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stevebabey · 2 years

Text

somewhere only we know

a/n: i accidentally made this so long & ran with the request in whatever way my heart desired! hope this is enuf hurt/comfort for all ur needs <3 word count: 5.6k summary: You haven’t seen Steve in a few weeks, barely a couple phone-calls keeping your relationship beating. You assume the worst. Steve does his best to make it up to you. [hurt/comfort + miscommunication + established relationship]

It’s hard to not think he’s avoiding you.

Steve never seemed the type of boyfriend who would be foolish enough to ice you out without so much as a word about something being wrong. He wears his heart on his sleeve — more than anyone you know.

You’d also like to think you would know. That by now, all these months together, you’ve would’ve somewhat memorised the twists and turns of his emotions. But if he’s dropped any clues about being upset with you, you certainly hadn’t picked up on them.

You think you’d prefer his iciness to this odd avoidance.

It has to be that he’s upset, you reason. You would prefer he’s upset; that’s fixable, doable, and completely normal for a couple. The alternative is harsh, a cruel thread of insecure thoughts; perhaps Steve has suddenly decided he doesn’t have time for you.

And it’s a lot harder to pretend that thought doesn’t sting terribly.

And look, you pride yourself on being a logical person. You’re not jumping to conclusions and you aren’t overreacting — at least, you really hope you aren’t. The suspicions aren’t unfounded. It doesn’t stop you from feeling a bit too unstitched, like an obsessed girlfriend who keeps too close tabs on her boyfriend.

Maybe it only feels that way because Steve isn’t checking up on you as much as he used to. The healthy two-way road you both shared has suddenly become, agonizingly, one-way.

You’ve been trying not to count the days apart, nor note the shortness of the calls — just a couple weeks ago, he was talking your ear off and rounding up the phone bill, so what happened? It follows you around, a soft weight that presses your shoulders down, til it leaks in every second thought like a sleepy poison.

You don’t want to be jealous. You don’t want to be clingy.

It’s criminal how you don’t know that Steve would love nothing more.

When it gets to one week without seeing him, some of the worry transforms. You let it turn you away from him, some part deep inside that doesn’t want to get hurt putting up the defenses early, just in case, and you throw yourself into work. Worry about trivial things in your everyday life instead of about him. You give him his space.

One week becomes two.

You’re not sure what mixture of feelings bubbles up when he calls on Tuesday morning. It feels like resentment, which you desperately shove down — combined with relief, with happiness, to be hearing his voice again. Even if it’s just down the phone line.

“Hi Stevie,” you say into the phone, the affectionate name slipping out, pure habit.

Your grin, an instant result of hearing his voice, fades a bit. You remind yourself to rein in it, an echo of thought that you’re too clingy forcing its way to the forefront of your mind.

“Hi, angel.” He coos back over the line, melting at the sound of your voice. It’s been too long since he’s seen you — he practically sags against the wall, gripping the phone tighter as if it’ll bring you closer to him.

It’s been hectic. He’s been training the new hire at work, since Robin back at school, all while hustling to get in his application for the local community college. On top of that, he’s trying to wrangle the moving details of the new apartment he finally managed to get his name down on.

Hectic feels like the understatement of the century to Steve.

He could tell you — and god, Steve really wants to. But a bigger part of him wants to see the surprise when you realise he’ll have a place that’s all his. No more sneaking through windows or quiet kisses interrupted by someone getting up in the night; an uninterrupted space for his love. Somewhere only the two of you get to know.

He ignores the part of his heart that wants to ask you, sometime in the future, not just yet, to come with him. To make his place yours as well.

For now, it’s all about the surprise. He’d planned it from the beginning, since the moment the keys to the apartment had been pressed into his palm. Steve wanted to treat you, to some swanky candlelit dinner for Friday date night, roses at the door, the whole nine yards, instead of a usual movie date.

The pet name softens you. Something inside eases and you wonder if have been being dramatic — he doesn’t seem different, seemingly unaware of the distance. Hearing his voice makes you miss him all that much more.

“How’s your morning been, huh?” He asks. He could ask how your last couple weeks have been considering how long it’s been since he’s found time to come to see you. He gnaws at his lip, trying to ignore the ache in his heart, and hopes it’ll be worth it.

“It’s been good! I mean as good as-“

A knock sounds at Steve’s front door and he curses, interrupting your reply. You pause, waiting to hear why he’s interrupted.

“Shit, I’m so sorry I’ve gotta— there’s someone at the door.”

Your throat tightens uncomfortably and you swallow it down, praying it won’t come out when you speak. Your voice is thankfully even when you say, “That’s alright. Go get it, just- just call me back later, yeah?”

“Later, definitely,” Steve promises, feeling terrible for having to hang up on the first conversation he’s had with you in too long. What kind of boyfriend is he? He has half a mind to ignore the door, just to keep talking to you — but the knock comes again, more insistent.

If it’s Henderson, Steve swears he’s gonna kick his ass.

“I love you.” His voice says down the line, voice sweet and it’s still enough to kick your heart into a flurry. You feel a bit more settled hearing it and grin, even though he can’t see it.

“I love you too.”

It’s not Dustin at the door— it’s Eddie, flaunting a grin and a gesture to his rust bucket of a van parked in Steve’s drive. Both are here at Steve’s request. Taking all his boxes in the beemer would ensure more than a dozen trips across town. And even with all his excitement to be out of the Harrington house, Steve’s sure it would take all but three trips to tire him out.

Eddie’s a bit early, a far cry from his usual tardiness, and Steve curses his sudden change of habit, today of all days. He tells Eddie as much as he tapes up the last of his open boxes.

Eddie, ever the charmer, let’s Steve direct what to grab and what to leave without much lip, much to Steve’s relief. They talk, a light banter thrown between them, and Eddie asks all the right questions; When’s the first party? What courses is he taking? What lewd favour does he have to do for Steve to let him host DnD there on occasion?

By the time the last box is in the car, Steve shoving Eddie for the mere suggestion — “you can host if you ask like a normal person, dude.” — the phone call is long forgotten.

It’s not his fault, not really. There’s a special frenzy in filling the hardwood floors of his cramped new kitchen with boxes of his stuff, a euphoric buzz that only comes with molding a new space into a home.

By the time he’s unpacked what little he owns into the space — the kitchen only has one pan, two mugs, both gifted to him by Dustin on separate Christmas’, and one or two plates he thought his parents wouldn’t notice missing — it’s late.

The only piece of furniture in the place is some shitty couch he and Robin had dragged off the sidewalk the day before. It’s a bit gross but not so much that he could refuse something free.

Steve sinks into it, drinking in the sight of the empty boxes strewn around his new apartment. Something in his heart glitters happily. For the first time since Eddie showed up at his door, Steve finally relaxes.

It’s 11.41pm and all he wishes is that you were with him.

The phonecall.

Just as quickly as it slipped his mind, Steve remembers it. The memory of it sinks into his stomach heavily and quickly, punching out a breath. His insides twist up with blackened regret as Steve thinks back to how many hours ago he’d promised to call you back. His eyes flash to the watch on his wrist.

He deflates a bit, seeing how late it is. Even though he would — he’d call you at 2am, hell, whenever you asked him to, just to talk — Steve won’t wake your whole family just to apologise.

Shit, he thinks softly and screws his eyes closed for a moment. There was no telling what reaction you’d have, given he’d accidentally blown you off like you were some one-time date, not his girlfriend — hot anger or maybe, icy silent treatment. Nancy had done that to him once; her jaw tight and narrowed eyes giving away her anger even though she insisted I’m fine, Steve, so just drop it.

It’s made all the worse considering he hasn’t seen you in a couple of weeks. Regret feasts in his gut. All of a sudden, keeping all this moving a secret seems colossally dumb. Steve knows you would’ve jumped at the chance to help him move.

It’s an anguishing thought to imagine — the fact the two of you could’ve been unboxing this next chapter together. You’d work up a sweat from the exertion of moving boxes, random fly-aways sticking up and god, Steve would think you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. And then he would’ve coaxed you down to the couch with his kisses til he was sure you knew it too.

If he wasn’t so set on surprising you, maybe instead you’d be here with him now, nestled in his arms.

Instead, Steve’s alone and you’re across town thinking god knows what about him.

A groan fights its way out of Steve’s throat, dozens of thoughts spinning off each other on how to fix this. How can he make it up to you and make sure you knew he was still thinking of always.

But sleep had to come first.

—

You’d never admit out loud how long you waited for the phone to ring.

After a certain amount of silence, you’d slowly bled back into your jobs around the house, never straying too far from the phone. You’re not sure what it is that fizzes under your skin but the longer the phone stays quiet, the more it stings. The distance between you and Steve feels yawning.

It rings, only once, and you leap for it — only to get your heart gets washed down the drain at the voice of one of your mother’s friends.

It makes getting up for your Wednesday morning shift seems an impossible feat.

He likely got busy, you have to remind yourself painfully. The Steve you knew would never, never purposefully leave you hanging. You hate the thought that pings into your brain, wondering if there really was anyone at the door. That he told you so he could escape the conversation quicker because he was avoiding you.

That, perhaps, this wasn’t your Steve anymore.

You have to repeat he called you to yourself firmly, trying to drown out the self-doubt. It doesn’t work.

It feels like something final has been decided by Steve and you’ve been left in the dark, grasping at straws. You can’t help but believe that the worst has been confirmed, that Steve doesn’t have time for you anymore. You feel grossly over-attached to him now and know that if you have to pull away, each thread connecting you to him will pull and hurt.

His phone call, Wednesday afternoon, right when Steve knows you’ll be home, doesn’t ease you much.

“I‘m—” He sucks in a huge breath, loud enough you can hear it over the phone. “—so unbelievably sorry that I forgot to call you back. Honest, I promise I had a really good reason to get distracted. I’m so so sorry, It won’t happen again, I swear, scout’s honour.”

The rambling words, tinged with nervousness, manage to persuade a smile out of you. The relief that washes over you feels charged, a bit overwhelming, so much that you can’t keep your voice even when you respond.

“That’s okay.” You say a little weaker than you intend.

It makes the regret in Steve’s gut twist up a little tighter. It’s gut-wrenching to consider another reaction, that maybe you’re not angry with him but upset. Steve thinks that this is decisively worse.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I—I’m really sorry.” He insists again, despair leaking into the words. He presses the phone closer. “Please let me make it up to you?”

“Sure.” You say, aiming for nonchalant but the word comes out too tight in your throat. Cursing yourself, you barrel on in hopes to keep Steve talking. You don’t really want to give away how much his distance has affected you. “What was it that distracted you, hm?”

“About that.” Steve chuckles light, beginning to feel his excitement wind up at the prospect of showing you the new place.

The original plan to wait til Friday, to do the proper date, is canned. The giddiness of his new place can’t be contained and there was no one he’d rather share it with than you. And fuck, he misses you.

It had been the last thing he had decided before drifting off to sleep, one of his last nights in his parents’ home. Rain or shine, whether you were angry or not, Steve needed to see you tomorrow.

“Are you free?” He asks, even though he knows you are. By Wednesday afternoon, you’re always free because he usually swings by and takes you out for shakes.

Eyes screwing shut, Steve holds in a wince at the realisation he’d missed that tradition with you for the last two weeks.

And you hadn’t mentioned a word to him.

His heart tears at the thought of you waiting on your doorstep like usual, while he’d been too preoccupied to even remember. He doesn’t want to think about how long it took you to realise he wasn’t coming.

“Can I come see you?” The words burst out before you’ve even answered his first question. It doesn’t matter — seeing you, feeling your touch again, and getting to deliver every kiss he’s saved over the past week takes top priority in his mind. “I promise I’ll—“

Steve thinks he might be cursed because this is the second time he’s been interrupted on the phone with you. This time, however, it’s a very specific hum of a car pulling in the drive; the engine sounding far too smooth to be Eddie’s.

Pulling the phone away from his ear, Steve whips around to peer out at the drive. A stone drops into his stomach at the sight. Beside his BMW, his parent’s car is parked in the usually vacant spot. Fuck.

They had told him they’d be gone a whole extra week and Steve had wanted to be out before they returned — to have everything he needed at the new place before his father decided he needed a lecture and a friendly rough-around on the way out as well.

“Steve?” Your voice warbles out the phone, pulled back from his ear. Steve jumps to attention, remembering himself.

“Baby,” he breathes into the phone, suddenly broken from his prolonged silence. You’re a bit concerned at this point, between his sudden cut-off and now hurried voice. “I- fuck, I have to go. I swear this—”

He groans, pent-up frustration leaking in as he hears the lock enter the front door, announcing his parents’ arrival.

How can he explain all this in the five seconds of privacy before his parents burst his bubble? Steve’s parents didn’t even know about you; dating was strictly a business prospect in the Harrington House. Steve had known from the beginning they would’ve never approved of you.

“Um, okay.” You sound a bit stiff and too casual. “That’s- that’s fine.”

“Please believe me,” He rushes out, eyes fixed on the front door as it opens. “I wouldn’t go if I didn’t absolutely have to.”

It doesn’t matter if they grill them about who’s on the phone, Steve needs to say i love you. Needs to hear it back.

Silence. No response from you. He’s talking to the dial tone.

—

Your head is a storm.

Conflict rages wildly, a heavy thunder that might be your heartbeat — your anxiety has kicked it up a couple beats — and flashes of lightning, striking terrible thoughts, all contained within your head.

The fact Steve was the one to call you is too weak to keep your head straight. It hurts pathetically, to think you’ve been forgotten. Neglected by someone you hold in the highest regard — and he hadn’t even been able to tell you why. Another phone call where he’s clearly got more important things on his hands.

You didn’t want to hang up on him, not before the usual i love you’s; but if you had waited, then he would have heard how watery it was. Heard the quiver in your voice. And he’d drop everything, all his obviously very important plans, to come see you.

You don’t want him to come over because he’s made you cry — you want him to come over because he wants to see you.

It’s such a simple ask. The fact you think he’d deny you it, too busy, feels heavier than you’d ever imagined. Your pillowcase becomes well acquainted with the taste of your tears as you bury yourself under covers, trying desperately to keep your heart intact.

What happened to your clingy, always touchy, forever wanting you around, boyfriend? It aches to think that that chapter of your relationship may have passed.

Tiredness overtakes your misery at some point, drifting you off into fitful sleep that doesn’t provide any rest.

You’re drawn out of it a few hours later, soft touches that feel like Steve because you’ve felt them dozens of times before, memorised without thought — but Steve is busy or avoiding you, or some third worse thing you don’t want to consider. You shiver off the ghosting pressure in your hair.

A murmur of your name.

The touch of his palm, pressed against your hairline, startles you a bit when you realise it’s real. Your eyes pop open in your surprise, taken aback to find Steve before you. He’s here.

Crouched by the bed, his hand pushes the strands of your hair back from your face with a gentle touch. He looks as upset as you feel, brows scrunched together in the middle— a frown pulls his lips down, eyes glistening with hurt. He’s upset to see you upset.

“Hi.” He whispers, all soft.

It’s dark out now. Hazarding a guess, you’d say you’ve been asleep for a couple of hours, aided by your exhaustion from crying. You can feel it, eyes stiff and nose still sniffly. It feels pathetic and so you roll in on yourself, tucking your face into your pillow for a moment.

You give yourself a moment to breathe, to gather words to speak to him without falling back to tears and asking outright why he doesn’t like you anymore. Steve’s hand, still stroking soft as ever, coaxes your face out of hiding, his thumb dipping to press warmth along your temple.

“What—“ It comes out too scratchy and you clear your throat. Steve’s hand still soothes your skin, thumb light and loving. “What’re you doing here?”

You don’t need to ask how he got in— Steve’s come in through the window enough times that the movements are all muscle memory. He chews his cheek in deliberation: where to start?

You’ve obviously been crying, a heart-wrenching fact that turns all the more foul considering Steve knows it’s because of him. Maybe even worse is remembering the conversations that had been clipped short, paired with his absence of the last couple weeks. He hasn’t been taking good care of you.

“Had to come see my girl, of course.” He says, low and sweet. His frown pulls up into a weak smile, fingers travelling down cup your face. His thumb catches the first tear that escapes, unbidden, and something alike to horror streams through his system.

“Sweetheart,” he dotes, emotion clinging tightly to his words — his thumb dutifully collects the next tear, as if it makes up the fact he’s caused them. “Wha—“

“Are we okay?”

You have to ask. You can’t handle another affection-soaked word out his lips if there’s still a possibility it may be the last time he’ll give them to you. Your heart aches unbearingly to ask, to even suggest the idea alone and tempt fate, but you have to know.

Steve’s eyes widen, lips parting and for a moment, he’s shocked into silence. It’s like each nerve alights in his body, a flush of physical pain at the mere suggestion you’re making.

You think the time apart is purposeful. Shame follows, scattered scolding thoughts at his carelessness for ever letting you think so. You won’t even look at him, eyes trained on the sheets.

He faintly recalls being on the other end of this treatment; when Nancy had run around chasing monsters and left him to wonder why she’d decided to leave him out all of sudden. Like Steve, she’d had a perfectly good reason to do so — and yet seeing you like this still unravels the stitching of his heart which falls apart pitifully in his chest.

Every pet name soars to his mind but instead, he just says your name.

You still don’t meet his eye. As gently as he can, Steve lets his fingers drift to your chin and coax your attention to him. Steve’s forever been about touch, he can think of a thousand different ways to apologise with a brush, a caress, a kiss — far better than he’s ever been at words. He leans in, slow and meaningful.

If you were upset normally Steve would wait, hover, and let you decide whether he’s allowed to steal a kiss. But right now you don’t need his hesitance, you need this; the sweet press of his lips that leaves no room for thinking anything else.

It’s weakening tender. You let the curve of his bottom lip come home to its place between yours.

He kisses you strong, so the fervor in his affection can’t be denied, to banish every thought that lead to your question of are we okay? All his pent-up kisses of the last weeks, all promised to you.

“Yes,” he breathes as he pulls back, still close enough to feel the heat of him. Steve watches your lashes flutter, eyes dance around his face, and settle on his own. “Please don’t ever think we aren’t.”

He kisses you once more and when you chase his mouth, he grants you another gladly, without thought. His lips graze up your face, a warm kiss to your cheek, to your nose, and a final one dropped onto your forehead.

“I’m sorry you thought we weren’t.” He murmurs into your hair. He’s all but encased you — nothing exists but the duvet and Steve before you, hands in your hair, lips on your skin, the scent of him curls comfortingly into your senses.

“I’ll forgive you if you come cuddle.” You grumble with a smile, happy to let yourself lean into his hand, soaking in the closeness. It’s not entirely true — you want answers, to know what has been eating up his time. But being in his arms, a hold you’ve missed for weeks now, will sate you if only for a bit.

Steve breaks into a smile at your words, eyes darting to your window momentarily. He licks his lips.

“Actually, I was hoping to show you something.” Steve suggests though it’s more a question than an insistence. “Show you what’s been keeping me from my girl.”

If you had said no, shook your head, or even just pulled back the duvet, Steve would’ve shucked off his jacket and had you bundled in his arms in an instant. He can see the ticking of your brain, eyes weighing up the tiredness alongside the curiosity of what’s kept your boyfriend from you.

Something in his poorly contained excitement, bottom lip cherry red from him he bites it, sways you.

“Okay.” You mumble, still softly spoken. You nod your head lightly, eyes scanning over his face to drink in the fondness you’ve craved for weeks. “Yeah, s’just wanna be with you right now.”

Your words manage to soften him even more, a ripple that melts through him. Torn between elation at the love and devastation that he’d been the one to keep you both apart for too long.

His thumb sweeps across your cheek once more, crowding back in to press a kiss to your forehead, murmuring his next words into the skin. “Course, honey. C’mon, lemme show you. Promise it’s worth it.”

Your fingers intertwine with his, strong and sure. The small time apart seems to spur you both closer, giggles spilling as you both clamber back out your window, Steve’s hands never parting from yours. The grass is cool against your ankles as you scramble out, stumbling into his chest when you lose your balance — relishing in how it only makes him tug you in tighter.

Even as Steve starts up the car, golden headlights illuminating the empty road, he only untwists his fingers long enough to put the car into gear. There’s nothing but the grumble of the engine, streetlights flashing past, and the cool leather seat beneath you.

At each turn, Steve lifts your hand and kisses along your knuckles, soft and warm. You think he’s still apologising. His eyes seem to be asking for forgiveness, glittering in the dark.

When your hands land back on your lap, this time you’re the one to lift them and brush a kiss along his hand. I forgive you. His grip tightens in your hand.

You’re not sure where you’re heading, too focused on your boyfriend to take note of the route — and it still doesn’t click even when Steve parks outside one of the downtown apartment buildings.

It all feels so juvenile, like giddy teenagers sneaking out, letting Steve pull you across the empty night-time streets with a giggle. The wind wraps around your bare legs, crisp and cool. You hadn’t changed before you’d both left.

It’s only when he spins his key ring around deftly, searching for a specific key, does something slide into place in your mind. Your eyes stare up at the building ahead, then at the keys on Steve’s key ring; he seems to be watching you in his peripheral, waiting for the shoe to drop. He’s smiling.

“Did you...?” You gasp quietly.

Eyes wide, you stare up at Steve and can’t finish your sentence. Your heart trips over itself in its excitement as you finally figure it out. Steve’s grinning now, only taking his eyes off you to insert the lock in the door to the building; he can tell you’ve figured it out now.

The lock makes a clunk as he twists the key, unlocking it. It feels like so much more than opening a door — it feels something akin to unraveling a thousand potential futures, all with you and Steve together in them. Everything about his absence makes sense, a jarring shift in perspective as you realise what he’s been doing all this time.

“What floor?” You ask, sounding a bit breathless already in your excitement. Steve pushes the door to the lobby open, holding it for you to pass through. There’s an elevator but you book for the stairs, clutching his hand the whole time. The lobby door snicks shut behind you, unheard.

Your footsteps clatter loudly, likely waking a few residents, but you can’t find it within you to care. Your thighs burn by the time you reach the top of the first set of stairs and whip around, finding Steve’s adoring grin following you. His hair is a little mussed from the rush.

He nods to the next staircase, fingers squeezing yours excitedly. “One more.”

Steve’s never been happier to let you drag him around, your excitement palpable in the energy of your run. It’s a far cry from your sleepy state earlier.

When you reach the top of the stairs, Steve takes the lead and your flurry of laughter follows him all the way to his new door. The pair of you crowd against it, tangles of arms and lips because you’ve suddenly decided it’s criminal to not kiss him right now.

It’s messy and rushed. You’re back is pressed against the door and Steve kisses you til your knees are weak, hot and hard, even as he tries to wiggle the lock open.

The moment it’s open, you both tumble in a clatter. You kick off your shoes and leave them at the door, spinning to drink in his new place. It’s barren, just a couch, not even a coffee table. You decide it’s already your favourite in the world.

Steve lets you go, watching as you zoom around the space, sliding into the kitchen with a gleeful sound that is far too noisy for the hour.

You’re pulling at every cupboard, leaving a row of open cabinet doors — it doesn’t matter that the apartment isn’t anywhere new, each of them seems endlessly interesting to you. Steve decided he’s had enough of watching, toeing off his shoes and skidding into the kitchen.

His arms around your middle surprise you, some yelp of shock that immediately fizzles into more laughter when Steve picks you up. It’s a halfhearted spin, more to hold you than anything and before you can spin and kiss him like you so desperately want, he’s taking you both down the hall.

Positioning you both in front of a door, Steve pauses. You think you know what door this is. A kiss on your temple. Another on your shoulder, one on your neck. He leaves his face there, nuzzled in closer, and gestures to the door with a jerk of his chin.

“Open it.” He murmurs, between another round of scattered kisses. Like it’s your new bedroom, not his.

Like the rest of the apartment, it’s more empty than not. A poorly made-up mattress against the back wall, beneath the window, and a few bags of clothes scattered throughout the room. You can recognise the forest green duvet cover on the mattress, familiar sheets.

It still smells like Steve when you bury yourself in them, Steve falling down beside you not a moment later. You relish in it all, being surrounded by all things Steve. You’ve missed it all in the weeks apart.

“You’ve certainly been busy.” You mean it as a tease— the fact he’s managed to wrangle down an apartment along with his job and organising college, it’s no wonder he hadn’t found time to see you.

Seeing how his grin dims, eyes drooping, you have no doubt it’s been weighing on him too. “Again, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. That last phone call—“

He sighs, rolling away from you and pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes. A groan rumbles out as he drags them down his face, remembering how you’d hung up on him just earlier today.

“Baby, it’s okay,” you hush him, dragging away his hands to cup his face with your own. His face still holds conflict, the tale of his day unwinding off his tongue before he can think.

“My parents came home early.” He admits, a bit weak. “I was trying to get everything out before they came back— you know how, uh, how they would’ve taken it.”

His eyes close, nose scrunched, just for a moment before he continues. “Eddie had just left to take the mattress over and I called you but that’s when… Well, that’s why we’re just on a mattress on the ground.”

Your light laughter hoists Steve’s mood upwards, feeling himself smile as he watches you beside him on the sheets. You shuffle closer, draping yourself across him so your cheek lays against his chest.

“We can get you a new bed frame.” You say like the prospect is more exciting than it is annoying. Steve adores how you say we — that you’ll come with him, pick things out for this next part of his life. Intertwine into the things he owns now, as well as in his heart.

“I’m sorry for hanging up on you earlier.” You breathe a little softer, and then as if it’s just delayed from the call, you say, “I love you.”

Some part of him that Steve can’t ever seem to shake sighs in relief. Today is not a bad day at all. You’re here, in his arms, in his new place and you love him still.

“I love you too.” Steve hums, arms pulling tighter around you. “And I’m sorry for making you worry.”

When you look up at him, really look, his eyes are shining. His shirt is rumpled, hair ruffled from your tangle onto the bed and he looks utterly beautiful. It just won’t do. You shift upwards and when you kiss him, it’s hard and fiercely loving. Too much saved affection coming out in one go.

Steve sighs happily against your lips, arms tightening and when you break apart, Steve nearly asks then and there. Come with me. Make this our bedroom instead of just mine. We’ll make this somewhere only we know.

It’s not the time. Instead, he whispers his i love you’s onto your lips and when he spills all his half-baked plans for dates and the endless possibilities of the new space, when he promises to never worry you like that again — you’ve got no choice but to believe him.

His endless kisses won’t let you believe anything else anyways.

tags below!

@hawkinsindiana @spideystevie @harringtonbf @televisionboy

3K notes · View notes

meanbossart · 3 months

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I appreciate how you write Astarion so, SO much. I feel like way too many fic writers infantilize him to a point where I honestly start wondering if I'm the one who misinterpreted him so badly.

I'd love to know more about what you think of his character and his arc. Personally I saw him and immediately went "oh god this guy is gonna be the irritating tumblr sexyman of the year🙄" and it took me until Araj basically to warm up to him. What were your initial thoughts and did they change much while playing the game?

OH thank you so much!!! That's a shame if it's the case, and a little surprising to me, to be honest! While he's definitely written be an aloof jerk a lot of the time, I always found him to be surprisingly mature and introspective whenever he's not dishing out witty remarks. He comes off to me as the kind of person who learned to benefit from seeming dumber than he actually is, overall.

HAHA I had a VERY similar experience, not just towards Astarion but all the characters, really (I really disliked Shadowheart at the beginning, too). I had only seen pictures of him and pretty much expected a vapid character that was being carried to stardom because of a talented VA - and because people go nuts for anne rice style vampires lol.

While I was definitely enjoying his voice lines from the start (Again kudos to Neil) I definitely wasn't expecting much else. He piqued my interest after so devastatingly turning my character down at the tiefling party without me even having inquired, and that's when I, the gamer, was like "well, alright, I GOTTA fuck this guy now" (this is also where DU drow's personality began to come out as you can probably guess)

Obviously, if you have two neurons to rub together you can gather pretty quickly that he's not trying to woo you because you're so interesting and wonderful, so I started getting curious! With that dynamic being so different from what you usually expect of romances in these types of games, plus the charming way in which he is written, I started being won over.

I think what really did it was how gradually his attitude changed when responding to new, mostly trivial dialogue options and doing his greetings as you earned his trust, and ESPECIALLY with how he responds to your tav when you express any kind of fear or insecurity during his romance - which was with a lot of sincerity and confidence in his resolve to support you, and in you as a person, a complete 180 from his usual front - Which, again, makes me all the more surprised to hear that he's often painted with such an immature brush.

And obviously he has a DEEPLY ugly side to him (if you've read ANE, hopefully it's clear that I know this, and that I like to explore it just as much as anything else lmao) but it's very interesting to me how it seem to always come in the form of outbursts, rather than a constant evil-streak, usually followed by a glimpse of self-awareness. It feels very much in line with someone who's actually making a great deal of effort to manage their RAMPANT emotions and going through a lot of internal conflict in the process.

GAH. Yeah if you can't tell by this friggin' thesis I just wrote, I love the way they wrote this character a lot and I was definitely proven PROFOUNDLY wrong in my first impression of him - which, if that's not irony at it's finest I don't know what is.

And as an aside! I also very much appreciate that he's a "queer" coded character who's effeminate (in the Old Homo kind of way, but I digress) and flamboyant, but taken Dead Fucking Seriously. With as much progress as we've made in LGBT rep in media, I still often feel like gay men will only get that kind of treatment for as long as they "Aren't That Gay" (I know Astarion doesn't have a set sexuality - But lets not mince words: stereotypes exist, and he fits into most of them) and as a thin-wristed gay guy who's a little too found of linen shirts, I can honestly say that experiencing a character like that helped me with my own confidence.

#ask #astarion #bg3 spoilers

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riririnnnn · 3 months

Text

It's a follow up post for this, but this post makes sense on its own too.

I have always been the younger sibling, so I can't understand an older sibling's feelings, but I wonder if Sae gets glimpses of what things used to be; if he sees Rin when the younger one isn't paying attention, and just reminiscences when they were kids.

Way too many things are going on during the U-20 arc, so it's not uncommon for the readers to miss something especially if they are binge reading it. That's why, I never actually saw people talking about the fact that we DID, in a way, get a reason why Sae chose Shidou out of all the Blue Lock-ers.

However, we didn't get this from a Narrator's POV or Sae's POV, that's why we can't FULLY trust it, so it makes me think if Sae chose Shidou because he couldn't choose Rin. Sae might've thought that there wasn't a better way to test out Rin until and unless he went against him instead of alongside.

Which brings me this panel again:

Rin in that panel just.. I don't know how to articulate it. "I saw what I came for, and I'm satisfied." Was Sae talking about Rin?

Further, I think Sae got fired up when he heard Shidou was going to play too because he wanted to rub it on Rin's face like, "Look, I'm siding with him. I'm passing to him and not you. He is better than you that's why." And I believe that he was doing it purposely.

I'll explain why, look here:

The above panel was before Rin went berserk, and you can clearly see that he was still trying to be like Sae. Like his Nii-chan.

But when he got free from this thing that was holding him back as he says, he went into his flow and ho, ho, ho, look what he said:

He became himself instead of being someone of somebody.

Also, during the time he was going into his flow state, this is what his inner monologue said:

Him going batshit crazy actually stole the spotlight from everything. It's clearly a new perspective of that flashback, and after that Sae was completely attentive to Rin. It was almost as if Sae WAS expecting this to happen, yet the intensity of it caught him off guard for a while too.

After that the focus of the game just became Sae Vs Rin, and the older Itoshi continued to rile the younger one by saying, "You still don't get it? You can't be the best in the world," and lalalalalalala.

HOWEVER,

This thing low-key took off the attention from the fact that Sae didn't pass to anyone during that time. He went along with Rin in their 1V1, and this thing was also pointed out by the news article where it said something along the line of, "The internet says Sae held the ball for too long and he should've passed." (Chapter 152)

It has to be purposely.

It was Rin who stole the ball from him and Isagi got to hit it.

Further, this:

It's giving new perspective to everything now. Also, he says, "Nii-chan." It seems like a trivial thing to point out, but if you know, you know.

That's why, I kinda think that Sae knows that his words affects Rin a lot. That's why he praised Isagi, so that Rin wouldn't forget/lose his Ego. It makes more sense since in the same chapter (152), Rin says like, "In that moment, I won against Nii-chan." Which is true, he stole the ball, but his ending words of that monologue was, "But Isagi gained everything. He (Sae) recognised him and not me."

But what if Sae had recognised Rin verbally?

I bet Rin would've lost his new found real Ego, and would've ended up like Nagi did when he scored against Isagi in the BM Vs Manshine City match.

So, I think Sae wants Rin to be Rin. Not Itoshi Sae's younger brother Rin, but the real Rin because Sae didn't want him to be a mirror image of him since he wasn't enough in world stage of soccer.

Personally, I'm sorry for mixing my own emotions, but I have went through what Rin went through. No, I wasn't completely starstruck by my older sibling like him, but I indeed felt really humiliated, and that humiliation actually helped me improve. Everything is fine now, we got more trauma in our life, so we bonded over it and we are chill af now, but, deep in my heart, a little girl will always be present with a mild, gentle resentment for being treated unkindly.

That's why I think that Sae did what he had to do to help Rin improve which sadly, costed them their brotherhood.

I know I'm slightly backtracking from this post.

But I do want to believe that whatever Sae did, he did it FOR Rin and NOT for their shared dream to be the best striker in the world.

For a sports animanga, Rin-Sae relation is actually way complicated and deep. I hope Kaneshiro-san will do justice to everything.

But in the end, they are fictional and their realities will become whatever the author wants it to be.

Till then, we can only speculate.

It'd be funny if they go into therapy together and their trauma is just:

⚽

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock theory #bllk theory #itoshi rin #itoshi sae #雪 ranting

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writersdare · 9 months

Text

In the Hands of Two | Bang Chan 방찬

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Chan was grateful for Y/N gifting such strong feelings, but at some point it became unbearable to carry them alone.

Warning: friends to lovers

Requested: yes

Word Count: 1 510

Author’s Note: I miss describing emotions and deep thoughts of characters, so this one is rather special. I hope you'll like it ♡ Remember, your engagement helps so-so much!

To love someone… was it a blessing or a curse? Chan couldn’t exactly figure it out. The guy was grateful for Y/N gifting him such emotions. The feeling like everything was possible, like he could do it all at once and never get tired. He genially was happy to finally go through something that he only read and fantasised about before, and Chan could bet his life that it was the most wonderful thing he had ever experienced. However, even the most perfect things tended to have their “buts”. In fact, the “but” was a big one, the size of Seoul’s skyscrapers — Y/N was his friend. The constant thought of that fact made Chan’s heart fall on the ground and never come back to a normal beat. How could he mess up so much? It was the most basic and trivial rule the guy shouldn’t have broken, yet, he did.

Chan couldn’t exactly recall the moment when he realised he fell for her completely. It was happening gradually and then collapsed to the idol suddenly, with all the weight of those unbearable feelings. Funny how love could be so easy when was held by two, and how heavy it was once it was in the hands of only one person.

The guy’s mood was swinging worse than seesaws he used to like so much as a child. One morning he’d be determined to spill everything out, beg Y/N for forgiveness and maybe for a little chance. Another sleepless night Chan would scold himself for being such an idiot, for overlooking the time when he still could stop himself. As if it was possible to control the feelings… As if it was just a silly anger or nerves, tickling the stomach. The problem of love was that it consisted of all feelings at once. Happiness, pain, fear, joy… The guy looked at her eyes and believed he could fly. Another second, when she wasn’t smiling at him but someone else, the feeling was eating him up like worms on a fresh grave.

Chan couldn’t control his emotions. He’d hate himself for snapping at his members simply because Y/N suddenly paid a bit more attention to them than him. The guy would hate the fact that she was his friend, and that he was so blind in the beginning, when they first met. If he had known it’d be that way, he’d confess right away, avoiding the stupid friend zone. However, all those thoughts of the past didn’t make things any better or easier. The past was the past, and Chan, unfortunately, couldn’t change it.

Could he change the future, though? Could he actually make another dream of his come true? After all, the guy knew how determined he was, always being able to get what he wanted. With the career, no matter how hard it was, the musician usually — well, most of the time — knew which direction to follow. With Y/N it was completely different, and the guy was lost. He used to believe that he liked taking risks, and yet, when it was coming to the confession, his whole body would go numb just thinking of it.

It became sort of a tradition to be occupied with that mess in his head, days and nights; even when the girl was around. Or especially when she was around. It was harder to keep a secret, and it felt as if Chan was going to burst up any second.

"Coffee," he smiled and placed a cup of latte with coconut syrup on a table, next to Y/N. The guy felt ridiculous for being so whipped for her, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

"Thank you. Are you reading my mind?" the girl looked up at the friend and smiled. Chan had always been rather attentive, so such gestures were not exactly surprising, however, they did become more frequent recently.

At that moment Chan was ready to give everything to read Y/N mind, indeed. Just to know if she felt the same way about him as he felt about her. Or at least if she liked him not just as a friend. He wished he could read her mind…

"Not exactly, I just know you well enough," the guy grinned and took a seat next to her, trying to look as casual as it was possible. Chan couldn’t stop smiling, though, once Y/N’s pretty lips touched the edge of the cardboard cup carefully. She tasted the drink, trying to figure out the flavour of the syrup, and he wished the girl could know how adorable she looked. With her he started to dream more. In fact… what was stopping him to let Y/N now how wonderful she was?

"You’re so pretty," the guy suddenly mumbled. Once the words left his mouth, the idol couldn’t believe he really said it.

Y/N, though, just smiled again and friendly petted Chan’s shoulder.

"You’re always so nice to me."

The musician was ready to scream. No, he needed to scream. To hell with the voice, he needed to let it all out, otherwise he’d just explode.

"Right," was his only reply. The guy’s ears turned red, and he looked at the screen of his laptop, trying to concentrate on a song. Y/N joined him in the studio that day to be the first listener of a demo. Most of the time Chan’s head was full of music, but at that moment he didn’t feel so creative.

The guy sighed heavily and stood up sharply, starting to walk back and forth and trying to reason himself – he needed to calm down.

"Chan, what’s wrong?" Y/N chuckled, although wasn’t sure if it was okay to laugh. No matter how cute the friend looked, she could read anxiety on his face, too.

The idol suddenly stopped and simply spilled out, staring at Y/N.

"Would you finally acknowledge my feelings for you if I kiss you right now? You’re so bad at taking hints," he growled, getting angry at Y/N, at himself, at basically the whole situation he happened to be in.

"What?" Y/N blinked, and the heart skipped its beat. She was staring back at Chan and couldn’t believe her ears. Literally, as once the words of confession were uttered, it became very noisy, her ears were ringing.

"I like you, Y/N," Chan whined, throwing hands up to the ceiling, being simply desperate.

He couldn’t keep it to himself anymore, he simply couldn’t. "If she was going to scream at me or ask how could I, how could I break the basic rule of the friendship," he thought. "So be it." It was worth it all. One more day with that huge secret in his heart, and he’d go crazy.

However, once he let it out, a wave of fear covered the guy from top to bottom. He messed up again, maybe even more than before.

"Y/N…"

"Chan…"

"No-no… I’m really sorry. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have," the guy squatted down in front of Y/N and covered her palms with his. "Please, just forget it. Just forget it, we still can be friends and–"

"I don’t want to," the girl interrupted, looking in the eyes.

"You don’t?…" Chan mumbled, and his face became paler than usual.

"I don’t want to be just friends," Y/N continued quietly and broke the touch only to change the position of their hands and to cover his palms with hers instead. "I like you, too," she whispered, feeling how everything was shaking inside. Only after saying the truth, Y/N realised that she wasn’t even looking at Chan, being too nervous.

"You do?…" they guy echoed after some time, as if wasn’t sure if he heard her right. Then his lips stretched in a wide smile. "God, I’m such an idiot. I freaked out… Y/N," he giggled anxiously. Chan couldn’t believe that it was real; that finally the love for her wasn’t so heavy. Cause she took the part in her hands, too…

"I was scared, too," Y/N admitted. "We were always… close, but I know how career is important to you, and I didn’t… think… us, being more than friends, would be possible."

"It is. It is possible," Chan hurried up to reassure, looking at her eyes. "Can I kiss you?" he almost whispered, feeling the warmth spreading all over his body.

The only one regret the guy had was not being brave enough to tell Y/N everything earlier. The fear and worries were long gone, as if he had never experienced it at all. Funny how things could be easily forgotten. Not the feelings, though. They stay in the hearts until the very end.

"You threatened me with it twice today, but still didn’t do it," she teased him, but not for too long. Another second the guy took a seat next to Y/N and, pulling her closer, simply pressed the lips against hers in a tender kiss.

– gifs aren’t mine and belong to the rightful owner, found them here @gnabnahc –

taglist: @yukichan67, @laylasbunbunny, @skz-streamer

All stories are original and written by me. Do not copy, trace and post anywhere without permission and credit. The stories are fictional, they do not correspond to reality and written just for fun ♡

Main Masterlist | K-POP Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

#skz #stray kids #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x y/n #skz x y/n #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan fluff #bang chan imagines #bang chan

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throwaway-yandere · 1 year

Text

"Aren't You Supposed To Hate Me?" (Yandere Modern!Il Dottore/Reader)

CW: mild yandere

the real a/n: if you see me putting too many sylvia plath references, no– no you did not. Also, webttore rights. I promise he's not that bad bakery anon pls don't kill me-. ALSO LOGO'S MADE BY ESTHER ANON!!!

Mother of Klee, Alice’s note: When your bakery opens, can you make some Eton mess? What? “That’s not on the menu…?” Well, you should add it! My darling Klee looks adorable eating strawberries! Oh, but you're not leaving Teyvat Pro, right?

Yandere! 1k Idol Match-up Event

---------

According to what people have said about you, you exude calmness. And that it’s a strength. That your soothing and somewhat “motherly” presence puts you one step forward more than most people. But why isn’t your composure congruent with the frantic screaming inside of you that begged this lunatic to quit clutching your baking supplies?

Damn, this isn't the time to NOT be assertive, assistant (Y/n). Pull yourself together.

"Please stop. You're strangling it."

"We all die, (Y/n). The sooner you internalize that, the better."

The man in front of you is none other than your boss: "Il Dottore", the man behind the idol group ADDICKTZ's creative decisions. You have been given the responsibility of maintaining order among the original 4 ADDICKTZ members while he deals with the second batch after he chose you out of the other 22 interviewees.

"Sir, we're just baking. Please use a proper measuring cup. Aren’t you supposed to be a doctor–"

"Master. Not sir. I suggest you speak to me in a more respectful tone, Assistant (Y/n). The mere fact of your utility does not make you indestructible."

"I understand that very well, sir– Master, but please put the dough down. I cannot allow you to do the frosting at this rate."

Dang Akademiyan scholars and their honorifics.

Zandik huffed, unsatisfied, before leaning back on his chair.

"Mind you, I'm a licensed surgeon." He boasted snarkily. "I'd certainly outmatch you when it comes to steady hands, assistant."

"Well– shame that a medical degree does not automatically mean you'd be good at art, then."

"(Y/n), did I hire an imbicile? Answer me, who exactly are you working for?"

"You, Master Zandik."

"And my occupation?"

" ADDICKTZ’s Creative Director–"

Zandik smugly raised an eyebrow.

"... I admit defeat."

ADDICKTZ values both of your artistic inputs. Even after work hours, you've done what you can to support DCKZ. You helped Diluc choose a haiku to confess his emotions not long ago, and more recently, you aided Zhongli to find inspiration in contemporary poetry for his lyrics. Sir Zandik, on the other hand, would help the group's plans progress from simple masquerades to a magnificent mashup of VISUAL Kei and distinctive pop elements with unbuckled bones facing the front view just tasteful enough to adhere to the unit's usual aesthetics.

Of course, these tasks are obviously trivial in comparison to what your "real work" entailed, and the CEO would split hairs if you joked about retiring. The doctor is no different; in fact, he is the most guilty of this dependence. Normally, superiors wouldn't break into their staff members' closed bakery at 2 in the morning on a Saturday, but Il Dottore has a few loose screws.

Partly, it's your fault too because Zandik has a crush on you.

That's not your ego talking– he admitted it three days ago. Maybe you would've accepted that confession if he didn't utter another word, you did hear Sohrah and the other staff members mention that he's some eye candy. The nose, the eye pits, the full set of pearly white teeth– those mean nothing when the person is Zandik. His personality is as foul as the things Ayato bought in the ADDICKTZ's hotpot game. You’re never crossing the water for an obvious red flag.

Following his direct confession, he went on to enumerate all of your faults in a psychopathic and alphabetical order. As to add more salt into the wound, Zandik brought out printed pictures and pointed at all the blemishes on your face that needed fixing before tossing a plastic surgeon's business card at you. What an absolute jerk. Not the most romantic confession out there, but he did ask you out, right?

WRONG.

After his long spiel about being burdened by unnecessary dependence on you, he gave you an incentive to "look more unattractive during work hours" with a pay raise.

So, Herr Doktor. So, Herr Enemy. Yet, you can't loathe Zandik when he's THAT honest about his avid repulsed fascination. The man is mad, but being mad doesn’t make him stupid. He wants the exact opposite of the likable behavior reinforcement theory coming from you. Zandik would sooner receive the loving embrace of an iron maiden than be in a rendezvous. He wholeheartedly believes that love is an illusion of a Greek necessity– whatever that meant.

You were ready to argue when he pulled out a contract that Zhongli had revised for added credence. As self-preservation reared its not noble but necessary head, your anger left you. His proposed numbers were bafflingly astronomical that you might just quit your job after the first pay…

The moon has nothing to be sad about once it witnesses your dreams bear fruit. Zandik knows that as well, that's why he visited your little bakery before its opening day, demanding that you make him any type of pastries. Unfortunately, you're the type who would adjust your schedule for others and not the other way around.

Zandik wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeves. "Mind if I strip?"

"E-Excuse me?" You chuckled nervously. "Strip your apron, right?"

"Hair extensions, assistant." He clicked his tongue, amused. "With some common sense, you would’ve discovered that they get in the way and that these two long strands are artificial. Clearly, you lack some degree of rigor expected for an assistant."

Should’ve expected as much. This is the same man who cut off Childe's hair because he's "so damn tired seeing everyone in this forsaken group have the same fucking rat tail." You're pretty sure the only person who thought it was mildly amusing was Dainsleif.

Still… Last time, he told you those two strands were part of his hair. Zandik is not the type who would pettily lie for a joke. He's as straightforward as CEO Alhaitham– for better or for worse. Maybe he has a twin brother or something…

No, that’s just inconceivable.

Zandik watched in amusement as your forehead creased.

"You should've worded that differently… Doesn’t matter. Is there a flavor you’d like? Chocolates or...?"

He answered immediately. “Strawberries. Saw Alice ate some with her daughter last night.”

“Definitely it's not because it's your favorite, I’m aware,” you mused sarcastically. “Since you’re not actually into strawberries, might I suggest chocolate?”

Zandik glared. “Why?”

You batted your eyes at him playfully. “Oh, doctor, don’t you know chocolates have the love drug? As Langston Hughes would say “Have you dug the spill of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims, on this sepia thrill–”."

“Debunked. It’s laughable that you would insinuate such an incorrect notion.” Zandik scoffed loudly. “Chocolates don’t directly pass phenylethylamine to our nervous system, you’re more likely to excrete these pathetic sweets off your a–”

Never been a romantic. Dottore somehow loves to make it a point to remind you of that foul personality trait of his in every conversation.

“Alright, that’s enough. It’ll be strawberry flavored.” You sighed as you placed the tray inside the oven. “Might I say, you’re acting rather… cocky, for a lack of a better term, with how I should handle my work.”

“In my many years of living, I’ve learned that arrogance is a side-effect of truth and intelligence.”

“Yes, but your methods of holding that dough is quite barbaric. Please let it go.”

“Tsk.”

Dead hands, dead stringencies– Zandik simply lacks the talent for baking due to his rigidity. He dropped the dough and you smirked for a second, relieved. You secretly have a competitive side and you'd hate to admit that you're scared he might just beat you at your own game because of the frostings.

“Master Zandik, please just sit down. There are empty chairs at empty tables–”

He rolled his eyes, crossing his legs on your table. You tried not to scream at him about hygiene and barely succeeded. “Friends are all dead and gone– I know. Do not think you can reference Les Miserables without me knowing, baker.”

You shook your head as you set the timer. While you were preoccupied, it seemed as if the doctor just couldn’t sit still.

“Hmph, this is the only thing of interest I’ve found in your precious little bakery thus far.”

You turned to look at him.

Zandik paused in front of the small wall of photographs you had on display. A smile crept on your face as you remembered how proud you were of organizing the photos of your friends and family into a heart-shaped mosaic. There is a tiny square space in the middle and he correctly inferred that will be the center will be used to display a photo of the bakery's opening day. Be that as it may, his attention lay elsewhere.

"You had a violent streak, didn't you?"

"... Pardon?"

"You were the "problem child", that's my assessment," Zandik smirked, detaching a photograph from your wall, which surprised you since you've had trouble easing them free.

He specifically picked the photo you took during kindergarten with your grandma.

"You had scraped knees and elbows but you don't have that stereotypical dumb boyish smile. You seem to have quite a pronounced frown. Would I be wrong to assume you weren't well-liked in your school–"

“Put it back.” While you do generally dislike being put under a spotlight, the cause of your harsh delivery stems from his unpleasant phrasings.

Zandik pretended not to hear you, "–I'm not teasing you. I would know this because I had a photo similar to this one."

For a moment, you saw a flicker of melancholic humanity in your otherwise monstrously rigid employer. You thought that vulnerable display would be brief, but the hollow chuckle that echoed proved that this event will mark a milestone in your "work" relationship.

Master Zandik is opening up to you.

"Unlike this cute and happy memento, I don't have a grandmother who would take a picture with me. I’ve lost them all in the fire." He muttered, his voice low and his eyes squinting. "Hence the reason why I squandered most of my hours burying my nose in textbook after textbook. Pantalone and I had to prove ourselves worthy of living a life outside the orphanage. But this picture…"

Your boss grumbled. "This picture looks awfully similar to the only childhood picture I have taken. A large frown, beat-up uniform– a rage that I can relate to. I understand your child self all too well. Too well, in fact, that I feel the urge to burn this photograph like what I’ve done with mine."

He traced his thumb around your young self's image, shockingly intimate.

You blinked incessantly, trying to process all the information that he told you. First, your boss has no family left. Second, he’s an orphan raised alongside sir Pantalone. Third, he burned the only picture he had when he was a kid. You would pinch yourself but this conversation is jaggedly real.

As sensitive as this topic may be, your skepticism slips out as easily as breathing. "You burned your only childhood photo?"

Zandik ruminated.

"Curious as to what I would've looked like? You don’t seem to find my decision very agreeable."

"Who would?" You didn't mean to whine, but the tone of your voice made you sound like complaining. "What possessed you to do that?! Now no one would know what you looked like, not even yourse–"

"I didn't look too different as to who I am now," Zandik answered, his usual confidence coming back. "Only back then, shades of purple bruises would overlap my face, arms, legs, and stomach. If I loathed my natural features I would've done something drastic to tweak my appearance."

"Of course, you would, hair surgeon." You jokingly muttered Childe's best Dottore insult.

"What was that?"

For the sake of the hair Ajax is trying to grow out, you need to change the subject, fast.

"Master Zandik, I have to ask– aren’t you supposed to hate me? Pray tell, what are you doing here then?”

It’s been bothering you since he walked in. If he wants his “crush” for you to disappear, then why the hell is he spending more time with you?

Surprisingly, Zandik was also stunned by your question. His eyes went wide, perplexed.

“... What are you talking about?”

“You know what I meant.” You deadpanned. “The contract, what else?”

“Contract?” He squinted. “What contract? Is it a contract revised by Zhongli?”

“An astute guess.” You mocked his tone. “Yes, it is. Perhaps we’ve handled so many workloads the past month because of Sir Alberich’s eye-plucking shenanigans that’s why you forgot. To put it simply, you ordered me to act less attractive in exchange for a pay raise.”

“What?”

He looked at you incredulously, as if you were joking.

“Is this some kind of twisted joke?” Zandik huffed. “I would do no such thing. That’s...”

His demeanor shifted once, then twice. After a moment of silence, he nodded.

“Forgive me, you’re right. I did propose that contract, haven’t I?”

“Yes, Master.”

“And I also confessed my affection for you as well?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Pity.” He muttered, his tone grieving. “There should be no other person who can understand me more than I do.”

Zandik glared. “But why on earth is He trying to sabotage us.”

He?

“What are you talking about?”

Zandik gritted his teeth and smiled. “No matter. There’s no need for concern, darling.”

…

Did Master Zandik always have shark-like teeth?

He reached out and ruffled your hair slightly, but there is an ominous aura that lingered in his expression. It was akin to self-loathing, but not quite. Zandik pulled his hand back slowly, clenching it into a fist as he walked away.

You will never understand what he was talking about. After all, “Zandik” failed to mention the most important aspect of that photograph.

He had no parents, aunts, uncles, cousins… But the outcast did stand next to someone in that single childhood photo he had.

And that person was the picture-perfect imitation of himself, the perfect “sibling”.

Il Dottore laughed.

Now, if he could just throw him in the fire too…

Ansytea: Thank you so much for joining the match-up event Bakery Anon! Please don't chop, cook, and serve me to faceless!ayato–

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yoisami · 8 months

Text

[4:52 PM] — ୨୧

tags. isagi x gn!reader, 596 words, fluff, established relationship, writing this made me feel bad for all the plants i’ve accidentally drowned, not proofread :’(

the chinese evergreen that’s present in the periphery of his vision seemed to be shooting isagi a look that meant it was in desperate need for someone to hydrate it.

everyone knows that plants can’t shoot anyone looks, but with a single glance at the yellowed leaves that were supposed to be viridescent, and its posture that resembled a very weary-looking person, isagi assumed that you have not been watering the plant you promised to care for.

even in the beginning, isagi knew that you had little to no capability of caring for plants, yet you were insistent on purchasing the chinese evergreen because you believed it was a fitting adornment for the entrance of the house. you even promised isagi that you would do everything in your ability to keep it flourishing if you bought it.

except, it’s been two months since you and isagi moved into this house as newlyweds, and you’ve already broken your promise. now, it was isagi who knelt against the floorboards, hydrating the plant with the watering can that had collected a month's worth of dust. he’s hoping that it’ll survive, because hell, this seemingly trivial house plant costed isagi almost six thousand yen.

“[name]? have you been checking on the plant?” he asks, tone gentle yet interrogating. as he’s gingerly pouring water over the loose soil, the sounds of your footsteps coming from your study were growing louder.

“what?”

a sigh leaves isagi’s lips as he tilts the spout away from the soil. “have you been checking on the plant? it looks kinda dead lately.”

seconds later, you’re kneeling on the ground besides your husband as your eyes settled on the house plant that has at last, caught your attention after four weeks of plain negligence. upon seeing how the tips of the leaves have lost its vibrant hues of green, your lips parted, followed by a grimacing smile.

“honey, if you want me to be honest... then no. i haven’t been checking on the plant,” you confessed, clearly disappointed at yourself.

it’s no surprise to isagi that you admitted your ignorance towards the chinese evergreen because there was no possible way that the plant could have died two months after purchase.

“you promised that you'd take care of it really well.”

with your head hung low to display your remorse, you and isagi's sighs synchronised. “i know.”

“it looks so sad.” as isagi's palm supports a leaf to stand, you’re beginning to realise the consequences of your mistake. “with the leaves drooping, it looks like it’s crying.”

“stop giving it human emotions.”

“i'm not!”

“then stop making me feel bad for the plant.”

averting his gaze at the plant to you, isagi pulls his hand away from the leaf. “you should though. you promised to take good care of it—i mean, you did, for about a week, and then you forgot about it.”

“i didn’t mean to...”

“i know you didn’t,” isagi says, fingertips gliding over your earlobe as he tucks your hair back. “but you had responsibility over it, because you were the one who urged me to buy it.”

another sigh escapes from your lips. “maybe we should just buy fake plants next time.”

“maybe. but that doesn't mean that we can’t buy another real plant. we just gotta make sure that we take better care of it, so it doesn’t die.”

there’s a frown etched onto your face as you bowed your head at the plant. “sorry... jiro.”

“jiro?”

“i don’t know. doesn’t the plant look like a ‘jiro’ though?”

“a bit.”

#૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — ୨୧ by saki #blue lock #bllk #blue lock isagi #bllk isagi #isagi yoichi #yoichi isagi #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi imagines #isagi fluff #isagi yoichi fluff #yoichi isagi x reader #blue lock imagines #bllk imagines

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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 6 months

Text

My Beloved - Galileo Galilei

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors.

Blank, ageless, and suspicious blogs will be blocked.

The casual conversation with Mitsuki unexpectedly brought back memories of the past and irreparable despair.

Galileo: "Sagredo."

Returning to my hideout on the outskirts of town, I murmured my friend's name without turning on the lights in my room.

Every time I recalled the past, a hatred toward humanity nested in my chest, and I clenched my fist, not minding my nails digging into my palm.

(Those days were destroyed all because of me.)

(If I hadn't accepted that girl's invitation, I wouldn't have remembered anything.)

Since we met, that girl, Mitsuki, has been trying to get closer to me in different ways.

And every time I met her searching gaze, I felt as if something had touched the depths of my heart.

(I shouldn't get involved with her anymore.)

I closed my eyes and whispered that in my heart, but then一

Mitsuki: "Excuse me, Galileo. Are you here? It's Mitsuki."

Galileo: ".........."

I turned toward the voice and saw Mitsuki standing there, looking lost.

(Why...?)

Galileo: "Why are you here?"

I was so angry that someone had intruded on my hideout without permission that my voice naturally became low.

She sensed this, and her shoulder twitched.

Mitsuki: "You dropped this bookmark at the cafe. I came all the way here to give it to you."

Galileo: "........"

I accepted the bookmark that she offered.

It was indeed mine, but I didn't treat it as anything special.

(She should've just discarded this.)

(No. This girl was the type who would bother with such things.)

She always faced the other person, even for trivial things.

Even in the few times we'd met, it was clear that Mitsuki had a strong sense of duty.

Galileo: "You went through the trouble. Thank you."

Galileo: "If you're done, leave."

Mitsuki: "Okay. Sorry for following you without permission."

Mitsuki lowered her head, looking apologetic.

As I watched her small figure leave一

Galileo: "Mitsuki."

Galileo: "Stop trying to get involved with me anymore."

When I finally said this, she took a small gulp and left the hideout without saying anything.

(I have a purpose to fulfill. I don't have time to pay attention to others.)

(Even if it's just a slight hesitation, I should eliminate any distractions.)

By pushing her away like this, I thought she would never appear in front of me again.

That's what I believed, but...

Galileo: "Were you not listening to my words?"

Mitsuki: "I'm sorry for coming again!"

Just a few days later, Mitsuki visited once more.

(Unbelievable. What's going on in this girl's mind?)

The complex emotions of surprise and irritation toward this unrelenting girl welled up in me.

Galileo: "So, what did you come here for?"

Mitsuki: "I finished reading the book from the other day, so if you still haven't bought it, I thought I'd give it to you."

Mitsuki: "Also, I heard from Professor Ayscough that today is your birthday. So, please take this as well!"

Along with the book, she handed me a bottle of wine.

Mitsuki: "I was worried about you drinking in public, but I thought it would be fine at home."

Mitsuki: "Happy birthday!"

Galileo: "..........."

(She went out of her way to give me a book?)

(And why does she feel the need to go to such lengths for my birthday?)

I'd forgotten today was my birthday, and I couldn't even remember the last time I celebrated it.

For me, it was just another day, so the unexpected gesture from Mitsuki slightly unsettled me.

I thought I eliminated all distractions, and yet一

Mitsuki: "Well then, I'll be going now. I'm really sorry for intruding."

(I need to let her go like this. I shouldn't get involved with her again.)

Even though I thought that一

Galileo: "Wait."

I instinctively stopped her from leaving.

Confused, she turned to me, and I sighed.

Galileo: "If you have the time, you should have a drink too."

Mitsuki: "Huh? Um, why?"

Galileo: "As a token of my gratitude for the book, it's the least I can do."

Despite pushing her away last time, she nodded with a shy smile.

(What the hell am I doing...?)

With those thoughts, I gestured for her to sit on the sofa and poured the wine into the glasses I'd prepared.

The wine she had brought had a pleasant aroma and tasted delicious.

Galileo: "Did you choose this brand?"

Mitsuki: "Yes. I wasn't sure if it would suit your taste, though."

Galileo: "I see. It has a smooth taste. Not bad."

Mitsuki: "Really? I'm glad!"

(She's so innocent.)

(Allowing this kind of moment is foolish of me, but一)

Mitsuki: "You know, that astronomy book was really interesting."

Mitsuki: "The scientific explanations were a bit challenging for me, but the history and anecdotes about the stars were fascinating."

Galileo: "........."

She began to share her thoughts on the book, speaking a bit rapidly.

She looked like she was enjoying herself, and the way her eyes shone reminded me of the stars shining in the sky.

(Why am I thinking this way? Have I had a bit too much to drink?)

Galileo: "You're a bit too passionate."

I left my seat for a moment and took off the cloak I was wearing in my room.

When I returned, Mitsuki looked at me curiously.

Galileo: "What is it?"

Mitsuki: "S-Sorry!"

She got flustered, and after a moment, she hesitantly brought up a question.

Mitsuki: "By the way, I have something I want to ask. Is your real name Alinbert Maury?"

Galileo: "Did someone tell you that?"

Mitsuki: "Professor Ayscough did. I always thought 'Galileo' was your real name, so I was really surprised."

Galileo: "No, you're right."

Mitsuki: "Huh?"

Galileo: "Due to certain circumstances, I usually go by 'Maury,' but 'Galileo' is my real name."

Mitsuki: "Oh, I see."

For some reason, she breathed a sigh of relief.

(I don't really understand how my name can bring relief.)

(No, I don't understand it myself either.)

Galileo: "I feel strange about it myself, but for some reason, on the day we met, I revealed my true name to you, no matter how trivial it may be."

Mitsuki: "Why is that?"

She looked at me with a sincere gaze, seeking an answer.

(Even when we first met, she looked at me with those same eyes.)

Receiving that gaze, I felt a slight warmth deep in my heart.

Galileo: "I wonder why?"

(Sagredo, my dear friend. This girl's straightforwardness somehow reminds me of you.)

(Perhaps Mitsuki, too, is pursuing the truth.)

I muttered that in my heart and smiled.

Part 1 ╎ Part 2 ╎ Premium ╎ Epilogue

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp galileo #ikevamp #ikevamp jp #galileo galilei #ikevamp translations #cybird

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mirai-e-jump · 8 months

Text

Hero Vision Vol.14 (2004/Spring) ft. Kamen Rider Blade Cast Interviews Takayuki Tsubaki & Hironari Amano Segment (translation below)

Publication: May 20, 2004 (between episodes 17-18) Takayuki Tsubaki (Kazuma Kenzaki) & Hironari Amano (Sakuya Tachibana)

"In the show, you play the roles of senior and junior, but in real life, from Tsubaki-kun's point of view, Amano-san is his senior when it comes to the entertainment industry. Do you ever confide your problems in him?"

Tsubaki: Yes, I do.

Amano: (suppressing his laughter) That's a liiie~.

Tsubaki: Ah! But, what about the time we went out to dinner together, or……ah, actually, I can't remember (said lacking confidence).

"When on set, who's the one that's most supportive and follows up with others?"

Amano: No matter who it is, if someone was yelled at or feeling discouraged, everyone follows up with them by saying, "Don't worry about it!" Everyone's so upbeat, and we're always laughing on set.

"When it comes to acting, do you ever talk about things like, "Going forward, let's do this"?"

Amano: Hmmm……For me, I'm not sure where my role is heading. I try not to establish the role from the beginning, but rather, add new elements as the opportunities arise. At first, I thought Tachibana was a calm, cool person who didn't show any emotions, but to my surprise, there are scenes of him losing his temper and yelling early on in the show.

"Do you and Tachibana have anything in common?"

Amano:……The tendency to worry. But, even though in the past I wouldn't tell people about my worries, recently, I've started to actually do so. I've come to realize just how easy it is.

"Tachibana also has a soft side for Sayoko."

Amano: I want to make Tachibana look more human. It's normal for a human to have many sides. There's the face you have during work, and the face you have in your private life. Now, Tachibana is trying to be strong by not relying on others, and it makes me think, "This isn't how a Rider's supposed to be!" (laughs). It may not be the usual justice of the past, but I think it would be great if Tachibana could overcome his obstacles and gain some confidence.

"Tsubaki-kun, do you think there are any similarities between yourself and Kenzaki?"

Tsubaki:……(vaguely) The stupid part of him? (laughs).

"Is it true that you became an actor because you wanted to learn how to express your feelings due to not having any?"

Tsubaki: I don't have any emotions at all, it's like I'm not a normal human, so it's really fun to "become" a human being when I get into the role. When I was younger, I was so loud, that people would often tell me, "You're noisy!"……Various things have happened since then, and I think I've calmed down abit. I also thought that while I'm a Rider, it would be easier for me to be Kenzaki if I didn't have "myself" in mind, so I've decided to think only about Kenzaki for the rest of the year. That's also why when I'm on set and Morimoto-kun is standing right next to me, my blood starts to rush. I think, "Why can't we fight even though I'm here?!"

Amano: Before we start filming, I try to reduce any tension (in order to become Tachibana), but this guy, he does the role the entire time. That's why he speaks in such a weird way. Even when we all eat together, he'll suddenly say, "You Bastard!," and "Get lost!" He would then start beating on Morimoto-kun, whose face looked as though it were saying, "Ehhhh~?!" (laughs). Morimoto-kun would then also act back.

Tsubaki: Morimoto-kun and I have to fight everyday anyway…..

"You'll soon start filming for the movie, where you'll have to think even more about Riders.

Tsubaki:……I don't know what will happen to me if Tachibana-san betrays me any further (said seriously).

Amano: I like how over such trivial things, you'll suddenly start speaking normally! When he talks to me over the phone, he's like, "Tachibana-san! it's Kenzaki! Where are you right now? Please call me back!" It's like he's prank calling me (laughs).

Tsubaki: For Morimoto-kun, "Hajime?!," is what I'll say when I call him. "I'll kill you," is what he'll say in response……

Amano: Ah, but when you talk to me and Morimoto-kun, you do talk normally.

"Morimoto-kun seems like he's trying to match Tsubaki-kun's pace (laughs). Maybe Tsubaki-kun is the type of person who needs to be taken care of by everyone?"

Tsubaki: That's right. But, it can't be helped, since Tachibana-san is currently acting so violent.

Amano: You're talking about in the show, right?

Tsubaki: Ah, right.

"Do you have a favorite line from the show?"

Amano: For me it's, "My body is falling apart!" People will constantly say it as a joke when on set. Hearing it actually makes me very happy.

"It's known that Tsubaki-kun's lines and way of speaking have become a popular topic of conversation among the fans (laughs). I think it's because they love the ridiculous feel of it."

Tsubaki:……I have mixed feelings about it. I'm glad it's being talked about, but still……(saddened).

Amano: During the dubbing process, the tension is so high, that it gives me alot of energy. In the recording room, everyone goes, "Hah! Hah!" (panting) for even the smallest action scenes. Recently, Tachibana's body has been falling apart to the point of hyperventilating due to the excessive panting (laughs).

"Have there ever been times during filming where you thought, "I really messed up big time!"?"

Amano & Tsubaki (at the same time): The snowy mountain scene in episode 3!

Amano: It was so cold that I couldn't move my mouth.

Tsubaki: My face was frozen. But, you can't tell just how hot or cold it is on when watching on the screen, so either way it's still bad.

"We'd like to thank you for all the hard work you go through when filming everyday."

Amano: Before that, I fell asleep for the first time on the Yamanote Line and circled it completely. I got on the train at Ikebukuro, then suddenly realized, I was back in Ikebukuro again. I looked at my watch and said, "Huh, I'm still here, so why is it so late?! Shit! I circled the line!" (laughs).

Tsubaki: I'd be totally fine with it if that happened to me.

"Would you consider yourself athletic and physically fit?"

Tsubaki: No, I'm just young.

Amano:……Would it be alright if I got upset? (laughs). He's not athletic at all! When we were at the snowy mountains, we all snowboarded together, but after like 2 or 3 times, he said, "I'm leaving. I'm tired. I'm sleepy." I was like, "Hey, hey, hold on, Blade!" (laughs).

"You really go at your own pace, don't you? Since you were young, have you always thought you were alittle different from other people?"

Tsubaki: By the time I realized it, people were already calling me weird. But, since we all start out by crawling, in a way, aren't we all weird?

Amano: Oh, that's pretty deep.

"Amano-san, what was your childhood like?"

Amano: I wanted to become independent as soon as possible, so I started looking for part time work by the time I was in my fourth and fifth year of elementary school. One of my friend's mother recommended becoming a child model as a way to earn money with ease, so I ended up joining an agency on my own. I've been in the entertainment world ever since then.

Tsubaki: I become easily emotional when I watch dramas, so….

"So you also wanted to inspire people?"

Tsubaki: (firmly) No, I just wanted to do it myself.

"How honest of you (laughs). Do you feel you're more likely to grow when receiving praise?" Tsubaki: I want to be criticized for my performance. I'm obviously still not good at it, so I need to be told these things in order to become better.

Amano: Well said, I can see just how serious you are (is impressed). I tend to get carried away when I receive praise. But, I also become discouraged when I'm criticized. It's like my weakness…..

"Finally, would you please give a message to the fans?"

Amano: Eh? Ah…(timid) please pay attention to how I grow in the future……

Tsubaki: Tachibana-san! You're the senior here!

Amano: Ah, you're right. We're all working very hard on this, so please continue to watch us!

Tsubaki: Please watch usss!!

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pagesfromthevoid · 1 month

Text

Enchanted | g.d. | 1

Gale Dekarios x fem!Tav

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: I have the entire series written and I am NOT sorry.

Talk to Me! | Series Masterlist

My undying love, now I hold it like a grudge,

And I hear your voice every time I think I’m not enough…

The first time Gale heard her voice, it was the very start of his isolation and seclusion in his tower.

At the time, it was a distant sound –something that sat in the background of his tower when the balcony doors were opened and he had half a mind to pay attention. Most of the day, he had been too absorbed in his self-loathing and hatred, thinking about everything that had gone wrong and led him to losing not only his title of Chosen, but losing what he considered the love of his life.

The circus had been in town all month at that point, but he had little interest in it even when he wasn’t a recluse. The bouts of magic and entertainment were too on the nose for him, and he had little interest in the acts that were geared towards the more easily distracted. But something about her voice that first evening caught his attention as he sat on his balcony, watching the ships leave the harbor.

The first time Gale heard her voice, he peered over to the circus, where a small crowd had gathered around a bard. He assumed she was a bard, at least –she had a lute, and she was singing. Not many people were around –certainly more interested in what was going on elsewhere in the circus –but she was still performing like it was her lifeline. The lights that surrounded her made it hard to make out any distinguishable features, though he supposed it didn’t matter what she looked like if he could hear her voice clear as day.

The arguments that I have won against you in my head,

In the shower, in the yard, and in the mirror before bed –

I’m so tough when I’m alone and I make you feel so guilty…

Much like him, it seemed, she was heartbroken over a love lost. It struck Gale as almost uncanny how closely the lyrics resonated with his own inner turmoil. He found himself wiping his eyes, moved by the poignant melody that seemed to mirror the depths of his own anguish. As he listened, the weight of his current struggles pressed heavily upon him – the pulsating presence of the Netherese orb beneath his skin, the sting of rejection from the one person who had once understood him better than anyone else. It puzzled him how this bard, a stranger to his own personal hells, could capture the essence of his emotions with such accuracy.

Gale couldn’t listen to her very long before he slammed shut the doors of his balcony and retreated into the darkness of his tower once more.

*****

The next time Gale heard her voice, it was when the circus returned the following year.

A whole year had passed since Mystra cast him from her favor; a whole year had passed since he was implanted with a ticking bomb in his chest; a whole year had passed since he last heard the bard in the circus, singing about her own heartbreak that felt so much like his that he sometimes thought back to her words and reminded himself that he did not need to hold a grudge.

The next time Gale heard her voice, he noticed that the crowd gathered around her was still just as modest as before, perhaps even smaller. The ambient lights continued to cast a glow over her, creating an aura that blurred her figure around the edges, resembling distant stars. Despite the dwindling audience, her voice carried a seasoned richness, hinting at a depth of experience and emotion that had matured since the last time he had heard her sing. Gale briefly wondered why she insisted on performing songs that failed to attract large crowds, yet simultaneously wondered if such trivial matters even registered on her radar. It struck him that perhaps, for her, the act of sharing her music was a personal journey rather than a quest for recognition or fame.

Looking back, I think the magic all along was me,

Cause I can’t help but look for the best in you.

But I can’t be in love with the things I just hope you do…

He wondered, once again, how she managed to reach into the depths of his very soul and tear out the feelings he also held. It was unlikely she was heartbroken over a god, but whatever had happened to cause her to write and sing about what she did –Gale was thankful that someone could put it into words, even if that someone was a bard whose name he didn’t even know.

Tonight, he did not slam the doors of his balcony when it got overwhelming. Instead, he sat and he listened, committing each word she sang to heart. He allowed the feelings to wash over him, to cry as he recalled the stupidity of his actions, to curse the folly of his own doing.

I can’t be in love with potential,

I can’t say it’s all circumstantial…

Maybe I should go away,

It’s your choice if you wanna change…

As the nights progressed –he started to keep track of what nights she was there and what nights she was not –Gale noticed a subtle shift within himself. At first, it was merely a passing interest, but gradually it grew into something more. With each performance by the bard, whose voice seemed to be laced with the Weave itself, he found himself captivated. He discovered a new sense of resonance with her music, each note laced with emotions he hadn't explored before. And it wasn't just the music that drew him; it was the sincerity in her voice, the passion in her lyrics, and the way she poured her soul into every performance.

Soon, Gale's evenings became synonymous with her songs, and he found comfort in her voice drifting up to his balcony. As he reflected on his feelings, he began to question the depth of his devotion to Mystra, realizing that perhaps his connection with the goddess wasn't as balanced as he once believed. Perhaps he was better off without Mystra to impress –even if the orb pulsed within him and demanded control.

*****

Showed you all of my hiding spots,

I was dancing when the music stopped…

And in the disbelief, I can’t face reinvention

I haven’t met the new me yet.

“Mr. Dekarios,” Tara announced one evening, having gone to retrieve something with a substantial amount of magic within it for him.

“Hello, Tara,” he greeted with a soft smile, sitting on his balcony with his eyes shut. The bard’s voice was drifting over him, and for the first time since he started paying attention, this song wasn’t nearly as bitter or sad.

“You seem almost…content,” the tressym commented, hopping up on the seat next to him. Gale opened his eyes, meeting her gaze as she scrutinized him. “I do hope that means you’ll leave this tower soon.”

“Perhaps,” he hummed, looking over his balcony and down towards where the crowd was gathering once more. Maybe he would join the crowd tomorrow, before she started. Finally put a face to the voice that he had listened to every night for the last three weeks.

Tara followed his gaze, hopping up now on the bannister of the balcony. She cocked her head to the side, eying the lights and people. “Have you been listening to her all night, Mr. Dekarios?”

He nodded once, standing up to join her on the balcony. Resting his arms on the ledge, Gale leaned over and watched as more people gathered around his bard –well, not his bard, but the bard –and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy that they got to see her up close. But at the same time, he was happy for her; she was getting the attention she deserved.

There’ll be happiness after you

But there was happiness because of you.

Both of these things can be true…

“I’ve been listening to her every night, actually,” he admitted with a soft chuckle, feeling his ears burn with mild embarrassment. “I…She’s a lovely singer, that’s all.”

Tara simply eyed him for a moment before returning her attention to the bard below. “She talks to herself quite a bit when she’s not singing.”

Gale’s attention snapped back to Tara, brow furrowing. “How do you know that?”

“She feeds the strays –who am I to pass up a free meal, Mr. Dekarios?”

“Tara,” he scolded, rolling his eyes. “You are not a stray; more importantly, you’ve met her?”

“Poor thing thinks I’m just a cat with wings, but yes, I have spent time with her. Very polite, a bit sad. I suppose I could introduce you –,”

“Please,” he quickly interrupted, standing up straight. “Tomorrow, we’ll go tomorrow.”

Tara seemed surprised by his sudden want to leave the tower, however there would be no complaining from her. Gale leaned over the bannister once more, looking down at the crowd that finally settled in to listen to her sing.

No one teaches you what to do

When a good man hurts you,

And you know you hurt him too…

*****

Stepping out of his tower for the first time in a year, Gale had to pause in the doorway to brace himself for it. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to leave; actually, on the contrary –for the first time in a year, he felt confident enough to step outside and not blow anyone up. But he was overwhelmed by the familiar sights and smells of his beloved Waterdeep and it took him a moment to get his bearings again. Tara strolled beside him, however, reminding him that it was okay.

He was more thankful for that than she would ever know.

It wasn’t a long walk to where the circus had set up for the month, but he took his time, enjoying the sun and the salty breeze that tousled his hair. It had been too long, and if he was going to go confess to the mysterious bard that was below his balcony that he was enchanted by her, then he needed to take his time and get a little more confident in himself.

With Tara leading the way, Gale smiled and waved at neighbors who greeted him happily. It was a nice reminder that perhaps he wasn’t all that alone, even if he was destined to be consumed. He hummed one of her songs to himself, unable to help the smile that was spreading over his face as they finally stood at the gates of the –

Empty circus grounds.

The wizard and tressym stopped short, staring at the torn down tents and remaining pieces of equipment that were being loaded up into a cart. It was a handful of stage hands that were left –it seemed the main performers had taken their leave already.

“No, no, no,” Gale panicked, pushing through the gates and hurrying up to a kobold that was packing up his inventory. “Where is everyone? I thought –the circus –,”

The kobold looked up at him with shifty eyes, pointing around in random directions. “Circus is gone, I is packing up my treatos and getting on road. You want treato? I has lots, treatos make you feel better!”

“What? No, I don’t want –the bard –the girl, who sings. Is she still here?”

“Lots of bards, lots of singing –I is not knowing which one.”

Gale groaned, raking his hand through his hair in frustration. Tara huffed in annoyance, interrupting. “The one that feeds the strays, Popper.”

“Oh!” Popper –apparently –exclaimed. “Favorite human. Very nice. She leave this morning, with bendy friend.”

For a moment, he simply stared down at the kobold with unseeing eyes.

The circus was gone and so were his chances of finally laying eyes on his bard.

“Can you…will you pass along a message to her, Popper?” He finally asked, looking around the mess of the kobold’s shop before finding relatively clean parchment and a quill. He scribbled out something quickly, then waved his hand to ensure the ink dried. With a couple pieces of gold and the parchment, he held it out to Popper, who snatched both up with a frantic nod.

*****

“Oh hello, Popper,” she greeted with a small smile when they made it to their next city.

Popper was setting up a series of very clearly stolen –and slightly bloody –weapons he must have knicked off some bodies on the way. He spun around with a hop, throwing his arms up in excitement.

“Tayve! I has treato for you!”

“Is that so?” She raised a brow and knelt in front of him, smiling softly. “And it’s Tav, Popper. You’ll get it one day.”

Popper waved off her correction, yanking out a wrinkled piece of parchment and shoving it into her hands. “From man in last town. Gave me lots of gold to deliver.”

Tav’s brow furrowed a bit as she uncrumpled the note, looking it over for a moment. It was a poem, she thought, as she read it over. But no name was signed.

The lingering question kept me up

2 AM, who do you love?

I wondered till I'm wide awake

Now I'm pacing back and forth,

wishing you were at my door

I'd open up and you would say

It was enchanting to meet you.

Your singing saved me. I wish I could have told you in person.

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale dekarios x reader #gale of waterdeep x reader #gale x tav #gale dekarios x tav #gale of waterdeep x tav

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cinnamonest · 1 year

Note

If you’re still open for character interactions prompts, could I ask for Ayato + “Ayato, i’m so sorry to ask for such a shameful thing but… There’s been weird stuff happening around lately and it’s scaring me. Could I please stay with you for a while, until things calm down? I’m so sorry to bother you like this, I hope you’ll forgive me…” ? Thank you a lot <3

Ahhhhh I love this, ty anon

//Yandere themes, gang stalking

----

“…This is the first time you've mentioned this to me.” His eyebrows raised. He set his cup back down on the table. “Care to elaborate?”

You shifted in your place on the floor, tightening your grip on your own cup, holding it firmly against the low table. You shifted your gaze downward, rather than where he sat on the opposite side.

You had been waiting to ask, but you felt rather guilty about doing so. After all, he was the one who had graciously invited you here for tea, and you had accepted as you always did, only this time to make such a burdensome request of him… you swallowed.

“It’s… it’s really dumb, really, I’m probably just being paranoid—”

“I insist.” His voice was firm, but not angered, more of a concern in his tone. “Your face makes it obvious that you’re worried. You wouldn’t be so much so if it was completely unfounded.” After a moment, he added, “if it is just paranoia, you know I would be honest with you and tell you so. Perhaps I can help you understand the situation better?”

You bit your lip, looking around the room. Expensive-looking furniture and décor lined the walls, the floor. Even the table you rested your arms against had an ornate design carved into the sides, a fine polished finish on the top.

Being at the estate always made you feel slightly uncomfortable for that reason, you felt almost nervous being around so many expensive things, you felt out of place… but you’d gotten used to it over time. Still, it reminded you of how important he was, and thus bothering him with what you figured to be trivial issues in your own life (at least compared to the significance of the matters he dealt with on a daily basis) made you feel that much more reluctant to bring it up.

Still, you were truly quite frightened by the matter, so you forced the words out of your mouth anyway.

“I just…” you fidgeted, shifting the position of your calves as you sat on them, “I’ve noticed over the past few months that… I keep feeling like there are people following me around,” you started, stumbling over exactly how to word it. “More than one person, too… I don’t know. I feel like I keep seeing the same faces over and over and notice people walking the same way as me for a long time… the thing is, when I make eye contact with them, they always dart away. I dunno, that especially seemed... strange."

He was quiet for a moment. You couldn’t quite read his expression. He didn’t show any outward emotion in particular, but his eyebrows seemed to furrow slightly, he sat more upright, fingers drumming against the cup. He appeared to be thinking seriously about your words.

“If you’ve noticed it this frequently, it’s likely serious,” he replied, after a moment of quiet. “That sounds perfectly reasonable to be concerned over, in my opinion."

“N-no, I don’t…” You shook your head. “I don’t know. I’m probably being paranoid and convincing myself of it... why would there be people spying on me anyway? It would be one thing if it was one person, but…” You inhaled, and sighed. “I can’t think of any reason multiple people would follow me. I’m not involved in politics like you or anything.”

“…Yes, that’s true.” He leaned back, tilting his gaze to the wall. His eyebrows furrowed further, and he sighed, almost with a frustration to it. With his next words, his voice took on a hint of irritation. “If assigned to watch you without being noticed, it sounds as though the individuals in question are perhaps not performing their job very well.”

There was a quiet that followed. The sentence felt like an odd choice of response, and the tone bizarre for such a thing to say. It thus threw you off, leaving you unable to form a reply. You merely looked at him for a moment at you thought through it. "You think it's like... their job to watch me?"

His gaze flickered over to you, and seeing the expression on your face, he seemed to go rigid, quickly straightening his posture, tilting his head downward and giving one shake of the head back and forth. “Just one possibility… but never mind that.” He looked back up at you, eyes directly meeting yours. “You really should not have waited for me to invite you over to tell me about this.” He leaned back just a bit, releasing his grip from his cup, hands intertwined and resting on the table. “In truth, I’m a bit bothered to know that you would delay telling me this. You should have come to me as soon as you had this suspicion.”

You felt a twinge of guilt and distress at the tone of his voice. He always managed to maintain a certain calm, dignified tone of voice, but you could hear the frustration in it, even if restrained. “O-oh, I’m sorry. I just…” You averted your gaze, looking everywhere but at him. “I didn’t want to bother you. I know you’re busy.”

He shook his head. “I’m never so busy that your safety would not take priority. I would prefer it if you prioritized your safety as well. Don't be careless."

You swallowed, quickly nodding. "Y-yes, you're right... I will." Although the answer seemed obvious now, you reiterated your original question. “So… that’s a yes, then? I can stay here?”

He blinked, eyebrows raising as he realized he’d momentarily forgotten the question itself. “Ah, apologies,” he closed his eyes for a brief moment. “I got caught up in talking about the matter.” He smiled, that pleasant, soft smile of his that always felt so reassuring. “Of course. You don’t need a reason to stay here, you know. You’re always welcome.”

“Thank you! Thank you, I…” You closed your eyes, letting out a deep exhale of relief. “I… well, thank you for the tea, too, but I should probably go get my things. I didn’t bring anything with me because I just… wasn’t sure if—"

“No need.” His response was immediate. “I will send someone to collect them for you. It’s already nearly sundown. I don’t want you walking out there, given everything you’ve told me.” He paused, and then, in a quieter, lower tone, added, “…besides, I need to have a talk with some of the Shuumatsuban anyhow. I’ll see to it that they take care of that as well.”

You felt guilty for imposing such a burden, but you nodded your head. You knew he would insist upon it if you tried to refuse. “Thank you, Lord Kam…” you trailed off as his expression changed – a raised eyebrow, a soft smile of amusement. You remembered how many times you’d been over the matter now. “Ayato,” you corrected yourself, flashing a sheepish smile. It still felt almost wrong to your tongue, no matter how much he insisted, to be so casual with someone of his social hierarchal standing.

He merely chuckled, seeming to find it endearing. A few moments passed in silence. He stared down at the cup in his hands, grin slowly fading, eyes falling half-lidded. After taking a deep breath, and taking a moment to tuck a tuft of hair behind his ear, he abruptly stood.

“If you’re done, just leave everything on the table. I’ll send someone to clean up. Please, make yourself at home." He smiled at you once more, although this time, it seemed just a touch forced. "I’ll send someone to show you to a guest room in just a moment as well. And be sure have your keys on hand to give to them, they'll need it to get into your residence."

His voice was pleasant, amiable, and yet, there was a faint coldness to it, as if rushing things. You supposed he was truly worried, which was sweet, you thought. You still felt guilty about it all.

He took a few steps towards the door, sliding it open, but paused before exiting. He turned his head back towards you.

“You know, if you want to move here permanently, that is also an option that I would be happy to offer to you. This whole estate is very well-guarded. It’s far safer than the city.”

Your eyes widened. The statement, such a generous offer, caught you off-guard. “Oh, no, I… I could never ask you to—”

“Really. It’s no trouble. It would be quite reassuring for me to know you’re safe.” He waited a moment, but seemed to understand from your bewildered expression that you would not be formulating a response for the moment. He closed his eyes pensively for a moment, before opening them again to look at you once more. “Well, I’ll let you think it over. Someone will be by in just a minute, so, wait here for now.”

You gave an awkward smile. “Oh, ah… alright. Thank you.”

He only nodded, saying nothing more before exiting the room, leaving you alone in the quiet. For some reason, despite the reassurance, you still felt a faint hint of unease in the back of your mind… you concerns must have just bothered you more than you’d realized.

#methinks I will tag these from now on even though theyre kinda short #yandere genshin impact #yandere ayato #rip poor shuumatsuban boutta get chewed out 😔#.ay

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wachtelspinat · 2 months

Note

Heya~

I often find it very difficult to find the right words, so I apologize in advance if any of what I have to say sounds dry or wrong, but I write it from the heart, I promise🧡

I know how you feel now and how much you get lost when that realization comes along. I learn art all my life, but I don’t succeed anywhere. No matter how long I try to do it, I still keep thinking “well I’m not good enough”. To be honest it scares the shit out of me every day, because if I’ll give up here… well there’s nothing I can do for life than. When I was in school, I was desperately clung to every fandom I had as my last hope to get rid of bad thoughts and I found those two silly characters that stole my heart immediately so of course it’s weird to say but since then Overwatch has become my “home”. It was not the perfect game but it was fun until Ow2 was released. Even if my love for OW is died, I understood that Junkrat and Roadhog took a much more bigger part in my live that I could ever imagine. I thought it was stupid, like come on that’s just a characters from the old and dead game but it turns out they’re not just characters, but in a way, my family or friends that helped me go through a lot of dark times, so it’s okey to love them deeply even if they are not real~

I always wondered, why do I make art? Is it what I really like and enjoy? Is it cost all the struggles and tears? But I found you and I fall in love with your arts immediately. I could have a really bad day in university but then I remember how I just go to your page to rewatch, for only gods knows how many times, your works. I love everything about them, how you can build a perfect shape with just one line, how many expressions and ideas your works have. Your knowledge of the anatomy is just… freaking olympic🤌🏻✨ you gave me the second breath in my path of an artist because looking at your works I was wondering if I ever be able to achieve such a high level and here I’m speaking not only about arts with Junkrat and Roadhog, I speak about every single one that I could find🧡 and I understood that art in general have much much more power in it that anyone thinks. It gives hope, inspiration, safety, emotions and so on~ even without knowing it, you can make another person’s life a little better.

All I wanted to say is - you are a fantastic person, highly talented and hard working. I’m sure everyone who follows your work will support every of your decision. I just wanted to say a big thank you from myself personally for everything you do🧡

hey ! i'm really sorry that it took me so long to respond, last week was just hell on earth. the sheer amount of words you put into this hit me right in the heart, and what you said made me tear up even more.

having a really hard time here to form my words, not only because my brain feels so fried, but because your ask is so sincere and i don't think i can possibly thank you enough. it's so weird, there is this constant battle in my head that everything is futile and trivial and i'm having a hard time seeing some kind of point behind my actions (not only art related). on the other hand, i know that WE give meaning to something. that it's the small things that tends to move mountains. i don't know if i'm making any sense here. point is. by telling me that - in my opinion - my irrelevant art has given you sth, if it's just a smile, new energy to try sth yourself, inspiration... you are shaking my world. and i'm grateful for that in a way i cannot describe.

and seriously, i don't know why we make art. because as you mentioned yourself it is always connected with doubts and despair. before i entered graphic design school back when i was super young i thought drawing was me. the one integral part that made me so ~special~. just to learn that a bunch of people draw, all around the world, and they often draw even better than i could ever achieve! in the last months of being in university i relied a lot on defining myself through my art again. because it immensely helped with my self-concept when everything around me just felt like i wasn't good enough. i'm kind of re-learning again that doing art is not the one thing that defines me. because i tend to heavily lean into that. it is after all the one thing i actually like about myself.

so yeah, thank you so much for reaching out. i love your art and the love you put into it, so i'm hoping that - despite the struggles we all share while being creative - you continue to draw, as so will i <3

(and junkrat and roadhog, man... yeah they're not just characters, they stopped being just characters from a game a long time ago for me. i know i'm a broken record at this point BUT their codependency and independency, the balance between grit and gross and sweet and off-kilter, sweat, tears, blood and some ice-cream on the side, begrudging and thankful - it seems stupid to me too because i know most people just see these comic relief mad max rip-offs but every time i think about their dynamics and some of the stories i've read in fan works it grips my heart and i think "holy shit i love them so. much." - i'm still not done drawing them by a long shot i think, it just feels like i've reached a dead end of some kind? because with little time at hand and even less energy left i struggle to form my thoughts into drawings. but i'm working on that. i'm working on doing some kind of tribute, like a zine with my art from 2016 up to today and some more stuff i've yet to draw (had this idea since 2022 and i've just recently learned SO MUCH about zine making and printing and i finally started putting the first files together). because that feels right, like a proper "here look at this i hope this explains why i love them so much")

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prettyrealm · 10 months

Text

ateez san mini personality reading

positives + negatives edition updated!

this reading is a paid commission, a buyer asked if I could update this reading! please know you can always commission readings that have already been done as time as passed and things may have changed, or if you would just like to see what else may come up. you can read the original here! thank you so much for trusting in me! <3

+ positives

he does pretty well under pressure (or maybe he can just put on a brave face) but either way, i think it may take a lot to make him crack publicly if he doesn’t want to, mentally resilient, he has a very realistic life approach, which in turn leads to him usually following through and doing the things he says he’s going to do because he knows he has the determination and tools to make them in reach, imaginative & full of ideas (i think his mind moves pretty fast), intelligent, authoritative, very ambitious and a pretty tough rival because of this, can be very loving and nurturing to those he holds dear - giving unselfishly whether this be knowledge, emotional support or material items, may also be the type to lend others a hand anonymously, makes a conscious effort to not be too logical or emotional - tries to be fair, has a very strong code of ethics or moral code, good at things due to willpower and determination (he probably is an all rounder in some sense, he wants to be able to do it all), forgiving, humorous, devoted and always trying to learn more/keep his mind open - he may see himself as a life long student.

- negatives

suspicious and distrusting of others - hard to get close to, very controlling and wants things done his way (he can be very consuming in this sense), hard to get in contact with, uses his immense charm for bad - very flirty with women and may lead them on without much feeling (like being super nice to someone, sleeping with them once, and then immediately ghosting), is constantly trying to help fix and improve others lives (even if they find it overbearing or inappropriate) even to the point that he doesn’t check on himself or isn’t fully aware of problems he may be dealing with mentally/physically, gossipy, makes connections and forged alliances purely for personal gain, can stand for or advocate for things he doesn’t believe in to make himself look better or put him a better position financially - too career oriented, moody and can be pretty harsh when he lashes out, can be egocentric, delusional about his abilities and arrogant about his way of life (“my way of living is the best way” or like thinking everyone is chasing toxic or trivial things but him)

#tarot #kpop tarot #kpop #kpop readings #celebrity tarot reading #celebrity tarot #mini personality reading #san #ateez #commission #piano tarot

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lilac-5ky · 2 years

Note

Heyyyy😏 can you write something for Gintoki where you get in an argument with him (cause he’s a jerk) and then he says something so back handed to you (cause he’s a jerk) and you just walk of and like cry or sumn cause it hurt so much and he just tries to apologize and it gets a little emotional idk I just need something that’ll hurt me a little bit 😔😣

A/N: Hi! I feel like Gintoki is more likely to apologize through his action than his words, and so his apology is mostly done than said :p Not sure if this is super angsty, but I hope it's good enough!

Plot: Gin being a piece of shit who never cleans and upsets poor innocent reader with his attitude.

Warning: Gets a bit suggestive with language and some minor angst ig?

Arguing with Gintoki (x Fem!Reader)

(just look at him being disgusting and cute.)

There are many reasons for one to pick a fight with Gintoki. Be it Otose arguing with him over rent delays, or Kagura and Shinpachi demanding their pay, there’s always someone at odds with the Odd Jobs’ boss.

However, when it came down to you, perhaps you had an easier time letting things slip. You’d stayed around long enough to get acclimated to all those wacky situations Gintoki involved himself in, as well as his hectic and lazy persona.

At this point, you’d earned yourself the nickname “saint” from his peers, considering how you seemed to be the only one with enough patience to put up with him. But even a saint’s patience has its limits.

When you walked into Yorouzya on a day like any other, finding an absolute war-zone where his couch once stood, not even that Buddha’s patience of yours was enough to shield your faint heart.

No way in hell would you willingly pick up his dirty underwear off the fan, or clean after the millions of empty takeout boxes residing under the kotatsu (just how much food can a person consume overnight?!), while Gintoki remained idly picking on his nose like a primadonna. This had to end.

“Gin,” you asked in a near pleading tone that went unnoticed.

“Gin?” Your second attempt was too ignored, his attention monopolized by the weather girl inside the little black screen.

Frustrated beyond compare, you threw about the first object your hands could find onto his head, leaving him with no other choice but to face you. The noodle box ended up landing like a party hat, with a string of curry dropping down his forehead. He sported a somewhat disturbed look, though that wasn’t enough to prevent him from turning back to the tv the second the noodle box fell to the floor.

“Gin!” Unable to contain your temper, you jumped to block his view.

“Huh? Y/N?” Gintoki queried as if he wasn’t even aware of your presence in prior, something that only added fuel to the fire. “What are you doing here?”

“Not cleaning your mess, that’s for sure. What’s this?” You paused to point at the underwear and then his leftovers. “And this? Who’s going to clean all this?”

“Quit nagging, it’s not even 12.” He yawned, stretching his limbs across the couch. “Kagura will probably feed them to Sadaharu, or Tama will pass by later. Just leave them be.”

You couldn’t believe in your eyes, or rather your ears. How could someone this irresponsible be running a business, when this was the kind of reception he had in store for any poor soul that dared walk in? It wasn’t as if Yorozuya was ever the pantheon of work ethics to begin with, but this was too much even for him. Feeding the trash to the dog, just what was he thinking?

“Are you for real? Why would…? Who would… ?” One unfinished sentence followed the other while you struggled to find the right words. “Nevermind. It’s no wonder no one sets foot in here nowadays. Only an idiot would choose another hare-brained idiot to handle their job for them.” You spat bitterly.

“Then I guess that makes you into an even greater idiot, Y/N. Or else you wouldn’t be showing at my doorstep to bitch about something this trivial, especially when it’s none of your concern.” He followed in the same tone, bringing the already heavy atmosphere even further down.

“It’s none of my concern whether my boyfriend’s house reeks like a dumpster? Or whether it gets infested with cockroaches? Then whose is it?” You crossed your arms over your chest. “You know, since I too spend the night here from time to time, I would appreciate if the smell of soured ramen didn’t have to compete with that of your underwear.”

Gintoki sighed in response, lazily combing through his disheveled hair with one hand. You’d always been fond of that scruffy appearance of his, but right now, all it did was add more fuel to the fire, providing you with yet another reason to stay mad at his disposition.

“And do something about your appearance already! It looks as if a crow nested in there!”

“Oi, Y/N. Is it that day of the month? I don’t remember you being such an overbearing control freak.”

“I don’t remember you being such a bum.” You argued back.

“If I’m such a bum then why do you insist on coming here?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t.”

The lack of sound succeeding your heated exchange was perhaps even more disturbing than the argument itself. You got so caught up in talking back to him, that before you knew it, such regrettable words came pouring out your mouth.

“What are you standing here for?” Gintoki asked, his otherwise dead fish eyes now beaming with resentment. “The door is right there. Leave.”

Was this really… it? Was he about to forsake everything the two of you had come to be over a silly argument?

With your questions unanswered and your steps heavier than before, you paced outside Yorozuya. This definitely wasn’t the kind of time you’d hoped to spend over at his place. Part of you expected to hear his voice a final time, to receive the affirmation that this was nothing but a silly lover’s quarrel, though silence came to be your sole companion. Silence, and whatever this gut wrenching emotion was.

Little by little, you felt the oxygen within your lungs igniting you whole, slowly burning at your fuse until you couldn’t go on anymore. Crouched near the ground, all you could do was bawl right outside Otose’s bar, meekly hoping that no one was around to notice your muffled cries.

Was it frustration or was it hurt? You couldn’t tell. The only thing you knew was that this was the first time you’d ever felt such uncertainty. Shoes of different color stopped before you, each pair belonging to yet another passerby who felt entitled to shoot his look of pity your way, but not entitled enough to pry any further, to approach any closer.

It was your fault. If only you’d kept your mouth shut, then nothing would have happened. Gintoki wouldn’t get annoyed, he wouldn’t raise his voice, he wouldn’t dare say such horrible things, and he…you…

No. It was his fault for being this messy and unjust. Even if you were a bit too harsh, you acted out of genuine concern. You had no intention to watch as he festered within the four rusty walls of his house. Gintoki had always been the kind to take care of everyone, but when it came down to his own self, he seldom bothered to lift a finger.

What others attributed as mere laziness, you knew better. It was almost as if by wallowing in such unspoken misery, he was atoning for something. As if he was repenting for past sins only he knew of. Either way, his disregard for his own well-being showed in every single aspect of his lifestyle. From the sorry state of his house, to his own unkempt appearance.

You remembered of the first time you met Gin. You recalled thinking how despite his exterior, he bore resemblance to a mirror. A blurred, borderline shattered glass, be it one that let you see an image of yourself clearer than any you’d seen before. The good with the bad, the beauty and the ugliness, the flaws and the imperfections. Everything that made you into who you were was right there, delving in those maroon eyes of his.

Perhaps Gintoki was never meant to shine on his own. Perhaps his strength lied in making others shine brightest, in reflecting not the image you longed to see, but the one closest to reality.

You liked yourself when you were with him. You felt certain and grounded at the same time. That should you ever lose your way, one look at him would be enough to guide you back. You liked that, but more importantly, you liked him. That silver gleam of his was what made you fall for him in the first place.

He was right. You were overbearing and overzealous and butted in his business without thinking twice, and that was precisely why you wouldn’t give up on him. No matter what it took, you’d never quit clearing his soul off the distortions haunting it. Not before making sure that the man known as Sakata Gintoki would never grow dim, that was.

And so, you wiped the tears with the back of your hand and rose to your feet. One by one, you climbed the steps to Yorozuya all the way to the top where you stood still. What would you say to him? Apologies were never your forte and neither his. Showing up to clean his apartment as if you were part of a clean-up crew didn’t seem like a great idea either, especially when one considered the nature of your argument. What if he pushed you away again? What if he demanded that you leave?

No. No, even if he did that, there was no way you’d run. It didn’t matter if he called you names, if he dragged you outside or any of these things, really. You’d made up your mind to clean after his own mess for however long he needed you to. Until he learned to do it for himself. Until he was forced to get a real look at who he really was. That self destruction bullshit of his had to end.

Before you had the chance to contemplate any longer, the door went wide open with Gintoki appearing on the other side, evidently taken aback by your sudden reappearance.

“I-” You said in unison, each stopping at the other’s interruption.

“You-“Another failed attempt.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to blurt out everything without giving him the chance to cut in a third time. Here goes nothing.

“I’m sorry for acting like an evil mother-in-law and yelling at you the way I did. You are right, I am an overbearing control freak, but I never meant to criticize you. I felt as if that was the only way to make you listen, and I honestly can’t stand to see you living life in a swap because, Gintoki, to me you are someone very important and I only want to see you thrive. Why are you so unkind towards your own self? No matter what happened in the past, you shouldn’t let it bring you down.”

You took a short pause. Perhaps giving him a lecture about past trauma would only get him to retreat further in his shell.

“My point is, I don’t intend to stop bitching at you. Whether you like it or not, I’ll keep interfering in your business, until you stop doing yourself injustice. So please, accept my earnest concern and, for the love of god, allow me to clean your house.”

Your outburst imposed a bemused expression on his face, one that was quickly replaced by a forced snort.

“What are you talking about?” Gin leaned against the frame with his index lazily poking past the shell of his ear. “I don’t recall you paying any visits whatsoever.”

“Wait- what?”

“You play weird pranks, Y/N. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed? Or is this a dream you are talking about?”

It was your turn to be dumbfounded. Was this a joke or was he simply going to act as if the whole incident never occurred in the first place?

“Why are you looking at me like that? Did I grow an extra set of balls on my forehead?” He asked, patting down his head.

You brushed his comment off, unsure of what to say next. The mood had completely shifted with Gin returning to his usual “charming” self, something over which you were truthfully thankful. Of course his throwing you out meant nothing. After all, this was nothing but a silly lover’s quarrel.

“No… but looks like your wish is granted.” You jested, removing a noodle that was dangling between silver strands of hair. “It’s finally straightening up.”

Gintoki frowned, looking away while you chuckled.

“If you have the time to be running your mouth, come in already.” He mumbled before scooting to the side.

Upon entering the hallway, the first thing to catch your attention was the scent. It smelled like primrose and magnolia, the sweet vanilla essence completely taking over the foul odor previously emitted by his living room. Did someone visit him while you were gone, or did he actually douse it with perfume?

As the two of you progressed to the living room, your surprise only increased, to the point of making you wonder whether you’d entered the wrong building. Rather than encounterig the same chaos you did earlier, you found a spotless table and an even more spotless couch. The noodle boxes, the plastic cutlery, even the half torn underwear; they had all disappeared.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d place your bet on a second Amanto invasion happening, but the moment you took notice in the half concealed mop lurking between the closet’s folds, there was no doubt anymore. He had cleaned. Gintoki had actually cleaned!

“Gin…” His name was cut in half by a sole sob.

“What are you crying for?” He asked, genuinely confused by your reaction.

“I can’t believe you did such a thing.” You went on, feeling truly grateful. “Everything is squeaky clean!”

Perhaps Gintoki sucked at apologies, but when it came to making things right, he never failed to impress. He always knew exactly what to do. A push was all he needed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gintoki said as he approached you from behind. “It’s always clean around here.”

You were about to object to that, when you felt a pair of arms snaking around your waist, pulling you closer for him to press his body against yours. Instinctively, you looked up at him, the look in his eyes indicating he was up to no good.

“But if cleanliness is not what you want, I know of a way to make things dirty again.”

On second thought, a bit of disarray never hurt.

#gintoki imagine #gintoki oneshot #gin oneshot #gin imagine #gintama #gintama oneshot #gintama fanfiction #gintama imagine #anon requests #gintoki x reader #gin x reader #sakata gintoki #gintoki sakata #gintoki angst #gin angst #gintama angst

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angelasscribbles · 1 year

Text

Change of Plans

Series: None, this is a one-shot and you can find those here.

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Riley x Drake

Rating: Teen

Warnings for this chapter: None

Word Count: 1,900

A/N: For those who aren't familiar with my TRR stuff, I always make Drake a captain in the royal guard. This is a one-shot AU where Drake goes after her to the airport the night of the coronation.

My submission for @choicesprompts

My other stuff: Master List.

“I didn’t mean it like that!”

“How did you mean it then?”

“You know…in a good way!”

“In what universe could what you just said be construed in a good way?”

They stood facing each other, hearts pounding, chests heaving with emotion.

Neither wanted to be the first to admit their feelings to the other.

“I’m leaving!”

“Wait! Please don’t! I….I’m ready to tell you the truth!”

Riley spun back toward Drake in the middle of the airport concourse, fury snapping in her eyes, arms folded across her chest, “What could you possibly have to say to follow that?”

If looks could kill, he’d be dead, resurrected, and killed again. She was mad. More than mad. She was furious and from the look in her eyes, out for blood. His.

But as afraid as he was to admit the truth to her, he was more afraid that if he let her walk away and get on that plane, she’d walk right out of his life forever and he’d never see her again.

“Okay, first of all,” he held his hands out in front of him in the universal gesture of surrender, “I would like a chance to rephrase that last statement! Please!”

“What’s there to say, Drake? You literally just said I told you so and insinuated that I’m not good enough to be here! As if any of what just happened was my fault! You of all people know the truth about what really happened that night!” She hated herself for the tears that swam in her eyes. She didn’t want him to think he’d made her sad when really they were angry tears, hot and bitter.

“No…” he shook his head slowly but resolutely, “When I said that I tried to warn you about what it was like here, that wasn’t an I told you so…okay, maybe it was but not in a mean way!”

“What other way is there to take that?”

“In an ‘I’m sorry you’re going through this’ kind of way!”

“And the rest of it?”

He drew in a deep, steadying breath before replying, “When I said that you didn’t belong here, I meant there, the palace, specifically, not here in Cordonia.”

“What’s the difference?” She snapped.

“There’s a huge difference, Riley! I didn’t mean that you weren’t good enough for them! I meant that they aren’t good enough for you!”

“What do you mean?” She sniffled, the flames of anger banked, but ready to flare again if he said the wrong thing.

“I mean….” He lowered his hands and chanced a step toward her, “You’re kind and you’re real, and that’s the opposite of what those stuck-up, entitled jackasses that hang around the palace just to kiss Liam’s ass are!”

“Yeah?” she asked, slightly mollified.

“Yeah,” he affirmed, taking another step toward her and reaching out to touch her face, “And your smart and funny and a bad ass at trivial pursuit and you’re the only person I know that can get Max to act right! I mean, you’re fucking amazing is what you are!”

She felt a flush creep up the back of her neck as her face flamed with heat, “What was that truth you were ready to tell me?”

Before he could answer, they were interpreted by a guardsman stepping forward and reaching for her arm, “Time to go!”

Drake moved between them and pushed Riley behind him, “She’s not going anywhere!”

“But, sir-“

“Lay a hand on her at your peril Lieutenant.”

“But my orders-“

“What were your orders exactly and where did they come from?”

“From my commanding officer, sir, Bastien Lykel. My orders were to remove her from the premises and escort her to the airport.”

“Which you’ve done,” Drake said through clenched teeth, “So you can go. I’ll take it from here.”

“Sir? I-“

“Dismissed, soldier!”

“Yes, Captain!” The man gave Riley a quick nod then turned on his heel and motioned to the other guard that had brought her to the airport.

As she watched them leave, she softly told him, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, it was nothing,” his face pinkened as he rubbed the back of his neck, “you’re welcome.”

“How did you get here so fast?”

“Well, when I couldn’t catch the car they put you in, I ran all the way back to the damn garages to get my bike and then exceeded every posted speed limit on the way here.”

“Why?”

“Why?” his eyes widened in astonishment, “To get to you before they put you on that fucking plane!”

“But why?” She asked again, her eyes darting back and forth between his face and the floor.

He blew out a nervous breath. He said he was ready to tell her the truth and here it was…the moment of truth. “Because I….because I like you, Riley! And I mean like you, like you…and I would have chased you all the way across the goddamn ocean if I had to!”

Happiness brimmed up in her heart, “You like me?”

“Yes, okay? I like you! I know I don’t show it most of the time but-“

A smile broke out across her face, “I like you too!”

His eyes snapped to her face, “You do?”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded happily, biting into her lower lip.

“There you are!”

Riley and Drake both turned toward the voice to find Max and Bertrand hurrying through the terminal in their direction.

Max swept her into a hug while Bertrand held back. After a brief conversation about what had actually happened the night Tariq came into her room, Bertrand laid out his plan for her to go with them to Ramsford, learn all the ins and outs of court and join Liam and Madeliene’s engagement tour.

“So you’re coming home with us,” Bertrand finished as he motioned toward the exit.

“The hell she is!” Drake barked as he took her arm and pulled her to him. Then he looked down at her and lowered his voice several decibels as he said, “Unless you want to go back to Ramsford and take princess lessons and do all the rest of that shit he just said.”

She shook her head, unable to hold back her smile as she laced her fingers through his, “No. I’d rather go with you! But I don’t think I can go back to the palace right now-“

“No need. I have a cabin in the woods on Lake Kenna we can stay at…I mean, if you want to that is…”

“Yes!” She answered quickly, “I want to!”

“Good!” He squeezed her hand and pulled her toward the exit, “Max, could you grab her bags? I can’t fit those on the back of my bike. You can drop them off at my place or we can come to Ramsford to pick them up tomorrow after I go back and get my car.”

“Yes!” Max agreed, “I’m so excited for you two! I knew it! I told you he liked you back!” Max squealed.

“But….” Bertrand spluttered as he hurried to keep up with them, “how are you going to win Liam back if you don’t come with us and go on the engagement tour?”

“Who says I want to win Liam back?”

“I…oh…what’s happening?”

“I’m sorry, Bertrand,” she turned to face him as they stopped on the walkway outside the terminal. “I know I came here to see if there was any real chance with Liam and I know this isn’t how you wanted things to end, but there wasn’t a real chance, that spark fizzled and died. I developed feelings for someone else.”

“Who?” He demanded before his fell to their clasped hands, “Oh….OH! Drake? Really?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Drake huffed, “It’s insulting.”

“Well, I for one am happy for you both!” Max dropped her suitcases on the cement walkway so he could hug her again.

“Don’t hug me, Beaumont,” Drake warned as Max turned toward him with a grin.

“Fine,” Max’s face never lost the expression of pure gloating joy, “but I knew it! You were so fucking obvious, Drake!”

Drake looked away from the group and pushed out a breath of surprise before turning his head back to Riley, “Was I?”

“Little bit.”

“Well, it wasn’t obvious to me!” Bertrand protested, “How long has this been going on?”

“He kissed me in your study the night before the Beaumont Bash,” Riley answered.

Drake’s eyebrows raised, “Um…who kissed who, precisely?”

“Ok, Walker, I’ll give you that one, but you definitely kissed me earlier tonight, just before the coronation,” she said, her voice full of vindicated satisfaction.

“You….what?” Bertrand was spluttering again, “You….you kissed one of the king’s suitors minutes before she could have become your queen? What…what is wrong with you, man? What were you thinking?”

Drake surprised himself by not being embarrassed at the sappy grin that spread across his face, “I was thinking that if she was about to be engaged to my best friend, it was my last chance to kiss her and that I’d be a damned fool if I didn’t take it! And I stand by that.”

He turned his body into hers and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in close as his head dipped down to capture her lips with his.

Riley tipped her head back and leaned into him, returning his kiss with heat, fire, and passion, oblivious to strangers scurrying past, Bertrand’s scandalized gasp, and Max doing a happy dance next to them.

“Ahem!” Bertrand cleared his throat, loudly, “I…ah…am happy for you both, truly. I was just surprised. Still, propriety, please. Maybe save that for behind closed doors? There could be paparazzi anywhere out here and you’re already under a scandal for-“

“I don’t care,” she told him as she pulled away from Drake.

“What? But-“

“I did nothing wrong, and everyone that matters to me knows it. I’ll get around to making a statement telling the truth, but right now, all I want to do is be alone with Drake. We have some things to….figure out.”

And she certainly wasn’t going on any engagement tour. Fuck that.

The luggage was loaded into the limo and Bertrand asked, “Are you sure you don’t want a ride? We have a perfectly good car here, you don’t have to climb on the back of that death trap.”

“Hey!” Drake huffed, “That’s a top of the line Ducati and I’m an excellent rider!”

“Ah, Bert, you do care,” Riley stepped into him and drew him into a quick embrace.

The older Beaumont returned her gesture, “I have become quite…fond of you, Lady Riley. I do consider you family. You will always be a member of House Beaumont.”

“You’re going to make me cry!” She told him as she pulled away, wiping at her eyes.

“Me too!” Max agreed. “That was like a huge emotional declaration coming from my brother!”

She hugged Max goodbye as well and Drake helped her on the back of his bike, “You ready for this?” he asked as he handed her a helmet.

“More ready than I’ve ever been for anything in my life,” she told him.

“Good. Hold on tight,” he said as he started the bike and it lurched forward, into the darkness.

She held on to him with everything she had as they flew down the asphalt, hurtling through the Cordonian night, away from the palace and toward their future.

#trr au #drake walker #choicesprompts #angst with a happy ending #one shot #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week

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