#that is for people who are smarter than me to figure out

[rhiannonsknife]

oh i am OBSESSED with that detective!r and rhiannon fic... if you don't mind i have Thoughts about it

it's a little different from what you proposed but detective!r who doesn't know rhiannon but rhiannon knows you... she always comes back to the scene of the crime and lately she's been noticing this pesky little detective sticking your nose where you don't belong

so, she does some research. and by god, she's obsessed with you

she's stopped killing people for her own personal reasons - she's completely consumed with killing to see your reaction, the way you curse out the killer under your breath every time you see a new body

when she starts writing your name in blood at the scene, you know that you're in far too deep to go back

to make it even better, you've tried interrogating her. she was one of your most pleasant witnesses and she even offered to take you out to get coffee. the whole time you were there with her, she was so sweet and so kind, offering to pay for both of your orders. she couldn't have anything to do with it; she was just an innocent girl who was caught in the crosshairs of this gruesome serial killer. right? right?

need her so effing bad UGHHH -🪐

— warnings: canon typical violence/dark content. obsessive!rhiannon & possessive!rhiannon. gn!reader. some suggestive content. didn’t beta read (as always).

— a/n: this ask had me thinking omfg.

rhiannon who gets obsessed with you the moment she first sees you.

it all starts the moment she first sees you at the scene of her latest kill. she tends to linger, to watch from afar to see how the investigation is coming along. it’s not like people tend to pay attention to rhiannon’s presence anyway, so she’s comfortable to stay and see what’ll happen. you’re different from the other detectives, she instantly senses that. and, oh, how she hates it -at first. you’re clearly underestimated by your colleagues, despite the fact that you’re much better and smarter than all of them combined. you catch details others are unaware of until you point them out with an intensity rhiannon hadn’t expected. for the first time ever, she feels a thrill from something other than killing.

that night, she spends hours researching all that she can find out about you.

sprawled out on her couch, rhiannon spends hours combing through your social media, any public records, and every small mention of your life she can find online. by the end of it, she knows your favorite coffee shop, the route you take to work, and even the way you laugh, thanks to an obscure interview clip she found buried online. she imagines what it would be like to meet you in a “normal” setting. just two strangers talking over coffee. she imagines all sorts of scenarios, picturing countless ways of how she could get you to notice her. but that’s not enough. she needs more.

rhiannon who starts killing for you.

before she 'met' you, she'd been killing for her own satisfaction the most of all: murdering people who wronged her, people who continue to underestimate her, who pretend like she's not there at all 90% of the time. that is until she meets you. once she has gathered enough information about you and has learned that you are the one who's taking over the investigation of her murder case, she makes it her mission for you to see her. she's consumed by the idea of murdering for you.

obviously, you can't figure out that it's her. but she can still very much get your attention:

when you start to find your name scrawled in blood at multiple crime scenes, your stomach twists. you don’t know if it’s taunting or a bizarre kind of flirtation, but you can’t shake the feeling that this killer has an extremely personal fixation on you. rhiannon finds a sick satisfaction in knowing that she’s the only one who truly understands you. and that soon, you’ll understand her, too.

rhiannon, whose obsession only gets worse.

she starts following you around, whether it's by walking after you at a safe distance or by driving her dad's truck. only being in your presence thrills her. she can't think of anything that's not the next kill and what she can leave behind for you at the crime scene this time. after a while, you start to receive anonymous letters at your home. they’re handwritten, sweet, and yet filled with hints that leave a chill down your spine: each one contains personal details only someone very close (or very obsessed) would know. you start to dread going home alone each night, wondering if the killer is watching even then.

and, still, you're determined to catch this killer.

it's almost like you're just as obsessed with solving this case: you work relentlessly and stay in for much longer than anyone would ever know, sometimes running on no sleep at all just to try and connect the dots that are scattered all across your hometown in from of bloody crime scenes. once, while working late, you glance up from your desk to find somebody outside the station, watching through the window. it's just a silhouette that waves and, before you can react, turns and disappears into the shadows.

she makes watching you from afar a habit she can't seem to shake off:

hidden in plain sight, she watches you work a scene, observing your expressions as you piece together clues she’s laid just for you. the way you curse under your breath or tense at a particularly dark detail excites her; it’s like she’s guiding you through a personal maze, she’s drawing you closer with every carefully crafted move.

rhiannon, who even goes as far as to leave gifts for you right at your doorstep.

they’re seemingly innocent items: flowers, trinkets, chocolates...always with notes like “you looked tired today” or “thought you’d like this.” but you know better. there’s nothing innocent about these gestures; they’re reminders that she’s closer than you think. in one of her letters, she writes: “every kill is for you.” the revelation is twisted, sick even, but the obsessive way she describes her admiration for you leaves you feeling trapped in her gaze. you start to wonder if this chase will end only when she’s taken everything from you. or if you’ll end up her final victim.

at this rate, she catches feelings for you before she even knows what's happening to her:

she follows you on a night out, intrigued by how you relax away from work. when you laugh with friends, she feels a strange jealousy toward anyone who’s close to you. to rhiannon, this outing feels like an unofficial date, watching you from a corner as if she’s already a part of your life. later, she imagines herself sitting beside you, whispering her secrets in your ear, knowing she could charm you if given the chance.

rhiannon, whose obsession which was originally supposed to be a cat-and-mouse game that she was in control over, turns into a sense of possessiveness.

alone in her room, she whispers your name just to hear the sound of it aloud. she fantasizes about how you’d react if you knew she’d been studying you so closely if you knew that every kill from here on out was a twisted attempt to draw you closer. rhiannon, who somehow steals something from you, whether it is by sneaking into your home whilst you're out or by reaching into your purse in passing. either way, she uses it, later that same night, when she's home alone and dares to touch herself to the thought of you. she finds herself almost longing for you to figure it out, to see her completely. she’s begun to view each kill as a love letter, a message only you can fully understand, and in some dark corner of her mind, she starts to believe you might actually feel the same way.

but even that is not enough for her. she wants you to know her. to look at her, without the slightest clue who's really in front of you.

so, rhiannon plays the role of the clueless witness: after a particularly grisly scene, she shows up at the station, pretending to have seen something, and strikes up a surprisingly casual conversation with you. she even convinces you to take a break for coffee: she offers to buy, her voice light and friendly, as if she’s not the very person keeping you up at night.

rhiannon, who starts accidentally running into you.

she begins appearing in unexpected places: your favorite bookstore, the cafe near your precinct, and even outside the gym. she plays it off like coincidence, but you can’t shake the feeling she’s watching you. every “chance” encounter leaves you more on edge, especially as her excuses get flimsier, her curiosity too intense for a stranger. her gaze lingers just a bit too long, and she throws out casual details she should never know about you. but then again, there's no way this innocent woman could ever be responsible for all these gruesome crimes, right...?

you brush off these suspicions, not really believing that rhiannon could be capable of these murders.

and still, during another coffee date (which become a habit between the two of you) she drops a casual line, mentioning a detail about your personal life you never told her: maybe the nickname your family used or an obscure detail about your childhood. when you press her about it, she insists that she read it somewhere or “just remembered” from one of your conversations. but her gaze lingers, enjoying how much she’s unsettling you.

rhiannon, who starts acting possessive over you without really noticing it herself.

out in public, she lets her fingers brush against yours. she’ll throw an arm around you casually, especially when she notices other people noticing. to rhiannon, it’s a game of establishing her claim, marking her territory.

after some time, she finally invites you to her place, claiming she wants to “return the favor” of all your coffee dates.

when you arrive, the atmosphere is too perfect, too staged, with dim lighting and chillingly specific music playing softly. every word she says feels more like a veiled confession, every look a taunt as she watches you grapple with the tension between attraction and horror. it’s not until you see a framed newspaper clipping of one of her murders in the hall that you realize she wanted you here for more than a simple dinner...

[celestiachan]

if you hacked a 3ds enough could you get it to make phone calls

[yourqueenb]

You are so right in your distaste for Blades book 2. No matter how great things get near the end, a majority of the book was horrible. They led us along like mouse to cheese. It’s inexcusable to play with their audience this way.

I only wish more people were less willing to excuse PB’s mediocrity. The signs were on the wall for me when DLS was flat out better than Blades 2, and it’s narratively quite simple. The story told was well paced, thought out, and above all kept us waiting for more each week. I cannot say the same for B2. That is sad.

I mean I do understand why people still enjoyed it and were willing to overlook the negative aspects or didn’t have much of a problem with them to begin with. Blades 1 was a fan favorite, we all missed these characters a lot, and many people (myself included at one point) didn’t believe we would actually get book 2 because of all the bait and switches PB had done in the past. But the first two things are why I personally couldn’t overlook the glaring issues.

I can’t remember who the OP was now, but I remember seeing a post from when book 2 only had a few chapters out where someone said something about it seeming like the writers learned all the wrong things about what made the book so good, and I couldn’t agree with that person more! Yeah, book 1 was good because it was different from anything we had ever gotten before. But I think the main reason it was so good was because of the characters as individuals and the relationships we got to form with those individuals to ultimately become a family. Yet they didn’t really acknowledge those individuals or relationships in ways that did them justice for the majority of book 2. And on top of that, MC’s own characterization was inconsistent at times because the writers picked and chose when they wanted us to be a competent leader and when they wanted us to be virtually clueless for plot convenience.

Book 1 was also relatively straightforward whereas it seemed like the writers wanted to turn the sequel into their own personal commentary on religion, which is an incredibly complex topic in itself. They had some social commentary in book 1, but it was done a lot better in my opinion because it didn’t take so much of a front seat. They managed to make it clear that that commentary was important and relevant to the writers, the characters, and the readers living in the real world while never robbing book 1 of that fun adventure game used for escapism feel. Meanwhile, book 2 almost felt like ‘Rising Tides but make it religion’ at times. And that’s on top of all of the other issues I’ve already mentioned in my previous posts.

I will say that I can see how there’s usually a lot of pressure to blow things out of the water for a sequel to something so beloved, and that most likely contributed to how things played out. So maybe I’m being a bit too harsh in my judgement of everything. But I still find it very disappointing to wait so long for something just for it to be so messy and miss the mark by a mile

[lovecore-kangaroo]

Anybody else getting weird Amazon and FedEx application posts on their dash or is it just me?

They are clearly fake, nothing more than ads, and I've just been reporting them for spam (cause they are, the several tags they put have nothing to do with the post and the link on the post redirects for the Amazon and FedEx sites respectfully) but maybe I should be doing something different? Straight up reporting the accounts too maybe? I don't know

[verflares]

i mean i guess there's an option where i could just sell the sticker file to people for like. idk. £5 a pop maybe?? idk. or maybe i could make a sticker club on ko-fi or something. (lies down) idkkkkk

[ichiharas-familiar]

Below the cut for discussions of fictional abuse/violence, my own sexuality, sadomasochism etc. Nominally about chainsaw man discourse but really about all discourses that claim to be able to determine whether something is horny by how much it hurts to watch.

If I see one more post claiming that Makima being hot or being intentionally sexualized is in diametric opposition to her being truly evil and harmful to Denji I am going to scream. Makima is a sexualized figure BECAUSE she is evil. The suffering is the point. The cruelty is the point.

There's been some normalization of BDSM (and also of course an ensuing backlash) but a lot of it has laundered D/S and S/M desires through an idea of 'really all of these are about wanting to be strongly desired' or 'really all of this is about wanting to avoid guilt for your sexual desires'. I don't think this is surprising, those motivations are strong for a lot of people! But this forgets that for some people the pain and distress are the point *in and of themselves*.

My evidence for all of this? Sadism is a fundamental part of my sexuality, i have my own mind and discussions with other sadomasochists to go on. I'm not going to get into it too much but believe me when I say that a large part of sadism can in fact be an eroticization of the long term damage and suffering of the subject. For me, and for most sadists I would assume, this desire is largely limited to fantasy, fiction, and roleplay (IE I would feel massive guilt if I actually caused a partner this sort of long term harm). There are masochists like this as well (See: Chainsaw Man's erotic appeal). Portraying something as deeply physically/emotionally/psychologically damaging to the person affected does not preclude an erotic reading. In fact, it often enhances it. I feel like this is an extremely obvious point but it seems to disappear a lot in discussions. Maiden Rose is not *not* sexualizing rape and abuse because of it's extreme focus on physical pain, bodily harm, guilt, shame, and suffering, those are the things it is sexualizing.

And simultaneously, eroticization does not preclude an intention to provoke empathy or facilitate catharsis for people who read these series. Again, I feel like this should be obvious- I have read series including eroticized suffering that have also made me *sob* (while being hot).

And also honestly I really resent the idea that erotic pleasure is fundamentally different from other pleasures. Moving into live action, Martyrs is one of my favorite movies of all time. One of the reasons I think it's so brilliant is that it is designed in such a way that almost all of the pleasure one might normally obtain from portrayals of violence (think of most horror or action movies here) is removed. It is not beautiful, it is not cut in a way to build anticipation, the perpetrators of violence are mostly incredibly nondescript, they never seen to enjoy what they do, and the movie forces you into a place of extreme empathy for the protagonists- who are the victims of truly awful torture. I would still say that watching it is a 'pleasurable experience' for me. I get no glee from it, no sexual arousal, no adrenaline. But I am still enjoying watching a portrayal of another person's suffering! If I didn't enjoy it, I would only have watched it once. The pleasure is the intellectual pleasure of watching a well constructed piece of art, the emotional pleasure of *controlled suffering* that you know is not actually happening to you or anyone else and will end when the movie stops. These are real pleasures, and they are just as motivating in seeking out stories for me as erotic pleasures (in fact they are far *more* motivating most of the time). I think people hesitate to call these feelings pleasure when they come from something with such an intense subject matter, but they are pleasures.

[totsandnuggsrebloggs]

@ the aroace community

Girl help. How do we survive?

[robotsprinkles]

so are school/university provided medical professionals contractually obligated to say things they think will help your self-esteem/mental health even if they're untrue or have I just managed to accidentally trick every counsellor/gp/etc I've had into thinking I'm intelligent

because it's getting really annoying that every time I try to get help for my piss-poor academic performance the people I talk to go "you seem smart/bright/intelligent* so the most it can be is that your brain is slow sometimes and you need to work on your self esteem. so the help we're going to give you is that you get to talk to a counsellor every so often and you maybe get extra time on some assignments and breaks during tests, which doesn't help because it doesn't address any of the actual problems so you'll just continue failing everything anyway"

*I'm pretty sure they're basing that assumption entirely off stupid crap like me getting into a prestigious selective entry high school because I'm good at getting lucky on things I don't care about (entrance exams for a school I didn't want to go to) and my iq supposedly being above average (that being one of the reasons I think iq tests are bunk even if they're done by a medical professional. in addition to all the actual reasons for why iq and iq tests are garbage)

[scientia-rex]

When I was in ninth grade I wanted to challenge what I saw as a very stupid dress code policy (not being allowed to wear spikes regardless of the size or sharpness of the spikes). My dad said to me, “What is your objective?”

He said it over and over. I contemplated that. I wanted to change an unfair dress code. What did I stand to gain? What did I stand to lose? If what I really wanted was to change the dress code, what would be my most effective potential approach? (He also gave me Discourses on the Fall of Rome by Titus Livius, Machiavelli’s magnum opus. Of course he’d already given me The Prince, Five Rings, and The Art of War.)

I ultimately printed out that phrase, coated it in Mod Podge, and clipped it to my bathroom mirror so I would look at it and think about it every day.

What is your objective?

Forget about how you feel. Ask yourself, what do you want to see happen? And then ask, how can you make it happen? Who needs to agree with you? Who has the power to implement this change? What are the points where you have leverage over them? If you use that leverage now, will you impair your ability to use it in the future? Getting what you want is about effectiveness. It is not about being an alpha or a sigma or whatever other bullshit the men’s right whiners are on about now. You won’t find any MRA talking points in Musashi, because they are not relevant.

I had no clear leverage on the dress code issue. My parents were not on the PTA; neither were any of my friend’s parents who liked me. The teachers did not care about this. Ultimately I just wore what I wanted, my patent leather collar from Hot Topic with large but flattened spikes, and I had guessed correctly—the teachers also did not care enough to discipline me.

I often see people on tumblr, mostly the very young, flail around in discourse. They don’t have an objective. They don’t know what they want to achieve, and they have never thought about strategizing and interpersonal effectiveness. No one can get everything they want by being an asshole. You must be able to work with other people, and that includes smiling when you hate them.

Read Machiavelli. Start with The Prince, but then move on to Discourses. Read Musashi’s Five Rings. Read The Art of War. They’re classics for a reason. They can’t cover all situations, but they can do more for how you think about strategizing than anything you’re getting in middle school and high school curricula.

Don’t vote third party unless you can tell me not only what your objective is but also why this action stands a meaningful chance of accomplishing it. Otherwise, back up and approach your strategy from a new angle. I don’t care how angry you are with Biden right now. He knows about it, and he is both trying to do something and not doing enough. I care about what will happen to millions of people if we have another Trump presidency. Look up Ross Perot, and learn from our past. Find your objective. If it is to stop the genocide in Palestine now, call your elected representatives now. They don’t care about emails; they care about phone calls, because they live in the past. I know this because I shadowed a lobbyist, because knowing how power works is critical to using it.

How do you think I have gotten two clinics to start including gender care in their planning?

Start small. Chip away. Keep working. Find your leverage; figure out how and when to effectively use it. Choose your battles, so that you can concentrate on the battle at hand instead of wasting your resources in many directions. Learn from the accumulated wisdom of people who spent their lives learning by doing, by making mistakes, by watching the mistakes of their enemies.

Don’t be a dickhead. Be smarter than I was at 14. Ask yourself: what is your objective?

[neptxn3]

Astrology Observations II

｡:ﾟ૮ ˶ˆ ﻌ ˆ˶ ა ﾟ:｡

Disclaimer, these are observations I have made through personal experience and thorough research, observations also vary depending on other natal placements involved

doesn’t resonate ≠ untrue 

♅ Virgos tend to represent the trad wife far more than people assume taurus does, and that’s because Virgos ability to uphold their life (at least on the outside) tend to attract men who want a wife that can keep them on track

Some Virgo women tend to also attract gay men unfortunately 😭, again I think Virgos just seem like the perfect trad Wife and it will attract closeted men like flies. This isn’t to say all your partners will be closeted but the ones who are overly aggressive on your role in the relationship might be.

♅ Gemini moon children develop QUICKLY. These are usually the kids who weird you out with their extensive knowledge and self awareness that seemingly comes out of nowhere. The mercury influence allows them to digest many topics which in turn has Gemini moon children mentally developing at a faster pace than their peers

I’ve also observed Gemini moons are those annoying kids in your class that are a lot smarter and a bit condescending to others intelligence, not because that’s just the way they are, but their mercurial moon needs constant stimulation, and with a combination of their rapid growth you’ll see them climbing academic ranks which in turn can make them dislike school if they are not progressing at a speed they like. 

♅ Scorpio moons have a tendency to see the worst in every situation/person which can be a nasty habit, but this isn’t out of judgment, rather they don’t like to give people the benefit of the doubt. They don’t like to be screwed over and their best bet is to think of the worst scenario possible. 

♅ Aquarius Venus who are flaky in relationships and constantly cheat will eventually have karma handed back to them, usually in the form of being in their mid 40’s still single.

Aquarius Venus flaky reputation does stem from the fact that it is a Saturn influenced placement, as well as being fixed. It’s not that they hate any type of restriction to their freedom but rather to what extent you restrict them to. They can and will jump quickly into relationships but if they see any glimpse of possessive or controlling attributes they will leave. Again because it’s fixed and Saturn influenced Aquarius Venus knows once it settles down that’s it, they’re not going anywhere, that’s why they’re so scattered to find the right person who fits their criteria. 

♅ Moon/Sun harshly aspecting Neptune is the embodiment of “I hate my Mom/Dad, but I love her/him too”. Neptune harshly aspecting these planets can cause a huge wall of misunderstanding between parent and child, but Neptune blurs the lines so deep that the individual sees them “through rose colored glasses” and if incapable of harboring hate. I would even say there could be nights where these people will look back and remember their past relationships (Neptune = Dreams)

♅ 10h placements can sometimes struggle maintaining relationships due to the very contradicting nature of the Midheaven and ascendant. Usually people will perceive them to be very different from who they actually are.

This is also why they struggle with their self esteem (the natural square to the ascendant). Sometimes they feel like they need to keep up an image to satisfy others and that isn’t someone who they truly are 🥲

In synastry this also points to partners trying to change who they are/make choices for them because they think it’s “for the best” or “what’s good for them”. 

♅ Every Virgo rising I’ve met always gives me a small lesson on why astrology isn’t real but follow up with a “but can you read my chart I want to see if it’s true 👀”. I truly believe it’s the 12h Leo which makes them secretly a little self centered (hence the interest for things like astrology to attempt and figure themselves out) but the mercurial ascendant will always make them skeptical 😭

♅ Saturn conjunct Jupiter natives is a dangerous fire sometimes. I’ve noticed if they haven’t learned to balance this aspect in their chart, the people around them can suffer their warm and cold attitude. It’s almost as if one second you could be hysterically laughing in class together, and the next second they immediately stop and ask you to be serious and finish your work. WHERE DID THE VIBE GOOO?? The key here is moderation in whichever sign/house this is in

♅ Whoever said Neptune in hard aspect to Venus needs to practice saying positive affirmations (especially to Venus related topics) to themselves in the mirror was SO correct. Neptune indeed does reflect lies to you and reaffirming yourself in the mirror breaks that spell. I don’t think I’ve felt so beautiful since I started doing this. 

[hungharrington]

okay what are ur thoughts on challenging steve to edge himself everyday for no nut november 🫣 do you think he would make it through the entire month????

okay this turned into a whole rambling thought fic ??? a whole 3k of it?? this is hella unedited cos i'm running out the door so i'll be back to check for mistakes but enjoy some sub!steve & some sorta mean!reader, definitely a hint of a humiliation & exhibitionism kink so beware if that isn't your thing! enjoy u horny bastards MDNI this entire blog is 18+

the whole thing comes about because of a playful bicker.

it’s starts with talking about how long you’ve gone without sex— with steve insisting his dry spell before you two started fooling around was way longer and more difficult than yours.

and you had laughed and teased, cooing about how he could absolutely not make it through an entire week without cumming like you did for a whole month— while he insists the opposite is true.

and steve is nothing if not a competitive bastard who loves to try prove people wrong. so you challenge him to last the whole month — no cumming, no nothing.

but you don’t say no touching. and steve, poor, oblivious to the consequences he’s going to feel very soon, figures there’s no harm in giving in to his morning wood, rutting against his sheets with these quiet grunts until he gets bored and rolls out of bed. it’s something he’s done before and his hard-on goes down in the shower like usual & he goes to work far too smug, feeling so confident and ready to brag when he sees you.

you come into family video middle of the day and steve delights, ready to demolish the challenge you’ve set, bragging about his easy morning and his killer restraint.

your eyebrows raise and you look pleasantly surprised — not miffed, like steve hoped you would — and you offer to raise the stakes. leaning over one of the shelves as he works idly, you change the rules a bit… and set a prize if he’s to complete your challenge.

“if you go the whole month, no cumming, i’ll let you fuck me,” you hum, a wicked smile on your mouth at the way steve straightens up. you’ve been fooling around, tucking your hands into each others pants like horny teenagers but you haven’t actually slept together yet. “anywhere you want, any way you want,”

and steve is smarter than he looks, even as you can see this lust glazing over his eyes— options, so many options pour into his mind.

you in his car, in his lap, riding him and making those nice pitiful noises you do. you in his bed, beneath him, head thrown back in his sheets as you cry out. you, against the wall behind the family video, hidden away but only just, moaning into his hand as you try to keep quiet while you fall apart on his cock.

his cock begins to thicken in his pants just at the thought & steve shifts his weight.

“what’s the catch?” he asks.

“to make your challenge more difficult, you have to touch yourself every day of the month.”

“touch myself?”

“mhm,” you nod, eyes darting down to his bulge. your wicked grin grows at the sight of it growing in his jeans. “properly. not just a little touch, a proper jerk off. how long’s it take you to get hot and bothered? let’s say 5 minutes of stroking, each and every day.”

you’ve got this look in your face like you don’t think he can do it — so of course, steve takes the bait.

“easy.” he snips back, eyes narrowing. “hope you’ll spend the month getting prepared to take it. after a whole month of nothing? can’t promise i’ll be too gentle.”

your smile turns almost feline.

and so it begins. the first few days sail by, steve easily using his mornings in bed to stroke his cock idly, feeling his desire swell and then letting it swirl down the drain in a shower that gets colder every day. after the fifth day, steve has to admit it’s not nice — he can feel his mounting urge to cum building up but it’s not terrible. it’s certainly ignorable. he’s got this in the bag.

another five days pass— but now, he’s waking up aching hard. it takes longer now in the shower to get his hard-on to flag and worse when steve realises he has to still jerk off to win your challenge. his hand feels so much softer than usual and his keyed up lust springs to the surface to moment he starts to stroke himself— steve groans lowly, pressing his head against the tiles and tries go think of unpleasant things.

he fucks up on day 13.

his alarm goes off late and his dream had been lewd and vulgar, an endless loop of sinking his fat cock into you and envisioning how wet and warm you’d be around him. his cock is throbbing when he drags himself out of sleep and he realises he’s been humping against the mattress in his sleep.

the cold shower helps, barely. shivering beneath the icy spray, steve stares at his thickened cock and groans— knowing if he wraps his hand around it now and fucks his fist, he’ll cum in a minute.

so he leaves it and goes to work, wound up enough to snap at robin and then apologise 20 minutes later. you come into his work again, having been absent for the last couple of days, and it’s like you can smell it on him.

“hard morning?” you smirk at him.

“fuck off,” he growls, shoving a vcr back onto one of the shelves. then he looks back at you. “i’m still winning your stupid challenge by the way.”

“uh huh,” you say, not believing him at all. “how’s it’s been going? fucking your cock but never getting finish?”

even your words have an effect on him. steve feels his body flush, his dick strain in his pants, his gut churning with heat. he stiffens up and scrambles to think of a reply — but you’re already laughing.

“oh man, we’re not even halfway through the month and i think you could blow in your pants right here.” you muse teasingly. steve grips the shelf tighter and shakes over the fluster you have on him.

“i have more self restraint than that,” he snips back. the flush passes and he resumes his task, flashing you a quick glare.

you nod and hum again, like you don’t believe a thing he’s a saying, and then he’s watching you head out the door again.

the moment steve realises he’s fucked up is when he’s getting into bed. his cock is, thankfully, not hard — even if there is this persistent tug from his balls that never seems to leave. but he hasn’t stroked himself at all today.

painstakingly, he begins to — soft, gentle strokes over his cock, hoping, praying he can get five minutes in without working himself up too bad. it’s futile because it only takes about twenty seconds behind his cock is twitching in his hand, growing heavier, the head of it beginning to dribble pre-cum and steve moans in anguish into his pillow.

he stares at his alarm clock and strokes slowly, so slowly, having to stop every couple of seconds until finally five minutes passes. steve sighs and releases his cock which twitches in response, the head giving a sad spurt of pre-cum. he’s so keyed up he can’t possibly sleep. his cock is so hard it’s throbbing.

as he pulls his boxers up and buries himself under the duvet, but every touch is too stimulating, his skin on fire with how the urge to cum itches beneath it. he ends up having a very cold shoulder at 3am and his cock never fully softens.

it’s brutal from there on out. from day 14 onwards, his cock remains in this permanent state of aching, always half thickened and ready to go the moment it gets some stimulation. which turns out, is far easier to get now— jeans on the tighter side, the right seat, even the rumble of his car beneath him are enough to have steve swearing and pushing at his crotch, willing it to go down.

that’s how you find him on day 20, five minutes late for his shift because he’s staring down at his tented jeans and trying to think of anything to make it go away. your tap on his window makes him startle, seizing in his seat before he realises it’s probably the only person who’s expecting to see him with a boner in public.

“hard morning?” you joke again, this time pointing at his obvious bulge.

steve glares at you. “you already made that joke.”

“and you didn’t appreciate it the first time!” you say back cheerily. you round the front of his car and open the door, plopping yourself in the passenger seat like you own it.

“what are you doing?” steve asks, going to cross his arms but feeling terribly exposed. he settles for covering his groin, muscles twitching at the slight stimulation the weight of his hands does. his hips twitch forward.

“i’ve got a proposition for you,” you say.

steve shakes his head instantly. “nope, no way.”

you laugh at his quick insistence. “wait listen! i think you will want to consider it, okay?”

you pause and when steve doesn’t say anything more, just eyes you warily, you continue.

“i will knock off five whole days off your challenge,” you hold up your hand, fingers splayed out to indicate the number. your mischievous eyes make steve worry. even if five days off makes his challenge that much easier.

“if you do your five minutes today right now.”

steve blinks. his chest flushes hot at your proposal as it sinks in— here, in the parking lot in front of his work, you want him to jerk off for five whole minutes?

“what? right here?” the question bursts out of him.

it’s not busy out in the least. even in the store, steve hasn’t even seen keith walking about or any customers milling around. he knows keith won’t come outside to fetch him and he’s the only car in the parking lot, besides one another that parked down the other end.

“five minutes for five days off,” you say, twiddling your fingers with a wicked smile.

steve considers it, even though he can already feel his cock growing harder beneath his hands. he groans and throws his head back against the headrest. was he really about to do this?

he looks at the time and then starts to undo the button of his jeans. fuck, guess he was.

he steals a glance at you as he pulls down his zipper and tugs his jeans down a couple inches to expose his boxers. the mischief from your smile has faded, a hunger taking its place. steve averts his eyes, far too aware of how his cock twitches in his boxer at your attention.

he slips a hand into his boxers and curls it around his hard cock. a keening noise pulls from his throat and steve blushes scarlet— all his little noises as he’s spiraled into this lustful denial haven’t had an audience until right now.

he shifts his hand up, a slow stroke, but you’re quickly reaching out to grab his wrist, halting to movement. steve opens his eyes, not sure when they had closed, and makes a noise of confusion.

you grin deviously. “wait,” you point to the clock on the dash. “you can go when the minute changes, big boy.”

steve’s hips jump forward at your words, both the name and your denial. he groans before he can help it, his eyes trained intently on the dash. in his hand, his cock leaks pitifully, a wet spot beginning to stain through his boxers.

humiliatingly, you notice it too. “aw, you’re making a mess and you haven’t even started.”

“stop,” steve murmurs, aiming for stern but failing pathetically. the word comes out as a whine. his cheeks glow fiery hot.

you laugh and then tap his wrist— the minute having flicked over just a second ago.

steve starts his stroking, slow and easy, his eyes slipping closed. five minutes, he can do five minutes of jerking off. even if he was suddenly keenly aware of your watchful gaze, of the window beside him, of the pure exposure of the situation.

“that’s not jerking,” you huff disapprovingly. steve’s eyes crinkle open, his mouth already hung open as he pants softly. his hand does another pass over his cock and he smothers a moan into the palm of his hand.

“go faster or it won’t count.” you say wickedly and steve whimpers, his hand obeying without thought. with the way he’s leaking all over himself, it only takes a couple long strokes before he’s making lewd, wet noises as he fucks into his hand.

it shouldn’t be as hot as it is — rubbing his own cock while you watch, eyes darting between his moving hand and his flushed face. steve can hear himself making little noises with every exhale, tiny little whines as he burns up. the coil in his tummy tightens unexpectedly.

“f-fuck-!” he stops his hand completely, gripping the steering wheel with the other as he feels his orgasm swell. it grows closer, so near to tipping over that steve can’t control his hips as they keep moving, rutting into the air frantically, into nothing, as they try to get him over the edge.

it takes another thirty seconds for his breath to catch and steve to settle down enough to not cum immediately. he quivers in his seat. his eyes flutter open to look at you.

“that was really cute,” you muse, eyes almost feline, dragging up and down his body, slow as trickling honey. steve feels his cock twitch at your words, flushing hotly when your eyes dart to his boxers and definitely notice.

“not five minutes though,” you say with teasing tilt in your voice. you point to the clock on the dash. “i think that was… 1 whole minute?”

despite how he tries to stop it, steve can’t help the pathetic noise he makes in response. he wants to be able to finish this stupid fucking challenge you’ve set, wants to prove himself, wants to be good.

he starts moving his hand again before he can consider how bad of an idea it is. he should just say no and do the next ten days. but it’s wet and warm in his hand, the tip of his cock so drippy that he can pretend his hand is yours. you seem pleasantly surprised to see him going again so soon, your lids low as you watch him closely.

“are you normally this loud?”

steve knows you mean the slick noises coming from the way he’s fucking into his hand. he tries to huff but it comes out as a quiet moan and his face flushes hotter again.

he shakes his head instead, his hair scraping against the headrest. god, his neck is burning up. he’s pretty sure he’s never been harder in his life — but fuck, he can’t stop now.

“how- how ma- many minutes?” the words strain to get out, wrapped in his arousal. his nipples peak hard in his shirt, the friction only adding to his pleasure.

at some point, his hand stopped moving all together and his hips started doing all the work. steve presses against the drivers seat, hips lifting off and bucking into his hand and— shit, it’s too much, the sticky boxers are gonna make him cum if he rubs against them one more time.

in haste, he shoves them down his thighs, exposing his cock to you and anyone who deigns to take a peek in his window. something churns in his gut and steve screws his eyes up, willing himself not to cum yet. so close, he’s so close.

“just one more,” you say, suddenly sounding more breathy than before. steve’s eyes snap open, darting over to look at your face — but you’re fixated on his crotch, watching with a hungry expression.

your eyes lift to his face. another devious smile. steve whines. so close, he’s so fucking close, so close he can taste it. he can win, he can do it.

“steve,” you say softly, reaching out to nudge his chin in your direction. he wasn’t aware of when his eyes slipped shut again but your staring him in the face all lovingly, all wickedly and steve wills his orgasm down. another minute, another fucking minute, he can wait, he’s so close he’s— “cum,” you command.

steve does. white hot flashes through his body as he tips over the edge, ecstasy washing over every sense, stronger than he's ever felt before. his cock kicks up in his hand and a whorish moan drags out of his throat as he paints the steering wheel with ropes of cum.

for a minute, steve doesn't give a fuck if he's just lost— he just cares about how fucking good it feels to fuck his fist, to feel every pass over his slit all the way through his body. he whines and whimpers as the feeling tapers off, his hips finally settling down into the seat.

the mortification of what he's done begins to set it, like the drizzles of cum drying on his steering wheel. he can't stop panting, can't think of single word to say, his lips opening and closing as he tries to recover from the best orgasm of his life.

he hears the car door open and it shoots him into gear, stuffing himself back into his sticky boxers, a shiver going down his spine at how unpleasant it feels. oh fuck, and he's got a whole shift ahead of him.

you're still hovering, one hand on the open car door, leaned down and watching him frantically try to recover— all with that damned wicked smile on your face.

you rap your knuckles on the roof of the car. "damn. better luck next month, right harrington?"

you don't sound sorry at all. steve watches you close the door and leave, weaving between the stores and out of sight as his cock softens and his boxers grow colder. he screws his eyes up and smacks his head back against the headrest.

he's so fucking screwed.

[teaboot]

I love your post about being a security guard. Would you please tell us about some of the cool people you meet at work?

Ooooh I can do that!

One time on foot patrol I got called to talk to a guy who had his pet off-leash, right? And there's a pretty big road nearby, and some restaurants, so I head over to see if I can convince him to leash what I believe to be his dog before it runs into a diner or humps the wrong leg or gets clipped or whatever

But I get there. And I see the guy, he's exactly as described, but there's no dog nearby so I'm kinda confused

But then I see his parrot

And I'm trying to keep a straight face when I get there but I'm in uniform and he sees me and stops and the three of us (me, him, parrot) kind of just stare at each other

And I dont know what to say, I have not been trained for this, and I'm trying to figure out if this is even a problem or not, so I just tell the guy, "I'm gonna be real with you man, this is a new one for me".

And to his credit the dude was actually very kind and polite, introduced me to the bird and all. Little fella made some *frighteningly intelligent* eye contact with me the whole time, of course.

Anyways it turns out the bird was about sixteen years old and smarter than me, so I told them they were both above my pay grade and were good to go as long as they didn't go into any eating establishments, since technically it'd be a contamination risk.

VERY cool afternoon.

Also another time a very cheerful woman claimed she could read auras and told me mine was yellow, and I got to tell her that yellow was my favourite colour, which was cool!

And one night I was on mall duty and I found six teenagers all crammed into one of those 25-cent kiddie rides shaped like a school bus, which was hilarious, but I had to tell 'em "I am so sorry, this is the best thing I've seen all day, but I do need yall outta there, I love you all" (the ride things have weight limits and break down constantly, it's a pain in the ass.)

Aw shit, this other time I found two teen boys pushing each other in a shopping cart- and they were having such a great time, I felt so bad, it's exactly the kind of shit my brothers would do- and I think that one was like "sorry guys, liabilities, do it where I can't see you".

And this one probably shouldn't be funny but there was this guy with a bike, right? Belligerent, abusive towards staff, falling-down drunk, you know? And I was supposed to get him out of the building, but instead when I asked him to make his way out he jumped onto the bike and started riding around me in circles shouting "WHORE! WHORE! WHOOOOOOOORE!"

Same guy, the day that I first met him, he was peeing at a payphone- I asked him for his name and he straightened up, put his shoulders back, and said with all confidence, "My name is Donald Finkley and I take it up the butt!"

His name was not Donald Finkley. The real Donald Finkley was someone he just didn't like very much

[python333]

im in love with your content omg😭 your writing style is just chefs kiss

can i req a reader with the tf141 being on a mission and hearing an enemy say something in british slang and they just go "what did they just say.." in comms? like a reader who doesnt know anything about slang like not even that bars in the uk r called pubs (if im not wrong) and just nods whenever a private talks in slang, and their brain is just trying to figure out what they just said?

its just a really silly plot with a silly reader :3

pardon? — python333

— — — —

synopsis just as the req says, you know nothing about british slang and on a mission the enemy speaks british and you dont know what theyre saying :3

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 2.6k

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note HI YES I LOVE THIS REQ!! i take every opportunity i can to make fun of british people so this is right up my alley!! tysm for the compliments hjfhdjskf recently ive been getting more praise on my works and it makes me so happy i love yall. again, sorry if this sounds a little rushed or if any parts are incoherent, i wrote this at 12/1am and im both more productive and write more nonsense at this time + this one is wayyyy shorter than ones i usually do because i didnt know what else to write for it so i apologize for that as well! this is pure fluff and humor (i like to think im funny) so enjoy!!

“—eah, and now we have to camp out here ‘cause he can’t be arsed to do it ‘imself, so I feel like we should have a chat with the others, see if they’re willing to leg it out of here with us,” An enemy soldier suggests to you, his British accent thick enough that you think it might be cockney.

You cross your arms to hide your shaking hands and nod in agreement, as if you understood anything he said, and put on the same shitty British accent you’d been using for the past five minutes you’d been talking to this guy.

“Yeah, yeah, totally,” You agree, clearing your throat before asking, “You know where the others are stationed?”

“You don’t?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you suspiciously.

“Mate, all the orders I was given went in one ear and out the other,” You sigh, holding back a wince at your desperate attempt to sound more natural using British slang, “I just know I’ve got to stand out here and shoot the enemy.”

The enemy eyes you suspiciously and he takes a moment to try and read your face before he says, “I don’t think I’ve seen you before, actually. Which would be weird, if we’re in the same platoon, don’t you—” 

You sigh and quickly pull out the small switchblade you had hanging on your belt, stabbing the enemy in the neck before he can say anything else and grabbing him before he can drop to the ground, putting a hand behind his back as you half lead half drag him into a dark alleyway beside the building he was stationed outside of. 

You quickly set him down into a sitting position and take your knife out of his throat, tucking the blade back into the handle before adjusting it to latch onto your belt once again, letting out a frustrated huff as you stare at the now dead man in front of you. 

“[c/n], how copy?” Price’s voice crackles through on your ear piece. 

You push in the PTT button and lower your voice, “Copy, I fucked up a little bit. One of the guys was onto me.”

“You were there for five bloody minutes,” Gaz’s voice rings through, his tone both disbelieving and amused, “How’d he already catch onto you?” 

“The British are smarter than I thought,” You breathe out, standing up and looking around for a ladder to climb to get to higher ground before anyone spots you. You go farther into the alley and find an old, rusty ladder with rungs that look like they’d snap if someone sneezed on them too hard—perfect for climbing up.

You wrinkle your nose as your hand makes contact with one of the rungs but don’t say anything otherwise, instead wordlessly hauling yourself up onto the ladder. 

“Reminder that there’s three British people with you, currently,” Ghost’s deadpan tone crackles, his breathing heavy, as you can tell he’s whispering into his mic, “All of which are very smart.”

“I caught you reading the instructions on a box of tea bags the other day, don’t fuckin’ talk right now,” You grumble, slowly climbing up the ladder, hating the creaking noises it makes as you do. It sounds like it’s going to snap at any minute, and you try to go up as fast as you can, but one wrong move and you’ll easily slip, some of the rust that flakes off of the ladder enough to make you slip up. 

“They were circles,” Ghost says, exasperated, “I didn’t know if that made a difference.” 

“I thought British people were supposed to know everything about tea,” You roll your eyes, putting your hand on the next rusty rung up on the ladder. 

“Yeah, L.t,” Soap agrees with you teasingly, the wind hitting his mic, making it obvious that he’s running, “Thought ye Brits were s’possed to ken everything ‘bout tea.” 

You laugh quietly to yourself as you finally make it to the top of the building, the top just high enough for you to look at the few soldiers below and hear a majority of their conversations without them noticing you.

You get to the edge of the rooftop and pull the sniper rifle you’d been carrying around off of your back, glad to finally be back in your element rather than trying to get in undercover, and set it up. 

You pull the stand out and set it on the edge of the roof, and look through the scope of the rifle, lining it up so that it’s aiming directly at one of the soldier’s heads, specifically the one that was standing directly out of the entrance you originally were meant to try and get into—but doing this didn’t change much.

Regardless of if you got in or not, he would’ve died, and the others would’ve gotten in too. You getting in first was just meant to make it more efficient.

You press down on the PTT button on your earpiece as you look through the scope of your sniper rifle, keeping the aim on the soldier in front of the entrance, “The guy in front of the entrance is just standing still, so whenever you need me to, I can shoot ‘im down.” 

“I don’t think we need to get in just yet,” Price hums, “But maybe in a minute.” “M’kay,” You hum, taking your eye away from the scope, instead just looking over at the enemy soldiers. You lay on your stomach, leaning your head down a bit to try and listen in on the enemy’s conversations easier, trying your best not to make yourself too obvious.

The conversations were pretty boring and almost the same for every soldier you’d eavesdropped on, for the most part. Enemy soldiers joking around, talking about what they’ll do once they’re on leave—like they would be able to do that after you completed your assignment—and just some general team camaraderie.

The lackluster subjects of their conversations weren’t bad at all, no, in fact, you could care less what they talk about. 

It was their stupid accents you hated. 

Are you surrounded by British people everyday? Yes. Does that stop you from hating on the British everyday? No. Okay, maybe the accents aren’t stupid, but God, they had the thickest cockney accents you’d heard in your entire life, and it was making your eavesdropping so much harder, and had almost been the reason you were given away earlier.

They used slang words that you’re certain you’ve never heard before in your life, and used analogies that didn’t even make sense—you heard one of them use the words, verbatim, ‘Don’t get stroppy’. Stroppy? Stroppy? 

You narrow your eyes down at the soldiers below you, listening to a conversation they’d just started up. 

“—eah, ‘cause he can’t be arsed to do anything about it, so now we have to camp out here and wait for somethin’ to happen,” One of the soldiers scoffs, “I’m telling you, man, if I see that skull-masked bloke runnin’ ‘round out here, I’m legging it from ‘im immediately.” 

You draw your eyebrows together in confusion, but you stay silent for now. Isn’t that exactly what the other soldier said? Are they like a hive mind or something?

“You’re legging it?” The other soldier asked, sounding almost incredulous, “What happened to you chattin’ to some of the others about your loyalty and what not?” “All that’s irrelevant when the fuckin’ grim reaper rolls around and starts murkin’ people like he’s been doing for the entirety we’ve been here, mate,” The first soldier laughs, “You think I wanna be here when he does that?” 

“Don’t act like a prat about it, man—fuckin’ talking’ like you can outrun him.” “A prat? I’m not—” You tune out the rest of their argument and instead try and figure out what they were saying.

A prat? Legging it? Can’t be arsed? What the fuck? You push the PTT button on your earpiece and as quietly as you can, you ask, “I need some help. Serious help. Life or death situation.” Immediately, Price’s voice rings through, “What? What is it? What happened?” “The soldiers are British and I can’t tell what they’re saying,” You answer, ignoring Price’s relieved sigh on his end, “I need help.” “Jesus, fuck, don’t scare me like that,” Price sighs, taking a few breaths before continuing, “Alright, what do you need help with?” 

“Figuring out what they’re saying.” This time, you hear Gaz’s voice crackle through, “Well, you’ve got three British people here—tell us what he’s saying.” 

“One of the guys was talking about ‘legging it’ if he saw Ghost heading towards him, and talked about Ghost ‘murking’ people, and then the other guy he was talking to told him he was being a ‘prat’ about it and he got all offended,” You eloquently say into the earpiece, watching as the argument gets a little more heated. You can hear an amused huff from Ghost on his end and a scoff from Soap in return. 

“They’re just saying they’re gonna run away if they see Ghost because he’s been killing a lot of their soldiers, and the other guy said he was being a prat, which I guess is like…” Gaz pauses to think of how to explain the slang term before settling on, “Someone who’s kind of full of themselves, I guess. Or ignorant. Either or.” 

“They couldn’t just say that?” You muse quietly, still staring down at the enemy soldiers. 

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that,” Price’s voice cuts through, “Go ahead and shoot the guy down. I’m ready to head in.”

“Got it,” You hum, quickly putting your eye back up to your scope and readjusting it a bit before quietly warning, “Shooting him now.” 

You pull the trigger and the enemy goes down immediately, and through your scope you can see the small twitching of his body as the other soldier starts to freak out.

You quickly aim the gun at his still-alive friend and shoot him down as well, silently congratulating yourself on your good aim and continuing to look through the scope, watching as Price runs in with Gaz and a few other soldiers. 

They struggle with the door for a moment and you sigh before pressing in the PTT button on your earpiece and quietly saying, “Price, Gaz, move away from the door for a sec.”

Wordlessly, they do as they’re told, and you take the opportunity to line up the gun’s aim with the complex electronic panel on the outside of the door and pull the trigger, shooting the most crucial part of the panel, causing it’s functions to disrupt and as a result, the doors open. 

“Thanks for that,” Gaz breathes out as Price kicks open the door, his voice cut off a bit at the end as he takes his hand off the PTT button too quickly in order to follow after Price. 

“Uh huh. Of course,” You say offhandedly, taking your eye away from the scope of your sniper rifle and listening to the loud sirens go off in the facility the others break into, and push yourself up so that you can sit up straight to properly watch it. You grunt as you sit up, stretching your arms out for a moment before letting them fall into your lap. 

“Are they in?” Soap asks, curious, his voice a little strained and breathy. There’s no loud gusts of wind coming through his mic anymore, and you look around for a moment, before your eyes catch on to him climbing up a ladder to get to the rooftop adjacent to yours.

Your lips twitch into a smile at the sight of him completely clueless to your presence and you press your PTT button to talk. 

“Yeah, they’re in,” You say, watching as he finally gets to the rooftop, “Didn’t you hear the sirens?” 

You can see Soap’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion for a moment, and he looks around for a moment before finally seeing you on the rooftop directly next to his, and he looks surprised for a moment before a grin splits across his face. You see him press the PTT button on his mic as well. 

“I did, yeah, just wanted tae be sure,” He says into his mic, looking right at you as he does, “It’s a surprise seeing you here.” 

“Imagine how I feel,” You muse, almost to yourself, before looking away from Soap and speaking up, “Ghost, you don’t wanna join us on the rooftops?” 

“Absolutely not,” He replies almost immediately, making you huff out a small laugh and Soap’s grin grow, “I’m perfectly fine on the ground.” 

“Where are you?” You ask, scanning the area around you for Ghost, “I feel like I haven’t seen you this whole time.” 

“I’m just behind the facility,” Ghost hums, voice still a low whisper, “I’m gonna be heading in once Gaz and Price make it to the second floor to clean up the first, in case there’s anyone left.” 

“You’ve been behind the facility this whole time?” Soap’s voice cuts through, surprised by the fact. 

“Mhm,” Ghost hums. 

“It’s a bit boring back there, innit?” Gaz’s voice crackles through, his voice a little breathy, “You can sweep the first floor, by the way. Should be nobody left, though. Pretty sure all the soldiers were just faffing around, not doing much.” 

“Fucking faffing around?” You ask incredulously to yourself, though apparently your voice is loud enough to make Soap chuckle. 

As if he can read your mind, Price’s voice comes through, “Faffing around is just doing nothing or doing nothing particularly productive, [c/n].” 

You sigh and push your PTT button this time, talking into your mic, “You couldn’t just say that, Gaz? You had to say something silly like faffing around?” 

“It’s not silly,” Gaz says, his frown audible, “They were faffing around.” 

“Jesus, fuck,” You breathe out, laughing lightly, “It’s totally silly.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yeah it is.”

“No it’s—” 

“I just want one day where you two don’t start up stupid arguments like this,” Price’s tired sigh comes through, “Just one day, I beg of you both.” 

“Aw, Captain, we were just faffing around,” You whine playfully, the misuse of the slang making Soap cover his mouth with his hand to muffle his laughter and you hear Ghost groan into his mic. 

“That is absolutely not how you use that,” Gaz says, though you can hear some laughter in his voice—from your very non-British accent saying British phrases, you presume, a small grin gracing your lips at the thought. 

“It sounded natural to me,” You lie straight through your teeth, shrugging even though only Soap can see you. 

“You’re insufferable,” Gaz groans, making you laugh quietly, “Never use British slang again, please.” 

“What if I get a British accent? Will that fix it?”

“Nothing can fix what you’ve said today, [c/n].”

“Well that’s dramatic,” You scoff, “I’ll learn British just for you guys.” 

“Holy shit, please stop talking,” Price’s exasperated voice interrupts the both of you, “You’re both insufferable. Drop it.” 

“… I don’t think I will,” You say defiantly, making all three British people in the same voice channel as you groan in unison, the sound sounding like some sort of middle school choir trying to sing in harmony, “I’ll use Duolingo or something to learn it.” 

“British isn’t a language you learn, you muppet,” Price grumbles, making you snort. 

“Muppet?” 

“It’s someone who’s dumb and clueless and can’t take a hint, like you,” Ghost defines, “And Soap, most of the time.” 

“Daen’t go draggin’ mae into this,” Soap’s voice quickly cuts through, “I haven’t said onything.” 

“Uh, yes you absolutely did, earlier, remember?” Gaz argues, ignoring Price’s protests for him to stop arguing, “About Ghost being stupid with the tea thing?” 

“Oh, I’ll have you all know—” 

“Ghost, don’t start—” 

You listen as the once casual, teasing conversation turns into an argument and chuckle quietly to yourself, knowing that they’d be arguing about this until you all finished your assignment.

[bigboysteveharrington]

Steve lowkey earning himself a reputation for liking guys and girls before he even realizes he does because he keeps interjecting and giving his own answer every time someone tries to ask Robin about guys

At first no one thinks anything of Steve’s interruption and answer when Nancy asks “what even is your type?” quite clearly to Robin and Steve immediately answers “I like girls that are way smarter than me” and everyone just assumes he’s interrupting to hit on Nancy and not to deflect

Then later someone insists some guy was flirting with Robin and she should go for it and Steve immediately goes “Are you kidding me? Robin’s way out of his league. Besides, I had a class with him and he mentioned his stamp collection in it like eight times. Do you really think she wants to sit around and pretend to be impressed by hundreds of stamps?” Still no one thinks much of it yet and if anything they think Steve might be jealous or might just have standards for who they should set her up with

It’s not until it becomes a habit of him answering questions meant for Robin that people start to think there’s a reason, but it’s not Robin they’re onto

Like when they’re having a movie night and Max is going on and on about a shirtless character while Lucas is totally unfazed but Dustin complains and El says which character she liked more and then Max turns to Nancy to break the tie and say which guy is dreamier and Nancy casts her vote, then turns to look over at Robin and ask which guy she’d go for and Steve knows who the question is for but hey he’s sitting right next to Robin so Nancy’s looking in his direction and too and she didn’t say Robin’s name, so Steve doesn’t even hesitate before dropping the name of a character and making sure he keeps the focus off of Robin and keeps everyone distracted from dragging her into that debate by immediately backing it up by saying that Max is right and giving even more reasons to choose him

But even after that, that’s mostly forgotten by the time the older group is drinking and Eddie suggests they play a drinking game and normally Steve would be all over any suggestions, but he turns down truth or dare because he knows how uncomfortable Robin would be and doesn’t want her having to choose between awkwardly lying and deflecting or doing dares she’s not comfortable with or potentially outing herself so he at least manages to change it to never have I ever because that’s a safer bet when he knows Robin hasn’t done anything with any girls

But then Steve ends up drinking significantly more than anyone else while Robin and Eddie are hardly drinking so they end up switching games and somehow they end up playing fuck, marry, kill except Nancy has no interest in getting married or discussing it and she says there’s been enough death in Hawkins and it would be more fun to play with the options as sleep with, kiss, slap. And the game is already started before anyone can ask why marry got changed to kiss and before drunk Steve can figure out how to discretely convince everyone not to. The game goes fine at first with Argyle asking Jonathan about three girls from California. It goes alright when Jonathan asks Eddie about three girls. Steve gets a little concerned when Eddie turns his attention on Nancy that he’ll put Jonathan and him in the list right in front of Jonathan, but Eddie is sober enough still that he at least has enough tact not stir the pot and blow things up on her first turn by throwing them both in in front of them

But then Nancy goes to give Robin a turn and she’s looking right at her and lists the three guys there other than Steve (possibly because she believes Robin on the platonic with a capital P thing and possibly because she doesn’t want to find out if that would waver) so of course Nancy thinks it’s clear that she must be talking to the only other girl there. And before Robin can even try to think of what lie would be the most convincing and least likely to start any awkwardness or drama, Steve’s already jumping in with “Well, I already hit Jonathan and that didn’t go well for me, so I’ll give him a break. And this situation” (gesturing between himself and Nancy and Jonathan) “is finally starting to feel normal so I don’t need to make that awkward all over again by sleeping with your boyfriend. So kiss Jonathan.” And Nancy and Jonathan are looking at him so confused and Robin is grateful for the interruption and relieved but also kind of amused by the level of thought he’s putting into it instead of just throwing out names however. Argyle’s not fazed at all and just waiting to see what he’ll get. Eddie goes from deer in the headlights startled to leaning forward with his elbow on his knee and his chin resting in his hand waiting to see where this will go to abruptly sitting up again and trying to look less interested while his leg nervous bounces and he tries to figure out if Steve is giving a detailed answer to this as a joke or because he’s putting genuine thought into the idea of being with a guy

Steve looks between Eddie and Argyle for a moment, then focuses on Argyle and is like “Sorry, I hardly know you and getting dragged into hitting Eddie or standing around and watching Tommy do it without making any move to stop him is exactly the kind of douchebag bullshit I would have pulled in high school. So I guess slap you and have sex with Eddie.” Eddie’s drink goes down the wrong way when Steve adds “Plus, guitar players are supposed to be good with their hands, right?” and he tries to play it off and not react to the fact that Steve Harrington just said he’d have sex with him and that he thinks Eddie would be good in bed even if it was just in the context of some stupid game. Meanwhile Argyle’s just like “Nah, that’s cool dude. I get it. I would have slapped you too if the roles were reversed.”

After that, a few people start wondering a little more seriously if Steve is into guys too and had his guard down while drinking. But Eddie isn’t going to press his luck without clear evidence and everyone else isn’t going to push it so they just silently wonder a little more every time Steve interjects in the girl talk with his own opinion once again

[la2yn0va]

Yo! I hope that you are good and i hope that you get feixiao! Can i request some Yandere Genius Society members, seperately plus Ratio with a Male reader who is smarter than them? However he declines their invation to join them as the reader is independent and doesn't really want any special attention of any sort, as he values a lot of their private time, making him a solitary individual to the point that is adnormal

Look at that! I personally whose willing to give me they’re luck for me to get feixiao. (Lmao)

———

Herta

Herta first finds you on one of her expeditions. She finds you in a dark cave surrounded by rare crystals thought to be long lost!

She immediately takes interest in you! Why’re you alone? What’re you doing in this secluded planet? And how fuckin dare you not give her these crystals!

So, she watches you and even helps around. You’ve gained her curiosity, and now it’s up to you to satisfy her curiosity. She watched as you morph these rare crystals into an endless energy supply with some long lost alchemy

She couldn’t believe it! Not even the people in the genius society could do this! Oh and congratulations, her curiosity had been satisfied, and had evolved into interest in you!

Hell even SHE couldn’t do this! But.. that’s only because she didn’t have these crystals! If she did, she’d have made thousands of these…! Well… she might’ve needed your help…she didn’t know anything about your ancient alchemy— but she’d still do it in a scientific way!

Herta would invite you to the genius society and even to her spaceship. You’d have much more resources available, helpers, and her— “No”

Your voice declined in the same, cold and monotone voice. The two letter word shot through herta’s puppet body and shattered it completely. No? What do you mean. NO?

“I don’t like being surrounded by others. They’re a bunch of annoyances. Accepting your invitation would bring that dread into my life, along with recognition throughout the cosmos. So no. I’ll decline your invitation”

She listened to you explain yourself. Apart of her found this reasoning idiotic. How could you possibly say no?!

You’d have better accesses to resources, assistants, live in a comfortable Spacestation with the perfect temperature, WHY WOULD YOU POSSIBLY DECLINE!!?

But apart of her felt… joyful. Why? You had just rejected her! She discarded that feeling at the moment and flicked away

“Fine! Do what you want! But IM taking some of these crystals!” “Sure” you said dismissively, not even facing her. She clicked her tongue and stomped away.

A whole month later and she hasn’t forgotten about you. You and that strange feeling of happiness she got when you rejected her.

She decided to go and visit you, wanting to strangely be around you. You don’t mind, Herta isn’t annoying and she’s a genius, so she can stay.

Herta keeps one of her puppets with you, talking and helping you out while trying to understand this feeling. Eventually she does find out that she had fallen for you, HARD.

She tries to reject it, but ever since that realization, she had been much MUCH happier. She also realized the reason why she felt happy when you rejected her invitation.

Because no one would know who you are! She can have you all to HERself! It was a euphoric feeling, knowing that no one would try to take you away from her OR make you think differently!

Slowly she begins to act like a lover, treating you to delicious treats from ruan mei, worrying about your health, all that jazz.

She also sends a more adult-figured puppet to you. She knew you weren’t attracted to her due to her puppet looking 60% of what she looked like as a child. So for now, you’ll make do with this adult puppet until the REAL her comes and takes you.

Veritas Ratio

Ratio has heard of rumors of a genius that declined an invitation from the genius society. That had gotten him curious.

So, he tracked you down. Finding you in a desolate planet, in a cave that… had long lost technology from eons ago!

You didn’t look back to face him, already knowing that someone was behind you. “What’re your intentions” you said which snapped dr ratio back into reality.

He began to explain himself in 2 short paragraphs, much to your liking. You shrug and let him stay, as he wasn’t annoying or stupid.

Ratio watches and lends a helping hand. He watches as you manage to make the ancient technology functional once more.

Weeks later and ratio has grown infatuated with you. Your intelligence, your competence, your appearance.

Ratio knows that this feeling is.. dangerous. So, he leaves. Having such feelings would do nothing for him, it’ll cloud his judgement.

But, months later and it becomes completely UNBEARABLE. He simply can’t get rid of you. EVERYTHING reminds him of you.

Whenever he’s teaching, he’d see you in the corner of the room. Taking a bath, he sees you in the same tub. Reading his book, he sees the letters morph into your name!

He eventually accept that these feelings. He accepts himself and you. So he goes back, bringing your back to his place. He promised you that he wouldn’t mention you to anyone, a plus for him, and you.

Ratio begins to slowly act like a lover. His every move would be more meticulous and planned but with you? He just can’t plan out his moves.

Until he eventually confesses to you. And you accept. Ratio in your eyes was the perfect partner. Not a dumbass, overbearing, and he didn’t shout your name out to the cosmos.

Ruan Mei

She finds you on a planet that’s supposed to be abandoned. She was curious to who you are and why you were on this ‘no man’s land’ of a planet.

She followed you like a lost puppy, and watched you make life! She was surprised at your prowess in biology, looking around to see your little creations.

She decided to stay, she needed to find out more about you. Your goals, your accomplishments. Oh and she’s attracted to you… guess that also plays a role in this.

She’d try to help you with creating life, but you declined, saying that her way was ‘inefficient’ which feed her curiosity.

She also began to feel something towards you. This new and alien feeling made her want to stay with you some more.

She stays with you and as you feed her curiosity and indirectly help her understand these feelings, she finds ways to reward you.

Ruan Mei begins to get desires. The desire to touch you, feel you, hold you. It’s strange. Why is she feeling these emotions? What ARE these emotions?

After a good few months, she offers you to come with her, as she wants to study you some more AND keep you close. But you… decline…?

“Not Interested” “Huh…why’s that..? A partner ship with someone so similar to—” “I get that. But, it’ll attract attention. TOO much attention. I don’t need that”

She still didn’t understand, it’s not like she was a people person either. But then you explained how simply being associated with you, a member of the genius society, would directly attract attention.

She saw the logic but she.. couldn’t accept it. No, she wanted you to BE with her… is this… possessiveness? No. No, she just wants to study you.

She continues to push you to accept, but you decline. Over, and over, and over. It annoyed her, just come with her! The risks were nonexistent where she was going!

Eventually she’d just tie you and drag you with her. She can’t let you go, your to valuable to be left in this desolate planet. Of course, you struggle and fight back. But it’s no use.

Weeks later you finally cave in and decide to go along with Ruan mei’s plans. But you make sure to keep yourself low key.

Ruan Mei will take longer than ratio and Herta to find out she’s in love with you. All she knows is that she wants you to stay with her and only her, and that she hates when other people even look at you.

End

[l0v3tast3]

141 men finding out military!reader is only 19 after they break down from being overwhelmed and overworked??

✎ this idea bounces around my head a lot actually and now i have a reason to write it down finally :) i wasn't sure if you wanted them altogether or separately so i did it separately because it's easier lol. i kept it platonic and sfw!

✎ tags : gender neutral!reader, reader has a panic attack, descriptions of violence/injury/death, swearing, hurt to comfort, all platonic relationships, only half proofread

you're barging into the safehouse where he had said to rendezvous, gasping for air that your closed throat won't let through. the rifle held in your dominant hand is dropped as soon as the door is shut behind you, and you're clawing at the straps of your helmet and chest armor to get them off because it's too tight and it's too much and you can't breathe.

this wasn't your first mission. it wasn't even the bloodiest one you'd been on thus far. you could handle the gore and the death and the pure misery of the victims of these situations, because at the end of the day, you were helping them, right?

unless you were too late.

the family had been huddled in a corner, two children laying underneath their parents. there had still been two other rooms to check in the house, but you were running out on shaky legs.

he's in front of you now, looking down at you and asking if you're injured. you're sitting on the floor, heaving for breath and tears pouring from your glassy eyes.

"it's not- it's not fucking fair!" you cried out finally, trying desperately to wipe your face dry on your sleeves, but it only worked to redden your skin further. "why are these people doing this? how could someone be so cruel?"

he sighed softly, not knowing how to respond. the team didn't show emotions like this, they didn't deal with them, not like this. but they had all been here, where you are now. they had all asked why, again and again and again until the word lost all meaning.

"i mean, are we even really helping? god, these people are all already dead! why are we here? why- jesus fucking christ, why am i here?" you rambled; you weren't talking to him anymore. your voice was fizzling out, getting quiet enough that he had to lean closer to hear your unsteady words.

"i can't help these people," you sobbed. "i'm just a kid, i'm only nineteen, i can't- i don't know what i'm supposed to do! they said i was special! they told me- said i was so much better and smarter than everyone else, what a fucking joke!"

☆ simon "ghost" riley

he knew you were young, but fuck, if that didn't break his heart, there was nothing left that would. simon didn't talk to you more than any of the others on the team, but you were special, like a little sibling to the team, to him. always having enough energy and kindness to make up for the rest of them.

seeing you like this was a first, even for him, the man who had seen the worst of the worst. it wasn't like he was immune to emotions, but he had spent so long pressing them all down until he couldn't feel them that this was new to him again. all he could do was offer a hand on your knee that he hoped resembled something like comfort.

"we're almost done here. the heli will come for us soon," he said quietly. "you did good, like always."

he watched and waited with you while your sobs whittled away to sniffles, never moving his hand from your knee, where you had grabbed onto it with one of your own. most people knew not to touch him, that they'd end up with one less hand if they did, but you were an exception.

☆ john "soap" mactavish

at first, he doesn't do anything, just kneels in front of you and stares in shock. you're nineteen? you had always danced around the question that the team would tease you with, asking if you still had to work on your homework, but it was always a joke. now it wasn't.

instead of dwelling, john shifts and sits in front of you, almost hovering over you awkwardly as he tried to figure out what to do. sure, he was one of the more open people on the team, but when you're standing next to ghost, just smiling makes you look emotionally vulnerable.

he takes your hands away from your face and into his, placing them on your lap before gently holding your shoulders. "look, we're almost done here, alright? we'll be far away before you know it." that didn't help much, so he paused again.

the almost-distraught look on his face forced a giggle out of you. his worry turned to confusion, why are you laughing now? you probably shouldn't have been, but the big, scottish military-man fretting over you was kind of funny.

"alrigh', lass, at least something cheered ya up," he grumbled, but turned serious again right after. "higher-ups were right, ya know. you are smarter than the rest of 'em. maybe even smarter than us, yeah?" he said with a smile.

☆ kyle "gaz" garrick

it wasn't that long ago that kyle was where you are now, fresh out of school and eager to prove himself in the military. except it had taken him several years longer than you to reach where you both were now; he had had plenty of time to come to terms with the horrors he saw.

now he realized that you hadn't, because you were smart and you were better than most other people, so they had thrown you in, like a minnow in a piranha pond. by all means, you were doing wonderfully for your circumstances, but you could only keep going for so long.

he sat down beside you, shoulder-to-shoulder, and wrapped an arm around you to bring your head down to rest on him. he sat with you quietly, giving you the time you needed to just get it all out.

eventually, once you're more calm, he breaks the silence with bad jokes that he definitely stole from simon.

"why do twitter users make bad soldiers?" you lifted your head to stare at him incredulously before he continued, "because, they're too quick to retweet."

☆ john price

the captain knew how young you were. he never told you, but he hadn't wanted you on the team at first; the second he was handed your file and saw your birthdate, he started protesting. but it wasn't up to him this time. he couldn't spare you from this, and he knew that it would always weigh on him. he knew he would always remember this, you, crumbling in on yourself in a heap on the floor.

john came down on one knee in front of you and started telling you a story about when he had started, how one of his first missions had gone so terribly wrong. you honestly thought he was just going to tell you to "suck it up" until he told you about one family he had saved during that mission, one that was still alive today. they still sent him letters, even.

"all you need is one good save, kid. and you've got dozens already," he murmured. he wouldn't say it outright, but you really were one of his best.

you remembered the child clinging to your back as you ran out of a collapsing building, the woman who's leg you had managed to get unstuck from fallen debris, the man you had stopped from being executed just in time.

price smiled once he saw he had gotten through to you and helped, at least a little, and roughly patted your shoulder. "evac will be here soon, chin up now."