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thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels · 3 months ago

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There is a curse in me that will not sleep (and a home in you that will not leave)

Day 1 of Thank You, Haikyuu - event masterlist here

pairing: hinata shouyou x reader (gn) x kageyama tobio

length: 7.6k

genre: fairytale au !! fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: very vaguely beauty and the beast inspired, a bit of miscommunication but it's all resolved in the end, I know it's angsty but I promise there's a happy, comforting ending and everybody ends up alright, basically just a lot of emotional stress but that's my trademark by now

a/n: woooow ok au week has officially begun !! I am still kinda scrambling to get all of these finished in time ahaha but this first one is monumentous so I hope everyone enjoys <3

tags: @love-and-lore

It's not often that you see Hinata Shouyou this way, weary and sullen, with his brows furrowed and his gaze turned down. It looks wrong on him, like he's wearing someone else's face - someone else problems. So, of course, you throw the rag you'd been using over your shoulder and flip the open sign by the window of the tavern, quietly sending your barback home for the evening as you make your way over to Shouyou.

He's so distracted by whatever's going on in his mind, so wrapped up in the heaviness of running a town like this that he doesn't even notice your presence until you tap your knuckles on the wood of the bar next to him.

"Did you want a refill?" You offer gently. Shouyou just blinks, spinning on his stool to see the empty tavern before turning back to you.

"You're closed. I should go, I don't want to bother - why isn't anything cleaned or put away? Where's that new barback you hired?" You laugh at his jumble of words - the way his mind bounces around is nothing new to either of you and serves as a comfort that he isn't too far gone right now. You take his cup away from him despite his gentle protests, frowning as he lets you peel his fingers off of it so that you can dump out his ale, serving him a new, fresh pint.

"I sent him home," you say easily. "There isn't much to do tonight, I can take care of it myself."

"You work too hard."

"What were you thinking about?" Shouyou shoots you his best attempt at a scathing look when you dodge his comment, but he turns into such a lovesick puppy when you're around that the effect of it falls short. You merely cross your arms and raise your brows as you wait for him to speak.

"I'm… worried," he sighs eventually, shoulders sagging in defeat as he admits it.

"Cleary," you quip back gently, moving to begin wiping down tables. "What about, though?"

"Did you know they're raising taxes again?" He says quietly. You sigh and pause your cleaning, rolling out the tension in your shoulders - or trying to.

"I thought you had some say in that?" You ask. Shouyou scowls into his cup.

"This may be my town to look after, but I'm only a nobleman. When the royal family demands it, even I have to obey." You hum in understanding as you throw your rag onto the bar and move to begin hauling benches up and onto the tables. Shouyou makes an alarmed, disbelieving sort of sound and shoots to his feet to gently shoo you away, picking up benches in your place.

You roll your eyes, of course, making a big show of huffing and mumbling under your breath about how you can do it yourself. He just smiles in that gentle way of his and you know that the heat in your face and the honest care in his eyes as you move to put up the small chairs, instead, give away the show of it all.

Hinata Shouyou is in love with you because you let him be - desperately against your better judgment.

"We've dealt with raised taxes before, Shouyou," you say quietly. "We'll be ok."

"For how long?" He snaps back, holding his hands up in surrender when you shoot him a look. "I just mean that there's a limit. I'm worried about… well, I'm worried about the whole town. There's only so much the people can take."

"So what will you do?" You ask as he puts up the final bench and lets you usher him back to his seat at the bar - the only chair you'd left available.

"I'm… going to talk to the prince." That makes you pause, eyes wide as you stare at him.

"No you're not," you say quickly. Shouyou looks at you with a care that rattles you, an apologetic sort of love showing on his face.

"He's going to help me… he has to. It's the only option I have." You sigh at Shouyou's words and grip the edge of the bar.

"People are warned away from that castle for a reason, Shouyou," you say quietly. "The king banished his son there for a reason. The forest is impassible for a reason."

"I know, my beloved." You don't even have the heart to chastise him for calling you that when he pulls himself to his feet and sweeps his way around the bar to stand in front of you, the silk of his shirt shimmering under the dull, flickering candlelight. His hands grip yours firmly and he pulls them up to press kisses across your palms, making you scoff and turn your head away. The gold of his rings are cool against your skin and the jewels in them shine, reflecting their colours onto the stains of your apron.

"I must," Shouyou goes on to say. "I must do what needs to be done to take care of this town… to take care of you."

"You will not die stupidly for me." Your voice warbles as you speak and you curse yourself for it. Shouyou just smiles, keeping his fingers intertwined with your own so that he can swing your connected hands back and forth between the two of you.

"I will not," he says firmly. "I will leave at first light tomorrow and be home by dusk. You'll see. Before the flowers on your mantle wilt, I will be back here with you, beloved."

It takes two days for the petals on your flowers to start curling and falling, two days without Shouyou's return before you've driven yourself mad enough to go after him, entrusting the tavern to your young, nervous barback and setting off on your horse. It takes another day entirely to maneuver through the dense wood that separates the town from its wretched, looming castle, the trees thick and sturdy and blanketing the forest floor in darkness.

You wonder, in a crawling, frightened sort of way, if Shouyou's out here somewhere in the depths - if you'll stumble over his body being taken by the forest.

But it does not happen. Nothing happens until you stumble, finally, onto the castle, dark and crumbling, with ivy crawling up the walls and moss covering the stone. Once, you can tell, it was beautiful, but that age of it seems to have died out long ago and the remnants stand haunting and silent until the end of time.

The silence, of course, you test as you shove open the great doors and stumble into the vast, arched entryway. There are no soldiers, no footmen or maids or anyone. There is only you and the silence and the sliver of light from the open doorway.

Maybe it was the nervous whining of your horse outside, her hoof pawing at the ground, that made enough noise to draw attention. Maybe it was your own fault with the way you pushed open the doors. Maybe it was - well, it doesn't matter, you suppose, as the prince himself stomps down a spiralling, ornate staircase and towards you, regal cape flying out behind him and scowl clear on his face.

"Go," he spits angrily, the fury rolling off of him like thunder as he points out the open door behind you. You remember, somewhere far away, of the stories you've heard - of his endless pride and selfish ego, of the day he was banished by his parents, sent to live in exile while his sister was groomed to take the throne instead of him.

You should leave, you think haltingly. You should run and remind yourself how lucky to are to have a life to flee back to, you should -

"Don't be rude," you snap instead. The prince, for what it's worth, merely stares at you and holds his hand to his chest, recoiling from the way you slapped his pointed finger away from you. "I'm looking for someone."

"There's no one here," he says back, voice heated and loud. You cross your arms.

"Perhaps not now, but he would have passed through. It's Hinata Shouyou, the nobleman presiding over the town -"

"I know who my own nobleman is." Tobio''s voice is thunderous, echoing in the otherwise empty entrance hall. You snap your mouth shut for just a moment.

"Perhaps then, you'd be helpful enough to know where he is." Surely, you shouldn't speak to royalty like this, you think distantly. But surely, an exiled prince living in a crumbling castle of a time long gone, a living ghost residing in a relic of the past, cannot threaten as much harm as you've been led to believe.

"He is gone," he says simply before turning, his cape swinging elegantly to hit you across the knees, causing you to stumble as you chase after him.

"When? Where? Wh -" Your incessant questions have Tobio turning from halfway up the staircase, scowling down at you where you skid to a halt and look up at him.

"He, smarter than you perhaps, left when he realized that his trip was fruitless. You will, as well," he says stubbornly. You begin up the stairs again and he tips his head back and sighs.

"He never returned home," you shout back stubbornly, your voice matching the volume of his, ricocheting off the stone around you. "He could be dead because of you, lost somewhere out there and gone and -"

But not even your voice, loud as it is, is enough to drown out the crack of thunder outside, booming and quaking as dark stormclouds stir over the horizon, beginning to blanket the land in darkness.

"The sun is beginning to set," Tobio says rather quietly. "Anyone would die trying to cross the wood at night." You turn to face the open doors at his words, your eyes wide and jaw tight at the darkening sky and the onslaught of rain that begins over the valley. Your hand grips the bannister of the staircase as you stare, as you consider the possibility of dying tonight alone in the wood, of never going home and seeing daybreak again.

"The valley will flood," you say quietly, eyes still trained on the darkness outside. "The wood will turn to a marsh and the landslides will block the trails. I will not make it home tonight."

"I am not so fool as to be unaware of the weather," the prince says haughtily, making your hand tighten on the gold leaf of the bannister in anguish. You wonder painfully, for a moment, if this is what happened to Shouyou, if he was sent to his death so uncaringly, as well.

But then Tobio sighs like he's been burdened by something great and turns to continue up the stairs.

"A room will be prepared for you here. You will leave at first light when the rain stops."

You realize at dinner that night, that perhaps the prince is not as alone as you'd all thought - the realization comes to you as you shift in your plush velvet seat at the large banquet table, servers appearing on either side of you to load rich, delicate food onto your plate.

But something sits heavily in your heart as you think back to the way he'd demanded that you dine with him, the way his eyes stared hollowly at the long, empty table. It must be a curse, you think, to have such space in your heart and home and no one to fill it. You wonder if you could even tell yourself you have a home at all in such conditions.

But then you think of Shouyou, of his beaming smile and kind eyes and soft, firm hands, and the kindness you've been fostering is tampered out again.

"How could you not help him?" You say abruptly, letting your cutlery clatter onto your plate as you sit back in your chair.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your people are suffering and you sit here living in lavish solitude and turning away the one person who was brave enough to ask you for help."

"Asking is an interesting way of putting it," Tobio says dryly. You falter, unsure of his meaning and letting your words die out.

"What… exactly happened here when Shouyou came to you?" You ask eventually.

"It is none of your concern." He looks away stubbornly, the candlelight illuminating a faint dusting of blush across his cheeks. It must be from the wine, you tell yourself. Nothing more.

"He is my concern," you snap. The prince stares at you, then, something deep and looming in his eyes that you can't place - something that makes you shift again as his gaze bores into you.

"What a life you live, having someone to make you act in such a way," he says softly. You splutter out a defence about how you're friends and look away. The shadows of the pillar candles flicker and splashes of light dance over your faces, like the golden heat is trying desperately to breathe life into this cursed place.

"You have not told me why you will not help," you say in lieu of addressing his comment and his disbelief at your denial.

"And I will not," he responds stubbornly. Your eyes narrow as you glare at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You're lying." Perhaps, you think desperately as he slams his fist against the abruptly, you've hit a nerve. Perhaps Shouyou was right all those times he told you that this mouth of yours will get you into trouble.

But then the prince sighs and murmurs something about this being his second tiresome overnight guest and you perk up, locking onto him again.

"The second? You mean -"

"Yes, of course, your beloved Shouyou stayed for far too long - days, in fact. What did you think happened to him?" Tobio says cavalierly. You huff and run a hand through your travel-dampened, tangled hair - much to Tobio's displeasure.

"Why didn't you lead with that?" You snap. "He was probably on his way back to me as I left - he's probably arriving home now and thinks I'm dead - or worse, stuck here with you." That comment, you think mildly, probably wasn't necessary, but the scowl on the prince's face is reward enough.

"Then he's home," he spits the word. "And he's safe. There is nothing to be concerned about." Tobio says it like it's final, like there's no ill will that could befall the two of you now, but as you look out the stained glass window toward the night sky and the storm that stretches endlessly onward through flashes of white-hot lightning, you fear that the worst is yet to come.

As Shouyou stands in your empty tavern, listening to your barback stammer on about how you'd left to go after him and haven't returned yet, he thinks that there is no pain like this, no fear like what he feels now, knowing that you're alone in that cursed wood because of him.

It's begun raining, thunder crashing in the sky and lightning striking down from above and illuminating the horizon as it stretches over the valley. There is no way you'll survive a night in the wood like this, Shouyou realizes as he stumbles to a bench, sagging down onto it and putting his head in his hands. There is no hope on a night like this.

So he stands abruptly, declaring that he's going after you, when the barback all but throws himself in front of the door to stop him.

"You'll die out there," he says earnestly. Shouyou's hands tremble as he clenches them into fists so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

"They could already be dead," he snaps.

"And if they aren't, then you're just killing yourself." Shouyou tries to remember the name of the trembling boy in front of him. Yamaguchi, he thinks you'd said once. But then he thinks of you again and a crash of thunder rattles the glasses on the bar.

"There's no use in both of you dying tonight," Yamaguchi says quietly, his voice shaking as his eyes grow wet. Shouyou sighs and puts a hand on the boy's shoulder gently, a comforting sort of apology as his shoulders sag and defeat takes hold of him.

"At first light, then," he says stiffly, and a flash of lightning illuminates the gaunt fear on his face. Yamaguchi finds himself wishing that you'd never left home at all.

That night, you're aware, should've been a fitful sleep with the large bed chamber and silken sheets and mounds of pillows that you're surrounded with. After dinner that night, Tobio had had you well taken care of - a hot bath drawn for you and fresh clothes laid out, the fireplace lit and glowing golden and the bed given fresh linens.

But there had been something eating at you all night, something akin to guilt clawing at you from the inside as you thought of Shouyou out there, lost and without you, while you luxuriate in bed. When you wake from your turbulent night - from nightmares of the nobleman that had you tossing and turning, all hopes of returning to him are stamped out by the darkness that still swirls overhead.

The storm, you realize when you run to the large, ornate window, is still raging, darkening the endless sky and wreaking havoc over the land. There will be no returning home for you today, and there will be no safety found in Shouyou's arms.

Three days, the cursed storm lasts, raging overhead and causing the ancient castle to shutter and sway. Three days of you trapped in this stone maze with Tobio, trailing after him to ask why, why, why couldn't he bring himself to be a good person just once? It's late in the evening, on the third night, when the two of you find yourselves having cracked open a bottle of wine and sitting on the lavish, soft rug that lays in front of the great fireplace in his lounge. It had taken some convincing - and some drinks to get him down there, but the wine has begun flowing easily and Tobio, you realize delightedly, is almost relaxed.

He softens a bit more, much to his own displeasure, when you sway with how tipsy you are, leaning into him so closely that he can feel your breath on his lips. But then he looks down at you and the sparkling mirth in your eyes and he finds them clear and alert - not nearly as hazed from the wine as he'd expected to see.

"You're drunk," he murmurs anyway. You just smile.

"No more than you," you point out, letting your gaze flicker down to his lips for just a moment. It's enough, you learn quickly, to make him lean into you, closer and closer and melding his body to yours.

It's the wine jumbling his own thoughts, Tobio assures himself, that leads him to close the gap, pressing his lips to yours and tangling a hand in your hair. He makes a small, whining noise somewhere in the back of his throat, something burning in him at the touch of you against him - at the touch of something living against the ghost that he's become.

When you part, your chests heaving a bit too much and your lips both kiss bitten and reddened, he sighs and tips his head back to thump against the settee that you're both leaning against.

"No wonder the two of you are so in love when you're both so ready to use your wiles to get what you want from me," Tobio murmurs, his eyes closed enough that he doesn't notice you staring at him.

"What does that mean?" You ask breathily. He snaps his head up and looks at you with wide eyes.

"Nothing," he says hastily. "I don't know what I was saying."

"Oh my god," you say bluntly, seemingly ignoring his assurances that he was simply talking nonsense because of the wine. "You slept with -"

"It doesn't matter," Tobio all but whines, petulantly screwing his eyes shut and refusing to look at you. You just laugh, though, a loud and honest thing as you pat his shoulder comfortingly. Tobio opens one eye wearily and you're smiling at him gently, not a hint of mocking to be found in your gaze.

"I don't blame you," you shrug. "He's… well, he's Shouyou." Things quiet down significantly at that and you sober noticeably as you look out the window towards the blackened, stormy sky.

"He will come for you," Tobio says somberly.

"He shouldn't have to," is your simple response.

"Why do you deny him?" Tobio's fingertip traces over your exposed shoulder where your shirt's slipped in your tipsy, giggly state and thinks back to when he gave you the clothes, to when you spluttered and looked away and told him how inappropriate it would be for you to wear his belongings. But you hadn't brought anything with you, as he'd pointed out, and silk often feels nicer than three-day-old cotton.

"He doesn't really love me," your quiet, sullen words make Tobio pause, his fingers freezing on your skin as he considers what you've said. "He asked me to marry me again before he left, you know."

"Again?" Tobio asks breathily, cursing himself for the weak sound of his own voice. You hum in affirmation.

"For the third time, yes." You swirl your wine in your cup as you speak, something lonely and hollow flitting through your eyes that reminds Tobio a nauseating amount of himself.

"Why?" He asks simply, pulling his hand away from you as something clenches in his heart, as something in him aches. It's loneliness, he knows, deep and penetrating. Jealousy, perhaps.

"He's noble," you say it like it's obvious. "He can't marry someone like me. It's fun, but that's all - like a little bubble of happiness that has to burst one day." You pluck at the rug as you speak, pulling at threads that are worth more than your home. You wonder what home you'll have to return to, after all this.

Tobio, sitting next to you and reeling from your words, can't fathom why you think so lowly of yourself when you look up at him, beautiful and kind and smart as a whip. As you sigh and reach for the wine bottle, topping up your cup and then pouring into his without comment, he wonders what it must be like to find home in someone like you.

Shouyou, as he wades through the forest paths towards the end of the storm, clings desperately to any semblance of home that he once had with you. He's not sure it was worth it to wait until the weather began to clear, although if Yamaguchi had his way, he'd be waiting until the rain slowed even more before setting out. The boy had been near tears again when Shouyou'd announced that he was going now, and by foot so as not to risk his horse's safety.

He wonders, in a nagging, guilty way, if that boy is about to inherit the life of someone else - if he's about to mourn the people who he's just begun to call home.

But three days of wondering if you died to try to save him was enough to drive Shouyou to hysteria, pushing him out and into the cold, back towards the towering trees and wall of darkness. As he wades through broken branches and felled trees and tumbling rocks and floods, he thinks about you all the while - about every moment, every fleeting glance.

He thinks about the first time he'd asked you to marry him, earnest and honest and caught up in puppy love. You'd laughed at him then, reminded him that he'd only known you for a week since you'd moved to town and opened the tavern. You'd asked him, at the time, what your favourite flower was, and when he didn't have an answer, you asked how he could possibly know that he wanted to marry you if he didn't even know you.

You'd assumed, of course, that that would be the end of it, that he must have just been some flirt who thought his money and influence earned him the right to toy with who he pleased. But Shouyou is nothing if not persistent, and day after day he appeared by your side, his gaze only growing more lovesick as time wore on.

He thinks, as he slips on a mossy rock and stumbles into knee-deep mud, about the second time he asked you to marry him, a few years after that. You'd hired your barback, much to Shouyou's relief, and you'd chosen a shy young boy who needed coin and a bit of life experience and someone kind to help him get it. He'd watched you help Yamaguchi throughout the day, showing him how to run the tavern, how to pour the ale, how to check to see if the bread was rising well.

Shouyou had looked past you, then, at the vase of orchids that you kept by the counter, at your favourite flowers. He'd gotten them for you days ago, he'd remembered, so it must have almost been time for some new ones. When you'd come over to refill his cup, he'd asked you again to marry him. You'd laughed - again, and told him to ask again when he was sober, pressing a kiss to his cheek and stopping to water your orchids on your way past him.

The third time, of course, was the night before he'd left. He'd stopped by the tavern as the sun began to rise and bathe the town in a dripping, golden glow that stretched beyond the valley and towards the looming wood. Standing next to his horse, he'd let you clutch his hands in yours as tightly as you'd needed to, shushing your worries gently and pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. You were scared for him, notably, in a way that made his heart ache as he realized how foreign the sight of you trembling and nervous was. He'd asked you to marry him again, in that moment, whispering it against your hair as you let your face tuck into the safety of his chest. You'd squeezed his hands tighter at that, and Shouyou braced himself yet again for another no when you'd looked up at him earnestly, instead.

You'd made him promise to come home to you safely. You'd promised that you'd say yes when he returned to you without harm.

Alone in the wood, in the dead of night, slipping on loose rocks and mud, Shouyou desperately wishes he'll get to see you again - that he'll get to hear that yes. But something in him stirs painfully, a worry nagging at his gut. What is he to do, he wonders, without a home anymore? What is he to do without you?

Waking up in the morning with a raging wine hangover and Tobio's arms wrapped around you is certainly a jarring surprise, one that has you shooting up from where the two of you had fallen asleep on the plush rug. He's groaning and throwing a hand over his eyes to block out the light and ward off his headache, you assume, when the realization that light is streaming in through the windows catches your attention.

The storm, you realize as you look out towards the clear, rolling horizon, is finally passing. You turn to tell Tobio, to announce to him that you can finally return home, when you're faced with him sitting up and leaning back on his hands as he looks out past you towards the shimmering, golden sun that illuminates the crumbling corners of the place he's lived in for so long.

His face, hard and solemn, has you snapping your mouth shut. You both understand the truth - you will leave and he will disappear again, returning to roam the halls of a life that should not belong to the living, eternally alone in this curse of his.

"Tobio -"

"I'll send a messenger ahead," he interrupts you. It's the first time you've said his name, he notices immediately, and it rings through his heart in a painful, abrupt way. He can't remember the last time someone said his name. He notices, rather painfully, that he'd almost forgotten someone could. "That way your beloved Shouyou will know you're safe and you can wait for the forest paths to be cleared a bit before you leave."

You should disagree, you know - you should fling yourself out the grand front doors and never look back, returning to your sunshine love and the life that you've built for yourself. But you move, instead, to sit on the settee next to Tobio's head and place a hand on his shoulder, agreeing quietly. There is a sadness that pours off of him, oozing onto the floorboards and seeping into your soul. There is something about him that makes you stay, some cursed sort of pull that brings you closer.

You stay by his side more than you should - and you know that, somewhere deep down and ignored. You don't sit opposite him at breakfast, separated by the long banquet table. You sit next to him, letting your hands brush accidentally every now and then as you eat.

"It is wrong," he says quietly, toward the end of the meal. You freeze, the closeness between you feeling sweltering as Tobio points it out. "The raising taxes, the treatment of the people… I know it's wrong."

Oh, you think slowly, right. There is more to this world than the hand that brushes against yours.

"Then why not change it?" You ask slowly, tilting your head to look up at him. He stares ahead, at the faded family crest on the chipped wall and the dust that's collected on it.

"My family stopped listening to me a long time ago. I am… powerless, these days. There is nothing I could do."

"Oh," you say flatly, letting your hands twist in your lap. You consider that perhaps you should've known that - should've known that someone so cast out would lose any ties, watching them sever over time as the vines climbed higher over his castle walls and sealed him away from the world. "Tobio, I'm sorry -"

"My father is too old to carry the crown these days. He's stepping down… my sister's coronation will be within the month." He says abruptly, moving past your sorrow, your sympathy. You suppose it means nothing to someone whose life is already dead, already mourned for and buried.

"Will you… go?" You ask hesitantly. He shakes his head.

"Of course not. But I will write. I love my sister, as much as I am capable. It's not enough, I know, but I hope it will be sufficient to sway her. A plea from her brother must mean something, still… and the people do not deserve to suffer by my family's hand." He says it like it's simple, like his words ring with undisputable truth. But it's in your nature to dig up mountains when you find them in your way.

"You are capable of love, Tobio," you say simply, the firmness in your voice making him pause and stare at you intently. "I've seen it." Tobio just scoffs at your words, though, earnest as they are.

"You don't understand what you're saying," he says, his voice hard. You frown at him as you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms.

"What is it that you think you are? Hm? What is it that you're so afraid of me seeing? I have spent three days with you, Tobio, and you are no more than a man." You say stubbornly. The prince looks at you hard, his eyes dark, striking against the backdrop of the golden sun pouring through the windows and into his life.

"Monsterous things don't often show themselves as monstrous things." Tobio's voice is as icy as he can make it, cold and cutting and sharp. But it wavers, ever so slightly, caught by the voice of a boy who lost everything before he'd even been given a chance to learn how to hold it.

"There is nothing monstrous in you," you respond gently, leaning towards him. He leans back, away from you, away from the light that you pour into him. "You are beloved to me and that is all."

"Stop," he says firmly, squeezing his eyes shut as if your words burn through him. "Don't say that."

"What?" You push. "The truth? Don't say that I love -"

But commotions, you've found, always hit at the worst of times, and a shouting, banging disturbance down in the direction of the entrance hall draws the two of you away from each other. Tobio, for his part, sighs like a knife blade had been lifted from his neck and stands quickly to attend to the issue, leaving you to run after him and through the winding, dark halls.

Shouyou's yelling voice is what greets you when you get closer, the volume of it carrying throughout the castle as the panicked spluttering of the messenger that had been sent out hours ago follows. You nearly trip over yourself rushing to the hall to meet him, to see him looking up at you, dirty and tired and desperate.

Shouyou meets you at the bottom of the staircase, having gotten over his initial shock of seeing you here and alive and well so that he can crush you into a hug, a hand cupping the back of your head protectively as he holds you against him and buries his nose into your hair.

You hold onto him, of course, gripping onto his shirt as tears blur your vision and wet his collar. He shushes you with all the gentleness that you remember, swaying you back and forth to comfort you as he tightens his arms around you and whispers delicate promises in your ear that he's here, that you're alright and he'll take you home.

And Tobio… Tobio watches, looks on from the staircase at the two of you coming home to each other and feels the walls closing in on him, feels the gilded, arched ceiling press down, down, deeper into his soul.

Shouyou pulls away from you just enough to grip your face gently in his hands, tilting your head back and forth so that he can look at you thoroughly and make sure you're unharmed. Fortunately… you're really fine. Three days of lavish living with fine meals and lavender baths have treated you well, and you look up at Shouyou with shining eyes and a bright face.

He looks just past you, then, as if he's finally noticing the prince sweep down the rest of the staircase towards the two of you. He… blushes when their eyes meet and shifts on his feet, but there's a cold, impassive stare on Tobio's face.

"You may stay as long as you need to recuperate after your journey. Then… you may be off. The tax problem will be dealt with." Tobio disappears at that, spinning on his heel and gliding up the stairs, leaving the two of you alone in the vast emptiness of the hall.

You're with Shouyou in the bedroom that you'd begun to call your own later that evening, with him freshly washed and in new clothes and sitting by your side on the settee by the window. You're curled up against him, letting him hold an arm over your shoulder and stroke up and down your arm gently.

"What happened between you and Tobio?" You ask suddenly, causing Shouyou to freeze against you. He coughs a bit, clearing his throat and shifting as he looks out the window instead of at you. The sun is beginning to set, painting the sky in violets and pinks as it begins to dip below the horizon that stretches on over the valley.

"I… tried to convince him," he says carefully. "And I failed."

"Mhmm," you respond easily, a teasing note entering your voice that makes Shouyou blush. "But you tried really hard, didn't you?"

"I -" he clears his throat again. "I… yes. I did." You laugh at that, relief painting Shouyou's features as you melt further against him and squeeze his hand comfortingly.

"I got wine drunk and made out with him… if knowing that makes you feel better," you shrug. Shouyou sits up so fast that he jostles you, making you grumble as you sit up, too. He stares at you, mouth open in shock for a moment, before tipping his head back and laughing, pulling you into a close hug.

"He's really not what he's made out to be," Shouyou says quietly, swaying the two of you back and forth where you sit, your legs tangled together on the settee.

"Yea…" you respond, tipping your head back to look up at him somberly. "Some people are like that…" Shouyou looks down at you softly, stroking a hand over your cheek as you peer up at him. He says your name quietly, an earnest sort of prayer given to you as he smooths his thumb over your cheek.

"Shouyou…" you whisper back, pulling yourself closer to him as you grip onto the front of his shirt.

"Will you marry me?"

"…What about Tobio?" Shouyou laughs at your question, letting his head drop to your shoulder and sighing before dropping a kiss to your neck.

"I think that perhaps…" he begins slowly, lifting his head to look at you again, his face serious. "Perhaps our beloved Tobio has been the lonely prince for too long." You smile in a quiet sort of way at Shouyou's declaration, pulling yourself closer to press a gentle, firm kiss on his lips.

He makes a shocked sort of noise in the back of his throat before pulling you closer, a hand cupping the back of your neck to keep you against him. When you do finally part, he makes a point not to stray too far, resting his forehead against yours and grinning broadly.

"Do you have any idea how many years I've been waiting for you to do that?" He asks breathlessly. You giggle a bit and kiss him again, a quicker, lighter touch of your lips against his.

"Ask me again," you murmur, your lips brushing his.

"Will you marry me?" He's choked up by now, his voice warbling and eyes watery.

"Yes," you respond earnestly. Outside, the sun finally dips below the vast, reaching horizon and drowns the world in darkness, but Shouyou holds you to his chest and presses kisses to your ring finger while the fireplace glows with the heated embers of the evening's flames and the sound of home calls to you.

The days, admittedly, start to blend after that, with you and Shouyou taking up residence in the castle under the guise of him recovering. He is recovering, you assure yourself, it's just… taking a while. Surely… surely there's nothing else keeping you here, no ghost walking these halls that's drawing you to this life.

It's over breakfast one morning, the three of you taking up space at one end of the long banquet table, when Tobio announces that he's received a letter from his sister.

"She was… responsive," he says carefully, like the touch of joy seeping into his tone is something that he shouldn't be allowed to hold onto. "It was good to have her hear my pleas. She will be better in our parents' stead. She will be a better leader."

"And you?" Shouyou quips, a challenge rising in his voice. You shoot Shouyou a look, but he's staring determinedly at Tobio, and you're pleasantly surprised to see his gaze matched by the prince.

"It's high time I stepped up and began taking care of my people again," Tobio says firmly, a conviction ringing in his voice that has you smiling softly, reaching to brush a stray hair out of his face. Tobio can't help but soften at the action, taking your hand in his to smooth his thumb over your knuckles and brush against the engagement ring that Shouyou had given you all those nights ago.

Learning that he'd been keeping it with him, that he'd had the ring on a chain around his neck since the day he first proposed to you… well, you'd been thankful for the bedroom you'd been given that night - for the silk sheets and plush pillows and the privacy of the sprawling corridors outside.

As Tobio thumbs over your ring, you feel your face heat at the memory of that night, and as you shift in your seat and Shouyou send you a beaming smile, you know that he's smugly aware of what you're thinking of.

"Well," Shouyou says happily. "You may need some help, you know, coming back to your people and learning how to be what they need."

"And you might need some companionship," you chime in. "What, with this big, lonely castle and all." Tobio leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, trying desperately to maintain the stern look on his face - but a blush dusts itself over his cheekbones and a smile twitches on the corner of his lips.

"And what of your beloved tavern?" He asks you.

"There is more to me that is beloved besides the tavern," you say easily, glancing between the two of them. "And besides, Yamaguchi's been doing well enough on his own. He can take care of it while I'm away, and if the forest paths are finally looked after and kept safe, then the journey back and forth isn't so bad. Maybe it's… maybe it's time to move forward in this life a bit, hm?" Tobio sighs at that, letting his shoulders drop as his smile finally breaks through as he thinks of taking a step forward, of being alive once more. Shouyou whistles happily at the sight, leaning back in his chair and grinning.

"You two are getting married, or haven't you forgotten?" Tobio snipes, but there's mirth in his voice as he arches a brow.

"Well," you drawl. "A castle is such a beautiful place to hold a wedding."

"And what a perfect start," Shouyou chimes in. "There's no better way to gain back the people's love than by hosting an event like that. Open your home up to them, let them in."

"Well, sure," Tobio sighs, tipping his head back to look at the arched ceilings, the golden morning light shining in and illuminating the family crest hung on the dining room wall. "After all… this is a home now, isn't it?"

The wedding, of course, is as grand and extravagant as you could've imagined. Tobio'd fixed up the castle for the event, his sister having sent staff to make sure that everything was repaired and polished and restored to its former glory. Tobio was pleased by it, in his own way, tight-lipped and subtle and small about the whole thing. You and Shouyou would never comment on it, would never bring attention to it, but there is a life in Tobio now that wasn't there before - a colour in his cheeks and a shining light to his eyes.

But true to himself, even as he stood at the altar and officiated the wedding, he remained stoic and upright while you and Shouyou held hands and kissed, teary-eyed and trembling. It wasn't until that evening, late into the night when all of the guests had gone home, that the mask began to crack.

It's a privilege, you think as you lay in the master bedroom, to get to see Tobio like this - soft and smiling and laughing once he's really relaxed. By the end of the night, the silk sheets send cool chills across your exposed skin as you lay between your two lovers, Shouyou's hand intertwined with yours so that he can see your ring next to his, shining in the dim, golden light of the fireplace. In turn, you twist the fingers of your other hand through Tobio's matching ring - the one that you'd slipped on quietly during the festivities while the three of you snuck off somewhere private.

There had been chatter at the wedding, of course, about the prince's sudden appearance and the light that begun to fill up the corners of the valley. Even the forest, people whispered, had thinned, ground solidifying into safely travelled paths and creeping vines receding. The air had shifted, the clouds had dispersed, and the sun had risen in its endless way to shine light down to patches of the land that had not felt that warmth in years. It's like time, people began to say, is finally moving in the proper way, and life has been breathed back into the valley.

There's a sort of haze that fills the air surrounding the three of you, a comfortable safety that blankets you as you're tucked between the two of them, skin pressed against skin in the privacy of your home. You giggle at the thought, placing a kiss on Tobio's exposed chest where your face is pressed against him.

"What are you thinking of, my beloved?" Shouyou asks quietly, his voice a hushed whisper in the quiet room.

"Just that it's nice to be home," you whisper back, your words making Tobio hum in agreement and tighten his arm around your waist.

"It is nice, isn't it?" He says lowly. "To be somewhere… to have someone's that's home."

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ch6douin · 9 months ago

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I’m glad you liked my drunk player showering plushies with kiss kiss ideas. Now i give you one more before I disappear into the night. Plushies giving player a “kiss” (just the plushies smooshing their face on players face, maybe even a hand kiss of its a more gentlemanly plush, jose plush I feel, most of the hunter plushes, maybe frederick, so many possibilities)

Andrew happening to walk by before noticing you kneeling down before his plushie self, he hides himself to watch this interaction. Andrew plushie keeps motioning the player forward as if to tell them a secret. And as players face is right there, it hesitates before summoning all the strength its little plush body has, and “kisses” you on the cheek. Startled, player moves back, before probably giving a gentle laugh and giving plush Andrew a lil forehead kiss. Andrew is kept awake at night by this, especially by player’s reaction.

Naib’s plush gives gnight kiss kiss. I imagine Naib, who’s probably still wary, would probably always be having an eye on player, so he doesn’t trust the plushie either; just cause its ugly in a cute way (kinda) doesn’t meant it doesn’t have malicious plans. Even if the player isn’t responsible for the game, they could still possibly be apart of the reason they arent able to leave. Still probably witnessing a peacefully sleeping player and Naib’s plush giving them a lil “kiss” on the lips has him stone faced but the red is starting to appear on his cheeks and tips of his ears, each time he witnesses it he gets a bit more relaxed cause players not doing anything suspicious. Still probably suspicious tho.

Emil and ada’s plushies give each other kisses. Player is often awing at the way they express their love to each other. They probably dont kiss player much but will take players hands to give player little finger kisses. These two plushs are one of the few that hang out with their survivor selfs a bit more than hanging around player. They melt ada and emils hearts everytime they see them.

Mikes plush does a LOT. Fucking plush will be on like a chandelier and player is speaking to another when suddenly the plush has jumped and done smooshed its face to player. It gives player a heart attack every time which is why its not done often. He probably will just jump on player relaxing to give a lil cheek kiss before back flipping away. Mike is both trying to stop it but also giving it more ideas.

Soul weaver plush is also kinda like mike in giving player a lil kiss in a big way. Im talking this lil plush can spit webs. Why? Because I said so. So players gonna get some web spit kisses at the most random times. Plush weaver can and will climb on you to perch on your shoulder just for a better angle to give you some regular kiss kiss or another wen spit kiss. Soul weaver herself is pretty bashful about it and plush weaver is given a stern talking to by her for every incident.

Enjoy my brain dump hope you like this one too

Thank you anon this is adorable you have my mind working with these. (Plushie!Andrew having more game than the actual Andrew is SO FUNNY btw.)

Not all of their plushies express their adoration towards player only by kisses though, Plush!Norton is often gifting you pretty-looking minerals and rocks to have your attention solely on it, and then, trying to use its small magnet to pull you towards it for a cheek kiss(it doesn't work). You think that maybe its counterpart is helping behind the curtains...

Plush!Emily is always at your disposal, if it senses you're not feeling well you can bet its grabbing the edge of your clothes and trying to drag you towards the Nurse's Office so the real Emily could help you. It gives those forehead kisses like a mother would, you know?

Plush!Luca with that eternal toothy smile of it zapping you playfully and running away before you react. Until it finally gets lifted by its collar and its next move is to swing towards your face and smash its own on your cheek. Other than that, Plushie!Luca is more often seen with the actual Luca who finds the plushie so intriguing and interacts with it a lot. It's so much easier to work when he has some help.

Plush!Anne is always seen with its counterpart too, Anne is so pleased to have this adorable company that she makes an exact copy of her glider and a catapult. You can see it gliding around often, dropping by your shoulder sometimes and giving the tiniest kiss to your cheek before gliding away as fast as it can.

Plush!Edgar is not really what you could call social, but its curiosity is piqued whenever you do something that involves art. This is when you see it at the most, demanding you put it on your lap or a nearby chair so it can tug at your clothes whenever it considers you're doing something wrong. Edgar checks his plushie now and then, after all, it cannot taint his reputation while using his face. It's not surprising though that Plushie!Edgar is just like his counterpart when guiding you through the process of making art, and that leaves Edgar with a satisfied smile. No, I don't think it would kiss you, let it be enough that you earned its attention.

Plush!Frederick is anywhere music is, walking around with elegance that a few plushies lack. It will seek you out though so the two of you can appreciate the beauty of music, and then, thank you with a kiss on the back of your hand. I'm not sure but I don't think it stays a lot with Frederick, so you won't see them together a lot.

Plush!Mary is hard to please, of course. She still likes to assert the composure of a Queen. Share with her desserts, dance with her, gift her cute ribbons and other accessories, and maybe, just maybe she'll kiss you.

PS: I was going to put Tracy or Martha too but i got lazy at the end plus I didn't know exactly what to write 💀

#idvselfaware #self aware au #asks #idv x reader #identity v x reader #idv composer #idv painter #idv bloody queen #idv doctor #idv prisoner #idv prospector #idv toy merchant

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hotmessmaxpress · 8 months ago

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Mate pleaseeee dont stop writing ever about marc and marco like they areee sososo ughh idk!!!! like it just works so good yk

so thats why i say pretty please with a cherry onntop to give me another snippet of them interacting in anyway🤞��

Here is my Bezz x Marc friendship thesis! Which is maybe not what you're looking for but I don't have the brainpower to write an entire scene. I did have the brainpower to dump all of my thoughts about them though!

Okay so in this au there are two main things that I think change Bezz’s view of Marc from enemy to bestie. One is that Bezz has a meltdown about the whole thing and Vale puts him in his place. (I wrote more of this that I might post when I like it!)

The more compelling part to me that I sort of glossed over in the first part of this au is that Bezz has a moment of realization that he and Marc are both omegas. As Marc has noticed, Bezz really doesn’t think too hard about his role as the pack omega. He just is. When Luca first tells Bezz about Marc’s bite and just how badly Vale fucked it up, it sends Bezz into a bit of a crisis that takes him a long time to really confront head on. He sort of just shoves it aside until he has had time to adjust to Marc being in the pack.

Bezz then realizes that no matter what happens, he will always understand Marc better than any other member of the pack because they share the unique experience of being an omega and everything that comes with that. While Bezz’s pack don’t treat him really any differently (at least not in a bad way– if anything they spoil him) than they would if he was an alpha, that doesn’t change the fact that they could. They could take advantage of him, especially during his heats. They could treat him like he’s lesser-than. And none of that ever really occurred to him until he found out about what happened to Marc. And at first, that scared him. The idea that his pack would ever do that to him was terrifying. Pretty quickly, though, he realized that they wouldn’t actually ever do that. Still, that knowledge remained. He and Marc are the only two people in their pack that have to cope with everything that comes with being an omega.

So when it comes to welcoming Marc to the pack (even though it takes Bezz the longest of any of the other pack members) once Bezz decides to love him he loves him. Marc is already a pro at codependent relationships (lol love you Alex) and he and Bezz pretty much latch onto each other.

Marc is who Bezz goes to when he doesn’t feel well. He goes to Marc when he’s tired. He goes to Marc when he needs attention. And on the flip side, Marc goes to Bezz as well. When he needs someone to help him be calm and clear his thoughts, he goes to Bezz.

Marc loves Vale’s room, and he loves that it becomes their room together (he even loves that Vale has a bike in there, a fact which has changed my brain chemistry). He loves the way that Vale has his little pack who all love him and listen to him and look to him for advice. But sometimes he still isn’t sure where he fits into that– he’s closer in age to most of the pack members than he is to Vale, and he really doesn’t feel comfortable giving them unsolicited advice in the way Vale does. He goes to Bezz for reassurance, and he finds himself in Bezz’s room often. There’s something comforting about having a room to go to that doesn’t smell like alpha. Bezz is always happy to have him, too. He lets Marc join him in whatever he’s doing, even if it means Marc silently pressing up against him in bed while Bezz plays video games. Bezz doesn’t even question it. Marc is always allowed in his nests or in his arms.

Maybe they’ve just had a long day of training at the ranch, and Marc’s nerves are frayed because training at the ranch always brings up weird emotions about his first breakup with Vale. And Marc could go to Vale but he doesn’t really want to talk about it and he knows that if he goes to Vale, his mate is going to get all sad-eyed and feel guilty and Marc doesn’t want that! So instead he showers and goes to Bezz’s room, where it smells comfortingly of omega and safety and calm. And Bezz has just showered and his hair is sort of fluffy the way it gets when he allows it to air dry.

Maybe Bezz is even expecting it because he knows Marc gets weird about training at the ranch sometimes (maybe this is even their routine!). So he’s ready and is happy to let Marc curl up next to him in bed. Marc is wearing a sweatshirt that belongs to Vale and he just watches, silently, as Bezz plays video games. He doesn’t join in because he’s tired and emotionally wiped out, but he keeps his chin planted firmly on Bezz’s shoulder. He feels Bezz tense every time he struggles with a battle and feels him relax when he wins. There’s no pressure to talk or explain himself or entertain the other man. They sit in comfortable silence, cuddled together.

Vale comes to check on him usually, and bring them snacks, sometimes, but Marc always stays with the other omega until he feels okay again.

#rosquez a/b/o au #marc marquez #marco bezzecchi #motogp rpf #motogp ask #mm93 #mb72

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hoffstrap-yuri · 9 months ago

Text

For Sickness and in Health (Insurance)

ao3 // masterlist

*SUMMARY: Agent Strahm was by the book when it came to solving cases. Being honest about his marital status was a different story entirely.

*RATING: +18 for Explicit Mature Content

*CONTENT/TAGS: M/M, Hoffstrahm, Coffinshipping, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Fake Marriage/Dating, Fake Relationship, Eventual Smut, Alternate Universe

*STATUS: Chapter 2/2 COMPLETE

Author's Note: First Chapter of this fic can be found here! I'm back with the smut I promised in the tags! This is a bit longer but I felt the events of this happen in one go so I broke up the chapters the way I did to keep the flow of the story in tact. As always please enjoy my little crack and let me know if you'd be down for a sequel. I do have a tenative idea if anyone's interested u.u

The rest of the night was mostly uneventful. Strahm ordered in something for the both of them from Olive Garden. They ate mostly in silence, with the sound of rerun episode of General Hospital playing on the TV. Something about Sonny’s brother or son… not that Hoffman could keep up with all the characters on the show, but Strahm seemed mildly intrigued. Either he was a big soap opera fan or he was just looking for mindless entertainment to fill the void. It didn’t matter much either way for Hoffman. He laid down on the bed before making a sarcastic comment,

“You couldn’t spring for two beds, cheapskate?”

“This was the only room they had on short notice.”

“Then you should’ve found a different hotel.”

“Oh and what, find some dump over in Rosslyn on the other side of the Potomac? Fat chance.”

“Sounds like you have a nit to pick with Virginia, Agent.”

“So what if I do?” Strahm brushed off whatever it was that seemed to be on his shoulder and lied in bed next to Mark. There was a noticeable gap between the two of them as Strahm sat up to turn the TV off. He rolled over onto his side and faced Hoffman, before realizing it was a mistake and turning onto his other side just as fast. Mark turned over so his back was facing Strahm’s before purposefully inching his body closer to the man but not enough that Strahm could protest it. While Hoffman continued to toss and turn, he listened to the man’s snores. How Strahm managed to fall asleep so quickly was beyond the detective but it was comforting in its own strange way. Hoffman flipped back over so that his face was in line with the back of Strahm’s neck. He prayed the other man was a heavy sleeper as he slung an arm over Strahm’s body and held him against his chest. When the agent didn’t seem to react to the intrusion, Hoffman wrapped his other arm underneath Strahm’s neck and let his hand rest on Strahm’s chest.

“Good night, Hubby.” He whispered in Strahm’s ear before shutting his eyes and finally allowing himself to fall asleep. The intrusive noise of an alarm clock woke Hoffman up, practically jolting out of bed. He looked bitterly over at the agent next to him who rolled over to face the man. Strahm took a second to process another person being in bed with him, and then another to process that Hoffman was leaning over him with frankly gorgeous messy bed-head hair. Rather than say anything, Strahm pushed the other man away from his space, and sprinted to the bathroom. He came back out a few seconds later and grabbed his toiletries and his clothes for that day before promptly locking himself back into the bathroom. Hoffman felt around the bedside table on Strahm’s side for the TV remote so he had some kind of noise as he was in the process of waking up. After about five minutes of Strahm in the bathroom, Hoffman called out to him,

“You’d better hurry up, I still have to do my makeup.”

“I’m just shaving now.” Strahm shot back. Was Mark getting under the other man’s buttons

“I might have as well gone down and gotten breakfast for you the way you’re taking so long in there.”

“Alright, alright.” Strahm stepped out, rubbing aftershave onto his neck, “All yours, princess.”

“Thanks, dear.” Hoffman passed the other man and lightly slapped his ass. Strahm turned back and looked at him with disgust as Hoffman got into the bathroom. He set everything on the counter out so that he didn’t have to think about anything once he was finished showering. Strahm knocked on the door after he stepped out of the shower and asked,

“I’m going to grab coffee, you want anything from downstairs?”

“Coffee and some kind of muffin. Blueberry if they have it.” Hoffman replied, holding the eyeliner pencil in his hand. It couldn’t be that hard to draw a straight line along his eyelid. Hell he’d done it for Angie’s prom makeup. All he needed to do was remember that…

“And if they don’t?”

“Then skip it.” Hoffman scoffed

“Both or just the muffin?”

“Just the muffin,” Hoffman rolled his eyes before cursing under his breath, “Dumbass.”

“I’ll be back in five.”

“Make it ten, stupid.” Hoffman pressed the pencil against his eyelid and tried drawing the line in one foul swoop. It went terribly. The pencil dragged against the skin and looked like Mark’s hand had just decided to give up. He groaned and used the sink water to wipe it off and start again. The dark black kohl when washed away made it look like he hadn’t slept in years. Determined to get it right this time, he went back in and lightly drawing in short strokes. With the lack of practice, there was no way in hell he’d get a winged look done in time, so he moved on to his brows. He slicked them down until they were about as thin as the eyebrow pencil was and tried to make a defined arch with a combo of hairs and pencil. Strahm looked at disgust in the mirror. Strahm must know a blind guy in HR because this makeup was not going to fool anyone with less than a 20/200 eyesight. He took a deep breath and continued working on his face, applying a shade of foundation that was considerably orange with a concealer to match. The concealer seemingly helped to clean up the dark circles his eyeliner had created and the define the shape of the brows better than his handiwork could do alone. Next it was time for blush. It was a bright pink that didn’t seem to fit the foundation all that well, but it was pretty in the tin. Last was the lipstick. Hoffman lined the edges of his lips with a bright red lip liner and filled it in with a mousse lipstick. He blotted it and cleaned off his teeth with his finger tip as the makeup had smeared onto them. He looked repulsive, but he had to throw the wig on still so he begrudgingly put the fake hair on. He still thought he looked off, but at a glance he figured he could probably get away with this after all. Now was the real struggle, the clothes. Mark had bought something a little extra while Strahm was putzing around in the bathroom at the mall the previous day. He sucked in his gut and put on the waist trainer he purchased and a push-up bra that Strahm was more than happy to buy his partner in crime. He gave his chest a little squeeze before stepping into his dress and zipping it as far as his big fingers would let him. He heard the room door open and some shuffling noise before Strahm announced that he was here.

“Can you help me with the dress?” Hoffman asked, unlocking the door so that Strahm could get in with him. Strahm stepped in and looked at Hoffman’s back, his middle and index finger tracing their way along Hoffman’s spine. He pulled his hand back before helping the detective zip up. Hoffman turned around to face him, hooking his arm around Strahm’s waist before purring in a low woman’s voice, “What do you think of your wife, huh?”

“I…” Strahm started before clearing his throat which turned into a coughing fit before he could recover and said, “Got you a muffin.” “You’re the best.” Hoffman took his other hand and pressed it firmly against Strahm’s pecs before sidestepping him to get his breakfast. While Hoffman was peeling the wrapper off the muffin, Strahm stood in the bathroom absolutely stunned for another minute. He was only snapped back to reality when Hoffman’s voice dropped back down to its natural tone, “Come on Agent, your coffee’s getting cold.”

“Yeah.” Strahm shook his head and grabbed the disposable cup before chugging the coffee inside. He threw the cup into the bin and said quietly, “I’m going to go warm up the car. See you in a couple minutes.”

“Whatever you say.” Hoffman twirled the ends of his wig around his pointer finger before rolling his eyes and finishing his drink. Before leaving the room, he grabbed the keys and did a quick touch up on his lipstick that had stained the white of the Styrofoam coffee cup and walked down to where Agent Strahm had parked the car. He walked with a bravado he tried to steal from Angie when she had bought her first pair of heels as a teenager. He saw the way men were looking at his ass in the elevator. He smirked with the quiet satisfaction that apparently he was hot enough to get heads turning as he made long strides through the lobby and to Strahm’s car. He leaned against the driver’s side door as he saw Strahm taking a drag off a cigarette. Strahm dropped the cancer stick onto his lap and quietly cursed before putting it out on the plastic cup holder in the car,

“The hell do you think you’re doing over there?” He looked Hoffman up and down

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I’ve been trying to quit for 10 years.”

“Shame. Hand me one and light it for me.” Hoffman said leaning down into the window. Strahm shoved a cigarette into the other man’s plump lips and lit it quickly. Mark took a drag off his cigarette before letting it rest on the side of his mouth and giving Strahm’s hair a quick scruff. “Thanks babe”. He walked to the other side of the car and sat in the passenger’s seat. Strahm put the car into reverse quickly and started driving to the office. While they waited in traffic, Strahm would flip through the radio stations to see what had changed since he last made a trip down to DC. Mark kept flipping the sun visor down to look at his makeup while the other man shouted obscenities at tourists for not knowing they needed to merge back into traffic sooner rather than now. Mark wrapped his hands around Strahm’s arms as he swore and that seemed to calm the other man down enough where his obscenities would be mere grumbles. “Good boy.”

“Don’t call me that.” Strahm protested

“My darling dearest husband?” Hoffman offered

“You can use the other one.” The agent mumbled as he made the turn to get off the tollway and onto local roads. They pulled into the parking lot and after showing his ID and confirmation of his appointment they were let in. Hoffman wrapped his hands around Strahm’s arms again and whispered into his ear

“Pretend I’m telling you something funny, and look down at the floor.” Strahm did was as he was told, giving a little laugh as he stared down the tiles underfoot. Hoffman repeated, “Good boy.” They took the elevator up to the offices where Strahm unhooked Hoffman and stood on the other side of the space. “Get back here.” Hoffman said between a faked smile, “What if someone gets in with us and sees us apart?”

“I’ll tell them to go fuck themselves. You don’t need to continue this show and dance in here.”

“And how are we supposed to sell the act?”

“We’ll be fine.” Strahm assured Hoffman. When the door opened and they got off, Hoffman’s arm found its way back to resting against Peter’s tailbone. The receptionist checked Peter in and they sat down next to each other before being greeted by another agent and following him to his cubicle space.

“So Mr. and Mrs. Strahm…” He started, “What’s your wife’s first name?”

“It’s…” Hoffman started to answer before Strahm quickly interjected with a cough. Hoffman slipped back into his falsetto and waited for Strahm to answer

“Marka. Her name is Marka.” Strahm replied, “Yeah. Mail order from Russia. Doesn’t understand a whole lot of English.”

“Oh, interesting. I actually just started learning Russian… Um, privet…”

“Sorry, Belarusian. Belarusian mail order bride.” Strahm corrected himself

“Da.” Hoffman responded, batting his eyelashes hard at the agent before them

“Oh that’s a shame. Don’t know any Belarusian. Maybe I’ll trying taking courses someday.”

“Super helpful.” Strahm cracked

“Okay so… your wife Marka Strahm. Do you have her papers?”

“I no have.” Hoffman replied, “but is okay, yeah?”

“Okay.” The guy looked over the two of them. Strahm wasn’t sweating bullets but he was certainly on the edge of his seat. Hoffman crossed his legs in his chair and rested a hand on his husband’s lap, inching closer to his bulge. His bulge? He gave the agent a look for a second, before turning it into a look of confusion.

“I am doing right, yeah?” He asked Strahm

“Yeah, you’re doing fine honey.” Strahm pressed a hand against Hoffman’s stomach, “We’re trying to make sure this one has coverage before the baby.” Mark blinked rapidly as he processed what bullshit Strahm had just said. Was this his plan from the beginning?

“Do you at least have your marriage certificate?” The agent asked Strahm

“Yeah, right here.” Strahm handed over a piece of paper before quickly scribbling in something while the agent wasn’t looking. Hoffman couldn’t keep himself from looking and he saw that Strahm had managed to poorly write ‘Marka Hoffman’ over his previous wife’s name on the certificate. He gave Strahm a look that only could be read as ‘Are you fucking stupid?’ The agent scanned the document and added it to the database before excusing the couple but not before saying,

“Oh and congrats on the baby.”

“Thanks.” Strahm quickly replied and guided his bride down the hallway and back into the elevator

“Well that could’ve gone better.” Hoffman scoffed and looked at Strahm, “The hell were you thinking?”

“It didn’t go as bad as I thought it would.” Strahm shrugged

“Oh you thought I was going to do poorly, huh?” The detective raised his voice, “And what the hell was with you fondling my stomach like that, saying I was pregnant, you stupid idiot. Dumb motherfucker. I bet you like this, huh?”

“What?” Strahm coughed, clearly not expecting this to turn into a confrontation

“That’s right, I was palming your bulge in those stupid pants of yours when you touched me. I bet you love questionable men tuning into fat broads for you with some makeup and dresses, huh?” Hoffman started but could tell he struck a nerve with Strahm. Strahm was cornered and he did the last thing he could think of to save any sense of self preservation he had left. He pressed his lips desperately onto Hoffman’s and moaned into their kiss. He wrapped his arms lazily around the other man and sucked at his bottom lip. “Oh… oh what a slut you are, Peter Strahm.”

“S-Shut up.” Strahm pulled himself away from Hoffman’s lips, but not off of Hoffman’s body. The door opened to a group of young agents waiting to use the elevator. Strahm quickly scuttled off the elevator without much dignity, while Hoffman walked off with confidence. Strahm tried to duck quietly into the bathroom but Hoffman followed him in and kicked open the stall door before Strahm could lock it. Strahm cursed as the door swung back into him and looked at Hoffman with a certain kind of lust. Was it a carnal lust, or blood lust? Either way it didn’t matter to Mark in this moment.

“Why didn’t you tell me this was all just some big kink for you, huh?” He took Strahm’s chin into her hand and jerked his head around, “That you like men that act like fat broads?”

“Would you really believe me if I told you that?” Strahm growled, placing a hand on the door behind Hoffman and pressing his weight into the heavier man. Despite his anger, his lips made contact with Hoffman’s forehead first and he took in the smell of Hoffman’s wig. He used his free hand to wrap around Hoffman’s waist and pulled the man in even closer. Hoffman was tired of waiting with Strahm. He pulled him in by his tie for a kiss on the lips and wrapped the tie tightly around his hand. Strahm made a quiet coughing noise as he was being depraved of oxygen in all the right ways. Strahm shivered and bit down on Hoffman’s lip. “I need you.”

“How?”

“Want you on me.” Strahm groaned

“You’re a man. Use your fucking words.” Mark was short with him. Enough with the lies, enough of the bullshit. Was that agent they talked to even an HR person or was he just another part of the ruse? He wouldn’t accept anything less than Strahm’s breathless devotion to him in this moment.

“I want you like a rabid bitch, bouncing on my cock.” Strahm said in a husky voice, pained with want. You would’ve thought Hoffman shot him and left the hole opened the way he whined.

“There. Was that so hard to tell me?” Hoffman spit out. Hoffman pulled up his dress and when he stumbled back a little bit Strahm’s arms moved to keep him held flush against his chest. “So strong.”

“Stop teasing and let me fuck you already.” Strahm said, before kissing Hoffman’s neck with every intent on bruising or marking him

“Take my panties off.”

Strahm took his arms away and slid the waist trainer down off Mark’s hips, leaving them at his ankles, “I was wondering how you got those hip dips so… nice.”

“Just shut up. You want to fuck me, then hurry up and fuck me you stupid asshole.”

Strahm slips the lingerie barely holding Hoffman’s boner in down and onto the ground. He stares for a second before he takes a hold of Hoffman’s body and spins it one-hundred eighty degrees so that Mark’s face is up against the cold steel. He takes Hoffman’s hands and holds them over Hoffman’s head, using his feet to spread Hoffman just little bit further apart.

“Will you be a good whore and if I let go of your hands so I can get my pants off, you’ll keep them where they are?” Strahm asked

“Anything for my husband.” Hoffman said with a hit of sarcasm. Strahm pulled his hand away and to his word Hoffman kept his hands over his head. He heard the sound of Strahm’s belt being unbuckled and pants falling to the floor. Without so much as a word, Strahm was thrusting into Hoffman’s ass. “Fuck Pete.”

“Yeah, say that again.” Strahm grunted

“Fucking hell… no one’s ever been able to satisfy you like I have, huh?”

“No.” Strahm replied between thrusts

“Sure you might’ve had fat partners but they could never please you the way that I do, you stupid pervert. I bet no one’s ever felt this good on your cock like this fat broad, huh?”

“No…” Strahm managed to cough out between broken moans

“No what? I’m not the best you’ve ever had, or no one’s ever compared to me?” Hoffman’s foundation was getting smeared all over the door of the stall as Strahm kept chasing his release

“You’re the best… no other…” Strahm made one final loud grunt as the tension that had been pooling in the bottom of his stomach came out in short bursts up Hoffman’s ass. When sense seemingly returned to his head, he took Hoffman by his jawline and kissed his cheek. “You’re taking it so good…” His lips sloppily connected with the one chiseled feature Hoffman had while his hands trailed wildly across Hoffman’s body. He was feeling up the bra that Hoffman’s chest was confined by, rubbing the other man’s stomach and kneading at the tender fat that rested just above his belt line in his normal work clothes.

“Fucking chubby chasing pervert.” Hoffman cursed under his breath while wearing a giant smirk. Strahm even brushed up against the erection that Hoffman had been trying to ignore up until this point. “Don’t touch me if you don’t intend on getting me off here, Agent.”

“Fine, I guess we’ll just have to save it for our hotel room.” Strahm pulled himself out of Hoffman’s hole, making sure to dirty up Mark’s inner thighs with his cum before cleaning himself off with a piece of toilet paper. He pulled his pants up fast and helped the detective look semi-presentable as they would walk out the entrance and back to the car. There was no saving Mark’s makeup, he’d have to walk out of the bathroom with half his dolled up face gone and the other half determined to stay on in spite of the sweat beads dribbling down his forehead. As Hoffman took the first step out of the stall he paused at the sink and held onto the porcelain tightly. He had no idea how much it would fucking hurt to walk after he got fucked. Strahm didn’t seem to notice the pain he was in as his hands squeezed his ass cheeks.

“Agent, you’re losing your cool.” Hoffman teased him

“It’s all I’m good for apparently.” Strahm shot back, making one more desperate attempt to be connected to his detective partner with benefits. He kissed along the hem of Hoffman’s neckline before walking out of the bathroom completely

“Fucking tease.” Hoffman huffed as he washed his hands and followed his fake husband’s lead and met him in the hallway. Some men happened to walk by in that moment, and after giving Strahm a once over look, they continued their conversation they were having previously. Strahm quickly wrapped an arm around Hoffman’s waist and led him out of the building. Hoffman wrapped an arm around Strahm’s neck and crooned for him as they passed the guard they dealt with early that morning to get in. They were over the top in their display of newlywed affection, but they were definitely selling it. Strahm barely made it to the parameter of the car before Hoffman was pushing him into the vehicle. Strahm’s hands found their way back to caressing Hoffman’s ass cheeks as his tongue worked its way into Mark’s mouth.

“Wonder who’s watching us, don’t you Agent?”

“No.” Strahm moaned, wrapping his hands around the back of Hoffman’s neck. “Get in the car.”

“Fine. No need to be so rough, agent.” Hoffman unhooked the other man’s hands, purposefully rolling his ‘r’ along his tongue for longer than was necessary. Strahm unglued himself from the side of the vehicle and shoved himself into the driver’s seat. He backed the sedan up with reckless abandon and sped out of the DMV. He pulled into their hotel parking lot and before he could shut his car off, Hoffman’s hand brushed over Strahm’s hand on the gear shift and locked their fingers. He pulled Strahm’s hand up to his lips and kissed Strahm as he locked eyes with the special agent. His special agent. “Wait.”

“What?” Strahm mumbled. Hoffman fumbled through his purse and pulled out his tube of lipstick before applying a fresh layer, only to use the back of Strahm’s hand to blot it off. It left a clear impression on the detective’s skin and Strahm bucked his hips up a little in response. “I can’t wait any longer. You’re a damn tease.”

“If I’m a tease, then you’re a con man.” Hoffman quickly countered, but acquiesced and got out of the car. He leaned up against the window and flashed their key card, “Hurry it up, hubby.”

“I’m hurrying.” Strahm remarked, wrestling with his seat belt to get out of the car that much quicker. Hoffman was five steps ahead of the agent and purposefully closed the door behind himself in the elevator. Strahm hit the door once before getting looks at from the family who had just stepped off. Strahm made a beeline to the stairs, thanking god they were only on the fourth floor and practically sprinted up the stairs. Nearly out of breath, the agent made it up to the door of their room and felt himself up to find the hotel key, only to realize that Hoffman had the only copy on him. He knocked on the door and Hoffman opened it up. It took him seconds to get to the point where Strahm could slip in, but with his level of arousal Strahm could’ve sworn it took Hoffman hours to open the damn door. When the door closes behind him, he pins Hoffman’s back to the door and they enter another cycle of sloppy, wet kisses between the two men.

“Careful agent, my back goes any further into this door and you’ll tear the damn thing off its hinges.”

“I’d enjoy that.” Strahm growled

“I bet you would, dick.” Hoffman smirked, wiping his smeared lipstick from the side of Strahm’s lips. Strahm glanced to the side as something black appeared in the corner of his eye. Hoffman’s stretched out waist trainer laid on the floor and there was a much more noticeable curve underneath Hoffman’s dress. “Now tell me Agent Strahm, what do you need from me so badly you came running up here all out of breath for?”

“Maybe I was just coming for some post-coitus cuddles.” Strahm replied dryly. Strahm tried to kiss Hoffman’s lips again, but Hoffman turned his head away. Strahm’s lips however did connect with the wooden door

“Just answer me, then we’ll both get what we want.” Hoffman’s fingers walked along the back of Strahm’s neck, smoothing down the raised hairs in his path. Strahm shook his head, trying to overcome the goosebumps that were spreading across his body with anticipation

“I’m going to fuck your tits.” Strahm blurted out

“Dress on or off, you pervert?” Hoffman leaned in and bit down on Strahm’s lower lip

“On.” Strahm pulled Hoffman over to the bed, guiding the detective over by his wrist. He shoved the detective down onto the floor on his knees before him. He ran a hand through the fibers of the wig and pulled on the back slightly, moving the hairline back to reveal Hoffman’s natural brown. Hoffman shot him a look before fixing his wig quickly. “This isn’t going to work…”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“Here.” Strahm pulled Hoffman back up onto his feet before shoving him onto their bed. The detective unbuckled his belt and let his pants slide off onto the floor. He carefully positioned himself over Hoffman before sitting on Hoffman’s ribs. The shift in weight was enough to make Mark miss a breath of air and he glared up at his agent. “Just hold your boobs together and take it, princess.”

“So fucking rough to your wife.” Hoffman griped, but held his pecs together and gave Strahm a perfect divot for him to fuck himself with. Strahm shoved himself between Hoffman’s chest and let his eyes roll to the back of his head. With a thrust Strahm was swallowed by pleasure. The fabric of Hoffman’s dress gave him a rough surface to fuck against while his ass kept pressing itself up against the soft fat of Hoffman’s belly. Strahm came almost unceremoniously quick, stopping his thrusts to make sure that his semen filled the divot in Hoffman’s chest where his head connected to the rest of his body. When that crevice was full, the semi-fluid matter spilled down towards Hoffman’s collarbones. When he was spent, Strahm carefully crawled off the man below him and laid on his back on the bed. Some dull thing began to ache along his spine. They sat in silence for a moment before Hoffman sat up and went to the bathroom to clean himself off. Strahm was almost ashamed of his stamina, but remembered he’d already used up more than half of it back in the FBI building. Hoffman came back out, this time without his clothes or his wig and lied in bed next to Strahm. When it didn’t seem like the agent was going to make the first move, Hoffman rolled onto his side and wrapped his arms around Strahm. Strahm made a soft grunting noise as the other man’s arms snaked around his back. Hoffman went one step further and kissed Strahm’s cheek before turning Strahm’s face towards his own.

“What?” Strahm gave him a confused look

“Aren’t you going to hold your bride? You couldn’t keep your hands off of me earlier.” Hoffman protested

“My back hurts.” Strahm complained, but scooped an arm around Hoffman’s shoulders. He was nice enough to lift the covers up over their cooling bodies. “Good job.”

“Huh?”

“Good job. With the fake marriage thing.” Strahm’s face turned a soft red

“My pleasure, honey.” Hoffman rested a hand against Strahm’s stomach before pressing his lips onto Strahm’s. Strahm returned the kiss quietly and moved his free hand to rest against Hoffman’s cheek. He thumbed the soft flesh before humming a tune. “You know…”

“What do I know?” Strahm responded

“This was a shit honeymoon.”

“Huh?”

“Hell you don’t even buy me a ring, and the first thing you do is make me sign off on some papers. Really gets the blood going.” Hoffman scoffed, “At the very least, you could take me out for a real dinner.”

“Fine. Tonight?”

“No. I want something when we get back. I’m thinking somewhere in the village?”

“I fucking hate trying to park in the village.” Strahm complained

“Or midtown.”

“You’re a fucking asshole.”

“I know I am.” Hoffman purred ever so slightly, having more fun with this back and forth cat and mouse game with Strahm than he could have ever expected.

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stuck-in-2012 · 1 year ago

Text

A proper Christman gift

S01E03 Doomed

“I made an exact mashed potato replica of principal coulson!” Sam smiled as he held out the faux head on a tray.

“...and a potato sculptor,” Peter thought to himself.

S01E09 Field Trip

“Hey check it out!” Sam turns over his shoulder to show the coloured sketch he drew to Peter. “Pretty cool right? I’m gonna see if Fury will pay for the spikes.”

S01E17 Snow Day

“Uhh my bad.” Sam frowned down at Luke as he dumped out the sand he intended to use on his now ruined sculpture.

S02E02 Electro

“You just got own-dizzled, old style!” Sam held out the large paper he'd been using for the game of pictionary.

AKA: no one talks about how much of an artist Sam is! / The first holiday episode made me mad, so I added a happy ending.

“Bunny slippers are just… ach!”

Danny and Peter made eye contact at Sam’s reaction. Pete had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing and spoiling everything, though he could see the tiny hint of mischief in Danny's smile.

After getting the oversized hat, Peter looked back at Sam’s disgruntled face, allowing himself to snerk and giggle. Sam made a glare and went to lash out at Pete being an ass but was cut off when Danny also gave a small huff. Peter took off the hat, smiled, and reached behind the couch. “Dude, we’re not that mean.”

Pete pulled out a large wrapped object. At seeing the colourful paper, Sam shoved the gag-gift and box onto the floor. The boy was skeptical given the relation between Spidey and Nova, but Danny was in on it too -and Peter said “we”- so Sam had some trust that whatever was in this box would actually be a gift. The fact that it was a semi large box didn’t hurt his intrigue, either. The box was about two by one foot but only three inches tall, give or take.

Peter stepped over to Sam's place on the couch and handed him the box, Sam's hand bobbed down, surprised at the weight. Not heavy, but heavi-er than he was expecting. Peter and Danny both had beaming smiles, they almost seemed more excited for Sam’s gift than he was.

“Ya gonna open it or what?” Ava snarked.

Sam rolled his eyes at her and tore into the paper. The first satisfying shred exposed a leathery texture. Sam ran his fingers over the surface, again surprised, before continuing. Revealed, was a large though thin case with golden coloured clasps and handle to carry.

“A brief case?” Sam had no issues this evening sharing displeasure.

“It’s what's inside the case, moron.” May nudged Peter lightly at his insult.

“We do believe you will be rather fond of its contents.” Danny’s smile had only grown bigger as the case was unveiled.

Sam flipped the latches in sinque and leant back as though something would jump out at him. He opened the case a crack to get a preview of what may be inside and was greeted with some odd shapes and bright colours. When the case was open fully, one would think it was full of cash with how Sam’s face lit up in wonder. His jaw dropped gently as his eyes practically sparkled.

“ih… It’s ok if you don’t like it.” Peter’s brow knit with worry.

Sam slammed the case closed and hugged it to his chest. “Don’t you dare!” He gave Peter a noticeably exaggerated expression of ‘I’m warning you’ and gave an extra lean away for emphasis.

“What is it, Sam?” May asked, almost coy. She knew of Peter's plan to do a gag gift but wasn’t aware of what the proper gift was.

Sam stumbled over words as an unbreakable smile stretched across his face. Not able to get out any coherent words, he opened the case back up and lay it flat on his lap. All along one side was a smooth gradient of coloured pencils. Stretched across the bottom, another pallet of oil paint tubes. White and metallic ink pens, oil pastels, a paint brush array, and collection of charcoal and graphite pencils.

“Damn,” Luke dragged out in approval.

Excited at Sam’s joy over something he did, Peter bounced with an open smile. “Oh it gets better.” Sam looked over in excitement and bafflement. How could this get even better?! “You see the little loops in the middle of the bottom? Pull.”

Sam did as instructed and the inside came out and split into two supported shelves. Underneath was again a full pallet of water colour paints and fancy markers. Sam sputtered and floundered over all the supplies.

“Sorry the top doesn’t open, too.” Peter teased apologetically.

Sam sputtered and waved his hands over the rainbows in his lap looking at Peter with a gleeful face. He, May, and Danny laughed happily at Sam’s reaction to the gift. Sam’s hands hovered over the different supplies, hesitant to disturb the pristine packaging each different material had.

Ava gave a light laugh as she said, “I think you broke him.”Sam sent a heatless glare at the girl before finally audibly laughing. He gave Peter and May an inquisitive look before giving a reverse not in Danny’s direction at the realization. This was no doubt expensive. There's no way the Parkers would be able to afford it without some juggling or over time but thankfully Pete went to Danny about it. If just Peter had busted his ass to make the cash, Sam would take it with no hesitation but seeing as May seemed in on everything, Sam didn’t like the idea of her putting in so much extra effort for something so frivolous. But Danny’s loaded, so forget all of that.

[continue?]

#i have ideas to extend it and add bits about pete being jewish - would anyone read it?#sam alexander #nova #peter parker #ultimate spider-man #ava ayala #danny rand #spider-man #luke cage #aunt may #christmas #holliday #fanfic #one shot

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q-gorgeous · 2 years ago

Text

Maybe ghosts aren’t the real monsters after all

fanfiction

ao3

word count: 1123

"The date started off so well, beginning my night not expecting the fright of my life. They were perfect from what I could tell. How could I not see the danger right in front of me-" (dark ages preferred but please go hog wild with other ships that would be hilarious/fun to write this with!) @kawaiijohn

i watched an episode to include a line in here then realized i couldnt actually include that line or it wouldnt work jknhbgf

Valerie smiled at Danny as he sat down in the chair across from her. She was glad they could finally make this work. She no longer needed to work two jobs to help her dad pay rent, not with his new job. So she kept her cashier job at the Nasty Burger and dumped the other one. Now she only had to worry about one job, school, and hunting ghosts.

She remembered that she broke up with him because she didn’t want to put him in danger. She remembered how Phantom targeted her that one day. Well, not her. It was her suit. But he didn’t know that. For all she knew, he was out there trying to murder her that day.

But looking at Danny now was enough to put those worries out of her head. It’s not like the ghosts had an issue with him. It was just her. And his parents. But the ghosts could care less about his parents. They barely paid her any mind. It would be fine. They wouldn’t hurt him.

Ghosts were the last thing she wanted to be thinking about anyway. Especially when she had what she was convinced to be the love of her life sitting right in front of her. Ghosts could wait for the time being.

They were at a nice restaurant. It was nothing fancy, affordable enough for two teenagers. It was better than the Nasty Burger, though. She appreciated it.

A waiter walked up to them. “Hi guys, I’m Clara and I’ll be your server today! Can I get you started off with some drinks?”

“Yeah!” Danny said. “Can I get a Pepsi?”

“You bet!” Clara wrote it down and turned to Valerie. “What can I get for you?”

“I’ll take a Sprite.”

“Okay.” Clara jotted that down as well. “I’ll go get those for you and give you some time to look at the menu.”

“Thanks.”

“Thank you.”

“What do you think looks good?” Danny asked shyly. “I’ve never actually been here before.”

“Well, they’ve got a big pasta section. Everyone loves noodles.”

Danny nodded, flipping to a new page in the menu and studying it. “I do love noodles.”

They looked at their menus for a couple minutes, keeping their conversation light. Soon Clara came back with their drinks and took their orders. They continued to talk while they waited for their food.

Valerie laughed. “How did you get Dash to do that? He’d never!”

“He’d never back down from a challenge. It’s all about how you play it up. If you make it sound like he’s a wuss for not doing something he’ll take the bait.”

Then Clara was returning, a tray of food resting on one of her hands. “Here we go! Shrimp and broccoli fettuccine alfredo for you.” She placed the plate down in front of Danny. “And smoked salmon for the lady.”

“Thank you!” Valerie said. “It looks delicious.”

“I hope you enjoy-” Clara cut herself off with a scream, looking up past Valerie. She turned around to see the Lunch Lady ghost floating behind her.

So much for the ghosts waiting.

“Come on!” Danny groaned. “I won’t even get to eat my food!”

“This restaurant will rue the day that it broke healthcode violations!”

Danny made a face up at the ghost. “At least she has a good reason this time I guess?”

“Get down!” Valerie grabbed his shirt from across the table and pulled him down with her so they could hide underneath it. She needed to get Danny out of here so he’d be safe. And so she could transform. She wished he knew her secret, that would make this much easier. Almost everyone else had already ran out of the building by now. There’d be no one else to see.

“Watch out!”

Valerie had been distracted trying to find a way out that she didn’t notice the floating knives pointing at her. She watched as they started flying through the air towards her but then she was being shoved out of the way. She landed on the ground a couple feet away and wrenched her gaze towards the spot Danny had pushed her out of. Had he been hurt?

He stood there, the knives embedded into the wooden floor behind him.

How did he do that? He couldn’t have dodged those.

“Sorry, Valerie.”

What did he need to apologize for? He just saved her! She should be the one apologizing to-

Valerie’s train of thought stopped as two bright rings appeared around his waist.

She watched them split and separate. They traveled along his body, passing over his head and his feet. Left in Danny’s place was Phantom.

He sprung up and started fighting the Lunch Lady. Valerie could only watch in a daze.

The disguise was so perfect. She couldn’t even tell that that wasn’t Danny. How could she not have seen the dangerous ghost that had been sitting right in front of her?

She watched him grab the thermos that now always hung by his waist and trapped the Lunch Lady inside it. He touched back down on the ground. When he turned to face her, Valerie socked him in the face.

“Ow!” Phantom shouted, holding his jaw. “What was that for?”

She activated her suit and transformed. Pulling out a gun, she aimed it at him.

“Where is he?” She asked lowly.

“Where is who?” He looked confused. His facade made her angry.

“Danny Fenton!” She yelled. “What did you do to him? Did you hurt him to get to me?”

“What? No, Valerie. I’m-”

“How long?” She asked. “How long have you been toying with my feelings? Playing this game? Where did the real Danny go?”

“There is no real Danny!” He stood back up and looked at her. “There’s only one! Me! I’ve been Danny and Phantom this whole time!”

She shook her gun at him. “Oh yeah? How do you explain destroying my suit?”

“You weren’t in it.”

“You ruined my life!” She threw her hands into the air. “You’ve made it a living hell! My dad lost his job all because of you! Danny would never do that!”

His hands raised up to his head and grabbed his hair tightly. He looked back at her. “It was an accident! How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“Why should I believe anything you say if you’ve been lying to me this whole time anyways?”

Their silence weighed heavily on them. He didn’t say anything to that. He looked away from her.

“Maybe ghosts aren’t the real monsters after all.”

His head shot back up at her quiet words.

“Valerie, wait-”

“No.” She turned away from him. “I need to be alone.”

#gorgi writes #danny phantom #phic phight 2023 #danny fenton #valerie gray #gray ghost #fanfiction

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serosluv2 · 2 years ago

Note

hi love! idk how long ago you posted that you wanted sero requests but here i am.

tattoo artist!sero and it’s like your first time getting tattooed and he talks you through everything that’s going to happen and everything that he’s doing and just making sure that you feel safe. i acc love it so much honestly it could be his partner or a complete stranger but honestly OBSESSED with this idea rn it’s doing my head in i just NEED it on paper

thank u sum for the request & i love tattoo artist!sero !!

You've been thinking about this for quite some time. Ever since you saw your eldest cousin with their first tattoo when you were much younger, you’ve been dreaming about getting your own.

On an impromptu girls' trip into the bright city of Tokyo, your closest friends, Momo and Ochako, convince you this is the time! “but I need to do so much more research about what place I want to go to! what sized needle I should get, and… SO MUCH MORE!” you say in the dimly lit bar, tipsy enough to even be thinking about this idea but not so much that you’re stumbling. “Oh, com’on Y/n !! my girlfriend knows this guy who owns a tattoo place, I think it’s near here, and he’s like, so legit ! she only goes to him and his people.” Momo chimes in. This made you even more unsure. You love Momo’s girlfriend! She is cool and funny but the crowd she runs with is… a wilder than you’re used to. “Is this the same guy that almost got us arrested at that house party?” you say back, reminding her of that night year or two ago. “oh my lord no !!! That’s Denki. this guy is Sero, he is super chill, an amazing artist, and can do anything. even those super small, dainty ones you like.” After about 3 more drinks, the three of you guys are outside by the bar, and Momo is calling this Sero guy, asking if his place is still open. and it is.

After about a 10 minute walk, you arrive at the place. “Tokyo’s Ink” looks cool enough. Rustic and dark enough to draw in the right crowd but oddly clean and tidy enough so no one thinks it’s some sketchy dump. you stumble in with the help of Momo and are greeted with a tall male at the front desk. “uh.. Momo, are you sure she’s ok to like do this?” aww sweet. you think. he clearly cares about his clients which makes you more open to trusting him like this. “yeah yeahh she’s fine. not as bad as ochako though.” momo replies, laughing before she notices- oh shit. where’s ochako? after mumbling you can’t understand between the two tall dark haired people, she dashed out, assuming to look for her. “so, y/n right? i think we met a couple times when you went out with momo and jirou.” oh yeah. You remember seeing him in the crowds with Jirou’s ragtag friends group. “oh yeahhh. you used to have a lip piercing, where’d that go?” you ask, peering up at his face. “oh i uh, got into a fight and it got ripped out.” he says so nonchalantly, leaving you stunned, wide eyed. “holy shit!” “yeah, so you’re thinking of getting a tattoo?” he says and sits back on the desk in the entry way. You can see him a little more clearly now and he’s gorgeous. His hair looks clean and soft, a little outgrown mullet but it looks good. His hands show the ends of some complex artwork going up his arms. even though his lip ring is gone, he still has a lot of other jewelry hanging from him. Earrings and bulky silver rings and a thin chain around his neck. “um yeah i’m definitely getting ones,” you say a little louder than you intended. “but i need to know you are like, legit.” you say and he laughs. It’s a nice, deep laugh that makes your heart do flips. He says he can take you to the chair where he’ll go over the procedure and you can ask any questions you want. “so hopefully you’ll come back when you’re in a better, state and we willl start by sketching out some designs of the tattoo you want. we’ll work on that untr it’s perfect for your pretty self,” your ears perk up and blush at his comment. He notices and smiles back at you, “then i’ll print it out as an outline and trace it with a marker on the spot you want, once that placent is where you want it to be then we will start inking.” he says.

Sero starts talking again. About needle sizes, ink color, if you wanted shading and color or just an outline, blah blah blah. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t focus on his words when he looked like that. he sat directly in front of you, legs slightly spread, you could see the tension his muscular thighs were putting those tight black jeans through. Sero, with his pericings almost glistening in the overhead light, a light that contorted the muscles of his arms, was slouching and leaning forward ever so slightly so that you could see down his thin and baggy white t-shirt to his chest. He stopped talking but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his torso. god he looks so good.

He said something. Your name maybe? Then he was standing. It only took half a step until he was towering over you. His hand reached up to caress your jawline and lift your chin up to him. You could smell him now. Not the sandalwood that aired in the shop but him. He didn’t smell like a cologne, more like fresh sheets, warm vanilla with a hint of that manly musk. “you got it, princess?” he said. you could feel his warm and calloused hand against your hot, soft skin. god he definitely works out. you don’t get calloused hands from tattooing. you thought. “um yes. i-i- i’m sorry what do i got?” you replied. Suddenly the buzz you felt in the bar was back but this wasn’t from alcohol, you were high off something else. He laughed softly before saying “i asked if you understood everything i just told you. we you want i can schedule you for an appointment tonight.” his hand dropped from you face and planted on the table behind you. He was leaning down, closer to you. You could practically feel his breath, his lips on you. Sero’s eyes darted down to your lips, then slowly back up to you. His eyes were determined. Searching for any discomfort in yours as he slowly, and i mean slowly, attempted to close the distance between you two until,

ba dingg !

the bell above the door jingled, causing the both of you to retreat quickly. “Found her !!” Momo exclaimed as she was dragging a very sad Ochako, face covered in ice cream, by her side. “O-Oh great !” you said standing up. Sero stood and backed up, giving you room to walk to your friends. He went behind the front counter and grabbed his scheduling book out from under it. Opening it he look at back at you, “so are you free next friday?” he asked clicking his pen, looking at you. “um, oh yes. yes i am after 4pm!” you replied. he scribbled something down and looked back up at you. “great then. i’ll see you at 5:00pm next friday.” he said with his million dollar smile. Momo then proceeded to tell you how late it was and how your group should probably turn in for the night. “I’ll walk you guys out!” Sero jumped into the conversation following Momo and Ochako already half way out the door. Then he put his hand on your lower back, guiding you out of his shop. You turn your head to thank him for letting you come in way past business hours. “don’t worry about it princess, it was my pleasure.” he whispered back to you. his lips softly kissing your neck for the first and last time that night before leading you out.

god you can’t wait until friday. now you just have less than two weeks to figure out what kind of tattoo you want.

#^ my work #i had sm fun w this #sorry it took foreva anon :(#i didnt have time and then i took forever to “edit it #i love sero #sero hanta #sero x reader #mha headcanons #hanta sero #hanta sero x reader #hanta sero fluff

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all-the-things-2020 · 1 year ago

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No Better Place - Chapter 19

Summary: Cassidy breaks up with Javi and he throws himself into his work.

Word count: 3700

Cassidy woke late the next morning, Linus pawing at her face to tell her that his breakfast was late. She’d forgotten to switch on her alarm and it was nearly seven. She jumped up, shoved her feet into her boots and dumped a can of cat food into Linus’ dish before running out to the barn.

“Sorry, kids,” she said, as the horses all snorted at her. Even Cricket was impatient, kicking a hoof against the door of her stall. Cassidy tore open a bale of hay and started stuffing hay nets. Once she’d hung the fresh hay up in the stalls, she carefully measured out each horse’s grain and supplements. Cricket just got a few pellets to supplement her hay, since she was an easy keeper, but Buster and the mares needed to put on some weight, and they got pellets, grain and some supplements. Nugget was still on stall rest, so she fed him lightly, but he did get some grain mixed with his medications.

Once she’d hung the feed buckets in the stalls, she pulled, dumped, washed and refilled the water buckets. Only then did she head back to the house to pee and brush her teeth. As she entered the bathroom, she saw the pregnancy test sitting on the counter and the emotions of the night before came crashing down on her. She picked it up and threw it angrily into the trash can. She used the toilet, brushed her teeth and then decided to take a shower. She looked horrible. Her eyes were puffy from crying and her hair was a tangled mess.

The shower revived her a bit, and she managed a cup of coffee and a slice of toast before her throat threatened to close up again. “What am I going to do?” she asked Linus, who was sitting in the chair beside her, very helpfully cleaning his back legs.

It was clear that it was over between her and Javi but how to end it? Should she confront him about the woman in his apartment? Or just break things off? One thing was certain, she did not want to see him again. It would be too painful, and there was always the chance she’d lose her nerve once she was face to face with him. She’d had many opportunities to leave Travis that she left untaken just because he’d given her that grin. She wouldn’t give Javi the chance.

She could wait until he called, probably that night or the next, but what if he didn’t call and just drove down on Friday night or Saturday morning, showing up unannounced? “I’ll call him,” she told Linus. “After I know he’s left for work. I’ll leave a message on his answering machine and that’ll be that.” Linus looked up from his grooming, the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth, bright pink and ridiculous. Cassidy sighed. “Then I’ll just have to deal with Chucho, but he should be easy enough to avoid.”

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

The next day was better, but Javi was still subdued as he went about his work. He would have worked through lunch again, except Monica forced him to walk to the deli down the street with her and a few other people. He ate half his roast beef sandwich and promised her he’d have the rest for dinner.

When he got home, he tossed the sandwich into the fridge and took off his jacket and tie. He flipped through the mail (all junk or bills, nothing interesting) and noticed the blinking red light on his answering machine. It was probably a telemarketer, trying to sell him insurance or a timeshare or some such nonsense. He pressed the play button, fully expecting to erase the message within the first few seconds.

“Hey, Javi, it’s Cassidy,” the tinny voice said. The speaker on this machine is crap, Javi thought. I need to get a better one. “Um, I don’t really know how to say this other than to just say it. I … I can’t do this anymore. It’s over, Javi. It’s not working and I feel like you need to focus on your life there in San Antonio. And I need to focus on my life here. I’ve been letting too much slide and I’m sure you have too and … well, I just think it’s best we end it now before things get out of hand. Goodbye, Javi. And good luck.”

He was stunned. He’d thought things were going well. True, he’d missed the last two weekends, but he’d been swamped at work and Cassidy had seemed to understand. He picked up the phone and dialed her number. After five rings, her machine picked up.

“It’s Javi,” he said. “Cassidy, pick up if you’re there.” He paused for several seconds, then went on. “Okay, I guess you’re out in the barn. Call me when you get back in. Please, Cassidy. Let’s talk about this.”

He hung up and fetched a beer from the fridge. He drank it and opened another one. Halfway through the second beer, he pulled the sandwich out of the fridge and ate a few bites. Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore and he called her again.

“Hey, Cassidy,” he said when the machine picked up. “Come on, baby, talk to me. I don’t know what happened. Did I do something? Did I not do something? Tell me how I can make things right. I don’t want to lose you, Cassidy. I love you. So, call me back. Please.”

He turned on the television and watched some ridiculous sitcoms until ten, when a police procedural came on. He switched channels to a medical drama. Still no call from Cassidy. Before he went to bed, he called one last time.

“Cassidy, sweetheart, please, please, call me back. I don’t want it to be over. We can make this work. I’ll make sure I get home every goddamned weekend, baby, I’ll call you every night. Whatever you need to know that I’m one hundred percent committed to this relationship.” He sighed. “Okay, it’s late, I’m going to bed. I’ll call you again when I get home tomorrow, if you don’t call me first. I love you, hermosa.”

He got undressed and crawled into bed, but sleep eluded him for hours as he wracked his brain trying to figure out what could have triggered Cassidy’s decision to end their relationship. It just didn’t make sense.

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

“You look like hell,” Monica said the next morning as soon as she saw him. “I know this thing with Andre is …”

He cut her off. “Cassidy broke up with me,” he said curtly as he dug in his desk drawer for a new pen. The one he’d been using kept skipping.

“What?” Monica plopped down in the chair he kept in the corner. “No way.”

He nodded wearily. “Yes,” he said. “There was a message on my answering machine when I got home yesterday. I called her back several times, but she’s screening her calls or something. I left messages …” He closed his eyes. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but I have a shitload of work to do and I’m sure you do, too. If I need to talk, you’re the first person I’ll come to, I promise.”

Monica bit her lower lip, clearly wanting to say more, but respecting his wishes. “Okay,” she said after a moment. “But I’m making sure you take your lunch again today. Nobody starves on my watch, no matter how bad life gets.” She stood up and tilted her head. “I know this week has been a clusterfuck, Javi, but you’ll get through it.” She smiled at him and left, pulling his office door halfway closed, giving him at least a modicum of privacy.

Javi opened the file on his desk and stared at the page. It was going to be a very long day.

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

There was another message on his answering machine when he got home. It was short and to the point. “Javier, please, stop calling. There’s nothing you can do. I’ve made my decision. It’s over between us. I’m sorry.”

The click at the end of her message had a finality about it that made Javi’s stomach clench. He took a few deep breaths and then dialed his father.

“She what?” Chucho shouted as soon as Javi had told him about Cassidy’s messages.

“She broke up with me,” Javi repeated. “Can you talk to her for me, Dad? She won’t pick up when I call and she asked me to stop calling. I don’t know what happened, but maybe she’ll tell you, or you can figure it out. I don’t know what to do, Dad.” He choked back a sob. He’d be damned if he’d cry in front of his father, even if it was over the phone.

“Of course,” Chucho said. “I’ll go over there tomorrow and ask her what the hell’s going on.” He snorted. “I’ll knock some sense into that girl’s head.”

“Don’t yell at her,” Javi pleaded. “Just … just talk to her, see if she’ll talk to me.” He sighed. “I knew she had misgivings about trying to make a long distance relationship work but I thought she was over it. I guess not.” He shook his head. “I’ll let you go, but thanks in advance for anything you can do.”

“You hang in there, mijo,” Chucho said. “I’ll try to fix this.”

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

“No,” Cassidy said firmly. Chucho was in the barn aisle and she was inside the tack room, the half closed door making a sort of barrier between then. “I don’t have anything to say to him. I thought about things and I realized that it’s not going to work. End of story.” She hoped Chucho couldn’t tell that her voice was about to crack. She turned away to fiddle with the bridles that were already hanging neatly on their rack.

“Cassidy,” Chucho sighed. “I don’t know why you have such a crazy idea stuck in your head, but please, promise me you’ll at least consider talking to Javi. He’s broken hearted.”

I’ll bet, she thought, unable to get the image of that woman leading him back inside his apartment out of her head. “If I change my mind, I certainly will call him,” she said, “but I don’t see that happening. I’m sorry, Chucho, but I can’t handle this long distance thing. And before you even think about it, I can’t move to San Antonio. I’m not a city girl and you know it.” She looked up at him. “Javi belongs in the city and I belong out here. Those are the facts. It sucks but it’s true.”

Chucho shook his head. “I still think you’re making a huge mistake, mija, but it’s your decision. I’ll tell Javi what you said and he won’t bother you again. And neither will I.” He turned and walked out of the barn, his shoulders slumped.

It broke Cassidy’s heart to see how this had affected Chucho, but she wasn’t about to tell him the truth, that she’d caught his son cheating on her. Let him think Javi was a decent man as long as possible. She was sure that once Javi had accepted that things were over between them, he’d tell his dad about this other woman. Unless she was just another one night stand, in which case, Chucho need never know.

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

Javi hung up the phone. He’d hoped his dad could get through to Cassidy, but she’d proven just as stubborn with him as she’d been with Javi. He glanced at his watch. It was only eight thirty; plenty of time for a run to the liquor store for more whiskey and cigarettes. There was no reason to stop smoking now. If he was honest with himself, the only thing keeping him from getting stinking drunk was the need to be in the office the next day, the need to do everything he could to make sure none of the other kids in the program ended up like Andre.

Monica wisely avoided him the next morning, even though he was sure she wanted to lecture him on his rumpled clothes and the pack of cigarettes displayed prominently on his desk. She merely shook her head a little as he headed outside for a smoke break before their weekly meeting with the chief of police. He knew she was disappointed in him, but Javi didn’t give a damn. He was going to wallow in his misery as long as he could, knowing that if he went off the deep end, Monica would haul his butt back to shore.

He threw himself into his work, getting to the office at seven and often staying until eight o’clock or even later. He took work home on the weekends and started carrying a pager, letting everyone know he was only a phone call away. He even gave his number to some of the higher risk kids, telling them they could call any time of the day or night if they needed to talk. He spent more than one long night on the phone with Carlos or Leticia or Martin, doing his best to listen and not judge. If they made it to the next morning without using or running with their crew, he counted it a win. He worked with their schools to arrange for extra tutoring hours to keep them off the streets. He even forked over money for baby formula when Mom’s child support payment was late or gas money so a dad could make it to a job interview. He loaned out several of his ties for job interviews and taught a dozen boys how to tie a Windsor knot.

Every night, when he finally made it home, he poured a few fingers of whiskey, smoked far too many cigarettes, and ate junk that would make Monica cringe. The apartment was just a place to catch a few hours of sleep, take a shower, and maybe watch a movie on the VCR to escape reality for a while. Work was his life and it was all that kept him going.

Thanksgiving came and Javi told Chucho he had to work the day before and the day after, so there was no point in driving all the way to Laredo. While the police department never shut down, his department had been given Friday as a paid holiday as well as Thanksgiving Day, but Javi declined to tell Chucho this. He reluctantly joined Monica and her family at Rob’s mother’s place for Thanksgiving Dinner, but left as soon as he politely could.

“Stay for a while,” Rob pleaded. “Watch the game with us.”

“Thanks, man, but this is your family,” Javi replied. “You don’t need me bringing you all down. I’ll be okay.”

Monica pressed a paper plate of leftovers wrapped in foil into his hands. “Do not work tomorrow,” she said firmly. Javi couldn’t lie to her, so he didn’t answer. They both knew full well he’d taken home a stack of paperwork to keep himself occupied over the long weekend.

It was harder to avoid going home for Christmas, but Javi was saved at the last minute by a torrential storm that brought rain and hail and even brief flurries of sleet, leading to the closure of many highways and a flash flood outside Laredo that washed out the road that led to Chucho’s ranch.

“You might as well stay put, son,” he said on the phone. “By the time they get the roads cleared, you’ll be due back at work. You can come down and pick up your present later.” Javi promised to do just that, even though he and Chucho both knew he was lying. He hadn’t been home in months.

They did talk on the phone, though. Their conversations were stilted as they carefully avoided talking about Cassidy. Chucho mentioned seeing her around town now and then, but he was casual about it, mixing news of her in with the usual gossip about other people that Javi knew. She was working part time at the feed store, having taken over for Jenny the cashier, who was on maternity leave. Chucho also mentioned that someone had seen Cassidy working as a bagger at the grocery store, but he couldn’t confirm since it wasn’t the store he frequented. Dr. Hamblin mentioned in passing that Nugget was still not sound enough to ride, but Cassidy refused to sell him, for fear he’d end up at the slaughterhouse.

Hamblin had been on the ranch to treat Buster for a small abscess in his hind foot, the result of a stone bruise sustained while chasing a particularly obstinate cow through a gully. Cassidy had trailered him over to Chucho’s a couple of days after the breakup and sent Javi a formal letter stating that he should start paying his boarding fees to his father instead of her. Luis was riding him every few days and sang his praises every time he slid out of the saddle. Chucho joked that he was going to give him to Luis if Javi didn’t get his butt down there, but even though he missed the horse, Javi knew he couldn’t look at him without thinking of Cassidy, so he stayed away.

A few days after New Year’s, Monica dragged herself into Javi’s office. “You look horrible,” he said without thinking. It was true. Despite having a three year old and a five year old at home, she was always put together. On this day, she had no makeup on and looked pale.

“Hold that thought,” she said, dashing out of the room. When she came back a few minutes later, it was clear she’d thrown up.

“Hungover?” Javi asked. He’d never seen her drink more than one beer or glass of wine, so he was surprised.

“Morning sickness,” she mumbled, folding herself into the chair in the corner. “I told Rob to get a vasectomy, since the insurance company wouldn’t let me get my tubes tied, but he wouldn’t listen. So, we’re having number three.” She smiled weakly. “And I’m not letting him touch me again until he does get the snip-snip. Three kids is more than enough.”

“Congratulations, I guess,” Javi said, suppressing a laugh. “Is Rob freaking out?”

“Oh, at first he was all Mister Macho,” she said. “Then I reminded him he gets to take care of the little rug rat on top of the other two and that sobered him up quickly enough.” She leaned forward. “I didn’t come here to throw up on you, I promise. I wanted to show you something.”

She handed him a brochure. The cover featured a photo of a small boy with Down Syndrome on the back of a horse, smiling broadly. The words Blue Ridge Equine Therapy and Horse Rescue were at the top of the page.

“Nice,” Javi said. “But I don’t understand.”

Monica nodded at the brochure. “They mostly do kids with disabilities, developmental and physical issues, but the woman who runs it said she’d be open to doing some psychological therapy, too. I know you said working with your horse helped you with your depression after you quit the DEA. I was wondering if you think something like this could fit into our program.”

Javi flipped the brochure open. Photos of smiling children riding horses and brushing horses were scattered among paragraphs describing how the charity rescued horses from abusive homes and auctions where they were vulnerable to being sold to slaughterhouses. They retrained the horses and either adopted them out or used them in their therapy program in conjunction with a local hospital’s pediatric department.

Monica got out of her chair and came to stand beside him. She laid her hand on his shoulder. “I know it probably reminds you of Cassidy,” she said quietly, “which is why I didn’t bring it up sooner, but I think it might help our kids. Mary Sue -- yeah, that’s her real name -- said they could help with the new intake horses, get them used to being groomed and handled without being afraid, and then they could assist with the therapy sessions. They have volunteers who lead the horses around, others who help the kids get on and off the horses, stuff like that. There are physical therapists who are in charge of the actual therapy but they concentrate on the kids. Our kids could focus on the horses.”

Javi nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I think it’s worth looking into,” he said. “Set up a meeting with her and I’ll find out what kind of funding we might be able to get.” He leaned back in his chair. “If we can get some of these kids out of the city, even one day a week, show them there’s more to the world than their neighborhood and the mall, it’ll help us help them.”

Monica squeezed his shoulder. “Good,” she said. “I was afraid you’d be resistant … that it might remind you too much of …”

He laid his hand on top of hers, cutting her off. “I’m fine,” he lied. “And you’re right, I know first hand how helpful working with horses can be for mental health. I’d like to get a list of the kids in the program who have the most severe psychological issues, offer this to them first.”

“You got it, boss,” she said. “I’ll set up a meeting with Mary Sue and get that list to you as soon as I can. If I can get back to my office without barfing again.” She laid her hand against her stomach. “Don’t take this personally, Javi, but men suck.”

After she left, Javi took a few minutes to stare at the brochure again. He carefully traced the horse’s head in the cover photo. It was a dark bay, very much like Buster. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then shoved the brochure into his desk drawer and went back to the report he was typing up on the computer.

#javier peña x ofc #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier peña #horses #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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x-authorship-x · 2 years ago

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how do the narutoverse characters all speak the same language? i get it if its in the same land / village, but another land / village ??? how do they understand eachother?? do they have the same universal language or do they all speak the same language?

... i'm definitely nit-picking now. if only i could learn to be a normal human being and stop having existential crises with these question~~~ ♫

Also technology is wack in Naruto, wdym you send messages thru letters but you guys have phones, emails and television??

Well... for a given understanding of what exactly is the "same language" and a forgiveness of regional dialects, varying literacy, and colloquialisms... Everyone speaks Japanese in Canon.

I don't know Japanese and I haven't watched/read the manga/anime so I couldn't say if the Japanese used is consistent across characters or anything. Also I'm not looking for anyone to kick down my ask box to info dump on this

In my fics, I lean into varying accents and local colloquialism in order to give a sense of varying regions, class, culture, etc etc. However, writing in English is very different from writing in Japanese because... well, I don't speak Japanese so I know the vibes of 'why' but I literally can't explain it.

Shisui speaks like a perfect Clan kid from the heart of Konoha; Raidou is from the same place but his voice is rounder, less polished, and he might have shared some "rougher" slang with his Squadmates since he's the only one who grew up in a working class civilian neighborhood.

Kisame has a different accent to Shisui (Kiri compared to Konoha) but they are totally fine with communicating because they've both had a high level of village-centred education that teaches them how to talk, how to speak, and how to blend in. Kisame has therefore been trained out of his rural dialect/accent (later on in this AU, some of you may notice that Zabuza has stubbornly held onto his).

When Shisui was undercover in Lightning's rural areas, he altered his accent and manner of speaking to better blend in.

The Crows speak in a way that is totally different to Humans. Shisui, as a fluent but obviously non-native speaker, uses much more basic language. There are noticable translation issues (no word for 'Hokage' so they use 'Hat', they never use Human Names, Akira isn't Akira's 'true name' but rather the Human equivalent used for functionality) which emphasises that the Crow language is completely distinct from the Human's.

Let's get back to Canon (🙃)

People can speak the "same language" and not be able to understand a word the other person is saying. I know a woman who's husband's family were from a different village and the in-laws could barely make small talk because they were so heavy on the slang, which absolutely did not translate to the other region's slang.

In Narutoverse, there's some stuff to consider off the top of my head

One, it's an anime, Kishi has too much timeline to forget and insane plot decisions to introduce to bother with linguistic nuance and do this idea justice so - as far as I'm aware - he didn't do language variation in canon.

Two, I think if Shinobi villages had their own languages, it would be something treated more like a hidden code than used casually, domestically, or be ritualistic in important events etc. I do think there'd be a shared 'higher' language at least, for treaties and Daimyos and shit, even if the rural farmers didn't know it even existed. And this means Shinobi would know it too.

Three, texting. Can the rural farmer own a cute little flip phone with a few attached charms? The world of translation would surely open up at least, although that doesn't mean dialects or different languages would disappear

Again, I'm not a linguist and i have no interest in being one!

The idea is cool tho

(every time I answer an ask, I tell myself it'll be shorter this time and yet...)

#torship #torship talks #ask #anon #Narutoverse #naruto worldbuilding

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doorplays · 2 years ago

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IMMORTALITY (2022) SPOILERY REVIEW

Hello! I have decided that I think I will try and do two (2) reviews for most games I will play. One is a non-spoilery review, and another is a spoilery review that is done after I finish the game! I just think it would be need to share my thoughts about a game without spoiling it for people who don’t want to see spoilers.

In light of that, here's a big bad !!!SPOILER WARNING!!! for you, and only proceed if you are okay with seeing this despite the warning! Please also be mindful of Immortality’s content warnings before reading.

Also: this will be a long article, so hang on to your buttcheeks and let’s talk Immortality!

PREAMBLE

So, Immortality is a game that is more than meets the eye. While the start of it is interesting enough (searching clips, watching the three movies), there is more to it. It is... difficult to talk about these secrets without spoiling the experience, thus I chose to talk about them in this spoiler review! I’m going to talk about the secret clips and how to find them, the overarching metanarrative, and my thoughts on it.

STYLE

You may notice that when you view clips, sometimes you hear a droning sound. If you’re on the controller, you will feel it rumble along with said sound. That’s not a trick of the music, that’s intentional. That’s the game telling you something is off.

When I played this game, everytime I heard this noise on the clip, I would Favorite this clip so it gets filed for future viewing. The game has a separate folder of sorts for Favorited clips. At one clip, I wanted to click on something in the background, but the characters keep blocking it. So I decided to rewind the clip a bit to get a better angle. And lo and behold, I saw echoes of a clip just playing in the background, almost invisible... and I can’t quite access it yet. There was something I didn’t know at this point, but this was a big moment of discovery for me, and definitely flips the game on its head.

Once you discover this, the game goes from discovering what happened to Marissa Marcel, to discovering what the fuck this game actually is! I rewound the previous clips I Favorited and got lore dumps about two new characters that I’ve never seen before, but apparently have a big influence on the plot! There are clips that once you rewind them become much more sinister and scary, and there are clips that tell more of the new characters’ motivations.

I’d say this moment of discovery and what it entails is exactly what makes Immortality what it is. It recontextualizes the previous clips you’ve watched and opens up new questions in the narrative. And what surprises me is that all the clips, the discussions in the three films and the new discussions put forth by the rewound footage, all relate together in such a tight way! It is very well written and well made, and I feel like this is a great feat.

My only concern is how, at times people can access the credits sooner than you’d expect, and that might spoil their experience thinking the game is already finished, even though it is far from that. I feel like there is more refinement to be had to this kind of game, but as it stand it’s still pretty phenomenal.

SUBSTANCE

Okay, so the rewound footage tells a heck of a story and really wraps up the themes the 3 films tell and makes them relate to the tribulations of these two new characters. I want to talk about the overarching meta-narrative, so I will put up my own retelling of it as best as I can understand it. After I write this retelling, I will then discuss what I think of the story, how it affected me, and my own interpretation of it. Let’s get to it!

Story Retelling

The One (she/her) and The Other (he/him) are two immortals that have existed for a long long time. The nature of their immortality is that they are sort of... parasitic. They kill a human and consume their flesh, biting into their neck like a vampire, and once they do this they get to be able to act as them for however long they want. They absorb their memories, with the experiences and traumas of their last years dominating the immortals’ minds. It is hard to truly kill them, as when they experience a death, they end up in a dormant state and awaken sometime later. They have mastery over time, and this allows them to do some things outside of our own perception. It is stated that you can only truly kill them via burning.

At one point, they tried to create the Perfect Story to elevate humanity to their level. This involved The One becoming Jesus, preaching to humanity and in the end getting crucified, rising again, and ascending to heaven (though in reality she never ascended and stayed on Earth). The Perfect Story failed to elevate humanity, however. This made The Other feel disillusioned, but The One just thinks humanity wasn’t ready yet.

Time passes. The One wears different bodies. She found herself awakening from a dormant state at the tail end of World War 2. She stumbles upon a dying Marissa Marcel, having just been violated by soldiers. The One proceeds to consume her and take her form. Marissa’s dying words to The One were “Je veux vivre... pour toujours.”

I want to live forever.

The One lives as Marissa for a time. She gets into acting and modeled for a commercial. She was scouted by director Arthur Fischer for his upcoming film Ambrosio. She was fascinated by the dawn of film as an audiovisual medium. She and others like her perceive reality differently, and movies match this perception. She wanted to learn the art of film making from Arthur Fischer, which was why she let him cast her in Ambrosio.

Ambrosio is an adaptation of a real book called The Monk, by Matthew Gregory Lewis. It is about a monk who is tempted by the devil into selling his soul to him. This was Arthur Fischer’s first film to involve nudity, and it involves a good amount of sex. During shooting, The One as Marissa starts enjoying acting. In particular, she liked seeing the other actors be intimate and saw a certain immortality in that.

She encountered The Other while shooting this film, but they did not really interact much other than staring each other down at some points.

She soon starts a relationship with John Durick, director of photography in Ambrosio. She encourages him to overstep Fischer’s authority, adjusting shots and scenes to be more powerful and modern, and even shooting a sex scene without his knowledge, with Durick saying he’ll go above Fischer and go to Gino for approval. Eventually, shooting for the movie is finished. Durick and The One (as Marissa) decided to shoot a new film named Minsky.

Ambrosio ended up not being released for as-of-yet unknown reasons.

Minsky is about detective Alan Goodman who investigates the titular character’s murder, not expecting that he would fall in love with the suspect. Carl Greenwood, an actor from California, was cast for the role of detective, with Marissa casting herself as the suspect. The One saw in him “an intelligence, something warm and savory about him.” However, this did not last as unbeknownst to everyone but The One, The Other decided to kill him and steal his body.

Where The One is artistic and hopeful for humanity, The Other is despondent and cynical of them ever since they failed to be elevated, thinking of them as “monkeys flinging shit.” The two of them have been at odds about this for a long time, with one of them killing the other at certain points because they want them to actually think about things. Their deaths aren’t actual deaths, being treated as “time to think” before they awaken once more. The One killed The Other at one point, but they awakened in New York, angry at The One for trying to integrate further into humanity. He found the idea perverse, especially since the two of them are now the last of their kind.

Things came to a head when during a scene, The Other threatened to shoot John Durick. The One turned the tables on him and shot him instead, saving Durick and preserving her plans. From the outside perspective however, Marissa Marcel just accidentally killed Carl Greenwood due to what seemed to be a gun prop misfire. This caused the film to be shuttered, never to be finished and seen by the masses.

The One made sure that Carl Greenwood was cremated.

After this incident, The One decided to talk to John Durick about the truth of herself. Who she is, what her goals are, how different she is from humans. John... did not react well to this. At least, he did not react in a way that satisfied The One. She loved him, she wanted to be like him, and yet... why is he reacting this way? She did not think, she just acted: she killed John and took his form. Marissa vanishes from the public eye, and The One begins her life as John Durick.

The One directs many films. She missed The Other, so she thought to direct films that pleased him. They were decent films, though people thought them cold. But throughout all these films, what drove her to make them was her desire to make the case for humanity, to prove that they’re not just monkeys flinging shit.

As she lived her life as John, she found herself taking on a lover, one Amy Archer. She treated her like a muse and a partner. Amy asked little from The One (as John) but her brilliance. She wanted to bring out the best in her. However, as she made more films, The One found that each film was less good than the last.

Arthur Fischer, now a dying old man, went to John Durick’s house bearing a gift: the Ambrosio negatives that he stole. It is not known why he stole them (though it is implied he stole them because he couldn’t bear the humiliation of seeing John go behind his back and override his authority), but here he was bringing it to Durick in an effort to mend bridges. Once he left, The One watched the negatives and was overcome with grief and nostalgia over her time as Marissa, so much so that she managed to bring her form back into the real world. She is now essentially existing as two people: Marissa Marcel and John Durick. Director and Actress.

It was then that she decided to make Two of Everything. It was a film about a pop star and her double, and the struggle of making art. But more than that, it was a film about The One’s story. In her words, Two of Everything was “about everything, but as simple as possible.” It was her most ambitious movie yet, not least because she is currently being two people at the same time. This state of being is causing great stress to The One, and as filming goes on she becomes increasingly erratic.

In the middle of filming, something happened. The Other One reappeared. The One was shocked at this discovery, but he explained himself. After being shot and cremated, it turned out he didn’t die. He was trapped in an “infinity of nothing.” That is, until Amy Archer watched the old Minsky footage and saw Carl Greenwood’s death.

She watched him die on the screen. And he was reborn.

He comes to The One in contrition, regretting how he acted. He wants to help her realize her vision now. The One is still confused, saying that while he is alive he is “not here,” and that “Amy’s still here.” In response, he simply said that yes, Amy’s still here and that this is a different kind of rebirth. He reaffirmed his desire to help.

The Other’s rebirth pointed to a new possibility for The One, who by now is barely hanging on by a thread. She has been pushing herself too hard, and that is causing Marissa’s form to experience nosebleeds and other pains. At one point, both Marissa and John fainted on set. This all culminated in a shoot where she outright hemorrhaged blood from her head. She then talked to The Other, who was acting through Amy Archer. She wanted to die like he did once, so that she may then be reborn.

We now go to this scene, the last scene that was shot chronologically. The lights turn on and we see Marissa sitting down. Amy walks into frame and gently runs her hand through Marissa’s hair. She kisses her on the top of her head. She walks towards the camera, holding up the clapper, on it written a single name: Marissa Marcel. She claps it closed.

Action.

She walks back out, picking up a gas can, and walks back in, showering Marissa with its contents. Walks back out, this time picking up a matchbox. She gets a match and lights it up.

She throws it onto Marissa.

Marissa, now burning, just stares at the camera. She lets the flames consume her, until all that’s left of her is a burnt-down mannequin.

This is the moment of her death.

And we, the players, have just witnessed it.

Story Discussion

I’m not really going to talk deep about some of the themes across the game. The game discusses a lot about the nature of art, the costs of art, its evolution, etc. It addresses female exploitation and male privilege at points, it talks about the dichotomy of Art vs. Law, it also talks of how controlling and exacting some directors can be, to the detriment of the film they are making at some points.

What I want to focus on, however, is The One.

This game is not just about three films. This game is about her. I’d go as far as saying this game IS her. This is her story, her being, distilled into a game.

I don’t think anyone would notice, but when you open the game for the first time, the title screen looks like this. The title here is “Marissa Marcel: An Interactive Restoration of Three Movies. Once you click on “Start” however, the title changes. “IMMORTALITY,” it reads and will read for the rest of your playthrough. And on more than one level, that’s exactly what the game is about. Immortalizing yourself on film. Immortalizing your life, deeds, and thoughts.

The One immortalizing herself. Into us.

You might think this is very sinister, and that The One and The Other are ultimately villains. But I would argue that they are tragic figures, with The One being our Tragic Protagonist.

I want to start by talking about the nature of their species. They are entities that exist just outside our perception, influencing our space by taking on other peoples’ forms. A comparison can be drawn with the director-actor relationship. The One puppets her forms in the same way directors utilize their actors. She consumes her victims, just as directors exploit actors and, moreso, actresses. We can see this happening across Ambrosio, with Fischer’s disgusting language at points and his controlling nature.

This director-actor relationship is referred to as a chain by The One. Fischer wanted to sculpt Marissa. When she entered into a relationship with John, he in turn wanted to make her a star. For the longest time, she has observed this chain, but with John, it was her first time putting herself in it as a participant. I assume she means when she started to include herself in the writing process of Minsky.

In Minsky, The One wanted one of the main characters, Franny, to be more real. The premise of the film revolves around Franny murdering Minsky, the artist who took her as a muse. There is a certain irony to this, with how her immortality works. And there’s even further irony to this, as after she put an end to Minsky’s filming, she ended up murdering her director and lover John Durick.

She loved him in the way that an immortal like herself could love anyone. She treated loving him and being like him the same way. When she told him of her true nature, when she bared herself to him, he did not react the way she expected him to react.

He was scared of her. Who wouldn’t be scared, when faced with a threatening entity we do not fully understand?

So she kills him, like a spurned lover. She becomes him. She continues on and fully integrates herself into the chain, using his form from here on out.

She continues on, not addressing her pain, her own trauma that lived in Marissa and now lives in her, her trauma over killing the only other immortal of her kind. She continues on the only way she knows how: making movies.

She directs movies that try and make the case for humanity. She is so enamored with them, to the point that she thought herself as one of them, blind to the privilege that she has. She continues the chain, even taking on her muse as a lover. But one day, a discovery: The Other is alive! She is baffled, but she finds that this is a new form of immortality, an evolution from the previous one. And so, with her dying, she pursues it through this game. She hatches a plan with The Other to have herself burned and have us witness.

Now, I think the popular interpretation of this game will be that The One used this game to possess us. But I think there’s more to this.

In one scene, The Other explains his own rebirth. The One observes that he isn’t here, that he isn’t directly influencing the world through their previous means. She further observes that Amy Archer, the woman The Other is speaking through, is still “here”. While on one level, this explains the uniqueness of The Other’s rebirth, I think this also puts forth the possibility that this kind of immortality does not have to harm anyone now.

Amy Archer is still here. Amy is still alive.

And when The One seeks immortality through our witnessing of her death, I choose to believe that she does not possess us. I think what they’ve discovered is indeed a way to continue where no one has to die. No more exploitation. No more suffering.

She breaks the chain.

Immortality discusses many points about art, but I think chief among these points is the cost of making art. But why do we have to pay these costs? Why do we choose to pay and demand these costs in the name of art? We should strive for a way to make art that eliminates harm and suffering, and I think this is the point that Immortality is trying to make. We do not have to participate in the chain if it causes us suffering.

In The One’s death, she elevates herself to a new kind of existence, a reversal of The Great Story. Where once she died for our sins, here she dies for hers. She rises again and ascends, becoming more. She breaks the chain, paving the way for new possibilities.

Vous vivrez en moi, she says to a dying Marissa as she takes her form. You will live in me. And now, she will live in us.

ENDING THOUGHTS

My interpretation of the game is just that, an interpretation. You could read the game as The One continuing the chain in service of her own continuation. You could read it as her being a sinister entity. But I choose to interpret this game as The One choosing kindness. She could have continued her existence by feeding on others, but she chose not to. Only when this form of immortality presented itself that she rolled the dice.

There is one last scene I want to discuss. in one rewound scene, we see The One lipsyncing to Candy Says. This is the best distillation of her character. She hates herself and how her immortality works. She wants to understand humanity and its joys. She wants to see what life holds if only she can step outside herself and her own realities. She experiences the emotive power of art as she sings along to a song that completely resonates with her own life.

For all her menace, she is just someone who wants to understand and be understood. And to this end she made this game, presenting herself, her life, for others to watch and experience. In this act of nakedness and vulnerability, she is reborn and made immortal once more.

I very much enjoyed this game. It is definitely more of an art house, avant-garde kind of thing, but I’m hoping that more people would try it out!

#door reviews #immortality #immortality game #immortality spoilers #half mermaid productions #sam barlow #spoiler review

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