#That Damned Clown (Crack)

[pyrriax]

current prompt hell statistics / numbers:

current longest wc day: 6

current shortest wc day: 5

completion: 5/7

i took like most of today/day 7 off to work on other stuff so i'm getting a super late start. but i have 1/3 prompts concepted so it's going

[hussyknee]

*movie trailer voice* "In a world...full of road safety regulations...one van...will emerge...to fuck them all."

Wuling vans

English added by me :)

[yourlocalmissingtexture]

Trying to write an elaborate joke based on a funny mental image :(

Me when, me when I, you, when I walk into the club, me, me walking into the club but it’s a morg-, I, uh, I think the morgue is a club, me doing standup in the morgue and, and you, me, I make a joke about, me when I joke about corpses, I say “I’ve disappointed many people in my life but I’ve never disappointed the dead” and but uh, but it’s like flirting, but like when, like about disappointing someone in bed as in sex do you get it? Am I funny please? Wait, wait why are you leaving where are you going? Please come back it’s so dark down here :(((

[bunnis-monsters]

Silly the clown has been a bit annoying today.

Since it’s April 1st, the clown has decided pranking you every chance he got was his top priority.

Already, you’ve been jumpscared, tricked, and teased. If he asked you to smell a flower just to get water sprayed in your face one more time, you’d lose it!

Fortunately, you had an idea on how to get him back.

As the day went on, you slowly dropped hints that you were feeling hot and bothered. You left a pair of your used panties in the hamper, knowing your scent would get him in the mood.

By the time he was done playing pranks, Silly was ready to play something else.

“Got all pretty for me, hmm?”

You were waiting in the bedroom, in a set of lacy lingerie. “Mhm. Stop playing around and come here…”

The clown entity stepped forward, and suddenly chains made of light shot out of the ground, wrapping around his body. His eyes widened, and he struggled against his restraints before looking up at you.

“You’ve been teasing and pranking me all day. I hope you’re ready for your punishment, it’s payback time.”

Silly wasn’t just a clown, he was an unwieldy being confined to the amusement park. It took a long time for you to find a way to restrain him, but you did.

Originally, it was going to be only for emergencies, but you couldn’t help yourself.

As he growled and stretched, his form flickering between the clown and his true self, you slowly lowered your body down and settled onto his lap.

He was already hard, his inhuman cock bulging against his pants. You rubbed yourself against him, listening to the strangled moans he let out.

“F-fuck, when I’m out of these chains I swear to god-“

You silenced him with a kiss. “Hush, just enjoy your punishment.”

His eyes stayed on your plump hips as you slipped your panties to the side, letting his tentacle-like cock slither into you.

But you stayed completely still, cooing and teasing him as he begged for you to ride him. “F-fuck, please, just a little… move, damn it!”

He bucked his hips up, and you helped as he started fucking into you. Silly was a lot stronger than you though, easily able to hold your weight against him as he kept you steady with the upwards thrust of his hips.

“That’s my girl, fuck…”

It seemed being restrained was a new, yet pleasant experience for him. Being mostly powerless against you was pretty hot, because you easily lifted yourself up and off of his cock, instead stroking it in your hand.

Silly whimpered, wanting so desperately to be inside of you instead… but this was a punishment, and he was lucky you were letting him get off at all.

Sticky goo spurted out onto your chest and face, and you pouted. “Come on, clean this up…”

His cheeks reddened, but he leaned forward and licked your cheek, then moved to sucking and lapping at your breasts.

You were about to tease him some more, but the sound of something cracking made you pause. The chains were fading and chipping away much faster than they were supposed to!

Before you could even think, you were being pinned to the ground, your cunt stuffed full of his cock and being stretched out more than usual as Silly’s face shifted.

“You thought those chains could hold a creature like me for long? I’ve been alive since the beginning of time, I outdate them.”

Your stomach bulged, his cock swelling up inside of you.

“I think you were right, love. It’s time for a little payback.”

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi @flamefoxx @sandramalikstyles-blog @breathingstarlight

[chromehoney]

yearning!bestfriend!smoke x black!curvy!nasty!fem!reader

You and Smoke been thick as thieves since before y’all even had teeth. Since you were two loud little brown kids playin’ in the sprinkler in your grandma’s yard, barefoot on concrete and dripping in popsicle juice. He was the boy who always ran. Ran to get what you wanted. Ran to fix what you broke. Ran to grab the extra cookie you were too scared to ask for.

And even when you got older—full hips, lip gloss poppin’, that spoiled little whine always curled in your throat—you still didn’t have to finish a sentence before Smoke was already halfway to doin’ it.

“Smoke, can you—?”

“I got it.”

“Wait, you know what I want—”

“I already do.”

That was y’all’s rhythm.

He’d never said how bad he loved you. Never said that when you called him your best friend, it made his chest hurt. He never told you how many nights he stared at his phone, waiting for a text that said “Come over.”

You never told him either. You thought he knew. Thought maybe he didn’t feel the same. So you started dating other people. Just a little. Just to test the waters.

But you still showed up at every function on Smoke’s hip. Like today—his mama’s birthday cookout. You in that damn white dress. Tight up top, short in the back, every inch of you jiggling and glowing. Everybody noticed. But he noticed first.

He saw you before you even walked past the fence. Watched your thighs bounce with every step, your gold anklet glinting, your curls pulled up with just enough down to frame that smartass mouth he’d kill to kiss.

He didn’t speak first. He just stared. Chain glintin’. Blunt burning slow between his fingers.

You plopped down next to him at the table, legs crossed, plate in hand, talking loud with his cousins like you ain’t been skipping his calls.

And that’s when Aunt Vi turned to you, fork paused halfway to her mouth. “So baby girl, you still single? Or you got a lil boyfriend now?”

You blinked. Swallowed. Peeped Smoke from the corner of your eye. Then softly, like you ain’t really mean it: “…I do.” The clink of Smoke’s fork hitting his plate was the only sound for a moment.

He turned slowly, eyes glued to you. Not moving. Not blinking. That quiet, slow anger in his chest boiling over in silence. “You do?” he said low, voice tight.

You didn’t answer. You looked at Aunt Vi instead.“He tall?” she asked, eyes twinkling.

“Mhm.”

“Cute?”

“…Kinda.”

“Got a picture?” You pulled your phone out, too quick. Nervous giggle stuck in your throat. Smoke didn’t take his eyes off you. He leaned back in his seat, arms folded, watching you show the picture. Your screen faced Aunt Vi, but he saw it too.

And his jaw clenched hard enough to crack.

Marcus. From the block. A dude Smoke knew. A dude who tried to be like him but couldn’t hold a candle. He stood slow. Walked around the table. Quiet as ever. Then reached down and snatched your phone right out your hand.

“What the hell—” “Get up,” he said. You blinked. “Smoke, don’t start—” “I said get. The fuck. Up.”He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t curse loud. But his tone wrapped around your neck and dragged you up out that chair like gravity shifted. Your thighs trembled. You followed. You had to.

He yanked the back door open and took you through the house—ignoring every cousin, every curious glance—into the den. The door slammed behind you. And then? Silence. Thick and hot and tight. Smoke turned, chest rising slow. “You really fucking with Marcus?” he said. Voice low. Not yelling, but shaking. “Marcus?”

“He nice,” you whispered, but your voice cracked.Smoke stepped forward. Your back met the wall. He placed your phone on the dresser like he was lining it up for later. “You know how many times I wanted to tell you?” he said, hand finding your waist. “How many times I had to sit there and watch you run off with them clown-ass niggas? You do that shit on purpose?”

“I didn’t know you—” “Yes the fuck you did.” You didn’t answer. His mouth found your neck first. Hot, soft, trailing down like it was muscle memory. Your hands fisted in his shirt. His touch wasn’t rough—but it was hungry. Desperate. Like something that’d been waiting too long to be born.

“Still lettin’ me do everything for you,” he murmured against your skin, tongue flicking just beneath your ear. “Still callin’ me first. Still wearin’ shit like this around my damn family.”

“I didn’t know you cared,” you whimpered. His hands slid down your thighs, cupping your ass, pulling your hips against his. “You the only one I care about.” He kissed you. Slow and deep, lips pressed like a seal. Like a brand.

When he lifted your dress, you gasped. His fingers found the soaked cotton between your thighs and he smiled against your mouth. “This for him?” he growled. “Or me?”

“You,” you whimpered.

He dropped to his knees, pulled your panties down slow, kissed your thighs like he had all day. Then, without warning, he lifted your leg and buried his tongue in you—slow. Groaning into your folds, fingers digging into your hips.

You came on his mouth in minutes, shaking, gasping, whispering his name like a prayer.

“Say it right,” he whispered, standing, dropping his sweats. “You know what to call me.” “…Pa.”He moaned. Deep in his chest. Lined himself up and slid in—slow, deep, smooth, until his whole body trembled. Your mouth dropped open. You wrapped your arms around his neck, eyes glassy.“You feel that?” he groaned. “That’s mine.”

He moved slow but heavy, rolling his hips deep inside you like he was making a promise. His lips on your neck, your collarbone, your cheek. His hand on your jaw. “I been waiting so long for this, bunny,” he whispered. “Ain’t nobody ever gonna touch you again.”

You were close again. Shaking. Crying now.

And then he reached for your phone. “Call him.”“What—” “Call that little nigga now.” With shaking fingers, you dialed. Voice trembling. He pressed the speaker on.

“Hello?” he spoke. Your breath caught. Smoke thrusted deep. You cried out, breath hitching. “I’m with my boyfriend.” Then Smoke grabbed the phone and ended it. And came inside you with a long, low groan that rattled your bones. His forehead rested on yours, breathing heavy, thumb wiping the tears from your cheek. “You’re mine now,” he whispered. “And I’m done sharing.”

A few weeks later…

You don’t even call him “Smoke” no more. It’s Pa this, Pa that. The whole damn block know what it is. He walkin’ with his arm around you like you made of gold and velvet. One hand resting on your hip, thumb rubbing that little space on your waist like it’s his personal territory. And it is.

You’re wearing one of the three diamond rings he bought you. Not engagement, not yet—but you keep tellin’ folks, “This one’s for my mouth, this one’s for my attitude, and this one’s ‘cause I’m spoiled.” He don’t argue. He just adds another.

And right between your collarbones? That chain. Thick, gold, glinting in the sun. His name on the pendant in soft cursive—“Elijah’s”—like a warning and a lullaby. He’s got one too. Yours. Tucked under his shirt but always there, lying flat on his chest, heartbeat pressin’ against the letters.

You’re headed to get ice cream, arguing playful in the heat. You want strawberry shortcake. He already bought it for you ten minutes ago and it’s in the car. He just like hearing you beg. And then, like a breeze cutting through the thick summer air, you hear two girls on the stoop whispering:

“—you ain’t hear? Marcus? That nigga gone. Shot dead couple weeks ago. Just now found the body in that alley behind Glenwood. Whole clip in him.”

You pause mid-step. Smoke doesn’t.

His grip on your waist tightens just slightly, just enough to make your stomach flip. He’s still walking, face neutral, but you catch the edge of his mouth. That little curl. That little smile.

He don’t say nothing. Just keeps moving. Pulls you closer, presses a kiss to your temple. You look at him. “Pa…” He raises a brow like he don’t know what you’re about to ask—but you don’t even finish the sentence.

You know better. You know exactly what that smile meant.

He ain’t ever gonna tell you what happened. But you can feel it in his kiss, in the way he holds your hand a little tighter now. The way he makes love to you like he got rid of every last threat.

That chain around your neck ain’t just jewelry. It’s a warning label. “Property of Elijah Moore.” And when the streets whisper about Marcus? Smoke don’t blink. He just licks ice cream off your lip and says: “Open your mouth, bunny. You know I don’t like repeating myself.”

last one yall… last one for the day.

@cursed-carmine for the dividers.

[invincibledc]

ᝰ.ᐟ𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍?

────୨ৎ────

𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 (𝐎𝐂) 𝐗 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐒!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

── .✦ Summary: obsessed clown boy versus girl boss who walks him like a dog? Wait, is that the female Robin?

── .✦ Genre: crack fic(?) idk but I wrote this

── .✦ Info: this OC is an OC I’m written for my own amusement. He’s the son of Harley Quinn and joker. Full name, Jacklyn Oswald Quinn. Jack and reader are in their mid teens, 15-17. Jack is considered canonically handsome. Reader is the twin sister of Damian Wayne.

── .✦ Word count: 1,039

Being a duo, especially another Robin with your twin brother. You were patrolling Gotham in the east, sighing as you looked over the busy streets. It’s boring, but this is what you do now for a living since your mother dropped you and Damian here to meet your father.

Leaning back with a sigh, your vision was soon taken over by gloved hands. “Guess who~,” a deep raspy voice said into your ear.

Shivers ran down your spine, you pulled the hands from you, twisting the arms of the person and forcing them onto their back.

Eyes narrowed, you see the boy joker. Son of Joker and Harley Quinn. “Jack.” “Birdy~” he purrs as he pulls his arms forward. You couldn’t help but yelp, leaning forward. You were soon on the ground as well of the roof of this building.

“Isn’t it nice to just, relax with me puddin'?” Jack says gently, wrapping his arms around your waist. You stared at the boy who gave you soft puppy eyes. You.. hated him. Is what you repeat in your head despite your fingers combing through his dyed hair.

Jack knew you couldn’t resist him, and he couldn’t be with you. “Is the big bat patrolling, or did you come out to see me, sweetheart.” You hum, facing the night sky that has cloudy skies.

“The whole gang is patrolling. And if they see me cuddling up with the son of the most crazed man ever. This might not end well.” You pull your hands from his hair, Jack has already relaxed against you. He frowned at the absence of your fingers through his hair.

“Well, fuck 'em. Keep spoiling me with all your attention birdy.” Couldn’t help but laugh, you rolled your eyes as you moved from Jack. Sitting up til you fully stand.

“I love to entertain you clown boy, but I got things to do.” You said lastly before jumping off the roof. Jack grins, looking over the roof to not see you anymore.

“Damn, she’s good.”

✦

It was another night, you were defeating some goons. A tall goon came behind you, grabbing you in their big arms. Grumbling, you gritted your teeth. “Got you, you little bitch!” The male exclaims as if his favorite football team won.

But as you go to release your arms, a king card hits the goon’s left arm. The card was sharp, apparently so sharp as the male’s arm started to bleed.

“Agh!” The goon lets you go, just to try and take the card out. But you didn’t give him as much chance as you did a spinning roundhouse kick to his face. The man was then knocked out, you picked up the card that had impaled the male’s arm.

“I think that belongs to me, babe.” Feeling arms wrapped around your waist. His heavy hands gripped your hips. You jolted, turning to face Jack who had a soft grin. “You could’ve at least told me you were fighting bad guys. Then I would’ve protected what’s mine.”

Your face felt heated up as he gave your hips another squeeze. “Get off me you clown!” flaying your arms around, Jack had gotten elbowed by you. But he didn't care, he loved it.

You could have easily stabbed him, pinned him down, hurt him, or maybe even arrested him.

But you haven't.

And he loves it.

“Calm down puddin`, let me take care of you.” effortlessly, he lifts over your shoulder. Eyes widen, shocked, you look at Jack’s back, and at the knocked-out man.

“Wait! I need to tie that guy up, so Officer Gordon can get him.” pointing to the slight bleeding man. Jack sighed annoyed, his eyes relaxed and narrowed. There's one thing he hated about you, which is your empathy. He loves it, but damn was it annoying.

“Why should we, he’s just gonna try and mug someone again.” soon Jack felt a smack at his head.

“Do it now.” your voice lowered with authority. “Yes ma’am,” Jack said lastly, complying to you. He never denies his girl, if there’s one thing his mom taught him, was to always give your hardest to get what you want. And it's you.

✦

Jason and Damian hate the boy joker, mostly Jason. Jason wants to strangle Jack. Jack could try and hide, taking off his painted face and looking normally like an average boy. His blonde hair and blue eyes stared into yours as you looked completely over him.

The ‘normal’ looking boy had equipped a rose, smiling as Jason was behind you. Glaring at Jack like a protective and angry older brother.

“Get lost kid,” Jason says pointing out more. “And If I see you close to the manor, I'm shooting you.” “Jason?!” you blurted shocked at how Jason said that. Jack rolled his eyes, “whatever old man.” Jason raised a brow. “Old man?” Jack gave you the rose simply, walking off as he waved at you.

Jason slammed the door, taking the rose from you. “Of course, you get a villain’s son to fall in love with you. I can't believe this.” you chased after Jason as he ripped the flower up. “You are Bruce’s kid.” the tanned male with scars all over his body said lastly.

Scoffing, you kicked the back of his knees, having him fall onto his face. “Shut the hell up, don't try and say that shit to my face when you’re single and miserable.” you walked past his fallen body before he got up and grabbed your ankle. Leading you to scream. “AHH!! Let go!!” you screamed for the whole manor to hear.

Damian came rushing down with a katana, “Sister! I'm here, what's the problem?” “Jason’s the problem!” you exclaimed, trying to pull your leg from Jason’s tight grip. “This little shit is dating the Joker’s son!” he shouted.

“No I'm not!” you shouted at Jason with a shocked expression, your heart racing, you turned towards your twin brother who dropped his katana in shock. His jaw was wide open before he grabbed his sword and walked past you and Jason.

“Where are you doing?” you questioned Damian who went to the front door.

“I'm out to get the head of a clown.”

“DAMIAN NO!”

[fortunxa]

streamer!Jinx (x reader) / modern AU (duh)

H E A D C A N O N S

—INCLUDES!

➤ x (fem!)reader

➤ x streamer!reader

contents: like one or two suggestive mentions, mentions of doxxing

author's note: chat!! @myrruwrites has officially motivated me to finish this draft, so PLEASE go check out their streamer!Jinx posts (more hcs here and fic here)!!! or really any post in general :P

── ⟢ streamer!Jinx in general

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who started streaming just for fun, not thinking much of it, and gets overwhelmed when her account starts gaining traction. She still doesn’t know if she likes it or not. Some days, she feels on top of the world; on others, it just makes her feel awkward.

⭑.ᐟ She mostly streams in her pajamas or other comfy clothes. On rare occasions, she’s wearing her rave outfit (smudged makeup, body paint, and all) because she didn’t change when she got back home and impulsively decided to stream. (rave girl!Jinx when?)

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who’s canceled every other week. She has no filter, nor does she care. She continues streaming, groaning loudly in annoyance if the chat brings up her latest controversy one too many times.

⭑.ᐟ Constantly arguing with kids if they annoy her. It was so over the moment Roblox added the mic feature. Her account almost got banned. She still does not care.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who gets hilariously pouty at hate comments. She’s offended and does a bad job at hiding it.

– “Okay, so like… what IS wrong with my pants? Just out of curiosity, not that I care or whatever.”

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who knows she’s pretty but gets annoyed if someone comments on her appearance. It weirds her out. On the other hand, she’s also oblivious to how attractive she looks doing mundane things. (*cough* manspreading *cough*)

⭑.ᐟ She bans people on the spot for causing her the smallest of inconveniences. She’s on a power trip.

– “This is MY kingdom.”

⭑.ᐟ Her monitors are surrounded by post-it notes with random doodles, unfinished cryptic to-do lists, and stream ideas she quickly jotted down.

find a duck. real 1 this time

paint the thing spray paint purple 1st

buy more spray paint (green, pink, PURPLE)

get snacks (for her + me) + wires bolts

scope out the alley

test run #3

finish gift hehe

don’t forget to

⭑.ᐟ Contrary to popular belief, Jinx is a Redbull kind of girl, and her desk is proof of that. She used to be a Monster Energy fan, but she drank so much of it throughout the years that it made her sick.

⭑.ᐟ She constantly “improves” or “upgrades” her streaming gear with scraps from old tech. Some of it will be homemade, too.

⭑.ᐟ Her webcam is cracked, which makes the quality so shit that it brings a tear to her viewers’ eyes, so they beg her to get a proper one. She finally relents.

– “Here, damn. You guys are so spoiled. Now pay up since y’all wanted it so bad.”

‘omg the world is healing’

‘feels like getting new glasses’

‘this is a moment in history’

⭑.ᐟ Her mic quality fluctuates. Sometimes, it’s crisp; sometimes, it picks up loud static due to her “improvements.” It also completely cuts off if she screams too loud.

⭑.ᐟ Any gear she buys will be automatically customized the Jinx way: doodles upon doodles and paint splatters.

⭑.ᐟ She has a soundboard that features sound effects like classic explosions, the vine boom sound, the Among Us role reveal, the FNAF hallway sound, “YIPPEEE!”, the snoring man, a laughing track, clown circus music, and the Samsung “Morning flower” alarm (cursed version) amongst many others.

⭑.ᐟ Her webcam is tilted at weird angles half the time because she keeps bumping it while moving around.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx whose wifi cuts out way too often, and she blames it on “the government trying to stop her chaos”.

⭑.ᐟ Her streams never start on time. She either doesn’t acknowledge it or gives an over-the-top excuse. Viewers think she’s lying when she says she had to diffuse the toaster (she’s not).

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who loves clickbait titles. Plot twist: no one knows if it’s actual clickbait or if she’s serious when she writes “strapping fireworks to my chair :D”.

⭑.ᐟ She either streams with every. single. one. of her neon lights on (flashbanging new viewers in the process) or have no light at all, with her monitor illuminating ONLY her face in a way that makes it look like a dark web livestream.

⭑.ᐟ She’s so inconsistent with her streaming that her viewers never know when and if she’ll stream again. She randomly stops updating on her socials, too.

‘guys i think this might be it for her’

‘ho is u dead???’

<livestream notification> “SURPRISE, LOSERS—I’m (a)live! Didn’t see that coming, huh?”

‘omg she’s back’

‘diva is alive!!!’

– “You doubted me? You DOUBTED ME?!”

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who jumps between topics, games, and rants with no warning, leaving her viewers dizzy but entertained. Fans with ADHD love her.

⭑.ᐟ IF (by miracle) she runs out of things to talk about or gets bored with a game, she turns to her viewers.

– “Entertain me, jesters.”

⭑.ᐟ Her streams (suddenly) switch from hyperactive fun, where she’s practically bouncing in her chair, to intense focus, where she just glares at her screen with determination.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who pranks her chat constantly. She’ll cut the video feed to show a jumpscare, laughing in the background while her viewers are freaking out.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who pranks other streamers by sending her viewers over for a raid.

– “You just got jinxed!”

⭑.ᐟ Occasionally refers to her chat as the “Boom Crew” or “Jinxlings”.

⭑.ᐟ She reads the chat at lightning speed (most of the time she’ll misread it, too), responds to every third comment, and gets distracted mid-sentence.

⭑.ᐟ Her community is riddled with inside jokes like “press F for Sharky”. Sharky being her shark plushie, of course.

⭑.ᐟ Her mods barely keep up with the chaos in her chat. Occasionally, Jinx disables moderation completely and declares “anarchy hours.”

⭑.ᐟ She creates characters to embody on stream. “Sergeant Boom”, a gruff explosives expert, or “Miss Mayhem”, a villain plotting world domination. She commits to the bit so hard that she confuses new viewers.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who’s a sore loser, and it doesn’t help when the chat is roasting the shit out of her after. 10000% rage quits and/or slams her keyboard. But she’s not above cheating to win, either—will call other cheaters out, though, genuinely crashing out.

– “Chat, what the FUCK, that’s not fair! It totally lagged!”

– “I’m literally never playing this shit again.” (spoiler: she plays this shit again).

⭑.ᐟ Her IRL streams would be infamous for their unpredictability. One moment, she’s exploring back alleys, and the next, she’s setting off fireworks in a parking lot. Don’t ask if it’s empty.

“Popular streamer arrested for destruction of property.”

⭑.ᐟ She once took her viewers to one of her graffiti sessions and encouraged the audience to vote on the designs.

“Popular streamer arrested for spray painting ‘obscene’ graffiti.”

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who disappears for a week after that, only to come back all pissy.

– “Chat, I’m on probation… I guess.”

⭑.ᐟ She has the most cursed keybinds imaginable. But hey, they work for her.

⭑.ᐟ “Jinx’s workshop”: a recurring segment where she tinkers with random gadgets on stream.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who sets off confetti after each bit/donation.

⭑.ᐟ She disappears mid-stream and comes back in a shark onesie. She doesn’t acknowledge it.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who puts her shark plushie in the middle of her chair if she has to take a break, leaving her headset on it.

– “Alright, Sharky’s taking over.” Sharky’s head is barely peeking out from under the desk, but he’s chill.

⭑.ᐟ For a girl as agile as her, she trips over her setup or falls off her chair a little too often. Yes, there is a compilation. Yes, she does react to it on stream and laughs so hard she tips her chair again.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who, every now and then, drops her chaotic persona to thank her viewers for their support only to laugh it off right after. Or she’ll surprise them with genuine insight/advice.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who starts venting in the middle of her stream. Sometimes, it’s pure angry nonsense; sometimes, she gets so emotional that she just suddenly ends the stream. She comes back some time later, acting like nothing happened and gaslighting her viewers into thinking it was part of a skit.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who announces every game dramatically. (yes, like that one scene with the monkey mic)

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who occasionally plays bootleg versions of popular games just to make her viewers suffer through them with her.

⭑.ᐟ She absolutely, 100%, modded her sims game. She also locked up sims in the basement and/or took the ladder from the pool.

⭑.ᐟ She plays Among Us just to leave the server if she doesn’t get impostor.

⭑.ᐟ Fortnite and Minecraft are her holy grail. Also enjoys Call of Duty, Overwatch, Apex Legends, Fall Guys, Garry’s Mod, and she’s an absolute menace in GTA V. Definitely a FNAF girl.

⭑.ᐟ Roblox?? Oh, she’s ON. Put her in the horror games. She’s screaming and laughing, bouncing on her chair (her energy’s infectious).

⭑.ᐟ She enjoys watching the fatalities in Mortal Kombat a little too much.

⭑.ᐟ She tried VR a few times and nearly took out her entire setup with how much she was flailing around.

⭑.ᐟ Don’t ask her to play choice-based games. She will intentionally choose the worst option possible just to watch it all burn.

⭑.ᐟ Absolutely hates narrative games (with few exceptions). She can’t keep up with the story (because she skips dialogues and cutscenes) and quits if the plot takes too long to develop. She never remembers the characters’ names either, so she’ll just rename them.

– “Blah, blah, blah… Boooooring. Next!” She then dramatically presses the skip button. “Wait, guys, who’s the dude again? I swear he looks sooo familiar.”

‘that’s the mc’s dad’

‘just put the fries in the bag…’

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who, despite the fact that she’s creative, has no official merch—only fan-made one with slogans like “I survived Jinx’s stream”.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who ends her streams by shooting finger guns at her webcam. The feed cuts off right after the “pew”.

BONUS: just gamer!Jinx who owns a Nintendo Switch and a Nintendo DS which she decorated with cute little stickers and charms. They’re her babies—she carries one or the other at all times.

── ⟢ streamer!Jinx x (fem!)reader

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who tried to keep your relationship private at first, but she just couldn’t contain her excitement. She wanted to show you off. She introduced you as her “partner in crime” and then corrected herself to “partner in love” (because she’s cheesy like that).

⭑.ᐟ She loves dragging you into her streams. It doesn’t matter what she’s doing. Bonus: the viewers adore your dynamic.

– “I’m just happier when she’s here.”

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx whose chat spams “SUMMON THE GF”. Sometimes it works.

⭑.ᐟ The viewers asked her about you so much the first time you didn’t appear on stream with her that she ended up jokingly saying, “I got dumped.” They rioted, and you walked in to smack her upside the head.

⭑.ᐟ You try to warn her against some of her ideas. Most of the time, she goes through with them anyway and is 100% surprised when they backfire.

‘JINX NO’

‘LISTEN TO HER’

‘JINX DON’T DO THAT’

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who genuinely starts tweaking if you get any hate comments (to the point of wanting to dox people) (she did dox people).

⭑.ᐟ You mute her mic mid-sentence if you feel like she’s about to say something controversial that will inevitably get her in trouble.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who gets a second webcam just to capture your reactions. This also becomes a compilation, and she keeps rewatching it, giggling to herself (kicking her feet).

⭑.ᐟ She also randomly giggles at something off-camera—chat instantly assumes it’s because of you.

⭑.ᐟ She constantly talks/brags about you even when you’re not there, and she visibly lights up when she does. She makes chat say thank you for every act of service.

– “She made me pancakes before the stream. Chocolate chip ones. Take that, losers.”

– “She’s keeping me hydrated like a little plant. Say thank you, Jinxlings.”

– “She’s making me dinner after this stream. Wifey or what?”

⭑.ᐟ She also “complains” when you care about her health. She says you’re bullying her into it.

– “She told me to actually sleep last night. Can you believe that?”

– “She cut me some fruits. Even the grapes, for fuck’s sake! What am I, a toddler?” ….. “They’re good… I guess…”

⭑.ᐟ Going back to her having a soundboard, she uses the “YIPPEEE!” sound effect whenever you enter the room.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who gets easily distracted when you’re doing something off-camera.

– “Chat, did you see that? She’s so perfect, ugh.”

– “I literally just made the bed.”

‘she’s down bad’

‘u guys make me sick’

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who notices that you fell asleep off-camera, so she shushes her chat and tries to whisper for the rest of the stream. Cue her raging/cheering silently, biting her fist so she won’t scream.

⭑.ᐟ She casually flirts with you on stream.

– “Who needs a win streak when I already won at life, huh?”

– “How am I supposed to focus when you’re sitting there looking like that?”

‘ew’

‘get a room’

– “We have one. Guess what happens in it,” she just replies with a smug grin.

⭑.ᐟ No shame, no filter 2.0.

– “Stream’s late ‘cause I was in pound town.”

– “JINX!”

– “What? They’re the ones all up in our business.”

⭑.ᐟ Physical affection also doesn’t end when she’s streaming. If anything, it makes it even better for her when people are watching. She has you in her lap whenever she can, and she melts at every little peck you give her.

⭑.ᐟ She claims that you’re her stream mascot (other than Sharky, of course).

⭑.ᐟ She calls you her lucky charm and demands a good luck kiss before each match or boss fight. If you don’t give it to her (why would you do that? give the pretty girl a kiss), she will (jokingly) blame you if she loses.

⭑.ᐟ You will sometimes pick out fun outfits to wear on stream together, like themed costumes, matching accessories, or cosplays (and Jinx refuses to break character the entirety of the stream). You once dressed up as each other.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who tries to do a cute “heart hands” moment, but she gets distracted and ends up making a weird shape instead.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who constantly forgets to unmute herself after ranting to you off-camera.

‘ho is u muted’

‘UNMUTE’

‘is she muted or just broke her mic fr this time’

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who tries to impress you with ridiculous in-game stunts.

– “Babe, watch this!” She then proceeds to set off some explosives, blowing up her character in the process. “…That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

⭑.ᐟ She immediately turns to you for comfort when she rage quits.

⭑.ᐟ You step in to calm her down during an intense or frustrating gameplay, usually by playing with her hair or tracing patterns on her back.

– “Alright, chaos queen, deep breath. You got this.”

⭑.ᐟ You once changed Jinx’s sub alert to say, “SUBSCRIBE SO JINX CAN AFFORD A FUNCTIONING BRAIN.”

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who made you one of her mods for a day. You nearly lost your mind. Safe to say you quit.

– “Babe, as much as I love you, this feels like running a daycare… if the daycare was on fire… and the kids had guns. Matter of fact, forget the daycare. This feels like the purge.”

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who, instead of upgrading her setup, spends the money she gains on her projects or on spoiling you. She got you a Nintendo that matches hers with games like Animal Crossing for you to unwind.

⭑.ᐟ She texts you updates like “broke my keyboard again. love you!!!!!!!!!! :p”

⭑.ᐟ She takes pride in teaching you how to play some of her favorite games. It’s even better when she sees you making actual progress and gaining skills.

⭑.ᐟ Sometimes, you both forget obvious things in the game, resulting in chat calling you “dumb and dumber”.

‘birds of a feather flock together’

‘one brain cell between them’

‘i think they lost said brain cell’

⭑.ᐟ She loves it when you play competitive games together, but if you think she’s going easy on you, you’d be dead wrong. She will throw the blue shell at you in Mario Kart with no remorse.

⭑.ᐟ SOMETIMES, she lets you win but in the worst possible way (like jumping off the map dramatically).

⭑.ᐟ Playing It Takes Two together, and it’s an absolute shitshow (but at least it’s funny).

⭑.ᐟ You create in-game versions of each other in customization games, and she’s definitely made you both in The Sims. She even gave you cats.

⭑.ᐟ steamer!Jinx who once started a stream, forgetting you were in the other room waiting for her. You came in to get her, pouting.

‘L+ratio+forgotten gf’

‘jinx you’re a dick’

⭑.ᐟ Co-op cooking streams where Jinx inevitably burns something.

⭑.ᐟ Crafting stream!!! But Jinx accidentally glued her hand to something, so now you have to help her.

⭑.ᐟ Doing each other’s nails/makeup on stream or simply painting (on) one another.

⭑.ᐟ Chill streams (and by that I mean just sitting around and talking) are a rarity, and they only happen if you’re around. She dislikes personal questions during Q&A’s but absolutely loves answering those concerning your relationship (doesn’t necessarily answer truthfully, though. She loves making up crazy stories about how you both met; the audience is still unsure which version is true).

BONUS: the “do my hair and Q&A” hc by @myrruwrites lives in my head rent free. I repeat: go check out their post.

⭑.ᐟ She livestreams some of your road trips.

– “This is totally our couple adventure arc.”

⭑.ᐟ She once streamed her planning a surprise for you. You weren’t home when you got the stream notification, and you joined it, curious to see what she was up to. She was so lost in her own world that she didn’t notice you until the surprise was spoiled.

– “Hey, who snitched? Y’all suck.”

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who wakes you up in the middle of the night to share her stream content ideas.

⭑.ᐟ Or she wakes you up by playing too loudly, and you have to physically drag her to bed.

⭑.ᐟ She just lays across you like a cat on off-days while watching dumb videos.

⭑.ᐟ You both rewatch her funniest stream moments together before bed, laughing at all the dumb things she said and cheering loudly at her clutch wins.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who signs off streams with a sly grin, saying, “Alright, I’m off to bother my girlfriend now”.

── ⟢ streamer!Jinx x streamer!reader

⭑.ᐟ Everyone knows you’re dating (no matter how much you tried to hide it at first), so you have a shared fanbase.

⭑.ᐟ Your streaming room is divided. It may seem like a bad idea considering the chaotic energy she brings to her streams, but she enjoys having you close by. You’re used to the noise anyway.

⭑.ᐟ Matching setups!!!!

⭑.ᐟ You make sure that Jinx has everything she needs before her stream, while she hypes you up before yours.

⭑.ᐟ Her crashing out in the background of your streams is such a recurring thing that it ends up becoming a meme.

⭑.ᐟ She once got caught humming softly to herself in the background of your stream which made the chat go absolutely wild.

‘JINX SOFT ARC’

‘i cannot believe my ears’

‘wait so she’s normal?’

⭑.ᐟ She frequently sends her viewers over to raid your stream with a message that says, “TELL HER I LOVE HER”.

⭑.ᐟ She takes over your stream when you take a bathroom break, or she’ll just lean into the mic and whisper, “Chat, she’s like SO pretty” before running away like a gremlin.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx once hacked into your stream settings just to change the title to something cursed or extra cheesy.

⭑.ᐟ She crashes your stream if she’s bored with hers.

⭑.ᐟ Reacting to fanfics together. It starts sickeningly sweet, only to crash and burn once Jinx starts picking the wilder ones.

⭑.ᐟ Sometimes you manage to have a chill, rainy-day stream together where you play cozy games.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx “accidentally” friendly fires you in shooters and then apologizes dramatically.

⭑.ᐟ She also “accidentally” finds you in online games. She swears she’s not stream-sniping, but no one believes her.

⭑.ᐟ She leaves heart-shaped patterns in Minecraft or Fortnite for you to find.

⭑.ᐟ Automatically teaming up against everyone else in multiplayer lobbies.

⭑.ᐟ You get assigned to opposite teams? It’s either cutthroat and tests your relationship, or you’re helping each other out (much to your teammates’ dismay).

⭑.ᐟ Although she’s known for streaming late herself, she whines if you do the same, claiming she can’t sleep without you (half-true).

⭑.ᐟ She wraps her arms around you from behind or drapes herself over your lap whenever she needs closeness or attention, watching you play.

⭑.ᐟ Or she’ll just unceremoniously end your stream to steal you away.

💙 art bonus by @ne0nspr1te !! + part 2 💙

entering Jinx’s stream:

[acid-ixx]

Wouldn’t it be funny if Reader shows just a tiny amount of happiness to any one of the batfam, and the next thing you know they try their best to make Reader to do it again.

Example:

Dick:Makes a silly joke

Reader: Actually smiles and laughs at it

Dick: gloats about it to the fam

The BatFam: practically on all fours chasing after Reader to try and make them laugh

Don’t stress out with your writings (btw love your ‘again & again’ series❤️)

Take your time and don’t forget to drink water🫶🫶🫶

laughter is the best medicine

ft. yan! dick grayson, jason todd, and damian wayne

— masterlist !

more beneath the cut ! fluff ? with a mix of yandereness is my thing hehe. i love this ask sm <3 you guys are being fed well today !!!

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

ugh they're the definition of giving someone an inch and they'll be taking a mile. it would especially be annoying if it were dick on the receiving end of the line. but even if he'd be the one you'd take most precaution to, don't underestimate just how much your opinion holds the most value in the family. so they'll most definitely gloat about their achievement of making you smile or hell, even leaning against their shoulder willingly calls for a celebration.

trust me when i say that living in a stuffy manor already sucks, and they don't exactly like seeing you sulk and merely rot in your bed all day. so like any loving family would do, they'll try their damn best to at least see a quirk of your mouth or that faint glimmer in your that dick oh-so enchantingly talk about.

so it comes to them in the form of a surprise that one day, when your oldest brother accidentally trips over one of your expensive novelty ballpen, instead of nearly shouting at him for breaking one of your favorites, it was the "oomph!" sound his throat makes and his wide eyes when his ass directly landed on the floor that makes you crack into small giggles.

if it weren't for his enhanced hearing, dick would've crossed out your laughter as a hallucination, a product of imagination, something entirely impossible to produce, but no.

he had proven himself wrong.

once he turns back at you, he sees the crinkle of your eyes and your palm trying to cover your shit eating grin. the plump of your cheeks are so accentuated that he forgets the initial embarrassment he feels in the first place, replaced with awe at just how artfully captivating his sibling looks; sitting by

it's like a painting, he wishes it was. he wishes tim would be quick enough to capture the succession of your smiles in the live camera feed.

all because he couldn't believe it. couldn't believe that his baby bird is laughing. they're laughing and they look so mirthful and full of life when doing so.

yes, you're laughing at him, at his stupidity for being unable to detect a mere ballpen despite being trained to locate every known obstacle in a field.

but fuck, he was already raised at a circus to fulfill the role of an acrobat who entertains the crowd. what more could it be if that means he could play the role of a clown for you, his baby bird worth more than a thousand lives, whose laughter is equivalent to the immense euphoria that is filling his entire being?

give him an inch and he'll take an entire mile.

the next day, you'd be greeted with... a lot of peculiar instances within your family. all of which you would laugh at because it's not typical that your family displays mistakes, and you feel a bit better about yourself when their imperfections seem to seep out of their being— or maybe it's just your thoughts eating you up again, because is it just you or did jason, tim, and even damian, manage to at least trigger a reaction out of you?

tim would accidentally end up drinking orange juice right after brushing his teeth. his cringing expression, choked gargling and immense spitting is enough to guarantee a light chuckle from your seated form as you ate your cereal in peace, watching him as he tries to rid of the bitter taste on his tongue. although, bitter as it may, the sweetness and the aching of his tooth overpowers the regret he fills for gulping an entire bottle of orange juice down his throat.

he's so glad that he had set up multiple cameras and recorders at different angles prior to your time spent with him because he just couldn't stop watching your reaction in loop whilst he tried to continue his investigations within gotham's latest crime news. yet no matter how hard he attempts to control himself, his eyes couldn't stop looming over to your form, finding your reaction too incredibly cute to be ignored. yeah, he'll do his duties later. for now, he just needs to... screenshot every single frame of your expressions.

jason isn't much of a joker but when reading you one of your favorite stories, he had managed to mispronounce one of the words so badly that it ruined the narrative of the classical book he was voice acting for you. it was a stupid thing to laugh at, but for a guy like jason, who was an english nerd in his very prime, it would be hilarious— especially when his gothamite accent seeps into his vocabulary; which is very unbefitting for the voice of a character who was a princess that loves to wear frilly, pink dresses.

imagine a man, with a growl that vibrates through his skull, and muscles that bulge through his shirt, voices a princess of all people! his high pitched register for the character was already grating to your ears, but the sudden shift from an airy and girlish to deep and gruff with an added effect of a voice crack at the word "cake" was enough to let you burst out into laughs, your giggles echoing through the comfortable silence of the manor's library. for the first time in a while, you let jason wrap his arms around your shoulder, asking for your input about his tremendous acting skills.

jason never had many moments to cherish within the manor, preferring to stay over and outside of bruce's radar, but god does he love going through the batcave's live feed just to zoom in on your expressions, the grin on your face heavily reminds him of himself, back when he was the oblivious robin with no idea of what was coming to him. yet only now, he swears to protect your smile from never faltering.

damian takes his artistry skills seriously, constantly making a show of bragging to you whenever he has the opportunity to. but this time, he was incredibly pissed at drake for accidentally squeezing all the paint from the tube of oil paints he had stored by the drawers, and it was a shade closest to your skin tone, too; he meant to use that tube of paint for his next portrait of you. so like the petty child he is, damian sets on an hour long routine of drawing tim with monstrous features that screams the opposite of what he sports.

that means he had drawn multiple variants of tim with a hideous, actual bowl cut one. no seriously, his hair was a bowl and the strands that peeked out of it were spaghetti strands. in another drawing, his red robin outfit consists of plucked feathers and an elongated beak for its mask, what seems to be the pocket for the eyes now replaced with cat-like slits that makes the vigilantes expression looker idiotic and downright stupid. yet it felt therapeutic for damian to draw that his brother with what he felt was enough revenge to exact upon drake. that scum deserved a horrendously made portrait of him.

what he didn't expect was that you had stumbled upon his atelier, wanting to cure your boredom by painting a scenery when all of a sudden you had to drop all your equipment from your hands because... what the fuck was damian painting...? why is tim crawling across the floor in one of the portraits...? it takes a second or two for you to register the drawing's very detailed portrayal of a literal bowl cut, your laughter bursting out of the seams because no fucking way did damian actually draw something so hilarious and unserious. if you were anybody else, damian would've kicked your shins so violently you would've required a visit to the hospital. but because it's you... he chooses to sulk in the corner with puffed cheeks and burning ears as you approach the painting with said curiosity of a child and a laughter you can't stifle so easily.

at least it got you to stay in the same room as him for about an hour, with you giving your youngest brother more ideas to make the drawings even more unsettling than they already were, to which damian takes your tips to heart.

after you had eagerly (and shyly) showed the entire family you and damian's shared creation of a monstrosity, tim swears he'll never squeeze a tube of damian's paint anymore.

[iydiamartinx]

BREAK POINT

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader

divider by: @cafekitsune word count: 802 synopsis: You're there to pull Nightwing back after Jason's death. a/n: I'm sick, but I managed to write something short and...not so sweet.

The alley was slick with rain and blood—most of it not Dick’s.

The Joker lay slumped against the brick wall, his chest heaving in broken laughter, ribs broken, mouth full of crimson.

And Dick Grayson was losing himself.

Years of discipline. Years of swallowing grief, of smiling for Gotham, of fighting for the light even when all he saw was shadow—gone. All of it crumbling the second that name left the Joker’s cracked lips.

“You know,” he wheezed out through a bloodied smile, “he begged for you.”

Dick went still.

One breath. Then another.

“Little Birdie,” the Joker crooned, spitting teeth. “He screamed your name. Over and over. Begged for big brother to come save him—”

Dick saw red. The sound of metal against flesh was sickening.

The crowbar rose and fell in Dick Grayson’s hands, slick with rain and blood. Joker’s body twitched with every blow, each one landing with bone-splitting force. The alley was a chorus of thunder, but his laughter still rang louder than anything else.

Even now—half his face caved in, blood pouring from a split scalp, his legs likely broken—he laughed.

“You should’ve seen him,” Joker gurgled, choking on the blood in his throat. “Screaming, ‘Nightwing’ll save me!’” A broken giggle rattled from his chest. “But he didn’t, did he? The Big Bird never came.”

“Shut up!”

He didn’t recognize the sound that tore from his throat.

It wasn’t his voice. It was deeper. Raw. Animal.

Dick didn’t remember screaming.

Didn’t feel the sting where the crowbar bit into his palm through soaked leather. Didn’t notice how his grip kept slipping, how his shoulder screamed from the strain. All he knew was rage—pure and blinding. It scorched through his veins, hotter than the lightning cracking overhead, hotter than the fire that had swallowed Jason whole.

It flooded his vision red.

Until all he could see was the Joker’s face—and a coffin far too small.

He struck again.

And again.

And again.

The crowbar came down with a wet crack, echoing off the alley walls. Joker’s head snapped to the side, teeth skipping across the pavement like thrown dice. Blood smeared the brick in arterial bursts, and still—still that damned smile clung to his broken face.

Every strike was for second Jason had suffered in that hands of that clown. Every crunch of metal on bone was a scream he hadn’t been able to stop.

He couldn’t stop.

He didn’t want to stop.

Somewhere behind him, a voice called his name—soft at first. Then louder. Closer.

“Dick.”

He didn’t hear it.

“Dick.” And then your hands were on him—grabbing his wrist, chest pressed against his back. “Stop.”

He was trembling.

“He killed Jason,” he choked, voice cracked. “He took him. He was laughing when he was beating him to death.”

“I know,” you whispered, forehead against his shoulder. “I know, baby. But Jason wouldn’t want this.”

He didn’t answer. His breath hitched, uneven. You could feel the storm inside him—every muscle coiled, every heartbeat like a drum of war. For a moment, you just held him, grounding him with your touch, your presence.

Then your voice came again, softer—cracked with your own grief that you were trying to hold back.

“You think I don’t want him dead?” Your voice wavered, but didn’t break. “I do. Every day. But if you do this, Dick… you’ll never be able to look in the mirror again.”

His jaw clenched. His whole body was shaking with restraint. His arm still hovered midair, the crowbar slick and red, the Joker barely breathing beneath him.

“I could end it,” he said, so quiet you barely heard it. “Right now. Right here. He deserves to rot in hell.”

“Then don’t follow him there.”

That was what made him stop.

Slowly—like it cost him everything—his hand dropped. His fingers uncurled from the Joker’s collar, letting him slump to the ground with a wet rasp of air, unconscious or close to it.

His breathing was erratic. Ragged. Shattered.

You stepped in front of him, chest to chest, uncaring of the blood on his suit or the crowbar still clenched in his shaking hand.

“Look at me,” you whispered.

His eyes flickered to yours.

Not Nightwing’s eyes. Dick’s. Grief-stricken. Lost. A boy mourning his brother the only way he knew how—through violence.

“You’re not him,” you said, voice breaking. “You’re not a killer.”

The crowbar slipped from his fingers and hit the pavement with a hollow clang, swallowed by the rain.

And Dick dropped to his knees.

You caught him before he could fall completely, arms wrapping around him as he sagged into you, rain soaking through both your clothes as he shook with silent sobs. You held him there, in the wreckage of the alley.

And behind you, the Joker lay still.

Broken—but still alive.

[demie90s]

Workout

Natisha Hiedeman x Fem!Reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: After a grueling practice, all you want is a couch, a snack, and a good leg rub.

Genre: Fluff, flirtation, domestic tension

Warnings: Mild language, suggestive teasing, physical intimacy

Word Count ~ 0.6k

Practice done. Shower handled. Skin moisturized in record time, but my legs are Screaming. I limp through the front door like I just finished basic training, mumbling curses under my breath about Coach C.

She definitely hate me. She gotta. Because the way she ran me today was criminal. Like, basketball is a contact sport, not cardio bootcamp. And maybe I was cracking jokes during warmups. Maybe I was distracting the team. But girl… five suicides for calling court a munch? Be serious.

By the time I get to the couch, T’s already posted. Curled up in her blanket burrito, headset on, game controller glued to her hands like her life depend on it. Pink buzzcut glowing soft in the TV light, neck glistening still from her post-shower lotion, black tank top clinging in all the ways I hate when I’m tryna focus.

I drag myself across the living room like a wounded soldier, letting out the most dramatic sigh known to mankind before dropping beside her. Not even beside, actually—on her. Legs flopped right in her lap, my phone in my hand like I ain’t planning to move for the next four business hours.

My thighs are on fire. Glutes tight. Hamstrings feel like they finna sue. And Miss Natisha Hiedeman. She locked in.

“Baby you good?” she says without even looking down, thumbs tapping fast.

“Do I look good?” I groan, adjusting and hissing when I move too fast. “Coach ran me like I stole something.”

“…you did what? Five suicides?” she replies all casual.

I turn my head slow. “T. Don’t play. You saw Coach working me like a damn dog.”

She chuckles—chuckles!—before her game resets or something, and finally, finally she sets the controller down. Her hands land on my legs like she ain’t been plotting this. Like she didn’t wait for the perfect excuse to get me like this—laid out, weak, thighs right in reach.

The first rub is light. Just testing. Then she digs in a little deeper and I hiss so hard she freezes.

“Damn, Ian even touch you,” she mutters.

“You not funny.”

But she is. She always is. Her thumbs press into that tight spot just above my knee, slow circles. I groan without meaning to—one of them long, deep ones that make her pause.

“Mmm.” She hums. “Told you to stretch, but you don’t listen.”

“I was tryna clown diamond. It was important.”

She shakes her head like I’m helpless. Maybe I am. She adjusts the blanket, bunching it up behind my back while sliding my thighs higher in her lap. Her hand doesn’t leave my skin. In fact, now it’s climbing. Palms broad and warm, working up toward the meat of my thigh, then gripping it like she bought it.

“T.” I glance at her. “Don’t start, cause Ian doing shit.”

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’,” she shrugs, hands still rising, “You the one laying here like a damn offering.”

“I’m in pain,” I shoot back, already repositioning my phone like I’m not arching into her grip. “You can eat this cat later, but right now I’m tryna recover.”

“Acting like you not already a pillow princess,” she says under her breath.

“Aye, don’t do me!”

“You laid out like dessert. Talking ‘bout ‘I’m not horny.’ Aight.”

Her laugh got that raspy edge to it, all smoke and confidence, but she still playing innocent. Meanwhile her hand is not innocent. Kneading the inside of my thigh like dough, then switching legs so smooth I don’t even realize till I feel her thumbs in the tender part right above my knee.

I groan again, this one damn near desperate.

“You tryna help or get me pregnant?” I mumble.

She smirks but doesn’t respond. Just keeps massaging while I scroll.

“Damn,” I say, jaw dropping. “Dallas lost again. They must be tryna break a record.”

“Girl hush,” she mutters, gripping higher on my thigh like punishment.

“Okay okay,” I whine, wiggling from the pressure. “That was a low blow, my bad.”

She snorts and leans down just enough to kiss the side of my leg. Her hand spreads across the front of my thigh, fingers drifting just a little too close. I don’t say nothing. Just shoot her a look and keep scrolling like I don’t feel every inch of her knuckles.

She lifts the blanket slightly, tucking it tighter around my waist like she real concerned with my comfort now.

“You warm?” she asks all sweet.

“Yeah,” I say slow. “But you gon’ keep that hand where it’s at?”

She lifts a brow. “You guiding it.”

“…Shut up.”

“You know where you put it.”

I pretend to refocus on my phone. “Girl, just rub the knot out.”

“You sure that’s all you want rubbed?”

“…T.”

She bites her lip, trying not to laugh, and then her game lights back up, distracting her just long enough for her hands to go still on my thigh. She rests there—fingers warm, grip steady, skin on skin—and we fall into that quiet kind of tension. The one where everything good already happened, but it’s still building.

I lean my head back, sigh again, and say, “Next time you gon’ run them suicides with me.”

She glances at me with that grin that say girl, you got me fucked up.

“I don’t need to run,” she says, going back to her controller. “I’m in shape.”

I roll my eyes. “Aight, bet. We gon’ see when your ass locked up from carrying me to bed.” She laughs so hard the controller damn near falls.

“Girl,” she wheezes, “You not even heavy.”

“You right,” I say, smug as hell. “I’m thick. That’s different.”

She shakes her head, and under the blanket, her hand shifts—resting gently on the inside of my thigh, palm up like it belong there. And I don’t move. Just lay there with my phone dimming, head sinking back against the couch cushion, legs aching but comforted, and my girl massaging me like I’m both the problem and the prize.

And honestly I am.

She back focused. Locked in again like the whole leg rub was just a halftime show. Controller in hand. Lips slightly parted. Eyes glued to the screen like she fighting for her life in whatever game she on. I’m damn near folded on the couch like I need physical therapy.

TV on but I ain’t watching. I’m sitting up now, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, stretching my legs out and wincing every time I move. These thighs feel like they been beat with a bat. Coach C really tried to humble me today. Like I didn’t already know pain. Like I ain’t already a child of struggle. She gon’ humble me again tomorrow too if I don’t loosen up.

I shift again—slow, cautious—and grunt under my breath.

T glance over for a second, clock the way I’m struggling, then look back at the game like damn that’s crazy. That’s how I know she in the zone.

“Ion wanna ask you…” I mumble, massaging my own leg with both fists like I’m kneading bread. “But I can’t even move these hoes right now.”

She don’t answer.

“I’m talkin’ bout locked up like—like old people knees,” I continue dramatically. “I need a massage gun or something. A weapon. One of them industrial ones they use on horses or sum.”

Still no response.

I squint at her. “T. I’m in pain. Crippling. Debilitated. And you over there tryna beat 12-year-olds on Call of Duty.”

She smirks, eyes still forward. “They not 12.”

“…so you losing to grown men?”

She side-eyes me, finally, and says, “You want a massage gun or you want me to shoot you?”

“Honestly? Whichever one gon’ make me walk tomorrow.”

I groan again and fall back into the couch like I’m dying. Ain’t no way I’m running shit in the morning if I’m limping like this. I don’t wanna be dramatic but Coach gon’ have to wheel me into drills. And Natisha just sitting there. Looking fine. Being unbothered.

A whole girlfriend in the room and I’m over here massaging myself like a sad little war vet.

I go back to my phone. Scrollin’ like I ain’t in distress. The burn’s mostly gone, but it’s still tight—like my thighs on strike and the union said don’t bend. I adjust in the cushion, lips pressed, tryna focus on whatever’s trending and not the fact that I still feel like a busted can of biscuits.

Then I hear her move. Not a little shift—a real move. Controller down. Headset off. I glance up and she’s already facing me, one leg folded up on the couch, the other planted on the floor, boxing me in like it’s an intervention.

And then she start again.

Hands firmer this time. Deep. Focused. Like she done made it her mission to realign my soul through my hamstrings.

I feel the first dig and damn near drop my phone.

“Shit, T—damn!” I gasp, head snapping back like I caught the Holy Ghost.

She don’t flinch. Don’t pause. Just leans in and says calmly, like she reading me my rights:

“You ight.”

Not asked. Told me. I blink, chest rising, eyes wide. “Girl… how you gon’ tell me I’m okay like you the muscles?”

She glance up, face calm, smug even. “Cause if I stop, you ain’t gon’ be.”

And tell me why she right.

I don’t say shit after that. Just grip the blanket tight, biting my lip, phone abandoned. Her thumbs working knots I ain’t know I had, and now I’m making noises that might get us evicted if I’m not careful.

I hiss again, body twitching. “You tryna help or hurt me?”

She chuckles low and leans in, close enough for her breath to graze my ear.

“Both.” Lord. I’m in danger.

She keep going, slow and steady like she knows she got me. Like she enjoying this way too much. Her hands glide up, dig into the back of my thigh, and then slide down again like she mapping me out from memory. Real precise. Real focused.

And I’m over here clenching the damn throw pillow like it’s a lifeline.

She notices. Of course she do. “You holdin’ that pillow like it owe you money,” she teases, thumbs dragging right into the meat of my thigh.

“I’m holdin’ it ‘cause you tryna kill me,” I mumble, but my voice all soft now. Real submissive. Like my legs done betrayed me and switched sides.

Then she leans in and kisses my knee—deadass kisses it like it’s something precious. Lingers for a second too long, like I’m not gon’ melt from that alone.

“Poor baby,” she coos, one hand still working me while the other wraps around the back of my calf, steady, warm. “All them jokes got you ran ragged.”

I glance at her sideways. “You like when I act up.”

She smirks, brushing her fingers up my thigh again, this time lighter. “I like putting you back together after.”

That make me shut right up. I blink slow, heart skipping, and try to act unfazed—but my eyes drop to her lips, then back to her hands, and I know I’m losing this battle.

“You gon’ carry me to practice tomorrow?” I ask, fake sweet.

She scoffs, biting her lip. “I’ll carry you to bed first.”

“Oh.” My voice real soft now. “Like… right now or…”

She pauses. Smiles all slow. Then: “Finish yo lil scrollin’. I ain’t done wit’ you yet.”

Cute and threatening. I hate her. I love her. I’m down bad.

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog @kaliblazin @liloandstitchstan @footy-lover264

[highway-143]

when ice cracks- park sunghoon

genre: fluff, smut, strangers to enemies (?) to lovers?

pairing: figure skating teacher!sunghoon x female!reader

taglist: @urlocalmultigroupfan @minkilicious @vrusha01

word count: 5k

now playing: like that- babymonster

(proofread)

all scenarios are fake and are not meant to harm any idol in the story

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

"do you know any good figure skating teachers?"

"what?"

"figure. skating. teachers." you say, your fists planted firmly on elissa's desk as you try to get your best friend to help you.

"bitch, can you see i'm busy?" she asks, gesturing to her open computer and papers scattered across the white surface of her desk.

"ughhh" you groan, knowing she was right. studying to be an engineer had to be more time consuming than normal work. at least the major you had picked was easy enough... and you were in senior year.

"wait, figure skating? since when have you been interested in that?"

"since i decided clown training wasn't an option." you say sarcastically.

elissa rolled her eyes. "ha ha."

"because i want to explore new hobbies."

"i heard from my sister's friend that park sunghoon is starting lessons." she says.

"am i supposed to know who that is?"

"you don't?" she asks, looking shocked.

"no..."

"he's really famous. made it to the olympics, and he's number 7 in all of korea. he's only our age too."

elissa starts typing on her computer, turning it around to show you pictures of a handsome man, either on the ice or in a suit at awards ceremonies.

and damn, he was gorgeous.

he had a sharp jawline, accentuating his full lips and perfect nose, a small mole dotting its side and one under his eye. his hair fell in swoops, framing his face in a way yours could never.

he was beautiful.

and pricey.

you look at the cost of his lessons, $75 per session. who had that kind of money?!

apparently you did.

because when you apply for three classes on his website and put in your card information, your bank account cries a little.

you reassure your conscience with "its okay, all you need is basic training. and if the lessons aren't good, you can always find someone else."

right?

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

you pull into the parking lot, your old car sliding into an empty spot.

reaching into the backseat, you pull out your skates. last week, you explored amazon for the best and cutest pair you could find, coming across these. white faux leather with light blue threading and laces, and shiny silver blades, that currently held covers so you wouldn't cut your fingers.

you carry the skates out of the car, and into the rink. the outdoor arena was perfect. not too big, but enough space for you to be comfortable.

the crisp winter air reddened your cheeks and nose as you walk to the small tented pavilion next to the rink.

when you step inside the room, you find sunghoon.

and you can't speak anymore.

you cant think.

you cant move.

sunghoon looks up at you from his seat on a bench, his skates half tied and his hair slightly hiding his eyes.

you gape at him as he stares at you, looking you up and down.

"what are you wearing?"

"h-huh?" you say, unsure of what he means.

"your clothes. you should wear something less bulky for your top. it's more aerodynamic."

you look down at your thick coat. "i... i didn't know-"

"obviously not. i assume you're a beginner?" he says flatly, his eyes boring into yours, no warmth in them.

"i mean, yeah. thats why i'm taking lessons, right?" you say, slowly getting more and more pissed off.

"yeah, but even untrained skaters could figure that out."

you curl your hands into fists around your skates. who did he think he was?

"i reccomend leggings and a thin sweater for next time. now, get your skates on and we can start. hurry up." he finishes tying his skates and stands easily on them, walking smoothly over to his bags.

you sit on the bench and start putting on your skates, tying them with the pastel laces.

sunghoon steps closer to you, watching you tie the second.

"you're doing it wrong." he scoffs.

you stare at him as he looks at your skates. "care to enlighten me on how i'm doing it wrong? you ask.

"feel how loose they are? not going to support your ankles, are they?"

you bite back sarcastic comments. "well i tied them the best i can."

sunghoon crouches down, one knee on the floor as he grabs your foot. your cheeks heat up as he unties your laces.

"terrible skates. i swear, half of you prioritize looks over functionality."

"what's wrong with them!?" you ask, fed up with his critical reviews of everything.

"the material isn't very supportive, the pads on the soles are too thin, and the blades are duller than they should be." he says simply. "maybe you should do better research next time."

you roll your eyes. "sorry i bought the wrong thing. they were affordable. thank heavens, because your classes practically killed my bank account."

"i didn't ask you to take these classes, did i?" he says, moving to untie your other skate. "if it was really that big of a deal, you would've gone somewhere else. and considering you signed up for three classes, you had enough money."

you sputter, trying to find the words to tell him you literally had no clue about anything figure skating related.

"okay, so i bought the wrong thing. i have never skated before, how am i supposed to know what to wear or buy or do?"

he smirks at you, standing back up. "maybe if you scrolled a little farther on the website, you'd find links to everything. and tips for newbies. but you didn't. its all on you, y/n"

you sit in shock, his words like a slap to your ego.

sunghoon walks away, still looking smug. "stand up, newbie."

you struggle to your feet, ankles slightly bending outward as you rise. you had to admit, the support to them was very helpful. if sunghoon hadn't tightened them, you'd probably have fallen already.

without looking back at you, sunghoon speaks. "told you they needed to be tighter. fix your legs. don't stand like a baby deer, straighten your knees and stand up. don't let your ankles pop out, and keep your feet locked straight ahead."

you do as he says, and suddenly, your stance is perfect. you don't wobble or fall over, you stand tall, feeling proud of yourself already.

sunghoon struts back over to you. "lets get on the ice. remember, ankles locked. flex your calves if you have to."

"okay," you slowly take steps forward, growing more confident as you walk farther away from the bench. "so what are we doing today?" you ask sunghoon, who is already stepping onto the rink, gliding away as he circles around the ice.

"the basics, newbie" he calls, swerving and spinning while you cautiously step onto the slippery surface.

you place one foot onto the ice, and slowly put weight on it, getting ready to bring your other foot on. but as you lift it up, your foot on the ice slides away from you, and you grip onto the railing to pull back.

sunghoon appears in front of you, another smirk plastered over his devastatingly handsome face. "need help, newbie?" he asks, looking at your sliding foot.

"no thanks, i've got it," you say, trying and failing to get your whole body onto the rink.

after your fourth try, sunghoon is holding back laughter. you glare at him, foot slowly sliding away again.

"want some advice?" he asks, smirking.

you nod, pulling your foot back in.

"when you're ready to step your other foot in, don't push forward with the one on the ice. try to shift your weight to the side. the skate doesn't naturally want to move that way, so it'll basically lock in."

you push your weight sideways, and find yourself with both feet on the rink. you steady yourself with the short wall surrounding the edge, and look over at sunghoon.

"look at that. now, lets really get started. let go of the wall." he says, skating away from you.

letting your fingers pull away from the surface, standing up straight, ankles and knees locked.

"now what?"

"do you want to move forward?" sunghoon asks, twirling figure eights in the center of the rink.

"yeah."

"push your weight to the side on one foot, like before, and then move forward with the other. then switch sides."

when you slowly start skating away from the wall and towards sunghoon, you feel a smile growing on your face.

the rest of the lesson progresses very slowly, you struggle with speeding up and some of the techniques sunghoon tries to teach you, and sunghoon's temper rises higher and higher, but he doesn't break.

not yet.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

the front door creaks open as you walk inside, and you call out for your roomate. "elissa! are you home?!" you yell, setting your skates by the front door.

"no, i'm in the bahamas." you hear her say from the kitchen.

"so funny," you roll your eyes, moving into the kitchen to find elissa making a bowl of cereal. "guess who i met today?"

"ronald mcdonald?"

"bitch-" you lightly slap her shoulder. "no, park sunghoon."

"and? did you make a fool of yourself at the lesson?"

you roll your eyes and sit down at the island counter. "no. well... as a beginner, not much. but maybe a little"

elissa sits across from you, chewing on her cheerios. "you're going for more, right?"

"might as well. i signed up for the lessons. but not gonna lie, sunghoon is kind of a jerk."

"really?"

"yeah," you say, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl. "he was critical of everything and very demeaning... like it's my fault i signed up for classes that are for all levels, including beginners. sorry."

elissa chuckles. "but is he cute in person?"

"very," you say, eyes glazed, your mind picturing how beautiful sunghoon looked at the lesson.

especially when he was on his knees for you.

nope, you can't go there. never gonna happen. he practically hates you.

"... said he was really nice." says elissa.

you were too zoned out to catch what she said. "hmm?" you ask, shaking the image of sunghoon out of your mind.

"i said, my sister's friend said he was really nice. he was a beginner too. so i don't know why sunghoon is treating you weird."

"yeah, i don't know..." you say, drifting back into your sunghoon dreamland.

his hair covering his eyes, his large hands on your skates, holding the blue laces, veins sticking out, his lips that were so easily kissable, so out of reach. every part of him was perfect.

except for his attitude.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

one week later, you and your car trundle into the parking lot.

you walk into the tent, and sunghoon is sitting on the bench, tying his laces like last week.

"hey." you say, and just like before, he looks up at you through his hair.

"hey," he looks you up and down, again, and nods. "better choice this time." he says, gesturing to your black leggings and army green sweater. "maybe this week you will actually be better. oh wait, it's your skills that are bad."

you frown and sit down on the bench, sliding your skates on and tying them as tight as possible.

"still too loose," sunghoon comments. "give me your foot." he reaches for your leg and pulls your foot into his lap. you have to swivel your body to face him, and your cheeks heat up again. his fingers on your skin felt like fire.

he ties your laces in silence, and when he moves to grab your other foot, you hear a sharp gasp.

"ah, shit," he says, grabbing his hand.

you look up and see his finger cut open, a trickle of blood falling from the slice. his other hand holds it tightly, trying to lessen the blood flow, and you notice a small part of your blade wasn't covered by the gaurd.

you jump up, feeling guilty. "i'm so, so, so, so sorry," you say. "do you have any band aids?"

"in my bag." he says, bringing his finger to his lips and sucking the blood off.

and you couldn't help but stare at the way his lips molded around his thumb as you hand him the bandage. how they wetted his finger so perfectly.

he catches you caught in a trance, a quizzical look upon his face. you immediately look away, embarrassed.

when he had tied the band aid around his finger, he grabs your other leg and reties the laces. you watch his expert fingers dance across your skate, every accidental brush to your skin causing an unsolicited reaction that displayed itself as a redness to your face.

you and sunghoon stand, and he turns to give you his trademark smirk. "you ready, newbie? maybe this week will be better."

with a nod, you follow sunghoon to the rink. this time, you easily step on the ice and move away, but you're no match for sunghoon, who starts twirling with ease.

"this week, we should start an easy routine. it'll help you learn more of the basics."

"okay," you nod along with his words. "what is it?"

"it's a song i choreographed. it's called XO. english or korean version?"

"i dont care," you say, "whatever you think is best."

sunghoon grabs his phone and puts the song on. the instrumentals start and he moves to the center of the rink.

"i'll show you how it's supposed to look, and then we can get started."

you smile and lean back against the wall, and the song starts.

sunghoon starts moving on the ice, and you're easily mesmerized by his skill. he pirouettes and leaps around the rink, and you find yourself caught in his beauty, skill, and grace.

the song plays in the background, the lyrics in korean pairing well with the english ones.

so just say O babe, 저 달을 향해 날아가 볼래

sunghoon twirls back to the center, and bows. when he rises, you can see the gleam in his eyes.

he really loves this.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

after the lesson, you step out of the rink. your legs are sore and a little shaky, and your palms hurt from how many times you fell. you had lost count at this point.

sunghoon walks into the tent, catching you staring at your reddened hands.

"seven" he says.

"what?"

"you fell seven times... and just a tip, don't have your fingers all spread out when you fall. it's dangerous, especially when there are other people on the ice."

"okay," you start untying your knotted skates. "thanks for the lessons. you're a really good skater. probably the best i've ever seen"

sunghoon nods. "thank you. and you're pretty good for a newbie. you learn quickly."

you laugh cynically. "yeah, i guess i do. how's your thumb?"

"oh... it's fine now. it doesn't sting anymore, so that's good."

"good."

and then you fall into an awkward silence. sunghoon looks at his phone while you take off your skates.

you stand up to leave when sunghoon stops you. "ah... y/n, wait."

you turn around, confused. "whats up?"

"i... never mind. see you next week."

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

it feels like years until your next lesson. when you finally walk into the tent, sunghoon isn't there.

you wait for him, putting on your skates and tying them tighter than humanly possible, and then sit back.

and wait.

and wait some more.

15 minutes later, sunghoon runs into the tent, panting and carrying his bag.

"i'm s-sorry," he says, bending over with his hands on his knees. "c-car broke down. i had to run five blocks."

you look up from your phone, amused. "it's okay, i don't mind waiting."

"y-your skates... are too loose again," he says, standing up. "hang on."

sunghoon sits on the floor in front of you, pulling your foot onto his thigh as he unties your skate. you sigh, even when you thought you had it, you didn't.

he fixes your laces, even thought they feel exactly the same, and starts putting his on. you take a second to look at his pair of skates, old and creased, but somehow still clean and usable.

"how long have you had those?" you ask, pointing to them.

"uhh... almost 10 years i think."

"why so long?"

"my mom gave them to me. it was my birthday present. they still work, so i still use them. plus, they remind me of the person who supported my dreams the most, you know?"

"wow," you say, staring at the faded white material. "that's really cute."

"yeah," he laughs. "cute was really what i was going for."

you fall back into an easy silence. sunghoon pulls out two plastic water bottles from his bag and hands you one. "you might want this today. lets go."

and you follow sunghoon off to the rink, water bottle in hand.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

"no, you need to tuck your ankle in the back of your knee. kind of like a flamingo." sunghoon demonstrates the position. "not like some russian dancer."

you try again and this time, he nods. "now bend your hips and try to sink lower. lock all of your body and then pop it into a spin."

he shows you how to do it and you try, hitting the move with ease.

"now all together."

you tuck your ankle and practice the full move. sunghoon waves his hand, skating closer to you. "you're not putting it together right."

he moves behind you, adjusting the way your knee held your ankle.

and then he grabs your hips.

and you forget how to breathe.

because with sunghoon's hands touching you, everything feels calm.

but also rough.

the way the pads of his fingers press hard into your skin.

the way his breathing quickens ever so slightly when you turn your head back to look at him.

the way he gets lost in your eyes, and you in his.

and you're suprised to find warmth in them this time. not the same glare you saw before.

tenderness.

"you need to stick your hips out. rotate them. that makes it easier for your body to pop," sunghoon says, breaking whatever moment you just had.

"try again."

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

you turn to sunghoon in the tent, staring into his eyes before you speak.

"i want more classes."

he smirks at you, and you roll your eyes. "because i'm not that good at the routine yet. i want to keep practicing."

sunghoon nods. "okay, lets do it."

before you walk out of the tent, he grabs your wrist.

"i'll even offer a discounted price. half off. if you promise to work your ass off. and practice off the ice."

"don't worry, i can do that." you grin up at him, pulling your wrist out of his grasp. "i knew you liked me."

he sputters, trying to find words. you stand there with your hands on your waist, waiting for his excuse.

"no. absolutely not. i do this with all my students. especially the good ones."

"so i'm a good student?"

his eyes soften. "yeah, you are."

"thanks... i gotta go. see you next week."

you jog to your car, sliding into the drivers seat and turning on the ignition.

you're about to pull out of the lot when you see sunghoon exit the rink and start walking.

"hey!" you call, waving out the window.

he walks up to your car, bending down to look at you.

"what's up?"

"need a ride? your car broke down, right? least i can do for the lessons."

"yeah, that would be great, thanks." he walks to the other side and hops in, his long legs barely fitting behind the front console of your car.

you plug your phone into the charger, and a song starts to play.

XO... XO... kiss me, don't say no

"you like it that much, huh?"

you blush and scramble to change it, but sunghoon stops you.

"it's fine, i like it too."

you start driving, humming along to the song.

and sunghoon hums with you.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

your car pulls into the parking lot of sunghoon's apartment, easing into a tight spot.

"you wanna come in? for lunch?"

"sure!" you say, stepping out of the car and following him into the complex.

his apartment isn't big or small. it's just average. the kitchen is a nice size, and everything is decorated well, which didn't surprise you. all the furniture and appliances are sleek and modern, something your broke college student ass only dreamed of having.

"damn, sunghoon. this is nice."

he smiles and puts his skates in a bin by the door. "thanks. i worked hard for it."

"i bet."

"do you want a sandwich?" he asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

"that sounds awesome. anything i can do to help?"

"nah, just sit there and look pretty."

both of you freeze at the words that just came out of his mouth.

sit there and look pretty.

and neither one of you mentions it.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

"okay, my turn. what's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done?"

you and sunghoon spent lunch asking each other questions ranging from what's your favorite color? to when did you realize that skating was your dream?

"damn..." says sunghoon. "uhhh... probably the time in first grade when i ate dirt thinking it would impress the girl i liked. i ended up puking right in front of her."

you start laughing, and sunghoon can't help but join you. the way your eyes scrunch up and you try to cover your mouth with your hand mesmerizes him.

you catch him staring, and he looks away.

"when were you the happiest."

you look up, racking through your brain. "honestly, skating with you. it's a nice distraction from all the schoolwork, and you're a really good teacher."

"wow... that's really nice." he says, looking a little shook.

"what's the best thing you did to trick somebody. like anything at all?"

"honest answer?" he asks, looking nervous.

"honest answer."

"so... don't get mad, but you know how your skates are always too loose?"

"mhm..." you look at him expectantly.

"well they aren't. i just really like helping you. it feels good, you know?"

"wait... what?"

sunghoon nods his head, maintaining eye contact with you as he drops the biggest bomb.

"i like you. a lot."

and you sit there, your jaw dropped slightly, thoughts running through your mind faster than sunghoon could skate.

"ah, i'm sorry, i made it too weird, didn't i? just forge-"

you cut him off by placing a soft kiss to his lips, cupping his jaw in your hands as you finally taste them.

finally let them taste you.

and sunghoon doesn't pull away. he doesn't push you away either.

he pulls you closer.

one hand on the back of your head, he moans while pressing his lips deeper into yours, the vibration sending chills through your body. he runs his hand through your hair while he grabs your chin with the other, caressing your skin. he nudges your lips with his tounge, asking for entry.

and you immediately give it to him.

his tounge pushes into your mouth, twirling around yours, tasting you fully, completely.

like he can't get enough of you.

and you cant get enough of him.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

slap

"ahh... hoonie... please!' you cry, a red mark forming on your ass.

you never thought you'd be here. bent over sunghoon's dining table, both of your clothes somewhere on the floor, your legs spread for him so nicely.

damn, sunghoon loved it.

he bends down and presses a soft kiss where his hand hit you. your legs shake and your cunt drips at the feeling of his lips on you.

you were so wet for him.

he takes a second to smell your pussy, the juices that were already slick between your thighs, dripping down your legs helplessly.

embarrassingly.

he sweeps up your wetness with his tounge, eliciting a loud moan from you, your fists grabbing the edge of the table as he licked up your cunt.

"so wet for me, hmm?" he groans between licks to your core, lapping up your slick like a hungry dog. although you couldn't see it, his cock was hard, standing straight up. but now wasn't time for his release. he had to pleasure you first.

when your legs threaten to give out, he holds you by your hips, obscene slurping sounds coming from where he was eating you.

his teeth lightly nip at your clit, and the overstimulation sends a jolt through your body. you moan his name as you feel yourself climaxing.

"h-hoon.... ah.... i'm gonna cum... shit..." and you scream as your orgasm crashes over you, sunghoon's tounge working you through your high, drinking all of you until there was nothing left but a dull ache between your thighs.

"so beautiful baby," he says, licking his lips. "so delicious."

sunghoon stands behind you and places a kiss to your shoulder, working his way up.

your neck.

your jaw.

when he reached your lips, you can see the remnants of your orgasm on his chin.

and you could taste it in his mouth when he crashes his lips on yours.

he gripped your waist, pressing your chest harder into the table with his. his cock slipped between your thighs, and your sensitive clit could barely handle the contact.

he slowly thrusted between your closed legs, your thighs hugging his hard dick so perfectly, he almost came on the spot.

no. he had to make this perfect for you.

he speeds up, his pelvis slapping hard against your ass every time he pushed in. you moan deeply into the table, and his hand snakes up to grab the back of your neck, holding you down as your back arched.

he grunts as his orgasm starts to take over, pulling out from between your legs and keeping himself from cumming.

edging himself out.

so that he could cum inside you.

you whine desperately when he pulls out, shamelessly wiggling your ass at him, begging for more.

his deep chuckle echoes in your ears. "such a needy little baby, huh? what do you want, princess?" he asks, bringing his lips to your ear, whispering sultrily to you.

"need your cock, please hoonie... please, please, need you in me."

he groans at the way you wiggle in front of him, begging, pleading for him to ruin you.

and he doesn't hold back.

he grabs your legs and spreads them wide, exposing your cunt to the cold afternoon air.

when sunghoon rubs the tip of his cock through your folds, you whimper, so utterly wrecked for him. so perfect for him.

you slightly sway your hips around him, eliciting a groan from his perfect lips.

and without warning, he pushes inside you.

his thick cock stretches your little hole so much, all you can do is squirm, little yelps cried out with every small push into you.

sunghoon moans. "fuck, y/n... you're so damn tight... shit, baby, i'm not gonnna last long."

"s'okay," you whine. "fill me up, please hoonie... pleasepleaseplease..." your words trail off as he bottoms out, your pussy clenching around him like a vice, sucking him deeper and deeper in.

and then he moves.

he pulls out of your dripping hole and slams back in, tears already starting to form in your eyes.

and he thrusts again.

and again.

he pounds into you so powerfully, you feel like you're about to be split open. all you can do is helplessly whine as sunghoon hits so deep, you can feel the tip of his cock kissing your cervix.

with every thrust, a tear falls down your cheek, spilling onto the table as sunghoon pumps into you.

the room is filled with the sounds of skin against skin, your wetness sucking around him, and both of your mingled sounds of lust.

"hoonie... holy fuck, sunghoon..."

he notices the tears painting your face, and leans forward to wipe them with his lips, pressing gentle kisses that were the complete opposite of how hard he was thrusting into you.

"princess, fuck... i'm coming. fuckfuckfuckkk"

you feel sunghoon bury into you one last time as he fills you up, his cum dripping out of your cunt alongside your own.

you both shake with orgasm, and sunghoon presses his lips against your back, riding out his high.

you look over your shoulder at him as he pulls out. his hair is a mess of sweat, sticking to his forehead, and his lips are puffy and swollen from how much he used them on you.

he smiles down at you, motioning for you to stand up.

you turn to face him, and your legs give out.

you sink to the ground, limbs feeling like gelatin, and sunghoon laughs.

"i ruined you that bad?" he asks, kneeling down in front of you.

you whine, defeated. "it's not funny, sunghoon." but you laugh anyways, leaning your head against the leg of the table.

"lets go, baby," he says, reaching for your hand. "i need a shower. care to join?"

"hell yeah," you shakily stand, and sunghoon immediately picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder.

you can't help but laugh as he pats your ass, carrying you into the bathroom.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

you wake up the next morning to find sunghoon's limbs wrapped tightly around you, and an unknown tee shirt you could only assume was his covering your chest. his hair was messy from sleep, and there was a faint trail of drool falling from his mouth, tiny snores sounding through his nose.

you giggle at how adorable he looks, and he wakes from the feeling of your laughter against his chest.

"hmm? wha-" he looks down at you, a dorky smile spreading across his pink lips. "oh. its you."

"rude." you say, staring up at him. "you drool in your sleep."

"not what i meant." he mumbles, wrapping his arms tighter around you. "and i know. might as well get used to it."

"what does that mean?"

"it means, i'm asking you to be my girlfriend."

you pretend to debate the thought, scratching your chin. "i don't know.... what's in it for me?"

sunghoon laughs and plays along. "hmm. how about free skating lessons and my amazing, award winning, delicious, bisquick waffles for breakfast?"

you smile up at him, catching his eyes. "of course, sunghoon. i would love to be your girlfriend."

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

a.n- oh dear god. this was the fastest and longest fic i've written ㅠㅠ if you liked it, please reblog/comment! and if you have any ideas, feel free to send me an ask, they're always greatly appreciated.

also- if anybody is interested in a part 2 for this fic, i have some ideas. lmk if you want to see it hehe

masterlist

[greenandsorrow]

Hiya I was wondering if you could do a prompt where fem reader is in [as in actress] in all the slashers movies even if it's as a background character? How they would react to her?Have a nice day no worries if you don't get to it!

Greetings, slasher community! This is my first work featuring our delicious psychos, unless you count my platonic Pennywise multi chap (I know he's not technically a slasher, but still). Hopefully, I've covered most of them♥️

Disclaimer?: I didn't do Art the Clown because I haven't watched Terrifier yet –but trust me, once I do, I'm sure it'll turn into an unhealthy obsession. Accept my apologies for now.

Aside from the obv gory nature of the whole thing, it's mostly sfw, with only minor suggestive innuendos. Don't try these relationship dynamics irl.

Featuring: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger, Ghostface (in the vague sense), Leatherface, The Grabber, Pennywise (1990), Pennywise (2017), William Afton because he's an undead serial killer and because I can (book, game, movie, not Springtrap this time), +BONUS CHARACTER

~the slashers x fem!actress!reader

Michael Myers 🏠🎃

The living room is silent except for the audio of Scream playing on the TV. You're lounging on the couch, mindlessly watching -until Michael, standing by the wall like a shadow, suddenly pauses the screen.

You blink. "Uh… what?"

Michael remains completely still as he observes the paused frame. A frame of you mid-sprint in the background of the classic horror movie, being chased by Ghostface. Anyone else would argue about whether that's really you, but Michael already knows. He's seen you move like this before. Maybe he's even chased you this way.

Without a word, he switches discs. He presses forward on the console.

And there you are -blurry in the background of a trick-or-treating scene in some other horror media, dressed as a generic babysitter, chatting with another actress. It's barely a second of screen time.

Michael turns his masked face toward you, his posture unreadable.

You shrug. "I needed money. It was just background gigs."

He keeps staring.

Stalker mode: activated.

Jason Voorhees ⛺🪓

You're leaning against his shoulder, a throw blanket draped over both of you.

Jason tilts his head, then turns to you, then back at the screen, then to you again.

If he could speak, he'd be asking "When was this?"

If he cared about emotions, he'd be offended.

You've been in so many slasher movies and never once did you mention it... Are you okay? Have you been running from psychos your whole life? He's almost worried about you.

Expect some extra protective hovering and a machete presented as a gift of comfort.

Freddy Krueger 🔥🌙

"Oh-ho-ho! Look at you, Hollywood! Running for your life again! What's your IMBD looking like, sweetheart? Professional Screamer?"

Freddy cackles, pausing and rewinding just to enjoy your panicked face.

"Damn, you're good. Ever considered coming to MY movies?" He waggles his claws at you. "Bet I could give you some real nightmare material." He's joking. Mostly. But you might want to lock your bedroom door tonight.

Just in case.

Ghostface (in general) 📞🔪

The moment your familiar figure flashes across the screen, Ghostface pauses the movie so fast the remote nearly cracks in his grip.

"Well, well, well… what do we have here?" His voice drips with amusement, though there's a sharp edge of something else... Interest? Possessiveness? A touch of jealousy? Hard to say.

He leans forward, taking in every detail. "You didn't tell me you were in Scream, getting killed by other Ghostfaces -or Halloween, or Friday the 13th, or literally every horror movie ever made.... Even in Child's Play?!"

He clicks his tongue, pretending to be offended. "And here I thought we had something special."

His gloved fingers tap against your thigh as he considers. "So, do you always run from killers, or are you just playing hard to get?"

A chuckle follows, dark and playful. "You know, I could give you a much more… hands-on experience than any of these amateurs."

He lets the movie roll again, but now he's watching you, not the film. "Final girl, background character, victim... Doesn't matter. You'll always be my favorite scream queen."

Leatherface 🪚🌾

Leatherface watches in silence. A chainsaw in his lap, forgotten.

He doesn't understand movies too well, but he does understand that's you being chased by someone who isn't him.

Excuse me?

You let someone else do the chasing? And you never told him?

Next thing you know, he's pacing, huffing under his breath. Expect extra possessiveness and a LOT of lingering looks.

Also, if that actor playing Ghostface suddenly goes missing… you know nothing.

The Grabber (Albert Shaw) 🎩🎭

The room is dimly lit, the glow of the TV flickering against the walls as A Nightmare on Elm Street plays. He turns to you, eyes glinting behind the sockets of his signature mask. A low chuckle rumbles from his throat. "Look at that."

His voice is smooth, almost teasing. "You're so good at being scared."

He fixates on the screen, watching the way your body moves, the way you fight to survive. Something about it simply delights him.

"You know, you'd look even better in my basement" he muses, his tone almost affectionate. "No cameras. No audience. Just you and me."

His gloved fingers tap against the armrest. "I wonder if you'd last as long as they let you in the movies…"

Then, suddenly, he laughs -light, breathy, as if the thought genuinely amuses him. "Maybe, you'd last even longer... If I want you to."

Pennywise (1990) 🎈🍿

Bob Gray is having the time of his life watching you in all these horror movies. He's laughing, cackling, absolutely thriving.

"Y'know, I could've given you real horrors to perform, kiddo!" His grin stretches wide. "And that running? Pfft! Amateur work! You should see how kids run from me!"

"Oh-ho! There you are again, kiddo! Look at you run! And run! And run some more! Boy, you really know how to make a monster work for it!"

But then, he sees him. His replacement. His knock-off.

The smile fades. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, squinting at the screen like a father seeing his daughter bring home the wrong guy.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Look at this guy. Thinks he's scary." He flicks a dismissive palm at the screen. "Ooooh, I'm tall! Ooooh, I drool all over myself! Ooooh, I wear frilly clown pants like I just crawled out of a Victorian nightmare!"

He turns to you, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You fought this guy?"

A wheezing laugh escapes him. "Honey, you downgraded! Big time!"

"He tastes fear? Kiddo, I invented that shit. He's just doing a cheap impression of yours truly. And let's not even talk about that goofy-ass head-tilt he does."

He jerks his head side to side in an exaggerated impression. "What's the matter, buddy? Need a chiropractor?"

With a smirk, he throws an arm around you, pulling you close like some sleazy salesman. "Listen, sweetheart, if you really wanna be haunted by a clown, why not go with the original? Hmm?"

His sharp teeth flash you a smile. "I'm funnier. I'm nastier. And I won't just stand there like some awkward mime in oversized shoes."

Pennywise (2017) 🎪🩸

Pennywise watches, slowly tilting his head. Then tilting it more. And more.

"You run so well" he purrs, voice thick with amusement. "You know… I could chase you better."

He grins, showing sharp teeth. "Would you like to practice?"

Is he joking? Is he serious? It doesn't matter.

The moment he spots you in IT -in a grainy, VHS quality shot of Derry- his entire body stiffens. Then, his gloved fingers start twitching against his knees. His lips part in something between a sneer and a pout.

"You… you were in his movie?" His voice drops into a guttural growl. His yellow eyes flick between you and the screen, utterly insulted. "That knockoff? That circus reject?"

For a moment, he says nothing. Just stares.

Then, suddenly, he bursts into shrill, mocking laughter. "Ahaha! Oh, I get it! You were doing charity work!"

He claps his hands together, the sound unnerving.

"Helping the less fortunate! That's just so sweet of you!"

He stops laughing a little too abruptly. He looms closer now, voice dipping into something almost sultry, eyes gleaming in the flickering light.

"Tell me, little star…" His grin is wide, impossibly sharp.

"Did he taste you, too?" His head jerks to the side with a sickening crack. "Or were you saving yourself for someone better?"

Before you can answer, his arms snap around you, yanking you into his lap. His breath, hot and damp, ghosts over your throat.

"You're mine now" he coos, teeth just barely grazing your skin.

"My movie. My horror. My little leading lady." His grip tightens possessively.

William Afton (Book Version) 🐰🔦

Book Afton doesn't just watch the screen.

He studies it.

Cold, calculating eyes track every movement you make, every scream, every desperate attempt to escape. The slight twitch of his lips is the only sign of amusement -well, that and the way his fingers tighten around his armrest just a little too hard.

"All those killers" he murmurs, voice as smooth as velvet. "And yet, you always slip through their fingers. Fascinating."

His smile is thin, mirthless. "I wonder… is it luck that keeps you alive, dear girl?"

His fingers reach out, slow, deliberate, tracing a ghost of a touch on your wrist.

"Or instinct?"

His eyes glint dangerously. "I'd like to find out."

And then, he moves.

One second, he's across the couch. The next? You're caged against the armrest, his breath chilling your skin.

"You scream so pretty for them." His voice dips lower, like he's enjoying the chase. "Let's see how pretty you scream for me."

William Afton (Game Version) 👾📺

"We do love a good game of chase in this establishment." He smirks tiredly, tapping his fingers against the desk. "Perhaps you'd like a private audition?"

That's a yes whether you like it or not.

"Hah" he exhales, voice deep, rich and unmistakably British. "Now, that's just precious."

His pale eyes dilate as he watches you on his computer screen, just another background character in a slasher film. "You're terrified, aren't you?" His smirk grows. "And yet, you survived. Brave, little thing."

He clicks his tongue, straightening.

"You know…" he begins, casual, like talking about the weather. "Slashers today are so messy. Bloody, predictable, boring…"

His fingers flex, like he's imagining them wrapped around something. "But me? I was crafted for this. A mind sharper than any knife, a body that refuses to die…"

His smirk sharpens, dark amusement flickering in his irises. "And of course... I don't just chase, darling. I build my nightmares."

He watches your reaction, drinking it in. "Animatronics, trap rooms, hidden passageways… There's no running when the entire building is designed to keep you in."

A low chuckle escapes him. "Now… wouldn't that be fun?

"Oh? No, no, darling! I'm not going to hurt you... I thought you'd be impressed by... this. By my brilliance. Can we at least have a drink later?"

William Afton (Movie Version) 🍕🗃️

Afton watches in eerie silence.

"Hmm."

His expression is unreadable, but you can feel the gears turning in his head. "You have a habit of escaping things, don't you?"

A pause. Then, a half smirk.

"How interesting." He doesn't say more, but from that day on, you swear he watches you just a little too closely. Maybe you shouldn't have let him see that.

"Ohh, now we're talking!" William practically purrs, leaning back on the couch with an easy grin.

"Look at you! Little horror darling. Final girl energy, but still gets caught. Mmm, chef's kiss."

He actually makes the gesture, grinning at the screen like a director admiring his finest work.

Then, his expression shifts. Turns sharper. Hungrier

"But you know, sweetheart… these guys? Hack jobs." He gestures lazily at the killers on-screen.

"Me? I play for keeps."

His fingers trail down your arm, slow, teasing. "Never made you wonder if the monster really wanted to hurt you… or just wanted to keep you?"

He laughs, the sound warm, playful -dangerous.

bonus~

Slender Man 🌲🚫

The static hums through the speakers before the screen distorts. The lights flicker. Something in the air shifts... and you know before even turning your head -he's watching.

Slender Man stands in the shadows, unmoving, unreadable. He has no eyes, no expression, no face -and yet, the pressure of his gaze coils around you like an unseen force. A protecting one, to your relief.

You appear on the screen, a fleeting glimpse -a background figure, passing through some darkened corridor in a forgotten horror film. His head tilts, impossibly slow, almost… curious.

A long limb raises, fingers tapering into nothingness. He reaches -not toward the screen, but toward you.

The images on the television distort again. The signal is lost, replaced by static.

A silent message. A warning.

Or an invitation.

Then, the shadows stretch. The dark pools at the edges of the room, deepening, swallowing the corners. The walls feel further away than they should be.

A whisper brushes the nape of your neck, though no words are spoken.

Every contribution is much appreciated! Your kindness means the world to me! Thank you so much!!! CLICKHERE ♥️ (PayPal link)

My masterlist.

Divider by @strangergraphics.

It/Fnaf taglist, you might like this (@satubby @sketchist-art @urdeftonesgrrrl @vampirecrow38 @lilac-and-lavender @sra7riddle-malfoy)

[emmylksblog]

ANNOYING HAPPINESS // H.FORT

summary: you have a fight with your bf hector and his motives turned out to be deeper than you thought. based on this request

genre: angst, comfort

warnings: none

a/n: the urge i have to comfort a man like that 😔🤌🏻 (you’ll understand me when you read it 😃)

Hector sat slumped on a bench in the locker room. The team had just won a hard game, and they’d been celebrating in high spirits. All of them except Hector. He’d been unusually quiet throughout the whole thing, barely even cracking a smile after the final whistle blew.

As his teammates made their way out of the room, chatting and laughing, he remained behind. It was only when you approached him that he finally spoke.

”Why do you have to always be so damn cheerful?”

Your heart sank at his sharp tone. You’d been celebrating with the rest of the team, excited about the team’s victory. But Hector’s words made it clear that he didn’t share your enthusiasm.

”What do you mean?” you asked carefully.

Hector gave a scoff, his irritation obvious. “You know what I mean. The whole jumping around and clapping and acting like every little thing is a big goddamn deal.”

He was staring straight ahead, refusing to look at you directly. His jaw was clenched, the muscles tight. Clearly, something was bothering him deeply.

You were taken aback by his tone. Sure, Hector had always been more reserved than the other players, and prone to moments of sullen silence, but he’d never lashed out like this. Even after a bad loss, he’d usually just remain quiet and unemotional.

”Why does it bother you so much?” you asked hesitantly.

Hector finally turned to look at you. His eyes were cold and hard, but there was also a vulnerability there that you seltenly saw.

”Because it’s all bullshit,” he snapped. “It’s not real. We win a game and you act like it’s the greatest thing in the world. But what about when we lose? Then it’s just on to the next one. It’s all just a big joke, and you’re the only one who doesn’t get it.”

You were caught off guard by his bitter words. You wanted to reassure him, to tell him that it wasn’t all a joke, but something in his tone stop you. He was dead serious.

”Hector, that’s not true...” you began, but he interrupted you with a derisive snort.

“Oh yeah?” Hector shot back. “Then why does the media love you so much, huh? Always talking about how great you are. How you’re the best fan this team could ask for. It’s just a goddamn performance for them, and you’re their favorite clown.”

His words stung. You’d never thought of your love for the team as just a performance before. But Hector’s dismissive tone was starting to get to you.

”So I should just be unhappy all the time, is that it?” you asked, your voice growing sharper. “Just mope silently when the team loses, like you do?”

Hector winced at your words, but then his scowl returned. “At least I’m not fake,” he snarled. “I don’t pretend everything’s sunshine and rainbows just because it makes me look good on camera.”

You felt a flash of anger that he would accuse you of being fake. “Just because I’m not a miserable grouch like you doesn’t make me a fake! I love this team, and I celebrate their successes.”

Hector let out a low growl, his patience wearing thin. “You think it’s easy being this way?” he asked, his voice harsh. “You think I like bottling everything up like some kind of robot? I wish I could be like you, going around all happy all the time. But I can’t. I’ve seen too much to act like nothing bad will ever happen.”

You were just starting to respond when Fermin suddenly appeared in the doorway. Hector seized the opportunity and brushed past the other man without a backward glance.

Fermin must have sensed the tension in the air, because he gave you a quizzical look. “What was that all about?” he asked.

You shook your head, still rattled by Hector’s words. “It’s nothing,” you mumbled, not meeting Fermin’s gaze.

You hurried after Hector, your heart still pounding with frustration and bewilderment. The parking lot was mostly empty now, his teammates already having left.

You found Hector at his car, his jaw still clenched in irritation. He didn’t look up as you approached, just stood there silently, waiting.

You stood next to him, not quite sure what to say. Hector’s outburst had left you feeling both stung and puzzled. He was normally so reserved; what had set him off like this?

After a few tense seconds, he finally spoke, his voice low and quiet. “You gonna stand there all night?”

You sighed, realizing that he wasn’t about to address the argument. “No,” you replied, your tone matching his. “Are you going to keep being a jerk?”

Hector let out a humorless laugh. “No promises.”

He opened the car door and got in, leaving you standing there on the empty asphalt. This conversation wasn’t over.

The drive back to your shared home was tense and filled with awkward silence. Hector didn’t speak a word, just kept his eyes fixed on the road. You could practically feel the anger and frustration rolling off him in waves.

As you both walked up the steps to the front door, you knew the argument was far from over.

Hector stalked into the house without a word, leaving you to follow him inside. The moment you were both in the door, you decided it was time to address the issue.

”We should talk,” you said, trying to keep your voice level. “About what happened tonight.”

Hector flung his keys on the counter and turned to face you. His expression was still stormy, but he didn’t say anything. He just waited, his arms folded across his broad chest.

You took a deep breath, summoning up your courage. “You really hurt me tonight, you know,” you began, your voice firm. “With those things you said . . . accusing me of faking my emotions just to look good for the media. Do you really think that’s true?”

Hector scowled and looked away. He was silent for a few moments, as if struggling to find the right words. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and rough.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered. “Not exactly. It’s just . . . it makes me mad watching you act like everything’s always so damn happy when it’s not. Like you’re not ever bothered when we lose or things go bad.”

He looked back at you, his eyes conflicted. “You don’t know what it’s like for me, to always have to be the serious one. To see how easily you smile and get along with everyone, while I just stand there and watch...” His words trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken.

Your heart softened slightly at his confession. Hector’s words made you realize that he was just as vulnerable as you, just in a different way.

After a moment’s hesitation, you took a step closer to him. “You don’t have to be that way,” you said gently. “You don’t have to always be the serious one, the one holding it all together. You can let your guard down around me, at least.”

Hector looked away again, the muscles in his jaw working. Clearly, trusting others didn’t come naturally to him. But your words had struck a chord – he didn’t pull away when you moved closer.

“It’s okay to be vulnerable,” you said quietly, taking another small step forward. You hesitatingly reached out, touching his arm – a silent offer of comfort. “You can be different with me. I’m not going to judge you.”

Hector met your gaze, a mixture of vulnerability and defensiveness in his eyes. He didn’t pull away from your touch, but he didn’t lean into it either. He just stood there, caught between the need to keep his walls up and the desire to let someone in. Your boyfriend felt like he had to bear the weight of the world alone.

“You don’t always have to play the tough guy,” you said, your voice gentle. “You don’t have to push me away.”

Hector flinched at your words, as if they had hit a nerve. But he still didn’t move away. He just stood there, his expression conflicted, his body rigid with tension.

You could sense that he was waging an internal battle against his own instincts. Hector had never been good at allowing others to get close. He was used to dealing with his emotions privately, alone and unassisted. Your relationship was testing those boundaries in ways he’d never had to face before.

Hector tensed as you reached up to touch his face, his body going instantly still. Your fingers traced the line of his chin, gently turning his head so that he was forced to meet your gaze.

He held it for a moment, his hard exterior crumbling slightly as he looked at you. He was searching your eyes, unsure whether to pull away or give in.

His shoulders sagged, the tension in his body finally releasing. Hector’s eyes were still on yours, but his tough facade was gone. Now he just looked... lost.

He didn’t resist as you gently pulled him forward, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace. Hector let out a deep sigh, burying his face in your shoulder.

Hector clung to you tightly, his frame shaking as he let out a choked sob. He gasped out several choked apologies, his voice rough and broken.

“I’m sorry... I didn’t mean it... I just—“ He cut himself off with a strangled gasp.

Your heart ached at the sight of him struggling to hold himself together. You had never seen him this defensless, this desperate before. This was raw, unfiltered emotion, the kind of thing he would never let the world see.

You held him tighter, one hand gently rubbing his back. “Shh. It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it cariño.”

Hector’s tremors subsided somewhat as you pressed a gentle kiss to his head. He clutched you tighter, as if afraid you would disappear if he let go.

He was clearly struggling to deal with his emotions after holding them in for so long. It was like a dam had burst inside him, and now all the feelings he so strictly controlled were pouring out, overwhelming him.

You could feel the tension in his body fading away, replaced instead by a desperate need for comfort. He was holding onto you tightly, seeking reassurance and comfort.

You continued to hold him, running your fingers through his hair and whispering soothing words into his ear. “I’ve got you,” you murmured. “I’m here. It’s okay. Let it out.”

Hector was shaking his head, still apologizing for his outburst. “I don’t deserve you... you’re too good to me.”

You took his face in your hands, gently forcing him to look at you. “No,” you said firmly. “You don’t get to talk like that. You deserve to be loved and comforted just as much as anyone else.”

Hector let out another choked sob at your words, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Your own eyes were watering, seeing the man you loved so overwhelmed.

You gently kissed away his tears, wiping away his sorrow with your lips. “I love you,” you murmured, your voice thick with emotion. “You do deserve this. You do deserve me.”

Hector looked wrecked, his eyes red-rimmed and his face damp from crying. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. “Why do you put up with me?” he mumbled, his voice hoarse from sobbing. “I’m such a jerk sometimes.”

You smiled gently as you held him, continuing to soothe him with gentle touches. “Because I love you, you big idiot,” you replied, your voice soft. “The good parts and the bad parts. All of you.”

Hector held onto you tightly, his body still shaking but his sobs calming down. As you held each other, he finally let the words slip from his lips. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I do. I’m sorry for being such a jerk. I just . . . I don’t know how to handle all these damn feelings sometimes.”

You smiled at his confession, your heart swelling with love for this complicated man. “It’s okay,” you said softly, stroking his hair. “You don’t have to carry it all by yourself anymore, alright? I’m here. We’ll figure it out together.”

Hector looked at you with a mixture of vulnerability and neediness. His defenses were gone, his walls completely shattered. He was open and unguarded, and something about the sight tugged at your heartstrings.

You gently cupped his face in your hands and leaned in, your lips meeting his with a tender touch. The kiss was soft and unhurried, filled with all the unspoken love and reassurance you wanted to give him.

Hector responded immediately, his lips moving gently against yours. A soft sigh escaped him as he deepened the kiss, his hands finding their way to your hips, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t get enough of your touch.

You gently pulled away from the kiss, breaking the contact with a sigh. Hector looked dazed, his eyes still half-closed and his lips slightly parted. He followed your movement as you pulled back, as if unwilling to let you go.

You smiled at the sight of him, still unguardedly vulnerable as he stared up at you. “Let’s get you cleaned up baby,” you murmured, gently running a hand through his mussed hair. “You look like a mess.”

Hector managed to summon up a weak smile, his usual teasing attitude returning. “Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you make a man cry, babe.”

You chuckled and rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, blame it on me,” you retorted, poking him playfully in the chest. “It’s definitely not because you’ve been bottling up your feelings for so long.”

Hector huffed in mock annoyance, but there was no real ire behind it – his defenses had been thoroughly broken down by your love and compassion.

As the two of you continued to tease each other, it was clear that some barriers had been lowered. Hector might never be a master at processing and expressing his own feelings, but at least he wasn’t shutting you out. For tonight, that was enough.

[duvetchico]

we’re not each other’s, but god, we could’ve been.

summary y/n and yunjin are besties who are way too not platonic for people who aren’t dating. they hang out constantly, act like a couple, do all the little things together… but at the end of the day? they’re not actually together. because they both have their own partners.

genre platonic angst / slow heartbreak / quiet realizations / unspoken feelings / jealousy / emotional repression / yunjin being an idiot (affectionate)

pairing platonic!huh yunjin x fem!reader

masterlist.

you’re not really sure when it started. maybe it was the first time yunjin grabbed your hand without thinking. or maybe it was when she started leaning her head on your shoulder like it belonged there. maybe it was when you started looking at her like she hung the damn moon—then remembered she had someone else waiting for her at home.

tonight’s no different.

you’re both sitting on your shared spot at the rooftop, shitty convenience store snacks between you, stars above you, and her hoodie on you. of course it’s her hoodie. you didn’t even ask—she just threw it over your head like always.

“you’re eating the strawberry one again?” yunjin scoffs, eyeing the pocky box in your hand.

“yes, strawberry supremacy bitch,” you reply with a full mouth, flicking a stick crumb at her. she glares but it’s all fondness.

she takes one anyway.

you don’t talk about your days anymore. not since she started seeing her. not since you tried and failed to move on and ended up with someone who doesn’t get why you laugh before the punchline of a joke.

but you still sit here like this, every tuesday night. still laugh, still share snacks, still fall asleep with your heads tilted toward each other like you’re scared of missing the other’s dream.

"you're cold," she murmurs, noticing your hands tucked under your thighs.

"and yet you refuse to let me steal your body heat. fake friend," you whisper, dramatic as hell.

she sighs. “come here, you clown,” and pulls you into her side anyway. your cheek ends up against her collarbone. her arm wraps around you like she forgot you’re not hers to hold.

you pretend your heart doesn’t do that stupid thing.

"your heartbeat's fast," she mumbles into your hair.

"so is yours," you shoot back, and it's the softest kind of war.

later, you walk her home.

not your home. her home.

her girlfriend’s home.

chaewon's home

she holds your hand until the last block like she always does. it’s instinct now. like breathing. or lying.

you let go first. always.

"see you next tuesday?" she asks, like there’s any other answer.

"of course."

you both smile. she leans in, forehead nearly bumping yours. “don’t fall in love with me,” she teases, grinning.

“too late,” you joke back, lighthearted. too light. too fake.

you wave, then turn around before she can see the way your smile drops.

your apartment feels too quiet after her.

yujin's already asleep, her arm loosely draped over the pillow where your thoughts used to be. you stare at the ceiling, and for some reason, you think about how yunjin hates canned tuna but eats it anyway if it’s in your lunchbox.

you think about how she once sat on the bathroom floor with you while you cried over something you couldn’t explain. how she hummed a taylor swift song until your breathing evened out.

you think about the way she kissed chaewon once right in front of you. how your chest cracked open like a dropped vase and you still smiled anyway.

you meet again. same rooftop. same snacks. different kind of silence.

“i think i’m gonna move in with her,” she says quietly, like it’s a test.

your stomach sinks. it actually sinks.

you fake a grin. “about damn time. you guys are like… disgustingly domestic.”

she laughs, but there’s something sad in her eyes. “you think so?”

“totally. you're like one tote bag and a potted plant away from being legally married.”

silence again. except now it’s louder.

she brushes a crumb off your cheek. your breath catches.

“sometimes,” she whispers, “i think we’re more of a couple than me and her.”

you look away.

"but we’re not,” you remind her, gently.

“yeah.” she pulls her hand back. “we’re not.”

when she leaves that night, you don’t walk her home.

you can’t.

one night, you skip tuesday.

she texts you.

yunjin

where are you?

y/n

tired. next week?

-

she doesn’t reply.

you bump into her a week later at a cafe. her girlfriend’s with her.

you’re with yours.

your eyes meet across the room. she smiles. you do too. your respective partners don’t notice.

but for a second, it feels like a breakup you never got to have.

months pass.

you don’t text. she doesn’t either.

but sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night, craving strawberry pocky, hoodie too big on your shoulders, and you wonder if she's still sitting on rooftops alone.

and sometimes, just sometimes, you check your phone expecting a "you up?" text. it never comes.

until one day, it does.

“you still like strawberry?"

you grin. your heart cracks open again, but this time, it doesn’t hurt as much.

“always. bring choco for yourself. see you tuesday?”

“see you.”

-

it’s a tuesday night and you’re both back at your usual spot. same bench, same dumb vending machine behind you, same overpriced convenience store ramen steaming between you.

you laugh when yunjin complains about how she still can’t use chopsticks properly, and you steal her fishcake when she’s not looking. she pretends to be mad, but she’s not. you know she’s not.

she always lets you take the good bites.

"you’re such a bitch," she mumbles, flicking your forehead lazily. and you’re like, "you sound like a boyfriend when you say that."

the silence after is sharp. it cuts too quick. too deep.

she’s staring at you now, fishcake halfway to her mouth, frozen like you just said something unforgivable.

but you didn’t.

you were just being honest.

because she does sound like a boyfriend. because she does treat you like she’s yours. because she is yours, in every way that doesn’t matter on paper but means the entire fucking world to you.

"i didn’t mean it like that," you try, but you’re not even sure if you’re lying.

"i know," she says, and her voice is too soft. "i know."

later, she drops you off outside your apartment like always. no kisses. no goodnights. not even a hug this time.

her phone buzzes in the cup holder. you already know it’s chaewon.

you stare at your front door like it’s supposed to feel like home, but all you can think is.

you didn’t even get to say goodbye.

next day, yunjin sends you a dumb meme and says she misses your face.

you reply with "lol stfu" and a selfie of you looking half-dead from class.

she sends back a picture of her holding her lunch like it’s your shared child. caption: "say hi to our son."

you laugh.

you cry a little.

you pretend it’s from the spice of your tteokbokki.

you’re out shopping for snacks when you run into her by accident.

she’s with her girlfriend.

you smile. wave. pretend you’re totally fine.

she introduces you. chaewon shakes your hand and says, "oh, you’re the one she’s always with."

and you feel like throwing up.

you nod and say something about how yunjin never shuts up about her too.

when you part ways, yunjin gives you that look. the one that says she knows you’re hurting. the one that says she wants to reach out and fix it.

but she doesn’t.

she just walks away holding someone else’s hand.

you see her again two nights later.

just you and her this time.

sitting on the floor of your living room, watching reruns of dumb shows, wrapped in a blanket that’s too small for two.

"i saw you guys," you say quietly. "at the store."

she freezes. then nods. "yeah."

you stare at the tv screen.

"do you love her?"

she doesn’t answer.

you think that’s an answer in itself.

"do you love me?"

she exhales shakily. "don’t do this."

"why not?" you ask, and your voice cracks a little. "why shouldn’t i?"

she closes her eyes. then, almost whispering, she says, "because i don’t want to lie to you."

and that? that breaks you in half.

you both sleep in the same bed that night.

you don’t touch.

you don’t talk.

but you wake up at 3am and see her turned toward you, eyes barely open, whispering, "i wish we met at a different time."

you don’t respond.

you just close your eyes again and pretend she’s yours for a little longer.

-

it's another tuesday night.

same dumb bench. same vending machine that only ever gives you the wrong drink. same overpriced convenience store ramen steaming between you.

except this time, there’s no laughter. no forehead flicks. just silence.

your chopsticks tap against the plastic bowl as you try to eat, but your appetite’s long gone. yunjin’s next to you, too still, too quiet, staring down at her cup noodles like they personally offended her.

"you didn’t text me back yesterday," you say. it’s casual. like it doesn’t matter.

she blinks. then shrugs. "yeah. sorry."

you nod. you don’t know what else to say.

the last time you saw her, she told you she didn’t want to lie to you.

she hasn’t lied since.

but she also hasn’t said anything at all.

you’re the one who invited her tonight, like always. and she said yes, like always. but this time, the weight between you isn’t comforting.

it’s unbearable.

"i broke up with chaewon."

you snap your head toward her. her voice is soft. almost apologetic.

"what?"

"last night."

you stare. for a second, you think you misheard. then it sinks in. your heart does a full-on gymnastics routine in your chest.

"why?"

"you know why."

you go quiet. the ramen between you is starting to get cold.

"she’s a good person," she says, almost like a confession. "but she wasn’t you."

you don’t know how to respond to that.

then, after a long pause, you whisper, "i broke up with yujin."

yunjin’s eyes widen. she turns to face you fully. "when?"

"this morning."

"...why?"

you smile a little. it’s tired. sad. but real. "you know why."

her lips part like she’s about to say something, but she doesn’t. instead, she stands up suddenly and grabs your hand, pulling you up with her.

"come with me."

"where—?"

"just come."

you’re breathless, still gripping onto your half-eaten ramen cup, but you follow her anyway. she drags you down the street like it’s urgent, like this moment might slip away if she slows down.

you end up back at her car, parked in the usual spot. she throws open the door, gestures at the passenger seat.

"get in."

"yunjin—"

"shut up and get in."

you do.

you don’t know what’s happening until she’s speeding down the highway, windows cracked, music playing way too loud for this hour. her hand reaches over blindly, finding yours and squeezing tight.

"i thought we’d never get out of that loop," she yells over the wind. "you know? always being almost."

"we were always more than almost," you yell back.

she glances at you. smiles. and it’s real this time. the kind that reaches her eyes.

"i know."

you drive for an hour with no destination. the sky is bruised with early morning light when she finally pulls over at some empty overlook, both of you sitting on the hood of her car with cheap gas station snacks between you.

neither of you talk for a while.

then, she says, "i used to imagine this."

"what?"

"us. like this. actually together."

you don’t say anything. just nod. because you used to imagine it too.

she turns her head toward you. "can i—"

you’re already kissing her.

it’s messy and tired and tastes like strawberry pocky and sleep deprivation. but it’s also everything. it’s her hands on your cheeks, yours in her hair, her laughing mid-kiss because she’s so nervous and giddy and it’s real this time.

"so," you say against her lips, pulling back just enough to breathe, "what now?"

"now?" she grins. "we stop pretending."

you lean your head on her shoulder. she wraps her arm around you, pulls you in like she’s been dying to.

the sun’s rising.

the world’s waking up.

and for once, you don’t care who sees.

you’re hers.

she’s yours.

[sleepybiscus]

♡VALENTINES!!♡

---- Dandadan characters x reader on valentines day headcanons♡

---- ken, momo, jiji, aira

----gender neutral reader, fluff

♡KEN TAKAKURA♡

♡ Ken has never had a romantic partner before, let alone celebrated Valentines day. So when February came around and you asked your boyfriend, "You'll be my valentine, right?" though he nodded his head frantically, he had no idea what to do.

♡ He immediately goes to Momo for advice and she clowns on him but ultimately tells him to get you some kind of gift.

♡ He does his own research and buys you a box of chocolates from the convenience store and when the day comes, he nervously tries to make conversation with you, stalling nervously before handing you the gift.

♡ The rest of the day, you spend time together; though, Ken is still as shy as he usually is with affection.

♡MOMO AYASE♡

♡ Momo has always dreamed of spending a romantic valentines day with her future partner, and even though you aren't Ken Takakura (the ACTOR), she wouldn't have it any other way.

♡ Though she would've loved to have a romantic dinner just you and her at a fancy restaurant, she knows damn well that neither of you can afford that; so, home it is.

♡ Granny Seiko is entertained by the idea that Momo is inviting someone over for Valentines day, so she lets the two of you sit together in her house without interruption.

♡ You share a nice evening with her and end up going up to her room and snuggling up on the bed and talking about random things.

♡JIN ENJOJI♡

♡ When he first sees you on February 14th, Jiji pulls you into a big hug in his arms. He excitedly hands you a box of chocolates and little teddy bear.

♡ Be ready for the most cliché Valentines of all time because you will spend the day out with your boyfriend, holding hands and walking through the park or something along those lines.

♡ At home, you watch some stupid romcom movie and Jiji tries to be cute and lovey dovey with you, no matter how cringe he is. He cracks stupid jokes and after some scenes he tells you "That's us!"

♡ Even though he tries his best to treat you the best he can, make you laugh and smile every day, he still wants to spend extra time to make sure you know how much he loves and appreciates you.

♡AIRA SHIRATORI♡

♡ Aira definitely expects a romantic day like she's read in shojo manga. She's been preparing ever since she met you for the moment when she accepts a bouquet of red roses and a heart shaped box or chocolates from her lover on the coming day.

♡ She's set aside time in her day to go on a lovely coffee date with you and spend time together; you meet her in front of the door, and it's clear that she dressed nice for the occasion; but don't be mistaken, she always looks this nice! As does a perfect pretty girl such as herself.

♡ Though on the outside she seems like she's composed, used to being treated like this (which she is, to an extent), she's really a mess when it's just the two of you. She's actually really appreciative of you doing so much for her and she shows it in her own ways!

♡ You spend the evening together, enjoying the other's presence; she's especially glad to have you in her life.

♡♡♡♡

-happy valentines!! here's an early little treat while i work on other things :] not dead just busy😔

[yayll]

Soo umm maybe angsty request but a reader who works at the agency but misses her old life? Like, family or her old self. If you wanna and like the idea!! Have fun💕

i know this is a thousand yrs late and i am so sorry abt that but also. thank you for trusting me w this request i rlly took it to heart and i cracked these damn knuckles and hopefully wrote something you'll like :') i had fun, angel. MWAH.

- a little something about emotions and Dazai's way of perceiving yours ~

"Aughhh..."

You're groaning at your desk again, face down and resting your forehead on the cold wooden surface. Lately, it's been the same cycle. You come to work and the day goes by in a blink of an eye, and suddenly... There is nothing else to look forward to but to do it all again tomorrow. It's been tough, with the agency constantly bombarded with cases and quite literally saving the world, you've forgotten to call home every week like you used to. Now it's every other month, if at all.

There are times when you go on your lunch break and think about how ordinary your life used to be, how you used to spend your time doing the opposite of what you do now. Joining the agency was a wonderful turning point in your life and you wouldn't trade it for the world, but sometimes it felt like there was too much happening, you were falling behind and not connecting enough with the foundations that made you, you. It was an overstimulating nightmare.

Your co-workers were so talented and caring and it felt like a family with the way you all worked as a unit and watched out for each other, yet the intrusive thoughts about you never quite fitting in wouldn't leave your mind. Or your face, for that matter.

This is where Dazai knew he had to get involved.

He could tell your mind was elsewhere, and he hated that. You were supposed to be wherever he was, even if you didn't fully know it yet. He constantly perceived you from across the office where he slacked off work as usual, but this time it wasn't to await his next grand revelation... It was to figure out why you seemed so distant. So far, yet so close. You always laughed at his jokes and antics, all a part of his attention seeking persona around the agency, but he could hear the way your laugh seemed to die down in your throat as if it burned to even make a sound. He recognized it as the kind of burn whiskey left behind in his own throat when he had his occasional drinks at Lupin after a particularly hard day. Dazai knew the feeling of ruminating, of feeling stuck in the past and how it could keep you from existing in the present if not dealt with properly. But he wasn't exactly the shining example of dealing with one's feelings, not when he was a walking contradiction, which is why he hesitated to bring this up to you directly.

Of course, that didn't stop him from trying, not when you're groaning so adorably within earshot.

Not when he would do anything for you to drop that fastidious attitude that won't give him the proper time of day. It was pathetic and selfish of him, but it was sincere. With a fixed smile like a Cheshire cat, he prances towards your desk and stands there for a solid minute before you realize the familiar entity looming over you.

You slowly look up, dark under eyes are the first to properly greet him, along with that cute clip in your hair that's barely holding it all together. He thinks you look even cuter this way even if you were at your worst, and that made him feel a tad guilty... just a tad. He clears his throat softly as a deceptively cheerful voice pours out of him.

"Hi! You're looking awfully exhausted today."

You hum, a weak smile adorning your lips. You didn't want to smile at all, but it was a force of habit, so why not use it on the biggest clown you knew?

"Yeah? That's real observant of you, Dazai."

His heart races as you poke back, what a precious creature you were. He responds with faux indignance, rolling his eyes and the whole bit.

"Uh yeah, of course! It's why they pay me the big bucks, silly. You should try being like me sometime."

"Ah, is that the only thing I should try being? Not very original of me, I must say."

His smile drops to a more sly smirk as he shrugs, sighing dramatically while casting his gaze elsewhere for a moment.

You should try to be mine, he thinks to himself.

He doesn't deserve that honor, but it's the truth and he can always count on delusion.

"Eh, who cares about originality? That's what writers use as an excuse to torture themselves. It's no fun, You might as well jump off a bridge with me instead."

You raise an eyebrow at that, your fake smile becoming a bit more genuine now.

"I think I'll pass on that, Dazai."

He pouts, and you hate that he resembles a puppy with the way his eyes comically droop.

"Such a shame. I was hoping we could share that experience together. It would be quite the work bonding exercise, don't you think?~"

You nod, your voice laced with what he hopes is a playful retort, but it is much too deadpan.

"I'm sure it would."

"You know, you're surprisingly hard to torment."

You hum once more, shrugging as you look back down at the files on your desk, unable to hold his dark eyes that seem to penetrate your very soul.

"... Well I suppose I could say the same about you."

Before you know it, you feel his warm breath against your cheek, having leaned down to your level to murmur in your ear. It's velvety and far too intimate for the middle of the workday, tempting like the devil himself.

"Like I said, we could always drown our sorrows in the river. That always helps."

You slowly turn your head to meet his gaze, a slight flush begins to burn your cheeks and you wish you hadn't turned at all. It's sick the way every once in a while he'll test your boundaries to see if you'll let him in, if you'll see past the charm and the self destructive tendencies that might just seal his fate one day.

But you need him right now! And you clearly need a bit more of a push rather than just jokes, so he makes a point to grill you until you have no choice but to run into his hypothetical arms. In that instant, he catches your phone light up, the word 'MOM' is as clear as the red that spreads through your face.

Ah, so that's it.

"Seems like you should take that."

Your eyes widen as you flicker between him and your phone. Shit.

"Maybe later. I'm not really in the headspace for a call right now... Might go out for some lunch and get some air."

"I like air. Perhaps we can get some together? You might have too much and need someone to resuscitate you."

You snort softly and immediately feel embarrassed for being so casual out of your own human weakness. Yet somehow Dazai's ridiculous jokes always manage to get you to play along and forget that very embarrassment.

"CPR involves air, Dazai. You'd kill me in the process."

He clutches his chest, letting out a dreamy breath.

"Ahhh. Romantic, don't you think? I'd follow you immediately, of course~"

You shake your head as you stand up to walk out for your much needed reprieve from the inescapable thoughts you can't shake.

"You're impossible."

He stands back to give you your space and sticks his hands into his coat pockets, beginning to follow right behind you. He taps your shoulder when your back is fully turned to him, clearing his throat as he says your name in the most sinful way.

"Ahem. You forgot your phone."

You freeze in your tracks. You want to so badly do what your mind is screaming to do, but you can't bring yourself to do it. The battle between wanting to grab that bit of normalcy you miss and wanting to avoid it like the plague is the fear of the commitment to acknowledge it. You slowly turn to face him holding out your phone for you and yet again... It stings when he looks at you like that. Like he actually cares. It makes you feel drunk on the sensation of being seen on a deeper level, the butterflies in your stomach keep saying so. You sigh, and mumble back.

"Leave it. I don't need it right now."

He steps a little closer, way too close for comfort. His voice drops to a more serious tone, yet it's nothing but gentle, firm. It's a Dazai you don't think you've ever heard except when on a mission. Even then it always felt performative. But not now. He takes your hand in his bandaged one and holds it out for a moment with your palm facing up. His desire for you to make amends with your troubles is far more important than proper customs, so he needs to do this and do it now before you drown any deeper and he loses his self control.

He can save you even if you're too stuck in your own self pity to see the brightness of your own future. How you shine like a diamond in the rough, if only you'd just let yourself live in the now. He whispers to you.

"I think she'd like to know how you're doing. Family, they're the only normalcy you can have sometimes... Especially in this line of work. I think you know that."

You gaze into his dark eyes, and for the first time are not afraid to hold eye contact as you realize you actually want to hear more. Finally, a real piece of him is being shown to you?

"... Is that something you relate to, Dazai?"

He almost winces at that, a flashback of two friends he once considered family flash into his mind. Maybe today is a Lupin day. He could imitate your angelic laughter as the whiskey burns his throat. He hides all of this with a nasty little smirk, elusive as ever as he lies through his teeth.

"Absolutely not."

You seem a bit disappointed at first, but before you can dwell on it too much, your thoughts flicker back to the phone call you realize it might be time to make. Your mood is instantly different. Hopeful, even. Dazai places your phone in your palm, slowly closing your hand into a small fist. His hand lingers on top of your knuckles for a second too long, and you realize you are, in fact, unable to keep looking him in the eye like this or else you might just collapse knowing he'd catch you. The concept alone is intoxicating.

"I'm gonna take this, okay?"

His smirk softens, almost boyish with the way he instantly relaxes and reverts back to his usual self. The mood shifts back to how it felt before, and Dazai nods in reassurance.

"You go get some air. I'll be here."

He waves you off as you flash him one last smile before exiting the office. That'll keep him going for a while, he thinks. You look so beautiful when you're full of life, he hopes it rubs off on him too. He stands there for a long time in deep thought, simply smiling at the floor. At some point your hair clip fell out without you noticing, and so he picks it up, pocketing it. He'll consider this the consummation of your relationship.

An hour passes by and you walk back into the office, eager to tell Dazai about your call back home and how refreshed you feel. That he was right, and you wanted to share this new found perspective that he helped you approach and conquer. You find the office is completely empty, and when your eyes glance at your desk, there's a sticky note left on one of the many trinkets you display on it. You read it out loud to yourself.

"You long for the past, so perhaps we can recreate it. Maybe a nice long walk by the river, or we could always try a more private solution.

Either way, I'm at your mercy.

- Osamu"

You can't help but want to kick your feet at the little heart he doodled next to his messy handwriting and make a mental note to properly give him your contact info next time. You'd make sure to take a call from him, because you know he'd make it worth your while.

He always does.