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kentopedia · 7 months ago

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౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ SAFEGUARD — dazai, chuuya, akutagawa

summary . . . they save you after you've been injured and captured by an enemy.

contents . . . sfw, f!reader (chuuya & dazai) and gn!reader (akutagawa), violence / blood, threats, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, and it's pmboss!dazai bc i can't help myself — 3.5k total

notes . . . i got this request so long ago lol. not my best work, but i have been in the worst writing slump ever and just wanted to finish something. i've also never written for akutagawa before so pls be nice <3

𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 . . .

there are very few times that chuuya feels he’s been outsmarted. he knows he’s not the mastermind of the port mafia, but he certainly isn’t a fool. when it comes to you and your well-being, though, his mind short-circuits, half of his intelligence draining away while his emotions take hold.

your relationship isn’t a secret to anyone in the port mafia, which means that it isn’t a secret to your enemies either. and while most people know it’s hard to land a finger on chuuya directly, his pretty little girlfriend doesn’t have the power of a god nestled inside of her.

the rage sparks through him, growing fiercely into the blaze of a forest fire, until all he can think of is getting you home safely. he thinks of your sweet smile as he rips the door of the enemies’ base off the hinges, crushing it into a million pieces with the force of gravity.

the men are quick to react, but chuuya hurtles the crushed door towards them, knocking three of them to their feet. another group charges at him, but their guns do little against his skill. after years of fighting some of the strongest ability users, simple criminal organizations are as easy to step over like ants.

chuuya kills them all — except for one.

the man’s knees are wobbling, hand shaking around the gun as he realizes that these will be his final moments. there is fear in his eyes, brown ones that rest wide open, and chuuya almost hesitates. his remorse doesn’t last long, though, before he’s wrapping a hand around the man’s throat, thrusting him backwards.

“where is she?” chuuya asks, voice sharp and commanding.

he can feel the man swallowing.

chuuya knows that backup is probably on the way, but it won’t matter whether they show up or not. he’ll crush the rest of his enemies just as he’s crushed the last twenty men. the poor soul in his leather hold seems to know that as well.

“i-i’ll take you to her,” he rasps, dropping his gun to claw at chuuya’s hand.

he drops him, lets him take a few heaving breaths and coughs, before he’s kicking at him, forcing him back to his feet.

the young man takes him up the elevator, weaves him through a hallway as chuuya leaves a scattering of bodies in his wake, not hesitating to kill a single man that gets in his way. there is nothing that can keep him from you.

how fiercely and loyally he loves you — it drives him to near insanity.

finally, with blood coating his face and his clothes, the young man enters a room, locked with a code, revealing you.

chuuya’s rage is almost as blinding as his corruption, as he gazes at the sight of you. bloodied and bruised, tied up in a chair, so visibly harmed. his hands clench into fists. “get the fuck away from her,” he says to the man who seems to be monitoring you.

“what are you doing in here?” the men left in the room panic, but they don’t have time to react before chuuya throws them back at the wall, so quickly, with so much force, that their spines snap. they hit it with a sharp crack, skulls shattering against the plaster, the wall crushing beneath the weight of them.

limply, they fall to the floor.

chuuya rushes over to you.

the young man that led him here disappears, but chuuya isn’t worried about him. he’s a coward; he’ll likely flee from the country and never look back. the men that truly hurt you are already dead, and he’ll burn this building to the ground once he’s gotten you away from it.

“hey,” chuuya says, cradling your cheeks gently, trying to coax you back awake. he’s not sure if it’s exhaustion, blood loss, or the obvious head trauma that caused you to pass out in the first place. but you’re still breathing, so he counts that as a blessing.

“hey,” he whispers again, kissing your forehead, like it will heal all your ailments. “wake up, baby. we gotta get you out of here, okay?”

it takes you a few seconds to come to, eyes glazed over and shell-shocked as you blink at him. “chuuya?” you say; your voice is so hoarse it makes chuuya want to keel over and vomit. “is it really you?”

guilt gnaws at him, almost crushing, at the fact that thirty-six hours passed, and you’re delirious enough not to recognize him. you probably haven’t eaten, either.

he should’ve been there. no one should’ve ever had the chance to hurt you, yet…

“it’s me, i’m here,” he says, kissing your lips, your temple, brushing your hair away from your face. the strands are sticky with blood. “shit,” chuuya nearly shouts, pulling a knife from his pocket, sawing through the thick ropes around you as quickly as he can. “i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry.”

he can’t get you free fast enough, and you smile at him, drowsy, your eyes fluttering shut once more. “it’s okay, chuuya,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “you’re here now.”

“you have to stay awake,” he says desperately, realizing your head is still bleeding. he doesn’t know how hurt you are. chuuya’s no expert when it comes to medicine, but he’s smart enough to know that internal injuries could be even worse than the external ones.

“stay awake for me, okay, honey? i’ll get you back to the boss and we’ll find you a doctor. you’ll be just fine.”

“okay, chuuya,” you hum, weakly gripping his back. seconds of silence pass before you mutter, “i just want to go home.”

"i know." his heart pulls, and he almost lets out a cracked sob. but he refrains, knowing that there is plenty of time to drown in his sorrows later.

finally, he gets the ropes under, lifting you from the chair. you’re so much lighter, weaker, and it makes him sick as he carries you. “let’s get you home.”

𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀. . .

the call comes just as akutagawa is getting ready to head home for the evening, his tasks completed, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

normally, he doesn’t stick around to say any goodbyes, sneaking off into the darkness of the night like a shadow, blending right in. but, something about the evening, so gloomy and drizzly with spring rain, feels off.

with a heavy knot in his chest, so much different than an incoming fit of coughs, akutagawa heads back up to mori’s office, if perhaps to only ensure that everyone else’s jobs had been completed. he’s a lot of things, but he’s never been a slacker; and he’ll do what it takes to ensure that his position in the mafia is eternally secure.

though, he doesn’t have the opportunity to get all the way upstairs before he run into the boss, who is calm, but with an air of irritation clouding him.

he explains the current situation to akutagawa in a clipped tone, bored — an enemy group has kidnapped you, holding you hostage.

“how rude is it to bother a man, just as he is getting ready to go to sleep?” mori says, sighing histrionically.

but what is a minor inconvenience to mori sends an entire wave of dread through akutagawa, his entire body feeling as if it’s been dipped in ice. he can’t explain the horror that washes over him, not really, because he shouldn’t feel so panicked. it is rare for him to get worked up about the danger his subordinates find themselves in, save for his sister, of course.

but you… you’re different.

“can i trust you to diffuse the situation?” mori asks, impatiently glancing at his watch as if that will change anything. “i can call someone else, but they will not be so quick.”

akutagawa doesn’t even think before he accepts the job, hating the way he sounds pathetically desperate for more details. his hands flatten the edge of his cloak, as if his ability is going to take on a mind of its own.

he calls for a driver, calm but breathing so heavily that an aching cough rises up in him. his throat feels as if it may begin to bleed, but he swallows, glances away from the driver and gets himself under control.

there’s a ransom — bring them the money and they’ll return you, mori had told him. you’re only a lower ranking member of the mafia, and someone that makes for a pretty poor bargaining chip, so the motive is questionable.

mori probably would’ve let you die, akutagawa knows, his teeth gritting together, so much so that a splintering sound comes from it. but the boss, in his infinite, concerning wisdom, seems to also know that his loyal dog has an soft spot for you.

as regrettable as that may be.

akutagawa has no doubt that whoever the enemy is, they are no match for him. still, a twinge of anxiety settles in his stomach, fingers jittery as the driver, despite the decreased traffic of the hour, seems to drive impossibly slow.

“are we not in a rush?” akutagawa snaps, leaning forward.

“apologies,” the driver, says, not daring to even look at akutagawa from the mirror. but the car speeds up, enough for akutagawa to be able to notice, at least. it cools the simmer that has already begun deep in his chest.

even so, the car seems to go at a snails pace, minute upon minute flying by, with you in the clutches of an enemy.

akutagawa doesn’t care who they are. he doesn’t care why, or how they captured you. he wants them dead. he’ll rip them apart, easily, and he’ll make them suffer — they’ll be alive for all of it, for every second that he peels the skin from their bones, ripping the smaller ones out of their sockets.

what he feels for you… well, it’s too hard for him to admit to himself. he has no experience with what it means to care for another person, doesn’t even know if that’s his goal. he just knows he wants to protect you.

and he can’t do that if you’re dead.

finally, the car pulls up to an old warehouse, one at the very outskirts of the port, beyond the docks and the shipping carts. it’s tucked far back, an obvious lair for some villainous organization that doesn’t want to be found.

akutagawa gets there, but there is nothing. he hears nothing, feels no signs of life as he trudges through the puddles left behind from the earlier rain.

a small string of panic begins again, as he wondered if maybe the call that mori had told him was only a ruse. maybe this entire time had been a distraction, a way to lure him away. there are other skill-users in the mafia, but none quite as dangerous as him.

though, he hears it, then. a small little sound, muffled and hoarse, full of pain.

he ducks into another corner of a warehouse, and you’re there — bound with chains and a gag across your mouth, one of your eyes blackened with bruises, your nose bleeding.

his heart aches. never in his life has he so quickly made his way over, used the sharp edges of his ability to shear through the chains, falling to his knees as he unbinds the cloth from your lips.

“where are they?” he rasps, mouth opening and closing, hating the sound of his own voice. he recognizes his desperation, his anger, but the affectionate sound that clips at the end is unfamiliar, as he shakily pulls himself closer to you.

you glance up at him, eyes glossy and wide, and though you are scared, hurt, he’s so thankful you are alive. his heart flips once, as you grasp at his cloak, the material that has the blood of so many staining the threads.

“gone,” you say, throat chalky, words nothing more than a note against the wind. “they fled when they heard it was you coming.”

“and left you?” he asks, jaw clenching, as he hopes that the emotions aren’t as visible on his features as he thinks they are. “were you not a ransom?”

“no,” you swallow, hard, as if in pain. he notices bruises around your neck, the shape of fingerprints indented there. “i was bait.”

anger rises up in him like a wave, engulfing him, wholly and relentlessly. he is no stranger to that, like he is the kindness you show him, the way you look at him as if he is your protector, rather than a bringer of destruction. “i’ll go after them. where are they headed? they’ll pay, i’ll slaughter—”

“ryunosuke,” you say, reaching for him as he stands, expression pleading as he backs away. “stay.”

he has half a mind to ignore you — the enemy escaped, after all. but your voice. your eyes… you look so small sitting there, bloodied and bruised and broken.

“please,” you try again, near tears, and though he has never been good with obvious displays of emotion, something within him snaps at the desperation in the word.

he nods, slowing his pace as he returns to you, lets you wrap yourself in him, cling to him. his hands fall, naturally, to your waist, somehow knowing where they belong, even if akutagawa never has a clue what he’s doing with you.

“i’ll call hirotsu,” he says simply, before pulling out his phone, not bothering to untangle himself from you.

𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 . . .

dazai is not a forgiving man, and will never learn to be. forgiveness is not a luxury he is often able to indulge in in his line of work, and his heart has hardened enough that until the end of time, those that are branded his enemies will remain his enemies.

though, in his blackened heart, one soured over the course of time, you have carved out your own little space, lit it up with golden rays of light that are fiery enough to melt the stone casing of his chest.

his only love — his only weakness. but it is a weakness that his enemies know about as well.

dazai tries his best to keep you safe. he always has, and he knows that, sometimes, his grasp on you can be a little too tight. that the way he tries to keep you under his watchful eye can sometimes be stifling, frustrating.

but he can’t always be there to protect you. and it is in times like these, that he regrets letting you go without a bodyguard. he regrets that he listened to your insistence that you could keep yourself safe.

he should’ve at least told you to take a friend.

“boss,” his subordinate says, bowing his head, his voice pleading, desperate. “i’m so sorry. your wife—”

“if anything… anything happens to her, you will be the one responsible, do you understand?” dazai says, his eyes cold as he glowers down at the man, only a few inches shorter than him, but feeling so much smaller. “i will personally see that this act does not go unpunished.”

“of course, sir,” the man says, and he, at the very least, has the decency to sound resigned. to accept his fate and suffer the consequences, for allowing the boss’s wife to get herself into such a situation.

and dazai means it, every last word; if he finds you in a state closer to death, anyone who put you in harm’s way will be torn apart from the inside out. he isn’t able to think of anything but bringing you home safely, his hands shaking with rage as he sends more than enough people out on a search to find you.

with all the strings he’s able to pull as the mafia boss, it doesn’t take long to find you, for those that have bravely — or stupidly — used his wife as bait to come forward, and offer an attempt at some sort of negotiation.

there’s little of the conversation that dazai remembers on the phone, even less that he remembers after that. the anger bubbles up in him and grabs hold of his conscience, the emotion directing his movements with a mind of its own.

he’s already sent out every last one of his people into the field, ensuring that the organization that had the gall to threaten you is wiped off the face of the earth. deleted from every corner of the world, buildings flattened to the ground. by tomorrow, they won’t have ever existed.

today, he doesn’t care what happens as long as he finds you alive.

you’re held hostage by two men — so completely beaten that they’ve given up on any restraints. whatever they wanted from you, you seemed to refused to have given up, lip bleeding, eyes swelling so badly that you can’t even open them.

dazai doesn’t hesitate before pulling the trigger on the first man, then turning to the other, shooting the hand that holds the pistol. the man recoils, shouts, and drops the weapon completely, as dazai lands another bullet to his knee, causing him to fall.

slowly, dazai walks up, firing again to his other arm, a loud snap echoing throughout the room. the man winces, trying to crawl to the gun, one last desperate attempt to stay alive.

he kicks the gun away, watching, as, pathetically, the expression in the enemy’s face changes — any of his remaining hope vanishes.

“you told me she was unharmed,” dazai says, bending down, his coat flaring out behind him as he squats.

the man coughs, gasping for air as the blood seeps out of him. “we lied.” he smiles cruelly, and though he shares the same sort of darkness as those in the port mafia, there is something even more twisted in his smile.

dazai hums. “you the leader?”

the man doesn’t give an answer, but the slight twitch of surprise on his face is all dazai needs. he’s no one — just a grunt whose life was put on the line to guard you.

“didn’t think so.” dazai shoots him once, straight through the forehead, instantly killing him. but he is vindictive, angry, and the man he truly wants to destroy, the one who took you, is nowhere to be found. another bullet lands, tearing apart the flesh of his temple, then another, and one more, his skull beginning to cave in from the force of it all.

dazai heaves, letting the gun clatter to the ground as it runs out of bullets, and then he realizes, all this time, you’ve just been watching him. the ugliest side of him — the worst side of him.

you’re no stranger to it, of course. how can you be, when you’ve shared a life with him for years? but that doesn’t mean he wants you to see it, see how bloodthirsty he can become.

he stumbles over to you, where you’re still sitting on the ground, your wrist in your lap, bent at an angle that he knows isn’t right. bruises are littered across your skin, and your hair is matted from the blood that pools at your temple.

it takes every ounce of restraint he has to stay calm, a million feelings swirling under his skin. ones that he was never familiar with until he met you.

“i’m sorry,” he says, taking your face in his hands so, so softly, worried that he’ll hurt you even more. “i’m sorry, darling. i should’ve — i should’ve been there.” dazai notices his hands are shaking and he balls them up into fists, leaning back. “fuck. fuck — i’ll kill them all, just tell me who it was. anyone who laid a finger on you. i’ll cut them down one by one.”

“osamu,” you say, and your voice is raspy, cracking, as your unbroken arm reaches for him, squeezing his shaking hand. “i—”

you open your mouth to continue, but only tears come streaming down your cheeks, over your bloodied lips, saltiness soaking your jawline. no words don’t leave you, but a soft sob chokes itself up your throat.

“hey, hey, hey.” dazai’s voice softens, every muscle in his body relaxing as he draws you nearer to him, into his chest with a touch that’s barely there. “you’re safe. i’m here, okay? they’re not going to hurt you again, sweetheart.”

you sniffle, barely making a sound, but he can feel the tears drop onto his clothes, soaking the material.

“can you walk? are you hurt anywhere else?”

you hesitate for a moment before answering; he’s not sure if there’s a reason you only answer the first question. “i can walk.”

dazai nods, and though the rage is still bubbling there, underneath the surface, there is a coolant streaming through him at the vision of you alive. the men who did this will pay the price, but he still has you — and that’s all that matters.

thank you for reading !!! ❤︎

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gladiatorcunt · 7 months ago

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Would modern!coryo like being called daddy? Like reader is all dumb from him overstimulating them and it just slips out.. how would he react?

This is so me, like i’m scared of this happening. no one has made me cum tho so i’m probably safe

╰ • ✫ - ❛LILY OF THE VALLEY!❜ ✎ᝰ.

cw: daddy kink, typical coryo warnings, reader is so baby in this and he’s so bf like 😖, school stress, cunnilingus like he EATS you out to the bone fr, pain play, mentions of blood kink and piss kink, pet play coded, unedited porn for the soul, afab reader, THIS ONE GOES TO OUT TO ALL MY FREAK MODERN!CORYO TRUTHERS, reader and coryo at their most real, pretentious use of latin pet names, hinted breeding kink

You’ve been keeping it to yourself for so long, still wallowing in the idea that you should be shy about your kinks. You’ve never had a partner like Coryo before, you haven’t had a partner, period. Normally you just muffled it into a pillow while you fingered yourself to an unsatisfying orgsm and called it a day. But now you had an insatiable boyfriend with a sizable sadistic streak… among other things.

Are Daddy kinks the worst thing someone could be into? No, and you know that perfectly well. You also know that there’s enough stigma around it for you to keep it yourself. You didn’t need conversations about “daddy issues” or creepy men who assumed that that information gave the green light to do whatever they wanted to your body.

You had never admitted this to Coryo, but one of the reasons you were so nervous about your first time was because you knew it was only a matter of time before it slipped out. All the rumors and spilled stories from his past flings and hookups (things you prefer to not let get to you too much) made it even more clear that if anyone could drag that out of you, it was him.

It’s a miracle you didn’t blurt it out during your first time, you were so fucked out he could’ve told you that you said anything and you would’ve believed him. No, despite Coryo’s casual dominance that is apparent in how he pecks your lips after every bite you take from the fancy finger food held in his hands, your secret is kept safe.

That is… until the stress of assignments piling up builds up to a boiling point, and you’re left sobbing into your boyfriend’s chest.

“Shh, petal, get it all out.” He hums, slowly dragging his fingertips up and down your shaking back. “You’ll make yourself sick if you don’t calm down, baby. Let’s take some deep breaths, okay?”

“Okay..” You heave.

Coryo gently pulls your hair and directs your forehead to knock against his. It startles you out of your teary state for a moment, you blink in confusion and he chuckles. His eyes are so warm, they could set you on fire right there on his lap. His hold on your head doesn’t let up, and you sniffle as you place your hands on his chest.

He directs you to breathe with him, “One… two… three… four… hold it… now breathe out through your mouth, do that a few times with me, alright, dove?”

“One… two… three… four…” You repeat his words, which helps you center your focus on the pure love in Coryo’s stunning eyes.

After every set Coryo makes a childish ‘woosh’ sound, purposefully blowing hot air into your face. It has the intended result and he grins triumphantly at your watery giggles. Once he’s calmed you down enough, he’s leaping into action and raining down an army of kisses all over your cute face.

You’re too sensitive for it, but he wants to tease you for being “Daddy’s little crybaby” so fucking bad. This isn’t the moment though, perhaps when it’s something different, like tears of joy because of how much your engagement ring sparkles in the sunlight.

Yeah, he knew before you came right out and said it, have you forgotten who exactly you’ve promised your soul to? Don’t be silly.

After a certain point the sticky kisses become more and more heated, and by the time he reaches your lips he’s pressing your mouths together. Coryo slowly tilts your head to the side, opening up your mouth and lazily sucking your tongue. Like you always do, you start bucking your hips against his crotch in short and subconscious movements. He smirks into the kiss, pulling away to speak.

“I bet I know just the thing to get you all fixed up, huh petal?” He coos, nodding your head for you. “Come on then, up you go. Don’t trip on your way to the bedroom.”

That’s just the start of his well intentioned meanness, that and the spank he gives your ass as you obediently hop up from the couch and speed walk to the bedroom. You’ve gotten so thirsty for him in the months you’ve been together, he’s almost proud.

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t to feel your brain leaking out of your ears and Coryo’s pink tongue deep in your puffy pussy.

Your hips are kept pinned to the bed by his nails clawing into your flesh, you’re honestly surprised you haven’t started bleeding but you wouldn’t mind if you did. He jabs his tongue again and you squirm, attempting to kick your legs out on instinct. Coryo tightens his grip on your hips, smacking your inner thighs and digging his nails in your hips even further.

It’s his mission to tear you apart in any way possible, in every way. A small hidden part of you is soothed at the reminder that there are some things you never have to ask for. He already knows, he’s the best like that.

Coryo stops tongue fucking you to spit on your clit, staring all wide eyed and whorish up at you as he gives it little licks. You whine when he doesn’t adjust his slow pace, wishing you were in love with someone who didn’t like teasing you as much as he adored spoiling you rotten.

You ruffle his blonde curls, pouting and having a fit. He smacks your thighs harder and scratches lines down your legs as he purses his lips around your clit. He honest to god somehow laughs as he latches on the swollen bud and firmly sucks. In between sucks, his tongue roughly plays with your now throbbing clit, viciously slapping it around like it wants to beat it up.

“Fuck-fuck-uhhhhhhhhh-you’re gonna make me cum-Daddy-shit, yes-just like that, Daddy, just like that just like that-oh my god, Daddy!”

Your squealing makes him laugh again, and when he registers your slip up, he clutches onto you so hard his nails break skin and blood starts trickling down your body.

He pats the area where your womb is a couple times, a silent ‘Good dove’ that goes straight to your core. You’re lucky you aren’t ovulating right now, or the sheets would be even more soaked than they already are. His eyes narrow at the little pouch on your tummy and there’s the slightest hint of teeth in his sucking, but he backs off to spit on your dripping pussy again.

“Mmm-that’s all sweet pets need to do right? Lie back and drool from every hole for their Daddies?” He asks, nuzzling the patch of pubic hair at the top of your mound and taking a deep whiff.

And you’re so good for him, you don’t even need a warning glare or a fierce hit upside the ass.

“Yes-yes, Daddy-um-um- ‘m your bunny-all for you, Daddy.” You pant as you try to catch your breath.

“Glad you’re smart enough to know that, baby.” Coryo bites the skin over your womb, caressing the indents of his teeth. “Never have to doubt my intelligent little flower, do i?”

“Nuh uh, Daddy.” You shake your head in agreement so fast you get dizzy, and he smiles before bringing his attention back to your warm pussy.

He flattens his tongue and licks fat stripes over your folds like a wild animal giving his mate a tongue bath. Simultaneously meant to induce arousal and bring comfort to his partner. He winks at you several times and regularly darts up to french kiss your aching clit, burrowing his nose so deep in your slutty pussy.

The sensual nature of it has your eyes rolling back, and this time you’re the one being savage, your bedazzled extra long acrylics make a mess of his shoulders. He lets your trembling legs go, keeping you in place by his raw determination to literally eat your heart out. His curls bound and fly as he shakes his head vigorously, pushing your clit and hood back with his thumb so he can focus on slurping your slick from your hole like it’s his job.

“No no no-stop, please-fuck- ‘m gonna make a mess-feels like i have to pee, Daddy- shit shit-no, Daddy wait ‘M GONNA!-”

Your orgasm rudely cuts you off, and you gush on Coryo’s mouth. You always say shit like that when you squirt, but you never know when your boyfriend wants your words to be true. You squirt until you can’t hold yourself up anymore, and you collapse against the bed in a huff. Coryo laps up your release with his signature pleased grin, he’s so glad to put you in your place and give you what you deserve. Trust him, petal, he’ll never fail you when it comes to that.

You don’t speak, you’re still twitching and coming down from your euphoric high. Coryo lays his hands on either side of your head and cages you in, hovering above you and cooing loads of praises and sweet nothings into your sweaty hairline.

“How about it? Feeling any better, dove?” He gingerly delivers the question with a loose hand around your throat and a quick squeeze to your tit.

You lean into the barely there pressure on your throat, too out of it to be embarrassed, “Uh huh, thank you, Daddy. ‘Love you.”

“Oh you are so very welcome, mellilla (little honey). Daddy loves you too, more than your bunny brain could ever imagine, don’t you ever forget that.”

It's 2 am by the time you’ve come back to earth. Coryo makes you pancakes with your favorite strawberry syrup after you eagerly show him your appreciation in the shower. He wipes your mouth clean when you’re done with the star shaped pieces. You fall asleep during an elimination on MasterChef, but he’ll rewind it for you tomorrow.

if you liked this, consider leaving a tip or commissioning me !

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kentstoji · 1 month ago

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ㅤ ㅤㅤ‹ CRUEL INTENTIONS.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ‹ 𖤐 pairing. new era! bi-han x gn! reader | platonic! liu kang x reader!

ㅤ ㅤㅤ‹ 𖤐 setting. mk1 timeline.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ‹ 𖤐 type. headcanons. | this part focuses more on reader's relationship with their friends and family than actually adding anything to romance (or in relationships with other yandere). some characters may be ooc, but everything here is for fun and writing exercises.

ㅤ ㅤㅤPART ONE | MEMES | PART THREE.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— Immortality was not a gift but a curse, a heavy anchor. A cruel burden that Liu Kang, a monk who once felt the relentless touch of time, began to bear after gaining control over the sands of time. Since then, the God of Fire and Thunder was left alone with the stories he wove, his creations, and the ghosts of a bittersweet past.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— Geras was a familiar face, but not quite the same. Merely a shadow. Liu Kang was, without a doubt, alone in this timeline, serving his own creations. Over time, he came to understand that, despite all his power, fate did not always respect his scripts.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— It was in that quietude that you appeared in his life: a sweet child, with curious eyes and an easy smile.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— Loving you was easy. For the first time, Liu Kang could realize the fantasies he had shared with Kitana: he finally had a family. Becoming a father became his greatest honor, and he embraced this role with pride. You were his treasure, an unexpected variation in the code he had written, which made you unique in his eyes.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— Liu Kang was a devoted father, always indulging your wishes but also knowing when to set boundaries. Beyond that, he was an excellent mentor. You grew up with everything you needed: knowledge, diplomatic training, and physical strength.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— Johnny Cage, a champion of Earthrealm, would say that your essence was radiant, like a little sun. Inspired by your father's actions, you strove to be kind and strong. Perhaps that’s why it was so easy for you to be seduced by the empty promises of the Lin Kuei Grandmaster. Love, loyalty, honor— qualities you valued and sought in your marriage. But instead, you found a painful betrayal.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— Sektor was a loyal friend, and although you noticed how her gaze lingered on your husband, she never acted on those feelings. You were always grateful for that. When the monks from the Wu Shi Academy came to collect your belongings, she was the first to try and understand your motivations.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— Without hesitation and without shedding a tear, you revealed the truth. Bi-Han had made his choice, and you would respect it, even if it was a foolish one.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ“The Grandmaster wouldn’t be capable of such an offense,” Sektor murmured, shaking her head in disbelief, her braids mirroring her movements. “He respects you deeply.”

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— You laughed. The truth was already public. Everyone in the clan had seen what was truly happening between the Grandmaster and Sareena, who now wore the colors of the Lin Kuei, leaving the scarlet garments behind.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ“I believed that too, but maybe I never truly knew the real Bi-Han. And I don’t even know if I want to.”

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— Even so, you were happy. You still had the support and affection of friends. After your departure, Kuai Liang and Tomas found time to visit you, often bringing Cyrax and Sektor along. These visits warmed Liu Kang’s heart, though he harbored a quiet fury. You were his greatest weakness, and any offense against you was enough to awaken the brutal side he tried to suppress.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— With the distance from Bi-Han, you returned to training and began building new connections. The champions of Earthrealm were captivating companions, each in their own way. Eventually, however, it was inevitable that you would find yourself in your ex-husband’s presence. On one of these occasions, you congratulated him on his victory over the Black Dragon.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ “It was an easy fight,” Sareena replied before Bi-Han. A sharp smile on her lips. “We make a great team, I must say.”

ㅤ ㅤㅤYou laughed, with veiled cynicism. “Of course you do…”

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— Despite keeping up appearances, Sareena’s presence and that of her sisters caused a noticeable discomfort for Liu Kang. But he knew how to hide his feelings. The real tension arose when you and Bi-Han were alone. Your calmness and the innocence he always criticized remained, as if those three years of marriage had never existed.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— The first direct confrontation came from him, during a gathering that Liu Kang had organized. Dressed in the colors of the Academy, you were cheerfully talking with Kung Lao, exchanging cheeky smiles.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ “Now I see why you went back to your father,” Bi-Han growled, once the meeting ended. “To stay close to that weakling?”

ㅤ ㅤㅤYou paused, confused. “Are you being sarcastic?”

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— It was impossible to forget: he had brought another woman into your home, someone with whom he spent more time than he ever had with you. Needless to say, that night ended in a fight. Kuai Liang had to drag his brother away while Tomas apologized repeatedly to Kung Lao and Liu Kang, who watched the scene in disbelief.

#ch:. bi-han #game:. mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #gn!reader #mortal kombat incorrect quotes #self indulgence hc.#yandere subzero #yandere bi-han #yandere bi han #bi han x reader #bi-han x reader #mk 1 x reader #yandere mortal kombat

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commodorez · 3 months ago

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Cactus fascinates me, does it run on code similar to an existing instruction set or is it completely original on that front?

What can you do with it? What's it's storage?

Both the Cactus (the original wooden prototype from years ago) and the new PCB Cactus(es) are essentially derived from a minimal 6502 computer design by Grant Searle for their core logic. Here's what that would look like on a breadboard:

There isn't much to it, it's 32K of RAM, 16K of ROM containing Ohio Scientific's version of Microsoft BASIC, a 6850 ACIA for serial interaction, some logic gates, and of course a 6502 microprocessor (NMOS or CMOS, doesn't matter which). You hook it into a terminal and away you go.

Grant's design in turn can be best described as a distilled, modernized version of the OSI Challenger series of computers. Here's an OSI-400 and a Challenger 4P respectively:

The left one is a replica of the 400 circa 1976, also called the Superboard. It was affordable, endlessly reconfigurable and hackable, but ultimately very limited in capabilities. No BASIC, minimal monitor ROM you talk to over serial, but you could connect it to a bus to augment its features and turn it into a more powerful computer.

Whereas the OSI C4P on the right from about 1979 has more RAM, a video card, keyboard, BASIC built in, serial interface, cassette tape storage, and that's just the standard configuration. There was more room to expand and augment it to your needs inside the chassis (alot changed in 3 years for home computer users).

Grant's minimal 6502 design running OSI BASIC is a good starter project for hobbyists. I learned about the 6502's memory map decoding from his design. I modified and implemented his design on a separate cards that could connect to a larger backplane.

Here are the serial, ROM, RAM, and CPU cards respectively:

Each one is 100% custom, containing many modifications and fixes as I developed the design. However, that's only half of the computer.

I really wanted a 6502 machine with a front panel. People told me "nobody did that", or couldn't think of examples from the 1970s but that seemed really strange to me. Especially since I had evidence to the contrary in the form of the OSI-300:

This one I saw at VCF West back in 2018 illustrates just how limited of a design it is. 128 bytes of RAM, no ROM, no serial -- just you, the CPU, and toggle switches and LEDs to learn the CPU. I was inspired the first time I saw one in 2015 at VCF East, which is probably when this whole project got set in motion.

Later that year I bought a kit for a miniature replica OSI-300 made by Christopher Bachman, and learned really quickly how limited the design philosophy for this particular front panel was. It was a major pain in the ass to use (to be clear, that's by OSI's choice, not any fault of Christopher in his implementation)

So... I designed my own. Took awhile, but that's the core of what the Cactus is: my attempt at experiencing the 1970s homebrew scene by building the computer I would have wanted at the time. Over half of the logic in the Cactus is just to run the front panel's state machine, so you can examine and modify the contents of memory without bothering the 6502. I added in all of the things I liked from more advanced front panels I had encountered, and designed it to my liking.

Here's the original front panel, accompanying logic, and backplane connected to the modern single board computer (SBC) version of the machine:

And here's the new Cactus SBC working with the new front panel PCB, which combines the logic, physical switch mountings, and cabling harnesses into a single printed circuit board.

So, what can you do with it? Pretty much the same things I do already with other contemporary 1970s computers: play around in BASIC, fire up the occasional game, and tinker with it.

I've got no permanent storage designed for the Cactus as yet, it's been one of those "eventually" things. The good news is that a variety of software can be ported to the hardware without too much trouble for an experienced hobbyist. A friend of mine wrote a game called ZNEK in 6502 assembly which runs from a terminal:

Right now, you have to either toggle in machine programs from the front panel from scratch, burn a custom ROM, or connect it to a serial terminal to gain access to its more advanced features:

Here's it booted into OSI BASIC, but I have also added in a modern descendant of Steve Wozniak's WOZMON software for when I need to do lower level debugging.

I've also got a video card now, based on the OSI-440. I have yet to implement a keyboard, or modify BASIC to use the video board instead of the serial connection. Even if I did, screen resolution is pretty limited at 24x24 characters on screen at once. Still, I'm working on that...

Anyway, I hope that answers your question. Check the tags below to see the whole process stretching back to 2017 if you're curious to learn more of the project's history. I'm also happy to answer any more questions you might have about the project.

#cactus #6502 homebrew

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mostlysignssomeportents · 8 months ago

Text

Wellness surveillance makes workers unwell

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in TORONTO on Mar 22, then with LAURA POITRAS in NYC on Mar 24, then Anaheim, and more!

"National conversation" sounds like one of those meaningless buzzphrases – until you live through one. The first one I really participated in actively was the national conversation – the global conversation – about privacy following the Snowden revelations.

This all went down when my daughter was five, and as my wife and I talked about the news, our kid naturally grew curious about it. I had to literally "explain like I'm five" global mass surveillance:

https://locusmag.com/2014/05/cory-doctorow-how-to-talk-to-your-children-about-mass-surveillance/

But parenting is a two-way street, so even as I was explaining surveillance to my kid, my own experiences raising a child changed how I thought about surveillance. Obviously I knew about many of the harms that surveillance brings, but parenting helped me viscerally appreciate one of the least-discussed, most important aspects of being watched: how it compromises being your authentic self:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/blog/2014/may/09/cybersecurity-begins-with-integrity-not-surveillance

As I wrote then:

There are times when she is working right at the limits of her abilities – drawing or dancing or writing or singing or building – and she catches me watching her and gets this look of mingled embarrassment and exasperation, and then she changes back to some task where she has more mastery. No one – not even a small child – likes to look foolish in front of other people.

Learning, growth, and fulfillment all require a zone of privacy, a time and place where we are not observed. Far from making us accountable, continuous, fine-grained surveillance by authority figures just scares us into living a cramped, inauthentic version of ourselves, where growth is all but impossible. Others have observed the role this plays in right-wing culture war bullshit: "an armed society is a polite society" is code for "people who make me feel uncomfortable just by existing should be terrorized into hiding their authentic selves from me." The point of Don't Say Gay laws and anti-trans bills isn't to eliminate gender nonconformity – it's to drive it into hiding.

Given all this, it's no surprise that workers who face workplace surveillance in the name of "wellness" feel unwell as a result:

https://www.ifow.org/publications/what-impact-does-exposure-to-workplace-technologies-have-on-workers-quality-of-life-briefing-paper

As the Future of Work Institute found in its study, some technologies – systems that make it easier to collaborate and communicate with colleagues – increase workers' sense of wellbeing. But wearables and AI tools make workers feel significantly worse:

https://assets-global.website-files.com/64d5f73a7fc5e8a240310c4d/65eef23e188fb988d1f19e58_Tech%20Exposure%20and%20Worker%20Wellbeing%20-%20Full%20WP%20-%20Final.pdf

Workers who reported these negative feelings confirmed that these tools make them feel "monitored." I mean, of course they do. Even where these tools are nominally designed to help you do your job better, they're also explicitly designed to help your boss keep track of you from moment to moment. As Brandon Vigliarolo writes for The Register, these are the same bosses who have been boasting to their investors about their plans to fire their workers and replace them with AI:

https://www.theregister.com/2024/03/14/advanced_workplace_tech_study/

"Bossware" is a key example of the shitty rainbow of "disciplinary technology," tools that exist to take away human agency by making it easier to surveil and control its users:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/01/bossware/#bossware

Bossware is one of the stages of the Shitty Technology Adoption Curve: the process by which abusive and immiserating technologies progress up the privilege gradient as their proponents refine and normalize dystopian technologies in order to impose them on wider and wider audiences:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/24/gwb-rumsfeld-monsters/#bossware

The kinds of metrics that bossware gathers might be useful to workers, but only if the workers get to decide when, whether and how to share that data with other people. Microsoft Office helps you catch typos by underlining words its dictionary doesn't recognize; the cloud-based, "AI-powered" Office365 tells your boss that you're the 11th-worst speller in your division and uses "sentiment analysis" to predict whether you are likely to cause trouble:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/21/great-taylors-ghost/#solidarity-or-bust

Two hundred years ago, Luddites rose up against machines. Contrary to the ahistorical libel you've heard, the Luddites weren't angry or frightened of machines – they were angry at the machines' owners. They understood – correctly – that the purpose of a machine "so easy a child could use it" was to fire skilled adult workers and replace them with kidnapped, indentured Napoleonic War orphans who could be maimed and killed on the job without consequence:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/12/gig-work-is-the-opposite-of-steampunk/

A hundred years ago, the "Taylorites" picked up where those mill owners left off: choreographing workers' movements to the finest degree in a pseudoscientific effort to produce a kind of kabuki of boss-pleasing robotic efficiency. The new, AI-based Taylorism goes even further, allowing bosses to automatically blacklist gig workers who refuse to cross picket-lines, monitor "self-employed" call center operators in their own homes, and monitor the eyeballs of Amazon drivers:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

AI-based monitoring technologies dock workers' wages, suspend them, and even fire them, and when workers object, they're stuck arguing with a chatbot that is the apotheosis of Computer Says No:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/11/robots-stole-my-jerb/#computer-says-no

There's plenty of research about AI successfully "augmenting" workers, making them more productive and I'm the last person to say that automation can't help you get more done:

https://www.ibm.com/thought-leadership/institute-business-value/en-us/report/augmented-workforce

But without understanding how AI augments class warfare – disciplining workers with a scale, speed and granularity beyond the sadistic fantasies of even the most micromanaging asshole boss – this research is meaningless.

The irony of bosses imposing monitoring to improve "wellness" and stave off "burnout" is that nothing is more exhausting, more immiserating, more infuriating than being continuously watched and judged.

Name your price for 18 of my DRM-free ebooks and support the Electronic Frontier Foundation with the Humble Cory Doctorow Bundle.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/15/wellness-taylorism/#sick-of-spying

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #surveillance #workplace surveillance #disciplinary technology #bossware #taylorism #ai #automation unemployment #wellness #health #labor #parenting #luddism

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soullessdianthus · 1 year ago

Text

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 | 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐱 𝐊ö𝐧𝐢𝐠)

Summary: During your stop at the abandoned building a shootout with the enemy begins. You cross your paths with injured König who needs your help.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏

A/N: I'm here to feed you all, because you asked so nicely. ♡ This part contains POV of the Reader and König's. Also, starring Gaz, he deserves more recognition! Y/C ━ Your Codename Poorly translated German ━ correct me if needed!

Warnings: dark humor, reader is eastern european coded, desc. of blood & injuries, mentions of unalived bodies, sexual pictures taken, perv!König?

Word count: 3.2k oops

The night had fallen quickly. Faster than one might have thought. During the sunset, when the crickets hidden in the tall grass were the only sound, the manhunt began.

Task Force 141 and KorTac had to stay for the night at the abandoned factory of sorts, near the forest bordering the village and Austrian mountains – a fortress with many rooms, staircases, exits.

You were slowly getting ready for the confrontation with the terrorist group, the one you’ve been “tracking” for the last couple of days. You sat on the second floor, cleaning your M4 rifle while listening to another story of Gaz. Some of the KorTac soldiers were also following the Britishman's captivating telltales. It was then when you heard the first report of strangers passing by through the radio. Then you heard the shooting.

Everything happened quickly, the situation was getting worse and progressing too fast. How could they sneak up on you like that? The enemy came to you first, this shouldn't have happened.

You stuck to Gaz as you gathered your weapons and began moving towards the staircase. The sounds of gunshots filled the building and the ground surrounding it. Your mind had to stay highly alert, focused on a few simple tasks – push forward, leave the factory and get to the cars. It seemed like there were too many enemy’s forces.

Well, at least that's what you thought, so it was hard to estimate the numbers.

It wasn’t possible to count the time that had passed since you gathered your rifle and followed Gaz’s lead. With his help and the Captain's instructions you managed to get to the ground floor, two of KorTac soldiers joined you on the way.

Three bodies lay limp in a puddle of blood underneath them, corpse’s hand gripping their rifles tightly. You took a quick look at their vests, or rather lack of them, and only then you were sure.

━ He hired mercenaries. ━ You stated quietly to your companion, having in mind the man liable for the terrorist group, as Kyle carefully peeked through the closest corner.

━ Cannon fodder.

His harsh answer was followed by a dead silence. Even the crickets went quiet as something loomed in the air.

━ Gaz, Y/C, still on the way? ━ Ghost’s voice called out for the two of you through the radio.

━ Almost there, sir. ━ Dark skinned sergeant stated, having an eye on the meeting point ahead of him.

Gaz would take the right side of the van, two KorTac soldiers would worry about the left, while you had an eye on your backs. Seemed easy, seemed to be a quick job.

When all of you got closer to the vehicle, holding your weapons high and looking out for any danger, something rolled down on the ground. Almost like a metal bin got under the car’s chassis.

━ Grenade!

There was too little time to react. Your legs pushed off the ground with all of their strength, your body directed at the building. However, you weren’t fast enough. So were not your companions.

Explosion illuminated the area and the fire consumed the military van in its flames. The recoil threw you a few meters away from the place of outbreak, knocking the air out of your lungs.

The squeak.

That fucking squeak.

The agonizing sound was probably the only noise you could hear at the moment as you saw the tongues of fire dancing in the corner of your eye. Right then, your body was reacting and operating on its own.

Some barely palpable thuds made you realize you lied with your cheek in the gravel and dirt.

You didn’t know exactly when you grabbed the M4 into both hands or when you stood up on your shaking legs, slowly heading inside the building again. You cursed in your native language, when your head hurt like it would explode on its own.

There was an exchange of bullets somewhere near you, but still, dazed you couldn’t precisely determine – where and how close. You continued to run towards the building bent in half.

Then suddenly you felt a strong grip tightening around your vest’s strap on the shoulder. A pull so powerful that made you turn around and fall onto the brick wall behind your back.

━ Gaz? ━ You heard the ringing of your own voice, echoing inside of your eardrums. Wait, did you even say his name out loud? Maybe you just imagined you did?

When your back clung tightly against the cold wall (as much as it could, due to your gear), you tried to take a deep breath in.

First, then the second one. A cold, night breeze filled your nose. Only then you felt like you finally could think clearly again.

━ Stay close. We’re moving. ━ The strong accent helped you realize it was König who took you out of the ambush. Now that you knew that, everything made sense – the force he pulled you with? Yeah, the Austrian colonel was like a wild bear.

Quickly you checked your rifle and reloaded it. Your head nodded towards the colonel and he began clearing the way to the nearby staircase. You were going up again, side by side with an Austrian soldier. Well, that probably wasn’t the image of you that your grandparents had in mind.

You were supporting him from his behind, constantly checking the back. The adrenaline from the explosion made you feel painful tension in each limb. It felt like muscle sores after a rough day at the gym. Or sparring session with Ghost.

There was no option to go back and search for Gaz or two KorTac soldiers. If they survived the explosion, they probably escaped into the forest and were fine. Right?

With each powerful yet quiet step he took, another enemy’s soldier got terminated. With your help König cleared the pathway and led the two of you into a more secluded area. A room, your hideout.

You pushed some old, wooden furniture resembling a cabinet over the doors, so no one uninvited entered. You and the colonel had bored up to wait for the reinforcements. The hooded soldier took a peek through the cracked window as you squeezed the radio’s button.

━ Bravo 0-7, do you copy?

Thankfully the silence didn’t last long.

━ Y/C ━ Ghost spoke through the radio. Only you knew that he was in distress, because of his voice. Him and Price probably heard the blast from the other part of the building. ━ Fuckin’ Christ, what was that?

━ They blew up the car. Gaz and I got separated near the tree line, I don’t know where he is. ━ You explained as simply as possible. Eventually your eyes noticed the drops of blood on the old floor. It was fresh. Were you bleeding?

━ Where are you?

Your boyfriend’s voice ripped you out of the deep thoughts. And at that point you understood that it wasn’t you, who was bleeding.

━ In the left wing, second floor. Doors locked. Colonel König saved me from the fire. He’s with me.

Austrian man thanked the fucking heavens he had his face covered by the dark hood. Because the moment you called out his name, his heart skipped a beat. Your pretty eyes under the long eyelashes were locked on him.

━ Stay there until we arrive. Over and out.

When Ghost's voice vanished into thin air, there was a moment of silence between the two of you. He could feel how warm it got in there. Because it was a hot, summer night, right?

━ You’re bleeding ━ you acknowledged, pointing his left thigh. ━ It’s your happy day, colonel. You got stuck with a medic. Sit down and let me see.

Oh, it was a happy day for König for more than the reason he came across a medic while in need.

Because he came across you.

━ I don’t think it’s an emergency, schatz.

━ Your pants are soaked with blood. Let me see.

You put down the weapon and reached out to grab his. He obediently gave you his rifle and sat down near the wall, slowly sliding on its surface. When the emotions began to cool down, his mind began to race. How could he let that happen? How could he, the king, let the bullet of some mercenary damage him?

You kneeled next to the colonel and placed the “first-aid” bag on the floor. At first you tried to take a look at his wound, but a gap the size of a bullet was just too small.

━ I have to slightly incise the pants, I can’t see th–

━ Ja, it’s okay.

König said in a single breath, doing everything in his power not to stare at you for too long. But it was impossible. The way your hands gently inspected the wounded area. The same palms which not so long ago were squeezing the M4 rifle until the knuckles turned white. The same fingers that were holding a child so cautiously a few hours ago.

You grabbed the material of his beige pants and slightly tore the opening.

Unknowingly you tilted your head to the side, assessing the situation. König now knew that he was right. Your touch was as gentle as he had imagined it to be.

━ Hm, I won’t lie, this doesn’t look good ━ you retraced your hands from his leg and began preparing the essential tools. ━ The bullet didn’t hit the artery or veins, but it’s stuck in your muscle. I have to take it out and stop the bleeding, sir.

━ It’s alright, I’m in the good hands, ärztin.

━ I don’t know what that mean, sir. ━ You confessed, a polite smile twisting your dusted cheeks, when you heard unknown German word.

Did he make you blush or was he dreaming? If the colonel was a believer, he would swear to the God he saw you blushing.

━ A doctor. You’ll learn more German during our… ━ now it was him, searching the right word ━ cooperation, would you like that?

His blue eyes roamed over your expressions, changing during the seconds passing by. It was bold of him to ask, too fucking bold perhaps. But he had you within his reach, right under his nose. He couldn’t let you slip so easily.

━ That would be useful, thank you. Now, brace yourself. Take a breath in.

With a pair of gloves you dipped your pointing finger into the wound and scooped the bullet out in an impressive timing.

━ Scheiße! ━ Colonel cursed, clenching his teeth. During his military career he got shot, burned, bones broken, skin cut, hurt too many times to count. Nonetheless, it hurt like a bitch each time he got his wounds patched.

━ I know, I’m sorry, sir. I’m almost finishing.

You took a brand new packaging of gauze and unwrapped it. Swiftly, you inserted the sterile material into the shallow wound with your slender fingers, until the crimson liquid stopped pouring all over his thigh and crotch.

━ Don’t apologize, schatz. You’re doing a good job here.

It was a second, less perhaps, but you looked up at the colonel when he praised your work. And under that hood? He had the smuggest grin ever.

Finally, you tapped the outer side of his thigh, asking him to slightly raise the limb, so you could wrap a bandage around it. You leaned over his lap, two of your hands brushing against his massive legs.

The voices, the fucking voices, made of him a real disrupted man.

König had this impossibly stupid idea of sticking his head out just to get shot, so you could patch him up. You would be his favorite nurse and caretaker. If you happened to find yourself in his arms, we would never let you go.

━ All done. There’s no need to cut the leg off, sir. ━ You jokingly said, leaning back on your knees. The dark humor and sarcastic jokes were your favorite.

His thigh was bandaged, the bleeding stopped, but he needed a stiching, which you could not perform in the middle of a shooting scene. The big man will survive until then.

━ Oh, that’s a good news, doctor. Thank you.

His bright eyes loomed over your figure – neatly sitting on your own knees, clean hands (as you took the bloodied gloves off) resting on the thighs, head facing him. A single strand of your hair that slipped from the braid was stuck to your slightly sweaty forehead.

━ Come here ━ he told you, curling his pointing and middle finger in your direction. The gesture itself meant he wanted you to come closer. So you did, barely narrowing your brows. ━ You have soot all over your face. ━ His giant palm reached your cheek and rubbed the dust and dirt away.

König was used to most of his colleges, if not all of them, being much smaller than him. But it was the size difference between you and him that had his stomach curling with excitement.

━ Danke [ger.: thanks].

━ Bitte [ger.: please].

The moment you two shared was interrupted by the loud steps coming towards the room you’ve been hiding. Without second thoughts, you helped the big bear stand up and handed him a rifle. You quickly pointed at the door and you waited.

You sucked a breath in. Hold.

━ Y/C!

━ Here, sir! ━ You stated, releasing the air with a loud sigh.

The familiar voice of Captain Price eased the tension. There was no need to continue fighting. Both you and König lowered the weapons and the colonel moved the cabinet aside allowing the team to open the doors.

And there was a group of your saviors – Price and lieutenant Riley at the front. Few soldiers in dark suits followed behind them.

Captain of TF 141 moved aside to allow you to leave the small, secluded area. All of you gathered in the corridor, before leaving the building.

━ Thanks for saving our girl. ━ Price said in a lower tone to the colonel. To the Austrian man who outstanded everyone else in the room.

━ We’re a team on this one, aren’t we?

König’s blue eyes met the cold, death stare of lieutenant Riley. It didn’t sit right with Britishman that he was alone with her. With his girl. Simon didn’t care about the context of the situation, he had a childish problem with the colonel of KorTac himself. It was about his attitude towards you.

Perhaps you didn’t notice that and if you did, you saw nothing bad in König’s behavior. But the lieutenant did and it gave him weird feelings.

━ Is Gaz okay? ━ You asked Ghost full of concerns, because Kyle wasn’t present with the rest of the team.

━ Slightly cooked, but he’ll be fine.

“Shit” you thought. First, there was a little accident involving Soap and broken ribs and now poor, smoked Gaz. Your teammates hadn’t have much luck lately.

Perhaps, if not König saving your ass, you’d be wounded badly too.

━ Medevac took care of him ━ Price meddled between you and lieutenant, wanting all of you to gather up and move. ━ We’re headin’ back to regroup, those bastards are gettin’ on my nerves. Also, Laswell’s on the line, waitin’ for report.

His statement was followed by a quick ‘yes, sir’ and the group of survivors moved through the now secured area. König talked with one of his sergeants, trying to assess how many people he lost that day.

Ghost was right behind you all this time, almost like a shadow you cast yourself. But you loved your grumpy shadow with your whole heart.

Without any more issues you got to the untouched by the gunfire cars and left the abandoned factory behind. You took the last glimpse at the building and the lifeless bodies laying around the area through the vehicle’s window.

It was ironic, as a medic you were supposed to save lives, not to end them. And yet, you were surrounded by bones and corpses.

When you came back to the base – a part of the building KorTac company lent to Task Force 141, most of you were dismissed to get some rest before the departure at noon. But not the colonel of KorTac.

The Austrian man visited the doctor who stitched his wound up. Medic praised how well the bleeding was stopped, but König wasn’t surprised at all – he saw how skillful your hands were.

Only if he could feel them on his skin again. Such delicate fingertips sneaking under his shirt, running over his muscles and old scars. But for now, it was only his imagination giving him the wrong ideas.

You were taken, ja? It was wrong to want you for himself.

After the stitching, he had to fill out some documents for his superiors – those on a computer and on paper. It wasn’t much, but it took around an hour or hour and a half. When he was finally done, König walked through the empty hallways towards his own quarters.

He locked the room from the inside and neatly put his combat shoes near the entrance. At least he could have some rest. Or so he thought.

His phone’s screen illuminated the dark room as a notification popped up. The number was unknown. But the moment König tapped with his finger to read the message, he instantly knew who it was from.

His stomach dropped and his jaw slightly opened. The message was a picture with a signature saying “see, how well she’s taken care of?”.

The photo was a visual of your bare upper half pressed against the masculine torso in the way that covered most of your breasts. Your hand was splayed over Ghost’s chest as his muscular arm hugged you from behind, pulling closer. In bed.

The frame did not catch the lieutenant's face at all, but it showed your flushed (or maybe rather: fucked out) face and eyes pressed shut. You still had the remains of dirt on your face, that’s why König knew it’s a recent photo.

The Colonel could not help, but feel how his pants got uncomfortably tighter than before as he sat down on his bed.

König felt the throbbing of his heartbeat in his ears and he pulled the hem of his hood over his nose. He had to breathe. “Take a deep breath, soldat” he kept telling himself.

But his hand unbuckled the belt and trousers on its own and when his heavy cock sprung free from its confinement, König knew there was no way he could stop now.

He began to pump his fist fast, biting on his lower lip, blue eyes glued to the dirty picture of you on his phone. The Austrian man would never get rid of that photo. Never.

Oh, how he wished it was you who helped him calm down after such a mission.

Ghost could never imagine that his text message would bring the opposite outcome of what he intended – to scare the colonel away.

It only fed König's delusions.

TAG LIST: (apologies if I missed someone) @nijiru @squidsal @thefightingdragon @emily-roberts @btszn @ladymacbeth1987 @kingjulian0o9 @leonasbunny @bladedriot

A/N: Obviously the ending was heavily inspired by this imagine → | X |, although I planned it to be a picture before. I can't get enough of perv!König and protective!Ghost. OhmyLord~ Thank you for all your notes, reblogs and nice comments! It means a lot to me! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

#reader insert #cod mwii #cod mw2 #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #könig cod #konig cod #konig #könig #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #konig x reader #könig x reader #konig mw2 #könig mw2 #simon riley x reader

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eyelambspider · 1 month ago

Text

𝟎𝟑. 𝐀𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐩𝐬𝐞 & 𝐀𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐦 || 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞

Day three of Kink/Creeptober! Here is the list of my prompts & event terms!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : john price x gn!reader 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Its the zombie apocalypse, and as a former military man, John Price leads your group to a rooftop in order to get saved. Shortly after, he comes up to you with an offer that surprises you: He wants to fuck you like its the end of the world. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1.6 k 𝐚/𝐧 : although I think this works for both a fem & male reader (I don't describe reader's body in great detail) please lmk if it doesn't and I will change this to fit pronouns! also, the 'saved' scene is very L4D coded 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : smut, nsfw, mentions of death/gore/guns (the zombies), no use of y/n, creampie, dirty talk, praise, kissing, aftercare, fluff, swearing (the least of our problems huh?)

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐊 𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋. Swarms of the undead had sprung up, laying waste to the streets. It had only been a week or so since it had started and news of the virus had gone—quite literally—airborne.

Captain John Price had led the handful of survivors to the abandoned hotel. The bravest of the group took up guns and fired at the undead that lurked in the foyer. While a few women and children held back, knives and makeshift weapons in their hands.

"Come on! Everyone get in!" Price and a few men stood at the bottom of the stairwell, holding the door for everyone to flood in and make their way to the roof. Anxious to reach rescue.

Seven flights up, you pushed the door to the roof open with a bang. Immediately your eyes shot up towards the horizon, searching the skies frantically.

Had you all missed it?

The entire group slowly appeared behind you, Price coming up last. Everyone turning their tired faces towards the military man, searching his face for any sign of hope for their salvation. The only thing that had kept them going for days.

"They'll come," he assured. Although he couldn't really believe the words himself, it seemed everyone else did.

The small group of survivors began to collect themselves, willing to wait as long as it took for rescue. Everyone found something to do. Families began to make spots for the children to sit on with blankets and clothing, water and a bit of food beginning to go around. Some of the men even disappeared down to the seventh floor, clearing it properly of debris and barricading it... unable to stand idle even now.

The sky was filled with a haze of smoke, distant fires and sirens long died out wafting into the air. Polluting the city with the smell of death and ash. It was horrible, even from up here.

Some people couldn't bear to think about it, or begin to believe that the world had ended... You though, you were quite literally staring the apocalypse in the face.

Distant skyscrapers had collapsed, lit aflame like birthday candles. The yellow sun was hidden behind a dreamy haze of smoke. And below, where your eyes traced, the streets were crawling with zombies. Bits of flesh ripped from their faces. Some already bloated and decrepit, while others were still bleeding. Chunks of faces and limbs scattered about like urban trash. It was a mass of flesh, clawing their way towards the loudest noises, groaning and wailing like souls of the damned for just one more meal.

"You'll give yourself nightmares," a voice spoke. The accent had become so familiar during the past few days that you didn't even need to glance over your shoulder to know that Price was walking up to you.

He watched the way the eerie wind lapped at your hair, the way you peered over the edge... his dark eyes unable to read that distant expression on your grimy face.

He really wished he had a smoke right now. A long and deep sigh slipped from his lips as he watched the corpses below the building linger aimlessly like termites. Bumping into each other mindlessly with groans and slobbery hisses. Just looking for their next victim.

Price glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. You weren't really paying attention, but his eyes lingered on the soft curve of your back as you leaned over to look down. He licked his lips, inhaling softly as if to say something before the sounds of choppers began to fill the air.

Zombies and survivors alike turned towards the thunderous sound. Black helicopters flew overhead in the dozens, blotting out the sun with whirring rotors. Although some of the survivor's cheered and waved for help... Price's stomach dropped.

Something wasn't right.

Everyone watched in confusion and despair as the government helicopters flew overhead and passed them by, stirring up smoke as they headed deeper into the city. Oblivious to the people who wailed and cried out in panic for them to come back.

You watched with wide eyes as the rescue slipped right through your fingers like sand in an hourglass.

That night, it all seemed hopeless.

But, as humans always do, they held out miraculously.

Some survivors made a make-shift 'Save Us' sign to hang over the roof using spare bedsheets and gore from the street. Others continued to barricade the floor off, everyone collectively agreeing to start preparing for the long haul.

They had given you a room to stay in, everyone shared a hall, but most families and people that knew each other kept their doors open to chat. Yours was closed, leaving you to stare aimless up at the ceiling. Listening to the sounds of your breath against the clamor of people in the hall trying to comfort each other to the world ending just outside those large windows. Zombies, once people you might've known, growled and screamed for their next face to tear open with their teeth-

Before you could stumble further into despair, the door to your hotel room clicked closed. You sat up and glanced over, that questioning look on your face making Price sigh again, his hands coming to rest on his dusted jeans.

"I have an... offer you might want to here me out on," he tossed his hands up, as if he wasn't exactly sure how to fucking say it-

God, he really wanted to fuck you, and the apocalypse seemed like no better excuse to do just that.

"Fuckk," Price panted against your pulse, his face buried into the crook of your neck, breathing in your very essence each time his hips snapped forwards. "You feel so fucking good," he groaned, sucking a deep red mark into your heated skin.

The two of you were tangled in white sheets. Price had you laying beneath his burly body, your soft legs wrapped around his hips, squeezing and pulling him in deeper. The sensation of Price's cock burying itself to your hilt made the two of you moan into each other with equal fervor. His tip slamming softly into that sweet spot inside of you that both made your eyes roll.

This was everything he fucking needed for the past few days. His mind not focused on rationing or food or all that other shit- God he just wanted your sweet body beneath him like this. Watching your body bounce below him softly from the force of his thrusts. His cock buried so tantalizingly deep into your tight heat. The sound of your skin against his- "Fuckk," he groaned again, nearly tipping over the edge just thinking about it.

You moaned beneath him, holding onto his broad shoulders, fingers skimming over his war-torn skin for purchase, holding on for dear life as the soldier unintentionally gave your body all his pent up energy. When he felt you raise your hips to meet his insistent thrusts, he could've sworn he was in love.

"Price!" You begged. For more, for anything. Everything about him was addicting. The way sweat glistened off his dark brows, the way his soft eyes held yours as he pounded into you, watching every reaction, every breath you took with his pupils blown wide open with pure lust.

He could see how much you loved it, could feel how hard your walls clamped around him.

He shook his head, dipping down again to capture your lips in a heated kiss. "Fuck, I'm not going to last long with you looking like that baby," he whispered.

He kept you under him, enrapturing you with his warm skin and musky scent. Price hiked your left leg up and over his strong forearm, spreading you open for him. Allowing him to sink in deeper with a deep growl of satisfaction.

Price could feel his orgasm beginning to build at the base of his spine, his measured thrusts becoming a sloppier the more he chased it. He knew you were close too, he could feel your body writhing beneath his, begging for more friction, trying to hold him impossibly close.

Even with a horde of the undead standing a few floors below, trapping you all into this hotel. Even with the sounds of distant helicopters and fires raging in the background, or the incessant creak of the bed every time your bodies met... All you could hear was each other. Blocking out the world just to listen to those sweet cries and those low growls of satisfaction.

With one powerful thrust, Price came inside of you with a guttural moan, smothering the sounds of his orgasm into your neck. He kept thrusting, riding out the heavenly high he got from your body... even when he felt you squeeze down on him with one final cry.

The strong man above you suddenly went a little limp in your arms, his lips brushing against the burning shell of your ear as he panted, "That was fucking perfect." He found himself chuckling, the two of you spent from the exertion.

Price felt you whimper below him, feeling your legs tremble around him with a sly grin. You were going to feel that in the morning... Inner thighs already feeling sore.

"I got ya," Price grunted, untangling himself from your limbs. His muscular arm never leaving your waist even as he settled behind you under the sheets, making the two of you comfortable by pulling the blanket back up. He cradled you close to him, your back pressed against the hard planes of his chest. "Get some sleep," he murmured, planting a soft, almost weary, kiss to your temple. As if the act was suddenly too intimate and out of place in a burning world.

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unholyhelbig · 9 months ago

Note

request: oversight au, nat and reader run into reader’s ex or ronnie’s father who was abusive to them… how will mob nat react?

Title: Old Flames [An Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: When reader has an unexpected run-in with an old flame and things go less than well, Natasha takes things into her own hands.

Warnings(PLEASE READ): Talks of past domestic abuse, talks of abortion, buried alive references, broken glass, blood (always), Heights, threatening statements, non-consensual kiss, horrible grammar (aways).

[a/n: Okay, I had way too much fun with this. While I loved writing the main story, it's also super great to branch out into some more dynamics with Mob Boss Nat, because I haven't made her mean enough yet.]

Check out the full Oversight universe

The apartment building on the corner of twelfth and Hawke was a large midcentury brick building that structure that stretched to the sky. A metal fire escape latticed up the side and stretched clotheslines dripping with shirts and pants connected it to the adjacent building that had long since been used for storage.

Up until this point, you had avoided this building. Luckily, the tenants were quite timely with their rent and left little need for an enforcer to knock door to door. But it was right after the holidays and things were tough. That much, you understood. But it didn’t’ change the fact that three units were more than two months behind on their rent.

Them, you could appeal to with hot chocolate and some gentle urging. But according to Clint, there was a particularly nasty group of people living on the top floor that had gotten multiple noise complaints thrown their way.

The address hadn’t seemed familiar until you stood at the entrance and got a good look at the golden door that contrasted the rest of the structure. You’d written the code to the door on your palm, and you were having trouble differentiating the last number. It was a zero, or it was an eight.

“Gross, you’re sweaty.” Kate had pulled your hand a small distance from her scrutinizing stare, trying to read the smeared purple markings. “I knew we should have used the napkin.”

The woman dropped your hand and stepped up to the small box on the side of the entryway. She hit every button known to man until the fragile voice cracked through the speaker. “Yeah, uh-huh, pizza. I have pizza. Pepperoni-“Her ramblings were cut off by the loud buzz in.

You were treated to an innocent smile as she wrenched open the door and allowed you to follow her in. She was innovative, annoyingly so. Most of the time it worked in your favor but sometimes you found her testing your temper just to prove a point. Thankfully, she hadn’t noticed your hesitation.

It was coming back to you now; the large entryway that was lined with lock and key mail slots and a bolstered wooden staircase that was scarcely used compared to the elevator. Natasha kept good care of the place, had repainted and made sure every single lightbulb was humming in synch.

Some would say that she improved the neighborhood, block by block. But there were still those who liked the way things used to be; living paycheck to paycheck with an angry and withering stare being sent your way with each collection call.

“I’ve got Miss Henderson.”

“Oh, come on.” You protested “She sounds so cool.”

Miss Henderson was an older woman who lived on the fifth floor. Most of the time, her rent was late because it had simply slipped her mind. One look at Kate and she’d write a check before offering some of the sweetest cookies you’d ever tasted, often sending her back with a plateful.

From what you had heard, she used to travel with a circus as an acrobatic performer. Her act was death-defying; a performance that relied on her partners quick bladework. The Swordsman and his Enchantress. There were illustrations of their travels hung up around her unit- ones that you would kill to see.

“Too bad, next time.” Kate mock pouted at you before clapping you on the back. “Don’t make too much of a mess up on the top floor, alright? I don’t want to scrub carpets today.”

She took the stairs two at a time and left you alone in the lobby. A cool blast of wind hit your back as a tenant walked in with their dalmatian, pink tongue lolling to the side as his owner checked the mail, barely sparing you a glance.

The type of New York residents that occupied this space had changed greatly. The last time you’d been here was a walk of shame that left your feet raw and bleeding. You’d rushed from the apartment with so much fever that you never returned for your shoes, or your dignity, for that matter.

This time, you had shoes on, ones that you had scrubbed free of blood until they looked presentable. They were leaden on the stairs up to the top floor. Once you reached the fifth, you could hear Kate’s distinctive laugh behind the oak door. At least she was close.

The top floor was nearly silent. You could hear a television, a hockey game that you’d been listening to sparingly on the way over here. It sounded like Toronto was pulling through. The sound of a beer cracking pulled you away from the muffled announcers words.

A radio was resting in an upper window. You and Kate had heard it from the street below, a French Pop station that you could barely make out the words of. French was never your strong suite, one language requirement in high school was enough for you.

Silently, you prayed, that it was a coincidence. That the radio didn’t’ belong to the very men that you were meant to speak to. They were flighty, you told yourself. They weren’t ones to stay and if they chose to stick around after all these years- well, you’d be impressed.

You knocked twice on the center door, the deep forest-green paint threatening to chip under the elements. The music stopped abruptly, and while you could hear that someone was whispering quietly in French, you couldn’t make out the words.

The man that opened the door was too familiar for your liking; his pale waxy skin, his deep brown eyes that were so dark they were almost black, the tattoos that were smattered in different designs against his throat, down his collarbone. Pockmarked on his arms. His hair was longer than you remembered, greasier and tied up in a bun.

He took you in for a singular moment, shock reflecting in his stare, but before he moved to shut the door. You stopped the action with one strong hand, putting your boot between the frame and the wood for extra measure. “Don’t be like that, Kazi.”

“All these years, and now you’re coming back for child support?”

He raked his eyes up and down your body in a way that made you feel violated. You held your stance. He seemed impressed by the bout of strength.

You tsked “if I wanted child support, I would have gone after it by now. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

He scratched under the sleeve of his tank-top, considering you the same way you considered him. Eventually, he seemed to figure he had nothing to lose pulling the door back and letting you enter the apartment. Waves of memory washed over you.

Kazi still had the same futon covered in the same ratty blanket. There was a kitchen table that was stacked with different folders that he would never, in a million years, let you view. A blue funnel was drying on the dishrack, and countless liquor bottles that had been emptied and cleaned were lined up, ready to be filled with the slightest bit of homebrewed alcohol.

He was still running the same scam after all of these years. You remembered liking the danger about him, the way his stubble felt against you when you straddled him. He’d been so alluring to a good girl like you. He would street race at night with another guy you’d met a handful of times, Robbie Reyes.

God, you had been so naive back then. He was drawn in by your innocence and you were entrapped by his experience. If only you knew where you’d end up in seven years; with Kazi’s biological daughter being raised by the most powerful woman in the city.

The moment you told him you were pregnant, he told you bluntly to get rid of it. That same night, he’d thrown an empty liquor bottle at you, just barely missing your head. You’d refused outright and accepted his anger in turn. Glass shards cut into the soles of your feet, and stained the snow all the way back to your dorm room.

The way he stared at you now infuriated you. “What do you want, then?”

“You’re two months late on rent.”

“I figured you’d keep tabs. Most women do. But my rent? That’s a new one.”

You picked up a small paperweight that you remember being fond of when you returned to this apartment after a first date where Kazi was a perfect gentleman. He’d bought dinner, and walked you back to his place. The glass object was tinted yellow, a small mosquito suspended in the center. He must have gotten it in a museum gift shop.

“Truthfully, I’m shocked you still live here.” You tested the weight of the object. “Most landlords aren’t very lenient about tardiness.”

“Yeah, well. She’s not very attentive. What can I say?”

Oh, but Natasha was quite attentive in more than one aspect, at that. You couldn’t’ help the smile that spread against your lips. Kazi was growing agitated with your presence, always quick to temper.

With all the strength you could muster, you threw the paperweight at the wall directly behind him. In its innate cheapness, it shattered into a million pieces, littering the carpet and slicing little bites into his skin. Kazi flinched and covered his face with his arms.

“Fuck! Y/n, what the hell!” He screamed.

“You have two weeks to backdate the rent, Kazi. Another week to get us this month’s amount. That sounds reasonable to me. Attentive, even.”

He reached into the back of his sweatpants and pulled out a silver Kimber, pumping the top chamber and aiming it at you with a shaky hand. He was too lax with his hold. A pinprick of crimson was dripping from a cut on his cheek.

“Come on, Kazi. It’s not the end of the world. I’m sure you can push some half-rate liquor. Sell a few of your gold fillings, and come up with the money my employer is required.”

“Employer? You work for that… monster?”

“Now, there’s a big word.” You closed the distance between the two of you, not giving him a moment to react before you wrenched the gun from his hand and threw it onto that ratty old blanket that adorned the futon he’d found on the side of the road. “So much horrible implication behind it too. You shouldn’t name call.”

Your boots crunched against the shattered glass. Kazi was barefoot, he flinched as flesh was dug into by uneven shards. You could smell the rancid coffee on his breath. He had a mole just on small of his nose.

“What happened to you?” he whispered, “Where’s that girl that stormed out of my apartment because she didn’t get her way?”

“A lot can change in seven years, Kaz.” You glanced around his apartment. “Well, most people change. Some people don’t go anywhere in life.”

Kazi pressed forward, his dry lips suddenly against yours. You froze in an instant, appalled by the acrid taste of cigarettes and stale morning coffee that he had no-doubt heated up in the microwave and drank black. The kiss was strong, rushed and painful in the way that his teeth knocked against yours.

It took less than a second for you to push him away. His head hit the cabinet behind it, rattling the glasses inside. Your hand was splayed out on his chest, nails digging into the stained tank-top he wore. He grinned wolfishly at you. Your teeth had dug so hard into his lip that it drew blood.

“I like this rough version of you, sweetheart. It’s hot.”

You reeled back and slapped him across the face with as much force as you could muster in your close proximity. The radio in the window seemed to flicker out of power at that moment, or maybe they had just run out of shitty pop music to play. Either way, the two of you were engulfed in silence.

“Shit, baby, hit me again!”

He had no idea how much you wanted to abide by that, though, you were quite positive that it would do nothing but spur on his arousal. This wasn’t going to work. If he kept pushing the way he was, you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from pulling your own weapon.

It suddenly became too much, standing in the middle of this time-capsule of an apartment. The memories were too strong. When the two of you were together, everything you did was for his benefit. And while this had been fun at first, testing him like this, it was too much.

You grabbed the collar of his sweat-soiled shirt, wrapping it around your fingers with enough force to tear the fabric away. “Two weeks, you fucking asshole. If you don’t have the money by then, I’m sure the city will have a fun time scrubbing your brain matter from the sidewalk.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” He sneered.

You pressed your booted foot down on the top of his, listening as the glass dug deeper into the soft skin. This time, he did cry out in pain, the grinding of pieces close to bone making his eyes water. You placed your hand over his mouth, muffling his protest. “I will make your miserable existence a living hell, with or without the money, for what you did to me. Do you understand?”

“You’re so full of shit-“ you pressed your full weight down and you squirmed under your hold. “Yes! Yes, I get it. Fuck!”

You pulled yourself away from Kazi entirely, straightening his shirt. He was slumped against the counter, staring at you with pure rage in his eyes. He shifted his full weight to his other foot, grimacing at the edged stain on the wooden floor.

“You should really clean that up.” You gritted, mouth still tasting of stale smoke. “Glass can be dangerous, Kazimirez.”

By the time you got to the car the only thing on your mind was taking the hottestshower possible. You’d pawed through Kate’s glovebox rather frantically and counted it a small blessing that that there was a single unwrapped piece of gum at the very bottom.

She cringed as you popped it in your mouth and let the minty dusty taste coat your tongue. If you could, without raising suspicion, you would have dumped solvent on it, just to take the taste of Kazi out of your mouth.

“I don’t know how long that’s been in there.” Kate said, watching you warily as you picked up her water bottle and downed half of that too. It seemed to take the rest of the rancid flavor away.

“I don’t care”

“You should care, I bought this car used.” She frowned, tapping her fingers against the wheel. “Okay, I didn’t’ buy it. I bought the license plates though, that’s my civic duty.”

Her words were enough for you to roll your window down and toss the gum from it. Despite your profession, you weren’t a very good liar. Not when it came to Natasha. She’d ask you about your day like usual and you’d crumble under her seemingly innocent gaze.

Nothing Natasha did was innocent.

“What happened up there?” Kate asked.

The two of you were well out of the city by now, and still had about a half-hour until you got to the mansion. The family liked their privacy, and after a year of living there permanently, so did you.

When you didn’t answer right away, she kept going. “Because I got cookies. Nearly choked on one when Miss Henderson insisted on a private show. It’s seriously a wonder that a woman her age can still bend like that.”

“Katie,” You warned, “Gross.”

“Impressive actually. She kept her clothes on, which I am eternally grateful for. It looks like you had a more eventful visit with the French dudes upstairs.” She scoffed, “Who the fuck is French anymore?”

You rolled your eyes and slumped further into your seat. Kazi was French. You used to crumble when he gave you the choppiest lines that he could remember. According to him, the language is harder to speak than it is to read and write. You never questioned him, just like you didn’t question a lot of things.

“I have a… history with the man who rents 807.”

“A history, or a… history?”

“The first one. The second one. Shit- I don’t know, both! He’s Ronnie’s dad.”

Kate slammed on the brakes with enough force for a layer of rubber to be peeled from the tires of her mostly stolen care. The seatbelt cut into your neck and you figured yourself lucky that you’d taken a back road that was rarely used, god forbid she cause an accident.

“Dude!” You shouted as she put the car into park.

Kate twisted her entire body in the seat, placing her hand on the back of your seat. The motor was sputtering wildly, trying to compensate for her abrupt stop. Something had to be damaged, you thought, with her force on the pedal.

“Don’t dude me. Are you really that dense? If you haven’t noticed, Natasha is possessive over her things. And you? Well, you’re one of her favorite things. She’s not going to take this well in the slightest.”

“Kate, I think I know how to handle my girlfriend.”

“No, you know how to handle Natasha, the sweet, loving woman who would die for you and your child. Admirable, really. But you don’t know how to handle Miss Romanoff, mob boss extraordinaire.”

But you had seen Natasha in action before, countless times. She’d always kept this calm coolness about her that you were in awe of. Maybe Kate was right. You’d only seen a fraction of her jealous side at the first party you had ever attended in the house. That night she ripped the dress she’d picked out specifically for you to shreds.

“I was dating a man named Eli when I was first taken in by the Romanoff’s, He turned out to be… not so favorable despite my constant reassurances. Natasha just knows. She had him dig a grave right off I-25 and then she made him lay in it.”

Your jaw threatened to drop at the simple fact. Kate removed her hand from the back of the seat and eased off the brake before she slowly got the two of you back up to an acceptable speed.

“All Eli did was cheat on me one night in a club. It wasn’t great, but I wasn’t sure if it warranted that kind of reaction. I never knew if she was proving a point to me, or to Eli. Either way, the smallest offense against any of us is met with archaic conviction.”

You didn’t respond to Kate, instead you stared at the trees that were whizzing by in a lush green wall of color. You’d decided that she was right- any type of reaction Natasha was going to have to Kazi would be severe.

“You’ll be fine.” Kate tapped her fingers nervously on the wheel, trying to backtrack her words. “As long as he didn’t’ touch you.”

It didn’t seem to matter how ferociously you scrubbed your skin with the honey scented soap you shared with Natasha, you swore you still smelled like smoke. It clung to your clothes, and lingered in the air after you’d shoved them to the bottom of the clothes basket.

The water was blazingly hot, filling the bathroom with a thick mist that made it slow to breathe. Natasha had chosen a dark blue tile that seemed to transport you into another world. Even without the scaring remembrance of Kazi’s lips against yours, his hands where you didn’t want them, you could stay here for hours.

Her hands were freezing cold and startling as they splayed against your naked stomach. You let out a small noise, going rigid before registering Natasha behind you. Her front was pressed against your back, and you’d know the curve of her body anywhere.

“Izvinite, moya lyubov', I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You turned in her arms and took in the state of her. She’d stripped down just as you had, small drops of water littering her skin like a constellation in the sky. She’d been in the sun today, a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose giving her away.

There was a bruise forming against the side of her jaw, one that you ran your waterlogged fingers over. Her eyes were an intoxicating shade of green, playing off the indigo tiles. You wanted to scold her for getting the bruise in the first place, but you were so entrapped by her simple presence, the way she fit so perfectly against you.

Natasha closed the distance between you both, pressing her lips against yours in a hurried kiss. You moaned into the embrace, allowing her tongue to find purchase in your mouth. God- you had missed her in the short few hours you’d been apart.

“Did you take up smoking?” she asked, barely pulling away, the words were spoken flushed to your lips. “It’s a terrible habit, darling.”

The glovebox gum hadn’t done its job, and apparently the swish of mouthwash and subsequent teeth brushing hadn’t done anything either. Of course, Natasha noticed. Of course. You weren’t going to try to hide it, though the thought did occur to you to save some heartache. But you were hoping you could placate her in a less slippery spot of the house when you were less naked and incredibly turned on by her presence.

A groan of a different cadence than she was used to escaped you as you dropped your head to her shoulder and clenched your eyes shut. “No, I didn’t take up smoking.”

“You taste like you have,” She gently led your eyes to hers. It was tender compared to the first time she had done so. “Licking ash trays again?”

“Gross, no.”

Natasha valued honesty above all. That much had been clear from the moment you met her. She’d nearly taken your head off in the gym when you repeated your one-night-stand with the enemy. The devil incarnate who happened to only be decent in bed. You remembered her hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough for you to give her the answers she craved.

“What is it, pet? You can tell me.”

“Do you… I’ve been with men before.”

She let out a small chuckle that reverberated off the deep tile. “Yes, I know. I didn’t want to make assumptions, of course, but Ronnie does have a father.”

The way you stared at her in the silence that followed the statement made the smile on her face falter until it dropped entirely. She must have seen something behind your eyes, something that weighed the situation down more than she was intending on a typical Wednesday night.

“I’d completely blacked it out and didn’t realize it until I stepped foot into the lobby, but he still lives in the same apartment on the top floor. He thought I was after child support, or something but things sort of… escalated.”

You felt like a child, spilling your secrets about a vase you had broken. This time it was a cheap paperweight with a bug in the center that you frankly felt bad for. The words came out like emotional vomit, granted, Natasha had become used to your rapid admissions.

Her grip tightened against your chin, “Escalated how?”

“He kissed me, and I hit him hard enough to break his jaw.”

That same silence enveloped you again. The scalding water had lost its effect, numb and beating against your back. The two of you were still impossibly close and there wasn’t much escape for you in a shower this size. The glass door having fogged up and only giving you a stunted view of the large bathroom.

Natasha had an immeasurable rage behind her stare, her lidded expression ran as dark as old blood. It chilled you to your core. She reached beside you and shut off the constant flow of water. You’d been in here for about an hour now and the cold air that touched your skin felt like an assault of needles. You instinctively wrapped your arms around your center to preserve warmth.

“He laid his hands on you.”

“Yeah, Nat, he did.”

“He touched you.”

“I gave him hell for it, but it didn’t seem like it was enough.”

“Without permission.”

“He’ll never do it again.”

Whatever split-second decision she made; it was done without the usual calculation behind her eyes. She threw the door to the shower open and forcefully shoved a towel into your arms. While you revered in the warmth, you watched as she sauntered in her usual way out of the bathroom and into your shared bedroom. She was dripping wet.

“Natty!” You stumbled over the partition and nearly slid on the bathroom floor. It was much colder outside of your cocoon of warmth and subsequent mist. She thankfully hadn’t left the room and was pawing through her side of the dresser. You nearly lost your footing once you reached hardwood. “Fuck,”

She seemed to find what she was looking for, a plain black tank top that hugged her sides and looked entirely uncomfortable to wiggle into while damp. You watched with baited breath in a sloping towel as she adorned herself with underwear and pants, before turning towards you.

“Get dressed.” She ordered in a dangerous tone.

Shit. She was going to make you dig your own grave. You’d just showered all of the grime from Kazi’s apartment off and in a matter of minutes you would have dirt up to your knees. Natasha may have let Eli live after his blunder, but maybe she’d cover you completely and let you suffocate in your own efforts.

Numbly, you put on a pair of sweatpants and the closest shirt you had. There was no need to get dressed for your own funeral, you supposed. The worms would chew through whatever you wore regardless.

Clint was stretched out on the chase in the foyer, a pair of thick-lensed glasses balancing on the tip of his nose. Regardless, he still squinted at the book in his hands. You wondered why he wasn’t in the living room, but caught a glimpse of a particularly intense game of twister between Ronnie, Yelena, and Kate.

Darcy held onto the board, flicking the small plastic needle and calling out the colors. When Kate clocked the anger in Natasha’s eyes, she dropped to her back, taking down Yelena and Ronnie with her.

She gave you a pleading look, but you were already too far gone to return anything other than a flushed expression. You followed obediently after Natasha. She opened the front door and watched you with a calculated expression before slamming the front door hard enough to shake the glass fronting.

“Get in the car.”

“Do you want me to grab a shovel?”

“What?”

She contemplated this for a minute, growling softly. The near silence was terrifying. Her arms crossed over her chest was terrifying. Your mouth with incredibly dry, and you wished that you were back under the constant stream of water.

“No. I don’t think we’ll need that. Get in the car.”

Numbly, you did as you were told, placing your hands in your lap. This was quite possibly the last time you would be sitting in any car, much less, next to Natasha. She reached across you and pulled your seatbelt into place, tugging on the upper portion until she was sure you weren’t going anywhere.

The tires picked up traction on the gravel and the drive that usually took an hour seemed to whiz by. Natasha was quiet, the route to the city more than familiar by now. She run her hands against the steering wheel until her knuckles were white. You could hear her breathing deeply, trying to ease her nerves. You didn’t dare say a word.

For a moment, you figured that she’d abandoned the idea of burying you alive and switched her ideals to something much more sinister and public. She pulled her car up to the front of the very building you had left a few hours ago, the sun just barely setting behind the skyline. You blinked at her, and then up at the very property that she owned.

“Come on.”

There was no room for discussion. The air here was clouded with the scent of smoke and the coolness of the cement structures around you. It was moments like these where you much preferred the country.

Of course, Natasha knew the code, she had recited it to you earlier as you and Kate ate lunch by the docks, stretched out on the hood of her car. It was wrong then and your nerves were too elevated to pay attention now. She got in without the theatrics.

There seemed to be more activity as the day for working folks began to wind down. Two people halted their conversation by the mail-slots, nodding solemnly at the woman. On the third floor, you caught a glimpse of a woman struggling to push her keys into the lock, juggling her gym bag. The sixth floor held a small boy who darted from one apartment to another, edging across the hall.

She kept climbing until that same irritating French pop filled your ears. He must keep it on at all hours of the day, just to drown out his own miserable thoughts. “What apartment?”

You lifted your chin slightly, hands shoved in the pockets of your sweatpants to ward off the biting chill. “807.”

“Spasibo, lyubimyy.”

Natasha’s booted foot connected with the center of the very door you had politely knocked on earlier in the day. You flinched, covering your face with a guarded arm. The wood of the doorframe seemed to splinter, slivers reigning across both sides of the entrance.

“What the fuck!”

Kazi was hunched over the kitchen table, the funnel that had been drying by the sink was positioned perfectly in the mouth of a soaked and peeled liquor bottle. He had a stack of his own labels ready to place evenly on the finished product. Both of his feet were haphazardly wrapped with gauze, small sprouts of blood worming through the soft material.

He’d taken care to clean up the glass, but with the way Natasha headed straight towards him, that didn’t matter much. More of it fell to the floor and shattered upon impact. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and started walking him backwards across the living room. Kazi seemed too stunned to speak, his words caught in his throat.

“I-I-I didn’t mean it! Please!”

“When you speak to me, you’ll do it clearly.” She gritted, shoving him towards the window. Somewhere in the scuffle, the radio had fallen from its perch on the cracked windowsill, crashing to the alleyway below with one last fizzled cry. “You had no trouble saying whatever you wanted earlier, did you?”

“I’m sorry! Fuck! I told that bitch I would have the rent!”

“Yeah? Was that before or after you shoved your tongue down her throat?”

Natasha bent Kazi’s torso fully over the screenless window. He grasped frantically at her hands, clawing at them as the balanced him over the long drop to the pavement below. His bare feet kicked, trying to throw her off her equilibrium, but he was much too weak for any type of damage.

“You walked out on them.”

“What? Oh, my god, what?! I told her to get rid of it- I didn’t walk out on anyone! You’re batshit lady!”

To you, it didn’t’ seem very wise to throw insults at the woman holding you above an eight-story drop, but Kazi never was known for his intelligence. His bravado, maybe, but never anything more. He looked so small compared to Natasha’s anger.

“She didn’t get rid of it, Kazi. She kept the kid that you couldn’t have bothered to give another thought to. She made a life for both of them. She fucking loves that kid enough to fill the absence you left.” Natasha let her hand slip, letting him waver in his height for a moment before pulling him back up. He was crying, sobbing for his life. “And you have the nerve, to touch her, to break her and then come rushing back when she was strong enough to pick up the pieces?”

“I wasn’t ready,” he moaned out “I couldn’t be a dad.”

“It seems like there are a lot of things you can’t do, doesn’t it? You’re a pathetic excuse for a man. A pathetic excuse for a human being and once we leave here- I never want to see your face in my city again. Am I clear?”

Kazi let out another course of intelligible, wet, words. His back was nearly breaking under the force of Natasha’s hold, her knee directly up against his crotch, pushing down with all the strength she could muster.

“Y/n, I think this is a teaching moment, don’t you?”

The softness of her words as she addressed you caught you off guard. There was no malice. In fact, she beckoned to you as if she was calling you into the living room to join her under the blankets for a movie. Your heart raced fast enough for your chest to ache as you closed the distance between you both.

“See, the trick is making them think that you’re going to let them go.”

She said this to you as if Kazi wasn’t a slobbering mess under her touch. He’d carved little half-moon marks against the tops of her hand, some of them starting to leak blood with the sheer force of his struggle.

“You have to get creative with the fear aspect. If they think they’re going to die, it tends to work in our favor. Doesn’t it, Kazi?”

“Please,” He whimpered, “I’ll do whatever you want. I’m sorry, y/n, I’m sorry.”

Natasha did the seemingly impossible, she pushed him further out the window, his calves struggling for purchase against the drywall. “Oh, now that simply won’t do. You must keep her name out of your mouth.”

“In situations like these, darling, it’s best to keep full control. If he was anything other than wretched, then maybe you’d have to worry about him fighting back. You’ll get some people like that, but that trick is having leverage, literal and physical in cases like this.”

“I see,” You let the words escape you in a single breath “and how long do we play this game?”

“Until they know it’s not one.”

It took little effort for Natasha to push Kazi the rest of the way out the window. In spite of his clinging grip, the force of gravity was enough to do the work for her. His cry stunted in his throat and it only took a few seconds for a dull thud to echo through the alleyway, followed by the unmistakable sound of a car alarm going off.

With a small gasp, you leaned over the window yourself, staring down at the white Toyota that now had a sizeable dent in the top, the windshield spiderwebbing. Kazi let out a groan that you could hear from up here, blinking up at the sky with malice and shock in his eyes.

“Nat,” You breathed.

“Please, eight stories is survivable. Some people need to be taught a lesson.” She shrugged, pulling you back into the apartment by the sleeve of your shirt. “I’ll pay for the car repairs, if that makes you feel better, detka.”

“You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“Of course I did.” She reached forward and cupped both of your cheeks, forcing you to look at her. It was impossible to ignore the gesture, the words that she had said with so much blind passion. Tears threatened to overtake your waterline. “moya lyubov', he put his hands on you without permission and before that… before that he hurt you in ways unimaginable. I meant every word I said.”

You could hear sirens in the distance, a hazard of living in the city. They could be for Kazi, you supposed, something to take care of the surely broken ribs and the bruised ego. But, they could be for something more important.

You pushed forward and kissed Natasha delicately. You wanted to be impossibly close to her. Most gestures you had received in the past had come in the form of flowers, maybe the occasional box of chocolate from the drug store. Once again- Natasha had proved something to you.

Her chuckle vibrated into the kiss, “Mm, we should probably leave.”

You couldn’t agree more. You wanted to get out of this stupid apartment that was teeming with memories of your time with Kazi. The way he claimed his love for you, and forced you to make a horrible decision all in one exhale.

As the two of you walked down the long and winding steps, Natasha asked, “What was with the shovel thing?”

You laughed, suddenly feeling foolish for fearing Natasha in the first place. Her silence caused waves, and somehow, that was worse than if she’d threatened you outright, something that she never did with much heat.

“Kate, she told me about her ex-boyfriend, Eli, I think she said his name was.”

“Ah, Eli.” She frowned, “He cheated on her, and I only made him dig for an hour.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me, as long as you never make me dig my own grave.”

“I would never do that. There is no punishment in things you can’t control.” Natasha gave your hand a squeeze, her solemn words punctuated with a slowly creeping smile. “Besides, detka, that’s simply not my style. It was much too messy.”

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife@a-spes, @kyleeservopoulos]

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanov #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha ROmanoff x you #Natasha Romanov x y/n #Natasha Romanov x you #Natasha Romanov x reader #Mafia au #Yelena Belova #Kate Bishop #Clint Barton #Reader insert #request

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absolutebl · 3 months ago

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This Week in BL - Getting hot under the collar and in the kitchen and on the pool table and...

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Aug 2024 Week 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs Gaga ) eps 3-4 of 12 - one of the things I'm enjoying about this show is the fact that the introverted super shy uke is having hot fantasies, and the extroverted seme is having the sweet fantasies. It's another way this show is highlighting God being the world's greenest flagged seme BL has ever produced. (And he's being given stiff competition this year - trend alert.)

Anygay: God is so cute and so not cool and so in love and all the consent asking word salad coming out of this boy. I LOVE him.

Diew: It’s ep 4 so I’ve decided we can talk face-to-face. God: So how many children do you want?

The teaching him to play basketball bit, where God politely asks to hold his hand, is so freaking adorable I can’t.

I'm thinking of calling this show the anti-Mame pill.

Blue pill? Red pill? GREEN pill!

My Love Mix-Up Th (Fri YT) ep 11 of 12 - We gotta talk. I do like this version, but it’s starting to feel lackluster. Perhaps it always was by comparison to the bright sparkle uniqueness of the original. Perhaps I didn't notice because I was distracted by G4. But now I gotta say it's become a bit disappointing and even my love for G4 can’t seem to bind me to this. Frankly, this show is making me want to watch either the Japanese version, or My School President. It’s never a good sign when a currently airing BL makes me want to stop that and go rewatch an old one I’ve already seen.

NO SINGING.

Meanwhile, the "locked on the rooftop" trope! I haven’t seen that one in years. Cool. Also cute kisses. They learning.

This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans (Fri iQIYI) ep 7 of 8 - I can’t believe this is ending next week. But also I can. And I have thoughts.

I really love SailubPon. They might be one of my favorite newer pairs on the scene right now. But I just don’t believe in these characters or this couple. I don’t feel like they are going to have a lasting relationship. It feels like they’re just using each other for sex and distraction, and that’s how the script to set it up, and as a result they’re never gonna make it as a couple. As soon as the sexual fire between them burns out, what do they have to build a relationship on? Frankly? That would be fine if this were a modern love drama, and not a BL. But this IS a BL.

Putting the health code violators aside, I really do believe in the secondary pair, but they haven’t been given enough bandwidth to develop as a couple. There’s no way they’re going to adequately resolve Methas and JJ in the final episode.

At this juncture, I’m mostly finding this show annoying. Which in itself is annoying, because I wanted to love it.

Why is it that Thailand, the land of the best food in the world, king of BLs, struggles so hard to produce the restaurant set BL of my dreams? I’m really pissed about this.

That said, the Methas & JJ stuff is killer. Loved JJ running away. So good. Plus the age old decision - love or money?

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 2-3 of 12 - The issue was me and I've managed to get hold of this show again. The story within the story is so ridiculously badly written I'm going spare. I’m not sure if the outside show is not ALSO badly written. That said, I do love how the 3 writer friends are all shipping our leads. It’s VERY silly. Meanwhile, cohabitation trope is a go.

I like the side couple too. Stern Daddy + lost puppy is a very cute dynamic, I hope we get more than just crumbs. I actually am enjoying this show now. Ep 3 kinda derailed into this weird chimera novel that they’re all writing together and I’m finding that bit the least interesting, but I adore the domestic components which I think may turn out to be TutorYim's strength (if they're allowed to lean into it).

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 1 of 10 - Man I hope this gets some kind of distribution at some point. It was a pain to find and watch. But I enjoyed it. The focus is more on the seme in Thailand’s version. Which I don’t mind since that's rare in BL, and it’s more August on my screen. It’s all round softer than China’s version but still feels very familiar. I know some fans are struggling with it, but not me.

Sunset X Vibes (Sat iQIYI) ep 10 of 12 - I like that Sam’s crafty business espionage has paid off. Them teasing Sam & Yo really had me belly laughing. It was so funny.

Legitimate question. Would one put perfume on one’s cheeks in Thailand, as one does on wrist or sternum? Because of the sniff cheek thing? Scented face powders?

I do feel like with MosBank & SailubPon scorching up our screens, we’re being spoiled by some of Thailand‘s best high heat pairs at the moment.

I Saw You in My Dream (Weds Gaga) ep 5 of 12 - It remains kind of sweet and cute. It's also calm and slow moving. Oddly it reminds me of La Cuisine in its style and execution (if not content). I’m enjoying it more than I thought I would.

The Trainee (Sun YouTube) ep 7 of 12 - I don’t know. I’m getting bored.

Love Sea (Sun iQIYI) ep 10fin - Fort’s acting during the break-up was truly great. But I feel for Rak. It’s rough to learn that someone else is playing a long game with feelings while you were playing a short game with d**k.

Ultimately this is probably a solid 8/10 show but I’m mad I wasn’t madder at it, and I'm mad I was so bored throughout. So it gets a 7/10 and let us not speak of this again. I’d like to simply forget about it. Trash watch.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Sugar Dog Life (Japan Sun grey) ep 1-2 of 10 - OMG a uni student who looks young and a... COP! GAH. The subversion and kink of it all. I had to go grey to get it and I hate everything about what I had to do. But ya know what? Fucking worth every single repeated crash-causing advertisement.

I love it. The grumpy lonely little student cook and the cheerful mature police officer. What a fabulous dynamic. Is the cook looking for a boyfriend or a Daddy, and do we care if it has the same result? It is filmed VERY manga style camp. I’m a little nervous about that, but this means it’s also very fluffy and so damn sweet. It made me squeak with the cute. I’m gutted this didn’t get distribution.

Ironic that Tawada Hideya is in a new BL while Sunspot is re-airing.

Cosmetic Playlover (Japan Tues Gaga) eps 3-4 of 8 - Ah, the gays are doubting the bisexual again. How familiar. I like how this one is paced and moving through time, even if the relationship seems to be going comparatively slowly by contrast. I love the way Sahashi is always looking at Natsume, even when they’re in conversation with someone else. Ah yearning. I think the conflict was kind of inevitable, given the two personalities of the protagonists, and I like that. (No manufactured angst here.) But I still hope they can repair the breach and I’m still interested. Frankly this is so classically Japan - I don’t know what story beats it’s following and I’m not entirely sure where it’s going, but I kinda like that unpredictability. Makes me think it could go into "must you, Japan?" territory but fingers crossed.

I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 9 of 10 - I'm enjoying it very much. I could do without the girl character. I know she’s more interesting than most (this is Japan after all), but she’s not really for me. It’s the complexity of the connection between the leads (and why they like each other) that’s being executed so brilliantly in this show (and in the manga, FYI). Both actors are so on point with their roles and the nuanced emotions required of these characters that every time it’s only them interacting I'm riveted. I could do without the rest of the cast tho.

Seoul Blues (Korea Fri? YouTube) ep 1 of 8 - I have a confession to make, I’ve been watching this whole series as it goes along. But this is the pair I absolutely like the most. I’m not sure I would necessarily recommend any of the installments, and I’m not sure how this one is going to go, but I’m VERY invested in this particular couple. They are so pretty!!!! This is a true friends-to-lovers struggle. I like that a lot. (Reminds me of I Cannot Reach You but a different dynamic.) Did I mention how pretty they are? And we already know they gonna kiss well. I bet the uncut version is stellar.

Meet You at the Blossom (China) - It's no one's funeral, turns out! Reports are in - not only are there kisses but it ends happily with wedding plans. So I'm eating crow, binging the fucker, and live blogging. I'm enjoying it. Ya'll know I adored Chinese BL before censorship. It has a certain unhinged quality I very much apreciate (and is the reason I'm so tolerant of the Thai pulps) that I think will marry well with Wuxia's effervescent and ever-present tropes. Watch me suffer here.

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) eps 1-2 of 12 - About a singer with stage fright and his timid fan starring Charles (H4 the puppy one) and Michael Chang (the youngster in My Tooth Your Love), plus side couple featuring a Thai actor Jame (Koh in Gen Y) and Liu Min Ting (of Guardian fame). What a damn team. With their powers combined they are...

fine.

This is a fine BL. The fight scene was fun and I like the meet cute. I’m not sure about the chemistry of the leads, but I think they’ll probably do okay. I admit I’m struggling a bit with a singing and the music. Are you surprised? I think I like it enough, but I’m not wowed.

Takara's Treasure AKA Takara No Vidro (Japan Mon Gaga) ep 7 of 10 - Oh! Out of the blue attack kiss. What IS this show? I don’t get it at all. Bah. I guess they’re dating now. It’s… so odd...

It's airing but...

4 Minutes (Thai Netflix/Grey) - A rich boy at uni suddenly gains the supernatural power to see four minutes into the future. I have a source, but I've decided to hold off and binge if it ends okay, since it's only 8 eps. I depend upon y'all to tell me if it's safe.

8/16 The Last Time (Thai Fri YT) ? eps - Convoluted story of loss and possible reincarnation or something. Again delayed? Not sure what's going on with this one but the continued push-backs do not bode well.

In case you missed it

The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer IS COMING IN SEPTEMBER!!!! (Yeah this is gonna sit here until then).

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Still Coming This Month!

8/22 The On1y One (Taiwan Thurs Gaga) 12 eps - announced in 2023 this one has a high school set stepbrothers trope and is reputed to be high heat. From Taiwan! It's made for me. Based on a novel Mou Mou from the Your Name Engraved Herein folks, so it could go dark. Still, I'm very excited.

8/22 The Paradise of Thorns (Thai movie) theater release - Jeff Satur is back but this does not look like a BL (the gay lover's death is the inciting event). More in Goodbye Mother vein. Looks dark and dramatic. He opposite and extremely well known actor Toey Pongsakorn who has never done gay before.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

WHY IS HE SO FINE?

I truly belly laughed. Sam & Yo did not go in the direction I expected, but this scene alone made me not mind that they curtailed the suffering Sam was rightfully due. (SunsetXVibes)

Tall boyfriend armpit, anyone? (Monster Next Door)

The two extremes of BL in one show (Long Beans indeed).

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many tags.

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star-girl69 · 4 months ago

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Can’t Help Myself

Caroline (KK) Harvey x Fem!Reader

—-

synopsis: nights out are supposed to be fun, but when someone mistakes you for being single, caroline can’t help herself.

a/n: GUYS IM BACK!!!!! also i love you alexandra savior… anyways from this ask, i hope you all enjoy!!

Can’t Help Myself - Alexandra Savior

warnings: alcohol obviously, lots of it, swearing, violence, mentions of blood and such, ummm idk i don’t want to give too much away 😣😣 that’s pretty much it tho, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

The last time you went to a bar you were sneaking in with a fake ID.

You were 20, so close to that precious age of 21, a freshman in college and itching for that movie like experience you had grown up seeing. After a friend of a friend hooked you up, you got so drunk you swear you started seeing stars, but those might have just been the checkerboard black and white tiles on the bathroom floor.

Memories of that cold tile on your knees hit you every time you thought about going out and, besides- your major didn’t allow for much partying. A fact your friends and girlfriend all detested- but you refused to get behind on classwork just to end up on the bathroom floor again.

But, here you are. Holding onto your girlfriend, Caroline’s hand as she guides you through the crowds of people and towards the bar. You look around warily- is it just you or is there too many people in this building? Are they seriously not breaking some sort of fire code?

Caroline had asked so nicely- and by that, literally got on her knees and begged you- you were all caught up on school and had no homework, she had just won the NCAA championship and was on a high- plus you had a three day weekend.

Really, there wasn’t any excuse you could use.

Maybe, if you really wanted to, you could have said you were too nervous, and Caroline would have stayed home with you immediately at the first sign of you being anything other than happy. But, you knew she wanted to celebrate with her team. And why wouldn’t she? She worked hard for this, scoring 3 goals during the entire Frozen Four tournament.

Caroline suddenly squeezes your hand before pulling you towards her, arm moving around your waist.

“You good, baby?” She asks, looking around the bar for the collection of red jerseys.

“There’s a lot of people,” you say, hesitantly. You don’t want to lie to her, but you don’t want her to take you home. You know she will. Not yet, at least. “I need a drink.”

She laughs and kisses your cheek, and your stomach twists at the sound of her contagious laugh- you find yourself smiling too. “I’ll get you one, then.”

She immediately makes a detour towards the bar, and you press your hip into the counter while she wraps her arm around you, standing next to you so closely you probably look like one person in your matching Harvey jerseys.

“What’d you want?” She asks, her breath tickling the side of your neck. God, it’s loud in here, too.

You stare at her blankly for a second before shrugging. “I dunno, you’re the one who actually drinks.”

She smiles. “Okay, don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

The bartender asks what she wants, and you block out what she says- kind of wanting to be surprised. Next thing you know, she’s saying thank you and putting some money on the counter, telling the bartender to keep the change before turning to you, two glasses in her hand.

And, suddenly, despite the uneasy feeling in your stomach and the fact that this place is so bright and so loud, she looks into your eyes and it’s suddenly just the two of you.

“Thank you for doing this for me,” she whispers.

“Of course, baby,” you smile. “You deserve to celebrate. Don’t worry about me, okay? I’ll be fine. I want you to have fun.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m always gonna worry about you, babe.”

“If I really want to leave, I’ll just grab your hand and squeeze two times.”

“You better not lie to me, though. Are you sure you’re still good?”

You kiss her nose. “All good. Let me have some of that drink now?”

She smiles, and you shouldn’t be surprised by the way she completely bypasses your open hands and lifts the drink to your lips herself, watching intently at the way your lips part around the small black straw, then at the way your cheeks slightly hollow.

It’s… disgusting, really. The drink, at least. Having Caroline look at you like this, pupils wide and bottom lip now drawn between her teeth, is absolutely exhilarating. All you’re doing is taking a sip of her drink and she’s acting like you’re doing the sexiest thing in the world right in front of her.

It’s slightly fruity, and there’s vodka in it, and maybe some soda? It’s disgusting. You don’t know what it is, and you don’t want to know. You continue to force it down, managing to down almost half of the glass before Caroline snaps back into reality, ripping the drink away from you.

“Okay, slow down, please,” she chuckles.

You gag a bit, shaking your head. “That’s disgusting. Ugh, I hated that.”

“I can get you something else?” She asks, frowning. You almost chuckle at how concerned she is. “Or just water?”

“No,” you roll your eyes. “I’m just trying to chug it as fast as I can.” You try to grab the drink from her again, but she holds it back.

“Okay,” she smiles. “You can… do that, I guess. If you really want to, but in a few minutes. Take it easy, yeah, baby?”

“Okay,” you echo, feeling your stomach twist at the way she’s so knowledgeable in this, the way she’s looking out for you-

“Good girl,” she smiles, kissing your cheek before wrapping her arm tightly around your waist again and leading you through the crowd.

She has to know what she does to you.

You look at her out of the corner of your eye- satisfied smirk on her face- oh. She’s trying to kill you.

Fine, you tell yourself. She’s acting all cool as if she wouldn’t be leaving this bar if you squeezed her hand twice. She’ll do whatever you want, you both know that, but if she’s gonna try to rile you up in the middle of the bar by saying that- well, two can play at that game.

She leads you towards the other side of the bar, where you find a huge booth filled with red jerseys, half-full glasses strewn about the table.

Laila’s phone is propped up against one of those glasses, and she stares intensely at the screen in a way you call tell she’s reading comments on live.

“Laila!” KK calls, loosening your grip on you as the floor opens up a bit.

She smiles when she sees the two of you, beckoning you over. She’s sitting at the end of the circular booth, so you let go of KK to give her a quick hug. Wrapping your arms around her neck, pressing your cheek to hers to say hi to the live.

“Hi, guys!” You smile, watching as a flood of comments come in, all of them saying hi, or complimenting you. “Aw, thanks everyone. You’re all so sweet.”

“Guys,” Laila says, “Do you see this right now?”

She plucks at your red jersey.

“She’s a liar. She does not play for the Wisconsin Badgers! And her last name is not Harvey, either!”

KK suddenly appears next to you, pushing her face into frame.

“One day, though.”

user-1 omg they’re so adorable

user-2 Y/N I CANT BELIEVE YOU STOLE MY GF

user-3 tbh she’s beautiful i cant be mad

user-4 y/n harvey has a ring to it tbh…

user-5 NO DONT GET MARRIED KK COME HOME

user-6 @/user-5 KK THE KIDS MISS YOU

“I’ll believe that when I see a ring,” you tease.

“God, nothing ever pleases you.”

“Can you not?” Laila groans, fake gagging.

user-7 aw poor laila third wheeling

Laila scoots over and you sit down next to her, allowing Caroline to press a kiss to your cheek, saying she’ll be back soon.

user-8 y/n fit check pls??

“Y/N do a fit check!” Laila shouts, not quite aware of her volume level. You take another sip of your drink, gagging yet again.

“Okay. I don’t feel like getting up, though. Um, top is from Caroline Harvey’s closet, bottoms are from, like, Old Navy I think. I dunno, they’re just jeans. And then I’ve had these shoes for years, so…”

Laila turns to you, bored look on her face.

“Y/N, you’re not very good at this.”

“Girl, whatever. I tried.”

user-9 y/n ur so real

user-10 i would die for you y/n

user-11 what method of manifestation did you use?

“My method of manifestation? Listened to Bags by Clairo on repeat, of course.”

user-12 Y/N CLARIO STAN CONFIRMED????

user-13 u are my new fav celebrity.

user-14 what are you guys drinking?!?!??!!?

“What are we drinking?” Laila repeats. “Um, I don’t know if we can say this. Take a wild guess, though.”

“I don’t even know what this is,” you laugh, picking up your glass and swirling it around, listening to the ice clink. “Caroline ordered it for me.”

You take a deep breath- moving out of the screen- abandoning the straw and placing your lips right on the rim, downing the rest of the glass.

user-15 GOD THEYRE SO ADORABLE

user-16 i’m still in mourning…

user-17 the day they hard launched a part of me died

user-18 IF Y’ALL DONT SHUT UP YOU NEVER HAD A CHANCE ANYWAYS

user-19 @/user-18 EXACTLY if i see ANYONE bullying my queen y/n i will attack

“Aw, thank you guys,” you coo. “I’m so sorry that I took your girlfriend, really.”

user-20 GOOD

user-21 YOU SHOULD BE.

user-22 pls tell kk to pay child support

“Okay, so, guys, you didn’t hear this from me but unfortunately KK is actually in debt from all of the child support payments, so you might want to find some other income.”

Laila, who had zoned out reading the comments next to you, laughs so hard she has to take herself out of frame.

“No, because KK actually is so broke right now.” She says, coming back into frame, her eyes so wide she looks like a crazy person.

user-23 y/n pls take laila home 😭

user-24 laila ily pls stop drinking

Laila gasps, dropping her jaw in shock.

“I’m literally not even that… D-R-U-N-K!”

“Laila,” you say, biting your lip to keep from laughing. “Maybe it’s time to let the live go.”

“Yeah, I wanna dance. Okay, bye, guys. Sorry for tripping out. I love you all, see you guys soon.”

You blow a few kissy faces at the screen. “Love you guys!”

The live ends and Laila immediately perks up, looking towards the dance floor. “Okay, move!” She says, trying to push you out of the booth. You scramble away, chuckling at how disoriented she is.

“Sure you wanna dance? Your 6’1 self might fall over and kill someone.”

“Shut up, Y/N.”

Dancing does sound nice. You need to let go a bit, and where better to do it then in the middle of a bunch of people so drunk they won’t remember this tomorrow?

Laila grabs your hand, despite the fact she just told you to shut up, and starts to drag you into the crowd of dancing people. The music seems louder, now.

“Y/N!”

Someone grabs your other hand, pulling you and Laila to a stop. KK stands there, concern on her face and her drink back in her hand.

“Where are you going?” She asks.

“To dance,” you roll your eyes. Maybe you’re kind of a lightweight, but you already feel a little tipsy. That might be a placebo effect, though. This place just feels so freeing, with all the pretty lights and the music that you swear is getting louder by the second.

You grab her drink, taking another big sip.

Her eyes widen and Laila groans, tugging on you.

“I wanna danceeee.”

KK looks between you, drunk Laila, and the crowded dance floor.

“Y/N,” she grimaces. You take another sip.

“I wanna dance, KK. Don’t be a… freakin’ party pooper.”

She blinks at you. “Oh, my God, you are such a lightweight.”

“Okay, can you relax? Overprotective? Your precious girlfriend will be fine,” Laila smiles, flexing her bicep.

“See?!” You smile, gesturing animatedly to Laila before taking another sip.

She grabs her drink back from you. “All done with that.”

“Aw,” you pout.

Caroline sighs, looking again at the dance floor like it’s some entity that’s gonna hurt you.

“Baby,” you start, wrapping your free arm around her neck and drawing her in close to you, burying your face into the side of her neck.

“Y/N.”

You kiss her neck, tongue darting out to swipe across her sweet skin. “Please let me dance, Caroline.”

There’s a breathy lilt to your voice you both know she can’t resist. This is how you win every argument, just bury your face in her neck and ask pretty please.

“Shit, Y/N,” she says, her voice strained. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you ask, kissing her neck again.

She puts her free hand on the back of your head, smoothing down your hair for one second, savoring the moment before she pulls you away.

“Can I go dance?” You ask, barely licking your lips- but she sees it.

She sighs and rubs the back of her neck.

You both know she can’t resist you, not right now. Especially not when you’re wearing her last name and you’re kissing her neck.

“Be safe.”

“Bye! Love you!” you shout, tugging on Laila. She drops the hand that was covering her eyes and smiles.

“Thank God that’s over.”

You turn to look back at Caroline, and she’s staring after you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. You’ve never thought that Caroline’s overprotective nature was too much. You’ve never shied away from it. How could you hide away from something that feels so perfect? So good? So right?

Belonging to her is the most fulfilling thing you’ve ever known- you can’t help yourself from loving every crazy part of her.

And, besides, she deserves to spend time with her friends. She deserves to celebrate her win in whatever way she wants. You’re kind of surprised that she didn’t follow you out onto the dance floor, but you’re happy about that. She needs her friends and you need yours.

The music gets so loud you swear your eardrums are about to burst.

It’s the best thing you’ve ever felt.

—-

After dancing with Laila for so long your legs feel like they’re about to fall off, they start playing a slightly slower, more sexual song. Couples quickly form on the dance floor- whether it be actual couples or just random people deciding to dance together.

Laila hits your shoulder, and subtlety points to a man wearing the ugliest neon yellow jacket. Maybe it’s not so bad on its own, but paired with an equally neon orange shirt underneath, he looks kind of like a traffic cone.

You laugh, but this new song has changed the vibe, and suddenly you wish your girlfriend was dancing with you.

“I want Caroline,” you say to yourself, spinning around, trying to find where the red jerseys are- quickly getting dizzy. Definitely a little drunk.

“Who would have guessed,” Laila deadpans, and you swat her shoulder while she laughs.

You suddenly feel eyes on you, but Laila is searching the crowd. You look around, suddenly locking eyes with a man dressed in black dress pants and a blue shirt- the top buttons open.

The first thing you notice about him is how startlingly pale he is. You actually kind of get the shivers- he’s deathly skinny, with a goatee he cannot pull off- and he kinda makes you feel uneasy.

Besides for his somewhat startling appearance, he licks his lips as he looks at you like you’re a piece of meat.

“Ugh,” you say, cringing, unable to hide the disgust on your face. You feel kinda bad when his face falls- maybe he’s just drunk like you. Yet, here you are, criticizing his appearance and gagging at him. You shoot him an awkward smile, and his eyes trail up your body- okay. So much for giving him the benefit of the doubt, whatever. “Help,” you whisper to Laila, somewhat jokingly, grabbing her hand.

“Huh?” She asks, grabbing back and looking around.

“Really pale weird guy staring at me like he wants to fuck me.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Y/N. That’s fuckin’ disgusting, don’t tell me that.”

“Sorry!” You laugh, watching her eyes widen as she seems to finally spot him.

“Oh, wow… he’s so handsome! When my eyes are closed.”

You laugh and quickly slap your hand over your mouth, turning to her to keep from him seeing you.

“He’s still staring, though,” she frowns. “Okay, this dude is actually so creepy- I’m done dancing, you too?”

You suddenly remember how much you miss Caroline.

“Yeah, all done. Miss my girlfriend.”

“Y’all are so clingy, God… anyways, where did we come from?”

“Um, there, I think.” You start leading her through the crowd, immediately forgetting about the man, thinking only about your beautiful girlfriend and how excited you are to see her again. Forgetting the fact that’s only been about 20 minutes.

Suddenly, a flash of blue appears in front of you and you’re slamming into someone.

“Oh, sorry!” You apologize, steadying yourself by grabbing onto Laila. “You okay?”

You’re met with a pale face and a goatee.

Your eyes widen but you manage to bite your tongue, Laila squeezing your hand so tightly it might snap off.

“All good, pretty girl. You okay?”

“Fine, thanks!” You manage to bite out, Laila’s resolve slowly falling as she starts laughing a bit, and you try desperately to pull her away.

“Hey,” the guy starts, but you pretend not to hear him and tug Laila past him. You can’t bear to look behind yourself, scolding Laila softly as she starts boisterously laughing.

“Oh, my God- you bumped into him!”

“Laila!”

This entire night has felt perfect so far, and it feels kinda picturesque that a super cliche movie thing happened to you. All you can do is laugh about it.

“What’cha laughing about?” Caroline asks, and you suddenly realize you’ve escaped the dance floor and made it back to her.

“KK!” You smile, wrapping your arms around her neck and pressing a short kiss to her lips. She smiles back at you, looking at you in a way that can only be described as adoringly.

“Okay, bye,” Laila says, jokingly covering her eyes as she walks away to talk with some other teammates.

Caroline rolls her eyes at Laila but wraps her arm loosely around your waist, just keeping you close to her. “You’re having fun, baby.”

“So much, this is great. Why don’t I go out more? Why don’t I drink more? Oh, can I have that?”

Caroline stares down at her drink that you’ve already drunk most of-

“C’mon, sweetheart, I’ll get you another one.”

“Okay!” You smile, feeling on top of the world with her arm around you again. She leads you around the outskirts of the dance floor, and you end up back at the bar- leaning against her while she orders.

You’re standing side by side, and she’s dropped the hand around your waist to pull out cash from her wallet. You miss her touch, so you lean your head against her shoulder, adjusting her jersey that’s started slipping down your shoulder.

“Can I buy a drink for the pretty girl and her friend?”

At first, you don’t even realize someone’s talking to you.

You hear about it in the movies, the creepy guys at bars. You hear the horror stories from your friends and family. And you know it’s real, you know it happens- but you never ever think it could happen to you.

Suddenly, there’s that same pale man right next to you, staring into your eyes with such and intensity you wonder if he has a medical condition or if this is some weird attempt at flirting.

“What?”

Its the only thing you can think to blurt out.

Caroline looks up from her wallet, stuffing it back into her pocket and turning to you, hearing your voice but confused as to what you’re talking about.

“Can I buy you a drink?” The guy repeats in a hopeful tone- but the way he carries himself irks you. He’s self-entitled. It’s not quite confidence, but it’s more so this idea that the entire world should bow at his feet. And, unfortunately, that includes you.

“Excuse me?” Caroline asks, quickly wrapping her arm around your shoulder and pulling you even closer. “Thanks, but she doesn’t want anything from you.”

“Really?” He asks, smiling in that same self-entitled way. “C’mon, honey. You’re gorgeous, I’m gorgeous, let me buy you a drink and take you home.”

You feel utterly frozen. Is this actually happening? Are there cameras somewhere?

“Uhhhh…” you say, looking between him and Caroline- the two of them currently engaged in a deadly staring competition.

“Sorry, let me rephrase. My girlfriend doesn’t want anything from you.”

“Caroline,” you mutter, hearing an edge to her voice that’s turning from protective and wary to something a little more… violent. “Let’s just go, babe.”

“Yeah, let’s just go,” she echoes. She turns around with you still under her arm, positioning herself between you and the other guy.

He scoffs as you both turn around- completely offended and shocked at the idea that you don’t want him.

Maybe Caroline glaring at him sets him off. Maybe he just doesn’t know when to quit.

“C’mon, baby- you know you want it. Stop being a little bitch.”

Your mouth parts slightly- and you almost want to laugh- him? Calling you a bitch?

You can feel Caroline’s entire body tense against you.

“Caroline-” you start, knowing her protective nature is going to get to her. You’ve seen it a thousand times on the ice when a girl on the other team gets too close to her goalie, or roughs up another Badger- Caroline fights on the ice.

God, you’ve even confessed to her how sexy you think it is when she suddenly shoulder checks some girl, or slams her stick into someone’s chest.

She whips around, her arm out in front of you, while the arm that was previously around your shoulder whips around and slams into his face.

You let out a yelp at the sheer speed of it all- one second you were walking away, and now Caroline is shaking out her hand as the man doubles over, clutching his jaw.

“You stupid fucking bitch!” He shouts, a crowd quickly forming.

Thankfully, she ignores that comment.

“Listen to me. You don’t touch my girl, you don’t look at her, you don’t think about her- or I swear to God you will not be able to fuckin’ talk.”

She turns back around, her jaw clenched, and you gape at her- mouth opening and closing like a fish, you feel so stupid- but you don’t even know what to say. Do you scold her? Do you kiss her? Because you kinda want to do both right now.

Your mind is literal mush. Not only was that the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your entire life- but also terrifying. Thankfully, you don’t have to do anything, because Laila and a few other Badgers break through the crowd, grabbing KK and dragging her back towards the exit.

Laila softly taps you, and you tear your eyes away from the fuming man still clutching his cheek- mouth still stupidly dropped open.

“You good?” Laila asks, softly putting her hand on your shoulder.

“Good,” you breathe. “Oh, my God- I can’t believe that just happened.” Laila leads you out of the bar, following behind KK who is getting… forcefully escorted out by her teammates.

The whispers and the staring stops when you exit the bar and into the fresh air. It’s nice out here, still warm but there’s a cool breeze running through. The bar was stuffy and hot, and you didn’t even realize you were holding your breath until the fresh air is right in your face.

“Okay.” Britta Curl, Wisconsin’s captain sighs heavily, rubbing her temples. “What the fuck happened.”

It’s not quite a question.

KK’s teammates let her go, and her jaw is clenched, fists also clenched at her sides. She’s like a tight little ball of anger right now, about to explode.

She’s obviously not going to answer, so Britta turns to you. Her frustration softens a bit, and you’re sure you look a little shaken up- you can’t stop thinking: what if Caroline wasn’t there?

What if he got his hands on you? What if he had stepped closer?

“You okay, Y/N?”

“Yes,” you breathe. All of the team knows you well, and most of them are truly your friends. Despite the fact it’s become a running joke to refer to you as “KK Harvey’s Girlfriend” you know they all do care about you. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Shit, Y/N,” KK breathes, running her hand through her hair. It’s nothing like earlier tonight when she said those words, when you were kissing your neck.

God, if you could go back to that.

She takes a few deep breaths. “Shit. I’m sorry, Y/N. I… I just couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t let him say that shit. Call you that, fuck.”

You can practically see the memories flash behind her eyes, and she’s getting herself all worked up again.

“Harvey,” Britta cautions, putting her hand on her shoulder. “Take some breaths.”

“Okay, hold on,” Laila starts. “Was that who I think it was? Pale guy from the dance floor?”

“Yeah,” you affirm, and Laila rolls her eyes.

“What a creep.”

“Wait, who?” KK asks, suddenly completely still, staring at Laila in a way that reminds you of a predator about to attack. She’s still got that rage in her veins, and she’s chasing the high, the retribution.

“There was this guy on the dance floor, he was staring at Y/N in this, like, sexual assault-y way, super creepy-”

“A what way?”

Her voice is calm. But you know her, you know her voice- you can hear the pure rage behind it. That deadliness, all of that precision and strength from hockey honed to one target.

“Okay,” Laila says, sticking her palms out in a calming manner. “Not the best choice of words. Deep breaths, KK.”

“No, like what? He was staring at my girlfriend like what?”

“Caroline.”

You walk towards her, placing your hands on her chest.

“Caroline, sweetheart, I love you… but you have to calm down, okay? He was just a fucking weirdo at a bar. And you punched him, remember? He’s not going to talk to another girl, let alone me, for a long time.”

You force her to meet her eyes, and she stares at you for a few seconds- her face slowly starting to soften.

“Sorry,” she mumbles after a moment.

“Why do we even try?” One of her teammates whispers. You resist the urge to smile.

“Why don’t we go home, K?”

She looks over your shoulder at the door to the bar.

“Yeah.”

“Thank God,” Laila mutters. “This was about to become a bloodbath. Everyone say ‘thank you, Y/N.’”

A few of her teammates laugh, and even KK cracks a small smile as they all repeat the sentiment.

Britta turns to KK, glaring at her still somewhat disapprovingly.

“I’m sorry,” KK mutters again.

Britta sighs. “I… probably would have punched him too if I was there. I can’t blame you.”

“Exactly, like? What was I supposed to do? He called my girl a bitch and I was supposed to just walk away? Nah. No way.”

“Overprotective!” Laila chimes in with a sing-song voice, and all of you laugh.

Finally, you all manage to bid your goodbyes, Laila saying she’ll hitch a ride back from someone else- “I don’t want to hear what’s about to go on in that bedroom. Keep the biohazards to a minimum, though.”

Caroline opens the car door for you, moving around to the other side and quickly climbing in. She puts her hand on the inside of your thigh, not starting the car yet, and making no move to.

She hesitates for a moment.

“Did I scare you?” She finally asks, turning to you with such vulnerability etched into her face it fixes any part of your heart that had ever hurt.

You smile softly, because you love this girl and you can’t believe she cares about you this much.

“No, baby.” You put your hand on her face and she leans towards you. “I was scared… because I kept thinking about what would have happened if you weren’t there.”

“I’m never letting you out of my sight at a bar again. Or ever, actually. Would you be down to tattoo Property of Caroline Harvey on your chest?”

“Caroline.”

“I love you.” You smile, the joking scold dying on your tongue. “I love you so much. And I can’t believe you’re all mine.”

You fake gasp. “I cant believe you’re all mine. Caroline Harvey, Olympian, star-athlete, heartthrob of women’s hockey-”

She shuts you up with a kiss. You’re both smiling into it, your thumbs rubbing her check, her hand squeezing your thigh and her other hand coming up to lightly hold the base of your neck.

When you finally have to pull away for that stupid thing called breathing, you grab her hand and squeeze twice. She quirks her brow at you before realization washes over her face.

“Well, when my beautiful girl says it’s time to go, it’s time to go.”

She doesn’t move her hand from your thigh the entire drive. And despite Caroline being a little hot headed and a little overprotective, it’s just her way of showing you she loves you- you can’t think of it any other way.

There’s no one else in the world who would succumb to whatever you want just because you kissed their neck, no one else who you would feel confident completely placing your trust in, no one else who can love you the way she loves you.

And if tonight is any indication- she loves you to the point of violence. Which is kind of alarming, but mostly sweet.

—-

#caroline harvey #caroline harvey x reader #kk harvey #kk harvey x reader #ncaa women’s hockey

373 notes · View notes

gohyuck · 13 days ago

Text

you&i

image from user themightyjen on twitter

pairing: jeno x reader and they are exes but they get back together sort of (i mistakenly used a previous work of mine’s earlier pairing when i first posted this!)

genre: angst, fluff

word count: right under 1.5k, this was a quickwrite

notes: liam payne died so i started listening to one direction again and you & i just had me Thinking long and hard... also f1 mentions lol

It is a bizarre cliché, really, and you wish you could laugh at Jeno’s outstretched hand as he wordlessly begs you to follow him out onto the fire escape. Your building is not at all up to code, and you have to force yourself through one hardly-cracked open window to make it out to where he is, having climbed up from the outside. In a completely unsurprising move, he has an overloose black leather jacket on, though it doesn’t stay that way for long — he ignores you ignoring the hand he’d put out to help you through the window and instead puts it to use shirking the leather off and throwing it over his shoulder like some two-bit greaser.

He dangles a Corona bottle — yeuch — from his other hand, and he treats it quite gingerly. Jeno’s projecting his feelings onto the delicate glass, because of course he is. He’s a shrink’s wet dream. Not too troubled, not too troubling, but still itching to hurt and be hurt. You expect that Jeno’s “fixable,” but neither you nor him expect you to be the one to go about doing any fixing.

“Want some?” He anticipates that you’ll shake your head, can visualize the peach moscato in your fridge door at this very moment, practically tastes how too-sweet it is. You so badly want to grab the bottle from his hand and take a swig of what really is dry bready water just to spite him, but you can’t justify the assault on your taste buds.

You shake your head, already dreaming of the peach moscato in your fridge door. That’ll be a treat after this whole thing. You, of course, are pushing your emotions away — your psychiatrist will love and hate the debrief that’s coming to her within the next 24 hours.

“We’re like day and night.” You want to expand on your thought, but it seems impossible to verbalize beyond this vague utterance. Fuck your life. Jeno nods, bites down on a corner of his mouth before taking the kind of swig you’d briefly daydreamed of. When he puts his other hand down right by yours, your breath catches on impulse, but only for a second.

“They bleed into each other sometimes.” He tells you this as if you’ve never experienced the sunset. You wish you could laugh at him, but that would be cruel, unusual, and untrue. Jeno, for all his pompous exterior, is the day in this make-believe situation. Of course, the two of you are more similar than you are different. Of course, if one of you actually acknowledges this fact, the other will refute it. Maybe you’re projecting now. His leather jacket and building climbing and Corona drinking self is such a caricature that he circles back to being unequivocally real to you. Unequivocally yours.

“They’re broken up in the same way we’re broken up.” You try your resolve.

“Are we broken up?”

“We could probably make it if we try.” You fold a corner of your lower lip into your mouth, tucking it gently between the harsh rows of your teeth. This is a tell, though of what, you remain unsure. Jeno thinks you’re being honest when you say this, but there’s something inherently duplicitous to even having thought it. Do you mean ‘making it’ as in ‘making it as a pair of exes’ or in some other more ephemeral way? He tries his luck.

“Do you think they ever fight like us?”

The reason for your most recent break up is, of course, some fight over something that must have been extremely important to both of you in completely separate ways, but neither of you can genuinely recollect the entire experience. For one, he’d been high, and you’d been drunk. Neither of your problems are too far gone to kick, but everyone relies on something or the other to get them through particularly rough weeks. It was rare that your vice intersected with his; it was rare either got out of hand.

And yet. A joint may be the only thing conspicuously missing from him at this very moment, actually, but you don’t doubt that he has rolling papers in his back left pocket even now as he leans his ass against your building’s run-down brick walls.

“The day and the night? I think they can’t stand each other.” You reach for his beer, and he gives it up with ease. He’s nothing if not giving. Your chest hurts, there’s a reason you don’t smoke. Jeno reaches around and puts his jacket over your shoulders as you take the tiniest of sips, and you settle into it like you’d slip into conversation with an old friend. Jeno’s pinky finger extends, and you feel the dull coolness of his faux silver ring press almost imperceptibly at the bottom of your own fifth finger’s second knuckle.

He pulls a pack of Golds from his back pocket — you’d been wrong about the weed stuff, it seems — and you pull a cigarette out when he flips it open. Jeno’s eyebrows pull together, but every feature of his drops simultaneously when you simply turn it upside down and put it back in. The designated final smoke, for good luck. Your ex — ex? — pulls it together quickly enough, and you do him the service of pretending.

“You can’t stand me?”

The defiance mingled with disbelief, confusion, genuine apprehension all come together into the kind of cocktail that can only break your heart. Jeno hasn’t even fished out a cigarette yet, his brilliantly red lighter undoubtedly still in his jacket. He really wants a straight answer from you.

“Two Ferrari wins in a row, in the double header,” You just say, every other word tamped down on by an impenetrable force. “I still haven’t canceled my F1 TV subscription.”

“You’re really into it, no matter what you say.” He’s certainly right, but you refuse to let him know just how often Forza Ferrari Siempre really comes into play for you. Jeno, with his head in your lap as you take a swig of absolutely horrendous Big Red from a mug he’d made on a pottery date (“it’s good luck” your ass). Jeno, pacing around his dining table while he mutters about how Charles Leclerc suffers more than Jesus. Jeno, pulling you into his arms after you give him a Ferrari-red lighter on a whim.

“I just like watching car crashes.”

“I still have the lighter you gave me.”

Both of you speak at once, stunned immediately into confused silence. A sob gets caught in your throat early enough to where it becomes a snicker, and Jeno sniffles into a snort of laughter, and suddenly you’re face-first in his chest and he’s giggling into your hair. He says something about being incapable of remembering what your fight was about, and you whisper that you know he’s smoking cigarettes so he stays off of weed and off of paranoia. You appreciate him.

“We could switch vices,” He gestures towards the beer that’s in your hand. “Ever think about lighting up?”

“I’d rather die.” Your eyes turn up with the corners of your lips.

“We could make it if we tried.” Jeno shrugs, and his hand finally settles onto yours, a weight you’d sorely missed. Stupid, stupid argument with very real implications.

“You and I?

“I can more than stand you, if that’s what you’re asking.” His tone of voice is jovial but his gaze is steady. His implicit question hangs in the air, the begging of reciprocity only unbecoming if verbalized. You turn your hand over under his and lace your fingers together, jagged and messy.

“With all this teen angst in our twenties, we should probably start sitting down instead.” Jeno isn’t going to get too far through your general sense of levity, but he knows that you’ll murmur apologies and promises to him later tonight. You’ll make good this time, and so will he.

“I’ll pour out your moscato if you put on the highlights from last week’s race.” He tilts his head towards your open window, and you set the Corona down at your feet, knowing full and well that neither of you are finishing that now. He’s made some amends though — you’ll work on the cigarette smoking, but at least it doesn’t affect how he treats you — and you recognize that you need to do the same. Jeno is sound to your silence.

“Pour it into the sink, if you can.”

Your boyfriend seems stunned, comically so as he pauses to look back at you while only halfway into your apartment. You follow up with some rib about how you still have Big Red in your fridge, stifling a laugh at his own wince, but his overarching surprise reigns supreme. He doesn’t even have to ask if you’re sure — his eyebrows do it for him. You nod, knowing all kinds of questions deserve answers.

“We can make it if we try.”

#jeno #jeno nct #nct dream #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno scenario #nct #nct angst #nct fluff #nct scenario #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream scenario #jeno x reader #nct x reader

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saikira999 · 6 months ago

Note

headcanons for how Idia and Malleus play Minecraft?

~ Headcanons for twst characters playing Minecraft.

I was a little late, but here are the headcannons! :D

Also, a little friendly reminder that English is not My native language and if you find errors in the text, please write to me about it.

Another parts about :

Azul and Lilia!

Riddle and Leona!

Jade and Floyd!

[Idia]

1) Absolute pro.

2) During the entire game, big bro has already set up His own server with tens of hundreds of buildings, houses and cities, on which all of Ignihyde plays...

But for you, beginners, He will of course make a new one.

3) Lives not in an ordinary house, but in a secret underground complex with hundreds of traps, secrets and secret passages. The entire dungeon is arranged quite professionally and beautifully, in a black and blue palette, using wool, clay, stone and several types of thin blocks and half-blocks, steps and other things. Instead of ordinary torches, he uses blue torches with soul fire.

4) He doesn’t trust his account to anyone except Ortho, but he tries to make sure that his beloved younger brother doesn’t waste any important resources or do anything unnecessary.

5) His favorite and least favorite location is Nether.

6) His base is guarded by three dogs with blue collars.

7) The same walking guide that explains to everyone and everything how to play and answers all kinds of questions.

8) The bro on the server has absolute power... After all, he is the admin here and the main expert in cheat codes.

9) Despite the fact that he feels much more confident in the square world, he still does not like to interact with other players and prefers to play alone. If there are too many players on the server, He either rushes to retire, or barely uses the microphone and hangs around somewhere in the corners.

He is most comfortable playing with Lilia, Ortho, Azul and possibly Yuu.

10) Keeps a joke counter when someone compares His hair to the blue soul fire (137)...

11) Loves block art and other buildings like statues of favorite anime characters.

12) Usually, he plays with a ton of shaders, mods and other additions, but since not all dorms are equipped with powerful hardware, like in Ignihyde, bro have to play with a minimum amount of additional details.

13) Knows all the cool bugs, recipes, theories and locations of Minecraft.

14) In one of the secret rooms he built a cemetery for His pets.

15) Of all the players, he comes to the server most often, and could have reached the dragon in one day, if not for Ortho’s gentle reminder that on a joint server you need to play TOGETHER.

16) His main fear is if His mother somehow logs onto the server.

17) Always swears at updates.

18) Sometimes he seriously thinks about buying the rights to the game...

19) Minecraft is my life!

20) MINECRAAAAAAAAAFT

(Insert audio from that screaming russian schoolboy meme)

[Malleus]

1) He doesn’t know what Minecraft is and when Yuu and Idia invite him to play (Invitation???? He’ll definitely join!), he asks Lilia what “Minecraft” is and what spell can He use to get into this mysterious world?

2) When he sits down at the computer for the first time, he falls into a crisis and looks at the square icon for a long time (3 hours), in sincere bewilderment.

Then he decides to try to figure it out on his own... And accidentally blows up the computer.

(Poor Lilia.)

4) FINALLY having figured out the controls on the phone (Still poor Lilia), he came onto the server and falls into a new crisis and shock from the appearance of the game...

"This is definitely... It will be interesting..."

5) Absolute noob. Bro sometimes even forgets that his character is weak and mortal. Several times, He simply walks into lava, forgets to eat, or swims in the water for a long time and is genuinely perplexed as to why his character is dying.

6) Tsunotaro's house is a simple wooden box made of dark oak logs, vines and flowers. There is no floor - only fragrant green grass. The windows are also missing and replaced with fences. Right at the doorstep is a garden with flowers, and on the roof there will be creepy, crooked figures made of blocks and half-blocks of stone and basalt (Gargoyles were planned).

Perhaps He will try in the future to rebuild the house into something more gothic, but Tsunotaro like architect, is like a Grim like nutritionist... Yuu is His most frequent guest and Draconia, according to all the rules of etiquette, tries to feed the visitor and force him to stay as a guest with Him, like a decent owner.... Oh, Yuu invites Him to visit...?

...He will definitely come and build Yuu a crooked gargoyle as a sign of gratitude... And I hope that a human child will be smart enough not to destroy His building...

.......No, I'm serious. Don't.

7) He doesn’t understand anything and either follows other players 24/7 or gets lost and Idia eventually finds him a couple hundred chunks away from the spawn location, trying to make friends with the bat.

8) Griefers? Who is this? Is there such a crazy person who would try to break down His house...?

9) Oddly enough, his main occupation is taming everyone he can. Cats? Parrots? Dogs? A whole farm with a variety of livestock from small to large? Two little slimes? Strange guy with white eyes behind the tree? Yuu? He will take care of everyone.... Rest assured)

+ Animals in this game do not age and cannot die unless you put them in danger, or play it safe and give them name tags....

10) The same guy whose game constantly crashes for some reason or whose microphone crashes.

11) Belongs to the type of people who can simply take and give another player either a beautiful, freshly picked flower, or incredibly rare and expensive armor or weapons, with several layers of enchantment, which He obtained from an unknown place and in an unknown way.

12) For a reason unknown to anyone, all mobs such as monsters, villagers and pillagers, except animals and children, bypass him.

13) Loves to wander through abandoned villages and mines.

14) In PVP he is not particularly smart and sticks with more neutral and calm players and rarely gets into fights with anyone... If at all anyone wants to fight with Him.

15) He dreams of building a GIANT Gargoyle, but so far, all he gets is another crooked, creepy pile of stones, only of larger sizes.

16) When he learns that the goal of the game is to kill the dragon and take It's egg, his reaction is literally: ....Mother?🤨

17) He doesn’t want to fight with His relative, and when Idia kills the dragon, he bursts into His room with lightning and thunder in order to interrogate the corpse of Gloomurai, which did not survive several heart attacks.

18) Tsunotaro took the egg for Himself and built a kind of temple for It (Surrounded by gargoyles, of course), and sincerely waited for it to hatch, until Lilia, who came to the rescue, said that this was not possible in the game.

19) Conclusion: One was disappointed because He could not atone for the brutally murdered dragon mother and raise Her child, and the second, although He laughed amicably, still grabbed a couple of Vietnamese (Briar Valley) flashbacks.

(Poor Malleus and Lilia)

20) Later, scared to death, Idia will install a mod especially for Tsunotaro that allows him to hatch and tame a dragon from the egg he received in The End 😊

(Poor Idia)

That's it! I am waiting for your new requests :3

Reblog Me, please? <:]

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