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killerpancakeburger · 16 days

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Breaking point (2/2)

SUMMARY: Civilian!Reader, who works as Price's assistant, has a breakdown at work. Soap+Ghost help the best they can. Hurt/comfort. Can be read as platonic or romantic. Gender Neutral Reader.

PAIRINGS: Soap x GN!Reader

Ghost's version (1/2)

TAGS: Hurt/comfort. Military inaccuracies (I make shit up for the sake of the plot). Soap is tooth-rotting sweet.

WARNINGS: Mention of relative in the hospital, suicide ideation, depressive thoughts, swearing.

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

A/N: Very self-indulgent, Reader is going through it and so am I. 🙃Soap is Prince Fucking Charming (very cliché romance tropes). Yours truly suggest to listen to "Strong For Somebody Else" by Citizen Soldier to set the mood. (Song includes suicide ideation and depressive thoughts too, so listen at your own risk).

This bad good boy gave me a harder time than expected lol.

After ending the call, you put down your phone on your desk in a daze, hand shaking.

The news you’ve just been told cannot be real. Life could not possibly be that cruel. What did I do to deserve this? you wonder helplessly. It’s like every time you get back up, life knocks you down again, sending you tumbling on the cold, hard ground.

Clenching your fists, you stare into space, a thousand thoughts disorderly swirling inside your brain, all bursting with anguish, until a burning tear running down your cheek brings you back to the present. You’re at work, your boss is in the next room; a breakdown is a luxury you cannot afford right now. Better bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood than be caught sobbing.

Inhaling a shaky breath, you take your head between your hands, shoving your fingers into your hair, trying to convince yourself to postpone your nervous collapse. Only one hour left, and you’ll be free to cry your eyes out at your flat. Or on the way home, even. It’s not like the other passengers ever paid you attention the other times you’ve cried on the bus.

But somehow your attempts have the opposite effect, and more tears roll down your face, staining the papers beneath it. As you furiously wipe your face with your sleeve, with a blend of frustration and despair, pissed at yourself, and wanting to get rid of the evidence of your fragile state as fast as possible, the unmistakable sound of your office’s door opening makes you look up.

Of freaking course of all bloody people that could have walked in on you, it had to be Soap fucking Mactavish. Only the most gorgeous man on base - according to you, that is.

You weren't proud of it, but you had a crush on him since you arrived, six months ago. His piercing cerulean eyes, rugged good looks and outgoing personality wouldn’t let you know peace. The mere sight of him was enough to bring a goofy smile to your face, and every conversation between the two of you left you blushing and elated.

You initially thought that this silly, juvenile infatuation would fade away soon enough. Ok, he was beautiful, and he had eyes to damn yourself for, so what? Surely with enough time and exposure, he'd feel mundane. But things didn’t go that way at all.

On top of looking stunning, he just had to be friendly. He made you feel welcome when you arrived. He made efforts to include you in conversations, asking questions to get to know you. He relieved you of the burden of small talk, appeasing your social anxiety, by happily keeping the conversation going on his own, never taking offense when you had nothing to say. He chose to spend some of his free time with you, escorting you back from the archives or dropping by your office.

He was even flirty at times. Flirty. With you.

You could have still disregarded all this; tell yourself he was like this with everyone, that it was just his personality; imagining things would only end up with you hurt in the end.

But then, during a meeting, you witnessed his sincere concern for civilian lives. His righteous anger against unjust orders, when you had fully expected a soldier to obey mindlessly.

This had been your undoing; the moment you knew you were a goner. A severe fondness for him had sunk its claws deep inside your chest and had no intent to let go. It didn’t mean you had any intention to declare your feelings though; you never entertained the thought that he could return them, therefore there was no need for any confession.

For him to be the one to have caught you in this state, it was downright humiliating. Especially since his good heart would make him feel obligated to care.

He was still wearing his leather, fingerless gloves, and some dirt lingered on the contour of his face, like he tossed his weapons and his flak jacket to the side right out of the heli bringing him back to base, and rushed here.

“Hiya hen, brought you the- Shite, what happened?”

His booming voice and cheerful tone fade away as his eyes widen with concern. He briefly freezes at the door in shock before closing the distance to your desk with great strides. You lower your eyes in shame, avoiding his gaze.

“Nothing. Nothing happened. Everything's fine.”

“No offense, bonnie, but yer not very good at lying.”

You bit your lip, forcing yourself to look at him. Staring at your own lap is only going to make you seem more suspicious.

You grit your teeth and lie some more, trying to sound carefree.

“It's nothing, really. I'm just being a crybaby.”

Crybaby.

Soap turns the word over in his mind, unconvinced.

He still remembers that one time when you showed up thirty minutes late to a meeting with the Task Force, panting, leaning on the threshold, the front of your clothes soaked in blood.

“Sorry I’m late,” you started.

“‘Sorry’ isn’t going to cut it,” Price interrupted before laying eyes on you. “Bloody hell, what happened to you?”

You explained how Private what's-his-name bled out in the break room after carelessly reopening his stitches and you had to stop the hemorrhage with your bare hands and a bunch of paper towels while shouting yourself hoarse for help. Yet when Price ordered you to take the rest of the day off, you insisted on going on as usual, forcing their captain to make it clear that it wasn’t a mere suggestion.

You and him had a different definition of “crybaby”.

Clinging to what's familiar, you focus on the stack of papers under his arm.

“You have the latest reports? Give it here.”

You hold out your hand expectantly. Instead of giving them to you, he sets them down on the opposite side of your desk, out of your reach.

“Paperwork can wait.”

You blink in astonishment at him.

“No it cannot…?”

You roll your eyes at his behavior and get up to seize the reports, but he snatches them from you. You can feel your composure snap like a twig.

“Johnny, what the hell?!” you yell, throwing your hands in the air.

You could remember exactly the first time you called him Johnny, only because it had been such an embarrassment. You couldn’t get used to his alias; sure you had been warned beforehand that some of them were… original, but somehow "Soap" was the one that stood out as the most ridiculous. You briefly entertained the idea of using his first name, except that for you “John” already referred to Captain Price. Only once you tried to call him Mr Mactavish, and as a result Gaz and him guffawed so hard they almost fell off their chairs. Even Ghost let out a cough that was most definitely a concealed laugh. You were running out of options until you heard the lieutenant call him Johnny; you instantly liked it. It just… fitted him.

From that moment on you used the nickname, but only in your mind. You didn’t have any of the liberties Ghost had and you wouldn’t take them, out of respect, and shyness. Or at least this had been the plan until you fumbled and called him that to his face. The ensuing silence felt deafening as you were realizing what you’ve just done, and you apologized immediately, mortified.

He just laughed it off; said you could keep calling him that. True, he had appeared more surprised than irritated, but you didn’t want to take the risk of him simply being polite. This too, had been your plan, until he ruined it merily.

Somehow he must have noticed your efforts to not slip up again because he teased you about it.

“Not Johnny today? Did ah dae something wrong?”

You went back to “Johnny” quickly - anything to put an end to the mischievous glint in his eye and the rascally smirk on his lips aimed at you. Being the target of his undivided attention sent a pang in your chest and knots in your stomach. Those sensations weren't exactly unpleasant, but it led to an ominous feeling that this was too good to be true, and that at any second this vision would shatter to reveal the cruel reality; so you'd just grant him a timid smile to confirm he did amuse you, but then proceed to look away.

It's the first time you’re pronouncing “Johnny” with anger; real, raw annoyance, as well as animosity, instead of the fond frustration you usually display when he messes around.

To your utter disbelief, he smiles in response to your outburst.

“There we go, talk tae me. Even if it’s just tae scream at me.”

The remark pacifies you instantly; you lower your arms, defeated.

“I'm not gonna… I don't want to scream at you.”

You sigh and sit back, setting down your elbows on your desk to take your head between your hands, overburdened.

“The hell you want me to tell you? That my mom's on the brink of death out of nowhere? That when she's gone I'll be all alone in this world?”

You swear, aggravated, as tears sting your eyes again, and this time you ignore if you'll be capable of holding back the flood.

Nevertheless you can still hear Soap curse under his breath, Scottish accent growing thicker, before moving to get on your side of the desk, to reach you, dispensing soft-spoken, soothing words along the way. You pivot to face him, your burning eyes and the sensation of dried tears on your face making you painfully aware that you must look as pathetic as you feel.

Your eyes widen in surprise when you see him kneeling at your feet. His hands reach for your face, slowly enough to give you time to back away if you wanted to.

“A'm sorry, ah didnae mean tae mak' ye cry, a'm a bloody eejit. …Can I?”

His fingers stopped a breath away from your tear-stained cheeks.

At that exact moment you can’t quite believe what he's about to do, yet you nod your head in agreement - not trusting your voice to not break - all the same, the gaping void in your chest aching for any kind of contact he'd be willing to provide.

His warm fingers cup your cheeks as the pad of his thumbs gently, almost reverently, wipe the underside of your eyes.

“There we go,” he cajoles, meticulously drying any wet spot on your skin.

“A'm ‘ere whether ye want tae talk or not, aye? A'm not going anywhere.”

You stare at him in silence, thunderstruck by the scene unfolding in front of you. Never in your wildest dreams you would have expected to have this man at your feet. He sets his hands down on your knees, squeezing them softly, and is looking right at you, encouraging smile and tender gaze, reassurance radiating from his expression. The position allows you to greedily take in every little detail: the white line of the scar on his chin, the breathtaking shades of blue in his eyes, the gap in his left eyebrow.

As you lose yourself into the work of art that are his features, he keeps conversing.

“We should take yer mind aff things. We could play board games in tha rec room. Or ye could let aff some steam wi’ tha punching bag in tha training room! Ah could teach ye how tae shoot on tha shooting range-”

You open your eyes wide as his suggestions turn progressively more violent.

“I have a bus to catch, and that's overlooking the fact that I haven't done anything in my last hour of work today…”

“If anyone gives you trouble, just say ah forced you.”

You chuckle at the idea.

“You'd never compel me to do anything.”

You can’t repress a loving smile. Johnny just feels that safe to you.

He smirks mischievously at that.

“Na, but they'll believe ah dragged ye intae mah evil schemes.”

He punctuates his statement by a roguish wink that wrests a laughter from you.

“You should take my bed,” he declares suddenly, serious again.

As the silence between you two stretches and your smile is replaced by a mix of shock, confusion, and worry, he realizes how this may sound. Flustered, he starts rambling to defuse the situation.

“Wait, no- steamin’ jesus - Ah didnae mean it like that! I’d take the couch in the rec room, ‘f course. Ye shouldn't go through tonight alone.”

“Oh my god, Johnny, I could never take your bed from you. You must already sleep on the floor so often for missions…”

“Exactly, hen. This is nothing for me. The couch is a hotel compared to that.”

You open your mouth to argue more, but then he makes an expression that can only be described as sad puppy eyes, even going as far as slightly tilting his head to the side to perfect the impression. You gulp in response, stricken straight through the heart, and knowing pertinently that you could already hardly refuse him anything, so if he begins to gaze at you like that…

“Pretty please?”

Oh no. Not that line.

He's now excessively batting his eyelashes at you, which, while not exactly alluring, is both comical and endearing. Hell, who are you even kidding? You’re so smitten with this blue-eyed creature, is there any act from him you wouldn’t find endearing?

“Are you… pouting?”

“Depends. Is it working?”

You sigh, aware it's a losing battle, and look away, a futile attempt to hide the ridiculously potent effect he has on you, or to at least shield yourself from his influence, if only momentarily.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Maybe ah just wantae hear ye say aye tae me.”

Your cheeks catch fire at the suggestiveness of the words. As if the regular rasp of his voice, that felt like an exquisite caress along your spine, wasn’t already making it incredibly difficult to keep your face at a reasonnable temperature.

“You're gonna get me fired, Johnny.”

“Over my dead body,” he retorted with surprising determination, solemnly pressing a hand over his heart.

You scoff indulgently. Coming from anyone else, the hastily taken oath would be preposterous, but Soap has always proved himself trustworthy.

“Let's go. Your knees must be sore,” you mumble, trying to sound casual.

“Wanna make a joke aboot mah stamina when kneeling but ah will keep it fur next time,” he slips as he stands up, way too smugly for your own good, so you pretend you didn’t hear anything. As if you needed any more incitement into picturing him on his knees in a different context.

You get up quickly after, but he does not get out of your way. You rise a quizzical eyebrow, his close proximity triggering alarm bells inside your head. If he remains near enough for you to feel his body heat, you’re going to get dizzy.

He simply grins.

“Want a hug?”

He opens his muscled arms, smile genuine, almost blinding, like a tacit invitation, and all your reluctance seems to evaporate with that simple gesture. Before you can linger any more on the harmful consequences this lack of restraint will eventually cause, you throw yourself into his embrace. It feels like falling and flying all at once.

You blink at the unexpected question. Yes, implores your touchstarved mind. YES, cries out your sensitive, enamored heart.

No way, rebuffs your cautious brain. It will only hurt more knowing what you can’t have.

Your hands close on the back of his shirt, near his shoulder blades, and, pressing your face into his shoulder to make the world disappear for a moment, you cling to him like he could rescue you from the sinking ship that was your sick mind. One of his arms close around your waist while his free hand rubs your back, leaving trails of fire in its wake, but bringing you much-appreciated comfort nonetheless.

“You're too nice to me. I feel like I'm taking advantage of your kindness.”

He remains silent a drawn-out second, and you're terrified you just screwed everything up.

“Yer givin me too much credit, lass “ he finally says. “Ah don't go ‘round base comforting every person I find.”

His tone isn’t angry, per se, but it lacks its previous joviality.

Soap tilts his head back, biting his lips, thanking the universe that with your face laying against his chest, you can’t perceive his embarrassment.

He can’t tell you. Not yet. Not now.

Months ago, he took the resolve to make you smile more; for a while now he started doing his reports more seriously, or even did the ones of Gaz and Ghost, just to have an excuse to see you, to behold the way your face lightens up when he brings you necessary paperwork before you even demand it.

He can’t tell you that he used to consider writing reports as the worst part of the job until you came along; until you awarded him a heartfelt, radiant smile when he gave you his; that he noticed how little you smiled outside of artificial ones you fabricate for work purposes; that when he manages to make you smile or laugh genuinely, it feels like a prize, that only he is privy to.

And he certainly can’t tell you about that one time where he handed over his reports in advance, but you weren't there, so he left, heart heavy with disappointment, dragging his feet, until he heard your voice coming from the room he just left.

“What are those?” you questionned your coworker.

“Soap just dropped them.”

“But… I didn't even ask him to yet?”

Perplexity combines with glee in your voice.

“He's a good boy, isn’t he?” prompted your colleague.

You let out a fond, wistful sigh, before responding, half-joking.

“I know! Such a good boy for me.”

Getting to hear you beaming over his benevolent action was already a treat, but witnessing that compromising exchange? To be called a “good boy” by you short-circuited him. He swore - “Steamin jesus” -, ears burning, face on fire, covering it with one hand. He needed to leave badly. Seek refuge in his room, where he could be free to replay that tantalizing line on loop in his mind. “Such a good boy for me.”

Your heart beats a bit faster than usual as you obediently follow Soap through corridors you’ve never been in before. You trust him with all your heart, but that doesn't change the fact that what you’re doing is against the rules; and those rules aren't high school's, but the ones of a military base.

You flinch hard as a familiar voice screams in your direction.

“SERGEANT MACTAVISH!”

Oops, you think. That's Captain Price, your supervisor, and he sounds pissed. You never witnessed him calling Soap by his last name before, but that being said, you never saw him deal with a kidnapped assistant either.

You've been caught red-handed.

Your mind begins to come up with plans to lessen the punishments that are without doubt about to descend upon you two, but Johnny grabbing your hand brings you back to reality.

You lift your gaze to him. He doesn't seem worried at all, if anything… is that a spark of delight in his eye?

He only pronounces one word.

“Run.”

So you run, carried away half by adrenaline, and half by the sergeant dragging you. Thankfully Soap is aware that there's no way you can keep up with him and his training, so he comes to a halt a minute later.

Panting hard, you double over, hands clenching your knees for support, heart thumping in your chest, blood throbbing in your ears.

“Why… are we… running…!?” you manage to exhale. “It's only… gonna make… things worse…”

By your side, he's standing fresh as a daisy, barely ruffled by your flight. The sight would be infuriating if his eyes weren't glinting with amusement and he wasn’t offering you a dazzling smile.

“Because it's fun,” he affirms like it's evident.

Little by little, you catch your breath, throwing Johnny a look that's half in earnest, half in jest.

“More fun for you than for me.”

He doesn't get flustered by your moderate reprimand.

“Is it selfish o' me tae wantae spend more time wi' ye? Didnae want us tae git interrupted yet.”

The line feels like a punch to the chest, stealing the breath you just recovered and leaving you agape.

He takes your hand again with the natural of a well earned habit.

“C'm'on, ah have more than one trick up mah sleeve.”

You're unsure which of the views unfurling under your eyes is the most magnificent; the sunset in front of you that's painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, or the striking man by your side whose eyes could rival the most astounding sights.

Nibbling on the dinner Soap smuggled out of the cafeteria with too much ease for it to be his first time, you regularly sneak glances at him as he fills the silence with tales of his adventures - the parts that aren't top secret, at least. You two totally did not break onto the roof moments ago, no sir.

Goosebumps travel along your arms and any exposed skin as the night falls and the sun takes away the warmth with him. You furiously brush the outside of your arms for heat, and you're about to suggest finishing this inside, when a jacket lands on your shoulders.

It is still warm with his owner's bodyheat, deliciously so. You curl up and drag it closer, your face on fire. Realizing that Soap gave you his jacket without you even having to ask or complain about the cold… you’re conflicted between obsessing over this like a giggling schoolgirl, and feeling apologetic.

Once you more or less got your blushing under control, you turn to him, displaying a contrite expression.

“I don't want to take your jacket on top of your bed, Johnny.” you pout.

“A'm a bloody furnace. Wanna check?”

He asks, cheekily, even adding a wink for good measure. As if there was any more artifice needed to make you putty in his hands.

He presents you his bare arm for the taking, all golden skin, bulging muscles and a constellation of white scars.

You indulge him and lay a hand on his bicep, knowing he won't relent otherwise; that is definitly the only reason; it has absolutely nothing to do with your own desires.

Indeed, he's burning. As you envy and bask in the heat provided by his body, forgetting that your touch is lingering too long for someone who is just a coworker, he chooses that moment to flex shamelessly, showing off the impressive circumference of his muscle. You feel obligated to squeeze it in response, a way to finally meet him head-on instead of passively enduring his quips, and it feels like reinforced concrete under your fingers.

You fail to hold back your laughter at his facetious demeanor.

“You're ridiculous.”

The comment holds no bite, a smile brimming with tenderness stretching your lips.

“I'll be the most ridiculous man on the planet if it makes you laugh.”

He's leaning back, hands propped on the ground behind him, head slightly tilted to gaze at you, and the earnestness on his face could almost make you believe his words.

Almost.

But instead a sharp pang pierces your chest, right between your lungs, at heart's level. The smile you return him in spite of yourself oscillates between content and heartbroken, before opting for the latter.

Tomorrow you will ask him, maybe even plead; tomorrow you'll ask him to put an end to the flirting. You cannot bear it.

But just tonight, you'll indulge it. You'll pretend to be normal, a well-adjusted human being, instead of a broken shell; you'll act like an adult for who flirting is a regular event and not the mental equivalent of a nuclear bomb.

You abruptly stand up, dusting yourself off, purposely ignoring the newfound lack of understanding on Soap's face and how his mouth opened for a question.

“It's getting late,” you state, not nearly as casually as you'd like. “I'm beat!”

You're running away and you know it; but you never claimed to be brave. Really, it is the best solution for everyone involved, or at least it's how it has always seemed to be your whole life.

He escorts you to his room - of course he does. Even if he already picked up his things earlier to crash on the couch, already showed the place to you.

As you awkwardly face him on the doorstep after saying your goodbyes and your thanks, unable to look away yet incapable of making eye contact, pain flares in your torso thinking of him, somehow intertwined with joy and gratefulness for his existence. Maybe your inner struggle shows on your face because next thing you know, he cups your cheek, forcing you to look up, but as the deranged idea that he's about to kiss you manifests in a remote corner of your mind, your brain swiftly shuts off as his lips make contact with your forehead.

The touch is light yet your entire being seems gathered on that point of contact.

“G'night, bonnie,” he half-whispers, as if to make sure his words exist only for you.

He grants you one last smile, small but so sweet you feel your heart tightens.

“Good night, Johnny,” you manage to articulate before sheltering in his bedroom. The room smells like him.

The moment the door shuts behind you, you rest against it, tilting your head back, letting out a deep sigh. Morbid curiosity pushes you to glance in the adjacent bathroom's mirror, if only to see what you look after this evening. A flustered mess? A sorrowful wreck?

Catching your reflection's eye makes you grimace as you realize an incriminating detail.

You forgot to give Soap his jacket back.

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invidiia · 7 months

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Hello! 🙃 Do you mind if I request a platonic yandere Dazai with a reader who used to be his subordinate in the port mafia but then they cross paths on a mission?

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ "i watch the rising sun!" 𖤐 p!yandere dazai // reader.

platonic yandere dazai meets his old subordinate.

m.list // now playing..

[ a/n ; THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING!! if something doesn't make sense, please god just ignore it because it's 2am, i'm dehydrated, half asleep, and i really need to continue writing on this blog. ]

[ warning ; platonic yandere, dazai himself needs a warning, mentions of abuse (not towards reader), mentions of the abuse cycle, user is about 18, mori is present, there's literally more backstory/explanation to this than the actual point, im sobbin ]

It was years since Dazai left the Port Mafia.

You were his other subordinate, besides Akutagawa. The ways he treated you both were entirely different - it usually ended in you being forced to watch Dazai 'train' Akutagawa, while he later patted your head, praising you for being good, which was standing by his side and watching as he mistreated others. Of course, after that, you would treat any of Akutagawa's wounds. Dazai treated you so well because you were like him, but why didn't he treat Akutagawa the same? You never understood.

Dazai spoke to you once before leaving - ordering you to stay put. He even injured you, breaking a few of your fingers and telling you to say you had gotten into a fight before he left, so you wouldn't be suspected in aiding his treason.

While you were glad that Akutagawa would no longer have to suffer by his hands - you were somewhat upset by him leaving. While some of the others were fine with comforting you, it wasn't the same as when Dazai did it. You couldn't help but miss the times he would praise you and pat your head for doing well.

But over time, you changed. You'd learned how to cope a much better way, and instead of wanting his praise and affection, you grew colder to anyone who tried showing you any kind of love. When others in the mafia tried to comfort you over him leaving, they'd watch as you became cold to them, not letting yourself be vulnerable to anybody anymore. Akutagawa had also changed - however, he was.. worse. The abuse cycle that had started from Mori had yet to break.

It was about a month after Kyouka had been taken in by the Armed Detective Agency. Mori never told you much about the agency, nothing about who was in it aside from Fukuzawa, Yosano, Atsushi, and Kyouka, and that they were different in many obvious ways, but had a form of alliance to defeat the Guild, none of which you'd been involved in. Everyone else was a mystery to you, since you were never given jobs involved with the agency anyway.

It came to your surprise when Mori presented you with a brand new mission of sort, to go with him while meeting with the leader of the Agency. That was unusual - usually Chuuya or Akutagawa did jobs like this, or when you were given one, they took it anyway, just to 'be nice to you'.

But Mori insisted you go, even though he gave you a choice to give it to Chuuya, Akutagawa, or anyone else. Even Chuuya suggested he take the job, not explaining himself, just insisting you let him take it. But this time was different - you were offered this, given an actual chance to be involved with the agency's dealings with the Port Mafia, something you were never given.

Of course you took the job.

You trailed closely behind Mori, following him loyally as you two had walked to the meeting place. If it was held in secret, then why the hell was it outside, anyway?

"[Name]," Mori called to you, turning to meet your eyes. He continued speaking after he knew you were listening. "Fukuzawa-san brought another of his own for the same reason I am bringing you. Just a heads up," Mori cheerfully spoke. Why didn't he tell you beforehand? It didn't matter now, though.

Both you and Mori approached the place to meet with the leader. You could see there was another person with Fukuzawa, but you stood behind Mori, and their upper half had been blocked out. No big deal.

You stepped out from behind your boss, arms crossed above your chest as you eyed the leader of the agency. He looked so kind, a part of you wondered what it'd be like if you were with the agency instead.

But Fukuzawa wasn't the only person you saw.

Standing close behind him was a tall man with dark, wavy chestnut hair, in a long, tan trench coat. He wasn't just any man. That was the familiar face of Osamu Dazai. The youngest executive in the history of the Port Mafia.

And you were his ex-subordinate, right there in front of both. Both of your eyes widened, but you were much more surprised to see Dazai than he was to see you, Like he expected this.

You barely listened to the conversation between Fukuzawa and Mori, only making out a few words - 'Guild', Defeat', 'Fitzgerald', 'Agency', and 'Mafia'. None of them mattered to you as much as they should have. Your eyes flickered between the pavement and Dazai, who stared at you intently, not bothering to hide it. He had an expression that you just couldn't read precisely - it was impossible to tell what he was thinking in the moment. You on the other hand? Your thoughts were clear, a beyond frustrated glare was evident on your face.

It felt like an hour standing there, listening to Mori and Fukuzawa talk, if you could even say you were listening. But it was over only twenty minutes later.

Mori smiled at Fukuzawa, while the other just nodded calmly. Your boss began to walk forward, looking at you to signal you were to walk with him. Fukuzawa and Dazai did the same.

However, when you and Dazai were next to each other, he stopped, turning to look at you. Out of curiosity, you sighed and looked up at him. His eyes were not kind, but a slight smile was etched onto his face. A bandaged hand took your shoulder, and Dazai spoke to you for the first time in years.

"My, how you've grown." Verbal surprise was clear in his voice. Dazai was about to speak again, but you cut him off before he could get a word out. "Don't fucking touch me." The taller brunette sighed, turning his full body towards you this time, not just his head.

He smiled at you, closing his eyes. "You've changed so much. We'll meet again, I'll make sure of it." After finishing his sentence, he began to catch up with Fukuzawa. You stood there, looking at Dazai as he walked off calmly.

While you were upset about how he left you, it wasn't your main concern. Was he not sorry about the way he treated Akutagawa, making you watch as he made him suffer for so long?

Part of you wanted to run after him and punch him, but it wasn't worth it, not now. Even so, the thought seeing him was upsetting, and meeting him again wasn't in your best interest.

[ extra // i'll do a part two sometime later.. it's 3:51am rn lmao km sobingmgkgkgm ]

#dazai x reader #platonic yandere dazai #yandere dazai x reader #bsd x reader #yandere bsd #platonic yandere #klya..anon #yandere dazai osamu #osamu dazai x reader #yandere dazai #yandere osamu dazai #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bungo stray dogs #yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere bsd x reader

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indulgentdaydream · 2 months

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Hello luv, first of all... I LOVE NURSE!READER!!! OH god the last lines were soooooo heartwarming for my social worker heart!! LOVE LOVE IT 🩷🩷

So, may I request a Jason x reader again but with a little something... Jealous Jason because reader and Roy know each other longer than Jay and reader and then he gets all jelly and and—! Oh god I love a jealous petty man.

Missy when she fucks up the queue and queues this post for NEXT YEAR by accident 🫣🙃 NEXT YEAR?? LIKE THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE POSTED LAST FRIDAY AND I DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE THAT IT DIDN'T GO UP

anyways AHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH your words are already heartwarming ♥️

I loveeee jealous jason imma cook this up so quick just you wait and see (i wrote this when i first made the draft and i found it funny to leave it. It’s literally been a month I’m so sorry)

I also made this into headcanons because I had a VISION and did not think to give it any justice. (koi youre seriously my number 1 supporter i hope you enjoy this garbage I just threw up, really)

Pining!Jealous!Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: slight jealousy (not too overly consuming), alcohol consumption

Roy had invited Jason to hang out at the bar

Bros being bros

except...

Roy brought you along (because he KNOWS Jason has got a fat crush on you whether or not he’s told him)

(He tried to convince roy it’s not a crush, but always fails because his whole demeanour changes when you walk in the room)

examples:

he's always going to be standing beside you, consciously or not

jason isn't always a tense guy. But he for sure isn't as long as you're talking to him/looking at him/etc. (but if you put your hand on his arm/touch him in any way, it's game over)

your name is brought up, he's listening SO INTENTLY

like a dog when it hears its favourite word

Anyways

The three of you are sitting in a booth

It was originally you and roy before jason showed up, the two of you on either side

Jason shows up and just sits right next to you. No hesitation.

You and roy are laughing away, recounting stories and telling jokes.

Jason is just... really quiet

unusually quiet

He doesn’t look at you guys, rather looking out across the bar, trying to hide the fact he’s feeling this way

That he's feeling unreasonably jealous of his best friend

who literally brought you FOR JASON

He knows it’s stupid. He trusts both of you. You two are the two people he trusts the MOST

He hates that he’s like this, but he can't help it

Roy's better than him. You've known him for longer. He's making you laugh harder than Jason ever has. He's better looking, too. Older. More experienced.

His thoughts are clogging up his head. He's really not listening anymore, just holding his beer, eyes scanning the bar floor, watching the other patrons.

Then Roy is standing in front of him, saying something about using the bathroom.

He is giving a VERY pointed look at Jason.

a "make conversation with your crush or I'm shoving an arrow down your throat" kind of look

Jason felt a little stab of genuine anxiety shoot through him.

He's talked to you alone before. Many times. You two were friends, of course. He doesn't know why this is how he's feeling right now.

Then your hand is resting on his forearm.

Poor boy is still so caught up in his head he just looks down at your hand for definitely a second too long before finally meeting your gaze

Your gaze with those stupidly pretty eyes.

Then comes that horrendously pretty voice, "You alright?"

He nods. Shrugs. Like a stupid teenager who doesn't know how to handle his emotions.

He has to admit he's still a little tense about your attention being focused more on Roy. But not to you. He'd never admit it to you. You'd probably find it unattractive and then he'd really never have a chance.

“Yeah, no, im enjoying the talking. Always forget how well you and roy know each other”

“Oh yeah he just knows how to get me going. You know how he is”

Jason doesn’t know how he does it.

Like some leap of faith.

Some, jealousy super-powered leap.

He tries to be non-chalant about it.

“It’d be nice to do this again sometime. Maybe without Roy around.”

BOY'S HEART IS POUNDING

Sipping on his beer, looking down at it instead to avoid eye contact with you so he doesn't lose his cool.

Or someone show on his face that he is actually shitting bricks

You don't respond for a second and the alarm bells start going off in his head

WHY DID I SAY THAT WHY DID I SAY THAT WHY DID I SAY-

"It would be nice," you say, "Could we make it a date instead?"

He's smiling, turning to nod at you, "Course we can."

But his internal dialogue is just straight screaming at himself

"IDIOT YOU SHOULD'VE MADE IT OBVIOUS YOU WANTED IT TO BE A DATE IN THE FIRST PLACE"

The things jealousy will make you do

Roy comes back and sits down

Jason's into the conversation now

It doesn't really matter that Roy is still making you laugh

because he's not the one holding your hand under the table

AH I HOPE YOU LIKE -missy

I also love a jealous petty man (as long as it doesn't become toxic and he doesn't use it as an excuse to be an asshole)

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd x gn!reader #red hood #dc #dc x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #red hood x you #dc x you #dc x y/n #jason todd x y/n #jealous!jason todd x reader #jealous!jason todd #cw jealousy #cw alcohol consumption

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

Note

AITA for being condescending towards an asexual kid in GSA?

🙃🏳️‍🌈 to find later

Long post so buckle up.

I (17, they/it/he) am one of three co-leaders of my school’s GSA, along with R (18, she/her) and N (17, he/him). All three of us are openly bi, and I’m also openly trans and (most importantly) very loudly aromantic. We’re all in 12th grade now but we were leaders last year (in 11th grade) too. The school/GSA is small enough that all four grades (9–12, so around 13–18 years old) are in the same GSA, there’s no separate upper grade and lower grade groups. We also have two advisors, both cis queer teachers; and some younger queer faculty members also join sometimes for formal events. We take turns running events during club time, such as fun crafts or watching music videos. Sometimes we also do educational stuff or documentaries, including having teachers come in to facilitate discussions.

I’ve been planning (since early December) to run a two part series of discussions about asexuality and aromanticism (separate discussions of each). I really just wanted to do one day about aromanticism, but R said that if I did that, people would derail it and just talk about asexuality anyways, which both N and our advisors also agreed made sense. So, it’s two days, and the asexuality one is first so that the aromanticism one can be closer to Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week (ASAW).

There’s a girl in GSA, let’s call her A (16, she/her), who’s in 11th grade. She’s very socially awkward and if someone points out that she’s accidentally said something rude or offensive she’ll make a big deal out of not knowing and generally derail the conversation. Also, two years ago A made a ton of “jokes” about me and my little sibling (16MtF) being “secretly dating.” When I asked her (politely at first) to stop, she said she was just joking around, and kept doing it. I asked her again and also asked the theatre teacher and school counselor for help, and eventually she did stop. But A kept following me around and trying to be friends with me, and I was super uncomfortable to the point that I asked the school counselor to facilitate a conversation between A and I so that I could ask her to fucking stop. It somewhat worked. Now she still keeps trying to start conversations with me in the hallways and such, but I just brush her off or ignore her.

The one place I can’t do that is during GSA. Since I’m a leader, I have to be civil to everyone and actually talk to people (R, N, and I set norms at the start of the year during our planning meetings). A is asexual but not aromantic, and today she showed up like 5 minutes into lunch (cafeteria lines are annoying) and loudly asked if she was late. We weren’t doing anything in GSA today, just chilling. At some point during the meeting I announced casually that next week we’d be discussing asexuality, and then the week after that we’d talk about aromanticism, which leads nicely into ASAW during February break. When I said this, A immediately said that she would be extra ace that week [during ASAW]. I was like, “during aromantic spectrum awareness week?!?!” in the same tone of that “during pride month?!?!” meme. She looked like someone had just given her an F on the most important test of the year and said she hadn’t known.

I also made a comment about how there’s way more openly aspec people at our school than at most schools, and N said that maybe the presence of role models is part of that (clear subtext: he was referring to me). I said pretty loudly (more people could hear) that it was kinda funny that I’m the “ace role model” when I’m literally not asexual. A looked super lost and confused at this, and I think she might’ve thought I was ace, even though I’m super open about not being ace, and have told her directly more than once.

Here’s where the potential assholery comes into play. There’s an ad for PrEP that was fairly common on the back covers of theatre playbills in the past year. The ad shows a Black man dressed in ripped leggings with fishnets, shiny knee-length heeled leather boots, and some sort of white leather harness, doing a bridge pose with one leg extended upwards so that the “r” in PrEP is resting on the sole of the boot. The ad has a bright red background and text that says “you cast of PrEP options is changing” along with a small QR code and website link. The pose is somewhat provocative, but not out of place on a playbill for an all-ages show.

During GSA, A was saying that she thought the ad was bad, because of the leather being “fetish gear” and “weird” (basically the same arguments people use to say that gay people shouldn’t be allowed in public). I told A that there’s nothing wrong with someone wearing leather, and she said that “it’s fetish gear and that’s disgusting and degenerate and just bad advertising!”

I explained calmly, like I would to a child (although I probably wouldn’t talk about this topic with a child), that PrEP is a medicine that people take if they anticipate having sex with someone who’s HIV-positive, so it’s okay that the ad is somewhat suggestive. She seemed to accept that, but still said that the leather was weird, and the ad should’ve shown “a diverse group of people getting pills at a pharmacy” instead, because “fetish gear” was too much.

I asked if she thought that all leather clothing was inherently fetishistic, to which A said yes, and then I asked, “do you know that people can’t just choose fetishes?”

She hadn’t known that, but she still said the ad was too sexual. I pointed out that it was a fairly well-targeted advertisement, using theatre references, but maybe A was not part of the target demographic. I also said that sometimes outfits are just hot without there needing to be any fetishes involved, which she didn’t refute, and that even if it was a fetish, that wouldn’t make it inherently “bad” or “degenerate” at all.

A said that she still didn’t like it, and I told her that she was entitled to have whatever feelings she wanted to have, but that doesn’t mean the advertisement itself is a problem.

Another person (17, he/him) called out “[OP], what do you think about kink at pride?” in a sort of nonchalant way, so I walked over while saying “i’m pro–kink at pride.” The conversation eventually moved in other directions, and then club ended and we had to go to our next classes.

TL;DR: given my position of power and responsibility as a GSA leader, AITA for being kinda condescending towards an ace person who’s 2 years younger than me because she was being very sex-negative about an ad for PrEP?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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apollyonsdarksecrets · 10 months

Text

Too Much

Joel Miller X Afab!Reader

Summary: Just a Drabble about Joel being to big and making you take it because you were being a brat

Warnings: SMUT 18 + Only MDNI, Mean Joel, cussing, unprotected sex (p in v) dirty talk, Dacryphilia, size kink, rough sex, cream pie, slight breeding kink use of a few derogatory terms, after care, pet names, let me know if I missed anything!

Joel Miller Master List

A/n: I’m in the middle of writing two other stories and I just 🙃 have no motivation for either of them. So here is a little something to show I’m still alive and my brain is still rotted by this man.

*~*~*~*~*~*

You had begged, pleaded and even acted like a brat to get here, months and months of working up to this point and here you are, hips hovering over his lap, the head of his cock brushing your sopping cunt and you are suddenly rethinking everything you’ve done.

Joel sees it in your face, the way your eyebrows furrow and how you chew on your kiss bitten lower lip. “Well?” He starts, his smile dark as your eyes meet his. “Thought you wanted to ride me baby, go right ahead.”

“I-I am… I just…” You hesitate, glancing back down to his cock, it’s… big, to thick to wrap your hand around and his length is nearly to your belly button. The large mushroom head leaks precum and the veins prominent along his shaft pulse slightly. It’s intimidating really, but makes you clench nonetheless. “I didn’t… know you were so… well endowed...”

Joel laughs, a loud rumbling sound from his chest and you pout down at him. Your thighs shake with the effort of holding yourself up, hands splayed on his shoulders for support as his squeeze your hips.

“I told you, I needed to work you open for me, but no, you had to go and be a brat about it. Tellin all your little girlfriends how I don’t give you nothin’.” He sits up suddenly, his grip the only thing keeping you balanced as he’s suddenly in your face. Your eyes widen, holding your breath as his smile turns more devilish. His hooded gaze rakes over your naked body, the hunger there evident. Palpable even.

“I-I’m sorry.. I didn’t… I was just-.”

He tuts at you, a hand slipping up your back to circle your neck, holding you firmly in place. “You wanted it so bad, you’re gonna take it.”

He doesn’t give you time to process his words before he abruptly pulls you down, bucking his hips up at the same time. He thrusts into you in one fluid motion, burying himself to the hilt and you cry out. Pain blooms between your legs and tears collect in your lashes, your nails digging into his corded muscles.

“Fuck!” You hiss between clenched teeth, his grip unyielding as you wiggle and squirm against him, fighting to ease the burn.

“Shh, Shh baby. I know.” His voice is almost condescending, the fake pout of his lips mocking your own. “But you said you could take it and now look at you. Stretched out so pretty on my cock.”

Joel lifts you easily, your cunt clenching around him before he lets go, letting gravity do the work for him as you slide back down his length. The cry that leaves your lips is almost something you’d hear in a bad porno. You can feel every ridge and vein, feel the head of his cock sitting snuggly against your cervix making your body pulse.

“That’s right,” Joel drops his gaze from your teary eyes to where you are both connected, a low moan escaping his lips as he repeats his movements, your arousal coating his cock before it disappears back into your aching pussy. “Fuck baby you look so good like this.”

“J-Joel… s’to much.” You babble as the first tear escapes down your red cheek, only making him groan louder, fucking up into you with hard stokes.

“Wanna act like a brat, I’ll treat ya like one.” He growls, and suddenly he’s flipping your positions, your back now on the bed and he’s looming over you making your breath stutter.

Joel doesn’t ease up as his hands find the meat of your thighs and he practically bends you in half, fucking into you with a brutal pace that leaves you crying and clawing at the sheets.

“Knew this-fuck- knew this pussy would feel this good.” He pants, watching the tears stream down your face, ruining your mascara. He can feel your pussy clenching around him, rhythmic with your hiccuping breath. Joel can see the pain edging away, pleasure beginning to bloom as your eyes flutter slightly, head pressing into the mattress with each stroke.

“Pl-please… I… I can’t…” Your mouth falls open from a loud moan, his fingers having moved from bruising your thigh to rubbing lazy circles over your throbbing clit. “Joooel.” You whine, toes curling as your orgasm begins to bloom at the base of your spine, radiating out into your stomach.

He chuckles lowly, letting you bear more of his weight as his thrusts slow in speed but keep that punishing power. “Gonna cum already? Such a desperate fucking slut you can’t wait any longer?”

You shake your head vigorously, face scrunching as his fingers work faster, the sloppy sound of skin hitting skin filling the room above the whines and moans ripping your throat apart. “Please!”

“Oh you can do better than that, baby. Beg for it.”

Your eyes fly open, zeroing in on his face. His tussled curly hair, the deep chocolate color of his irises, the way his jaw clenches before relaxing again. Joel’s eyes hold a challenge, a dare even, that you won’t say no to him, that you’ll do exactly as he says.

And he’s right.

“Please, please I wanna cum so bad, I-I wanna cum on your cock so bad!” The sheer desperation in your quacking voice makes a shiver shoot down his spine, a deep, guttural moan ripping through his body into yours as he leans down, kissing you messily.

It’s not sweet, none of it is as his fingers double their efforts, and between teeth and spit you scream with the force of your orgasm. The tide of pleasure rolling over you as your back lifts what little it can off the bed, your thighs shaking against Joel’s sternum, fingers turning white around the sheets.

Your pussy convulses around his cock, sucking him in with a death grip that makes his hips stutter and his own body tense. He’s mumbling against your lips, something along the lines of “fuck baby” and “I’m about to cum” with curses and grunts sprinkled in between.

There’s no catching onto whatever it is though, not fully, as you ride your orgasm, the pounding of his cock making it last longer, making it more intense as you cry a muddled version of his name. Joel’s fingers slip from your abused clit, digging into your hip as he starts to moan louder, his head tipping back, muscles bunching under his skin as his orgasm rushes up on him.

“Gonna fuck you full of me, little girl, breed this little pussy like how it’s meant to be.” His words make your eyes roll, a whimper slipping past your lips when you feel the first pulse of cock. Stream after stream of hot release paints your velvety walls, and something in your body relaxes, your hips opening just that much wider to take it as he ruts against you.

Joel notices, because of course he does, and a soft cooe fills your ears making your lashes flutter. Your eyes are distant, like you aren’t quiet with him, as he continues to empty his spend into your throbbing cunt. “Sweet honey, this what ya needed? Just needed to be full of my cum to make you all submissive and sweet for me?”

All you can manage is a small nod, making him smile down at you. Joel pulls out fully leaving you to fill empty but placated, your legs falling to the bed as your eyes close.

Seconds or maybe minutes could of flown by when you’re suddenly awoken, a warm cloth pressing between your legs and the sound of Joel humming fills the room. He cleans you up and then himself before he comes back to the bedroom. You’ve curled up on your side, arm tucked under your head and breath heavy and even. He tucks himself in behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist and drawing you back against him.

He kisses the side of your head, content with the idea that you have learned your lesson.

#smut #apollyonsdarksecrets #joel miller #joel miller smut #the last of us #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #the last of us smut

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rc-writes · 10 months

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𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 | 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢

pairings: benny weir x reader

warnings: one curse word i believe, i say y’all one too many times lol

a/n: this was requested by the same irl friend as my other benny hcs! this blog is going to turn into just a benny fan club soon enough lol. but anyways, i would like to say that in the middle of typing this a roach decided to appear out of nowhere in my room 🙃 that was interesting. also not me writing yet more benny headcanons at 1am. like dude it's bad enough you started appearing in random dreams of mine for a few months (like he’d show up for like to seconds and then dip, or he’d just be in the background and not even say a word) but now you won’t even let me sleep??

you and benny had been friends since middle school

which means you guys have been friends forever in your minds

this also means that the idea of benny liking you or you liking him in more than a friend way, and vice versa, was never a thought that crossed either of y’alls minds

for a while at least

since you were friends with benny that also means by default you’re also friends with ethan

and you three, with the occasional rory appearance, most likely spend an insane amount of time together

i’m talking spending full days playing video games or watching movies, grandma weir loving you, having a love-hate relationship with jane, etc.

this leads me to say that there has to been at least one instance where someone though you were dating one of them

or both

which can go one of two ways

either you’re all stuttering, awkwardly trying to explain you’re just friends

or you all laugh it off because that would be ridiculous right?

right?

i feel like if someone was thought you and benny were together he’d be the type to laugh it off

which would lead to you laughing it off as well because once again that scenario never even crossed either of y’alls minds

benny normally flirts with everyone one he sees, especially if they’re the nerd type

it’s like a second nature at this point

so obviously if he never even attempted to flirt with you that means you two are in fact friends, best friends, bros even, and whatever other words that mean friends

until one day benny’s whole universe flips upside down

the gang was fighting yet another monster of the week as per usual

except this entity was particularly nasty and you ended up getting hurt

like i’m talking needing a quick trip to the er kinda hurt

i can imagine trying to explain what had happened was interesting

turns out you sprained your wrist and had a mild concussion

you were going to be fine but the doctors wanted you to stay over night just incase

but no matter how many times you or anyone else said it benny was not listening

you were literally in the hospital, why was no one else panicking??

you are sitting in a hospital bed!!! with a sprained wrist!! and a concussion!!!!

you’d swear you were dying by his shear panic

he’d feel like shit for not being able to protect you

he literally had magic powers so why was this even happening??

you’ve lost count how many times you had reassured him that it's okay, you can take after yourself

i can see him being like stiles in that one episode of teen wolf where stiles fell asleep in the waiting room for lydia until they kicked him out

grandma weir would have to come pick him up and the entire way home she’s all like 👀 because like yes a best friend will get worried about their friend but this seemed like it could be something more

but knowing grandma i think she’d keep her mouth shut and let him figure it out

it’d be funnier that way

and sure enough in the middle of the night benny wakes up in a cold sweat and is like

????

benny short circuits

he decides to ignore that for the time being

but the next day when you’re released from the hospital ethan suggests that they go see you and benny says no

and ethan’s like?? what happened to him thinking you were dying??

eventually benny confesses to which ethan is now even more ????

after some convincing ethan gets benny to go see you

“dude you guys have been friends forever, nothing’s changed”

“‘nothing’s changed’!?!? what do you mean ‘nothing’s changed’?? everything has changed!!”

cue benny being acting so odd once he gets to your place

which confuses and concerns you since less than 24hrs ago he was acting like you were dying

you questioned ethan about it but he quickly and awkwardly said he had no idea

but the fact that he said it in a higher pitch, stuttering, and way over the top about it, made it clear that he did know something

but you dropped because you knew ethan wasn’t going to snitch on his friend

yet, you thought

new mission unlocked for you: figure out what the hell happened to your best friend over night

benny’s new mission was to make sure by all means that you did not find the answer to that

#mbav #mbav headcanons #benny weir #benny weir headcanons #benny weir imagine #benny weir x reader #my babysitters a vampire #my babysitters a vampire imagine #my babysitters a vampire x reader #my babysitters a vampire headcanons #mbav x reader

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ragnarssons · 13 days

Text

so... i wanted to be done with this watcher stuff. but then i saw on reddit that one of their eXCluSivE nEw CoNtEnT got leaked, you know "road files" which is basically a behind the scenes video for ghost files. which is a nice idea. ...................... but the video lasts 8 minutes. you pay, 6 dollars a month, the first video you get is an 8 minutes video. opening with ryan saying "well this could be the only time we do that". so. huh, not new exclusive content, then? - since they want to be compared to tv, let's compare that to a behind the scenes video/film some tv shows make, for example the star wars ones, on disney+, that are minimum at least 20 minutes long if not more, way more, like 45+ minutes. and then you have the bts elements of a ghost files. so now, i can truly say: i do not get how their ghost files' seasons cost them hundreds of thousands of dollars. like there's nothing in the video that warrants this video not costing them... like 20k at most. (and i mean that without counting paying the employees/crew, because i'd argue they do that with their general revenues, and not just their revenues out of the ghost files seasons). and that's without even delving into everything that's weird about how much money they're spending by making dumb shit like sending a "scouting crew" (of no less than 5 or 6 people, I don't remember, cuz that ain't too much at all) before them... you're ghost hunting, like what's the point of that?? and as i suspected when they switched to watcher, this video just proved how scripted, over-prepared the whole concept of "ghost hunting" became when they switched from buzzfeed unsolved to watcher. so you gotta tell me that the "unscripted, 100% natural" episode of ghost files, is actually made with like 10 other people in the room, behind the camera, the guys having entered and toured the "haunted building" like 10 times before the cameras start rolling, producers, crews and all and all having scouted the building (here, a small house) dozens of times already. legit. h u h ????? then they went to see dune 2, hung around in their hotel rooms, ate burgers, and the whole thing lasted two days out of their schedule... and then credits roll with no less than like 20 people credited for a behind the scenes video, where most of the footage is from ryan's phone. huh??? and that costs y'all hundreds of thousands of dollars??? and this is the "tv quality" exclusive new content we get if we pay the 6 dollars a month?? 🙃

#watcher #ryan bergara #shane madej #ofc ryan is funny in the video #because obviously he's the only one being there because i'd bet the clothes on my back #that shane doesn't care about ghost files at all #but weird how it's not funny knowing that you pay 6 dollars for this shite #this would be a hella cute patreon content #but remember they're leaving youtube to go TV CALIBER #also very cynical mindset of me #but isn't it weird how they waited to be ON THE ROAD in a small shite town #to go and see dune #WHILE THEY LIVE IN LA WHERE THE BEST CINEMAS ARE???#EXCUSE ME?

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tallymonster · 6 months

Text

Memories of Us

Chapter 1 (you are here!) || Masterlist

So, I like many others had seen this gorgeous fan art by @cheesy-cryptid and I was utterly hypnotized by it. I couldn't stop thinking about it and from that constant thought growing came my silly fic.

This has been a labor of love for the last month. I'm still working on it and so far I have about 10 parts 🙃 depending on the feedback is how quickly I'm going to be posting since it's still a work in progress. I want to thank my best friend and my main support for this @micropoe10 ❤️ without her I wouldn't have pushed myself to even post this, so thanks boo 😘

This is also my first long fic, so please be gentle 🥺

Summary: Octavia is a new assistant at the Baldur's Gate Museum of History, her new boss is elusive and mysterious. Good thing his right hand man, Gale, is there to help her out for the first few weeks.

Tags: Nothing too bad for the first few parts, fluff, establishing storyline mostly, generational lineage mentioned.

Chapter 1

Never Caught My Breath

The day Octavia was incredibly nervous about had arrived. After her graduation (which seemed like a lifetime ago), endless stack of paperwork and at least 3 different interviews; Octavia made it to the Baldur's Gate Museum of History, the end of her long and difficult studies.

Here, she would start as the new assistant curator. What's strange though, is that after the last interview she thought she'd get to meet her boss, but it was his main assistant, Gale.

"I must apologize", he begins, "but our lead is currently out of the office for another week, maybe two, so I must conduct the final round, I hope you understand."

Strange, but not unheard of. The majority of the work would be with Gale directly, but it was at the least, the most basic courtesy for her boss to introduce himself by this point.

As she walks into the museum, relics from the past line the cabinets; old armor and gloves from heroes of legends from long ago, tons of jewelry and books, rare spell scrolls, and most prized of all, paintings recovered from the fall of the Szarr Manor prominently hung on the walls. Their subjects long gone, they now serve to be viewed by those who would be their victims under different circumstances.

Octavia stops at one of the many paintings of a pale elf, his silver hair in perfect tendrils, piercing red eyes glare back at her and she feels a slight shudder run down her spine, it was probably just a little bit of nerves. Still, she couldn't help but notice that same subject surrounding her in other works. If not as the main feature, but in the background of at least a dozen. Who was this person? She drifts off in thought.

"Miss Octavia? Hello? Can you hear me?" Snapping back from the daydream, she sees Gale standing beside her. His positive attitude ever present, notebook in hand he greets her with a small wave. "Lots to do this morning! We got a delivery of religious artifacts from a Sharran temple in the Underdark that was previously thought to be lost." His eyes glimmer with excitement.

"We're looking at at least a day to see what was delivered, another to catalog it all, and then, my favorite part, writing the plaques for all of it." He chuckles "Altogether at least a month of work, maybe two if there's a particular item that's more mysterious than the others." He finishes his explanation with a tilt of his head.

Octavia nods, her mind still on the portrait, "Quick question, Gale? Do you know who that subject is? They're featured in a lot of the paintings, but there's no information about them?" He glances up, "Well, we've done some research into the subjects of all the paintings, luckily we've put some names to faces..." He trails off, brows furrowing slightly at the face staring at them both "that particular subject, though, unfortunately not."

He turns wearing a wistful smile "I do wish to put a name to that face, and I intend to, but our wonderful curator often reminds me that not every mystery has to be solved." He scoffs with a grin and shrugs "Of course he would, he loves to give me a hard time about my dedication to the museum, you'd think he would appreciate the tireless research but to each their own."

Octavia relaxes a bit and ask "Have you known each other long? I mean, since he's been gone this whole time I haven't gotten to meet him yet. Is he....nice?" She says the last word quietly, almost a whisper.

Gale picks up on the anxious question and lowers his notebook, his eyes softened as he leans in, "There's nothing to be nervous about with him, he's much more bark than bite, as they say. He's really wonderful once you get to know him. Just a little rough around the edges...you know these eccentrics..they're all so guarded but deep down, they're just like us regular boring people."

He grins in assurance and goes back to his notebook, "Before I forget, said eccentric has reached back out to me and he'll be returning tomorrow evening! He'd like to make your acquaintance as soon as possible and apologize for his absence." Oh, shit. "Wonderful!" She does an okay job at hiding the crack in her voice, she clears throat, grimaces a bit and adjusts the badge clipped to her smock. "When and where?"

#bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x oc #long fic #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #astarion bg3 #fic: memories of us

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spid3rpunksimp · 9 months

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May I request hobie x fem reader where they are friends but the reader is extremely affectionate to hobie? Could you make it where they soon end up dating? feel free to ignore and take care of yourself! Thanks 🙃

Now this is something I can do!

Masterlist

Hobie x fem! reader

Loving your friend

Being friends with Hobie was a crazy ride. And you loved it. He was all over the place and was always in for crazy things, being the "non-labeled" anarchist he is. And you loved it.

As you sat in your bed, staring at the ceiling, you couldn't get your mind from making you squeal and kick your feet. Thoughts of hugging, cuddling, kissing, and just possibly dating at some point filling your mind where nothing else could possibly come into your mind.

You decided it would just be best to go up to the roof of the apartment building you lived at and get some fresh air instead of sitting in your stuffy studio apartment.

As you pulled your phone off the charger and put on your jacket, you walked out the door of your room and began your journey to the roof. Walking down the halls, up the stairs, to the roof, and sitting on the edge of the building. Something you do often. It never really scared you, if anything, it made you think about the reasons why you aren't as depressed as you were a couple months back. But as you thought about it, you realized the main reason, was Hobie.

You looked down to the city below you, so much going on, at such a late time. Everything felt unreal as the cold winter air nipped at your nose as you took in a big, icy breath before letting it out. Sometimes you felt so at ease, you didn't even think of Hobie, but you were just so obsessed with him to the point where you barely got a break from him being on your mind. Closing your eyes, you felt the peace of being there, in the moment, hit you. The joy of having a friend who cared about you made the edges of your lips rise up.

however, you were interrupted briefly after by the sound of your phone going off, you didn't know who it was from this late. You looked at your phone and noticed the time first thing.

2:45 am

The next thing you noticed was who texted you, your eyes sparkling as soon as you read the name.

Hobie brown ❤️:New message.

Opening your phone you read the text message with a wide smile across your face, replying faster than you wanted to.

Hobie: Hey. U up?

You: , can't get sleep anymore it seems lmao

Hobie: Wanna come over? I got those cookies you like so much.

You: Hell yea! Be over in 10

You gave off a big smile while creating a fist near your face and pulling your arm back in victory. You got up and started walking down the steps, but this time all the way outside where you put a pep in your step as you began to walk over to Hobie's flat.

As you started your 8 minute walk to Hobie's place, you didn't know it, but he was watching you. The building right across from the one you were sitting at the top of had a great hiding spot, and he knew you were up the whole time. As Hobie swung a web over in the direction of where his flat was he couldn't help but smile under the mask. The happiness he saw on your face whenever he invited you over made him overwhelmed with a warm, fuzzy feeling. A feeling he didn't feel often. At least when he wasn't around you.

Knocking on his door you struck a pose, Knowing when he opened the door, he was expecting you to do that. You struck a new pose every time you came over. He pretended like he didn't know it was coming, but he always knew it was coming. And boy did he love it.

When he opened the door he let out a laugh as you stood there, making a jokingly stupid pose, holding up two peace signs as you stood up straight and gave him a side hug, how you usually greeted him. He let you in but not before feeling nervous, he never usually found being around a nerve racking thing. But tonight, yup, he got the nerves on.

As you walked in you went straight to the pantry, looking for the cookies he promised you. Obviously he put them in a basket, a basket of things for you. He always kept snacks in a basket so that you didn't eat all of his food that he had to spend all that time either shopping for or stealing.

Hobie turned around and walked over to the coach, slightly man spreading as his legs extended needing room to stretch out so he could be more comfortable. "Oi, bitch. Why do ya look so out of breath, did you just get back from a workout of some shit?" you said to Hobie as he looked over to you, as he tried to figure out what he could convince you with that he was doing. "I- uhh. I had to clean a bit, rushin' ya know." he responded calmly, and you believed it. You went to sit on the couch next to him (with you cookies) as he looked for a good TV channel to watch.

After finding a good channel you two sat on the couch together for hours. Eventually the sun threatened the dark, navy blue sky with its presence as Hobie looked over to your sleeping form as you began to wake up. Your eyes fluttering open. "How'd ya sleep?" he said to you as you yawned and stretched, the blanket he put over you last night falling off. "Alright" you said as you looked over to him, you swore you had hearts for eyes. Even in the morning this dude looked damn gorgeous in front of you.

"I was wondering," you were cut off in your train of thought by Hobie scratching the back of his neck, still looking at you, his beginning of a question making you perk up. "I was wondering if I could take ya out, 8 pm maybe, ya know." he said leaning back into the coach.

You looked over at him wide eyed. There ain't no way he just said that. You blinked twice. Was this real. I mean he seemed normal. Oh shit...this is real. You stuttered a bit, taken back by how he just put it out there, "Uhh- well- wow umm."

"If you don't want to you don't gatta." he said as he looked you in the eyes, you swear he had a little disappointment in there as well. "No. What I mean to say is yes, Hobie. That sounds brill."

*8:00 pm*

The two of you walked down the street, going to his destination. He brought you to a tea shop, he did say you didn't have to dress up, and you saw why. You were actually quite happy with the first date choice. The two of you sat there and talked for hours and the random things you could think of. Both of you couldn't take your eyes off of one another. Every second ticked by as words flew out of your mouths as you drank you tea. Laughter and smiles all around the room as people thought of how cute the two of you were, non stop talking apparently not bothering them as bad as you thought it would both people in Britain.

After the tea, the two of you went on a walk. Where? Who the hell knows, you sure didn't, but you didn't care. You two were having fun. You ding-dong ditched people, and tapped on people's windows. You walked around and acted drunk and you could swear you could fly right then and there.

"Alrighty, you're acting like you're all boozed-up." Hobie said with a chuckle as you walked to the door of your studio apartment. "Hobie, thank you for tonight." you said as you looked up at him after unlocking and slightly opening the door. "No problem, love. Next week, ya free."

You looked up at him and gave a gentle smile. You pushed yourself up on your tippie toes and kissed him on the check. "Yea', I'm free." you said as you walked into your apartment, closing the door behind you.

As Hobie walked out of the apartment complex, he thought about what you just did. And as he gave a toothy grin, placing his hands in his pockets and walking back to his place. He knew, you where the person he thinks he might make an exception to him "no-labels" rule.

I hope this is okay, I honestly didn't know what to write it just sounded too cute. I'm so sorry if it isn't what you were wanting or expecting.

Thank you for the request.

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