#it felt random at the time and i still love it
Note
Spencer Reid x reader, Rossi is readers father, she is not part of the BAU, Curvy and much younger than Spencer at 26, loves how smart he is and likes to learn about facts she’s just not as smart, loves baking. Smut?? Maybe?? Thank you!
comfortable (spencer reid x fem!plussize!reader)
in which you & spencer discuss telling your dad, David Rossi, about your relationship
warnings: NSFW!!! MDNI!!! smut, smol age gap, fingering, praise kink, soft!dom Spencer, pet names
word count: 3658
A/N: thanks for this request 🥹 it was really fun and I think maybe a pt 2 where they actually tell Rossi could be a lot of fun, can you imagine the way Rossi’s eyes would bug out of his head 💀
He was standing in the doorway of your off-campus apartment with this goofy grin on his face. He was older than you - only by a few years, but still in an entirely different stage of life - and he worked with your dad, but you’d never felt butterflies like these before.
It felt like movie love. Like romance novel love, and not those cheesy paperbacks with the Fabio-type model on the front. But like the more modern ones, the ones with the cartoon people on the covers and the big, colorful block letters. You had about a hundred of them on your bookcase. You could go reference them right now if you really wanted to.
Spencer Reid blinked those big, brown eyes at you and your mouth flickered uncontrollably into a soft smile. “Your doorbell doesn’t work,” Spencer pointed out by way of greeting. He still had that goofy grin on his face as you stepped aside so he could come in. You locked the door behind him.
“Didn’t I tell you that?” You mused, turning around to face him. He’d been to your apartment before, but usually trailing after you. Never meeting you here. He shook his head.
Then he lifted the bouquet of flowers in his hands and your smile grew into a full-blown grin. “What’re these for?” You squealed, taking the bouquet and immediately raising them to your nose. Baby pink carnations. He remembered your favorite flower.
He remembered everything, you reminded yourself.
“They’re your favorites. You said they reminded you of your mom’s house,” Spencer said, then took one of those sharp breaths that told you he was about to bequeath upon you a boatload of information. You barely had time to swoon over the fact that he remembered why carnations were your favorite.
“Did you know that carnations were actually mentioned in literature as far back as Ancient Greece? The name is believed to come from the Latin corona - meaning crown or wreath, as it was one of the more common flowers used to make laurels and crowns,” Spencer rattled off.
“We should make flower crowns out of them,” you proposed with an excited giggle, walking past Spencer and into the small kitchen of your apartment. He chuckled and followed you, standing behind you as you took the plastic sleeve off the bouquet, holding the flowers over the sink so water wouldn’t get on the floor. “Oh,” you murmured, not realizing how thick the stalks of the flowers were. “We can’t tie these together,” you pouted.
Spencer’s hands found your hips as he stood behind you, his palms contouring to match your curves. His lips met the side of your head, between your temple and your hairline. “You could put them on your table?” He suggested.
You felt stuck with the dripping flowers in your hand and the overwhelming desire to turn around and kiss your boyfriend silly. “Vase,” you blurted out instead of speaking like a normal human being. Spencer made your brain turn into mush.
“Where?”
“Shelf by the fridge.”
Spencer’s hands left your hips, but not before he gave them a gentle squeeze, as if to say I’ll be back soon. You turned your head to the side and watched as Spencer grabbed the vase off the shelf, returning to your side in moments to help you set the flowers in it.
This relationship was still very new. It had been about three months since you went out to lunch with your dad on some random Thursday, and he brought you back to work with him to introduce you to his team. It had been eight weeks since Spencer took you out for the first time - dinner and a walk around the nearest park, where Spencer had grabbed your hand for the first time, where he’d rambled off some fact about willow trees you couldn’t be bothered to remember because shortly after, he’d pressed his lips to yours and you’d made out underneath one.
He was away a lot, which was to be expected, given the nature of the BAU’s work. But he called you when he could, and he made every effort to see you when they weren’t on assignment. You couldn’t really talk with him about work - “it’s classified,” he’d always say with a thin-lipped smile, as if to say he’d really like to tell you, but he just couldn’t.
“What’re you thinking about?” Spencer asked as you floated from the sink to set the vase of flowers on the kitchen table. His voice always pulled you out of your own head.
“Nothing in particular, really,” you told him, turning to face him. Spencer reached a hand out and took yours, tugging you to him. “You, mostly,” you teased as his palms lay against your hips. “I think it might be time.”
“Time?” Spencer asked as he craned his neck down to kiss you, briefly, on the lips. So, his mind was obviously elsewhere.
“Time,” you confirmed. “To tell my dad. About us.”
Spencer pulled his head back so he could look at you properly, his fingers dug into the soft, sensitive flab above your hip bones, and you scrunched your nose up because it tickled, resisting the urge to giggle. “You do, do you?” He asked, a playful smile crossing his lips. “And here I thought you enjoyed the secrecy.”
“No, as a matter of fact, I hate it,” you laughed breathily. “I hate lying to my dad.”
“For the record, we haven’t lied about anything,” Spencer pointed out. “We’ve just withheld information. It’s entirely different.”
That was true, you supposed. When your dad asked you last week at your monthly dinner at his house if you were seeing anyone, you just nodded and told him you weren’t ready to tell him about it yet, and he respected that. You didn’t not tell him it was his coworker.
“I guess so,” you replied, your lips pursing into the corner of your mouth.
To Spencer’s credit, the whole keeping-it-from-your-dad thing was your idea. You’d done it for a multitude of reasons - mostly so you could figure out if this thing with Spencer was going to go anywhere before your dad was in the loop, so you could go with Spencer at your own pace, get to know him without any third-party interventions.
“We’ve talked about this, Y/N. It’s not anything to feel guilty about. Yeah?” Spencer reminded you, lifting one of his hands from your hips to curl his index finger and tuck it under your chin. He guided your gaze to meet his. “You’re an adult, and you can see whoever you want to see. When and if you tell Rossi is entirely up to you.”
“I know,” you nodded, sighing softly, your arms lifting and reaching up to wind around his neck. Spencer’s lips broke out in a soft smile at the action. “Isn’t it weird for you at work, though?”
“Not really?” Spencer phrased it as a question, shrugging his shoulders a little bit. “There’s never really time for personal conversation when we’re on a case, and if there is, I usually just deflect to someone else. Although, there was a close call while we were on our way back this last time,” he began, the hand under your chin dropping and moving back to your hip, guiding you back so you were flush against the kitchen counter.
“Oh, god, what happened?” You asked as you hopped up so your rear splayed out atop the counter, and Spencer moved to stand between your legs. Despite the lack of gap between your thighs, Spencer’s lanky frame fit comfortably between them. His fingers spread palm-side down against the tops of your thighs. You were biting your lip as your boyfriend continued with his story.
“I guess I was grinning down at a text you’d sent me, the one about your Short Fiction Analysis exam,” he explained, referring to one of the classes you were taking this term. “You’d said you thought Shirley Jackson was underrated, that The Lottery was one of your favorite short stories ever and you would stone anyone who disagreed,” you snickered at this, and Spencer’s hands slid just slightly further up your thighs. “That was the same reaction I had,” Spencer pointed out with a small laugh. “And Rossi’d been the one to catch it. He said that my expression was one that could only be caused by a beautiful woman.”
You shook your head, rolling your eyes. That sounded like your dad, all right. “And what did you say?” You asked, willing the blush in your cheeks to go away. Spencer knew already that he made you feel like you were on fire with just a simple touch, but still. Your lack of experience and the fact that you were younger than him, still in college… it always made you feel even more flustered.
“I said I could neither confirm nor deny,” Spencer laughed self-deprecatingly, rolling his eyes at himself. “And then I changed the subject. I pulled Derek in the conversation and asked him about his girlfriend.”
“Very strategic,” you commented with a bob of your throat.
“But if you want to tell him, and you think you’re ready, then I think we should,” Spencer added, and you smiled just slightly at this.
“Okay,” you smiled hazily, just as Spencer bent down to kiss you. His hands traveled to the waistband of your sweatpants and your breath hitched in your throat.
“This okay?” Spencer asked just as his long fingers curled around the waistband on either side of your hips.
You’d pulled the sweatpants all the way up over your belly button, and your tummy was incredibly ticklish. So your voice was breathy and shaky when you responded. “Mmhm.”
“If it’s not, you need to tell me,” Spencer reminded you in a low whisper, his lips planting along kissing your neck, each one tacky like a postage stamp.
“It’s okay,” you reiterated, forcing your voice to sound more full. Your hands had moved to lay flat against his chest, but now your fingers curled around the crinkly fabric of his blue dress shirt. You’d never dated anyone who dressed so grown up before. “I’m good.”
“Good,” Spencer murmured as his lips traveled up to your chin. He was mapping out your entire face jawline with his lips, until finally your mouths met. He was slow and intentional at first, like he was savoring it, probably making observatory notes in his head. When his tongue teased your lips apart, you allowed him in, a small whimper escaping you.
You had scooted forward on the countertop, squeezing Spencer’s body between your thighs. Your toes curled as one of Spencer’s hands lifted to cradle the back of your head, holding your face to his like an oxygen mask. And he kept breathing you in, his tongue expertly dancing with yours, kissing you so that when he finally pulled back, you couldn’t breathe.
You were panting, your whole face red as Spencer’s hand moved from the back of your head to one of your full cheeks. His thumb swiped across your cheek and the corners of his mouth just flickered upward. “I really missed you,” he whispered, his hand moving to tuck your hair behind your ear. His other hand still rested on the waistband of your pants, fingers dipping beneath it and padding around your stretch marks.
“I missed you, too,” you murmured back, and Spencer just smiled at this lazily. “Do you… do you want to…”
Spencer’s smile slowly turned into a patient smirk. “Do I want to what?” He asked all-knowingly, his eyes meeting yours. Your cheeks flushed again, bashful and embarrassed to even ask him.
“Do you want to go to my bed?” You exhaled, and Spencer’s head dipped to press a brief kiss to your lips.
“What makes you think I can’t take care of you right here?” He smirked, and the hand on your cheek floated back down to your waistband. “Can I please take your sweatpants off, pretty girl?”
Your breath stopped and you nodded. “Yeah, but… Spence?” You pressed the pads of your fingers into his chest. His gorgeous brown eyes met yours.
“What is it?”
“If you’re going to, like, you know, right here,” you began, your chest rising and falling slowly. “I just don’t think I can, like, spread my legs apart enough for you to…”
“Would you be more comfortable lying down, Y/N?” Spencer asked. What you loved was that he wasn’t impatient about it, he wasn’t annoyed. He could just tell you were having trouble articulating your concerns and he wanted to help. He was reading your mind - well, scientifically speaking, he was probably reading your behavior and your body language - but he just got it so quick.
“Yeah,” you nodded, sighing softly in relief that he understood.
“Then let’s lie you down,” Spencer agreed. He kissed you once more, briefly, stepped back, holding his hands out to help you off the counter. Your knees were weak for multiple reasons as you wobbled towards your bedroom, letting Spencer guide you so you were flat on your back, looking up at him. “Is that better?”
“Yeah,” you exhaled as Spencer hovered over you. One knee outside your leg, the other very much in between them, his hands gripping your shoulders. Spencer craned down to kiss you again, as if a car had been jump started, and you were once again lost in it, unable to think about anything else but the man on top of you and how much you loved the way he touched you.
He wasn’t afraid of your body or how you’d react - rather, he seemed to find arousal in you being comfortable. His hands moved down to your waistband once again, obviously his fixation for the day, and he asked you again if it was okay that he remove your pants. You just nodded and told him, “yes.”
Even though the word had come out softly and raspy, in the back of your mind, you were screaming for the love of god, yes. If you stop touching me, I might commit heinous crimes.
Soon your pants were off, with some strategic shimmying over your hips and thighs, and you watched with a slightly amused expression as Spencer tossed them aside carelessly. He never did anything carelessly, so the action was a nice ego boost, knowing you could cause his system to glitch just as much as he could yours.
Spencer’s hands went back to your hips, sliding under the bottom hem of your t-shirt, inching closer to your breasts as your pelvis lifted, searching desperately for any kind of friction, your center making contact with Spencer’s knee between your legs. He dug his knee in a little further, your underpants acting as a thin divider.
“Can I take your shirt off, beautiful?” Spencer asked, and all the nerve endings in your face went numb.
“When are you gonna lose some clothes, pal?” You asked breathlessly, taken aback by your own sassiness. Spencer was too, but he laughed, a brimful sound that would have knocked you over if you weren’t already lying down.
Spencer’s laugh still lined his voice as he looked down at you. “I guess it’s only fair,” he chuckled. “Which would you-“
“Shirt,” you tugged at his collar pathetically, your fingers shaking as you tried to undo the buttons.
That stupid smirk rose on his face and Spencer kissed your nose teasingly before he took his hands in yours. “Need me to get those for you?” He asked, and you nodded. Deftly, his fingers worked the buttons until the shirt was shrugging off his shoulders. You watched with your mouth hung ajar like a garden gate.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
Spencer bent down at his waist again to continue his cartographic exploration of your neck and jaw, his kisses feather light and so, so frustrating. His hands slid up your shirt again, gliding smoothly over your supple skin, his fingertips tracing your stretch marks. “Now that we’re on a level playing field,” Spencer said between kisses. “Can I please take off your shirt?”
A sound escaped you, a combination of breathy laughter and a desperate whine. “Yeah,” you murmured. Your hands moved to run through his perfect hair. It was so soft, so clean. How did he have time to keep it so clean? Your fingertips dug at his scalp as Spencer’s knee dug once again into the space between your legs. You groaned as Spencer guided you to lift your torso so your t-shirt could be tugged off over your head.
“You’re so beautiful,” he commented, and you felt your cheeks redden. He kissed your lips, his swollen and plump against yours as his hands traveled down. He swung the knee that was in between your legs over so that he fully straddled you now. He seemed to want to be everywhere - your breasts, your stomach, your lips, between your legs. It was like he couldn’t decide.
“What do you want, Spence?” You asked him, and Spencer’s eyes snapped to yours. Your tongue jutted out to moisten your lips.
“What do I want?” Spencer repeated, looking at you with an incredulous expression. “I want to make you feel good, angel. Do you want me to do that for you? Do you want me to make you feel good?”
“God. Yes.” You huffed. Spencer’s mouth was on yours in an instant, kissing you repeatedly as his hand traveled down. Hovering over your underwear, Spencer’s thumb pressed against your fabric-covered center and you felt him groan, the sound reverberating through your mouth.
“You’re so wet, Y/N,” he observed and your back arched instinctively, needing him.
“Spence,” you rasped.
“Say it again,” Spencer’s eyes met yours and his brow arched just as you felt him dip his index and middle fingers beneath the waistband of your underwear.
“Please, Spencer,” you managed to get out.
“That’s it,” he smirked, kissing your lips once as a reward before sliding your underpants down your thighs. You lifted your legs and he helped you out of them, tossing them aside like they were just collateral damage. His index finger was quick to tease at your folds, and you wondered if he had been thinking about this all day. “Open your legs a little bit more for me, angel,” he instructed.
You succumbed to his request almost instantly, and when Spencer’s finger rubbed against your clit, you had to bite back a moan. “What have I told you about holding back?” Spencer chastised you, and your eyes locked onto his. “I told you, don’t ever muffle yourself, baby. I want to hear every noise.”
“Spencer…”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No. Don’t you dare.”
“That’s my girl,” Spencer smirked, and began to pump his two fingers into you. Your legs began to close on instinct, but Spencer’s other hand pushed your hair out of your eyes. “Keep ‘em open, beautiful,” he said patiently, his fingers increasing exponentially in speed. “You hear how wet you are?”
“Mmm,” was all you could say as the filthy, wet sounds emitted from your middle.
“And that’s all for me, isn’t it, sweetheart?”
“Yeah,” you choked out as your hips bucked towards his fingers.
Spencer’s fingers were relentless as he fucked you with them. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your vision going white and hazy from the pleasure, from your walls tightening around Spencer’s incredibly deft digits.
“You’re doing so good, baby. Just hang on a little longer, yeah?” Spencer cooed, his voice genuinely, tooth-achingly sweet, and you felt his lips beneath your ear. He kissed the skin there, and you felt him move his lips up to your earlobe, taking it briefly between his teeth. “You’re doing so good, baby,” he reiterated in a low whisper.
Your hands clawed desperately against his bare back for some iota of purchase, moving from his back to his hair, to his neck as he fucked you senseless. You were getting so close, whiny, needy little whimpers escaping you as Spencer continued to pump into you. And finally - finally - you reached your peak. Spencer didn’t let up, letting you ride your orgasm for as long as you could. Stars blurred your vision, and all you could see were those dark brown eyes looking so lovingly down at you.
And when you finally started to come down, Spencer’s movements slowed. He was never the type to immediately pull out. No, he merely turned down the intensity as you caught your breath, rubbing your clit gently as his fingers - soaked with you - slowly came out of you.
“How do you feel?” he asked as you panted, your eyes meeting his.
You opened your mouth to say something - anything, but no words came out. “Baby, use your words,” Spencer encouraged, and you huffed, frustrated with yourself, that you couldn’t say much of anything right now.
“G-good,” you whispered with a hoarse voice. Spencer used his clean hand to brush your hair out of your face. “Very good,” you added.
“Very descriptive,” Spencer teased with a smirk, and you were too ravished to play back.
You managed to prop yourself up on to your elbows just as Spencer moved off of you, laying down on his side so he could kiss your neck soothingly. “Y/N?” He asked.
“Yeah?” you breathed, turning so you were on your side, so you could face him.
“I’m in love with you,” he whispered, and your eyes widened. You thought for a second he might be playing some sick joke, but then you looked in his eyes and saw how clear, how serious they were. Your lips flickered into a small, tired yet ridiculously happy smile. “You don’t have to say it back if you-“
“I love you, too,” you whispered, your lips meeting his in a long, slow, lazy kiss, feeling deliriously, stupidly happy.
——
A/N 2: I’ve never actually written smut before (I’ve read plenty lmfao) so if something is weird OR if you have any suggestions plzzzzz tell me I can take constructive criticism on this front xD
#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#basketonthedoorstepofthefbi#criminal minds spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x plus size reader#plus size reader#asks
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“IF NO ONE ACCEPTS YOU, YOU HAVE ME”
Lately I’ve seen the narrative around Krist shifting from “he’s homophobic” to “he was homophobic, but he got better :)” so!
Let’s go back to a moment in 2017 during a ceremony where Krist and Singto accepted an award from the Thai branch of the gay magazine Attitude (now defunct). That’s the magazine that published this photoshoot:
[Attitude, 2018, promoting SOTUS S] (they also did one in 2016 for SOTUS)
Krist said that a friend of his once came out to his parents, and the parents wouldn’t accept him, so Krist told his friend, “It’s okay. If no one accepts you, you have me, and I accept you for who you are.”
So, yes, Krist was hotheaded when people kept harassing him about his sexuality, but can anyone truly blame him? No one looks at all the times he answered politely. Just the one time he broke. [EDIT: I just spoke with someone who was there when the infamous IG story was posted, and they said: “Krist's tone and demeanour when he emphatically said "no" was like, y'know, still friendly. It's like when friends tease you relentlessly and you say ‘no’ more forcefully to get them to stop?” And that actually was my first impression of it back in 2020—a joke that landed badly. And it lines up with his first apology: that he felt badly because his answer was taken out of context.]
There are people today who film these guys at the urinal. Who treat them like property because of money and time spent on them. Who hire trucks to drive around their company building making demands. And it’s 2024. GMMTV has legal teams on this stuff now. But you and I can’t imagine what kind of invasiveness Krist and Singto went through in 2016 as one of the first pairs in the BL industry to gain overnight fame and rabid, unprecedented focus from millions. Of course he snapped. It’s widely known that fans and reporters target Krist over Singto to get information even today because Singto never gives anyone the satisfaction of a reaction, but Krist is a people-pleaser and truly struggles with saying no to people. He’s always been the emotional one, the one who overthinks, the one desperate to make people happy. And when fans wanted to force KristSingto to publicly say that they were secretly dating, fans thought they could get Krist to break first, and they were right. (Personally, I always thought the Instagram story was an exaggerated joke that was a barely veiled “drop it.” EDIT: I’m glad at least one person who was there at the time can corroborate this.)
Then interfans came along, marked him as an easy target, and maliciously miscast him as a bigot to wave after wave of new interfans who never bothered to research further after a random person on the internet told them he’s a homophobe.
Krist asked his parents for their blessing to audition for SOTUS when he was still a teenager. He was afraid of what they’d think, but because his parents are lovely people, they supported him. And they still do. Krist’s father has a running joke that he’ll let Krist marry Singto if Singto brings a durian for the dowry.
I never included Singto in my clarification thread because I knew how quickly people would dismiss anything with Singto as conniving, tricksy fanservice. But you really don’t know anything about Krist until you see him with people he considers his safe spaces. That includes people like Mike. Like Gawin. Godji. Oat. These people who love him because he’s earned it.
I know I talk about this a lot. But I won’t ignore it when people try to twist his character, especially with I see them making assumptions about the premise of Ex-Morning. All I believe is that he was angry and afraid and overwhelmed. Then he reacted, apologized, and learned how to handle the fame and the invasiveness better.
Please stop trying to claw marrow out of a past mirage.
#krist perawat#i’m just gonna post this now before ex-morning promo and kristsingto activities really get going#leave my son alone thank you
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The Rebound
Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader
Word count: 3194
Summary: It's been a long time since Cooper has felt a loving touch. Perhaps a little too long because he's not entirely sure what to do with you.
CW: Semi-slow burn, smut, P in V, creampies, loving on a crispy man who needs it real bad. Prob ooc because this is my first fallout/reader fic ever (sowwy)
Cooper was a hard man to break. Downright standoffish and a straight-up jackass. At least that was what he was like when you first met him. Charismatic, confident, an excellent shot, but god, was he a prick. That, though, you had gotten used to the longer you traveled together. As the months dragged on, that standoffishness started to shed from the Ghoul.
It started with random small talk picking up between you two as you travel between settlements. For the first few months together, it was mostly silence or business talk traded between you. Who was the next bounty? Where were they last? Can you scavenge while I get intel? It was all just business. That was until one night, Cooper started making small talk between their travels. Then came the soft conversations by the fire when they settled for the night. Every week, the weight of that duster and those guns on his back seemed to lighten the more he talked to you. Then came the offered cantine of water on a scorching day. Already an out-of-the-ordinary gesture from him, more so because your cantine wasn’t empty and he was offering his for a sip.
You took it.
The small talk turned into jokes with hushed laughs between you. As Cooper drawled on, you watched him over the campfire's tip. The light it threw cast beautiful shadows along Cooper's features, and when that crooked ass grin warped his lips more and more, you felt a tinge in the center of your chest. A little candlelight flickering and quivering whenever he spoke in that long drawl. It blazed when his eyes flicked up at you, staring at you in a way that made it seem like he could see right through you. It was like he could see that candle burning just for him.
Now, when the two of you slept, you were no longer on opposite sides of the room. You both started to creep toward each other every night until you were only a few feet apart. Cooper never laid down when he slept. Instead, he leaned against the wall and semi-slouched. He’d tilt his hat downward until the brim hid his eyes. Finally, he would cross his legs and arms before drifting off. You, on the other hand, preferred your bedroll. While not much, it was still better than the barren floor or the questionable mattress they occasionally came across.
Tonight, a storm was coming through, bringing billowing winds and harsh rain that pounded the roof of the abandoned gas station they had sheltered in. You had tried hours ago to sleep, but the chill from the wind crept between the broken boards and cracked windows. You tossed and turned for what felt like hours, unable to get warm in any position. You flopped over one more time, now facing where Cooper was slouched against a wall a good two feet from you. His brim was cast down, covering his eyes as usual, but from how still he was, you figured he had fallen asleep a while ago.
Chewing your lip, you hesitated momentarily before scooting towards him and bridging the gap. Snuggling up against his hips and thighs, you sighed contently. He smelled of gunpowder and smoke, typical. Slumber tugged at your eyelids, and you finally drifted off within minutes.
A light sleeper for obvious reasons in this hellhole of a wasteland, Cooper had awoken the second you had touched his leg. He waited for you to settle before opening one eye halfway and staring down his brim at you. Studying your peaceful expression and how you pressed your nose into his thigh. Two rouge strands of your hair had fallen against your cheek, slightly curled at the tips.
A former version of himself would have shoved you away, telling you to git back to your side of the station. Except the current version of himself felt something swirling around in his chest. It was slightly uncomfortable but not all too unfamiliar.
It was a sensation he hadn’t felt for over a hundred years, something that longed for that little touch and craved so much more. It flopped around behind his ribcage, and he grits his teeth in annoyance.
Sighing and looking back down, he shifts gently. Bringing one hand down and outstretching two fingers, he tenderly brushes the hair strands behind your ear. With that, he recrosses his arms and sits back, eyes closing.
As the months continue, so do they, but Cooper is different at night. His expressions are somber, his eyes distant while he sharpens his knives. Deep in thought, sometimes it takes calling his name twice before he looks up at you.
“Coop, are you alright?” you ask, your eyebrows furrowed together in concern. You were annoyed when he smiled and chuckled softly, telling you he was peaches and cream. You didn’t push the matter and didn’t have to because he mentioned his daughter three nights later.
He spoke slowly, hesitantly, wondering if he should even be saying any of this to you in the first place. He wasn’t a vulnerable man, not anymore, anyway.
He spoke, and you listened, night after night, as more pieces of the puzzle of this mystery man fell together. Under all those clothes and behind all those guns, Cooper was still just a man—an ordinary man.
“You’ll find her Coop,” Reaching over from where you were sitting at his side, you placed your hand on his wrist and gently squeezed it, “I know you will.”
Cooper didn’t respond, but a smile so tiny it almost went missed curved the corners of his lips.
As you lay in your bedroll that night, you felt something shift against your front. Opening your tired eyes halfway, you watched through blurry vision as Cooper lay down next to you. His back was to you, but you scooted against his spine without a second thought. Resting your cheek between his shoulder blades, you closed your eyes again.
Eventually, Cooper lay facing you. Without saying anything, he would hook your waist and tug you against his chest. Then, you would feel him resting his chin on your head. The first time he had done it, your face burned so hot you feared you might catch ablaze. If Cooper noticed, he didn’t say. No matter, you didn’t want him to stop, and you were sure he didn’t want you to, either.
In truth, Cooper would be lying if he ever said he didn’t like the sensation of your small palms against his chest. He loved how you played with the buttons on his dirty shirt until you fell asleep.
Each night, you did the same thing, chest to chest, until finally, one night, you nuzzled your face into the nook of Cooper's neck. Soft and plump lips grazed across his scarred skin before placing a gentle kiss on Cooper’s jawline.
Immediately, Cooper stiffened against you. You felt his fingers tracing lazy patterns on the small of your back pause. You heard him swallow suddenly, and your stomach sank as you expected him to push you away and scold you.
Instead, Cooper cleared his throat and nestled his chin harder against the top of your head.
Days in the wasteland dragged on usually, but the following days felt like an eternity since that night. Bounty after bounty, caps collected, and supplies scavenged, Cooper never once brought it up. Instead, he carried on as usual, which, in truth, made your heartache.
It was possible that even after all of this time, the candle he had ablaze in your chest was not mutually lit.
What you didn’t know was that Cooper's heart had bounced out of his chest and into his throat that night. He didn’t think it was even possible for his cheeks to flush, but damn, they felt hot. It was alien; over 200 years of feeling the kiss of bullets, he had forgotten what a real one felt like. It was incredible but also terrifying.
He had loved, and he had lost.
The nights following the kiss, Cooper waited for you to make a move again, but you didn’t. You slept with your back to him and didn’t move when he pressed against you and draped an arm over your waist. After a few minutes, he felt your fingers intertwine with him in a gentle grip.
The two of you stayed linked that night.
The following night, Cooper watched as you shrugged off your jacket and kicked off your boots, getting ready to sleep after a long day of tracking a bounty through the unforgiving sun. Reaching up, you released your hair from its loose bun and let your locks fall messily over your shoulders.
You half turned when you felt Cooper grab your hand. Watching him bring it to his lips, he kissed your palm and pressed your hand against his cheek.
The brim of his hat temporarily hid his eyes, but when he looked up at you, your heart fluttered. No words were exchanged as you slowly leaned forward, having to stand on your toes even to come close to his marred lips. Centimeters away, you paused, but Cooper filled the gap.
The first kiss was gentle, and your free hand came up to cup Cooper’s other cheek. When you broke away, it wasn’t for long. Reconnecting, your kisses became hungrier, and your hands on Cooper's cheeks drifted downward. Running over his neck, then his collar and chest. You worked your way down as he kissed you until you palmed at his groin.
“Wait,” Cooper pulled away suddenly, stepping back, “wait…fuck” He turned on his heels, pacing back and forth.
“What’s wrong?” You ask, watching him shake his head and curse to himself. “Coop?”
Once he stopped pacing, he sighed and shook his head before glancing over his shoulder at you.
“I don’t think I have it in me no more, sweetheart.” He laughed softly at himself.
“What do you mean?” Taking a step towards him, she watched as he finally turned to face her.
“It’s… been a long time. A really long time, sugar.” Too long, really, at least, that is what he thought anyway. Nobody had touched him like this since before the bombs. Nobody had loved him. The only thing he knew now was blood, bullets, and ass jerky.
“Coop,” You said softly, moving towards him and wrapping your arms around his towering frame, “let me take care of you for once.” There was silence before Cooper rested his chin atop your head and laughed. Slowly, his hands came up to rest on your hips, his thumbs dipping under the fabric of your shirt to rub at the soft skin there.
Looking up, you place a chain of kisses along his jawline. Meanwhile, one of your hands pressed against his back snaked back to his front. There, you worked your way down again until you felt the subtle tent in his pants. You palmed it gently, drawing out soft groans from your Ghoul. He shifted in place, sliding his chin off your head and burying his face between the nook in your neck. His hips lean forward into your touch, and you purr at that.
“That’s it,” you whisper, working the top button until it pops. Next, you slide his zipper down and slide your hand inside. “I’ve got you.”
Upon grabbing his stiffening cock, you feel him tense against you, even sagging a little bit as you start to stroke. Your thumb rubs over his swollen head, spreading the generous amount of precum around. You feel it pulse against your palm, and you can’t help but smile when Copper’s breath stutters against your neck.
“Fuck darling,” He drawls, “You know how to drive a man mad.” Bringing his hands up from your hips, Cooper knots his fingers into the back of your shirt. It doesn’t take long to have him unraveling. You can feel his thighs trembling and his grip tightening the closer he gets to release. Like butter, he is melting and fast.
Each new noise you pull from him causes a feverish heat to swell over your form. Your stomach flips, and you feel your heat clench with desire. As much as you would like to keep your composure, you lean into him, pressing your forehead into his shoulder as you stroke faster and faster.
The choked growl Cooper lets out is the only warning you get before hot fluid coats your palm and wrist. His hips lurch in your grip twice before he suddenly sags hard against your form. Finger still twisted in your shirt, he finally lets go and lets his arms swing heavily by his sides. His legs are like jelly, and it takes him a moment to stand up semi-straight, his hat slightly crooked. He looks drunk, his eyes glossy, that stupid ass grin you loved smeared across his lips.
“That good, huh?” Stepping back to give him a little breathing room, you pluck the first few buttons of your shirt open. Allowing your shirt to part and fall from your shoulders, your breasts become exposed. With your other hand, you reach down and open the first button of your pants.
“Well then,” You coo, “come on then bounty hunter.” You shimmy your pants and panties off, kicking them off to the side, leaving your form raw to his eyes. “Come and get it.”
There was no need to ask twice. Rushing forward, Cooper grabbed your hips and slammed your forms together. Your lips crashed together again and again, and you whined into his mouth, horribly needy. You didn’t doubt Cooper had seen the slick glistening on your inner thigh.
Pushing you backward, you allowed Cooper to guide you to your bedroll. Once close enough to it, he kicked his foot out, hooked his heel around your leg, and pulled it out from under you. As you fell backward, he fell with you, landing flat on his palms. Towering over you now, eyes ablaze as they drink in your beet red face and beautiful puffy pink breasts.
“You’ve been wantin' this for a while, haven’t yah?” Lifting one of his hands and pressing it against your soft belly, he drags it down towards your heat. Without warning, he slides his middle and ring finger through your folds, running over your sensitive clit. You gasp, tossing your head back.
“Ngh! Fuck!” Looking up between your bodies, you watch as Cooper drags his fingers up and down over and over, teasing your swelling clit. “Fuck Coop, fuck!”
“Well,” He growls, “Who am I to keep a lady waitin'?” Without warning, his middle and ring finger coast downward and dip deep into your gushing cunt. The squeal that escapes your lips has Cooper chuckling. He presses deep into you, humming as your walls grip his digits.
Burying himself knuckle deep over and over, a squelching noise is followed by each hand thrust. You lift and twist your hips from the intense waves of pleasure. Only when you feel Cooper withdraw his fingers do you flop down, panting harshly.
Through half-lidded and blurry eyes, you watch Cooper bring his hand between you. He inspects them before spreading his two fingers apart, a tendril of thick fluid connecting them.
“You get this wet for everybody else? Or just little o’l me?”
Turning your head away in embarrassment, you feel Cooper grip your chin and return your gaze to him.
“Eyes on me.” He growls as he rolls his hips forward, running his stiff cock between your slick folds. The head bumps your clit, and for a moment, you think you see stars. Over and over again, he grinds against you, littering your chest with kisses in the meantime.
When you finally feel him lean back and press his head against your opening, he hesitates.
“It’s okay,” you whisper as you place your hand on his cheek and run your thumb over his cheekbone. “I’ve got you.” Sliding both arms around his neck, you gently tug him into your warm embrace. One hand rugs between his shoulder blades while your other rubs the back of his neck.
Allowing himself to lean forward, he nuzzles into the side of your neck before biting the soft flesh.
Rolling his hips forward, he breaches and slides into you with ease. Gasping and choking out a soft cry, you feel him bury himself to his hilt. Hip connected to hip for a brief moment, he finally drags himself out. Rolling forward, the pase is slow, perhaps even loving, before your Ghoul gets hungry.
It doesn’t take long before your hips are slapping together. You can’t stop the sobs of pleasure that break past your lips with each sharp snap of his hips. Digging your nails into his shoulder blades, you feel your eyes cross when the head of his cock punches that sweet, sweet bundle of nerves.
“Oh fuck, Cooper!” Your back arches off of your bedroll, “F-fuck! I’m… I’m” The hot waves of pleasure radiating from your belly to your groin all the way down your trembling thighs to your toes are winding too tight. “I’m gonna cum!”
He didn’t slow down and instead angled himself better to strike that little bundle of nerves that had your eyes rolling back. It took two hard hits before he felt your beck snap into a tight arch. He felt your chest bump hard against him, and your hips twisted to the right as your climate ripped you apart.
Head thrown back, mouth wide open, no sound came out of you as your climax held you prisoner.
Above, Cooper's thrusts started to become sloppy, losing their rhythm as your cunt clamped down on him spasmodically. As much as he tried to hold on, it had been too long, and you had felt too good.
Grunting hard into the side of your neck, you felt a warmth bloom in your groin as Cooper spilled everything he had left into you. He slammed your hips together, holding you in place and burying himself as deep as he could, pumping you full. The sensation had goosebumps blooming across your skin as your body finally deflated back down against the bedroll.
With eyes half-lidded and glossy, you made out the foggy shape of Cooper still hunched over you, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. Every other breath was a soft wheeze. Sweat had beaded on his forehead, and a droplet fell and landed on your chest.
Leaning back and sliding himself from your heat, a thick flood of cum followed. You shivered at the sensation and watched as Cooper lowered himself against your form. Resting his head between your breasts, he inhaled sharply and sighed.
Lovingly, you stroked the back of his neck, enjoying the sensation of his hot breath against your breast.
Together, you lay like that while listening to the rain from a passing storm plink against the tin roof.
When you looked down, Cooper's eyes were closed, and his breathing had finally leveled. Letting your head fall back, you closed your own eyes and smiled.
For once, the wasteland was at peace.
#fallout#fallout amazon#cooper howard#the ghoul#cooper howard x reader#this is my first ever character x reader fic I've ever written#so im new to this kinda fic but know I tried#also please#my asks are open for requests#I purchased premium Grammarly just to start writing more so please... give me fuel#I have another ghoul fic on the back burner where he is self servicing himself tee hee stay tooned
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Sweet lies
Pairing • Toji x gn!reader
Warnings • Angst!, Cheating mentioned, suggestive, manipulation, UNHEALTHY RELATIONSHIP!, Cursing, not proof read sorry!! lmk if i missed anything >.<
Word count • 405 words
A/n • This is my first time writing in a while LMAO. I hope you all enjoy! :)) Repost are always appreciated!
You knew your marriage was going downhill the first time you caught him but, you being young, naive, and stupidly in love you let yourself believe the foolish lies that he would spill to you every night. The tongue that was used to pleasure another being the same one let the words “i love you” effortlessly roll off.
You met Toji when you were fairly young. A fresh college graduate moving away from home to a new city to start your new life. Things were going great! You were able to snag a great job as an accountant and you were making good money. You got a beautiful pent house apartment and were wearing clothes that years ago you thought you would never be able to afford and not to mention all at the age of 24. Yeah, things really were going great for you and things would still be that way if you just hadn’t gone out that night.
You had met a group of girls from this dance class you joined when you first moved and they somehow convinced you to go out clubbing with them one night. ‘What’s the harm in one night out?’ you repeated to yourself in your head, you were never really the clubbing type. Little did you know that one night would somehow change the course of your life. You met Toji on this night out.
He had this charm to him. Maybe it was something about a man that was older that got it you or the strong cologne that hit your nostrils as soon as he walked up. It could’ve been how smooth he was with his words and how dominating his presence was. At first glance he seemed scary but something about him made you feel… safe. Using that deep rasp voice and smooth combination of words he managed to bring you home that night.
It wasn’t something you were proud of, you didn’t like one night stands. Afterwards you were ashamed you would let yourself go like this, especially with a guy you just met not even 2 hours ago! You can’t lie tho, he was the best fuck you’ve ever had. He fell asleep shortly after so you took that as your que to leave. Before you leaving you left your number on his nightstand, you wanted to see more of him but it also made you feel better about the situation. Much to your surprise he ended up calling a few days later and asking you out on a date. It made you feel good, he wanted you. He wanted to turn into something. All that talk at the club wasn’t just to get in your pants, he actually liked you! You both went on more dates and shortly after began dating. It was a very nerve wracking experience for you, him being your first relationship since high school.
You fell hard. He made you feel things you’ve never felt before. He was all you wanted and more. He was nothing like the guys your age, he was grown. He was doing things for you that you’ve only seen with TV couples. Bringing you flowers while you were at work, random dates and gifts, and so much more. Toji was the man of your dreams but like every couple you guys had your ups and downs. The thing that made them all better, that damn mouth of his.
Toji’s words were your drug. He just always knew the right things to say. He had you right in the palm of his hand and you didn’t even know it. The things he has convinced you to do are unbelievable and looking back on it now you definitely wouldn’t have done them. Cutting off all your friends because in his words “They are all too immature” and “bad influences”, moving out of the apartment you loved so so much because he says would be better to wake up with you by his side and even quitting the job of your dreams.. because he promised he would take care of you. He didn’t want you to ever stress your pretty little head or lift one of your polished fingers. You began to rely on him, you began to need him.
About a year and a half into your relationship he proposed and of course you said yes! who were you to say no to him? He was providing for you, keeping you safe, the least you could do was tie the knot with him, right?
Biggest mistake of your life.
part two???
#anime#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#choso x reader#angst#toji zenin#jujutsu toji#toji angst#jjk toji#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji smut#toji x y/n#toji x you#dilf toji#jjk thoughts#jjk x reader#jjk#jjk smut#jjk x you#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen#jujustsu kaisen x reader#zenin toji x reader#jjk fushiguro#toji fushigro x reader#toji fic#jujutsu kaisen fushiguro#sadnees
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I tried to have this conversation a few weeks ago and it didn't go well, so after giving it time to calm down I am bringing it up now on my own page, about the importance of allowing fans who can't afford the game, or who otherwise can't play for themself due to disabilities, etc, a space in the fandom. And in particular, this involves deconstructing the idea that Let's Plays aren't a valid way to experience this media, and that people who didn't purchase the game don't belong here, both of which are harmful, classist, ableist ideas.
(Tone: genuine. Not angry or aggressive, but passionate.)
I want to say that as much as I enjoy playing BG3 and am glad I bought it, there really isn't anything that I have gained, in terms of understanding of the plot, lore, characters, relationships, etc, that I didn't already have when I was watching Let's Plays and using the datamined dialogues exclusively. Nor has my emotional experience been significantly different in any measurable way. I mean, I WAS very happy to recruit and romance Halsin in a way that I didn't feel when I watched a Let's Play, but that's it. It didn't change my understanding of, or feelings towards, him at all. I knew Halsin's entire story before, and I knew his entire story after, too. My feelings on each and every one of Halsin's scenes has remained exactly the same.
There wasn't any character I thought was a bad guy who I saw something new in when I played for myself, or vice-versa. I didn't have any paradigm shifts in my understanding of the plot. The bad guy was still a Nether Brain controlled by the Chosen of the Dead Three in each playthrough. The good guys were still a group of traumatized weirdos (/affectionate). Astarion was still a victim of rape and slavery, Shadowheart was still a cult escapee, and Halsin still struggled with the burdens of leadership. There were still choices that could make the companions bar Jaheira and Minsc fall in love with you, and choices that could make them despise you. There were still choices that could push some of the characters to be better or worse versions of themselves. There were still a lot of notes and books to pick up, some of which were important to the lore, some of which provided random factoids about bit characters you may find interesting or may find useless, and many of which were completely useless and a waste of inventory space. I didn't learn anything new in the informational sense, about the plot, the characters, the flow of the game, nothing.
(Well, there was ONE different thing, which was that I ended up being an edge case where I accidentally shot Lae'zel with my arrow when trying to free her and got yelled at by her for it. Does that actually count as a unique-to-playing revelation though? Everyone who watched me stream that day would have learned about it too.)
I didn't experience some overwhelming emotional shift in response to the events onscreen that wasn't there when I watched Let's Play, either, which is also an argument that has been made. There's been a case presented that it's not so much that the events themselves change but that playing somehow alters your emotional response which affects how you view the plot and characters. But that didn't happen for me, either. I didn't go from "I do not care one single solitary fuck about Barcus Wroot" to "oh my god I will give this poor liddol guy the world." I still do not care about him. I didn't go from "yay, the moon lesbians are free!" to some sort of more intense emotion like "omg I'm going to cry now!" I still love them and am happy they're free, but hardly moved to tears. I didn't go from "fuck Orin" to "MEGA fuck Orin." Making the choices and fighting the battles myself didn't change anything for me in that sense. There was no emotion I hadn't already felt before that came to me in my own playthrough. Every emotion I had when watching a Let's Play was almost exactly the same when I played the game for myself.
If anything, the only real change was that I started to have annoyance as a sort of background radiation for about 90% of the companions because I kept accidentally talking to them when trying to click on items and things, and I got really fucking tired of hearing their greetings? "Shut up, Astarion, I wanted to loot the corpse, not talk to you, please back the fuck up. Why is my party always halfway up my ass? Personal space, guys?" Otherwise nope.
My understanding of canon, my understanding of the characters, my emotional resonance to the events that happened, those were all exactly the same. I literally don't know what people are referring to when they say that there was some magical new dimension of feeling that can only be unlocked when you are the one playing. Whatever that magic was certainly wasn't there for me, and that disproves the idea it's "impossible" to fully experience the game through LPs, because having played the game, I can say that I DID get the full experience through LPs. Maybe some people can't get the full feel of things by watching, which is 100% valid, but some people very much can. I did both, and I can tell you that they conferred 98% similar intellectual and emotional experiences.
In fact, I'd argue that there's more of a difference between playing as a Tav or an Origin vs playing as a Dark Urge than there is between playing yourself vs watching an LP, but I don't often see the case made that people who haven't completed a Durge playthrough don't understand the game properly and therefore can't/shouldn't contribute their analyses/interpretations of canon to the fandom. And I mean, there is some HEAVY lore you only get in a Durge playthrough. You would have a FAR better case that completing/watching a Durge playthrough is the event that marks you as understanding/having a complete knowledge of canon than you would that playing the game yourself instead of watching someone else do it is, though I still wouldn't ultimately agree that it's a prequisite.
People who watch LPs are valid, your way of experiencing the game is valid, and don't let anyone else tell you otherwise because honestly, people who gatekeep are never worth listening to in the first place. The idea that your understanding becomes more complete when playing yourself isn't true for everyone. You can say they weren't the same experience for you, and that is PERFECTLY valid and understandable, but that's only you. You can't say what others are and aren't able to feel when playing vs watching Let's Plays. The only correct statement here is "some people are able to fully comprehend the plot through Let's Plays, and some aren't, and the mode of consuming the game ultimately doesn't determine whether a person belongs here. Both groups still belong in the fandom and have just as valid opinions to contribute as the others."
Further, I have seen absolutely brilliant, on-point analyses from people who only watched Let's Plays, and absolutely horrible, nuclear hot takes from people who spend all day playing the game. Just the other day, for example, I legitimately witnessed a Redditor VEHEMENTLY argue that 1. There was a scene in the game where Halsin called Thaniel "beautiful", 2. This nonexistent scene was ABSOLUTE proof that Halsin was a pedophile, and 3. Halsin's time as a sex slave had clearly caused him to become a pedophile. People who had seen only the intro of the game on an LP would STILL have a better understanding of canon than this person who claimed to have played dozens of times. If we're going to judge people's understanding of the game, it should be based on the understanding their posts convey directly, not based on assumptions about who can absorb what amount of information through what mode of consuming the game.
So I repeat: LP watchers, you're fine. Enjoy fandom in a way you can experience. You shouldn't be locked out of discussion of the game just because you can't afford hundreds of dollars for a game system. To suggest otherwise would be appallingly cruel and exclusionary behavior, on the level of saying bootleg watchers can't be part of discussions about Broadway shows. You all belong. You don't have to buy your way into a fandom space.
And bringing it to that issue: yes, Let's Plays ARE an absolute necessity for both poor people and for people with certain disabilities (blindness, since the game doesn't have a narrative-only mode, and severe disabilities affecting the hands being the two that jump to mind right away). Gatekeeping fandom from poor people based on whether they've bought an expensive game and gaming setup, much like being an anti-bootleg Broadway fan, serves the sole purpose of shaming and punishing poor fans for not properly engaging in the capitalist system. I know the intention isn't to gatekeep the poor and people with certain disabilities from the fandom, but that ends up being the effect when this particular argument gets made.
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pearls.
&&. its easy to let go around you, mark is so glad he has you as an escape.
pairing: mark lee x m!reader
genre: angsty but it ends fluffy, idol x regular joe
warnings: mentions of overworking
word count: 1.4k
notes: wrote this for the n01 markf ever in the world!!!! if yk who you are, yk who you are 🫶 anw, i am so terribly in love with mark this is absolutely vile 🙁 save me from this insanely pretty canadian man (DONT SAVE ME), if you can forgive me for not updating for literally TEN DAYS, take this as my apology.. i am so so very corny so those little ending love confessions come from real words i have said to my own very real bf 😞 again sorry for not updating for very long my knee is pretty injured AND life is so shitty.. okay i love you all bye 😓
you won't try to come up for an explanation as to why you were up at one in the morning.
yeah you were tired, but you were still up making coffee in your kitchen. your mind was racing with thoughts of work, god your job stresses you out so much, it's going to end up killing you one day, you can't close your eyes without hearing the loud shouting of your manager and overbearing customers who think they own the world.
sleep has never came easy to you, so coffee at one in the morning it is. the aroma of roasted beans makes it's way around the air of your kitchen, a smell that has become a staple of comfort to you, yeah the excessive coffee intake might kill you someday, but right now? right now you felt like you were in heaven.
your coffee drinking is interrupted by a knock at your day, your head shoots up like your a deer caught in headlights, and you blink at the unmoving wooden door of your unit. you're not expecting anyone, and especially not at one in the morning. your mind races with questions as you place the heated mug onto your kitchen counter, groaning silently as you make your way over to the door.
you can't think of who could possibly be at your door, maybe your manager? one of your coworkers? a guy from amazon delivering a package originally for your neighbors?
the last option seems like the most probable one, so when you open your door, you prepare a small sentence for the delivery person you expect to be at your door. "for the last time unit 17 is on the second floo—"
you pause as you open the door, it is not a random delivery guy from amazon. when you look up to meet the eyes of the person who had knocked on your door, you come face to face with a person you had missed more than anything.
mark.
you find a small smile coming to your face at the sight of your boyfriend, but your smile falls as you take in how he looks. his eyes are red and puffy, he's fidgeting with his sweater strings, and he's bitten his lips so hard that they've begun bleeding. your lips turn downward at the sight before you, he looks stressed, he looks miserable.
"oh god, hi babe, i didn't even know you'd come around".
mark blinks at you, continuing to fidget with the strings of his sweater, the sweater he's wearing is one you bought for him back last year when you went on that trip to vancouver. "sorry" he whispers, blinking again. "i just— i don't know i feel overwhelmed".
you tilt your head, immediately getting what he meant by that. you open your door wider, pausing mark's fidgeting momentarily to grab his left hand to intertwine it with yours. "come in" you don't wait for his response, just tug his hand gently, lurching him forward into your unit and smoothly closing the door behind you.
you catch on to mark's heightened anxiousness, but he seems to be want to be avoiding that topic as much as possible. "did something happen?"
mark is quick to shake his head, way too quick, you narrow your eyes at him and his weird change in behavior. "no, nothing, i'm just.. work, it's all becoming just a little too much for me".
ah, a small frown forms again on your lips. mark is a hardworking person, you know that, but it sometimes all gets to his head, those unbearable thoughts that he's not doing well enough, the unbearable feeling of anxiety that settles whenever he thinks about his future as a musician, the feeling that he's not doing enough even though he already does so much.
you hate that this has become a familiar sight. a distressed mark with tears welled up in his eyes, clearly trying his best to stay put together as he stood in front of your door, each time, it seemed to be getting worse and worse.
you've seen mark at so many of his lows, many more than you like to count, and just the thought of him feeling like he isn't doing enough upsets you.
you're not thinking about anything else when you step forward, not your untouched coffee on the counter, not your shitty job, nothing but making mark feel better. your arms wrap around him instinctively, and you loop your left arm around his waist to pull him into a hug, a hug he doesn't try to fight.
you hear a small sniffle leave mark as you tighten your hold on him, a few years escape his eyes, wetting the top of your sleeve, but you don't care, much too busy embracing him. "i'm sorry, i'm so sorry" your words are nothing but a small whisper in the expanse of your apartment, as if a secret shared only between the two of you, but mark hears your words well, he hears everything he has to. you raise and press a kiss to his forehead, an act of affection that just makes mark even more emotional than he expected.
"you shouldn't have to feel like this, you work so hard, you do so much.."
your mutters only get a small chuckle in response, and you just snicker as well.
mark has always found it easy to let go around you, it's been a staple of your relationship since forever, even before you began dating. around you, he doesn't feel like he has to put on a show, he doesn't have to live up to all of these unrealistic expectations. with you, he doesn't have to be world famous idol mark lee, he doesn't have to be star trainee mark lee, he doesn't have to be perfect, flawless mark lee.
with you, mark can let go, he can just be himself.
mark has no idea what he'd do without you.
when you pull away, arms still caged around mark, he doesn't let go immediately, head still pressed against your shoulder.
nothing else matters at the moment to you. so, instead of trying to move away from him, you let him begin moving you backward, you just allow for him to, lightly squeaking when he pushes you onto the couch and quickly moves to lay on top of you.
you giggle at his dedication, but he doesn't say anything more, just wraps his arms around you and lays his head onto your chest, listening to the beating of your heart. "you tired?"
mark just nods against your chest, letting out a small sigh as he cracks one eye open to glance at you. "y/n?"
"hm?"
"i love you.." he mutters, grabbing your hand and lacing his fingers with yours. "love you so much, i'm so happy i have you".
you laugh. "mark—"
"hush" he places a finger against your lips, cutting off your oncoming words. "let me finish" he gives a tired smile as he continues.
"i can't believe how lucky i am to have you, your always here taking care of me and i.. i can never figure out how to repay you, you're one of the best things to ever happen to me, everything becomes much more bearable with you, i love you so so much it's literally driving me crazy".
you blink as you listen to mark pour his heart out to you. he has always been like this, oh you're so in love, even at some of his lowest points, he never fails to remind you that he loves you, and that he feels so deeply for you. his words always strike you in a strange place, they always get a smile and red face out of you.
oh mark lee always knows how to leave you speechless.
"hey" you whisper, noticing mark slowly looking away from you. "you don't have to repay for me for anything, i'm your boyfriend, i'm always going to look after you because you're wellbeing is important to me, and don't start with all of that, you're one of the best things to happen to me".
mark snorts silently. "love you".
"love you more".
mark leans closer, moving his soft hand against yours. "i know" he whispers.
you run your fingers through his hair, slowly coaxing him to sleep with your ministrations.
"good".
#mark lee#nct#nct 127#nct dream#nct u#mark nct#nct imagines#nct drabbles#nct scenarios#mark lee imagines#mark lee drabbles#mark lee scenarios#mark lee x reader#nct x reader#mark lee x male reader#𑁍 ࣪˖ 𓂃 isa's works!
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"Time & the Trickster"
a Loki/Doctor Who crossover
Epilogue: Goddess of Stories
Time goes by...
CHAPTER WARNING (18+): none, other than I cried again
Previous Chapter
MASTERLIST
The Doctor sniffed the air as he stepped out of the smoking TARDIS. He reached into his pocket and felt the Sonic Screwdriver inside. Taking it out, he pressed a button, grinning when it lit up and proved that it was fully-functional again.
The environment smelled deliciously familiar. London. His native timeline. Approximately…2007 AD?
Looking down at the rubbish-covered sidewalk in front of the alley where the TARDIS landed, The Doctor smiled and picked up a dirty, wet flier that simply read ‘Vote Saxon.’
“I’m back!” he said with a grin. He opened his mouth and breathed in to taste the air around him. “And…hmm…what’s that?”
Beyond the alley, a bit further on, a large skyscraper seemingly brand-new to the London horizon stood, a large sign in the front reading ‘Adipose Industries.”
“Adipose, eh? Now, that’s a bit curious, isn’t it? What are they doing here?” he said aloud to himself, the name triggering The Doctor’s immediate interest. He walked across the street for a closer look. Something strange was brewing here, he could feel it, perhaps something dangerous or even deadly.
And he wouldn’t miss it for anything.
“You heading out, Sis?” Joey called out from the sofa, his head leaning back against the cushions.
You were dressed in a lovely black cocktail dress, hair tossed expertly into a messy bun. The high heels you’d gotten proved to be a bit too much, but you knew you had to make the right impression at this dinner meeting.
“Yeah, don’t wait up,” you replied. “If it goes well, they’ll sign me, and we’ll get a round of congratulatory drinks.”
You sucked in your breath, observing yourself one last time in the long mirror mounted in the doorway of your small-but-cozy house in the northern suburb, purchased with the sale of your first book last year. The novel you’d written about a lonely woman saving the world by returning a god to the stars was an underground hit when you’d first independently published it, and after six months and two reprints to meet demand, Random House was on the verge of signing a three-book deal with you, estimated to be worth at least a million once you chose and signed with the agent you were meeting tonight.
It was your birthday, three years to the night that you’d rescued Loki from a holding cell downtown. The date for this life-changing moment seemed almost preordained.
“You got this,” called Joey half-heartedly. You knew he meant it, but he was already four beers into his night off, and he could only muster so much emotion without exhausting himself. His new bartending job was on a college campus, and he was still adjusting to the busy weekends of ungrateful 20-year-olds demanding to be served.
Neither of you seemed to want to rush into relationships. Joey had never been the type for long-term entanglements of any sort, and the fallout of your whirlwind romance with the God of Stories had left most other prospects lacking. You’d dated in the years since that adventurous summer, but no one stuck in your heart the way Loki had.
You hoped he hadn’t ruined you. Only time would tell.
Your taxi was late, but seeing as it was a beautiful, rain-free spring evening, it was a pleasure to wait under the setting sun for it. It didn’t hurt that you didn’t live in the city anymore. The air smelled better, the ambience was less-frantic, and best of all: you could see the sky at night, which was what you’d told Joey was the most important factor when you decided to continue cohabitation and look for a new place. You could still see the city from your front yard, especially at night when it was all aglow, but the light pollution didn’t extend far enough to obscure the stars.
Almost every night that wasn’t overcast, you spent hours sitting on the low roof over the front door, watching for any sign that what you’d been through, the things you’d seen, and the feelings you’d experienced had all been real. Joey had always been able to assure you that your journey across the sea to restore Loki to his terrible throne had been real.
To keep those feelings close to your memories, you wrote them down and gave them to your brother to read.
“Damn,” he had said after reading your first draft, “you should get these in print…maybe change the names a bit so Disney doesn’t bean you with a lawsuit…”
Taking his suggestion to mind, you adjusted a few factors: turning Loki and The Doctor specifically into original characters who just HAPPENED to share a lot in common with their counterparts. After two furious rewrites, you had a worthy tale that caught a lot of attention. Several books about “The Great Greening” (which scientists had explained away as a climate change phenomenon) had preceded yours, but none read as intimately as what you had to offer. Admittedly, you’d played up the romance and added a bit of wishful thinking (having included an alternate ending to the book where Loki came back for you and Sylvie was tied to the throne forever). It was the sincere passion behind your words that attracted fans.
The final signing was taking place over dinner at the Blue Palm downtown, the only place in Syracuse fancy enough to serve escargot.
You closed your eyes as you stood in your driveway, waiting for your cab (perhaps a car would be your next extravagant purchase). You gently whispered one word into the night:
Loki.
Opening your eyes, you were just in time to see a green streak line the sky before disappearing over the tree line. You went warm inside. Someone was thinking of you and loving you tonight.
“I love you too,” you sighed with a smile. “Forever.”
You knew you would never see him again, yet every time you felt the anxiety rise in your blood, you told yourself one thing: you were in Loki’s caring hands, even if from ‘somewhere out there.’ As long as you could see that green flash in the night, you knew he was real, and that he was watching.
Conscious of a large yellow cab pulling up around the corner, you took in one more brave breath, and rode off toward your future.
Always watching. For eternity. A Time Lord of his own ordination.
All Loki could do was remain tethered to the golden throne, all of time between his fingers, the most powerful creature to ever exist, and also the most powerless. His only consolation was the ability to see within them, like a spectator watching you move on without him.
He could see Mobius play with his sons. He could see The Doctor jetting around history with his ginger-haired best friend. He could see Joey finally become manager at his job. He could see you on your book tour, smiling for cameras and earning enough money to guarantee your security. It seemed you were becoming quite a goddess of stories.
All of you were getting on with your lives in various ways, as it should have been.
Now, he was watching with quiet pride as you accepted the proposal of the good-looking, warm-hearted man you’d met the night you’d signed your first book deal, who'd started off as your agent before you both found your feelings for one another morphing into something more. Loki sent out a green falling star to celebrate your engagement, and to give his blessing to your match.
A tear pricked the corner of his eye. You made all of it worthwhile. It was an honor keeping you alive.
“For you,” he repeated one final time, “For all of us."
Thank you for going on this journey with me. I hope it was worth the trip! ~. Lena
@crashingwavesofeuphoria @kkdvkyya @red-shirt-mania @misschris1412 @salvinaa @marygoddessofmischief @spiderstyles04 @fireflymoonwitch @mochie85 @loz-3 @lcolumbia1988 @lokilurker @eleniblue @gruftiela @starkzdaughter @mrsbarnes-avenger @thedistractedagglomeration @km-ffluv @lokisgoodgirl @holdmytesseract @itsthattimedarling @wolfsmom1 @scully2u @shinisenko @mischief2sarawr @ririsutty73 @lulubelle814 @meg81589 @gloriuspurposeposts @theonetruepotato87 @linllewellyn @wistfulclueless @etherealkistar @tinydancer40 @hardtravelerwizard-blog @fangirlofmanysstuff @krabog @soulpiercing @archivelaurarps @banjo-bastard
#loki#fanfiction#mcu#mcu loki#loki fanfiction#loki x reader#mcu fanfiction#loki laufeyson#loki/reader#adventure#time travel#crossover fic#mcu crossover#doctor who#doctor who crossover#mcu/doctor who crossover#tenth doctor#time stone#tva#marvel loki#loki series 2#loki series spoilers#loki season 2#anti-sylvie#anti-sylki
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Someone posted something about Tommy and a motorcycle so I spawned this:
"Where's our car?" Buck asked, as he stepped out of the loft building and next to Tommy.
"I have a surprise for you," Tommy grabs his hand and takes a few steps towards a motorcycle. Buck is pretty certain his mouth fell open. "Sooo... I take it that means you like motorcycles?"
"Haven't been on one in years," Buck smiled, "But yes, I like motorcycles." Tommy leaned against the vehicle, taking in Buck for a minute. The glint of surprise, excitement and glee on his face was- well, like a blinding ray of sunshine. Yes, he makes you feel cheesy, Tommy answered himself. Then suddenly lips were on his. Buck was going to pull back, but too late. Tommy grabbed him by the waist and kissed back.
"We should go-" Buck kissed him again. "Or maybe not." Tommy chuckled.
"I kind of forgot about dinner," murmured Buck as he placed a kiss to Tommy's chin.
"Well, how about this? We ride around the block a few times and come right back….go upstairs-" Buck kissed him again. Tommy had to get used to this. Buck surely loved planting kisses at random, and sometimes Tommy couldn't understand what this man was made of. Part golden retriever and marshmallow fluff.
"One condition," Buck's toothy, scrunchy face, flirty grin was contorting into action, "I drive."
"Fine." Tommy was not going to be able to say no.
Buck gave him another kiss. Excitedly, Buck puts on a helmet, Tommy follows suit and gets comfortable on the bike. He did not think this through, because he for sure thought he'd be driving. It felt really nice, though, once Tommy wrapped his arms around Buck who took a minute to say, "Damn, I haven't rode a motorcycle in forever and one of the last times I crashed."
"That's comforting to know, Evan."
"You'll be fine," Buck kissed a hand. Buck didn't see it, but Tommy rolled his eyes. They pulled away, making circuits around the block.
"Well, that was awesome." Buck grinned. "You're still coming up, right?" He quickly hung the helmets on the handlebars as if they were on time crunch and Tommy would change his mind. Buck sure knew how to plead with those eyes. So adorable.
"Yes, Evan, I'm coming up."
They rushed upstairs and as they opened the door, Buck surprisingly grabbed Tommy by the face and kissed him. Tommy's hands found Buck's back and he pushed them forward onto the edge of the dining table. Buck didn't let go, Tommy didn't let go and the kiss lasted for minutes. When Tommy lifted Buck he pulled away to give him a chuckle. Then Tommy put Buck onto the kitchen counter and that granted him another kiss.
If this what they did all night, Tommy wasn't going to complain.
#I have no idea what this is#motorcycle plus tommy#but buck also having been on bikes...#and then me just wanting a lifted onto the counter kiss...#yeah but I want you guys to have it too#kinley#bucktommy#tommy kinard#evan buckley
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#NOT QUITE
SYNOPSIS: "it's too much to be your boyfriend; too much."
CHARACTERS: S. GOJO & S. GETO (separately)
WARNINGS: suggestive, angst, death, toxic relationships, fwb.
NOTE: no second part, especially not for geto. i feel like these dynamics are the most realistic for both characters.
GOJO isn't the one who suggested a friends-with-benefits kind of relationship in the first place. and it wasn't really you either. things just flowed naturally between you and you somehow ended up in his bed on a random weekend after you both discussed how relationships sucked in the jujutsu world, which somehow spiraled into admitting that you were both frustrated.
for all his bragging, the first time had been kind of clumsy. you knew his house like the back of your palm but your feet felt awkward hanging off his bed and he wasn't sure if asking you to take your shirt off was too much or too little.
it was unplanned, and yet, it was the most mind-blowing hookup experience for both of you.
and it was just a hookup! (if you ignored the way your heart leaped when he spoke your name and if he disregarded the burn in his chest every time he watched you smile at him when he did something just right).
things only got better from there as you two learned more about each other and what felt right in what places at what times, with no rush of putting any labels anywhere.
you both even discussed an agreement: your decade-long friendship would stay intact, with no dates, no jealousy, and no discussing the relationship with anyone else.
still, he isn't sure if the disappointment the mornings after, when your side of the bed only holds a sticky note with the words "see you at tech" scribbled on it, is healthy at all.
but he doesn't say anything to you. he doesn't tell you how he feels a surge of pride when he sees the leftover hickeys from the nights before on his chest. he doesn't tell you that he has to bite his tongue when shoko asks who has him giggling at his phone on a monday afternoon. he doesn't tell you that the best part isn't even making you reach your high, but watching the flutter of your eyes as you fall asleep right after, your body completely covered by his sheets. he doesn't tell you that he enjoys the nights when you just stay over with no action, a stupidly loud movie in the background as you gossip about your student's drama.
he's not one to trust with a secret though, at least not for too long.
after a long day, you're kissing on his neck, pushing him back against the couch, laughing at his "someone's a little needy today" comment —and he feels the murmur of an "i love you" slip out casually and much too easily.
you pretend you didn't hear anything; you play your part and hum against his collarbone, acting like you're too caught up in your daze to register his words.
in turn, he plays his role, his hands slowly crawling their way back up to your waist and playing with the fabric that lays so prettily there, and he pretends to think that you didn't hear him.
after all, this started with one agreement: a relationship involving sorcerers was too much to ever really hope for.
09/01/2007
to be fair, he tried to distance himself from you too.
you would be the last to know of GETO's crimes, intentionally so. if it were up to him, you would have found out weeks later, but not everything went as planned.
he wanted you to find out when he was far away, so you wouldn't ask him the dreaded question he knew you would.
"why?"
it was a simple answer, but you'd blame yourself if he told you the truth: that he did it because he didn't want you to be just one more tally mark in the number of dead sorcerers.
09/06/2007: 12 PM
he underestimated how fast you'd go looking for him.
the call from yaga had you booking it back from your incomplete mission, into the hall of your dorm where you'd many times met with the (beautiful) man who was now being trialed for mass murder.
the floorboards creaked; they mocked you for your fleeing thought that yaga was playing some sick joke and geto would meet you halfway to his dorm like he always did.
meanwhile, he sauntered around in the streets of tokyo, memorizing all the little details he'd have no freedom to take a second glance at later. he wondered if the image of you in his memory was all he had left to remember you by. he wished he'd kept the picture you'd taken together.
09/06/2007: 2 PM
he avoided looking you in the eyes when you eventually found him, guilt seeping into his guts while your flickering eyes grazed over him twice, as if he was someone whose name you struggled to remember. then came the question he had tried so hard to avoid.
so he lied to you, he told you that you wouldn't understand.
you told him the truth, that you needed to understand.
2017
ten years later, your question remains unanswered.
now, you complain every time you see him. no matter whether he knocks on your door (like the civilized man he swears he is) or if he lures you out with a curse (like the irrational man you know him to be), and you always have the same thing to say.
"we can't do this."
you're right; you really, really shouldn't see suguru. it could cost you your life.
but it's the thousandth time you've pushed him away with that nauseating phrase and he's beginning to think you say it more to convince yourself that you tried to run rather than to get him away.
it made him wonder if you hated him for leaving or if you hated him for coming back.
so he always answers the same thing: "ask me to stop and i will."
it doesn't take much for you to eat your words. his phrase is always brushed off with a tug at his hand, and you keep him hidden in the shadows of your home and the comfort of your skin.
12/24/2017
he's aware a curse shouldn't chase its exorciser, yet he always finds himself at your mercy.
#geto x reader#gojo x reader#jjk x reader#jjk imagines#geto x you#gojo x you#jjk angst#gojo angst#geto angst
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On power creep, card games (mostly as an example) and gacha. Also how to prioritize what characters/cards to try and get. Kinda felt the discussion around power creep in the context of gacha is often kind of... incendiary and not very helpful, we are all here to have a good time.
So, this was mostly some stuff I have been thinking about in relation to Arknights, because I do not play Star Rail as seriously and play no other gachas then those two. I have played the yu-gi-oh card game since I was a little kid (some of my earliest memories is learning the game from my brothers or playing Kaiba the revenge on PC) so I am coming at this from a primarily TCG perspective and with the prior background of "has played game which has been made unrecognizable by power creep, and still loved playing it."
So obviously, this already predisposes me to not see power creep as the biggest deal.
So... first of all, the incentives that causes power creep!
Well this is pretty straightforward, the way a trading card game or a gacha makes money is by making you want to spend money on new cards/characters. You also need to have a solid team or deck as a whole, usually you cannot just brute force your way on a single powerful card or character. As a result to prevent players from just getting one strong team/deck and then never updating again is why we end up with power creep, since the option of just outright banning cards tends to piss people off even more and is straight up not a thing they do in gacha games.
As a result, since players will usually not want to spend money/pulls on a character who will not improve their team/deck, especially when its so often chance based what you even get, it means that to make people keep pulling packs you gotta upgrade the power over time of new units.
Generally the developers want to keep this at a slower pace, since it feels bad if someone gets a great character/card and then one month later they are weak, and if people feel like what they put in do not pay off they will not keep playing. But occasionally there are bigger bursts of power creep to kind of bring the state of the game to a new level, often brought on by accidentally making something too strong, at least that is how I think this goes from my experience.
But for example, if when Typhon came out her damage was worse or just on par with Rosa, how many would have pulled for her? Sure you´d get some who would because they like her story, personality, design, etc. But not that many would have if we are being completely honest here.
This is not to say that power creep cannot be a problem, especially if too severe, as already touched on earlier it feels really bad when your favorites no longer hold up. I just want to highlight that it is an inherent part of the game that cannot really be avoided.
It can also add a big pressure to feel like you have to keep up by getting all the new characters or cards, which can cause a lot of stress due to the random nature of who you get. Which is where the other thing I wanted to talk about comes in....
You do not need every strong or limited character. And in fact you wont use most of them because you have finite team space.
In a trading card game you focus in on a playstyle you like, or a few if its affordable enough, and then focus on building and enhancing those instead of getting every good card in the game. I think this is the healthiest way to view it in a gacha too.
Prioritize who suits your playstyle and your team, or to fill weak spots you got (or you just like as a character of course). You do not need all the top tier characters in the game. You can skip multiple top tier characters in fact and still do just fine, these games are not balanced around the assumption you have *every* single one of the best characters or cards.
And in fact, having to slowly make adjustments to better suit your needs is, to me at least, one of the most fun parts. And a lot of the strategy and fun of these kinds of games disappear if you have access to all the strongest options and can just brute force things.
It is not healthy for your mental state to fret over having to have all the best options and it makes the game less fun, to me at least. These games assume you only have maybe half of the top tier options, and you can beat pretty much everything with that if you put some effort into strategizing, which is fun~!
#arknights#i think tagging it as arknights is appropriate here at least?#my “gambling preys on people in bad ways” vs how the limitations caused by the randomness adds a fun level of strategy for me opinions clas
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My saviour
Pairing: Angel Dust x M!Reader
Word count: 1,3k
Warnings: Swearing, Angel being his normal flirty self (we love him for it).
Masterlist
I’ll be using fluff prompts:
#8, “I haven’t laughed like this in a long time.”
#9, “Hold still, this might hurt a little.”
#10, “I just wanted to thank you, for saving me.”
Life itself in Pentagram City was usually out of the ordinary. In other words, sinners did a lot of weird shit, which could make oneself feel uneasy. Today was just like the days before: shitty. You worked from 9 to 5, felt exhausted, went grocery shopping for the weekend and as the cherry on top, being harassed on the street by a random sinner. Lovely!
As you were on your way back to your place, an annoying ringing snapped you out of your thoughts: your cellphone. Slowly, you pulled it out of your back pocket to see who the hell dared to call you now.
Angel<3
Your frown immediately disappeared when you realized it was Angel Dust, one of your best friends, your party buddy. You answered the call:
“Hey!” You joyfully said.
“Ow, ow. Too much joy! What is up with you?” The voice on the other line answered. “I thought you were supposed to work all day?” He added.
“I did! I feel like shit right now!” You kept your joyous tone, “But now that I hear your beautiful voice, my day is actually better!”
“I don’t know what is up with you Toots, but I really want to get drunk tonight. ‘You in?” Angel said.
“You just read my mind! I’ll meet you there at 10!”
“Alright, you better lose some of that cheerfulness before then, you’re starting to sound like Charlie, shit.” He nonchalantly said. You knew that act was making him uncomfortable, you lived to tease him.
“Fuck you! Goodbye!” You hung the line and practically skipped all the way to your place.
Tonight was going to be fun! Right?
///
When you arrived at the club, you immediately realized the place was packed tonight. You almost changed your mind and went back home when you spotted Angel in the crowd, slightly taller and most sinners.
You made your way to him, “Hey, party buddy! Are you ready to have the night of your life?” You extended your arms for a hug, which he returned.
“Absolutely, and I personally think it’d be even better if it ended with you and me in my bed.” He winked playfully, which made you blush, “I’m just kidding, but by the look on your face you wouldn’t be opposed to that!” He laughed while making his way to the bar.
You stood there, a bit shocked, trying to hide the blush that rose on your cheeks due to his comment, and decided to follow him.
“What can we serve you tonight, fellows?” The bartender asked.
Angel and you both looked at each other and said in unison:
“Something strong.”
///
Almost an hour later, or maybe more than that, who knows, you stopped tracking the time after your fourth drink, you still stood at the bar with Angel. You were telling him a story that happened earlier at work.
“-And then the lady left and I said ‘don’t let the door hit you on the way out’ and guess what happened! It actually did! She opened it the wrong way and crashed into it!” You wheezed at your own story, almost spilling your drink.
Angel’s reaction matched yours, he leaned across the bar while he held his stomach with one hand, trying to keep breathing but failing miserably.
“Damn,” He wiped the tears from his eyes due to laughter. “I gotta tell you Toots, I haven’t laughed like this in a long time!”
You knew Angel was going through tough times, mostly because of his deal with Valentino. Knowing you made his day better and seeing him genuinely laugh made your heart flutter.
“Fuck yeah! I laughed so hard then, the lady became red with anger! She must’ve been ashamed!” You added.
Then, your stomach started revolting itself and made you stop dead in your tracks. “I need some fresh air.”
You pushed your way through the crowd, trying your best to not hurt anyone on your way out. As soon as the outside air hit you, your stomach basically thanked you and settled down.
You walked a bit, making sure you were feeling better, before you saw an ugly sinner make his way up to you. ‘Ugh, no!’.
“What’s a lovely thing like you doing outside all alone?” He stood close to you, making you insanely uncomfortable.
“Okay firstly, I’m a dude, second, I’m not alone.” There it is, your stomach felt sick again, and you knew it wasn’t from the alcohol.
“It’s alright sugar, I’m into those things.” He tried to hold you but you pushed him away.
“Leave me alone, I don’t have the time for this.” You leaned over, getting ready if your stomach decided to finally get rid of the poison you’ve been drinking.
“Listen you little cunt.” He grabbed the collar of your shirt. You could feel his disgusting breath on your face. “You gonna get on your knees and do what I ask of you, understand?”
“Fuck no!” You resisted, there was no way this was happening to you.
That’s when you felt it. The sharp pain on your side, just below your ribs. You suddenly felt hot, burning hot.
‘The fucker stabbed me?’
Then, the sinner was lifted off the ground by something, someone taller than him.
Angel.
“That was a very bad choice, shortie. I suggest you leave this gentleman alone and fuck off!” Angel practically screamed at the sinner, trying his best to not murder him.
All the while this happened, your vision started to get blurry, and your ears ringed. And then,
Nothing.
//
You woke up from your slumber, totally disoriented. As you looked around the room you were in, you could see the old tapestry that covered the walls. Old wooden furniture, a light that dimly lit the run down room.
As you put all the pieces together, the door opened slowly, making a creaking sound that made shivers run up your spine. ‘Did I fucking get kidnapped?’
“Heya sleeping beauty, did you sleep well?” ‘Oh thank heavens’, it’s Angel. That means we’re in-
“No, nuh uh,” you tried to get up from the bed you took your little rest in. “No way you took me to your tacky Hotel Angel, I’m getting out.”
He put a hand on your chest, keeping you from getting any further. “Sit the fuck back down,” He pushed me back on the bed. “First, this isn’t my Hotel, and second, this is where I live now, whether you like it or not.”
You whined a bit, part of it because he was right, and the other part was because your side hurt like, a lot.
“We better get you stitched up, before it gets infected.” He settled down a first aid kit on the side table and pulled out of it a needle and some thread. “You’re gonna have to pull your shirt up, Toots.” He looked at you up and down.
You shook your head no. There was no way he was stitching your skin back together, ew!
“Don’t be a baby, I have done things multiple times, I know what I’m doing! ‘Cmon.”
You slowly lifted your shirt, making sure you didn’t touch your wound in the process. You tried to not look at it, but curiosity took the best of you. That was fucking disgusting.
“Hold still, this might hurt a little.” With that, Angel began his work, closing your wound stitch by stitch. You bit your lip, hiding the fact that it hurt like a bitch. When the work was done, you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
“There you go! As good as new!” He closed the first aid kit and gave you a smile. “You can stay here for the night, while you get some rest.”
“Thank you, Angel.” You sighed, the entirety of the night finally pushing down on you. “I just want to thank you, for saving me.” You smiled up at him.
“Don’t mention it! And hey, I told you the night would end up with you in my bed!” He playfully smirked and left the room.
‘Oh this is the start of something good.’
\\\
Heya readers! This is my first HH one shot and the first one I’ve written in a while. I know I’m a bit rusty but bear with me! Thank you for reading and if you have any requests, feel free to ask me!
Seeya!
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like a sledgehammer to a disco ball - 3.9k words, Fun Ghoul angst and protective Kobra Kid
Kobra jerks awake at the first creak of the floor. The only person who has any right to be in his room at night knows better than to step where the floor creaks. Instinct takes over and he's holding his blaster at body height by the time his brain and eyes are awake enough to see through the dark.
"It's me, it's me, it's me," Ghoul stammers, holding his hands defensively in the air. Only, it sounds more like "'smee," because of the way Ghoul is slurring. And he's bleeding.
Kobra drops the blaster as soon as he realizes that the dark smear across Ghoul's face is blood. "What the hell, man," he hisses, groping in the dark for a light with one hand and trying to pat Ghoul down to make sure he's not like, actively dying, with the other. He could be blackout drunk or he could have gone out alone like he does sometimes and any number of things could have happened. The cold metal of an old flashlight meets his fingers and he flicks it on, shining the dim light over Ghoul.
"I did something stupid," Ghoul says. Only, it comes out as "Uh did su'hn stooid," wavering slightly, because the entire right side of Ghoul's face, from the corner of his mouth to his cheekbone, is sliced open. There's a horrific flap of flesh hanging loose that's supposed to be connected to the rest of his face. That's where the blood staining his face and clothes and hands is coming from, and why when he speaks, it sounds wrong.
"Holy shit," Kobra whispers, feeling cold Zone night air sting his eyes because they're open so wide. "Okay. Okay, what happened?" He holds Ghoul carefully by one arm, feels the way he's shaking. He's always shaking, except when he's got his hands in a bomb. This is worse than normal though. This is so much worse than anything Kobra's ever seen.
Ghoul shrugs, waves his hands vaguely and wildly. Kobra hisses a sharp breath through his teeth, frantically runs a hand through his hair. "Okay," He says again. "I'm gonna get-" He needs Jet, de facto medic, he needs Party, needs his brother-
"No," Ghoul says sharply, and that at least is completely clear. His eyes are wild from what Kobra can see in the dark. If human eyes could glow, his would. He grips Kobra's arms. "Please don't," he mumbles around the gruesome injury. His voice is high and frantic, and it has to hurt to talk. "Just you."
Kobra freezes. There's a slowly building feeling of dread, growing stronger by the moment. He pulls Ghoul off him, holds him by the wrists. "Okay. Just me," he promises, and feels sick about it. "Just me."
Ghoul noticeably relaxes, though he's still trembling head to toe, and lets Kobra drag him across the diner in near-silence aside from the occasional seemingly involuntary whimper on Ghoul's part, into the single-stall bathroom with a barely working lightbulb. Somehow, they make it past the front room where Party sleeps without waking him, much as Kobra wants to let his brother take care of this. He's practically trembling at how badly he wants Pois right now.
There's a medical kit in the cabinet that Kobra pulls out immediately. He knows how to handle this, physically speaking. It's whatever else, the shit he doesn't know and is scared to find out, like how this freaking happened, that makes him nervous. Ghoul stands in the flickering light like he doesn't know what to do.
"Sit the fuck down," Kobra snaps nervously, gesturing to the toilet lid. Ghoul does. Kobra pulls a dubiously clean rag from the cabinet and eyes it. It scares him to see Ghoul like this. Usually if he's scared, he fights. He hisses and spits and claws at whoever comes near him. More often than not, that's Kobra. But this, the wide-eyed jittering, is a whole other animal.
"This whole thing is gonna suck," he says stiffly. Ghoul nods. With a little more light, Kobra can see the thick, shiny blood streaming from the wound through his cheek. It isn't enough that Kobra's afraid Ghoul will bleed out, but the cut is so long and clear through and absolutely grotesque. He crouches down in front of where Ghoul is sitting, sideways on the toilet, and he can't tell if Ghoul is looking at him or through him, almost as if he's the ghost.
In a quick motion that startles both of them, probably, Kobra grabs the back of Ghoul's head with one hand and presses the rag to the seeping wound with the other. Ghoul's eyes go even wider and even greener, and what starts out as a shout of pain from him turns into a choked keening sound. Hearing it feels like being stabbed.
"What happened?" Asks Kobra again, when he's convinced that the bleeding has slowed enough to try and actually deal with this thing. He twists the handle on the faucet on and off, on and off, enough times that the ancient water pump starts up and clean water gurgles into the sink. He cleans the rag that way, then wets it and wrings it out before shutting the water off.
Ghoul's shoulders rise and fall in short, panicky breaths. "I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry. I'm- I didn't think, it was stupid, I'm sorry," he continues babbling like that before going silent again aside from the sharp sounds of his breathing.
In a testament to Kobra's selfishness, his biggest worry is that Ghoul took his motorbike out for a spin and crashed it. He can't think of what could have caused something like this. He has visions of his bike sliding out on a turn, crumbled metal and Ghoul's body flying through the air. But if that had happened he'd be hurt other than this. If that had happened he might be dead.
"Yo," he says quietly. "Chill. Just tell me what happened." He presses the now-damp rag to Ghoul's face, trying to ignore just how grotesque the wound really is. Maybe because it's fresh, maybe because of the fear, but somehow it's worse than the space where Jet's other eye used to be. Kobra never wanted to see an injury of that level on another person again in his life, let alone someone he cares about.
Ghoul flinches away, but Kobra shoots him a look and it must process somehow, because he stills and lets Kobra clean the already drying blood away from the edges of the wound with barely a whine. "It was stupid," he repeats, his voice shaking as much as it's slurring. "I don't know why I did it, Kid."
Something about the way he says that, voice small and wavering, sends a chill down Kobra's throat. Sudden understanding dawns on him. The blood on Ghoul's hands. He's not injured anywhere else. "You did that to yourself?" Kobra asks hoarsely.
Ghoul's eyes snap onto his and the rest of the color drains from his face. Kobra thinks he's going to pass out for a second, but he doesn't. He pulls as far away as he can, scrabbling awkwardly against the cold tiles and porcelain of the bathroom. "I don't know what I though, I was stupid, I don't- Kobra," he whines, with enough animalistic despair that Kobra wants suddenly to burst into tears, if he weren't so utterly stunned.
"Ghoul, calm down, I've gotta stitch it still," he says on autopilot. "Cool your engine, man."
Maybe it's the practicality of the thing that makes Ghoul momentarily stop panicking. "I'm sorry," he says again, tears welling in his eyes that he then blinks away half-frantically. Kobra's never heard him apologize for anything before tonight. He never wants to hear it again.
"It's okay, man. I've got you." He replies. If his own voice is shaking now, too, no the hell it isn't. "Come on, you have to let me..." he trails off, eyes wide. "Ghoul, why..." Then he shakes his head. He can't think about that now. He needs to disinfect the wound and stitch it up. And it's going to hurt Ghoul really, really badly.
He reaches behind him, grabs at the bottle of alcohol. This stuff is rare out in the Zones. They try to use it as little as possible. Only in emergencies. This is enough of an emergency, though. This is a fucking crisis.
He pours the bare minimum of the alcohol onto another piece of cloth, feels the cold soak in. Ghoul watches every move with jerking, stilted intensity. Kobra looks up at him from where he's now kneeling on the cold tile. He puts a hand behind Ghoul's head again. "This is going to hurt," he warns. They've nearly gouged each other's eyes out before, yet suddenly Kobra feels like he's going to be sick at the thought of causing Ghoul any more pain. Ghoul shuts his eyes in preparation.
Ghoul still nearly screams when Kobra dabs the alcohol over his wound. Kobra can see it in the way he holds his breath, the spring-tight tension in Ghoul's entire body. The only noise he makes is a quiet, drawn out whine, though. When a tear streaks down his cheekbone, Kobra catches it before a drop of salt can enter the wound.
"'Kay," he says in a ragged whisper. "That's done. Now I have to-" he gestures like he's sewing. Ghoul's eyes pop open to see what he's saying and he visibly forces himself to breathe again.
"'Kay," Ghoul says back in an equally torn up voice.
It only takes Kobra three tries to thread a needle. Medical supplies of any type are hard to come by, a whole new kind of commodity, but this stash has been here for as long as he can remember, just in case. Blaster burns, the most common injuries amongst 'Joys, come pre-cauterized. He's rarely had to sew sutures before.
Ghoul flinches back when the tip of the needle first touches the edge of his torn skin, and Kobra pauses. "Hold still," he grumbles, more out of familiar sniping than any real frustration at this point. He keeps his hand in Ghoul's hair the entire time he sews.
The feeling of a needle piercing flesh is horrible. The fact that it's his friend, someone he'd give his life for before seeing them hurt, is even worse. Kobra wants to fucking throatpunch whoever did this to Ghoul, or better, do the same thing to them, before he remembers with a sinking feeling in his stomach that Ghoul did this to himself.
He ties off the suture just barely keeping his hands from shaking. He doesn't know how Ghoul does this with bombs. Ghoul flinches again, violently, when Kobra cuts the excess line, and Kobra has to jerk back to keep from catching a flailing, uncoordinated fist in the face.
"Hey," he snaps. "Ghoul!"
Ghoul slips off the toilet lid and onto the floor almost as if he intended it but halfway as an accident and immediately curls in on himself. He pulls his knees to his chest and curls his arms around his head and Kobra can hear him hyperventilating. Kobra fucking freezes. He's used to fighting and wrestling and knee-jerk reactions that wind up with someone sporting a black eye. He is terrified right now. And there's still Ghoul's blood on his hands, too.
"Ghoul..." He cautiously reaches out, puts a hand on Ghoul's leg. Ghoul twitches, lets out a hiccupy sound that takes a moment to register in Kobra's mind as a sob. Ghoul, chaos loving, cackling Ghoul, is crying. And not just a single tear, now, his whole body is shuddering with the force of how hard he's crying. Kobra's heart is pounding with how hard he does not know what's happening, but he grips Ghoul's arm and lightly shakes him. "Hey, I'm still here, man."
Ghoul makes that keening whine again and Kobra thinks at first that he's going to pull away at best, or throw a real punch at worst. They fight enough, for any and no reason at all, that he expects it now. That's their normal. This isn't.
Ghoul scrambles to his knees, his hands finding the front of Kobra's shirt. This restroom is small, they're already in close quarters. But maybe unintentionally, maybe just scrabbling for a little purchase on anything, Ghoul winds up grabbing onto Kobra. And Kobra has always had a hard time letting anything go.
Ghoul's forehead crashes into his shoulder and Kobra instinctively puts his hands up, grabs back onto Ghoul in return. Ghoul's usual shaking is familiar to him, but the repressed wracking sobs aren't. Kobra clutches desperately around Ghoul's back, like he could hold together what he's just sewn up, like if he keeps Ghoul close enough he can't shake into pieces. No one should be able to break Ghoul. Not even Ghoul himself.
The edges of the cabinet dig into Kobra's back, but he ignores it. Ghoul is folding in on himself, making himself as small as he can against Kobra, and Kobra doesn't fucking know what to do. He's never seen Ghoul cry like this. He's never seen anyone cry like this.
"It hurts," cries Ghoul suddenly.
"I know," Kobra says, before he realizes that crying like this is probably making everything worse, that he'd worried about salt in the wound a minute before for this exact reason. He can't imagine the pain Ghoul is probably in.
"It didn't hurt at first," Ghoul mumbles, then chokes on a sob. "It didn't hurt when I started. And then it did."
Kobra wants to ask again, why? But he won't get anything intelligible. There's a part of him that doesn't want to know. He's terrified of knowing the truth. Instead, he threads his fingers through Ghoul's hair again and just repeats, "I know. I know."
A few minutes pass in speedy, spiraling silence. The only sound between them is their shared too-fast breathing.
"I can't," stammers Ghoul finally, after his cries have tapered out into raspy gasps. "I can't turn it on or off."
"Huh?" Is all Kobra can think to say. "Ghoul, you're not making sense, nothing about this makes sense," he snips, too quick and too tense. He's so beyond his depth. He wants Jet or Party to come help but he can't have it his way because he promised. He promised Ghoul. He wants to hit something. A wall, just to feel the impact. To imagine he's hitting whatever it is that hurt his friend so badly he hurt himself.
Ghoul sniffs. All Kobra can see of him is the top of his head and the cheek with the stitches. The wound is swollen and red and is going to leave a horrific scar. Kobra clenches his fist tighter behind Ghoul's back. "When I'm having fun or not," Ghoul says. "I can't. I am or I'm not. But."
"But what?" For fuck's sake, Kobra just wants to understand. He can read Ghoul like a book from cover to cover most times, and it scares him that he's so lost right now.
"It isn't good enough," he mumbles. "It's... It's in my fuckin' name, Kid, if I can't live up to that what am I?"
Kobra stares, wide-eyed, at the wall across from him. Something clicks. The clean cut through Ghoul's face, clearly from a recently sharpened knife, clearly intentional, reached from the corner of his lips almost to his ear. "Oh fuck no," he whispers. "Hell no. What the fuck. You're not-" He feels himself shaking suddenly, with restrained searing hot anger. Ghoul cut his head open, mutilated himself, to make himself permanently grin. "You're not fucking beholden to your fucking name," Kobra says. He never swears this much, only in his own mind. He's running out of words. "Fuck," he says, with feeling.
Ghoul shudders again. "I'm fuckin insane, aren't I?" He asks with sudden clarity.
It's exactly what Kobra had been thinking, for once completely unable to figure out Ghoul's mind, but he can't just say that. He can't just say that he's terrified because nothing makes sense and he's never going to freaking leave Ghoul alone again because this is all completely unhinged on so many levels that he can't even begin to sort through it. He can't say anything. He hopes Ghoul is sane enough to understand that, at least.
He just holds his friend tighter. He wants his brother more than anything right now, wants Party to come and take this weight out of his hands, but a part of him knows that even if he did, he wouldn't be able to let go of Ghoul. Why didn't Ghoul want anyone else but him? Why, after pretty much imprinting on Party like a feral kitten when they'd first met, to the point that sometimes Kobra thinks bitterly than Ghoul might know Party better than his own brother does, did he come to him? Why did he do any of this?
If a few tears of his own drip down Kobra's nose and land in Ghoul's tangled hair, no the hell they don't. He's never seen anyone go to pieces like this and he's struck dumb at the fact that it's literal. Very, very literally, Ghoul has gone to pieces. Taken a knife, that's probably still lying on the floor of his abandoned-office bedroom, and cut a line through his own cheek just so others might see a smile there.
There's crazy in his veins. Acid, maybe. And Kobra's always known that even if Party recognized it first. Watching your whole family die, failing to save your baby sibling, doesn't leave a person without any scars. Only, now, the scar is far too visible. Kobra's always known that Ghoul is more wild than any of them. Feral, unpredictable. He was raised by a pair of Killjoys who named themselves Hoot and Holler, and the thing is, a ghoul is just a ghost, and ghosts wail too. He should have known.
"I should've known," he says out loud, the first words in a while. He knows Ghoul so well. Better than he knows himself. He should have known something was wrong. He should never have left him alone. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He can't even blink. He stares hard at the opposite wall and tries not to scream.
Ghoul shakes his head against Kobra's shoulder and winces. "Nuh-uh," he mumbles. "I'm crazy, man. I'm insane." The fuzzy way it sounds around the stitches and the swelling just seems like proof. Just last night Ghoul's cheek was smooth and soft as he grinned across a table in triumph after winning a card game. How is it that that was just a few hours ago? He shudders again. "I'm scared," he says more quietly.
"Me too," Kobra says. As soon as the sun comes up he thinks he's going to storm out into the desert and find something, anything to beat up. Even a freakin cactus would do at this point. He doesn't know how he's going to explain this to Pois or Jet but he knows that much. He's gonna shake so hard he blows up, like a can of soda, unless he hits something. "I fucking hate you," he snaps suddenly.
Ghoul starts to flinch away, but Kobra doesn't let him. In fact, he curls tighter around him without even knowing why. "What the hell," Ghoul rasps.
Kobra hisses through his teeth. Speaking of living up to names. He fucking hates anyone who hurts his friends. But he can't say it. Hard as he tries, in the one moment of clarity about his own mind that he has, he can't speak.
"I fucking hate me, too," Ghoul says finally. The single dusty lightbulb above them flickers. If it goes out, they'll be in total darkness. Kobra thinks one or both of them might have a wicked eyeshine by now. The desert makes you wild. For some people, they're born that way.
"I think you're my best friend," Kobra finally manages to whisper. It isn't exactly what he was going for. It's not something he would ever say if he had thought of it before it popped out of his mouth. But Ghoul gets the point. Of course he does. Ghoul always gets his sharp edges, snakebite teeth and misspoken definitions and all.
"I think you're mine," Ghoul says back. "I'm-"
Kobra smacks the back of his head, like this is in any way normal, like they aren't collapsed on a dim bathroom floor in the middle of the night or the early hours of the morning and like one of them isn't mutilated for life by his own hand. Like this isn't the worst thing they've ever gone through together. "If you say you're sorry again, I'll cut you myself."
It's rough, and it's torn up and pained and choked, but Ghoul laughs. Just a short bark of laughter, hardly like the dry, rasping cackle that Kobra knows so well. It sounds like agony but it also sounds like the sun coming up. Kobra makes a noise in the back of his throat, more whine than laugh, but he's so close to blowing up that it's as good as it gets. He wants to freaking die if that would keep Ghoul in one piece.
Ghoul shifts in Kobra's arms and pulls away just far enough to look him in the eye. He clumsily wipes at the tears and snot all over his face and Kobra has to snap a hand out to catch his wrist before he unthinkingly swipes at the fresh wound and stitches. "Kobra," Ghoul says, shivering in the dark. The sun won't take long to come up once it starts but until it does, the Zones are freezing. "Kobra."
"Yeah, man, I'm still right here." Kobra forces himself to look Ghoul in the eyes and not the stitches. The wound takes up so much of his face. It's all Kobra can see when he looks at Ghoul, his best friend's mutilated mouth, sliced open by his own hand. Kobra flinches just imagining it. He focuses instead on Ghoul's green eyes, boring holes into his head with the desperate pleading in them. "I'm still right here," Kobra repeats, quieter. Reminding himself, too.
Ghoul doesn't blink. Kobra doesn't blink. Their eyes reflect the dim light back at each other. This is what wild animals must feel for each other. Terror. Uncertainty. Just themselves, each other, and whatever comes. Ghoul licks his lips, tongue flicking briefly, visibly, to the corner of his mouth that he cut open. "Don't let me-" Ghoul starts and then falters. "You gotta make sure," he says. "Don't let me- do stupid shit like this, don't let me go crazy again, Kobra, please."
Kobra stares back at him, matching Ghoul's trembling desperation. He's known Ghoul since the day their crew found him, shell shocked between the shelves of an empty gas station with the bodies of his parents and previous crew around him. Perpetually shaking hands and feral bared teeth, animal eyeshine. No one can match Ghoul for determination, and no one knows Kobra as well as he does. Even if Ghoul does know his brother better than him, the same is true in reverse.
Kobra Kid has a hard fucking time ever letting go of anything once he's got it. Fun Ghoul holds on too loosely. They're both terrified. What a pair they make. But when Kobra Kid makes a promise, he means it. He grabs the ends of Ghoul's hair and pulls, not too hard, but hard enough. That's their normal. Play fighting and hair pulling, and they both know it's a kind of language for when they can't speak. "Okay," he says, and because it's a promise, he repeats it. "Okay."
#uhhhh anyway. come to killjoys world with me#I keep calling these two my mongoose and snake#they take out their worst on each other but at the same time it's like they were *made* for each other#also a few notes in the tags: kobra repeats himself a lot. that's intentional. it's because I do it irl#quite honestly at this point I might almost have a stutter??#anyway also there's a TON of super vague song references in here. I almost called this ''a scar away from falling apart''#but I couldn't stop thinking about that one boygenius song while I wrote this. would you still love me if it turns out I'm insane?#also the two(2) minor refs to famous last words!!!!#and very very loosely the ''what a pair they make'' line is bc what a catch donnie came up on my playlist right then#also this is WAY more swearing than I would usually write but... it just felt right? like it helped the flow?? and fit the characters? idk#ANYWHOMST. random danger days precanon fic. the girl isn't here yet.#she speaks!#HMMM do I need a writing tag for this blog?#she writes!#danger days#the true lives of the fabulous killjoys#kobra kid#fun ghoul#K I think I've got it covered#wait trigger tags#self-harm tw#self mutilation tw
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Can I ask what your ✨Aki journey✨ was like? I’m a Aki girlie but you clearly love Aki more than any blog I’ve ever seen (purrr) When did you start becoming interested in him? Was it an aHA moment or did it develop over time? I’m really curious!!! What inspired you to start this blog? I live, laugh, love backstories 🫶🏾❤️🔥
YES I would be so happy to answer this!!!!!!!
so before I read chainsaw man, I knew next to nothing about it, I wasn't really a manga reader in general to be honest but I started getting into it because I wanted to get caught up with jujutsu kaisen after finishing the anime. when I did, I really enjoyed jjk, I wanted to read more manga and a friend suggested I read chainsaw man because it's similar. I was like okay... a lot of people are into it... it looks cool... why not.
and when I started reading and I got to that third chapter and I saw aki... I literally said to myself: yeah, he is going to be my favorite. because he's exactly my type — the suit, the hair tied up so it's long and pretty when he takes it down, the SMOKING??? THE PIERCINGS????? I thought his hair was silly but adorable, his personality was stern but quirky and likable, his kon power was so cool. he was just so cute and hot and definitely my type of character.
but really, even though aki was always my favorite character from the start, my obsession truly began when I finished the manga. aki's arc is just so good... I fell in love with him the whole way through but especially after the manga was over... I loved watching him grow as a character, he just feels so real and relatable personality wise and story wise. he's immensely flawed but kindhearted to his core. he's so human. I love how he's emotional and soft and the conclusion to his arc is genuinely my favorite thing in any piece of media ever, it's so bittersweet and compelling. (and I'm a mess for that bittersweet shit okay)
anyway after I read chainsaw man for the first time I was feeling a mix of emotions between "wow that was the greatest thing ever" and "what the fuck did I just read" but more than anything I yearned for more aki, and so I read it a second time almost immediately after, and then the aki brain infection just grew worse and worse.... was screenshotting every panel of him... I read it a third time... a fourth time in the colored version to collect more panels......... I started my blog over a year ago to post fanfic and rant about aki and the rest is history
#I love this question#I also think it's important to say#albeit it's a bit silly#when I read chainsaw man I was going through a pretty hard time in my life#I'd gone through a bad breakup and I felt very lost#I was reading a lot of manga because I needed something to do to get my mind off things#I think that's part of the reason why I got attached to aki so quickly...#but he means a lot to me because of that#aki helped me to become myself again#also I'm sure I've said this before#but I started writing fanfic because I'd read all the fanfic of aki and#I still needed more#I thought it would be fun bc I always enjoyed writing but it'd been years since I did#suddenly on a random night at 3 in the morning I was like#you know what... I can't sleep... I know how to write... I can make my own aki content... let's do it#and I wrote that first fic like there was no tomorrow#(don't read it btw it sucked BAHAHA)#I posted it on ao3 for fun expecting no one to care but when just a handful of people read it and said they liked it I was overjoyed#I'm grateful I started writing again... I'm glad I get to do what I love and write about what makes me happy#and people actually enjoy it?? THAT'S CRAZY#sorry for ranting too much#can't wait to see where this journey will continue to take me#ask mags
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#nero's random thoughts#tried a sexy jumpsuit for the first time in my life today without feeling odd about it#i felt kinda hot too??#now it is very pricey admittedly#but like. gotta love body image getting better#but i will say. i somehow expected that it would hide my stomach. i don't have a big belly but i do have a soft belly#it didn't?? and i was okay with it???#granted i would've felt sexier if i wasn't tired lmao#but like. the way i like it. growth#i still feel silly posting it on main so in the tags it goes so if you wanna see the tags you're a real MVP
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So I got tickled dfghjhgfghj never give up from your dreams I guess SDFGHJ. Okay okay, lemme give you some context: just like the universe intended when it gave me all the opportunities to be a AGENT OF CHAOS and a proud GREMLIN I was hiding away my friend’s car key and using his distraction as he looked for his keys to hide eve more of his stuff (friendship <3) but the thing is, a few months ago, that human discovered that I was ticklish so rip me and my entire bloodline I guess because he keeps looking for opportunities to, ya know, ATTACK ME with one or two pokes but until that point he never took it farther than that. So. He already knew where this was going, you already know where this is going, I somehow DIDN’T HAVE A SINGLE IDEA of where this was going because the moment he realized that my overalls had pockets perfect for hiding stuff and I was refusing to take my hand out of one of them he began tickling my sides until I - in my dying breath, my last moments, with the last drop of coordination in my body - decided to give him his keys back so FGHJKJHGGHJK
I lasted like 10 seconds like COME ON KANENE PULL IT TOGETHER MAH GURL
Anyways I also discovered that I actually have TWO responses to being unfairly attacked with wiggly fingers and it’s pretending that nothing is happening while gradually getting more and more giggly and to try to become a ball which yeah it’s just as unsuccessful as fics describes so. there’s that.
#Also while being tickled I got like one (1) glimpse of my friends watching me being tickled w smiles on their faces so#insta kill kanene day as it seems#tbh I really doubt I am that ticklish and for a long while I got insecure w my tickle laugh because I felt like I was exaggerating#or something like that#but that was the moments I realized that it doesn't matter!! at all!! probably 90% of my laughing was because of the scare-#-and because I was giddy as hell but !!! whatever!!! it is still laughter!!! I am still having fun!! I was still-#-giggling non stop and getting dizzy with the sudden adrenaline rush and giddy feelings and bluescreen and everything else!#it's like laughing at a joke not because it's funny but because your best friend told you it and IT'S STILL !!! REACTING!! Laughing!!! at th#*at the joke!#okay I know I am being repetitive and rambling but like that was truly a galaxy brain moment for me.#who cares if your reaction wasn't the one you expected for the spot being tickled. giggle the loudest#or the lowest as you can we're just silly beans living in a moment of time somewhere in this giant universe just have fun#saying this to Past Kanene while shkaing her shoulders and looking into her eyes#Kanene being Kanene#random#live laugh and love etc etc
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💍
#i just feel i gotta confess....#that i temporarily have blocked the lotr tag#i love lotr but fortunately/unfortunately all my mutuals do too#so every time i opened my dash it was another (generally great) take on random mythos or behind the scenes gags#which are all lovely but i'm not specifically in the mood ya know? so uh yeah#i blocked the lotr tag and i just felt the need to confess#i still love you jirt
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