#literally not finished yet I worked it out
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Crayon Confessions – njm
‣ pairing: na jaemin x reader
‣ genre: fluff, f2l/co'workers'-to-lovers
‣ wc: 2.2k
‣ summary: You have two weaknesses—Gojo and men with kids… and you guess, Jaemin. That would make it three, but he falls under that second category; alternatively, in which you weren’t really planning on developing feelings for Na Jaemin but seeing him work with kids all the time at the local community centre is making it damn hard not to.
‣ warnings: genuinely don't think there's anything, low-key rushed ending
‣ an: this is honestly not my best but FINALLY MY LAST PART OF THE SERIES IM CELEBRATING YIPEEEEEE—yes i know this is set in december and its now may but it's bc this was supposed to be posted during the holidays 😭 my dumbass overestimated my capabilities and school got in the way but all that matters is that i actually finished a 12 part series?? patting myself on the back,, ANYWAYS to those who actually followed my series I thank you so much. PLS ENJOY THIS! <33
Series Masterlist
You have two weaknesses—Gojo and men with kids. And within the past few months, Na Jaemin has been fighting his way to the top of that list despite (technically) fitting under that second category.
The more time you spent with him, the more you were able to make out that Jaemin obviously wanted to make a name for himself rather than being lumped into a handful of men—and you didn’t like it.
You’ve only known the guy just shy of six months, having chosen to volunteer at the community centre since July, and he’s managed to shimmy his way into your life like it was his purpose. And it makes you angry because he was perfect—perhaps as perfect as the dozens of fictional men you’ve crushed on.
Only Jaemin wasn’t fictional.
In fact, he was sitting two tables away from you, helping the kids spell out the words they needed to include in the holiday greetings cards.
“You’re staring again.”
Giselle presses her lips into a tight line to keep her laugh from bursting out.
Your eyes widened, trying to recollect yourself when you realized that you were, in fact, staring at Jaemin, “Was I being obvious?”
Giselle hums, tilting her head to muster up an answer, “Mm… a little?”
“Not a little. A lot.”
You and Giselle turn to Lily, one of the kids you’ve both grown close to over the past few months. You raise a brow at her, “Aren’t you supposed to be making these cards?”
Lily snickers and goes back to her given task of colouring a poorly printed Santa Claus. You turn back to Giselle, who’s already offering an apologetic look because kids are blunt.
“Okay, you were more than a little bit obvious but that boy was too oblivious to notice,” she shrugs, “I think, at least.” Giselle taps the pile of finished cards against the table to line them all up before placing them again at the centre of the table.
You groan, tempted to bang your head against the shared table in front of you. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m not,” Giselle snorts, “But I really don’t think he saw you. He’s too busy with the kids.” She nods her head in Jaemin’s direction and your eyes follow without a second thought.
The sight was one you’ve seen countless times yet it still makes you swoon every time you lay eyes on the scene. Jaemin’s perfect smile is etched on his face as he leans over one of the youngest kids, fixing the way the boy is holding the marker. The boy lets out a little giggle, reciprocating the smile on the elder’s face.
“Look away before you lose yourself again,” Giselle teases, using her index finger to turn your face away from Jaemin’s direction. Giselle immediately notices the way a look of sheepishness replaces your charmed expression. She pats your shoulder, almost coming in the form of a push, “I bet if you asked him out he would say yes.”
“I’ll only ask him out if I’m sure he likes me back,” you whisper.
“I have literal receipts of clues that he does like you back,” Giselle threatens to pull her phone out despite your organizer discouraging the use of any devices during the shifts.
You shake your head, head mentally raking through all the times you Jaemin had made you feel like sinking into the hard cold cement. “Those were just times I was overthinking everything… I’m sure he’s just naturally nice.”
“Well, he is naturally nice,” Giselle nods, “But you can’t tell me that all the things he’s done were done solely to be nice.” Giselle leans back on her chair and narrows her eyes at you, “He’s too old to be on Santa’s list anyway.”
“I don’t consider holding the door open for me and bringing me hot chocolate that one time as clues.”
One of the other little girls pushes an unfinished piece of paper and the small baby safety scissors your way. By reflex, you pick it up from where she started having trouble, snipping away the excess paper before handing it back for her to glue onto construction paper.
“How about that one time he walked you home?”
“He said he was going to his grandma’s—” you counter.
“Could’ve been an excuse,” Giselle shrugs, “Real reason could be he wanted to spend time with you without having to ask for it.”
“I was wrong. I think you’re the delusional one here,” you narrow your eyes and tap your feet against the floor underneath you. Jaemin was Jaemin. Soon after meeting him, you caught on to the fact that he was naturally playful, almost coming off as a flirt to everyone he encountered.
“I’m not being delusional,” Giselle rolls her eyes and leans in closer to you so that whatever comes out of her mouth next can’t be heard by anyone around you, “Do you want me to list everything that’s happened between him and you over the past few months? ‘Cause you’re asking for it.”
You shake your head, already knowing which ones she’d list. Giselle already told you that if she could, she’d make a PowerPoint presentation of Top 10 Jaemin and Y/N Moments for fun, but you were lucky that she had been swamped in both school and volunteer work to even start it.
“You’re acting like I’m not the one who’s told you these things,” you blink, “And like I said, any of them could be a product of delusion.”
Giselle peeks over at you through the corners of her eyes and smirks, “Oh, but there are ones that you haven’t seen that I have…”
And just like that, Giselle has all of your attention. It’s like she’s grasping it with the tips of her fingers, playing with it to tease you.
“Like?” You gesture for her to begin, not wanting to waste a single passing second.
Another kid at the table holds up her card for Giselle to see, “Miss Giselle, how does it look?”
Giselle’s eyes light up and she smiles, “I love how you coloured the tree, Nari! Do you need help cutting it out?”
Nari shakes her head, “I’ll try myself first.”
Giselle nods, “Sounds good to me!” Then once she’s sure that Nari is back and busy with the paper tree, she turns back to you, “Do you want it in chronological order?”
Your brows furrow, “It doesn’t matter to me.”
She hums and begins, “You know how you came when me and Jaemin have already been here for a little while?”
You nod.
“Well, Jaemin, every single day since we both started, kept his things in that one corner locker. He told me once he hated the other lockers with a passion but never really told me why. It was actually hilarious because there was one shift when Jisung came earlier than he did and he snatched it before Jaemin and Jaemin told him off,” Giselle snorted, recalling the memory, “It was stupid. I remember telling Jaemin to let the boy be, but he was… territorial? I don’t know how to word it.”
“Where are you going with this?” you say impatiently.
“I’m getting there,” she huffs, “Anyway, when you came, you were stuck with that one locker at the top, right?”
You nod again.
“I remember you kept complaining to me about hating the locker—”
“It was too high for me to even reach the hook!” You say.
“I know, but that’s beside the point,” Giselle laughs, “My point is the very next day, Jaemin came early for the shift and instead of taking that corner locker, he claimed that top locker despite his usual one being free. It’s been that way ever since. Now you always take that corner one.”
“And?”
“What do you mean ‘And?’” Giselle’s jaw drops, “Don’t you see? He was territorial over a damn locker and when you came along, he went out of his way to move lockers just because he saw you were struggling with the top one.”
“He’s just being ni—”
“Do I need to remind you that Ningning, who’s shorter than you, literally complained about the same thing and he didn’t do shi—” Giselle catches herself from swearing, remembering the setting, “—Anything to help her?”
You don’t reply and Giselle takes this as a sign to continue, “Then, there have been those days you come to a shift tired because you’ve been awake since dawn because of your eight AMs, right?” You don’t do anything but blink and Giselle continues, “I’ve seen that man go out of his way to take up some of your harder tasks just so your shift is easier and you can relax. But when I come to the shifts tired and you’re not there and he is, he just laughs in my face!”
You laugh because it just sounds like Giselle’s taking this as an opportunity to rant to you about her playful rivalry with Jaemin.
“Don’t laugh! Can’t you see where I’m going with my examples?” she whines, “I know you’re smart, Y/N!”
You shake your head, “I need you to explain it more bluntly, Gi.”
Giselle facepalms, a sigh flying out of her lips, “What I’m saying is that Jaemin pays attention to you more than you think… he treats you a hundred times better than any of us but, obviously, you’re too blind to see it because you’re still hung up on the idea that he’s just ‘being nice’.”
You swallow a pool of spit you didn’t even know was sitting in your mouth and you process your friend’s explanation. The idea of the possibility of Jaemin actually liking you back was something you thought about once in a while, but it was usually in your bed right before you went to sleep giggling. Never did these thoughts appear in broad daylight, much less with Jaemin sitting just yards away.
The thought tickles your stomach and you wanna say something to Giselle, though you’re unsure what. And before you could bring yourself to open your mouth, you felt a light tap against your shoulder.
“Miss Y/N?”
You’re punted out of your thoughts when one of the little boys from Jaemin’s table appears to your left, entering your line of sight.
“Hi, Junnie! What’s up?” you bend down slightly at the waist, eyeing the card and the crayon he’s holding in his hand.
He makes no effort to say anything else. Instead, he holds out the two items in his small hands, waiting for you to take them. When you gently do, he takes a step back, holding his arms behind his back to watch you read the card.
The front of the card was just a normal card, the greeting ‘Happy Holidays’ written on the front in a child’s handwriting in red and green crayon. Underneath the words was a Christmas tree, glued on there by, who you assumed was, Junnie.
Then, when you open it, your heart skips a beat and a half.
In crayon, in messy yet very cute writing you read:
Are you a Christmas tree?
Because I'm really pining fir you!
Dinner date?
“It’s from Mister Jaemin,” Junnie says from behind the card. He’s teetering on the balls of his feet, cheeks being pushed up by his smile.
Your heart is now pounding against your chest because it is all playing out perfectly, like how it would in a movie. With Giselle telling you things you’ve never noticed before, to you denying, and now Junnie was just sent by Jaemin to send you this cute little letter to confess to you—you’re not sure how to react.
“Oh, really?” you question.
“Really?” Giselle gasps from next to you.
Your eyes immediately dart across the room and to the mentioned boy, who’s awfully pretending to busy himself with the scraps of paper littering the table.
“What’s your answer?” Junnie questions.
Embarrassingly, you don’t even hesitate to scribble down your answer underneath the question. Handing it back to Junnie, you wave for him to come closer and you bring your mouth up to his ear, “Can you help me play a small trick on Mister Jaemin?”
Junnie nods, a mischievous smile appearing almost instantly on his face.
“When you go over there to give him this, I want you to pretend to be sad, okay? Make him think it’s not a yes.”
Junnie struggles to contain his smile before nodding once more, then turns to make his way back to Jaemin.
You follow the young boy with your eyes, watching as he does his very best to maintain a poker face. You watch as Jaemin turns to him, a look of confusion surfacing his face when he sees that Junnie is not smiling like he had anticipated and you can’t help but snicker.
The moment Junnie’s within hearing vicinity, Jaemin says something to him that you obviously couldn’t hear. Junnie glances back at you and then reveals your answer to Jaemin and you know he’s done it the second Jaemin’s face lights up.
You chuckle as Jaemin looks up at you, his face breaking into a wide smile. He waves at you shyly, like a bashful kid, before silently mouthing, "Tomorrow?"
You nod, warmth spreading across your cheeks. Giselle makes a comment over your shoulder but you don’t quite catch it, the cells in your body buzzing in excitement.
Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.
taglist: @tytrackfebreze @lovesuhng @hoonieji @niinjo @dinonuguaegi @reignessance
an: 12/12!! This was poorly proofread so I'm sorry if there are any grammatical errors or mistakes but I wanted to finish this so I can work on other wips!! I HOPE YOU ENJOYED READING THIS,, THANK YOU!
#nct#nct dream#nct imagines#nct dream imagines#nct dream scenarios#na jaemin#jaemin#na jaemin imagines#jaemin imagines#na jaemin scenarios#jaemin scenarios#nct dream blurbs#nct blurbs#jaemin blurbs#na jaemin blurbs#nct jaemin#nct fluff#nct dream fluff#jaemin fluff#na jaemin fluff#my writings#my nct writings#kpop#kpop imagines#kpop scenarios#kpop blurbs#jaemin x reader#jaemin x reader fluff
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If I understand correctly youre working on a webcomic right?
If it ever does well do you intend to make it a full animated series whether its company produced or indie?
It’s alright if you’re unsure yet I just thought I’d ask out of curiosity :)
i am!!! i finished writing chapter 1 a few days ago actually!!! ^_^
this would be a dream come true, ive wanted my own animated series since i was rlly rlly little!!!! unfortunately i dont have the funds nor the connections 4 something like this (i literally only talk 2 liek 3 ppl) and i dont think seths deadly sin would market particularly well being an 18+ story with heavy dark subject matter.
but yeah!!! in my dreams *looks off wistfully and sheds a tear and adrien agreste appears in the night sky* /ref
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smother me
pairing: rob x fem!reader
warnings: smut, drunk!reader, everything is consensual, rob pulls out, he’s literally so in love with you
note: based on this request! i’m actually making a bot for this scenario rn using the opening paragraph and will have that posted/linked here as well :3 enjoy driving rob insane
word count: 6.6k
———————♡
Music pounds through your chest as you finish your drink, sat ontop of Rob’s lap in your bed. Your bed. You and your friends hosted a party but you’ve since abandoned the fun with the idea to do Rob’s makeup, and him being sober gladly agreed to your drunken antics.
Red plastic cup being tossed to the floor with a disapproving look from rob, you start digging around in your makeup bag, dumping the contents out, straddling him.
“This really what y’wanna be doing right now instead of being downstairs?” He muses softly, hands behind his head.
“Mmmm,” the lazy hum escapes you as you dig out a few different containers, blinking at Rob, trying to figure out where to start. His arms bulge with the position he’s in. “Definitely.” You mumble, grabbing a little pallet and opening it.
Rob grunts slightly as you adjust yourself ontop of him, sat on his lap. He knows you’re drunk and shouldn’t really be doing this. But he’s not one to stop, instead choosing to play along. “What’re you even doing? I don’t wear makeup.” He chuckles, reaching up with an arm to brush a loose tendril of hair out of your face.
“‘m g’na make you look pretty, shhh…” You wave his hand away, so far gone, leaning down with a brush and swiping some product over his cheekbone, staring quite hard as you focus. Wearing a cute little dress, it’s ridden up your thighs, heels on your feet still and the jewelry on your wrist jangles with the movements you make. Rob’s watching, curious but kinda annoyed. You don’t even know what you’re doing, and yet it’s working.
“I don’t need to be pretty.” he mumbles, both hands behind his head again, fingers pressing against his scalp to ignore that one part of him. “You’re pretty though.” The brush over his cheek almost makes him shudder as he lets an arm reach out and loop around your waist, hand flattening on your lower back to pull you closer.
“Shh, stop.” You scold in a whisper, smacking at his arm as it tugs you closer to him, sat on his navel. Your eyes are lidded, focusing as you swipe the brush over his other cheek, something sparkly on it. You own cheeks heat up under the blush you wear, because of his compliment or how drunk you are, you aren’t sure.
Rob sighs, his thumb rubbing on your back. He rolls his eyes and grumbles at you, but there’s a part of him that likes this.
“You’re such a pain in my ass,” his tone is clearly teasing, “Who’s gonna make me pretty?”
“Me!” You huff, seeming agitated to him as you pick up a different brush, a mess of them and little pallets and containers sliding in the dip of the bed against your knee. Another product on his cheek, a little lower, making yourself giggle at the sight.
He raises a brow but doesn’t say anything. The brush across his cheek is a little irritating, not as soft as the other, but the fact that you were doing this had him feeling something, a low burn of arousal that makes his cock jump in his boxers. “You goin’ all out for me?” He asks teasingly, reaching up with the same hand to flick hair from your face. It’s cute when you’re drunk - you’re more forward than normal.
And clumsy, because you drop the brush when he moves your hair back. You fumble with it, picking it back up and moving to the other cheek. “Yeah gotta-... do everything.” Mumbling, words a little slow like you’re thinking too hard.
Rob chuckles at that, biting his lip to stop himself from full on laughing. He takes a breath of air and clears his throat. “Do me a favor,” he muses, hand sliding to your back again, “put the brush down. And do the rest with your hands.”
“My hand- but I’ll get it all over ‘nd it won’ look good!” You mumble in defense, staring at him for a moment as you sit up more.
He rolls his eyes, looking up at you in amusement. Cute drunk. He can’t really complain. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He says it confidently, “Just try not to get too much on me, okay?” His hands slide to your thighs instead, at the junction of your hips to hold you steady.
You glare down at him, glossed lips in a pout as you sigh through your nose. Dropping the brush, you rub your finger in one of the colors, wiping it over the bridge of his nose with tense concentration. He can smell the drinks you’ve had, a sweet candy like perfume that has his mind going a bit dumb, your necklace dangling against his chest. He grumbles as he inhales, though he can’t really complain. Not when you’re the one doing this. Your finger wipes over the tip of his nose before he speaks, “Don’t do anymore.” He whispers, “I’m gonna regret this in the morning.”
“No ‘m no’ done.” You argue, words blending together and not fully pronounced, tilting to look for a different item. You find what you want, a pencil, popping the cap off. You lean back down, nearly just falling forward on him, inhaling deeply, “Mm, eyes. Close your eyes.”
His lips twitch into a smile with that little action, but he actually closes his eyes. The warmth breath on his face as you lean in close feels like an invitation, but he can’t actually act on this, right? Your hand holds his cheek, the other holding the pencil the way a child holds a crayon, swiping it over his eyelid just above his lashes. They twitch from the odd touch, and you being so close makes his cock start to swell, his grasp on your hips tightening just the slightest.
“Stop.” He finally whispers softly.
The pressure immediately lessens as you start to babble, words flowing together, “Did I hurt you? ‘m sorry I pressed too hard I didn’ mean to-” The hand holding his cheek pets over him quite obnoxiously.
His body relaxes a little, but the sensation of you nearly smacking his cheek makes him grin. This is the last thing I should be doing right now. His internal monologue says. Get a grip. He reaches up and grabs your hand, “No- no you didn’t hurt me sweetheart.”
Sitting up a bit straighter again, your fingers curl around his as you complain, “Well I gotta- y’gotta match! I have t’do the other one.” Waving the pencil around seems to solidify your words.
“Don’t.” he says firmly, his voice coming out a little shaky. He lets his hand tighten around yours, other sliding down to the top of your thigh. “I think you’ve put enough makeup on me for one night. I doubt I’m gonna look good.” He grumbles teasingly, smiling softly. But you give him that little look, and he huffs a sigh, “Oh fine. Go on.”
You squeal a little happy noise, leaning back down, finger making his eyelids close. Your wrist rests on his forehead like a damn armrest, coloring the charcoal pigmented pencil over his other eye, giggling a little. He has to resist the urge to arch his back, stomach tensing. The sight of you leaning over him in this position would make anyone melt. But he can’t let himself do that.
“Alright, you’re done.” He murmurs, “No more.”
His hands encircle your wrists, holding onto them. You push back albeit weakly, pencil fumbling from your hand as you whine, bouncing on him a little, “No ‘m not done Rob y’need lipstick and- mmm, glitter. Yeah.”
He chuckles softly, “You’re trying to put glitter on me.” He mutters, shaking his head, still holding your wrists and letting you push back and wave them around. He knows you’re drunk, and he wants to get you off his lap. Especially because this is not good for him. He could kiss you with the way you’re bouncing on him like that. “No glitter.” He says firmly, not even wanting to entertain the idea.
“But.” You whimper softly, makeup accentuated eyes batting down at him as you push at his grasp, “It’s pink! We’ll match.”
His grip tightens as you continue to wiggle, staring up at you as he groans, “Stop bouncin’, I ain’t wearing no damn glitter.”
The wiggling continues, making you slide dangerously close to his lap again, belt buckle nudging against the crotch of your panties, “Rooooob.” The whine makes a shudder of arousal go up his spine, your hands pushing at his back and forth.
He grunts. He wants to pull you closer, press his lips against yours, but part of him really wants you off him. “Stop,” he mumbles, trying to keep control as his heart beats a bit faster, “Don’t make me be mean.” You feel him squeeze your wrists.
You whine again, leaning forward, “Nooo, jus’. See. We’ll match! My eyes are pink, you’ll’s be pink,” even in his hold, you use a finger to point at your face then his face, rings glinting in the dim lamp light of your room.
Rob grunts, his grip shifting to something a little less firm. This is the worst idea.
“I don’t wanna match. I don’t wanna be sparkly.” He says, though his voice is a little shaky in the moment. He just wants to close the gap between you two.
The words though, literally seem to break your heart as you frown, hands going limp in his hold as your eyes shine, “Y’don’t wanna match with me?” You ask softly, absolutely torn apart by his statement.
“Stop that.” He whispers harshly, narrowing his blues at you. The little pout is enough to make his cock swell more, his heart pound in his chest, make him forget all the reasons why this is not something he should be doing.
“I-I just..” he starts, argument dying before he can even come up with it, his mouth dry, “just get the damn glitter.”
Another happy squeal leaves you as he lets go of your wrists, hands returning to your hips. Your own hands dig in the pile, finding the item you used hours ago. “Here, see! It isn’t pink pink it’s a softer pink so it won’ even show up really.” Rambling, leaning in after swiping your finger in the product and then over one of his eyelids.
He tenses as you lean in just as close as before. The smallest sensations make him tremble, and his back arches slightly. He shouldn’t be doing this, this is dangerous territory. But he doesn’t stop it. Instead, he lets you swipe away. “There,” he whispers.
“Other one,” You slur, so matter of factly, doing the other one with the pad of your ring finger. You begin giggling, fixing it a little as you wiggle happily ontop of him, “You look prettyyyy.”
“Shut up.” He manages to growl out. The way you act proves just how drunk you are, and it only makes his brain more fuzzy. He should’ve said stop, he should’ve gotten you off his lap the moment you clambereed onto him. But he hasn’t and isn’t doing any of those things.
“I’m not pretty, I’m a zoologist.”
Giggles galore, the pink pot of glitter tumbles down with the rest of the products as you use your hands on his chest for support as you sway, “Think the lady big cats will have a crush on youuu?”
“Doubt it. If they liked pretty, they’d be all over you.” He rolls his shoulders, trying his best to ignore the way your arms push your tits together. He’s pushing his limits here. “You’re really drunk, huh?”
You giggle at his words, his compliment, and when he asks that you just hum, leaning down to nuzzle your head into his neck with your fronts flush together, back arched, “Mmmmmm… yes.”
“You’re gonna have a hell of a hangover.” He murmurs, arms slipping around your waist and keeping you flush against him. You can feel how tense his muscles are, his belt buckle knocking into your crotch, cold through your panties and sending a shock up your spine that you don’t react to. He inhales, smelling the scent of your shampoo, something vanilla, mixing with the alcohol and makeup and perfume. He’s warm, your safe space always, even now.
He feels like he’s a teenager again, getting wrapped up in his first crush. This is so unhealthy. Yet he holds you tightly, feeling your legs on either side of his waist, body heat warm on his.
Suddenly you gasp, sitting up abruptly, looking at him as if he offended you. Your hands find his in a smushing grasp, “Lipstick.” You completely forgot to give him lipstick. You move, climbing off of him, off the bed, losing a heel in the process as you go to your vanity.
This is such a bad idea. His thoughts hammer through his head as he watches your drunken form moves, looking at your little stand of lipsticks. He fingers tense, curling against the duvet, jaw tensing. You find what you’re looking for and Jesus Christ, climb on the bed on your hands and knees, crawling up his body to straddle him again like you previously were. Popping the cap off the lipstick, he groans, it’s bright red.
“You are not putting that on me.” He manages to get out, his hands staying against the duvet next to your legs.
“Bu…” You huff, “You need it!”
“I-..” He starts to groan, trying to find a way out of this, without touching you. If he touches you, he’s done for. The second he lets his hands wander after the sight you just gave him, he won’t be able to resist. “Just… just stop, I don’t need lipstick.” His tone sounds frustrated, more angry at his hardening cock than you.
But the color matches yours, a deep pinky red covered in gloss. Whining again, wiggling, complaining, “I did-.. everything else,” You gesture with a wave of your hand, “it looks silly without lipstick.”
“Stop wigglin’ around on me like that.” He outright warns, voice throaty. But he doesn’t push you away, not even when your ass pushes against the growing bulge in his jeans. “I don’t need lipstick.” He tries again, tone firmer, “This is a stupid idea, don’t-”
“‘s no’ stupid.” Whimpering, sitting your weight fully on him. Your dress rides up your thighs a bit more, tormenting him. “Do you not like that color?” You whine, swaying a bit.
“I like the color, looks pretty on you.” He grumbles, the sight of your dress hitching up further nearly enough to break him. In fact, every little movement you make is nearly enough for him. You’re making it so hard and so easy for him at the same time, and he has no idea which side is winning. “Just stop moving for a second.” He hisses, cheeks warm under the blush you gave him earlier.
“‘m not!” You complain, fully convinced you’re right as you bounce, wiggle, swaying at you lean forward. His belt buckle knocks into your clit, making you whimper in complaint, hand on his chest. He can feel the heat, the weight over his cock. Your drunken state makes things that are already too damn unbearable absolutely impossible.
“Y/N-” He grunts.
“Y’ don’ like the color, just, admit it.” You keep whining, sitting upright fully, holding the lipstick in front of his face. You sway a little again, a little too much because you start wobbling to the right. His hands are already on your waist, catching you.
“Jesus-” He groans, heart skipping a beat, “Just stay still.” He can feel his breath quicken, hands firmly holding your waist.
You’re already giggling when you start to fall, his hands nice and warm tickling your sides. You wiggle to adjust, upright, eyes lidded as he barely has to use any strength to keep you still. “Jus’ be honest you don’ like the red! What about the pink, see?” You pucker your lips, leaning forward to show off your own lipstick.
It kills him how cute you look right now. The blushing, your nicely done makeup, the dress that’s way too revealing, it makes it difficult to be really mad at you. He feels his breath hitch. “Fine.” He mumbles, barely able to move his mouth at the sight of you puckering at him, “I.. I like it.”
Giggling again, hands falling flat on his chest, “I fixed it before we started,” words smoothing together as you keep going, “so it’s perfec’.” Your hands slap his cheeks, holding his head still as you lean down and press your lips hard to his.
He’s frozen, eyes widening in a stunned daze. His brain isn’t working at the moment. And then you’re pulling away, giggling at the imprint of lipstick on his own lips now, color smeared a little.
“Y/N!” He hisses out, voice breathless.
“What?” You keep giggling, before your face drops on your gasp and smack a hand on his chest, “I should’ve asked. Sorry.” God you’re so drunk, because you start giggling again, “Looks pretty.”
Rob swallows, “Yeah?” He can feel his heartbeat in his throat, mouth dry. The feeling of your hands on his cheeks lingers and the sticky lipgloss makes heat coil in his gut. “Are you.. are you drunk enough that, if I ask you something.. you won’t remember in the morning?”
“Mm. ‘m not drunk.” You wave off, but you’re leaning down to snuggle against his neck like before, legs stretching down along his, cock pressing against your navel. You’ll be lucky to remember this right now.
“You’re drunk.” He confirms for you, a hand moving to your back and another going to stroke over your hair. “You’re a damn lightweight.. just answer the question.”
You giggle against his collarbone, nuzzling close like a kitty getting pets, “Am not! Nuh uh.. mmm.” You then become aware of his question and shrug, “Mm, probably- not.” You yawn on the last word.
He groans, your soft movements against him making it difficult to think. His fingers slide over your hair, cradling your head, “If I ask you something you’d say no to, would you say yes because you’re drunk?”
You lift your head to try and look at him, back arching further as you crane up, hips pressing down against his denim. “Mmmm, how do you-” you plant a finger on his chin, “know I’ll say no.”
“Because I know you too damn well. Just answer the question.” He repeats.
“Not enouuugh.” You stretch your arms up a bit, laying your cheek back against his chest, “I do-.. anything y’ask me, doesn’t… matter if ‘m drunk.”
“You’re an idiot.” He mumbles into your hair, fighting back a smile.
You whine, tilting your head back up, chin on his chest, “Tha’s mean..” Pouting a little, you stare hard before planting your hands on his cheeks like before, “Can I kiss you? I’ve always wan’ed to kiss you.’ You blurt out of no where, also seemingly not remembering I did kiss him to transfer my lipstick.
He’s silent for a few moments. The words are a hit to his heart, and his cock. He wants you so badly. He grumbles in protest, but he doesn’t have the heart to push you away. All he can do is grit his teeth, “Don’t… don’t say that just because you’re drunk.”
“‘m noooot.” You defend, “I wanna. You’re pretty and I love you.” You shake his face back and forth, wiggling atop him.
“I know, I know,” He murmurs, not wanting to push you off even as you wiggle on him, swaying. He’s gotta compliment himself on his patience and will to not move because you’re nearly grinding onto him. “Just… just go to sleep, huh? I know you really wanna kiss me but.. you’re drunk.”
“I don’ wanna sleep,” It leaves you in a whine again, so whiny tonight, tits pressed flush to his chest, “Wanna… do y’no’ wanna kiss me?” Pouting, you seem hurt by the idea you think of.
Your pouty attitude is enough to melt whatever remaining resistance he has towards kissing you. You’re so drunk, so needy… so damn hot right now. He’s already in too deep, he just couldn’t push away if he tried.
Not unless he wanted you to be unhappy.
“Just… just one. Okay? Then I’ll put you to bed.”
An excited squeal leaves your lips, wiggling to get closer, but it just makes your hips grind down into him and you exhale with a puff of air through your nose. Hands still holding his face, you crowd into his personal space, leaning down and pressing your lips on his. Eyes fluttering closed, he groans, hands sliding onto your hips to keep you stable. Every movement of your hips make him shamelessly grunt now, heart beating in his throat.
He tries to keep it a short kiss, but your tongue licks over his lip, lipstick smearing over both your mouths as he caves and parts his own lips. Your tongues meet and it makes you whine softly, breathless, and a long, low moan comes from him. He easily takes dominance, one kiss becomes a bit of tongue becomes making out.
He seems to snap out of it, pulling back, panting softly, “Dammit, you..”
Except your lips are already trailing over his chin, down his neck, “Mmm, more.”
This is a terrible idea. “That’s enough.”
Panting against his neck, you whimper, a pouty noise, “But I wan’... want mooorre.” You plead sweetly, back arching as your hips press into him, dress hiking up over your hips with the effort. The harder part of denim covering his zipper rubs into your clit and you moan.
It’s like a flip switches for you and him, as you push your hips down again to meet his, craving that friction again. “Rob, mmm, please, more.”
A low rumbling groan reverberates in his chest, his cock straining in his boxers as he fights the urge to grind up into you. “You need-” he tries to say before he’s overtaken by your whiny moans, “Y/N.. god.”
Against his better judgment, he pulls you back, kissing you hard, his hands squeezing on your hips. Your hands grab at his face, his jaw, whining lewdly against his lips with the slick noise of your tongues meeting. “Rob- mmh!” Pleading, begging.
He doesn’t hesitate this time, his hands sliding over the flesh of your ass to roll your hips down into him, his knees bending a bit for leverage. His lips make a mess of yours, smearing color onto your chin and above your lips, panting between open mouthed kisses. With a moan of your name, he leans up a little, lips moving onto your neck feverishly. Lidded eyes, he can still see the smeared lipstick his own lips leave on your skin, making a shudder run up his spine. You’re arching, head tilting to the side as a hand curls into the hair at the nape of his neck. His hands work your hips down, fabric of your dress riding up higher around your waist as you draw your knees back up to properly straddle him, you need it, need him, more.
“Fuck,” He groans against your skin, letting you roll down onto him, his fingertips pressing into your ass so hard they turn white. His grip turns tighter sliding up to your hips as he tries to still you, God dammit he shouldn’t be doing this now.
“No- wan’ it,” You’re pleading so sweetly, trying to press down onto him with a gasping noise. Your panties are ruined, slick turning the fabric darker and sheer, his lips suckling at a spot on your neck that makes your eyes roll back with a whine, “Rob!”
He hums against your skin, “Just-” He can’t resist. He doesn’t want to. His one and only goal in this moment is to give you more. He knows he shouldn’t… but this is what you want right?
And he’d do anything for his favorite girl.
“C’mon,” he mumbles, easing your hips back down in a slow rhythm, teeth nipping at you in little bites, suckling over them to soothe the barely there pain. His hands shift up to your hips, expecting to find the bunched up hem of your dress but instead he feels the soft cotton, smooth lace waistband of your panties. It makes his cock ache, a groan leaving him as his big hands rub over the skin, thumbs catching on the lace but not pulling it down, sucking another hickey into your skin. “Y/N, you’re gonna kill me.”
You shift, tilting your head up, glossy lips finding his neck and leaving sticky pink residue on his tanned skin. His head falls back against the duvet, growling lowly as he breathes out. Another grateful moan leaves you as he cants his hips up against you, denim pushing against the slick fabric of your panties, and if the music downstairs and you’re own moans weren’t so loud he’d have heard the slick noise it made.
Rob rolls over, hand on your back as he lays you on your bed, hovering over you. Your legs drape over his lap, his knees digging into the bed as he grinds his hips down with a louder moan this time. He’s still fully clothed, rutting against you and causing you to cry out. The spaghetti strap of your dress is falling off your shoulder, back arching as you grab onto his biceps with a whine, “Rob, please, need- need it,” your dress is hiked up your waist now, and looking down he can see the cute panties you wear ruined by your slick.
“You want it huh?” He pants out, arms bulging as he holds himself up over you. A part of him hates how this is the only way he’s gotten you, but another part of him loves it, you’re so desperate, needy, begging so nicely for him. He grumbles something against your neck.
“Yes!” Your hands are trembling, shoving them between your bodies to try and undo his belt. You can’t get a good grip though, not with the way he keeps rutting his hips down, “Rob,” you whine, needing help.
He obliges, sitting up on his knees with a hand ghosting over your thigh, the other undoing his belt flawlessly. It clanks as his fingers twist to undo his button, “You want it that bad?” He mumbles, his own skin flushed down to his neck, zipper undone as he lets go of your thigh to push his jeans down his hips.
“Yes! Yes, ple- mm, pleeaase.”
The sight of you squirming like that has him moaning softly, pushing his boxers down a few inches to finally get his aching cock out. He leans over you for another kiss, sloppy, panting against each others mouths. His hands paw at you, pulling your panties to the side, fabric wet against his fingers. Your own hands find his hair, tugging at the hair tie that keeps it half up, getting rid of it. He breaks the kiss just to go biting at your neck again, one hand between your legs. A finger pushes into you almost immediately, both of you moaning, he just has to feel you. He presses the heel of his palm against your clit, skin sticky with slick as he pushes in deep.
“Please,” He pleads this time, “I need to-”
“Take it, ‘m begging, please Rob.” You interrupt, tangling your hands into his soft hair and tugging it back to keep it from falling in his face. His grasp tightens even more, and he already decided he can’t say no to you. He pulls his finger out, fisting over his cock to spread your mess before pushing in slow. It draws a loud groan from him against your neck, making your back arch as you practically wail, hugging him tightly.
“God- sweetheart, you’re so fuckin’-”
“Mmm! Rob, Rob,”
“Easy, y’feel good, fuck.” He soothes, hips flush to yours and his pubic bone grinding into your clit as he moves slow. His elbows dig into the bed as he moves a hand to the back of your head, cradling you close. “You’re so damn hot..” He breathes, a slight whine to his tone.
Your hands leave his hair, grasping at your dress to try and tug it up, pull it down, you don’t know. He helps, free hand slipping the other strap off your shoulder and tugging the neckline down to free your tits, no bra. He groans softly, instinctively leaning down to latch his mouth to one of your nipples.
“Rob-!” His tongue swirls around the peak, sucking hard, moaning against your boob as the other is massaged roughly by his hand.
“So good,” He mumbles, not willing to pull away fully as he suckles, hips speeding up as his knees spread further. He adjusts his position and lets loose, hips smacking into yours hard with a loud slap of skin each time. It has you jolting against the bed each time, weeping with moans and whines. He eventually swaps tits, sucking on the other and massaging the spit soaked one, lips straying from your nipple to mouth at your skin and leave hickies.
He sits up a little to take in the sight of you, and his cock throbs. Your covered in hickies on your neck and tits, nipples reddened and swollen, lipstick smeared on your neck and mouth. Even your eyes are shiny, starting to water and smear the eyeliner on your lash line as tears drip down into your hair. His hands find your face, cradling your cheeks, thumbs wiping at the mess and smoothing over your chin, “So messy sweetheart.”
As if you couldn’t get any hotter, you tilt your head down and capture his thumb in your mouth, sucking at it and it makes him growl, hips pounding into you harder. You’re both panting, he’s pulling all kinds of embarrassing noises from you, little squeals and whimpers. Reluctantly, he pulls away from you to grab his shirt hem, tugging it up and tossing it onto the floor.
Greedy hands find his chest, feeling his muscled form, scratching over onto his back as he cages you in with his arms again, hair falling in your face. A hand hikes your hips up further onto his lap before resuming the hard pace, and he whines out your name as his eyes flutter. The hand on your hip slides, trying to push your dress up and off you. You assist, arching your back to tug it up and over your head, leaving you in just your panties and a single heel.
Hands find his back again, “Hah- mmmph! Harder, Rob- please,” you can’t even string proper words together. He nearly snarls at the plea, giving you what you want as he pounds into you. Slick drips down your ass, making a mess of his cock, his jeans, the bed.
“You’re- fuck!” He pants, forehead dropping to your collarbones. He can’t even hear the music downstairs anymore, nor the people, just the pounding of his own heart in his ears and your sweet whiny noises. Your hands run along his back, scratching the skin, feeling the scar on his shoulder blade.
“I’m gon’- Rob! I can’t-” Tears roll into your hairline, sweat making your skin clammy.
“I know, it’s okay, fuck,” he growls, “Y’can cum.”
“Uh- huh-” The heat coils further and further, tighter, one of his hands slipping down to practically smack against your clit, rubbing with three big fingers in circles, fingers turning slippery.
The coil bursts, an orgasm ripping through you that has you sobbing against his hair, gasping for air as you tremble. You’d fear you’d have blacked out for a moment if it wasn’t for the way you heard him moan, cock slipping from your pussy to cover your stomach in cum, groaning your name low into your neck. He can feel you shuddering, trembling, aftershocks jolting through you and him. Your thighs pressing against his waist going limp, he bites at your neck, licking over sweaty skin with a satisfied noise.
You’re a mess. A good mess. Chest heaving as you pant, your eyes fall shut, makeup smeared at the corners. One of his hands moves to your cheek, cradling you so gently, thumb swiping under your eyes, leaning in to kiss your lips.
“Mmmmm.” You hum happily into the kiss, slow, soft, all muscles like jelly.
“God, you’re a mess..” He mutters once he pulls away, eyes staring at you like you’ve hung the stars. He kisses your cheek, brushing hair from your face, wiping more tears away, “Are you okay?”
You start giggling when he calls you a mess, weak hands grabbing at his biceps, “Mmm… mmhmm.” You hum lazily, exhausted.
A genuine smile spreads over his face, a laugh leaving him at your reaction. “How drunk are you? Y’gonna forget this?” He whispers, voice a bit raspy.
Another tear, body slowly calming down, giggling again, “‘m not drunk..” You defend, arms looping around him for a hug.
“Oh really?” He smiles, his own arms keeping you close as he hovers over you. He pulls out, a mess of slick coating his cock and dripping from your entrance, making his breath catch and a shock of arousal spread through him again. But you nuzzle into his neck, pulling him down onto you more.
“I love you.” You mumble. You say it just like you do before you hang up with him on the phone, when you two part ways after lunch, but you mean it.
He tenses, cradling you in his arms as he slides over onto his side, pulling you close. His grasp on you tightens, not intentionally, subconsciously not wanting to let you get away. “You love me?” He plays softly, chin resting on your head.
“Mmm..” This is different. “No’ like.. normal.. but.. I really do.” You nod, getting sleepy already.
He tilts his head and stares down at you, eyes a bit wide. Surely you’re joking, right? Before he can form words, you relax into his arms and mumble again, “Y’don’t have to… say it back. Jus’.. stay tonight.. please?”
Part of you fears he doesn’t feel the same, that this will be a nice dream before it all goes to shit in the morning.
He hears your words, his arms tightening around you. He wants to say that he loves you too. That he means it. That he’s felt this way for a long time. But the words are caught in his throat, lips barely able to form a whisper before you’re already asleep.
—
The noise of the party has died down over the past few hours, well into the early morning. You roll over, makeup products crunching under your weight and a stray arm still around you. The uncomfortable plastic makes you whine, blindly shoving at the items. Rob is still awake at this point, though he’s half asleep. Your whine makes him murmur, brows raising a little as he turns his head to you. Rather than speaking yet, he wraps his hand around your front and tugs you back against him.
“Mmm..” You grunt with the movement, turning to look up at him with bleary eyes, still a little drunk but some alcohol has worked its way out of your system.
He cracks a little smile down at you, “Hey..” he murmurs, hand brushing your hair back.
You giggle softly, leaning into his chest, “Hi.”
His chest vibrates with a chuckle at your drowsy state. He admires you silently, petting over your hair, the other hand on your bare waist. “I hope y’don’t hate me in the morning.”
A frown tugs at your lips, pushing into a pout, still not being very rational, “Why would I?” It leaves you in a little whine, latching onto him like a koala. One arm over his chest, leg thrown over his lap.
He laughs quietly at your whining, the way you cling to him, something he’s familiar with. “You don’t regret what we did?” It’s a genuine question, the worry in his voice clear that he’s concerned about you waking up in the morning and feeling shameful.
“Mm mm,” you shake your head, eyes so in love as you stare up at him, “Do… do you?”
“No.” The answer is immediate, “No I don’t.” His hand squeezes on your waist softly, though he wonders if you really understand the gravity of it right now.
Deep down you know. You’ve thought about this more times than you can count and it happening whilst you’re drunk might have been the only way you would’ve allowed it to come true, too fearful of ruining the entire friendship we’ve built over the years.
His response comforts your bleary mind as you nuzzle back into his neck, mumbling a content noise.
He doesn’t let a good moment be spoiled, holding you close to fall back asleep.
—
The morning after, he’s slipped downstairs to make some coffee. Luckily the house isn’t very trashed, just lots of garbage to take out and drinks to clean up, a living room to rearrange properly again. Footsteps on the hardwood catch his attention as you come into the kitchen. Hair messy, makeup smeared on your skin and eyes, picking at something in your eye, in his shirt.
The sight alone has him exhaling softly, he can’t stop himself from staring. “Morning..” He murmurs, trying to sound more put together than he is.
You shuffle over, blindly hugging him, arms looping around his bare waist. For a moment you just stand there, his hand finding your back, before you lift your head up with your chin on his chest. Despite the pounding headache you have, you start giggling at the sight of him, a hand reaching up to smear on his eyelid, “I didn’t do a bad job…” Commenting on his, backwards, sloppy makeup job you gave him.
You’re so adorable. He breathes out with a smile, shaking his head, “No you didn’t.” Kissing your forehead, he loops both arms around you. He doesn’t want to ever let go.
You let a few moments of silence linger, resting your cheek on his chest against as you think. You remember every moment from last night, every action that led to you two fucking. And you don’t regret it. But you also don’t want to dwell on it, make it some big conversation, that doesn’t feel right. So instead, you tilt your head up again, “Do you wanna take a bath together?”
He stares for a moment, as if expecting something else, “You mean, like, right now?”
“We are kinda… nasty.” You mutter, shrugging your shoulders. Smeared makeup on both your faces, necks, not having cleaned up from last night either. He huffs a small laugh at that, nodding in agreement.
“You want to?” Rob rubs his hands up over your back, smiling.
You seem to hesitate for a moment, staring up at him, before nodding. Not just in confirmation to the bath, but to this. The hesitance seems to make him understand a little better. You had said it wasn’t a regret, and now you’re acting normal, close to him, standing in his shirt with what he’s gonna assume a hangover headache.
This was intentional. A deliberate decision on your part. He grins, and hikes you up against him, hands under your thighs. You squeal out a noise, grabbing onto his shoulders so you don’t fall, “Rob!”
Not that he’d ever drop you.
———————♡
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Enemies with Benefits
Part 2
Part 1 here
…………………………………………………………………………….
When she didn’t see any of them for the next three nights, Y/N was hopeful that their previous encounter would be their only one, and that she’d not have to deal with any of the Shelby men again. She’d gotten word before they’d ever entered her club that they had just purchased the only place left besides hers in the city that hadn’t yet come into Shelby ownership, and due to the reputation these guys had built for themselves, she knew she should’ve been prepared for an ambush.
The Shelby family was influential, greedy, and full of men who thought that money meant control, even though they already had more money than God. The simple fact was, they didn’t need her place to maintain their wealth. They hadn’t needed the last four places they’d purchased. They simply wanted to own everything for the sake of owning everything. Well, fuck that.
After arriving at work that night, Y/N headed out into the club with one of her managers, Elise, who was briefing her on how things had been going that night so far. They were down a bartender, and Y/N prepared to get behind the bar to help them get caught up when Elise gave her a final update.
“Oh, and there’s a guy at the bar who asked for you. He’s been here about an hour, waiting for you.”
“Huh?” Y/N squinted as she looked up from her phone. “What guy?”
“That one,” Elise said, pointing out in front of them.
Turning her head, Y/N followed Elise’s finger, and her stomach flipped as her eyes landed on who she was pointing to.
Sitting at the far end of the bar, a tumbler in one hand and a cellphone in the other, was Tommy Shelby. As if on cue, as soon as Y/N’s gaze landed on him, he looked up, and their eyes locked from across the room. A smile slowly appeared on Tommy’s face as he looked at her, but Y/N knew her own expression was not quite as friendly as she finished processing the fact that he was there.
“Who is he? Are you dating him?” Elise asked as Y/N turned back to her. “He’s hot.”
“He’s also a pompous prick,” Y/N replied. “True to Shelby reputation.”
“He’s a Shelby?” Elise asked, raising her eyebrows. “Wait, are you selling this place? Is that why he’s here?”
Y/N looked at Elise.
“No, I’m not selling this place – you know I’d never do that.”
“I heard how they bought out the other place uptown,” said Elise. “Now we’re the last club they don’t own.”
“Yeah,” Y/N replied. “And it’s going to stay that way. Now do me a favor and don’t tell anyone else who he is. I don’t want everyone freaking out thinking I’m selling this place or that their jobs are on the line. Just keep it quiet, and if he asks you anything about this place, don’t answer him, ok?”
“Ok,” Elise replied with a nod. Then she and Y/N parted ways, and Y/N was left to figure out how quickly she could get Tommy Shelby out of here.
Of course he’d come back. She’d been dealing with men like this the entire 8 years she’d owned this place, and they never gave up after the first try. She’d been silly to hope that she wouldn’t see any of them again, and as she headed behind the bar, she decided to put an end to this before he wasted any more of her time.
Their eyes locked again, and Tommy enjoyed the visual of her as Y/N walked towards him, his arrogant smile still present as she approached. Stopping in front of him, Y/N rested her forearms on the bar top as Tommy slipped his phone back in his jacket pocket.
“I told you already, I’m not selling this place. So you can skip whatever pitch or new angle you thought you’d try tonight and just head on home.”
“Hello to you, too,” Tommy replied, still smiling. “Do you greet all your patrons this way? I don’t know that everyone would find it as amusing as I do.”
Y/N glared at him.
“You’re wasting my time,” she said.
“You approached me, love. I’m simply here for a drink,” Tommy replied.
She glared again.
“Why not pay a visit to literally any other club in town? As the owner, you’ll get your drink for free.”
“And miss the opportunity for sparkling conversation with you? Not worth it.” Tommy took a sip from his glass and then looked at her again. “You look sexy as hell, by the way.”
Y/N scoffed in offended disbelief. The absolute nerve and arrogance of this guy was intolerable.
Still looking at her, Tommy lifted his glass again, but before it made it to his lips, Y/N reached out and grabbed it out of his hand, dumping the contents into the sink next to her behind the bar and then setting the glass back down.
“Oh, look at that, drink’s all gone,” she said with feigned remorse. “Time for you to be on your way, Mr. Shelby.”
God damn, she was a pistol. And Tommy fucking loved it. He made a face of amused indifference and then spoke.
“Nah, think I’ll stick around anyway. You’ve made me feel so welcome that I couldn’t possibly leave now and risk offending you.”
“You offended me the minute you walked in the door,” Y/N replied.
“I told you, love, I’m just here for a drink. No ulterior motives on the agenda tonight.”
Before she could respond, one of the bartenders called to Y/N, and she looked over her shoulder and told them she’d be right there. Turning back to Tommy, she narrowed her eyes.
“Don’t keep my staff from helping the customers who actually matter,” she said to him.
Tommy smirked as she stepped away, and after several minutes of watching her, he noticed some of the tension on her fade away as she began working alongside her bartenders, taking orders and making drinks for the countless patrons that approached the bar.
It was the real reason he’d come here tonight – to assess her. He knew how successful this place was, and he was intrigued to see exactly how Y/N ran this place that made it so. As he watched her from his seat, it quickly became apparent that she was not an owner who played the owner card.
She dove right in with her employees, picking up the slack wherever it was needed while still managing her staff and taking care of patrons. She knew how to make a drink, how to handle a rowdy customer, and how to keep everyone happy. She wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty, and she was a hell of a multitasker. This was the knowledge Tommy had come here for tonight, and he was pleased to learn that her work ethic fit right in with his plan.
Although he hadn’t said a word since she’d walked away from him, Y/N found it impossible to forget that Tommy Shelby was still sitting at the end of her bar. She could feel him watching her, and she refused to meet his eyes any time she had to be down by his end of the bar. She didn’t believe for a second that he wasn’t there because he was still after this place, and she just hoped that if she kept shooting him down and making this hard, he’d eventually give up.
After a while, Y/N got stuck towards where Tommy was seated as a large bachelorette party had gathered at that end of the bar and were demanding a plethora of mixed drinks and shots. Turning to reach for several glasses from the back-up supply under the sink, Y/N unintentionally looked at Tommy and saw that someone had refilled his drink at some point. As their eyes met, his glass was mid-air, and he winked at her over the rim as he took a sip. In spite of herself, she began to smile in amusement, but quickly caught it and turned back to the large group of ladies as she and one of her bartenders continued to fulfill their drink orders.
After they’d finally caught up and there was a moment of calm, Y/N began gathering up the mess of shot glasses, cocktail napkins, and toothpicks that the women had left behind.
“You’ve got quite the job description here, love,” Tommy said to her as she wiped off the counter. “Most owners don’t bother with actually helping their staff.”
“Yeah, well, I’m full of surprises,” Y/N replied, not looking at him.
“That’s the understatement of the century,” Tommy replied.
She looked up at him then, and when their eyes met, she once again almost smiled, but her attention shifted when one of her security guys walked past.
“Hey, Trevor, take this.” She then reached into her shirt and pulled out an ID card from her bra. Tommy’s eyes flashed to her chest, and he smiled to himself as he caught the briefest glimpse of the strapless lace inside her shirt. Y/N spoke again as she reached the card across the bar top.
“Tell Marcus that if he lets one more underage kid in here, he’s fired,” she said to Trevor. “That’s the third fake ID I’ve been handed this week.”
Further impressed, Tommy watched her as she gave another instruction to the guy before sending him off. So not only was she not afraid to get her hands dirty, but she also paid attention.
“Not too keen on letting the kids have some fun?” Tommy asked her.
She looked at him.
“Not when it jeopardizes my business,” she replied seriously. “It only takes one underage kid getting drunk and smashing into a telephone pole to get this whole place shut down.”
Tommy nodded, then pulled a cigarette out of the pack he’d set on the bar top.
“You know smoking kills you, right?” Y/N said to him.
“I would think that’s what you want, eh?” he replied with a smile.
Finally, Y/N allowed herself to smile back.
“Well, yes, but I’d imagined much more interesting ways for you to go than that.”
Tommy chuckled, and once again, Y/N was temporarily distracted by his gorgeous smile.
“Speaking of going, I’m afraid I’ve got to head out,” Tommy said to her.
Clicking her tongue, Y/N cocked her head.
“Darn,” she replied sarcastically.
Smiling again, Tommy stood from his stool and buttoned his suit jacket, and when he looked at her again, their eyes met a final time.
“I’ll see you soon, love,” he said.
Then he turned and walked out, leaving Y/N wondering if his last sentence had been a promise or a threat.
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mhy really did Helia and Coralie DIRTY with that timeskip. They've been sent exploring where no CE human has been before, something that's both difficult and potentially /lethal/ See the IRL space race for a close example, all of them went through gruelling training and were fully prepared to not come back.
(contains events from Oxia's chapter 2 so don't read if you haven't finished that)
Helia's a workaholic who's OBSESSED obsessed with getting stronger and romanticized going out in a blaze of glory since childhood. (dorm and bridge interactions) (Hey doesn't that remind you of anyone) Being an A-rank doesn't help. May I remind you she's been a valkyrie since Otto was in charge? Her A-rank title is her greatest pride. She's been mentored by the Goddess of Earth and yet she's still objectively speaking a nobody.
Coralie, in contrast, is a BIG SHOT. She's got furry mutations, got a PhD at 17, her parents are leaders of a military branch(AE is a branch of the US army right? or am i misremembering?), she inserted the Planck constant into her name ffs. Basically almost all the time she was the most specialest girl in the room.
Then these two spent a year locked together in a rocket(why were they flying by spaceship, again?) and started their most exciting mission of mining rocks with Helia as the muscle and Coralie as the brain.(Coralie insists Helia isn't dumb, just childish) Helia took care of things like maintenance (she wrote the voyage log for example) Then they discover an analogous structure to the Eye of the Deep(lovingly nicknamed the Sandpit) and try to pry it open(Tesla HATED the idea, Nagamitsu was very enthusiastic though)(why is this woman still working for Schicksal again?). Du-dunn, they get inside and now they're stuck in a bubble universe where their earthly titles mean nothing, their roles in an explorer team are already taken by other people (Sena, Entropy) and bitches who seem to know Something keep talking about using them as a blood sacrifice(Perception, Chenxue). Yeah, rub it in that they're disposable.
Coralie is very openly pissed about it. She's stuck far away from her home, surrounded by UwU quirky beings and worst of all, she's there because she didn't listen to her mom. And Helia? That's been her reality forever. She stays silent in discussions because she feels like she has nothing to contribute, she's always guarding the rear when they walk somewhere(visible in group shots, wasn't stated outright) and when Lantern ambushes them she doesn't try to flee like Songque, doesn't take out her weapons in a defensive stance like Coralie(well guns aren't the most defensive weapon but you get what i mean) but steps forward as if attempting to shield Entropy and Senadina with her body. Helia is literally the Valkyrie Ideal. Valuing protecting others over her life, even if they barely know each other. Also abs.
oh my god this got way longer than i thought it would and i didn't even mention the Union episode
#honkai impact 3rd#honkai impact#helia appreciation post#erdős helia#coralie 6626 planck#thinking about helia made me warm up to coralie tbf#actually the doylist explanation for why nagamitsu still works as a scientist is because she encapsules otto's schicksal#he's dead but the legacy lives on#you can't just change something built up for 5 centuries in 6 years
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sewing and dyeing
I have managed to achieve some sewing!
I finished the silk dress from the yardage I'd dyed around Christmas, even hemmed it and everything, I feel very accomplished. So that's done.
And the linen bias-cut slip dress I made around Christmas, which I never wore anywhere because it was white-- I've managed to dye it, and it came out much more interesting than I'd expected! So, pictures and discussion behind the cut.
[image description: A mirror shot of me, a fat blonde white woman, in a grungy basement, wearing a clingy white knit tank top with a drapey cowl neck]
Firstly, I made this tank top (I bound the armholes, it looks nicer that way)-- started with the Cashmerette Wexford top, then used this tutorial from Threads Magazine to hack a cowl neck onto it. Ages ago I'd had a cowl neck sleevless top that I loved, and wore holes in, and couldn't find one again. So I used a yard or so of very slinky knit, probably some kind of rayon blend from Dharma would be my guess.
I tried it on, and immediately threw it in the soda ash solution to dye it because I don't need a white top like this, it'll get shit dripped on the tit immediately so I might as well give it a busy dye job. I will make more of this top in other fabrics, but 1) make the cowl just a bit longer so it drapes farther, and 2) make the self facing deeper, I feel like this one is going to flip out all the damn time.
I also think I'll hem this shorter, but I haven't hemmed it at all so far so it remains to be seen.
Secondly, I have nearly finished this button-up camp-collar shirt from the Cashmerette Club, in a natural linen that I have so many yards of from an old project I never did.
[image description: me in the same grubby cluttered mirror view of my basement, wearing a gray shirt, slightly wrinkly, with unfinished sleeve edges and I'm holding it shut because there aren't buttons on it yet. There are two breast pockets and one is significantly higher than the other.] So the breast pockets are optional and uh I am definitely only going to put one or zero on the next one of these I make because I checked and rechecked and rechecked and this is literally the best I could do at making them even??? ugh also they don't sit right because there's a bust dart and one of them went on ok and somehow the other one is overlapping the bust dart slightly, which means it's Not On Straight. Just.... not optimal. I get why there are pockets but I also super get why they're optional. No thanks!
I hate the interfacing too, it was awful to work with and feels like paper. But once I've finished and washed this I hope it will settle down. (In the past I've used shitty salvaged interfacing for things I was making, and used spray adhesive and sewed the edges where possible, and it worked fine. This, I splashed out and got the stuff in the package that's ostensibly meant to fuse on with your iron and guess what doesn't fucking work? that. So it's been just a nightmare and I'm not buying the nice stuff again because it fucking sucks. I get that you don't want to not interface the collar of a shirt like this, and the button band would be awful un-interfaced, but christ, I'm using the flimsy salvaged shit I cut out of an old bedskirt next time.
The directions on this pattern are... well as long as you know what they mean it's great. But there's a video sewalong, and that helped a ton. This is a very complicated pattern and yet somehow none of it has been beyond me, even though i sewed one bust dart inside-out first thing, and immediately also sewed the yoke to the back inside-out, and then right away also assembled the collar inside-out because I was so distracted by how much the interfacing did not actually fucking do what it was supposed to (yes i followed the package directions, no it did not fucking fuse). I got a lot of seam-ripping done, is all. (It really is a cool pattern, and if you manage to get through the directions, which are extremely specific, you wind up with a fully-finished interior with almost all the seam allowances beautifully enclosed-- it's cool as fuck.)
I have fabric already set aside to make at least two more of these. IDK how much I'll wear them but I love them. (I *have* coveted a shirt-dress for years, with one Almost Okay from Torrid that I wore a lot but have recently realized looks awful on me actually, so I will be making it a dress too, no fear.)
But then! Also: Dyeing!
So I looked on Dharma Trading for their tutorials and was not disappointed. I don't want to do traditional tie-dye, but I want the effect I got at Christmas with the silk scarves that I space-dyed. I don't have to steam-set fiber-reactive dyes, so that's a plus.
I saw this tutorial on dharma for ombre dyeing and I'm super gonna try that next, but haven't yet.
Tie Dye Tutorial on Dharma Trading: this is the one I used as a starting point.
So I dissolved a cup of soda ash in a gallon of warm water, put that in a plastic bucket, and soaked my fabric for 5-15 minutes, and then I decided to do a kind of gravity-based thing with squirt bottles and a spray bottle. I hung a clothes hanger from the gas pipe in the ceiling, put a big plastic mortar tub underneath, put a smock on myself, mixed up my dyes (and urea and in some cases salt, as directed by dharma the all-knowing-- half-cup batch size for the squirt bottles, and quarter-cup sizes for the spray bottle), and got to work one garment at a time.
I put some pleats into the garments and held them with clothes pins. Then I sort of "drew" along the pleats, picking a color to be the tops, and a second color to squirt into the valleys. I filled in with the spray bottle to highlight the pleats more, since that would hit the outer parts of the folds but the interior would be shadowed and stay white; then I could go draw in those white areas with my shadow color.
Everything then would drip down toward the hem of the garment, though there wasn't really that much movement; if I wanted a drip to cascade, i had to draw it down there myself with the squeeze bottle.
[image description: two squeeze bottles with narrow nozzles, and a spray bottle of more rigid plastic with a pump-dispenser top, sitting on top of a piece of stained scrap fabric on an old washing machine with tubs of dye powder sitting in the background.]
I also did a shirt where I spread it out on a rack in a pan at an angle, and sprinkled a mixture of dye powder and salt on it. Then I went and used the squirt bottles too, but it was a fun technique and I'd use it again.
[image description: a garment lies in loose folds, speckled with dark blue-green spots, and at the top decorated in splotches of blue and green.]
I wrapped the garments in plastic, and put the smaller ones into plastic bags, and then hung them outside in the sun so that a) the dye would flow downward rather than backstaining the areas I'd meant to leave white, and b) the sun would warm them so the dye could cure, and c) the plastic would keep them wet because the dye only chemically sets while damp.
Let them cure for 24h, and then today I brought them in and rinsed them for about a thousand years, and then washed them and gave them a soak and rinse in dye-fixative, then dried them on the line.
Here is the linen bias-cut slipdress I made at Christmas time, dry and ironed.
[image description: a dress on a hanger, with my hand pulling out one side of the skirt: the straps and neckline are bright emerald green, and then the body is streaked vertially with varying shades of green, teal, and dark blue, with a little purple at the hemline. The colors are light and a little muted, and some white shows between them in a few places.]
The linen took the dye lightest, the cotton a little darker, and a small offcut of rayon I'd had sitting around took the dye darkest of all.
here's everything still damp on the line:
[image description: under a blue sky, a metal clothes-tree-style line on the left has several small items in shades of green and turquoise, and then a line crosses the screen from right to left through the middle, with several items hanging on it. In the background are two cotton dresses, one mostly teal and the other green at the top with a white and purple skirt, then the linen dress from above in the middle, and closest to the camera is a mostly-quite sheet of fabric with geometric lines in green, blue, and purple.]
The foreground fabric is the rayon, and I sandwiched it between two blocks of wood with rubber bands holding it in place, and just saturated the edges with dyes. I'm extremely into it, it came out beautifully. i have more rayon so I am going to make something from that to ombre-dye, for sure.
I have severely overdone my physical activity the last two days though; I lay awake for a couple of hours the other night with my sciatic nerve just burning, and I expect the same tonight. We'll see though, maybe I'lll be pleasantly surprised, or just lucky.
Oh yah I'm trialing Ritalin, but just like the other medications, it's such a low dose and it's not extended-release. I looked up how to take it and the directions assumed I'd been given two or three pills to get through a day. Not so! So I have about four medicated hours in a day, and keep experimenting with where to put them. I don't notice it wearing off the way I did with Adderall though, so there's that at least.
Maybe by the end of May I can try a full dose of something, and see if that helps. IDK, it seems like it might.
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Hubby Price x ADHD reader 💫
this was an anons request <33
You and Price have been married for a few years now. He's aware of your ADHD, and he's so patient with you, you can't help but be forever grateful for this angel man. Sure, not everyday is perfect, because sometimes you'll forget really important dates, chores, or even your own health. John can't help but get just a little frustrated as this happened more then not, over and over. Though, he knows you literally cannot help it, and he does the best he can to help you.
Much like today, where you found yourself glued to your desk on your day off of work, barely moving from your seat. "You just have to finish this one tiiiny project. It's not that big of a deal, right? It hasn't even been thaaat long", is what a voice in your head keeps telling you over all the other sounds going on in your little noggin, but it has infact been hours. You started hyperfocusing on various arts and crafts project that you saw tiktok at around 10am, and it's currently 2pm. You've forgotten to eat, but this is almost done, right? You can get up soon because there's just a few more things until you're done, right..?
The front door opens, and your husband came back from running a few errands. He sighs, kicking off his boots, looking around as he locked the door. "Y/N, sweetheart, I'm home." He called out, earning no reply from your end. He hummed thoughtfully, soon making his way to your little office room. "Where are you, poppet?" He inquired once more, quickly finding you at your desk as he poked his head into the room. You finally processed the that John said something to you, and walked into the room. "Oh, hello, my love." You replied, but didn't bother looking up at him. His eyebrows furrowed just a little, and he walked closer, massaging your shoulders gently once his large hands got to you. He had already recognized your behavior, and decided to voice a question. "Be honest with me, hun. How long have you been sitting at this desk, mm?"
You then tried to splutter out an answer, finally sitting up properly, your back aching after having the posture of the Hunchback of Notre Dame. "Pfft, uh, like.. um.." you couldn't even respond, not actually knowing how much time had went by. "What.. time is it..?" You chuckled nervously, to which John sighed, his hands stopping their ministrations. "My love.." he grumbled, attempting to hide the slight annoyance in his tone. You finally looked back at him with an anxious smile, and your husband spun your chair around so you weren't even facing what you were hyperfocusing on. "Cmon. I'm going to go make us a nice lunch, and force you to relax this afternoon." He stated, leaving no room for any arguments, and soon picked you up bridal style, making you squeal a little, your arms wrapping around his neck to hold yourself up.
"I'm sorry, John." You murmured, looking away from him , but he just smiled softly. "Oh hush. I knew what I was getting myself into when I married you.. we'll worry about the chores later." He purred, "But for now, let's get some food in your belly. Knowing you, I can only assume you haven't eaten yet, you silly bugger." Your husband kissed your temples.
#emovulture blogs#john price x reader#john price#john price cod#captain john price#john price x you#john price x y/n#fluff fic#x reader#fluffy fanfic#I HOPE THIS IS GOOD AAHDHHHRRRRGHHH
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RISE AND SHINE
(IN WHICH GRANDMA IS A HARDCORE BEOMGYU/YOU SHIPPER)
welcome your first day of work!! seeing that a lot of you are reading all of the timelines, i'm trying to keep the paths as different as possible, but i'm still sowwy if you have to read through too many similar scenarios apart from the common ones. trying my best !! oh, and sorry for the long wait :(
COMMON TIMELINE WARNING: for those of you who are reading through all the paths, you'll get to this scenario more than once. there's no important details added, so you can skip it if you've fount it on another timeline!
if you're new here, hi! this is a multi-choice beomjun love triangle au fic !! if you wanna choose your own paths, go back to the beginning!
the morning sun saunters into the room, painting the walls with a soft, golden glow. easy does it, unlike the chaotic wake-up calls of seoul's streets. you had to admit, dragging yourself out of bed felt like a breeze in this beach town, where the sun tiptoed in with a gentle whisper.
you wake up happy, and the promise of working at a bookstore—it just fits right for you. so, after a brief internal fashion showdown (do not refrain from consulting your pinterest for your fic of choice), you are dressed and ready to go. that's when the smell of grandma’s breakfast gets to your room.
“y/n, dear, quick! come down before breakfast gets cold!” grandma's voice chimes through the bottom floor. it's astonishing, the energy this woman has in the mornings.
downstairs, you find yourself face-to-face with a steaming bowl of haejjanguk. a subtle jab, maybe, but grandma doesn't comment on the soju-based-gathering huening kai and you had the night before. instead, she chooses to ask about something else.
“so, had a visitor last night, hmm?” she pours herself some coffee, cool as if she had just asked about the weather, and settles across from you with her newspaper. "boyfriend, maybe?"
you nearly choke on your stew. “what? oh, uh, yeah– i mean, no. no way. beomgyu stopped by to see kai.”
your grandma raises an eyebrow, not even bothering to look up from the pages. “ah, i see. and he found you instead?”
“yeah, you could say he did,” you mutter. your grandma's inquisitive tranquility is doing a great job at taking you out of it. “but it’s no big deal, really, just beomgyu.”
just beomgyu, who had been just so funny and witty the night before. and just beomgyu, who has such sweet eyes. and just beomgyu, who told you he thought you were cool at a time when you were invisible to just about everyone else.
“he’s grown to be quite handsome, hasn’t he?” grandma muses, more to herself than to you. "tall, that's a good thing. and he has strong hair. a bit too long, but can be tamed..."
you shrug, trying to play it cool. “i guess he's alright.” you blatantly lie.
“he's even more good looking than that old crush of yours, if you ask me...” she lets the words hang in the air, fishing for a reaction.
"w-what?" you raise an eyebrow. you know who she's talking about, of course, but you need to pretend you don't. your literal grandma can't tease you about this. "who are you talking about?"
"oh, you know..." she begins to say, "the bohemian one. you used to be head over heels for that boy."
“oh, come on, grandma, that was ages ago,” you protest.
“true, true. but beomgyu is more handsome,” she remarks casually.
“grandma, do you like beomgyu?” you ask.
“he’s a fine boy, dependable. hard to come by these days. and he’s really good friends with your cousin, which counts for something,” she replies, scornful towards huening as ever. “speaking of your cousin, why isn’t he up yet?” she questions, springing up from her seat with surprising vigor. she's got the energy of ten yous.
"the sun isn't even fully up yet..." you chime in, relieved for the change of subject. but the peace is short-lived. she's finished her coffee; ergo, she's finished her break. she's done with the interrogation bit. like a drill sergeant, she storms upstairs to wake kai up.
when she returns, she dives into the kitchen for clean-up duty without wasting a second. you attempt to lend a hand but receive a sharp slap on the wrist. "it’s summer, gran, cut him some slack," you say, rubbing the affected area with your other hand.
"slack? it's summer for you too, and you're off to work. unlike him. he works but doesn't get paid. he's a pushover, your cousin." grandma grumbles, her voice slicing through the clatter of dishes.
“what do you mean?” you prod.
“he does volunteer work,” she spits out. "spends more time at the geoje social centre than in his own bed. and it is nice of him, yes. but one must be kind, not stupid.”
curiosity burning, you press for more details. “volunteer work? what's he helping with?”
with a dismissive wave, grandma brushes off your inquiries. “who cares? all i know is he’s not getting paid for it.”
before you get a chance to dig deeper, huening stumbles into the kitchen, still half-asleep, looking like he’s just fought a battle with his bedsheets. “you’re up already?” he groans at you, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“yeah, first day at work,” you reply with a sympathetic grin.
“oh, good luck." he smiles lazily, his words interrupted by a massive yawn. "wanna hang out later? i can come pick you up.”
“sure, hyuka. once you've fully woken up we can hang out,” you chuckle, slinging your bag over your shoulder and starting your way to the door.
you grab you things and leave the house after ruffling huening´s hair in exchange for a dismissive hand gesture, as if he was trying to keep a bee away.
now off to work! or should you get coffee first?
NEXT PART !!
#txt fic#txt beomgyu#txt yeonjun#multichoice#txt angst#beomgyu#beomgyu x reader#beomgyu x you#beomgyu fic#txt#beomgyu angst#tomorrow x together#txt fluff#beomgyu fluff#txt headcanons#txt smut#yeonjun x reader#yeonjun x y/n#yeonjun#blue crush
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Art trade with @lil-hater 🖤🖤 (thank you so much for your drawing too :'')) Ig post: X
#papa emeritus iv#ghost band#ghost band fanart#ghost fanart#my art#art trade#digital art#fan art#literally not finished yet I worked it out#pls check her art out 😭#also I made an instagram acc (💀) so the link is there in the caption if you don't mind to!#my scribbles will be more likely be seen there than here bc im a lazy bastard here#im still gonna post here anyways#cannot leave this lol#pls this was a practice that ended up as a drawing el oh el
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AUEGH
#ruby rose#rwby#obligatory tiny distressed ruby#my art#HELLO I HAVE OFFICALLY FINISHED YET AGAIN ANOTHER ONE OF MY SEMESTERS#and holy shit it was the most awful by far#i felt like absolute shit the entire sem and was behind in literally all of my classes#it was so shit that i actually skipped a class because of the stress of being behind on work. which i had never done before.#i am a criminal now lmao i feel so bad#also a little mad at myself because i know i could've done better. i've been doing the bare minimum and cutting corners#which was very noticeable lol#im gonna actually split my upcoming semester this time my ass and health cannot do this anymore#BUT ANYWAY I FINISHED MY SEMESTER RAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH#COUGHS OUT BLOOD AND SINKS BACK INTO EARTH'S CORE AND EVAPORATES#IM DONE!!!#also my eyes are really red now for some reason#probably from the lack of sleep or the long hours staring at my bloody laptop idk#probably both#yeah i should go sleep now lol bye#ranting in the tags because i don't know how to talk like a normal person lmao#sorry if you read all this nonsense jkdhkfsdhfkhd#but i should be more active around here again!
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i love my friends from the stable smg
#artsational#digital art#fanart#art#fable smp#fsmpblr#fsmp#fablesmp#i literally dont know how to tag these guys#i dont know how this fanbase works#i literally just drew art and connors characters bc i love them and they are cool ppl#also theres totally more i havent finished yet#so look out
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Alright bestie I’m on that shit again
So yandere Superman, right? Like obviously your fucked. The only other yandere in existence that might just be able to keep you from him is Batman, but even then he’d probably sooner work together just to ensure your safety- but that’s a prompt for another day.
Back to yan Superman, imagine you’re his darling and he is “keeping you safe”. But one day, you get snatched up by some organization that wants to use you as leverage or some shit, but you are just sobbing in relief at maybe being free- only to have Superman show up and do some not so super things to everyone who “stole” you
There are just so many casually horrifying things about Superman that people don't realize until you start like digging into his lore. "Oh he's super strong and a super fast flyer" actually he can do basically anything at those super speeds to the point he can literally even PROCESS THOUGHTS at near light-speed which means he has Absolutely Terrifying reaction times and can make plans and schemes on a dime, which, you know, can be even better utilized by him being intelligent. He has natural invulnerability so if you throw a punch at him too hard you could literally shatter the bones in your hand and he can't even control that, like you could literally hurt yourself with him on accident! He can see across INSANE DISTANCES and his x-ray vision doesn't have like a set range so he could do anything from, peep inside buildings to spy on you, to looking under your clothing for any bruises or injuries or even self harm marks, to peeking behind your hero disguise to learn your true identity, to seeing if there's anything inside your stomach and seeing if you're eating properly. Like jesus christ he literally found out Lois was pregnant from waking up one morning and suddenly hearing the heartbeat of the FETUS, there's literally nothing from him pulling that stereotypical "I know you're nervous or lying or afraid because I can literally hear your heartbeat increase" scary bullshit
And let's talk about Lois for a sec because my god her death was literally what kicked off the Injustice timeline? And there are other forms of Superman media where she just straight up dies naturally of cancer! Sure we could take the easy way and say "in this au Lois never existed or was just Clark's friend and he loved YOU" (which is my preferred default tbh bc, no competition for Reader lol) but I mean if you're going for that angst, that real whump, a yandere Clark Kent that just lost his wife/unborn child to either the Injustice incident or cancer, now overcome with grief? And in those cancer timelines they usually already have a son, Jonathan, and sometimes Jordan, and here's Clark thinking, well, his boy needs a mother, and he's got these weird feelings for you, and lil Jonny clearly has affection for you, maybe bring a bit of a platonic yan himself who sees you as either a big sister or even a secondary mom, so... be his wife maybe?
Like my god if Reader somehow helped him through the grief of losing Lois and managed to avoid "fully activating" Superman's anime villain arc, like he's going full fascist in the Injustice 2 Bad Ending, then some shit DEFINITELY goes down when Reader gets taken away. It just reactivates all his trauma. No! He can't lose anyone else! Jonathan can't lose anyone else! You're not just someone he loves, you're his FRIEND!
You're just huddled in whatever cell you've been kept in with your black eyes and bruises and knuckles bloodied from trying to fight back when you hear Clark's voice and you look up with excitement that just falls immediately off your face because holy shit did he just unlock that thumbprint scanner with a severed arm, and suddenly you're realizing there are other shades of red on his costume and dripping from his fingers
I can only imagine like, ngl I considered a sequel to my fic Doubt where Reader escapes the manor and runs into Supernan as the only other person who can protect you, so here we would have the inverse: you're the only one who knows about Clark's increasing instability and, while you still have your own freedom and autonomy, try to speak to Bruce about it, and now you have Batman Vs Superman: Competing For Your Heart Edition. I can only imagine what sort of unhinged reactions there would be if you think you've got Batman alone and you're beginning to cry all "Bruce I'm really worried about Clark, he isn't acting like himself, there's something wrong with him" and. Clark is like literally using his x-ray vision to read lips through the walls if he can't use his super hearing to outright eavesdrop.
Of course as you suggested, I'm always a slut for ideas with"oh shit I ran to this guy to help me and he's ALSO crazy, now they're teaming up and I'm in some weird shared/poly situation with TWO nutjobs". Lmao you go to Bruce concerned about Kal and Bruce goes to confront him and Clark just drops "did you know Y/N has been hiding self harm cuts under their hero suit also wow they smoke HELLA weed and im worried about their lungs and all the stuff they do when they're alone that no one else knows about 🥺" and suddenly here's Bruce " thanks i hate this actually :)" and there's a scheme concted to spy on you or move you elsewhere.
I've even thought of "Reader oh nooOoooOo, that, giant monster or villain attack or whatever also coincidentally destroyed your shitty little apartment complex? You mean Clark 'accidently' got sent flying into your building or smacked some giant creature into it and now you don't have a place to live? And you're broke too? Oh no 🥺 Well, BATMAN has this nice big house with lots of room in for you to stay toooootally 'temporarily', we PROMISE uwu"
Batman is the one who can put a tracking chip injected into your skin or even disguised as a filling in one of your teeth, and Superman is the one who can zoom off to rescue you/retrieve you "faster than a speeding bullet". I think one of the only people who could bring them down together at that point would be like. Fucking DARKSEID and, Jesus no, you definitely don't want HIM treating you as a pet 😭 the evil Batman that was brainwashed by him in the Apokolips War movie was scary enough (and scary HOT, lmao, let him keep me as some sort of prize and the only luxury Darkseid will allow him as a reward for his obedience. Lord Batman goes from having a meeting talking about like enslaving people to returning to his quarters and railing tf outta you because he's still holding onto some slim vestiges of humanity where he cares about you but also using you as his personal anti stress fuck toy)
#yandere superman#yandere batman#yandere dc#i got a draft whee damian and jon like you and introduce you to their fathers#and suddenly stalking you becomes a family affair#the boys walk you home and jon lies about having to pee so damian can plant bugs while youre distracted#the boys going back to their fathers and telling them all of your personal business#'yeah dad when she was at work i used my xray vision and saw her creepy manager grope her in the walk in'#suddenly your small little privately owned cafe was just bought out by wayne enterprises and your boss is fired or goes missing#maybe Bruce gets you a job st Wayne tech bc hes been following you as batman and he doesnt like you working third ahift#lmao heres hoping i actually finish it wven though im not quite sure where to go w it yet#but like its literally over 8 pages at least so. obviously some sort of creative juices are flowing#yandere stuff#sinprompts#at this point i cant promise shit bc my emotions and motivation are waaaaaacky
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so. plato’s cave, hm?
extras under the cut ofc! vv
draft sketch + some eddie art style thingies!
#welcome home#welcome home puppet show#welcome home horror project#eddie dear#welcomehome#my art#indigo’s art#art#welcome home update#eddie dear welcome home#BRUH SOBS#MANNNN SOBSBSB#this update blew me out of the water.#i drew this literally the day after while at work#very glad i got to finish it <3#i just didnt post it yet out of fear😭 a lot of the time my art that i think i did really good on tanks horribly and idk if this one will too#and im just scared of it happening again😭#sob snf#but! enjoy! im posting it now!!!!#posting it both on insta and tumblr at the same time as always </333 sob snf#okok im rambling#byebye!
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me waiting for my writer’s block to fuck off and leave me alone so i can finish this chapter:
#my creativity is just so dead rn and it makes me want to crawl out of my own skin#i’ve been waiting MONTHS to finally have a little bit of free time to breathe and catch up on writing stuff#and naturally now that i have i am so mentally and emotionally drained i can barely string a sentence together#i feel so distant and detached from my characters#and yes i know it’ll pass#but i just feel so caught in this headspace rn and needed to vent#i’m SO close to finishing this chapter for good but i have well and truly fallen at the final hurdle#the perfectionism has got me#ugh#also if anyone reading this is worried about four walls being updated#please don’t#i literally circle through this headspace every single chapter#and it hasn’t stopped me yet#(and it never will either. i couldn’t give up on this fic if i tried)#but it’s just hitting me particularly hard this last week#why is writing such an agonising process sometimes#anyway#enough rambling from me for one night#i’ll drag myself back to my laptop and see if i can work some magic#wish me luck#writing stuff#lulu posts
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🎃 trick or treat 🎃
You get a long snippet (act surprised):
Roy flipped to a page at random:
'Ah, la belle dame sans merci who lived in his heart, made known to him in transitory fading splendor by dark eyes in the Ritz-Carlton, by a shadowy glance from a passing carriage in the Bois de Boulogne!'
The book Ted had given Roy had started with, ‘It was a dark and stormy night.’
“Oi!” Jamie started, sitting up to give Roy a concerned frown. “This one isn’t the first in the series.”
Roy shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. They’re all supposed to be self-contained stories. Don’t think I’ve ever met a person who read Wodehouse in order.”
Mollified, Jamie settled back into the cushions with Roy’s book, seemingly unaware of the puzzle Roy was rotating in his head.
Within the first few pages, he had a good idea what Ted intended by giving Jamie this particular book. He also couldn’t help but notice that he’d been given a book fit for his six-year-old niece, and Sam had been given Ender’s Game, and somehow Jamie had been the unlucky bastard with a reading assignment that would make any university student want to stick pencils in their eyes.
Also Anthony Patch was a posh rich twat.
#trick or treat asks#ask game#snippets#partway through suffering through The Beautiful and The Damned and BOY HOWDY DO I HAVE OPINIONS ON THIS BEING JAMIE'S BOOK#i tried to find you something fluffy but instead I found this and I am having STRONG FEELINGS ABOUT IT#anyways the fluffy part is that Roy spends a good chunk of time trying to find A Book for Jamie#partly to undo a little of what Ted did (and he does not even know the whole of THAT yet)#and partly because he has assigned himself Coach Homework to work out what he would've done in Ted's situation#and partly because jamie struggling to finish this stupid book is excruciating to watch. because jamie is not enjoying the book like at all#so here roy has literally just. traded him books. so Jamie can curl up on the couch with Wodehouse#and roy can suffer through the realistic disintegration of a relationship into emotional (and physical) domestic abuse and alcoholism#and like. ted couldn't have known. but wow wow wow this is not a light read#anyways#abuse mention cw#for the tags at least#roy kent#jamie tartt#fic: oh god you're gonna get it (you have not been given love)
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I bring to you, actual art but it’s me trying to replicate my friend @spaceshmuck’s art style
✧ reblogs are appreciated ✧ | ♡ buy me a kofi ♡ | ☾ commission info ☽
#whimsy whispers#crystalart.png#others ocs#strand von zarovich#curse of strand#space tag#GOD this was so difficult and I don’t even feel like I did that good a job but it was also fun#also hi I’m not gonna shut up about my art program crashing and this corrupting right as I was almost finished with it I need people to know#that the universe tried to stop this from existing >:| I did not spend hours going ‘is this how it would draw hands’ and cursing myself for#the damn art to not see the light of day#anyways please look at my friends art it’s SO good like god I’m jealous of its art style and character designs >:’)#like literally such lovely art y’all will check it out because I said so and my word is like law or whatever#I’m like writing these at 4:25zm on a Monday and like this won’t even be posted for another week or so but like#sorry if I’m especially stupid rn I didn’t wanna go to sleep yet so I’m saving drafts and listening to off the wall magical! on loop#y’all should also check out junie & thehutfriends because I find their music fun#just listen to me when I tell you to look at ppls art because I have good taste okay? you can trust me I’m holding your hand and we’re going#to have fun I prommy#also please do not talk about the background it was one of the things I was gonna work on when the art program crashed#the only thing I fixed after that was minor mistakes like not colouring in buttons#anyways ily pretty vampire man and ily my dear friend who’s art style vexes me 💖
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