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bucketbueckers · 1 month ago

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LAYUPS & LAYOVERS

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader wc: 2.9k content warnings: language, fluff, author is southern and doesn't understand how snow or marketing works, plot where there doesn’t need to be plot synopsis: It’s Christmas Eve and you’re in Connecticut, exhausted and just trying to get to Minnesota for a work conference. You could cry when it’s announced that all flights are being halted due to the incoming blizzard. Irritated, tired, and overworked, you pray for a miracle, although it takes an unnatural shape in the form of a six foot blonde athlete who’s just trying to make it home, too. Late night airport conversations lead to something more. notes: merry christmas eve from my delusions to yours! the last chapter of irp was super heavy so here's my apology and christmas gift (do i drop another one tmr...i really dont wanna write chapter 8 😩). i hope you all enjoy this short n sweet lil ramble i threw together and happy holidays 🫶

This can not be your life right now.

It’s actually kind of impressive how all of the stars aligned on this one particular night to fuck you over. You’re not a terrible person. You hold the doors for everyone, give up your seat on the bus for sweet old ladies, and you always allocate a portion of your paychecks to donate to Wikipedia. By all accounts, you should be overwhelmed with good karma, although it seems your luck has depleted on this night and this night alone.

It all started on the 20th when you flew out to Connecticut. You work a cushy job as a marketing consultant for the WNBA, which means you spend a lot of time in the air and across the country trying to unfuck – sorry, trying to optimize and rejuvenate – the state of the league and its teams. It’s a task easier said than done. Nobody seems to want to listen to you until they realize that your master’s degrees in marketing and business analytics actually mean something and aren’t just really expensive pieces of paper that you hang in your office. You spend a couple of days in Uncasville talking strategies to boost ticket sales and to gain more traction; they’re the only professional team the state has – it should not be hard to get people to show up if you can market it right, but here you are.

Connecticut is nearly a bust. It’s cold and you spend two full days in meetings getting talked over by men who think they understand numbers and branding. Then, on the third day, the front office suddenly realizes what you’ve been talking about (this shit was covered in your sophomore year intro to marketing class, but hey, the less people know, the more you get paid, so who’s really complaining?) and the trajectory of your trip makes a sudden turnaround. On the 23rd and early on the 24th, you help the Sun roll out the new optimizations, and what do you know? Ticket sales surge by 17%, including some season tickets, all is well in the world and it’s a goddamn Christmas miracle.

Then, all is suddenly not well and you remember that Christmas miracles are for people not surrounded by idiots. Your boss emails you just before you leave for the airport: The Lynx need your help. I’ve sent you tickets for the first flight out of Connecticut. Meet with them on the 26th. Said “flight” departs from Connecticut at 8:30pm on Christmas Eve, which means you’re not even in Minnesota until 12am if you’re lucky, which means you have to figure out hotel arrangements so you can take a nap because you’ve barely slept in five days, which means you have to figure out how to be nice to people again because the Sun front office has you pissed all the way the fuck off.

So, you’re tired, overworked, extremely irritated, and hungry, although that last problem is solved by airport Subway. You just hope that doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass, either – you firmly believed that you were better off betting all of your money on black rather than taking the chance on airport food, but you didn’t have much of a choice and your stomach was growling. You eat, settling in a chair at your gate, and patiently await for your plane to arrive.

Then, the overhead PA clicks on with some static noise, announcing, “Flight 932 to Minneapolis and all other flights exiting Hartford will be delayed due to inclement weather. I repeat–”

The blood rushes to your head. Your eye twitches. There’s a crying baby somewhere in the airport and you can’t take it anymore. Honestly, what’s stopping you? Flying a plane cannot be that difficult. You’re pretty persuasive. You can tell TSA you’re just young for a pilot and you’re not wearing a pilot’s uniform because it’s Christmas Eve and what are you, the feds? All you’re really asking for at this point is a nap but there’s no way in hell you’re making it to a hotel in these conditions and the chances of you sleeping in an airport with all of your belongings out for someone to grab are even lower.

A commotion towards the check in counter commands your attention. You turn, dreading the eventual crash out of an airport Karen, but it’s better than the crying baby who still hasn’t shut the fuck up.

“Please, there’s gotta be something else you can do,” a tall, broad-shouldered blonde is begging, her hair pulled into a loose ponytail. “It’s Christmas Eve, I have to get home.”

The lady at the check in counter sounds sympathetic when she responds. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but our hands are tied. We can’t send our planes out in this weather, but if it eases up, the next flight out should have you arriving in Minneapolis by tomorrow afternoon.”

You hear the blonde groan, her tone sounding something like, I can’t fucking believe this is my life, which is a sentiment you whole-heartedly agree with. “Can you please lemme know if there’s anything earlier?” she pleads. “Like, if by the grace of God this weather clears and we can leave sooner.”

“Of course, ma’am. All updates will be announced.”

The response is almost robotical, but you can tell the receptionist is trying her best, too, and the last place she wants to be is hanging out at the airport on Christmas Eve. The blonde sighs, thanking her, and from the corner of your eye, you watch her hike her bag up over her shoulder and she moves to sit directly in front of you. That’s when you truly get a good look at her, at the dejected blue of her eyes, the chisel of her jaw, the logo on her hoodie. Paige Bueckers is no stranger to you. You grew up watching ball, so obviously you’re familiar with her game – any self-respecting basketball fan is. But by virtue of your job, Paige Bueckers is a name that makes your marketing heart beat just a little faster. Ever since Dallas won the lottery, you’ve been all over their marketing team. Paige’s entire existence and the chance she gets drafted to Dallas is the sole reason the Wings’ tickets are flying off the shelves. She’s the most marketable college athlete there is right now, one of the top rookie prospects for the league, but one look at her face in person and you’re forgetting all about your job. Her jaw is tight with a simmering anger, and honestly, you feel terrible for her – she already spends so much time away from her family and here she is trying to get out of Bumfuck, Connecticut, so she can be home in time for Christmas.

You find a little bit of bravery when you raise your voice slightly to ask her, “No luck?”

She looks up, glancing at you and taking in your features, and laughing slightly when she realizes you’re genuinely just trying to make conversation and not trying to get a soundbite out of her. “You heard that?” she asks sheepishly, sinking a little in her seat to get comfortable. You pretend to not notice her manspread.

“Well,” you begin, glancing over at the receptionist. “The desk is like, ten feet away.” She laughs again and nods, murmuring touche under her breath. “932 Minneapolis?” you ask, referring to your flight.

Paige nods again, quirking a smile. “You stalking me or sum’?”

You shrug your shoulders, a coy smile on your face. “Just observant,” you quip.

Paige grins fully. “What about you?” she asks. “You work for the league?”

At that, you can’t help your surprise, raising a brow. “How’d you know that?”

“Just observant,” she throws your words back at you. You laugh. “Kidding. I see your ID pokin’ out of your bag. You from here, or they got you workin’ on the holidays?”

“Work,” you respond. Paige whistles lowly. “I’m a marketing consultant. Been up here for a few days working with the Sun, then I’m heading to Minnesota to fix the Lynx’s bullshit.” You blink, registering your words, blushing as Paige laughs. “You did not hear that. I’m usually nicer to my employers.”

“They got you workin’ and flyin’ out on Christmas Eve,” Paige points out. “You should be meaner.”

You incline your head in a nod, huffing. “All of this for office potlucks and dental coverage,” you joke. “Don’t quit basketball.” Paige grins again and you’re suddenly reminded of your manners. “Sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself.” You do as such, only mildly surprised when she stands to shake your hand and introduces herself, too, which is honestly kind of endearing. Then, she plops into the empty seat next to yours, smiling widely.

“So, marketing consultant,” she says, her tone nonchalant as she gets comfortable next to you, extending her long legs across her suitcase. “How often will I get to see you?”

You glance at her, raising a wry eyebrow. “Are you flirting with me?” you ask.

Paige shrugs a shoulder, smirking. “A little. Is it working?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit. You can see the pride that shines in her eyes. You roll your eyes in amusement, still in slight disbelief, but you redirect back to her question. “Honestly, probably a lot. The league is super messy from a business perspective and their actual marketing sphere isn’t that great, either. As soon as you get drafted I’ll probably have to fly down to whichever poverty team you land at and teach them how to market you.”

“Yeah?” she asks, and despite the tease in her tone, she does seem interested. “How would you market me?”

“How much time do you have?”

“Well…” Paige glances down to her watch, then out the windows where snow falls in heavy sheets. “Looks like a lot.”

You snicker. “Alright. Bear with me, okay?” Paige nods in earnest, her attention fully on you as you begin to ramble. Truthfully, you did like your job when you were able to do it. The issue is and always will be the idiots you have to work with who overlook your credentials. “So, I’m not thinking about your personal brand at all. Like, that one’s already incredible. Your PR team did their big one with you. But the issue with athletes like you, wide-eyed and fresh out of college with an insane resume of endorsements, followers, deals, whatever – the issue is that whatever team you get drafted to is gonna want to rebuild their entire image around you. Think Clark, Brink, Reese, Jackson, Cardoso. It’s textbook – you advertise the person who’s gonna get you the most clicks, the most sales. So, how can we use that to actually grow the game, the league? I’m talking about longevity. There’s so many people tuning in for you that don’t know shit about basketball, and honestly, they’re gonna be scared to ask questions.

“So we push something corny. Social media segments with a catchy name like Ball With Bueckers or some shit where you break down basketball plays, rules, the stuff you’re gonna see and hear when you watch a game. What’s a pick and roll? A screen? Why is she getting fouled for blocking that shot, isn’t that what she’s supposed to do? Education, interest, loyalty, and competition sells. Stories sell, too, which is why the league is still trying to push the Clark/Reese rivalry. That’s old news, though. A more compelling story would have been the Fever/Sun rivalry, especially after the Sun beat the Fever and the Fever hired their coach. Or Fever/Wings, for reasons I’m not gonna ruin your night with.” Paige laughs at that, and you smile, clearing your throat and trying to find your train of thought. “So, when I’m undoubtedly called in to fix your team’s mess, that’s what I’d be suggesting. People already love you. Using that connection to get them to love ball, too, is my goal.”

“You’re really passionate about this,” Paige comments, her lips quirking into a slight smile. You can’t help but preen a little, flushing. “Like, about basketball. You really care about the sport. Feels like that’s harder to find lately.”

“Well, I was too short to play it, so gotta settle for something, right?” you joke.

Paige looks you up and down. You’re wearing sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt from college, but her gaze is shameless, appreciative despite your casual airport wear. She chuckles, a disbelieving noise building in the back of her throat. “Nah. You’re what, 6’5?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Try a foot less. But I appreciate you for believing in me.”

Paige smiles, nudging you a little. “I was serious, though. You’re super passionate. I like that.”

“Still flirting?”

“S’not everyday you get snowed in at the airport with a pretty girl,” Paige says, her gaze warm, and you can’t help but blush again. “Gotta shoot my shot, you know?” She mimes throwing a ball, her wrist bent, and you shake your head fondly. Admittedly, she did have you – hook, line, and sinker. You enjoyed the conversation, her company. There were certainly worse people to be stuck with, but you’re glad it was with her.

You shrug your shoulders. “Shoot away,” you say. Her subsequent grin is wide and you find yourself drawn in just a little further.

She asks you virtually everything under the sun – where you grew up, where you went to college, the team you were rooting for, and you answer. You tell her you’re an Atlanta native, born and raised, although you moved up north to study at Columbia. You were 8 when the Dream was founded and that was your team, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. At 10, you watched them win the eastern conference finals on your birthday and that was easily the moment your life changed. Basketball was your future and that much was certain. She asks how you landed the league job (connections, a thick resume, and lots of persuading), how you adjusted to the constant traveling (lots of caffeine and really good concealer), and the hard-hitting question of, are you satisfied?

For that, you really had no answer. Sure, you’re always busy, and that’s better than the alternative of sitting in your office and watching the seconds tick by. You’re good at what you do and your job makes a positive impact on the league. Your colleagues will be who they are; your work speaks for itself and that’s what you pride yourself on. But there’s always going to be a small part of you that yearns for something more, like someone else to share your life with. Someone who sits, and listens, and engages with you; someone who loves basketball just as much as you do (even if it’s a different type of love), someone who’s steady and spontaneous and adaptable.

Then Paige is smiling at you, her gaze warm and soft despite the below freezing temperatures outside; she’s listening, and engaging, steady, spontaneous, adaptable, and probably the only person in the world whose love for basketball could rival your own. You’ve known Paige for all of three hours and it’s nearing midnight in an airport in Connecticut, but it’s Christmas Eve and she feels so right. You would really like to see where this goes, and judging by the way her fingertips brush your knuckles, you think she might like to see that, too.

The two of you talk all through the night, waiting for the weather to ease up. The conversation never slows and you’re certain you’ve never smiled or laughed this much in a long time. It takes you twelve hours of delirious conversation to realize that your luck never depleted. Paige was your overwhelming karma, sent by some sort of Christmas miracle to answer all of the wishes you’d kept to yourself for years. The stars aligned not to fuck you over, but to trap you in an airport with Paige Bueckers, and you find that she’s possibly the best Christmas gift you could have ever gotten.

When the weather finally clears and your plane arrives, you find that your seats are right next to each other – and, well, fate works in funny ways, doesn’t it? You’re both exhausted, but when she lowers the armrest and wraps her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into your side, you can’t help your relieved sigh, leaning into her chest. You and Paige sleep through the entire flight. You dream of soft blue eyes, the lingering scent of her cologne, the promise of how this could last.

You land in Minneapolis and you eventually have to go your separate ways. The two of you exchange numbers, saying your goodbyes, although Paige doesn’t let you get anymore than three feet away from her before she’s catching you by the wrist and pulling you into her. Her hands are cold against your cheeks as she kisses you gently, something deep and lingering and a confirmation that tastes like ‘you and I aren’t done here.’ The falling snow lands gently on your cheeks, melting under the heat of your blush, and you can’t help your smile, interrupting your kiss as the both of you dissolve into laughter. Paige kisses you again, something softer that leaves you feeling warm all over despite the chill, and you thank your Christmas miracle for leading you here.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #uconn wbb #uconn #ncaa wbb

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wanderinginksplot · 8 months ago

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It's time to start treating creators like people.

FUCK, it hurt listening to Anthony Burch talk about the pressures he felt writing the campaign for season two of Dungeons and Daddies, especially when he said it was because he read too much commentary from people online. [Dungeons and Daddies, Teen Talk (Season 2 After Show), 41:18]

Yes, he's a professional writer/podcaster. Yes, professional writers are paid to write. Yes, you can hold them to a different standard... IF you're paying for the product. With a free podcast, we really need to work off of fanfic rules - don't like, don't read. Don't leave 'constructive criticism' unless it's specifically requested. And ALWAYS post like the creator is going to read it on their worst day.

Anthony is an incredible DM who was faced with a near-impossible situation. He had to write an entirely new campaign to be played by unfamiliar characters after an incredibly successful and beloved first season.

Anthony and the rest of the team could have given us a lazy, sitcom-esque second season of the same plot with the original dads, but everyone would have gotten sick of it. You all want to complain about the Marvel Formula, but when someone tries to break out into something new, everyone shits on them online.

So, yeah. It's time to treat creators like people. Especially when they're sharing their creativity and giving you hours of free entertainment.

#dungeons and daddies #dungeons and daddies season 2 #dndaddies #dndads season 2 #rant #kindness matters #don't be a dick online #don't be a dick in general #dndads #podcasts #podcast #dnd podcast

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violetwolfraven · 3 months ago

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Wait wait wait remember that post about how Team Starkid/the Lang brothers are going to be comparable to Shakespeare 500 years from now and it was mostly played for laughs like yeah lol you’ll need a paragraph of footnotes to explain the zefron poster but like

I don’t think that’s actually far off from how Starkid’s place in theatre history might play out and here’s why. Just hear me out

Why is Shakespeare so popular today when he definitely wasn’t the only playwright from that era? When he’s not even the only playwright from that era from England that we have surviving works from?

Two main reasons:

1) Shakespeare’s work is (relatively) universally relatable. The characters do things that are so fundamentally human. They make jokes at their friends’ expense. They complain about being awkward in front of their crush. They have daddy issues. The plot lines of the plays aren’t too complicated. The dick jokes land whether you’re watching in 1611 or 2024, and they probably still will in 2637. Shakespeare’s works are timeless because he didn’t try to outsmart his audience. He wrote about things everyone could relate to rather than trying too hard to peacock his intellect in front of the nobility. This is not true of every playwright.

2) Shakespeare was really popular right around the time England started colonizing everything in sight. Copies of his work got shipped all around the world, translated into dozens of languages, performed probably thousands of times. Setting aside the moral implications of this, the important thing to note is that Shakespeare was about the most easily accessible English playwright during a time of rapid, intense globalization.

Meanwhile, Starkid:

1) Invests hard in meaningful, relatable character arcs instead of spectacle and expensive sets or costumes. Also, lowbrow, immature humor and dick jokes that make A Very Potter Sequel funny and enjoyable regardless of if you’ve ever seen any other Harry Potter media in your life.

2) Posts professional recordings of their musicals to YouTube FOR FREE, making their shows about the easiest, best quality musical theatre you can get pretty much anywhere in the world, regardless of if your area has an active theatre scene. Proshots from other companies are rare and usually not free. Bootlegs are all well and good, but even if the video quality is alright (and that’s a big if) the audio is usually garbage. Starkid has been posting the best quality free recordings they can afford since 2009, shortly after the birth of social media, another time of rapid, intense globalization.

In short, I’m not saying that theatre historians in 500 years won’t remember any our current Broadway faves, but I am saying that in my opinion, Team Starkid is probably going to be more accessible for the general public. If you’re a 26th century English teacher trying to teach your class about narrative structure in 21st century theatre, what are you going to show your students? A bootleg of Hadestown with blurry video and garbage audio? Or the professional recording of Twisted, parts of which they will probably even enjoy, because even long after no one remembers Disney’s Aladdin anymore, your class of 26th century 16-year-olds are still going to laugh at “No One Remembers Achmed.”

#oof i really wrote an essay about this #like feel free to disagree this is just my opinion #team starkid #starkid #musical theatre #theatre #twisted #a very potter musical #a very potter sequel #a very potter senior year #holy musical b@man #trail to oregon #the guy who didn't like musicals #black friday #nerdy prudes must die

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cuteandhughesy · 2 months ago

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Us. | William Nylander

summary: you work as one of the assistant chefs for the toronto maple leafs organization, often taking charge and helping with team buffets and meetings. your job is hectic and crazy and you wouldn’t give it up for the world. william nylander can relate, and his role on the toronto maple leafs is his top priority. when the two of you end up falling for one another - and being pushed away from each other, the job becomes more complicated.

5.5k

a/n: based off this request! I went a little off topic with the plot, but the general idea is very much inspired by the anon request! this fic moves between past and present timelines, so if the paragraphs are in italics, it is my way of writing in the past! I hope you all enjoy :)

link to masterlist

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when you applied to culinary school, you never thought your journey would lead you to your current position. of course when studying to be a professional cook you are aiming to work in the field, no matter the level of hierarchy you end up at - but you never thought you'd get this lucky.

at just 23 years old and 5 months fresh out of culinary school, you were hired to work as one of the assistant chefs for the toronto maple leafs culinary team. getting hired at such a prestigious job at your age was very uncommon, and when you'd gotten the classic you're hired phone call, you initially thought it was your younger brother trying to play a prank on you.

news flash it wasn't your brother and now you're 3 months past your first day on the job.

throughout the first few weeks of your job, you were understandably nervous. your head chef had 30 years of experience, you were cooking for athletes with very strict and varying diets, and you were new. thankfully that very first week, the leafs were on the road, so you had time to train and meal prep in a somewhat relaxed environment.

you spent more time with the players than you were expecting to, which although was surreal was also very nerve wracking, and you were scared one of them wouldn't like the way you scrambled eggs and throw them back in your face. when damien - your head chef - assigned you to work the buffets for team meals, that egg fear became even more intense.

but you were pleasantly suprised with how nice everyone was. you had heard rumors about professional athletes and how they were rude and ignorant, angry if they didn't get their way, but the toronto maple leafs players were just the opposite. sure, some of them were quiet and particular about food, but they are just professional athletes who want to preform their best at any means necessary - you didn’t take offence to that.

in the 3 months you had been organizing and running team meals, you've learned a lot about the players. you've noticed that jake mccabe never fails to tell you a dad joke when he sees you, and how mitch marner always complains about being full but never fails to come up for seconds. you notice how joseph woll is always the last player to serve himself, and how david kampf, no matter how he feels, always smiles and uses manners with him.

but who's habits you've really noticed over the course of your time as an assistant chef is william nylander's. in fact, it's not just his habits that you see, but it's everything else too. the way at breakfast he always struggles between choosing sausage or bacon, and how he's never shy about asking for food he doesn't see on the table - which at first had you taken back, but now it's something you look forward to.

you stand behind the buffet table with ridged shoulders. your eyes are moving over everything at a rather frantic pace. it's your first time on the buffet table and to say you were nervous was an understatement. not only was this the first time you would be seeing the mouths you were cooking for, but it was one of your first shifts out of training.

as players slowly filtered through the doors of the dining room and gathered their serving of breakfast food, you've been consistently on edge. you were constantly checking that everything look presentable and that it was all stocked.

"do I feel like sausages or bacon?"

the question has you snapping out of the frantic organizational process going on in your head. you look up to see a tall, blonde and presumably hockey player. even though you've lived in the city you whole life, you’ve never followed sports. sure you know famous athletes names from the press, but you'd never be able to put a name to one's face.

you blink, "sorry?"

finally the man in question looks away from the meat options and you're immediately taken back. he's very handsome - a mature handsome that has you feeling petite and giddy.

the corner of his lip quirks up. "I don't know if I want bacon or sausage, so I was thinking out loud."

you blush, "oh, i'm sorry. I thought you were talking to me."

"I think i'm feeling bacon." he shrugs, but he makes no move to plate the food, his eyes still on you. "unless you think I should go with sausage."

you lick your lip, moistening the rather dry skin. "well I always think if you're second guessing your first choice, maybe the second choice is the one you're truly needing."

the blond hums thoughtfully, "that's smart." with that he grabs three round breakfast sausages and loads them onto his plate. the remaining sausages slide down from the loss of the ones he took, and your itching to reach for the tongues and adjust them again.

"you must be new."

you exhale shakily, "is it that obvious?"

he shrugs again, a smile still on his round face. he moves onto the eggs, using the tongues to grab some of the over easy style and adds them to his plate. "i'm william."

"y/n." you nod professionally and politely. "i'm the new assistant chef and the new director of the dining hall and menus."

"so, y/n, you're saying this isn't the only team ill see you?" william is now moved onto the display of fresh cut fruits, and he's taking a dent sized amount of orange slices. you'd think his question was one stemmed from disappointment if it wasn't for william's playful smile and the twinkle in his eyes.

you find yourself smiling as well. "no it's not."

"good."

since that very first meeting between you both, you and william found yourself in this dance of sorts, where the two of you would move around one another in ways to complete the other. you and william just worked.

once you were aware of william's lighthearted, carefree personality, you embraced his teasing remarks and sultry smirks. you'd look forward to taking his orders and serving his food, and he look forward to you as well.

william was instantly attracted and impressed by your work ethic and skills, especially at your age. he had seen chefs in this organization who took years before reaching your levels, and he couldn't help but grow enamoured for you.

what started as friendly banter and conversation slowly evolved into something more flirtatious- intimate.

william would make a point to wait around after meals to walk you out to your car, just so he could chat to you and watch you flush under his teasing words and gaze. he would always spend too much time chatting with you at the buffet table and then have to scarf his food down because time was limited afterwards. william would text you all day; compliments on your food and looks, funny tweets he'd think you'd enjoy, invitations for movie nights, simple small talk and questions.

it didn't take long for that to progress and 2 and a half months into your job, you and william were practically dating.

you never properly discussed labels, but neither you and william harped over it. you were both happy with the right now of it all.

you both decided to keep your relationship separate from your work life. nobody needed to know what was happening between you both, and you were very adamant about that. you didn't want anyone, player or staff member, to treat you differently because you were with william, and he wanted the same.

but it was hard to try and ignore william - it was and always has been. you'd find yourselves locked in knowing stares with one another, and you couldn’t help yourselves from standing suspiciously close while trying to keep your voices hushed and inconspicuous. the accidental not-so-accidental brushing of limbs, sneaky smiles and even occasionally sneaking off to unoccupied rooms to be alone. you and william weren't doing the best at showing restraint and being secretive.

so although neither of flat out told anybody apart of the leafs organization about your blooming relationship, it didn't take much to figure out something was happening between you.

you walk through the training hallways with a determined step. you've finally gotten the menu submission you'd been hounding william for (at work and after) and when he dropped it off to you this morning, you thought you could finally rest and get to work - but no.

he was trying to be funny. instead of properly filling out the required form for the kitchen, he'd chosen to write either ridiculous answers like he preferred ketchup flavoured fruits or overly sexual things like he preferred you for dessert.

with the original forms in hand as well as a brand new set for him to fill out (correctly this time) you continue to weave through training staff as you walk through the athletic department of the arena. you knew that william was in the gym right now, just like he told you when he sneakily kissed you goodbye after giving you his forms this morning.

you should've known something was up when last night william asked if anybody would be seeing the menu submissions besides you, and when you said that it was only for you, his smirk grew.

you enter the open doors of the physical therapy room when you caught sight of his familiar thick head of blonde hair.

you approach william with determination.

a couple of the guys around notice you and they make snickering noises like little school boys do when a classmate gets called down to the office. the sound has william looking up just as you reach him, his conversation with liligren and jarnkrok coming to a stop.

"I need you to fill out a new form." you hand him the blank papers quickly.

williams smirk grows ridiculously large. "why? what's wrong with my other one?"

you sigh, "can you just do it babe-" you cut yourself off as a horrified look takes over your face. williams eyes widen, but he looks rather enamoured with your slip up and that has you feeling even more horrified. "william. I mean william."

jarnkrok and liligren both snicker knowingly, and calle even pats william's back in a congratulatory manner as the two swedes walk away from you.

william takes the empty menu submission form from your hand. "I'll fill this out."

you exhale shakily, "much appreciated."

he eyes you, "even though I think the real reason is because you want to frame the original one in your apartment." william's iconic laugh follows suit, and you find yourself hiding your face behind the inappropriate forms.

calling william babe wasn't even the most damaging slip up that williams teammates had caught you to in, and there were many close calls of almost being caught doing undeniable acts.

"willy," you sigh heavily, basking in the feeling of his calloused, large hands running over ass. "we should stop"

he hums against your neck, not once detaching his lips from there attack on your neck. clearly william has no interest in stopping the exchange between you and to further his point he rolls his clothed crotch against yours once again.

once william found out you were still at the rink after the team finished up with practice, he had practically dragged you away from food prepping and into the first available spare room.

it ended being the staff room, which was definitely a risky spot, but that didn't stop william from sitting you on the lunch table and immediately begin kissing you with need.

after a good 3 minutes of hot and heavy making out, you managed to reluctantly detach your mouths. but that didn't stop william from moving further down your body with his lips - the sucking against your neck a reminder of just that.

"somebody could walk in." you remind him.

"I know." he pants, pulling away and finally ending the assault on your neck in favour of meeting your eyes. you're both flushed and breathless, but the knowing smirks don't disappear off either of your faces.

"I need to get back to work." you slip off the table, brushing his erection through his pants as you do so. william groans out - a combination of uncomfortable and pleasure, his dick twitching in his pants.

you giggle, adjusting your crumpled apron.

just as you do, the door swings open and a confused looking auston matthews enters. once he spots willaim his shoulders relax, "dude i've texted you three times - you're my ride today remember?"

then the scene infront of him clicks, and auston is immediately smirking. the sight of your messy hair and plump lips combined with william's red cheeks and akward hand placement, he knows everything.

"yeah, right. sorry man I was just helping y/n/n with something."

"yeah, for sure."

when auston turns away to leave the room, william following behind him slowly, you make sure to whack william on the arm as he walks by.

all he can do is laugh.

for those weeks of constantly spending time with one another and basking in the honeymoon phase you two so desperately loved, was something that you cherished.

but a week ago, something changed.

it started when one of your closests friends, jenna, had come down from out east to visit. you had obviously told her about the situation with william, and how you two were thriving together in your secret relationship.

"wait," jenna's eyebrows pull together in confusion and her hands shoots out in your direction as if to halt your story. "why are you keeping it a secret."

you shrug, "because of work. we don't want it to complicate anything."

"what would it complicate?"

you open your mouth to speak, but no noise comes out. when you try and think of a reason why your and williams situation has been hush hush, you can't find one that actually makes sense.

jenna continues, her tone gentle. "I love you and i'm so glad you're happy, but I think you should have a conversation with william. it doesn't make sense to me why you guys wouldn't tell anybody about this thing going on, as well as why you haven't put labels on it yet."

your shoulders deflate. you can't help but feel insecure and unsure now about your relationship with william. was he embarrassed of the age gap between you and didn't want his teammates to get on him about your immaturity? did william not want to sacrifice his job with the leafs by putting a label on you? was he worried he'd get in trouble or traded if he was caught with somebody so young who worked for the leaf organization? was he worried about the fans dissecting a relationship between you both and calling him out for dating you?

was your relationship doomed from the start and eventually meant to crumble.

when you started to really think about it, you get plunged into a deep, dark hole of guilt and regret and fear all sourced from your and william's relationship and the secrecy that came with it.

because what if william didn't want a girlfriend out of you because of your age and inexperience with life and he was only looking for a physical partner temporarily.

so your next day at work when william tried to flirt with you while you plated the various salads at the grab table, you didn't give him any eye contact and mumbled some excuse about being really busy.

willy was confused of course, but he brushed off your dismissal. he believed when you said you were busy, and he knows how important your job is to you and he didn't want to disturb you while you're working - but the next day it was the same thing. you were practically ignoring him and when william did come up and try and start your usual fun conversations, you were short with him.

after a few days of the same unbothered demeanour from you, william gave up on trying to crack you. he was clueless on what shifted between you, especially when you won't tell him, so he has no choice but to believe you are no longer interested in him.

and that hurt, so instead of acting like a grown adult and trying to find a solution to this mystery problem, william pretended that he was unaffected by your sudden absence.

——

morgan rielly must be able to sense your shift of energy, and instead of bringing up his favourite taylor swift song of the week (which is obviously a weekly discussion between you two), he only sends you a closed mouth smile as he plates up his meal.

it makes you frown, because you think william must've mentioned something to someone on the team, that now has the once interactive, bubbly roster acting tame and quiet around you.

you almost say something to morgan about his change and plead for him to talk about your favourite blonde musician, but you let him go.

this is what you didn't want to happen. the awkwardness and always having to step around eggshells because of your relationship with william (or currently, lack there of) was something you never wanted for you, william or anybody in the organization.

you never wanted to end up feeling so lost and out of place at work and when it came to william. you can understand your way of dealing with your insecurities wasn't ideal, but you can't help but to shut down when something doesn't feel right - you've always been that way.

but william wasn't helping in any way. not that it was his fault, you can understand that. but you can't understand why he now seems to be showing absolutely no interest in you or why he’s stopped trying.

and you know you should've had a conversation like jenna suggested and figured out the labels and deeper meanings of the relationship you and william have - or had. but you weren’t thinking of having a talk when you were spiralling.

you needed and wanted william to pull you out of that state and reassure, not act like he doesn’t know who you are anymore.

your thoughts are halted as out of the corner of your eye the movement of matthew knies catches your attention. the rookie sends you his usual smile, seemingly unaware of the thick tension weaving throughout the dining area. like usual, matthew loads his plate with mini hash browns, and the normalcy of it all has you laughing.

he looks up at you, a smile widening across his attractive face. amused and seemingly pleased, matthew moves to plate himself up some scrambled eggs, although he doesn't take much because he claims that eggs taste like shit. thankfully, you convinced him to at least take a spoonful at every breakfast.

"I didn't think I'd get to see you smile today. you've been a little off for a few days....are you okay?" matthew's eyes flicker between you and the fruit platter, eyeing your exhausted features.

you're momentarily taken back, blinking quickly to try and see if you're hallucinating what's happening right in front of you. but matthew is very much there and asking you that question. you clear your throat, "i'll be fine, thank you, matthew."

"good," matthew smiles before taking a gigantic bite of some plain toast, crumbs falling over his team branded hoodie. he doesn't seem to mind the mess and he wipes away any lingering toast from his face with the back of his free hand. his warm smile has yet to fade, and you find yourself joining him. matthew continues, "you look so pretty when you smile - I've been missing it these pass few days."

he walks away then, leaving you a flustered and shocked messed at the expense of his flirtatious compliments. you're taken back momentarily, and you're left staring at the spot matthew was just standing in, going over the mini exchange in your head.

you briefly wonder if matthew has always been flirtatious with you, but you'd been too previously distracted with william to notice.

matthew is your age and attractive and still new to the whole sports lifestyle just like you are. maybe matthew was better match for you and trying to build a strong relationship with him was more realistic than it ever was with william.

the warmth of william nose running along your cheek is comforting. the tickling, soothing movement is almost lulling you into a sleep and your eyelids feel heavy as you blink lazily.

against you, william shifts. he shuffles upwards on your mattress, and the soft rustling sound of your crisp sheets follow suit.

your head lolls towards him against your fully pillow and you're met with william's blue eyes twinkling back at you. he's leaning on his palm as his elbow supports his body weight. his hair is still tousled from your hands running through his locks during your previous activities and william also looks a little sleepy.

his flushed cheeks are surely a reflection of yours, and his chest hair is still dampened with sweat - sticking flat against his hard pecks.

"what?" you questions gently, eyeing his sleepy smirk. you turn onto your side and tuck yourself against him. the angle is a little awkward, but you still manage to connect and you wrap your arms around him, letting your chin press in between his pecks.

he looks down at you softly, that same fond expression still there. "I just really like you, y/n/n." william's words are barely audible, and if you had emptied your dehumidifier like you had planned too earlier, the noise would've drowned out his confession.

but you didn't empty it and you can hear every soft word perfectly.

you smile. "I really like you too, willy." to further your point, you press a quick kiss to the skin of his chest. that slaty sweat flavour on his skin is another reminder of what you and william had just finished doing only a few minutes, and that has you flushing all over again.

with his free hand, william gently takes ahold of your face, tilting your head back so you were once again looking at him. you can see the thoughts running through his mind, and when william gently knaws the skin of his bottom lip around his never ending smirk, you wonder if he's also thinking what you are.

suddenly william drops down, and his hands wrap around your waist so he can fully roll you onto your back once again.

you giggle, your legs falling open automatically to make room for william. he leans down and begins to attack your flushed face with quick, loud kisses.

but that's not true - you know that now. it was never hard with william. the rather insignificant age gap between you was never an obstacle and neither was your job position. the only obstacle seemed to be how you were too nervous to put a label on the relationship in fear of ruining what you had.

you think what you and william had was too special to just ignore and give up on - you don't want to give up on him.

a hand reaches for one of the silver serving tongues in front of you, and you look up to find william standing there.

he looks away from you as soon as you make eye contact, and he busies himself by serving himself some of the pork sausages.

you clear your throat nervously. "hey."

at the sound of your voice, william looks back at you. his eyebrows are pulled together tightly and he analyzes you confusingly. his uncertain gaze has you nerves deepening, but you don't back down - determined to begin the process of moving forward with william.

"hi." finally, he responds. he shuffles further down the table, searching for the fried eggs to add to his new spread. you follow him from the other side of the long buffet table, eyeing him carefully.

"can we talk later?" you words are hushed as you try to not attract any unwanted attention to you both. you're still not sure if william told anyone and if he did, you don't know exactly what he said. so you were still feeling a bit weary of that situation, but you were ready to talk about it and clear your rollercoaster of thoughts.

william almost scoffs, the once usual happy and relaxed laughter you were so used to hearing from him has quickly turned into something more unsettling and your heart just about bursts. "now you want to talk?"

you blink. "I-"

he stops you from continuing, his plate of food long forgotten as he directs his attention to you completely. "because last week when you started acting all entitled and uninterested you didn't even have the decency to give me fucking eye contact. but now you want to talk? why, so you can come up with some excuse and tell me that you like me and want to move forward? well too bad because i'm over it."

you can feel the emotion building thickly in your throat and your eyes start to blur as you desperately try and hold in the waterfall of tears wanting to slip out. "so you don't want to at least talk about this? about us?"

he shakes his head in disbelief, that same scoffy laughter making another appearance. william meets your water filled eyes, and his face shifts. his mouth falls into a straight line and his eyes change to a more somber state. "what us?"

you look away to try and hide the way your mouth trembles with emotion - pain, hurt, sadness, embarrassment. you didn't actually think everything you'd be insecure and worried about would become the truth.

you don't give william the satisfaction of seeing you upset. you turn away and signal to another kitchen personal to take over. thankfully, they make their way over and as soon as their feet move, so do yours and you're leaving the dining area as fast as you can.

you barley make it through the busy hallway and back through into the kitchen staff room. thankfully because of the working hour, nobody else was in the room because as soon as the door swung shut behind you, the building of emotions all come out and you could no longer stop the flurry of tears.

you cover your mouth to try and mask the sound of the sobbing sounds of heartbreak, desperate to hold on to any dignity you have left.

your embarrassment quickly turns into anger.

william saying such hurtful words to you in a room full of both your colleagues, even if they weren't listening, is just aggravating. even if william never believed that you and him had anything meaningful and he believed your relationship wasn't leading to anything serious, he should of at least had respect for you.

the door opens behind you, and you know it's william immediately. your body reacts to his presence in the way it always has. your skin prickles with pleasure as if it was anticipating his touch and your face heats up further regardless of your current pain.

"please, william if you've come to further embarrass me and make me feel like shit i'd rather you just leave."

you've never called him anything other than willy. when the two of you first staring seeing one another, you told him the name william was too formal for him and willy better displayed his fun and lighthearted personality.

and even though everyone called him by his nickname, something about it coming from your lips was much more intimate.

he shakes his head even though you can't see him. your back is still turned to him because you don't want him too see you so distraught from his words - you can't give him the satisfaction of your raw emotion.

"I didn't mean that, y/n/n." william's words are gentle and full of guilt. "I shouldn't have said that."

you turn, eyes pointed with anger. "no you shouldn't of."

williams face furthers into a regretful expression. "I'm sorry." he walks further into the room, now standing close enough to touch you. but he doesn't try and touch you, and he keeps to himself regardless of how badly he wants to hold you and touch you after days of not.

"I thought you liked me." your words a breathless whine, and you wrap your arms around yourself in search of comfort.

"yeah and I thought the same." he admits sadly. "but then something changed and I don't know what the fuck happened. I felt completely left in the dark because you just completely stopped spending time with me, and talking to me and looking at me. it felt like you didn't like me at all, y/n/n."

you use your shoulder to wipe away the drying tears left sitting on your cheek. the little blush still on your face smudges into your white chefs top, making you look even more of a mess. "I was in my own head," you admit your defeat, "all these insecurities kept getting in the way of what was right infront of me. I thought that you wanted to keep us a secret because you were embarrassed of me - my age and my inexperience were something that you wanted to keep hidden."

you continue, "I thought you didn't want to further our relationship into one that held more serious value- had a title - because you didn't want to build something with somebody so young and lacking of life knowledge and experience. so I pushed you away because I didn't want to end up hurt when you inevitably admitted you could never love me that way - that I was just a fucking booty call."

he shakes his head, lips tugging downwards into a painful frown. "I don't care that you're younger than me and your age has never been an issue when it comes to my feelings about you and our relationship. just because you're younger doesn't not mean that you're inexperienced, y/n/n. in fact you're one of the smartest and experienced people I know."

"so what was it that stopped you from bringing up what this relationship between us was? what were you working towards, willy? when it came to me?"

william almost turns into a puddle at the use of his nickname. he has missed you and your presence so much these past few days of no contact, it's been killing him.

as soon as you walked away from him and his hurtful insinuation back in the dining room, william immediately knew he messed up. not just with the burst of anger only a few minutes ago, but with how he handled the relationship between you two after you seemingly were shutting down and turning away from him.

"when I noticed that something was going on with you and in your head, I should've been more supportive and I should've reached out to try and have a conversation to help squash these fears, and insecurities you were dealing with. i'm so sorry, y/n/n." he breathes out, pausing to collect his racing mind. "I want to be your boyfriend and the entire time we've been together I was so desperately hoping that you would want the same. I don't care if anybody thinks of me differently and I don't care if people think that we aren't good - I think we're great."

"willy," you huff, arms falling back to sit against your sides. "i'm sorry that I shut down instead of just talking to you - I feel so stupid." you pause shakily, trying to blink back the new wave of tears. william reaches out to you then, rubbing his hand comfortably around your hip. it's the comfort you've been missing - craving. you continue, "I really like you, willy. I wish that this never happened between us."

he nods understandably, squeezing the dip of your hip as if to tell you that you're not stupid, it is okay, I really like you too. "where do you want to go from here?"

"I want to...." you pause. "I want to start over. I want to date you for real with the labels and the pictures and everything else in between." you bite your lip nervously, trying to gauge william's face to try and understand what he's thinking. "where do you want to go from here, honestly?"

"I want to pick up right where we left off. I don't want this miscommunication to change our relationship anymore than it already has. the only thing I want to change is that I can call you my girlfriend and refer to you as such all the time."

"I want that too."

"good," william smiles, pressing his body against yours. with the new position, you have no other choice but to bring your arms up around around his neck - not that you minded of course. “I really like us, y/n.”

“I really like us, too.” your confession is a tickling whisper against his lips as william can’t help but let his mouth brush over yours, so close to connecting them together is a much needed kiss.

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papurgaatika · 1 month ago

Text

Keep A Leftover Light Burning

Pairing: joel miller x Ceramicist! reader

MINORS DNI WITH MY WORKS PLEASE !!

A/N: howdy howdy and welcome all now this is a very special fic for @burntheedges for the @pedrostories secret santa event!! I hope you like it and find it as fun as i did. I think this isnt a trope that we see very often, but after a healthy dose of tiktoks (and watching the scene from ghost again) this came into being. As always thank you to my beloveeeeeeed @carlynkurin for beta reading, and peace and love on the planet earth from me, xoxo Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!! tags: Ceramicist reader, smut, porn with plot, oral (f! receiving), publicish sex, strangers to lovers, lots of wet clay, joels arms require their own tag Word count: 3.4k Summary: Sarah forces joel to go take a day to himself, pushing him in the direction of your pottery studio. Despite calling yourself professional and priding yourself on your morals, you can’t help but… fantasize about the man in front of you.

Joel needs to take time for himself. He’s always on, always ready to go at the flip of a switch, never taking time to sit and breathe. Everyone knows how hard he works, and despite what he says, Sarah knows that he needs to do something calming. Something that doesn’t involve carving wood or going to the shooting range with Tommy on the off chance that both of them are free for long enough. So being the perfect daughter that she is, she enrolls him in a ceramics workshop that she had gone to once. It was a small studio, tucked away next to the Palace Theatre in downtown Georgetown, soft and quaint in the suburbs, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Sarah managed to get a hold of you over the phone and explain the situation, a smile threatening to creep onto your cheeks at the sheer amount of care she had for her father. You tell her not to worry about the price and that you would stay open for an extra hour next weekend just to get him in, a squeal on the other side is all the confirmation you need as you pencil it into your schedule.

Sunday rolls around and Joel… Well, he was being Joel. Stubborn and groaning as Sarah essentially pushes him out the door to make the drive up IH-35, complaining about “I build things for a living,” and “it’ll be a waste of time.” but Sarah is hearing none of it and one look from her has Joel slipping on his boots. In any other circumstance, he would have praised her for holding her ground, but right now he just sighs and gets into his truck realizing just how much of his stubbornness had rubbed off on her.

He ends up at the studio just before 5, the sun starting to dip under the horizon, casting beautiful pinks and oranges around the sky. He’s still bitching and moaning as he makes his way to the building, taking a deep breath as he steps inside. You barely even hear the jingle of the little bell above your door, too busy fighting with your sink: now clogged with clay from your last class with 3 kids under ten who didn't understand that when you told them not to dump clay inside the sink. You had meant it. “Fucking thing!” you groan, poking a paintbrush into the drain, hoping to get enough clay out of it so that it would run again.

Joel stares at you, half confused and half amused with the scene in front of him; your hair a mess, your apron covered in clay and paint, hacking into your sink in ways that he knows won't do you any good. He clears his throat after watching you struggle for about 30 seconds, stifling a smirk when you jump and look back at him. “Need some help? I’m s’possed to have a class now- my daughter-” he shakes his head at the idea of sharing the whole story again “Did I get the wrong time?”

You look absolutely mortified, dropping the paintbrush in the basin and giving the man in front of you a weak smile “No! No, I just got a little... occupied… you’re on time” You wipe your hands on the front of your apron, not even bothering to attempt to fix your hair, before walking over to greet him. Properly this time. “You must be Joel. Your daughter was very persuasive on the phone.”

Joel’s smirk shifts into a full-blown smile at the mention of Sarah, the pride he has for the girl shining through. “Yeah, she’s a good one.” he praises. Despite his reluctance to listen to her advice, he knows just how good her heart is, and how much she cares about him. I “Ain't sure what she told ya, and to be honest she hasn't told me what I'm s’possed to be doing here either”

You can't help but smile at his words, the pure adoration for his daughter combined with the slight nervousness in his voice was endearing in ways you weren’t sure how to describe. “No worries, I promise it isn’t anything scary.” You glance around the studio. Outside, the sky had begun to darken, the soft lighting of the different lamps inside the building casting the both of you in a warm glow. The glaze on the ceramics you had on display was a wide assortment of colors: intricately painted motifs, bright splashes of colors, silly cartoons, almost anything you could think of. You pick up a faded apron and hand it to him, watching him stretch as he puts it on. A brief flicker of guilt passes through you as you ogle him, but then you see the way his biceps strain against the fabric of his shirt and the guilt gives way to something primitive.

He turns back around and you look away with a cough, a slight warmth creeping up your cheeks when he raises his brows at you. “Right um-” you stumble over your words, more unrefined than you would have liked to be “Sorry, sorry. We’ll start with choosing what you’ll want to make. I always recommend something easy, like a bowl or a spoon rest..” you pick up a pencil cup that had been painted to look like a pencil and a spoon rest that was a simple blue color, to show him “I already have the clay prepped so we can get started straight on th-”

Joel cuts you off as he glances around the studio, pointing at a lidded cookie jar “That one.” His words leave no room for argument but certainly bring questions up to the surface. “I'm gonna do that one.” You had been making ceramics for years, starting with air-dry clay in school, continuing to use the wheel throughout university, and eventually quitting your day job to start the studio. You knew the skill level it took to make a jar, the precision and technique to keep it balanced, and it just wasn’t a beginner project.

“I'm sorry, the cookie jar?” You try not to let your voice betray your disbelief. It wasn't that you lacked faith in the man in front of you, you made sure to be confident in all of your clients, it was simply an issue of skill. “I don't know if that’s the one for you to start out with, it’s a little advanced-”

But Joel was having none of it. If he was going to be forced to sit here and make something to “calm him down” then damn it it was going to be something that takes skill and effort. Something that he could bring home to Sarah and brag about slightly. Was it a little strange that he wanted to one-up his daughter and prove that he didn't need to be here? Maybe a little bit, but he didn't dwell on it. “Yes ma'am.” His voice is set in the decision. “I'm sure it can't be that bad, let me at it.”

Never one to truly tell people no, you simply nod and get the prepared clay out. It was soft and slippery, staining your hands a taupe color as you brought it to the wheel, plopping it down on the wheel, and pressing down on the sides to make sure it stuck. “Alright, so with the jar..” you gesture for him to take a seat in front of the wheel, moving to stand behind him “It’ll be a little bit more involved than something simple, but you're in good hands I promise.” Your words are soft, and frankly, you were excited. You didn't throw fun projects with clients as much as you’d like to anymore, focusing more on teaching the basics, so this was honestly a welcomed surprise. “We’ll just start with getting the basic shape of it, you’ll take your hands like this, and we’ll work it up.”

You sit on your stool behind him, usually, you’d be able to reach around and help with hand placement but good god was he broad. You adjust and readjust your position a few times, finding it oddly difficult to find the right mix between comfort and functionality, eventually ending up with your legs spread a little bit past their comfort level, so that you could lean over his shoulder and help him with the shaping. You squeeze some water onto his hands, moving them to cup the base of the clay and pop the wheel to life. His hands were big under your smaller ones, the roughness contrasting both the soft clay and your skin. You can't help but feel a twinge of something stirring inside you as you help him bring the clay up and down, your hands guiding his. Joel’s brows were knit together in concentration, both endearing and attractive as you watched him focus on the clay. The movements of his hands under yours were careful, almost hesitant, his eyes peeking back at you every so often for assurance.

Once the clay was at an appropriate size you moved your hands off of his, the wheel slowing to a stop. You swear that you see his hands twitch to stay under yours, but your mind might be playing tricks on you. “Now call me unartistic but this ain't really lookin’ like a cookie jar yet.” Joel raises his brows, a slight hint of teasing hidden in his southern drawl, and you can’t help but snort at the comment.

“I will not call you unartistic, it isn't supposed to look like a jar yet.” You hum and wipe your hands on your apron “We’ll do the lid to it later, but you have to actually make it into a bowl first.” your thumbs gently press down onto the center of the clay to form a soft dent. The wheel starts back up again slowly and you start to open the center up a little bit. “Right so now you just gotta take your thumbs like I did and- perfect!” Joel manages to press his fingers slowly against the clay, working it open, and god you wished that was you more than anything at that moment. You press on the sponge, the water dripping down his hand and onto the clay, almost sensually. Your eyes are locked on the way his thumb dips into the clay, the way the clay comes up onto his skin. Your mouth is dry, and you cough as you stand up, needing to take a deep breath and try to compose yourself.

“Everythin’ alright?” Joel's voice rings out from behind you as you move to take a drink of water, and you swear if his voice was just a tinge deeper, you would have choked right then and there. In the rush of getting up, your brain had ceased to realize that moving off the pedal would stop the wheel from turning.

You feel like an idiot. A stupid, hormonal, completely unprofessional idiot. You take a moment to scold yourself mentally before turning around to face him again. “Yeah, yes. Sorry I just realized how thirsty I was, I just needed water.” You move back to your stool behind him, halfway composed, and move to start the next step. If you'd been in front of him for one more second, you would have seen the knowing smile on his face. There was no denying the attraction between the two of you. Pressed up against each other, hands touching, dim light surrounding you both, it was inevitable. You move your hand to show him the right finger position “so you’ll want to take your middle and ring finger-” You press the two of yours inside of the bowl to give him an example and you swear he laughs a little bit.

“Oh, believe me, darlin” his voice rings out, big fingers expertly finding their way into the exact position. “I know all about this one.” You watch his fingers glide up and down the inside of the bowl, your hand on top of his, steadying his wrist. You bite at your lip, fingers shaking slightly on top of his. Your chest was pressed against his back and you could feel your nipples hardening. You were annoyingly turned on. This wasn’t normal for you, this wasn't something you do, get the hots for a client, but here you were. And with the way Joel's fingers were methodically moving over yours, you were begging that he felt the same way. “Wouldn’t mind showin’ ya all I know about it.” The want in his voice makes you clench subconsciously, your breath faltering for a second.

You hold your breath for a moment as if trying to make sure you hadn’t imagined his words in a haze of horniness, only to be broken out of that haze when he shifts and pushes his stool back, and turns around to face you. Both of your hands were covered in wet clay and your aprons were messy, neither of which stopped you from pressing your lips against his. You sigh against his mouth as your hand's fist in the fabric of his shirt, staining the fabric with readily drying clay. “I don't usually do this,” you murmur when you pull away for air, your lips swollen and red.

Joel just grins at your words “S’alright, honey,” his lips find their way to your jaw and move down to your neck, his nose nudging at the fabric of your shirt. “Don't gotta explain anything to me.” His voice is like molasses, smooth and syrupy, keeping you stuck on his every word. You let him move you around, the small wooden stools were less than ideal for either of you. In the mess of standing up and finding a table to bend over your shirt comes off and he groans at the sight of you, his hands grabbing at your waist, staining your skin with water. “Good god… sight for sore eyes…” You can't help but flush slightly at his comment, feeling more exposed while you stare at his fully clothed figure.

Joel picks up on it, his hands moving from your waist to his shirt and apron, a frustrated noise leaving his mouth when the knotted strings keep him from taking it off. “Let me,” you whisper, reaching around to undo the strings, the fabric of the apron sagging and then getting tossed to some other corner of the room. You stare at him. You couldn't not stare at him. At the hair covering his chest leading down to his belt, the soft yet strong features of his body, at his hand undoing his belt. Your own shorts had been removed, your hands moving to reach into his jeans until he stopped you, a pout and protest forming on your lips.

Joel just shakes his head at you, picking you up and setting you on a relatively clean table, his body wedged between your legs. “My momma raised me to be a gentleman,” he hums against your skin, kissing the tops of your breasts, nudging your nipples with his nose before giving each of them their own kisses “I didn't take ya to dinner, at least let me get my fill yeah?” Your back fully arched into his mouth as his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, hands gripping the edge of the table so hard your knuckles were white. The feeling of his tongue flicking against the hardened bud had you moaning out in ways you had never imagined you would, and you swear you could feel him smirk even as he licked a stripe down the soft skin of your tummy.

His knees crack as he settles between your legs and the sight of him is so sinful you can't help but moan softly. He raises his brows at you, a warm chuckle leaving his mouth at the sound, his lips pressing against the inside of one of your thighs “Look that good?” His voice is laced with a gentle mocking as he presses another kiss, a hair's breadth away from your aching cunt “think I got the better view though.” You don't even have the time, nor the brainpower, to reply before his lips press against you, a groan vibrating against your skin as he tastes you. “Sweetest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had… could get damn addicted.”

Your lips are parted as his tongue swirls around your clit, your whines and moans spurring him on even further. “F-fuck joel-” you manage at some point, his broad shoulders keeping your thighs spread apart, despite how much they’d like to clamp around him. He was good at this and he knows that, moaning at the sound of his name on your lips, the words giving him a newfound energy. You feel his warm palms against your thighs keeping you spread open for him, and you almost whine when his tongue leaves your clit, only to cry out in ecstasy when his tongue prods at your pulsing hole. His nose is pressed up against your clit, giving you just the right amount of friction as he gathers your slick on his tongue, cycling between fucking it into you and laying it flat over your cunt. “Joel- joel oh fuck-” Your moans are frantic as he continues to send you closer and closer to that edge, his motions only getting faster as your hand fists in his hair. “Oh my god- fuck fuck fuuuuck-” your legs shake around his head, his hands keeping them apart as he works you through your orgasm, not stopping until you were spent and hazy, laying back on the table with shuddering breaths.

Your eyes were pressed shut, chest rising and falling rapidly in the aftermath of your orgasm, only to peek open when you hear the clink of his belt. His mouth was covered in the sheen of your orgasm, a hungry look in his eyes as he spits into his hand and pulls his cock out. “Tasted like a damn dream,” he groans while he strokes himself. “Gonna remember this forever…” Your eyes are locked on the motions of his wrist, the steady pace, the pearly precum that was leaking from his tip. “Fuckin’ perfect… makin’ me feel like a damn teenager again.” You wait with bated breath as he continues to stroke himself, wiggling your hips in order to entice him.

“Joel,” your voice is soft, but so heavily full of need it was almost painful “Please… I want you.” If you were being honest, you thought that it would take more convincing, that you would have to ask more, but Joel was desperate, maybe more so than you were and so when he sinks his cock into your dripping cunt it was ecstasy for both of you. Your eyes fall shut again at the feel of him, the stretch so much but so good. “Oh my god…” you whine, pushing yourself onto him further, your breathing stuttering when one of his hands palms at your breast, the other one gripping your hip with so much strength you think it would leave a mark.

“That’s it…” he groans, slipping into you all the way. “Fuckin’ perfect pussy, like she was made for me.” His words are punctuated with shallow thrusts that fill you up again and again. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in closer to you. The feeling of his hips pressing against yours is something you would never be able to get out of your memory.

You both lay there, bodies pressed against each other, his hips rocking into you slow and steadily, the dim lighting of the studio casting an ethereal glow over the scene. His hips move at a steady pace, keeping you full of him as the coarse hairs around him press against your clit with the right amount of friction. It doesn't take much time until he's panting on top of you, your lips pressed against each other's in a heated kiss as you feel him spill inside you.

“That was…” you were breathless, his chest still against yours, the rhythm of your hearts syncing up.

“Yeah…” He grins, pressing a kiss against your forehead gently. “I know I told ya I was a gentleman but, I really would like to see you again… of course no pressure if you don't want to or anything-”

You cut him off with a small laugh before he can keep going, nudging your head against his. “I want to, Joel.” You smile gently at him “Plus, you didn't finish the jar.” You grin, looking in the direction of the unfinished work of art he had started. “And then I have to fire it, then glaze it, then fire it again, then… well you get the point, I think I’ll be seeing you quite a few more times, Joel.”

A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free

READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. Silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist.

PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

Thank you for reading, and free Palestine

#papaya writes <3 #joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller au #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedrostoriesgift24 #pedrostories #pedro characters #pedro pascal

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babyangelsky · 6 months ago

Text

My Favorite Expressions in Love Sea Ep. 7

On a personal level this week has been a very mixed bag but I know that if nothing else got me, this show got me. It's gonna come in clutch for me every time, spider bites and potential hauntings be damned.

I. Love. It. Here.

Will I ever not take psychic damage from the expression Tongrak makes when Mahasamut tells him that he cares about him? The answer is no. It's wonderful and devastating every time.

"How would you rate me out of 10?" Mahasamut asks while Tongrak's face plots teasing and mischief.

Opening a safe shouldn't look so much like staring down the gallows but here we are. Not being able to see how Tongrak's hands were shaking in a screenshot is a blessing.

The panic and terror on this man's face when he saw the read receipt on his phone is something I never want to see again. My hatred for Rak's piece of shit sperm donor is murderous and profound. How actually fucking dare he put this look on his child's face I'm going to kill him with my bare hands.

Peat's acting is so genuinely good that it hurts me. Tongrak was trembling so much that he was struggling to put the phone away and when he gets back to his room, he practically tries to crawl into Mahasamut's skin to hide and feel safe. Look at him, he looks so tiny and scared and I want to cry.

Let us take a break from the sad with this supremely horny shot of Mook unzipping Vivi's dress. Everyone say thank you.

And pour one out for our girl, as is now a weekly custom. Vivi my girly is dying CONFESS TO HER AND MAKE OUT ABOUT IT.

"I'm not going to the event! >:(" Yes you are, mi alma, look at your face when Mook threatens to quit.

Not pictured: One (1) resigned sigh

The grumpiest kitten in the whole venue.

Tongrak: *complaining* Mahasamut: *heart eyes*

My favorite moment of the face journey Tongrak goes on when he realizes just how good Mahasamut looks and that he will be Perceived and decides to mess up his hair about it. The grumpy kitten is a jealous jellyfish.

It's the fact that Tongrak looks surprised that his fans like his books and have consumed his entire body of work. I'M GOING TO SOB.

The smile is polite and professional but the eyes are sparkly. He genuinely enjoys interacting with his fans.

The proud husband smile means everything to me.

THE LOOK OF ABSOLUTE LOATHING AND DISGUST! INCREDIBLE PHENOMENAL OUTSTANDING.

IF YA'LL THINK I'M NOT GONNA MAKE A SEPARATE POST ABOUT HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS MAN YOU'RE SO FUCKING WRONG

If I have to have this demonic nasty hell witch on my screen, at least I get to watch her face make this expression after Tongrak calls her out for imitating him because he got it right on the money and she knows it.

Tongrak and the visceral hatred in his eyes said play me another waltz I'm tired of dancing to this one.

God love you, but you look so tired.

This entire scene was more brutal to watch than the fight outside of Tongrak's house. It was obvious that something more was going on from how calmly he was speaking and how non-responsive he became toward the end of it, but look at his hands. Look at how tightly they're clenched. Maintaining his composure while Prin stuck that knife in his wounds and twisted it as viciously as she could cost him, and it would be obvious even if we hadn't already seen them fight.

Tongrak, you're my fighter. He still looks tired because he is, but he also looks like the imperious ice prince he's had to be to survive. Then the utterly dismissive way he turns and walks out and cuts eye contact?

We can barely see Nouel's smile but it's so clearly saying "bruh that's cringe".

He's not just my fighter. He's Mahasamut's fighter, too.

Do ya'll remember how Tongrak was acting when he first brought Mahasamut to live with him and Vivi was teasing him?

Look how far they've come.

I can't quite articulate how, but the way they look at each other has changed, and I don't just mean because they're being lovey in front of Vivi and Mook. There's this undercurrent of sweetness that wasn't there before, even in private. That scene way back in episode 3 where Tongrak told Mahasamut to ask him to stay on the island which had so much softness and fondness to it did not have that same something that's now present.

I'm gonna leave ya'll with that and then go take more screenshots so I can properly scream about Mahasamut. And let me know if you wanna be tagged in these weekly writeups!

#love sea #love sea the series #rakmut #meta

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campingwiththecharmings · 10 months ago

Note

for minigirl87

Hi, congratulations 🎊 on your 1 year anniversary. Could I request, please. Poe Dameron and the AU firefighter. I used to clean in a fire station and have a thing for firefighters, plus I could could easily see Poe as a fireman, lol. Take care ❤️

Some Like it Hot

For @minigirl87

AN: Another fic-aversary request! I know you sent this to me via messenger AGES ago and you probably don't even remember doing it but I need you to know that Firefighter!Poe has had me in a chokehold ever since lol. THAT SAID, I have no idea if this is what you were looking for but my muse is a whore (esp for Poe) so here we are. Absolutely shameless smut, very, very little plot. Hope y'all enjoy 😌❤️

(Un-beta’d)

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, i mean, you’ve been warned?) Words: 1,297 Pairing: Firefighter!Poe Dameron x Photographer!F!Reader Warnings: PWP, p in v, strangers to lovers, praise kink, please let me know if i missed anything. AO3

——————

Somehow, you’d known that it would end this way.

Well, maybe not this exact way—with you fucking a smoking-hot firefighter in the dark room of your studio—but the second he’d walked into the room, you’d known something was bound to happen. Granted, you’d been thinking more along the lines of a coffee date or, if you were really lucky, dinner.

The Universe had other plans, it seems (and who were you to argue?).

His strong fingers grip you tightly as he fucks into you from behind, every powerful thrust of his hips all but knocking the breath from your lungs. A choked moan escapes you as he hits one of your sweet spots, cunt clenching around his (considerable) length and pulling a groan from between his lips. You feel so good, so full, the pleasure zinging through your body as he drags himself in and out of your slick heat.

You don’t normally do this—this being fucking someone within hours of meeting them, without even knowing their full name—but there’s just something about this guy—Poe—that makes you wanna give him everything.

It had started innocently enough, just lingering glances and a bit of flirting, but the tension had grown between you the longer the shoot went on. More than once, your gaze had lingered, unable to stop yourself from admiring him—with his leanly muscled body, chiseled jaw, deep eyes, and that stubborn curl that kept falling across his forehead. He could tell you were into him; you’d known by the way he’d looked at you.

Normally, you were more professional while you worked, more respectful of the vulnerability of your subjects as you shot them. You’ve never felt this before though, this pull, this need, and it surprised you how quickly you’d thrown out all your principles for what you assumed was just a one-time thing.

“Taking me so well, sweetheart,” Poe slurs, the pace of his thrusts faltering slightly as you flutter around him. “Fuck, feels so good.”

You can’t help the whine that escapes you at his praise, your fingers gripping the edges of the counter he has you pressed against. You kind of wish you could see his face (you bet he looks stunning when he comes), but he’s hitting you so deep like this it’s a little hard to complain.

He grunts when you flutter around him again, your fingers aching as your grip on the counter tightens. You’re so close, can feel the tension coiling inside you as he spears into you again and again. You push back to meet him and he moans, his cock somehow reaching even deeper inside you, electricity zinging up your spine.

“Please,” you breathe, unsure exactly what you’re asking for.

He seems to know though, adjusting his thrusts so he can lean forward and slip his hand between your thighs, calloused fingers immediately finding and circling your clit. You whimper in pleasure as a myriad of sensations race through you, your arms shaking as your body is pushed closer and closer to the brink.

“You’re right there aren’t you, sweetheart?” he murmurs, his voice thick with his own pleasure. “You’re so close, squeezing me so tight—”

All you can do is moan in pleasure, in agreement, the combination of his cock and his fingers making you feel almost drunk.

“Need you to come for me,” he pants, more of a plea than a demand. “Need to feel you.”

Without warning, Poe pulls you up from the counter so your back is flush against his chest. Your mouth falls open in surprise, a noise somewhere between a squeal and moan escaping as he grinds up into you, his thrusts slower now but no less devastating.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, head lolling back against his shoulder as he groans in agreement.

He’s just as far gone as you, it seems, his thrusts a little sloppier now as he nears his peak.

“Pussy feels like heaven, sweetheart,” he slurs, his mouth and tongue molten against your heated skin.

You feel like you're drowning, like he’s suffocating you with pleasure. You need something, something to hold onto, something to keep you grounded. You reach back, plunging your fingers into his soft curls, gripping them for dear life. You’re so close, right there at the edge, the tension inside you wound so tight you feel as if you might burst.

Another brush of his fingers against your clit is enough to send you soaring over the edge, your body shaking in his arms as your release slams into you. Poe’s groan is choked as you convulse around him, but he fucks you through it, mumbling words of praise and encouragement in your ear as waves of pleasure surge through you (“That’s it, baby, soak my cock. Oh fuck, yeah, just like that, oh good girl—”)

He stills a moment later, spilling his thick, hot cum deep inside you, his strangled moans muffled as he buries his face in your neck. You relax a little as you come back down, the solidity of his body against yours comforting. You stay like that for a moment trying to catch your breath, the two of you panting and half naked in the middle of the room. After what simultaneously feels like two seconds and an hour, he pulls back a bit from your neck, leaving a gentle kiss at the top of your spine that makes something in your chest ache.

“Okay?” he asks, his voice soft and a little raspy.

You hum, nodding as you allow yourself to melt into him a little, your body going limp in his hold. He chuckles softly, tightening his arms around you and pressing another kiss against your neck. For a moment, you let yourself pretend, pretend that the two of you aren’t strangers, that this isn’t a one-time thing, that he’s yours (and you’re his).

He slips out of you with a hiss, the loss of him dragging you back to reality. Your legs feel like jelly, but you manage to stand on your own, shakily pulling your clothes back on before turning to face him. Considering the position you were just in, it’s silly how awkward you suddenly feel. You lean against the counter behind you, chancing a glance up at him; the soft smile on his lips makes your heart skip a little.

Ugh, he looks just as gorgeous in the red light of the dark room as he did when he’d waltzed into your studio hours ago. A part of you kind of hates him for it.

Before you can say anything, he leans in, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. You sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you kiss him back, your arms winding around his neck. His hands settle on your waist, pulling your body against his as he licks into your mouth. You moan softly, completely lost in him, in the way he’s making you feel. When you part for air, he presses his forehead against yours, your pants mingling in the small space between you.

“Go out with me,” he breathes, his nose bumping against yours.

You huff a laugh at the request (demand?), fingers tangling in the curls at the base of his skull. He smiles again, his lips brushing over yours.

“Probably should’ve asked that before, huh?”

You laugh again, still breathless. “Better late than never.”

His laugh is husky and the sound of it makes something warm settle in your gut. “I appreciate you being so understanding.”

You bite your lip, smothering your smile. “I know you’ll find a way to make it up to me.”

He hums in agreement, a playful gleam in his eyes as he leans in to kiss you again. “I’ve got a few ideas.”

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟 fic-aversary masterlist 🌟

i am no longer doing a taglist. please follow @charmingupdates for updates and turn on notifications.

PART 2

#poe dameron x you #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fic #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron reader insert #poe dameron smut #my fic #fic-aversary celebration #starwarsficnetwork

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ipegchangbin · 2 years ago

Text

— smudgeproof

sub!model!felix x dom!makeup artist!reader

There’s a new lipstick that claims to be make-out-proof. You, with your makeup expertise, naturally decide to test it on your model boyfriend, Felix: except he’s the one that gets to wear it.

🏷 gender neutral afab reader (they/them pronouns, no specifics), smut, fluff, some humor, established relationship, porn with barely any plot.

🏷 petnames “mommy” and “baby girl,” unprotected sex, feminization kink, slight oral and hand fixation, marking, butt plug (felix using), thigh riding, fingering (felix receiving), overstimulation, male squirting, lots of teasing, voyeurism mention, no specifics about y/n’s physique.

w/c: 8.8k

a/n: happy (hopefully not late) valentine’s day! to celebrate, i finally present to you the long overdue felix-gets-fucked fic! based on my thought piece, this concept has been on my mind ever since. i kept rewriting this fic but i drew the header art so fast LMAO icb i finished it!! otherwise, enjoy!

18+ only. minors do not interact.

On slow days, you would often find yourself bored in the makeup store. Your boyfriend, Lee Felix, would probably be just as bored, sitting in the chair of his set. Your notifications were as empty as the barren shop.

After two aimless scrolls down your Instagram feed, you realized that you hadn’t posted anything recently and hadn’t texted Felix that day.

The afternoon sun brought in waves of humid air throughout the city, setting everyone back from a trip around the shops. You peered over at the conversation with your boyfriend as you thought about ways to kill time.

It wasn’t uncommon to go for a while without contacting each other. It had been years since you two became official, after all, and comfortable silence had become a given that you both simply indulged in. That didn’t take your mind off of the boredom, though, and your fingers itched to do something. They found Felix’s contact on your phone, bedazzled with an embarrassing nickname and profile picture.

It stung to think that if you weren’t looking at his endearing profile, you would instead settle for some sort of creeping guilt of not posting anything on your social media page after a while. Either way, you shot him a message.

you: lix, wya? you: im bored as hell

Considering Felix’s work as a professional model, he would probably reply in less than ten minutes. You thought to turn your phone off and play with the freshly-cleaned makeup brushes on the makeup store’s vanity counter while waiting.

But this is Lee Felix, the sunshine of your days, and you didn’t have to wait any longer than two seconds.

lixie: Am at the shoot I told u about lixie: Bored too tbh LOL

Even if he typed in a silly way, you couldn’t help but love him.

He’d always been your go-to person to unwind and be yourself around. Starting as best friends gave you both a jumpstart to be comfortable around the other. People would say it worked a little too well especially since you two had become the most seriously unserious couple in the creative industry.

That fact made him understand you more than anyone else: you were both creatives. Your heart belonged to the artistic liberties of makeup and beauty, while his heart belonged to the ethereal realm of modeling and fashion. Your two hearts found each other, which was almost perfect for the adjacent businesses. He collaborated with you on makeup challenges. You came to his sets as his “preferred makeup artist.” He understood you whenever you ranted about stupid trends and declining engagement in your channels.

With that, could tell him about your uneventful day and equally uneventful social media pages, but you refrained from complaining more than dropping a passing mention.

you: idrk what to do there are no customers you: and i havent posted anything new you: but its not like theres much to do lixie: Well you’re the genius one here! lixie: Got art block or something?

The prompt response caught you off guard. Almost as if you have forgotten, this was Felix, and he always sensed whenever something was wrong.

As if he had some sort of radar or emotion detector, he always just knew how you were. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he had always been in the proximity of your face, observing your concentration as you put eyeliner on him before shooting. Maybe that connection stuck with him after years of being together, and it had remained strong to the point that he could feel it from miles away, staring emptily into the face of some other random MUA.

Alas, you found yourself overthinking again. You would rather overthink about your relationship than your semi-abandoned creative efforts, though.

you: well i guess you can call it that. im just conscious since i havent really posted you: idk what to do next. ive done everything lixie: How about, “Boyfriend does my makeup drunk edition”? :D you: boring ! lixie: “Makeup tut but bf does my voiceover”? :D you: just because it got views doesnt mean its worth doing a fifth time >:(( lixie: I’m kidding LOL

The scowl on your face reflected on the mirror sitting in front of you. You knew that if only Felix saw it right now, he would have lost his mind trying to turn it upside down.

You were right though. You two did everything.

My boyfriend does my makeup? Done, and he did an okay job at it. “The boy beat” makeup tutorial featuring Felix? Damn right he did. Boyfriend does my voiceover? It was so good that you guys did it four times and everyone fell in love with the deep timbre of his voice contrasted with his surprising amount of knowledge. Even if it was easy to collaborate with him, it was hard to create something new and unique. On the contrary, your audience fell in love with you two. It’s nice to watch a model and a stylist practice their art together.

Lost for ideas, you decided just to tease him instead.

lixie: So? No ideas in that pretty head? you: i got one thing in mind lixie: And what might that be? you: having you here you: in my arms you: to kiss up and call pretty :>

It was a thing that you usually did since you loved how he always reacted so pricelessly. He didn’t disappoint with his response, the notifications popping up not even half a minute after your last message.

lixie: HNDNSABNNDJS lixie: Don’t tease me unprompted!! lixie: ;__;

You’re so grateful that he’s always up to play with you.

You thought deeply — too deeply for a situation like this — and scanned the store shelves and storage room for ideas.

You wondered what he would be up to right now.

Felix was stunned.

Done-up in the most expensive face and hairstyle he’s rocked to date, adorned with an unbuttoned suit jacket that one could only dream to wear, he was supposed to look like the stunner. His pecs were only barely hidden and the midsection of his upper body was almost entirely exposed.

Instead, he was the speechless one. He wasn’t shocked by the cold air seeping through his revealing outfit, but his hair raised at your messages.

Your teasing usually should not affect him this much, but today, it was something different. The whole day, all he could think about was you. His mind went to your first meeting. Earlier, he got deja vu as one of the stylists applied lipstick on him. It felt familiar, the feeling of a senior stylist’s hand resting on his face as a brush glided along the perimeter of his mouth. All it lacked was the stunning view of your face in particular. It reminded him of the first time you ever laid eyes on him, and it was to check on his eyeshadow. You stared at each other for too long, exchanged numbers after the shoot, and the rest was history.

He was pissed, to say the least, that you weren’t the assigned stylist for the shoot this time. Nothing could ever compare to the focused look you gave him as you fixed the corners of his mouth with the smooth swipe of your pinky finger.

He craved that touch again.

“Yo,” a dragged-out sigh whisked through the air. “You’ll catch a fly in your mouth if you keep that jaw open.”

Felix looked up from his phone to find Hyunjin, his best friend and one of the junior photographers on set, eyeing his reflection in the mirror. He had his bleached blond hair half-up, tied messily to complete his so-called “intern look.” Most of the senior directors and photographers on set confused him for a model.

“Am I interrupting some kinda internal monologue sesh?” Hyunjin smiled, leaning behind Felix’s chair, raising a brow at him through the reflection.

“No, I just—”

“He’s thinking about Y/N again.” Jeongin, their other best friend, popped from behind the vanity, carrying Hyunjin’s abandoned camera.

The two were interns at the studio. Both were very bored art students looking for a job to pass the time by. Jeongin was there to work as a personal assistant and was mistaken for a stylist considering his fashion sense. His behavior around set proved otherwise, though, since he spent the entire day prodding at everyone’s business.

Felix was no exception as a victim.

“Imagine flirting online,” Hyunjin chuckled while reaching for the camera. Jeongin handed it out to him, only to swing his arm back, teasing the older.

Jeongin dismissed the frown on Hyunjin’s face and fiddled with the camera. “Yeah, cut your significant other some slack, they must be busy at the store or something,” he added.

“Nah, they aren’t.”

Hyunjin snagged the camera back. “Editing a Youtube video?”

“That’s exactly why they messaged me. They asked for ideas for a new video.” Felix sat back and redirected his eyes back to the conversation on his phone. The other two slowly turned their heads to each other.

“Wow! Did you hear that, Innie? They messaged him!” Hyunjin yelped.

“Lix didn’t message first? Unheard of!” Jeongin gasped.

“Cut it out, overdramatic cunts.” The accent made the last word roll off Felix’s tongue in a heavy and aggressive accent. “I want to help them this once. Shoo. Leave me be.”

“Oh, why are you getting all worked up, man?” The younger placed his hands on Felix’s shoulders and wiggled them.

Actually — why was he getting all worked up? Everything seemed off: he wasn’t the type to get annoyed easily like that.

He would have defended himself, but he thought it over. Not only had he been unusually sentimental while getting ready, but even as the day started, he was already rolling off to a rough start. He barely got out of bed, reaching out to you from the side and asking for longer morning cuddles specifically from you. He had been so clingy all day that the silence and afternoon heat killed him from looking forward to anything else but you.

A discussion brewed between the menaces as Felix thought about it. “Innie, you know, he couldn’t even hit the poses right. The director felt bad because our bro didn’t seem into it.”

Felix’s cheeks flushed upon hearing that. “No way, Hyune,” the other replied.

Oh god, Felix thought.

He swatted embarrassing thoughts away from his head to not get teased any further by his own friends. His thoughts — and something else — were hindering him from doing anything physically. The poor boy couldn’t even shift in his seat from embarrassment. It’s not that he didn’t want to physically fidget, he just couldn’t. His entire body froze, but he also just could not move by any means. It would be uncomfortable for him, and it wasn’t just because the clothes restricted him.

Something underneath his clothes would shift too and pierce his body with shockwaves. Before that could, though, his phone vibrated before he did.

you: babe! you: had a breakthrough so big i said eureka out loud in the store [you sent a photo]

Felix immediately opened the notifications and observed the sent messages. He opened the photo even before it loaded. When it did, he nearly melted in his seat.

You supposedly sent him a picture of a product that you found. By the looks of it, you probably thought of doing a product review of it, but that wasn’t the first impression he got from the picture. The first thing he saw was your face, winking with a toothy grin, your beautiful hand holding the product up next to your cheek.

God, you were all sorts of stunning to him.

lixie: OMHJYGOD YOUre so pretty you: dont look at me, silly! you: look at this lipstick. its so funny

For a moment, he didn’t listen. His eyes were still fixated on everything from your expression, to your features, to the nails that you just got done holding up the product. As if he had gone stupid, he had to blink and shake his head before formulating a reply that made sense.

lixie: LMFAOOOO THE NAME you: its not the name baby lixie: WHAT SHADE COLOR IS THAT LMAOOO you: the shade looks fine, look at the label! lixie: What’s it say you: the label claims its make-out proof lixie: ??!!! LOL

Of course, he didn’t make any sort of sense whatsoever. His two friends watched him frantically type away, barely being able to process anything from the mere sight of you.

“Bro’s deluded,” Jeongin whispered.

“Bro’s fucking horny,” Hyunjin commented, squinting at his friend.

you: you sound so funny baby you: anyway i was thinking i should review it you: but can you join me? i wanna try something

It felt like something broke inside of him. A shot of excitement ran through his system, hitting down until his core — oh shit that hurt.

He tried to twist his lower half again, fidgeting in his seat, but it grew harder for him to do so. With tears in his eyes, he jolted up, attempting to focus on the conversation.

lixie: Sure, what do you want me to do? lixie: Won’t you just do an application and wear test thing? you: mmm i guess u can say that you: but im making it a lil different lixie: How so?

The intrigue bit his tongue and Felix attempted to swallow it. The staff around him were wrapping up the shoot, pushing equipment back in their places, and some started to leave as soon as the director announced the last “cut.” He, however, was glued to the vanity chair, shaking in anticipation.

you: im gonna put it on you baby <3

Felix’s eyes widened.

It didn’t matter how many times you placed makeup on him, nor did it matter how many times he joined you in your antics. There were too many things going on in his head that toyed with his thought process and everything that came with it. He didn’t exactly know why, but a knot formed in his stomach. He grew nervous and just knew that you were up to something sinister.

lixie: But how are we gonna do the wear test? I already got my face done and half the day has passed, I’m even done w my part of the shoot you: you dont get it ??? lixie: I don’t get it!! you: ill put it on you when you get here. and were not just testing how long it wears regularly, were testing what the label says you: ill be there in 10mins love you baby

He sat back, looked up from his phone, and his gaze zeroed in on his reflection, attempting to focus on the thought. How would you conduct a different kind of wear test? In terms of makeup, a wear test would simply be to spend a full day with the product on and to see if it still holds its place at the end of it. It had already been well past afternoon by that time and it wasn’t like there were many other things to do that could budge the lipstick aside from dinner. He always trusted your genius, but he knew that there was more to this.

Felix blinked, once, twice, and then stared.

Were you…going to test if it was really make-out proof?

The world around him seemed to dim — it did, since the studio lights were turning off and the senior stylists urged Jeongin to wake the model up from his short-circuiting brain to change out of the clothes.

That is if Felix could still respond before the horniness consumed him.

lixie: Wait lixie: Don’t tell me lixie: DON’T TELL ME lixie: You’ll test it by putting it on me lixie: AND THEN MAKE OUT WITH ME?????? [Read 2:50 PM] lixie: Y/N!!! Answer me!!! [Delivered, unread 2:51 PM]

The cogs in his head accelerated before banging to a full stop, clinks and clanks ringing through his ears at his very slow realization.

“Congrats, smartypants, you figured it out.” Hyunjin scoffed from behind him.

“Dude—wait, hey! Have you been watching me the whole time?!”

“You should be more secretive,” Jeongin giggled. “Get those privacy screen protectors or something. Now we know what poor Y/N has to deal with every day.”

“And stop getting your thoughts tangled in horny next time you text,” Hyunjin elbowed the poor model boy, fiddling with his camera as if nothing happened. “Don’t worry. Your secrets and online PDA are safe with us.”

Felix’s face was washed without color. His jaw hung open both at his friends’ antics and your devilish plans.

“I’m looking forward to that review,” Jeongin added before walking away, teasingly pushing Felix’s shoulder on the way out. “Not that I’ll use it or anything.”

The two friends left the set side-eyeing and giggling at Felix.

—

It wasn’t long before you pulled up to the studio to pick your boyfriend up.

“Hi, darling.” Felix’s greeting and nervous smile lit up the quiet air and darkness of your car. He got in the passenger seat and immediately leaned in to kiss your cheek.

He was trembling.

You had to laugh. “Hey, babe. What’s got you shaken up?”

“Long day.”

“That’s it?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Long because of you,” he said, scrunching his nose. “Kept teasing me.”

“Aw, don’t sulk, silly.” You cooed at him, “Save the pout for later, baby. We’re going home.”

Maybe it was the combination of inhaling your expensive signature scent and hearing the sound of your voice again that made him tingle all over. Maybe it had to do with the curling corners of your mouth that gave Felix all the information he needed in the world. Maybe it was the fact that you held the back of his seat as the car reversed, and the action looked undeniably sexy.

Felix lifted a leg to cross over the other, but it only ever made him look more uncomfortable throughout the entire car ride home. Though concerned, you didn’t point it out, and instead continued to drive.

His chest was heaving and he internally scolded himself for acting like a bitch in heat.

The both of you arrived home sooner than expected.

The tunes that you played earlier in the car ride home stuck in Felix’s head. He wondered if the song choice of a sultry voice singing about “wants and needs” was deliberate. It was your playlist, and if you intended to include subliminal messaging, then it worked like a charm on him.

He had been worked out to the point he couldn’t face you. The moment he laid eyes on you again in your apartment’s living room, he shied away almost immediately.

You caught his averting gaze, though, and disallowed him from living it down. “Is there something on my face, baby?”

Baby. He could spend a lifetime just listening to you calling him that name. The way it sounded so natural coming from you made him melt.

He also could not stop staring at your lips. You always wore a certain gloss no matter the occasion. Even if it was your signature, Felix couldn’t help but stare, and it didn’t make his situation any better. In fact, it got worse, and it felt like the straining in his pants could explode.

“Mm, ‘s nothing, Y/N.”

“You sure?” You prodded. “Your friends kept waving at me and they looked back at you earlier.”

“Ah, please don’t mind them.” He scoffed. “They were being cheeky cunts.”

“That’s a funny way to put it.”

“Anyway, how are we gonna do th-the…uh, the thing…?” Felix stammered, playing with his fingers instead of looking you in the eye.

“Oh, glad you mentioned it!” You hurriedly grabbed the three tiny boxes in your bag. “I got a bit excited over it. Look at this!”

There was nothing too remarkable about the boxes. They looked like basic products, but the huge bolded font on the product labels caught his eye. “It’s more of a stain or something. The label says it can survive five consecutive make-out sessions before a singular budge.”

“It’s…interesting, yeah.” Felix blinked. You chuckled, nodding at his reasonable reaction. “So…y-you’ll put that on me.”

“Yep.”

“And then we kiss.”

“Make-out,” you corrected. Your voice was clear and slightly stern, but the smile that formed on your face sent him in shivers.

The familiarity in your features contrasted with whatever stunts you were going to pull on him sent his head into a haze.

“Anything wrong with it?”

“No,” he shook his head.

“Lix, baby, just be clear with me.” You inched closer to him, bringing your hands to his plump freckle-spotted cheeks. “You don’t mind that I’ll record this and post it?”

“Of course, I don’t mind. I just…” Felix sighed.

“…Just curious, what are you planning to show in the video?”

“I’m gonna show the application, I’ll start by putting it on you.”

The heat rushed to Felix’s face as numerous thoughts clouded his mind as he visualized everything in his mind.

“We’re gonna kiss for a brief moment in the video, probably make out and do…whatever,” you winked shyly. “It’s only gonna be brief. Gotta keep it within community guidelines.”

One of your hands made its way down to his hip. You pulled him closer. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat from gulping back an otherwise embarrassing sound.

You had to wonder if he was hiding anything causing him discomfort there.

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

Felix bit his lip. “A hundred percent sure.”

“If you don’t want—”

“I want…it,” he whispered under his breath. “I want you.”

He flashed a weak smile. He was incredibly excited, but he was losing composure and he didn’t exactly know why.

He was about to melt in your hands but you held him up and adjusted your set-up for the video with an equally beautiful smile.

—

Three, two, one, action.

The camera rolled and you felt the familiar rush of adrenaline surge through you. Impressively, you thought you would have lost your spark at content creation, but posing in front of the ring light felt refreshing.

“It’s been a long time coming y’all,” you waved, “but I’m back! And guess who I’m with!”

Felix stared at the camera for a moment, his eyes flicking back to you for a split second. It was his cue to wave as well.

“Ah, hi, everyone!”

“Still handsome and meek as always,” you teased. “He still has a bit of makeup on since he came from a shoot.”

Your hand ran down the side of his neck. You felt the goosebumps rise from his skin.

“Anyway, today I’ll be starting a series of videos covering weird products and their weird claims. We’re starting strong with this funky new liquid lipstick from…B.Me Cosmetics.”

Taking the tube out of its package, you examined it and showed it to the phone camera. You swatched a shade on the back of your hand. Differing from a bullet lip, it had a liquid formula that boasted a unique, pseudo-gloss satin finish.

“It claims to be smudge-proof, make-out-proof, everything-proof. Can last five rounds of kissin’ and smoochin’ I assume.” You said many things that Felix didn’t even dare to process.

Felix simply watched your hands delicately hold the product. His gaze was fixated on your nails, fingers, and everything about you that wasn’t the lipstick.

“But oh no no, I’m not testing it on myself. Well, kinda, but Lixie over here is gonna be my test subject.” You swung an arm over Felix, dragging him down to the height of the phone, showing everyone his nervous yet precious face. He eyed up at you with what seemed to be hearts in his pupils.

“Let’s first see how this goes on, hmm?”

You walked a bit away to grab two chairs: one was velvety and comfortable, while the other was taller and had regular cushions. The first was the same chair your clients usually sat on, and the second was your working chair. You urged him to sit down, patting the seat as a signal.

The moment he sat down, Felix started trembling. His knees looked like they were about to give in and his thighs took a moment to settle onto the velvet.

“Everything alright?” You whispered.

He wordlessly nodded back at you. Unknown to you, though, he bit back a noise. He didn’t mind the sharp pulsing pain when he finally got the courage to look up fully, of course with the guidance of your thumb and index finger propping up his chin.

It felt like handling a little kitten in your hands.

“Which shade, which shade…” You took the other bottles out of the bold box packaging and waved them out in front of Felix’s lips. It either would have been a rosy nude color, a deep red, or a bright cherry pinkish-red.

You tapped the tube of the last color against your boyfriend’s bottom lip, watching his cheeks pout slightly at the action. You quietly settled on the cherry color, to Felix’s apparent delight.

“Would you look at that?” You cupped his face with one hand, holding the lipstick on your free one. You faced him towards the camera, relishing in the sight of his cheeks puffing up in your palm. “Call me biased or whatever, but his lips are some of the prettiest I’d ever seen.”

Before he could indulge in the praise though, you urged him to open his mouth. He didn’t prepare for any of this and not your next course of action.

You slotted the bottle in between Felix’s teeth and kept it in place even after unscrewing the applicator off. He bit slightly and carefully to keep the bottle in place without damaging it. If he were a nervous wreck then, he became overly anxious now. You, however, in full focus, took the applicator of the liquid lipstick and slid it along his top lip. The cold sensation of the new foreign product on his mouth made him squirm slightly, though you held him firmly in place with your hand.

“So fitting that his lips are shaped like a heart. He’s so kissable.” You smooched the air while cleaning up the perimeter of his lips, teasing him.

Wished I kissed you right now, huh? Felix could hear that in your voice and he let it echo in his pretty little head. Alas, he couldn’t retaliate nor speak back at all. He couldn’t even dip his head in embarrassment. Your eyes were trained on the brush you flicked, almost dismissive of your own flirting and it mismatched the smirk that adorned your mouth after teasing.

It was the exact kind of look he’s seen many times before. The exact look he fell in love with when you first met.

It’s the look he would get off to almost every night.

You finished off applying the lipstick and it was impressively smooth. You took the bottle from his teeth and sighed. The color made his mouth look irresistibly edible. It would take you three marathons and a trip to the moon to admit that you were starting to feel just as affected as Felix by the sight of his pouty mouth.

“Rub those pretty lips for me, baby.”

Only you could say those words to him the way that you do. Felix felt multiple urges rummaging through his system at once. He could almost cry from wanting to say something, to call out your name, to moan it, to whine and whimper, and melt in your arms as if nobody were watching.

The eyes of the world were on him, though, and all he could do was comply. He rubbed his lips together and pouted them out with a smack.

“Good job, baby.” You rubbed his chin with your thumb. He felt fire surging within his heart.

He knew that you knew what you were doing. It was only you, after all, who knew how to push his buttons in the right places. Unlike Hyunjin nor Jeongin, it took you no effort and no risks to leave him a mentally jumbled mess; not agitated, but certainly needy.

You were still sticking to a mental script, though. “How does it feel? Chalky? Rough? Sticky…?”

“I-It’s smooth. Feels thin.” He felt his tongue almost twist in his mouth from trying to speak when he was physically weakening over you.

“Seems like a good formula,” you giggled.

He watched as you turned your back on him, explaining bits of beauty jargon that he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. His vision seemed to blur as a need to satisfy the growing discomfort in his pants overwhelmed him. It all snapped away for a second when you switched the angle of your phone and pulled him up by his arms, leading him in front of the couch.

All of a sudden, you rubbed a circle around the base of his wrist. You looked up at him with eyes that demanded something from him. It was dark yet inviting as if he had just eyed down a wolf threatening to eat him whole.

The gesture was your signal that you wanted to fuck him then and there.

Felix finally didn’t have to keep to himself.

“Time to test how good it wears,” you smirked at him.

Felix’s eyes were focused on yours. He didn’t move an inch as your fingers crawled from his jaw to his cheek. You glanced at your phone, propped up on the countertop, to check if it was recording. When you looked back, your eyes met Felix’s red lips.

You were so glad that you picked that shade. The makeup line released a ton of colors and your mind folded into itself when you realized how many there were. It was almost overwhelming to choose a shade for your boyfriend: you wanted to see him with a pinky nude on his lips, but you also thought the dark berry shade looked pretty.

As a trained makeup artist, you had a knack for figuring out which hues elevated which skin tones. Of all people, you knew Felix’s skin would match the slightly muted, pinkish cherry satin stain.

You should know this. You’ve seen his skin flush many times before, that would be more than enough to be familiar with the hues of his delicious skin.

You were the reason why he would constantly blush, after all. His skin would burn under your slightest touch, but it would flare up until his freckles darkened each time you held him down on your hips and called him pretty. His cheeks would turn as red as the tip of his cock every time you squeezed it lightly.

Before you could think of any more, you tapped your boyfriend’s cheek. His face burned into a shade not far from the color of his lipstick.

“Are you sure you want to record this with me?” You asked, eyes scanning his face for second thoughts.

Felix almost forgot that you needed a clip of the both of you briefly kissing. He nodded after a second, confusion snapping into realization as you smiled at him. He seemed to be lost in thought, too: maybe he was nervous, maybe he was thinking of the same things you thought about. Either way, he simply answered with a smirk and the faintest giggle.

“Yeah. I’m game.”

You were on a mission to prove that this lip product could not budge after an intense make-out session. Now, you — and maybe Felix — wanted to see if it could survive intense sex, too.

All it took were two inches forward: you grabbed his hands dangling in front of you and closed in. Your noses touched each other, the skin bumping softly before your lips slotted against his in the smoothest kiss possible. To his surprise, you started gently. He expected you to crash against his mouth. He expected you to rummage through the product sitting on his mouth right away, to test its strength as a long-lasting piece of makeup, but you didn’t.

Maybe he wanted you to be rough. He wanted it.

You could tell by the whimper he choked up behind the kiss. That, and his hands roamed around your arms and sides, pulling you closer.

“Getting a little excited now, are we?” You purred, pulling your face away from his. He hesitated to break the kiss, inching his lips closer to yours even as you talked.

“Sorry, s-sorry. Got a little carried away.”

You wondered what got him to be so clingy and affectionate. You’re well aware of him being loving and tender, but it’s another thing to have him smitten while you’re doing nothing special.

Little did you know that to him, everything involving you is special. Even the texts you sent earlier and the ones you sent before. He couldn’t stop thinking about them; who wouldn’t, especially when you were being such a tease?

He finally pulled his head back. “Smooth,” he whispered.

You thought to tease him. “The lipstick?”

“No,” Felix chuckled, “I meant you.”

Your hands traveled from up to his toned arms until one of them met the nape of his neck — his sensitive spot. You often called him a little kitten for enjoying being petted on that spot a little too much.

“So, did it rub off yet?” Your boyfriend managed to squeak, still affected by your antics.

His face was impossibly close to yours and you could feel the heat in his cheeks growing the more that he smiled at you. You stepped back to observe his face: apart from the blush on his cheeks, the lipstick was seemingly left unscathed. By the look on his face, he observed your lips, and there were no signs of product transferring.

He also just wanted to kiss it again.

You raised an eyebrow at the camera and shrugged. “I guess it survived round one.”

“That was round one?” Felix mirrored the look you gave your phone. “I thought we call that first base.”

Your head whipped back to him. He simply smirked back, feigning an angel’s smile.

You’ve dated him for a long while, and while he had always been silly, he had never been this way in front of the camera. You wondered if the shoot he did — or the staff he was with — earlier had anything to do with a sudden ego boost.

“Now you’re bold, baby.”

The nickname caused Felix’s smirking eyes into wide ones, the excitement writing itself everywhere on his face.

“Just wanna do more with you,” he teased back. “Do more rounds, test how much removes.”

He puckered his lips and pouted. It was a juicy invitation that you couldn’t turn down. Instead, you took it with a kiss — a deep kiss, one that made you inhale and caught him off guard.

It was still gentle and velvety. It felt like you both tasted clouds and nothing was in between. The hand on the nape of his neck ran up to his hair and back down almost instinctively, making Felix shake. Unable to focus on both the sensation of a passionate kiss, an overwhelming urge to breathe and process the suddenness, and the general feeling of being petted, his hands swung to your chest and squeezed.

“Ah! Felix!” You whispered loudly against his mouth, almost moaning at the sensation.

“Sorry! Force of habit,” he said.

“Gotta keep it PG, baby, I’m posting this.” He nodded assuringly at your words but his hands were crucially still on your chest, threatening to squeeze again.

After realizing this, he immediately attempted to pull his hands back, an apology dripping on the tip of his tongue. Instead, you surprisingly threw your hands on his wrists, caging his hands in place.

If that didn’t surprise him enough, you leaned in close to his face and kissed him once more. It was fiery this time; he felt your tongue darting at him while your teeth nipped slightly at his bottom lip before you pulled away. He gasped louder than he should have.

You giggled at his shock and nuzzled your face on his neck. “Sorry. Reflex.”

“But mommy—” Felix froze, realizing what he had just said. He didn’t mean to say that.

All the cockiness he displayed earlier fizzled out into thin air. You could feel the heartbeat in his neck thumping against your lips. From his eyes fluttered shut to wide open ones, you could see the embarrassment wash over him.

Sure, you two were doing something intimate, kissing and groping in front of the camera. He knew and trusted you enough to edit it out, but the idea that footage would have existed of him calling you that nickname…scared him. The camera watched him, the microphone picked up his low voice, and on the off-chance that this moment makes the cut, thousands of people would have seen it.

He’d gotten used to the idea that millions of people could pass by his face and body, but it’s different when he’s exposing a bit of himself that he only reserved for you — his “mommy.”

“Y/N… Shit, I’m so sorry, I-I didn’t—”

“Oh baby, it’s okay.” You gave a reassuring look and a warm smile, shifting your position to hide his face away from the phone camera.

The pet name was his suggestion. The idea that you could hold this title as his dominant partner was something he never thought of telling you at first, but the moment he mentioned it, you indulged immediately. It was something so dear, so sweet, and soft, definitely making you less of an ominous presence to him in bed and more like a warm home he can return to. You loved it even if he didn’t expect you to.

Even while he’s embarrassed and fully vulnerable, he felt so safe, entrusted to the only one in his life that could take the title without judgment.

“Call me that as much as you want. I won’t show it,” you whispered. Felix nodded but you didn’t miss the tears threatening to form in his eyes.

“Mommy…” He inevitably gave up and dipped his head in the crook of your neck. You petted the back of his head again and kissed the side of his head, calming him with hushes and soft hums.

Before he could melt at your warm embrace, you took a few steps back. Felix whined and hoped to hug you for longer, only to watch you press the button on your phone to stop the recording. You shut the phone off, looked back at him, and smiled with your eyes.

He always valued your respect for his boundaries and the fact that you always made his comfort your top priority.

“We’re not done,” you inched closer, “the lipstick’s still on there.”

Because if you two were going to fuck comfortably, you two were still going to fuck.

Taking his arms and pulling them towards you, you prompted him to wrap himself around you as your lips crashed against his. You held him by his waist — it was remarkably small, toned, and muscled but definitely made for your hands to take it.

With force, you hugged his waist and carried him slightly, pushing you both on the couch. You sat on it while he was essentially hovering over your figure, his hips just above your lap.

“Mommy—g-god,” Felix gasped, muffled by another nudge of your mouth.

As if your brain switched off, your hands started going on their own. One was trained on his hip and the other snaked up his side and cupped his face, making him tremble at the sudden yet soft movements.

You were focused on the kiss but you just knew he looked gorgeous.

Of all the clients you put makeup on, your boyfriend always turned out the prettiest. Maybe it’s because his eyes seemed to shine with certain shadows on them. Maybe it’s the way his freckles peek through the base products. In this case, maybe it was the plumpness of his lips that you loved, covered in a flattering shade of red. Maybe that’s what was doing it for you.

“You’re so cute, baby,” you said, pausing the kiss.

Felix pouted. The pigment on his lips accentuated the curves of his mouth. “Not as cute as mommy.”

“Hm, thank you. But you’re my cute baby.”

Sometimes, you wonder how you got this to be so vulnerable, so whipped for you. It didn’t take him that long to warm up to you with this side of him, a side he so dearly hid from the rest of the world. It’s like this doll was made for you.

“Mommy,” Felix dragged out a whimper as he called you by the title. “Making me needy.”

“Don’t get impatient baby boy,” you whispered, a kiss on his temple following your sweet words.

While rolling your hips onto his, you thought about it what you said. You thought back to the last night he fell into this extremely submissive role. He’d always been the one under you and you’ve always been the one in control, but during that one night — similar to this one — he shyly asked you to call him a certain pet name. You loved it, probably more than he did, and you figured he might want to hear you say it again.

“Or are you my baby girl for tonight?”

“Mommy!” Felix scolded. If his cheeks were already flushed, his entire face heated up with a warmth that you simply indulged in. His ears and the corners of his eyes lit up with a blush tone that complimented and accentuated the cherry color that lined his shy smile.

He enjoyed the pet name too much, and he seemed to be threatened with memories of the same night the moment you said it.

“What? Don’t want to be my baby girl? It’s okay if you—”

“I’m mommy’s girl! Yeah, I’m their baby girl!”

Almost all traces of bass in Felix’s voice left the moment he squealed his response to you.

His eyebrows were slanting upwards like a needy puppy, his eyes sparkled as beads of tears sat on his eyelashes, and he wiggled his hips onto yours with a neediness you’ve seen many times before. He briefly whimpered again in a high pitch.

Being called that for the first time was as special to him as it was to you. It still landed him punches to the gut every time you said it. You would wonder why he loved it even if he was incredibly comfortable in his masculinity.

Maybe it made sense like that, considering he was wearing makeup while sitting on your lap.

You kissed him again and praised him until he gave into the burning sensations he felt from your overwhelmingly smooth graces around his body. With fast swipes, you pulled his plain shirt over his head, only to clothe him again with nothing but the warm embrace of your arms.

He moaned, writhed, and whined, adjusting his position on your lap until his legs were slotted against one of your thighs. Once he found his balance, he rutted against your leg, letting out a sound that he couldn’t resist.

“Didn’t even undress you yet, I still have pants on, and you’re already riding me?” You smiled widely at him. Felix huffed, unable to think, inhaling so that he wouldn’t drool on your shirt.

Or your chest, now that you abandoned your top in a flash, leaving it even harder for him to contain himself.

You took his lips into yours again, this time licking and biting his sweet mouth, allowing his tongue to slide against yours. It was messy and sloppy, just the way he needed it. You wondered if he had been craving this for so long and just couldn’t tell you.

Nevertheless, the next step was to take the bottoms off of your lower half and his own, but he paused your hands from reaching onto his crotch.

“W-Want mommy’s off first,” he sighed. It sounded more like a question now that his voice was so high and his tone was so soft. He was far from the boy whose mouth went foul over his own best friends at work.

His head was far gone, you figured.

Felix helped you pull your pants down, careful not to disrupt the current position that you were both in, only slightly lifting yourself off the couch. He sighed once he saw you, bare and beautiful, rid of anything that kept him from being horny the entire day.

He wanted you so bad.

“Baby girl, tell me,” it was your turn to pause his hands from reaching you.

“Is something bothering you?”

“No…not really a-a bother…” He pursed his lips.

He figured to rip the bandaid off and just show you the source of his discomfort—or, as it seems, the source of his pleasure.

“Baby girl, you…”

He revealed a pastel pink lacy fabric covering his private area. He was wearing panties.

“I…I got them from a PR package…from th-that one underwear company…” Felix justified, stuttering from both extreme embarrassment and arousal.

“It was supposed to be yours b-but I…liked it so much…a-and I wanted to…”

You couldn’t help but notice the drool threatening to fall from his tongue, glossing his lips. Distracted, you didn’t kiss him. You licked his mouth and bit his bottom lip again. The blood under his skin rushed to color his lips, emphasizing the pink-colored stain.

As you bit his lip, your fingers found the band of his panties, toying with the pink lace before slipping under it. The flesh — rather, his cock — was hard and pulsing. Felix moaned. His chest heaved from being unable to process everything at once.

“Baby girl’s clit is so hard for me already.” You pecked his cheek and let him whine. “You’ve been needy since earlier?”

“Y-Yeah, but, ‘m…not finished.” He mumbled under his breath. “Got more…to show you.”

He pulled his panties fully down, allowing his cock to bounce up. You couldn’t help but notice something at the base, but your suspicions were confirmed when he led one of your hands to touch his ass.

“You wore a butt plug the whole day?”

Felix’s face flushed into a shade similar, if not deeper than the cherry red he wore on his lips. At your words, he felt like crumpling into himself.

“It’s just for you. Thought y-you’d like it.”

All you could do in response was kiss him deeply and thrust your thigh up, hitting the plug deeper into his ass.

He moaned deliciously into the kiss and almost cried at the contact. It fucked with him — literally — the entire day and you made it all the better. Only that he had so little time to adjust before you gave him a dark look again.

“Mommy, what are you—”

He was shut up by you licking his mouth and your fingers filling up his hole.

“Your cunt’s so fucking wet, baby girl.” Your words left your system through gritted teeth, filtering your animalistic desire to ruin him even more than ever. “This pussy is mine and only mine.”

You bit his lip once more, sucking on the plump flesh before abandoning it. “Bet your toys can’t satisfy you as I do.”

“They d-don’t, mommy!” Felix was on the verge of tears, choking back sobs as your teeth found his jaw, peppering it with love bites lining his natural contour.

You started pumping your fingers up and down his ass, hitting his prostate with your fingertips over and over. “Can only take me inside your cunt.”

“Ah, god—fuck, mommy!” The delirious sounds escaping him as he scrambled to hold onto your body kept you going.

As if he noticed, he started grinding into the air next to your entrance. You took this as his usual sign that he wanted to please you too. Felix valued mutual pleasure and craved it as much as he craved the sloppy crashing of mouths on a couch.

“Take me like a good girl.” Your voice softened as you cooed. “Can you do it? Ride mommy’s fingers while fucking into me?”

He could only nod frantically, allowing the drool in his mouth to drop onto his cock.

The lipstick probably looked so messy by now.

You held his cock, lengthy and hard, and squeezed it in your free hand. “This is mommy’s to play with.”

Shoving it into your entrance, you curled your fingers deep onto Felix’s prostate, eliciting loud moans from either of you. Felix could scream from the sudden warmth enveloping his cock.

“Rub your clit against me,” you demanded, urging him to thrust his cock immediately. He complied only to start whining and crying out from the stimulation.

You leaned your head to the side and exposed your neck. With a subtle nod of your head, you invited him to bite your neck before his next thrust. Lightning bolts entered you when his teeth sunk into your skin for some semblance of comfort.

In turn, you kissed and sucked a spot on Felix’s shoulder. The biting sensation made him squirm away from you, but his noises only amplified when you latched onto a more sensitive spot above his freckled collarbone. It didn’t help that your fingers were practically exiting and entering his hole completely, filling and emptying him at a speed he almost couldn’t take.

The stimulation from all ends of his body caught up to him, release rumbling from his core up to his cock. He begged and pleaded and called your name multiple times as you did too. Felix readied for release but shocked himself when it came suddenly, almost without warning.

He started gushing just outside your entrance, the relief surging through his hips in waves: it had never happened to him before, but the slight amusement on his fucked-out face sent you over the edge too.

You came at the same time, your wetness coating the sides of your thighs and the cushions of the couch, the pool of both your juices mixing right under you.

It had to take you both several minutes to an hour of downtime before you both got up to clean. During that time, Felix held you close, trapping you in a warm cuddle.

“Y/N, I love you,” he whispered, his deep voice returning, calming you from your high.

You pressed one more kiss on his lips. “I love you too, Felix.”

Aftercare had to be a non-negotiable after the scene you guys painted all over the living room.

You made sure to offer Felix the softest bubble bath, massaging and soothing every inch of his skin, scrubbing away at the residue of the new lipstick.

You both found out, just before the bath, that it barely survived at all. It still stained his lips a shade of red, and the stains of love bites that he left on you stuck for a long while, but the actual product budged possibly within the third round of kisses. It barely held on when you started biting him.

The bedroom was full of giggles and the shuffling of your bodies cuddling close to calm yourselves down. Felix shared how he couldn’t believe his horniness that day, and you teased that he was being a hormonal girl.

He whined at that, kissed you good night, and fell asleep while huddled close to your chest. You calmly played with your phone, quickly editing the footage and clipping out the moment that he slipped into submission.

That was for your eyes only.

You posted the video and muted the notifications, kissed his forehead good night, and fell asleep.

—

“Baby, baby girl…” Your voice, although hoarse and deep from the blissful sleep, woke your boyfriend up. The clock on your bedside table flashed 9:00 AM in bright red, but the light from your phone shone brighter. “Look at this!”

“Holy…Y/N, oh my god!” Every trace of sleepiness left Felix as he jumped out of bed. “The video blew up?!”

You sat up next to him, chuckling in disbelief. “Let’s see what people are saying.”

“Why does the suggested search bar have…”

Men marked up. Men with hickeys. Men whining. It was clear that the video affected your audience in more ways than one.

“Silly,” you giggled, sinking into your boyfriend’s embrace. “Wonder how this thing got through community guidelines.”

Felix pointed at a comment. “Help. Someone’s asking about washing the stains off.”

The both of you cuddled closer. As the sunlight shone through your curtains and hit your figures, it highlighted Felix’s honey skin and the cherry stains that failed to wash off in the shower.

You turned your head to his and smirked. “Should we film an update video? What about a part 2?”

taglist: @toastyseungmo @hobihearteu @biddes-enthusiast @snow-pegasus @subby-kpop @myrandomthoughtsandhobbies @eggielix @hanniecheesecake @chrisbahng @laylasbunbunny @ppiri-bahng @he-they-heathen @chriscentric @svintsandghosts @sstarryoong

+ @imrllytootiredforthis @imsolovelylovely @beefis @sorikkung @lix-ables figured to tag since yall showed interest!

special thanks to @meivida, my ride or die, the big brain that inspired me to write this in the first place! they also took time out of their day to proofread it ^_^

thank you for reading ! consider reblogging and leaving feedback if you loved my work 💗 artwork and writing © ipegchangbin. no reposts and translations.

#skz smut #sub!skz #sub!felix #sub!yongbok #dom!reader #stray kids smut #felix smut #yongbok smut #💬 z is writimg

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drunk-on-dk · 1 year ago

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[Teaser] Over the Country Club | Yoon Jeonghan (M)

pairing: best friend!Jeonghan x afab!reader genre/tags: fluff, angst, smut (minors do not interact), friends to lovers, a bit of unrequited love, a slice of life au, college au, post-grad au rating: 18+ (minors do NOT interact) w/c: ~3k TEASER (estimated ~15-20k for full fic, currently this may be my longest fic yet and it feels so good to really be writing again) warnings: mentions of alcohol (underage is not condoned), future smut

Summary: Jeonghan and you have known each other for as long as you can both remember. From the years spent working at the country club, to your university days, there has always been this aching feeling that neither of you can quite understand. Someone falls first, but the other falls harder.

A/N: Please let me know your thoughts on this teaser! I've been working hard to get back into writing in the new year and wanted to get comfortable with diving more into the plot. Things may change when the full fic is posted, but not much of what's in the teaser! I hope you enjoy it, and of course please message me if you'd like to be on the tag list for this fic!

I. 4th of July, the Summer Before the First Year of University

Just like every other high school student in your town, Jeonghan and you found part-time jobs at the oh-so-prestigious country club located in the next town over. One could argue it was practically a full-time job since most part-timers worked upwards of 40 hours a week due to how busy the club got during the summers.

Not that you would complain about the hours; to be fair, you had to save up a substantial amount of money for the upcoming transition to college. The realization hit soon after graduating high school, you only had enough pocket change to fund some expenses, which was not nearly enough to get you comfortably through the upcoming semesters. You had worked at the club most summers, but this year you took all the hours they offered.

Plus, you’d be crazy to admit that summers working at the Lakewood Country Club weren’t some sort of fun. Plenty of your peers worked there, including Jeonghan, your longest lasting friendship due to the proximity of living next door to one another and growing up attached at the hip.

Jeonghan worked as a caddie on the golf course. He’s gentlemanly in appearance, has just enough knowledge about what type of club to use at each hole, and has a never-ending spunk that entertains whatever group of golfers he’s assisting for the day. Jeonghan made decent tips working as a caddie, earning a couple of hundred dollars from some of his return golfers who specifically requested his assistance for an 18-hole outing. One could assume that most members of the country club were very well-off, or at least living comfortably.

Luckily, you were stationed at the halfway house most days this summer. It’s located in the heart of the golf course, and the club consistently blasted cool air conditioning in the exposed, open bar area that was meant for golfers to stop by. Jeonghan, as scheming as ever, would ensure that his golfers stopped by for a quick refreshment at some point, knowing that he’d get to spend some time with you and help you earn some extra cash in tips from his already rowdy crew.

You’d mix up some Manhattans or Old-Fashioned’s for the golfers, knowing the usual orders for each club member as if they had been engrained on the back of your hand (in hindsight, a freshly graduated high schooler should not have been pouring alcoholic beverages, but the country club didn’t care - your labor was cheaper than hiring a professional tender and you learned just the basics just fine). Nonetheless, your cocktails were a treat for the golfers who had been drinking beers for most of the course, most of them lukewarm or gone by the time they made it to the halfway house.

Today is the Fourth of July, marking the mid-way point of your last summer before college. You had made your fair share of tips this summer working at the halfway house, especially due to Jeonghan’s consistent sourcing of clientele at your bar. It was a particularly hot day, one of the hottest of the summer and plenty of customers had stopped by, leaving hefty tips, feeling generous either from the heat or the holiday.

Jeonghan approached the bar area with a heavy sigh, parking his cart hastily, but still had his typical mischievous smile etched onto his features as a crowd of familiar golfers followed behind him. Your nose scrunched in feigned disgust, a teasing smile mirroring his upon noticing just how tired and sweaty the group was from the relentless summer heat.

Part of you thought he looked angelic from the way his sun-kissed skin gleamed, but you’d never admit that, nor would you dare to speak those thoughts out loud, not even to your closest friends who weren’t Jeonghan. However, the other part of you remembered he was just your silly best friend who smelled slightly like fresh-cut grass, sunscreen, and a hint of whatever remained of his tropical cologne.

“The usuals?” You beamed, flashing your best customer service smile at the group, already reaching for the bottle of top-shelf whiskey displayed behind you. You received hoots and hollers along the lines of “Yes, please” from the group. Jeonghan slips behind the bar as you expertly begin to prepare drinks for the parched golfers. Normally, this was frowned upon, but Jeonghan had most of the country club supervisors wrapped around his finger.

Jeonghan’s quick to sort through the fridge right off to your side, squatting and contemplating his options, but you have to smack his hand away from the cooler once you notice his deft fingers are reaching for a plastic shooter of whiskey.

“Y/N,” Jeonghan practically cries out, whining similar to a little boy being scolded, but he’s just your immature best friend who has a knack for trouble and stealing. You can’t always let him get away with everything.

“You kleptomaniac, don’t you dare,” you joke, routinely preparing the drinks, laughing at the puppy dog eyes that are flashed in your direction and then back to the cold fridge. You bend down next to him, whispering quietly so that no one but Jeonghan can hear. “Wait until later, today’s manager has been keeping inventory of the alcohol as if they personally own it all. I can sneak some after my shift when I cash out.”

Jeonghan’s pout morphs into a smirk, a devious glint in his eyes as he holds out his pinky finger. You comply, wrapping your pinky with his to silently promise that you’ll follow through later.

“Meet at hole 12? Right at the hill behind the trees? It’s still the best spot for fireworks.” Jeonghan speaks as if it’s a secret mission - as if it’s not the same spot you’ve met to watch fireworks for the last few years working at the country club.

“Oh, I thought we’d check out the views at hole 17 this year,” you roll your eyes mockingly, Jeonghan knows you’re messing with him, but it’s your smile that betrays your teasing, “Duh, Jeonghan. I’ll catch you there later.”

“You know hole 17 is where Mingyu and Arin lost their virginity to each other last year,” Jeonghan pokes, settling on bottled water from the fridge and standing back up, towering over your own figure. You feel your cheeks flush, a bit flustered he’d drop that information so casually, and sure as hell hoping he didn’t think that you were suggesting anything.

You didn’t see Jeonghan in that way, he didn’t see you in that way. Plain and simple. You two were only best friends and that’s how it would always be.

“That’s gross, Jeonghan,” you scowl, willing away the blush that is still burning your face as you finish garnishing the drinks. “Don’t air out people’s secrets like that. That’s personal. Plus, why would I know that?”

Jeonghan chuckles, shrugging as he helps you carry the drinks over to the golfers who have made themselves comfortable among the shaded seating outside the bar area, an outdoor fan helping cool them down. They all clamor in delight as Jeonghan and you emerge from behind the bar with the chilled drinks, quick to "cheers" each other before savoring the first sip of their beverages.

There are smacks and sighs of delight from the group, your pride growing as they approve of the drinks, and gather up some cash for a tip. Jeonghan nudges you, urging you to accept the bills from Mr. Choi, a polite older man who continues to take care of Jeonghan and you each summer. He’s never been creepy, and he tips very well. You still feel slightly guilty each time you accept cash from him.

“Thank you, Mr. Choi,” you speak graciously, accepting the tip, quickly shoving it into your pocket without checking the amount, and earning an approving thumbs up from the man as he takes another sip of his cocktail.

“Save it wisely, Y/N,” Mr. Choi chimes, humming in thought, and eyes flickering between where you and Jeonghan stand. “Jeonghan tells me you’re both attending the same university in a few months. Heard you’ve both received a pretty good scholarship, even one from the club?”

“That is correct, sir,” you nod excitedly. Not only had you both received an academic scholarship from your university, but all your years working at the club have paid off in a way you wouldn’t have imagined, earning a scholarship from the Lakewood Country Club members' foundation. “I am grateful to have received such an award. Don’t worry, I’ll make good use of it. I know Jeonghan will too. You’d never guess, but he’s a straight A student,” you tease, hiding your mouth only for Mr. Choi to see as if Jeonghan can’t hear you, and elbowing your friend in the rib cage, earning a pained groan from him.

Mr. Choi nods in approval, a smile creeping onto his face as he chuckles at the dynamic between you two. “Glad to know my money is going towards two bright futures.” Jeonghan is pushing your bony elbow away, annoyed at your enthusiasm and teasing, further amusing Mr. Choi. “Jeonghan, make sure you don’t lose sight of Y/N during University, all sorts of partners will be chasing her. She’s intelligent and beautiful. Don’t want her forgetting about you now, do you?”

Jeonghan would groan if it wasn’t for the fact that it was Mr. Choi speaking to him. He has to restrain himself from shoving you away as well, knowing that Mr. Choi has inflated your ego a bit too much with his praise. Nonetheless, Jeonghan plays into it. “Nope, she’s stuck with me, so don’t even worry about it.”

You almost laugh out loud, reminding yourself to remain professional on the course as you fire back. “As if, Jeonghan couldn’t get rid of me even if he wanted to.”

“Valid point,” Jeonghan grumbles, teasingly pushing you back towards the bar as if reminding you of your duties, sick of hearing the constant praise that only you’re receiving, even though there have been no additional visitors since Jeonghan’s entourage of golfers arrived. He’s quick to enthusiastically round up the crew, realizing daylight will quickly dwindle by the last hole if they don’t start back up soon. “Welp, we better let Y/N continue to work. Ready for hole 10?”

The men are quick to gather, knocking back the remainder of their drinks, and returning to their carts as Jeonghan helps you clean up the finished glasses, your shoulders bumping into each other as you two push your way back into the bar. Mr. Choi sends a knowing look Jeonghan’s way, neither of you catching it as he wishes you a nice Fourth of July.

“Thank you, Mr. Choi!” You wave to the man, bidding the rest of the golfing crew a nice holiday as well before turning to Jeonghan who’s finished carrying over the rest of the empty glasses. “Catch you later, Hannie?”

“Of course,” Jeonghan’s eyes lit up yet again upon hearing his childhood nickname, and is reminded of the nearing shenanigans later this afternoon. Maybe he’ll steal some snacks from the members gifting table for tonight. “I’ll see you then stay cool, Y/N!”

“You as well! Make sure to reapply your sunscreen,” you shout back, watching as Jeonghan hops in the cart with Mr. Choi and rolls his eyes at your nagging. Mr. Choi gets one final laugh before Jeonghan drives off, the entourage of golfers following closely behind.

You’re finishing cleaning up the bar, pulling the cash from your pocket earlier and gasping upon realizing just how much Mr. Choi had tipped you. A five-hundred dollar tip. It was surely the most you’ve ever made in one round of drinks, absolutely unwarranted, and it made you feel a bit teary-eyed. You knew you couldn’t dare to return it, as Mr. Choi would definitely be offended, but you felt extremely lucky to have such nice members visit you at the halfway house, you’d have to thank him eventually.

The rest of the day went quickly, and, much to your delight, you had made enough tips to support a chunk of your tuition and expenses for the year. Also, your manager had swapped shifts with another supervisor mid-day, who was not as hawklike.

Leading up to the completion of your shift, you had snuck a pair of alcoholic shooters into your uniform skirt. Even in your attempt to be rebellious, you couldn’t just steal the shooters, using some of your tip money to cover the cost of the alcohol and you felt less criminal. You knew Jeonghan would tease you relentlessly about this if he was here, each shooter was no more than $3 each, but you had a knack for doing the “right thing,” or else you feared karma would get you in the long run.

Upon reaching the end of your shift, you stopped back at the employee locker room to safely store your tips in your purse. The day had been hot, but it was cooling down now that night was approaching.

Ultimately, you opt to throw on a sweatshirt, one that Jeonghan had purchased when you two had toured your university, which was the same one that he’d worn so many times that it’s the most comfortable piece of clothing you own. One that he couldn’t deny you of when you begged to keep it, secretly thinking that you looked cute in it even though you were practically swimming in the fabric. Disgusted that he’d even thought that, he dismissed you quickly and said you could keep it.

The sun was setting minute by minute, meaning that Jeonghan’s shift would be finishing very soon, and you packed away the remainder of your items in your employee locker, double-checking that your skirt still had the tiny plastic alcohol bottles hidden away.

After confirming you had said shots, you headed out to hole 12 with a spring in your step. It was a meeting spot you and Jeonghan had found your summer after freshman year of high school. There was a hill behind a bunch of trees that overlooked the valley where the main portion of the country club was located. No one was allowed on the course during after-hours, but this spot was so dark and secluded that you two hadn’t been caught yet. It was also the prime viewing spot for the club’s fireworks show, and it was your little secret.

You were first to make it to the spot, plopping down on the hill and huffing in relief. Your legs ached a little from standing all day. The grass beneath you was dewy from the cool nighttime air, the humid heat from the day settling on the greenery, and it was almost enough to make you feel itchy. However, you don’t mind it, not when you have the fireworks show to look forward to. You would never mind the damp grass, especially not when you had a favorite summer tradition to share with your favorite person, your best friend.

Jeonghan’s shift ended a bit later than yours, but he didn’t arrive at the spot much later than you. He meant to grab a bag of popcorn or something, but he didn’t want to leave you hanging for too long.

Jeonghan tried to sneak up on you, but you’re too smart, too knowing of his antics. So when you turn around knowingly, with two opened Whiskey shooters in hand, he chuckles almost maniacally at your annoyed expression that doesn’t fully translate into your impish eyes. You two were one and the same.

“What are you waiting for, Hannie? These shots aren’t getting any colder. Not when they’ve been in my skirt for the past hour.”

“Eugh, now you’re the one oversharing,” Jeonghan groans in disapproval, sitting down next to you on the grass, and gratefully accepting the shot regardless of your TMI comment. Your knees knock each other as you turn to face him, but a friendly touch isn’t foreign to either of you. “You’re the gross one, Y/N.”

“Oh, shut up,” you giggle, holding the shot out in front of him and teasingly shaking the plastic bottle. You sing song, “The night’s not getting any younger either.”

Nodding in acknowledgment, Jeonghan smirks and shares a few words, “Cheers to our last summer before we’re miserable college students. Cheers to fewer hours spent in the heat at this country club. Cheers to our everlasting friendship.”

With his final words, you’re both knocking back your shots, groaning in unison as the spicy drink burns and settles in your stomach, instantly warming your body at the sensation. Your face scrunches up at the taste and Jeonghan can’t help but laugh uncontrollably.

“Stop it,” you whine, your voice a bit hoarse from the alcohol but smiling nonetheless. “You aren’t any better than me. Anyways, that's enough for me tonight.”

“True,” Jeonghan contemplates, but he’s quick to poke you. “But I didn’t struggle as bad as you did.”

“Touché,” you hum, nudging Jeonghan’s shoulder excitedly as a warning firework darts into the sky, indicating the show will be beginning shortly. “It’s starting!”

“Alright, alright,” Jeonghan is groaning at your bony elbow yet again digging into him, but he’s delighted by your excitement regardless, shoving you back as you begin to readjust for the show. “Calm down, it’s nothing crazy.”

“No, Jeonghan,” you grin, turning your head to fully make eye contact with his wide eyes, joy flickering in your own as you peer at your best friend. “It’s nothing crazy, but it’s absolutely so special because once again we get to enjoy it here together.”

Your emphasis on the word together almost makes him shiver, a foreign feeling rushing through him as you continue to gaze at him with those wild eyes of yours, gulping as he hesitantly nods, even though he wholeheartedly agrees it is special, but he’s not exactly sure why. “Very true,” and as if on cue, the fireworks show begins, relief flooding through him as you redirect your gaze and squeal in excitement.

Jeonghan doesn’t understand why, but his heart pounds in his chest throughout the entire show. He thinks maybe it’s the alcohol (you and he rarely have dared to sneak alcohol before), maybe it’s the overstimulation of the fireworks, maybe it’s the thrill of knowing the golf course guards could spot you any year and escort you away, or maybe it’s the way your knee keeps brushing his thigh reminding him of just how close you two are. How much you are together here alone, just like every other summer.

It’s a feeling he decides to ignore for the rest of the fireworks, letting himself lay back on the damp grass with you and listening as you enthusiastically point out your favorite fireworks, bickering with you when he thinks a different type of firework is prettier.

It’s a feeling he continues to ignore as the finale comes and goes, chest fluttering at the way your eyes sparkle with golden reflections of the fireworks in the sky, and once again quickly redirecting his gaze to anything but you.

It’s a feeling he tries his damnedest to ignore as you both continue to lay in the grass post-fireworks. Neither one of you making the first move to go home. Maybe you thought this would be the final moment of normalcy between you and Jeonghan before starting university, knowing that all friendships are bound to change with such a new chapter. Maybe he thought he’d figure out whatever it was he was feeling if he just stayed here with you a moment longer.

It’s a feeling he struggles to ignore as you both fall into deep conversation. The one shot of alcohol makes you both loose-lipped as you reminisce on embarrassing high school stories. Reminiscing on your shitty boyfriend who broke up with you before the summer. Reminiscing on your years of friendship.

It’s a feeling he no longer can ignore when you roll over, lips pouting and eyes teary as you start to feel emotional about your recent breakup. Something in him feels like it shatters when you ask, “Have you ever been in love before, Hannie?”

#seventeen smut #svthub #jeonghan smut #jeonghan fic #yoon jeonghan smut #seventeen fic #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan angst #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x y/n

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crimsoncold · 6 months ago

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WHAT IT FEELS LIKE IN THE HOTD FANDOM RIGHT now as someone who is disappointed in the show's handling of team green and really just critical the show's writing in general

Team Green Stans and/or HOTD critics:

"I know I'm going to get a barrage of criticism or even hate/harassment for saying this but...

HOTD's writing is rather biased and strays from the source material in ways that are frequently ridiculous, fails to actually improve the story, and totally ignores the anti-war and the general targ/ruling class critical tone of GRRM's writing.

Yes villain or dark character centric shows can be really good even when the purpose of the story isn't to condemn their actions- BUT purposefully changing an adaptation of a story so that it no longer contains the original message/themes that did criticize the characters and their actions is at the very least a questionable writing choice.

The characterization and the messages of the show are inconsistent in a way that doesn't feel intentional or in order to make a point- instead it just doesn't make sense. ALL characters suffer due to the choices of the writers/showrunners- including team black- but team green is obviously getting the worst of it (seriously its cartoonishly bad). It's all so nonsensical and frustrating that it's getting harder and harder to watch- really at this point its no longer even a fun bad! show that can still manage to be entertaining even when the story itself sucks.

Much like with d&d with the later seasons of GOT it's disappointing to see the poor quality of work coming from paid professional writers, this could have been a show about a tragic and dramatic conflict between characters who are mostly bad people yet are still compelling or sympathetic and instead we got ...well...this."

Some Team Black Stans:

"Come on people HoTD is an adaptation so of course things will differ from the books but the show still stays true to the heart of the book, the changes were not a big deal- in fact some were good choices by the showrunners making more disturbing and violent aspects of the book more palatable for the audience without lessening their emotional impact... B&C was toned down not to whitewash team black but because no one should want to see the multiple child homicides from the book take place on screen...and the violence here really isn't as important to the plot as it was for say GOT's red wedding... toning the violent or horrific nature of these deaths down and having it occur off screen is the right thing to do! It's still sad- and this way we didn't need to traumatize the actors OR the audience!

Really people just stop complaining... both sides of the conflict are presented as EQUALLY culpable and in the wrong as the other side, team green stans are just missing the subtle points being made in the show and are exaggerating when they criticize the writing or supposed inconsistent characterization and accuse the showrunner's of being biased.

These TG stans are just being so mean and should stop criticizing the writers/showrunners-who are just doing their job!- and even if they feel they have to criticize the writing it's really just so inappropriate to ever specifically name the writers/showrunners when doing so! It's one thing for fandom to anonymously criticize other fans- especially since TG Stan's takes are so misguided that they obviously need someone to explain to them how they are misinterpreting things- but criticizing the professional writers and showrunners through tumblr posts is out of line! Its not the writer's fault that Alicent and TG are hypocritical or less likable than TB- that may just be how they are in canon- to say that the storytellers are purposefully changing things to make TG less sympathetic or competent than they were in the books and to set them up as the unlikeable antagonistic opposite to the now more tragic and heroic TB is a ridiculous accusation!"

Other Team Black Stans:

"Daemyra is just the best ship, they have loved eachother since she was a teenager and now after years of pining and being kept apart they are finally free to be together, you never see supportive or healthy relationships like this in asoiaf, we stan a man who will do literally anything and kill anyone for his niece wife.

Lucerys was just an innocent baby when he sliced up Aemond's face, he was just protecting his big brother, it only happened because he was afraid for their lives! Viserys made the right choice not to punish anyone since the team black kids only attacked Aemond after he stole Rhaena's dragon and Lucerys was only using self defense when he used a knife on Aemond. Most especially Lucerys and his mother didn't deserve to be attacked by that bitch Alic*nt. And Rheanyra trying to have Aemond tortured for calling her sons bastards was just her being a rightfully protective mother! Team Green means her family harm and no way will a bamf like Rhaenyra let that slide... this is what a good mother does not like that terrible Alic*nt! Lucerys' death was so tragic can't wait to see a grieving mother get her revenge... TG believes in an eye for an eye don't they? Well how will they like a son for a son?

TG stans keep saying that Rhaenyra is just as violent entitled and problematic as anyone else on hotd! They are so wrong! They are just delusional haters that can't stand to see a woman have sexual freedom and be in a position of power! She is the better daughter/wife/mother and the only people she hates are the ones who deserve it!

See she isn't evil like the Hightowers- B&C was an accident and the book description was exaggerated to be used as propaganda against Rhaenyra- she didn't even know it was happening. It wasn't even team blacks intent to kill little Jaehaerys only to kill Aemond- but he's a kinslayer so them sending someone to assassinate their nephew/brother is totally in the right and not something any character in canon would judge them for!... Rhaenyra is just too good of a person to wish harm on any of her innocent family members. Everything that happened to Rhaenyra, Rhaenys, and Meleys is just so tragic... they are the only true queens in this series ...god i wish all of their pain was only experienced by team green lol.

You know what ...are TG stans children or something? Why do they keep complaining that team green is being unfairly villainized to make team black look better? Don't they know they can just watch a show where the characters are flawed/bad people without needing the story to spoon feed the audience the message that bad people need to be condemned? Why do they take things so seriously? Why is this their whole personality? Get a life and stop overthinking a book/tv show -not everything needs to be deep you know so just shut up and enjoy watching the dragons destroy things.

But for real how can you people stan misogynistic women haters like team green or a trad wife/women for trump like Alic*nt? Like yikes what does your fictional character preferences say about you as a person. Hey EVERYBODY look these weirdos are really out here defending and woobifying violent predatory and sexist characters like team green! This fandom is the worse i swear lmfao."

Meanwhile...

Showrunners/Writers:

"What if the civil war, brutal violence, and tragic kinslaying that happened in the dance of dragons was really just a series of accidents and misunderstandings?

What if Rhaenyra and Alicent were friends who never really hated one another, and Alicent was pining for Rhaenyra's friendship and acceptance for the last 20 years, what if neither of them even wanted to go to war?

Who cares about house stark or the pact of ice and fire, or Jace's interactions with Cregan or Sara? You know what Sara Snow doesn't even exist, Jon i mean Jace would never betray his betrothal/loyalty/vows to his dragonrider soulmate and future wife for some stark girl! This whole stark side plot isn't important lets just go back to the dragons!

What if Rhaenyra wanted the throne because she knew that from her descendants the prophesied saviour/prince that was promised would be born? What if instead of her surviving son Aegon being so traumatized by the horrors of this meaningless war that he actually hated and feared dragons afterward- and supposedly was even responsible for killing the last one- it is Rhaenyra who was actually responsible for saving Daenerys' future dragon eggs- and thus she the one who ensured the return of dragons to Westeros! It will be Rhaenyra through her choices and her descendants that will be responsible for saving the entire realm and defeating the others with dragon fire!

What if Alicent pushing her son to be crowned was all because she was a fool who misunderstood the words of her dying husband NOT because she felt her son was unfairly robbed of his birthright by his father?

What happened with Daenerys in the later seasons of GOT was so unfair- just terrible writing -she NEVER should have been made out to be a mad queen and i bet Rhaenyra wasn't actually a cruel or violent ruler either! I bet it was the men who slandered her, and the men who were pushing for war and violence while all the women were actually trying to keep the peace.

Wait...wait.... What if everything in the book that criticized Rhaenyra was actually propaganda made by her enemies to ruin her reputation!?!!? Yeah B&C and team black arranging the horrific murder of a child? That story was TOTALLY team green exaggerating the violent murder of their child/grandchild. Daenerys I mean Rhaenyra deserved so much better... and all the injustices that happened to her will be the most impactful and tragic element of this show.

What if TG didnt actually have strong bonds with their dragon or spend much time riding them?... just more propaganda! Yes! CGI is expensive so this also means we dont really have to show their dragons unless they are fighting the blacks. Team Black's bond with their dragons is much more powerful and important though so we should still show them spending time together and riding them.

What if the book description of the respect and loyalty team green had to one another and the terrible grief they felt at the loss of their family members was ALSO just team green propaganda? What if Alicent only ever struggled as a mother and failed to connect with her kids and actually didn't even like or respect her children? How many kids did she have anyway? Three? Yeah that sounds right. Oh wait! Wait! What if none of TG got along with or trusted one other? No...no...What if they actually hated and betrayed each other? YESSSS!!!!!!!

Team black and their descendants are the true Targaryens, no one is really interested in the boring team green anyways so at least these changes will make them more interesting and better foils for team black! This type of story is exactly what people want I just know they are going to love it."

NOTE: (because i know idiots will be lurking in the anti tags to complain or harass people)

this is mostly meant to be very critical of the showrunners and somewhat critical of a specific type of stanning behaviour and the weird criticism or harassment that gets directed at people who like team green or who criticize hotd - sure i may be exaggerating slightly for effect but l'm STILL pulling from real posts/comments/opinions that I see from TB stans ...Like sure they aren't putting ALL of this in a single post but collectively this is definitely the type of attitude and language many TB stans have

Fandom is just about enjoying a special interest - I dont actually care about or want to police who you stan or ship. I DO care that some of you purposefully and directly harass real people because you disagree with their opinion on fictional characters and that some of you leave uncharitable, ignorant, critical, or unpleasant comments on properly tagged Team Green/anti or TB critical/or hotd critical posts.

Most of all i just find it really funny the juxtaposition there is between how underwhelming and juvenile the show's storytelling choices are compared to how eloquently, persistently, or vehemently fans will write up either criticism or defense pieces for these characters, this objectively bad show, and it's deeply unimpressive writing... like sure some fans put more effort into understanding the source material and comparing it to the show and some put more effort into criticizing or defending the show,the writing, or specific characters but collectively nearly all of us are putting in more time, effort, and thought into hotd than ANY of the showrunners/writers.

In conclusion Guys just like or dislike whatever show/characters you want...you don't have to justify the things you like by being willfully in denial about what canon sources say/the nature of certain characters/or the quality of the show's writing. You definitely don't need to be disrespectful or attack people on behalf of fictional characters or the well paid hbo showrunners/writers.

#some of TB stans takes or criticisms on TG/anti hotd posts have put me in a snarky mood #so here is a summary of what it feels like to be criticizing hotd right now #prepare yourself i intend to be bitchy #anti hbo's rhaenyra simping and whitewashing #anti hbo's team black simping #hbo's hotd critical #team green #anti team black stans #hotd fandom critical #anti targ stans #anti daenerys targaryen #anti daenerys stans #anti daenerys defense squad #Crimson Cold thoughts #anti team black #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti lucerys velaryon #anti daemyra

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acewizardinspace · 2 years ago

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People complain that the jedi don't act appropriately to being forced to use a slaver army, but they seem to forget that the jedi can't. Not just in universe (although yes, in universe there was nothing the jedi could do about this decision made by the senate) but narratively.

The jedi can't comment on the clone's slavery because the narrative won't let them! As a matter of fact, the narrative won't let anyone mention this! Literally no one calls the clones slaves seriously, even characters who by all accounts should feel that way because the narrative won't let them because they are fictional people created by a team of writers.

The clones aren't slaves in universe because the writers refuse to write them that way. Do I personally feel that this should have been a plot point? Yeah I think it would have been interesting! But they didn't!

Is it fun to explore this in fanfiction? Yeah it totally is! I know I would mention it in any fic I write in the future.

Does it make for good media criticism or analysis? No! This is just straight up not how you professionally analysis media. It is worth bring up in a discussion about the creators and exploring why they didn't bring these things up in the series. That would be good media analysis.

But as "proof" that some characters are bad this fails dramatically. Why? Because then you must apply this logic to every character, meaning not just the jedi are evil but actually every single character in the whole series, yes all of them, are evil. Once you do that you have successfully thrown away any meaning the original work had. It is all pointless now.

People confuse in-universe (watsonian) and out-of-universe (doylist) analysis. 'Why did no one do anything about the clone's situation?' is a shit watsonian analysis. But 'why the fuck did the writers write the clones like this?' is a GREAT doylist question.

Media analysis should add meaning, or explain meaning, or even describe why you feel the work lacks meaning, but it should never take all meaning away.

It is the same reason droids aren't called slaves. It would complicate the narrative and distract from whatever the writers were actually trying to say. The writers don't want to go there, so they don't.

#I WISH the fandom was more willing to talk about the doylist question. Because that is the important one #my meta #my thoughts

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50shadesofoctarine · 10 months ago

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Why you should write that AO3 comment:

Hello! I am an AO3 author and professional fandom dipshit. This is an "essay" on why you should leave that comment on the fanfic you just read.

Table of Contents:

"Commenting is too much effort!"

"I don't know what to write!"

Do you want more fanfic?

Fan creators are human beings, not AI content generators.

You can count it as charity work on your metaphysical taxes.

"Commenting is too much effort!"

Yes, writing a comment takes energy. I'm an introvert, I get that. I have two counter arguments to this point.

AO3 comments are not the SAT:

This is a comment from my latest fic, Quantum Entangled.

Three words and a heart. It requires zero consideration, it isn't specific to the fic, it's something you could copy-paste, even. A comment like this is better than nothing. I'll let my reply from AO3 explain why:

"You know what, I appreciate this way more than you'd probably expect. The temptation to lurk is a strong one, both for social anxiety reasons and internet content-consumption culture reasons. But when people lurk, I can't tell that they've enjoyed the story. The more people that lurk instead of interacting, the more I assume that my work wasn't good enough, irrespective of the reader's actual feelings. So this was a very welcome comment to read. Thank you for indicating your enjoyment. I will endeavour to write more stuff for you to lurk on in the future. :)"

A comment like this, one that is as thoughtless and low effort as possible, is still a comment. Something that denotes a reader's interest. Because, and I can't be clear enough about this, I HAVE NO OTHER WAY OF KNOWING THAT YOU LIKED IT. Kudos and comments are my only window into the reader's experience.

Sure, I'd love more detailed and thorough comments on my work, but, if that expectation is the thing that's going to stop you from commenting at all, I'd prefer the bland copy-paste appreciation.

Onto my second argument.

Do you know what also takes effort? WRITING THE DAMN FIC:

You do not get to complain about being forced to type a congratulatory handful of words after reading that 200k slow-burn fantasy au. Do you know how many hours went into that thing? Do you? Because I can guarantee that it was A LOT. All that writers are asking for is a single emoji. A kudos, at the very least. Consider the effort that went into the creation that you've just experienced and give just a thimble full of it back.

Authors lay out a feast for you to devour. They're only requesting a "thank you".

"I don't know what to write!"

Like in the previous example, an AO3 comment can be as simple as three words saying that you appreciated it. Just an acknowledgement that you were there. It doesn't have to be fancy.

But if you want fancy...?

Here's one of my comments, from Tishae's Better Together.

Let me break it down for you.

"Stunning. This au is so well developed. I love how you managed to maintain tension after the point that they discover that their feelings are requited. This was brilliantly paced, and the action (esp the ending) was so engaging."

The comment opens with appreciation. (Think of it as a sandwich with love as the bread. It starts and ends with my enjoyment.)

There are specific details about what I liked.

"If I may ask, what was the crime that the Metatron committed? Maybe I'm bad at reading between the lines or maybe I missed something, but I'm really curious as to what dirt they have on him. Victimless? Bad enough for imprisonment, but not so morally reprehensible as to make Anathema reveal it? Did he embezzle? That's all I can really think of."

Continues with a specific question about the story and plot.

Shows that I was critically engaged and actively considering the story.

You don't have to have questions about every fic that you read, but don't be afraid to ask them if you do. I love it when people ask me about my work.

"Thank you for the delicious food. I honestly thought that you were going to have Crowley's final look be something in grey (black and white being the theme of the show, metaphorically representing separation/binary, so Aziraphale was uncomfortable with it due to the implications. Grey, symbolising unity/shades of grey as an idiom, would then be the biggest middle finger to the Metatron) but I do really like what you came up with."

Gratitude.

Thoughts about how I read the plot. (This is something I particularly love to read as an author. Please tell me what's going on in that funky lil' brain of yours!!)

"I'm hoping this comment provides plenty of dopamine. If the task activation and instant gratification parts of your brain light up, you might be more likely to write GO content again. Love your work, thanks for sharing it. I hope you gain 3 inches of metaphorical dick length. Please keep writing."

Encouragement to keep writing. (This is the best way to ensure that creators remain in the fandom)

A funny comment to sign off.

Now that you know what to comment, let's start on the real reasons why you should.

Do you want more fanfic?

Fun fact! Fanfictious Authoria are a species that sustain themselves entirely on a diet of brain worms, unfinished WIPs, and kudos. As one of the three fundamental food groups, removing kudos from the fandom ecosystem causes a complete collapse of the natural order. In times of unprecedented scarcity, entire populations of Fanfictious Authoria can die out completely. This means that the production of fanfiction, in that particular region of fandom, stops entirely, often causing major ecological damage, and the subsequent deaths of fan species in the same genus. (Like the Fanfictious Artia, or the Fanfictious Editour, both of which subsist on fanfiction based diets to survive.)

In conservation efforts, experts are imploring readers to donate kudos and comments toward any fandom region that they want to stay alive.

But I digress.

When I want more content, I tell the author. Ask and you shall receive; it's the best way to convince an author/artist to make more.

My comment on @mrghostrat's And They Were Streamers

You liked it? Then COMMENT! Not for the author's sake, but for your own. You want to see the ending of a WIP? Well, it'd be a terrible shame if the author gave up on it because they thought no one was reading... They don't know that you enjoy their work until you TELL THEM. They're not psychic, you have to help them hear you. Commenting on the things you like influences the creators of said things to attribute the act of making content (and, notably, making the type of content that specifically appeals to you) with the dopamine hit of reading your reaction. Treat them like Pavlov's dogs. Ring the kudos-bell.

Fan creators are human beings, not AI content generators.

They have real human feelings and real human egos. The contemporary attitude towards media engagement is skewed towards algorithmic, instant, and uncritical consumption. This is pumping straight gasoline into the beautiful lakes of our fandom ecosystem. Fandom cannot afford to treat its creators like mechanical text generators. We are not an unfeeling assembly line, only there to produce content. We are enthusiasts, engaging in our hobby. No fan creator has to show you anything. They are fully within their rights to keep their works hidden in their computer files, never to see the light of day. Every fanfic on AO3 is only there because someone had the grace to share it with you. You are not entitled to an author's work, just as they are not entitled to your kudos. We have a mutually beneficial arrangement. Do not forget your part in this symbiosis.

It's a problem that extends beyond AO3. Tumblr is a less enthusiastic place than it used to be. Fandom as a whole is drifting towards a consumption mindset. I, for one, am sick of it. Reblog things, like them, share them. Make fanart of fanart. Who gives a shit? Do the cringy thing. You don't have to cultivate your blog aesthetic. Be who you are, like what you like, and have enthusiasm about all of it. Fandom should be an expression of radical self acceptance. Embrace it. Leave essays about fics that you liked. Reblog the essays of other's when you see them. Exist in the mutual joy of seeing and being seen. You are not just an external observer, absorbing content from a distance. You are here too. Wave back at us. Say 'hi.'

You can count it as charity work on your metaphysical taxes.

My final appeal is a moral one.

Commenting on AO3 is just a kind thing to do.

You are your actions. Are you the kind of person who does the kind thing when no one is watching? When no one will care?

Fanfiction is a hobby, and I'm not here to guilt you about how you spend your leisure time. I'm only here to say that there is a kindness you could be giving the world.

If you are one of the people that performs this kindness, I thank you.

#ao3 #fanfiction #fanfic #GO fandom I'm looking at you #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable wives #ineffable husbands fic rec #ineffable idiots #ineffable partners #ineffable spouses

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errihaienx · 2 years ago

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HQ CAPTAINS : best things in your relationship ♡

(pre-timeskip , aged up characters)

quick disclaimer: these scenarios don't affect the original plot of the series. any information or events that contradict the original plot are purely fictional. (i do not own any of the characters) Please read the a/n at the end! <3<3

ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ: ʙᴏᴋᴜᴛᴏ, ᴜꜱʜɪᴊɪᴍᴀ, ᴋᴜʀᴏᴏ, ᴏɪᴋᴀᴡᴀ, ᴋɪᴛᴀ, ᴅᴀɪᴄʜɪ, & ᴛᴇʀᴜꜱʜɪᴍᴀ (ɪɴ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀ)

ꜱɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ᴛʀᴀɪᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ

He is very honest and open, he'll say everything when you ask him.

Satisfies your needs when it comes to affection, LOTS of cuddles and forehead kisses.

No Emo-mode Bokuto when it comes to serious discussions. He doesn't talk back to you and tries his best to understand you. He's a bit jealous though..

Respects your parents and grandparents so much! He often ask you to visit them.

"Babyyy can we meet Obachan? I loved the soup she made, oh my gosh let's get married now Y/n!!"

A relationship with patience and privacy

He's very patient, he's not the controlling type. He wants to make sure that he's not suffocating you.

He's also understanding, you often meet up with your friends and you end up going home late he understands it and fetches you to make sure you're safe.

Very consistent, when he was still courting you he gives you flowers and even now as couples he's still doing it!

"I kept on receiving flowers I don't know who gave them..... I just want you to know.."

"I sent them.."

A relationship built with trust, attachment, and intimacy

He's very touchy and wants you to himself 24/7

Very Faithful. he may look like some womanizer shit, but he's not, he's into you, only you.

He will always ask for your opinion about everything he does, and will make it as his guide. He trust you about everything

"Love I don't know if I'll still pursue volleyball, but I love the game itself.."

" You don't want to be a professional athlete?"

"I'm confused, I don't know. But I also feel like i don't want to abandon it.."

"You don't need to play the sport itself, you can work from behind the scenes."

"Damn, such a wifey material.."

A very open relationship, there are circumstances that you will complain about his actions or doings and he will openly listen.

If he's really at fault he will adjust, if you don't want him to do this or that he will not do it.

Tries his best to understand you in everything.

Very appreciative, you know that volleyball is his passion and you give him time and space. He appreciates it a lot.

"I'm sorry I couldn't put all my attention to you, but please don't leave me.."

"Career over love, choose your passion and I'll choose mine."

"Baby are you breaking up with me again?!"

"You are my passion"

A very perceptive man

Misunderstandings don't stand a chance on breaking your relationship, even if you accidentally said something that is very different from what are you pointing out he will immediately figure out what you really mean

He's also polite, caring, and loyal.

He often help you with your studies, affirms you and is very respectful of you

"Please don't hesitate to ask for my assistance about everything, i don't want to see you struggling"

"I just don't want to bother you, you're already stacked up. i just want you to enjoy your extra time and be happy"

"I am the happiest when you rely on me."

TO MAKE IT SHORT,, HE'S PERFECT

Responsible and you actually sees him as the literal 'Husband Material' yes, more than just a bf material. Seriously, having him was the real deal!

Respects your boundaries

He's very attentive when it comes to you. He knows it when you're not feeling well, annoyed, happy, everything!

He often helps you with your studies

"Love, were you the one who prepared my presentation?"

"That was me. I wasn't sure if you were gonna be okay with me helping you, but... I wanted to help you anyway."

Study dates!

Very touchy even in public, and he can't hold himself back. he loves the feeling of being close to you

When arguing he's probably a bit headstrong but he doesn't talk back, he may be defensive at times but he makes it up to you. Whenever you two argue, he's all frowny not because he's annoyed that you're nagging him but because he's annoyed that he was being a 'burden' to you.

YOU. ARE. THE. PRIORITY.

He's famous at school and has his group of friends that he always hangs up with, he's such a party boy too. but when it comes to you, there's no hesitation. he'll decline any meeting with the boys and will probably say: "Bro I need to see my gf so bad, gotta go. I hope ya find your love life."

Bro is smitten

Hiiii! my lineup for what i'll post was piling up, and I plan to post drafts first(this was a draft a week ago!) before my requests. I'll be working on 4 requests! please once again, bare with me. i'll start writing the request in few days, and post it immediately after finishing them. for the anons who requested, i hope you'll wait until then. thank you very much! I finished writing the 'stuff' that i've been writing for a long time, and i'll post it soon! thank you so much for the support<3<3 i hope you all the best health!

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cheetour · 5 months ago

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The Void Within's dialogue is sloppy to the point of not being fully literate*.

It's been noticed that the rough sketches and the final artwork don't match up in quality, and seem to be declining as the plot goes on. The same is happening to the writing.

This is, I am sorry, a post about the latest major Neopets update. Not only that, it's about the GRAMMAR in the dialogue for that update. Riveting.

I SWEAR I AM NOT JUST A PEDANTIC ASSHOLE, I GENUINELY WANT USERS TO KNOW THERE'S AN ISSUE!

Most people who complain about "incorrect" grammar in games and comics are wrong. Homestuck, Night in the Woods, We Know the Devil, and Captain Underpants all have fine grammar, just stylized.

I really, really, really like The Void Within. I think it's a fantastic idea, and I am determined to enjoy it as much as possible.

I am a professional editor. Noticing this stuff is my job.

Now, PLEASE bear that in mind when I say:

tl;dr: Neopets is asking you to pay money to a product that does not meet the quality standards of a primary school English test for ages 10+.

*I don't mean to use "not literate" as a stand-in for "stupid and bad at writing." Literacy is very complicated, illiteracy is more common than you think, and there is no shame in being illiterate - you can be very intelligent and also have no written or digital literacy. I mean the literal "not able to use written language to its fullest extent".

It's clear whoever wrote the dialogue didn't have a perfect grasp of English punctuation. AND THAT'S FINE. Good writers don't always have good grammar, and you DON'T need fluent English to write good stories in English.

That's why writing, proofreading, and editing are all separate professions, and why a well-run creative project delegates those roles to separate people. They still matter.

People are more likely to notice grammar mistakes the more they read books. Correctly formatted English is how older, less online, and disabled people with visual or linguistic processing difficulties read. Text-to-speech doesn't work correctly on writing without correct punctuation. These are serious professional standards, and they exist for a reason. They're not worthless just because you don't understand them.

A good-quality publisher of books, comics, or video games wouldn't release dialogue like this to a paying audience. They would consider this standard unacceptable. They'd either use correct grammar, or stylized grammar. (Inconsistent grammar, with no logical or narrative rules, isn't a style. They're not choices if you don't know you're making them. They're mistakes.)

To an extent this is nitpicking, and most people wouldn't notice this stuff.

But Neopets is MAKING MONEY. They are SELLING PRODUCTS for this. They have MULTIPLE PHASES of NC Market sales for this plot.

As an educator, there is no way I could show this (perfectly kid-friendly) comic to a classroom of children - it would have no educational value. It's not written correctly or with any obvious care. If they paid attention to it too much, they'd get the wrong idea about the English language!

I think it's fair to say that if you're publishing an official Neopets story, and you want Neopets to be a kid-friendly, fan-driven, story-based brand with a target audience wider than "people who don't really care about whether stories are professionally written", the script should've been proofread.

To give you an idea of how many typos Chapter 3 has, here's one of the dialogue pages with the missing punctuation added; I also took 5 minutes to rewrite each line for coherency.

And THIS is a website showing you at what points in primary eduation we teach children to use commas correcty:

Art is hard. Programming is hard. Hell, good writing is hard. It's HARD coming up with dialogue and a plot that people actually want to experience.

Grammar is boring and sometimes pointless. It's not difficult. It requires only basic literacy. Children learn how to use commas at ages seven and up.

If you don't care about the story you're telling enough to check that it would get a good grade on a child's school test, how can you possibly expect anyone to pay for it? You need specialist skills to code a website or create a high-quality digital graphic, but the only thing you need to get this right is... one literate adult who cares enough to try.

So where are they?

**There is no shame in being illiterate, but there is CERTAINLY shame in selling illiterate writing.

tl;dr: Neopets is asking you to pay money to a product that does not meet the quality standards of a primary school English test for ages 10+.

Finally, here are some browser petsites/RPGs who have never prompted me to write an 800 word critique:

Fallen London

Pixel Cat's End

Lioden

#neopets #the void within #journo #writing

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toomanythoughts4myhead · 1 year ago

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A drop of poison goes a long way

Summary: More insight in Coriolanuses work life and the veil of what is going inside his past loves head is finaly revealed. Coriolanus is offered what he wants. Will it be his doom again?

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow and his brain; mentions of attempted murder, shooting, gun violence, prosthetic as result; Capitol people.

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

A/N: I am so sorry it took me this long to write this. December wasn't 🎄Decembering🎄 it was 📝Decembering📝. I hope you enjoy and I will try to be more on schedule. Hope yall enjoy.

[<-Prev. chapter][Masterlist][Next chapter->]

Coriolanus liked to think of himself as a sensible individual by Capitol standards, to say the least.

Then why has he been on the verge of ripping his hair out for the past day and a half?

Ever since Dr Gaul had presented to him his "fixed" songbird he has been in a state of mind unbecoming of the image he has built himself to be. He even had to cancel his lunch outing with Solicis Saddler, a hefty sponsor of the games with an odd bloodthirst for someone who was missing most of his natural teeth and had gotten a tacky golden replacement.

Dr Gaul hadn't allowed for him to take you home or stay long, not that he had been able to protest, eyes glued to your form like ot would set you on fire or make you crawl back in his arms. He didn't want to think about the consequences; he knew he had failed whatever test this was supposed to be. He should have remained stoic and proud, barely sparing you a glance. Instead, he gaped at you, hopefully with a closed mouth.

He had gotten used to troubling his mind with various plots and schemes before bed, usually that kept his mind at bay and away from you. Now, you came back in strutting to render him powerless over his own being. He felt stupid and weak, unsure who to hate more - himself or you.

He decides he hates you most.

After the encounter, he had gotten back in his car and gone to work, collecting himself now that you were out of sight. With the rise of popularity after the 11th and especially 12th game the making of the Hunger Games had become a lot more professional and lavish, the personal had expanded and even changed and added buildings to the office.

As a head game maker, he worked and operated over the main building, the center, and the gem of the whole operation. The building itself was in various shades of whites and blacks, and all in-between, a lot of the structure was from black and white marble with golden cracks. Coriolanus liked working there, in his expensive suits and office at the top of the building, overlooking the whole Capitol. he felt powerful, as he should. He was the one in control.

The main game makers teams were separated and had multiple departments that discussed locations, structures, finances, networking and so on and forth, anything needed for the games to run smoothly and be as entertaining as possible. He was the one who organized meetings and approved ideas and made sure they would also be reasonable by the almost limitless budget. This meant he technically worked only a few hours; the other time, he spent building ties and attending lunches and dinners that would benefit him. Technically, since he is the head and face of the operating, whatever helped him helped the community. So, no one complained or questioned him.

This day was horrible and he breezed by most of it, he felt that on the back of his mind he was reliving this morning over and over and decided its best not to interact with one of his best sponsors when not fully with hus mind. He had fumbled some excuse on his way back from work that he didn't feel good, which was partly true.

Now, the hot water of his shower was burning his skin as he increased it again. He didn't like the burning hot but thus was about discipline. I remember who he was now and for what eh stood. He wouldn't allow you to take this away from him again.

His sleep was troubled and came upon him way too late, his skin felt raw and sensitive from the waterx maybe he shouldn't over do it too much, he wouldn't like for people to notice. His carefully glided back curls were sticking everywhere, and he felt aggitated, but he fell asleep in the early hours of the morning. Not uncommon.

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In the morning, he felt better. He rose with the same confidence he had adopted and went out for a run. At least his stay in the districts had taught him discipline and instilled the need to train his body, something all the spoiled and often drugged up or obese people of the Capitol seem to lack. It made him stand out, with his sculpted torso and wide shoulders, strong but not intimidating brutishly so, he filled out his shirts and suits in way he never could back when he was barely eating anything with substance.

It had snowed again last night, surely a good fortune. His sneakers left imprints in the still not cleared up paths in the near park, his breath fanned over his face in clouds of white smoke, he could feel the chilling air nip at his sides through the thin running clothes he had. He felt alive.

By this time, his avoxes were up and on the go, tending to the apartment and the his work clothes and breakfast. He knew their routine like the back of his hand, and so they didn't dare step out of it; it felt good. Each day he got the same royal treatment, no back talk (or any talk for that matter), after a while even he didn't have to talk to them, they knew what to do, he would often limited himself to simple commands. It was a pleasant start to his day since he had to deal with pompous arrogant moneybags for a living.

When he reached the street on which his apartment resided the sun was starting to turn the sky redish. He felt a faint sheen of sweat on his doby and shuddered as his body started to cool down from the exercise, what caught his attention was one of his avoxes waiting for him at the threshold of the apartment. Coriolanus raised an eyebrow as he approached, straightening his back and slowing down his breathing. Judging by the unsure look on their face he knew something had gone wrong, they weren't supposed to be here.

"Could you explain to me what you are doing outside?"

The avoxe looked up at him with gaze that held too much fear, sure he had punished avoxes before but not so cruelly. A mere doubling of chores or less food had been all he had done, merely disciplinary shows of power. The same way a dog needs to be taught, so do humans. The avoxe passed him a note, an envelope sealed with red wax in the capitols symbol. A message from the Citadel.

Coriolanus lifted an eyebrow. Receiving mail isn't exactly an out of the ordinary thing, he doesn't think it's really worth it freeze his ass of and catch something over a letter, but his gnawing intuition told him it was something bad. The realization seeped through and he felt an unpleasant churning in his timach as he ripped the envelope and read the letter.

It would hardly be called a letter since it consistented barely two sentences but It made his head spin.

"Take this as an encouragement from the staff of the Citadel for all your hard work. We hope you don't mind we clipped your Songbirds wings a little."

It wasn't signed but it didn't have to be. Who else could have scared his staff this badly but Dr Gaul? The implications of the letter set in and he barged into his apartment way too quickly, almaot shoving the avoxes down the stairs.

Snow fells and littered his floor, making wet spots on his white rug, but it wasn't the only thing tainting his apartment. There on his couch he found you, sitting cross-legged and fighting woth the decorative bouquet of roses on the coffee table. Your gaze snapped to him, watching hiw with curiosity and a startled look in your eyes as he stared back with such intensity it made you feel uncomfortable.

The hospital gown he had seen before had been switched for a creame white knitted dress that reached your knees and black leggings with boots, semi-useful for the weather and surprisingly basic for the extravagant taste of the Capitol. In the natural light seeping from the glass wall your prosthetic arm looked too natural. You looked too natural, unchanged, maybe even bettered by some fancy Capitol equipment.

What surprised him most was the way you looked at him.

He had spend a long time going over all possibilities of interactions between him and you, he had imagined a cold shoulder, yelling, screaming, maybe you would even try to attack him. But you looked at him with admiration, your face brightened as you placed your warm gaze on him. Not lovingly like before, you didn't seem to recognize him fully.

He walked closer until your knees were a hairstarnd away from his thigh and stopped. He didn't know how to react, he could feel the grasp of control he wielded best at his own house. You just had that effect on him, maybe it was the puppy smile on your face.

As he approaches you stand up, now he can clearly see the white bow on your head, truly wrapped like a present for him.

"Dr Gaul sends her warmest regards. And im here to thank you personally for all you have done for me."

Coriolanus despote everything found himself even more confused. Sure, he had done a lot of you: kept you alive during the Hunger games, cheat in the Hunger games for you, carry out some duty in district 12. He hadn't imagined you'd be thankful for it now. His lack of response must have confused you.

"I am so very thankful you saved me from the districts. I would have been left for dead if you hadnt sent your team of doctors to help me." - you add with a sweet genuine smile and loving gaze.

What?

"Well i couldnt leave my girl for dead among these animals. You know I'd do anything for you." - he smiled back and went as far as to gently grasp your hand in a sweet gesture.

He is grasping at loose straws here. It was evident that your memory was very... selective and altered. He could somewhat force himself to imagine that it was all due to the incident, but he knew better. This was all Dr Gauls idea and work. He needed to figure out more of the scenario Dr Gaul had constructed for you. And to find out how.

You seemed to like the gesture, squeezing his hand into your smaller one. Your hands were softer, not calloused or rough from playing guitar or surviving, but soft and inviting. Your nails were even done, he had to give it up.to the person in charge of your presentation, they had truly went all in.

"It all happened so fast, the doctors never filled me in fully of what exactly happened." - he said feigning ignorance and worry.

"It was horrible. After i returned i wanted to see my family so bad, but everyone turned on me. They chased me down through the forest because i had managed to get a glimpse of what thwy want - wealth and power, even if briefly from the Capitol. My own family tried to shoot me." - you said and it visibly made you upset, your voice became more uneven, wobbling lightly with along with your bottom lip.

Your own blood? You had no living family, you'd said so yourself before. It appears the lab team had decided to do this in the most dramatic way possible.

He put his thumb on your slightly trembling chin, running his knuckles over your reddening bottom lip and coo at you sympatheticly, as much as he could.

"My poor girl, im so sorry it took us this long to get you back and kicking. Those people certainly did a number on your poor body." - he ran his free hand up on the prosthetic bicep, it felt colder to the touch, not as squishy as human flesh and fat, but surprisingly close.

You nod into the palm of his hand, looking at him with big watery eyes. This is amazing, Coriolanus thought. He had you right how he always wanted you, under his thumb and eating out of his palm. You were like a frail little fawn waking up after the cruel winter had passed, everything is different but so so familiar. He would be your guide, he will show you the right way, he will be your light and your dark. You will worship and thank him for taking your control and responsibilities away.

All hate seemed to be burried for now, this opportunity made Coriolanus too excited, to have his favorite toy back. You weren't the girl who had sicked a snake on him, no, that girl was dead, trapped in her own body but permanently erased. Whatever he had now was the perfect doll with your face slapped on it.

"Oh my precious lamb, welcome home."

He cooed and tried to keep the sadistic glint in his eyes from showing too much. He put his arms around you, big hands digging into the warm material of your lower back, the rose ring on his pointer finger scraped the material. Your cheek was pressed against collarbone, nosing at his neck. Even a few seconds in his embrace and the sickeningly sweet smell of white roses was clinging to your whole body. Even a few minutes were enough for his poison to take root.

He runs his hands up and down your back, keeping you close. It felt good, to feel your warmth again, it made something tick in his brain whenever he felt your warmer weaker body against his. Call it animal instincts or a sick mind, neither are too far off.

"Ive missed you" he croons in your neck, his nose bumps your pulse point and it makes your head feel lighter. You are alsmot too loat in each other, but the feeling of being watched makes you open your eyes to find a nervous looking older woman. You instinctively true and pull away from Coriolanuses tight embrace but he doesn't let up, his hands just dig deeper into the fat on your hips and sides.

"Where do you think you are running off to? Are you not happy to be mine?" - he asked with a mocking tone but the intensity in his eyes never wavered.

"Corio, there is someone her-"

"Just an avoxe, no need to be shy. She wont say a peep." - replied clamly and stood back to his full height, keeping you good to his side like an accessory. Your face was held to his chest by the back of your neck, the hold wasn't strong but you hadnt tried to break free either. It made your cheeks burn a tad bit. "What seemes to be the problem?"

The woman stood still and pondered how to explain it without actual words but the loud bickering of an old man that could be also drunk and rattle of metal made Coriolanuses breath hitches for a moment.

Solicis Saddler.

He had promised dinner at his penthouse to make up for canceling, to go over the future plans of the games to keep the bloodthirsty man at bay and his wallet open for all gruesome scenes. Judging by his pompous screaming and yelling at his staff he had taken the invitation to heart.

Coriolanus had completely forgot about this. And it made him feel like the ever-growing tower that was his life was tilting, he was getting sloppy. He needed to focus again. He won't repeat the same mistakes.

Pressed against him, Coriolanus could feel you flinch as the octaves kept on getting louder. He needed to apologize to his neighbors tomorrow for all the chatter. He gave your waist a squeeze and kept you locked to him.

"Let him in."

(Not my best but lemme cook chat, i.swear ill do better next time.)

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