching and pulling, making your heart jump. You were quiet, barely making any noise.

Drip.

Your eyes opened hazily. They shifted slowly to the faucet. It was dripping water. Slow, fat plops hitting the bathtub.

Drip.

You pressed harder on your clit, rubbing roughly.

Drip.

Your eyes shifted to the silver faucet again. It was right there, after all.

Fuck it.

You turned the water on again, setting it to a nice temperature. You waited impatiently, touching the water. It heated up quickly. You bit your lower lip, and then raised the temperature a tad. It torrented down and, for a split second, you thought you weren’t going to do it.

Then you adjusted your hips and planted your ass on bottom of the bathtub and slid down to the water.

Instant, unyielding. You shivered, the blasting water jet-streaming right into your pussy. Holy fuck. You slid down a little more and moaned, hoping the water masked your sound as the high-pressure water smacked your clit, lowering to your elbows to get a better angle. Heart beating fast, legs folded flat against the edge of the tub, leaning your head back, tits straight up. It was a difficult position to keep, but a rewarding one, because the water was getting you off fast, gentle enough that you weren’t in pain but hard enough that you could really feel it radiate all over you, the heat adding to the pleasure.

So close, so close…

You closed your eyes, thighs burning, core tightening as your entire body began to throb. A slow hiss escaped your lips as you felt your orgasm unfurl and hit you, wave after wave of delicious pleasure swimming through you, spreading to every point of your body.

“Are you drowning or wasting water, the fuck is–”

Min Yoongi’s voice was trying to cut through your reverie but it was impossible because you were too far gone now, legs collapsing inward, body falling flat against the tub. The door was open and he was staring at you, eyes so wide they looked like dinner plates. Water flowed over your hot body, blanketing you. Slowly, slowly, you came down, like an addict losing their high. His mouth was slightly open, kitten-like. His white t-shirt stuck to his chest and black track pants far too oversized for his slim legs.

You might have been ashamed if you were younger, but you were older now. If he couldn’t handle you getting off every once in a while, then he was the one who needed help.

You reached up and turned the water off, panting. You quirked an eyebrow at him.

“If you’re so worried about it, I’ll pay the whole water bill this month,” you gasped, chest heaving as you glared back at him.

Yoongi sputtered back to life.

“N-no, that’s fine.”

And then he slammed the door.

You sighed, frowning. Now things were going to get weird.

-

Holy shit.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

He just witnessed his roommate masturbating with the goddamn water faucet.

Yoongi scrambled into his room and onto his bed, red in the face. He hadn’t meant to. He thought something weird was going on when he heard all the water. And, oh fuck, something was, but not the something he thought. His mind replayed the image for him, her legs spread, her breasts glistening with water, nipples hard and out, head tipped back and mouth open, tongue peeking out.

He was still hard.

His heart was thumping in his ribcage. Yoongi grabbed his phone and flipped through his liked posts. He had to get off. Now. Anything else could wait.

He slid in, hard, rough, gasping at her pretty lips opened and her eyes closed in bliss, enjoying his cock, just his, enjoying the way he felt, enjoying his hips slapping into hers and his cock twitching inside her.

Impatiently, he reached down and fished his dick out of his pants, sliding to his back and pushing his track pants down. Oh fuck, sweet relief. Yoongi stroked himself, reading, imagining her wet body, her slick hair, those fucking delicious breasts right in front of his face. Had Yoongi ever fantasized about his roommate before? Hell no, he wasn’t a damn pervert. But he was doing it now, because, fuck, how could he not? How could he not want to fuck her, press himself against her, hearing that soft moan against his ear, her wet body and smooth skin on his?

Yoongi dropped his phone, pushing his head back against the pillows, closing his eyes. Yes, he’d jacked off in the morning, but it was already late and he was so fucking horny it didn’t take very long for him to bite the inside of his cheek, trying to muffle his noise, trying to silence himself as the familiar wind-up came. He cracked his eyes open. His door was slightly ajar. Had he left it like that? Whatever, she was probably too embarrassed to come over here anyway.

Yoongi shut his eyes again, a soft cry leaving his lips as he chased his orgasm.

Then he felt it. A presence to his left. But he was so close, so close, so close, he couldn’t stop. His hand moved at a feverish pace, spreading the pre-cum over his length, adding to the pleasure. He felt lips on his cheek, her soft breathy moans against his skin. Was he imagining it? Then her lips on his, softly licking his tongue, so sensual and sexy that he was losing it, moaning into her mouth. He felt her hot breath glide into his and he groaned, too loud this time, feeling his cock twitch and spurt his cum everywhere, sliding down his hand, his wrist, onto his pants and shirt.

Yoongi panted, opening his eyes.

His roommate moved away from his face. Eyes dark in the low light of his room, pupils blown wide with lust. Her hair was still damp, slicked against her purple pajama shirt. He didn’t know what to do. Hos hand was a mess, covered in his cum. She leaned forward, tongue sliding out.

“Um…”

His thought was cut off as her warm tongue ran over his knuckles, scooping up his cum and eating it off his hand. His eyes went wide as she licked all around his hand, his fingers, dipping her tongue into the crevices. Yoongi could barely process what was happening right now. Was his nerdy, school-obsessed roommate licking his cum off his hand after he just masturbated? After he just witnessed her masturbating? Her mouth enveloped the head and part of his hand and Yoongi moaned, feeling her tongue press against the tip and tease the sensitive opening, licking it all clean.

After a sufficient amount, she removed her mouth and backed off. Yoongi blinked blearily, slowly detaching his hand from his limp cock. He didn’t know what to say. Or do, really. Her eyes were on his phone, screen still lit up. Then she shifted her eyes to his raised hand. Gently, she took him by the wrist and brought his hand to her face, placing his fingers in her mouth, sucking on them.

Yoongi was speechless.

Her tongue slipped between each finger, prodding around his joints, slurping slightly. She was still looking at his phone, eyes pensive. Yoongi wished his cock would wake up, but it wasn’t meant to be.

“I…”

Her eyes went to his, his fingers still in her mouth. Shit. His brain tried to process the thought, trying not to fixate on her pink tongue moving amongst his fingers.

“I can’t fuck you…” he mumbled, swallowing. “I already came twice today.”

She nodded. Slowly, she pulled his fingers out of her mouth, joint by joint. His body jerked at the movement, aroused but unable to get hard. Strings of saliva snapped as she removed her mouth from his hand. She turned it around and licked his palm lightly, making him shiver.

“You like my blog?” she finally said.

He blinked.

“What?”

She pointed to his phone. “That’s my blog.”

Yoongi’s eyes went wide. He stared at his phone and then at her. Then back at the phone. Then back at her. What? She cocked an eyebrow, smiling at him.

“So, you’re daeguboy0613, huh?”

He blinked rapidly. “I… what… ah…?”

“Guess that makes sense when you like my posts at two in the morning and such.”

She climbed on the bed – where were her pajama pants? Her panties? – and laid down next to him.

“You don’t seem like the type to read erotica,” she said absentmindedly. “I thought only girls read erotica.”

Yoongi stared at the ceiling. “Obviously not, since I’m a guy.”

She nodded. “You’re right. I shouldn’t stereotype like that.”

Silence.

“We can always do more in the morning, Yoongi-ssi.”

Two things happened that day. One, Yoongi’s secret was exposed. And two, the source of Yoongi’s secret passed out in bed next to him, head on his shoulder.

-

34+35

--

masterpost

[parkers-gal]

ooo can u do something fluffy with a best friends to lovers where peter and the reader are reading on a rainy day and he’s just staring at her? maybe with a stark! reader by i’m a sucker for those too lol<3 stay safe!

hope u like it!; wc: 1k

requests are open

—

Maybe it was typical for Peter to be studying on a weekend, but it was definitely a little weird that he’d study on a three-day weekend. He’d stayed out later than usual on patrol, and of course he was still a bit tired even after sleeping in a few hours, but he knew he needed to study now or he’d never get these physics concepts down. 

You had joined him on the shaggy, soft rug, sitting beside his seat on the floor. He’d already been working for a good two hours by the time you showed up with a tray full of snacks and your favorite movie on disk. You were sipping some lemonade, the sound of Peter scribbling away on his paper with a simple blue pen echoing slightly. Your movie had ended, and now you were watching Bucky and Steve play ping pong in the corner. 

Peter’s brain was fried, but with you there he didn’t see a reason as to why he couldn’t take a break. He was already finished with his homework for the next week, having just prepared himself for the next lessons. Closing the cap of his pen, he set it in the crack of the book, watching as you made side comments and giggled at a few of their mistakes in playing table tennis.

Even through your giggles and gurgles, he could hear the New York rain pitter-pattering on the windows and pavement, thundering down on the concrete jungle that was the city. The rain soothed him and yet, terrified him all at once. Suddenly he realized you were wearing one of your rainy day outfits, as you had called them; you were wearing his grey sweater. The realization made him blush. He looks at his lap as he fiddles with the tie of his grey sweatpants. 

You patted your knee as you laughed at Bucky’s failed attempt in scoring a point. Peter’s eyes marvel the shape of your voice, your jawline and smooth smile, your eyebrows and your nose too. He focused on the beat of your heart, smiling at how fast it was going. He cherished your laugh, and suddenly wondered why he never had the courage to ask if you felt as strongly for him as he did for you. 

Maybe it was your dad, he often thought to himself. But he also realized that was a stretch. Tony loved Peter, but hated the idea of his baby girl growing up and getting boyfriends or girlfriends. Tony wanted you safe, but he also knew Peter was a certain exception. Peter was different, that was for sure. 

Maybe it was the fear of losing you, of hearing your soft rejection, empathy lacing your tone as you told him “Peter, you know I love you, but-.” He didn’t want to hear those words from your mouth ever in his life. He feared what your friendship would become if you didn’t feel the same way, if this love was all one-sided and every clue was just in Peter’s head. 

Maybe it was the realization that once he voiced his feelings, they’d become real. Of course, he knows they’re as real as ever in his head, but when somebody else knows, there’s no going back. Not that it would matter, because he knew it was probably obvious to anyone that could read Peter well, to anyone from the outer perspective. He had suspicions that Wanda and Clint were gossiping about when the two college kids will get together, but he never brought anything up. Especially in front of you; he could barely keep his cool around you anymore. 

His heart beated wildly, his palms grew sweaty and his lips failed him as he stuttered erratically, exponentially. You made him nervous, and yet, he loved the feeling. He loves the way you make him feel; he wants to feel it forever. He wants it to be his new normal. He wants you to be his new normal. 

“Petey?” You bring him out of his head and into the reality that is the world. 

He blushes upon realizing that he was staring at you, lost in thinking about how strongly he feels for you. Scratching his neck, he dares to glance up into your eyes. 

“Yeah?”

He realizes the rain has grown a bit louder, thunder and lightning coming regularly. You look as if the unexpected noises and flashes have momentarily frightened you, and suddenly, he knows what you need. He opens his arms, inviting you into his embrace. 

What he doesn’t expect is for you to sit directly into his lap. It doesn’t bother him — no, it never could — but it does surprise him. You nuzzle into his neck, and Peter’s heart aches at the affection. He wants meaning behind the touches and lingering gazes. He wants there to be more.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, Pete?”

He clears his throat. “Have you ever… felt so strongly for someone that it scared you?” He feels your hums against his chest and collarbone. He shivers. 

“Yes.” He swallows thickly at your reply. “Why? Do you feel that?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out the confession with a sigh. “I do.” 

You pick your head up to look at the brown-haired boy. “Really?”

He nods. “Sometimes… sometimes I’ll just- I’ll just stare at her for hours and think about my feelings. They’re so strong; May thinks I’ve found my Ben Parker.” Your eyes widen at the name drop of his late uncle. Peter never mentions him, and though you’re noticeably taken aback, he doesn’t falter or stutter, but instead keeps the confession going. 

“Does… does she feel the same?”

“I don’t know.”

You sigh, looking up at him. He marvels at you, eyes lost in your orbs. He’s quiet for a good few minutes and suddenly, you realize he’s been staring at you this entire day. 

“Petey?”

“Yeah?”

For once, you look into his eyes too. “Am I the May to your Ben?” Your fingers trace the hem of his sweater. “Because you're the Ben to my May.”

[purple-stuck]

I recently saw the idea of sub-juggulator John and I was captivated! What would your take on that be?

Egbert's Confections. A small cake shop and restaurant that had popped up out of nowhere. There was no indication it existed until a few nights ago, yet it proved to be inexplicably popular. As far as anyone could tell, Jaunee Egbert had pulled his shop out of the ground and cornered the local market overnight.

As far as the local rebel cell was concerned, the fact that he was a purple blood was no coincidence. This town had been chosen as a base of operations precisely because it was such a lowblooded neighborhood. The sudden appearance of not only a purple blood, but a strangely successful and beloved one, was nothing short of glowing neon danger sign. The threat he posed couldn't stand.

That's how Xannic Erveni found himself standing outside Egbert's Confections with his moirail by his side.

Xannic took a deep steadying breath and looked over at the large olive blood by his side. His own worried expression was mirrored in their face before he steeled his gaze. "So, you remember our story, Norwik?"

The olive nodded and began listing off on their hand. "We're just friendly customers looking to get to know the local confectionecutioner. We're both lowbloods, so we try to keep our heads down, which is why we don't know anything about any rebels. And, of course, don't eat anything. Even if it's at a discount."

Xannic nodded and pushed the doors open. He still had to duck to fit inside. Even if the rusty was the shorter of the two, his refusal to trim his horns meant he often had to duck at doorways. Xannic knew it made him stand out, but it was a source of pride for him. Another foot was another sweep survived. Still, he did try to keep from looking too serious as he glanced around the restaurant.

That's when the pair noticed their first red flag. The customers around them weren't just enjoying their food, they were loving it. At least one third of the noise seemed to come from people belching and guts growling. He saw rustbloods eating from cakes that were taller than themselves and jade bloods stuffing themselves like they hadn't eaten in weeks. Trolls as high as teal were collapsing on the floor, still trying to eat even as they were on the verge of either popping or puking. Norwik leaned into his ear. "This is going to sound weird, but this is to much. Even for my appetite."

"You said it."

Xannic stiffened as a tall shadow fell over the pair. Norwik had to keep themselves from draping over Xannic protectively. The two craned their necks up to come face to face with the owner. Egbert himself.

Even with his reputation, Egbert did not at all carry himself as they expected. He smiled down at them in a way that was both mischievous and friendly, a rare combination indeed. His buck teeth were noticably filed down and his face paint was plain. Even his horns were small, flat, and dull. By purple blood standards, he looked like a scrawny, puny runt. Only towering over them because of his age. If Egbert wasn't skipping Ascension, he was on the verge of it. Even his eyes had begun filling in.

"Well, hi, guys!" Egbert said, giving them a mock courtesy. "You look new here. New customers or just stopping by?"

Xannic almost found himself taken in by the act until his gaze driften over to the moaning, groaning, barely conscious troll in the booth next to him. A clear reminder that they couldn't get comfortable here, regardless of pretences. By the way Norwik gripped his shoulder, he could tell they were thinking the same thing. "We're just passing through. We're new in town." Xannic couldn't keep his gaze from drifting. "We... uh, didn't realize this place was so high class."

Egbert clearly followed his gaze. "Yeah, I know. Ask my lusus, it's his recipe. I didn't realize it was ao addictive until I started selling it. I guess eating cake every night desensitized me." He shrugged apologetically. "Word of advice, call a friend to carry you to your hive the first view visits. I don't want to have to drag you out of here."

Norwik's grip tightened around his shoulder unconsciously. "We're just here to take a look around. We won't be having anything." They said.

Egbert grinned, showing off the rest of his strangely flat, filed down teeth. "Well then, stick around awhile. Take a seat and relax. We're all brothers here."

Xannic knew there was something off about this. He could feel it. He could tell that at least some of Egbert's politeness was genuine. He was far to relaxed, far to wide eyed and happy, to be faking completely. Xannic had met enough blood hungry highbloods to recognize one when he saw them, but, at the same time, Jaunee wasn't being entirely genuine either. His kindness was exaggerated, but it wasn't to the point of being obviously fake. It made him difficult to read. He could be lying maliciously... but he could also just be overcompensating for his status. Xannic had met plenty of both.

Regardless, Xannic took a seat at an empty booth, Norwik still protectively curled around his shoulder. If Xannic was letting his guard down, Norwik kept their guard up, and vice versa. A learned behavior that had saved their skin many times before.

Egbert sat down across from them, casually leaning back in contrast to his high strung guests. "So, why'd you two move here?" He asked. "Personally, I just got sick of my old customers. My old church mates always left such a mess behind and the violet bloods were such sour sports about my pranks. It's not my fault they don't check their seats."

Something about that casual little gesture made Xannic's remaining doubts drift away. Jaunee was a highblood. A purpleblood who towered over the both of them by several inches. A highblood who'd already made himself popular and powerful in this small, paranoid little town. A clown who could kill them without effort and continue running his shop without a care. But, somehow, Xannic felt safe. The strange undercurrent of danger that surrounded most clowns just wasn't there with Jaunee. He didn't seem like a predator waiting to pounce. He didn't act like he was just waiting for the excuse to cut them up. When Xennic saw Jaunee drap himself over the back of the seat, he didn't see the murderous monster he saw in most purple bloods. He just saw a smiling, buck toothed troll.

"We actually lived in a similar town. We were live servants for a violet blood." Xennic felt Norwik freeze at the honest answer, but he wasn't deterred. Xennic trusted Jaunee. Enough to be harmlessly honest with him. "We moved here for... obvious reasons. We just wanted get away from that asshole."

Jaunee laughed. "Yeah. Violets are dicks."

It didn't take long for Norwik to join the conversation after that. If Egbert was able to so thoroughly, so perfectly penetrate Xennic's guard, then he could do the same to Norwik. There was a reason for their system. There was a reason one of them was always on guard. There was a reason they were both so protective. But, as the conversation began in earnest, that reason, whatever it was, was forgotten. They talked blithely for hours about quadrants and meeting moirails. About how Xannic had confessed to Norwik and how Jaunee thought that Strider was totally hitting on him. So pleasant was the atmosphere that even the moans of torturously stuffed trolls couldn't pierce it.

Soon, Egbert was showing the two to the door with a cheerful smile on his face. His buck toothed grin as friendly and as mischievous as always. "Honestly, it was great meeting you two. You'll have to actually order something sometime."

Xennic laughed and pushed the doors open, just about to duck out when Egbert's hand gripped his shoulder. "I'm serious." Jaunee said, a slice of cake in his hand.

"How about I give you a free sample? Something to take back with you."

~

It had been seven nights since Norwik had accepted that slice of cake and the olive blood hadn't left their hive since. The lay on the floor, leaning against the fridge as they held their gurgling, groaning gut. Broken plates and stripped down bones littered the floor of their hive, highlighting just how empty their fridge was as it's doors hung open.

Hungry. They were so, so hungry.

Xannic rushed in carrying another bag of food, throwing it to the side to first check on his moirail. Xannic put his palm to their head, hoping to comfort them, check for a pulse, something, anything. But, Norwik just pushed their hand asidr, desperately pointing to the discarded bag.

"Please...." They rasped out. "I.... I need it. I need.... food."

Xannic pulled out a single slice of grub loaf. "This was all they had le-" He started, before getting cut off as Norwik ripped it from their grasp. The olive blood dug into their meal with big, heavy bites, all but shoveling the loaf down their throat. Xannic swore it disappeared in three seconds.

"I need... more..." Norwik moaned, begged really, as their overstuffed gut roared. "I need... food..."

"There is no more. All the shops are out of stock." Norwik curled up into a fetal position. All Xannic could do was stare in concern and horror. "Gog, what did that cake do to you?"

Hungry. They were so, so hungry.

"We need to get you back to base. Get you looked at. Whatever was in that slice, it's fucking you up, big time. At this rate, you're going to eat yourself to death."

Xannic was still talking, but Norwik couldn't hear them any more. Their stomach was grumbling far to loudly for that. Why were they so hungry? Why wouldn't it end? It hurt. It hurt so much. They were staving.

They needed food.

They needed... meat.

"We're going to get you help, okay buddy?" Xannic rolled them over, letting Norwik rest their hand on his shoulder.

"...Buddy?"

Whatever Xannic was saying, Norwik couldn't hear him. They were to busy feeding. Making the pain end.

Xannic's screams couldn't be heard over the grumbling of Norwik's gut, nor over the crunching of bones between their teeth.

~

Jaunee Egbert cheerfully hummed to himself, pulling out his phone to take another picture as he spotted another pile of bare picked bones.

Yes, he'd say this little excursion had gone really well. He was tasked with taking out the rebel cell that was in the area and that had been accomplished. The town can't have a cell if there is no town after all. If he had any complaints, it was that he was sick of only pranking lowbloods. Even if it was his Messiah given duty.

That's all this was. A prank. A joke. A harmless teasing between friends. The fact that the recipients all died didn't change that. Lowbloods die. That was just a fact of life.

Jaunee pulled out his contacts. He sent Strider the pictures he'd taken. He loved to use them for propaganda. "Look what happens when lowbloods aren't kept in check." That sort of thing. Jaunee was glad his friend found his own little way to support the Messiah's cause.

After seeing the thumbs up emoji from Strider, Jaunee took one last look around at the crumbling corpse of the town. No survivors. Not a building left standing. A masterful prank indeed.

Jaunee took his leave to plot his next prank, likely never thinking of this one again.

[magpiie]

Kidnapped by Baby Yoda pt. 3

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

hey guys pls lmk what you think and be honest!!! thank you so much for 80 notes holy fucking shit wowie 

It's weird one day you're assisting teaching a class to a bunch of miscellaneous alien children on nevarro hating your life, and the next you're stuck on a ship with a mandalorian and his foundling who inexplicably decided he needed you to come.

“I'm going to talk to him today kid, believe me” you said to the lump of wool perched on your knee. Mando was out doing maker knows what, and you were left alone with the little guy like always. His big eyes gazed at you dubiously as if to say suuuuure. The amount of judgmental bitchy energy he could produce sometimes was astounding. “No really, i've been living here for what, uh 3 weeks maybe? And all we've really said to each other was the initial greeting and uh the exchange of names?” The last part trails off as you realize you don't even know his name. You said yours but he responded with telling you to call him Mando. So you didn't push it. You dont know alot about mandalorians considering they are almost extinct and their beliefs are often made to seem like folklore. But you do know that individualism and identity is not something particularly celebrated. So you decided to leave the amount of information he wants to share with you up to him out of respect. So far that's been none. “So, kid, how'd you break through his shell? He likes you?” the child just blinks unhelpfully. “I mean you never talk to him, but i've tried that and we saw how that went” literally radio silence from him. You don't particularly think of yourself as an extrovert who constantly needs interaction but you do need some. And currently you have the kid as a companion and if you didn't know any better you'd say Mando was a droid with how he acts. You also resolved that you needed to help out more. Basically you were a glorified babysitter and the idea that Mando was going to realize that he was better off without you on his ship as deadweight terrified you. You were a good cook, I guess you could say, but Mando always brought food back with him when he went out and then would hide in his room to eat in privacy. So that's not very helpful. The main thing that you could offer him was medical help. Back on Nevarro growing up you were the youngest of three older brothers. And considering your mother wasnt really in the picture, you had to take up the doctor role for the amount of fights three older boys could get into. You knew how to treat basically any external damage and how to sterilize and limit risk of infection. But how would you ever bring that up to mando if you guys didn't even greet each other in the mornings? Sometimes you would try to talk to him with something as simple as “good morning!” or “welcome back” or “night” or even just a simple “hey” sometimes he would bless you with a monosyllabic grunt but never anything more. But hey, you would take what you would get. After a week of this call and no response bullshit you kinda gave up and have spent the last two weeks in silence other than your episode this morning with the “good morning” fiasco. You feel your mortification settle back into your stomach at the fool you made of yourself. “Maker above, mando must hate me.” sometimes you wondered if he regretted asking you to come. But he doesn't really seem like the type of person to let you stay if you annoyed him. “Ok bug, here's the plan. What im gonna do is i will say hey when he comes back, sound good?” you look for confirmation from the creature and he gives you a slight tilt of his chin. Satisfied you continue, “and i will uhm say good night and good morning every day until he responds or tells me to shut up.” you finish with a huff of breath. This will either end with you finally finally getting to have real human interaction or left on some random ass planet god knows where.     

Mando makes his way back to ship feeling the pebbles crunch beneath the heavy sole of his boot. This planet was a desert planet much like nevarro, he wondered if you missed home. Mean no shit she's probably homesick dumbass he thinks its not like he was doing anything to make the ship feel welcoming. Like talking to you. But you made the ship feel like a home for the kid and that's more than he could ever want. You probably didn't realize how much what you were doing meant to him. You made the kid happy, you were giving him something that mando never could, a mother figure. Mando tried his hardest to be what he thought was a father for the kid but it was hard. He had to go and work and it wasn't safe to bring a kid so he was often swept around to different planets and left for hours by himself waiting for mando to come back and it was hard on mando. But you, now you were there. And the kid was always safe with you. He should probably teach you some self defense he thought considering how dangerous being associated with him was especially considering you needed to protect the child. But honestly, mando had no idea if you knew how to protect yourself, you might, space is a dangerous world. He only knew that you were a teacher but that was it. Slightly alarming that he implicitly trusted you without any prior knowledge of you or your credentials. You could be a bounty hunter assigned to kill him for all he knew, or to steal the kid, but you probably would have done that by now. Mando didn't know what made you trustworthy to him. You just were. And that terrified him. 

You're sitting in the cockpit with the child pretending to fly the ship as he gurgles happily in your lap. you giggle at the little guy and make finger guns and pretend to shoot an imaginary monster outside the window, “i'm the most fearsome bounty hunter in the guild,” the child lets out a particularly loud noise at that, “uhhh yes i am dont laugh at me, i am feared far and wide across the galaxy,” you tickle his sides with that one. youre so into playing with the kid you don't realize mando was back and is staring at you from the entryway to the cockpit. “You think i could take on your daddy, bug? You think it'd beat him in a shootout? Huh?” you say with your fingers poised and ready at the window.

“Not a chance,” says a deep voice that vibrates into the floor. You let out an embarrassing startled shriek and feel your heart do twenty somersaults and settle in your feet. The child screams at the interruption and immediately wiggles out of your grasp and waddles to Mando giddily. 

“I-i i was uh joking, really i was,” you stutter out cringing at the incredulous tone your voice comes out as. Remembering your resolve to talk to him you continue on even though you feel like you might throw up your breakfast from nerves. “He misses you during the day,” gesturing to the child, “so i pretend to be you” you finish realizing that sounds super fucking creepy, “well not like- you- like- you,  but i pretend to like uh pilot the ship and uh shoot um things?” you ramble lamely. A huff sounds from the mandalorian and if you allowed yourself to think wishfully it was laughter. 

“Doesn't surprise me. Before you he came everywhere with me.” you feel your eyebrows raise. Everywhere? Shit. 

“Must've been difficult to complete jobs and have to keep track of him,” you say nodding your head towards the little lump of brown wool. Mando offers you an affirmative grunt before setting the child down and turning on his heel towards the fresher. So that was an improvement, you think. Got ten whole words out of him. You feel a grin split your face. Hopefully this means you are past the dancing around each other relationship. And maker above, his voice, wow. If only you could wake up to that every morning. Deep and melodic. You wonder how deep and gravelly it sounds in the mornings. Or how your name would sound tumbling off his lips in pleasure. Nope. not going down that path. That is NOT platonic thoughts. You literally had your first conversation with him since the first day you met him and you're already thinking about that? Seriously pull yourself together. You don't even know what he looks like, or how old he is. Like what if he's like 70. And really ugly. What if your having sex dreams about someone like your grandpa. Ew. Your face contorts at the thought of Mando looking like your grandpa. Okay gross stop. You need to get to know him. Have civil conversations. Push down the gross thoughts. Even if his voice sounds like honey. And home. 

You're sitting in the chair behind the pilot seat reading a random book Mando left out on the scattered floor. Its some type of mechanical manual so its truly riveting. Note the sarcasm. The child's asleep, and seeing as though mando is cooped up in his room this book is better than twiddling your thumbs mindlessly. You decided that if you were going to stay on mandos ship you should at least try to pick up some mechanic skills. Better than the rudimentary at best you had at the present moment. You knew how to fix blatant errors in engines and how to reconnect wires if the instructions were explained thoroughly and very slowly. Okay maybe you didn't really know anything past engines. But that was better than nothing? Kinda? You sigh closing the book after rereading the same sentences about pre-imperial versus post-imperial hyperdrives. Maker what was the difference? The both made the ship go super fast or something? Was that the hyperdrive? You shook your head feeling the thought start to culminate into a downward spiral of what a hyperdrive truly was. You looked around the cluttered hull and decided that you should probably occupy yourself by cleaning up the mess. Mando might appreciate it, it'll also make you less of a deadweight on the ship. It was crazy how much shit one man and his child could accumulate on one tiny ship. You don't think you had ever seen this many small metal bowls in one place. The stack currently in the corner probably contained about 12. In what universe would 2 creatures ever need the same bowls 12 times. Well you guess now it's three. The thought filled your chest with a balloon of warmth only to be popped by the realization that you weren't part of the little family mando and the child were. At best you were a business associate. The kids stand in caregiver. Babysitter.

 The realization that you didn't have anyone to call family at your disposal fell heavy on your shoulders. Sinking you into the corner of the hull. You dont think youve ever felt more alone. In the cold corner of the hull with a hand pressed to your chest in an attempt to quell your ragged breaths.  Like a small raft cast into the oceanic expanse of space. If you drowned, who would notice? Certainly not your family, they were maker knows where, probably light years away. You didn't even know what sector you were in anymore. What would your father think of your decision to leave nevarro? You hadn't seen him in a while but you remembered the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. And how he would hug you after a long day. Hold you like you were still his little girl. The craving for a warm embrace from a solid body slammed into you with all the force of a meteor. Leaving you stunned and lost. You briefly wondered how mando coped. How did he deal with the overwhelming feeling of loneliness?  How did he leave his guild? Did he miss them? Were they like a family? Did he think about them often? How did he cope with the lack of touch? Or did he not think about it at all? Did he not need it? Was he so disconnected from the world through his beskar that he couldn't remember the feeling of someone's fingers on his skin? Etching a path with the searing heat they exuded. Hearing approaching footsteps you attempt to pull yourself together. Regulate your breathing, get rid of tear tracks and lose the flush coloring your face. You could do this. As he rounded the corner he stopped. You peered up at him from your curled up position on the floor and offered him a smile that felt unconvincing even on your lips. He tilted his head slightly at you and made his way cautiously to where you were. He bent slightly and offered a brown leather clad hand to you. For a second the only sound heard was the faint crackle of his breathing in his helmet. You could see him faltering. Here he was offering you comfort in your clearly distressed state and you were pointedly ignoring it. You laced your fingers with his and nearly doubled over from the strength he exuded into pulling you up. As soon as you were fairly steady on your feet you marveled at your hand shocked by the warmth creeping through the leather of the glove permeating into your palm. He sighed, a deep release of tension from his shoulders followed. “What's wrong?” he said, his hand still lazily grasping your fingers. You looked at him, what was wrong?

“How do you do it?” you said echoing his words from your first meeting to him. his thumb dragged a slow line along your wrist. When he didn't respond you added, “how are you okay with being alone?” if you could see his face you would say he looked taken aback. He released your hand.

“I'm not.” he offered. Confused as to which question he was answering you remained silent hoping to prompt him to continue. He started again, “I'm not alone, not truly. I have him.” he gestured vaguely to his sleeping quarters where the kid slept. He rubbed the back of his neck, 

“And neither are you.”

[atinybitofau]

[ateez] Y U N H O ⇉ aesthetic love

“THUNDERSTORMS AND WARM HUGS”

warnings: MAJOR FLUFF COMING AT YOU HOT.

• Yunho left only a couple hours ago.

• and you’re not usually all clingy and hopeful for your boyfriend’s presence,

• of course you love him and all,

• but his absence never really bothers you.

• Yunho was a big man with big limbs.

• he loved you the way his heart wanted to despite his teddy bear figure.

• by simple kisses and complete devotion.

• and you two were never much of an affectionate couple.

• for two solid years of living apart and seeing each other only as time allows,

• some people don’t think you two are even in an intimate relationship to begin with.

• “It’s okay, y/n.” you tell yourself with a shaky exhale. “The storms gonna pass over and you’re gonna be fine.”

• you yelp in surprise when a hard rumble hits at the glass pane of your windows,

• trembling underneath your covers trying hard to console yourself but you’re starting to think it’s not enough.

• your fingers grip tightly on the blanket huddling over you, lips shivering like the night sky.

• rain hits harder when the thunder pauses it’s fury,

• the cry of the night making you yourself close to tears.

• “For fucksake, y/n, get a hold of yourself.” you mumble teetering forward and back on your knees. “It’s just— T-THUNDER! IT’S JUST THUNDER!”

• you whimper again at the sounds of howling,

• the vibrations the world makes.

• your heart’s even faster than the wind that blows outside.

• at the point, you reach for your phone on the bedside table dialing only one number you could think of.

• “Y-Yunnie?”

• his voice gurgles a little, grumbling out confused words before the phone gets silent. “My love, it’s 2 in the morning.”

• you sniffle wiping away the sad tears over your burning cheeks. “Can you come over please?”

• the silence over the speaker gets interrupted by frantic ruffling.

• “What’s wrong?”

• Yunho knows you weren’t a big fan of crying.

• or affection..

• this was out of the ordinary.

• but if there was something he was sure of,

• it’s of your constant fear of loud noises and how they mess up the sweet balance of life.

• can you tell you two don’t fight much?

• “I-I’m scared, Yun. My windows sound like they’re about to break and I.. I can’t sleep. Yunnie, can you come here please?”

• your boyfriend spoils you too often,

• telling San that he’s going over your house for the night without much response or explanation.

• he zooms over speed limit overthinking how he didn’t realize how bad the storm was—

• how stupid he was for thinking it was okay to leave you just hours earlier.

• “Y/n, my love, where are you?”

• Yunho switches on the lights, kicking his wet shoes off without much rush.

• but you sprint out of your bed and out of your bedroom, jumping into his startled embrace.

• hanging off him too like a mannerless koala.

• “Thank god you’re here.”

• regardless of the fact your relationship lacked affection,

• Yunho loved your touch.

• caved into it every single time.

• he chuckles lowly against the strands of your hair as you curl into his chest.

• “Why aren’t you wearing any clothes?”

• you look down at your lace night gown and smile at him like an idiot.

• “You know I don’t like wearing clothes to sleep.”

• “You better be wearing underwear under that or you really won’t be getting any sleep tonight.”

• you giggle tightening the hold you have around his neck and lean forward for a kiss. “Fortunately for you, I am. So sleep for the both of us, it is.”

• he hums against your lips carrying you carefully into your bedroom, ass on his lap when he sits at the edge of your bed.

• “It’s not that bad, see?” he pulls away so he could push your hair back behind your red ears. “The storms already gone.”

• “That’s because the gods know you’re here.”

• he rolls his eyes at the cheesy remarks fear makes you deliver,

• you eagerly attacking his lips with a crash forth against your bed.

• he breathlessly tugs his own away from yours from shock, eyes wide with concern.

• “My love, what’s gotten into you?” he searches your innocent eyes.

• “I appreciate you.” you pout hovering over his giant body. “What, I cant appreciate my boyfriend?”

• he narrows his eyes into slits. “What did you do?”

• “..Nothing?”

• he cocks an eyebrow up at you unconvinced and you just roll your eyes in annoyance.

• you sulk on the other side of the bed while complaining, “If you don’t like it, fine. I’ll just— EEK!”

• you turn your body into his again like the little koala you are, face basically at the hilt of his armpit.

• Yunho laughs at your failed attempt of a fit, shifting so he could wrap his arms around you.

• “Maybe I should tell the gods to make thunderstorms more often.” he brushes through your hair with his gentle fingers. “You get clingy. I like it.”

• you peer up to glare, pouting apparent on your lips. “I refuse to believe I’m a clingy person. That’s degrading.”

• “Fortunately for you, it’s not degrading to me.” he sends you a flirtatious wink under the dimmed light.

• you can’t help but snort reaching up in his arms to plant a lustrous kiss on his plump lips.

• “I didn’t know you liked clingy, Yun.”

• “I don’t.” he says honestly. “But on you, it’s hot.”

• “Stop it, Yunho. You’re making me feel things.”

• “What things?”

• “Feelings.”

• his chest grumbles in a soft laugh, the sound way more soothing than the angry rumble in the sky—

• which you forgot about over the sound of your boyfriend’s voice.

• “You’ve had feelings for me since day one.”

• you cuddle into the warmth under his neck, nibbling softly at the loose skin. “You taste like chestnuts.”

• “Ugh, you’re so weird.”

• he tightens his grip around your waist suddenly lost in the affection you give,

• now it’s not like you never do,

• but today feels different.

• he feels like he never wants this to end this time.

• “Y/n?”

• “Hm?” you sleepily roll your head to look up at him against his chest.

• “I love you.”

• you smile to yourself cuddling further into his rising and falling chest,

• only the sound of calm rain filing your ears and the sultry waves of his voice.

• “I know.”

• he blinks up at the ceiling thinking about how he truly loves you.

• thinks about how he wants to come home every day to this if he can.

• “Y/n?”

• “Hm?”

• “You still awake, my love?”

• you chuckle shifting in his arms. “Apparently.”

• “I want to live with you.”

• you perk up at the request, fingertips rubbing over his shoulder. “Huh?”

• “I want to live here.” he affirms pressing a softer kiss to your forehead, remembering the time you offered. “I want to come home to this everyday. To you.”

• “Yunnie.. what about the boys?”

• “They’ll live.”

• you grin so hard you think your face might just freeze up like that,

• moving so your body was completely over his,

• as you lay vibrant kisses all over his face making him groan bashfully.

• his hands never moved from where they planted on your hips.

• “You sure you can handle my storm of kisses?”

• “Better than you can handle a thunderstorm alone, I’m sure.”

@atinybitofau

[turningtummyrubs]

Could you write one Ryek and Ark maybe on a mission together? They are arguing a lot and annoyed with each other until Ryek starts feeling sick with a stomach ache. Then Ark has to take care of him with tummy rubs and cuddles. This would make me so happy! Love these two. 😊

Love this prompt!

———

“What are you doing?”

“Figuring out where the hell our target went off to after you let him get away,” Ryek says. Growls, really. His face is illuminated only by the blue light of his phone screen. Ark looks like a mere smudge in the shadows of the storage closet they’ve been forced to duck into.

The two of them have been trailing Leonard Corhz for nearly 24 hours now. They’d started early in the morning and now it’s so dark the air feels heavy with it.

Ryek had started off calm and professional as always, but as time wore on and Ark began to grow grumpier, so did he. They’ve been bickering meaninglessly for the past hour.

The building they’re in, a higher-end office, is supposed to have been locked up for the night. Instead, there are still three people inside. Arkane, Ryek, and target 89, Leonard Corhz.

“There!” Ryek suddenly exclaims, shooting down the hall silently and quickly as a bullet. Ark follows close on his heels, grumbling to himself.

There’s a flash of silver, Corhz’s jacket, and then Ryek’s somehow, impossibly, sprinting faster. Ark doesn’t bother trying to catch up. While he may best Ryek in hand-to-hand combat, Ryek is undeniably the quickest and quietest.

There’s a faint, almost imperceptible, tumbling sound and a muffled scream and just as Ark thinks they’ve finally caught him, he hears a soft curse. And that voice isn’t Corhz’s. It’s Ryek’s.

He speeds up into a full-on sprint and rounds the corner to see Ryek, jaw clenched tight and leaning heavily against the wall. When Ryek spots him, his eyes go narrow and dark and he makes a face like he’ll kill Ark if he says anything.

Ark is quite used to that face though, so he says, “What the hell happened? He was right there! You could’ve caught him! This could’ve been over by now!”

And Ryek blinks once, expression slipping into something bland and woozy, and murmurs, “Sorry,” which is... wrong. Very wrong.

“What the hell?” Ark steps closer, frowning. “Why’re you... what’s going on?”

Ryek blinks again then shakes his head, expression clearing. “Nothing. Corhz managed to slip away. He can’t have gotten far. I’ll take this hallway, you take that one. Don’t make a sound until he’s pinned beneath you. Understood?”

“We’re a team, you know,” Ark says. “It’s not up to you alone to give off all the orders.”

Ryek raises a single dark eyebrow, expression unimpressed, and monotonously repeats, “Understood?”

Ark’s scowl twists his whole face but he nods once and takes off down the hall.

Ryek watches his receding back and takes a deep breath, hand hovering anxiously over his stomach. It’s been mildly upset for the past hour or so, but sprinting through the halls and tackling Corhz has pushed his stomach ache past the point of vague discomfort. God, he just wants to get this over with quickly.

He rubs a hand lightly over his middle once in an attempt to settle it, but when it proves futile, he takes another heavy inhale and sets off in the other direction.

It’s a relief to see that Ark has Corhz cornered when he arrives, but all that ease dissipates, replaced by a lurching horror, as he sees that it might be the other way around. Corhz has a gun pressed to Ark’s stomach. Ark doesn’t look too frightened. He actually doesn’t look frightened at all, with a leering smile and easy set to his shoulders, but Ryek knows. Ryek always knows.

Ryek reaches into his jacket, searching for his own gun, when he realizes with a sinking feeling that the gun Corhz is holding must be his. Lost in the tussle. Ryek’s stomach stirs a bit, sending a heavy thrum of nausea curdling through his unsettled insides, and he swallows hard before rushing forward and tackling Corhz to the ground. The gun slides out of his grasp, knocking against Ark’s shoe. And that shoe is the last thing he sees before colorful spots of light assault his vision and he’s lost to a sea of dark.

He wakes up ten minutes later to someone gently shaking his shoulder. He springs up, scrambling back until he hits the wall behind him. Ryek’s breaths shake as his head thuds back and he scans the hall wildly.

“It’s me!” Ark exclaims, hands up. “It’s me.”

Ryek inhales sharply, head lowering as his fingers flex into fists. How embarrassing to have reacted that way. Of course it was only Ark. Of course, all that embarrassment vanishes rather quickly as the ache in his stomach makes itself known once more. A low, twisting cramp groans through his guts and he crouches down on the ground, almost hyperventilating.

“Ryek?” Ark says, moving beside him. His voice is pitched high, like he’s worried. It’s disconcerting.

Ryek waves a dismissive hand, murmuring, “I’m fine.” It’s not very convincing.

His entire body feels sluggish and warm in a strange way, like it’s shutting down. As his insides churn and swirl, his head begins to spin with static. He can’t think past the buzzing. Nothing feels solid or real except the painful tensing of his abdominal muscles as they seize with cramps.

What might be a moment or an eon later, he feels himself being lifted into the air, which is weird because the only other people here are Ark and Corhz. And Corhz is gagged with his hands tied in the corner... Which means, this must be Ark. But Ark can’t carry him. Can he? Ryek tries to open his eyes, but he can’t. Or maybe they’re already open and he just can’t see. He lifts a hand instead and tangles it in the shirt of whoever’s carrying him. Then he turns his face and inhales deeply, confirming it’s Ark when he smells that heady scent of apple cobbler and sweat.

“What are you doing?” Ark asks, and there’s a hint of laughter in his voice. Almost hysterical.

“Wha... Corhz,” Ryek slurs, trying to think clearly. “Where is he?”

“Some other agents picked him up. You’ve been knocked out for a bit. I’m taking you home.” And suddenly Ryek can see again as Ark leans down and peers closer at his face. “Are you sick?”

Ryek shakes his head, at first just instinctively but then confirming it to be true. “No, my stomach just hurts.” Annnndddd he hadn’t meant to say that part. Great job, Ryek, admitting weakness to your greatest rival. Your greatest rival who is currently carrying you in his arms like you’re a helpless baby. Because you are currently a helpless baby.

“How long has it been hurting?” Ark asks, brow pinched.

Ryek shrugs and allows his eyes to flutter shut as he shifts to a more comfortable position in Ark’s steady arms. His stomach gurgles unhappily and he suppresses a small whimpering noise. What has gotten into him? “A while...”

Ark’s arms tighten a bit around him. “You should’ve said something.”

Ryek just shakes his head.

There’s no more talk until they reach the car. It’s a company mandated car, but Ark doesn’t think they’ll mind too much if he drives it to Ryek’s and returns it in the morning. He sets Ryek down in the passenger’s seat and feels his face heat as Ryek clings to his sweater a bit before letting go.

Worry gnaws at Ark’s chest as he drives. Ryek, whom many would consider the most formidable person on planet Earth, looks devastatingly small. He’s curled up a bit, cheek pressed against the cold glass of the window and eyes closed. An arm is wrapped firmly around his stomach.

When Ark pulls into Ryek’s massive driveway, he ever so gently shakes Ryek’s shoulder.

“Hey,” he says in a soft voice he hasn’t used in ages. “Time to wake up.”

Ryek’s eyes open blearily and he rubs at them with his fingers curled into a fist like a little kid. Ark swallows, something protective tightening dangerously in his chest.

“Do you need me to carry you again?” Ark asks. Ryek’s expression seems to clear at that and he firmly shakes his head. He somehow manages to make it into his house, but once inside, he nearly collapses onto the couch.

Ark, feeling like somewhat of a mother hen, moves quickly to his side. Instinctively, he smooths a dark curl behind Ryek’s ear, the pad of his thumb grazing his cheekbone. Ryek makes a soft sort of mewling noise and leans into the gentle touch. Ark wonders how often people touch him like this. He suspects probably never.

“Do you want me to make you some tea?” Ark asks, voice a low murmur. “Or anything at all?”

Ryek shakes his head once, fingers closing around Ark’s wrist as his face suddenly goes intensely grave. “Don’t. Don’t leave.”

Ark’s face flushes with heat. This isn’t like them. Not at all. “I won’t.”

Ryek’s stomach makes a low grumbling noise and he moans softly and shifts onto his back, palm splayed over his abdomen. Little gurgles and squelches sound from low in his tummy, and Ark watches as his brow creases further and further with pain.

Almost without thinking, Ark slips his hand beneath Ryek’s on his stomach and rubs a gentle circle. Ryek inhales sharply, muscles rippling beneath Ark’s hand, before his entire body relaxes.

“Is this... okay?” Ark asks quietly, and it feels like maybe he’s talking about the whole situation.

“Yeah,” Ryek murmurs. “More than okay.”

Ryek leans his head back against the armrest of the couch as Ark’s hand rubs slow circles into his stomach—gentle at first, and then with a bit more pressure as his abdominal muscles clench and spasm with unrelenting force. A low rumbling has begun to gurgle through his lower stomach, and Ryek exhales slowly as Ark smooths the heel of his palm back and forth over the aching area. Ark’s warm, callused fingers chase away every grumble and twinge plaguing Ryek’s middle.

As the pain dwindles down to a low feeling of discomfort, Ryek tugs on Ark’s wrist and pats the small area beside him. He doesn’t even think about it before doing it.

Ark also doesn’t think as he wordlessly climbs onto the couch next to Ryek and fits his arm around him. Doesn’t think as their bare ankles slide against each other. Doesn’t think as Ryek buries his face in the crook of his neck.

With thinking comes regrets, and whether they’ll admit it or not, they both want this too badly for that.

———

AHHH OKAY I’M SORRY BUT THIS IS SOME OF THE WORST WRITING I’VE HAD IN A WHILE and I don’t know why lol

I just cannot get in the groove :/

BUT I hope you still enjoyed it and hopefully this is temporary :)