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alchemistc · 2 months

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(dys)functional | bucktommy 1/1

an: the hockey au keeps growing, have some tommy whump in the meantime

read on ao3

"Hey," Tommy says, rolling the word over his tongue, letting the door close behind him and leaning his head back against it as it goes. Evan glances up, and immediately sets the knife in his hands down, expression going concerned the moment he sees the look on Tommy's face.

"Uh wha - what's wrong?"

The concern in his voice is ratcheted up in a way Tommy doesn't quite understand - he knows the look on his face is a little resigned but Evan looks stressed. "I'm gonna have to reschedule our weekend," he tells him, already shifting away from the door, moving in, chasing after the distressed little tilt of Evan's head, completely incapable of not trying to fix it even though his mind is going in about fifty different directions, right now.

Around the corner of the island, into Evan's space, and Evan melts just enough for Tommy to get his hands around Evan's hips. "Is everything okay?"

Tommy grimaces. "Not - not really, no. I've got to catch a flight in about six hours."

Evan goes stiff under his hands. "O-okay."

There's an art to fully grasping his tone, in these moments. He's - not an easy read, exactly, because his default seems to always be doing a terrible job of hiding whatever it is he's feeling, but that doesn't actually mean he's not masking the actual issue. It's confusion, mostly, maybe a little bit of hurt, a quiet sense of foreboding in his expression as he leans back to get a good look at Tommy's face, like he's searching for an answer for a question he doesn't know if he's allowed to ask.

Evan shifts impatiently, stormy expression clearing up. "Can - do you need to -" He makes a face Tommy knows is aimed at himself, a little recrimination for not being able to gather up the proper words in the proper order. He pulls in a deep breath. "Okay, so this is maybe too much to throw at you right now but those are kinda famous last words for me and I'm - will you tell me why so I'm not thinking up worst case scenarios here?"

Tommy slides in, fingers curling into the hem of Evan's shirt, gripping, tugging just enough that they both drift into one another. "It's my father." Brow furrowed, Evan nods, and waits, still rigid in the circle of Tommy's arms. And Tommy really does have to leave, soon, pack an overnight bag and try to get a couple hours of sleep before the slog to John Wayne, but he's a little concerned that leaving right now is going to send Evan into a tailspin. Thank God he'd decided to drive over first, tell him in person - he's missing a heap of context here but clearly a phone call would have been the wrong move. "He's - I have to..."

Evan knows the basics, bare minimum shit because Tommy hates acknowledging how much his father had fucked him up, how many years of therapy have been required to untangle the dad shaped knots in his brain.

"I don't really have all the details, yet, but my uncle called and I - I'm needed, apparently. I don't." Tommy has felt wrong-footed since the moment the name flashed across his phone screen, he doesn't talk to them, to any of them, and now his uncle has given him a vague 'Tom you need to come home, it's your pop' and his sister isn't answering her messages. Tommy takes a breath, realizes his hands have tightened into fists in the seams of Evan's shirt. "What do you mean famous last words?"

Evan is studying him carefully, elbows bowed behind him because he's got his palms curled around Tommy's fists, eyes shifting over Tommy's face, and Tommy knows he's seeing the shit Tommy likes to keep under lock and key. "It - it can wait. Tommy, do you need me to come with you?" Head tilted, gaze assessing, fingers shifting, soothing over the stretched tight skin of Tommy's knuckles.

It's too soon for that. He doesn't want Evan to see that part of him, the piece of the puzzle that Tommy has had to chip at, and shave and sand down to make fit, that ugly little part of his life he'd shed the day he'd set his house key on the dining room table and left for boot camp.

It's not too soon - he doesn't want Evan to ever see that.

He's also suddenly incredibly aware of how nice it would be to finally, finally have someone he knows is in his corner for whatever bullshit he's ten hours away from walking into. His grip loosens and Evan seizes the opportunity, awkwardly lacing his fingers through Tommy's. It's a weird angle, uncomfortable with the current positioning of their arms, but it feels a bit like a lifeline. "I can't ask you to do that."

"You're not. I'm offering."

There's a stubborn part of him that doesn't want to accept. He's kept his life out here so separate; even Sal, who'd kept all his other secrets for going on a decade, barely knows shit about his family. He has a good life, rich and fulfilling. Out here. He's got Evan, who'd do practically anything for his friends, his family. Tommy can't justify subjecting him to whatever garbage the Kinard's have going on three thousand miles across the country.

Evan tugs at his hands, shifting his weight enough to send Tommy stumbling half a step into him. Toe to toe, gazes catching again, because Evan is seeking him out, Tommy feels some of the weight lift off his shoulders.

"Okay."

It gives him the excuse of leaving as soon as possible, once he gets there, at the very least.

Evan nods. Whatever weird tension he'd been carrying ebbs from his shoulders and Tommy puts a pin in that - he's spiraling and upset but for a second Evan had been, too, and he needs to circle back to that when he can think straight.

He's got his phone out, free hand digging into Tommy's front pocket, and Tommy blinks, tries to think of something clever to say, something flirty and wry. They were supposed to go out tonight: dinner, maybe dancing, after, if Tommy could convince him. Then a three day stretch of matching days off - a drive up the coast, a little rental within walking distance of a beach, a seafood place that made a lobster roll almost as good as the ones up in Maine. He'd been contemplating whether or not it was too early to bring up Evan's lease.

Evan fishes Tommy's phone out and presses in his passcode without a second thought, and something eases in Tommy's chest. He trusts Evan. Has trusted him, consistently, unquestioningly - he'd given him his passcode on a whim when the screen went dark on it halfway through Evan adding his food to whatever they'd been in the middle of ordering in before Evan got derailed by a story about the anatomy of seahorses.

"Did you already book a flight?"

Tommy nods. Points out the Southwest icon he'd moved to his home screen for easy access.

He doesn't argue when Evan guides him around the island to one of the stools, there, fight and flight both losing out to freeze as Evan takes charge.

It's not their usual dynamic. Evan has been happy to set the pace, but once he takes his cues from him, Tommy's typically the one taking point. But Tommy feels unmoored, and it's nice, actually, to have Evan press a kiss to his temple, to pull up his flight information, to squeeze Tommy's shoulder as he books a second ticket on the credit card Tommy's really only let him use once or twice, happy to be seeing someone who will actually let him pay more than his fair share, who seems flattered that Tommy's always got his wallet out before Evan even thinks to reach for his.

Everything's a bit jumbled. He's halfway to Jersey already, maybe, pulled into the riptide and dashed against the rocks of Richard Kinard's bullshit, he doesn't even know why he's going, just that his uncle had told him he needed to come. He comes up for air feeling battered and bruised when Evan rubs a hand down his shoulder, over his arm, up again with harder pressure as his palm shifts down and over his spine.

Evan's face hovers close to his. "I'm just gonna call Bobby, and then we can pick up something to eat on the way over to your place." The upside to having something already planned is that Evan's already got a bag packed with everything he'll need to travel.

It sounds so simple, so effortless, and Tommy's throat feels tight when he swallows. He gets two fingers into Evan's belt loop before he can pull away, and Evan comes easily, stepping into the spread of Tommy's legs, forehead coming down the few inches to meet Tommy's. "You - thank you."

"Of course," Evan says, a little wry, an echo of Tommy's own favorite phrase whenever Evan gets a little caught up in the way Tommy keeps showing up for him. He gets it, now. It's been instinct, really, to be there when Evan asked, to try his damnedest to make it to the things he's promised to be there for - nothing particularly remarkable about it, in Tommy's mind, but Tommy's starting to see the larger picture. It's grounding, it's comforting, it is actually a little remarkable to be on the receiving end of it. It feels like devotion.

Tommy rolls his forehead, curls a hand up over Evan's shoulder, his neck, fingers catching in his hair, along the curl of his ear. When he blinks and meets Evan's gaze, there's something in his eyes that Tommy isn't sure either one of them is actually ready for, but then, they haven't really stumbled on their way through those things up to this point anyway. Blazed past them, maybe, but always with an understanding of what they mean while they waved at the mile marker blurring past them.

Evan squeezes at Tommy's knee. "I'm not going anywhere," he assures, and Tommy snorts.

"You're literally going to Jersey in, like, five and a half hours."

Evan huffs. "With you. I'm - you're ruining my moment, Tommy," he pouts, and if the both of them dissolve into a fit of giggles, no one has to know but them.

-----

Tommy hasn't been back here in eight years. It's been longer since he's talked to his family - he'd shown up fifteen minutes into his grandmother's funeral, slipped in to a pew at the back during mass and and skipped the wake before he found a bar and made a few bad decisions with a man who'd sat next to him four drinks in and smiled at him like the sun peeking through a billowing stormcap.

Evan presses a tentative hand to the small of Tommy's back and Tommy melts into it, pleased when the hand shifts to curl around his waist. He's apparently already rented a car, and Tommy can't quite hide the heavy sigh of gratitude at the admission - the getaway will be a lot smoother if they don't have to stand outside waiting for a ride.

He's seen Clipboard Buck in action before. The last time, he'd barely managed to get them somewhere private before he was on his knees to express his appreciation of Clipboard Buck. This is - not better, but different in a good way. It makes him feel tethered, reminds him that as crazy as it had been to accept an invitation to a wedding after a spectacular explosion of a first date, he'd been right to follow that spark he'd first felt on the tarmac while Evan Buckley shook his hand for about thirty seconds too long.

"I can help whoever's next," says a voice as Evan shuffles him along the rental line, and Tommy's gaze darts up, his posture sharpening.

Evelyn.

Christ, it's a day for reunions, Tommy guesses. They're next, actually, and Evan tilts his chin with narrowed eyes when Tommy sighs and moves to the counter.

For a second, Tommy's convinced she doesn't recognize him. She pops the gum in her mouth, bored gaze bouncing between them as Evan scrolls through his email for the confirmation number on his booking, and then her eyes go wide.

"Tom? Tom Kinard?"

Evan's eyes shift up. It's a lot more subtle than Tommy'd expected. So is the hand that squeezes at Tommy's hip in question.

Tommy curls his fingers around the hand, squeezes back. He's spent too many years on the other side of the closet door to go crawling back into the dark now.

"Hi Evie."

Tommy hasn't told this story, but he doubts Evan will be particularly surprised by it. He's heard about plenty of Tommy's other beards.

Her gaze shifts. From her spot behind the counter he doubts she's seeing much, but the anchor of Evan's arm around his waist has them sharing space, Tommy's shoulder pressed to Evan's chest, the two of them breathing the same air. Her brow ticks up behind her glasses. She's got a streak of grey along her temple, and the start of crows feet around her eyes.

Evelyn snaps her gum. "You missed the reunion," she notes, and then smiles. "Although I can't blame you if this is what you've got back at home. A large improvement on Jason Ledecky." She leans in. "He's got five kids and a truly tragic bald spot."

Evan's eyes gleam. Tommy realizes he's actually looking forward to telling this story, in the sanctuary of a rented car on the way to his uncles. Evelyn Carinni had been a godsend for a Tommy who'd shot up four inches and slimmed down over the summer after junior year -- she'd scooped him right up that first day of school when it became clear that a suddenly sharp jawline was all it took to garner the attention of the female population of Cliffside Park High, and the first time she'd whipped out her tits and seen the disinterested look on his face she'd made it her mission to make sure he made it through senior year undetected.

"You here about the will?"

Tommy pauses. "What will?"

Her eyeroll is exactly as disparaging as he remembers. "Christ, your family is a piece of work. According to Tina, who heard it from Daryl, Old Man Gio apparently had an updated will your dad tried to hide. There's been a whole lawsuit about getting it recognized."

"What the hell does that have to do with me?"

"Well, I imagine dear old granddad had a nice little end-of-life realization that the only descendant he had who didn't want any of his money was you, so as a last fuck you to all his ungrateful kids he left it all to you."

"There's no way any of that money hasn't been spent already." Not to mention he has no interest in some long drawn out court case where all his extended family has to admit they have no way to pay it back.

Evelyn hums. "A lot of it's been tied up for years. Plus there's the royalties his estate is still getting."

Tommy sighs. "My uncle made it seem like it was more serious than that."

"Is there anything more serious to them than who gets the lions share of daddy's money?" At Tommy's raised brow, she shakes her head. "Anyway, your pop might be looking at jail time, so there's always a possibility they're looking for preemptive bail money."

If he lets them, he'll tie up Evelyn for hours, standing here gossiping like teenagers. "We should have a reservation," Tommy tells her, before things get really off the rails, and they go through the motions of pulling up Evan's information. Evelyn pops her gum again.

"What a shame," she says, brow raised and eyes focused on Evan. "We promised you we had plenty of inventory in basic economy but it looks like those are all off the lot." Tommy watches Evan frown, eyes darting to the prices detailed behind her. Neither one of them is overly concerned about their savings account, at the moment, but Evan isn't fond of surprise price increases. He'd complained for a week the last time avocados had gone up thirty cents. "Looks like I'll just have to upgrade you free of charge, Mr. Buckley."

The clerk to her left shoots her an exasperated look and leaves it at that, but something happens in Evan's expression, the realization rolling over him that he's been included in some subterfuge. "Oh, well, if you have to," he says, but he's leaning his free arm against the counter now, posture open, happy to be included in this little bubble with someone who has loved and cared for Tommy. He knows the feeling -- knows how he'd had to take a deep breath at Chimney's bachelor party, when Eddie had glanced between them and implied that Evan inviting him to the karaoke bar was a date, remembers the way he'd had to dig his fingers into his thigh in the pocket of his pants to keep from being weird about how nice it was to laugh with Maddie Buckley-Han.

Evelyn chuckles, and smacks her gum, and the keys under her fingers clack away for a moment before she spins in her chair and marches off to grab something from the printer, and Evan hip checks Tommy with just enough force that Tommy sways, maybe a little overcome in the same way Tommy always is when Evan's friends, his family make it clear they like having Tommy around. He grins, and Tommy returns it, the edges of his smile bleeding into his cheeks.

Evelyn returns with contract for a sports car. "I waived the deposit fee," she intones. "For the inconvenience, sir."

Evan looks delighted as he signs off and Evelyn splits their copies. The sticky note affixed to Evan's copy has a phone number with a Jersey area code written on it, and she taps it.

"When you find out you're insanely rich and finally cut off the rest of your family completely, you two should take me out for coffee."

Evan isn't so caught up that he doesn't check in with Tommy first. It's not entirely necessary --he likes Evelyn, and Evan can clearly tell that -- but it's nice, all the same.

"How about a steak dinner," Tommy negotiates, and Evelyn's grin goes wide.

-----

As it turns out, Grandpa Gio was a petty little bastard with a penchant for dramatics, and according to a court of law his aunts and uncles (and father) owe him close to two million dollars, between them.

"I don't want it," Tommy confesses, laid out on the hotel bed that night, still too loose-limbed to move as Evan putters around in the bathroom, wetting a washcloth and brushing his teeth.

Evan looms over him a moment later, warm towel running over the ridges of Tommy's stomach, the rise of his pectorals. Christ, he'd shot off like a goddamn missile. Evan bites his lip to hide a grin when the towel catches on the underside of Tommy's chin.

"I'm assuming you're talking about the money," Evan says, folding the towel over itself to give him one last rubdown. "It seemed like you liked the sex."

Tommy shifts, tugging at Evan's wrist until he settles in beside Tommy. With the remains of his energy, he slings a leg over Evan's and rolls himself into the cradle of Evan's embrace. "That was never a question."

Evan maintains the silence for a grand total of thirty-seven seconds. It's longer than Tommy had expected. "So your family." Tommy hums, already tracing the edges of the tattoo on Evan's forearm. "Kind of dicks."

The snort of laughter settles into Evan's still-sweaty temples, and Tommy shifts to press his nose into the damp curls there. He'd been so hesitant to share this part of himself with Evan, but as always, Evan had forged on ahead like there was nothing in the world he'd rather do than provide the landing spot for Tommy to settle down his gear once the storm passed.

"Took me twenty years and a boatload of therapy to train that out of me. I'm still --." Tommy pauses, the usual self-deprecating comment stuck on the tip of his tongue, because for once, it doesn't feel like an effort to be nothing like them. He'd spent so long hiding in the shadow of the asshole his family had taught him how to be, and dragging himself out into the sunlight always felt like a struggle.

But it hadn't felt like an effort, really -- to hold Evan's hand under the judgemental gaze of ten cousins and four aunts and uncles, to stand tall and stick to the barest edges of polite while the room erupted into chaos the moment his father opened his mouth to defend himself, to excuse himself and tuck his arm over Evan's shoulder on the way out the door.

He can still remember the dazed way Evan had responded to that first kiss, while Tommy busied himself tugging the hem of his shirt back down, too nervous to look at him while he asked him out. The way he'd looked, when Tommy'd been brave enough to glance up, eyes a little glazed, mouth still open, and told him he was free.

At the time, Tommy'd been furiously convincing himself not to lean in for another kiss, fully aware he'd make himself late to work if he allowed himself another taste, but the memory had lingered the rest of the shift. In the days after, once he'd had a clearer picture of exactly how wide he'd just blown open Evan's world, he'd thought of it often.

I am free.

Tommy turns his face to meet Evan's gaze, nose dragging across his cheek, lips aching to find a home against Evan's again, but he catches his eyes first, slides a hand up over Evan's arm, shoulder, neck, until he can curl his fingers over his jaw, thumb tucking in to the little dimple as Evan grins at him. "Thank you for coming."

Evan sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, tongue darting out to wet the top one, a mischievous gleam in his eye, but he lets the dumb joke go, gaze shifting into something more serious as he drums his fingers along Tommy's bare hip. "Thanks for letting me," Evan murmurs back, and Tommy knows they need to talk about that sentiment in more detail, but for now he'd rather roll Evan on top of him and slide his tongue past the seam of Evan's lips.

Evan doesn't seem to have any complaints.

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #teven fic

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aezuria · 6 months

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*ੈ✎ be my, be my baby!

—be my baby; the ronettes

content: leo valdez x daughter of aphrodite! reader

╰┈▸ back cover: part I | part II | part III

╰┈▸ warnings: cursing

librarian's annotations: guys i realize this would technically be a twoshot.. ANYWAY yall already KNEW i had to make a part 2 also i had to search up 'villain hand pose' to get the word STEEPLE -the more you know ig

loveloveyn shared a note "mom if ur reading this set me up with yk who I BEG"

you sighed and put down your phone. this was honestly getting embarrassing. you hadn't even had a single conversation with the love of your life! maybe you'll sacrifice an extra nice portion of your breakfast to aphrodite. yeah, that's what you'll do.

you hated to say goodbye to the best part of your maple-syrup drenched pancakes, but it was for the greater good. please give me a real sign mom!! you prayed silently as you scraped the rest of your plate into the fire.

love wastes no time apparently, because as soon as you turned around to walk back to your table, leo stops short in front of you with his plate, the both of you almost bumping into each other. oh my gods. you've never been this close to him before! "uh, sorry." you muttered and walked around him before he could see how embarrassed you were.

'uh, sorry!?' what the hell is wrong with me!? you went back to your table, mortified at your awkwardness. where was your charisma when you needed it!? you put your head in your hands. piper noticed and poked you. "what's up with you? love problems again?"

you stayed stagnant, staring into space. "i think i'm the problem."

alldaladiesluvleo sent a message to: water, fire, air, and frank "BIG RED BUTTON"

jason ran into bunker 9, percy and frank mere steps behind him. "what's going on? what's the emergency?" he leaned against the door, panting. percy was doubled over on his knees, frank not looking much better.

leo swiveled around in his chair and put his elbows on the desk in front of him. his hands a steeple in front of his mouth, making him look like a villain talking to his henchmen. this was probably the most serious he's looked in his life.

"as you all know, everyday i have dedicated my offerings to the goddess of love, hoping to receive a sign to pursue fajita." he paused for the ultimate dramatic effect. "and i have gotten an answer."

the three boys broke out into a flurry of overlapped reactions.

"are you still calling her 'fajita?'" jason raised his eyebrow, focusing too much on the small details. it was a very unconventional codename.

"i love fajitas, and i love her!" leo broke his stoic attitude for a second. "it makes perfect sense!"

frank's tired expression morphed into a very, very, unamused look. "you used the emergency codeword for this?"

"hey! the big red button was absolutely necessary!"

"oh. my. gods," percy gasped, immediately standing up straight. "no way."

leo nodded solemnly, back on his stoicism. "yes way."

jason looked at him skeptically. "are you sure it was a sign sign? or are you just being delusional again?"

the curly-haired boy shot him a look, though not very intimidating. "i am completely sure! i specifically said, 'please make her bump into me as a sign' and guess what happened at breakfast!?" his serious front gave way into an ecstatic smile. "she did! that's the most definite sign i've gotten!"

frank and jason had a silent conversation with each other. wait, that is the most definite sign he's gotten. frank's eyes seemed to say. did her mom finally listen to his begging? jason's eyes responded. percy was too busy jumping for joy and congratulating leo to notice.

the boy in question was jumping along with him, before clearing his throat. "guys. i'm gonna follow her." he pulled out his phone to prove it.

shocked gasps ensue. they all crowd around him, looking over his shoulder as he went to your profile. the bright blue 'follow' button stared back at him, taunting him. he took a deep breath of courage and pressed it. the button smiled and turned into a more forgiving grey of 'requested.'

"i did it." leo looked at his friends in disbelief. "i did it!"

"he did it," jason and percy breathed out.

"you know you still have to wait for her to accept, right?"

"oh, fuck you, frank! you ruined the moment!"

loveloveyn sent a message to: so coquette 🎀🏹🔪 "CODE RED I REPEAT CODE RED"

mere moments after you sent that text, piper came running with hazel and annabeth in tow. they caught sight of you laying in the grass and rushed over. annabeth knelt before you, shaking your shoulder. "y/n!? oh my gods are you dead!?"

you opened your eyes and blinked up at her. "oh hey guys, you're here!"

the blonde was very much not amused. her cheeks were tinted a dusty shade of rose as you were in fact, not dead and she had made a fool out of herself. (it really wasn't that embarrassing, you're okay girl!) "so what's the emergency? i thought we agreed to use that in important situations."

you sat up straight, almost knocking her head in the process. "this is super important. like, the events of my life have aligned perfectly and created this moment. wrench.." you paused, also for dramatic effect. "followed me."

the three of them stared at you, disbelieving.

so, you turned on your phone and went to your instagram notifications. there, at the top, it said:

alldaladiesluvleo requested to follow you. 1m

"oh my gods," they said in unison as they stared at your phone in shock.

"hurry! accept it!" hazel insisted, and shook your arm.

"wait, don't do it right now! give it like, a couple hours," piper shook your other arm.

annabeth stayed silent, probably pondering the pros and cons of both choices. you were quiet too; for an entirely different reason, that being a well-thought out love life of you and leo, reaching all the way into marriage. what type of house should we get? how many kids will we have?

"in fifteen minutes." annabeth finally spoke up, startling you from your nice home life built inside your head. "accept it in fifteen minutes. that way, he won't think you don't like him by waiting hours, but he won't know how desperate you are if you accept right now."

"was that jab really necessary!?" you huffed, but you knew she was right. "alright, fifteen minutes it is." you went to your clock app and set a timer.

"did you seriously just set a timer?" piper asked incredulously.

"how else am i supposed to know when exactly to follow my man!?"

librarian's annotations: THERES GONNA BE A PART 3 I JUST WANTED TO SEPARATE THEM

#*ੈ✎ stories #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #hoo #heroes of olympus #hoo x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #pjo #pjo x reader #pjo hoo toa #leo valdez x you #leo valdez x y/n

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jolapeno · 1 year

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iii - just say that you need me

javier peña x f!reader | chapter three of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. an: the amount of people who look forward to tuesday's makes me grin. for those who are new, i don't have a tag list. wordcount: 2.6k.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

You should say yes more.

to you or to my pop

To your pop. I know you wouldn’t say no to me.

you sure about that

I’d bet my next paycheck on it.

for you I’ll say yes to him once

Good. Now we have that out the way answer what the worst date you’ve ever been on was

shit. going with the hard hitting questions today

Just getting you to share, open up

probably when I first came back from colombia someone from my town where I live

They a bad host, bad dinner guest? Gimme more Javi cmon. You said you’d entertain me.

baby, im trying to entertain you but you told me to stop

I said stop flirting while I’m eating and answer the question

she wouldn’t stop asking me for details on escobar

Ah. Yeah I can see how discussing that would be a mood killer.

yeah didn’t wanna go in the first place either

So if we ever meet, do not ask about your Colombian experience. Got it.

you can ask, doesn’t mean I’d tell you

Ha! Good to know. I wouldn’t though. If you wanna tell me, I think you will.

thanks, what’s yours?

Well I was stood up when we first began texting. Think that’s pretty bad, enough.

he’s an idiot because only an idiot would stand you up

You haven’t seen me, remember

statement still stands

Stop being so charming.

you still eating

No.

then I can flirt

Most of the time, he ignores the mail.

Lets it pile up on the entryway dresser until his pop makes another reference to it. Unlike his pop, he is never in a rush to open them, knowing no good comes from the contents inside.

The same people contact him. The bureau being one. Sipping his coffee as he glares at the usual federal sign on the envelope, wondering how many more times they’ll try asking him to come in for a chat.

This afternoon, though, the envelope isn’t brilliant white, but rather off-cream.

Peeling a bit, thumb digging in as he drags it across, the ripping sound filling the small space. It’s only as he opens it does he realise who it’s from.

His eyes stare at the letter, taking in the number—the one in triple digits with his phone provider logo in the top corner. The number which is making him feel sick, the more he stares at it over and over again.

“Fuck.”

Folding it, he swallows.

Shit.

Motherfucker.

He stuffs it away, tucks it under magazines and other leaflets, as though by keeping it out of sight, it’ll go away.

But it's there.

The edge of it sticking out. He even blinks, and the number is there, tattooed on the back of his eyes. Taunting him—the price of speaking to you.

It's not that Javi can't afford it. He’s had a chunk of money sitting, gaining dust, in his account since he came home. Only able to force portions on his pop as and when he felt he could get away with it.

But this was a lot. More than he’d bargained on, more than he even knew he could spend simply by replying to someone.

There's a chance your day won't be done just yet—his day beginning far earlier than yours even began—but he pulls his phone out, fingers pressing into the keys.

so apparently talking to you is costly Oh, you've had your bill. I feel I should ask whether I'm worth it?

It’s instant—the way you make the nauseous feeling vanish. How you force it to slide back to where it came from, and in its place, warmth spreads. All accompanied by a smile on his lips.

He doesn’t want to show his hand too much. Better at concealing, playing the long game when standing face to face.

This requires a skill he hasn't yet gained. Simply focusing on not sounding ridiculous, or over the top. Unnecessary. Like some of the desperate men, he's happened to arrest over the years.

Even if his chest flutters and his mind screams, of course. Wants to ask, isn't it obvious? But he chooses something easier, uncomplicated.

yes just didn’t expect it I had my phone bill the other day. I get it. did your heart fall out your ass No. But I will be eating ramen for the next month. We can stop texting so much though, if it’s costing too much. would rather my bill be double than stop talking to you You’re such a flirt.

He drains the rest of his mug, leaning back in the chair—hearing the sound of approaching boots from his Pop’s side of the house. Fingers typing, all hurried and determined

Don’t forget I’m out for drinks and a movie. I remember don’t worry

He remembers as soon as you remind him.

Realising it's the reason you're able to reply right now. You’d been telling him almost every night for the past week. All worried, as though hating the idea of breaking the nightly tradition the two of you have concocted.

In a way, Javi should have assumed the bill would be high with the number of texts the two of you have been sending. How frequent it’s been—how nice it’s been.

Nice things do usually come with a tag.

you decided on sweet or salty Verdict is still out. You sure about waiting to do the crossword? if we don’t do it tonight, we’ll do two the next day You sure? more than sure have a great time

“Y’sure you don’t fancy coming with me, Jav?”

He thinks of it, tapping his phone against his palm as he thinks of your text the other night. The one about him trying to say yes—something curling in his chest as he realises he’ll be alone, alone if he doesn’t.

A sentiment he didn’t mind on paper, but now confronted with, rather despised.

“Alright, yeah. Can—can I get changed?”

Mid-grabbing his own jacket, his Pop turns, surprise knitted into his wiry brows. “Y-yeah, sure, I’ll….”

“I’ll meet you at the truck?”

And he does. All without complaint. Plaid shirt on, a smile being forced as soon as the truck pulls off the drive. He doesn't even complain about the radio choice or the fact his Pop always takes the main roads when he could cut down the dusty roads.

When he arrives, he doesn’t mind how many hands he shakes, one after the next. He tries not to grit his teeth as each person says the usual things, they’re proud, he’s grown, when is he settling down? Each time he laughs it off. Spanish rolling from his tongue as he smiles and winks.

It’s performative.

The old version of him coming out from a hidden place.

Always there, ready, as his hand shakes another person's hand—one he’s already forgotten the name of. Someone he’s sure he’s met before, too.

It always happens. The small-town boy who took down drug cartels has become somewhat of a celebrity tale. A thing to gawk at when he visits the store. Chucho's boy who ran away to Colombia and now hides away on the ranch.

For the amount of time it's been, he'd foolishly expected it to die down—but it hasn't. Not enough, anyway.

After enough time, he excuses himself, sneaking down the corridor near the bathroom. Leaning against the wall, fingers trying to rub out a knot that hasn’t yet appeared in his skull. The one pulsing, threatening to build behind his eye.

He’s unsure what he wants to do, what he needs. Retrieving his phone, just clicking around, before finding himself on your texts—feeling better for it.

Reading them back, smirking at some, smiling wide at others. A shape forming in his head, little details he’d amassed to make up you. A person he was pretty sure meant more to him than evening company, but it seemed tricky to delve too far into it.

That is until his phone vibrated.

Just wanted to tell you I miss you. Even if that’s weird.

His fingers hover over the keys, a retort quick—there in his touch.

Slowly he presses it out, hearing the click even over the bar’s music as he double and triple taps each button he wants, until it forms what it is he thought:

not weird, you drunk I’m tipsy, not drunk. Still mean it. good cause i miss you too

you never said how the movie was

As someone who flies a lot, I shouldn’t have watched it.

that bad

Will probably have to hold the hand of my seat mate the next time work makes me fly.

I’m sure they won’t mind

Depends on the length of my nails I guess.

some people don’t mind nails clawing in certain situations

You trying to tell me you like nails down your back, Javi?

if the situation is right, yes

What about in your hair?

now who’s being a tease

I’m learning so much tonight.

and your putting images in my head

I’d love to know what I look like in it, since you haven’t seen me.

beautiful, you look beautiful

My face is burning.

your day been ok

Yeah, was fine. Work has been rough.

you want to talk about it

Not really, it’s stupid anyway. Plus, would rather do the crosswords and hang with you.

you do have two to make up to me

Best get giving me the clues then, Javi.

four letters, begins with f

Is this a Javi crossword or a real crossword

baby, cmon

Fuck?

fork

someone’s in a dirty mood

You’re such a dick. Give me a real clue.

There's not a point in time where he can track how his thoughts went from nothing to you. But, he thinks about you all the time.

Has been doing so constantly for the last two days, at least—the occasional vibrations from his phone making his lips twitch and his mind wander. Javi’s brain exploding with wonder at what your reply could say.

Sometimes, he tries not to check immediately. Test—see—how long he can go before he does. It’s not been going well.

An excitement dashing through his veins that fills his chest, warms his neck and makes a ridiculous grin appear (one he’s caught accidentally in the mirror).

The back and forth has been quicker—for as costly as it was—outside of routines and work. His fingers have even improved in the speed of tapping the same key to get one single letter.

Each text makes him feel like he learns a new nugget about you, gathering a new piece of the puzzle—an idea of you forming in front of his eyes. One he likes—craves more of—wishing for other tidbits similar to how you like coffee after breakfast, not before.

That you don’t care for birthday cake, but love cookies.

morning hermosa hope you managed to grab the coffee

He doesn’t expect to hear from you.

Remembering that your time management in the morning isn’t to be admired. You are someone who is either awake too early or too late—never in the middle.

But, when he finishes. Sweat clinging to every muscle, he’s surprised to find nothing.

Even a little disappointed.

finished up for the day, unsure whether to lounge around on the porch or push the boat out and lounge in the barn

You’ve become such a part of his day, his shoulders sink when he steps out of the shower to see nothing.

His heart slips down inside his chest, resting unsteadily on his ribs as he checks and checks. His fingers fluff his hair as he runs his fingers through it before finding a strand, twisting, and twisting.

I’m probably worrying about nothing but just let me know you’re ok

A part of him had worried this would happen.

That he would allow the attachment to grow—ropes and threads wrapping around him—and it would be taken from under his feet.

He has a history of becoming hooked—usually combining itself with his need to help, to make someone’s day better, easier.

And on paper, he knew it was odd. To care for someone he hadn’t ever even met. But he cares all the same.

Copious amounts, in fact.

Far past an, ‘I miss you’—something else entirely, not that he’d admit as much.

hermosa I’m really getting worried now

He doesn’t want to call.

Doesn’t want to invade your privacy, your space. But it’s knotting inside of him. The things he’s seen, rushing to the surface, pecking away, making him overthink.

His mind conjures ideas that you’re hurt, wounded. That you’re crying, alone. Each flash of his past has the curated blob-of-a-face he’s created for you, written over it.

His fingers twitch, hand moving to his pocket before remembering there are no cigarettes to be found there. He quit. Ages ago. Felt better for it—for the most part—until now.

Now when all he wants is to focus on the taste, the way smoke swirls with the warm Texas air—

Hey, I'm so sorry, I had a bad day. Just didn’t check my phone. shit hermosa, you scared me. almost called you. Really? yeah Would you? what call you Yeah?

[Dialing number…]

you declined I did

His heart sinks, crashes, and plummets.

Then a new vibration, one that travels down his fingers to his wrist, suddenly staring at an instruction: Give me your landline number, be cheaper. For both of us.

Glancing into the living room, he taps the number in for you. Hating each precious second he wastes by having to delete a letter that should be a number.

Pushing the chair back, hearing it screech as he hovers. Nervousness thumps through him, making him shake, vibrate.

Staring, willing the phone to ring.

Even as he tries to collect himself, his mind has already begun running away from him. Hearing his pulse thump in his ear, thump, thump—

And then it’s ringing—you’re ringing.

His voice shouts out he’ll get it as he picks up the phone from the hook.

“Javi… that you?”

Grinning, he laughs, light and airy. “Hi. Yeah, it’s me.”

Silence blankets his ears and the air, thumb circling a knot in his forehead.

Smiling, he changes the phone to his other ear. “Knew you’d sound pretty. You have a nice voice.”

“Shut up, Javi. I’ve said three words.”

“And a few more.”

He hears you suck in a breath as heat rushes to his ears, feeling the edges of his lips curl into a smile.

“You wanna talk about it or talk about something else?”

He hears you take a breath another breath. Different this time, all accompanied by a shuffling sound from your end.

“Something else. If that… that’s okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Alright, lemme… lemme think for a second—“

You clear your throat, “You have a nice voice, too, by the way.”

Pausing, he bites the inside of his cheek. “Like you imagined?”

“Better, honestly.”

“I could have called you. I have this additional thing on our plan—so my Pop could call. When I was away.”

“From when you were in Colombia?”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he nodded. “Yeah…”

“Well, if this conversation goes well, you may get a new number to add to your phone book.”

“That so? Who’s flirting now.”

You laugh, sweet—fluttering its gorgeous wings down the phone to his ear as he readjusts the phone.

Dropping his voice, he turns more to the walls. “So, what you wearing, baby?”

“Oh my god, Javi.”

He doesn’t even mute his laughter, just lets it flow from him—rushing through the house. Not even caring if his Pop can hear him in the next room.

"I'm wearing nothing."

"Hermosa, you tease."

You laugh, and it's different. It's rich, and makes the room glow around him, without you even being here.

"I'm not really, I'm in a baggy t-shirt."

"Not as sexy, but I'm sure I can work with it."

You snort, "Javi, stop."

He wonders if your cheeks are warm. He hopes they are.

Leaning against the wall, he smirks, if only to himself. "I like how you say my name, Hermosa."

an: thank you so much for all being wonderful, i heart you

868 notes · View notes

lilacgaby · 21 days

Text

day three

~2.3k

chapter select!

she woke up right before her alarm went off.

she saw messages on her phone, some addressed from mirko telling her to "hurry the hell

up or get left behind." some from a new group chat called 'OPERATION [NAME]', and a couple from bakugo.

whatever, she'd look them over later.

she took her time as she showered, got dressed in a civilian outfit, and soaked in the early morning sun from her balcony.

everyone else had heroes who'd stop by later to pick them up in the afternoon, so [name] was pretty much the only person up.

she was startled by a loud noise at the door. she was hanging around in the common room to pass some time, but since she was lost in though she let out an audible squeal at the sound.

she figured it was just mirko was banging on it to get her attention.

and it was.

she opened the door and stepped outside. mirko was dressed casually too, and she was carrying her own bag of belongings on her back.

"be more considerate! people are sleeping!"

"it's only six a.m [name], they have to be getting up at this hour anyways."

"whatever."

"anyways, we have a train to catch so let's go!" mirko then grabbed her hand and started their trek down to the station. they could've got a car,

but they both preferred to walk.

after a bit of walking and sitting in a comfortable silence, [name] decides to get some details on the mission.

"so mirko, what exactly is this mission about?"

"oh, it's just another couple of villains, except these ones are rumored to have connections to stain."

"stain? the hero killer? but isn't he--"

"dead, correct. but his influence was huge. apparently this group of villains have actually killed a hero already."

"what?!"

"yeah, and that's why we're going in. don't worry though, we'll have backup, or i guess partners, that you'll love."

"what do you mean?"

"you'll see."

"...

okay, where are we going anyways? you never take me on trains."

"oh, i didn't tell you? we're going to tokyo."

"tokyo? for what?"

"oh,

i decided to take on a mission with best jeanist's agency. i told you you'd love it!"

...

"i'm going to kill you."

ꔛ𖤐˒˒

as she sat on the train next to mirko, her finger hovered over the notification from bakugo.

she had to face him eventually, and they had to talk, but she couldn't help but feel deeply embarrassed.

technically they did kiss.

her face felt hot.

"hey, who're you texting? your boyfriend."

"i'm not texting anybody and i don't have a boyfriend. stop asking questions when you know i'll answer!"

"okay okay.

...

so what're you doing then?"

"i'm debating whether or not to text katsuki back."

mirko's smug face took over as she snickered.

"shut up!"

[name] shoved her headphones on, maybe if she didn't hear her she wouldn't have to answer the questions.

the temporary solution did work, but mirko grew agitated that she wasn't answering her so

she took her phone right out her hands.

"mirko! hand it back!" [name] stood up immediately, her heart rate rising almost instantly as mirko held it in her iron grip. the headphones fell out her ears and her music was now blasting in the train,

she'd be publically embarrassed if they didn't have the car all to themselves, but she still just wanted her phone back.

"give it back mirko! i swear--"

"stop ignoring me, im your mentor y'know!"

they chased each other around the train car, [name] just barely behind mirko.

after about a minute of struggle, she tried negotiating.

"okay, just give it back-"

"no way-"

"why? is it because you're scared of me texting back your blasty little crush?"

"that's exactly why so hand it bac--"

they were cut off by a husky, sleepy voice.

"the fuck are you talking about?"

[name] eyed her phone in horror, and mirko did in surprise, mirko immediately threw the phone at [name] and ran to the other side of the train car.

[name] fumbled with it in her grip, until finally shakily holding the phone with one hand.

she was stunned into silence. this had to be a joke.

"hello? flower freak? you there?"

it wasn't just a joke?!

"hello? [name]?"

"i'm here-- fuck. i- uh-- gotta go!"

"wai-"

she cut him off as she declined the call. she looked at the duration of the call.

no way.

it went on for two minutes.

he heard her fight for her life over his messages to her for two minutes.

while she didn't explicitly explain who her crush was, mirko did.

[name] turned over to eye mirko, who was now sitting in a corner pretending to be nonchalantly whistling.

whatever. [name] wearily thought as she sat back down on a seat, picking up her headphones that had fallen out during the confrontation. she put on some music and mindlessly started hoping to anyone that'd hear her out that bakugo didn't hear mirko's remark.

the rest of the train ride wasn't that bad. mirko finally, begrudgingly, apologized for taking it to far, and promised to take [name] out to eat after the mission was over.

they sat next to eachother, mirko promising not to use the truth quirk against her again because of the incident that just occurred.

[name] appreciated the sentiment, but it wouldnt undo the months of late night pondering she'd have of this moment.

she got over it for the moment being, after about another fifteen minutes they finally were let out in Tokyo.

it was really pretty there, compared to musutafu, it was really lively too.

mirko guided them to a very fancy hotel where they'd be staying in one of the very highest floors.

they dropped their stuff off and got ready in their hero outfits.

they took a break to eat lunch, [name] laying out on the terrace of the huge hotel as mirko devoured a large salad next to her. she didn't know mirko meant they'd literally have the floor to themselves, but she wasn't complaining.

it was time for them to head out.

"okay, you ready flora?"

"yes i am prepared.

...

as ready as ever i guess."

"don't be like that! he probably didn't even hear-"

"we were yelling into the phone. he definitely heard."

"okay, and so what? he probably likes you back!"

"no way. just let it go mirko, we have to walk like two miles."

"fine, if you say so."

the walk to best jeanist's agency was actually fun for [name]. she got to walk through all the tourist traps, look around while mirko signed autographs, and even take a couple photos on her phone.

oh yeah, her phone. she had now twenty-two notifications from bakugo since the ordeal, including missed calls, texts, and even voicemails.

she didn't even open them, she knew she'd have to talk to him face to face anyways. she felt a pit of dread settle in her stomach, but looked up at the agency greeting both her and mirko.

they walked in.

⋆ ₊ ☽ ·˚𓍲 *⋆

They were greeted by one of Jeanist's many assistants, who guided them to a meeting room where a briefing was already taking place.

"we're late mirko?"

"yes, it's not my fault though, i did it all for the fans."

"...if you say so."

they walked into the meeting, [name] felt familiar red eyes following her as she settled into a seat next to mirko.

"okay, everyone's here. let's continue." jeanist declared, seemingly unbothered at mirko's tardiness.

[name] took a moment to look over the room. there were a couple other sidekicks, but the only U-A interns were her and katsuki.

she suddenly remembered she had to focus.

on the screen was a couple of locations marked in red circles, depicting different areas where heros reported being attacked by the group.

a lower ranked hero: blast-off, a hero with a rocket quirk, was murdered by said group, and his corpse was found in various places.

brutal. [name] thought.

"these villains aren't confident enough to attack higher ranked heroes such as mirko and i, they are currently planning on targeting another low-ranked hero on their route: genie." jeanist explained.

"what they don't know is that you will be waiting for them to attack genie, and step in as they reveal themselves. not even genie knows." an assistant added.

"wait, so they're basically bait?" [name] questioned.

"in a sense." jeanist replied. "if they knew, they'd likely act aloof and alert the villains. it's a necessary step."

"so, we set out tomorrow?" mirko questioned.

"no, you and i will go out patrolling the town discreetly. tomorrow we will go out accompanied by our interns, with my sidekicks on standby.

i understand you won't want your intern walking back to your arranged rooms alone, so after they go through some training here my assistant will make arrangements to take them."

"i'll go with them." katsuki finally spoke.

"it's settled then. mirko, please stay behind as we prepare for our afternoon scouting. dynamight, take flora to practice. do not push yourselves, understood?"

"understood." [name] replied, while bakugo grunted in agreement.

"dismissed."

everyone went their separate ways. [name] was doing her best to act causally as she and katsuki walked side by side to the practice room.

"so, uh.. nice weather huh?"

"why have you been ignoring me?"

crap.

"what do you mean katsuki? you're acting so crazy right now."

"no, i'm not. you didn't even try to talk about what happened yesterday with me, and then you randomly fucking call me at six in the goddamn morning. and i overhear some argument between you and that bugs bunny wannabe, just for you to decline on me, dick move by the way.

so, what's your deal?

you've been acting off around me since sunday."

he let out a scoff, and jokingly said

"what, you got a crush on me or something?"

"yes."

"what?"

both their eyes widened as the words left her mouth. crap, the whole operation was done for!

"was that a joke?"

"no."

she quickly located the practice room that was just around the corner, and tried to speed walk away.

"are you being serious right now? [name]? [name] we're training together you can't get away!"

she stumbled into the training room.

her life was over, but she still had to train, unless she really wanted her life to be over when she fought those guys tomorrow.

katsuki lightly grabbed her shoulder and made her face him.

"[name] fucking talk to me! stop being so shitty and confusing! why won't you just tell me the truth?!"

"because i'm scared of rejection!"

"i'd never-- i wouldn't reject you. just tell me the truth."

she sighed heavily. she didn't really process his last words, but she decided to tell him.

about the quirk at least.

"okay, so, sunday right? i took a hit for mirko-"

"you're insane."

"let me finish! i took a hit from mirko and got hit by this quirk. it basically makes you tell the truth whenever anyone asks a question, and it lasts a week."

"why didn't you tell me?"

"i was scared."

"who knows?"

"mirko, denki, kirishima, mina, momo, jiro--"

"so everyone except me, huh? damn. and the thing about your 'problems'?"

"a real bad lie from denki."

"so what you said earlie--"

"let's train. i don't want to answer any of that now. and, about what i said earlier..

can i talk to you about it after the mission?"

katsuki's face scrunched up. the emotion he was displaying was incoherent. disgust? anger? rejection?

but he understood her. he always seemed to. after a swift nod, he said

"fine. let's fucking fight though."

the tenseness between them disappeared, replaced by a competitive energy.

"you're on!"

they trained til' the sun went down. they were pretty even in quirk matches, but [name] definitely needed to practice her general strength.

still, in their last match she managed to pin him down.

"remember when we did this the first time?"

"shut up."

they agreed to stop for the day, and kept their wins in mind.

[name]- 8

katsuki-8

an even tie.

katsuki had opted to walk her home, so walk they did.

"if you're just gonna take a taxi back what was the point of walking me?"

"i just needed to talk to you, but we already talked it out earlier so it's fine i guess."

"oh. so, are you nervous for tomorrow?"

"nervous? why'd i be nervous? i'm destined to be number one, all these villains and missions and shit are just stepping stones to me."

"right, right. but they've killed like- pros. they hate heroes. and number one's like you."

"so?"

"so, they could be dangerous."

"i'll kill em' and i'll protect you, so don't worry."

she let a small smile escape her lips, why'd he always know what to say?

"thanks katsuki."

"yeah whatever. go inside loser, it's past my bedtime."

"okay, okay. text me when you get back."

"will you actually open it or leave me hanging like a dumbass?"

"i will, unless i fall asleep."

"fuck off. bye."

he got into a taxi back across town, she went into the hotel and felt butterflies settle in her stomach.

she knew the operation would take a complete one-eighy at the news from today, so to spare herself mostly, she texted that 'we should postpone the operation for today, i'm beat.'

everyone texted back their agreements, seems everyone was weak from the day.

she tucked into bed, and checked over her texts one last time.

katsuki had texted her.

allmightsolos01

i got back to the agency

sleep well or whatever

read 10:37

flowered[name]

sleep well katsuki!

see you tomorroww

delivered

man this truth quirk stuff is so easy.

these last four days are just gonna be a blur.

prev | next!

taglist (comment to be added!): @cc1306 @reads-stuff-quietly @dazqa

#bakugo x you #bakugo #bakugo x y/n #bakugo fluff #bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x you #bnha bakugo katsuki

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chaoticbardlady99 · 8 months

Text

Maryë (Astarion x GN! AFAB Reader) MDNI 18 +

Synopsis: Astarion left to explore the world and himself following the death of the Netherbrain. You remain in Baldur’s Gate with your brother, Gale, resigning yourself to your fate as Astarion’s friend until you die. Until one day, you and Astarion begin to write letters back and forth. Except there is one letter in particular that you suspect isn’t from Astarion…

CW: minimal mentions of violence, smut, Oral (Female Receiving), PIV, Tav’s also just an oblivious idiot who apparently doesn’t think very hard about words (it’s me, I’m Tav the idiot and this is like my Fiancé and I’s friendship prior to ya know, dating lmfao)

Author note- I might also write this in AMAB! Format, but I need to do some… research first for accuracy. This is lightly edited and just some silly little thought I had. I wanted to write something not so detailed for once while I work on my drafts for Lethal Woman and She’s Not Acid Nor Alkaline. Also def stole a line from Tolkien and added to it at the end (this is me crediting).

You’ll either love this or hate this idk.

The title literally translates to Home in Elvish.

Photo belongs to idk who so please reach out if it’s yours!

As always- likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated, I am just terrible at responding.

Tav,

As much as I enjoy our current form of communication- I was wondering if I could come to see you in person.

I have so much I need to say to you and I want to be able to do it in person- the proper way.

I hope to hear from you soon.

Yours,

Astarion

You sit and stare at the letter like you have been doing for the last week since you received it. Unlike your half-brother, Gale, you are not one for words. It was hard to respond to Astarion’s letters initially until Gale “doctored” your responses- often putting whatever silly accomplishment you have achieved lately or stories Gale found interesting from your recent solo adventures.

“Are you going to write the letter or are you hoping it’s going to write itself?” Gale teases.

You scowl at him and shake your head.

“I don’t know what to write back.”

“I could come up with a couple things!” Gale clears his throat, “‘ Oh Astarion- I’ve missed you terribly this whole time! I regret telling you that we should be friends until you figure things out! Despite my VERY WISE BROTHER’S ADVICE TO NOT DO THAT! I wait like a lovesick puppy at the mailbox every week hoping a letter may arrive!’”

You roll your eyes at him and throw one of his many decorative couch pillows at his head. He certainly has your mother’s flair for the dramatic. However, you can’t necessarily say he’s wrong- you have been nothing less than a smitten school girl waiting for letters non-stop.

Astarion had gone back to the Underdark after the last battle with the Netherbrain. He told you that he wanted to go and explore who he is- the world too.

You had been as enthusiastic as you could about the decision considering you had come up to him at the party with a letter in your hands asking if he would like to continue traveling with you after this- you had been too scared to say it outloud. A part of you hoped it may allow your romance to blossom without the impending threat of death at every corner. Well, if he still harbored any feelings for you at all.

You had merely smiled and told him how excited you are for him. It answered the silent question that had been there- was there still room in Astarion’s heart for you after you said you should just be friends and try again later?

The answer was ‘no’, despite Gale’s perplexed face and lecture when he found out you gave the spawn a send off with a ‘long’ hug (he made you describe it in detail). You refuse to give yourself any hope- you will remain a dutiful friend since you resigned yourself to this fate.

Then you received a Sending spell with him requesting your address and the letters began. You squealed like a schoolgirl when the first one came in and ripped it open enthusiastically. You didn’t realize Gale was home, otherwise you wouldn’t have read it out in the open- Tara snitched on you!

You had only truly met Gale around a couple months prior to your mutual abduction. Your mother had asked you to assist a brother you never knew about in finding magical artifacts- you quickly learned it was because the man was becoming a damn recluse.

You had worried he’d slam the door in your face or turn you into a sheep for all of eternity- the minute you told him your name was Tav Dekarios, he pulled you in for a hug and told you he had been awaiting your arrival. Gale was thrilled to know that, like him, you were also a prodigy in your craft.

You are a virtuoso master with any instrument you touch and you cast spells that are almost far too good to be true. You became Oghma’s Chosen in your teen years after spending many years practicing under his mentorship (which is why you and Gale had a very weird, serious talk one night about how Mystra is kind of a fucking pedophile) and that allowed you to do incredible things.

Your notes could create shimmery images and tell stories- Arabella and the other tiefling children (even the very tough Mol) enjoy coming over and watching war tales be told with nothing but a drum and a rain stick. Sometimes you let them tell tales and you come up with a tune to match it- eventually finding a rhythm to put your mind into and create the picture.

It was one of the many things Astarion mentioned in his note- he stated that none of the other Bards even begin to hold a candle to your talent. You blushed deeply when you read the line.

He told you about everything he had seen, everyone he had met, what he’s found out about himself, and shockingly enough- how much he misses you. It had taken you by total surprise, but you responded saying you missed him too.

Pet names began to flow easily into inked lines and it felt like you had a tiny part of him back in your life- your friendship is still as strong as it was before he left.

The letters have quickly become the best part of your week and occasionally you’ll read them with Arabella. She ooos and awwws, then attempts to bully you into tell Astarion your feelings. You cast a mini rain shower over her head with a few poetic words for the suggestion. You don’t want to ruin what you have and there is always the possibility that he found someone else.

However, you weren’t unsure of this particular note because you didn’t want to see Astarion- you would love that. The issue is that it doesn’t look like his handwriting, it isn’t the paper he uses (he’s ridiculously particular), and it doesn’t flow. Gale thinks you are over analyzing it, but you are pretty sure that this isn’t Astarion’s writing. He also addresses you as “Darling” not Tav and signs the letter of with “‘Órenya ná órelya” (my heart is your heart) not “Yours”.

You’ve waited for another note to come in since, but nothing has. You are beginning to wonder if Gale is right and you really are just being paranoid.

“I already told you, Gale,” you say with annoyance, “something isn’t right about this note. I don’t think this is from him which is worrisome because that means I haven’t heard from him in two weeks WHICH could MEAN-“

“For the love of Gods- TAV,” Gale yells, effectively shutting you up, “my young, oblivious little sibling. Just say yes and let him come visit.”

*********************************************************

It had been two days since you sent the sending stone and there was no response. Not that it would have mattered anyway considering you are somewhere in the Underdark in a very beautifully lit cave. Neon, blue veins of magic run through the rock. The pathway is lit with glowing flowers and…. Benches?

It had all happened so fast. One moment you were walking home from the market and the next- Astarion had come up to you from an alleyway and said he needed help. He had told you that he would love to catch up, but there is an injured child around the corner and since he can only stay in the shadows, he needs you to help them. Before you knew it- someone hit you with a sleep spell and the last thing you remember seeing is stars as your head slammed into the pavement. Oh and a, “oooooffff my bad” before you blacked out.

You blink your eyes a few more times, trying to figure out what in the wretched hells is going on.

“Oh for the love of- I told you to talk to Oghma’s Chosen! Not kidnap her and give her a serious concussion!”

A hazy, short figure comes into your vision. Is that…. a Deep Gnome?

“You told us it was imperative for the wedding! We intercepted the real letter and wrote this one,” another Gnome says, “and it worked! They showed up and everything! We’ve been watching since you told us to talk to her two weeks ago! We were running out of time for talking and bargaining so we just-“

“Kidnapped them!” the man yells, “you kidnapped them!? You- you imbeciles! They are supposed to want to perform for the wedding- you had at least six more hours! AND I GAVE YOU TWO WEEKS!”

“But Walby-“

Walby.

You know Walby! He and Barcus have been dating for a while now and the two are over the moon smitten. You are very happy for Barcus- this man is everything Wulbern could never be.

“No! I have had enough of your silliness! Leave me at once!”

You hear the three Gnomes that supposedly ambushed you walk off in angry huffs. A flash of healing magic fills the air and your head is finally clear- your ears no longer ringing like a triangle.

“My apologies, Ms.Dekarios,” Walby, says, “I wanted them to give you an invitation to come to Barcus’ and I’s wedding this afternoon, but as you heard, they are not the brightest bunch.

“It’s a very last minute ceremony- my mother is ill and she wants to see her ‘baby’ get married before she goes. We wanted to wait another year to plan, but oh you know how it goes!”

Walby looks at you sheepishly as you blink a few more times and let his words sink in. You look at the man and try not to throw up from sitting upright. You must have been out for a while, but not in a “oh that was a wonderful beauty nap” kind of way. You are pretty sure you have a decent amount of blood caked to the side of your head and neck right now.

“Oh, well in that case,” you offer a good natured smile, “I’ll consider this the most unique wedding invitation I’ve ever received and one I may not even have the privilege of remembering.”

The man laughs heartily as you stand up and brush your clothing off. You’re glad you wore a nicer outfit today and decided to bring your violin along- Oghma must have wanted to make sure you were prepared.

“I also wanted to ask a favor,” he says meekly, “if I haven’t fallen out of your good graces before I even stepped foot in them- that is.”

You smile and just roll your eyes.

“Consider it water under the bridge. How can I be of service?”

“Well, you see- we had asked an acquaintance of ours to play music and uh. There’s no easy way to put this, but he was run over by a herd of Deep Rothé.”

“Hmm,” you say with a snort, “tough crowd- Deep Rothés.”

Ultimately, you agreed to perform for the ceremony and the little dinner party afterwards. Your music decorated the air with golds and silvers. Barcus was thrilled to have you there and thanked you immensely for allowing his mother-in-law to “witness true magic” before she leaves this plane.

By the time you were finally leaving- you hear two very familiar voices scream your name and come barreling towards you.

*****************************************

Astarion and Gale are practically sprinting as they try to track your location through the streets of Baldur’s Gate. They had just found a large spot of your blood sticking to the cobblestone and leading to the sewer. Astarion feels sick when he notices the path leads back into the Crimson Palace. Thankfully it was through the sewer and straight to the tunnel of the Underdark.

He had sent you a letter a few days ago and he had confessed his feelings. Instead of waiting for you to respond like a sane person, Astarion got the hell out of the inn he was staying at and began the four day trek to Baldur’s Gate. The nice part about traveling alone and not needing to breath is that Astarion could run from place to place if he was in a hurry or was just fed up with traveling already.

Astarion quickly learned that it was boring to be alone and it’s far more fun to share adventures with you. He also learned that he might be a semi-decent person on his own because, in spite of being without your physical presence, he continues to fucking help people. Astarion is really over this whole moral compass thing (it only extends so far though, he’s still a proud Bastard at heart).

When he arrived at your home about an hour and a half ago, Gale had informed him that you had gone out to the Market and was confused when Astarion said his letter shouldn’t have arrived yet. It took longer than usual to write for… reasons.

Gale showed him the note you received and the two of them pieced together that someone had definitely set up a trap- just not a very good one. Astarion pinched the bridge of his nose when Gale told him that you definitely figured out the letter wasn’t from him, but Gale encouraged you to respond anyway.

A part of him is incredibly worried that some of the remaining Bhaal cultists have taken you since they are the only people he could think of that would be able to mimic his form. His stomach still turns when he thinks about the time they realized Orin had taken you. This is giving him the same queasy feeling.

So imagine his and Gale’s surprise when you are walking away from some random spot seemingly unscathed. Except Astarion won’t believe that until he has inspected you for injuries himself.

You look positively shell-shocked to see him and even more surprised when he’s taking your face gently in his hands and begins to check for injuries.

“Are you alright, Darling?” He says in a far more panicked voice than he means to, “we found blood- I thought the worst and your idiot brother! Of course that letter wasn’t from me! I have class, my Dear! I would never use that paper and WHY IN THE HELLS WOULD YOU FOLLOW ME OF ALL PEOPLE!?”

He knows his ‘rage’ doesn’t sound like rage- it sounds like a man who thought his only love had been on the brink of death only moments ago. Astarion is trying to keep a serious face, but the adoration and love in your eyes when you look at him is making him want to dissolve. He’s thrilled to see that after a whole year of not being together that your feelings haven’t waivered. Neither have his, obviously, but that’s why he’s here.

“I will say, Tav,” Gale says with exasperation, “you even gave Tara a fright- you should be expecting a very long lecture when we get home.”

“Oh I’m sure I will,” you say with a beaming smile, your eyes never leaving Astarion’s, “but I do have quite the story if you would like to hear it?”

Astarion’s grin stretches across his entire face.

“I think a good story, better company, and some wine would make for a fine evening, my Dear.”

“Gross!” Gale says, “but I’ll tag along for some wine.”

Oh dammit.

****************************

If Astarion wasn’t so busy feasting upon you- then he probably would have already hunted down those stupid Gnomes that gave him a fright and found a windmill to fling them from. Gale had left only 15 minutes ago, but Astarion had made quick work in getting you up to his room and having his way with you.

The minute Gale left, the conversation became flirty and teasing- all the want that has been pooling in his body is finally getting the release it needs. You, like always, are a sight to behold.

Your back arches when his tongue drags along your clit and Astarion pushes your hips down into the mattress as your arousal paints his lips. Your moans and desperate cries of pleasure are so delicious and his cock is painfully hard, straining against his leather pants.. He is fighting between taking his time and being selfish- chasing his own pleasure inside of you.

The moment you clench around his fingers is the same moment he unlaces his own pants and begins to remove them. You keen and whine underneath him- Astarion’s name sounds the best coming from you in this state.

Astarion should be a gentleman, hypothetically, and maybe give you a half a second to be a little less dazed from your orgasm. Except Astarion isn’t a gentleman and he isn’t patient- at all.

Astarion lifts your hips up to his until the head of his cock is aligned with your entrance and he thrusts himself inside of you. You immediately wrap your legs around his hips with a yelp of pleasure and your eyes flutter wildly as you take his whole length. Astarion smiles down at you as he slowly rocks in and out of you.

Your fingers find their way to his hair and you pull Astarion’s face down to yours- stunning him with a mind numbing kiss. He snaps his hips at the sensation and the moan you let out causes whatever resolve he had to break. Astarion releases the hold you have on his lips and kisses along your jaw up to your ear.

“Did you like that, my Love?”

You hum in approval and try to pull his mouth back to yours. He interrupts you by thrusting into you two more times with more power than the first one.

“Asta-,,” you attempt to say his name between thrusts, “Astarion please.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Pet,” he teases, “I don’t even know if I know what you like anymore- maybe you don’t even like thi-“

Your legs tighten around his hips as he goes to pull completely out of you. Astarion quirks his eyebrow at you with a smirk as you look at him with desperation.

“I more than liked it- I loved it,” you whisper with your cheeks burning from your shyness.

Oh and how Astarion loves your shyness. His hands fist the sheets as he starts his agonizingly slow rhythm inside of you again- whimpers falling from deep within your chest.

“See, Darling,” Astarion says as his face falls into the crook of your neck, “that wasn’t so difficult, now was it?”

He doesn’t even give you a chance to respond before Astarion’s hips begin to pick up speed and his mouth covers yours. As much as he loves to hear you moan- he doesn’t care to share that experience with any of the patrons that had been obviously checking you out while you were catching up.

Astarion groans against your lips as he continues to fuck you relentlessly- his fangs nip at your lower lip and lap at the tiny droplets of blood that seep from the punctures.

You are a mess underneath him and you feel incredible in every way possible. Astarion never wanted this to stop in the first place- back when he had told you his feelings and you said it would be best to be friends for the time being.

Perhaps that’s what causes him to slow down and kiss you deeply- making up for the lack of speed with more force. One of his hands trails along your chest and begins to tease your sensitive nipples- your walls clench around him hard when he begins to pinch and roll the right one and your orgasm coats him as he moves to play with the left.

You kiss him sloppily and he’s lazily thrusting into you- his own Little Death following yours within seconds. Astarion collapses on top of you as he begins to soften inside of you. The smell of you and him mixed together is intoxicating and your heartbeat is hammering from the pleasure- your eyes glassy and tired with bliss. He laughs breathily before placing a kiss on your swollen lips.

Astarion lifts you up ever so slightly so that he can pull the blanket down and over you, then he adjusts himself and you so that you are curled up with your ear pressed against his chest. He strokes your hair absentmindedly and you lightly draw shapes on his chest.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” you say sleepily, “I’ve missed you so much.”

I’ve missed you too, Darling,” Astarion says while pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I’m happy to be home.”

“Oh I’m sure Baldur’s Gate is-“

“You are my home,” Astarion interrupts you, “I’ve come to realize that wherever you are is where I want to be.”

You look up at him with tears in your eyes and happiness in your heart.

“But what about exploring your new life and all of that jazz?”

“Darling, I wouldn’t have a life if it weren’t for you,” Astarion states, “you helped me kill Cazador and break the cycle of ongoing abuse. You gave me life so I could live it and I want to live it with you. I’m tired of pretending I’m okay with just being friends and holding back my feelings. I want to share my life with you.

“I know this may all seem very fast, but” Astarion grabs his pants off the ground and he feels his stomach turn as he pulls the box out of his pocket, “I know I love you- that’s probably the only thing I’ve ever been sure of in my entire 239 years of existence. I- I wanted to know if you would… marry me?”

Your lips are on his within seconds and the two of you become entangled in soft kisses until you have to pull back for air. You lean your forehead against his and meet his gaze.

“I love you so much, Astarion. Yes- yes I will marry you,” you say tearfully, “I want to share my life with you too.”

182 notes · View notes

honeykyeom · 1 year

Text

white noise / track 2: smoke

pairing: lee seokmin x afab!reader

series summary: seokmin had always been there for you. after a rough heartbreak, you find out he’s there for you in more ways than just one.

series notes: uni!au, best friends to lovers, friends with benefits, 97 line antics, 18+

chapter warnings: alcohol & food mention, mcu mention (lmao), the gang actually goes to class?? (not really but), seokmin kinda being dumb, mingyu being pouty (what's new), the full gang!! FINALLY!!!!!, mostly slight angst (not sorry)

wc: ~5k

a/n: after much anticipation, the second track (even though i'm nowhere near done with the third LMAO)! thank you so much for all the renewed interest and love on the first track, i really really REALLY appreciate it. seriously it means the world!

read track 1 here!

Walking out of your shared English Literature class with Jinsoul, you grab your phone from your back pocket, the light from the homescreen illuminating your face even in the cloudy daylight. The weather matches your mind: murky and foggy, obscuring your clarity. As you focus on the LED screen, zoning out Jinsoul’s voice and looking through the endless notifications you received while in class, there was one that was still noticeably absent.

No messages from Seokmin.

It’s been about a week since the party, since that fateful night, with no word from Seokmin. You were left alone the next morning, waking up next to an empty space and cold sheets. You sat up in your bed, your mind running a thousand miles a minute with the finish line nowhere in sight. You felt lost on the track, stuck on where you two go from here and no chance to speak with him about it.

Did he regret that night? Was it a mistake to cross that line?

“Hey!”

You felt a sudden pain on your arm, breaking your attention from your thoughts. You look over at Jinsoul, rubbing the sore spot that she playfully hit. “What?”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“...Yeah, of course.”

Jinsoul rolls her eyes, your dazed expression making it apparent that you weren’t listening to her rant about your class. “Okay, you’ve been out of it all week. What’s up with you?” She asks you, an earnest shine in her eyes, treading lightly on the topic.

You falter in your steps, unsure of how to answer her question. You wanted to tell her, air out your frustrations, explain the current predicament you were in and finally get the heavy burden that was weighing you down off your shoulders. Something in your brain stops you from doing that, however, leaving you to twiddle your fingers and your thoughts taking refuge in the back of your mind.

You settle with, “Nothing. Everything’s fine,” in a meek voice, avoiding Jinsoul’s worrying stare.

She can tell that you’re lying, your entire frame sinking into itself; it’s not hard to see your demeanor changing, but she keeps her mouth shut, not wanting to overstep her boundaries. Even if she wanted to say anything, her own thoughts are interrupted with your smile and wave to Haseul and Yves, who are both meeting you halfway in the courtyard.

Haseul is the first to greet you back, running up to hug you immediately. Yves saunters, a smirk on her face as she sits at the table that’s situated in the middle of your group. You move your attention to her, continuing to hold Haseul in a tight hug with an eager smile. “So… how was your date with ViVi?”

Jinsoul is even quick to change the subject, her excitement for her friend showing in her bubbly appearance. “Oh my god, yes! Tell us, please!”

“It was good… We just walked along the river and went to a coffee shop that wasn’t too far. Wasn’t like an extravagant date or anything.”

“ViVi asked to see her again,” Haseul adds, ever the overbearing mother, embarrassing Yves with her admission. Squeals contribute to her embarrassment as you and Jinsoul berate her with questions and requests for more details and Yves is unable to hide her excitement, her own screams joining the group. You’re sure to be annoying the sleep-deprived students around you in the courtyard, but nothing can dull the joy in your circle.

“What are we screaming about?”

Your chatter is interrupted by the entrance of Minghao and Mingyu, sliding in beside Yves. You notice quickly that there’s a missing body from the usual trio, only adding to your anxieties of the day. Why is Seokmin avoiding me, you think as the two men join the group.

“We’re screaming about Yves’ date with ViVi,” Jinsoul responds, a laugh coming out of her lips as she excitedly recounts the conversation. Mingyu wraps his arms around Yves when he hears the news, joining in on the celebration and Minghao has a smile of endearment gracing his face, a clear sign of love that’s bursting through the seams.

“It was just one date,” Yves mumbles through Mingyu’s tight grasp, still grinning from ear to ear. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Minghao interjects in the conversation, “So! You’ve been talking forever. It’s about time you two did something about it.” He brings his water bottle, which was encased in a decent amount of glistening water droplets, up to his lips and clears his throat once he swallows the liquid before he continues his sentiment. “We’ve seen how you’ve been around her. She makes you happy and that’s all that matters and we’re excited for you.”

A rare demure expression is seen on Yves’ face. A tight-lipped, shy and curved smile flashes as she responds quietly, “Yeah… It’s exciting.” Her body relaxes as waves of approval from the group assures her. She never needed your approval, nor does she ever ask for it, but you’ve seen her heart go through men and women, her confidence gliding through the acute pain she never spoke about.

“Get more excited! It’s about time one of us got cuffed,” Mingyu comments, loosening his grip on Yves, but still keeping an arm around her shoulders and keeping her warm against his body.

“Yeah, why isn’t it you, Gyu? Being a hopeless romantic and all that,” you retort, falling back into your playful banter with him to hopefully ease your own anxieties.

“Why are you asking? Trying to cuff me?”

You scoff at his cocky expression, “You wish.” He returns your statement with a cheeky wink, playing up the faux attraction. The back and forth with Mingyu doesn’t make the thought in the forefront of your mind go away as much as you hoped. “Where’s Seokmin? Isn’t he in the same class with you guys?”

Minghao is the one to respond, “He said he had to leave for something. Not sure for what.. He’ll be at movie night, though.”

Okay, he’s definitely avoiding me, you think. He’s never been this MIA before, usually taking any opportunity to casually talk to the group but more importantly, you.

The hole you were feeling in your life is greater than any heartbreak you’ve ever felt. No breakup, no fallout, nothing hurt like the slow disintegration of the friendship between you and your best friend, all because of a stupid decision.

“Y/N?”

You look up to see everyone around the table looking at you expectantly.

“I’m sorry. What was the question?”

“Do you need help with setting up for movie night tonight?” Haseul asks. “Minghao and I get out of class early so we can head over after?”

You bring your mouth up in a lipless smile, trying to muster all the happiness you can fake as you respond, “Yeah. Sounds great.”

At least you’ll see Seokmin tonight and maybe then you’ll get some answers.

“Have you guys noticed anything weird with Seokmin lately?”

Minghao stops setting up the blankets on your couch to catch your gaze, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. His expression matches Haseul’s, a slight frown forming when they meet eyes, trying to think about your mutual friend. Their heads come up empty, Minghao returning to look at you as he responds to your inquiry, “Nope. Everything seems normal to me?”

“Yeah, I haven’t noticed anything with him,” Haseul agrees. Her melodic work at making room in the fridge for incoming abundance of drinks fills the otherwise quiet room, the only other noise being the soft r&b coming from the television. She stands up from her kneeled position, slowly joining you at the kitchen island. “Why do you ask?”

Your body tenses, biting your bottom lip as your hands play with the plastic of the popcorn bags you’re prepping. The crinkling sounds fill your mind, playing with the static of your thoughts. You’re certain the pause is suspicious. Minghao and Haseul were naturally attuned to people’s emotions and you were no exception, no matter how hard you tried to hide them. You bring your focus away from the comfort of the plastic wrappers back to Haseul, attempting to steady your mind. “I just feel like he’s been avoiding me since the party. Like, outside of the groupchat.”

“That’s weird. Why?”

“I don’t know.” Lie.

“Did something happen during or after the party?”

“Not that I know of.” Another lie.

Haseul’s hands rest on her hips, eyes downcast as she thinks over your responses. “Huh.” Her tongue comes out of her mouth, pointed out in thought and she looks over at Minghao, who has now joined the two of you at the kitchen island. “Minghao, did he say anything when he got back home?’

“Not at all. He made it back to our apartment before us and when we got back, he was already asleep.”

You were brought back to that night, after everything was said and done.

You and Seokmin were quiet, his arm around you like a protective blanket, holding you against his chest. You couldn’t lie–his touch was comforting and while unfamiliar, not unwelcome. You two weren’t strangers to cuddling or being close, the behavior at the party making that evident, but this felt different. Maybe it was the obvious fact that you two crossed a line, a line that had been drawn in the sand for the both of you for the past two years–now, the small granules lifted in the air and swept away with the wind, blurring that already thin line.

Despite his own heart's pleas, Seokmin was the first to speak, his own voice small and faint. “I think I should go… before the guys’ get suspicious.” His actions fail his words, not loosening his grasp. He wasn’t ready to go, not ready to leave your presence, but he’d rather rip the bandaid off now than later before he has to go back to reality–the reality that you two were just best friends and nothing more.

“Do you think they’d be suspicious? I mean you’ve stayed over before?”

He winces at your question, the hopeful lilt in your tone making his decision that much more difficult. He has to do this, he thinks. It’s for his own good.

“I think it would be better if I go.”

Suddenly, there’s a knock at your door, breaking your memories and bringing you back to Haseul and Minghao, both of them still discussing the behavior of Seokmin. Their conversation stops when they hear the chatter of your friends behind the door.

You leave the kitchen to open your front door, revealing the rest of your friend group, ready to join in on the festivities. Jinsoul is the first to enter, a bright smile gracing her face as she exclaims that she brought more snacks for the night, leaving the group with plenty of food to satisfy themselves. Yves and Mingyu are quick to follow behind her, carrying cases and paper bags. The clinking of glass and aluminum make it apparent that they did not disappoint with their task of grabbing drinks for the night. They greet you with loud howling, the excitement of the night and finally being able to unwind after a week of exams and assignments getting to them.

You lock eyes with the lone straggler, the last person in the line of people joining you in your apartment. He keeps his cardigan close to him as he looks at you, a tight-lipped smile emphasizing the small dimple underneath his lips. You drink him in as you realize this is the first time you two have seen each other since that night.

You almost forgot how attractive he was, the week apart making his features more prominent in your mind.

“Hey,” you’re the first to crack the ice barrier between you two, hoping for it to thaw enough to make the night less awkward.

“Hey.”

You could cut the tension with a knife with how well this conversation was going. The air suddenly felt thick, so thick and dry that it sucked the moisture right out of you, causing you to swallow any saliva you could muster.

Alright, you think. Here goes nothing.

“So, um… about that night-”

“Are you guys going to watch the movie from over there? Hurry up!”

Damn it, Yves.

Seokmin clears his throat and quickly moves past you in the door frame, joining everyone else in the kitchen to situate himself for the movie night. You watch him leave, turning around as your front door slams behind you. He grabs a plastic cup, opting for water for the night, much to Mingyu’s chagrin.

This is going to be much harder than you thought.

You didn’t think it was possible to care any less about the fight scene in front of you, but here you are. You thought that picking one of your comfort films, or one where you turn your brain off and ignore all the plotholes, would help with your uneasiness but the absence of a familiar warmth next to you makes your brain aware of how apparent the flaws of the MCU have always been.

Mingyu’s big body acts like a heated blanket and the plush cushions of your sectional are comfortable enough for you to fall asleep if you wanted to. He happily took the opportunity to get close to you, saddling up to your side and enjoying Captain America trying to save his dear friend, Bucky Barnes and you wish you could do the same. It’s not that Mingyu’s cuddling wasn’t welcomed.

It just wasn’t Seokmin.

You and him had always sat together during movie night, acting like two peas in a pod, attached at the hip. But now here he sits, on the opposite side of your couch fumbling his fingers with your fuzzy, lilac blanket. It’s hard to keep your attention away, trying to focus on your steady breathing as opposed to his movements.

Soon as the movie dies down, Steve and Natasha breathing heavily on the doorstep of Sam Wilson, Seokmin stands up and wipes his hands on his jeans. Clearing his throat, he addresses the group, “I’m going to go to the bathroom.”

Although everyone moves their focus from the television, Jinsoul, who lifts her head from your shoulder, is the one to speak. “Do you need us to pause the movie?”

“Nah, you guys are good. It’ll be quick.”

Seokmin disappears into your bedroom, the door to your adjacent bathroom clicking shut. Everyone’s attention returns to the movie and you wish yours could do the same, but it was never there in the first place. You bounce your leg as the time passes, the scenes in front of you blending into one another. It’s not long before your mind settles on a decision, hoping for an end to this madness and before you can change it, you’re breaking away from Mingyu’s grasp and following Seokmin’s footsteps.

“Don’t wait up, I need to use the bathroom too.” You don’t even look back to see the group’s reaction or wait to hear their response before you’re entering your bedroom.

Looking at the bathroom door, the harsh yellow glow of light seeping through the floor haunts you. The toilet flushes, the sound filling your own brain with water and your head gets fuzzy, almost like you’re underwater. The waves begin to climb, threatening to suffocate you.

It’s now or never.

“What the fuck?”

You slam the bathroom door behind you and you’re met on the other side with a shocked Seokmin. His hands were dripping with water, soap bubbles following the path of his veins that run down his skin. He looks at you incredulously, completely taken aback by your presence in the space that he’s taken refuge in from the increasing anxiety of your current situation.

He knew it was only a temporary relief, but it was a moment to breathe–a moment away from you. He expected to have just a few minutes to collect his thoughts, regulate his breathing and try not to think about you being in his vicinity. What he didn’t expect was for you to break into that solace, infecting every piece of his mind.

“What are you doing in here?”

“Why are you avoiding me?” you ignore his question, rendering him speechless and babbling, trying to collect his thoughts.

He walks over to your hand towel, the blues of the fabric bleeding dark from the water. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh ok! So, leaving me on read all week, walking away anytime I enter a room with you and saying 3 words to me face to face isn’t avoiding me?” Seokmin takes a deep breath, leaning against the faux marble counter. His eyes stay downcast, evading your accusing stare and he keeps silent. “You’ve been weird ever since last weekend… You promised nothing would change after everything.”

Walking Seokmin to your door, you keep his hand intertwined with yours. You can’t help but notice the change in atmosphere–the glow of your kitchen lights shine a more golden hue, the air around you has a different stillness and even the feeling of his skin on yours clashes with the usual relationship. It’s all subtle, but it’s enough to notice.

You stop in your tracks, Seokmin moving forward until you pull him back, not letting go of his hands. Biting your lip, you look up at him as he gets closer, eyebrows furrowing with confusion as to why you stopped.

“What’s up?”

After a beat of silence, you respond but your apprehensiveness remains, “Nothing’s going to change between us because of this… right?”

Seokmin’s eyes shine with sincerity and his mouth is slightly left agape as he ponders on his response. He’s never been one to be certain of the future, choosing to live in the moment and take each moment day by day–all with a positive attitude. Once he collects his thoughts, there’s a finality to his tone, as if he’s never been more sure of anything.

He releases your hand, only to present his pinky finger. You chuckle at the silly ritual you two have, but at least you know he’s serious.

“Nothing is going to change between us. Pinky promise.”

Seokmin can only stare at his reflection in the mirror, dirty water stains peering back at him. “I wanted everything to be normal,” he states, simply.

“Well, why wasn’t it?”

“Because I liked it, maybe.” He breaks his gaze from the mirror and finally looks at you. The fine lines in his face are more apparent this close, like the stress from the past week had caught up to him. “I liked it. And I didn’t know how to tell you that or maybe, I didn’t want to admit it since it was just a drunk hookup.” Seokmin lets out a shaky breath, unsure how to continue, if he even should. The heaviness that has been weighing him down all week was lifted, his chest heaving from the truth that’s been released.

You approach Seokmin apprehensively, closing the distance between you two. It isn’t until your hands are touching on the counter do you respond to him, ending the silence. “I liked it too,” you confess.

“Would it be bad to admit that I wouldn’t mind doing it again,” Seokmin’s voice is soft, afraid to break the glass of the situation. He keeps his eyes focused on your hands, not willing to meet your face again. The air around you two has shifted, a fluid current flowing between your hands.

“Who says that we can’t do it again?”

He chuckles, shaking his head before he says, “The thing is I don’t want to stop.”

“Maybe I don’t want to stop either.”

Seokmin thinks he’s dreaming. When he looks at your face, there’s a playful spark in your eyes and the tone of your voice tempts him, as it always has. He could be imagining the smirk that tugs at the corner of your lips or the slight squeeze you give his hand and the small actions may cloud his judgment on how he should handle this situation, but he doesn’t care. He’s acting on pure adrenaline when he brings his hands to your face, connecting your lips together.

Everything about the kiss is different from the last time you kissed Seokmin. The shivers run down your body all the same but the soft nature of him has vanished, replaced with a fiery exterior. As his fingers leave your cheeks, falling to your waist and bringing your body closer to his, the touch kindles at your insides, your skin on fire.

Your bodies meld together from the heat, pulling yourselves closer until it was physically impossible. Seokmin’s lips work feverishly, eliciting a moan out of you and your nails leave crescent moons on his skin from the grip you had on him. It all makes his head spin, somehow more than you already did. He was insatiable–confirming that last week, he was not only drunk on alcohol, but drunk on you.

You feel like you’re floating, on the surface of a cloud, only to realize you aren’t 10 feet in the air when Seokmin pushes you against the bathroom door. His hands hold onto your waist tightly, making sure the impact isn’t too loud or painful. The only thing that fills the air is the heavy breathing shared between the two of you.

Between frantic hands and heated kisses, the two of you weren’t willing to break apart from each other. In the back of his mind, he begins to think of the others that sit in the room next door.

He could stay like this forever, but he didn’t want anyone to get any ideas. Seokmin separates your lips, albeit reluctantly, and you’re quick to chase him, not wanting the moment to end. Labored breaths fill the humid air and your lips are red from the constant contact. Softening his touch, he brings his forehead to yours in a moment of solace, trying to clear the static in his mind and regulate his breathing.

“We should get back to the others before they get suspicious,” he manages to get out through his dry throat. Seokmin’s voice is low, raspy and especially cautious, careful to keep his words contained to these four walls. “We should keep this between us.”

You only have enough sense in you to nod, agreeing to his statement. Head still foggy from the heat and dampness of the air, you finally open your eyes and respond, “I think so too…” You take a deep breath before you continue, “Don’t want to change too much.”

“It’s probably for the best.”

Seokmin internally winces at those words, the same ones that left his mouth when he had to leave your place last week. His statement cuts through his heart, exposing his flesh and reality–the reality that he’s helplessly in love with you, his best friend.

Or best friend with benefits?, he thinks. There’s no way this won’t end in disaster.

But he can’t deny the lightness he feels or the way his stomach churns at the thought of holding you, kissing you, or having you moan his name amidst a dizzy spell from pleasure. The situation he’s bringing upon himself is selfish and foolish and everything he shouldn’t be doing when it comes to his adoration towards you, but your charm has him under a trance; one that he doesn’t know if he wants to leave.

“I’m going to head back now,” Seokmin giggles with a shy smile, not taking a step away from you to do what he says.

“Okay,” you respond. Leaning off of the door and giving Seokmin room to leave, you return his smile with a coy smirk of your own.

But before you can get too far, Seokmin pulls you back into him and brings your lips to his in another hasty kiss. It’s quick, it’s rushed and it still leaves you breathless all the same. It’s new territory for you two, deviation from a path you never thought you’d stray. It lights a fire within you to be exploring it with him.

He separates from you to say, “Okay. I’m actually going to go now.” His smile reaches his eyes, his signature wrinkles prominent on his face when removes his hands from your waist. “I just had to do that first.”

“Okay.”

“Bye.”

“Bye, Seokmin,” and with a giddy smile, he leaves you in the bathroom, the sound of a soft click of the door filling the air. The buzz of electricity from your lights adds to your daze. As you lean back against the door, feeling weightless from the pressure of Seokmin’s fingers through the cotton of your t-shirt, you think of how reckless this is and how destructive this could be–not only hiding it from your friends but how fragile it can make your friendship.

It would be easy to go to a party and cling on to a random person for the night. It would be easy to bat your eyelashes and play with the hem of their shirt, adding a playful lilt to your voice and an air of mystery around you. It would be easy to lose yourself in the moans, chasing your highs and then easily forget each other, as you tried to do with Jaehyun. It would be so easy, so simple and so careful.

If everything could be so easy with someone else, why does it also feel even more effortless with Seokmin? As it always has been with him.

Even through the carelessness or the secrecy, no random hookup made you forget like Seokmin had. His gentle worship and care of your body had you on cloud nine and seeing the galaxy. Your comfort was the most important thing to him, even after a few too many drinks. There was something about that night, something in the back of your mind, that guides you blindly through this winding road of uncertainty. You just hope that the road you were walking together doesn’t crumble beneath you.

“Sorry, you were gone for so long! I needed a new cuddle buddy.”

Of course, Mingyu couldn’t be alone for even just five minutes. When you return to the living room from the bathroom, Mingyu has his head on Jinsoul’s lap, her hands playing with the strands of his hair. He looks content, more relaxed than when he was on your shoulder, his huge body somehow compressed in the small space that you left.

Jinsoul’s fingers stop their movements as she states, “I can move,” teasing the boy.

“When did I say I wanted you to move?”

Jinsoul chuckles at his retort, bringing her hand back to his scalp and a pleased smile returning to his face. You probably weren’t going to get your seat back if Mingyu’s comfort was anything to go by.

“There’s room over here if you’re looking for a replacement cuddle buddy.”

Seokmin’s voice carries your attention, his smile hiding a sly intention that is imperceptible to the untrained eye. He does have tons of room. With Yves and Haseul huddled on the floor, a plush gray blanket covering their bodies, Seokmin is able to spread his legs on the sectional, taking up much of the left side.

Nonchalantly, you shrug and give a casual grin, “I guess you’ll do.”

“Shut up.”

As you saddle up to Seokmin’s side, resting your head on his shoulder, slotting to him like a puzzle piece, you can’t help but notice the small side glances that Minghao and Haseul give you. The flash of confusion on their faces goes quickly, trying to wrap their heads around how the tense situation between you and Seokmin dissipated so abruptly.

You’ll explain it to them later, you think. At least as best you can without giving you two away before there’s anything to begin with.

With the movie drawing to a close, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson on a search for their friend and the Maximoff twins revealed, the atmosphere has a much lighter and relaxed feel–the weird awkwardness and walking on eggshells between you and Seokmin gone. There’s retelling of old stories, laughs that could be considered embarrassing to most, and the playful banter that is signature to your friendship group dynamic. From the outside looking in, you would've never known there was a bump in the road.

And to your friends, they were none the wiser as to why Seokmin stopped talking to you or how you suddenly made up. They don’t know the hidden tension that his hand being on your thigh holds, looking casual enough to be considered normal affection.

“What time is it?” Minghao’s voice cuts through the loud noise, everyone turning to him. His shoulder slacks as he relaxes, leaning back and blending into the soft gray of the sectional with his oversized sweats.

Yves reaches for her phone, the device laying face up not too far from her figure. “It’s like 11.”

“Ugh… I need to head home. I love your sofa, but my bed is calling me.” Jinsoul gently pushes Mingyu off her lap, making a pout form on his lips from the loss of contact. “Can we please go home?” Jinsoul addresses Haseul, hoping that her roommate is ready to return to their own apartment.

“Yes, we can go.”

“Minghao?” Mingyu looks over at his own roommate, a pleading smile on his face.

“Yeah, fine, let’s go,” Minghao stands from the couch and turns his body to Seokmin, the remainder of their trio. “You coming?”

Seokmin’s eyes flash between you and Minghao before responding, “I was actually going to stay and help clean up.” He addresses you when he asks, “If that’s okay?”

At first you think, why would you need help with cleaning? The group has never made much of a mess, especially with Mingyu around. The most that needed to be done was putting away the extra drinks and snacks, finding enough room in your pantry. But taking another look at Seokmin, you read between the lines, his eyes glowing and mischief pulling at the corner of his lips. No cleaning is going to get done, not immediately anyway.

“Yeah, that’s fine with me.”

#seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #dk x reader #seokmin x reader #seokmin smut #dk smut #dokyeom x reader #dokyeom smut #svt smut #svt x reader #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #happy friday!!! 🤭

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gold-pavilion · 8 months

Text

Toman and Buddhism + Tenjiku and Taoism

Another post to cover references in Tokyo Revengers!

This time, I'll be covering the links to two religions to be found in two gangs in the series, reference by reference, with the according explanation of each.

Some of these may be already known, I know one of them sure is (the whole buddhist manji confusion thing yeah yeah) but still, for the sake of a tidy compilation and of providing more detail, I'll go through them too. Some others are a lot less noticed, like Tenjiku's lean towards Tao, so it'll be best to lay down eeeeeeverything I've caught during my time enjoying this series. Plus, I'm pretty excited to get some of those less-known facts out here!!

Warning though, it's lengthy.

Let's start with Tokyo Manji Gang:

- Firstly, the gang's name and how it's written.

Despite Mikey suggesting the name as a short form of Tokyo Manjiro Gang, putting himself front and center, the kanji that ended up forming the name of Tokyo Manji Gang show that it went in a different direction of meaning. The manji used for the middle part ended up not being the same one from the name Manjiro, but a manji written as 卍. Aloud it's read the same way (many, many, many kanji are homophones), but has a different meaning.

卍 (manji) is an extremely common buddhist symbol (not even limited to japanese buddhism, but in hinduism and other aligned east-asian religions too), which represents the path of Buddha and the endless cycle of rebirth through samsara; the pursuit of leading a more spiritually balanced existence until the soul can reach enlightenment. In other words, it's nothing but deeply buddhist.

(To answer a common question around it: can it be called a swastika? Yes. The symbol in general, with each of the million variations that have popped up in different cultures, can be called a swastika as a broad term. There are a fuckton of swastikas. They mean a fuckton of different things. The tilt and the direction in which this one "spins" makes it different from other swastikas though, and it's always best to be precise and call this one manji.)

Moving on,

- Reunion spot.

The Musashi Shrine (based, but not exactly taken from any of the real-life shrines and temples of similar name in Tokyo, as far as I know) is a shinto-buddhist temple. And, apparently, a place where the founders hung out from time to time, but I'll add to that later!!

It's cute to me that the Toman members seem to use the temple very respectfully. They always meet in it at night waaay after it's closed (daytime meetings have always taken place in different locations, never the temple during visiting hours), they've never once set foot even near the oratory/sanctum/other buildings, never been seen bringing the motorcycles anywhere they shouldn't, and the one time a character was seen using the public temizuya (the little stone fountain where visitors purify their hands and mouth), he was proper about it in terms of pouring water into his hand to rinse his mouth with, not getting the ladle or the rest of the water dirty, as one should always do.

A fun fact: in Google Maps, buddhist temples are marked with the manji symbol!

- Gang's manifesto.

Embroidered on the chest of the gang uniform, you can see the text 天上天下唯我独尊 ("Above the earth and below the heavens, I alone shall be honored"), which is the gang's manifesto or motto. Sounds just like something Mikey would choose, yeah.

That phrase is also of buddhist origin; famously, the words spoken by Buddha Gautama Siddharta (bear in mind that buddhism isn't a religion with one god or anything like that, anyone enlightened can become a Buddha and many figures have been granted that status, but Gautama is the first and main one, the creator of the doctrine) when he was born. To be honest, this is very much interpretative, but I've come to get the impression that it's not so much a power or ego statement, but rather an expression of cultivating and honoring yourself…? It's absolutely up to personal reading and I'm absolutely not an expert. But those are certainly THE Buddha's words.

- Ceremonial sash.

Another part of their uniform that bears a slight reference: the sash worn by the commander, vice-commander, captains and vice-captains during important fights.

These are tasuki, sashes originally worn by shinto-buddhist priests during ceremonies, in order to keep long sleeves and such in place. However, eventually, they also began being worn by samurai and all sorts of warriors, 'cause of their convenience. In modern times, they even started being used by just about anybody who wears traditional clothing but also does manual work and needs the sleeves out of the way. So it can be concluded that, over time, they stopped being strongly linked to religious practicers. In fact, even biker gangs in general ended up adopting the use of tasuki! Not for their religious origins, but for the warrior part; a bōsōzoku gang member wearing one would look very prepared and determined for a fight.

That's why overall, Tokyo Manji Gang having them is only a relative reference; they could be paying homage to their reference religion, as they could be only honoring gang traditions.

- Additional notes about the leader.

I feel it's important to add up all these little factors of Mikey's choosing, with other little details about him as a person that kinda make it all make sense.

If I say "Mikey seems to be religious, to an extent", I understand this can carry a bunch of tricky connotations. Japanese religion isn't exercised the same way it is in other places, someone being religious SURE AS HECK doesn't mean the same things it means in the christian west. Shinto-buddhism is so commonplace in Japan, most people partake in all kinds of religious practices without even thinking of them as strictly religious, such as new year's celebrations, casual prayer during shrine visits, purchasing and giving charms and such. Religion is integrated in life in a lot of extremely chill ways.

And we can observe a lot of things about Mikey that put him quite above the average in terms of his relationship with local tradition and religion. His house is a huge traditional-style family home, his family is hinted to be active in religious practice (remember Emma's appearances during the Christmas Showdown arc? How she mentioned that their family does a lot of temple visits, and even she considered it weird at that time of the year?), he's much more prone to wearing traditional clothing than his peers, his motif in extra clothing designs is the lion-dog (temple guardians; statues of these can often be found in them), his personal beliefs around death and relationship to the dead run deeper than others' to the point they find him disturbing when he talks about Shinichiro or Baji still being with him... many little things that aren't that deep on their own, of course, but when added up they paint a pretty coherent picture of the guy.

And so, it does make a lot of sense that, even from childhood, a temple was a regular place for Mikey to hang out with his friends, leading to the birth of Toman in one. And it makes a lot of sense that he made all those little choices about the way the gang would be styled. In my opinion, it's likely that those things just all came natural to him because they're a part of his background and worldview. Of course, how actively religious he is, how much he believes in the things he happens to know and how much exactly he might know about buddhism are all up to headcanoning and interpretation. Personally, I'm just a roleplayer that takes it as a relevant part of his character.

- Following a Buddha?

A little out-of-TR-universe element that I love to bring up, 'cause it's just hilarious and cool as hell, is the creation of this statue:

This part of the 2022 Tokyo Revengers exhibition straight up imitates the famous Reclining Buddha in the Wat Pho temple, Thailand.

The ENORMOUS statue depicts the moment Buddha reaches nirvana, and his enlightened soul is at rest. The golden Mikey statue that imitates it very much intentionally likens him to a Buddha; funny to note that the exhibition staff even prayed to the statue, as you can read in the tweet itself.

What does this mean about Mikey's character? Well, this isn't within text in Tokyo Revengers, just a little outside factor, so I wouldn't take it too literally or too seriously, but it's interesting nonetheless. Personally, I see it as a hint that Mikey was supposed to be on his own little quest to enlightenment, or had the potential to be. Grappling with morality without having a natural sense of what's right, wrong, too much or enough is a major thing with his character. I can also imagine it might just be meant to represent the godlike view others have of him, the guidance they sought from him. Take it as you will!

The important thing is just that it exists, to confirm that there is an intentional connection of some type between the Buddha and Mikey.

Thaaaaat concludes the Toman and Buddhism section of this post.

Whew!! That was a whole lot.

The Tenjiku and Taoism section coming now is shorter, but I'm sure it contains interesting and less-known things (at least, I've never seen anybody talk about these)!

So let's see, Tao references in Tenjiku:

- Gang name.

Tenjiku is a now-obsolete word that translated directly to "heaven", while simultaneously being the japanese word for the country India (as taken from the chinese pronunciation, Tianzhu).

In modern times, it can be found mostly in ancient literature, the most prominent example being Journey to the West. Given that Kakucho and Izana mentioned this book and seemed to have knowledge of it as kids, we can conclude that's where they got the name of their gang from.

Why would they use the word for India to name their kingdom? What does this have to do with Tao? I'll get into that properly now:

- Kakucho, Izana & Journey to the West.

Journey to the West is one of the four great chinese classic novels (along with Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Outlaws of the Marsh, and Dream of the Red Chamber) which are enormous, ENORMOUS influences on east-asian literature and fiction in general. Journey to the West, itself, is considered the most popular east-asian literary work overall; of course, being super well-known in Japan, too. (To give my favorite funny example of just how omnipresent it is, y'know Dragon Ball? Hit anime series Dragon Ball? Unabashedly based on Journey to the West, which was to thank for most of its initial local popularity.)

It's the story of the buddhist monk Tang Sanzang, who travels to Tenjiku, to India, to that certain heavenly kingdom, to obtain sacred texts for Buddha Gautama Siddharta (the guy I described as THE Buddha in the Tokyo Manji Gang section above). The quest doubles as a search and exercise of enlightenment, as Tang Sanzang is aided by three protectors that are atoning for their sins and learning from him. The main guardian and arguably the true protagonist of the book is Sun Wukong, the Monkey King, a fighter "so strong he could carry a mountain on each shoulder, and still dash as fast as a meteor". It's a huge, epic, 100-chapter monster of a book, in which each chapter is already a fantastic and entertaining anecdote about the characters or what happens in their travels, but also a long spiritual journey that pretty much serves to subtly teach the principles of Tao (term that can be translated to "the path", chinese religion and philosophy).

A tangent: let me just show you how large it is (and why I haven't been able to finish it, 'cause I cannot take this brick of a book anywhere lmaoooo).

(Cover says Journey to the West: The Adventures of the Monkey King. It's in spanish.)

My guess is that Izana and Kakucho studied about it or read some chapters in school, 'cause dang, there's no way they read all of this at that age?!?! BUT ANYWAY.

While there's obviously quite some buddhist influence in the story, most of what it works with throughout is rooted in chinese folklore and Taoism. The edition of the book I have even begins with extensive notes and introductory explanations about Tao, as its themes of harmony with the universe, self-cultivation, internal alchemy, its main ethics and values, etc etc etc are the basis from which the book is built up. The characters very actively engage with Tao. Sun Wukong is an ardent student of Tao who obtains a bunch of powers through it, for one.

I've gone into this much into detail because Kakucho and Izana make it pretty explicit that, to them, Izana is like monk Tang Sanzang leading to Tenjiku, and Kakucho is like his guardian of unmatched strength, Sun Wukong.

In the end of Journey to the West, it's both Tang Sanzang and Sun Wukong that accomplish their goal and also obtain enlightenment, finally ascending to buddhahood. Had Izana and Kakucho's journey with Tenjiku reached their original destination (not "to become a criminal syndicate that controls Japan" but "to build a kingdom where everyone without a home could exist"), had it been like Tang Sanzang and Sun Wukong's pilgrimage… they would've learned true balance and they would've found the necessary enlightenment.

Again, I find this little connection with characters that could've been on a quest towards buddhahood, but as far as things went in the main TR timelines, all failed.

- Uniform & logo.

Finally, something lighter and quicker to add, haha.

There are symbols and references that are so so so widespread that they become more of an aesthetic detail than a symbol with meaning, in the eyes of the general public. The yin-yang is one of those symbols that just… appears in a lot of places, fashionably, and one kinda gets used to seeing it without thinking much about it. Sometimes it's not meant to stand for much more than a decorative detail, yes, that definitely happens, but sometimes it's very much a thoughtful choice. With Tenjiku, given its connection to Taoism, I'm gonna treat the yin-yang as a meaningful choice.

So! On the back of the uniform we have a yin-yang, Taoist symbol that represents the balance of the two complementary and opposing forces of the universe (note: it's not a good vs evil type of thing, as tends to happen with western black-white dualism, but rather… the fact that reality needs to be composed of push and pull to get anywhere, hard and soft things with their own function, sun and shade. A common comparison is how a mountain will have a sunny side and a shady side when looked at in a certain moment, but the sun and shade will switch over at another time of day, in a needed cycle). Other features of the uniform are a mao collar instead of a more common style for gang jackets, and an intense red color, the main auspicious and prosperous color in chinese culture. These last two little features could easily be coincidental, but when paired with the yin-yang, I feel like it's intended to lean towards chinese aesthetics.

And with that,

I end this reference post!

Did you learn anything you didn't know? Did you enjoy learning it? Any thoughts? I LOVE TO TALK ABOUT THESE THINGS, SO FEEL FREE TO DROP BY MY ASKBOX with any comments or questions or such!!

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers meta #tokyo manji gang #toman #tenjiku #kurokawa izana #sano manjiro #izana kurokawa #manjiro sano #mikey #kakucho #thoughts and talk and so #tokyo rev #wanted to write this one forever #just never quite got around to it

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espinosaurusrexex · 1 year

Note

Heyy could you maybe do the verbal fight with bucky from the bingo thing if it isn’t finished yet? love what you write btw <3

Thank you! Also to everyone that helped with their amazing ideas. I couldn’t decide which one to write... I will definitely take another prompt from this post (you can view it as a WIP list lmao)

I had to go with the most detailed one this time because my head is literally blank. Thank you @winterarmyy 💕

Verbal Fight (Bingo Game)

!BINGO ASKS CLOSED!

BuckyBarnes x Reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: fluff, misunderstandings, and Bucky’s sad internal monologue

Bucky’s eyes jolted open when Natasha and you laughed on the sofa next to him. He had been up for 36 hours now. But he wanted to spend time with his girl after the mission - a mission which left him with little to no sleep on top of physical exhaustion.

His arm was resting on the couch behind you, fingers grazing your shoulder ever so slightly. It was enough to send him into a drowsy state. But as much as whatever he was doing right now neared sleep more than anything had done in the past day, he needed to go to bed. Preferably with you, cuddled up under the warm blanket, the smell of your hair in his nose and your soft body pressed into his. Bucky felt all warm just thinking about it and it plastered a small smile on his face.

“I think I'm going to hit the hay,” he said as he stood from the sofa, and waited once he had done so.

“Ok,” you answered before your eyes wandered to him, an asking eyebrow urging him to talk again. “Anything else?”

His eyebrows raised before his hand reached out to you, a silent plea from him to just take it and follow him. You didn’t always go to bed together, but he liked to believe that you enjoyed it just as much whenever you got the chance to. “Aren’t you gonna join me?”

Your features softened once his request had passed, but you shook your head slightly. “You go ahead, I’ll be right behind ya.” And then you were back to giggling with Natasha.

Bucky’s smile fell. He just wanted his girl in his arms and finally some sleep. Was that so too much to ask? But he didn’t want to sound desperate either.

“Geez, clingy much Barnes?” Nat laughed before you agreed with a giggly “I know, right?” And then started whispering something with her.

Bucky’s shoulders slumped, his heart seemingly doing the same. He just liked being with you. Especially after a mission or when he didn’t get to talk to you much. Was that clingy? Bucky thought it was normal to miss the people he cared about. You always told him you missed him when either of you was away. But apparently, he was a little too much. You had spent the entire evening together after all.

A hoarse ‘okay’ drowned in the giggles in front of him before Bucky turned and headed to his room. How could he not have noticed that he trapped you with his presence? How long had you felt that way? All the questions were eating Bucky up inside. He couldn’t not bother, but he was hoping that his exhaustion would take care of it for now - let him sleep and forget about his racing mind.

-❁-

Unfortunately, Bucky’s wishes remained unheard. He wasn’t sleeping. It had been 43 minutes since he tried. He knew, because every time he opened his eyes in hopes of having dreamt his newest dilemma, the watch hand of the clock on his nightstand had barely moved.

He was constantly bothered by the ways he could change his behavior. The last thing he wanted was to annoy you. But it was hard. He enjoyed your presence so much. It was new for him to feel this attached to a person, and because it felt so nice for a change, he pursued it in all the ways he could.

It was about time it came to bite him in the ass now. Because in his experience, good things never lasted long, not for Bucky anyway. Hell, he was surprised the last four months of your relationship had gone so well. He was bound to mess up - it was in his nature...

The door to his room opened, but Bucky stayed in his position on the bed. His back turned to you, and his face pressed into the pillow frustratedly, we waited for you to just get ready and sleep. He told himself it was so he could be alone with his thoughts again, when really, he just didn’t know what to do - he needed to give you space.

Though Bucky should have known, you weren’t one to ignore an issue - and you always knew when there was one.

The bed dipped but he didn’t move. Your hand reached out to him but he didn’t move. You attempted to turn him to you and he shook your hand off.

“What’s wrong, Buck?” No response. It would only make it worse.

“Come on, talk to me.” You touched his arm again and Bucky finally sat up and turned to you, eyebrows scrunched, breaths heavy.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” There was no way to navigate this. Even if Bucky were able to steer this conversation toward the revelatory outcome he wanted, he had no clue how to do it. It was better to just get space - give you space.

But you wouldn’t budge. You scooched closer to him on the bed, halting when Bucky flinched back. When he caught your eyes then, he found hurt and confusion turning your features. It made his chest sting, his hand clammy.

“You were fine just then. What happened?” Another attempt to reach out to him but he reacted the same. You averted your eyes, picking on the covers. “You know you can tell me anything right? I’m here if you need me-“

“Well, I don’t need you.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue. But how else could he tell you that he was anything but clingy?

“You don’t mean that.”

“How would you know what I mean?!” He snapped, his effort to stay calm breaking like a dried stick between his fingers. “I feel like I don’t even know you! You don’t even want to spend time with me.”

But he didn’t miss the fire light up in your eyes at his last words and it sent a shiver through him. “Well, it’s hard when you pull yourself out of every social interaction to ever exist!” You moved away from him and he felt a pull at his heart.

“Maybe I wouldn’t do it if you would actually pay attention to me for once!” Bucky didn’t know where that came from. There was frustration and confusion, and hurt all mixing in his brain, making it hard to distinguish intrusive from rational thoughts.

“Oh, so this is my fault?” You huffed.

“Or maybe I’m just fucking broken. Is that what you’re trying to say?! In this case, I don’t even know why you keep up with me.”

“Buck-”

“If I’m so broken why don’t you just get back to having fun with everyone else on the team and just leave me be? That’s what you do best, right? Be social! Show me how it’s done because I can’t do it. Ever!” Bucky caught a tear falling from your cheek. No. Nonono. This had not been his intention. Shit.

The room fell silent and Bucky took a deep breath. He was just angry at himself. Angry that he was incapable of connecting with people. Angry that he upset you by being clingy once he found the one person he could attach himself to.

“Alright stop it!” Another tear spilled from your eyes but something inside him was still not finished.

“Why? Is it making you uncomfortable to hear the truth?” He hadn’t intended to say it, but his mouth just opened and did. Stupid fucking mouth.

“Bucky!” He flinched once you raised your voice. You had never done it at him. Neither of you had ever fought with each other in fact. “Where the hell is this coming from?” Now your tone was softer and Bucky could feel his heart pumping blood through his body again. Yeah... where the hell was this coming from?

Bucky fumbled with the blanket. He didn’t even notice he was crying until a fat hot tear landed on the covers. He felt you shuffle closer again, relieved that he hadn’t scared you off entirely.

“Do you really think you’re broken?” You spoke so carefully, as if he were to break at any second. And honestly, that might have happened.

“It feels that way too often for it not to be true..,” he whispered ashamed.

“Baby,” You reached out again and this time, he allowed it, needing your touch more than ever before. You pulled him into your chest, your arms encasing him as he slumped against your frame - finally exhaling, relaxing, and falling into your embrace. “Everyone feels like this from time to time. You don’t have to always be happy and confident to be normal or okay.”

Your soothing voice traveled through his exhausted haze, tears still falling from his eyes. "But it feels like I get stuck in my sorrow.”

“That is normal. I have those days, too. Nat has them, Steve does too.”

Bucky moved to look up at you, a silent request for confirmation in his stare, but this time, he felt, you understood. You probably always had.

“It’s true, babe.” Your body rocked softly and it soothed Bucky further into your soft chest. He felt the tension draining from his body, the sleeplessness replacing it in every inch of him.

“Please, talk to me when you feel like this again. I can help you. I want to help you.”

“Thank you.” He smiled weakly. How could he have ever thought you would neglect him? It was stupid, just as stupid as that attempt of his to give you more space.

“Not for this, Bucky.” You kissed his forehead, ultimately lulling Bucky into his well-deserved sleep - with a calm mind, and the promise to never let his insecurities get the better of him again.

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auncyen · 4 months

Text

Jouvente's most awkward lunch is finally underway.

"So you're still traveling around, huh?"

"Mhm."

"Any special reason you're in Jouvente?" you ask, and try not to get your hopes up.

Siffrin doesn't answer for a beat, cutting off another small piece of the croque-madame he ordered after you reassured them that you were going to pay and didn't mind. The poached egg yolk oozes over the ham and cheese sandwich; Sif moves his fork around to sweep the few drops that run down to the plate back up on the bread. "Um. I...wanted to look for jobs."

Oof. Feels like your hopes got up without your permission. It's fine, they've been put back in place. "Oh! That's right, you used to do odd jobs, right? Any luck?"

"It's going alright! So...what about you? With the..." Siffrin trails off, their brow furrowing in a frustration all too familiar to you. You quickly finish chewing through the broccoli and egg in your mouth to bail them out.

"With the tailoring? Well, I could say it's only sew-sew, but actually, I'm really enjoying it!"

Okay, you had to wedge that pun in there, but still, you thought it'd get a smile out of Sif, maybe a chuckle. Instead, Siffrin looks confused before giving you a smile best described as 'polite'. Sure, his mouth turns up and all, but you don't think he got it in the slightest. "That's good!"

...Probably your mistake for going for sewing puns right after they forgot the word for your work. Yep. Move on, Isabeau. "Yeah! I really lucked out--the store was owned by a seamstress who's retiring. Well, still is owned, but we've got a contract for me buying the store from her. She already moved out to live with her bonded partners, but she stops in twice a week to teach me what I still need to learn about making clothes."

Sif...nods, encouraging you to go on.

"She's cool! She pretty much worked as a seamstress all her life, so she really knows her stuff. Tells me right away when I'm making a design way more work than it should be." Sometimes all the fiddling details were necessary, but other times, you could get the right effect a simpler way.

Siffrin nods, still smiling politely.

Huh. You scoop up another bite of your quiche as an excuse not to talk for a minute, noting that Sif goes for another cut piece of croque-madame at the same time. You never thought a lunch with Sif could be awkward, but...

Boy, is this awkward!

Why is it awkward? You and Siffrin were thick as thieves during your adventure. Sure, it's been a while, you couldn't expect things to be the same right off the bat, but...

“M’dame Odile and Mira will be glad to hear you’re doing okay.”

Siffrin nods. Then he looks confused. Then...you're not sure what that expression is. “Wait, are they here too? In Jouvente?”

“No, no, but we’ve been writing! The last letter was a week ago, they were going to see...aha, apparently there's a play about Mirabelle? She said it was embarrassing, but she and Odile were too curious not to go. Hopefully they liked it!" You weren't all that curious yourself. After all, you'd already lived the adventure. You knew the real story, the real Mirabelle! You hoped the play portrayed her and everyone else well, but you were pretty sure there was no way they had all the details.

Also...you had a bad feeling you were probably portrayed as a jock through and through. Since that was how you acted. You could picture the cast: determined Mirabelle, leading the way; clever Odile, strategizing against hordes of Sadnesses and then the King himself; fun-loving Sif, raising everyone's spirits with jokes and protecting them from traps; brave Bonnie, keeping everyone healthy with good food; ...meathead Isabeau, whose good point was being too dumb to fear the danger.

You're jolted out of that extremely unhelpful thought by Siffrin's next question. “They’re traveling…together?”

...That's a weird tone. “Housemaidens usually go on at least one pilgrimage, not sure if you knew that. Since M’dame was interested in seeing a little of what Vaugarde's like when it's normal, Mira asked her if they could travel together. So they spent a few months in Vaugarde, and right now they're in Poteria. I think they're planning on Lichtland next? Eventually they'll get to Ka Bue, but it sounded like both of them planned on taking their time.“

Sif's brow is furrowed again as he looks down at his plate. Is he jealous? You were jealous too when you found out. But you get it! Of course Mira and M'dame didn't ask you. You were busy being a sad sack about Siffrin. Well, and even without that, why should they have invited you? It was their trip. Not like you had a good reason to tag along, just...

It would have been nice to.

You can't complain--Jouvente's been good to you. You were the guest of honor at a party hosted by the city, your family is so proud of you (though you know Guy is just happy to boast that he's a Savior's sibling to his partner of the week, which keeps making you secondguess how sincere everyone else is when they reach out to you), the neighbors in your new place have been warm and friendly, you got to start on designing clothes so much faster than you thought you would.

You just miss Mira and Odile a whole lot. You miss Bonbon. You miss what you had with Siffrin, because everything about this lunch feels so off, and at this point you have to ask.

"Sif...you are doing okay, right?"

They immediately smile brightly enough that their eye closes. "Of course I am! Why wouldn't I be?"

#in stars and time #no loops au #siffrin #isabeau #I'd tag isafrin but these two are actively bombing any chemistry atm

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lucagray813 · 8 days

Text

Sensitive Ear

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 4,333

Characters: MK, Macaque, Wukong

Relationships: MK & Macaque, Macaque & Wukong (could be interpreted as Macaque/Wukong)

Summary: What are the limitations of the Six-Eared Macaque's ability to know the past and future?

CW: None

Link to AO3 Version

----

In light of the Scroll of Memory and the offensive comments from Macaque, MK had decided that he needed to brush up on his Monkey King knowledge. Clearly a lifetime of Tang's retellings of the legendary Journey to the West hadn't been enough and he decided to go straight to the source.

After an unbecoming amount of pleading, Monkey King had caved and presented him with the only unabridged written account of his adventures - literally buried beneath Flower Fruit Mountain's library.

Which seemed excessive to him but it was clear as Monkey King handed over to him how much he wished to snatch it back and bury it once more but after everything he’d put him through, MK figured that Monkey King owed him at least this much.

Before he could shoot off and start reading, Monkey King stopped him, looking guilty he requested, "Look, kid. You deserve to know everything but well, I'm just warning you now not everything makes for pleasant reading. I've done things I'm not proud of. But... Just come talk to me first before you think too badly of me, alright?"

MK was agreeable, "I will. I know this is the unabridged version but nothing will be as detailed as the Scroll of Memory. But I also know you're not the same monkey you were. You're way better."

Monkey King grinned and ruffled his hair before throwing an arm around him as he led them out, "What did I do to deserve a successor like you, huh?"

Well, MK guessed he was about to find out.

----

The unabridged version of Journey to the West had been enlightening to say the least. He was still working his way through it but so far it had been an invaluable source of knowledge and unexpectedly he felt it had brought him and Monkey King closer.

Which he had to admit was largely because Monkey King seemed to have resolved himself to be honest and upfront whenever MK came to him with a question. Which while sometimes serious, would often result in Monkey King's spirited retelling of the adventure in question which MK couldn't deny he ate up every time.

He had however recently come to the story of the Six-Eared Macaque and his part to play in Monkey King's journey towards enlightenment and it made for some somber reading.

He couldn't quite bring himself to talk to Monkey King about it yet. Combined with what he'd seen in the Scroll of Memory - he couldn't imagine that it would be an easy thing for him to talk about.

After taking a few days to think on it and coming to terms with Macaque's fate. He decided that there were perhaps safer questions he could ask about this chapter with the other monkey in question. And boy, did he have so many questions.

It wasn't too hard to find Macaque these days, if he was in the mood to be approached, you could often find him lazing in a tree somewhere around the island, apparently content to do absolutely nothing.

So, after finding him one day, he loudly cleared his throat as he walked towards him and read out from the open book in his hand, "The fourth is the Six-Eared Macaque, who has a sensitive ear, discernment of fundamental principles, knowledge of past and future, and comprehension of all things."

He closed the book with flair and looked up at Macaque expectantly, the monkey did not look remotely fazed to see him or the book he was reading from. In fact, he didn't even deign to sit up, still reclining on a tree branch above him.

"Ah, MK. Took up my advice to do some reading, huh? Wise choice. I'm sure Wukong is thrilled."

He let himself be momentarily distracted, defending his mentor passionately, "Hey! I'll have you know it was Monkey King who gave me this book! And he's been super good at answering all my questions!"

Macaque laughed a little meanly, before sitting up against the trunk of the tree to grin down at him, "Oh? I'm curious about the questions and answers on this chapter. Do tell."

MK fibbed slightly, "Er... I've only just finished it but I have questions for you first! Mr. "Knowledge of Past and Future"! How could you know the future and get into trouble with the Buddha and with the Lady Bone Demon?"

Macaque rubbed at his chin thoughtfully before he shrugged. He brought his hands to his ears for a moment and when he pulled them away, there were six where there had been two.

MK gasped dramatically and pointed at him, "You've had six ears this whole time!?"

"Why did you think I was called the Six-Eared Macaque?"

MK floundered, he had no answer. Lots of demons in Journey to the West had long and strange names, although admittedly most of them were pretty apt descriptors of the demon in question.

He shrugged sheepishly and Macaque just looked unimpressed. Wanting to move past his embarrassment quickly, he asked, "Why hide them?"

His response was sarcastic, "Oh right, because I just love idiots stopping to gawk at them."

MK quickly brought his eyes back to Macaque's face, not having even realised they had strayed - in his defense though they were glowing various different colours, it was a little distracting.

"Alright, fair point. Why'd you show me them?"

"Well, I can't have Wukong answering your questions about me - he'll get it all wrong."

"Wait. You're actually going to answer my questions properly? No talking around them or being vague?"

"I know. Don't you feel special? But as I said, you get your information from Wukong on this and you'll be expecting the impossible from me. So ask away, kid."

Somewhat suspicious but admittedly a little excited he made his way up the tree Macaque was in to sit on a nearby branch. Holding the book tightly, he asked, "You can really see the future?"

Macaque shook his head and pointed to his ears, "I can hear the future if I choose to. No visual to go along with it. Which as you can imagine does hamper my ability to properly know the future."

"Oh! So you don't just like know the future? You have to actually choose to listen to it?"

"That is what I just said, yes."

"But your plan to imitate Monkey King - you must have checked to see if that would actually work?"

"The future's not set in stone, kid. I can listen to various possibilities - the further in the future I listen, the less certain the outcome."

MK couldn't help but feel disappointed, "This power is sounding less useful by the minute."

Macaque shrugged, "It has its uses to me every once in a while but I'll admit knowing the future doesn't always mean you can do anything about it either. Sometimes by focusing on one future, you inadvertently cause another."

He supposed that made sense, still not completely down and out over it however he asked, "Can you show me how it works? How do you listen to the future?"

Macaque seemed to think about it before he shrugged again, "Sure, give me a time and a place to listen in on and I'll give it a go. Preferably somewhere close in space and time. I can listen for the most probable future."

Not quite prepared to have Macaque actually show him, he scrabbled for what to ask, "Er... What am I having for dinner tonight?"

Aw man, he could potentially learn his future and that's all he could think to ask?

Macaque sighed heavily, "Time and place, kid."

"Oh, right! Pigsy's Noodles! And I guess, at like eight tonight?"

Macaque sat in a way reminiscent of Monkey King when he meditated and MK's eyes were drawn to his ears. The top set had been switching between gently glowing black and white but now there was only a pure black light emitting from them. The colours from his other ears were almost completely muted.

For several minutes, nothing happened. And MK wondered if he should be concerned - should it take this long? Macaque didn't look like he was in pain or anything.

Unable to help himself he tried to ask him what the hold up was but Macaque didn't so much as twitch at his questioning, and no matter how close or how loud he shouted in his ears he didn't respond. Being prodded or shaken had no effect either.

Ok, he was starting to see why looking into the future might not be a good idea if this is what was involved - Macaque was totally vulnerable! He had a fleeting thought that he could pull a prank on him but he couldn’t bring himself to betray Macaque’s trust like that.

Another several minutes later and finally the black glow faded and Macaque opened his eyes, bringing a hand to rub at his temple, "You're having Ma Po Tofu. And don't be alarmed if Tang has a bandage around his hand - he got hurt trying to swipe food before it was ready. Also, if Mei invites you for a ride on her bike wear a helmet." He then paused, "I shouldn't have to tell you that."

"I'm practically indestructible! What do I need a helmet for?"

"If you're not partial to a full head of hair then by all means you set a bad example for impressionable young minds."

Bringing his hands to his hair protectively he cried, "I'm going to lose my hair!?"

"It's a possibility."

Silently swearing he'd wear a helmet from now on, he brought his hands down and asked, "You were out for like fifteen minutes! What took you so long?"

Still rubbing at his head, Macaque responded, "You know how much sound there is between here and Pigsy's Noodles? And then how much there is between now and several hours from now? It's a lot to sift through."

"Oh. You can't just like fast forward to the right bit?"

Macaque shot him an annoyed look, "I sorted through hours worth of information in 15 minutes - I'd say that was fast forwarding. You try listening to the future some time, see how well you handle it."

Macaque finally brought his hand away from his head and MK asked, "Does it hurt? Listening to all that noise?"

"It's not pleasant. If I'm at it too long I have the worst migraine you could imagine."

He felt a little bad that he'd had Macaque demonstrate for him but then again Macaque had offered and he had no idea that it sucked so much to do it.

"Does listening to something further in the future take more time then?"

Macaque nodded, "Coupled with a migraine and how uncertain the far future is - it's just not worth the effort."

"Dude, this power seems totally useless! It does you more harm than good and it might not even be accurate? No wonder you don't use it."

Macaque shrugged, "Try telling that to the Lady Bone Demon. My ability to hear the future was why she sought me out in the first place. My ears were basically at her command - could only use them when she let me and all she wanted to know was the most likely outcome of her various plans to reset the world. Ugh, my head was killing me every second she had me captive. And don't get me started on what she was like when I didn't give her the answer she wanted."

He'd never thought too much about Macaque's relationship with the Lady Bone Demon. On the hunt for the Samadhi Fire, Macaque had at first made it seem like he was working for her by choice. He was beginning to realise Macaque had probably had a worse time than anyone else had with her.

"But enough about that witch. Questions about my ability to hear the future satisfied?"

Mood significantly lower after thinking about the Lady Bone Demon, he tried to focus back on why he'd originally sought Macaque out, "Uh... Yeah. Thanks for the demonstration. I guess that's how listening to the past goes too?"

He nodded and pointed to the lowest ear on his right, "Only difference is the set of ears I use to listen but same deal. Although accuracy is more or less guaranteed with the past."

The bottom ears glowed red and green.

"Do the colours mean anything?"

"Hm? Ah, they just correspond with wǔxíng - green is furthest back, black is furthest forward."

"What about your middle ears? They're just yellow."

"For hearing the present - much easier to use than past and future but still likely to end in a headache if I stretch it too far."

He looked down at the book in his hands in consideration, "Do you ever listen to the past...?"

Macaque glanced down at the book and understood what he was really asking, "People that live in the past aren't really living. I'll admit I peak every once in a while but sometimes it's better not to know. If I'm listening to the past, it's for information I can use in the present or will be helpful in the future. I don't linger."

He nodded absentmindedly, that was probably a good thing. But his mind had started to wander to other applications of Macaque's abilities.

There was a part of him that desperately wanted Macaque to listen to his past - tell him how he'd shown up at Pigsy's door all the years ago but his fear of the answer would never allow the question past his lips. Not to mention it was asking a lot of Macaque, it might take him days and then to top it off he'd have a migraine from hell.

He supposed it was a power that might be helpful for the present, or the immediate past or future but Macaque was right - it didn't sound worth it most of the time. No wonder it didn't help him any with the Buddha or the Lady Bone Demon.

"I think you've answered all my Six-Eared related questions. Thanks for actually just talking straight with me."

Macaque huffed, "I suppose it does make for a nice change of pace every once in a while. You sure that's everything? Because once I put the ears away you've lost your chance for an easy answer."

He looked down at the book in his hands. He wanted to know about Monkey King's past to help him with his future - given that his mentors old "friends" and enemies kept popping up to cause him trouble. But while he was curious about what had gone down between Monkey King and Macaque. It felt wrong for him to know more than he did.

He knew more than most and anything else he learned would be about the complicated feelings that the two no doubt had for each other and what happened. It wasn't for him to know.

"I guess I have one last question... Do you think you and Monkey King will ever talk about what happened?"

Macaque brought his hands up to his ears, and when he brought them away there were only two.

"Who can say? For the moment, we have a truce of sorts. And I can live with that for now. Not going to get Wukong's take on that chapter then?"

"No. I don't think I should. Sometimes it's better not to know, right?"

"I'm telling you, kid. You listen to me more often and you'll go far."

----

Wukong had waited until MK had left the island for the day before seeking out Macaque. He found him methodically cutting up fruit a good distance away from the mountain.

Despite, making his approach obvious, Macaque didn't bother to look up at him as he came into view. He just continued his work, seemingly unbothered his spoils were being pilfered by some of the island monkeys.

He came to stand a few feet away, eyeing up the other, waiting to see if he'd be acknowledged. When he wasn't he tried to think carefully how to broach the topic he had in mind.

"You weren't honest with, MK."

Macaque glanced at him before shrugging, "I didn't lie either."

"He thinks your powers to hear the past and future are pretty much useless."

Macaque sighed and put down the fruit and knife in his hand, "Forgive me, if I find it works out better for me if people don't know what I'm capable of."

It irked him that Macaque had led MK to believe his powers weren't at all a dangerous thing, sure his long term future hearing was probably not that reliable but all his other abilities could be used to devastating effect. Particularly if combined with certain artefacts or magic to speed up the process or lessen the pain.

He wasn't really sure what he hoped to achieve by confronting Macaque. Maybe his new honesty policy with MK was convincing him that everyone should follow suit.

He sat down with a huff, "MK's a good kid. He wouldn't have done anything if he knew. You just want him to underestimate you."

Macaque's eyebrow twitched, "If you're just here to start something then leave. I'm not in the mood to deal with you."

He pushed down the instinct to bite back with an inflammatory response and took a breath, "I'm just here to try and understand."

"Like hell, people who want to understand don't start by throwing around accusations. Try taking a leaf out of the kid's book sometime and don't assume you already know the answer. Because you rarely do."

Wukong's tail swished agitatedly behind him, "And you do? Crazy how often someone who can hear the past and future gets it wrong."

Macaque snarled at him, before catching himself and standing with an aggravated sound, "This is pointless. I don't need to hear the future to know that talking to you is a waste of time and energy. You just never know when to leave well enough alone."

Wukong stood, "Oh typical Macaque! Something's too difficult so he'll just run away!"

"Have you ever noticed that you're the thing that's too difficult? I was literally just sitting here, minding my business! And I didn't owe MK any answers! Just like I don't owe you any answers! You want the kid to know what I can do? Fine! You tell him! Not like you've ever cared what I wanted anyway!"

Wukong felt like he'd been slapped, "That's not true! I-"

He what? Had always cared? Always listened? Always put what someone else wanted before what he wanted?

None of that was true.

Why were they even arguing? Macaque hadn't done anything wrong. Was it really a big deal that MK didn't know every application of Macaque's powers? He hadn't known anything about his ears before now but suddenly Wukong was unhappy that Macaque hadn't felt obliged to tell him anything other than what he'd asked?

What was wrong with him?

He swallowed, temper immediately reduced to embers, "I- I won't tell, MK. You... You're right. You didn't owe him any answers."

An apology was on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't get it past his teeth.

Macaque looked taken off guard by the complete one-eighty, but he too calmed to respond warily, "Er... Alright. Good?"

Wukong tried to pull some semblance of an explanation together, "I just want what's best for MK. That shouldn't be at your detriment though. I just... I wasn't thinking."

Macaque scoffed, "There's a surprise. I still don't get why you flew off the handle like that."

Wukong crossed his arms and looked away - guilt warring with righteousness.

Macaque sounded incredulous, "You thought I was going to use my powers against the kid?"

"Don't act like that's unreasonable! It wasn't that long ago you were trying to kill us all! You can't expect me to forget that in just a couple of months!"

Macaque's tail lashed behind him, "Oh, of course! Why would I expect you of all people to think someone can change?"

"That doesn't mean you trust someone blindly! You think I would let you hang about my island if-"

"Your island!? This was just as much my home as it was yours!"

"Yeah it was! Past tense!"

"So what? Now I need to earn the right to call this place home again?"

"Yes! I mean, no! This is your home!" He made an aggravated noise, "Why are we fighting!?"

"You started it!"

"Well, I want to stop! I don't want to fight!"

"Then stop yelling!"

"You stop yelling!"

"Fine!"

The both turned away from each other and Wukong felt his face heat up at how stupid this was. They literally couldn't say two words to each other without it dissolving into an argument.

He heard Macaque groan, "Look, I get why you don't trust me. The feeling's mutual but I just want to get on with my life. I don't want to hurt MK. Hell, I don't even want to hurt you most days. I'm done." He sighed heavily, before admitting quietly, "I'm tired. I... I just want to come home."

He decided to ignore that there were still some days where apparently Macaque did still want to hurt him as he felt Macaque's sentiment keenly. He was probably the only one who knew what it felt like to be so tired, to be so desperate for peace.

They'd both been forced away for five hundred years suffering their respective punishments, albeit not concurrently. And he knew deep down a part of him desperately wanted Macaque to come home too.

"I'm... I get that. What it's like to be tired... To want to come home... I-"

Macaque cut him off sharply, "Don't." He then took a breath, "Not tonight. I- I can't handle this conversation right now. It won't end well."

"...will it ever end well?"

Macaque stayed silent for a moment before admitting, "I haven't listened. I don't want to know."

Wukong nodded, deciding it was time to leave, he offered a roundabout apology, "I... I could have handled this better. Shouldn't have come already thinking the worst." He tried to grin, "I've still got a lot to learn from MK, I guess."

Macaque played along, "I'll say." He looked at him seriously, "He's a good kid, Wukong."

It sounded like a warning but he understood, "Yeah, I know."

He wasn't going to mess this up. He could admit he'd started off as a poor excuse for a mentor and friend but he was going to do better. He was already doing better.

Macaque seemed to accept all that had went unsaid and turned away, and swiped up the knife he'd been using to cut fruit, "Well, alright then... I'm off. The apple orchard is calling my name."

With a final nod, he walked off, quickly disappearing amongst the shadows between the trees.

Well, that could have gone worse. In fact, he'd even call that a tentative success. Though they really would need to figure out a way to communicate without getting so worked up almost immediately. Unfortunately, he couldn't lay all the blame at Macaque's feet for that one.

As he made his way back to the mountain, he reflected on Macaque's ears. He hadn't really meant to spy on him and MK earlier but he stood by his perhaps slightly overly protective nature when MK was around Macaque.

It'd been a long time since he'd seen them properly, he'd been surprised that Macaque had been so willing to show them to MK.

He could easily remember hundreds of moments when he'd been distracted by their glow.

MK couldn't possibly appreciate what those ears were truly capable of. They could hear sounds you wouldn't have thought existed - the stretch of muscles, plants growing, the frequency of stationary metals. Macaque could hear it all.

And he could pinpoint where those sounds were in space with terrifying accuracy - meaning a lack of visuals for the past and future was hardly a detriment. Sure he couldn't see the features of someone's face or clothes, couldn't appreciate any scenery but that was a truly minor detail.

In practice, Macaque could use this to predict someone's moves in a fight. Forever at least one step ahead of his opponent. It was why he had been able to perfectly fool everyone bar the Buddha of his imitation and how he was able to go toe to toe with him in a fight.

It wasn't an ability without flaws - it could quickly take its toll and as Macaque had said to MK, knowing the future didn't mean you could do anything about it but Macaque could use it with devastating effectiveness.

And don't get him started on hearing the past. Macaque could process and retain an insane amount of information, if he had the time and motivation he could learn everything about a person, could know their whole life and he had little issue with using that knowledge against someone.

And boy, was Macaque more than willing to suffer to get that information if he had the right motivation - take for example, a desire for revenge. Macaque knew things about his journey no-one else should know and he had previously not hesitated to hurt him with that knowledge.

And then of course, just his hearing for the present made him an impressive tracker. You'd be hard pressed to hide from the Six-Eared Macaque.

All this to say, Macaque was not someone you wanted as your enemy. He was extraordinarily skilled and he would happily spite himself just to cause you to suffer.

But, he tried to remind himself, when Macaque wasn't your enemy he could be an exceptional ally. Something, Wukong was slowly starting to hope he could one day be again - if not something more.

#lmk #lmk fanfiction #my fanfiction #lmk macaque #lmk mk #lmk monkey king #lmk sun wukong #shadowpeach #originally posted on ao3 #oneshot #complete fic #tumblr fic

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thecurioustale · 21 days

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Writing Psychological Horror Is Hard

Writing horror is hard for me.

I think it is perhaps the clearest example, at least when I'm the subject, of the difference between being the author and being the audience. I find it extremely difficult to know what will creep out someone who doesn't know all the behind-the-scenes details of what is happening. This is despite my considerable experience as a consumer of [psychological / environmental] horror media.

When I think about the things that scare me, or maybe "unsettle" is a better word, it usually comes down to two things: 1) narratively plausible violations of the laws of nature; and 2) foreboding, i.e. the slow-building setup that something bad is coming—something that is specific enough to be apprehensible but still ambiguous enough to be cloaked in mystery.

But! Not just any attempt at these things will actually work. There is definitely a secret sauce that makes some efforts fail and others succeed.

In the game Oxenfree, probably my favorite horror game of all time, there is a scene on the "Find Clarissa!" subplot where Alex et al. are in something akin to a classroom in an abandoned military base on an uninhabited island, and a discordantly upbeat and normal-sounding midcentury-style gameshow host is talking to them through a haunted radio asking them questions in a game of Hangman (whose figure is gradually being drawn by invisible means on the chalkboard), while a lamp overhead illuminates the room in a very unnatural light as it swings back and forth for no apparent reason. And this was one of my favorite moments in the entire game, because it was really scary. It benefitted from the existing atmospheric horror build up in the events immediately preceding it, and also benefitted from not being a narrative climax; it actually ratchets up the tension in the story even higher, without resolving anything (other than itself).

But I think that if you went purely by my description, you would be hard-pressed to create a scary implementation of this scene. I certainly would be—and I know that for a fact, because I have more or less tried it!

What is it that makes something profoundly unsettling in that oh-so-delicious manner of a good horror story? Well, the academic answer is that it's appealing to our instincts of danger: dangerous environments (like rocks or cliffs or plants, or, indeed, "the dark"), dangerous predators, dangerous people, dangerous forces (like fire and wind and water), and dangerous sicknesses (e.g. infectious disease). Most horror taps into at least one of these primal apprehensions in the human psyche. And to succeed it has to feel real, the way a roller coaster feels like you're really falling. But I don't think "the academic answer" really sheds all that much light on the mystery of actually composing horrifying situations and events.

A lot of the craftsmateship is a balancing act.

For example: You don't want to hit the audience over the head with obvious bogeymates—jumpscares for the sake of jumpscares, as it were, or having your big scary cryptid jump out in its full costume in broad daylight and look absurd—but I have also found, through experience, that it is very easy to hide horrifying details too well, to be too subtle about it—and it is extremely difficult for me to get a sense, on the audience's behalf, of how subtle is too subtle.

That leads me to an important insight: Part of the secret sauce of horror is contextually embedding horrifying story elements into a broader context. A "haunted stick of furniture" isn't going to get many people a-quailin' in their boots. It has to be more about how that object is embedded in the story. You know, like a haunted couch, or a haunted table: How do you make that scary? I don't think it can be scary on its own. Not consistently and convincingly. Instead you have to set it up ahead of time in some way(s), by providing information to the audience that you are then going to subvert or manipulate later. Yet it is all too easy to do this in a way that comes across like a paint-by-numbers exercise: "Wait a minute! Wasn't this couch pointing the other way earlier?! GASP!!" No one is gonna be scared by that. It's not enough.

Ultimately, I think scaring people successfully, in the psychological horror sense, therefore involves an element of overwhelming their ability to cope with and anticipate environmental changes, which assumes an elaborate environmental structure that you're going to have to set up, in non-obvious ways, earlier in the story. You have to give them expectations about how things will change and then either gradually go beyond that magnitude of change or else go in a different direction of change entirely—usually the former. Psychological horror is all about the fear of the jumpscare that never comes.

But I'm also just spitballing for the purposes of this essay. I don't really know. I struggle with this stuff!

It really is an art form to be able to scare people in this way.

Additional, medium-specific difficulty comes in the fact that the written media that I work in does not have access to a scary soundtrack or sound effects or voices, or to scary visuals and visual effects. Written text does have the corresponding advantage of having unfettered access to the reader's imagination, allowing them to essentially self-select the personally scariest interpretations of some of the details of a scene. But taking full advantage of this power is not easy at all; you have to put the right kinds of details in, and you have to do so in a digestible format, all without cluttering the flow of the story.

I have been doing a lot of Galaxy Federal writing lately, and have been trying to write some of the "scarier" bits and pieces in it, and I almost resent how totally clueless I am in regards to whether I am hitting the mark to my satisfaction! 😮

#Horror writing #Philosophy of horror #Psychological horror #Galaxy Federal

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peterparkouryo · 2 years

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rebound ii | ✧.*

✧.*

prompt; After Peter ends your relationship after admitting to being in love with someone else, you're a mess and very very miserable.

warnings: semi heavy angst, fluff if you squint

word count: 4.7k

part one part three

It's been four days since your birthday, and your break up with Peter.

You were sad, no you were miserable since that day and you cried every chance you got. It's not because it was on your birthday, if it was any other day you'd probably be just as worst.

Today was Monday, which meant today was also another dreadful, long and dragging, boring day of school. You'd rather be in your bed, eating ice cream as you cried watching a rom-com that was just as bad as your life.

When you got to school, you went straight to your locker, put your things inside and got all needed accessories for your upcoming class. The first class you needed to be at was social studies, which thankfully didn't have him in it, just your friend Betty and his friend Ned.

"Hey, Happy belated birthday!" Betty quickly exclaims the moment you walk into the class room, a couple students glancing at you or her in curiosity.

You send a grateful and albeit, weak smile as you slowly but surely make your way to your assigned seat which just so happens to be right next to her.

"Thanks." You softly mumble just as you sit next to her, the blonde haired girl excitedly turning towards you with too much anticipation.

"So, how was your birthday?" She asked.

"Also, sorry I couldn't be there." Betty quickly added before you could answer.

You wanted to tell her that it was fine, that you enjoyed your birthday with just you and your mom but the last final hour of your birthday was truly the worst part of that whole 24 hour day.

"It's fine, umm, I guess it was okay." You tell her, leaving out the very heartbreaking details you so badly wanted to tell her.

"Did Peter shower you in presents? Did he take you on a date!?" Ohh, did he give you that necklace that you've been ogling for the past few months?" Betty asked, question after question.

Now, you had no other choice but to tell her, and quite frankly, you did not want that to be the agenda for the day, but curse Betty and her curious, bubbly personality.

"Actually, we broke up." You tell it how it is, not sparing to glance at her bewildered expression.

"Broke up?" She repeated in disbelief.

You hum in response, digging into your backpack next to you and pulling out your notebook to jot down the notes on the board, completely trying to block out Betty and her confusion.

"When?" Betty quizzed, her eyes switching back and fourth from your notebook and your side profile.

"He broke up with me, on my birthday." You tell her, looking back down to your notebook, now scribbling nonsense.

Before she could even respond, you continue.

"Apparently, he was in love with Michelle, you know the girl from our math class? The whole entire time. Well, I don't exactly know when he fell in love with her, but it certainly was during our relationship." You rambled, holding back the frustration and tears that threatened to break through.

days you've been going through for the past few days. You still think it's your fault for why Peter broke up with you, he probably found you boring and you didn't give him the attention he needed, which is why you strongly believe he fell for someone much better than you.

You didn't hate Michelle, you actually genuinely liked the brown curly haired girl, she was quiet and observant and super smart, so you can see why Peter liked her a lot. She could also be dark at times from what you remember, and sure it confused you of how and why Peter liked that but maybe you didn't know your ex as well as you thought.

"Y/N, I am so sorry." Betty said, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder, which you didn't shrug off because you honestly needed some sort of comfort from the past few days.

"It's nothing, I'll be fine." You lied, turning your attention away from her to look at the board once again as the teacher finally decided to teach the class.

It was finally lunch time, and normally you'd sit with Peter and Ned, but that was a no go. Well, it would've been a no go if the other tables weren't full and if Ned hadn't invited you to sit next to him. And who were you to decline an invitation from the nicest boy ever?

So, you made your way to the table that was made for awkward moments, only seeing Ned sit there happily eating his lunch.

"Oh, hi Y/N." Ned greeted you just as you sat directly across from him with your lunch tray in hand.

"Hey." You greeted back, showing a smile.

You knew you were going to regret sitting here, given the fact that Peter is bound to sit here as well and there's no doubt that Michelle would be sitting here also, but you tried to ignore that initiated gut feeling and focus on anything and everything else.

Maybe if Peter saw that you were trying to move on, he'd believe that you did, though all of that is complete and utter bullshit.

"So, you know how in our science class we have that upcoming project about disparities?" You hear Ned's voice ask, glancing at him just in time as he shoves a salty fry into his mouth.

You nod, playing with your food instead, the anxiety slowly creeping into your body.

"Well, I was thinking since you and uhh...you know what never mind. Do you want to be my partner?" Ned questioned quickly, eyes filled with hope.

"Are you only asking me because I'm the smartest in that class?" You tease, narrowing your eyes at him in amusement.

Ned lets out a whole-heartedly chuckle, but before he could joke back a voice you very much expected interrupts you both.

"Sorry, the lunch line was really long..." Peter says defeatedly, tossing his friend a bag of chips as he sat down next to him.

Okay, so maybe you should've declined Ned's offer, but he was sort of your friend and you didn't have lunch with Betty anymore, plus sitting alone would probably be just as miserable as sitting here with your ex, who was in love with someone else.

You're sure you hear Ned respond to Peter's apology, but you're not quite too sure since your brain and ears are filled with anxiety, your head feeling fuzzy at Peter's presence. You could sometimes occasionally feel Peter's glances, probably curious as to why you're sitting here, but you wanted to make a point that you're over him and you didn't sit here because you cared about him still (which was a lie), but because Ned invited you and he was your sort of friend.

"Michelle's in the library today, since she's not really a people's person." Peter informed Ned after his question as of where the brown curly haired girl was.

You were thankful for that, you didn't think you could handle much more of misery.

You're not one hundred precent sure if they're dating now, but if they are you failed to notice, and maybe Peter is just deciding to take things slow since the boy did just get out of a relationship, with you.

The boys continue to make small talk, you ate in silence, or played with your food in silence until the lunch period was over.

And as soon as the bell rung, you hurriedly got up from the table, threw away your lunch and made a bee-line for the cafeteria doors, shoving and squeezing your way through the herd of students.

You sighed in relief as you made it into the hallway, holding a hand to your chest, almost, just almost crying right then and there but you remembered that you were in public, and at school too.

Just as the students that once littered the busy hallway made their ways to the next class that they had, you heard your name being called in the now shallow hallway.

You turn around hesitantly since you already know that voice all too well.

It wasn't Peter, but Michelle, coming from the library doors.

You always knew somehow god wasn't on your side.

"Hey, uh..." The girl started as soon as she approached you, a clad of books stuffed in her right arm.

"Hey.." You mumbled awkwardly, sparing glances at a few students who walked by to get to their next class.

Michelle was as awkward as you were, it was very obvious in the way that the tension around you surfaced rather quickly. You both knew why, it was an unsaid understanding.

"I think I owe you an apology." Michelle states, her eyes never leaving your face as you slowly trailed yours to look into hers.

"For what?" You dumbly ask.

You knew why, you just needed to hear her say it.

"I never meant for Peter to fall in love with me, and to hurt you. I honestly didn't think you two were a thing until a week ago." She admitted, and you could sense how nervous her voice was with that confession.

You knew you had a reason not to hate her, she was just as confused as you.

"It's fine, really." You lie, showing a rather obvious fake smile.

"No, no, it's not. I know he broke up with you on your birthday which is a really shitty thing to do, and I also know that it's not fine. If I could take back his feelings for me and give them to you, I would." Michelle concluded, her aura anything but foulness.

It was really reassuring knowing that the girl felt guilty for your now ex's feelings for her, her showing you the unexpected sympathy, something you thought would be the last thing you would receive from her.

But it was always really confusing how if she has feelings for Peter as well, why feel sorry for you? You did want him to be happy, and if it wasn't with you, so be it. You didn't want to be the reason Peter's unhappiness wasn't fulfilled.

"Michelle, listen." You started, standing up straight to look at her.

"I may be going through a lot with this, but I don't want to be the reason Peter is unhappy. That's the last thing I ever want for him. So, if he wants to be with you..." You trailed off with a shrug, hoping she understood where you were going with this.

Instead of answering the girl just stares at you, her eyes confused, as well as her facial expression, the features slowly falling into a more understanding expression, something you wanted her to see.

"Are you sure? I didn't want to get in the way of any unsaid closure..." She says, pressing her lips into a straight line.

Closure. The word only used to resolve problems. You didn't think breaking up with Peter needed closure.

"Oh, right...closure. I guess we do need to talk." You sigh.

"I would before he decides anything else. I mean that is if you're ready, it's only been four days." Michelle tells you, pushing up her books more into her arm as they were slipping.

You knew she was right, you did say yourself you wanted Peter to be happy, even if it was in a short amount of time.

"I'll just text him and ask him to meet me in the library after school." You tell her, hearing the bell ring, signalling the final warning to get to class.

"Good idea, tell me what he says." Michelle says with a nod before walking past you, mumbling a soft 'bye', and you too decide to make your way to your next period.

You unfortunately kept true to your word to Michelle, and as soon as your last period was over you texted the last person you wanted to see, asking him if you two could talk and to meet in the library after school.

It only took him maybe five or six minutes to respond, saying a quick 'okay'.

So here you were, really nervous, scared, maybe even sad for obvious reasons, waiting at a table that was way in the back of the library, not wanting to be disturbed by any teachers or students that lingered around in the book filled room.

You silently played with your fingers, your entire body on fire with anxiety. You sort of wished he would hurry up so it can get over and done with.

To be quite honest, it reminds you of the time he admitted to having a crush on you. You both were nervous for two totally different reasons. You, being nervous because you thought he was going to tell you he didn't want to be your friend anymore (and rightfully so because of how he was acting during that time), and him, because he of course liked you.

Any oncoming thoughts were caught short as your gaze was met with a familiar head set of curls, and compelling brown eyes coming your way, in a dazed state.

"Sorry, I uh...was busy." Peter mumbled, setting his backpack (the third one you saw that week), onto the library floor next to the seat he pulled out to sit down at.

"It's fine." You shrugged off, your hands now in your lap, keeping your distance, something you hope he didn't notice.

"So, what is it you wanted to talk about?" He asked, looking at you expectingly.

It took a lot of will power to keep your composure.

"Well, I talked to Michelle.." You trailed off, watching his every movement, seeing his pupils dilate just tiny bit.

"Oh?" Peter questioned, slightly biting his lip nervously.

"Yeah, she said we needed some sort of closure before you decide to get into a relationship to her." You told him, looking down at your fiddling hands in your lap.

Peter took notice of how truly nervous you were, and he couldn't help but feel bad, knowing he was the main reason for this.

He also noticed the lack of sleep, due to the much obvious under bags in your eyes, something he had a feeling also had to do with him.

"Right, closure." Peter nodded, clearing his throat.

There were a load of questions you had for him, many that probably would help you better understand how, when and why he fell out of love with you the moment he spent more time with Michelle.

His distance from you during the upcoming end of your relationship put you in a spiral of thoughts, the kind of thoughts that kept you up at night. It also didn't help that you were already an over thinker and the thought of messing up your relationship with Peter always scared you.

Most people would say that dreams come true not nightmares. It wounded you more than anything that you biggest fear did in fact come true.

You didn't really care if he was going to end up dating Michelle, it was bound to happen anyway. You just wanted to know the when and why. You wanted to know what you lacked during that time so in future relationships, you'd be able to avoid it.

"Before we talk, I, um, bought you this." You hear Peter say, the boy reaching inside of his backpack, digging in it before retreating it with an item, holding it toward you.

You reluctantly look up from where your eyes were practically trained on your lap, your hands still shyly there.

It was a small box decorated in your favourite colour, purple.

"What's this?" You curiously asked, taking it from his expecting hand.

"Just a late birthday gift." Peter shrugged, obviously not aware of just how inappropriate and inconvenient his timing was.

"Oh." Was all you said before stuffing it in your pocket.

You'd open it later.

As the day went on, the awkward tension build up, rarely anyone now was in the library, a few ongoing studiers, parents with their kids, or just advocate readers. You wanted some sort of miracle to happen so you wouldn't have to go through this uncomfortable situation.

It was clear neither of you knew how to start this conversation. You had no idea what to say or how to approach the topic of the closure you needed.

You couldn't tell if Peter noticed how miserable your appearance was, both mentally and physically, but you knew he must have known somehow.

"I'm really sorry I broke up with you on your birthday, had I known...I'd probably would've waited." Peter finally speaks up, with a heavy lump down his throat.

Your hands bare on the table as you shuffle in your seat, preparing on a proper response.

The thought of Peter going to break up with your regardless if it was your birthday or not makes your heart feel heavy with a forlorn weight.

"It's, I, it's okay, I guess." You murmur, blinking rapidly for effect.

Another silence settled, and this time you did nothing (like you were before) to speak up and stop it. You thought the more quiet, the less talking and you wouldn't get hurt anymore if either one of you even tried to utter a word.

"I know I hurt you," The boy started, and you look up, waiting for him to continue. "But, I can't say that I, you know what, never mind." Peter waves off, struggling to find the write words.

"And you're barely saying anything makes this a lot harder than it should be Y/N." He says in defeat, reaching out to clasp his hands onto yours.

There was nothing on your end, nothing to be said, nothing you wanted to say. Though you needed closure, you really had no idea what to say. How do you tell someone that you clearly still had feelings for that you love him?

Peter of course, had no idea you even loved him, he of course knew you probably still harboured feelings for him, but he didn't know you had stronger deeper feelings for him. Had the boy not broken up with you on your birthday, you probably would slipped the L word, which probably wouldn't make anything better if you're being honest.

"I'm sorry, I just....don't know what to say." You admit, the warmth of his skin on top of yours sending a wave of shivers from your arms through your entire body.

"Start by telling me how you feel." Peter suggested, and that might not had been the brightest of ideas.

You felt like shit. There hadn't been a day that went by after your dreadful birthday where you didn't.

You squint your eyes at him, slowly removing your hands from his grasp.

"I feel like shit." You tell him, giving the boy a timid look, watching him nod slowly in understanding.

"Right, probably should've guessed that." Peter said shyly, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"Sorry." He adds on.

"You say that a lot, but do you actually mean it?" You ask him quietly, watching his pupils dilate at your request.

"'Course I do!" Peter almost exclaims, his eyes now wide.

"I-, listen I know I hurt you bad, but the last thing I want is for you to hate me." He stated, pouting slightly.

You didn't hate him, and you think that's even worse.

"I don't hate you, don't think I ever can." You say, pressing your lips together.

It'd probably be a good thing to tell him you loved him, but you were in public and it would hurt even worst if he neglected your love (which would most likely happen) in such a public area.

Maybe you should wait till later, or just honestly get it over and done with, the sooner the better, you thought.

"If I'm being honest Peter, I think-" You begin, your heart pounding wildly against your chest. Your head screaming at you not to do it, but when have you ever listened to your head instead of your heart?

"I think I love you." You whisper at your quietest volume, and hopefully god was on your side,. Hoping maybe Peter didn't hear it, but you lacked the knowledge of knowing Peter's secret abilities.

Either time froze or Peter was stuck in place for whatever reason (you were sure you knew) it was. Things seemed to have frozen around you, the people you were once aware of now gone, just you and your ex in this moment. And was it such a vulnerable one.

You watch as the boy's mouth fell open and closed, trying to conjure up something, anything to say at your sudden confession.

Your heart fell deeper into your stomach as the silence grew, you wished this time it wasn't so evident, the lack of ventilate from him bothering your head.

After a two minutes of silence Peter quickly gets up from his seat, grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder almost clumsily.

"I-, I havetogo, sorry." The boy swiftly says, stumbling over his words before nearly tripping over a few chairs.

You figured this wouldn't happen, which might have been ten times worst than him actually saying something in return.

You had wiped the falling tears from your face, the mirror in front of you mocking your actions, but no matter what, the wet substance from your eyes would still fall down a lot heavier.

You sniffled before exiting the bathroom, making a beeline to your bedroom, closing the door and cuddling up into the bed.

After your conversation (if you'd even call it that) with Peter at the library, the minute you got home, you were hit with a wave of saddness. You cried more than you did on your birthday, and now you wish you hadn't told your ex boyfriend you loved him, didn't matter anyway.

You were grateful your mom had a late shift tonight, you couldn't bare the thought of her seeing you at your worst, questioning why you were the way you were. You lacked to even tell the woman you and Peter were no longer dating. You figured you'd wait a few weeks then drop the bomb on her, hopefully she'd spare Peter, but given her personality, you truly doubt it.

The crying hadn't really stopped, so when your face hit your soft pillows and more tears that got more intense as the night went on, you weren't all that surprised.

What did surprised you was the obsessive knocking at your bedroom window.

You didn't bother to wipe your tears when you sat up from your bed, aiming your direction at the window, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion when you saw your neighbourhood superhero instead of some sort of bird.

"Spider-Man?" You questioned bewilderedly as you approach your bedroom window, opening it from its handle.

You knew of him from the news, and it was really shocking to you that him of all people were here at your window at something at night for whatever the reason was.

"What are you doing here?" You ask him again, watching the hero crouch on the railing of your fire escape.

"Believe it or not but I heard you..." He says steadily, and you rose an eyebrow at him.

"Not that I was you know listening or anything, but I was near by and my senses can pick up things from far away." Spider-Man quickly says, holding out a hand in defence.

"Oh." You say, tilting your head as you wiped your tears.

"Seemed like a damsel in distress sort of thing..." He trailed off, expectingly waiting for your response.

You had no reason to tell this stranger your secrets, you both knew that, but something inside of you wanted to. You hadn't even known the hero for five seconds and yet you were ready to tell him your deepest darkest confessions.

"It's nothing." You settled for, having some moral ground.

"Sad movie?" Spider-Man suggested.

"Yeah." You nod, sniffling a bit.

Maybe he thought you were in some sort of trouble, but the more you thought about it the less sense it made to to tell a stranger about your conversation with your ex at a public library.

What advice could he possible give that would make you feel better? You don't know if he's ever even gone through something like that.

"Oh, well hope you feel better." Spider-Man offered. "Just doing my part of the 'friendly neighbourhood' motto." He adds, making you chuckle.

"Thanks." You smile.

You couldn't pin point it, but he seemed oddly familiar, maybe it was because he was so nice to you after your horrible day, week even, but you really appreciated his kind gesture.

"I-" He started, unravelling himself from his crouching position to stand on your fire escape.

"Y/N." Spider-Man says, and your eyes widen marginally.

Had you told him your name? You couldn't remember, but never the less even if you didn't, you wondered how he knew in the first place. Maybe you slipped it out from habit or he was some stalker type of hero.

The hero seemed to have noticed your confused state, the vigilante quickly ripping off his mask to try and calm your nerves, but you recognize his face all too well, instinctively going to shut the window, but unfortunately for your his senses way too quick for yours, his strength inhumane.

"Wait!" Peter cried out as you still tried to close the window but to no avail.

Peter easily slides the window up, causing you to let go repulsively, backing up from it as he slowly climbed in.

Every bone in your body was telling you to run, but where would you go, who would you tell? Now you never would tell anyone about your ex being the Queens superhero, but you don't think you can bare having this secret known to you so suddenly.

Peter being Spider-Man is a surprise, of course, and him using his alter ego just to talk to you in some sense after quite literally running away from your confession was making your mind fuzzy to say the least.

You started to shake your head for no particular reason, watching the boy close your window before turning back to you, his hair wild most likely from the mask, and a evident pout on his face.

"You-, you love me?" Peter asked, his voice cracking.

You couldn't conjure up the right words, your mind blank with empty thoughts. It was still shocking to you that Peter of all people was the spiderling you only ever seen on the news.

You never paid much attention to Spider-Man, and if you did, you'd probably would have figured out that Peter was him if you connected the dots properly.

"Y/N, please answer me." He pleaded, breaking you from your train of thoughts. You were sure you looked like a deer caught in headlights at this point.

"I don't know..." You whispered, fiddling with with your fingers as sweat trickled down your forehead.

"But at the library you said-" Peter starts.

"I know what I said." You tell him, meeting his brown eyed gaze.

You blinked back tears, Peter approaching your figure, and you would had backed up to get away from him but you were stuck in-between him and the bed. Fortunately he placed his mask on top of your bed, releasing it from his brutal grip, you two now in close distance.

You were getting deja vu, the boy staring at your face, perfecting every angle he could before closing his eyes and exhaling a breath he had been holding in.

"You really shouldn't had told me that." He whispered, and you bit your bottom lip, nervously nibbling on it.

Peter reopens his eyes, greeting you with the honey colour you were familiar with, his pupils getting smaller as it adjusted to the light, you felt bad for the sad expression that was held on his face.

He slowly brings a hand up to your face, wiping a tear that had unknowingly fallen down your face before pushing some of your hair behind your right ear.

It's been a long time since he's showed you this kind of affirmation, the last time he ever did something remotely similar was the time he had broken up with you. You had no clue what he was thinking, was he going to kiss you, or scold at you for expressing your love for him when he clearly loved another? The possibilities were endless like the ocean, and so you wished he'd only say his motive so your anxiety wasn't so obvious.

Peter's eyes dip to your lips before glancing back to your eyes, him silently asking for permission. You give the boy a nod as your answer, mirroring his actions when he closes his eyes and leans in.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker angst

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this-is-fox-speaking · 1 year

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FANTOCCIO FACTS POST (from screenshots i found in my own interests server)

- His name is italian for puppet, but he pronounces it incorrectly and insists it’s the correct way to say his name if anyone else points it out and says he’s wrong.

- He’s not from Italy, obviously. Goes to show. But Ash imagines he knows a bit of italian. (“Not enough Italian to say his name right.” - Katie.)

- Fantoccio has a pet shark named Sharkspeare! Mentioned in the song at the line “‘Cause Sharkspeare’s looking mean!”

- Fantoccio has to make all his own props, set pieces, clothes, etc in the theatre.

- Would never smoke, and would hate being around it/people who’re doing it actively.

- Fantoccio was made by Ash as a fan OC for the game, and this (as far as I’m aware) is what got them hired onto the game, cause Katie loved their ideas so much.

- Fantoccio is not very good with kids.

- Fantoccio’s favorite food is churros. This came from the fact Ash once had a dream about him infodumping about them cause he loved them so much, so they made it canon.

- Don’t worry, he can indeed taste things normally. No traditional taste buds, but some, nonetheless. Same goes for touch!

- Fantoccio is canonically autistic, having many traits of himself heavily projected from Ash, themself.

- When asked what his meltdown triggers could be, Ash thought that some might be: too much touching, being without his hat, or one of his props breaking.

- Fantoccio likes wearing dresses! Wears them if he feels like it or if the role calls for it, during a play.

- Ash thinks he’d ADORE snow.

- Fantoccio would 100% love spicy italian from subway.

- Fantoccio plays violin!

- Fantoccio would chant “I’m sleeping” when struggling to fall asleep, like his own version of counting sheep.

- He would NEVER say the Earth is flat.

- He’d be the “How do you do that” of that one keysmash meme, if paired with Barnaby.

- Ash once said that Fantoccio is like Duck from Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared.

- When doing a personality type test (and actually answering truthfully instead of in character) for Fantoccio, he ended up with ENTJ-T, Commander. Fanto would answer untruthfully on some questions, like if he ever gets insecure (“PFFFT NO THE ANSWERS NO”).

- He can go uwu in the bbu lore, but he’ll hate it. (“THIS IS STUPID!!!”)

- Fantoccio would apparently be a “mac and cheese FIEND.”

- He’d hate pranks (specifically a hand zapper in this case), because they’re unexpected. (“NEVER DO THAT AGAIN”)

- This also means he’d never troll anyone, cause he feels above that.

- Fanto would HATE hearing people crack their knuckles, like Ash does.

- Fantoccio loves to carve wood. Specifically only by hand, that’s how much he loves it! He carved the two giant wooden hands used in his battle, but his favorite thing to carve is ducks.

- Fantoccio is very intent on ONLY eating the few foods he knows he likes.

- If he were an ice cream, he’d be coffee flavor! Which is ironic, because Ash has also said that it’d probably be terrible to give Fantoccio caffeine.

- Fantoccio would LOVE chicken nuggets.

- Hates pizza, though. Too greasy and messy.

- Would enjoy having an ipad “a little too much. He would be super confused at first but once he learns how to use it DO NOT TAKE IT AWAY”. (kinda like Peridot from Steven Universe)

- He would like spruce wood in Minecraft, but also acacia “just to look at.”

- Ash adores pirates, so so does Fantoccio!

- He has no nose, so no sneezes!

- Appreciates detail as much as Barnaby does.

- Fanto would love birds!

- Fanto is not capable of curse words. Sad.

- Fantoccio would COLLAPSE trying to lift someone without his powers.

- He stims by patting his face and spinning around. Fidgets with his hands in concepts for his standing idle animations, because he’s uncomfortable with standing and prefers floating.

- He’d favor Murder Mystery!

- His wood is alive and can grow like a real boy! (if you’ve seen my post being reblogged around, lol)

- He lives in the lost city of magic, which is abandoned and overrun my magical zombies who used to be magic users, now with a terrible curse. So he lives mainly in his theatre. He’s not trapped, anymore, like his old story!

- Fantoccio’s powers are based around telekinesis and teleportation. It’s how he moves his body around!

- He used to have a plush toy rabbit he carried around, when he was younger, seemingly. It’s unclear where that went, when he got older.

- Fantoccio’s been locked up in this city for 15 years, since he was 8. Completely isolated (save for those zombies, I suppose)! When Billie comes along, though, he’s so excited to have something new to play with!

- Fanto’s song is inspired by Weird Al. Like 90% of this game is, of course /lh. He was also inspired by the pied piper!

- He’d dislike the idea of seafood. (“He’d be like “Why would anyone want to eat a fish?!” And cover Sharkspeare’s nonexistent ears like “Don’t listen to them!””)

- The red feather in his hat is also used as a pen!

- Fantoccio is a being of pure magic, having an entire magic gem be his whole life source. This means he can use magic endlessly without getting tired (I believe)!

- Fantoccio is 23, he/him, and pansexual.

- His face is made using magic. It disappears when/if he’s magic-less.

- Fantoccio can absolutely feel pain.

- When it comes to nature, Ash said he’d kinda be like Rarity from MLP:FiM, but certain kinds of nature he’d still really love. He’d really dislike walking through the wild or camping in general, but loves things like snow or flower fields. Just depends!

- Fantoccio would main Bowser in Mario Kart.

-In terms of favorite Halloween treats, Fantoccio would like anything chewy and fruity (no chocolate)!

- Canonically wears eyeliner.

- Magic sparks from his fingertips when he’s very excited!

- If Fantoccio was an animal, Ash says he’d be a cat.

- No traditional gross human stuff inside him like others, just wood and sap. “Whatever trees do.”

- His original concept by Ash was him having a purple phantom head, being a ghost in a puppet’s body. This was changed by Katie, I believe.

(feel free to add on if I missed anything! i’ll edit this post if i randomly remember something)

#bbu facts #so ppl can block the long posts coming up in main #billie bust up #bbu fantoccio #EDIT: FOR SOME REASON THIS GOT AUTO LABELED OR SMTHN AS MATURE??#FIXED IT NOW BUT THAT WAS WEIRD

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readingwiththestars · 2 months

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₊˚⊹♡ THE GRANDEST GAME

["Riddles are for people who enjoy playing,” .... “Do you consider yourself playful, Mr. Hawthorne?”]

| ✮ 4 stars |

THOUGHTS ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . [!!!!SPOILERS AHEAD!!!!] this is very long guys sorry

ok so *cracks knuckles* lets talk about tgg

!!warning i'm finishing this like four days after i read tgg so i might've forgotten things because reading until 2am and remembering what i read is apparently a hard thing for me to do!!

first of all.... JLB, you and i need to have a chat because that ending was not okay. you literally just left us with no answers. seriously. what the hell????? and while i wanna kick my feet and scream because we got two kisses and then you had to go ahead and ruin it in the span of two or three pages and give us that shitty ending.

i would like to point out one question i had through out the book, which was why was grayson playing? what was the point of that???? like seriously was there an actual need for him to play or was it just jameson, avery, xander and nash fucking with him? whatever it was it didn't make sense and just felt like jlb was trying to shove lyra and grayson into forced proximity so they could interact.

speaking of thatttt i love graysonlyra and rohansav (more thoughts on sav later) the banter the looks the touches the everything i love it sm omg AND AVERYJAMESON!!!!!!! THE CRUMBS WE WERE GETTING MADE ME SO HAPPY OMG!!! I CAN DIE HAPPY!!

i will say i feel jlb really did pull out all the stops for this book the different levels of everyone's connection and knowledge of how to solve the riddles/puzzles (i was literally CLUELESS) like how does one make all that connect. the level of detail was insane connecting books and characters together just weaving some kind of intricate web of characters.

and at first i did feel like the game felt really short but i think that was just my 2am dumbass brain forgetting this is only the first part of the game lol. i did kinda hope there would be more like running around and trying to solve things on the actual island not stuck in a house though but who knows whats happening in the next book soooo

it did get very confusing there with calla (who is fucking INSANE BY THE WAY!!! SHE TORTURED KNOX??? WTF????) and the whole calla lily thing with lyra and odette was confusing af. so its like calla (the person) has a connection with knox and brady and then a calla lily has a connection with odette and lyra (also kinda gray cause he knows abt it i guess)

and and and and im a die hard gigislate shipper (and brady daniels hater) so im praying that we get an enemies to lovers with gigi and slater where he's forced to be mean/hate or wtv because of *gags* eve and then its like oop no im breaking you out of here idc what eve thinks because i only care abt you. ESPCIALLY because gigi was talking abt how no ones ever looked at her the way jameson looks at avery throughout the book (SOMEBODY HIRE ME FR)

OK THATS ENOUGH RAMBLING ITS TIME TO FOR THE CHARACTERS

CHARACTERS ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

lyra - ok i love her. she was such a good strong character it was so much fun to read about her interactions (with grayson 😏) she was actual so wife material but idk why i felt like i wasnt allll that into her character too much like i love her but didn't really feel connected with her?? idk she was a very good fmc to read about tho!! but i do wanna know about miles end and her whole connection with her dead dad (who btw is an ass who tf kills themself in front of a FOUR YEAR OLD???) and whoever's stalking here (honestly i had a whole ass thing thinking its ALL PROBABLY EVE LIKE SHE WOULDA DONE THAT MUCH RESEARCH OR SOMETHING or maybe eve was js there for gigi) but now i think it might've been something to do with alice. who knows honestly

gigi - this is my time to shineeeeee. if gigi has zero fans i am dead (and slater bc im delusional like that) i love gigi so much omg. she's my no 1 girl i love her. my girl just needs someone to love her fr she talks through out the book about how she wants to be looked at with so much love (she thought it was brady BUT NO EW) i loved reading from her perspective abt how she just wanted to prove that she was good enough to be in the game AND SHE IS!!! im still bitter about her getting kicked out of the game - AND IM NOT EVEN GONNA TOUCH ON THE WHOLE KIDNAPPING AT THE END (GIGISLATE ENEMIES TO LOVERS WHEN????)

rohan - marry me. thats it. honestly just marry me. u need to work on ur nicknames tho- it was super interesting to read about his way of think and the whole labyrinth thingy lol. there wasn't too much more about his backstory tho WHICH IM SO INVESTED IN FR. WHAT DO YOU MEAN HIS FIRST MEMORY IS DROWNING????

savannah - girboss fr. she could step on me and i'd say thank you. its really interesting to me how (obviously) she's been manipulated by eve and it'll be super interesting to see how jlb will play out her whole revenge plan. she's extremely driven which is admirable and a good characters (she's literally like a female grayson imo - which also reminds me of that one scene where she goes "i am grayson hawthornes sister" which made me smile so big fr)

there are so many characters oml

knox - ok so my buddy boy knox. broski, brozilla, broville, brother from another mother, u need a hug? i didn't really like him in the beginning tbh he was a moody lil girl working through his issues. but after a while when he warmed to gigi it was nice to see the softer side to him (which tbh wasnt for very long until oop trauma dumpppp) but seriously oml knox baby the scar???? imma find calla fr (jlb cant write new characters also why complicate the shit out of everything and have a calla lily be relevant to lyra and also have calla be a person???) i did like how sweet/soft he was with gigi when she fell though that warmed my heart.

odette - iconic grandma shit tbh. she was third wheeling the entire time and at some points actually seemed like she was shipping them but then two seconds later she was warning them? saying no? idk the whole 'seizure' thing seems faker than eve's lies. and the fact she instantly gave brady the watch after gigi said no. like um what about knox? idk if thats js my brady hate coming through here though so yeah idk if i trust her or not (bet everyone is working for eve except for gigi, lyra and rohan)

grayson - marry me. love me. choose me. pls. i'd do ANYTHING. my simping for this man aside. IT WAS SO GODDAMN REFRESHING TO SEE A HEALING GRAYSON. like yes. it made me so happy to see him admit he was wrong but also know that its okay to be wrong skdjhaasd. this is so short because i love him and cant write proper thoughts about him fr.

brady - *cracks even more knuckles* brady daniels....... you know i've always wanted to know what it'd be like to write a hate paragraph. i guess im finding out now. i hate him. literally. i have unbridled hate for this man - who by the way still shocks me that he's only 20 he acts like he saw the fucking first world war. its one of the reasons i never liked him like he sooo took advantage of gigi's smartness and kindness like HE DID ABSOLUTELY NOTHING during the game gigi carried the entire team and when she refused to take odette's watch and then him instantly taking it. ICKKKK don't even mention how he lied abt his mom like dude just admit it you knew you were fucking cooked in that fight and the only way you could win was by lying. AND WHAT ABOUT THE WHOLE BOMBSHELL ABOUT HOW (i cant remember his name but the dude who raised knox, calla and brady) died??? and then being a little shit and dropping gigi's heart. like we get it u dumbass man child u think you're clever cause u can speak so many languages and read even more but NO. i was onto you, i never trusted your crusty old man ass. like he even touched gigi without her permission (on the stomach) which so gross to me, the dogshit under my shoe can do better than you brady. seriously. i hate him. i'm the leader and founder of the I HATE BRADY DANIELS CLUB. so thats at least something to sate my anger. help this got so long 😭

QUOTES ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . [i'm putting like two because this already wayyyyy to long for anyone to actually bother reading.]

"you will come back to me, or i will make you come back to me." - grayson

"Beside Avery, Jameson was looking at her like she was the sun and the moon and the stars and eternity, all rolled into one." - gigi

"give me your eyes sweetheart." - grayson

if you're here at the end of this *APPLAUSE* i commend you on getting through that kilometre of my shit thoughts. have a piece of cake 🍰

#the library ౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆#the bookshelf ౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆#the grandest game #grayson hawthorne #lyra kane #savannah grayson #rohan #gigi grayson #odette morales #knox landry #brady daniels #the inheritance games #avery grambs #averyjameson #jameson hawthorne #xander hawthorne #nash hawthorne

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