#clown - idk man it just scratches my brain

[sp4ceboo]

delilah bon they could never make me hate you or your music

[to-be-a-dreamer]

Newsies Live moments that live rent-free in my head

Crutchie rolling his eyes during the Santa Fe prologue when Jack tells him "close your eyes"

Mike and Ike realizing they picked up the wrong hats and switching (bottom left corner of the towers near the beginning of Carrying the Banner where they all turn around at the same time)

Elmer just popping up behind Buttons to yell "AND DEAD!" with the biggest smile ever

The little hat thing Mush does at the "in between it pours" line

Specs' smile after the backflip he does right after the "walk until we fall" line

Smalls ducking between Finch's legs to look at the headline

"Get offa me >:("

Oscar and Morris slamming face-first into each other while trying to catch Jack

Romeo waving at Morris, who's standing on the tower above the circulation desk (background of Jack talking to Les and Davey for the first time)

The look on Specs' face when Les says "50/50, you wouldn't try to pull a fast one on a little kid"

"The man wants to outlaw football for being too violent!" *smack" "FOOTBALL!" *smack* "VIOLENT!" *smack*

Hannah rolling her eyes and immediately starting to clown on Pulitzer when he lumps her in with the "gentlemen"

Kenny doing the jump thingy with the newspaper bag where he spins it around his ankle

The rest of the ensemble put on different costumes to be "workers" in Medda's theatre, but then there's just Nick Masson, still in his Mush costume, not even remotely concerned with what's going on around him.

Jack waving to try and get Katherine's attention after That's Rich

The fact that Mike and Ike go cartwheeling offstage (both shirtless, need I remind you) and just don't come back. Like we literally don't see them again until halfway through Seize the Day, where did they go?? Did they miss the entire strike thing?? Did they come back after getting dressed and just find the circulation desk completely deserted like, "yo what's goin' on?"

"Would you keep your shirt on?" / *looks down, presumably to make sure he remembered to put on a shirt that morning, discovers he did indeed remember to put a shirt on that morning* "I GOT MY SHIRT ON"

Race raising his hand to ask "what's a statement of purpose" like he's in school or something

The look that Mush gives Davey when he says the word auspicious (I don't even know what that means, Davey please)

Crutchie playing dead to get out of going to Brooklyn

Everyone looking at Finch like "are you trying to get murdered?" when he implies that he's not scared of Spot

Everyone facepalming and/or groaning the second Romeo opens his mouth to try to talk to Katherine

Whatever instrument it is that makes that really high-pitched noise when Tommy Boy steps up and no one knows if he's about to punch Jack in the face or kiss him. Yeah, I love that thing it scratches my brain just right

Race staring at the stack of papers that Tommy Boy throws on the ground for a few seconds, as if he can't believe Jack's speech actually worked

THE CRESCENDO in "one for all and all for oooooOOOOONNNNNNEEEE" (I didn't pay attention in music theory so if it's not called a crescendo just deal with it I guess)

Jeremy Jordan and Ben Fankhauser literally sprinting away from the dance number

Ben Tyler Cook kicking himself in the face

Whatever you call that turn thing that Tommy Boy does on the newspaper (I wanna say it's a pirouette, but idk for sure)

Mush just fully prepared to punch Weasel in the face and having to get pushed back by Jack

Devin Lewis (Morris Delancey) not noticing the Les-Barrel rolling towards him at full speed and Jeremy Jordan having to break character for a second to point it out and make sure the guy doesn't get knocked over by a Les-Barrel

Specs and Katherine hunkering down together in the towers and Katherine comforting him

The fact that none of these boys know how to sit in a chair properly

Specs lifting his head in confusion after the "fish in the desert" line and then immediately dropping it again when Finch starts speaking

Mush rolling his eyes and just slamming his face into the table when Katherine enters the room and then popping up like a wack-a-mole once she mentions the front page

"Frontpage and you ain't even dead!"

"Wait till my old man gets a load of this *le gasp* I won't be last in line for the tub tonight!" / "Don't matter, Buttons, you're still gonna stink."

Romeo tugging lightly on the paper so he can read it better and Mush just yanking it back. Peak sibling energy

Race starting to tap dance and then Davey, sounding completely mortified from somewhere off-screen, going "Oh no"

Ike and Davey continuing to do the Pullitzer's Poodles thing for several seconds longer than everyone else

"Katherine that's not fair, I mean he's got things in his mouth"

"SPOON FIGHT!"

Elmer's head tilt during the "I guarantee" line

Jack and Davey calling each other "Jackie" and "Dave"

Jack making the grumpy cat face when he finds out that Katherine is Pulitzer's daughter

The fake dust that kicks up when they pull the tarp off the printing press

Spot's little smirk after "Let's see what Pulitzer has to say to you now"

Bart (I think, I don't know the Brooklyn Newsies very well) just dangling off a ladder

Davey slowly realizing that something's up with Jack and just looking completely and utterly heartbroken because of it

The look of complete and utter disgust on Darcy's face when Jack tries to spit-shake before Once And For All

I'm sure it's absolutely nothing but Race was definitely checking Bill out, you cannot even deny it. Just watch Race's eye-line as Bill walks by him.

Bill rolling up his sleeves

Darcy and Bill's matching suits. I will never shut up about Darcy and Bill's matching suits. If I ever do, assume that I've died.

Have I mentioned how much I love Darcy and Bill?

That slow look up that Tommy Boy does right at the end of the part where they throw the bundles of papers to each other

The line up at the top of the towers at the end of Once and For All because they're all standing up straight in a line and it just becomes so glaringly obvious that Spot is the shortest one there like he is barely taller than Les

Hannah's face when she says "HE CAN'T TALK, HE'LL CALL YOU BACK"

Jack Kelly not knowing how to sit in a chair.

Hannah quietly applauding Jack on her way out of the room

Spot spending the entirety of the final scene standing menacingly in the shadows but he just looks like a big puppy dog

Race and Davey hugging in the background of Jack and Katherine's having their big romantic moment <3

Romeo dancing with his hand in a bag for a few seconds because he couldn't put his paper away in time

Jeremy Jordan almost face-planting when his one and only job was to go to center stage and bow

This is very long but I really didn't want to split it up into Act 1 and Act 2, so have every little background moment/small detail I love about Newsies

[emberphantom]

how long have you been a fan of iasip and how long on sunnyblr? do you know who here has been around for a long time? how has the fandom developed and changed from your perspective? has it always been so reddit-oriented? what have the main opinions (general consensus kinda shit) been in your eyes? were you into macdennis right from the start? did the fandom always follow rcg so closely or is that only after the podcast? sorry for asking so much, just interested in the history of this space

Step into my office Anon. Let me regale you the tale of Sunnyblr from the days of yore. Or whatever.

Me personally, I started watching Sunny in late summer 2019 (tragically I had just missed the fake MacDennis script panic of July 2019). My friends had it on when I went to their house and we didn't have anything else to do, so we just watched like a shitton of episodes that day and I was like hold fuck on this scratches something in my brain. I didn't start poking around on the Sunny side of tumblr until possibly a week later? I think. Basically in my skipping around Sunny episodes I was starting to pick up the vibes Mac and Dennis were putting down and as a joke I was like hmm what if I just take a look at the ao3 tag ahaha jk unless. And that was the beginning of the end. I'm not sure if I checked out the Sunny tag on tumblr first or the MacDennis tag but literally at that time it didn't matter. Sunnyblr was essentially MacDennisblr. Tumblr didn't get me into MacDennis but it definitely accelerated my hyperfixation with them This was all pre-s14 at this point for reference.

Honestly, not many people remain from that time or even before. I remember some folks I had followed reminiscing about post-s12, wondering if Dennis was coming back, or if he turned into the bar. Idk man I'm so glad I didn't have to deal with not knowing if Dennis was coming back like that would've been too much for me.

But 2019 Sunnyblr, and this may just be the nostalgia talking, but man it was magical. The gif sets, the meta breakdowns of episodes, the macdennis posts--god we were eating GOOD. It felt like one giant group chat in the best way. And then The Gang Gets Romantic happens an we were absolutely FERAL. Okay? Like picture Nov 5th but on a way smaller scale. But that was the energy, okay?

But then, tragedy struck in the form of Dee Day. That, for me was kinda the beginning of the end of that version of Sunnyblr. A lot of people were pissed. The glass shelves we had propped RCG and Megan Ganz up on had shattered. A decent amount of people left right then and there. But those who stayed were holding out for something -- a better apology from them regarding the brownface for one. And that...didn't happen (I don't want to speak more on this bc like...look I'll be real with you, I stuck my head in the sand on this one. But people had a right to be hurt by that episode and to this day I haven't rewatched it since it aired). But we trudged along. Bc it's "satire" and these are "bad people" and we are DEF getting canon MacDennis okay they are going to KISS on the MOUTH in BIG MO.

....and then they didn't. Clown shoes squeaking.

Okay trying to get this back on track...

As far as reddit goes, that's always just been the "dudebro" place for Sunny. Sometimes they make valid points and our braincells align and that warrants someone posting it here to discuss.

I feel like the general opinions kinda feel the same to me? Mac and Dennis are endgame, Archie. Dennis is bastardman but also baby. Charlie poor little meow meow. I do have to say...I feel like some stuff used to feel a bit more...grounded than it does now?? If that makes sense? Like idk man people were out here writing academic prose to describe the meta in Clip Show. And I do feel like that vibe's kinda gone. But it's not a bad thing. It's just different. Like it's more unhinged but hey we're still having fun so who cares?

Uh what else? Oh yeah so the RCG stuff. Like I said before, there was a point where Sunnyblr propped them up and we got reality checked real quick, okay? They went from being UnProblematic Kings ™ to Rob posting copaganda on his IG at the height of the George Floyd protests in June of 2020. That happening after all the shit with Dee Day was basically a powder keg. And that's honestly when Sunnyblr as I knew it, really died.

I think the podcast has def shoved them back into a more favorable light in the fandom's eyes. Speaking for myself, I never stopped stanning Glenn but Rob and Charlie and Kait were on thin fucking ice (maybe not Charlie so much but def Rob and Kait--actually mostly Rob). I think RCG have to be prevalent in the fandom as much as the characters do bc they're so close to them and the show like this IS their show y'know?

That's...all I can really think of. Like I said, not many people remain from those days. I can think of maybe a handful off the top of my head but I wouldn't consider them nearly as active as they were regarding Sunny when I joined. We're still moots but that's bc we like each other beyond the MacDennis of it all.

Sorry this is so long too lmfao. Like Sunnyblr was such a huge part of my life during that time so I guess I got shit to say. I also for real in no way consider myself the end all be all expert on this either. Like in no way am I the sole authority on Sunnyblr history. This is based on stuff I experienced and picked up on from other's posts from before my time. Anybody can chime in with their own opinions and shit. Correct me too. Idc.

Uh yeah. So I guess that's what you missed on Glee. Or Sunnyblr. The end? I hope that helped (for real).

[averyspoopedcorgi]

for the ask game would you like to do eichi and mayhaps even.. tatsumi…….

atsa!!! i knew u were gonna give me tattsun lol but eichi is a welcomed suprise

i hope u dont mind some of my answers being short or shallow cuz I haven read many stories and most of my character thoughts are gibberish :,)

ok ei-chan first

favourite thing about them: his whole character, how complex he is the guilt he feels for his actions I like that he isn't some irredramable villain but just somebody who wanted to save something he loved dearly by any means possible (I hope I'm correct about the last part I haven't read about the war in a while) also half the batshit insane stuff he says is hilarious

least favourite thing about them : I have nothing I particularly hate about him I suppose he monologues are so long sometimes they make me wanna take a break from reading lol

favorite line: pretty mission epilogue only comes to mind from what I've read

brOTP: hell dorm but mostly aira, something about them bonding over their love for idols also chiaki i wanna see them interact more

OTP: the emperor and the his funny clown (wataei) have a vice on my heart

nOTP: romantic reichi or just him with any oddballs that aren't wataru or keito x eichi idk why they just rub me the wrong way

ramdom hadcanon: hell dorm movie which in reality r just aira and eichi watching idol mvs while rei snnnzzs

unpopular opinion: STOP MAKING JOKES ABOUT HIM DYING WHATS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE YES YOU CAN HATE FOR THE SHIT HE PULLED BUT SOMETIMES YOU NEED TO REALISE THAT YOURE TALKING ABOUT A CHRONICALLY ILL MAN DOSENT MATTER IF HES FICTIONAL <- mad about marriage poll

song i associate with them: im soso sorry ive got nothing ; ;

favorite picture of them: babygirl or tiger eichi i cant pick

ok tattsun time!!!

favorite thing about them: the way he talks about his faith is so interesting....youd expect him to spout bible verses left and right but after reading feather touch and his conversation with aira just reshaped him in my mind, theres so much i like about him but this i what really scratched my brain

(also more meta but i like that him being chirstian isnt treated as a joke if that makes any sense )

also also vehicular manslaughter

least favorite thing about them: bastard will not come home no matter how hard i try. i wasted hot limit funds on his revival still nothing. i have every alk five star except him. what did i do tattsun senpai/hj

favorite line: feather touch but specifically the convo with aira. thats all

brOTP: aira and tatsumi. literally the senpai-kouhai friendship of all time

also christian rock drom with koga and leon theryre all besties canonically what else does a guy need (also they take leon on walks together and i think everyone should know that)

OTP: gee i wonder what it is *standing in front of a pile of tatsumayo fanart*

nOTP: idk really??? any of his juniors ig

random headcanon: koga taught him how to play the guitar!!! now you can always hear the distinct sound of christian rock from thier dorm room

he loves dogs like really loves dogs but could never own one cuz he lived in a church for most of his childhood so hes beyond overjoyed to share a dorm with leon

also cane user and bisexual tatsumi is soso real to me

unpopular opinion: stop treating him like hes some white queerphobic christian whats wrong with you people stop acting ;like every christian is terrible

song i associate with them: ah abuseken's christ and guchiry's orthodoxia

favorite picture of them: naur who let bro drive

[revivisection]

its night time you know what that means! this is my diary now. very long week recap ahead.

my teeth are cool and good kind of now. they're actually still pretty awful but my front are work in progress they look mostly fine now and im not so vigilant at hiding my mouth :) not without a week's worth of pain and agony recovery but. you knoow. i will have to go through that again at some point oh well thank god for ibuprofen except it wears off before i can take another one. my upper lip was incredinly inflamed for a few days, bad experience.

you know you never really think about hpw much you use your mouth or just like. feel your mouth generally experience the life experience of having a mouth until there's problems with it. crazy how that works. i for one would have a much better time not having a mouth it's rather disgusting. ideal form i simply absorb energy through airwaves, or perhaps plug myself in to charge

after that i had to enroll in courses i was like surely i will have a fine and okay time. <-full of hubris. i slept through the first hour of course enrollment because i went to sleep at 6am and it opened at 9. so im now on two waitlists which probably wont let up. going to take latin though, going to become more pretentious just you wait. i think this is what you would call a "dark academia moment" but i dont think i actually know what dark academia is. school hasn't started yet but im having the biggest fucking imposter syndrome everyone who has ever told me how smart i am is a fucking liar.

had a fun lil trivia club day with some trivia club buddies. believe it or not, we did trivia. exciting, i know. anyways scratch what i said before whenever i get the right answer in trivia club i am literally the smartest man alive. why do all my friends have absolutely ancient editions of trivial pursuit (the words of someone who doesn't own any board games)

and yesterday i hung out with my dear friend @threecirclingbuzzards!! she let me scavenge through her big bag of miscellaneous patches it was very fruitful. my vest is very empty because i have to make everything myself and i simply do not. so now i have more things to put on it, the real question is when im actually going to sew. it was also cool because we are like brain linked we are like that image of clown-to-clown communication dont need to speak coherently because like. i get it. she gets it. we get it. the clown part is especially true because we were like. what to teens do. hang out at the mall. genius. and then we got there and it was two minutes from closing. genius. at the dollar store i got minecraft stickers god i love minecraft i will be forty fucking years old and not tire of minecraft

over the course of my mouth recovery time i listened to youtube videos to try and distract myself when falling sleep and i listened to a video about the evil within 1. i dont need to give background information but i will anyways.. back in like whenever of this year early this year some time this year i was scrolling through the discussion page of the tumblr sexyman wiki and there was a suggestion post for stefano valentini and i was like. woah. ive seen that man before. ive watched my fair share of oxbox/oxtra vids in my lifetime. and then i proceeded to go crazy. something about him makes me go absolutely nuts like awooga etc. who fucking knows. anyways i was content to never know anything about the evil within beyond that stefano valentini is like absurdly attractive until i watched that video about the evil within 1 while mildly Out Of It and i developed a very sudden crush on ruvik so now i know some things about the evil within. how was your day. another fucked up evil guy who i am compelled by. i cant fix him i cant make him worse but i CAN look at him from afar. all ive been able to draw lately is just ruvik faces idk man he's my latest fixation i guess. got him on the mind (except for when i was catching up on the patho tag today. i love my weekly spam reblogging from the patho tag except this time it's two weeks worth of posts becuase by god i was having a bad time)

perhaps i should actually watch a lets play of tew so i can know like. what the game is like in full properly and shit. shhhhh you dont see my incomplete patho2 save. i would play more horror games if i werent a little bitch, but im not so instead i just play stupid long fantasy rpgs. the sole reason i havent finished pathfinder kingmaker is because of that stupid goddamn darven quest oh my god i hate that man i hate that quest i need to speedrun it get it over with so i can enjoy the rest of the game but i simply cannot take it when the FUCK is he going to show up how much fuckng time needs to pass where are you bitch i need to xget this out of the fucking way so the hellknights stop crashing my place fucking my shit up i hate it her.e.

i wrote all of this because i am insuch! a mood today. idk whats up last nigh t i passed out instantly fell asleep died went to purgatory the moment i laid down on my bed like in an instant ive never been so sleepy in my life. and today i am incredibly humid but more than that the time actually melted away. like pretend time is a stick of butter in my hands except i preheated my hands in the oven for several minutes and the butter didnt even bother to melt so the preheating didnt matter it just slipped off my stupid little fingers. i woke up blinked now its night time. now nearly twelve hours have passed what the fuCK was i doing. nothing. i have no idea how this time passed i feel out of it (different) a different kind of out of it who knows maybe this is my natural tooth recovery time but instead for going outside two days in a row and having fun. this is my body and mind telling me to have less fun. wlel fuck you body and mind im hanging out with friends AGAIN tomorrow. see how you like that fucker. or maybe im just a little baby and its because i forgot to sleep with my stuffed animals last night. i have a build-a-bear longhorn i love him with my life i named him after my wife (artemy) he keeps me company because all i do is sit and rot.

also we havent read new pages of this dark endeavour in like11 days oops. the review WILL happen eventually okay i have so much to say about that wretched novel just when the summer book club completes it

[smallestclowninthecircus]

Tma season 2 notes baybeee

I made myself take several breaks so I could give my frie d who is listening to it at the same time as me a chance to catch up. Honestly just posting them so I have them saved somewhere but whatever.

ep 41: real graham wrote keep watching before he was replaced. Jon feels like he's being watched. But they werent replaced by things related to the eye. It's the web that's on the box that replaces them. Endless hallways and doors to nowhere. I bet nicholas will have ideas what entity this relates to. If it even does. They're like the tunnels in the one with the builder guy. Tunnels closing in etc. Also like the cave diving one. He's assuming it's just one

ep 42: so 100 gecs? (IM SORRY I LIKE 100 GECS BUT LMAO) so there's some entity related to music right? There's the piper episode and the 27 w/ the calliope. Ah yes, this season is gonna be the season of Paranoid!Jon

ep 43: section 31? fucking books. god no. smashed lights? cult lady did that. covered the lights too. she mentioned a spooky clown doll. thats not random.

ep 44: is this that same circus that got mentioned before? it is! the pipe organ! pop off organ! pipe off! mouth on the stomach! yes! mouths in unusual places my beloved!

ep 45: antiques! like that one ep!

ep 46: every time books get mentioned i sigh. hhh sus smells. it got brighter. I get the vibes occasionally that the dark and the eye are sorta at odds with eachother. GRRR BARK BARK LEITNER. ayyy ex altiora. entity go brr. which entity do we thing it is? my guess is The Dark. The book buyer's name is Mike. He has scars? Electricity? The childhood friend of the guy who got it later on perhaps? The Vast? its formatted like an entity idk. This happened before the other one. He got trapped in the wood carving. a win for the web lol spiders go brr

ep 47: did i hear spiral? ITS THE NOT THING FROM THE EPISODE WITH NOT GRAHAM "it didnt move, it shifted" is like the exact same sentence as before. ay john's starting to remember. the laughing woah thats weird. is "michael" one of the entities? "you make it seem like theres a war" supports my theory that theres a struggle between a couple of the entities. I said i thought it was the eye and the dark i believe but im not sure. its whatever entity michael is vs the worms? what did nicholas say the worms were again? The Corruption? still dont know which one michael is tho.

Had to take a break after that episode. smth about the quality of michael's voice makes me feel like im gonna slip into one of those states where it feels like nothing is real, so i got a nice cold glass of water.

ep 48: jesus ok this one's kidna corny. you're telling me love made the crowd go away come on now. Ur losing it big J. also shouldnt it be more sus that "sasha" is so unaffected by the worm incident/ finding of gertrude's body

ep 49: haven't we heard hector's name before? oh is he the crime guy? fucking jared... so it's a throat? chompa chompa. (it's just a little bit hot) the good part about these episodes is that we know whoever's telling the story isn't gonna die. even if it's a close call, they're not dead. hotworth? ok not jared keay. it bothers me how theres so many repeated names, can they not come up with other names? "sasha"'s computer is breaking... sus. Elias our favorite weed man! jon ur so paranoid lmao

ep 50: robert smirk, at it again. this is like that one episode with the old dude who locked his door. who said idle beforehand? was it smirk? fingertips. thats so weird lmao. bahahah tim

ep 51: simon fairchild. im sure jon will mention the name at the end i cant remember where we've heard it. this is just like the cavediving episode. a hand? there was a hand in the last one right? the scalpel! and an eye thing. she's trying to throw them off.

ep 52: thats the guy from before! with the hearts! god i hate this guy writing the statement hh. lights blowing, and brackish water. we know how this ends but its still tense. rainer? reigner? rain man. we've seen him before

ep 53: pls not a leitner. oh boy mans scratched out his eyes. rip skelly. why would gertrude have had this statement off the books? jon stabbed himself?? bruh im? big man are you okay

ep 54: cockney boys! ayy its our favorite delivery men. she cut out their eyes. she knew that the eye was a thing?

ep 55: oily residue like the retirement home!

ep 56: worms? no. spiders?? bruhh. aaah yelling :(( aww martin anyways yeah i called it about paranoid!jon he needs to take a nap and drink some hot chocolate and calm down for once please

ep 57: just remembered, i think theres an entity called The Lonely?? This feels pretty lonely idk. fairchild, lukas/ lucas, some spooky place in norway idk. "sasha" knew he was recordinig hmm suspicious cmon jon figure it out. Sasha and tom. hm sus. for records sake i feel liek i should note here that I did have it spoiled to me simply that that's not sasha, but thats really all. i assumed it was like the thing that happened to graham in S1

ep 58: i feel like i recognize the name eustice (?) wick. someone please tell me im not just watching jon's descent into madness over the course of this podcast. im hoping it isnt so but, (and pardon the dsmp reference) im getting real wilbur vibes from this one.

ep 59: oh dear ok account from the fielding house. swirling designs? Spiral time? oh boyy. oh wait! 6 inch hole in the middle! is it not a spiderweb type design on the table? thats what i had assumed but that description sounds more like a spiral thing. cobwebs is a Web thing. ayy nicholas was right! the box goes in the table! the place that she kissed him was burning. Raymond is an avatar of The Web and agnes is the burning one. Lightless Flame! Why did she save him? i guess she was against this guy eating ppl or wtvr but why was she at the halfway house then? I think she's like michael.

ep 60: the eye go brr

ep 61: breacon and hope once again. tom. sasha's boyfriend. vampires sleep in coffins. the guy just walking in seems similar to the mind control of the vampires

ep 62: bones! its that one leitner. is this mother keay? the mom of gerard? this is what happened to her right? her skin was found on hooks? oh yeah thats what i thought the pages are made of skin. yeesh. The End!! sounds like an entity. phrased like one, and i think i remember it. are the people trapped in the pages? or... kept?

ep 63: eaten by the darkness! cavediving episode! (just like eaten by the sky) did my brain make up one called The Vast? it feels like it should be one, and all these episodes have some similar description about their feelings when they do whatever chosen hobby they have. ok now this one kinda feels like the dark. lights going out and all that. ok so not really a The Vast thing, its more of a Dark thing. feckin smirk gah.

ep 64: dice! the death guy! the death game thing! the person tricked somebody else into becoming death and then they were immortal? but if the egyptians wanted to kill him or punish him or whatever couldnt they just kill him? it worked in the end when he had the person giving the statement stab him, that did the job and actually killed him

ep 65: finally jon is actually acknowledging something is wrong.

So we know Mary Keay was revived most likely with the book by gerard.

Gertrude was way more aware of the entities than Jon. mary keay referenced The End openly and she cut the eyes out of her magazines and all that which makes me think she was aware of The Eye

ep 66: please not buried alive pleeaase not buried alive. lukas of the tundra? didnt we hear the name lukas before? she wanted it to be difficult to find important files because that way bad people couldnt find them?

ep 67: agnes... the girl in the hilltop house? agnes poppin off!! he's really not gonna question how she knew where he lived?? oh no D: the tree. were they the ones working on the house? aww they kissi- OH DEAR. why did she kiss him? it seemed like she cared about him? also she could kiss that other dude on the cheek and he was fine, but maybe it was cuz she was younger? lightless flame go brrrrr.

ep 68: oh god books. yup its bitchboy leitner. mans said "this seems supernatural, its a werd book!" bruuh.

ep 69: heh nice. aw cmon jon listen to martin. gahhh spiders. is that the class we heard about in the other doctor one with the teeth apple? some kind of psych class? oh dear. fucking spiders. aaaah. web do be goin brr. it's like the girl in the homeless shelter! who made the guy leave and she took his bed.

ep 70: is this gonna be the book that mary keay had? Most likely a leitner no matter what. Oh boy latin. Why did it start in latin then become old English? I'm guessing people put them in the book? He cant burn it. Phrophecies go brr. He says eh it's a decade in the future it's fine. Its gonna have changed. Ayy called it. Just accept it, it's a magic book. His death is getting closer. Leitner didnt make them but just collected them? Gertrude burned the book! She burned them down there so no one would know.

ep 71: oh boy tunnels. Our favorite thing /s. is The Buried a thing? Idk this seems pretty buried. Oh dear he's trapped here isnt he. "Not enough space to move, never enough to breathe" is that from the computer episode? With the guy who uploaded his consciousness? Somebody living down there. Hmmmm. Guesses: tom, sasha's boyfriend. Gertrude herself? (Though I doubt it)

ep 72: sweeney todd moment. Meat. The slaughter? Idk we'll see what the supernatural part is. Meat is meat. Similar to the slaughterhouse episode. Is it fucking Jared I swear to God it better not be. Hooligan teenagers, you know how it is. Meat is me lmao. Is the kid gonna be in the freezer. Ok that's good. OWW. Oddly textured candles. Made from people? Human fat or smth? Tom from the meat processing plant!

ep 73: outer bay shipping. Bet it's a subset of breacon and hope delivery. The Dark go brrr. Uh oh mans is gonna die. Leo or whatever. Cult ppl go brr. The people's church of the divine host. Who is the divine host? Is it reigner or whatever his name is? I dont think Jon can quit tbh. Probably an anonymous tip but from who?? One of the entities?

ep 74: fucking teeth hhh. I dont know which entity is related to teeth. Spiral. Isnt the spiral an entity. It feels like it could be related to many things idk. Yeah this sounds like the spiral. Heart attack at 29? Jesus... michael! That's kinda what I was thinking. Sasha goin in the tunnels. Hmm sus. They move the floor. Wack. Bet its tom.

ep 75: Man with a lightning scar. Has one of the leitner books. The childhood friend of the one who first introduced us to leitner. Oh my god that sounds terrifying. Michael crew.

ep 76: scalpel? Hmm spooky. NotSasha... think jon think.

ep 77: another double! NotThem, The Stranger. Not related to the table?

ep 78: what was that at the beginning? Question mark?? Oh boy more NotThem. Decker... what is the deal with the table. Does it contain the creature? Fucking Michael. Bitchboi himself.

ep 79: yes pop off martin. Ugh fucking Michael just leave man. I hate that dude. New person. Hmm. No idea who it is.

ep 80: shitener himself! Ok sir tell us the entities. Ayy The Spiral. Ok we know what that one is. The Eye is the beholding! Oooh. The Stranger. Did elias just kill leitner? Popping off honestly.

[hysteriium]

Expect the Unexpected

Gif not mine!

(A/N): Okay maybe this is really specific, but there’s this one scent that’s literally the best smell I’ve ever smelt in my entire life? It’s like an oceany scented candle - my description literally does not do it justice I made it sound gross - and omg idk why but I could literally just picture Arthur having something along the lines of this cologne?? But maybe I’m biased. Here it is if you wanna check it out but omg like I’m not even joking when I say it’s the best thing I’ve ever smelt (and I collect a shit load of candles).  

!! ALSO - FORGOT TO MENTION ‘C/n’ = child’s name !! lol 

Summary: I honestly don’t know what to write for this one?? AHAHAH

Pairing: Arthur Fleck x Single mum!Reader

Word count: 8600k+ (I know, I know, shhhh). 

Warnings: 18+ SMUT STUFF! Fluff and swearing! 

////

When Arthur found himself in the slowly decaying, yet otherwise well taken care of backyard of one of his requestors, performing under the gloomy Gotham sky, never, would he have expected it to change his life. Especially for the better. No, never had he thought, for the better. 

Arthur fiddled with his wig, the tips of his fingers scurrying under the strip of white which crossed his forehead, adjusting it. The fake, frizzy green locks were no longer lopsided, and he continued his routine in front of the kids before him. Laughter filled his ears. The only merriment he was accustomed to, and on that same train of thought, welcomed. It was nothing like the devious cackles of those who made fun of him. 

No, the laughs before him were honest and kind; they appreciated him. Most touching of all, and similarly foreign to him, was the fact that they actually asked for his jokes. 

He often wondered where things went wrong. When exactly did children, who were, for the most part, good-natured and compassionate, turn into horrible people? Transforming into the very same type that treated him like a punching bag? How and why, did they soak up the resentment of the world like a sponge? 

He supposed it was during adolescence. 

Teenagers were mean. 

That much was evident from the purple blotches on his back, markings that were still yet to dissipate, and tender to touch. From such a horrible experience, at least he was able to draw one positive out of it. The positive being that his clown costume was ridiculous enough to hide his battered and bruised body. Away from prying eyes. 

Then again, it wasn't like anyone would have cared.  

Ultimately, he tried his best not to focus on the path his thoughts were leading him down. One of his biggest struggles was staying in the moment, and right now, with the crucial task of performing for a child's birthday, he needed to be grounded. To emphasise this, Arthur dug his nails into his palms. Painful enough to snap him out of his digression, lax enough to keep the blood rushing and undisturbed under tested skin.  

As Arthur was finishing up his act, the magic wand which he seemingly pulled out of nowhere - at least from the kids' perspectives, produced a collective awe. He waved it around, bouncing from toe to toe in his giant clown shoes, flicking it towards the birthday boy. Said child was a small, (h/c) haired boy with twinkling (e/c) eyes; his name, (C/n). 

(C/n) flinched when the wand was suddenly centimetres from his face. Though, he giggled when he saw the expression on the clown's profile. It feigned shock, a gasp leaving his apple-red painted mouth. The clown, which the child only knew as 'Carnival' retracted the stick, inspecting it with squinted eyes. Alongside this, his spare hand flew up to his face, scratching his chin in thought, looking as though he had never encountered such a complex dilemma in his entire life. 

Then, without warning, the wand fell. No longer as sturdy as a stick, it wilted like a dying flower. The clown panicked, watching as it wiggled around in his desperate hands like a worm. While all seemed gloomy for the fate of the magic item in his hands, the children were giggling gleefully, intrigued at what would happen next. It was times like these that made Arthur's job bearable; made life bearable.

All he wanted was to make people smile.

Arthur, pretending as though he was about to give up, engaged with the object in one last attempt, the flick of his wrist propelling the rod into the air. Much to the children's astonishment, the wand had straightened itself, snapping back to its previously sturdy arrangement, with no sign of its prior drooping. 

They had long since formed a circle around the colourful man, looking up in wonder, clapping for him.

Arthur then slipped the item back into his pocket, performing a victory clasp. He threw his interlocked hands over his shoulders and shook them in response to the applause. When the children hushed their amazement, Arthur stuck his pointer finger in the air, wordlessly requesting their attention. His eyes then shut tight as he concentrated. Whipping out the rod from his pocket once more, he gave it one final spin. 

The children waited.

Nothing happened. 

Arthur opened his eyes. Confused. It was difficult for him to process what happened next because it all happened so quickly. One second he was puzzled, the next he was rendered stunned, with a face submerged in flowers. First, he had heard it, the sprout, as a prominent 'whoosh' filled the air. Then he felt it; felt it tickling his nose. 

The flowers themselves were not real ones, but they were vivid; pinks, purples, greens and yellows sprouting from the wand's end. Trying to play it off as though it was planned all along, Arthur mimed a sneeze, shaking his head. 

With a sheepish grin, the clown pulled back. His face was now safe from the sinister touch of the vibrant, ticklish extensions, and he handed the hued bouquet to the birthday boy, hunching over to reach him. It wasn't hard to decipher what the boy was thinking. Unquestionably, a mixture of amusement and joy as laughter bubbled from his throat; his joviality a contagious song. 

And thus concluded Arthur's act. 

"You're so cool Carnival!" (C/n) hollered, waving the newly acquired flowers around. 

Arthur beamed down at the boy. 

"When I grow up, I want to be just like you!"

Arthur attempted to restrain the look of pain which crossed his animated features. 

No, kid. No, you don't. 

Not wanting to ignore the poor child, he shot (C/n) a forced smile and ruffled his (h/c) hair.

"No. One day, you're going to be even better." 

The child gawked up at him, hope dancing in his gem-like eyes, reflecting light. 

Thankfully, the moment didn't last long as Arthur's concentration was ripped from the depressing interaction. He had caught a glimpse of you, the parent, entering the backyard. You had tried to smoothly open the door, an attempt to reduce the obnoxious squeaking from the object, though your steady pace was futile. Despite the hesitant speed at which it was tugged, it was a protest that sustained. 

It was just another complaint to add to the shitty standard in Gotham; everything was half-assed. A primary disease which ate at the heart of the city, decaying and transforming it into the bleak, loveless and harsh mother it was. When you were one of Gotham's children, affection was seldom. No matter how hard you tried to impress the mother, to display your achievements, to show strength, to get back up when you fell, the mother remained emotionless. Perhaps, she kicked you down some more.

Gotham was her name, and tough love was her game. 

Arthur watched you, in all his costumed glory, and drunk in the way your hair was softly carried by the wind. How your skin was kissed by the suns rays; how you moved away from the shading of the roof, which protruded meters from the brick walls of the house, spotlighting your features. He honestly felt like he was in a movie, a movie that was set up for disaster - knowing his luck. He couldn't wait for the great mystery of how he was going to screw up, to unravel before his eyes. Could he even call it a mystery? He knew it was inevitable. A non-mysterious mystery? Expecting the unexpected except it was actually unexpected, though somehow, still expected?

Did that even make sense? He thought. 

His brain hurt.

What was he doing again? 

"Mum!" (C/n) shouted, rushing up to you, simultaneously breaking Arthur's buzzing thoughts as well as the one-sided staring contest he had engaged in. 

"Hey, there buckaroo!" you grabbed onto his small form and hoisted him up against your hip, "how's my big boy?" 

Arthur watched the heart-warming scene from afar, sorrow tugging at his heart. He couldn't help but flick through his memories, to try and find a time where his mother had been just as caring. Limited, but nonetheless there, he yearned for change; for his past to change. He'd been the man of the house for as long as he could remember. Even at a young age. With no father or even knowledge of him, he was forced to take care of his mother. And while he loved his mother, with all his heart, it was an arduous task to take care of yourself and your own needs when you were supporting someone else. 

"Good!" The child giggled in your arms, "Carnival is my favourite clown! Can we have him over every week?"

You couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"I don't know buddy, I-"

"Please, please, please, please, please?" (C/n) whined, looking up at you with large hopeful (e/c) eyes.  

"Run along and play, and maybe I'll talk to him," you tapped his nose, "that sound good?"  

The boy frantically nodded his head, and as you set him down, he bolted off to join his friends. When he was on the other side of the yard, you turned towards the party clown. 

"Sorry about that," you sheepishly grinned. 

Arthur didn't really know what to say, the scene before him had truly made his heartthrob. It was a warmth that left him with some strange mix of belonging and attachment. Never before had he felt so appreciated. He wanted to say something, be honest, express his gratitude. And so, he said the first thing that came to mind:

"It's fine." 

He wanted to kick himself. 

"It's kind of strange how much he likes you. He's never really open. He can be quite..."

"Shy," Arthur finished for you.  

When you gave him a quizzical look, he was quick to explain, "I-I, uh, I was the same." 

Your lips upturned into a soft smile.

"Well, (C/n) must've picked up on it. Kid's are good like that - sensitive to vibes. It means you've got a good heart." 

Arthur fidgeted, the words melting him. 

"Oh! Um, thank you for coming on such short notice…sorry, I never caught your name?" 

"A-Arthur." 

"Glad to know your name's not actually Carnival."

His eyes sparkled at your joke, his amusement filling the yard.

"You're probably exhausted, come, I'll make some tea. Or coffee? Is there something you prefer?" 

He was about to protest, not wanting to bother you, to go back home to his crummy apartment and lose himself in his journal for the rest of the day, but something compelled him to agree to the offer. He wasn't sure what.

"Coffee is okay, thank you," his smile hadn't left. 

When you turned to lead, his eyes flew to your hands, searching for a ring. He also wasn't sure why he let himself.

There was none, however; no jewellery at all. 

Huh.

He quickly caught up and shuffled inside after you. 

"This really means a lot," you started, closing the screen door before turning to face him, "to me and, obviously to my son..." 

A sombre look replaced your smile.

"...I haven't seen him this happy since we moved," you looked back at (c/n), watching him jump up and down with his friends, their voices filtering through the mesh. 

"You're not from Gotham?"

You shook your head, rounding him to shift further into the kitchen, behind the counter. His eyes followed your zipping from, moving when you were out of view. 

"Sugar?" 

Arthur found his hands fidgeting with his wig again, refusing eye contact. A soft 'sure' passed his lips, followed by a 'two, thank you' as the porcelain clink of mugs being placed, echoed. The soft scatter of sugar followed soon after.

"Please make yourself comfortable, Arthur. You can sit down if you'd like." 

The scraping of the chair from behind told you that he listened. 

After a few moments of silence, he spoke up. You could tell he was starting to open up, less nervous than when you had first spoken to him. It was endearing. 

"With all due respect miss-

"(Y/n)," you interrupted, turning to grin at the man. You noticed he had taken his wig off, his red foam nose too, displaying his almost raven coloured locks and chiselled features.  

"(Y/n), he repeated. The way your name rolled off his tongue had your stomach fluttering, a sensation that caught you off guard. 

"Why did you move to Gotham? It's not exactly the...best place to be." 

"Life works in funny ways," you started, "one minute you're on top of the world, the next the floor crumbles beneath you, and suddenly you're in a hole." 

Boy, did Arthur understand. Although he knew you weren't able to see him, with your back turned towards him, he nodded his head frantically. How were you able to so eloquently sum up his life? His whole existence? 

"Sorry, I'm oversharing," you awkwardly laughed. 

"No! I know what you mean..." 

With one flick of the kettle's trigger, you returned to Arthur. 

"I take it you're a native Gothamite?" 

He nodded. 

"I live with my moth- … my mother," his voice lost confidence towards the end as if he was ashamed of such a fact. 

This was only supported when he scrambled to get out his next words, "she needs help sometimes, and I'm the only one who's around to take care of her."  

"I'm all she has…" 

You gave him a reassuring smile, gently touching his interlocked hands which were resting on the table. He flinched at the contact. 

"You don't need to justify yourself, Arthur. I'm sure your mother's proud to have raised such a compassionate man."

You had caught him off guard - that was for sure. Flicking through the entirety of your interactions wasn't needed to come to the glaringly obvious conclusion that he wasn't used to being complimented. That he wasn't used to any form of nicety, and that fact well and truly broke your heart.

Who had hurt him?

Arthur had yet to find evidence of repulsion - yet to find anything that indicated you were weirded out by him; like the guys at work. He relaxed into the hold a second later, when he realised it wasn't anything threatening. Or, part of some malicious, ulterior motive.

"As strange as this might sound, you're really easy to talk to, Arthur. You're a good listener."  

"Really?" He couldn't hold back the crooked, love-struck grin that infiltrated his features, and he was about to compliment you too when the shrieking of the kettle broke up the moment, causing you to pull away from him.

He felt cold; the warming action starkly contrasted with the wind which permeated through the mesh door.

In seconds, you had returned with your steaming beverages, warning of the burning hazards, though your touch hadn't returned. 

Fast-forwarding through the small talk and the stories which decorated your conversation, Arthur eventually finished his coffee, and never before had he been so smitten. Out of all the jobs he'd gotten this week, which weren't many, this had been the most enjoyable. Although his work here had finished a while ago, he had tried to stretch out the minutes, just to hold onto the glimmer of happiness he knew would dissipate as soon as he left. He could feel time laughing at him, sticking its ghastly tongue out while telepathically hammering the fact home. He couldn't drag it out any longer. 

And so, when it was time for him to leave, heading towards the door, he paused and swallowed his pride, doing what he thought was best. 

"Did you want to get dinner sometime?" He said, turning back around as he placed an awkward arm against the arch of the hallway, leaning on it. He saw it in movies. The cool, nonchalant characters always got the girl, so it must work. 

Right? 

No, that was stupid, he thought. 

He forced the limb down, it bumping against his side. 

His fingernails dug into his palms again, for the second time that day, pressing against the very same spots as he waited for a response. He was expecting rejection. No way would she say yes, what was he thinking? At least he could say he tried; at least he'd had one positive interaction in the last few months. 

Sorry kiddo, guess Carnival's not coming back. 

His negative thoughts were disrupted by the sound of your reply. A reply in which made him delighted for taking a chance. 

Because your next words were nothing but a sweet package of glazed agreement.

"I'd love to." 

Uttering something about a day and a time, to which you agreed, he quickly found his way out of the house. 

When he slipped outside into the fresh air, he shut the front door. Away from everyone's gaze - at least those he cared about, namely you. He felt compelled to move. One of his legs with a mind of its own crossed over the other, twirling him around against your patterned brick pathway; a path in which led to the small gated exit. His arms then followed a similar pattern, striking the air, drumming into it. With one slide, the soles of his shoes skated against concrete, pushing him towards the iron gate. He felt good as he opened it. He felt confident. Laughter bubbled from his lips, failing to halt as he travelled further and further away from your house. 

He smiled all the way home.

And, it was only until he reached said home, emptying out his pockets while changing into more comfortable clothes, that his fingers brushed up against a flat, smooth surface; thin and malleable. He wrapped his digits over the peculiar material and brought it to eye-level, palm exposed. 

It was a small, folded piece of paper. White, though crumbled from being cramped up in his pocket. 

He didn't remember placing it in there...

Arthur's eyes grew wide when he unravelled the mysterious sheet, a line of numbers taking up a good portion of its space. Below it was a small 'call me - (Y/n)' written out neatly, a drastic variation to his own child-like scribbles. He reclined his head against a nearby wall, letting his childish exuberance take over. 

Turns out you were quite the magician yourself. 

———

Arthur sat alone, leg jittering as his eyes glanced back and forth from the clock on the pale wall opposite him, above the entrance. With each darting glance, barely a minute between them, he became increasingly aware of the chatter around him. While there weren't many people in the area with him as the tables were more empty than they were filled, he was highly conscious of the fact that he was the only one there without company. 

For the first time, he looked out the window he rested against. The chilled frame soothed his hot face as he watched people stroll by, hoping to catch you. His attempts were, sadly, in vain. 

You were late. 

When he returned his gaze to look back at the clock again, he tried his hardest not to make eye contact with any of the staff. He knew that if he did, they'd flock to him like a swarm of bees. Instead, he kept his head low, pretending to look at the menu.

After another five minutes passed before the bell hanging off the door finally rang. His gaze immediately shot to the noise, locking with yours. Air left his mouth, both in relief and at the red dress you were wearing, coincidentally matching his own red suit. It hugged your figure, complimenting every curve, and he tried his hardest to keep his eyes from wandering. 

You hadn't stood him up.

As your beaming face lit up the world around him, your clacking heels took you to the booth opposite him, observing the room with a smile as you did so. 

"I'm so sorry I'm late!" You exclaimed, placing your purse down, sandwiched by you and the wall.

"Kids," you rolled your eyes.

"You came," were his first words, his eyes riddled with a strange confusion, yet a light - hope. He believed he had articulated his surprise internally, that was, until you gave him a look.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I?"  

"I-I don't know." He sputtered out. 

He did. 

As you both got settled in, Arthur for the first time that night willingly made eye contact with one of the servers. Your orders were speedily jotted down and taken to the chef within minutes. 

Conversation flowed, and his jokes actually got a reaction out of you, much to his surprise. The tension, or rather the anxious energy that seemed to bounce off the two of you melted, fading away light the lights of the cars that sped by the open window. In its absence, a playful aura took told. Small touches here and there, and your leg which rubbed against his, even if it was accidental, left his head spinning. This, he thought, was bliss. 

"So," you started, a finger twirling around a strand of (h/c) hair, "I've decided." 

Arthurs brows furrowed, allowing you to continue. 

"I have to tell you something," you said, rubbing your hands against your dress; a nervous tick.

A finger curled into his collar, tugging at it to cool his heating body temperature. Arthur's anxiety which was already a mess, exacerbated from hearing one of the most infamously terrifying phrases.  

"I feel like it'll be good for me to open up - I haven't told anyone since I've left. No one really knew in the first place, except a few friends." 

Arthur didn't know what to say. 

It sounded serious. Your words held a unique gravity to them. And while he felt the air around them shift, from light-hearted and playful, to darker, more solemn, he could tell you had been repressing what you were about to tell him for a good while. He knew the look. 

His hand reached over the table to meet yours. They were timid, brushing against yours experimentally until he knew you were comfortable with his affection.

"How the tables have turned," you joked, allowing his hand to slip into yours.  

"I was in a nasty relationship," you started off wavering, a sigh passing into the air, "I only dared to leave a few months ago." 

Arthur's heart virtually broke as you revealed this to him. He watched as you swallowed the lump in your throat, noting how your eyes started to flutter from the stinging of tears. 

"It endangered me and my son. It took a lot of strength to leave, but I had to for (C/n). He's my world, and I care about him more than myself." 

Tears by now had fallen, running down your cheeks. Arthur intently listened to your confession. 

"Moving to Gotham was the only way we could start over, and if I could have given him a better life, I would have, but it was the best I could do. I just wanted to see him happy again." 

You let out another sigh, trying to blink away a few of the stray tears, though Arthur beat you to it, his hands moving to your face, wiping them with his thumbs. He felt how you leant into his touch, your eyes falling shut with a sniffle. As grim as the situation was, he was happy you were comfortable enough to tell him such a heartbreaking story.

"Sorry," you mumbled, forcing a laugh out to mask your vulnerability. Arthur saw right through it.

He gave you a look, one that virtually said 'are you serious?' before he spoke, exasperated, "what for?" 

"I don't know...for crying? For dropping this on you, for-" 

"Hey," Arthur's thick, dark eyebrows furrowed, his hands still cupping your face, "if I even had half the strength of you, I'd-"

"I'd-"

Arthur paused, his voice coming out as chokes.

Oh no. 

He felt an overly-familiar twitch in his throat, a reflex in which he tried to stifle by clamping his mouth shut, contorting his face in pain to keep it at bay.  

He never could. 

And then, at the worst possible moment, the worst he could possibly think of, he hunched over and wheezed, cackling over the table. Your eyes, riddled with confusion from the lost contact, was promptly replaced with hurt at his sudden laughter. 

He quickly noticed this, shaking his head. 

Everyone else in the establishment, with what few were there, reared their heads to the ruckus, watching Arthur spiral. 

"I-I'm so-" he started, desperate to contain himself. 

It only made things worse. 

"S-sorry." 

He fiddled with his pockets, trying to produce the laminated card, he practically depended on. His fingers brushed the plastic, and he frantically pulled it out, sliding it to the other side of the table.

Please understand. 

Please, please, please. 

You had been the only person he'd connected with in months, perhaps longer. And now, he was about to ruin it with his stupid, stupid, stupid condition. 

Guess the mystery had unravelled, he thought bitterly. 

He tried to watch your expression for any indication of disgust or contempt. It was difficult, however, as he continued his fit, a hand hitting the table's surface. Another reflex. The pain was starting to set in, his lungs screaming, and his chest aching. 

Please just let it end. 

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Your voice surprised him, the kind tone and the understanding in your eyes was something he had to get used to. Something he wanted to get used to. How were you so kind? So accepting?

He shook his head slowly, trying to get a few words out.

"I have-"

"Have to-"

He tried to breathe, nearly choking.

"W-Wait."

"It's okay," you comforted, hurt no longer manipulating your features. 

"Take your time."

———

In Arthur's eyes, the date had gone really well, or at the very least as well as it could have gone considering his outburst. He was happy, the feeling of warmth and nervousness he felt around you was something he hadn't really experienced with anyone, or really had the chance to. He kind of liked it.

He felt like he could be himself. You'd laugh at his jokes, his puns, regardless of how morbid they got; the most you'd do is playfully slap his shoulder and bite back a grin - guilty for laughing. He never understood the frivolous sayings about love, how things could sound so far fetched and dramatic, but now, he understood. 

He didn't know how it was possible, how someone as beautiful as you, could be interested in someone like him. 

After eating, you both walked under the darkness of the sky, the pinpricks which twinkled above, smiling down. Content was the air that surrounded your bodies, a loving blanket. With nothing more than a few minutes walk back to yours from the restaurant, you relished in his company. 

It wasn't long before you both arrived back though, almost too soon, with the giddiness of your date still swirling around in both your heads. Arthur, at some point, had wrapped his red suit jacket around your goosebumped form, an action at which you had initially declined, but gave in when he insisted. You thought it felt good against your warming skin, the smell of his cologne intoxicating. As you entered the hallway, leading him back to the living room, you were happy to see the babysitter you had hired playing a board game with your beaming son. She was the teenage daughter of a friend you met at work, and you, happy to help out a struggling youth, decided it was the perfect opportunity to go out with Arthur. After paying her, and seeing her off, you excused yourself for a moment and vanished into one of the other rooms.  

Arthur had sat down on the table like last time. The wood cooled his clothed forearms as he watched the child from across the room walk his way over, and push himself into the chair opposite him. Once (c/n), was comfortable, Arthur shot him a smile - one that wasn't returned. 

(C/n)'s bright eyes were suddenly reduced to slits, his arms crossed and observing the dressed-up man. It made Arthur uncomfortable, to say the least. What had caused the dramatic shift in attitude? 

Nothing was said, for at least a good two minutes, until finally, the small child in his blue space pyjamas saw it necessary.

"You know, my mommy really likes you." 

Uh oh.

Arthur made a face back to the boy. 

He wasn't entirely sure what face he made, though it didn't matter because the child picked up on his general disbelief anyway.

"It's true!" His arms shot out into the air, "I do too!" 

There was no way a child could know such things; plus, nothing was ever certain. It was with this that he pushed down the hope that had sprung up, like a freshly bloomed flower in spring - its stem resistant and youthful, not yet pressed by the wilting life would inevitably bring. 

"So you better not be mean to her!" (C/n) exclaimed.

The double meaning behind what the child said made him internally cringe. Arthur now knew the context of your troubled pasts and whilst what (c/n) had said was innocent, had saddened him. Not just over the fact you had been through hell in the first place, but because, for a moment there, Arthur saw himself in the child; a reflection of what he was still like. Always having to take care of his mother - look out for her. Support her any way he could.  

Arthur's eyes softened in understanding, a great respect for the child forming. (C/n) sincerely looked up to you - loved you, and he was willing to resist anything that endangered that. 

Arthur leaned forward, a forearm extending. His elbow rested against the table's surface and all his fingers, except for one - his pinky - curled into his palm. 

"I promise," he said, eyes firm, a certainty the child was happy with.

(C/n) reached his small body over, his knees digging into the pads of cushioning on the chair as his significantly tinier finger wrapped around Arthur's skinny one. A smile was shared between the two of them. 

When Arthur went to pull away, he was stopped by (C/n)'s whine.

"No! You have to lock it!"

"Lock?" Arthur questioned. 

(C/n)'s tongue stuck out in concentration as he reached his small thumb over to Arthur's, tapping it. After much trial and error, the older man finally got the hint and connected the tip of his thumb with the boy.

"There!" (C/n) exclaimed.

Unbeknownst to the two seated at the table, you had snuck back into the room, watching the heartwarming scene unfold. The gentle noise of your knocking signified your return, and Arthur, with surprise, jumped in his chair, quickly standing. You bit into your lip, trying not to laugh. 

He made his way over to you when you extended your arm, his red suit jacket floating in the air as your fingers gripped it from the top. In one quick movement, it was hugging his body again.

"Thanks," Arthur smiled.

As much as he wanted to stay, to talk to you all night, his eyes caught the time which had apparently flown by, like a flock of birds migrating for the winter. He had undoubtedly overstayed his welcome, and his mother was probably worried sick. 

His eyes grew wide.

"I-I have to go!" 

His sudden shift in mood had you worried. 

"Arthur? Are you okay?" 

"I'm really late. I'm sorry." 

"Oh - okay well, let me walk you to the door?"

It was barely a few meters away, and you internally scolded yourself. How obvious could you get?

He quickly nodded.

Your form quickly moved past him as you hear Arthur's gentle voice in the background say goodbye to (C/n). When your fingers gripped onto the doorknob, pushing it, Arthur squeezed past with a small 'thank you'. You felt the nips of the wind against your exposed arms, causing you to shiver. The distant noises of Gotham - the blaring sirens which were muffled, and the faraway clamour of car horns, was something you had gotten used to; it was a city that never slept. 

Arthur stood awkwardly in front of you, lost. It was then when you realised you had to make the first move. 

"Thanks for tonight," you said, hands wrapping around him in a gentle embrace, chin resting on the pad of his shoulder. The smell of his cologne hit your nostrils instantly. It was oceanic, traces of bergamot and melon, with a hint of frangipani; so perfectly him. It was a fragrance that you associated with safety, the small feeling of comfort burrowing in your stomach. 

He froze from your actions, evidently stunned. His arms then snaked their way around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

"I had a great time," you whispered, eyes closing against him.  

The husky agreement which you felt vibrate in his chest induced a sinful shiver. As much as you wanted to stay wrapped in his arms for longer, hell for the rest of the night, you knew he needed to be somewhere. Tearing yourself away, the hands remaining at your hips stopped you, squeezing into your sides. This prompted you to look up at the man, into his hardened eyes. They looked to be concentrating, portraying an internal war. His Adam's apple bobbed. You didn't get a chance to ask if he was okay because he moved before you could, his lips quickly pressing themselves against the softness of your heated cheek before scurrying off.

You smiled, fingers grazing the area. 

Arthur was a unique man. Strange, but endearingly so. 

So soft and gentle; kind. 

He would never hurt a fly. 

———

.

.

.

.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Arthur repeated the mantra in his head. 

He'd fucked up - fucked up big time.

He'd shot three men - killed them in cold blood. 

His ears were still ringing from the gunshots, and he remembered the way his hands shook as he held the trigger. How his tremors diminished with every squeeze until finally, a hardened look replaced his fear. His whole demeanour had altered within those critical seconds.

As he found himself back in the present, his makeup smudged and appearance dishevelled, he emerged out of the public bathroom, panting. 

He felt different. 

The eyes which had stared back at him in that mirror didn't feel like his own. They didn't harbour the terror they once swam in, nor the naivety. His body, which had moved with grace and finesse, had danced on the dirty tiles instead. His movements came from the soul; a conglomeration of motions he was unaware he was even capable of. 

Yes - he was different. 

So, when he wiped off his makeup, and kicked his leg out, against the resistance of the bathroom door, he didn't go back to his apartment. He didn't want to see the rats in the lobby, scurrying and squeaking, only a matter of time before they found their way into his apartment. He didn't want to stare at the wall for hours, envisioning what could have been, and the what if's. He didn't want to sit down with his journal and think about how depressing his life was - just to get his therapist off his ass.

No, he didn't want to. 

So he didn't.

Preferably, he found himself going in the other direction. To the place where he felt most welcomed. Loved. 

Although the date had been days prior, he felt the need to see you. 

He didn't know how long it took him to get there, all he knew was the thumping of his heart, it's frantic beat echoing in his ears when he rapped on the door. The sound hollow. 

Your head peaked out, groggy from sleep as you opened the door, its range widening when you saw him. It was late, perhaps late enough to be considered the early hours of the morning, but you didn't question it. Rather, his name passed your lips with concern. 

Arthur didn't hear you call his name. Though he saw your lips move, plump and inviting. No sound reached his dazed state. His hands found your face alternatively, thin digits sliding below your mastoid, save for his ring finger and pinky. Wasting no time in seizing your lips, his mind worked overtime to memorise every little detail - of the moment he had been waiting for; the grand finale. 

Every scent - like the perfume that seeped into your skin, faint and applied hours prior. It was a scent he often detected, sometimes rubbing off on his clothes, but an odour he never got sick of; heavenly. 

Every feeling - like the way your hands wrapped around his form, gripping him tightly to steady yourself from your stumbling - from his pushes into the house. Or, like the feeling of his stomach, how it fluttered when you kissed him back, his heated blood pumping through him. 

Every sound - like the soft 'click' of the door behind him, which he closed with the sole of his shoe. 

Every taste - like the raspberry chapstick which coated your lips, mixing in with the contrasting flavour of his carmine lipstick. Although most of it was wiped off, there were distinct traces. Smudges.  

Every sight - the way your playful grin took up most of it when you pulled away, teeth dragging your bottom lip, leading him to your bedroom. 

When inside, Arthur dipped you down onto the bed, his slim frame hovering over yours with darkened eyes. The dim glow of your lamp residing on the bedside table allowed you to identify the hunger in his look. A lusting fire which burned right before you, behind those glassy, blue eyes. The warmth of his lips met your mouth once more, but only for a second because he shifted his attention to the base of your neck. The moments in between had you complaining from the loss of contact, a noise which he chuckled at. 

He wanted - needed - to explore every curve of your body; every crevice. Map it in his brain. 

"Arthur," you whispered. He shivered at the sound of his name breathlessly leaving your lips, goosebumps forming across his skin. In response, he hummed deeply - an acknowledgement which originated from the back of his throat, the vibrations sinful against your heightened senses.

"What's gotten into you?" 

The confidence radiating off of him, although adding to the pool in your panties, had surprised you. You had to remind yourself that the previously timid Arthur and the man above you were the same person.

"I need you," he husked. 

Amazed by his forwardness, though equally as desperate, your voice came out shaky, "then take me." 

Three words. Those lovely three words were all it took for him to lose himself; his control. The tightness of his pants was becoming too much to bear. It was his own personal prison, and the anguished motivation to escape was only increasing by the passing moments. Judging by the way you were grinding against him, pressing against his crotch unfairly, he knew you were just as riled up.

His kisses seared into your skin, rendering you a whimpering mess. Your back arched against the mattress, an action driven entirely by instinct as his hands slipped under your shirt. In an attempt to make things easier, your hands hooked under the shirt as well, bunching it up. When he sensed the movement, he assisted you with the material. In your whirlwind of passion, the article of clothing had been removed, thrown away as it was left sprawled across the floor, uncaringly. His breath hitched in his throat when he realised there was nothing underneath it, except for your underwear.

"You're beautiful," he said, pupils full-blown.

Your eyes then smiled up at his in the delicate moment, the tender upturn of your brows leading to the capture of his lips. Without so much as moving away, his slender fingers fiddled with his dress shirt, he too, removing himself from its constraints. 

He suddenly pulled away as his frustration reached its peak. His need for you had become overpowering, and he worked his way down towards the only piece of clothing you had left. The light, tickling touch of the pads of his fingers slid down your ribcage, tracing down your hips until they reached the waistband. His thumbs dipped under the elastic, and with the cooperation of your wiggling, it was promptly discarded. His caress was ever so gentle, his handling virtually leaving you quaking beneath him. 

Arthur wasted no time in pleasuring you, this was proven to you quickly when one of his digits smoothly slid into your cunt. The sound of your wetness was vulgar, although all the more alluring. 

He felt drunk; hazy. In some sense, it was surreal that this was occurring, that you were actually interested in him in the first place. Yet, there was another part of him that was screaming at himself to focus, to halt his berating comments and take pleasure in the way you were crumbling before him. He tried to do the latter.  

"Fuck- oh my god!" You immediately cried out, hands darting to cover your mouth as he slowly started pumping his finger. His devilish movements had your other hand fisting the sheets. 

Your breathing swiftly became ragged under the knuckle you bit down on, and he hastily added another finger, loving your reaction. He felt his chest swell with pride as he glanced up at your dishevelled manner. Encouraged by the enchanting sight, he picked up his pace. It was relentless and brutal, the thrusts forcing obscene mewls from you, some no longer containable. Raising your hips to meet his rhythm, to relieve the overwhelming knot forming, you knew you weren't going to last long. Arthur knew this too, your squirming made this clear, and he instantly added his lips to the equation, stimulating your clit. 

You were done for. 

As your walls clenched around his fingers, your hands rushed to grip his hair. They weaved through his untidy strands, pushing his head down while the wild flicks of his tongue assisted you with your earth-shattering orgasm. Ecstasy rushed over your trembling form, and as your thighs tensed, the tip of your head grazed the headboard; you swore you could see stars. Arthur's cock twitched in his pants at the sight of you unfolding before him, impossibly hard. 

"Holy fuck!" You moaned.

He kindly slowed his rhythm when he knew you finished, yet his tongue licked a long stripe against your slit, moving to lap up your juices. The sensation, as well as the hums that lasciviously left his mouth, vibrated against your already sensitive core, setting you down the path for a second climax.  

Perhaps he had done it on purpose, but when you felt the pressure in your abdomen, ready to burst again, he pulled away. 

"No!" you cried, "Arthur, please! I'm gonna cum, please let me cum!" You sobbed quite shamelessly. In all honesty, your words surprised yourself, and apparently Arthur too, because laid sat there for a moment, eyebrows raised as a delicious smirk settled over his lips. He took his merry time, with no sign of returning to you, savouring your pleading.  

"Beg," he purred, sitting up as his tongue lolling out to lick and suck on the fingers that had fucked you into oblivion. His eyes never shifted from yours, and you watched with absolute astonishment, upon desire, at the action. Your reaction only egged him on. 

What exactly happened to him in the last 72 hours? 

You were genuinely bewildered at the whole situation. The last thing you would have expected was to have Arthur rock up in the middle of the night and turn into a sex god. Though, you certainly weren't complaining. 

While one of his hands was busy, in his mouth, his other trailed up your thigh. Eventually, it reached your bundle of nerves, tracing small circles with his thumb, agonisingly slowly. 

"You're so good to me, fuck," you whined, stirring against his touch. He pulled away again when you bucked into his hand.

"Please-"

"Please, what?"

"I need you inside me, Arthur, fuck please-"

He couldn't take much more of your begging, his own self-control had wholly vanished by then, and he quickly shifted out of his pants, freeing himself. When his cock fell into his fist, he gave two steady pumps before lining himself up with you. You held your breath in anticipation despite your wild heart, making you feel dizzy. The relief you had been longing for - no aching for - had finally arrived when he pushed himself into you. 

"Oh god- you feel so good," you gasped. The moan which fell from Arthur's lips had your name mixed in, a deliciously carnal sound. As he started moving, a slow rhythm from his hips developing, he shut his eyes. With his concentration on chasing his finish, salty beads of sweat trailed down his forehead. 

"Arthur," your gentle voice had called, "w-wait." 

Upon hearing your words, he immediately stopped, eyes flying open with concern.

"Let me take care of you."

He was confused as to what you meant until you maneuvered yourself on top, kissing him softly.  

You could see the stutter in his confidence at your words, though his nod signified his consent. With a small smile, you made sure he was comfortable before your entrance started teasing his cock. You felt him tense up, and when you made the movement again, he thrust into you, an involuntary action which made you both cry out. His stroke hit you perfectly the first time, harsh yet euphoric. If you woke up the next day and found your body aching, you wouldn't be shocked.

His arms reached over to embrace your form as you buried your face in the crevice of his neck, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. Then, fully adjusted to his length, you started to move up and down on his cock, the feeling of him stretching your walls overwhelming. 

"You're doing so well," you gulped, your panting warming the side of his throat.

"I want to see you," he managed to murmur out, and his request was promptly granted when you pulled away from his neck.  

His hands slid down to grip your hips when you shifted, guiding them as you bounced. No longer did he need to fantasise about being with you, image you writhing in pleasure as he touched himself. No longer did he need to envision the way you felt around his cock, the way you moaned; it was now his reality. Hell, even Arthur's wicked fantasies couldn't have prepared him for this. Nor the words that left your mouth next, sending him spiralling. 

"Let go, Arthur. Cum for me."  

He did.

And hard. 

His orgasm rocked him to the core, and you milked him for all he had, his hot spurts of cum coating your walls. Both your paces slowed, becoming sloppy as you came crashing down seconds later. 

Deathly tired, you collapsed on top of his chest, exhausted. The only sound that could be heard were your frantic breaths, and you could've sworn your heart too, considering how hard it was beating. As you both took a minute to calm, neither of you move from each other, his cock still buried within you. 

Only when you felt him soften did you slowly depart, rolling beside him. Arthur's grew heavy when you did, though they tried to resist the weight of his lethargy. He managed to twist his frame over to you, giving you one last kiss, the taste of yourself prominent in the heartfelt and passionate kiss, before he finally gave in. 

Sleep gripped your forms. 

———

Arthur stirred at the alien sensation of warmth next to him. Your naked body was pressed against his, head leaning on his chest as his arms protectively enveloped your frame. It took a few moments for this to register, and a lot more minutes for him to realise this was real; that this wasn't a dream - a product of his imagination.

He hadn't woken up in his own bed with his sheets dirtied from, well, his...dreams. 

Everything had actually happened yesterday. 

Your beautiful form was really there in his grasp, face relaxed with soft exhales leaving your nose. He could feel the breath against his skin, a perception his body reacted to on its own.

Don't start, he thought, scolding himself. 

Perhaps it was his staring that had woken you next, or the soft, dulled yellow tone of the suns rays projecting past the white curtains. He wasn't sure. But, when your (e/c) eyes bore into his, fluttering open with a grin he knew he'd never get used to, he realised it didn't matter. Its appearance always managed to sucker punch him in his gut, make his heart stop. And if that was the way he was going to die, fuck, he really couldn't complain. He'd choose it if he could. Your radiance was sincerely otherworldly to him, angelic - personally constructed and moulded by the angels themselves.  

"Goodmorning," you yawned, arching your back into a stretch. Soft groans left your lips and pops from your joints filled the air. Arthur's finger trailed your spine, forcing you to shiver.

"Morning," he replied lazily, a drowsy smile gracing his lips.

"I don't wanna get upppp" you whined, voice still affected by sleep as you nuzzled into him. 

"We don't have to," Arthur shot you a look, one you were quickly starting to identify as his sex expression. Its appearance forced you to roll your eyes playfully, something he laughed at. 

"Maybe later, loverboy."

After one soft morning kiss, you both decided it was best to do the complete opposite of what you wanted and get up. 

As you both tossed on the discarded clothes from your nightly activities, Arthur beat you to the kitchen, refusing to let you sort your breakfast out. Your giggles decorated the hallway as you admitted defeat, knowing he wasn't going to give in. In no time, Arthur had somehow transformed into a chef, something he casually brushed off, stating he learned for his mother. 

Not long after, a long metallic groan - of hinges - sounded. Then, frantic footsteps littered the hallway, a short form entering the kitchen soon after, eyes observing the scene before them.

"Are those pancakes?" The boy asked, looking between you and Arthur. 

Arthur winked at (C/n). It was enough confirmation for the kid and his feet lept off the ground repeatedly. His cute red pyjamas had green patterns of t-rex's scattered across the fabric, a fact he exhibited to Arthur every few minutes. 

So, this was what having a family felt like, Arthur thought, smiling. 

When Arthur eventually finished cooking and experimenting with pancake shapes (he had managed to morph yours into the outline of a heart and (C/n)'s into Pacman), he was the last to join the table. 

Excited to take a chuck out of his consumable masterpiece, Arthur sipped on his water. But, before he could move on, the boy's words across from him, stopped him, forcing the liquid back into its glass. 

Arthur damn near choked. Deep coughs emerged from his chest, and while he was repulsed by the sight of his saliva swirling with the chilled drink, it was the least of his worries with the child's words buzzing around his head. 

"Does this mean you're my dad now?!"

———

Side note: I was genuinely considering putting the summary as ‘Arthur shoots people and gets laid lol’ because I couldn’t think of anything. I need help PFTT

[plutoismydaddy]

A devils smile

Taehyung x reader (Enemies to lovers)

He was the one that was supposed to get pranked, so why did you feel like the clown? (Idk im tired)

I got a request for this by a very nice person but… I can’t find the request. I’m so sorry!!  (I made the picture, please dont steal it)

CH 1 CH 2

The golden rays of the setting danced through your windows and coated your room with its crimson hues, remind you of how little you had done today. The pandemic that was sweeping over the world was devastating but brought small doses of happiness as you no longer had to go to school. So, of course, the first option was to start colonizing on your couch. You took a bite of your sandwich as picked up your phone that had started to buzz beside you. In the middle of your lock screen floated the message notification with Sun-hi’s name written on it. Taking the last bite of your meal, you unlocked your phone, a video popped up on the chat room. You‘r eyebrows rose in surprise, “She actually filmed it” you thought before clicking on it. The screen was black for a second before a voice was heard “Hey, Taehyung there is something for you” you watched as Taehyung with an excited and surprised smile walks into the frame. Clueless as to what was going to unfold. Taehyung Stood in front of the small gift basket a smile stretched across his lips as he examined it, “Is this for me?” you let out a laugh “It’s all for you baby” you thought as he picked up a small can of pringles. You moved closer to the screen to as he opened the top and watched as he jumped back with a little screech when three black snakes and a cloud of confetti exploded in his face. Your back collided with the grey cushions as fell back, laughter echoing through the room. Looking back at the screen, you watched as Taehyung with a now sour face opened the bag of chewy candy only to find it filled with orbeez. He threw the bag back into the basket before turning around and stomping away, you were slightly disappointed he hadn’t opened the other things. Still, it didn’t stop the cackling that was shaking your body. Exiting the video, you saw a new message, “You’re running out of ideas, huh?”, with a small chuckle you responded, “Nothing can beat a classic”. No respond “Come on, you have to admit it was funny. A little at least” a second past before she replied “He hasn’t said anything in 15 minutes” followed by a laughing sticker which you mirrored as your laughter resumed again.

“I really thought life was going to be nice to me, huh?” you thought as you put the cardboard box down with a huff. You loved your uncle and was always ready to help him but was he thinking when he asked you, the weakest person in the family, to help him with his renovation company. Now that you thought about it wasn’t he the same person to say your arms looked like a grasshopper, you shook your head. “The man must be desperate”, you looked around the warehouse it was huge and filled with old furniture and clothes that would be eventually sold. Outside one of the windows, you saw the colours of the sunset blend with each other to create an art piece, you should head home before it got too dark.

 Your uncle had been nice enough to give you a locker to put all your belongings, standing in front of the small grey locker you picked up the little sticky note that sat on the door. “Thank you for helping me out, sweetheart.” Warmth filled your chest he was so sweet, a smile stretched across your lips as you opened the locker and reached in for your bag, something small and light fell on your hand when you bumped your jacket. You looked up and saw a cockroach sitting proudly on the back of your hand, a scream flew from your lips and you stumbled backwards and cringed in pain as your butt collided with the floor. “What’s wrong?” your uncle burst through the door panic clear on his face you pointed towards your locker fear taking away your ability to speak. He walked up to the locker but didn’t seem scared by the monster inside at all; instead, he let out a laugh. “Oh sweety this made out of plastic” he turned around with a hand full of cockroaches, plastic cockroaches. You stood up fear now replaced with anger “Why would you do that?” you said clutching your heart making sure it was still beating and pointing at him with the post-it note. He held up his hands “I didn’t do this” you looked at him unimpressed “Really it wasn’t me” you crossed your arms. “Then who could it be” you rolled your eyes “Maybe it was your friend” eyes now squinted you looked back at your uncle “Friend?”, “Yeah a guy came in today saying you forgot your shirt or something and I told him To just put it in your locker”. Your eyes squinted more as a suspect popped up in your head “What was his name?”. “Taehyung, I think” your uncle muttered while scratching his neck, you looked back at your locker “Not bad, not bad indeed Kim Taehyung”, but how did he know you were here?  

“So what you’re saying is that you betrayed me” Sun-hi chuckled “All I did was say that you were helping your uncle out, how would I know he was going find the address and do something like that?”. You blinked at her “.....betrayal, traitor” “You literally befriended me because I work with him” she argued as she took a sip of her coffee. “It’s called getting info about the enemy sweety, strategy. I thought you were smarter than this” you finished the sentence with a dramatic sigh. Sun-hi looked back at you “What is even going on, you know with all the pranks, you're acting like kindergarten kids”. Ignoring the last part as you leaned back in your chair and stared into the air with dreamy eyes “Just get to it” Sun-hi sighed. “So like a year ago I walked into the convenience store to buy some snacks, and all my favourite chips were gone and the same with my favourite drinks. As I walked out, I saw a guy who was buying all of them.” You leaned forward resting your elbows on the table and furrowing your eyebrows “I thought “it’s fine I’ll just buy them next time” you raised your finger making Sun-hi flinch “BUT! It was the same every day. Every time I walked in he was buying them or sitting by the door eating them”. “Oh and that stupid smirk” You stared into the air, eyes burning holes into the wall across the street. “He would always have that stupid. cocky smirk” Sun-hi let out an unimpressed chuckle “So all of this is because of some chips” your eyes returned to her “No it’s about…” your brain seemed to go blank, and sun-hi raised her eyebrows “The disrespect?”, “Yes, exactly”. She shook her head “and who started this whole prank war” you smirked leaning back in our chair “I did”, “I don’t think it’s something to be proud of” Ignoring her you pulled your phone out “So how do you think I should prank him this time?”.

Your eyes were fixated on the pictures displayed on your screen, the familiar page of Taehyungs Instagram open as you looked through the newest pictures he posted. “What’s with the serious face?” Haneul asked as he walked into the living room, you stopped your scrolling. “I’m plotting my revenge” you answered monotony as your eyes scanned the picture on your screen. Taehyung was leaning against a brick wall, his wine red dress shirt unbuttoned to expose the top of his chest the sun coating his skin in a honey hue. “You’re still doing the whole prank war thing?” you nodded your head, “Why don’t you just end it” looking up you gave him a confused look “You know, prank him so hard you basically “win” “. “Don’t encourage her” Sun-hi sighed from beside you “No, but if you do that then he will finally leave you alone, and the two of you don’t have to talk again”. Not talk to him again, your lips pressed together in a slight pout as you though. “Or maybe you don’t want that” your thought came to a halt “What?”, “Do you not want this pranking to stop?” Sun-hi’s smirk mirrored Haneul, “Why would I not want that?” you leaned back, resting your chin against your palm. Sun-hi let out a laugh “Because you...like Taehyung” you sat upright as if poked in your side “Are you crazy?” you tried to sound bored, but the sudden tight feeling in your chest was making it hard to think straight. “People that hate each other can still fall in love” you raised your eyebrows at Haneul. “You two were literally like two love deprived teens when you first meet”, “Still why would I date someone like him” you continued, sticking your tongue out in disgust. Sun-hi tried to suppress her laughter as she leaned towards you and pointing towards your lap “Then why are always scrolling through his Instagram and staring at his pictures”. You looked down onto your phone where Taehyung was still leaning against the wall, smirking as always. Heat pooled in your cheeks and you feel almost dizzy as you stood up from your seat “I’m leaving”. You could hear the couple burst out laughing as you stomped towards the front door.

--------------------------------------

I'll post the next chapter tomorrow, it’s really late and I’ve been working on this for the past week maybe. 

//MiniPluto