#how you like that live countdown

[hellbornsworld]

JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONS-11

🎀 Angel Eyes by @bunnyhugs77 - OneShot

Pairing: Patient! Jungkook x Reader

"You're such a bad influence, y'know? I can't believe you really almost made me do that." His bunny-like smile is on display when he speaks, "That wasn't me, that was your instinct. For a brief second, you just listened to your heart."

🎀 Falling Skies by @fortunexkookie - Series

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader

Jeon Jiyeon was your childhood best friend; her brother, Jungkook, was something else entirely. You used to be friends, but then he had gone from endearingly frustrating dumb boy to card-carrying fuckboy so fast it had given you whiplash. Despite the teasing and fighting, Jiyeon had realized how Jungkook felt about you long before he did. It was a twin thing. 

🎀 SNOW IMPRINTS by @2hightocare - OneShot

Paring: DILF!JK X Reader

What was supposed to be a family reunion, ends in comparing dick sizes.

🎀 Peach. by @hongjoongscafe - OneShot

Pairing: Professor!jungkook X Camgirl!reader

where his lust and admiration fell for a camgirl.

🎀 slow dancing by @yoonia - Series

Pairings: Jungkook x reader / Namjoon x reader

When your countdown appeared on your wrist right on the morning of your eighteenth birthday, you had thought that perhaps the universe was on your side, especially since the final seconds were already ticking so soon. You just never expected to have your first meeting with your soulmate to be the day when you had to let him go. But hope was not lost when you still found love without the bond, and Jungkook showed you that it was possible to find happiness beyond the system that was written for you. Except that the universe doesn’t seem to have enough of its game, when your past sacrifice comes back hitting you straight in the face, just when you had believed that you had written off the perfect ending to your bittersweet tale.

🎀 Magic Shop by @jungkookiebus - OneShot

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tea shop owner!jjk x reader 

you thought after three years the hurt in your heart for your dead husband would sting a little less than it did. in an attempt to clear your mind and start anew, you move to a small, coastal town. there, you find comfort in a tea shop run by a man named jeongguk. every day, at the same time, you come to the tea shop and soon start to fall for the bright-eyed man that listens to you pour your heart out. but the guilt settling in your stomach every time you think of your husband has you running from jeongguk entirely. do you have what it takes to let go?

🎀 bewitched by @jkabbi - Series

pairing: jungkook x reader

Former neighbors turned lovers, your enchanting romance with Jungkook takes a magical turn. A spell to protect him shapes your past, and now, as a flower shop owner, an unexpected reunion brings buried secrets to light. Past and present collide in a captivating tale of love and mystery.

🎀 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢 by @pennyellee - OneShot

pairings: heartthrob!jk, yandere!jk x fashion employee f!reader

You, a determined fashion designer, find yourself entangled in a collaboration with the irresistibly charming and egotistic heartthrob, Jeon Jungkook. Will this partnership remain strictly professional, or will he make the lines blur?

🎀 nepenthe by @lively-potter - OneShot

Pairing: CEO!JK X Reader

in which solaris celeste vesper, a sad girl with an unfortunate upbringing meets a man far older than her and, within his presence, her sorrow fades into nothingness.

Also in which jeon jungkook finds the sun he so desperately needed in his life.

🎀 PREDESTINED by @keen-li - OneShot

Pairing: Mortal/commer jk x goddess reader

"You shouldn't be here" you say with a smile. Legally he shouldn't be here but personally you're glad he's here.

🎀 SX Seoul by lo1k-diamonds - TwoShot

PAIRING: Jungkook X Reader

You're back in town and your first stop in a night out with friends is a new club: SX Seoul. You had no plans, but when you see your ex, everything changes.

🎀 oxygen by @gimmethatagustd - OneShot

Pairing: Mafia!Jungkook x f!Reader

If you get caught, you'll both die. Jungkook wants to be yours anyway.

🎀 ALL AT ONCE by @muniimyg - Series

pairings: unhinged jungkook + shy oc

jungkook confesses and you're in denial

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ♫♬♪ ♫♬♪

[dear-bunnyboo]

can I request a Joe x Model!reader where they are secretly dating and she will be walking at the VS Fashion show and since they are a secret, Joe is watching the show live at home with his friends and they are teasing him 💕

it would be such a cute idea!!

more Joey B one shot request for you cuties!! (this is mainly Joe's pov!) you can also continue sending me request if you guys want to, my request box is always open 🤍

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 || 𝐉𝐎𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Joe Burrow x Model!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your secret boyfriend watches you as you walk the biggest runway of your life.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluff, cursing, teasing, tension?, nerves, secret relationship

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Joe's leg was bouncing up and down, seemingly his leg had a mind of its own— Joe looked fine on the outside, his calm and stoic demeanor was a normal look on him. However, to people who actually knew him in a personal level would know how nervous the quarterback was— plus his leg bouncing up and down kinda gives it away.

It was a crisp evening, and Joe was at home with his closest friends; Ja'Maar, Tee, Tyler, and Sam who were all surrounding him on the couch as they loudly conversed among themselves. As Joe sits with his closest friends in the dimly lit living room, He can hardly contain his excitement— Joe invited his closest friends over for the night not just to hang out and as much as he enjoyed their hang outs this was something entirely different. They were all gathered to support you who they have grown close to from dating Joe.

The moment Joe's been eagerly waiting for is about to unfold— the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show, a glittering spectacle, is the platform for you, Joe's secret girlfriend, the woman who has captured his heart. Joe can feel the nerves dancing in his stomach as he anticipated the start of the iconic runway.

The quarterback does not have a lot of knowledge when it comes to runway or modeling but after meeting you, he had learned the different terms and technicalities— he has also learned how important walking this runway is for a model's career. This was not your first time walking the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show but it was the first time you'll be walking with Joe watching, now as your boyfriend.

You and Joe have been dating for almost a year now— a year you two managed to keep your relationship under wraps from the public eye. Joe being the star quarterback of the Bengals and you being one of the most coveted supermodels in that field— people are expected to talk. So when you two finally made it official, you decided that it was better for the meantime to keep your relationship just between the two of you— well, except for a few exceptions; that being both your families and closest friends.

The same friends who are staring at the TV in front of them while they teasingly nudged Joe, as the TV projected a glittery pink display;

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓥𝓲𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓪’𝓼 𝓢𝓮𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓽 𝓕𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓢𝓱𝓸𝔀

Written on the screen as a countdown started playing below it, showcasing that there was only three minutes until the shows begins.

Despite his nerves, Joe couldn't help but let out a grin form his face as they continued tease him. As the countdown reaches sixty seconds, his friends took it upon themselves to start counting down— they were now on their feet, counting down the numbers on the top of their lungs as if it was New Years while they teasingly circled around Joe like a bunch of idiots as he would put it in his head.

"3! 2!.. 1!"

A hush fell within them as the once pink glittery display disappeared, moving onto the iconic opening introduction that showcased the glittery runway where a bunch of people were surrounding; from actors, actresses, and the likes.

Joe couldn't help but feel envious of them— he wanted to be there physically with you and watch but his circumstances hinders him from doing so... next year, he swears silently to himself in his head.

As they all finally settled in back on the couch in front of the TV, Joe couldn't help but feel a mixture of pride, anxiety, and a strange blend of vulnerability. His friends were his confidants, the ones who'd been with him since the start of this incredible journey in the NFL. But now, they were all here with him supporting his girl.

A loud bang of music started playing, Bruno Mars walked out greeting the audience as his song 24K Magic started playing— this instantly made his friends jump up to their feet as they bopped and danced to the beat. As the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show began and the first models graced the runway, Joe watched with bated breath. The anticipation was palpable, and he couldn't help but feel a rush of emotions. His girlfriend, the woman he cherished above all, was among the models preparing to walk. Joe knew she was out there, and the pride he felt was overwhelming.

Joe, however, tried to remain composed on his seat, silently sipping on his drink on hand as he bopped his head up and down to the beat, the models started walking out one by one— walking to the beat as Ja'Maar started praising each and every one of them.

"God Damn!" he playfully melted on the spot as he grabbed his chest earning a chorus of laughs from them including Joe who shook his head at his friends shenanigans.

The show continued, and the atmosphere in the room was charged with anticipation— they were all waiting for you to come out. The models sashayed down the runway, and with each passing moment, the teasing from his friends intensified. They now started to chant your name inches from his face as Joe let them, his eyes solely on the screen waiting for you to walk out.

And once you did— pandemonium.

As you stepped out, a shimmering vision of grace and beauty, Joe couldn't help but gasp. You were breathtaking, you walked out wearing a red lingerie partnered with huge red wings that you wore with pride. You were radiant and confident, walked out sparkling under the runway lights. You were breathtaking, an ethereal presence, and his friends gasped in awe. The angel wings adorning you like a celestial being. Your radiant smile and confident stride captivated everyone, just as they had captivated Joe from the very beginning.

"Joey B!" Sam cheered while nudging him with his shoulders.

“Damn, Joe!” Tee hollered to himself,l not long before winking at the quarterback.

Joe remained aghast as he gawked at your figure strutting down the runway with a flirty look on your face— enjoying your time on camera. You were amazing, a natural at what you do. You had the most beautiful smile on your face that made Joe feel like melting on the spot— the quarterback was so focused on you that his friends teasing remarks sounded like white noise to him. All his senses were solely focused on you and only you— he was immensely proud of his girl.

A mixture of pride and awe washed over him as you glided down the runway. Your elegance and poise were unmatched, and you held the audience, and him, in the palm of your hand. It was a moment of profound beauty, watching the woman he loved shine on a iconic stage.

Joe's heart swelled with affection, and for a brief moment, the world disappeared. It was just him and you, connected through a screen, and he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with love and admiration. Joe applauded and cheered along with the audience and his friends as your walk concluded, Joe celebrated with pride and joy. You were extraordinary, and he was grateful to share in this moment of your incredible success.

dividers: @cafekitsune

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @jackkyhughes @h0e4fictionalme-n @queenmendes @rd14 @scoobydoopoo @estapa94 @karmasabitchybitch @literaturelustrr @toterry @fangirl-madz @atticusismybae @stargaryenx @haydee5010 @porter113 @ryiamarie @starrgir1 @flwries @slafgoalskybaby @unsaidjaelinrose @in-my-body-bag @cixrosie @siutforjjmaybank @youn-jo @nobystanderz @bb-swift @buckystwilight @kidrauhlakaperf @kkrenae @catswag22 @hustler-sinner @asparklysoul @kaydesssssssss @97bngchn @dunningz @whiteleoqueen @austinswhitewolf @wickedfun9

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUESTS AND ASK ME ANYTHING!

: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡

-𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲ఌ

[byoldervine]

Motivation For Writing

Getting Off Your Butt:

1. Aestheticise it. Let the light in through the curtains, turn on your fairy lights, lay a blanket over your lap, light some candles, whatever you need to do to feel like a writer. The right vibes can go a long way

2. Picture that one scene. There’s almost always a moment you’re super excited about that basically inspired the whole book. Picture it, play it out in your head in full cinematic fanfare, gush to yourself about how cool it is and how everyone will love it, picture a future fanbase going nuts for it. You might get excited enough to go back to writing

3. Set a word count goal. During NaNoWriMo this year I think I wrote more than I ever have in one go. The thing that kept me coming back was the desire to not fall behind. I ended up with ~45K words after some complications irl caused me to drop off in the final few days, and that’s all just because I was adding up the 1667 a day word count goal and realising where I needed to be at to keep up. I definitely can’t stay as rigid as I did with 1667 words every single day, but seeing that you’re only a few hundred words off of a goal is super motivating - just be sure to set realistic, easy to achieve parameters for just general use, like 1000-2000 words per week. I know 200 words per day is a popular one for people trying to establish a writing routine that can’t dedicate forever to the craft

Maintaining Motivation:

1. Writing sprints. Writing sprints are a godsend for me, I like to set myself up in the living room with Abbie Emmons’ writing sprint video on. The video lasts two hours and is broken up into two parts; 25 minutes to write and 5 minutes for breaks between writing, so four 30 minute sprints overall. Having the timer and countdown with peaceful music and an aesthetic background is both relaxing and encouraging, as well as giving me a specific time for how much longer I have to push through. It’s easier for me to say “Okay, only ten more minutes, then you can take a break” then it is to say “Just keep going, we’re not stopping until I say so” which is too arbitrary for my brain to accept

2. Give yourself a choice. If you’re struggling to keep your focus, come up with a finish line and tell yourself you don’t have to do any more work once you’ve reached that point. Finish the paragraph, go for another five or ten minutes, keep it up until your next scheduled break. Whatever sounds realistic and doable without being overwhelming. And once you’ve met this goal, ask yourself if you still want to stop. With any luck, you’ll have gotten back into the zone and will choose to keep going. Maybe you’ll want to take a quick break but you’ll come back later on. And maybe you’ll decide that now actually is a good stopping point. Just remember that, if you do still want to stop, don’t force yourself to keep going. You can’t strike deals with yourself if you know you won’t keep your word and all you’ll end up doing is burning yourself out, which will lead to even less writing getting done

3. Try a new angle. If you can’t be bothered to write anymore, is there anything else you can do for your book? Plotting, editing, worldbuilding, character sheets, one-shots all that sort of thing can still be productive for your book while still being different enough to give your brain a slight respite. It also means less work in that particular area later on

Afterwards:

1. Organise. Clean up your workspace and put everything away so it’s nice and neat for when you come back to it. Or if you don’t need to pack things out the way, set it up in an aesthetically pleasing way so it will tempt you back next time. Let it give you the writer vibe

2. Take care of yourself. Get a drink, have a snack, walk about, stretch your limbs, take a breath, cuddle your pet. Something that gets you away from straining your eyes looking at text for a bit. This is also a good time to reward yourself if positive reinforcement is something you use on yourself. If you always feel shitty after your writing sessions, you won’t want to go back to it

3. Positive reflection. Make sure to tell yourself you did good, even if you didn’t get as much done as you would’ve liked or it isn’t up to a standard of quality you’re aiming for. That can all be fixed later on, and you’re infinitely better off than you would’ve been if you didn’t do it. Be proud of yourself. Tell yourself you’re proud of your hard work and your dedication and your effort. Remind yourself that this is a fun thing you like to do. Marvel over how insane it is that you’ve gotten this far - not many people do - and that you’ve got all this tangible work to prove you’ve accomplished something so many people wish they could pull off. If this isn’t fun overall, there’s no point

[yikesmary]

BEDTIME ROUTINE — jeon wonwoo x reader

summary: where you loved times like these with your boyfriend, wonwoo.

notes: book boyfriend wonwoo is back! i wrote this completely out of the blue so apologies for any mistakes. also this went into a direction i didn’t expect it to go to, but i love it so much. it might be my favorite fic i’ve written so far on this blog.

join my taglist!

“You’re staring at me again,”

“Can you blame me? I have a beautiful man as my boyfriend,” you teased, enjoying the pink blush that was developing on Wonwoo’s cheeks.

“I’m not even doing anything, I’m just reading a book,” he told you.

“To look this good and still be doing something so simple is incredible!” You overexaggerated, throwing your hands in the air dramatically.

Wonwoo playfully rolled his eyes, but pulled you closer to him, your body practically glued to his. It was nighttime, and your usual bedtime routine consisted of Wonwoo either reading a book or playing a game on his phone and you went on your phone.

But there were moments when you and Wonwoo felt particularly clingy towards each other, and sometimes you found yourself falling asleep to Wonwoo’s voice as he read aloud the book he was reading while cuddled up to him. He didn’t mind whenever you fell asleep as he read, because he knows how much you loved his voice, so he takes it as a compliment.

“How’s the book so far?” You asked, resting your head on his chest, recognizing the book as the one you gifted to him on his birthday.

“It’s good, I’m glad I finally found the time to read it,” he smiled.

“I was worried whether or not it was a good book. I didn’t know whether or not you were going to like it,” you said.

“It could’ve been a book that had the same word printed on the pages hundreds of times and I’d still read it because you gave it to me,” Wonwoo said.

“Don’t be silly,”

“I’m serious! I keep everything you give to me,”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” You challenged.

“The bookmark you made me on our first date, I still use that. The letter you wrote me on our first anniversary, and the bracelet you made with Joshua for me while you were drunk,” he recounted.

“Really? You’ve kept all of those things?” You asked, and he nodded.

“We live together, how have I not seen these things in the house?”

“Because I hide them in places you’d never think to look,”

“Like where?”

“There’s a reason why I haven’t told you! It’s a secret,” he said, and you playfully rolled your eyes at him.

“It also helps that you’re small and there are places I can reach that you don’t,” he teased.

You gasped and said, “I would move if you weren’t so comfortable,”

As if to ensure you wouldn’t move, Wonwoo moved you even closer to him, if that was even possible. In the middle of the conversation, you didn’t realize that he closed the book and put it on the nightstand that was on his side of the bed.

Silence fell between you, neither finding a reason to say something. You just enjoyed the moment between the both of you while Wonwoo was fiddling with your fingers with his hand, in deep thought.

“Do you have anything from when we first started dating?”

“I do, but since you won’t show me yours so I won’t show mine,” you said, playfully twisting your head away from him.

“How about this, I’ll countdown to three and we both get the stuff from our hiding spots. That way we don’t reveal our locations,” Wonwoo negotiated.

“Deal.”

“One... Two... Three!”

At the final number, the both of you tried leaving the bed, but because of how close you were cuddled together, the farthest you were able to go before falling was the floor of your bedroom. It wasn’t a far drop, but it was funny enough that both you and Wonwoo erupted in laughs and giggles.

You had struggled so much trying to get up with laughing and trying to detangle yourself from your boyfriend that by the time you had managed to stand, you were practically out of breath. But that didn’t deter you from your mission, so you tried moving to where you hid your stuff.

Spotting the box that was labeled with your name, you grabbed the box and dashed back into the room. Wonwoo would never look through something that had your name on it, since for the most part, neither of you felt the need to mark anything as your own since you guys knew whose belonging belonged with who. 

So, if it was labeled, there was a purpose and Wonwoo would never violate your privacy like that.

By the time you arrived in the bedroom, Wonwoo was already on the bed, his legs crossed and waiting patiently with his box. You got on the bed and sat right across from him in a similar position as you.

He moved back so you had enough room to put the box in front of you and that was when the both of you exchanged looks and then without saying anything, switched boxes.

You opened the box and were both happy and touched to see the exact items that he had described beforehand, with more things that weren’t mentioned and you didn’t realize he kept them.

When you looked at him, you saw that he looked a bit confused about the items, so you decided to refresh his memory. “That ticket was from we went to the aquarium together, the picture is when we went to that one petshop and you couldn’t stop playing with the cats,”

He smiled at you, remembering those moments. You were about to say something else before a tiny, brown, leather book caught your attention inside of Wonwoo’s box. You took it out and showed it to him asking, “What’s this?”

At the question, Wonwoo turned sheepish. Then he said, “When we first started dating, every time we went out somewhere to eat or drink, I’d write down what you ordered so the next time we went there, I could order for you. Eventually, I memorized everything so there wasn’t a need for a book,”

You felt like you were in school again, feeling like your middle school crush just confessed to you and love was everything at that age. Putting the stuff to the side, you moved to kiss him and your hands were on his shoulders.

When you pulled away, you decided that the kiss wasn’t enough so you peppered him with kisses on your face. “That was so thoughtful and sweet of you to do. I love you so much,” you said, placing one final kiss on his lips once more.

He was only able to smile like a lovesick fool in response, which he was.

You looked at the clock and were surprised to see how late it was. “We should go to bed, it’s late and we should’ve been asleep an hour ago,” you told him.

“Maybe we should make this a part of our nighttime routine,”

taglist (crossed out means I wasn’t able to tag you): @belladaises @smileyneos @xuenihao @winterpaos @wonhuiful @minhui896 @baekhyunimochibbh @itsrachelsplace @x-alightinthedark @whywontyousetfree @minghaossv @coffeesandrains @slaveofmydreams @bmkgemz @dandycharmer @yoonzinoooo​

[wannabeschyulersister]

but I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

“Who’s bright idea was it for us to have the party at our place?” You asked as you took a good look at the mess that was surrounding you.

“Richie. He somehow got out of hosting this year.”

“What a dick.” You joked. Well, kinda.

The staff of The Bear were known to party hard. It was evident by the state of your apartment. Everyone was excited to let loose and ring in the new year together. It had been a hectic couple of months to say the least.

New Year’s was one of your favorite holidays. It was a fresh start to new beginnings. It was also your third new year with Carmen.

“Where should we get started?”

Carmen wrapped his arms around you, “We should just go back to bed.”

“I would love to go back to bed but I can’t in good conscience knowing that we have a wreck here.” You told him as he kissed your cheek.

He groaned playfully and gave you a small squeeze, “I know. I forget that you’re a clean freak.”

“The faster we do this, the quicker we can get back in bed, Berzatto.”

“And what exactly would we do once we’re back in bed?”

“Well, I was thinking….”You leaned in closer and lightly grazed your lips against his. Just as he moved to seal the deal, you tilted your head back, “We can finally start that rewatch of Gilmore Girls.”

Carmen groaned and laughed, “That’s not what I was thinkin’ we should do.”

“Trust me, I know. You gotta get your mind out of the gutter,” you smiled, “Let’s have a game plan. Start in the living room and then finish in the kitchen.”

Carmen grabbed two garbage bags and handed you one. The both of you began picking up trash scattered around the room. You grabbed an empty champagne bottle and placed it in your bag.

“I loved the idea of people taking photos with the Polaroid this year. I’m sure we got some great shots.” You grabbed the stack that was on the floor.

Carmen moved closer to see the photos, “Is that someone’s ass?”

You chuckled, “That’s Richie’s.”

Carmen looked at you puzzled, “How the hell are you able to tell that his bare ass?”

“You can see the scar where Syd stabbed him.” You pointed out.

“Ah, yeah. Still creepy that you knew instantly.” Carmen laughed.

“Trust me, I hate that I knew it instantly too.” You glanced at the rest of the photos that were in the stack. One of Carmen and yourself caught your eye. Tina snapped the photo of the two of you candidly.

It had been close to midnight and Carmen didn’t want to let you out of his grasp before the countdown began. He wanted to savor the last moments of the year with you before ringing in the new one.

“I think we should put this one on the fridge.” You handed the picture to Carmen and it made him smile.

“Yeah, I like this one.”

“I’m glad that everyone felt comfortable here to let loose. Seeing everyone have a fun night after these last few stressful months was really nice.” You said as you grabbed the broom to sweep up some confetti. The glitter on the floor would be a bitch to clean.

“We have some more stressful months coming up,” Carmen added softly, “I hope everyone will be alright at the end of it.”

You knew he was mostly implying himself. The first year of a new restaurant opening was definitely one of the hardest. Trying to stand out from the hundreds and hundreds of already existing establishments was difficult.

Carmen put the stress of the world on his shoulders. You watched and held his hand through it all. There was nowhere else you’d rather be.

“Everyone is in a completely different place than they were when I first met them. I think you guys will be amazing and The Bear is going to be an absolute success.” You kissed his cheek and it made them a little rosy. He was so adorable when he blushed.

“You really think so?”

“Of course I do. I mean look who’s running the place. You and Syd. That’s a dream team if I’ve ever seen one.”

“You’re just gassin’ me up.” Carmen was never good at receiving compliments. That didn’t stop you from giving him dozens of them a day.

“No, I’m not. I’m telling you the truth,” you placed a hand on his chest near his heart, “I’m going to be right beside you through the good and the bad.”

Carmen placed his hand on yours. He didn’t outright say that he needed the reassurance but he was so thankful to get it. It was like you could read his mind.

He would often jump the gun and worry about things prematurely. You were the one to try and keep him grounded in the moment.

“I’m so lucky to have you.” He said softly before kissing you.

“Ditto, Berzatto. You’re stuck with me for life. I don’t ever want to not know you.”

“If I have it my way, you don’t ever have to worry about that happening.”

“Pinky promise?” You held your hand out with your pinky ready to lock with his.

“It’s a promise.”

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about Price who never flies home for the holidays. He doesn’t even have a family to fly out to anyway. So when Christmas and New Year’s Eve roll around he celebrates it on base. Well calling it a celebration would be an exaggeration since on Christmas he gets drunk out of his mind and for New Years he watches the fireworks on tv.

Usually he’s all alone on base but this year you’re there as well.

Price hadn’t pried as to why you hadn’t flown home since he considered it to be too personal and you knew better than to ask why he spent Christmas and New Year’s Eve alone on base.

So instead the two of you sat on the worn out couch, in the small living room on base, shared a couple drinks and watched some shitty Christmas movie.

It had been a bit awkward at first since the two of you never talked to each other outside of missions but it didn’t take much before you fell into comfortable conversations.

You laughed at the cliche Christmas movies, complained about the cold, even discussed what the rest of tf141 could be doing back home.

It didn’t take much before the two of you called it a night before planning to do something similar for when New Year’s Eve came around.

Couple days later and the two of you are back on the same worn out couch, sharing drinks and waiting for the fireworks show to start playing.

It’s clear that you and Price have grown more comfortable around each other since you got your arm practically slung around his shoulder and you’re sitting so close your thighs are pressing up against each other but Price doesn’t seem to mind it.

Instead he’s watching the tv, seemingly deep in thought.

“You ever had a new years kiss sergeant?”

You snort at that, almost spitting out the drink you were sipping on.

“No don’t think I have,” you say sounding amused while putting down your drink on the table. “Have you ever had a new years kiss captain?”

“Once”

“Yeah?”

“He was drunk out of his mind and planted a wet kiss on my lips, didn’t remember a single thing in the morning” he scoffs out.

“He?” You say, surprise clear in your voice as you look at the older man beside you.

Price nods in response but looks a bit uncomfortable by your reaction.

You scramble your brain for something to say, needing him to know you weren’t uncomfortable by this revelation. You just didn’t know what exactly you should say.

“Must’ve been a shitty kiss,” is all you manage to say while feeling heat creep up your face.

That was the best thing you could come up with? You think to yourself

“Yeah? How do you know sergeant? Were you there?” Price says with a small smile on his face and looking a bit more relaxed than before.

“No but he was drunk you didn’t see it coming i don’t think anyone would like it” you say feeling your face scrunch up at the thought of having a stranger’s beer breath hit your face before they kissed you on your mouth, without even asking for permission.

“I suppose you’re right,” is all he says.

You don’t know what made you say it but before you know of it the words are slipping past your lips

“I can prove it,”

“Oh yeah?” He says as he raises a brow at your words “how?”

Your eyes flicker down to his lips before you look into his eyes again.

“Sergeant,”

“Tell me to stop if you don’t want this” you say voice breathy and strained but Price doesn’t say anything. Instead he waits to see what you’ll do next.”I promise I’m not drunk” you add on and he just smiles in response.

As you lean in you can hear the countdown starting.

10, 9, 8

Price’s eyes flutter shut and so do yours.

7, 6,5

You can now feel his hot breath washing over your face, nose brushing against his.

4,3,2..

Slowly but surely you lean in

..1,0 Happy New Year!

and before you know it the two of you kiss.

[fvllingflower]

Yearly Kiss

pairing: nonidol!wonu, afab!reader

genre: romance, smut

warning: pda, making out, boob play, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (stay safe!), aftercare

song recommendation: nobody knows by kiss of life

happy year of the dragon:)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Parties are usually not your thing they've never really been but you decided that since Wonwoo does so much for you, you'll do this for him plus the guys are your friends too.

You decided to wear a tight, black shirt with a shiny, short skirt and some thigh high boots with light makeup.

"Baby you ready to go?" Wonwoo asked from the living room.

"Yeah," You replied and walked into the living room to see your boyfriend, wearing a satin white button up and some black pants.

"Damn baby you look sexy," He came up and cupped your face and kissed me.

"I got my lipstick on you," You laughed.

"That's okay," He smiled. You started messing with a few top buttons.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Unbuttoning the shirt a little, so you don't look like a waiter," You smiled.

"Always taking care of me," He kissed your head. When you finished fixing his shirt, he looked at you sweetly.

"You ready to go?" He asked.

"Yeah let me just grab my purse and phone real quick," You walked off from him to grab your stuff.

You two arrived at the party and were greeted by Mingyu. You could see the rest of the guys not too far away.

"You guys came," The taller man hugged Wonwoo and you stood there holding his hand. Jun and Minghao coming towards y'all. Mingyu pulled back and patted your head which you're use to at this point. The other two came up and hugged you. Pulling you slightly away from Wonwoo to talk to you.

"You look sexy," Jun smiled which made you smile. He always saying shit like that but Minghao still hit his arm.

"I mean true, some of the others think so as well," Minghao added.

"Ooh who?" You asked.

"We can't say-" "Shua, Jeonghan, Vernon I think," Jun answered. After talking to them you went back over to where Wonwoo was with Mingyu.

"Oh Y/N, I invited some of your friends as well," Mingyu smiled and I nodded. Once he walked of you laughed.

"He's clearly drunk," You looked at Wonwoo who agreed with you.

"I'm gonna go hang out with the guys, and you go find the girls," He smiled.

"Mhm okay," You calmed down. He kissed your forehead before walking off.

You walked in the opposite direction.

"YOOHYEON!" I shouted happily.

"Y/N," She ran over and hugged you.

"Where's Wonwoo?" She asked.

"He's talking with the guys," You replied.

"You're mine now," She picked you up causing you to laugh hard. You two went where the other girls were at.

A couple hours and drinks later it's now 11:50... 10 minutes till New Year. You felt someone hug you from behind and you turned your head to see Wonwoo.

"10 more minutes till I get my kiss," He whispered. You rolled your eyes at him.

"Who are you guys gonna kiss?" You asked the girls and some shrugged.

"Bora and Siyeon are kissing each other, I'm gonna kiss Yoohyeon, and I don't know about the other three," Minji replied and I nodded.

"Gahyeon and Dongie could kiss but then Yubin would be alone," You thought out loud and the girls nodded.

"Ooh you guys could both kiss Gahyeon's cheek," You smiled.

"Yeah that'll work," Yubin nodded.

"How much longer?" You asked Wonwoo.

"5 more minutes," He replied.

We all went over to the TV and waited to countdown. Which felt like forever.

"5, 4, 3, 2, 1!" You all shouted. You stood on the couch and kissed Wonwoo passionately, your arms wrapping around his neck and his arms around your waist.

"Happy New Year baby," He whispered against your lips. Suddenly you saw a flash hit you two and realized Bora took a Polaroid photo of you guys which made y'all laugh. She handed you the photo, you held it tightly before kissing Wonwoo again.

"Do you wanna go back home in a minute?" You whispered.

"Of course," He smiled. You pulled my arms away from him and got off the couch. You looked at the photo that Bora took and you smiled widely. You handed the photo to Wonwoo and walked over to the girls and started leaving kiss marks on their cheeks making them laugh. Some minutes you announced to everyone that Wonwoo and you are gonna go. You two said our goodbyes and left.

You two got to the shared house and locked the door. You two took your shoes off and then you grabbed his hand and lead him to the shared bedroom. He shut the door behind him and you cupped his face to kiss him deeply, he snaked his around your waist.

"Honey let me put the photo on the nightstand first," He pulled away from you. He sat down on the edge of the bed patted his lap to tell you to come to him. You straddled his lap and he pulled your top off of you before you two started to passionately making out. Your fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt as your lips attacked one another. Your lipstick now long gone. You pulled his satin shirt off of his toned body and threw it onto the floor. You pulled your lips away from his and latched your lips onto his neck. Placing wet kisses and soon leaving hickeys on the crook of his neck, and his collarbone. His hands come up from your waist and started to unclasp your bra and threw it onto the floor. He then latched his mouth onto your left boob and started sucking on it. His tongue doing circles on your nipple, his left hand massaging your right boob.

You started moving your hips against his thigh to feel friction.

"My baby needy?" He cooed.

"So needy," panted. His hands did a switch and started to suck and mark your right boob and now his right hand massaging your left boob, all making you whimper. Your hands digging into his hair. He pulled away from your boobs and looked up to kiss you deeply. You got off of him pulled your skirt off along with your underwear. You got to him and started unbuttoning his pants and he stood up to take his pants off but he kept his underwear on. He picked you up and laid you on the bed and climb on top of you and kissed you.

"Do you want me to make you feel good?," He asked while looking at you. You nodded your head eerily.

"Baby you have to speak," He smiled and placed kisses on your tits.

"God yes please Wonwoo," You let out.

"As you wish honey," He smirked. He climbed off of you and down to the accessible area between your legs.

You felt a soft kiss on your clit. He started licking your clit like he's a cat and you're the milk he's been looking for. The kitten licks going faster and then he started sucking and then back to licking your folds so sweetly. All of this causing you to arch your back and grip his hair and let out soft moans. He started sucking on you like a drink dripping on the side of the cup. His grip on your hips you swear it could've left a bruise.

"Won..woo," You moaned high pitch.

"Mhm?" He hummed and the vibration of his voice making you crazy as he then stuck his fingers into your core.

"Oh shit babe" You moaned. You started clenching around his fingers letting him know you're close. You released into his mouth and on his fingers and he ate it up like candy and cleaned you up.

"You're so gorgeous," He got eye level with you and kissed you softly making you taste yourself against his lips. He got up and took his underwear off, and shit how he was turned on, his tip red and leaking precum. He spread him precum around his tip before lining himself up.

"You ready?" He asked.

"More than ready," You smiled. He slowly slid into your hole as you two moaned in sync.

He stayed there for a minute to make sure you were adjusted. You tapped his shoulder as his signal. He slowly started thrusting, you wrapped your legs around him to help get deeper and for him to start picking up the pace and soon he went pretty fast. You felt him pounding inside you, he was giving you no mercy it seemed like. Your head tossed back, his hands were on your breasts, squeezing away as he pounded with no mercy. He soon enough hit your g spot making you moan loudly. You felt your walls tighten around him. He kissed your lips then he went to your neck kissing away as he continued to develop the knot in your stomach.

"God damn baby," He moaned onto your neck. His pounding kept going fast, and the grip on my breasts got tighter causing you to moan in pleasure and pain but it was mainly pleasure. The things he does to you feel so unreal and you didn't want it to end, his kisses always lingers and the feeling of him on your body lingers, you swear he's like magic, he knows exactly what to do and say. Fuck you love him so much. You suddenly felt euphoria release and the knot became undone. He slowed down a bit for you to ride through he orgasm before he went back to fucking you relentlessly. You swear one day he'll break you but god does it feel good. Man has some high stamina to keep going at this pace. His eyes glued to you, watching every moan come out of your mouth.

"Holy.. fuck" You moaned loudly as you arch your back. You felt the knot come back, so you started moving your hips with his to help get to your climax quicker.

His thrusts were getting sloppier so yoy knew he was close. Luckily as soon as he released inside of you, fucking his cum into you, you came for a second time. After a couple of minutes he slowly pulled out of you which caused you to whimper at the lose of warmth. He laid down next to you, pulling you on top of him and he caressed your back.

"I love you," He panted.

"I love you too," You smiled, he kissed your head. You two laid there catching your breath.

"Let me clean you up," He smiled as he sat up laying you on the bed. He went into the bathroom and you heard the water start running. You tried standing up but you quickly fell onto the floor with a loud thump.

"Baby are you okay?" He ran into the bedroom to see you on the floor.

"I'm okay, I guess my legs are jelly," You smiled. He walked towards you and picked you up, bridal style and sat you in the bath tub.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" He looked concerned. You shook my head.

"It felt good," Your hand cupped his face. He blushed as he placed you into the tub and joining you. He pressed your back against his chest as he helped to clean you up. It felt so relaxing, you felt like you could fall asleep against his chest, right there and then. You two got out of the bath and he helped you dry off and put on some underwear and an oversized shirt. He carried you to bed. You sat up in bed waiting for Wonwoo to join you.

"You're adorable," He laughed endearingly. He cupped your face and kissed you softly making you smile. He climbed into bed and you quickly went to lay next to him. We cuddled up.

"Happy New Years baby," You looked up at him with a sweet smile.

"I love you honey," He smiled

"I love you too," You kissed his lips.

[silverwhittlingknife]

snippet

“Nobody is going to die here,” Dick says, trying to project a confidence he doesn’t feel.

If this were the Titans, he’d probably get some acknowledgement.  Titans together.  A clap on the shoulder.  Something.  But it’s not the Titans, so instead Cass Cain flicks a glance at him and then goes back to scowling at the wall, and Jason says, “Would you fucking quit it with the inspirational speeches, leader-boy?” and Tim says, “I think we should prioritize getting Dick out,” as if Dick isn’t even here.

“I’m fine,” Dick says.  Because he is. Mostly.  It’s not like it’s exactly fun to get whipped and then tied to an ominous black altar in a room with no obvious doors after successfully talking a cult into deciding you’re the optimum sacrifice of their four captives.  But it’s certainly better than the alternative scenario in which the Dark Leader Whatsisface had listened to Tim’s pitch.

“Weakness in the wall,” Cass says.  “…Here.”

“Yeah, weak walls would be great, if we had C4,” Jason says.  “Except for the part where we don’t have C4, because somebody took my stash and my helmet.  Some fucking insufferable team of fucking idiots who like to mind everybody else’s business—”

“Kick, maybe,” Cass says to Tim, who’s still trying to pick the lock on one of Dick’s manacles.

Tim frowns.  “I don’t think even you can kick a wall hard enough to—”

“Not… the wall.  Kick him,” Cass says, nodding at Jason.

“Oh fuck you very much,” Jason says, with more heat than Dick expects.  Jason’s edgy, beneath all the bluffing, and it’s hard to tell why, because although the situation admittedly isn’t great the countdown timer still has half an hour to go before the cult starts punching whatever buttons outside the room that will set Dick on fire—or get him eaten by a dragon, it hadn’t been very clear through the chanting.

Anyway.  They have time, even if Cass’s shoulders are tense and Tim’s face is strained and Dick’s back is killing him—they strapped him with his back down after the beating, and he’s trying not to think about the likelihood of blood stains on this altar thing—and the sweat from the heat is getting in his eyes.

A hand.  Tim’s wiped the sweat away, which is both a comfort and kind of humiliating.  Tim’s lips are pinched—he’s furious at Dick, it’s obvious, only not acting on it because they’re in front of Jason and Tim, at least, understands the importance of presenting a united front.  So it’ll be a fight, once they get out, but Dick’s not sorry.  If he’s totally honest, he’s a little angry himself.  Trust me, Tim had muttered, when they all first got grabbed, and then he’d raised his voice and asked to speak privately to the leader, and Dick only realized too late what he’d been after, when the cultists came back and explained how Red Robin was going to be their sacrifice to the dragon-god and everyone else could live and watch in order to marvel at their lord’s demonic glory or whatever.

“Cass, listen,” Tim says.  "I think if you help me with the manacles—”

“No,” Cass says.  Tim’s been trying to get her to come back to the altar to mess with Dick’s bindings; Cass has been ignoring him.  A splinter in an otherwise seamless partnership.

"If you put pressure on the other side while I pick the lock," Tim says.

"No," Cass snaps. Cass doesn’t believe in united fronts, Jason or no Jason—Dick should know, she once threw him into a wall—but Dick doesn’t think she’s actually mad at Tim, just impatient.  “Manacles broken, not broken… doesn’t matter. No good if we’re still here.  Need to get out.  Then Nightwing.”

“I vote we leave him here, actually,” Jason says.  

“Jason, shut up,” Tim says.

“What, is this suddenly not a democracy? Do I not have the right to an opinion? Are you against voting, Replacement?”

[eddiesxangel]

Okay last request of the year.

Eddie kissing reader on new year’s eve and it’s her first kiss💞

The Stroke of Midnight | Eddie Munson x Reader

Wc: 942 cw: alcohol and fluff

Here you were, New Year’s Eve, at Steve’s. Single. Surrounded by couples. Everyone had been paired off. Every. Single. Person.

Robin and Vicky. Steve and Nancy. Hell, even all the kids had their little relationships. And here you were, an hour until midnight, and you would be kissing Mr. Snuffles, the family cat, at this point.

The party was fun, but the reality of the fact that you hadn’t ever been kissed by somebody, let alone getting a New Year’s Eve kiss, was settling in.

Eddie, your only chronically single friend, was supposed to be here. However, it’s now 11:26pm, and he was nowhere to be found. Honestly, you were a tiny bit relieved he wasn’t here. You had liked Eddie. Ok, liked is an understatement. You had a big, fat, massive crush on Eddie Munson.

Eddie was never one of your super close friends. You had been closer with the girls, but he was still a friend. Your group was together whenever you all had the time. You tried at least a few times a week to get together. Eddie was always sweet on you. He was a natural flirt; you were not used to that kind of attention. He makes you flustered in the best way possible.

So when he didn’t show, you were disappointed, but since he was the only singleton out of the group, you felt anxious about him being here...Would you have to kiss? Would he even want to kiss you? Would you be bad at it? What if you sucked at kissing, and he told everybody! What if you asked him, and he rejected you? That would be mortifying!

As you got lost in your thoughts and the sparkling wine you had been downing all night, you didn't hear the door open or anyone or greet the man who had entered the room.

"Hey, sweetheart, sorry I'm late." You snapped out of your thoughts, and standing before you was Eddie. Your stomach was in knots.

"Edde! Hi!" You said a little too enthusiastically.

"Woah, how many of these have we had tonight?" He asks, taking your champagne flute from your hand and sipping it a bit. If it was anyone else that took your drink, you'd be pissed. But it was Eddie. He didn't mean anything by it.

"Only a few." You turn into yourself shyly.

"Well, looks like I need to catch up." He winked. "Care to join me in the kitchen?" He gestured his arm out for you to talk in front of him.

"Okay," You smiled.

You check the TV for the NYE countdown. Seven minutes until midnight.

"I didn't think you were going to come."

"And not be with my favourite person to start the new year? Nah. Have to start off '88 right." He smiled before turning to open the fringe, and you swore your heart stopped.

"Oh," your chest and face immediately felt flush. Thankfully, the door was blocking you, so Eddie couldn't see the look of shock in your eyes. "So, uh... what took you so long?" you twiddled with your glass.

"Oh, I had to finish up some last-minute deals... you know. Nothing says Happy New Year like being high." he says before taking a shot.

"Woah, Munson starting off strong," Steve says as he enters the kitchen.

"Gotta catch up with this one; can't be the only sober guy at the party," Eddie pointed to you jokingly.

You just rolled your eyes as you topped off your glass for the cheers.

Steve grabbed his drink and then beckoned the both of you into the living room with the TV countdown. There were only a few minutes left until midnight.

Eddie took your hand and led you into the crowded room. You noticed everyone was paired off, sitting beside one another. As you scanned the area, you noticed that most of the seats were taken. However, Eddie confidently guided you towards a single high-backed leather chair, which could only accommodate one person. He then patted his lap warmly with a smile, gesturing for you to sit with him.

" I uh- you sure?" you stuttered.

"Yes, sweetheart, only a few more seconds until midnight; how am I supposed to kiss you from all the way up there?"

You threw all caution to the wind while thanking your lucky stars you didn't drink too much to be an absolute disaster.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six... the others chanted as you sat down in Eddie's lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulder so you could face him.

Six.

You shuffled to get comfortable.

Five.

Eddie wrapped a sroong hand around your waist.

Four.

You looked into Eddie's eyes and took a deep breath.

Three.

Eddie smiled, and you smiled back. It was clear to the others around you that both of you were nervous.

Two.

Eddie nudged your nose with his own nose.

One.

Fireworks! You closed your eyes, and Eddie leaned in. His lips were a little chapped from winter but still soft and plush. He worked his mouth with yours as his hand came up to cup your left cheek. It was so natural, so easy, you couldn't believe how simple kissing was. You'd always thought it would be complicated. Or maybe it's due to the fact that Eddie was really good at it. You had nothing to compare it to, but he was really good at it.

Happy New Year! You heard the others cheer, breaking you out of your thoughts, and Eddie pulled away.

"Happy New Year, Sweets." He tilted your chin up to him.

“Happy New Year, Eddie." you whispered before he kissed you again.

[ventismacchiato]

37 behind the lens — co-op irl! that’s called hanging out !

scaramouche x g!n reader

warning; slightly suggestive

“Sorry, these are the only aprons we own,” Kuni frowns as he holds up two ‘Kiss the Cook!’ aprons.

“It’s cute,” you smile as he stares at them with a great disdain.

“Childe bought them,” he mumbles, tying it around his waist with ease, but the same can’t be said for you. He watches you struggle for a minute before making his way behind you.

“Like this,” he murmurs as he brings the strings around your waist and ties them in a bow. His arms are nearly around your hips as he does so, his breath in your ear before he pulls back.

“Where’s my kiss?” you joke as Kuni adjusts the camera in front of you both to let the stream countdown begin. He rolls his eyes as he comes back beside you, making sure you guys have the set amount of ingredients before turning to you.

“Where’s mine?” he counters.

You hold back a smile and fail. You step closer and cradle Kuni’s skull, leaning in one time for a peck.

“Like this?” you ask coyly as Kuni hums.

You surge in once again, this time to lick Kuni’s mouth open, tasting his breath. You both are the same amount of assertive and the same amount of submissive. Kuni catches your bottom lip between his teeth and swells them prettier.

You both pull back with a dazed look in your eyes before realizing the stream had started. Minutes ago.

For the first few minutes the chat was flooded with comments on you both kissing. And being the professionals, or flustered idiots, you both were you quickly jump into an introduction as more viewers arrive.

Kuni snaps out of it and gets into his Balladeer mode, matching your energy and instructing you on what to do.

“I know I titled the stream cooking, but we’re actually baking cupcakes because this one,” he gestures to you, “doesn’t know how to do shit in the kitchen.”

“Hey!” you huff as he busies himself with the mixer, a small smirk on his face as you rush to defend yourself to the chat.

tartnom donated $5

are you guys at the fatui house?

“Yes,” you answer, gesturing behind you, “This is where Kuni lives,” you say as you whisk a batch of frosting in front of you, “But I’ve been sleeping over a lot and have been streaming here a bit, which is why my stream backgrounds may have looked different.”

Kuni reaches over to drop some food dye into the bowl in front of you so it swirls into a pretty lavender. You reach down to scrape a bit onto your spoon and bring it to your lips, the frosting dissolving on your tongue.

“Pretty good,” you nod.

Kuni looks over at your compliment and eyes your mouth for a good second. And as if it was second nature Kuni reaches over and swipes the frosting on the corner of your mouth with his thumb and licks it off clean.

“Yeah,” he agrees, taking the spoon from you and putting the frosting to the side.

This time it was your turn to stand there flustered as your chat went insane.

“You alright?” Kuni has the audacity to ask as he adorned a knowing smile.

“Yes,” you said, stammering so much this time you scarcely convinced yourself.

soobasaur donated $20

SINCE WHEN DID SCARA HAVE SO MUCH RIZZ?!

As the stream goes on you both fall into a rhythm of getting things done, which mainly includes you thinking you did pretty well and Kuni critiquing it and going in to make it perfect.

There were times you were sure he was just putting on a show for the camera, but the more he did certain gestures the more you realized it was just the way he was around you.

“Do it like this, it’s faster,” Kuni says after watching you struggle to whisk the batter by hand. You think he’s just going to grab the whisk from you and demonstrate for you but instead he comes up behind you and reaches over to grab your wrist. His other hand is on your waist as he controls your hand for a minute. You can barely focus on what he was saying with his weight pressed up against your back.

sakkuur donated $10

i feel like im intruding LMFAO

By some miracle, you both manage to finish the cupcakes. You each divide them by half to decorate but your poor wrist was dying by then so Kuni took over.

“Taste test,” you say, picking out a finished cupcake for yourself as Kuni did the same.

“Kuni isn’t a fan of sweets,” you laugh as you watch Kuni grimace at the intense flavor.

A few crumbs flake off the freshly baked dessert and fall down Kuni’s shirt as he's leaning forward, which had caused the fabric to hang low. He grumbles and sets down the cupcake and reaches up to unbutton his shirt. Your cupcake was long forgotten as you watched his bare chest become exposed, his milky white skin on display for you and the other millions of people watching.

ventismacchiato donated $69

PLS LEAVE THE SHIRT UNBUTTONED OMG

“You should listen to the comments,” you swallow, averting your eyes as soon as Kuni catches you staring.

“No, but I’ll listen if you tell me to,” he counters, a sly smile playing on his lips as he tilts his head at you as he makes a move to button up his shirt once again, “Tell me to stop.”

“You’re so aggravating,” you mutter, reaching over to move his hands out of the way and doing his buttons up for him, “I’ll undo it myself later.”

primviq donated $5

EXCUSE ME WHAT

cartierfiles donated $5

DID I HEAR THAT RIGHT??

cindywasneverhere donated $10

SOMEBODY PLS CLIP THAT

Kuni stares at you with a half-lidded stare, tongue pressed against his cheek as he eyes you.

“Okay,” is all he says before nodding to the camera, “End the stream then.”

You just barely shut the stream off before his hands are all over on you.

behind the lens !

masterlist — prev | next

i cant rmbr if i already used that neck photo but oh well idc, you can ignore the lipstick stains if you’re not comfortable with that and just pretend it’s hickeys cus that what i’m trying to imply

i didnt specify what language scara was learning on duolingo but i think it would be cute if he was learning what the reader’s mother tongue/native language is. and if you only speak english then maybe he’s touching up on french to take you back to paris

lmk if it’s hard to read anything in an ask and i’ll zoom in for you

jungkook in the edit that i slayed

author’s notes — hope the grammar isn’t ass it’s 5am

synopsis — you, better known as STARDUST, and BALLADEER have always been in competition for the top streamer spot on twitch, which is especially impressive since the two of you have never shown your faces. you’ve never been on good terms, constantly one-upping each other in matches and getting into petty arguments on twitter, causing your fans to also dislike each other. that’s until BALLADEER does a face reveal that breaks the internet with his good looks…which makes you realize it’s the same guy you went on a date with last night. the type of date that made you crave to see him again. the only problem was he didn’t know you were STARDUST and he was way different behind the lens than he portrayed himself online to you. should you keep your identity a secret to salvage the relationship or just let him go?

taglist is closed — @captainzep @elysiumarchieve @plinkuro @sakkakuu-squared @eliqusgenma @vuvulia @kunikuzushiit @ins4nebish @stxrgxzxr @lilneps @uma-umie @mitsukifilms @caesars-bubbles @wheneverthesunrise @its-like-twilight @kazuhalvrr @erosdevil @thenightsflower @p1utto @noodleshark420 @lxry-chxn @court-jester-stuff @lauragalliart @veyu002 @kaeyas-eyepatch-69 @leathernourishingshoepolish @satowaluverr @lexlapis @drunkwithfever @exhaustedcommunist @vincanzu @ainlaw @ovaliz @kitsuvil @whatamidoing89 @celestair @kunihaver @kazioli @xiaosoneandonly @cridtiins @cherrybeomgyu @asukahiriko @moon-320 @orionicchaos [1/3]

[mostlysignssomeportents]

'We buy ugly houses' is code for 'we steal vulnerable peoples' homes'

Tonight (May 11) at 7PM, I’m in CALGARY for Wordfest, with my novel Red Team Blues; I’ll be hosted by Peter Hemminger at the Memorial Park Library, 2nd Floor.

Home ownership is the American dream: not only do you get a place to live, free from the high-handed dictates of a landlord, but you also get an asset that appreciates, building intergenerational wealth while you sleep — literally.

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/2023/05/11/ugly-houses-ugly-truth/#homevestor

Of course, you can’t have it both ways. If your house is an asset you use to cover falling wages, rising health care costs, spiraling college tuition and paper-thin support for eldercare, then it can’t be a place you live. It’s gonna be an asset you sell — or at the very least, borrow so heavily against that you are in constant risk of losing it.

This is the contradiction at the heart of the American dream: when America turned its back on organized labor as an engine for creating prosperity and embraced property speculation, it set itself on the road to serfdom — a world where the roof over your head is also your piggy bank, destined to be smashed open to cover the rising costs that an organized labor movement would have fought:

https://gen.medium.com/the-rents-too-damned-high-520f958d5ec5

Today, we’re hit the end of the road for the post-war (unevenly, racially segregated) shared prosperity that made it seem, briefly, that everyone could get rich by owning a house, living in it, then selling it to everybody else. Now that the game is ending, the winners are cashing in their chips:

https://doctorow.medium.com/the-end-of-the-road-to-serfdom-bfad6f3b35a9

The big con of home ownership is proceeding smartly on schedulee. First, you let the mark win a little, so they go all in on the scam. Then you take it all back. Obama’s tolerance of bank sleze after the Great Financial Crisis kicked off the modern era of corporations and grifters stealing Americans’ out from under them, forging deeds in robosigning mills:

https://www.marketwatch.com/story/us-breaks-down-93-bln-robo-signing-settlement-2013-02-28

The thefts never stopped. Today on Propublica, by Anjeanette Damon, Byard Duncan and Mollie Simon bring a horrifying, brilliantly reported account of the rampant, bottomless scams of Homevestors, AKA We Buy Ugly Houses, AKA “the #1 homebuyer in the USA”:

https://www.propublica.org/article/ugly-truth-behind-we-buy-ugly-houses

Homevestors — an army of the hedge fund Bayview Asset Management — claims a public mission: to bail out homeowners sitting on unsellable houses with all-cash deals. The company��s franchisees — 1,150 of them in 48 states — then sprinkle pixie dust and secret sauce on these “ugly houses” and sell them at a profit.

But Propublica’s investigation — which relied on whistleblowers, company veterans, court records and interviews with victims — tells a very different story. The Homevestor they discovered is a predator that steals houses out from under elderly people, disabled people, people struggling with mental illness and other vulnerable people. It’s a company whose agents have a powerful, well-polished playbook that stops family members from halting the transfers the company’s high-pressure salespeople set in motion.

Propublica reveals homeowners with advanced dementia who signed their shaky signatures to transfers that same their homes sold out from under them for a fraction of their market value. They show how Homevestor targets neighborhoods struck by hurricanes, or whose owners are recently divorced, or sick. One whistleblower tells of how the company uses the surveillance advertising industry to locate elderly people who’ve broken a hip: “a 60-day countdown to death — and, possibly, a deal.” The company’s mobile ads are geofenced to target people near hospitals and rehab hospitals, in hopes of finding desperate sellers who need to liquidate homes so that Medicaid will cover their medical expenses.

The sales pitches are relentless. One of Homevestor’s targets was a Texas woman whose father had recently been murdered. As she grieved, they blanketed her in pitches to sell her father’s house until “checking her mail became a traumatic experience.”

Real-estate brokers are bound by strict regulations, but not house flippers like Homevestors. Likewise, salespeople who pitch other high-ticket items, from securities to plane tickets — are required to offer buyers a cooling-off period during which they can reconsider their purchases. By contrast, Homevestors’ franchisees are well-versed in “muddying the title” to houses after the contract is signed, filing paperwork that makes it all but impossible for sellers to withdraw from the sale.

This produces a litany of ghastly horror-stories: homeowners who end up living in their trucks after they were pressured into a lowball sales; sellers who end up dying in hospital beds haunted by the trick that cost them their homes. One woman who struggled with hoarding was tricked into selling her house by false claims that the city would evict her because of her hoarding. A widow was tricked into signing away the deed to her late husband’s house by the lie that she could do so despite not being on the deed. One seller was tricked into signing a document he believed to be a home equity loan application, only to discover he had sold his house at a huge discount on its market value. An Arizona woman was tricked into selling her dead mother’s house through the lie that the house would have to be torn down and the lot redeveloped; the Homevestor franchisee then flipped the house for 5,500% of the sale-price.

The company vigorously denies these claims. They say that most people who do business with Homevestors are happy with the outcome; in support of this claim, they cite internal surveys of their own customers that produce a 96% approval rating.

When confronted with the specifics, the company blamed rogue franchisees. But Propublica obtained training materials and other internal documents that show that the problem is widespread and endemic to Homevestors’ business. Propublica discovered that at least eight franchisees who engaged in conduct the company said it “didn’t tolerate” had been awarded prizes by the company for their business acumen.

Franchisees are on the hook for massive recurring fees and face constant pressure from corporate auditors to close sales. To make those sales, franchisees turn to Homevana’s training materials, which are rife with predatory tactics. One document counsels franchisees that “pain is always a form of motivation.” What kind of pain? Lost jobs, looming foreclosure or a child in need of surgery.

A former franchisee explained how this is put into practice in the field: he encountered a seller who needed to sell quickly so he could join his dying mother who had just entered a hospice 1,400 miles away. The seller didn’t want to sell the house; they wanted to “get to Colorado to see their dying mother.”

These same training materials warn franchisees that they must not deal with sellers who are “subject to a guardianship or has a mental capacity that is diminished to the point that the person does not understand the value of the property,” but Propublica’s investigation discovered “a pattern of disregard” for this rule. For example, there was the 2020 incident in which a 78-year-old Atlanta man sold his house to a Homevestors franchisee for half its sale price. The seller was later shown to be “unable to write a sentence or name the year, season, date or month.”

The company tried to pin the blame for all this on bad eggs among its franchisees. But Propublica found that some of the company’s most egregious offenders were celebrated and tolerated before and after they were convicted of felonies related to their conduct on behalf of the company. For example, Hi-Land Properties is a five-time winner of Homevestors’ National Franchise of the Year prize. The owner was praised by the CEO as “loyal, hardworking franchisee who has well represented our national brand, best practices and values.”

This same franchisee had “filed two dozen breach of contract lawsuits since 2016 and clouded titles on more than 300 properties by recording notices of a sales contract.” Hi-Land “sued an elderly man so incapacitated by illness he couldn’t leave his house.”

Another franchisee, Patriot Holdings, uses the courts aggressively to stop families of vulnerable people from canceling deals their relatives signed. Patriot Holdings’ co-owner, Cory Evans, eventually pleaded guilty to to two felonies, attempted grand theft of real property. He had to drop his lawsuits against buyers, and make restitution.

According to Homevestors’ internal policies, Patriot’s franchise should have been canceled. But Homevestors allowed Patriot to stay in business after Cory Evans took his name off the business, leaving his brothers and other partners to run it. Nominally, Cory Evans was out of the picture, but well after that date, internal Homevestors included Evans in an award it gave to Patriot, commemorating its sales (Homevestors claims this was an error).

Propublica’s reporters sought comment from Homevestors and its franchisees about this story. The company hired “a former FBI spokesperson who specializes in ‘crisis and special situations’ and ‘reputation management’ and funnelled future questions through him.”

Internally, company leadership scrambled to control the news. The company convened a webinar in April with all 1,150 franchisees to lay out its strategy. Company CEO David Hicks explained the company’s plan to “bury” the Propublica article with “‘strategic ad buys on social and web pages’ and ‘SEO content to minimize visibility.’”

https://www.propublica.org/article/homevestors-aims-to-bury-propublica-reporting

Franchisees were warned not to click links to the story because they “might improve its internet search ranking.”

Even as the company sought to “bury” the story and stonewalled Propublica, they cleaned house, instituting new procedures and taking action against franchisees identified in Propublica’s article. “Clouding titles” is now prohibited. Suing sellers for breach of contract is “discouraged.” Deals with seniors “should always involve family, attorneys or other guardians.”

During the webinar, franchisees “pushed back on the changes, claiming they could hurt business.”

If you’ve had experience with hard-sell house-flippers, Propublica wants to know: “If you’ve had experience with a company or buyer promising fast cash for homes, our reporting team wants to hear about it.”

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Calgary, Toronto, DC, Gaithersburg, Oxford, Hay, Manchester, Nottingham, London, and Berlin!

[Image ID: A Depression-era photo of a dour widow standing in front of a dilapidated cabin. Next to her is Ug, the caveman mascot for Homevestors, smiling and pointing at her. Behind her is a 'We buy ugly houses' sign.

Image: Homevestors https://www.homevestors.com/

Fair use: https://www.eff.org/issues/intellectual-property

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @velinxi​

Hello! I’m Xiao Tong Kong, better known as “Velinxi.” I’m the creator of the webcomic Countdown to Countdown and have been doing freelance artwork since I was a teenager. I love telling stories with my illustrations! Tumblr was where I first got my start as an artist, specifically a small fandom artist as a hobby… and now I’m somehow here! When I’m not trying my best to stay awake in front of my tablets, I’m usually cooking, gaming, or sleeping. Sometimes all three, in my dreams.

Check out our interview with Velinxi below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

Yeah! I’ve basically been on track to become an artist since I was a child. I went to a middle school with an emphasis on arts and a high school specializing in it. I went to SVA briefly for computer arts but dropped out to pursue freelance and webcomics after my first year.

Over the years as an artist, what or who were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

My biggest inspirations growing up were Yuumei and Shilin Huang, two titans on DeviantArt back in the day. They still inspire me today, but the list of inspirations has grown exponentially over the years, including artists, movies, entire art movements, etc.

What was your thought process behind the creation of your webcomic, Countdown to Countdown?

Well, Countdown to Countdown started as a passion project back when I was 15, in high school, and pretty depressed. I just wanted to draw whatever story I thought was cool, inspired by my favorite media at the time. There was a very loose beginning and outline, but I was truly just writing as I drew the story. That’s why I had to stop the comic in 2018 and restart from scratch the year after. Now, the story has a set story and a clear outline. It still has similar roots, characters, and themes of neglect, abuse, and escape—but I think the story is a lot easier to follow now. It’s got an artstyle I can actually keep up with in the long run. The origin of why CTC exists also remains the same: I simply wanted to make a story I wanted to read for myself. Which happens to be about two dumb boys with superpowers navigating a hostile world that wants them dead or caged—together.

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

Oh, all the time. It’s part of the process. Personally, though—I just have to draw through it. Every month on my Patreon, I have my patrons vote on a theme I have to draw by the end of the month, and I try my best to make it as interesting as possible. I draw quite a few—tens even, of doodles or compositions for each of these themes to try to make something that tells a story while still being aesthetically pleasing and clear. I think pushing myself like this helps with art block, really. I also do remember to take breaks and simply consume other media I like! It gets the inspiration juices flowing.

Advice you would give to an aspiring creator?

If you do one—your first webcomic should be a short, fun, messy thing. It’s not often you can get it right the first time, but you’ll certainly learn a lot through sheer experience. This goes for a lot of things in art, to be honest.

What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

3D Animation. I briefly learned it at SVA, and I think that’s enough of that tech for me. I accept that there are some things that are truly beautiful if done right, and I am too simple and lazy for it.

What is your goal for the rest of this year?

Get Countdown to Countdown book 2 finished! And live HAHA

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@yuumei-art on Tumblr, still! They’ve been a huge inspiration for digital artists and storytellers online for years. I have no doubt that many digital artists of my generation have been influenced by them, and they’re still here, making beautiful art and stories. It’s a thing to behold.

Thanks for stopping by, Velinxi! If you haven’t seen her Meet the Artist piece, be sure to check it out here. You can also follow her for more amazing art over at her Tumblr, @velinxi!

[kechiwrites]

property lines

dark!steve rogers x neighbour!reader

kinktober countdown: day two (facefucking).

synopsis: your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject.

wc: 2.2k

cw: dark content, non con, oral (male receiving), femme language + afab!reader, pet names, internal victim blaming, pet names (sweetheart), a touch of misogyny

author’s note: day 2 brings us more dark!steve, i fear i may be incapable of writing him sincerely. he’s just a little too perfect. I like to take off a bit of the shine. thank you @katsukikitten u r my muse.

Your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject. Mostly because you can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose or if he’s just overly friendly. Maybe it’s the signals you give off, bringing a plate of thick, sweet, cheesecake brownies over to the recently sold house next door, hoping to make a new connection. Suburbia can be isolating, and with all of your friends shaking ass in the city, you need to branch out. It really isn’t the kind of home you figured a single man like Steven Grant Rogers would buy, but then again, you lived in your suburban palace alone, willed to you by your late grandmother and only in need of a few renovations.

He’d been so bright, when you first met him, with a perfect white smile and twinkling blue eyes. He’d been happy to accept the desserts, even happier to return the plate a day later, extolling the praise he and his poker buddies lauded on you over the taste. You’d shrugged it off, “The least I could do for a neighbour. I’m just glad you all liked them.” 

Secretly though, the compliments had thrilled you, especially once you’d gotten a glimpse at the aforementioned “poker buddies”, the whole lot of them, handsome, built, big. All too happy to fix leaky pipes and paint fences in exchange for chocolate cream pie or a dish of homemade lasagna. But Steven  - “Steve, please”  -  was your most loyal customer, always lending a hand, pausing during his early morning jog to check up on you while you watered your flower beds, asking how your book is going, what you do in that “big old house all by yourself” when you aren’t working on “the next great American novel”, of course (his words, not yours).

It’s fine at first, a little disarming to be at the centre of his white hot attention, burning your flesh like he had you under a magnifying glass on a perfect sunny day. But eventually it’s not fine, eventually Steve Rogers takes more and more steps over the property line of overly friendly and into the front yard of wildly overbearing. Eventually, Mr. Rogers insists on weekly visits, popping into your house by using the spare key under the mat he shouldn’t even know about. Slinging his muscled arm over you during the neighbourhood block party, and your neighbour’s son’s 5th birthday party, and the Fourth of July barbeque. He fixes your car without you asking, brings in your groceries when he sees you unloading them in your driveway, brings your mail to you during his daily jog. It’s helpful sometimes, yes, but it’s also suffocating. And you were going to set him straight. You were! But it’s hard, hard to stare into the face of a suburban god, the literal king of the neighbourhood and tell him no. It’s hard to tell him that he’s making you uncomfortable, that you’d like for him to stop being so goddamn friendly all the time. 

So maybe a little of it is your fault. Maybe you should’ve been clearer on your boundaries. Maybe, when handsome, strapping Mr. Rogers came to your front door to ask you to essentially cater one of his poker nights, you shouldn’t have stayed to serve the food, playing happy little housewife in front of Steve’s friends, bringing them cold beers from the fridge and sitting next to Steve, playfully making faces at his hand, then plating up dessert when he asked you to. But it felt good to have his attention. His favour. So when “the boys” start to head home, laying praise and amazement at your feet, you’re sufficiently buttered up for Steve to ask yet another favour of you. It’s not much, of course. Just a little help with cleanup. Then he’ll escort you home himself. After all, there are some real sickos out there.

So you agree. What’s the harm, right?

The harm, it just so happens, comes quickly after you finish drying the dishes Steve washes. You slide the last plate, towel dried as best you could, into his cabinets, sighing in contentment at a job well done. The harm is when Steve turns you around and presses you against the sink, water soaking into the back of your blouse, making the fabric cling to your skin. You stay there for a minute, not processing what’s happening, ready to laugh off another inappropriate joke from Steve. 

You don’t really get the chance.

Two heavy hands clap down on your shoulders, exerting pressure on you until you crumple to the floor, knees hitting the tile of Steve's kitchen painfully. You yelp, struggling against him, pressing, then beating your fist against his tree trunk legs. 

"Stev-" you choke on his name when your neighbour unzips his trousers before you, undoes the fly of the pair you helped him pick out, with him bent over your shoulder while you held his phone, his front pressed close to your back. Pulls his half hard dick out of pants starched and pressed with the iron he'd borrowed from you because his was "on the fritz" again. 

"Open up." He cajoles, and you pin him with an incredulous, confused stare. No. No. This is all wrong. He doesn’t act like that. Steve Rogers isn’t like that.

The hand he doesn't use to stroke himself grabs your jaw, squeezing until you open your mouth, squeezing til it hurts. A sharp, purposeful punch of his hips is all it takes for him to make use of the opening. All it takes to put every little joke, boundary crossing, and stray touch into startling, horrifying perspective.

“It was the baking.” He whispers above you. “Peggy never baked, which was fine.” He sighs above you like he isn’t pistoning his cock deep into your throat with reckless abandon. “But I missed it, y’know? And you, you bake how angels ought to, sweetheart.” 

Tears stream down your face while Steve uses you, dragging your dazed, crying face back and forth on his hard-on. On a particularly strong thrust, he broaches your throat. Your eyes roll up, until he can barely see the perimeter of your irises, and you warble out a miserable moan, begging, all while wrapped around his dick, for a reprieve. Your head is pinned to the counter behind you, and even though you shove against the muscle of his thighs, Steve brooks no quarter.

“Just take it,” he coos, like he wants you to swallow cough syrup, “it’ll be over soon.” his breath stutters when your lips brush against his balls. Steve moves one of his hands to cup the back of your head, keeping you as close as possible when he comes down your throat, groaning in pleasure while you struggle to swallow stream after bitter stream of his seed, lest you choke on it or fucking drown. 

He finally releases you, and you pull back so fast you bang the back of your head on his pristine white counters. The pain radiates through your scalp, grounding you in the moment, cementing you to the spotless linoleum floor of Steve Rogers’ kitchen. You’re both panting, eager to fill your lungs with gulps of air. 

“Whew.” He sighs, hands on his hips, like that took a lot out of him. “I didn’t mean to get so rough with you, just didn’t expect the struggle.” He chuckles, patting you on the head. “But you settled down quick, didn’t ya?” His tone takes on…contentment? Happiness? 

No. That’s not quite right. 

It’s pride. Steve is looking down at you, your spit and cum slick mouth, the weepy, watery state of your eyes, and the disarray of the hair he’d used as a handle, with pride.

Your stomach roils.

He bends low and you flinch away from him, smacking your head on the countertop again. He cocks his head at the involuntary movement, and smiles at you. A familiar, warm thing. One that made your heart flutter with pleasure, beat fast with your own surge of pride when he accepted a pie, or offered a compliment. Now it does the same, your heart speeds up, your palms itch curiously, and your brain doesn’t know if you’re happy or sad. Doesn’t know if it craves those smiles anymore. 

“Just wanna set you on your feet. C’mon.” He speaks quietly, like he’s soothing a frightened animal, and hooks his hand under your armpits, heaving you up with the same startling strength he'd used to face fuck the fight out of you.

“It’s okay.” You bleat, voice as wobbly and unstable as the pair of legs struggling to keep you upright. And it’s not, it’s far from okay, the taste of him lingers in the back of your throat and if you think about it for even a second more you’ll throw up all over his shiny floors, on those godforsaken pants.

“I admit,” he laughs, ducks his head with that small town charm he does so well, “I wanted to last longer. But you were too good.” He winks at you, like you share a secret. Like you’re in league with each other.

He staring, waiting for you to say something, arches a brow like it’s your line and you’re fucking up the show.

But there it is again, that smile, sunny and open, and so pristine.

“Let’s get you home.” He herds you towards his front door, hand glued to the small of your back, his pinky finger stroking the skin exposed by the riding up of your still wet shirt. The two of you walk into the balmy summer air, and the spaces in between the black night, punctuated with the occasional white streetlight, designate your path home. Some of your neighbours’ houses are still illuminated, their warm yellow windows denoting the presence of life. You wonder what goes on behind their doors, you wonder if someone is having a good night somewhere close to you.

You come across your door faster than you were prepared for, the cheery yellow paint job Steve and James had done for caramel apple pie, mocks you. The way he’d smiled in your face, touched you, laughed. Steve shifts next to you, holding onto your extensive tower of pyrex and tupperware, for an instant your blood runs cold at the prospect of Steve inviting himself in, like he’s done so many times before. Not to bring in groceries or put together a dresser, but to pin you prone to the carpet of your bedroom and smile at you.

“So!” He turns, “Same time next week?” You gawk at him, and when you don’t say or do anything, he stoops and slides your extra keys out from under your Garfield emblazoned doormat. The jingle of two, simple metal keys against the little bell shaped key-chain makes your head pound, your blood boil. He unlocks the door, and gestures for you to take a step indoors. You raise both hands, palms upturned so he can give the keys back, so you can hide them, or melt them, or flush them down the toilet. Instead, you get to watch him slip the key-ring into his pocket, before he places your dishes into your uplifted open palms. “I gotta say, the lemon bars were a hit.” He tweaks your nose between his thumb and forefinger, his compliment tempered by the greedy shine in his eyes. You nearly scratch your own eyes out when you get that pleased, soft tingle in your chest.

He smiles and you salivate. He compliments you and your heart responds. He’s proud and your brain tells you ‘I’m happy’.

Why hasn’t it gone away? Will it ever go away?

“Maybe those brownies again, the cream cheese ones?” His voice is hopeful, soft and pliant, like he’s worried you’ll say ‘no’.

Like there’s a world where he’d take no for an answer.

You nod, a jerky, quick gesture that rattles your brain around in your skull. “Sure. Yeah.” You answer, sweaty hands slipping against tempered glass and plastic lids. “Yes. Brownies.” Steve beams, clapping his hands together, once, loud, drawing your eyes to the brutish width of them.

“Fantastic. I can’t wait.” He jogs down your front steps, and the fist secured around your lungs loosens with every step he takes away from you. He pauses at the side walk, one foot still on your property, the other poised to leave it.

“We make a great team. Don’t we?” He turns to you, and this time, he isn’t smiling. This time, his eyes cut through the night and the streetlight and the foggy haze of misfortune clouding your brain.

And the fear finally comes.

You kick your door closed, and you lock your door, and you drop your pyrex and tupperwear and serving spoons in the sink and you lock your windows and you get into bed, still dressed for a poker night you had no business being at, and you pull the covers up and up and over your face.

But the fear doesn’t go away.

And neither will your neighbour.

god i want him so bad. tomorrow, captain soap.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

support city girls who bought $50 of baked cheesecake today, reblog what you like.

[baeshijima]

mmm thoughts of private executioner!blade, who is high priestess!kafka's bodyguard. well, more like her guard dog, as many fearfully seem to think.

he is aloof and gruff and rough around the edges, his name capturing it perfectly. when in the eyes of the public he either keeps to himself or stands ready by kafka's side, but when out he lurks in the shadows ready and waiting to carry out her death orders.

you, yourself, haven't had very many pleasant encounters with him... if you can even call them that. that being said, you haven't had many pleasant encounters with anyone. notorious for your... less than pleasant disposition, for a lack of better words, you have more people who'd rather see you run through than those you can call a friend.

in a dog-eat-dog world, you had no choice but to protect yourself. that, however, ultimately became your demise.

"oh? so you're the one sent to kill me. can't say i'm all that surprised."

standing before you is the feared executioner. his sword is tucked inside the sheath attached to his hip, that ever-present dark swirl of an aura stifling the air. he doesn't say anything, instead opting to silently stare down at your slumped and worn-out form. you find that his gaze doesn't bother you; rather, it's oddly comforting knowing someone will see you in your last moments.

"i've never asked you for a favour before, so this will be my first and last request for you." in all honesty, you're not sure where this chattiness stems from. considering you're currently in a holding cell under the crime of attempted murder towards kafka (a poisoned wine you were most definitely framed for, though you can't say you were surprised) and are awaiting for your turn to be under the guillotine for your public execution, you probably should be a little desperate towards the private executioner in front of you.

and yet, your mind is nothing if not peaceful.

with a huff, you relay your request, "can you make sure it's quick? painless, preferably, but i'd rather you just get it over and done with."

silence blankets the cold chambers. moisture accumulated along the cobble ceiling drip in a steady rhythm, like a clock ticking away the seconds. it's unnerving, almost, how there is not a single sound other than your impending countdown.

"why?" comes his low mutter, effectively causing a ripple within the stagnant air. you almost think you misheard him, but his following words cease the thought, "why won't you ask me for help?"

had it not been for the abrupt shuffle and clanging against the metal bars, you would have never looked up to see him in your last moments.

his scarred hands gripping the metal until his knuckles turn a ghastly white and blood dripping from his palms is what greets your sight. as your gaze slowly trails up, you almost let loose a laugh of disbelief; who would have thought blade, the infamous guard dog of the high priestess, could make such a desperate expression? one looking as though his whole world crumbled before him, in which he can do nothing but sit and watch.

(you will never know of the anger and desperation which coursed through his veins the moment he heard of your predicament. had it been anyone else, he wouldn't have cared. but you're not anyone else; you're you — unapologetically, wholeheartedly. it didn't take him long to hunt down those behind it, cutting them down without thought and putting an end to their miserable lives. he rushed as soon as he could when kafka gave him the order, no thoughts other than you, you, you, occupying his mind.

you will never know of the anguish which overcame him when he found you in such a state, your once healthy complexion and defiant gaze reduced to nothing but a tiredness which had always sat quietly behind your disposition. he's almost positive the muscle which unwillingly keeps him alive tore at the seems from your request, the acceptance in which you displayed causing his mind to go astray. even as he damn-near begs you to rely on him for help — to run away with him to some place no one knows of you and start anew there — you merely smile, resigned and peaceful.

you will never know of how much blade is willing to put on the line for you, for you never made it to see the complete and utter carnage he wrecked in your name.)

[phantomrose96]

Hello I've now played Pikmin 3 and I'm beside myself with how Nintendo keeps doing Olimar like this.

After Olimar pays off President's whole debt (and then some) in Pikmin 2 he is... back on PNF-404 in Pikmin 3. Immediately. Like immediately. Because the President lost all their money again and he's sent Olimar and Louie back to PNF-404 again exactly the same as happens to Olimar in Pikmin 2 and this time there is absolutely an undercurrent of violence in Olimar's vlogs and logs. He WANTS bad things to happen to his boss.

But he's too polite and too composed so he's just keeping his cortisol levels down with elaborate fantasies of class revolution, and the mental countdown of how many days until he can get the FUCK off this planet and get home to his family for real. He was ship-wrecked and left for dead for 30 days in Pikmin 1 and fought and bled and killed for his own survival to make it back to his planet only to then IMMEDIATELY be sent back by his shitty awful boss to the planet for another ~30 days in Pikmin 2 (he hasn't seen his family yet) and then IMMEDIATELY is sent back in Pikmin 3 and he wants to go home. He wants to go home. His daughter sends him a message asking if he even lives with them anymore. I'm fucking beside myself.

THIS would all be... okay, at least, if Olimar actually got to go home. But No The Fuck He Doesn't. Because at the end of his mission he's kidnapped by concentrated pikmin nightmare fuel in the form of the game's final boss. Some non-corporeal omnipresent monstrosity which has kidnapped Olimar as a keepsake. A pet. A toy? Which allows Olimar just the chance to attempt an escape day after day before snatching him back and dragging him back to his eternal jail cell. The man who was just about to go home and finally see his family after 3 games.

You find his logs and he's just losing his mind, slowly. He knows he's never escaping. He's losing his will to try. He has nightmares of the pikmin turning on him. Louie's not coming back for him and the President isn't coming back for him.

Pikmin 1 is horror as Olimar is stranded alone with no one but himself to save him. His life support is damaged and he has only 30 days to repair his ship to get home, lest he die in the poisonous atmosphere of this planet. And it's horrifying but at least. At least. He had his own power to save himself. He makes progress steadily over the month. He has reason to keep his hope alive.

Pikmin 3 robs him of that. There is nothing under his own power he can do to escape the Plasm Wraith. His pikmin have all been killed. He's in an unwinnable Saw trap. And this time his life support system isn't damaged. It's the only thing worse than damaged - it's completely functional.

Given that, playing as the Koppaite trio, there is no time limit to save Olimar, I can only conclude Olimar's suit is fully functional this time. He has no food, no water, no chance to ever change out of his suit, but it keeps him alive. He's the Plasm Wraith's prisoner for as long as that suit will keep him alive. Indefinitely, maybe. Unless he could work up the nerve to remove his helmet himself and just end it...

But he doesn't. Day after day he tries to escape until he doesn't have the strength anymore. His suit forces him to sleep more and more, against his will, as a life preservation method. So he's forced to fade in and out of consciousness as this thing's prisoner. And this is forever. Until he dies.

The Koppaite trio rescuing him is pure coincidence. They were on PNF-404 for reasons completely divorced from Olimar. They should never have cared who he was or where he was. Olimar just happened to come across their warp drive key when they crashed, and he picked it up, right before the Plasm Wraith took him. They find him for the warp drive key. The Koppaite trio weren't supposed to save Olimar. No one was supposed to save Olimar.

And how. Awful. Because this time people KNOW Olimar is on PNF-404. President is back home on Hocotate and knows he's lost contact with Louie and Olimar. He could send help but he doesn't. He could COME to help but he doesn't. Olimar isn't waywardly alone this time. He's abandoned. And abandoned by the man who forced him into this danger.

And depending how well you play, and how many fruits you get as the Koppaite trio, a normal run is probably 20-30 days for them BEFORE you rescue Olimar. He was taken soon after they landed. So a month. Another month. Of Olimar stranded on this planet. Worse than ever before, as he's nothing but the mouse being played with by this world's cruelest cat. He hasn't been allowed to take off his space suit for a month... After ~30 days of Pikmin 1 and ~30 of Pikmin 2 and now ~30 of Pikmin 3. His daugher thinks he doesn't live with them anymore...

And then... okay and then... the Koppaite trio rescue him... They offer to bring him home. And Olimar's beside himself because he never thought he was getting off this planet. Someone's shown kindness to him for the first time in 3 games and it takes him by absolute surprise.

He and Louie get home.

AND THE PRESIDENT CALLS THEM IDIOTS FOR LOSING THEIR SHIP AND SENDS THEM IMMEDIATELY BACK TO GET THE SHIP

THE PLASM WRAITH IS STILL THERE AND ALIVE.

IT IS LEGALLY AND ETHICALLY ALLOWED FOR OLIMAR TO KILL HIS BOSS.