noxtivagus · 2 years ago
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classes done for the day 🫶🏼
#🌙.rambles#the courses i have on wednesday . mwah mwah#thinking abt it n i really can't deny that. i am 'smart'#my performance though in school does not match my intelligence though#i am very aware of my own potential n that. i've always been a fast learner yeah#never quite the best at something but i'm satisfied n happy enough w being well enough on a lot of things i love#when it comes to music n writing n designing or wtvr arts i've always been strong w being creative#on writing while i'll say i'm better w creative writing. i'm good at academic writing too#thinking abt that n Yeah#being shy n feeling anxious makes me a bit less proficient in speaking i think#not the best but still better than average w yh speaking n all#if i were to be blunt i think i'd even say actually that i underestimate my own skill regarding that aspect but yeahhhh#thinking abt it n#impostor syndrome.... 💀#i've always had a good memory n observative i forgot the word & also good w analysis#while i can't deny i do have a lot of natural intelligence n. yh hard work mostly too#my curiosity i'd say. one of my biggest drives. i find life interesting. the universe. everything in it#i genuinely find it all so fascinating n i just love to ponder n wonder abt so much things#& i love to express myself too through stories. yk also taking in all that lovely knowledge 🫶🏼#chem n prac res today idk made me realize how. i am with sciences n maths n idk those typa stem stuff in general#relating to that there's also me w video games like ffxiv n high end hard content. n also YEAH me w the way i think n feel in this world#sometimes it gets overwhelming but now's not one of those times so i really feel how much i love all that for me. i'm actually so sleepy rn#learning.... i love learning sm isn't there just so much to this world.#i wna write more but i am actually so sleepy
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mysticalstuff · 10 months ago
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Finding Connection in Confusion
Description: In this captivating tale set in the vibrant city of New York, join (Y/n), a unique individual with limited empathy, as they navigate the complexities of relationships and emotions.
(Y/n) had an extraordinary inability to empathize with others; they simply couldn't understand people's emotions or relate to their experiences. This quality often left them baffled and envious of those around them.
One sunny day, (Y/n) found themselves in Central Perk, the iconic coffeehouse where they frequently drowned their confusion in cups of caffeine. As they settled down with their coffee, they observed the group of friends they usually encountered there.
Within the group, one individual in particular caught (Y/n)'s attention the most – Chandler Bing, a master of sarcasm and self-deprecating humor. Despite the disjointed connection with others, (Y/n) felt strangely drawn to Chandler's enigmatic personality.
Feeling intrigued, (Y/n) decided to engage Chandler in a conversation, embarking on a unique friendship. Chandler, being irresistibly drawn to (Y/n)'s indifference and lack of emotional baggage, welcomed their presence with open arms.
As time passed, their bond grew stronger, though it was continually tested by (Y/n)'s constant confusion and envy towards other people's emotions. However, Chandler's unwavering patience allowed them to navigate this unconventional relationship.
The rest of the friends—Monica, Ross, Rachel, Joey, and Phoebe—were always fascinated by the dynamic between Chandler and (Y/n). They found (Y/n)'s lack of empathy both amusing and puzzling, often attempting to help them understand the concept of emotions.
One day, Monica decided to throw a dinner party at her apartment. The group gathered, including (Y/n), who couldn't help but feel isolated and different from everyone else at the event. Monica's exceptional cooking skills were praised by all, leaving (Y/n) bewildered by the sheer excitement over food.
While the friends immersed themselves in hearty conversations and laughter, (Y/n) watched with a mix of envy and curiosity. They wondered how a mere dinner party could evoke such genuine happiness and connection among people.
As the evening progressed, Chandler noticed (Y/n)'s increasingly withdrawn demeanor. Concerned by their internal struggle, he excused himself from the lively discussion and approached them.
Placing a gentle hand on (Y/n)'s shoulder, Chandler asked, "Hey, what's going on? You seem a little lost tonight."
(Y/n) glanced at him, their puzzled expression clearly visible. "I don't get it, Chandler. How can something as mundane as food bring so much joy? It's just... baffling."
Chandler smiled understandingly, meeting their confusion with sincerity. "Emotions can be quite complicated, and it's okay not to fully grasp them. But trust me, the joy lies in the simple things sometimes, like a good meal shared with loved ones."
(Y/n) pondered Chandler's words, slowly starting to appreciate his perspective. They recognized that while empathy might not come naturally to them, there was still an opportunity to learn and find happiness in unexpected places.
From that moment onward, Chandler became (Y/n)'s guide to understanding emotions. With his gentle guidance, (Y/n) gradually began to see the beauty in people's connections, finding solace in witnessing the happiness of others.
Though their journey towards empathy would be an ongoing one, (Y/n) had found an extraordinary companion in Chandler, who showed them that even the most bewildering aspects of life could be embraced with open arms.
Together, they forged an extraordinary friendship—one that neither of them could have imagined, and one that would forever shape (Y/n)'s perception of themselves and the world around them.
{Merry Christmas/Christmas Eve!}
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arminsleftnut · 4 years ago
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hi!! i’m so excited to see a blog that writes for death note, it’s become a recent hyperfixation of mine and i can’t find any good fics!!! 💗💗💗💗
could you provide some nsfw content for L? any is fine really, hc’s or a full drabble if you’d like!! i’m desperate for L content lol 💗💗
YES oh my god of course 💗💗 deathnote is one of mine too (i rewatch it like once a week) n L is my major comfort character. i did a kinda cross between a drabble and headcanons for this! I hope it’s what you were looking for <333
CONTENT WARNING: smut (MDNI, 18+), female-bodied reader (gender-neutral pronouns), fingering, begging, mild pain kink, overstimulation, L being .. himself and also mildly obsessive, voyeurism (read: L is a creep misa was right), slightest bit of dubcon if you squint, masturbation, pillow humping, dom!L and yes i will die on this hill, sub!reader, L is actually a little mean in this one, dacryphilia, thigh slapping, fluff at the end if you squint, let me know if i need to add more!
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i.
being physically intimate with L was something you never really considered when you first got together. you weren’t even sure sex was something that was on his radar; he had so many other things to think about, and physical pleasure seemed like something he didn’t pay any mind to.
and you were right— for the most part. it’s not something L ever stops to consider. it’s not that he’s necessarily disinterested, it’s just never been a priority. he usually just takes care of himself when the urge arises.
with you here, though, it’s different. he’s not alone anymore, and your own desires are something he assumes he needs to factor in, and as many times as you assure him that it’s completely okay if he doesn’t want to have sex, that you can take care of it yourself and it’s a nonissue, he’s still . . . curious.
he’s seen you before on the monitors; those times late at night when everyone else has gone to bed and you forget there’s cameras everywhere, that he can see everything you do. he watches you as you’re spread out on the shared bed he rarely sleeps in, slipping your fingers in and out of your little cunt, your mewls and soft whines carrying through the speakers and shooting straight to his cock. he wonders if it’s wrong to watch you like this, but even as he ponders if misa amane was correct, that he is a pervert, he still doesn’t tear his gaze away from the screen. there is the possibility you hadn’t forgotten about the cameras at all. perhaps you wanted him to see.
he doesn’t say anything, less to save you any possible embarrassment and more because he’s found that a subject is least genuine when they know they’re being observed. it’s human nature, he knows, to alter yourself beneath the lens of others, to hide, and he doesn’t want that. this is a side of you he hadn’t considered might exist— an obvious oversight, and one he aims to correct.
that was how L always was. he loves you, yes, you can say that confidently. but as quiet and soft-handed a man as he is, his love is not simple, nor is it gentle. like him, it’s invasive and relentless. it’s not uncommon for you to feel somewhat neglected, or that perhaps he forgets about you altogether, but he never does. in fact, it’s quite the opposite. you are just as much a fixation, a complex puzzle to be torn apart and examined as any case, and rarely does a minute go by in which he doesn’t think of you. it’s perhaps not as romantic as you might like, with his owlish gaze pinned on you whether through a monitor or when you’re sitting next to him, picking apart every detail, but you can’t say he doesn’t pay attention to you. sometimes, you think he pays too much.
when he finally touches you, it’s no different.
he watched for weeks before he broached the idea. the hours you spent trying to satisfy yourself, with your hand between your legs or rutting desperately against a pillow— yet you never seemed truly satisfied. it was obvious in your expression, face screwed up cutely in obvious distress, frustrated tears welling in your eyes and streaking prettily down your flushed cheeks. you could only ever take two of your own fingers, he noticed; you’d tried more a few times, seeming to find your own two small ones dissatisfactory, but you could never quite make it, leaving you in a painful limbo that always has you in a particularly sour mood the next time he speaks with you.
the more he watched, the more he realized how truly unsatisfied you were. one night, you spent thirty minutes rocking against your pillow, and despite the wetness that darkened your pretty panties, you eventually gave up, tossing the ruined pillow away from you with a small, frustrated shriek. he wondered why; and more still, why he suddenly found his own hand unsatisfying, and why he could only curve his own thoughts with ones of you on the monitor, spread out prettily.
it was horribly distracting, really. and with anything else, L had to make sense of it.
in the end, he ends up with more questions than answers.
it’s not his fault, really. it’s yours. you’re so fascinating to study, and so eager to let him learn. you’d been so utterly pliant as he pried your thighs apart, stuttering out reassurances that he didn’t have to do this, asking over and over if he was sure. he doesn’t bother to tell you that this wasn’t for you— he wouldn’t be able to think properly until he’d gotten his answers.
there’s none of the awkward hesitation you might’ve expected, no unsure fumbling of hands or knocking teeth. no, L is sure of this as he is anything else he studies, tearing it apart as he sees fit until he’s satisfied with the conclusion. you’re no different, and he’s just as relentless as he always is.
there’s a certain desperate edge to it when he touches you, like he’s trying to tear everything from you by force. he watches you squirm beneath him, mewling and pleading incoherently as the walls of your pretty cunt spasm around his fingers for what feels like the thousandth time (it would seem you can, in fact, take three), and the only thing he can think of is how many more you’ll be able to give him. surely this isn’t your breaking point? no, he knows better, that can’t possibly be it. you can take more, and he tells you so, deafened to your mindless babbling and choked sobs as you try to push him away.
it’s strange that you do that. you get so upset when he actually does pull away:
he has to pin your hands down eventually; clawing at him the way you are is only a hindrance, and it reduces his overall effectiveness significantly. fortunately, you seem to learn quickly, responding especially well to a sharp slap to your inner thigh. (he isn’t sure if it’s a carrot or a stick, given the way you clench around his fingers when he does it. regardless, it works, so he does it again).
it really only occurs to him to stop when your body seizes again, this time falling entirely limp, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. he might’ve worried, but your eyes flutter open only a few seconds later, and it’s then that he considers that you might be rather exhausted.
“are you alright?” his voice is quiet, hoarser than normal, and uncharacteristically gentle. he cocks his head at you, the puppy-like gesture such a stark contrast to the delightful hell he was inflicting on you only moments before that you can’t help but giggle tiredly.
at your assurance that you aren’t on the verge of collapse, not anymore at least, he takes time to clean you up, his touch feather-light and familiar in its softness. he lets you cling to him, winding his awkwardly long body around you in a sort of cradle, tucking your head beneath his chin.
he counts the minutes until you fall asleep, measuring your breaths against his own. as much as he enjoys tearing you apart to see what’s inside, there’s a strange satisfaction in putting you back together again.
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this is my first published smut i apologize in advance.
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danddymaro · 4 years ago
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A Dance Just For Two | PT.2
Previous : Just You
Word count : 2761
Pt. 2: Marshmallows
It was late by the time they had arrived home, actually a smidge past midnight.
So, of course, neither of the two would have expected to run into anyone. 
As far as (f/n) was aware of, Natasha was away on assignment.
 It was one she didn’t bother to disclose too much information on, which wasn't too much out of the ordinary because Nat never really revealed too much about where she was going, or what she’d do when she left.
It was always confidential, and everyone knew to not ask.
The redhead had left two days prior on a starless night, dressed in her form-fitting black uniform, leaving with nothing more than what was on her. 
And though she was strict about what she’d reveal about her missions, she did, however, offer a small smile, along with her goodbye as she usually did.
Clint Barton had long left, announcing his retirement with a tired and half-hearted smile following up the battle in Sokovia. Prioritizing his family was beyond anything else, and seeing the growing team, he decided it was a good moment to part ways.
And hell, (f/n) couldn't blame him, because if she had a family herself, she’d pick them over everything else in the world.
Bruce Banner was still MIA, his whereabouts being a mystery to everyone, and worry ensued for him.
He was a kind man with a heavy curse, one he had no control of, and the (h/c) haired young woman could only hope he found his way back soon, returning back home safe and sound. But for the moment, it seemed that he didn’t want to be found and it was clear as day.
It was also plainly obvious that his departure had its effect on a certain member, 
‘That’s probably why she keeps herself so busy now...’ (f/n) thought to herself with a touch of sadness.
Thor had also decided to part ways, his face filled with conflict as he bid his farewell, seeming to have too much on his mind to express.
Up to date, he hadn’t sent word back, and she wished there was a way to reach him, just to know if he was alright out there. (f/n) couldn’t even begin to imagine what things lay beyond the earth, what other threats the thunder god took care of alone. 
She could only hope that whatever dangers he encountered, they were no match for his might.
Wanda Maximoff had become an official member of the Avengers not long after the battle in Sokovia.
She grieved over the loss of her only kin, her hands empty as she realized she had nothing more left because everything she cared for had been there at her side until his final breath, bloodied on the battlefield.
However, Clint Barton assured her she had a place, that she could pull through because her young life was filled with promise. 
Every day since then, the young woman worked tirelessly to gain more control of her strange powers, learning ways to expand the manipulation of them she had access to.
Vision, who had also become a member after the events aided her, the two becoming a close pair soon after, an obvious attachment grown between them during the duration of time.
They went together like youth and inexperience, and in a sense, they represented the two sides perfectly.
The artificial being, though not requiring rest, would often partake in the falls of slumber, most often times around 10, finding it to be a reasonable hour, whereas Wanda was a toss between ten or three, with no real indicator to which she would lean to.
Either way, she stayed in her quarters, unbothered by the world outside.
Tony, of course, was someone else who stayed up late quite often, stuck in his laboratory doing things (f/n) would never come to understand because to put it plainly, she wasn't a whiz kid like he was. He stayed locked in the wide space, a dark roast of hot beverage chugged down excessively with frequency.
Heck, the man lived on coffee.
But she knew well enough it wasn't just the drink that had him up, it was much more that would haunt him, leaving him restless at night.
What was much more to leave him awake: Pepper’s absence.
What solace he’d find at her side at night went missing as she left.
“ A small business trip,” she said, to which everyone believed.
But then she didn’t return to the home, nor was she frequently shown at Stark's side like before.
She was still active as CEO of his company, something he’d never take from her, because all in all, she earned it. She was his successor despite any strain in their relationship, and (f/n) found it fitting.
(f/n) was close to Tony Stark, having grown a mutual fondness at first that grew into genuine feelings of love. And while she was certain they could speak about anything, Tony was someone that didn’t like bothering people with his own problems too.
Similar to her, he felt like a burden while opening his heart.
‘It would be nice if we could all just let go,’ She mused, ‘Let go of all the feelings that anchor us.’ She added, knowing that all of them had something that weighed them down.
Side glancing at the blonde beside her, (f/n) smiled softly, ‘ Would I be happier if I let you go?’ She wondered.
‘Or can I actually find a way to reach you, reaching happiness that way?’
The gentle warmth of the spacious room then spread all around her, smoothing her like a fluffy blanket, bringing her instant comfort, to the point of making a small moan of delight leave her to show her contentment.
Needless to say, it felt good to be home, and when she said that there was no place like home, she truly meant it. 
There truly was absolutely no place like the Avengers facility, and she would go so far as to admit that it was far better than the tower they had previously gathered within.
‘It’s perfect,’ she thought gleefully as a sweet, creamy scent wafted towards her, tickling her nose and making her mouth moist with desire for the teasing, traveling aroma, even if she wasn't quite sure what it was.
She couldn't pinpoint it, but it was somewhere there on the tip of her tongue, moreover, it made her feel giddy for some reason. 
And hidden in the background, being outshined by the visiting smell was a smokey wild cherry that was more recognizable and well known throughout the place.
The crisp “snip-snap” cracking sounds of the blazing fire in the room caught her attention, causing her to pull up a soft smile at the view, knowing that the lovely display was out again, spreading out warmth as well as the sweet, welcoming scent of Cherrywood.
‘Tony really outdoes himself.’ she thought to herself, gazing at the flames with fascination, watching the Amber-colored heat dance in mellow movements.
Though Stark might find improvement in the place, always running through the rest of the crew with new ideas, she thought the building in its entirety was just fine, perfect even.
She wasn't sure about everyone else, but that’s how she felt at least.
She felt that nothing needed to change as It felt like a true home, packed with people she loved.
Isn’t that what made home, well, home?
Love..?
As she swam in that thought, one particular man set himself off from the rest, just as he always did. 
Her (e/c) colored eyes peeked over to the said man to find him engrossed within the sight of the soothing fire, caught in thought, just as she had been a moment ago.
With sincere admittance, she'd have given anything to know what he was thinking, and what was much more, know if there was a part of his pondering that was about her.
The smile gracing his face as he watched the flames dance made her feel warm fuzz all over as she continued to observe him, the slightly dimmed lighting doing nothing but accenting the lovely edges of his features.
As if he wasn’t astonishingly handsome already.
“ looks real doesn’t it?” she commented, her voice sweet-sounding and soft as she airily spoke, making him turn his attention to her, snapping out of his light daze with her simple question.
 “I was just thinking that.” he said shaking his head. “ looks like someone lit a fire behind a glass window. And then the smell... it’s hard to believe it’s not real,” he added. “ Technology has gotten pretty crazy, I would have never imagined sitting down and warming up next to an imitation fireplace this realistic.” He admitted.
“I mean, yeah we had these, but not as convincing,” he explained.
“It's scary isn't it old man...” she said wiggling her fingers in front of him. “Technology is so scary,” she said adding tremor to her voice, continuing to giggle with glee as he stared at her flatly.
Raising an eyebrow at her with a teasing smirk growing, he waited for her to calm down more before speaking,
“ Oh...aren't you the one paranoid about that little movie?” he asked her, “ what was it...” he muttered to himself, humming, his right hand taking a light hold of his chin. “ Ah, Wall-e right? Robots are gonna take over the world and control it, right?” he asked her and she stopped laughing, piping down.
“ That was a kid's movie and you were paranoid about something like that, ” he said poking her cheek. “ So, I guess, technology is scary, ohhhh…” he said mimicking her earlier actions, taunting her with the same childish actions as she stared at him with a halfhearted glare.
“That wasn’t exactly it,” she told him.
Sure that little film gave her anxiety, but not for that very reason, 
“ Besides, if we're talking about that... I wasn't so far off…” she grumbled, referring to the incident with the ‘peacekeeper’ Ultron.
The entire ordeal had been a complete nightmare for her.
While, of course, Large, menacing, reptilian-like aliens would be something to fear, nothing really took the top off as much as psycho killer robots, but that was just her opinion.
She began to nibble on her left thumb’s nail as she recalled the event, all with a cold shiver.
“- Quit sucking your thumb,” Steve chided, chuckling as she instantly brought the entire hand down, her hand fisted to her side as she glared at him. 
“I wasn’t sucking on it!” she said with a short hiss as an exaggeration to the ‘s’ sound.
Ready to challenge her, Steve opened his mouth to speak, stopped by another masculine voice, 
“ Well, well, well, having fun alone you two?” Bucky said teasingly, finally catching the other two’s attention.
“Don't you two know how late it is?” he chided tisking, adding on a small chuckle.
His attention was trained over the counter as his back faced both (f/n) and Steve, not letting them see his true, troubled face.
“-Jealous?” Steve said raising a brow, quirking up a partial smile, mindlessly teasing his friend.
“Maybe…” Bucky huffed, “ I wasn't invited out after all.” Bucky replied bitterly.
“You know, my two friends decided to hang out without me.” he sighed, “ How could I not be?”
“ We were just out for a stroll,” (f/n) said rolling her eyes, “You're such a drama queen,” she added playfully.
In response, he hummed and turned around with two mugs of a hot beverage, pursing his lips as he looked off to the side, “I always have a comeback at hand,” he warned her, “ But being the grown-up here, I’ll keep them to myself,” he said while walking towards the two.
He then handed each of them their own cups, going back to retrieve his own.
Curious, she gazed down to see her kitty mug filled with hot cocoa, brimmed with small marshmallows.
With eagerness, she smelled the sweet aroma up close,
“ Oh, Hot cocoa ! “ she chirped joyously, giving the man a closed eye smile, absolutely joy-filled.
‘That’s what that smell was,’ She mused, 'It was right there,' She added, having been bothered by the fact that she couldn't name it off the bat, and by then feeling silly for not recognizing it.
Bucky’s smile broadened as he nodded while seeing her obvious excitement,
 “Yeah, I thought you guys would want some,” he told them. “ It's starting to get real chilly out there.” He pouted, not liking the cold.
He wasn't really a fan.
“Ohh, you even put the tiny marshmallows on it, “(f/n) muttered, “Whoa, A whole bunch of them,” she added with a grin, all while looking within the cup.
“Just how you like it, I remembered,” Bucky replied, watching her face bloom with happiness.
“Love you Buck, You’re the best,” she said looking up towards him in gratitude before she started to blow on her drink.
“ I only got two,” Steve said staring down at his hot chocolate, plainly glaring at it with a disappointed pout, because he couldn't help but feel robbed.
“There wasn't much to work with,” Bucky said shrugging, the words accompanied by a nervous laugh.
 “That’s all we had, I swear,” He added.
“Yeah, I bet,” Steve argued back flatly, “After you practically chucked the entire bag into (f/n)’s cup, you didn't have any left, right?” Steve replied with accusation.
(f/n)’s face heated up, taking a look at both cups with embarrassment.
“ I'm sorry Steve !” she said immediately. “ We can switch if you want,” she said frantically,
“Or I can just-”
Both men stared at her with amusement, Bucky being the first to laugh, shaking his head as he spoke,
“That’s cute,” he muttered.
“ Its alright doll, no need,” Steve said shaking his head. “I'm just teasing!” he exclaimed, calming her down. “Seriously,” he added.
 “ I wouldn't get so worked up over some marshmallows,” he assured her.
“And Besides, I know Bucky here made that especially for you,” he said smiling knowingly with a grin, denying taking any contents from the cup in her hands as he lifted up his free hand in a stopping motion.
“He likes to play favorites between the two of us. I’ve gotten used to it anyway,” he added.
“I’m sure he doesn’t,” (f/n) said sheepishly, not believing him.
“No, I do,” Barnes said with certainty, his upfront admittance making her keep her eyes down to her drink,
‘Oh Bucky,’ She thought with a smile, shaking her head at his response, not sure if he meant it, or said it just to be a tease.
After taking a sip, she looked back towards Bucky, her eyes full of gratitude and amusement,
“At least you made some for yourself, “ she said with relief to which he shook his head,
“Nah,” he replied, making her stop drinking.
“ You didn’t make some for yourself?" She asked him, and shaking his head again, he answered her, “Nah, but it's fine.” He said with a dismissive wave.
“But wait what’s that in your hand,” she asked, pointing her finger towards his cup.
“Water,” he replied, “ I only realized afterward that I only made enough for two, but again, it’s fine,” He assured her, putting it down on the closest surface to him.
“Oh Bucky,” she said sighing, walking closer to him and leaving Steve's side altogether.
She took one of his hands, the warm flesh one, raising it up to touch the steamy mug in her hand. She pressed it there beneath hers as she gave him a small smile. “ Here, “ she told him, her hold loosening to let him take hold of the drink.
“But It’s for you,” he reminded her, being quick to return it, doing the same as she had by holding her hand to the mug,
“Really,” he said sweetly, begging her with his eyes.
" Half and half ?" She suggested, not willing to let it go.
"That's the closest I'm getting to winning, huh?" He asked her with defeat, and nodding (f/n) agreed, "Pretty much," she said, having gone unbeaten up to date, getting the last say.
'Only because it's you.
Only because you're so sweet.
Only because I love you so damn much,' The dark-haired man thought with a soft smile.
Bucky caved, the three people enjoying the warm drink as they talked, letting the night take its course.
Next : Little Smooch
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baconsoupforthesoul · 4 years ago
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The Ink Demonth - Day 17 - Distractions
Drawing Connections
A/N: A cute little Borderlands AU drabble for you all today. Harrison belongs to the lovely @inkspottie and I hope you all enjoy~
Harrison sighed as he kicked up the sand that was underneath his feet. It felt like he had been waiting here for ages, but he’s sure that’s just the boredom talking. He looked out across the rocky desert where Henry had gone to scout ahead. Apparently, since this area wasn’t as flat and open as the desert they’d been traversing so far was, he wanted a look ahead in case there were any bandits ready to ambush them. Which left Harrison stuck out here, waiting for his guide to come back.
As bored as he was though, he couldn’t fault Henry for taking precautions. He’d heard all the stories of Pandora. He knew just how dangerous this planet could be. If he didn’t have Henry and his ever loyal skag Boris with him… he doubted he would have made it this long.
Harrison carefully lowered himself down onto the ground, rolling up his sleeves and pant legs again as they had started to come loose. He was grateful that Henry had lent him some clothes, especially since his old Hyperion uniform was ripped to shreds, but they were a bit… big on him to say the least.
Henry was a generous man though, even giving him his own chest armor to wear for protection. Harrison had tried to protest but the man had insisted. The siren just hoped that Henry wouldn’t get hurt because he was missing it. He was already deeply indebted to the man and he had no idea how he would ever be able to repay him for his kindness.
Despite his charitable nature though, Harrison was having a hard time getting a read on the older man. From what little information he was able to glean from Henry, he knew that he had been living in a cave out in the middle of the Pandorian dessert, with only his pet skag for company, for years. And… that was about it. Henry was truly a man of few words, preferring silence most of the time. And when he did speak, his language was stunted and stilted. He’d often scrunch his face up in concentration, as if trying desperately to find the right words to say. It made traveling together a somewhat… awkward experience. Nothing but long stretches of silence as they traversed the harsh wasteland. It sure left Harrison with a lot of time to escape into his own thoughts, anxiously pondering over his uncertain future.
Not wanting to dive too deeply into his depressive thoughts, Harrison scanned the landscape again for any sign of Henry. He squinted as he spotted a dying bush among the sandy landscape, reduced to nothing but twigs. Harrison glanced between the bush and the sand beneath him, an idea forming in his mind.
He got to his feet, brushing off the sand from his pants before making his way over to the bush. He snapped a twig off of it, and began using it to make lines in the sand. Perhaps it was a bit childish to be drawing in the dirt, but it would help pass the time until Henry came back.
But what to draw? Harrison rubbed his chin for a moment until a lightbulb went off in his head. He started with a big circle, careful not to disturb the sand too much as to not mess up his drawing. Then he started adding petals all around it, smiling as the twig glided through the sand. He hadn’t seen any flowers on Pandora yet, and there hadn’t been too many on Helios, aside from the occasional office potted plant.Most of the flowers he’d seen had been in pictures. When he had some time on his hands and no major tasks to complete, he liked to look up pictures of other planets. He had been particularly drawn to sunflowers, with their tall stacks and bright yellow leaves.
As Harrison concentrated on his drawing, he failed to notice the sounds of footsteps behind him. As the siren backed up to admire his work, he bumped into someone behind him.
“Gah!” Harrison yelped and spun around.
“H-Henry,” the siren breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it was only his guide, who was looking down at him with wide eyes. “You scared me,” the siren whined, holding a hand to his chest.
“Sorry,” Henry murmured quietly, as Boris scampered up from behind him, his tail wagging happily.
“So… uhhhhh….” Harrison fumbled, always unsure what to say around Henry but feeling the need to fill the awkward silences. “Is… is the way safe?”
Henry nodded, but he didn’t move to leave. Instead he seemed to be staring at the drawing Harrison made in the sand.
“Oh, that?” Harrison turned back to look at it. “I was just bored. We… we can get going now.”
Henry continued staring at the drawing for a moment. Harrison could feel sweat drip down the back of his neck, fidgeting with his hands as Henry stayed quiet. What was going on in that man’s head? Shouldn’t they be getting a move on? What was so fascinating about Harrison’s drawing?
The hermit turned to Harrison and held out his hand, motioning to the stick the siren was still holding.
“You… you want this?” Harrison tilted his head in confusion. Henry nodded and Harrison hesitantly handed it over. What in the world did the man need a stick for?
Before Harrison could ask though, Henry went over and began making his own lines in the sand, right next to Harrison’s drawing. The boy watched him curiously, until it dawned on him. 
Henry was drawing too. The boy stared as the older man began making curves in the sand, forehead pinched in concentration.
“It’s… it’s a tulip,” Harrison surmised, to which Henry turned to him and nodded again, a smile on his face. The siren found himself smiling back. “You… you like to draw too?”
“Mmhmm,” Henry hummed in agreement, walking back to Harrison and handing the twig back.
Harrison stared up at Henry, realizing he had just discovered another piece to the puzzle that was Henry Stein. While he often came across as so serious, always focused on survival and necessities, there was more to this man then Harrison could have ever guessed. And he had only just scratched the surface.
The rational part of his brain told him they should get moving, that it was dangerous to stay in one place for too long. But his little distraction had somehow turned into a moment of genuine connection, and Harrison wasn’t about to let it slip through his fingers.
The siren took the twig back from Henry, turning back to the sand as he added another flower to his collection. Henry smiled gently at him, observing as the boy tried his hand at drawing a lily. Boris settled himself down near their drawings, relaxing in the sand and letting out a big yawn. Once Harrison had finished, he handed the twig back to Henry, and the process started all over. They continued going back and forth, adding flower after flower and eventually even a sun and a few clouds. To Harrison’s amazement, Henry's smile never left his face while they were drawing, marking it an all time record for how long he had seen the other man genuinely happy.
Henry suddenly gave Harrison an excited look, pointing at him and then at the ground to indicate he had something to show him. Harrison watched intently as Henry began drawing something new. The man started with a big circle, with a smaller circle shaped indent at the top that looked kinda like two little horns. He added a heart shape within the big circle, before drawing two pie-cut eyes. He finished it off with a big toothy grin, turning to look at Harrison with a grin of his own.
“Awww, that’s kinda cute,” Harrison commented. It sort of looked like a cartoon character, of what little he had seen of them. Cartoons weren’t exactly a welcome pastime on the Helios space station. And something about it seemed.. familiar. Harrison tapped his chin for a moment until it abruptly came to him.
“There were… carvings like this in your cave…” Harrison remembered, to which Henry nodded.
“I… he’s my… I…” Henry frowned, his forward wrinkling in concentration. “Designed him,” he finally managed, a look of pride on his face.
“Really?” Harrison beamed up at the other man. “That’s great! I like him.” And he meant it. It was a cute little character. It made Harrison wonder though, when did Henry design him? And… what exactly Henry’s life had been like before he became a hermit out in the desert?
As Harrison pondered these questions though, Henry lifted the twig up like he was going to add onto his drawing. Before he got a chance though, Boris ran up and grabbed the twig from his hand. He crouched down, wagging his tail playfully, before scampering off with it.
“Hey! Boris!” Henry called out, taking after his skag companion. “No fetch! Come here boy!”
Harrison couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched Henry chase Boris down, the skag having a wonderful time playing with his master. Clearly he hadn’t been getting enough attention before.
His eyes drifted back to Henry’s character though, a frown forming on his face. He couldn’t help but think… he’d seen it somewhere else too. Even before he landed on Pandora and met Henry. But where he had seen it before… Harrison just couldn’t quite place it.
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sserpente · 5 years ago
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A/N: Request from @notyoursneverwas-post. Enjoy, my lovelies! ♥
Words: 2222 Warnings: very brief mentions of rape and drugging, fluff, ghost!Thomas
Breathing in the English countryside air deeply to gather courage, you nodded to yourself. Campus life… so this was where it would start. Suitcases in hand, you approached the vast mansion in front of you, based only a few walking minutes away from your university in the North of England. You had enrolled for paranormal studies, making the residence they had suggested for your stay all the more interesting and fascinating. Allerdale Hall used to be in the possession of an English baronet from the early 1900s and old newspaper articles—reports of murder and homicide—and stories the partially still suspicious and cautious habitants in the city told suggested the place was haunted. It was perfect. And when your friends had asked you if you were scared to even set a foot in here, you had declined with a smile. Ghosts were not always evil and even if they were, if only you could help them find their peace, they would not try and harm you, regardless of what they had been through in life.
You made new friends quickly during your first week, your eyes constantly darting around to find any signs of paranormal occurrences but thus far, no luck. For the time being, the only eerie thing was the two young men studying law. They lived on the same floor as you and had not just once made slight innuendos and given you compliments—slimy compliments women like you rolled their eyes at.
Tonight was the last night before your first semester would officially start. Some other students living on the ground floor were throwing a party with lots of alcohol and dancing before the serious studying period would begin. You had been invited too. Together with one of your new friends, Clara was her name, you spent a fun night in the cellar of the mansion surrounded by loud music, drunk students and a good mood. And it really was fun. It was fun right until the two young men sat down with you two, chatting relentlessly and even offering to buy you two drinks.
You were a little tipsy already, making them just a little more bearable than usual. Still, you said nothing when one of them, George, handed you another drink from the bar. You brought your lips to it silently.
“Don’t drink that.” Somebody whispered into your ear with a start. You flinched, turning around in a heartbeat. There was no one there. Frowning, you leaned over the sofa to see if the culprit was hiding behind it but there was no one in sight. Shrugging, you brought the glass to your lips once more, still not having taken a single sip.
“Don’t!” The voice spoke again, stricter and louder this time. It was smooth. British. Seducing and so gentle… surely, it did not belong to any of the young male students at the party. Surely none of them would make it feel like there was an invisible presence gently tugging at your arm to put the glass down. With your eyes wide open, you let it happen.
“Hey, George and Mike want to take us to a lake nearby. Are you coming?” Clara shouted.
“No. Don’t go with them.” The voice whispered again quietly. You feared what would happen if you simply ignored it and yet… it was right. You didn’t trust the young men. God knew what would happen if you joined them, all alone in the dark. So you shook your head.
“No, actually... I think I’m going to bed now, I’m rather tired and we have to be up early tomorrow.”
“Okay. Well, you know where to find us if you change your mind.”
The thought flashed through your mind briefly. Should you stop her? Follow them to make sure she would be alright?
“No. Stay here. You’re going to put yourself in danger if you do.”
That sounded reasonable. Shaking your head, you pushed the idea of being so drunk you heard voices already to the back of your mind. Were you imagining it after all? You were either losing your mind or… or you were taking advice from a ghost. But… could it be?
Swallowing, you stood and watched, uneasily, how your new friend disappeared with the men and then headed upstairs and into your room where you quickly changed into more comfortable clothes, brushed your teeth and then snuggled into the covers. You became sleepy soon enough, ready to drift off to dreamland.
It was about an hour later, around midnight, when you suddenly felt someone brushing your cheek with their knuckles tenderly. You ripped your eyes open immediately, facing nothing but darkness. The mattress... had it… shifted? It felt like somebody was sitting on it with you. Terrified, you held your breath. Someone was there. Someone was breathing. Was it one of the men? George or Mike? Had they come back? You were sure by now that the voice, whomever it belonged to, had saved you from getting drugged and raped by them tonight.
“Don’t be afraid. I will not hurt you.” It was him. Your lips parted. Still paralysed, you sat up a little. Perhaps you had lied to your friends. You were a little afraid of ghosts after all.
“Who... are you?” You could tell he was smiling in response without even seeing him.
“Why don’t you switch on your lights first, darling? It might ease you a little bit.” Swallowing thickly, you nodded, did as you were told and reached for the lamp on your nightstand. Within the fraction of a second, the room was dimly illuminated, revealing the most attractive man you had ever laid your eyes upon sitting on your bed. Blue eyes, black hair, high cheekbones and a jawline to die for. He was just your type and seemingly, a few years older than you too. Perhaps… a lot older. You had to ask.
“Are you... a ghost?”
The stranger nodded. “That I am, I’m afraid. But I will not harm you, you have my word.”
“I...believe you.” And you did. “The men tonight... they spiked my drink, didn’t they?”
He nodded, disgusted. “They meant to drug you to make you compliant. They would have ravished you had I not intervened.” Ravished you. Though the sheer thought of it was terrifying, the old-fashioned word spoken from his mouth sent pleasant shivers up and down your spine.
“You saved me. Thank you.” And you meant it. Genuinely.
The stranger nodded. “What’s your name?”
“(Y/N). I’m (Y/N)…”
“(Y/N),” he repeated slowly, almost as if he was tasting the sound of your name on his tongue. “My name is Sir Thomas Sharpe. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
It was then your heart skipped a beat. That name was oddly familiar. Pondering, you rummaged your mind to figure out where you had heard it before. Then, suddenly, it came to you.
“Thomas Sharpe? You... you are the baronet. This mansion, it belongs to you!” He really was old. He was from an entirely different time period.
“A long time ago it did.” He paused and started to smile gently. “You are really not afraid?”
You shook your head, soon convinced you had indeed lost your fear.
“No… I study parapsychology. But I’ve never, you know…”
“…seen a ghost?” He finished your sentence compassionately, making you nod once more.
“Why did you help me? Why did you protect me?”
His charming smile returned. “That is why I came to visit you here. If you allow me, I would like to find out.”
-
For the next couple of weeks, Thomas came to visit you every single evening. He would help you with your studies, chat about all and sundry, listen to you telling him about your life and he would, with hurt and pain in his stunning blue eyes, tell you the story of how he had found his bitter end in the house he had grown up in. You knew all the details. Lucille, Edith, the wives, the sexual relationship with his sister, the murders and lastly… lastly how he had been killed for finding true love.
Thomas was wonderful, a true gentleman. The man you had always read about in books but never thought existed. He did. And at the same time, he did not. Sometimes he would stay so long you were tired and worn out the next day, so he would insist on you going to bed. He would stay and speak to you until you fell asleep and he would, unbeknownst to anyone else, be with you all day to make sure you were alright without taking your privacy from you. It was almost like he had become your ghostly boyfriend—even though you had never even kissed, yet.
But as time went on, you began to notice slight changes about him. Thomas had always been a little transparent, his touches cool and otherworldly. Last night, however, when he had stroked your arm and bid you goodnight, his palm was warm. When you were ready to switch off the lights, he was no longer transparent either, and you could feel his body heat when he sat next to you—and even though the thought of it made you restless, it was so comfortable you fell asleep within mere minutes.
It was rainy the next day. You had only had a lecture in the morning, leaving you enough free time to do some research in the library. You were dying to learn what was happening to Thomas. Why he was changing. Was it possible he was, after decades of haunting Allerdale Hall all alone, finally ready to leave this world and find his peace? And why did your heart ache at the very thought of it? If anyone deserved that, it was him and still… you did not want him to leave you. You… had fallen in love with him. A ghost! You had fallen in love with a ghost.
When you returned to your room in the evening to meet Thomas waiting for you already, you smiled. Now that he was no longer transparent, you had a chance to properly admire his clothes. Old-fashioned and yet both elegant and humble… you liked it.
In the meantime, the weather outside had intensified. A thunderstorm was crawling nearer and nearer, darkening the already grey rainclouds in the sky. You shivered. If there was one thing you detested, it was thunderstorms.
“How was your day?” Thomas inquired when you took off your coat and shoes and approached him for a tight hug. His now warm lips brushed against your neck in the process, making your heart skip a beat. You wondered… did he feel the same? Or did he mean to be with you simply because he felt the need to protect you? He was a ghost, after all. Dead, with no heartbeat. Would he take interest in someone… well, alive?
“It was okay. I spent the afternoon studying in the library.” Exhausted from staring at ancient books all day long, you were now more than ready to go to bed, especially since you could find out little to nothing about Thomas’ odd condition. And until you had gathered more information and evidence on whatever was going on, you would not tell him.
Sighing, you stripped until Thomas had a wicked sight of your naked back once you removed your bra and then quickly changed into your pyjamas. It was an oversized, long t-shirt, really, perfect for losing the rest of your underwear after putting it on. Then, you slipped under the covers of your bed, smiling up at him in the process. It was your silent invitation for him to join you and sit on the bed.
Just in that moment, a loud thunder rumbled through the air outside, making you flinch and gasp.
“It’s just the thunderstorm, my love.” He said when he sat down, reaching for your hand to stroke it calmingly. You shook your head frantically.
“I hate thunderstorms. I know, it’s silly but… when I was a child, I…” Another thunder, even louder this time. A panicked squeal escaped your lips, causing Thomas to shush you.
“It’s alright… I’m here with you, I promise nothing will happen to you.”
“Can you… can you come closer, please?” Thomas hesitated for a moment, pressing his lips together to a thin line. But then he nodded and obliged. Carefully, he lifted the covers and got in bed with you, realising only the fraction of a second later how amazing it felt to be so close to you.
His arm came up to wrap around your body and pull you close, your cheek against his warm chest. You felt yourself heating up, the butterflies in your belly dancing. This was wonderful. Perhaps… perhaps there should be thunderstorms more often.
Your eyes fell shut when he began to tenderly stroke your upper arm with his long fingers, eliciting goose bumps wherever they touched you. You inched even closer to him, creating as much body contact as possible. When you heard the next thunder seething through the sky, you did not flinch anymore, making Thomas smile.
Your focus was on something else entirely. A quiet, rhythmic and dull throbbing, lulling you straight to sleep. Your lips parted when you realised. It was a heartbeat.
-
Read Part II here!
A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! kofi.com/sserpente ♥
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into-crazy · 5 years ago
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Man Under the Makeup Pt. 3
Arthur Fleck/Joker x Female Reader series
Warnings- Cursing, mention of carrying a weapon for protection, sad conversation
You can find the other parts RIGHT HERE and through the “Man Under the Makeup” tag lovelies!💘
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Come 6pm, you were strolling to meet up with Arthur. Around this time, the sun normally sets, allowing you to walk just before the darkness of the night hits. How thoughtful of him not to have you roaming around too late. He of anyone would know these streets, after all. Although you can handle yourself, never leaving your home without your blade and some mase.
Few people seem to be making their way home after a grind filled day. Also those, who for a fact are heading straight to the bar. Judging by their distressed faces, they're in for a large amount of drinks throughout the night.
You're going through the route you normally take for work, keeping an eye out. Walking around the large piles of garbage scattered on some parts of the side walk. Covering your nose from the wretched odors which littered the air. These streets were disgusting! No wonder everyone in the city is pissed.
As you're nearing the spot you and Arthur encountered, you find him standing there waiting. Still dressed and with make on, Joker stands there with a flower bouquet. You find it quite cute how he's patiently awaiting your arrival.
"Y/n, you made it!" He starts excitedly.
"Of course I have," you reply, "why wouldn't I? Hope I haven't kept you waiting too long."
He offers you the flowers. "Not at all."
"For me? Why, thank you." Taking the bouquet made of various roses and lilies, you catch glimpse over at the crew he has behind him. About 15 members, gathered a few feet back. "You brought your men, I see."
"I did," he nods in their direction, "they're just for precaution. I got a lot a heat on me these days." He states anxiously shifting the weight between his slender legs.
"So I've heard." You reply waving at the crew who acknowledge your arrival. It's only polite to greet those who would be joining you, even if it's from a stretch away.
"I'll have them keep their distance. They won't interfere with our time." He assures pushing his green hair back.
"Oh no worries," you assure, "I have no issues with it."
The place wasn't far from where you'd met. It was a nice, quiet bistro. Well, maybe it was peaceful right now considering everyone left spooked when you and Joker walked in. His men also made sure the staff wouldn't try to leave or call the cops. So you weren't surprised when your waiter was practically trembling coming over to your table every now and then.
"So, Joker," you emphasize the name, "seems like you've made quite the image for yourself."
He chuckles, "It appears so. Ya know you don't have to call me that, right? We're by ourselves over here." Hinting towards his crew behind him- sat on the complete opposite side of the small eatery. They were doing their own thing, giving you both your respective privacy. Seated directly across him in the corner of the place. So you felt comfortable no one was eavesdropping in on your conversation.
"I'm aware," you tell him, "I'm simply addressing your new persona." Smiling, you take a sip of your drink.
"Right," he adds, "I've got so much to tell you."
"Hm, clearly." You reply removing your large coat, as it was increasingly warmer indoors. Revealing a red satin dress that hugged your body nicely.
"Wow." He was momentarily at a loss for words. "I gotta say, you look amazing my dear." Taking your sight in, admiring the beauty beaming off you. Not eyeing you like a hungry dog waiting for a treat- but genuinely appreciating what he's seeing. You're gorgeous inside and out, he couldn't help but think why you had agreed to dinner with him. Dressed up all so nicely, for him. "Red is definitely your color."
"I'm flattered," you accept his admiration, cheeks growing hot with delight. "You're quite charming yourself, Mr. J."
"Charming? Me?" He questions the word, seemingly confused. Unable to grasp the concept of anyone ever thinking such. He's been deemed the worst insults, in addition to horrifying and intimidating. But charming? And what about.. Mr. J? Oh, he can't deny loving the sound of that.
"Yes, you are. It's- you're different and I like it." You tell him. "But I have to ask, what happened since the last time I saw you?"
He sighs placing his hand on the table. "See before, I've got tired of being pushed around and stepped on. People are so awful, I finally hit my breaking point. This city's lost it's way. So I decided to do something.. differently."
"And what is that?" You give him your full attention as the topic becomes more serious.
"To show the people of this city what life really is." He amusingly states. "See, most haven't quite gotten it yet. They believe I'm doing it for a change in who's running the city. That I'm going to fix everything that's wrong." The sarcasm in his tone may try to sound amusing, but his eyes show something else. His eyes are dark with that last statement. Cold and dark.
"And you're not?" Briefly pondering his words. "No. No, you aren't." You say, shaking your head slightly.
"W-what was that?" He asks scanning your face.
"Of course that's what they believe. It's what they want, right? Some bold new guy comes around to make a difference. But from my perspective, that's not your intention."
He taps his fingers on the table, fighting the urge of a laughing fit. Rising up from the pit of his stomach- catching it in his throat, before it has a chance to emerge. "And m-may I ask what you think?"
"I haven't figured it out yet," you start, "but I know fixing the city isn't the case. The riots, the mobs, the brutality- which happen to be chaos you helped reign. I understand that the wealthy politicians and citizens have their fair part in it, too. But one does not simply seek for so called better change, when that's how they choose to take a course of action."
Joker adjusts himself so now he's leaning forward on the table. Closer to you, trying to show he's not intimidated. "That's a good observation," he acknowledges, "and it's got you wondering the real reason, right?"
"Yes," you reply softly. "Look, I'm not judging. I'm interested is all."
He embraces your curiosity. "I want to show them the funny side of the bigger picture. The world.. this terrible city, this life we're living-" he pauses, "It's a joke. And the sooner people realize that, the happier they could be. It's all simply for laughs, my dear." Shrugging his shoulders at the last statement.
All for laughs? Somehow you thought that wasn't entirely it.
Something else had to have happened. How could a man's eyes that once carried so much emotion go completely dark? Grasping the fact he wasn't telling you entirely why. Maybe it was this "Joker" persona, currently preventing him from letting you in. You'd have to ask these questions when you're speaking entirely to Arthur.
"And to make that work, you had to change?" You recall. "Adopt a new identity?"
"Yeah," he confirms. "As Arthur, I could never have it off. They wouldn't take me seriously and use everything to their knowledge against me- Gotham PD, politicians, those that disagree. But not with the Joker."
"No one knows who the Joker is," you almost whisper looking down at the table. If only the rest of the world could see him as you've seen him- still see him. Maybe if everyone wasn't so shitty with sticks fully up their asses, then perhaps they could've seen the man you thought him to be. Could things have turned out differently? Honestly, who knows.
"No one," he adds, "accept you." He brings your face back up to his- which is intensely close. The heat of his body enticing you further into him. The scent of cigarette smoke and soap strong on him. Gazing onto his bright red lips, you thought he was going to kiss you.
Only to be left surprised when he quickly shys back, leaving you in a bit of a haze. He sits completely back in his seat- seemingly entertained with your response to his withdrawal. You scold him for it.
"Nice to see you're so interested." He implies with a short laugh, flashing a killer grin.
Embarrassed, you lean back into the bar seat. Damn him. How could he make you feel so vulnerable when you'd least expect it? Along with the audacity to gloat about it with his ridiculously gorgeous smile. He knows. He knows exactly what he's doing.
"What makes you so sure of that?" You playfully question him crossing your arms.
"Well for one," he states, "you agreed to meet up with me."
"Yeah, and I was half expecting a man with a lot less makeup on then myself." You tease leaning onto the table.
"And yet, here you are. Sitting across, having dinner with me." He winks putting a cigarette in his mouth. "See the point I'm getting at?"
You huff at the remark. He's toying with you, he's gotta be. "Alright then, fair enough. I'll give you that. But don't sit there and act like I'm the only one."
"I didn't say that," he sneers flicking the lighter until it lights the stick. "I know you're wondering what it is about you that's captivating me."
You hum waiting for a response, "I am."
"I like how you're not afraid to say what you need to say. Mindful for others, but you don't take shit from anyone. I admire that. And also- don't mind me saying- your fascination with a freakish man like myself."
"I don't think you're freakish," you interject. "Different yes.. But I don't perceive you as a freak."
"You don't?" His reply comes out softly. His whole demeanor eases- relaxing his shoulders. It reminds you of that shy man he's holding inside. What a shame to think he might not fully come out anytime soon. Joker could not be seen as too much of a "softie" by the public or his loyal crew. Noo. It wouldn't be good for his image. You need to be completely alone with him if that were to happen. For now, your quiet corner conversation will have to do.
"I never have." You make it very clear to him. "I never thought of you as a freak Arthur. Not before. And not now." You lay both of your hands above the table. He melts with you calling him by his name for the first time tonight. Even more so when he's started coming out of it. He puts the cigarette butt out in a small ashtray by the side.
You take his speechless silence as a sign to continue. "I've noticed you were absent lately.. As I walked by that same spot everyday, and not seeing you there- it concerned me."
He moves his hands closer to yours atop the table. Hesitant in getting too close. "You.. looked for me?" Arthur's heart flutters at your caring words. The fact you noticed that he was gone. No one has ever paid attention to his existence like such- before the Joker that is.
"I did," you continue, "and I grew even more nervous after seeing that clip they played of you on the television.. with Murray making fun of your stand up performance.."
He gently lays his rough hands on top of yours, lightly squeezing with awe. Needing to feel that you were real. To know you are really here, and not an illusion of his mind.
You need a second, looking off to the side briefly before continuing. "I had hoped that it didn't destroy you."
"Y/n.." Realizing he doesn't have to put on this persona to impress you. You look past the clown- past the makeup. Because you've already admired him from the beginning, as Arthur. Heck, even as Carnival, because that's how he'd met you. You care for his well being and feelings. He cherishes your shared moment of silent intimacy. Which is he hasn't had the chance to experience before. It feels nice, refreshing. Like he's finally being seen.
He's the first one to break the stillness. "Well, let's not make this evening all about me," he rests back comfortably. "Please, y/n. How about we talk about you?"
He is all questions and ears for you over the next hour. You inform that you're an office secretary, often working the usual 9 to 5. Which is the only thing going on in your life right now. Having moved here some time ago on your own- no friends or even family. Needing to get away from your life before. However, you'd be lying if you claimed to love it here. You feel alone, trapped. Not just in Gotham, but trapped in your own state of mind. There was nothing in your life, you were simply existing. Only staying because you felt you were part of the few inhabitants that brought some form of color into this cold grey city. But things have only gotten worse for you since. Until now it seems.
"What about you, have you got any family here Arthur?" You ask him curiously.
His smile slowly drops while he thinks of an answer. "No.." he shakes his head, "no one." How? How is he supposed to tell you he killed the woman he grew up thinking was his mother? Who only turned out to be an enabler of his previous ongoing abuse.
No. Bringing her into discussion will only put a damper on such a great night. Eventually he might indeed tell you, but not at the moment. He's having an amazing time with you. Listening to the way you talk, hearing your sweet laugh. Why ruin it?
Towards the end of dinner, you notice Arthur has hardly touched his food. His plate looks as if he picked at it a couple times. Not that it was particularly strange. Perhaps he was too caught in conversation to eat.
"Hey, what do you say we get out of here?" He suggests needing a change of atmosphere. "One of my men over there could drive us. We'll get away from the rest of the crowd. Ride through the town?"
"Sure," you freely agree.
Before you leave, Joker pays the check. Actually pays. Leaving an overly generous tip for the waiter who served you both. Criminal or not, he feels that a gentleman should pay for a first date. Mean, come on, you know the money's stolen. But hey, it's the thought that counts, right?
End of part 3.
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seekmywayout · 5 years ago
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read you like a book
Koi wo Shiranai Bokutachi wa Ikezawa Mizuho/Aihara Eiji
Word Count: 1,579
-
He’s late again, she thinks to herself as her gaze unconsciously moves towards the library door. She’s lost count of how many times her eyes have flitted away from her responsibilities and towards the entrance instead; half expecting, half hoping to see a familiar face.
She doesn’t want to say, but she wants to see him.
Even if it’s for only a short while, she wants to see him.
As if on cue, the door slides open.
She tries to look nonchalant.
“You’re late,” she says matter-of-factly as he strides across the room, his backpack casually slung over his shoulder. He sets it on the ground in the corner of the room before approaching her. She continues, “And I was thinking you were getting better at being more punctual.”
“Oh, but I am getting better,” he replies. “I hate to admit it, but ‘library duty’ is getting ingrained in my mind now.”
She raises a single brow. “Yet you were still late.”
“Okay, I was already on my way home but something felt a little off, like I was forgetting something,” he explains to her. He stops himself for a second.
“Thought I left something behind for a moment, but then I remembered the library committee. And then I remembered you were also glaring at me earlier today.” He fakes a shudder. “So it must’ve been library duty.”
She feels her cheeks flush. “I was not glaring.”
But she can’t deny that maybe she did steal a glance or two at him during class.
“Well, even if I’m a little late, at least I’m here now,” he proclaims. “So, what’re we doing today?”
“I’ve been working on putting away the shipment of new books,” she states, pointing at her cart of books. She gestures towards another cart next to hers. “This is the ‘Return’ pile. Would you?”
He rolls up his sleeves and starts thumbing over book spines. “Sure, sure.”
They fall into a surprisingly comfortable silence as they begin their work. She puts away several non-fiction books, making a mental note in her mind of the ones that seemed useful. A first peek into new arrivals was the primary benefit of library duty, really. She suspects he may feel similarly.
It’s a comfortable silence, yet she unabashedly wants more.
“I was reading Duma Key the other day,” she brings herself to say, gaze moving towards him. 
He looks up at her, prompted by the sound of her voice, and she sees his eyes light up. “For real? You? The one by Stephen King?”
She lets out a quiet huff in response. “Yes, the one by Stephen King. I thought I would give it a try. It is… different from a lot of the other novels I’ve read, but it’s good. Terrifying, yet gripping.”
“Right? He really is the king of suspense,” he concurs. “So hard to put one of his books down once you start.”
She finds herself nodding in agreement. “I stayed up longer than I was planning to last night because of it.”
He laughs then, and she tries not to let the sound distract her too much from their conversation. “His writing does that to you. Ah, yeah, Ikezawa—kind of related, I mentioned to you before that I read A Tale of Two Cities recently, right?”
Suddenly, she feels warm. “Yes, you did.”
“Uh, since classic literature is more your thing, I was wondering if you had any recommendations for something similar?” he asks. His right hand moves to scratch the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s usually not what I read but A Tale of Two Cities was actually pretty good. Maybe there’s more out there that I’m missing.”
She doesn’t disagree with that sentiment—it’s part of the reason why she chose to read Duma Key herself. She doesn’t necessarily want to say the other part.
With his request in mind, she brings a hand to her chin and takes a moment to ponder. 
“Maybe Great Expectations or Bleak House. They are both also written by Charles Dickens. Crime and Punishment might be another one you’ll like. The author is…” She pauses. “I’ve forgotten his name; it was something Russian.”
“Oh,” he hums. “Crime and Punishment sounds interesting.”
“Ah, it’s a really fascinating character study that pulls you deep into the mind of the main character. I actually saw it earlier in the ‘Return’ pile if you’re interested in it.” She points towards his trolley of books.
“Yeah, it sounds like it’d be a good read,” he readily agrees, his attention turning to the stack of books.
As he says those words, she reaches forwards, trying to help him find the novel. She notices his own hands moving through the pile, so close to hers.
What if, she thinks, our hands touched?
It will be something straight out of a shoujo manga, she supposes. Not that she’s read many, but the few she’s flipped through at the recommendation of her classmates had similar such scenes.
Fingers touching, cheeks flushed, stolen glances…
Then they would sneak a whispered kiss, hidden away behind bookshelves, away from the prying eyes of fellow library committee members.
It would be their secret—soft and sweet and heart-wrenching.
“Hey, are you okay?” he asks suddenly, face turned towards her.
His voice breaks her out of her thoughts and she’s nothing short of scandalized at how overactive her imagination has become.
She clears her throat and attempts to sound unperturbed as she answers, “Yes, I’m fine.”
I’m not fine.
He cocks an eyebrow at her and she tries not to think too much about the genuine concern that crosses his features, or how their fingers never actually touched. She quietly wishes they had. “You sure? You just kinda froze for a bit; had a funny look on your face, to be honest.”
“That’s just my face,” she instinctively snaps. He startles slightly and she bites her tongue. He has no ill intent, she knows.
“Yes, I’m sure; I’m fine,” she says again, consciously changing her tone. “But thank you for your concern, Aihara.”
I’m not fine, not normal. Not when he looks at her like that. Not when her heart beats so fast there’s no way that it’s natural. Not when her mind drifts so easily towards thoughts of him, of him and her.
“Well, anyway, I found the book.” He holds it up to show her and starts leafing through the pages. “Thanks for the recommendation!”
She watches as he flips to the beginning of the novel and skims through the text. He mouths the words to himself silently as he reads; she especially likes the way his teeth catch on his lower lip as he does so. 
“Solid start,” he says eventually, before closing the book and setting it aside. “Thanks a ton, Ikezawa.”
He looks up then, and their eyes meet. She abruptly turns her head away.
I was staring at him again, she realizes. But it’s hard not to.
“... I hope you’ll enjoy it,” she responds, her voice softer than she intended it to be. He gives her a crooked smile in return and looks back towards the mountain of books that still need to be sorted. Quietly, she follows suit.
It’s hard not to stare when he gives her those smiles.
It’s hard not to stare when she doesn’t know what to do with the rapid beating of her heart.
It’s hard not to stare when she wants him to look at her too.
And maybe he’s not suited for love after all, as he says, but she’ll wait. She’ll wait because not too long ago, she wasn’t either. Now, she lets the feeling slowly bloom in her chest, cherishes the warmth that spreads throughout her body at the sight of him, and the bursts of happiness that erupt whenever he smiles in her direction.
But, she doesn’t know what to do or how to act around him.
She hasn’t felt this confused about something since she first read Ulysses and found herself grappling against the literary behemoth.
If only she could read him like a book, she thinks. Sometimes, she feels like she still hasn’t got past the cover.
She wonders instead if she is easy to read—if her face betrays every emotion, spoils every hidden plot twist within her heart.
She wonders how her story will unfold.
“You know, Aihara,” she speaks up, “there’s another story that I’m interested in.”
They both look up at each other while their hands continue to fumble through their book sorting duty.
“Oh yeah? What is it?” he asks, sincerely.
It’s cute. She finds herself inwardly cursing her small crush on Hugh Jackman. 
“Is it another Charles Dickens?” he guesses.
She shakes her head. “No, this story hasn’t started yet.”
“Huh? What do you mean?” he questions with a slight tilt of his head.
She feels an uncharacteristically soft, girlish giggle bubble to her lips. “I’ll tell you, but not today. Some other day.”
He crosses his arms to his chest and a contemplative frown forms on his lips. It’s quiet for a moment as she watches him, wondering what he’ll say to her, then he flashes her a lopsided grin. “Okay. I’ll hold you to that, Ikezawa.”
“And I’ll let you,” she says without missing a beat.
He blinks.
Then, he beams, “I’m looking forward to it!”
She finds herself smiling back naturally, because—
It will be the beginning of their story.
-
a/n:
set in an AU where I can be happy. I didn’t think too much about timelines but it’d probably fit somewhere before her confession ig
this fic is for all the Ikezawa fans out there, all 5 of us. Also I wish I could’ve written them in like… an actual relationship but that’s legitimately not my writing style for the most part lol. Maybe I could try again another time. 
...I actually have not read a single book I mentioned in this story LOL
also I may end up posting this to ao3 later and de-anon myself but w/e, it’s nothing i haven’t done before tbh.
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goshiyachi · 6 years ago
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Of a heart, I couldn't steal
Fandom: Haikyuu!! Pairing: Atsumu Miya/Oikawa Tooru Summary: Oikawa was all too familiar with the routine: 1. Pick a victim carefully (while making it seem like a random tragedy) 2. Never play with your food 3. And certainly, don’t ever fall in love with fragile notions of masquerading as a human. Haikyuu Halloweek Prompts Used: Vampires, Halloween Night, Blood, Crime Fictober 18 Prompts Used: “Take what you need.”; “How can I trust you?”; “You shouldn’t have come here.”; “I felt it. You know what I mean.”; “I’ve waited so long for this.”; “I hope you have a speech prepared.”; “This is gonna be so much fun!” A/N: Referenced murder, and death A/N 2: @fictober18 ; @haikyuuhalloweek
Or Read on Ao3
Part of the problem has always been that he was, Oikawa.
He had lived, and lived that he became too bored and almost too careless every other decade that passed him. Humanity had proved to be dull and annoying with their petty wars and glutton for power. They were hardly worth his glance; but, when he got too bored he wasted some years like minutes and learned their habits when he chose to roam in their midst. It was a risky business; having a chance of watching their feeble attempts of conquering the world and stepping closer to whispered lost thoughts.
He didn’t know why he did that, it wasn’t like he had ever been truly invested in their trifles and despairs. There had never been any leverages for him to gain their thrones. He had all the power and knowledge to live beyond their lifespans anyways. It must have been due to when he lost his humanity a long time ago. A fog of memories had been buried, and the likelihood of ever finding a fragile piece of his old sanity felt thin. Oikawa would never admit it out loud, but he was in some sense, just a lonely being.
Someone who had been pitied once an upon ago, who was now doomed to live in a world where his apathy was consuming his whisks of life. It shouldn’t have made a difference now, with all those past diminution coursing into his present. Relearning how to speak, and become a shadow from society was all that awaited him. Maybe that was why Oikawa was known to be an inexcusable idiot, because he was getting too thoughtless. He had witnessed one too many dull decades and his boredom was recalling his need for adventure and risky submissions.
What he wanted to grasp was a fulfillment to cease his thoughts and make him feel almost alive. A challenge perhaps, but that had been the issue. There were obligations to honor; rules that suppressed any gambles of getting something he lost when he was transformed. The pressure to obtain the standard illusion was crushing his style. Oikawa couldn’t or rather, didn’t want to continue having to live in a specific direction.
Their rules on how to survive were absolute, and for necessity for the lost but, Oikawa had come to know rules as second nature guidelines and mere strategic suggestions for the bored. There was no need for him to be cemented on remaining as a lone creature with too strict ropes to cross over from. Yet, that was all that was waiting for him, a constant sense of becoming too constricted and more willingly to break the code he was forced to learn from his second beginning. It had always been an issue of him living too long to start taking more risks as he lingered in cities and neighborhoods for periods that made him almost stand out as weird or impossible with his clinging youth. He found himself coming into odds with others as he played his former role too perfectly flawed.
He missed his past.
A little too much that it surprised him when he first re-discovered his love with the sports that were roaming his territories. He didn’t go out too much but when he did Oikawa saw what his missed. The chance to be somebody who could have lived a life of full passion. With no regrets, and discovering all the untouched corners of the world and maybe beyond the skies he kept looking up each day. It had been an old selfish wish, but nonetheless, Oikawa still dreamed about it when he walked the night streets while looking for a quick bite.
They would always end the same. With him finding a snack and pondering how long he would have until something would crack.
Oikawa needed a warm body.
The bed that he had been using for a month now, was too lonely. He couldn’t say anything else, the fact had made him sigh in disappointment. It had been years since he had cupped another face that had not been a snack. Longer that Oikawa had been taunted by others when he went to some gatherings. He had been one of those vampires that lived long enough that he had been seen as a teenager in the eyes of the elders.
Enough decades that he should have had a semi partner or have joined a more permanent coven. But he hadn’t. Oikawa just couldn’t find it in himself to stay with others, even when he had clearly had signs that he needed a companion. No matter what he did, or who he had tried to stay with, there had always been a disconnection. A sort of wall he couldn’t overcome when he spoke to them.
They had always felt faceless, with pretenses that never felt genuine. It figured that Oikawa would only be accompanied by other covens with few things in common with him. But then, Oikawa had always been different.
When a new century had come and passed he came back to the question. People changed rhythmically, and metaphorically; but never in spirit. They grew bolder in some aspects too with the supernatural gaining more popularity. The technology had never surprised him. It had fascinated him, had made him laugh at the elders’ reactions. But it had always forged a sort of visual representation of a new chapter that been forced on to himself.
They could learn of him, could find a way to make him human again, or just plain kill him.
And while that would produce some form of entertainment, Oikawa couldn’t still wonder back to his old thoughts. A long life hadn’t taught him the true values, it had just furthered the answers from his grasps. They had always escaped when he delved further away from the traditions the elders taught him before he started to question more when his thirst became just a fact and not a constant issue over his head.
He had come to expect their stance when he woke up and lived closer than recommended, or when he had woven himself in and out of their affairs because he was getting desperate. When the idea popped up Oikawa had known it wouldn’t end well; he was idleness, but never a true fool. Until then, when he felt himself consider it.
It had actually started in a Halloween.
He had been dangling off a building roof when a heartbeat woke his trance. A figure came forward, his hair was a mess, but it had been his eyes that had loomed over Oikawa that made him look back. His pale skin had glown but, it almost looked sickly.
He wouldn’t make for a good meal, Oikawa could already smell the alcohol and smoke from him as he walked closer to Oikawa. His costume had been fairly simple but with some notches of creativity like the face paint on half his face. The smudges that had been cleared showed his tense jaw. The stranger didn’t open his mouth right away, but had faced the skyscrapers for a couple of seconds.
“You good?” The stranger’s voice had been raspy as if he had finally stopped yelling and now, he was recovering.
Oikawa eyes didn’t show any interest with the way he shrugged his shoulders. He had a fairly recent meal so, he hadn’t been particularly hungry. Or had much patience to wrestle a game yet.
“As much one could be.”
They didn’t say much after that. The other guy had taken out his phone, making the light spark up and highlight the make-up he wore.
“What are you supposed be?” Oikawa hadn’t really cared before, but when the night grew so did some of his attention to the world.
“Don’t know some half skeleton dude. Wasn’t listening to what my friends were sayin’ when they dressed me up.” He texted someone before looking at Oikawa. “What about you? Not into Halloween?”
Oikawa’s legs had started to get cold, “Eh, just didn’t feel like it this year.”
The only things he had don had been some cat ears he received as a mock present from one of his neighbors. A bell choker had been added too and painted whiskers when he had handed out candy for the tikes and kids that roamed earlier from his apartment complex. In the past, he had found the holiday to be somewhat amusing. After most of his second life, it had been liberating to say he was a vampire and nobody took another glance. The loopholes were fantastic trips for him.
The rest of the night Oikawa kept to himself, while the stranger who gave his name, Miya Atsumu, had minded his business. The rooftop stayed like that, a ghost zone for two people that wondered why existing had been so hard. One with too much time, and the other with too little.
“I hope you have a speech prepared.”
Oikawa had been in the middle of dumping his dinner and had been preparing to leave the site when he noticed another presence. The other person had hitched his breath, took a step back until they hit the back of a brick wall. Oikawa’s hood still covered most of his head and the lack of lighting made it easier to make his face seem faceless. But with the other person, they had smelled familiar.
(In the back of his head Oikawa had wished it weren’t one of his neighbors because he always hated it when they got too nosey. It made killing them more of a chore and having the police too annoying.)
When he turned back the other person had the same dyed blond hair, and pale skin. But this time, they lacked the other smells he had associated from their last meeting; they knew each other, but not by much. Recognition hit him when he saw their face mirror him too.
“Dude. You’re a murder?” He had sounded a tad more curious than scared.
Oikawa, like usual made an annoyed noise as he scrunched his nose when he dropped his hoodie. The reveal hadn’t been that dramatic. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
Miya’s shivering body didn’t move an inch closer, but he had observed the body then to Oikawa who had no visible blood on his clothes. Without bothering to be sensitive Oikawa lit up a match and threw it to the body, the smell hadn’t made the scene any better; it had felt like it bottled Oikawa when he walked away and hearing Miya call to him. He hadn’t known it, but that had triggered Miya to keep tabs on him. Had made it for Oikawa to see that he had unknowingly opened another door into his life of playing human with an actual human.
Eventually he had to ask him it :“How can I trust you?”
Miya at the time, had witnessed Oikawa burying, burning and chopping a couple of bodies for a couple of months. He never told anyone else of Oikawa’s activities, and Oikawa had never allowed him to know the real truth of why he did the things he did. He only furthered the illusion that Oikawa was just a killer. And that Miya was as guilty of not reporting.
“I haven’t said anything yet have I?”
No. He hadn’t. He only observed first. Then he wrote the people’s names, death and area where they got rid of them or picked up. (He had claimed that Oikawa needed to be organized about it. In case of people catching up to him.)
The questions almost never did come out in the beginning; but the suggestions did. Oikawa had asked once about that. Miya just followed Oikawa’s usual answer by shrugging and saying it all nonchalant.
“I watched a lot of crime documentaries and TV shows. Figured I’d give a few variations to keep it from getting too repetitive.”
The next time Oikawa had been feeding, and away from Miya he had wondered why he tried to pretend to be human. It had never benefited the way he wanted; it had done the opposite. The deep-rooted sadness that could never be carved out from him had made it impossible for him to seek peace. They had only been temporary. He had been given hell on earth, had been wondering and seeking for something to occupy his mind away from the clock that would never be stopped.
Besides the odd affair of having Miya accompany him in some of his adventures (he never allowed Miya to watch him kill them or catch him feeding from them), he had felt Miya give him small courses of behaving like a normal person. They went to the movies, amusement parks and some clubs. He had been taken to a tour of Miya’s university, and had met his twin brother (that had reacted with a little more sense and didn’t approve of him in the end). Oikawa had almost thought and believed he was human again. But then his thirst would come back harder, more resilient when Miya pushed the boundaries Oikawa had laid. It had made it harder to ignore him.
The warmth of the bed when they laid on it and talked about Miya’s day and Oikawa’s next day off to find a new victim had almost tasted like a victory for him. As if he had found a life almost similar from before. Oikawa had almost believed it could have comforted him.
They had been sleeping for of the day when Miya broke the silence.
“I felt it.” His neck was exposed, his eyes looking directly at Oikawa as he cupped his face. “You know what I mean.” His skin was flushed and Oikawa loved how the blood underneath Miya’s skin was so warm.
Oikawa hummed as he kissed his neck in slow appreciation. Had teased the other of what he wanted to do.
(He wanted it. Wanted to just bit his neck. And then―)
“Tooru. I want to go with you tomorrow.”
He immediately pulled away. Separated his limbs from him as he watched the other sitting up. The conversation that he always dreaded came back with vengeance.
“No.”
The whirl of the statement made him look at how Miya was upset of not being able to be a part of the whole process again.
Miya pushed himself closer, “But I have been there making adjustments with you with the planning and always helping you with the cleanup. Why can’t I go and help with the actual climax?”
Oikawa had been playful, had been dramatic with few people, but with Miya, he had been distant in some clear ways. Ones, he knew he could never really crack and allow him to see. The elders had always been strict with adding any more numbers, and Oikawa would never break and make Miya see what his life really was. He was killer to exist. Not because Miya had certain assumptions of him that made him almost admire Oikawa.
“Miya.”
“Tooru.”
The bed had been comfortable, but as he loomed over Miya Oikawa found his resolve. He sighed. And with one last glance at his room and Miya waiting for his response, he got off the bed and with a clipped tone he ordered: “Take what you need.”
The only grace he had that he had taken two other people previously. Therefore, that night Oikawa had to only humor Miya when they picked their targets. He watched and found Miya to be a quick learner when he approached and taunted his person. Miya had memorized the lessons that Oikawa had taught him and applied it well when he neared the finishing blow of his person. Oikawa in the background had been somewhat paranoid when he leaned in close to his chosen person when he thought about wasted blood that seeped into his cloth that protected his shirt.
It hadn’t been as dull when he mocked his prey; but Oikawa had remembered of the rules that his old master had taught him. Playing with his food was below him. (Even if it had brought some fun into it.)
When he heard Miya swing and swipe and the other heartbeat stopped Oikawa had to control himself from activating his fangs. He had been a little messy, but Oikawa had figured that he had done well considering where Miya had started first when he caught Oikawa burning a man before. He would have to wipe clean his face and fingers and the clothes would need to be destroyed but Oikawa had in the end congratulated Miya for a good first kill.
They ended up cleaning up a bit later than usual.
Oikawa blamed the blood in air when he kissed and nipped Miya in the neck.
(But never too deep. His master had shown him before how to effectively nip others without accidentally creating another vampire. After all, he didn’t need another reason to have the elders come back and question him when he wasn’t done questioning himself.)
Miya’s thirst became a game for Oikawa. To find the right places for him to have, and when Oikawa had to babysit. It became a cycle. One that entertained him for a while. They had fun. Miya caught him up in almost all the pop culture and Oikawa had taught him how to be efficient. It had come closer thought, having Oikawa to leave the city again.
He hadn’t said anything, but he had been sure that Miya had come to understand what he couldn’t directly show him. He pulled away from his job, and Miya took that as a sign to follow him too when he didn’t apply for another semester.
“When are you coming back?”
Oikawa had a small backpack on when he didn’t make a motion to grab his apartment key. The room had been lowly lit; the last exams that Miya had been close as he had some big textbooks near him. A lamp was on and a cold coffee cup was left alone. His heart was calm when Oikawa kissed him softly. It almost hurt like the first time he did it―but, this time had been different and the same.
Because, this time Miya had almost shown him the answers he had been looking.
But then he didn’t. Couldn’t really because he had a heart that worked, and had few different beliefs than him. He kissed his neck. (He was there―ready―willingly if he told him everything.) Oikawa cradled his head, had gently hummed and said his name once.
He couldn’t help but say out loud his thoughts that crosses him when he first met him. The rooftop had been the perfect place. And Miya had been unsuspectedly the perfect partner.
“I’ve waited so long for this.”
He snaked one hand to the back of Miya’s neck, and the other tilted Miya’s head for the perfect angle.  Miya’s heartbeat picked up, the warmth that only Miya could radiate had been addicting but, Oikawa had finally cracked. Many lifetimes he supposedly lived flashed within his head as his fangs appeared.
Miya’s facial expression had been interesting too when Oikawa allowed him to see his eyes shade into red and, to see his fangs appear.
He laughed out loud when Miya’s lit up and especially when he said, “This is gonna be so much fun!”
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bucky-sk-blog · 6 years ago
Text
Rich
〖Rich!Bucky Barnes AU x Fem!Reader〗
▷ request: @thelavender-softwitch // so...rich au...bucky x reader...ok...they’re both rich
▷ warnings: swearing
▷ summary: You come from Old Money drenched in blood. Spending your wealth at charities is how you return what your family took. At one, you stumble into James Buchanan Barnes, another wealthy kid who comes from an army family. He’s a little brash and fucked up and you’re just the bit of sweetness he needs.
▷ word count: 
▷ chapters: 1/3
▷ a|n: this is all my wife’s fault--she’s obsessed with those rich ass people shows where they buy $73 mil homes
>>>>>
Another million spent. You looked down at the check you had just signed and smiled weakly. You were giving a foundation dedicated to assisting with UN peace groups in war-torn countries blood money. Holding the check in your grip for a second longer, you wondered if your father’s people had helped further ignite any of the wars. It was entirely plausible, your family’s wealth stemmed from bloodshed and had since long before America was a colony. Mercenaries, arms-deals, assassinations. . .your stomach twisted at the thought of all the pain, all the screams.
“Miss?”
You jumped a little and smiled brighter at the woman waiting for you to hand over the check. With hurried movements, you pressed the sheet of paper into her palm and scurried off to the bar. There were mostly older gentlemen with their wives showcasing their wealth through jewels larger than your fist hanging off their necks and ears. You shouldered past with a polite and meek “pardon.” At the bar, you tried to get up on a stool only to accidentally elbow the man next to you.
“Watch it, sweetheart,” a deep voice bristled.
You spun to face him and give apology after apology but stumbled to find the words. Blue. His eyes were blue and. . .old. Too old for a face that looked so fresh and new, only 26 or so. His hair was slicked back slightly and his razor-sharp jaw wore a slight layer of stubble. His lips quirked from a bitter frown to a smirk. “See something you like, doll,” he murmured and you were aflame.
With embarrassment.
“I’m so, so sorry,” you said quickly and threw out your hands in a defensive gesture.
He flinched a little, almost too quick for you not to notice. His tongue darted out, licking his lips as he recovered. “Lookin’ like that, I should be apologizing to you for not gettin’ you a drink yet.”
You tilted your head at the comment and lowered your arms. Slowly. He startled easily at the quick movements. “It’s okay. I’ll get my own,” You murmured and tried to hop up on your stool even with a skin-tight dress and high heels that the Empire State Building envied.
The brunette was persistent though. He lightly grabbed your shoulder and spun you back to him. “Hey, I’m James but everyone calls me Bucky.”
His smile was softer for a second. His voice was kind like a warm blanket in winter.
You held out your hand and he shook it. “Nice to meet you, Bucky.” It took you a second but with that jawline and name, you realized who you were speaking to. “You’re a Barnes, right? Sergeant Barnes?”
Bucky grimaced a bit at the title. “Yeah, What’s it to you?”
He was torn a little. You could see the bits where he meant no harm but he was also full of rough edges; sharp, piercing sides. It had confirmed some of the rumors or gossip that you’d heard about his family. War dogs that were all work and no play. Expect, the way Bucky had looked at you for that one second. It was sweet, playful. He had little broken pieces but they were pure.
You shook your head and bit your lip to hold down a grin. “Just putting a face to the name.”
He knocked back a shot. Then another. There were already four empty ones in front of him. Bucky was also known for being a bit of a party man. You simply grinned at him as he went down his line.
His eyes caught yours as he reached for the last glass and he picked up the crystal full of swirling amber. “Want one, doll?”
You plucked it from his grasp and sipped the shot. “Thanks, Bucky,” you chuckled lightly. “Y/n.”
With an arched eyebrow, Bucky sat up a little straighter. “Y/n L/n?”
You nodded and polished off the shot, lining it up perfectly with his row.
Bucky eyed you a bit more wearily. You understood why though. His family fought in what yours started.
The bartender walked by and you waved him over quickly while opening your clutch. Pulling out two crisp hundreds, you placed the cash in his palm and way the young man stumbled to say something, to correct you.
“Take it,” you smiled and pushed his outstretched hand back.
“Thank you,” He squeaked and hurried off.
“So,” you drawled as you put your attention back on Bucky, “why’re you here?”
He smirked a little and leaned forward. “To get drunk.”
You copied his actions and watched with a small giggle as his eyes dilated and nostrils flared—he liked it. “Then why’d I see you slipping a check into the donation bins.”
Bucky tensed. Pulling back he seemed to close off himself entirely. “None of your fucking business,” he bit and waved for more shots.
You gently touched his arm that was laying on the bar. “I’m sorry,” you murmured as you felt him stiffen from the contact. “I didn’t know it was that important of a secret.”
Bucky tilted your chin up so your eyes could meet. “Hey, sweetheart, where’s your smile at?”
You gave him the brightest and easiest smile that reached your eyes and heart. A soft laugh tumbled out of you as his own tiny smirk turned into a genuine smile. You squeezed his arm lightly. “Let me buy you a drink.”
>>>>
“Hey, fuck you,” you slurred as you stumbled down the sidewalk.
Bucky caught you and let loose a laugh as you clung to his body. “You’re gonna have to get my pants off first, sweetheart.”
You snorted and buried your face into his chest. “Dayum, you’re like a giant-a giant teddy thing. Bear.”
Bucky carded his fingers through your hair and smirked as you squeaked after he swung you up into a bridal carry. “You’ve got a mouth on you, lightweight.”
“Pffft, I’m not even drunk—Whoa,” you gasped at the end. Your hand was on his bicep and drunk you was loving squeezing the muscle.
Bucky saw your fascination with his arm and flexed a little more causing him to laugh as your eyes grew wider. A slight yawn fell off your lips and you snuggled into Bucky as he carried you down the street. His lips tilted into a soft smile, one he didn’t know he had.
Steve, Bucky’s bodyguard/driver/friend from his army days, pulled over the car he’d been following them in since they left the bar. He stepped out of the sleek car in a classy suit, opening the back door for Bucky. “What you got there, Buck?”
Bucky shrugged as he slipped into the car. “A pretty fuckin’ drunk dame.”
Steve gently shut the door, not wanting to wake the girl. As he got into the driver seat he asked Bucky, “what’s her address?”
Bucky shrugged. “Just head back to my place.”
“You sure, Buck?”
He nodded and adjusted you in his arms. “Yeah, s’okay.”
While Steve weaved his way through late-night traffic he poked and prodded Bucky for details on the woman. Usually, Bucky brought a girl or a few to a hotel after a party but this was a charity event and you were asleep and going to his home.
“Steve, she’s. . .sweet. Soft,” he murmured. “I like it.”
“I bet you were a dick,” Steve chuckled.
Bucky rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but when I was she just had this smile like she knew something was wrong and that it was okay. It felt safe, Stevie.”
Steve parked the car as they arrived at Bucky’s mansion. “Sounds like you’ve got yourself your girl.”
“What do you mean?” Bucky asked as Steve opened his door and helped him get out without bonking any part of you on the car.
“You went to war real young, Buck, and it made you a tough asshole. You don’t trust anyone because of your family.” Steve smiled down at your sleeping form as you babbled in your sleep and held tighter to his best friend. “She’s an angel. Your angel, if you want her to be.”
Bucky brushed and it off with a forced laugh. “You’re a sap.”
>>>>
Bucky looked up from his phone as he heard you shuffling down the hallway. You appeared in the doorway of the kitchen with your hair sticking up all over and heavy bags under your eyes. Bucky smiled at the way you yawned adorably, like a small fawn, and stretched so his shirt and shorts he left for you to change into ruffled. 
“Good morning,” you mumbled, slipping into the chair next to his.
He set down his phone and pushed over the plate of fruit he had toward you. “Eat.”
“Bossy,” you grinned and popped a cherry into your mouth. He watched you zone out and focus on the cherry you were eating. With a smile, you opened your mouth and showed him that you made a perfect knot with the stem. Bucky let out a low whistle and handed you a napkin to spit it into. 
“Hey, listen,” he began as you folded your legs onto the chair and tossed another cherry (without the stem) into your mouth, “I was a bit of a dick last night and I was wondering if you could start over.”
You smiled at the blush that snuck up on his cheeks. “All right. Hi, I’m y/n.” You held out your hand and he shook it with a firm grip equal to his strong personality.
“Bucky,” he introduced. Bucky paused and seemed to ponder something before he gave you a smirk to match the brightness of the sun. “Say, y/n, think we could get a cup of coffee sometime?”
“I would love to, Bucky.”
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bubblyani · 5 years ago
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More Than Enough
(Rick x Reader)
A Rick (Knight of Cups) Songfic One Shot
Song Used: “More Than Enough” - Alina Baraz
Author’s Note: The more I listened to this song the more I was thinking of this character. So really wanted to write something for him. It was interesting trying to get that same artistic feeling Terence Malik made us feel in the movie with this. Enjoy!
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Your fingers slowly grazed over the phone screen as if they were in contact with the skin of a newborn. Swiping, tapping, you did it all silently. Finally giving the screen one last tap, you waited for the Bluetooth speakers to come alive. Except it did not. 
A wave of concern washed over you. Perhaps the connection was still pending, you thought. But you remained patient, with your eyes glued to the small screen that lay on the table. You gasped in the form of a soft inhalation the moment you felt Rick appear behind you, his head popping over your shoulder to glance.
“What is it?” He asked, with his gentle voice. Wearing a soft smile, you slowly turned to face him.
“You’ll see…” you said, with confidence. Yet, the music did not play. The only sounds your ears could grasp onto were the soothing sounds of the ocean nearby while the warm LA breeze caressed your body.
“It’s this song…” You began, looking down, “that I really like…” you continued, watching your right draw circles in the space between your feet and his. Though you did not show it, you wondered whether there was an error on your device. But that embarrassment quickly washed away, like a crashing wave over the sand the moment the melodic bass began to fill the atmosphere. It was slow but rhythmic, played to the time of a waltz.
“Truthfully it makes more sense now than it ever did before” you added, feeling his eyes watch you with the greatest fascination. There he goes, you thought. Doing that again. Playing the observer. But truthfully, you did not want him to be just that.
You noticed it even on the very first meeting. His eyes were what you could not get over. Never did you imagine to find a pair of eyes like his, in a place so superficial like an After party of your Dance Company’s seasonal recital. In the midst of eyes that had little to none souls left, you were refreshed to see a pair that brimmed in it.
A wealthy sponsor of your Dance Company surprisingly was your mutual acquaintance, introducing Rick as a “fellow brethren in the arts” to you and others that gathered around over chilled glasses of champagne.
“And Y/N? Our star dancer? Oh.. she’s simply the…” Compliments. You heard compliments pouring all over, you felt like you were in need of a raincoat. Even after all these years, You did not have the skin to take it all. Indeed, they were all good. A figurative pat on the back, but an overdose of anything could make anyone uncomfortable. And when your eyes met Rick’s through all the chatter. He truly did see you. So much so you swore you heard his eyes say, “I know…”
Nodding, smiling you were accustomed in sailing through the shallow waters of socialite conversation that was unavoidable. That was how it always went. But the need to escape it always lingered within you. Thankfully, with him around, it did not seem  insufferable. His eyes, they kept company throughout. To the point your eyes had a silent conversation with his. You both laughed, you both cringed, inconspicuously with just your eyes. And by the end of the party you knew in your bones you wanted to see him again. And when he came over to ask you for your number, you were relieved to know he wanted the same.
Only alone were the two of you finally felt liberated to let the conversations flow. Finally, you were not the star of a dance production, or someone’s poster girl. You were just yourself. Rick spoke less than you hoped he would. Or maybe you felt this way because of the secret admiration you possessed for his voice. It moved you. It affected you. It sent tingles down your spine that energized you to talk more than usual. You filled in those silent gaps. With Rick you were at the height of your freedom. Why? You did not know. It could be due to a mutual respect stemming between the two, along with an undeniable attraction. With that attraction also came patience. He had it in abundance, so did you. Yet, that did not hold you back when he politely invited you to stop by his place after your morning date.
Bringing you to where you were, leaning against the table in his living room. The melodic chill wave music brimmed in your ears, as it ushered the vocals to finally begin:
**You got a way with words** **It takes away the hurt** **And it's a blessing and a curse to feel it all**
Looking out to the distance, you took in every word. Every line was a clear reflection of your feelings for him. So coincidental, but true. You merely hoped he would listen intently and comprehend. Slowly, your eyes began to focus on him.
**You got a way with me** **You put me in my place when I'm petty** **Give me what I want when I'm ready** **Always hold it down…**
Sensing his eyes still remained warm, a rush of boldness came over you. With just a few inches between the two, your hand rose up, slithering its way over to his neck, making a turn to end in the back of his head, hoping your fingers would hold on to his hair. Those beautiful brunette locks begged to be played with. And your fingers complied with ease. Pushing your fingers in between, you lightly attempted to scratch his head. Confidence became you when he lowered his head, his eyes closed as if to indulge in the pleasure you provided him. Just the sight of him so peaceful, you suddenly lost track of the song altogether. The words seemed unclear about of the blue, fading into the background while your heart melted by the sight of Rick. You were pleased with your influence over him. With other hand joining in, ten fingers were in a trance of their own as they traveled from his head, running softly over his collarbone down to his chest through the thin, blue cotton shirt. The music may have faded into the background, but that did not stop the both of you from swaying from side to side. You heard him chuckle deeply, reacting to your feathery touch. Bowing your head in apology, you felt embarrassed, decided to rectify the situation by moving your hands away.
Except he stopped you from doing so, by taking your hands in his, only to place them back over his chest whilst finally gazing back at you with earnest. Only then the words of the came ringing back in your delicate ears once more:
**I get lost inside all the stars in your eyes** **It's a galaxy** It was true, you really could. His eyes told a thousand stories that you wanted to be part of. Whilst pondering on that, your own eyes widened slightly as face grew closer, surprising you as he lowered his head once again, brushing his lips against your extended neck.
**You control the tide like the moon in the sky** **Or the gravity**
His lips, they teased you, placing soft kisses on the crook of your neck, that deemed most sensitive. You were tickled by his facial hair, you were even aroused, especially when you sensed a throbbing in between your thighs. He was surely a magician, or at least he was for you. Tilting your head to his side, you brushed your nose against his right temple in sheer desperation, balancing yourself by the effect of his lips, finally listening to the pre-chorus with much clarity:
**Anybody else would be gone by now** **Does it really matter?** **All that really matters**
Desperation came up another level, when you lowered your hands, tempting his to follow. Guiding them over to your waist, you made sure they stayed there. But it seemed there was no need for convincing.
**Second I'm with you, all my love pour out** **Serve it on a platter, all that really matters**
For he pulled you close, standing straight so his eyes could capture yours again. He was like a magnet, you finally allowed yourself to admit. He always was, from the moment you laid eyes on him. Feeling intoxicated without a single drop of alcohol, you felt yourself give in. Your lips cried out in silent desperation, only growing silent the moment his mouth welcomed yours, in a long awaited kiss.
**All that really matters is you keep showing up** **Promise that I'll remind you** **that you are more than enough**
Your bodies kept swaying as the kiss continued, and the music progressed into a melodic vocalise. With his grip on you growing tighter, you felt body press against yours to the most satisfying degree.
“…this was definitely not a ruse to kiss you…i swear” You muttered softly against his lips, with genuine concern. Hands leaving your waist, Rick cupped your face with an expression that was akin to the ray of the morning sun.
“I don’t care” He breathed, assuring you with another kiss, that was longer and hungrier. Patience, had clearly worn thin between the two of you.
**More than enough, More than enough, More than enough**
As the last few repeated lines appeared and faded into the soft music, you paid no attention to what song played next, nor the sky accidentally falling. For being loved by him,  at that very moment, was simply more than enough.
______________________________________
@erika92pu​ @tealaquinn​​
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notsoguiltykpop · 8 years ago
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The Ghost in Apartment 1403 pt.3
You x Namjoon
Genre: Angst, supernatural, fluff, humor
Warnings: Mentions of death, dark themes, generally kind of sad at times.
Short summary;
Namjoon was a (relatively speaking) normal music producer moving up in the world--until he became a ghost. With no memory of what happened, and no idea what he’s doing still on earth, he haunts his old apartment--consequently bothering its new inhabitant (who also happens to be the only person who can see or hear him). 
Part 1, 2 , 4, 5, 6, 7
Credits: Loosely inspired by the movie “Just Like Heaven”
Maybe somewhere, deep down, you knew Namjoon was telling the truth. There was something about him, his aura perhaps, which gave off a very distinctly inhuman vibe. Something that said “I’m real, but not here, exactly.” This was probably the reason that you weren’t all that surprised when you opened your eyes to find him sitting cross legged in front of you, hovering a few inches above the floor.
He was looking at you as though you were the most fascinating thing in the world, and it was a bit unnerving.
“Ugh, you’re still here.” You grumbled sleepily.
“And you can still see me.” He said, unfazed by your tired glare. “Do you know how long it’s been since had a conversation with someone?” He continued. “I mean, I talk to the baby downstairs, but she just responds with giggling.”
“I wish I couldn’t hear you.” You sighed, pulling a pillow over your face.
“I wonder why that is?” Namjoon pondered, apparently not taking the hint that you wanted him to go away—permanently. “That you can see me, I mean. So far, it’s just been babies and animals that—“
“Do you ever stop talking?” You complained, sitting up before swinging your legs off the bed to stand. Namjoon moved quickly so that you wouldn’t walk through him on your way to the kitchen.
“I do sometimes, but I don’t want to right now.” He said, floating after you. You were still wearing your clothes from the previous night, and you were sure you looked like a mess. But your appearance wasn’t exactly high on your list of priorities at the moment.
“Don’t you have something better to do than haunt this apartment?” You asked irritably as you opened your overnight bag in search of food. You found some poptarts and grimaced; not exactly the healthiest breakfast ever. “Don’t you have family or some friends to bother?”
“No, I really don’t.” Namjoon replied. “I mean, I have all those people, but being around them makes me sad.”
You hoped up to sit on the island in the middle of the kitchen, your feet dangling a good foot off the floor.
“Why don’t you hang out with other ghosts, then?” You asked. “Surely there’s something you could do. Join a ghosts-only club maybe?”
“Not really.” Namjoon said, sitting on the counter across from you. “I haven’t found any other ghosts. I think we might be invisible even to each other. That, or I’m the only one. But I find that to be highly unlikely… Don’t you?” There was a hesitancy in his voice, a vulnerability that made you think that it must be very lonely to be a ghost.
“I’m sure you’re not the only one.” You said, seeing relief in his eyes as you said the words. Who would want to be the only anything? Particularly if it meant being invisible to all those around them? Surely no one, and definitely not this man who was determined to talk your ear off. “So why don’t you leave this apartment and go find them.” Lonely ghost or not, he was still a stranger that you didn’t particularly want to live with.
Namjoon pouted. “I don’t wanna.” He whined. “And anyway, aren’t you just a little bit curious why you can see me?”
“No.” You replied flatly.
“Well, I am.” Namjoon shrugged. “So I’m going to stay and find out.”
You sighed deeply as you slid off the counter. “I really can’t let you do that.” You said, walking to the front door.
“And you’re going to do something about it… How?” Namjoon followed, looking just the slightest bit worried.
“I don’t know yet.” You muttered, opening your front door and marching across to knock on—what was his name again?—Hoseok’s door. He opened after a minute or so, Namjoon complaining the whole time.
“He’s weird, why him? Can’t you just do a google search to get rid of me? I don’t like this. Stop ignoring me, I know you can hear me—“
“Hello person who didn’t believe in ghosts, still feel the same?” Hoseok looked rather amused; the feeling wasn’t mutual.
“Alright, you were right. I admit it.” You said. “The man I saw last night? He’s who’s haunting the apartment.”
“And how’s that going for you?” Hoseok asked, looking genuinely concerned now.
“Terrible.” You said. “It’s only been a few hours and I already feel like he’s going to drive me insane. You knew he was there—what do you know about getting rid of him?”
Hoseok laughed. The rate at which he could switch emotions was a little disorienting. “You can’t.” He chuckled. “You don’t think the manager tried? He even smudged the place.”
“Smudging gets rid of negative energy.” You folded your arms. “Namjoon isn’t negative, he’s annoying.”
“I don’t know if I should be offended by that or not.” Namjoon huffed.
“You’re on a first-name basis with the ghost?” Hoseok snorted.
“No. Yes. It’s complicated.” You hadn’t even realized it until Hoseok pointed it out. But Namjoon seemed so real, so solid (as long as you didn’t try to touch him) that you weren’t sure how else to refer to him. You didn’t like the idea of just calling him “The Ghost.”
“Have you tried asking him to leave?” Hoseok asked. “Sometimes that works.”
You shook your head. “I’ve told him to leave, does that count? He just says no.”
“I don’t see what’s wrong with me staying.” Namjoon said. “It’s not like you have to feed me, I’m dead! I won’t cost you any money.”
You realized that Hoseok had said something, but Namjoon had spoken over him and you had no idea what the other man had said.
“What?” You asked. “Shut up Namjoon.” You shot him a look, and Hoseok raised an eyebrow at you. It took you a second to realize that it was because Hoseok couldn’t see Namjoon, and it probably looked like you were talking to the wall.
“Are you a medium?” Hoseok asked, leaning against his door frame. You shook your head.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“So why can you see him, and I can’t?”
“That’s what I want to know.” Namjoon said, and you gave him another look before answering Hoseok.
“How would I know? Look, if you’re not going to be any help, I’m going back inside…”
“There might be a reason, you know.” Hoseok called after you. “Maybe the two of you were supposed to have met before he died.”
You slammed the door behind yourself. You had saved up so long to afford an apartment like this—and even then, it was only because it had been sitting empty for months that it was cheap enough for you. It was right down the street from where you worked, in a central area, and it was so nice. If you walked out on your lease, your deposit would be gone and you wouldn’t have a place to live.
“You have to move on.” You decided, turning to face Namjoon. “That’s why ghosts are around in movies and books, right? Unfinished business. We just have to figure out what that is, and you can walk into the light.”
“You’re going to help me?” Namjoon asked, not looking the least bit convinced.
“Of course.” You said. “But until then, we have some house rules to go over. If we’re going to be living together, we’re going to have to get along, right?”
A/N So it should get a little more interesting from here on out! Reader is determined, but Hoseok might be right ;) Anyway, thank you for reading and being so patient with me! I’m hoping to update Disposable soon as well <3 As always, let me know your thoughts/feelings! I love to hear from you guys <3 <3 <3
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