#literally never done something like this before

[chiscaralight]

being roommates with kinich!! but you swear he hates you. he’s such pretty thing! but he almost never talks to you. he’ll do all the dishes, take out and fold your laundry and leave it on top of the washer dryer for you, he’ll clean when you’re not home and even leave food out for you when you get back late! but he just. won’t. speak to you!!!

and it’s driving you insane. you just want to get to know him! he’s gorgeous and he seems really sweet. he’s also built just the way you like. slender and toned, with the strongest gaze you’ve ever felt. is it so much to want to talk (and maybe fuck) your absolutely perfect roommate?

it’s driving you insane! so insane, that you start to miss when certain articles of clothes don’t come back from the laundry you pick up on top of the machine. maybe you didn’t actually put those panties in the bin this time, but who cares? kinich is shirtless while he does dishes this time, it’s the exact moment you need to pretend to watch something on tv!

and your sideward glances are not as slick as you think they are, because he knows exactly what you’re doing. it’s a ring from the doorbell that has you rolling your eyes, going to see who’s disturbing your peace while he licks the fork you used to eat the food he cooked a few hours ago. by the time you return, he’s already done, wiping down the counter and making his way back to his room wordlessly. you sigh in exasperation, you didn’t even get time to think about what fake story you could cook up to get him to talk to you! but as you groan at your misfortune in the living room, his fingers are wrapped hard around his cock, nose pressed into the underwear he’s stolen from you this time. It doesn’t take long before he’s making a mess around his hand, traces of your scent flooding his senses. but this pair is starting to lose its smell and he’s getting more and more fed up. how much longer can he keep this up before he breaks?

for you, it’s not much longer, because your fingers are deep in your cunt, thrusting in and out while you try to silence your sounds. you can’t even help the way his name slips from your mouth, you can’t even control it! it’s not your fault he’s been all over your mind for the past few weeks, at work, in classes, in the shower, it’s just too much for you!

and maybe you were just a bit louder than you expected, because your door is cracking open a few moments later, the afformentionef problem staring down at you ask you freeze up. he’s still deathly quiet as always, but he's practically jumping for joy in his mind. this is like a dream come true? you’ve basically been served to him on a silver platter, and he’ll make sure to not waste a single bite.

maybe a bit too literally, because your neck and chest are covered with love bites from his lips. one hand is holding one of yours above your head, the other very slowly brushing against your clit, big difference in the way he’s absolutely drilling into you. and you swear your seeing stars, moans morphing into cries as he angles up just the slightest bit, cock prodding against the walls of your cunt. it’s almost like magic, the way you feel. and he’s much less quiet now, because once his lips are on yours, he’s groaning into your mouth, teeth clashing with yours as he drags his lips downwards to sink his teeth into your skin again.

his build isn’t just for show either, because he’s flipping you over with such ease, holding your hips just where he needs them to be as he bullies his cock right back in.

kinich who now realizes how much power he holds over you, because whenever he even just as much passes by you, he can see your body tense up just the slightest bit. and he used it to his advantage! riling you up throughout the days with weird looks and soft touches, before ultimately deciding to bend you over the counter because he misses that cunt so much already </3

he’ll leave the door unlocked when he gets back, settling on the couch with speed so he can drag you onto his lap and have you ride him because it’s all he could think about in his classes.

and kinich that will beg you to let him cum in that sweet pussy just once, but between the two of you oh both know he’s lying. he’ll keep fucking his cum into you over and over, until he’s cumming inside you once again. he just can’t help it! you’re sucking him in so good like this, what did you expect him to do.

just like the way he took care of the little things, when you’re spent, on the verge of passing out on his cock, he’ll scoop you up and take you to his room, cleaning you up and wrapping you in his blankets so he can stay with you the entire night.

[ace-and-the-rpg-horrors]

i feel like some of the fandom is a bit harsh on Monty... like, trauma is definitely not an excuse, but it does give pretty much all of his actions an understandable explanation?

like... Monty was actively being abused by Esther in practically any scene they were together. he said something she didn't like, and she yelled and grabbed him threateningly. both of the times she transformed him, from crow to human and then back again, she literally stabbed and ripped him up in a really gory way.

i sure wonder why an evil witch's familiar who's constantly treated like that would follow her orders even if he disagreed with them!!

and considering that Esther is potentially one of the only humans Monty came into contact with before meeting the others, and she's like that - he turned out alright, didn't he? he's petty, a bit rude sometimes, and takes things personally, but generally, he's a shockingly decent person.

yes, he didn't take it well when Edwin rejected him. but, as others have pointed out - how was Monty genuinely meant to know any better? he had lived his whole life as a crow in a cage too small for him, where the only person he knew was his extremely nasty and cruel owner. and then, all of a sudden, he's forced into a new body and has humanity thrust upon him against his will. he explicitly expressed this discomfort himself when Esther degraded him for getting "too emotional" for her liking.

"i never asked to be human. with all these... feelings."

even after the bitterness of the rejection, Monty never actually wanted to hurt the Dead Boy Detectives. turns out, he didn't even know that Esther's plan intended to end them completely, and was so horrified upon finding out that he made an attempt to lead them to safety, which was, by the way, putting himself at massive risk. Esther already punished him likely under the assumption that he just didn't put enough effort into manipulating them - can you imagine what she'd have done to him if she knew about his last-minute attempt to actually save them?

of course, i don't think Edwin was wrong for not forgiving Monty. he deserved that. Monty still helped in the scheme that aimed to destroy him. he also fully deserved to reject Monty if he wanted to (conversely, i do also see people say that Edwin "could have handled it better," but honestly, i don't know if it's just me not being neurotypical or something, but i genuinely do not see how Edwin could have been nicer about it? he was straightforward and polite, then afterwards, still tried to be Monty's friend until the betrayal.)

however, Monty was still very much a victim himself, and any harm he did was not from his own will, instead motivated by fear of the terrifying witch who had him fully reliant upon her, often through both verbal and physical force. Esther never hesitated to hurt him. he was painfully aware of that. she didn't care about him beyond how useful he could be. and when he failed at that, her reaction was violent.

but he didn't have anyone else.

[hauntedjellyfishwitch-blog]

First off your writing is incredible. I was in literal tears reading your Daryl fic.

But I thought I'd send in a request, a jealous Daryl. Doesnt have to be established reader, pretty easy. I just like it when he's all riled up. 😂 Please and thank you

Jealousy

Summary: He could have just told her, couldn’t he? That would have been simple. He’d had to yell at her instead though, because Daryl can never do things the usual way round. Hand down her skirt and about to run away for the second time really was more his style.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader (No use of Y/N)

TW: Nervous!Daryl. Angst. Fluff. Friends to lovers. Alexandria era. Vague, very short smut.

A/N: Thank you for this request and the beautiful compliment! I may have rushed the editing a little so if you notice any errors please tell me!

It’s not that she’s been avoiding him, it’s the complete opposite, she’s absolutely, inarguably, infuriatingly normal. He’s clawing at the walls of his own brain and she’s acting as if everything is fine. Maybe it is, he thinks, maybe she’s over it, maybe she’s been over it since the second he screwed it up and he’s the only one still hanging on to whatever it was in the first place. He can’t even claim he’s hanging on to much, they’d barely even kissed and it was months ago, but he hadn’t exactly been good at this kind of thing before the world threw a damn apocalypse into the mix.

He’d loved her since the moment he’d heard her laugh. He’d found her in a cabin in the woods on a run, just after Woodbury had fallen, back when the prison was still strong. He didn’t want to bring her back, one more mouth to feed, one more person to keep an eye on, but she’d saved him from a rogue walker he hadn’t seen coming, shrugged like it was nothing, like she’d have done it for anyone. She’d offered him food and water, a rundown but relatively safe place to lay low for a few hours, she was kind. The words were tumbling from his lips before he’d really thought about them.

He’d avoided her for a good while, despite her efforts to befriend him, he’d lost so much already he didn’t want to let her in. But then he’d said something sarcastic, something snappy and prissy and she’d laughed; an honest to goodness belly laugh that had her head throwing back and him smiling from the side of his mouth despite himself and something deep in his chest felt warm.

So he’d loved her, quietly and from a distance. Safe. Until she’d kissed him.

He watches as she laughs, the same laugh, big and warm and real. It’s not aimed at him, and he hates it. After he’d run away from her, he worried he wouldn’t hear it again, but he’d been wrong, and this was worse. He taps his fingers against his thigh, trying to keep a scowl from his face. Failing. He thinks steam would come out of his ears if it were within the realm of possibility.

He’s always too late. Always takes too long to get comfortable. Always spends so long waiting that he misses out on the thing he wanted, and she’s not a thing but his blood is fucking boiling. At the man she’s talking to, at himself, at her too if he’s a little honest.

The man, who’s name he doesn’t know and now never wants to, is handsome. If you’re into that suburban, well groomed, boring kind of thing. He has a punchable face. Daryl is not allowed to punch people unless its necessary anymore, Rick has told him that explicitly but surely flirting with his…flirting with the woman he’s in lo…flirting with her makes it necessary.

He can’t stand the thought that he might not be the last person to kiss her lips. He can’t stand looking any longer, but he doesn’t mean for his knife to clatter loudly on the floor as he tries to flee. He doesn’t dare turn around, but he’d be able to tell she was looking at him even in pitch black. Knows she’s watching the solid, tense set of his shoulders as he retreats.

-

She startles at the sight of him sitting on her porch, quickly schooling her face into the nonchalance she’s been practicing around him since they arrived. It was easy enough, on the road, to pretend he hadn’t hurt her. They were so busy trying to survive, so busy being busy that she could avoid an inevitable conversation where she’d had to apologise for getting their wires crossed.

But since they’ve been behind the walls of Alexandria? She can’t stop herself from searching him out, finding excuses to be near him, trying to act like they were back at the prison. Friends. She can do friends. She has been absolutely nailing being just friends, as long as she can ignore the tightness in her chest and the way she feels like she’s going to cry every time she walks away. Friends.

She flips the knife in her hand with ease, shielding his hand from the blade as she passes it back to him. He nods his thanks as he squints up at her.

“What crawled up your ass tonight?” She asks, but there’s a teasing smile on her face as leans against the railing to her house. The porch light is dim, warm golden yellow illuminating them. Daryl hasn’t been one for a lot of words in a long time, but he intends to bat the question away, distract her with something funny, something acerbic but good natured. Friendly, he can do friendly. He can’t, could barely do it on the road after everything happened. Now though, when she’s showered and brushed her hair and dressed up, lit up by a damn porch light? He doesn’t stand a chance.

“Dun’ kiss him”

“What the fuck?”

Fists clenching to calm himself down, unfurling them when he feels more grounded, he looks up at her again, daring to lock his eyes onto hers.

“Ya like him…tha’ guy?” He tries to keep his voice steady, hopes she doesn’t understand he’s begging her to say no, begging for her to give him a chance, but how many can one man have?

“Why are you asking me this?”

“Dun’ kiss him, please” He asks again, with a shake of his head, knocking his hair in front of his eyes as the ground in front of him becomes the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. She sighs quietly, but the sound reverberates in his brain, he can hear the disappointment that weighs it down, the disappointment he’d hoped to avoid by avoiding talking about this thing between them entirely.

“I’m not having this conversation with you on the porch” She pushes herself off the railing, turning to open the front floor. She means for him to leave but he follows her inside, tapping his fingers nervously against his thigh as he closes the door behind him. Every part of his body is telling him to run.

“I know I ain’t got no right t’ ask”

“No, you don’t. Why are you asking?”

“‘cause I can’t stand it”

“Why do you care?”

“’cause ya shouldn’t be wit’ him!”

“Who should I be with then, Daryl? Huh?” He doesn’t respond, not that she expects him to, head hanging low toward the ground “You have no answer, because it’s not you, is it? You didn’t want me!”

“I didn’t-what?”

He’d tried to make it obvious, had given her extra food, had nudged her shoulder with his, had talked to her more than anyone else. But she’d tried to kiss him and he’d fled, had retreated safely back into the comfort of his walls. Then he’d come back. He’d kissed her and again he’d fled. Daryl Dixon is the human embodiment of emotional whiplash. He knows he’s not easy, but he thought at least he’d been clear, he can’t imagine the way he looks at her has ever been subtle.

“I did want ya”

Her mind thinks over the weeks he’s been standoffish, the time he’s spent avoiding her touches, thinks back the first week they’d arrived here and he’s barely spoken a word, all the while watching her with an intensity that would have been uncomfortable if she hadn’t wanted his attention.

“I can’t do this, you can’t play with my head because you’re jealous all of a sudden”

“Ain’t jealous” He argues, knowing they both know he’s lying, but he still, even now, won’t let himself be vulnerable. “I know I fucked up, ‘kay? I know, but I’m ‘ere now!”

He snarls, frustrated and bordering on vicious, practically diving towards her as his hands grip her hips tight enough to bruise. He smashes his lips against hers, unpractised and clumsily before his brain catches up and he goes to pull away. Her response is so fast he doesn’t get a chance, dragging him back in as his brain shuts down.

The kiss is hard, angry and fast, all hip bones pressing into hip bones and teeth clacking against teeth. It’s not the romantic, affectionate start she was hoping for. It’s not the gentle steady and slow he was. She’s angry, he is too she can feel it in his body as he presses it against her.

The room spins, air thick and foggy with months’ worth of frustration, tension so thick it could be cut, it’s only when he swallows a heady, deep moan from her that he realises he needs more. Tongue sweeping into her mouth he grips the fabric of her skirt in his hand, bunching it up until he can reach an insistent, rough calloused hand inside her underwear, ripping his lips away from hers to heave a breath in. She’s soaked, dripping around his fingers and he’ll have time to be absolutely fucking floored by that when he recounts this later. His forehead sticks to hers as she moans.

It’s not that he hasn’t had trysts before, it’s just that they were short and unimportant, he’s barely been confident enough to use his hands. He wants to touch her in the right way, wants to know what he’s doing but she’s snaking a hand into his trousers and wrapping her fingers around his cock so thinking isn’t the top of his priorities right now.

It feels incredible, and in the vague recess of his brain he thinks he should have done this at a pace he'd be more comfortable with but he hasn’t done this in years, and barely successfully then so its not long before he comes all over her hand, whining as his head dips down to pant heavily against her collarbone. His fingers still, embarrassed and suddenly full of crippling self-doubt. She knows he’s going to remove them about a second before he does.

A thud echoes through the suddenly too big room as she tips her head back to hit the wall behind her.

“You leaving?” She lets out an incredulous laugh, hurt, betrayed, surprisingly unsurprised. The zip on his trousers seems louder than anything she’d yelled at him less than an hour before. It feels like an eternity before she lowers her head to look at him, doesn’t bother to mask the absolute disappointment on her features.

“I-uh-yeah-I”

She can practically see the walls slamming back up around him, the walls she’s been watching for weeks. A tear rolls down her cheek as he turns away from her, heading towards the front door.

“You don’t get another chance with me, Daryl” the finality in her voice makes him pause, hand on the doorknob. She sighs, hating that she’s about to give him the grace she is “You need to make up your mind, because I’m not waiting for you, not again. If you’re not certain by tomorrow you need to leave me alone”

The shaky nod from him is so small its almost imperceptible.

-

She’s not expecting the knock on her door as soon as the sun is up, really she isn’t. The whole night has been sleepless and filled to the brim with dread, knowing for sure that he wants her but fully believing he will never be able to let himself have her. She isn’t unaware of Daryl’s tendency to self-destruct. Maybe this is it, she thinks, maybe he values her enough as a friend if nothing else, to tell her face to face, but he’d never been able to before and the tiniest hint of hope lights her up as she treads carefully down the stairs.

Daryl stands there with a small, nervous but hopeful smile on his face. The hope hasn’t missed him, either. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, so out of his depth he might as well be drowning, but the knowledge that she wants this too means he’d rather fumble his way through this with her than do well without her.

“I’m a’ idiot”

“Yes you are” She laughs, setting him alight on the inside. The laugh that started al of this, almost. Doubt underneath her voice is the thing that finally settles it for him, makes him pull her towards him, gentle this time, the way he’d wanted. He’ll never let her doubt his feelings even when he doubts himself.

“I always wanted ya” he murmurs against her lips before closing the distance.

“You’re not going to run away again?”

“Ain’t runnin’, ain’t ever runnin’ again”

[decolonize-the-everything]

Found a new doctor and they were able to cram me in today.

Showed her my list of symptoms from my phone, she looked at my history, we talked for a bit, and then right off the bat she's starts throwing out possibilities lile POTS, fibro, & long COVID which was soooo reassuring because all my other doctors I've seen wrote off my symptoms as anxiety after labs came back normal.

She said she couldnt do a tilt test and said cardiologists probably wouldn't either without some weird test results BUT she could (and did) do a make shift tilt test right on the spot and what do you know! I got hella dizzy and my heart rate spiked way up.

She said I definitely have Something going on with my heart that's affected by posture but my blood pressure didn't change much so it's not likely POTS. She's getting me a referral for a cardiologist since I have no auto immune markers and is hesitant to prescribe me meds when we don't know what's up with my heart and said the cardiologist should call within two weeks.

She agrees I definitely have Something but with such a wide range of symptoms it'll be hard to test for and hard to find. She did some other labs while I was there and I got results for those before my gf and I even finished driving home 😭💗

She's already done so much more than any other doctor. Validated I'm not crazy and didn't tell me it was all in my head, and she didn't write off long COVID either!! She ordered more blood labs too, so she can get a bigger picture of my baseline since I last got labs (I gotta get those done tomorrow after the caffeine from this morning is out of my system tho).

I can't stop crying.

I feel like shit and I have a headache from the almost-tilt-test and I don't have a diagnosis yet either but I've literally never felt better about a doctor. I've never had any confidence that the person treating me was competent enough or up to date enough on COVID effects but she is!!

[nativegirltapes]

hiii. what would a normal week look like for angel and drew? like what do they do together everyday of the week!? love ur writing

⸻ ┊͙ a week with angel & drew ! (younger!reader)

notes: i literally love this question i have never thought about this before, thank you nonnie <3 this was so fun to write 😭 these are just some ideas btw and all for fun <3

𐙚 monday

mondays start with drew waking up angel extra early to come hit the gym with him! she’s always complaining about not going the gym enough, but complains when drew tries waking her up. as a reward after the gym, drew lets angel pick breakfast for the morning, & pays of course!

𐙚 tuesday

tuesdays are more of an independent day for the both of them. drew has zoom interviews or whatever he has going on for work! and angel is sleeping in, cleaning around the house, then taking herself to the mall before heading to her night lab! drew usually has dinner cooked and ready when she comes home <3

𐙚 wednesday

on wednesday’s angel is waking up early to get some errands done and go to her 11am class, when she gets home drew usually has fresh cut flowers out for her. to which she always acts super dramatic and gets all lovey for her man, clinging to him for the rest of the day.

𐙚 thursday

thursdays are chiller days, drew helps angel study for upcoming exams or just with homework. but of course she’s still complaining about having to study, her reasoning being ‘it’s too hard to focus when you’re big biceps are staring at me, begging for me to take a bite.’ (let’s just say no studying actually ever gets done)

𐙚 friday

fridays are angels favorite day, she gets drew allllll to herself. they usually find something fun to do; shopping, walk in the park, local farmers market, or staying in and watching movies. all before angel gets all glammed up for their weekly dinner date <3 drew always takes her somewhere fancy. angel ends up drinking too much wine at dinner and acts like a feral animal when they get home.

𐙚 saturday

on saturdays angel is usually out spending time with her girl friends & drew is either with his friends or getting some alone time at their apartment! when angel comes home she tells drew all about her day and he’s so happy to listen. listening is literally his love language idc

𐙚 sunday

sunday dread hits angel and she doesn’t want to get out of bed!!! drew is either cleaning up around the house or also rotting away in bed with her. but after drew can finally convince her to get out of bed they go for a walk around town and spend some quality time together (like they don’t spend every waking minute together….)

[signanothername]

So, I know you've admitted to never reading For the Forgotten Ones, but I will note it has some very fanon Nightmare + MTT. And, so, it made me wonder;

the concept is just Ink being stopping from destroying his own SOUL by Nightmare, who takes him in. Ink ends up as a healer, before eventually discovering that he's Protector of Creation. Loosest way to describe the plot as possible. Could go more in detail if you'd ever like. BUT BACK TO THE THING I WAS WONDERING!!!!!!!!

How would that go with your version of Nightmare and the gang? With Nightmare finding the small, skeleton (small enough to be a kid), who has almost no knowledge of how the word works, and stubbornly refuses to ever fight or hurt or destroy, to the point he learns green magic, and barely anything else (he only learns his own magic aside from green), and Ink wants them all to be okay at the end of the day. How would that go with him? Even more so, what about MTT? In the story, Horror's the most chill with Ink, they're vibing. Dust/Murder is kinda vibing with Ink, arguably the two closest to Ink in the beginning. Killer is.....it takes a good minute for him to warm up to this one(Will say, at some point Ink falls into another AU o accident when opening a portal for the first time, nearly dies, is soaking wet ad scared, and he's given one of MTT's jackets, AND IT GOES DOWN TO HIS KNEES, I NEED YOU TO PICTURE THIS PLEASE....it was Killer's). By the end they're found family, but I really love your version of everyone, and I started rereading ftfo, when I wondered how different this could be if it were a DIFFERENT multiverse, a.k.a., your iteration?

Oh it’s definitely extremely different chhchc

I’m sorry to say that my multiverse isn’t much of a merciful one hchchchchc (I wouldn’t say my multiverse is a sad one, but it’s certainly a bittersweet one)

Biggest difference? Nightmare won’t even think of getting Ink under him or get him inside his castle to begin with

To Nightmare, That’s just another random Sans in this vastly wide multiverse, he already got 3, he doesn’t need another, sure, the circumstances of this particular Sans are interesting to say the least, but by that point, there’s nothing Ink could offer Nightmare at all except for his misery and negativity, but again, he already got 3 negativity meals that continuously feed him anyway, and this entire place is nothing but white void, so Nightmare has nothing interesting to be offered, there is literally no reason Nightmare would feel like he needs to change his routine to include a random skeleton who’s best they ever done is sit down and sulk

And hey, if being in this white void makes them miserable then who’s Nightmare to stop them from being miserable? :)

He’ll come in, take one look at them and their Au, get out, simple as that, and even if this random Sans had something to offer, Nightmare would simply settle for making a deal and leaving them there (no open positions for another member in his gang)

So basically the entire plot of the fic won’t even happen with my Nightmare, the fic is just gonna be reduced to a oneshot wheeze gchchcch

But for the sake of this ask, let’s imagine that my Nightmare did actually take Ink in, let’s explore how that would go

Another big difference? It’s Killer that’s gonna “warm up” to Ink first, (ngl, never understood the notion of Killer being the aggressive one cchhcch), i put “warm up” in quotes cause in reality it’s less warming up and more like, “wow! A change of pace? Something new? Interesting gotta squeeze every info outta them and maybe even manipulate them to suit me and convenient me while i’m at it”

Killer is social in nature, and unless Ink somehow reminds him of his own misary, there’s no reason Killer would pass up the opportunity to see how this new guy ticks, he’d study Ink like an ant, dissect them in his mind even, i mean, Nightmare getting someone new? He knows Nightmare isn’t one who likes change in his routine so what’s the new guy got that actually caught Nightmare’s interest this much?

All that aside, Killer is actually extremely docile to anyone as long as they don’t push him or force something upon him, and even when pushed, Killer is surprisingly patient and would simply let them get it out of their system all while making it clear he wants to be left alone until he loses that patience, so unless Ink somehow genuinely and actively pushes Killer’s buttons, he’ll never get on Killer’s nerves/bad side, Killer would simply treat Ink like he treats anyone, no genuine connection, just another thing (not person) to study and analyze

If Killer were to attack Ink in any way, it’s less aggression, and more “let’s see what this guy can do” just a quick test for his new lab rat

Killer wouldn’t form any genuine emotional connection with Ink, to Killer, Ink is just another toy Nightmare wanted to get for himself, and that’s talking about Stage 2, Stage 1 is… outta commission, I don’t think Ink would truly have the chance to meet Stage 1 Killer, meeting Stage 3 is a big possibility, but let’s hope Ink doesn’t have to cause I don’t think Ink would know how to deal with him

Murder and Horror are a different story, Horror wouldn’t want anything to do with the new guy, he already got a ton to deal with, he’s not interested to add another problem to his pile of problems, I wouldn’t say Horror would be aggressive, more passive aggressive, Horror is the old tired guy™ in the group, he’s got a splitting headache most of the time, a bitchy boss, hunger eating away at him and a Killer he would like to choke sometimes, he isn’t really in the mood to make friends

But as long as Ink doesn’t bother him, Horror would simply just co-exist with them, and even answer their questions or converse with them, but all in a “hurry up i want a nap” attitude

Horror has the capacity to warm up to Ink, but it’ll be a long slow journey till there, and Ink would have to do all the work cause Horror sure as hell won’t be the one trying to form a connection with him

Murder is a bit on the aggressive side, but not too much, just enough to make it very clear he isn’t up for making friends either, a bit of a cold shoulder if you will, but generally, Murder would just keep his distance, not trusting Ink too much, a bit paranoid about who he might be and why Nightmare brought them in considering they don’t look like they’d fit in their band of misfits at all

Still, Murder would warm up to Ink eventually if he truly realizes that Ink isn’t really that much of a bad guy, just another lost unfortunate soul that had miserable luck in life that Nightmare found them first

I’d say Murder is the one that might form a friendship with Ink, a twisted form of friendship where it’s “you’re now tolerable and so i might lend a hand here and there but every man for himself”, definitely not a rose filled friendship where it’s all rainbows, but a friendship nonetheless

But still, Murder is kinda the opposite to Killer, Killer is docile, Murder is hostile, so if Ink were to be hurt by one if the MTT first, it’s most likely Murder’s doing

But in general, it’s Killer that’s gonna help Ink “catch up” and get up to date on how things go around the castle and in general, it’s pretty much his job as he’s Nightmare’s right hand man, so if anything happens or if Ink steps outta line which could’ve been prevented had Killer done his job by properly introducing Ink to their “work flow”, it’s an 80% possibility that Killer is the one that’s gonna be in trouble

Don’t Imagine Killer doing his job in the sense of actual genuine love to help and more, cold distant “here’s how you can survive” without much emotion behind it even, just Killer smiling his dead smile and chatting it up, and even going as far as physical harm for “demonstration purposes”

When it comes to Nightmare and his relationship with Ink… there isn’t any, Nightmare sees Ink as another asset, another miserable soul to do his bidding, if Nightmare somehow deals with Ink’s refusal to hurt anyone then two things might happen:

1- Nightmare tortures Ink with his fear of white spaces and if things continue they way they do, and Nightmare reaches his limit, he’d simply try killing Ink off (now whether that would work is really up to you)

And

2- would let Ink warm up to MTT, then use them as scapegoats to force Ink to do what he wants by torturing them every time Ink decides to be stubborn (even going as far as making an example without any actual reason and demonstrating it by breaking one of MTT’s bones like twigs as Ink watches)

Now MTT would definitely start pressuring Ink to do his “job” to just murder someone or hurt them, as they aren’t looking forward to Nightmare torturing them just cause Ink wants to hold on to such delusional ideologies, and maybe even ending up feeling a lot of distaste for Ink and his behavior, their environment wasn’t meant for good intentions to blossom, and they’re gonna teach Ink that

If Ink somehow got stuck with Nightmare and his lil gang then man, I genuinely pity him

I feel like Ink would crave a tiny bit of genuine connection after being stuck in a white void for so long, but Nightmare and MTT don’t have that genuine connection, MTT are just roommates barely tolerating each other who live in absolute horrendous conditions under an abusive boss in an abusive environment, where the nicest most genuine thing one of them might do is tell you “hey don’t talk to boss today he’ll make you relive your worst nightmares, yeah, he’s in a mood today it seems”, and then there’s Nightmare who would make Ink extremely miserable and would use Ink’s fear of white spaces against him like the cruel sadistic bastard he is

Nightmare gang isn’t a found family, it’s a group of forced enslavement and labor, and there’s no escaping it

(The image of Killer’s jacket reaching Ink’s knees is really adorable tho, have a sketch for it :D)

[periprose]

Can I have a Logan Howlett x Angel!Fem!Reader where Logan sees the reader in the kitchen having a bit of a meltdown and uncomfortable feeling over holding a knife (for like, cooking reasons or smth) and he calms her down because the reader just doesn’t want to hurt anyone :(? I’d appreciate it thanks! (I’ve seen you wanted more Angel reader, so im here to reciprocate :3)

AHhhh this fits so well Anon (maybe unintentionally so, the previous fic had a little snippet about Angel's mom trying to stab her when she was young...) but I love your brain. I made it a bit longer and added some stuff and it's set before the previous Logan Gains a Guardian Angel fic (LGGA for short) so they're not together yet.

Knives Drip Chocolate (or, Logan Gains a Guardian Angel)

Word Count: 2.9k

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt with comfort, mutual pining, idiots in love, mild traumatic flashback stuff (but no violence)

LGGA Masterlist

Logan is always ready for a late-night snack.

It’s hard for him to feel full, a lot of the time– he didn’t always have the easiest access to food, and he’s known for a while, if there’s a brief period in his immortal-like life where he can just relax about food and supplies, he shouldn’t take that for granted. 

Plus with an accelerated healing factor, sometimes his body starts digesting food too quickly, leading to faster body repair, but nothing to feel satisfied about.

So he’s got tons of cravings. Something that you are constantly bothered about, even now, as Logan knocks on your door, asking yet again if you’d accompany him to the kitchen.

Not that you actually mind. Sometimes you think you’d follow Logan into hell if he asked nicely enough, despite your occasionally evasive attitude keeping him on his toes.

“Angel, please. I’m starving.” Logan’s grumpy complaints are muffled behind your door, and you wonder why a nearly 200 year old man needs you so badly, to be by his side, when he’s spent so long being a loner.

“I’m coming.” You yawn, pulling yourself out of your bed– Storm is your roommate, and she’s passed out, stone cold. You quickly finger comb your hair, and fix your giant t-shirt, so your shoulder isn’t so exposed.

Silly, because you know Logan doesn’t care.

It’s bad. It’s really, really bad, because you don’t want to get attached to Logan, not when he’s sure to toss you aside like he’s done with the rest of them eventually. But you can’t help yourself– Logan is easy to be around, he knows your fears and little quirks, and he has never treated you like you’re so different for being a little quiet, like him. 

You know everyone has noticed. When you open your bedroom door, and Logan stares at you for a moment– an unreadable, soft glance in his eyes, one that you could choose to ignore, but don’t, as you stare back at him– you know all the other X-Men see it. Some silly crush you have on him, that clearly confuses Logan himself as he shakes his head, and pulls you by the arm out of your room, your PJs and hair askew.

Logan himself looks good, you have to admit– wearing lazy sweatpants and a white tank-top, his arm muscles looking especially defined tonight– and you pull your arm away, embarrassed that you give into these feelings so easily.

He’s only ever going to be your best friend. Even now, there’s nothing romantic about the way Logan asks if you want a ham and cheddar sandwich, too. He’s just looking out for you. 

Jean, Scott, and Storm have literally asked you, more than once, if you and Logan had maybe slept together, or kissed, or anything that would be a culmination of some supposed lust, in which case you always laugh awkwardly and deny everything. 

Your excuse is that it’s deeper than that, and it’s one-sided. What would be the point of bringing it up if it would just end in heartbreak?

“Earth to Angel.” Logan shakes your arm, breaking your stride. “Hey, that’s kind of funny, isn’t it? You’re always up in Heaven. Daydreaming about who the hell knows what.”

“Haha, Logan.” You mockingly say in a deadpan voice. “What is it?”

“Your wings are flexing a little bit, again, like they’re about to open. They’re kind of pulsing.” He says it in a soft tone, ushering in some concern he has, and you find yourself wishing that you were someone normal, someone that Logan didn’t have to care so much about. 

It’s not that you’re not happy to have his concern, it’s just that you don’t know what to do with it. Thank him for it? You have never been used to people looking out for you.

“It’s fine. Sometimes I get muscle spasms, it’s nothing to worry about.” You mutter, knowing it has to do with anxiety, but Logan looks a bit unconvinced.

“Okay. But if you keep having weird tremors, I’m taking you to the hospital wing so you can get diagnosed.” Logan states, and you open your mouth to argue, but he tuts. “No arguing about this. Last thing we need is for you to die from stress or cancer or something.”

Your heartbeat quickens, not at the mention of cancer, but because Logan used we and now you’re just thinking about how you’re always together.

Not like that, though.

“Okay, Logan. I get it.” You shake your head. “I won’t die.” 

“Not yet. We got snacks to eat.” Logan agrees, as he leads you into the kitchen.

/

Logan’s got you working on making hot chocolate as he makes the sandwiches, pan-frying them till the cheese is hot and melty. 

It’s not really a common mix, you think, but you’re just happy to be helping.

“Careful. Milk boils over fast.” Logan comments from next to you, mostly focused on his own side of the stove, and you roll your eyes.

“I know that.” You retort, but as you look away from the stove for one second, the pot of milk nearly does boil over, and you swear, reducing the heat quickly.

Logan starts laughing. “Told you.”

You shove him lightly, and he has a stupid grin on his face, one where you know Logan takes such joy in teasing you at times. Like this is one of the greatest pleasures in life.

You move the milk over to the counter, to let it cool, and then remember something semi-important. 

“Logan? Don’t forget, Scott wanted extra ham for the Hawaiian pizza they’re making tomorrow–” As you’re reminding him, Logan wordlessly shows you the empty ham package, telling you that he used all of it for the sandwiches.

“You snooze, you lose.” Logan shrugs, and you close your eyes in partial defeat, trying not to laugh at his antics.

“I guess, but you never seem to lose, and Scott’s always chewing me out for your ‘mistakes.’” You point at yourself, tongue poking through the side of your mouth, and Logan raises his eyebrows. “Tell me: Am I snoozing, or are you just lucky that I take the blame?”

“Ah, Angel… you’re obviously asleep.” Logan smirks, and you scoff at his audacity, having expected a semi-apology from him. “No one ever said you had to take the blame for my snacks. You could’ve just told him it was Jean, and he wouldn’t have asked any questions.”

You blink at him. “Lying to our team’s leader aside, why Jean?”

“C’mon. Scott’s crazy over her, they’ve been together for however long, and he can never say no to her. It’s the perfect excuse– he wouldn’t even ask her about missing food, so not to offend his sweetheart.” Logan pauses, a thoughtful look taking over his features, and he scratches his chin. “I guess love really is blind.”

“Wow. You had that takeaway based on gaslighting both Scott and Jean? You really are an unfeeling old man.” You giggle, and Logan glances over at you, his face heating up at your laugh, a sweet sound that always pushes a warmth into his chest.

If Logan was honest, he understands Scott perfectly. Sure, he could play the part of the curmudgeonly old man, and lie to you– but in truth, he was doing that because he likes you.

Just like Scott. Logan likes you so much, that he would honestly lie to you just to protect your relationship– whether that be about missing food, or if you talk about some other dude someday, and he has to pretend he’s all ecstatic for you, as he often worries about. 

He knows it’s bad. And he doesn’t like it, either. Logan insists to himself, in pure self denial, that this love he has for you doesn’t exist, because he would rather be given even a little bit of your presence as a friend, than to be entirely shut out by you upon imminent rejection.

But even he knows he protests too much. Of course he loves you, how could he not?

Logan thinks of you as his personal guardian Angel. It’s silly, of course– but you’re the one who helps him make better choices, doing the right thing more often than not. He’s an idiot– you’re a beautiful genius of a woman, and it bothers him so deeply that you keep to yourself.

He looks over at you. You’re chopping up a bar of dark chocolate, and your gaze is intensely focused– Logan has seen the same expression on you when you’re beating up a bad guy. You’re thinking, murmuring something to yourself, probably thinking about hot chocolate.

Your eyes turn wide, glassy, and you inhale sharply.

Logan immediately comes to your side. “Angel?”

Logan’s voice doesn’t fully register to you.

The knife gleams in the low lighting of the kitchen, as you turn it over and over in your hand, dark brown chocolate smudging the blade, and then you look down to your palms.

Where your hands are covered in dark, melted chocolate, after you’ve been holding the chocolate bar to chop it up– the liquid is almost amber in hue. 

“...blood.” You whisper something unintelligible, but Logan catches the last word.

You retch to yourself, hyperventilating over the counter, back hunched over, the knife still clenched in your palm.

“Angel, hey–” Logan squeezes his way between the counter and your right arm, where your hand is holding the knife, and he firmly pulls it away from you, grabbing it blade-first without even thinking about it, and you gasp, shouting at him to get away.

Logan stops, at a loss for words. You’re trembling, you’re no longer holding the knife, but you can’t stop looking at your hands.

He grabs your arms a bit more gently, turning you towards him, and you’re lost in some train of thought that Logan can’t stop.

Mom sliced up one of my hands once… it’s been years, but it looked just like this.

Then I got her back, by accident… it was an accident, Angel.

“What’s wrong?” Logan looks down at you in fear, worry that something may actually be very wrong, and you haven’t told him a thing.

He thinks he shouldn’t have assumed you were always alright. He knows you aren’t– he just finds it difficult to surpass your avoidant attitude. He’s never seen you have a full blown panic attack like this before.

Your wings are subtly twitching again, folded against your back, but threatening to open up to full expanse, and you shake your head, lip quivering, as you look down at the floor.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” You utter so softly, so heartbreakingly tiny, and Logan feels himself turning cold at your words, wondering if you’d really done something that terrible.

With a kitchen knife, of all things. He wants to hug you firmly now.

He knows even if it was true– there’s no way that was your fault, no way Logan wouldn’t have sussed that out based on instinct. 

“It isn’t…” Logan starts, wanting to say it wasn’t your fault, but he doesn’t know how that will go over with you. “You’re not going to hurt anyone. Where is that coming from?”

“Just a bad memory.” You say with a shaky breath, the most information you’re willing to give him at this moment, and you know– you know– Logan is never going to be satisfied with that answer.

You don’t want to scare him off. This is the first time you could even say you have a best friend, and you don’t want Logan to pity you or feel like you were incapable of taking care of yourself. You don’t want him to see you like your mother did.

Logan frowns. Then, instead of asking you a question, he traces the back of your wings, which causes a shiver in your body.

You close your eyes, expecting to feel tense, scared, and horrified, but instead you feel calm, almost placid. Being touched by Logan makes you feel like everything is going to be alright.

Your wings stop shaking, and Logan hands you a wet paper towel. You wipe your chocolatey hands, which puts you at ease, seeing your clean hands again. 

“Sorry. I don’t mean to make you my caretaker.” You whisper, always worried about others’ perception of you, and Logan shakes his head.

“I don’t mind, Angel. As long as you’re alright.” Logan has a tentative look on his face, and you’re almost embarrassed, that you like being taken care of so badly, and he hugs you tightly, arms wrapped around your back, a near bone crushing hug that has you nestled in his chest, fit under his jaw as he places his head on top of yours.

Your heartbeat slows down. You’re not panicking any more, but it seems like Logan, too, is reaping some sort of benefit by being so close to you. He inhales deeply, and the sigh rumbles through his chest into you.

You could almost cry. You spent so much of your childhood never being close to anyone, and being held is cathartic in a way you can’t even describe.

Logan doesn’t let go until you do. Then he has the audacity to look a little sheepish, like he had done something un-Logan and uncool, and you almost feel pained, like you should push him away, and go to sleep on your own.

It’s such an odd feeling, to both want his concern, and to wish you never needed to do so.

You stare up at him, and Logan smiles, a soft smile that he hopes reads as comforting rather than a snarl, and you can’t help yourself for what you ask next.

“Could I sleep in your room?” You ask, biting back the immediate disclaimers of it’s okay if you don’t want to. “I’m just better when I’m around you.”

There’s also the thing of waking up Storm if you enter back in now, and explaining that you had yet another panic attack. She’ll be mad.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay.” Logan murmurs, wondering if you meant to make that sound so devotedly sweet, something that causes his insides to seize a little.

He feels better around you, too.

You’re usually good at hiding this side of yourself from him– it’s another step deeper, another step too far into your relationship to take back– and now you worry you’ll never really be able to separate.

Logan ruffles your hair, and all is right again.

/

He makes you eat at least a bite of the sandwich, and sip a little hot chocolate– the rest is placed in the fridge for some other mutant to eat.

Logan won’t let you go to sleep without a meal, or in this case a few nibbles, if he can help it.

“Moods are worse on an empty stomach.” Logan grins, and you smile, feeling a little more at ease.

“You’re not you when you’re hungry.” You joke, and Logan rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, save that for when we’re pilfering Kurt’s Snickers bars.” He snorts. 

Logan leads you to his room, oddly silent the entire time. It’s not that Logan isn’t typically quiet, it’s that it feels more tense. He’s keeping to himself, and he doesn’t seem to have anything against you– he has only a kind expression for you, when you meet his eyes.

Finally, you both arrive to his bedroom door. Logan is lucky– he doesn’t have to room with anyone– and you’ve been in here plenty of times.

Still, that doesn’t explain why it takes him a second to enter in the room, as you follow him in.

It’s sparsely decorated in here– one poster of the Calgary Flames is on Logan’s wall, and there’s a mug with random, assorted pens on his desk. His bed has never been filled with loads of stuffed animals and pillows like other X-Men (read: Jubilee) would have. There’s a pile of assorted flannels, jackets, and scarves hanging off a coat rack.

It’s comforting, though. Logan is a simple man, and you like being close enough to understand him, to see the small remnants of things he likes.

“Well. The bed’s there, if you’d like. Don’t let me stop you.” Logan points to the bed, and he starts walking towards the leather recliner next to the window.

“Logan. Stop.” You grab him by the arm, and he pauses, slightly scared, mostly enthused by what you’ll say next. “It’s okay with me if we sleep next to each other.”

“...Okay.” Logan watches as you climb into his bed, hoping it’s comfortable, and doing a weird thing of personally memorizing the way you lay and snuggle down, in case you never do this again.

You’re next to the wall, so Logan stays on his side, lying down close to the edge of the bed. And you’re keeping your distance– so is he.

You turn, and Logan is already looking at you. He glances away.

“Good night, Angel.” Logan utters softly, and with that, you turn to your side, to fall asleep.

/

When Logan wakes up, he freezes, so not to move you. Somehow, through out the night, you ended up snuggled around him, sprawled against his chest, your arms lightly wrapping around him.

He loves it. He’s glad to see he’s been useful for once– he gave you a good night’s sleep.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hey so I’m aware that people have different refractory periods. What do I do if I’m a one and done kind of girl? I can never go for longer even though I’d like to. I have maybe max two minutes and then a really mild orgasm, and then get too sensitive to continue. It takes a long time to get back to baseline (5-10m?). I worry that it will pose an issue with my future partners, if I get tired or run out of steam almost immediately. Are there ways to extend this that I can work on?

hi anon,

first off, five to ten minutes is. not a long time AT ALL. and that's a very reasonable amount of time to fill with other activities before you go for another round, if you want to! make out with your partner(s), cuddle, do something that only involves their genitals for a while or focus on a non-genital part of your own body. have a little check in to see how everybody's feeling. run to the bathroom, get a snack, hydrate. literally just play around, you know? if someone can't handle just hanging out for 5-10 minutes they're mmm probably not someone you want to make a habitual sexual partner.

[iloveyanderes]

EVEN MORE YANDERE/SAGAU IDEAS!!!!!!!!!!! WITH A LITTLE LESS YANDERE ON THE SIDE😉 BECAUSE I FORGOT TO INCORPORATE IT BETTER

1.A girl gets isekai’d after a boy she’d bullied had enough and killed her. She woke up in the body of a really kind girl in genshin that everyone is obsessed with, she decided to pretend to be this girl as a means of survival, as these people would most likely kill her if they found out she wasn’t that kind little girl. Along the way She met a boy who ended up being her first true friend, making her realize what she has done and wrong giving her the courage to want to change. Just when she got better leading to the path of redemption the boy was found dead completely crushing any type of kindness in her heart, she realized all the genshin characters had killed him so she vowed to kill them all but not before ruining all of there lives first(I actually attempted to write this a long time ago on wattpad but it never went into fruition, so this might seem familiar)

2.Small sagau idea but it goes like this: girl has golden blood for a completely different reason then the sagau idea, ends up in genshin and everyone mistakes her for the creator and she's freaking out trying to convince everyone she's not the creator

3.Genshin impact x Ichigo from tokyo mew mew reader. With your transformation, cat ears and tail, and the actual ability to turn into a cat everyone is trying to get a reaction out of you(look online and you’ll understand why) I'd imagine yae would take advantage of it with the whole gorou situation as proof. Also there is no way inazuma doesn’t have a bunch of light novels or manga on magical girls

4.Dragon reader vs bird reader. You’ll get no further explanation

5.Sagau idea where instead of the reader being the creator they are a holy saint/saintness who's supposed to represent the creator as their prophet who will feel nothing but utter devotion when they see the creator. However on the day that you prophesied the creator would descend something goes wrong, when you lay your eyes on them the only thing you feel is fear and disgust. It’s immediately prevalent that This is not the creator but a demon, everyone else believes this to be the creator however so you can’t really do anything without the fear of being killed or worse, so you resolve to find the true creator while pretending to still love this demon. Meanwhile the demon is someone who always believed themselves to be better then the creator, they’re jealousy blinded them until it turned into envy where they wanted to be the creator. Quite literally trapping them down in hell when they were supposed to descend and taking their place. Since they want to be the creator that meant they had to be loved by everyone including you-especially you. The saintness meant to serve the creator and adore they’re every movement, so they casted a charm spell that seemed to work on everyone-except for you. It doesn’t matter they’ll do anything to get your love- because it belongs to them not that creator-they deserve that destiny

6. Not a genshin nor sagau thingy but what if a genshin archon reader accidentally falls asleep(can be any element you want but I chosen dendro for this) and wakes up thousands of years later where teyvat has become nothing but an empty shell, eventually you get picked up by the astral express after wandering the empty planet. you adventure all the new worlds, help the trailblazer while ignoring their weirdness, and find a way to mourn all your lost comrades. It’s discovered that elemental energy had mixed and muddled with each other eventually forming into something more murky and hallow which made the Aeons, you discover this when they start to hunt you down as there obsessed with you and the idea that your the last ‘pure’ being in the universe, something they want to obtain.

[karlachismylife]

Flutter Into the Skies

CW: fem!reader, girly reader (dresses, makeup, all that jazz), flirty banter, mentions of alcohol, Ghost is a menace as always, toothrotting fluff.

(Title from "Butterfly, Butterly" by a-ha)

You're excited.

That bubbly feeling of sincere happiness for someone else is filling your chest with lightweight foam, rising as if you're the most perfect, airy meringue that has ever graced anyone's kitchen - and it's soft too, not choking or overwhelming like any strong sensations tend to be.

You're literally beaming on someone else's wedding day. It's good.

Even Ghost and his ever so heavy, even unintentionally, presence seem to have nothing on you and your metaphorical butterfly wings of a flowing dress, fluttering behind you as you're running around to finish getting ready to head out. He considers himself already good to go, a sharp suit matching colour with your dress, grown out hair styled neatly, keeping the subtle waves it naturally has whenever he lets it go. You even got him a half-face mask that matches his tie and pocket square, no black allowed to your sweet friend's celebration. He's wearing it already, getting used to the feeling of unfamilar fabric on his face, as he stands in the hallway, leaning on the wall in a lazy manner, hooded eyes watching you with a deep satisfaction and a crooked smirk of a predator in its den lurking somewhere behind the satin mask.

You hear a distinct chuckle as you zoom past him in your festive frenzy, looking for a particular eyeshadow palette in your impressive collection - so, naturally, you turn on your heels and give Simon a mockingly stern look.

"What's so funny, huh?" You demand, pointng your eyeshadow brush at him, right between his dark, magnetic eyes. Sparkly glitter smeared on the soft hairs makes it look like you're about to zap him with some pixie dust magic. "I wanna look good, it's her special day, can't ruin it by being a mess! You could put some effort in too, Mr Riley."

That's when you get him - light eyebrows sliding upwards in a quizzical look, eyes dipping down to give himself a quick one-over before coming back up to stare at you. Daring you to tell him he doesn't look exquisitely and magnificently. He would go meet the Queen of England herself looking like this, not to mention a friend of his own little queen.

"Your tie, dummy," you giggle and put your formiddable weapon of artistry and glitter on the nearest surface, dancing up to Simon and gripping his unevenly tied accessory.

"Could've fixed it meself before headin' out," he grumbles in response, standing upright for you to adjust the tie into a straight line and tighen it up just the right way. Sure, he could, but that's what he gets for being a menace and teasing you for fussing over every detail of your appearance today.

You lift your gaze to retort with some smartass quip, but Ghost is already two steps ahead, staring at you with a heavy, sultry look he knows you can't resist - eyelids half-closed and lazy, white lashes fluttering slightly as he assesses your expression, notices the way your half-done makeup blends together into a colourful picture, bright, sparkly, not subtle at all and screaming "this is a happy day for me too!"

You must be a fairy or some other mythical creature to posess this wonderous ability to dissolve seamlessly into other people when they need your support and then emerge unscathed; complete, full and whole on our own - and yet always there to be a part of a bigger thing.

He knows, because you've seeped under his skin every time his own shell crumbled, and held the fortress for him, mending every crack with your pink pixie dust and golden unicorn fur. They are still there, still visible, still hurting - but not threatening to collapse on top of him, crushing whatever soft and alive still is kept inside.

If there is a pang of guilt prickling him for never supplying you with something this good to melt into, sharing happiness instead of a deadly burden, it disappears too quickly once Simon sees the simmering adoration in your glitter-eyeliner emphasized eyes.

Sliding the knot of his tie up and adjusting it around his collar, you don't let go of it immediately, instead opting to tug on it - an indication of your intent clear enough, you think. But of course, the mountain that is Ghost, doesn't move.

"Come on, I wanna kiss you," you murmur, yet to realize that Simon didn't misread your gesture as a part of fixing his tie.

The bastard ignored it on purpose.

"Oh, I can tell," his smugness rains down on you through the slyly narrowed eyes of his and the undeniably satisfied smirk unable to be contained discreetly with the mask alone.

It takes you a few seconds to go from charmed and adoring to scandalized and outraged.

"Fuck you, Simon Riley," in sincere wrath, you jerk your fist up, choking him with the tie, and yank the asshole's face towards you, pressing a loud, mocking smooch directly over the light fabric of his mask. It's his fault he didn't want to remove it and give you a proper kiss.

"We'll be late if ya do," unfased by the silky hanging noose around his neck, Ghost hammers in the last nail.

You're pouting at him the whole way to your friend's wedding, his poorly muffled chuckles only digging his grave deeper as you glare at him, no threat in your butterfly princess appearance whatsoever. The only thing that keeps you from elbowing the self-assured dog or telling him what a bastard he is, is the sweet revenge you're gonna get once everyone at the wedding sees him with a stupid, bright-pink, sparkly kiss print on his mask that he still hasn't noticed is there.

That's what he gets for being an ass: mighty image completely ruined, reputation of a scary, battle-worn beast shattered. Everyone will see just how wrapped around your finger and domesticated he is (as if it wasn't obvious already - or as if he didn't have you wrapped around his himself).

It's only at the afterparty, when everyone's letting loose and your cheeks are definitely tingling from the sweet alcohol you drank in the name of your friend's union with her sweetheart, when you suddenly get jumped by Ghost on your way to the bathroom. He's just leaving it himself, and you know from the look in his eyes that he finally had a chance to look in the mirror and see what a pretty sight he had been the whole day.

"Were ya even planning to tell me, ya little minx?" Somehow he growls right into your ear, already caging you against the wall. Good thing he does - your head is spinning, you're tipsy, charged with the best mood, buzzing from hearing good music at the dancefloor, full of sugar and sweet, sweet aftertaste of someone else's love wafting through the air.

"Took you long enough," you giggle, resting your palms on his shoulders - even through the blurriness of your lightweight happiness you clearly see that he's smiling, little lines crinkling in the corners of his eyes and warmth in his voice as he nuzzles into your temple. "Not so sharp-eyed anymore, Lieutenant?"

"Jus' didn't expect blatant betrayal in me own home." You roll your eyes and that's enough to miss him sliding his marked mask down. "Ya will pay for this, lovie."

"I'm shaking in my- mmph!"

Whatever you were shaking in, gets cut off by a whole tornado of smooches, light alcohol taste on Ghost's lips and tongue too. Should've known he'll get like this after a couple of glasses.

But then again, do you really mind?

[yogurtkags]

❝ DELICATE ❞ — kageyama tobio

cw: gn!reader, fluff, depictions of eczema/skin issues, insecurity, hurt/comfort, established relationship, pet names (baby), extremely self-indulgent | wc: 507

it’s so itchy.

the sensation of your nails dragging against the bumpy and dry flaking skin scratching an itch like no other, the satisfaction of peeling a scab so great until it stings. and bleeds. and then all of a sudden showering hurts—

“i can hear you scratching.” tobio calls out from the kitchen as he walks out with a tall glass of water and a bowl of berries, setting it down on the coffee table and sinking down on the plush couch next to you.

your hand pauses in it's movements for barely a minute before going back to it's bad habit, words dragging out in a whine when you hear him let out a tch in disapproval, "i can't help it."

“i know, but you gotta stop it.” he chides, grabbing your hand and lacing your fingers together, thumb rubbing soothing circles to distract you and effectively put a stop to your scratching. "picking at it isn't going to make it better."

hands still clasped together, he leans off to the side and blindly pats around the side table, feeling around for the small tube of healing ointment sitting in the black ceramic cat trinket dish (obviously you picked it out, saying it looked just like him).

coming back to you, he wraps his arm around your frame and pulls you closer, squeezing a pea sized amount of ointment on his fingertip and gently spreading it across your broken skin, raw and red from your incessant assault. it’s your fault really for letting it get this bad, but you hiss at the sting anyway, never quite getting used to the burn no matter how many times this has happened.

it’s always been something you struggle with, not just the itch but also accepting the way the patches looked. it’s ugly, and discoloured, the splotches unsightly, and seeing it in the mirror everyday comes with a matching frown. exposing the affected skin doesn’t come easy for you, avoiding it as much as possible and hiding it behind a layer of fabric where you can, but some materials make it itch even more, feeling helpless and insecure as you bare it to the world.

“almost done.” he mumbles, catching you stare off dejectedly from the corner of his eye.

tobio doesn’t need to pay a penny for your thoughts to know you’re feeling down about it again, your silence says a lot. you’ve been together long enough that he can mostly tell what you’re thinking from just your body language and facial expressions, you’ve always been an open book and wore your heart on your sleeve around him after all. he learned to pick up on your cues and subtleties with time, the same way you’ve slowly softened his edges.

a lingering kiss to your temple leads you out of the dense forest of your thoughts like a light in the darkness, his fingers gently holding your chin up to look into his softened, doting eyes.

“i love every part of you.”

and don’t you forget it.

gen taglist. open (send an ask / comment to be added!) @wyrcan networks. @the-all-stars-network @houseofsolisoccasum

notes. the self insert is inserting, i literally had a mini flare up and was scratching at my ezcema while writing this

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[girlwholovesturtles]

Yes, I posted before the poll was done but whatever.

I'm gonna be real with you guys, I hate this. I've been working on it for literal months and have been touching it up for what feels like an eternity and I just want to officially say this is done so I will stop messing with it.

Also, can you tell I hate drawing hands and doing any kind of shading... and perspective... and anatomy? 😭

I will never draw again! (Probably a lie.) But at least I'm free now! (Until I get another dumb idea to draw something else.)

Anyways, inspiration is under the cut. I know the colors are different but brass seemed more appropriate for the Mechs.

[cynic-spirit]

The Compliment

It was a typical night at the club, everyone was in good spirits, and the teasing was in full swing. Steve, Sam, Nick, and Thor were all gathered at the table with Bucky and Yn. The conversation turned toward Bucky’s endless compliments for Yn, which had not gone unnoticed by the group.

“You know, Yn,” Steve started with a knowing smirk, “Bucky here never misses a chance to compliment you.”

Sam nodded, grinning. “And all you ever do is say, ‘Thanks, Bucky,’ like he just handed you a cup of coffee or something.”

Nick chuckled, leaning back. “The guy’s practically composing love sonnets, and you’re over there with a ‘thanks.’”

Thor laughed, his deep voice booming through the room. “A simple ‘thank you’ doesn’t do the man justice.”

Bucky immediately stiffened, sensing the trap being laid out before him. He raised his hands in defense, looking at Yn. “Guys, don’t—”

But it was too late. Yn’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh? I don’t appreciate him enough, is that it?” She arched a brow and turned to Bucky, a playful smile on her lips. “You think I don’t compliment you, Bucky?”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Yn, don’t...”

Yn leaned forward, her voice taking on a dramatic, almost poetic cadence. “You know, Bucky, I could compliment you more. Let’s start with your hair.” She gestured to his dark locks. “It’s like the Starry Night by Van Gogh—each strand as dark and deep as the night sky, swirling in endless beauty. A masterpiece.”

Bucky shifted in his seat, already feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. “Oh no…”

Ignoring his discomfort, Yn continued, her voice smooth and confident. “Your face,” she said, letting her eyes trace his jawline. “It’s chiseled like the statue of Michelangelo’s David, each angle sharp and perfect, as if molded by the hands of the gods themselves. That jaw... it could cut through glass.”

Sam snorted, already having trouble containing his laughter. “Oh man, she’s really getting started.”

Thor, looking absolutely entertained, nodded enthusiastically. “This is gold.”

Yn pressed on, turning her attention to his lips. “And your lips... they’re like the delicate curves of Bernini’s Apollo and Daphne—soft, inviting, a work of divine craftsmanship. A kiss from those lips is surely like being touched by art itself.”

Bucky’s hand shot up to his face in pure embarrassment. “Yn, please…”

But she was just warming up. Her eyes flicked to his piercing blue gaze. “And your eyes... they’re Monet’s Water Lilies, serene yet striking, pools of blue so deep they could drown a person. They see through everything, Bucky. They are like art come to life.”

Steve leaned back in his chair, shaking his head with a grin. “She’s killing him.”

Nick laughed, nodding. “Oh, he’s done for.”

Yn’s gaze dropped to his shoulders. “Your shoulders,” she continued, her voice dripping with admiration. “They’re like the Parthenon—broad, strong, capable of holding up empires. They carry the weight of the world with grace and ease.”

Bucky’s composure was visibly slipping, but Yn didn’t stop. Her hand brushed lightly over his arm as she moved down. “And those biceps... like the curves of Rodin’s The Thinker. Every muscle perfectly sculpted, a testament to strength, carved out of pure marble.”

Thor chuckled, “She’s describing a literal god.”

Bucky groaned softly. “Oh my god…”

Yn, completely unfazed, shifted her focus to his chest. “Your chest, Bucky... expansive, like the canvas of da Vinci’s The Last Supper, full of detail and meaning. It’s a masterpiece of strength and power, every inch telling a story.”

Bucky was gripping the table at this point, trying not to collapse under the weight of her words. “Yn, I’m begging you—”

But she went on, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “And your abs, Buck... they’re like the architecture of Gaudí’s Sagrada Família—intricate, precise, a wonder of design and craftsmanship. Every muscle a deliberate work of art, as if designed to mesmerize.”

Sam covered his mouth, barely containing his laughter. “I can’t... I can’t breathe.”

Steve was practically in tears. “He’s not going to make it.”

Yn moved to his back, her hand tracing lightly over his shoulder as she leaned closer. “Your back... strong, like Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel. Every line, every muscle, like a perfect fresco, a divine creation.”

At this point, Bucky looked like he might actually melt into the floor. His entire face was flushed, and his breathing had grown shallow. “Yn, please stop.”

Yn smirked, but she didn’t relent. “And your legs, Buck... tall, powerful, like the pillars of the Pantheon. They’re pillars of strength, holding you up with unshakable resolve.”

Bucky slumped a little further in his chair, completely wrecked. “Oh my god…”

“And your hands,” Yn continued, her voice growing even softer. “Long and graceful, like the hands of Donatello’s Saint George. Each finger delicate, but strong, like a sculptor’s tool, capable of shaping the world.”

Thor nudged Sam. “This is better than any show I’ve seen in years.”

Nick grinned. “He’s not surviving this.”

Then, Yn’s eyes twinkled with one final blow. She lowered her voice, her lips curving into a playful smile. “And of course, your derrière... firm and perfect, like Canova’s Venus, a form that should be displayed in museums.”

Sam lost it, doubling over in laughter. “Oh my God, she went there!”

Bucky was slumped forward now, completely defeated, his face buried in his hands. “I can’t believe this is happening…”

But Yn wasn’t quite finished. She leaned in for the final blow, her voice soft but devastating. “And lastly... your ithyphallic form, Bucky... like the great statues of ancient Greece, standing proud, a symbol of strength and power. Truly... a marvel of artistic anatomy. exquisite Mr Barnes!”

That was it. Bucky finally slumped fully over the table, his face hidden in his arms, utterly wrecked. “I... I’m done.”

Yn sat back with a satisfied grin, crossing her arms. “What do you expect from an art professor, Bucky?”

Sam, unable to breathe from laughing so hard, raised his glass. “To Yn. The only person who could turn Bucky Barnes into a piece of art and utterly destroy him in the process.”

Steve clapped his hands, laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face. “I’m never going to let him live this down.”

Bucky, still face-down on the table, groaned, his voice muffled. “I’m never challenging her again.”

Bucky remained slumped over the table, face buried in his arms, even as Yn gracefully leaned back in her chair and reached for her drink, completely at ease after delivering her artistic onslaught of compliments. The room was filled with laughter, but Bucky didn’t budge, clearly too mortified to resurface just yet.

Steve, wiping away tears of laughter, nudged him with a finger. “Hey, Buck, you still with us?”

Bucky let out a muffled groan from his position, his face still hidden. “Leave me here. I’m dead.”

Sam, still chuckling, leaned in, tapping his shoulder. “Come on, man, you survived worse than this. Hydra’s got nothing on what just happened.”

Thor, grinning ear to ear, clapped Bucky on the back, sending him jolting forward just slightly. “He’s strong. He’ll rise again. Though, I admit, that was quite the battle to witness.”

Bucky groaned again, this time even more dramatically. “I’m not rising. I’m staying down. Just... let me go.”

As Yn got up from the table to head to the restroom, the rest of the group watched her go, still chuckling at Bucky’s complete and utter defeat. The moment she disappeared from sight, Steve saw his chance and slid over next to Bucky, who was still face-down, refusing to lift his head.

“Come on, man,” Steve said, trying to sound sincere, though the amusement was still clear in his voice. “She really meant every word. You know that, right?”

Bucky let out another groan, his face still buried in his arms. “Steve... leave me be. Just... kill me. Put me out of my misery.”

Sam, overhearing the conversation, leaned in with a grin. “Nah, we’re not letting you off that easy, man. You gotta live with this one.”

Bucky’s hand lifted slightly, waving in the air before slumping back down. “Mercy... I’m asking for mercy here.”

Steve shook his head, patting Bucky on the back. “You know she wasn’t just teasing. That’s the thing. Every word? She meant it.”

Bucky lifted his head just enough to glare at Steve. “She made me sound like a piece of museum art. And don’t even get me started on the... ithyphallic form thing.”

Steve chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, I get it. That part might’ve been a bit much.”

Bucky slumped back down onto the table, covering his head with his arms. “A bit? Steve, I’m not recovering from this.”

Nick chimed in, laughing from his side of the table. “You’re like the Venus de Milo, man, but with arms.”

Thor’s deep laughter rumbled through the group. “And perhaps a bit more... fully sculpted, as Yn described so poetically.”

Bucky groaned louder. “I’m asking you all... end it now. I can’t go on like this.”

Steve just shook his head, grinning as he stood up. “You’ll survive, Buck. Besides, I’m pretty sure she’s going to do this again next time you compliment her. So, you better get used to it.”

Bucky let out another defeated groan. “I can’t... I’m never complimenting her again.”

Sam raised his glass with a grin. “Oh, sure you won’t, man. Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Bucky, still slumped over, gave another pathetic wave. “Goodbye, cruel world.”

Nick leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief. “You know, the best part of all that? It was so poetic. Nothing about it sounded vulgar or cheap.”

Thor nodded in agreement, stroking his beard. “Indeed, it was vivid, bold... but elegant. She has a way with words, that one.”

Steve, grinning, leaned in closer to the table. “Yeah, I mean, she described Bucky’s ithyphallic form—" He paused, holding back laughter at the word, “—and even that somehow sounded like it belonged in a museum exhibit. That takes talent.”

Sam snorted, shaking his head. “Right? Most people would just go for something basic. But Yn? She practically turned him into a walking art gallery.”

Nick added with a smirk, “I’ve never heard anyone talk about someone’s biceps like they were carved by Michelangelo and still keep it classy. She’s something else.”

Thor chuckled deeply. “You know, Bucky, you should feel honored. To be praised in such detail... so grandly.”

Bucky, still slumped over the table, let out another dramatic groan. “Please... stop...”

Steve patted him on the back, still thoroughly amused. “Come on, Buck. You’re the closest thing we’ve got to a living masterpiece, apparently.”

Bucky didn’t lift his head, but his voice was low and defeated. “I don’t want to be a masterpiece. I want to disappear.”

Sam raised his glass, his grin wide. “Sorry, man. No disappearing for you. Yn just immortalized you with that monologue. You’re stuck as art now.”

Nick added, “And it wasn’t just any monologue. That was the kind of stuff people quote. Like, forever.”

Bucky groaned louder. “Just... let me die in peace.”

Thor chuckled again. “Death by compliments. That’s a first.”

Steve leaned in, shaking his head in disbelief. “Seriously, though. Not a single word was out of place. She even threw in those references to art... the Pantheon legs... Venus—”

Bucky raised his head slightly, enough to glare at Steve. “Stop... talking.”

Steve just grinned, unfazed. “I’m just saying, Buck. She turned you into a poetic masterpiece. You can’t escape it.”

Bucky slumped back down, his voice muffled as he muttered, “I’m not going to survive this.”

Nick leaned in, his grin mischievous. “You know what, Bucky? It’s gonna be tough for anyone to top that. You’re basically untouchable now.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, anyone else tries to flirt with their girl, and you can just throw down, ‘Well, have you ever been compared to Michelangelo’s David and Apollo and Daphne? No? Thought so.’”

Bucky groaned again, a long, low sound of pure exasperation. “I’m begging you... leave me alone.”

Thor raised his glass, a wide grin spreading across his face. “To Bucky, the masterpiece none of us knew we needed.”

The rest of them clinked glasses and laughed, while Bucky stayed slumped over, unwilling to rise to the challenge or the teasing. This might just be the hardest thing he’s ever had to endure, and it didn’t involve a single fight—just words. Beautiful, poetic, devastating words.

As the laughter continued, Bucky finally muttered under his breath, “Next time... I’m not even going to open my mouth.”

Steve chuckled, leaning forward with a grin. "I mean, come on, she literally described his derrière like it belonged in the Louvre. ‘Firm, like Canova’s Venus’—who even thinks of that?"

Sam, barely able to keep from laughing, chimed in, "Yeah, and when she got to the ithyphallic form... I mean, seriously, who does that and makes it sound like it should be on a pedestal somewhere?"

Nick raised his eyebrows. “But you know what? She’s right. Both of those—" He paused, biting back a laugh, "—definitely deserve to be celebrated. She wasn’t kidding. Bucky’s got it all, man.”

Bucky, still face-down on the table, let out another exaggerated groan. “Please... for the love of God... stop.”

Thor, with his booming laugh, clapped Bucky on the back, causing him to jolt forward slightly. "Ah, Bucky, you should be proud! Few men have had their derrière and their... uh... more impressive assets so elegantly praised. It was like an ancient hymn, a celebration of the body."

Bucky lifted his head just enough to glare at Thor, his face flushed. “I don’t need my body celebrated, Thor.”

Steve grinned, folding his arms. “Well, it’s too late for that now, buddy. Yn has officially made sure your ithyphallic form—" he paused, clearly enjoying the moment, “—and your... well, your other fine qualities are immortalized.”

Sam couldn’t contain his laughter anymore. “Man, you’ve been sculpted and celebrated. She didn’t just compliment you—she turned you into a freakin’ statue! Everything got its moment of glory. And I mean everything.”

Nick added with a grin, “Yeah, you heard her, man. Your derrière—firm, like Canova’s Venus, a ‘form to be displayed in museums.’ That’s some high praise right there.”

Bucky groaned again, dropping his face back into his arms. “I’m not surviving this. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Thor, ever the encourager, shook his head with a wide smile. “But you should hear the end of it. Bucky, she has celebrated you from head to toe. And every part—yes, even the parts that some might... blush to mention—have been given their due respect. This is not something to run from, my friend.”

Steve nodded sagely, completely serious. “Exactly. You’ve got a Michelangelo’s David jawline, Venus-level derrière, and don’t even get me started on the ithyphallic form. Bucky, you’re a walking masterpiece.”

Bucky lifted his head just enough to shoot Steve a withering glare. “You’re not helping.”

Sam, still laughing, chimed in, “Look, man, you gotta own it now. Both the front and the back were celebrated in such vivid detail, and let’s face it—you deserve it.”

Nick grinned, leaning back in his chair. “I mean, if I were you, I’d be pretty proud of the whole package getting that much attention. People pay to have their art appreciated like that.”

Bucky groaned even louder, burying his face deeper into his arms. “I’m asking you all... please... stop. I can’t take any more.”

Thor, with a playful grin, crossed his arms and said, “Oh no, Bucky, this is something to relish. There are men in history whose greatest hope was to be immortalized in such a way. And you? You have been praised in the way of ancient heroes, from every angle.”

Steve leaned in, still amused. “Including some angles that probably don’t see that much poetic love.”

Bucky, with one last exhausted groan, slumped even deeper into the table, as if trying to disappear entirely. “I’m begging you. Let me die in peace.”

Sam raised his glass with a wicked grin. “To Bucky Barnes, whose derrière and ithyphallic form have been rightfully celebrated in the way all true art deserves.”

Nick, laughing, clinked his glass with Sam’s. “I’ll drink to that.”

Steve and Thor joined in, while Bucky stayed resolutely face-down, his resolve crumbling.

As the glasses clinked around him, Bucky let out one last, defeated sigh. “Next time... I swear, I’m not saying a word.”

After what felt like an eternity, with his head buried in his arms, Bucky finally lifted himself from the table. Slowly, he sat up straight, blinking a few times, looking like he’d just come back from a long and arduous journey. The group, still grinning like fools, turned to him, their amusement evident.

“Hi... welcome back, buddy,” Steve said, patting him on the shoulder with a playful grin.

Thor chuckled. “We weren’t sure if you were going to rise again. Thought maybe the weight of all those compliments finally took you down for good.”

Sam smirked, raising his eyebrows. “You alive, or do we need to get someone to give you CPR?”

Bucky exhaled deeply, rubbing his face with his hands as if trying to wipe away the memory of the poetic onslaught. “I always knew she had a way with words… and she’s brilliant, no doubt about that... but...” He paused, glancing around at his friends, who were watching him with entertained smiles.

“But what?” Nick asked, leaning in, clearly enjoying Bucky’s reluctant confession.

Bucky let out a long, exhausted sigh. “But I am never, and I mean never... ever... challenging her again on anything.”

The group laughed, fully understanding where this was coming from.

“Smart move, man,” Sam said, grinning. “I don’t think you’d survive another round.”

Bucky nodded, looking dead serious. “I won’t. I’m happy not getting any compliments from her for the rest of my life. In fact, I’m good with just silence forever.”

Steve chuckled. “Come on, you don’t mean that. You love when she compliments you. Maybe just not... quite like that.”

Bucky shook his head, his face still flushed at the memory. “Nope. I’m good. I don’t need to be compared to Michelangelo’s David or have my... ithyphallic form praised ever again.”

Nick raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You sure? Because I gotta say, that’s one hell of a compliment.”

Bucky glared at him. “I’ve had enough compliments for a lifetime. I’m done. No more. I’m tapping out.”

Thor, still chuckling, leaned back in his chair. “Well, Bucky, it’s good that you’ve learned your lesson. She clearly has the upper hand.”

Bucky sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, and I’m fine with that. Totally fine. She wins. She can have all the victories. I don’t need any more... artistic descriptions of my body.”

Sam raised his glass once more, his grin wide. “To Bucky, who has finally learned not to mess with an art professor with a poetic mind.”

The group clinked their glasses again, laughing while Bucky just shook his head, clearly still recovering from the ordeal.

Steve grinned, patting him on the back. “Good choice, man. Because after that, we all know—you wouldn’t stand a chance in another round.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling, still in disbelief over everything that had just happened. “I’m not taking that risk again. No way. I’m keeping my compliments to myself from now on.”

Sam, with a wicked grin, added, “Yeah, and maybe avoid giving her any challenges for a while. Unless you’re ready for her to turn you into the next Renaissance masterpiece again.”

Bucky groaned, dropping his head into his hands again. “I’m good. Thanks.”

As the laughter continued to ripple through the group, Steve, ever the instigator, grinned at Bucky and raised an eyebrow. "At least she didn’t talk about your lovemaking, buddy. Could’ve been worse.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in horror, but before he could even respond, Yn returned to the table, having just come back from the restroom. She caught Steve’s comment, her ears clearly perked up, and with a playful smirk, she leaned forward, looking directly at Bucky.

“Do you want me to, Bucky?” she asked sweetly, her voice dripping with faux innocence.

Bucky’s heart stopped, and he turned to her, panic written all over his face. “No. No, no, no. I am begging you—please don’t.”

The rest of the table, however, erupted in enthusiasm, completely ignoring Bucky’s pleas.

“Yes!” they all chorused, grinning from ear to ear.

Sam leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Please, Yn, I think we all want to hear that.”

Thor nodded eagerly. “Yes, Bucky’s lovemaking... told through the lens of an art professor! It would be an epic tale, worthy of legends.”

Nick smirked, joining in. “You’ve already turned the guy into a sculpture—now we need the full masterpiece.”

Bucky slumped back in his chair, his face going bright red as he stared up at the ceiling, looking like he was seconds away from total defeat. “Guys, no. This is my final plea. Mercy.”

Yn, still smiling, simply gave him a wink and took a sip of her drink, clearly letting Bucky off the hook this time. “Alright, alright... I’ll save that for another time.”

Bucky exhaled in relief, slumping back in his chair. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

[world0fmadness]

DEAD MOUSE… LITERALLY

pelle “ dead ” ohlin x taxidermist! reader

♡ headcanons for gifting pelle a taxidermy mouse!

୨୧ i actually have another request for pelle dating headcanons of him with a taxidermist partner so this is just a little thing about gifting him a mouse until i get that one done too hehe <3

♡ requested by anon | related hc available here and here | view my metal masterlist here

reading music recommendations: five four child voice by fridge - flesh burnt black by panzerwar

♡ when you first started getting into taxidermy whilst in a relationship with pelle, he was very very very supportive!

୨୧ in his own way, of course! but he was as supportive as he could be, always letting you read your study books in peace and even cleaning your shared room up a bit to give you more space for your equipment and supplies

♡ sometimes he’d even bring you home roadkill or any dead animals he saw whilst on his walks or collecting mail for the band! obviously he wouldn’t bring you any dead animals that were too raggedy or really messed up, he understands the body has to be at least a little good quality for you to really do much with it…

୨୧ obviously, with you being so new to the hobby and not having much experience, your first few attempts were certainly not the best and a lot of the time you ended up having to trash them, almost to the dismay of pelle who doesn’t care all that much about having dead animals in your shared bedroom

♡ that’s another good thing about dating pelle as a taxidermist, he is not bothered one bit by you having dead animals in your shared bedroom, never bothered by the smell nor the blood

୨୧ if anything, he would be slightly more put off by the smell of the chemicals you have to use, he doesn’t like how the strong scent burns his nose and sometimes gives him a headache but he won’t ever tell you that! but you will know, he isn’t that great at hiding his discomfort when it comes to things like that so you’ll move to using the chemicals and such outside, away from the enclosed space of your shared bedroom, but pelle will watch from the window or doorway, still sometimes wanting to watch the fascinating process

♡ the day you finally manage to perform a successful taxidermy attempt, it’s actually on an animal that pelle had found and given to you!

୨୧ it was a simple field mouse, pelle had found it under the shared band house in nearly pristine condition, obviously having died not too long before he found it and picked it up, pocketing it before bringing it to you

♡ pelle was just slightly shy as he handed the small body over to you, approaching you from behind and waiting for you to notice his presence before ducking his head down and pulling the mouse out of his pocket, outstretching his hand out to you and offering the mouse up to you, mumbling quietly about how he thought it could be of some use to you, a dusty pink blush overtaking his pale face as you thank him, gently taking the mouse from his open palm and leaning up to plant a sweet kiss on his hot cheek before he wanders off again, leaving you to begin your process

“ here… found it under the house, must’ve died in the early morning… might be able to do something with it ” ( when he walks away from you, his cold hand will come up to pet at his heated cheek, his slim fingers ghosting over your kissing spot as a tiny smile comes across his face )

୨୧ as the process was coming along and you knew this would finally be your first majorly successful attempt at taxidermy, excitement was overtaking you as well as… appreciation and thankfulness, for pelle… for how genuinely interested he is in your hobby and you knew exactly what you had to do with the mouse…

♡ pelle had been away from you for most of the day, leaving you alone to allow you to focus the best you can, staying pent up in your shared bedroom writing lyrics and doodling in his sketchbook, drawing things to show you when you finish up and join him! he knows more than anyone that sometimes, in order to fully focus, you need to be left alone and he respects that

୨୧ with him being away from you, it gave you the time to prepare exactly what you wanted to do, going above and beyond for the gift that you were going to give him

♡ when you’re finally done, it’s nearly midnight and pelle has wandered down to the back door, calling your name quietly as to get your attention which causes you to quickly turn your body towards him, making sure your body covers the finished gift that sits atop the garden table, only causing curiosity to peak inside the mind of pelle as he takes slow steps towards you with a curios gaze, observing your nervous smile and watching how you bounce on your feet whilst he tries to peek over your shoulder which doesn’t prove useful as whatever you’re hiding is small

୨୧ by the time pelle has stopped in front of you, tilting his head slightly as to probe an explanation from you, you’ve already began rambling to him about how you made him something special, how you wanted to repay him for all of his help in your newfound hobby and how it might not look the best but you hope he likes it at least a little…

♡ pelle nods slightly as you turn back around and pick something up, hiding it in your hands as you hold your hands out in front of him before opening them, revealing just what it is you were so excited yet nervous to gift him

୨୧ the second he sees what it is, his eyes widen slightly and his pale face is overtaken by a deep red blush, a rare smile stretching across his chapped lips as his usually dull eyes light up as they always do around you

♡ it’s the small field mouse he gave to you so much earlier in the day… only, it’s no longer curled up and cold, no, now it’s standing on it’s hind feet, holding a… tiny mock microphone in one of its little paws and the body is covered by denim and mock leather, tiny pieces of cotton sewn onto the denim as mock band patches, the face covered in white powder with black around the eyes… it doesn’t take long for pelle to realise that the taxidermy mouse is supposed to be him but you burst into an explanation before he can say or do anything

୨୧ in the midst of your explanation, word vomiting about how you just wanted to honour him, about how you thought he would like it and how you know it may not look the best but… he shuts you up before you can go on any longer, leaning down to press his dry lips against yours in a strong kiss and bringing his hands up to gently hold your wrists, making sure you can’t attempt to hide the gift in embarrassment or shame

♡ when he finally pulls away from the kiss and looks down at the mouse, his face is once again overcome by that rare, full teeth smile as he looks down at it, bringing his hands down to take it from you, handling it as though it’s the most valuable treasure in the world, fiddling with the mini denim jeans and microphone with a glittering look in his blue eyes

“ it’s amazing… you did amazing, you know? so talented… thank you, for making it for me… ” ( he may not be the best with words be he is truly trying his absolute best to tell you how appreciative he is of it, how happy this gift has just made him, and it works, you can tell just by the tone in his voice how truly happy he is in this moment )

୨୧ pelle puts it up on his desk that night, making sure to lean it against his pen holder so that it stays upright, both of you chuckling quietly at how slightly terrifying it looks, your eyes admiring pelle as his eyes crinkle as he laughs, his face lit up with actual happiness, a rare sight that you eagerly drink in

♡ but pelle could not care less about how it may not be the best, about how it might look like a small prop from some horror film… it’s perfect to him… possibly the most perfect gift anyone has ever given to him and he makes sure you know it in the following days! he never quite gets over the little mouse version of himself, always finding himself looking at it when he feels down or upset, it reminds him that someone cares, you care… he treasures that strange little mouse more than any other item he owns

୨୧ the mouse version of him would probably lead to him doodling similar things, himself but in mouse form, or other animal forms!

♡ he really enjoys showing you these drawings, showing you how your creation inspired him to create too, even drawing you as your favourite animal and gifting the drawing to you as you gifted him his mouse mini <3

[crushpunky]

rafe x kook!reader - a drunken night (a cabin in the woods part 2)

inspired by "when we are together" by the 1975

Y/n had lined up countless activities for her and the boys throughout the week, everything from fishing to horseback riding and kayaking, all building up to the big hike on their final day. After a week of non-stop action, the boys were more than happy to find out y/n had factored in a “rest” day ahead of their hike.

The four of them had spent the day on the property, basking in the sun, playing cards, and shooting the shit. The heat of the day gave way to a chilly night, leading to them starting a fire near the small pond that sat on the property. Though she had brought her own jacket, y/n found herself reaching for Rafe’s sweatshirt once again as they sat around the fire. It was comfortable and warm, she had told herself. No other reasons, of course…

“That’s literally not true! There is no way in hell that you’ve done that!” Y/n laughed, taking a sip of the drink Topper had concocted from Kelce’s aunt and uncle’s liquor cabinet. Whatever it was, it was strong, and as the night grew on, she could really start to feel its effects.

“You’d be surprised, I’m a very adventurous guy.” Kelce said with a shrug. He had just finished recounting a story of how he had once snuck himself and a girl into the country club after hours, the two of them getting drunk in the bar before falling asleep on the golf course.

“Oh, please, Kelc. You don’t do shit.” Rafe said with a slightly drunken chuckle. As hesitant as she was to see him drinking, y/n figured it being only the four of them, and that he wasn’t doing anything worse, she’d let it slide. It had been a minute since she had seen him drunk like this, typically seeing him only when he was violently high or totally blacked out. It was a nice medium, his cheeks flushed and his demeanor a bit softer and without a trace of its usual grumpiness.

“I forgot we’re chatting with Mr. Adventurous over here.” Topper said, finishing the last of his drink before grabbing the pitcher that sat on the ground next to them. Rafe rolled his eyes, tossing an empty can at him. Topper looked back at him wide eyed and jumped to his feet, nearly stumbling into the fire.

“Hey! Hey!” Y/n shouted before the two started to drunkenly wrestle in the campfire, pulling Topper back into his seat.

“How about we settle this with a game of never have I ever?” Kelce said over the rim of his cup. Rafe and Topper groaned, but y/n grinned at Kelce’s avoidance of escalating the situation further.

“I’m not playing that shit.” Rafe said shortly, grabbing his beer and starting to get out of his seat. Y/n stopped him, grabbing onto the sleeve of his jacket. He turned to look at her for a moment, his eyes glassy from the drinks.

“Pleeeaaase.” Y/n sang playfully, tugging at his sleeve. Rafe paused for a moment, looking at her pleading, drunk expression, before relenting and sinking back into his chair with a huff.

“Why don’t you go first, Mr Adventurous.” Topper said, sitting up straight in his chair. Rafe scowled.

“Fine. Never have I ever kissed Sarah.” Rafe smirked wickedly, his eyes locked on Topper as he took a drink. What he wasn’t expecting, however, was for Kelce and y/n to do the same.

“Woah, woah, what the fuck?!” Rafe’s smirk evaporated, looking around at his three supposed “friends” exasperatedly.

“Yeah, what the fuck?!” Topper said, his face almost as equally angry as Rafe as he shot daggers at Kelce.

“It was a long time ago, dude. Like, middle school. Calm the fuck down.” Kelce laughed, his hands raised in surrender. Y/n giggled before she looked over at Rafe, who was staring at her, his hand gripping the arm of her camp chair.

“Are you serious?” Rafe said, his voice low and eyebrows raised.

“Oh come on! It was a dare at a party, or something, and we were both drunk… friends kiss all the time. It’s no big deal.” Y/n laughed nervously. She knew that Rafe and Sarah’s relationship was difficult, and as hard as it could be at times, she really did consider them both friends. She hadn’t thought of telling Rafe about it because it didn’t really matter. She did like a Cameron in that way, but it certainly wasn’t Sarah.

Rafe’s mind raced despite the alcohol clouding his brain. Was that how she had thought about their kiss at Midsummers? Just two friends kissing, “no big deal”? Of course that was how she thought of it, they were just friends. Obviously. Nothing more, nothing less…

“No they don’t!” Topper said loudly, nearly spilling his drink as he waved his hands around wildly.

“Yes they do! You’re telling me you guys have never kissed each other?” Y/n said which caused all the boys to collapse into fits of exaggerated gagging and shouting. Y/n rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her drink.

“Ok, ok! Next!” Y/n shouted over their dramatics, attempting to get back to the game. She looked over at Rafe, his eyes still stuck on her. Maybe she was overthinking it, but she swore she could see a twinge of something in his face before he looked away from her.

“Alright, fine,” Topper said, his voice slightly slurred, “never have I ever… gotten into a car accident.”

Rafe and Kelce took a drink silently, both of them glaring at Topper. Funnily enough, the “crashes” they were drinking for were actually one and the same. Shortly after getting his license, Kelce had rear-ended Rafe as he was stopped at a stoplight in downtown. Rafe had been pretty pissed at him for a month before Topper and y/n eventually forced the two of them to reconcile. Y/n laughed at the memory, perhaps a bit too much because of the alcohol buzzing through her body.

“Nice, Top.” Rafe said gruffly, taking a sip of beer.

“Ok,” Kelce said, “never have I ever… gotten so drunk I fell off the Druthers. Multiple times.”

“That’s cheating,” Topper said pointedly, but taking a drink nonetheless. It was almost a running gag how often he seemed to drunkenly fall off the boat when the four of them were out on the water, it often taking everyone to drag him back onto the deck.

“Alright, um…” Y/n looked around as she thought of an answer before her eyes caught on the pond, the moonlight giving it a soft glow.

“Never have I ever… gone skinny dipping.” Y/n said, looking away bashfully as the boys all quickly downed the rest of the drinks before shouting over each other.

“What?!” Kelce shouted, tossing his can into the fire.

“How can you fucking live in the Outer Banks and haven’t gone skinny dipping? That’s like, a right of passage!” Topper chuckled.

“I don’t know, I just… haven’t.” Y/n said quietly, feeling her cheeks burn slightly.

“Do you want to?” Rafe asked quietly, his drunken words betraying him before he even had a second to think. What kind of person asks that to their friend? Let alone their girl friend? She’s probably gonna slap the shit out of him and—-

“I mean… yeah, maybe one day.” Y/n responded with a shrug, the fabric of Rafe’s sweatshirt sagging under the action. She seemed nonchalant (or at least she hoped she did), answering his question matter-of-factly despite the slight fluttering it gave her in her stomach.

“Well… we do have a pond here…” Kelce said, a drunken grin on his face. Y/n glanced at Topper who raised his eyebrows before looking over at Rafe who looked at y/n, his expression unreadable. Perhaps if she wasn’t so buzzed on whatever shit Topper had made, she would’ve thought it a bit weird to go skinny dipping with her three guy friends, one of which she was head over heels in love with… but that certainly wasn’t the case as she rose from the camp chair and started sprinting towards the dock.

The alcohol in her veins spurred her forward as she shucked off her pants and Rafe’s sweatshirt, leaving them in the grass. She didn’t look back as she continued onto the dock, discarding her undergarments before she jumped into the pond. The cold water sucked the breath out of her as she came above the surface. On the edge of the dock, the boys stood hooting and hollering.

“It’s really fucking cold in here!” Y/n shouted, treading water. Topper and Kelce looked between each other for a moment before moving to take off their jackets. Y/n turned away from the dock until she heard a splash, the two boys entering the water. They resurfaced, their grins wide. Y/n looked back at the dock at Rafe who stood there alone, his clothes very much still on.

“Come on, Cameron!” Kelce shouted, beckoning Rafe into the water. Rafe shook his head with a laugh.

“Yeah, get in here Mr Adventure!” Topper egged him on, splashing some water towards the dock. Y/n looked up at him on the dock as Rafe ran a hand through his hair. He looked nervous, for some reason, almost embarrassed to join his three friends. His eyes met hers, the moonlight reflecting off the water and highlighting her dampened features beautifully. 

She bit her lip nervously. Should she say something? Encourage her friend to get in? Would Topper and Kelce think something was up if she didn’t? Would Rafe think something was up if she didn’t? It wouldn’t be any different than how Kelce and Topper were already in there, so why was she overthinking it? 

“Get in here, boy.” Y/n said quietly. Topper and Kelce hollered as Rafe took a deep breath before shrugging his jacket off. Once more, y/n turned until she felt water splash her face as Rafe jumped into the cold pond. He resurfaced, tossing his wet hair back with a grin. The four of them treaded water for a bit, laughing at the pure chaos of the situation, before the boys made their way towards the dock. Y/n remained in the water, the boys hauling themselves out of the water and onto the dock before putting their clothes back on their soaking and freezing bodies.

She tried to pull herself out but the freezing cold water mixed with the alcohol made her arms feel like jelly. She groaned, falling back into the water. Topper and Kelce had already started back towards the house, their arms slung over each other's shoulders as they stumbled drunkenly. Rafe, however, was still on the dock, pulling his t-shirt on.

“Rafe!” Y/n whispered harshly, causing him to whip his head towards her as he stepped closer to the end of the dock.

“What?” Rafe whispered back, seemingly oblivious to her situation.

“Can you— can you help me out?” Y/n whispered, feeling her cheeks heat up. She felt like an idiot, not being able to pull herself out of the water and now having to have her friend drag her naked body out. It was utterly humiliating.

“Y-yeah, of course.” He stammered, offering her his hand. She took it and pushed herself up towards the dock, Rafe pulling her all the way onto the wooden surface. She stumbled, getting her footing and looked back at Rafe, whose eyes were closed as he faced her.

“Thanks.” She said, grabbing her undergarments off of the floor and slipping them on as quickly as her drunken state could.

“You can, um, open your eyes now.” Y/n whispered and Rafe opened his eyes apprehensively. He felt his cheeks flush at the sight of y/n dressed so minimally, her teeth chattering from the cold. It’s not like it was anything he hadn’t seen before, 90% of the time the two of them were in bathing suits lounging in the sun, so why was he acting this way?

He turned back towards the grass where her clothes laid, jogging to go grab them before returning to the dock. She took them graciously and slipped them on, the fabric of Rafe’s sweatshirt sticking to her soaked skin.

“Sorry about getting your sweatshirt wet.” Y/n said quietly, looking down at the now soaking wet sweatshirt.

“It’s fine.” Rafe said shortly with a nod. The two of them stood there for a second, staring at each other silently.

“Well… how was your first skinny dipping experience?” Rafe asked.

“Good,” y/n exhaled. “Next time I’ll have to remember to, um, keep my stuff by the water.”

Rafe chuckled, scratching the back of his neck, the two of them falling back into a silence. Silences between them weren’t usually “awkward”, but something about the tension in this silence felt as close to “awkward” as ever. 

Was it the fact that she had kissed Sarah? Was he mad about that? She knew he was always so self conscious when it came to being compared to her, was he mad at her? Or was it because they had just gone skinny dipping, after which she asked him to get his sweatshirt? Did friends do that?

Did she think he was being weird when he gave her his sweatshirt to change into when she was already nearly naked? Did she think he was being awkward and weird? Did friends act like this around each other? Did friends do any of this?

“We should probably go to bed.” Y/n said quietly, finally breaking the silence and stopping each of their minds from racing any further.

“Yeah, let’s do that.” Rafe whispered, swallowing harshly before offering his arm out to y/n. She took it graciously, the two of them drunkenly stumbling down the dock, arms interlocked.

Maybe they could talk about this in the morning, the tension and awkwardness that had been growing more and more since Midsummers. Maybe, when they were less drunk and soaking wet, things would be more obvious, whatever those “things” were. However, as she went to bed that night, y/n couldn’t help but think that “things” would never be obvious or easy for them.

[dullgecko]

omfg you can't stop there with the neck-touching story, i'm so invested. the aftermath, i beg of you. did riz isolate himself/hide from his friends in shame after the fact? how did fabian react? did he blame riz? blame himself? were the bad kids able to coax riz back into the party after his self-imposed isolation?

Fabian had been completely blindsided by the sudden attack. Not literally, thank Cas, Rizs hands were small enough that he'd only torn up the half elfs cheek with his claws before stopping. As it was Fabian had felt him hit bone and had flinched away to cradle the sudden ragged hole in his cheek while the rogue hissed and put distance between them.

He felt Kristen's magic cut through the white hot pain after only a second. Flesh knitting back together in an instant and leaving no trace of the attack save for the heat on his skin and the blood in his mouth. He spat what was remaining onto the ground to join the pool of blood that had spilled there, turning his head when Kristen touched his face to let her check she hadn't missed anything.

"What the fuck The Ball. Claws are taking it a little far don't you think?" The half elf pushed himself to sit upright rather than remaining in his hunched position. His brief spike of anger at the attack fading when he noticed their rogue was gone.

"The Ball? Did anyone see where he went?"

There had been a quick search, each of them splitting up to go check his usual hiding spots in the house before reconvening in the living room. Adaine crouching to clean the blood off the carpet while Fig pulled out her crystal to see if they could find any clues.

She'd been recording while Fabian and Riz tousled on the floor, her cystal propped up on a side table as the teifling cheering Riz on. Whooping when he 'pinned' Fabian to the ground and settled into a cross legged position on his chest in victory. He had clearly been having fun, ears high and alert and tail flicking in a way they knew meant 'happy' as he mock clawed at Fabians face. He had his fingers curled in such a way that he was only batting their fighter in the face with his knuckles though so Fig was confused as to how Riz had clawed the half elf.

It had all happened so quickly that she'd assumed that Riz clawed him first THEN Fabian pinned him to the floor. The video showed otherwise though. Their rogue laughing even as their positions were flipped RIGHT up until the point Fabians completed the pin with his hand around the goblins throat.

The flip from smiling to terror had been almost instant, the video clear enough that they could see his pupils contract to slits even as he full force raked his claws across Fabians face. The goblin scrambling out of the cameras field of view when he was released. Thankfully they had still been recording even as everyone lept to check on Fabian where he was groaning on the floor. They could very audibly hear the front door slamming shut while Kristen was healing Fabian in the footage.

"Fuck dude did you kneel on his tail or something? I think you really hurt him."

Fabian shook his head, eye going wide as he watched the footage over Figs shoulder. A yawning pit of guilt opening in his stomach as she rewound it a few time to watch again and try and work out why Riz had flipped out. If he was hurt they needed to help him but he tended to hide injuries up until the point he couldn't function and they forced help on him.

"We need to go find him."

---------

Riz was in such a panic that he didn't have a plan beyond 'put distance between me and everyone else as fast as possible'. The door slammed shut behind him and he briefly contemplated booking it down the driveway but The Hangman was chasing pigeons about halfway down and Riz had just attacked its master.

He went right instead, rounding the side of the house to cut through the cemetery and find somewhere to hide. He'd never done something like this before and he was terrified. Both of himself because he couldn't remember the attack AND of the consequences.

Sure he'd nipped and scratched his friends before but he very rarely drew blood, and even then it was only usually a pinprick. He obviously hadn't held back this time, the evidence drying on his claws and face from where it had dripped on him before he scrambled free.

What would they think of him now? That he was as dangerous and violent as what people always said goblins were? Would they deal with him the same way they usually dealt with people that attacked them? He'd fled the house completely unarmed and he didnt even grab his briefcase before leaving. Hell, without his sword he didn't even have an advantage when hiding right now.

Riz stopped in the middle of the cemetery, crouching behind a large headstone just off the path so he could hide and collect his thoughts. The goblin whining as he tried to wipe the blood off his hand onto the grass but found that the vast majority of it had dried and wasn't coming free.

He realised he hadn't picked the best hiding spot but he couldn't muster the energy to care. Riz curling into a smaller ball and pressing his face against his knees, arms and tail alike looping around his ankles as he tried very hard to pretend he didn't exist anymore. So what if they found him, maybe he deserved whatever punishment they saw fit.

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

Riz wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting outside whe he heard the first footsteps approaching. He'd let himself retreat fully into his own mind as he tried to work out what exactly had happened and kept coming up empty. The rogue didn't even move when his crystal started ringing in his pocket, Fabian obviously trying to call him since he was the only person not set to mute.

Riz shifted to cover his head with his arms when the footsteps rapidly got closer, hoping to at least protect what he could if they were mad even if he didn't make an effort to run. The last time he clawed someone like this was in middle school and he'd spent weeks hiding the broken ribs from his mom after the kids friends had gotten their shots in.

"I've found him." He heard Fabian shout, though the sound was muffled with his arms shielding his head. The goblin whining and trying to curl up more when he felt hands gently try to pry his arms away.

"Riz? Fuck. Are you okay? I'm sorry. Hey..."

Riz relaxed slightly when the expected blows didn't come, letting the fighter untangle his arms and gently inspect his hand because it was still covered in dry blood. He did yank his tail away from his hand when he tried to inspect it as well though, tucking it up behind himself out of grabbing range and hissing into his own knees.

"Can you look at me? Are you hurt?"

Fabian still had a grip on both of his hands, thumbs pressing into his palms as he kneaded at the soft tissue there. Riz let him continue for a few more seconds before withdrawing his hands from his grip and wrapping them around his chest. Lifting his head to peek at the fighters concerned face which he was relieved was all in one piece.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what happened." Riz said quietly, dipping his ears back in show of contrition.

"What happened was you clawed the shit out of me." Fabian scoffed, reaching forwards to coax Riz to sit up further so he could see his face properly, the half-elf licking his thumb to try and get some of the dried blood off the goblins cheek. The act making Riz screw his face up in a way that made Fabian laugh. "I think it was my fault though. I apologise."

"What? No I attacked you I'm-" He froze, claws digging into his vest as the half elfs hand hovered close to his throat. Fabian making a face as if he'd just made a point before withdrawing carefully.

"No I'm quite sure it was my fault." Fabian shifted to sit next to the rogue instead, bringing a knee up to rest his arm on as he looked out over the cemetary. "Fig was filming and I can tell when someone gets triggered. My father used to get the same way sometimes... Do you think you're up to coming back inside?"

Riz shook his head, leaning forwards to hide his face against his knees again and sighing loudly. Leaning against Fabians side when his friend draped his arm over him and pulled him in to sit a little closer.

"Alright. I'll stay out here with you for a while then."