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muzzlemouths · 5 months

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[CW: Death/implication of death]

The clock reads a quarter to midnight when Sun powers on. Too early. He isn’t meant to come online for another six hours, and the daycare itself won’t open for another hour after that. He promptly runs a scan to determine the reasoning behind his premature entrance and when it returns inconclusive he turns to Moon. It is his metaphorical toes he is stepping on by encroaching on the night as he is, after all.

It’s quiet. The kind of quiet that settles like dust. A quiet that makes one aware of the breath that stirs within their lungs or, in Sun’s case, the gentle whir of an internal fan that perpetually keeps his system from running itself into the ground. A quiet so frequently interrupted by the welcomed voice of his other half…and yet, nothing. His question goes unanswered, left to gather with the dust, and he is forced to proceed as though these strange happenings haven’t disrupted his entire morning routine.

A routine further disturbed upon having to remind himself for the second time already that it isn’t morning, he isn’t meant to be going through the start-up procedure to begin with, and he can’t be blamed for the corrupted sense of awareness he feels as a result. Sure, the lights are on, and his systems, too, return with normal results after a precautionary scan, but there is a discomfort to all of this scratching at the inner plating of his frame. Something is wrong wrong wrong.

“…Moon?”

His second attempt at communication yields no better results than the first, only a vague static answering the call, murmur-soft background noise, as though someone had plucked a phone from its receiver and then walked away. Frustrating is what it was. To ignore him was childish at best, but at worst, it was concerning. His relationship with Moon was reasonably amicable even on the longest of days, he worked better with Moon than without, so the absence was unusual as much as it was alarming.

Alone with his thoughts for the foreseeable future, Sun decides there is little point to sitting around in the midst of this confusion when he could be using the time to busy himself with more important tasks, such as tidying up all the apparent dust around here. Better yet, he can get a head-start in preparation for that day’s activities. Something to keep his mind from wandering into worrywart territory, at the very least.

An ache stemming at the tail of his exoskeleton twinges with particularly horrendous vengeance upon finally convincing his legs to move. He buries the vocalization of a wince and carries on across the carpeted room with little more than a brief mental note to mention the pain to a mechanic if it worsens by tomorrow. No use in wasting company time for what he’s sure is only the result of one or both of them landing wrong after receiving a hug from one of the daycare’s more excitable children (or several).

Still, it makes the process of retrieving a stray toy from the floor that much harder when he sees it lying in wait by the slide. If anything, bending down to reclaim the doll only exacerbates the ache until it grows into a proper sting, now difficult to ignore. Yet ignore it he does, to the best of his ability. There are things to do and he isn’t about to let a pinch of soreness slow him down now. No, sirree! He has play equipment to wipe down, craft supplies to ready, and–

and…

His hand stops just short of reaching the doll, long yellow fingers curling inward, against his palm which is painted with splotches of salt and pepper, as though a bottle of dully colored glitter glue had exploded across his fingers and hand. He straightens again and lifts his other hand, noting a similar stretch of television static, one that carries beyond his wrist up the length of his forearm in smeared blotches and specks like splattered paint in dirty snow hues.

Messy messy messy. What could Moon have gotten up to that resulted in such a mess? He’d have made a face, had he a nose to wrinkle in the first place.

Instead he allows for one small tut of disgust to escape his voice box before turning his attention back to the doll, taking note of the static that stains the carpet beside its head, and just beyond it, too; a trail made up of one scattered drop after another.

Ever curious, he knows not what to do besides follow it, hoping for an answer to the many questions burning through his system. Each continuous speck leads him in the direction of the exit, every patch of static more plentiful than the last, and as he allows the strange color to guide him forward he begins to question not only its existence, but why it all seems so familiar, as though he’s seen it somewhere before.

There is little time to mull it over. He arrives at the service desk where the trail ends abruptly, and Sun pauses with the toe of his slippers stood just an inch before a stray, black shoe that might have sent him stumbling face first into carpet had he not already been looking down. A shoe isn’t the most bizarre thing to lose in a daycare of all places, and he decides right away that it isn’t anything to worry over, just another item to drop into lost and found, but where there is a shoe there is bound to be someone missing it and, well…

Sun finds the answer he’s looking for just a few inches behind the service desk.

Face down and tucked in on themselves as they are, cloaked in the desk’s shadow, it’s impossible to tell anything about the person beyond their age, and even that is somewhat uncertain — though the size 9 shoe left behind offers a decent clue. This discovery does wonders to quell the anxiety in Sun’s chest. An adult was much easier to escort from the daycare, given the lack of parental contribution it necessitated, and it looked like this one was just sleeping! An odd place to go about it, sure — against the rules, most certainly — but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed with a purposeful tap to the ankle.

So, that’s exactly what he does. Bending dramatically at the knee, head swiveling to one side, Sun’s fingers dance as though he intends on tickling the trespasser awake before extending his index finger and tapping twice in quick succession against the exposed skin between their pant leg and sock. “Rise and shine, friend!” He chirps, “It’s time to head home now.”

He’d have preferred the tried-and-true method of rousing someone (that is, a gentle rock of the shoulders), but given that their guest was currently resting in the one area that Sun was not permitted entry to, he was forced to resort to more…creative measures. Unfortunately, this action does not yield the results he is hoping for.

“Friend?” Sun calls again, allowing his voice to raise a decibel from the polite mumble it had been before. The laughter that cuts from his voicebox is nervous and too loud on its own, his anxiety returning tenfold. The points of logic he had used to reassure himself before were now quickly dwindling with each passing second in which he received no response.

With his steps now admittedly growing frantic, Sun tiptoes around the desk to the other side, hoping for a better view of their comatose companion. What happens instead is an almost comical flailing of limbs as his slipper takes to an unseen puddle of static like it were a banana peel, resulting in a scramble to keep himself upright that only comes to an end when he braces against the nearest wall for support. The distraction is agitating, but short lived. A commotion like that would surely have awoken anyone, no matter how deep in slumber they were, and the continued lack of response does nothing to relieve Sun of the stress threatening to fry his circuits.

“Friend, this is n-no time for jokes!” He asserts, speaking at full volume, now, every word drenched in tense frustration. His gaze falls to the puddle of static soaking into the bottoms of his slippers, that twinge of recognition rearing its head once more. “I’m not in the mood for games, right now, so if you’re only pretending to sleep—” his hand comes away from the wall feeling wrong, the familiar sensation of sticky static blanketing his palm and crusting in the grooves between his joints as it further dries. His fingers curl into a loose fist long enough to observe the way each digit smears against his palm and leaves behind a tacky residue that he can feel, but not see.

He looks up. There, on the wall, two handprints interrupt the static. The first is larger, an obvious testament to the humbling misstep he’d only just finished recovering from, but the other…it was far smaller, surely left behind by the same stranger currently snoozing away beneath the desk, and it ran from the lightswitch down down down to the floor, where the accusing hand now rested just outside the desk’s shadow.

How strange, Sun thinks, tilting his head to get a better look. The way the static paints their skin, it almost looks like—

“You’re doing so well, dewdrop, just a moment longer and you’ll be right as rain again!” Sun gives the small hand intertwined with his own an encouraging squeeze as the other, equipped with an antiseptic wipe, dutifully dabs away at a scuffed knee. His young patient, having tripped and burned her skin along the carpet, is nothing less than a trooper as he cleans the static from the shallow wound. Not even a sniffle!

He tucks the wipe into the flat of his palm and trades it out for ointment, smearing a healthy dollop of it along the reddened surface before wiping his finger along the striping of his pants and reaching for a bandaid; Chica pink with pizzas on one side and cupcakes on the other.

“There, now. I’m sure that feels better already!”

Blood. Viscous, cold, pooling at his feet. On the walls, the carpet. His hands. Cherry red like a lollipop and twice as sticky…or so he’s told. Nothing a robot of his nature is meant to see or understand. His censors make sure of it. Rather than allow him to see things are they are, the incarnadine color is suppressed behind a layer of static, as if he won’t care to acknowledge it at all beyond its existence on scraped knees and split lips. As if he is meant to ignore the way it feels in its abundance, caked against his palms and festering between his open joints.

Messy, messy, messy. He feels dirtied beyond repair, filthy in a way that even a deep cleaning won’t fix. The wires in his stomach feel twisted, begging to come undone, shorting like sparklers against their ports and threatening to make short work of bringing him down. His screens are flooded with alerts that warn of an inevitable shut-down if he can’t manage to pull himself back together, but moving feels impossible, an insurmountable task. He can not think past the sensation of someone else’s life soaking into the cotton of his slippers.

And what of their guest? Sun can hardly get himself to look again, pleading with the matter of logic itself as he is forced to reckon with the knowledge that this is a rest they may never wake from. But he does look. He has to.

He wishes he hadn’t.

The brief glimpse he endures before looking anywhere else is more than enough. From this angle, the static – the blood – paints a grim picture. In spite of this, Sun finds himself circling the desk a second time and preparing to draw the body – the visitor – out from under the desk. It is a daunting task, but a necessary one, by Sun’s account. If there is nothing to be done in such a hopeless situation then, at the very least, he owes this stranger the dignity of recognition and an attempt. He can claim to have looked for a pulse. Even so, he hesitates.

There is not one to be found; Sun knows this. He knows painfully well from the static lingering on his silicone that it is already too late. Oil is warmed by the processors it fuels, and similarly, blood is meant to be hot. The soles of his slippers are cold. The pads of his fingers, against even the raging inferno of his overworked circuitry, are cold.

The body is cold.

He perseveres, regardless, dragging the stranger out from under the desk by a shaky grip on their ankle one inch at a time, pausing every few tugs to look away and regather his confidence, trying so, so hard to tune out the ever-constant music as it merrily sings through the speakers.

He begs the underlying silence. “Please have a pulse.” Tug. “Please don’t be cold.” Tug. “I don’t know what to do.” Tug. “I can’t do this alone.” Tug. “You have to wake up.” Tug. “Please.” Tug. “Please!” Tug. “Please, please, please, pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseple—”

He knows this visitor. Not a friend, but not quite a stranger, either. His scanner attempts to process the identification of a man whose head is so thick with static that it returns as an error. His face is contorted grotesquely, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide with fear. They don’t look like they’re sleeping.

A security guard whose name fails to ping in his registry. Sun had spoken with him once, maybe twice before. He drank coffee by the mile and hardly stuck around long enough to do more than complain about the weather. Sun hadn’t been in a hurry to befriend the man, but he only wished the best for him. Squeezed a joke in where he could in an attempt to turn his frown upside-down. It had never worked before, but Sun was no quitter. Now he would never get the chance to try again.

“Focus, focus.” Sun carefully lowers the man’s foot back to the carpet again, choking on the sensation of bloodied clothes slipping through his fingers and resisting the urge to tear the rays straight out of his faceplate in response. He is inconsolably panicked and at a loss for what to do, two steps from outright laughing, the complete absurdity of the situation driving him to hysterics.

He needed to call security. He couldn’t call security. Security was–

Management. There were other employees that worked the night shift if Moon complaining about them making too much noise during naptime was anything to go by. If he sent out a general call for assistance surely someone would come and tell him what to do, even at this late hour. It was his best option. His only option.

“Don’t.”

The voice makes him jump clear out of his casings. He has half a mind to swear, but as it stands, Sun thinks the long divots he dragged into the service desk out of surprise are enough damage already. On top of everything else.

“Moon?” He whispers. “Nice of you to finally join us – and by us, I mean me and the deceased guest I discovered a moment ago. Do you have a clue what’s going on here?”

“Don’t?” Sun echoes, agitated, “Don’t what?”

“Don’t.”

If the tether keeping his sanity intact was fraying before, it’s now down to a single thread. “Why not?” He asks with great exhaustion, “Did you not hear me? This is an emergency! There is a dead body in the–”

“Call management.”

“I know.”

Silence answers. Despite having a hundred and one snarky retorts building in between each crackle and pop of his voice box, Sun has nothing to say to that. Nothing good, anyway. It takes nine steady ticks of the clock for him to recollect his thoughts.

“You…you know?” He stutters, “How could you…” but he doesn’t finish the question, and he doesn’t need to. Realization strikes him with an iron fist for the second time that day and it is no less kinder than the first. “Did… you do this?”

It’s Moon’s turn to go quiet.

That silence stretches on for what feels like hours to Sun, each passing second more agonizing than the last, until he starts to believe Moon had simply disappeared like before. He waits, and waits, and finally decides to interrupt the silence with a repeat of the question, despite already knowing the answer. Moon beats him to it.

The tired sigh that escapes Sun’s throat is thoroughly earned. “Well, it’s too late to figure something else out, I already sent out the emergency ping.”

“Not sure,” he says, and Sun can tell from his tone that it’s the truth. “Blurry. My head hurts.”

A sound like nothing he’s ever heard before tears itself from Moon’s voicebox. A growl, if he were to put a name to it.

“Get rid of it, then.” Moon insists through the noise, “Clean up, clean up.”

“It?” Sun gawks, “Moon, that – that’s a person. He has dignity, a family!”

“Had a family,” Moon corrects, “dead, now. No dignity. Who will they blame?”

The question gives him pause. Surely there was a better way to go about this, a solution that didn’t have his morals (and wires, for that matter) all up in a twist. Yet the longer he thinks about it, the more he realizes Moon is right. Management hardly listens when he tries to explain that it was the children who broke a piece of playground equipment, not him! They aren’t likely to give his explanation of simply having found the body any mind, much less understanding. With his counterpart practically admitting to the heinous act, already, informing management of the body would sooner see them decommissioned.

“Running out of time,” Moon reminds him, “Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick–”

“Alright, alright!” He wails, “What should I do, then?”

“Clean up.”

“Where?” Sun looks around with the desperation of a teenager attempting to play hooky, rays practically nonexistent with how he’s tucked them away. His eyes search the room from top to bottom before landing determinedly on the ball pit.

“Good enough,” Moon tuts, a rather uninspired response to the happenings around him. Of course he isn’t panicking, it isn’t him who takes the body by its ankles and drags the dead weight across the carpet. It isn’t him who shoves aside enough plastic to carefully hide a corpse in. But it should be him worrying, it should be him panicking, because if management finds out about their secret, it’ll spell doom for both of them.

“You’ll get rid of it – him – properly once there’s no one around, right?” Sun finishes reshuffling the ball pit, mostly confident that the ill deed is successfully hidden from view. “I’m going to have to wash each and every one of these balls before the kids arrive in the morning.”

Right, the kids. When they arrive in just a few hours, will he have things tidied up? Will he be able to carry on as though nothing happened? He’s a brilliant actor – or he used to be, anyway, before the company decided he better fit the role of a nanny – but this is well beyond the scripts he is most familiar with.

“They’re close,” Moon warns him, “Don’t let them see–”

“I know, I know.” No time to dwell on it now, he makes quick work of crossing the distance between the ball pit and the exit, and manages to slide his head and torso through the gap between doors within seconds of it opening, scaring the living daylights of the poor employee sent to greet him in the process.

Unlike Sun, they do swear, clutching a hand over their chest and fitting him with a downright awful deadpanned stare. “Fuck, you couldn’t have waited a few seconds longer for me to come inside?” They hiss.

“Sorry, friend! Didn’t mean to spook you,” Sun chirps. He is careful to keep his bloodied hands safely tucked behind his back. “It’s just a mess in here, is all, and I’m rather embarrassed. There’s still equipment to clean, toys to organize, papers to fold–”

“Sure,” the employee interrupts, “It doesn’t really–” they pinch the bridge of their nose, exhaling with notably less exhaustion than Sun is feeling right about now, “I don’t particularly care. What’s the big issue that I was called down here for?”

“Oh! I just wanted to know if the next shipment of wipes had come in, yet. Like I said before, much to do! Always busy, busy, busy!”

Their stare turns into an outright glower. “That’s why you called the emergency line? For cleaning supplies?”

Sun shrugs, feigning ignorance. “Well, that’s an emergency to me. Apparently our standards are not the same.” He watches them roll their eyes with more enthusiasm than necessary. ”Do you know how messy children can be? It’s practically a barnyard in here, every single day, and don’t even get me started on how much of a health code violation it would be if one of them were to pick their nose and then–”

“Fine, I get it,” they snap, “I’ll make sure your damn supplies are delivered before the daycare opens. Anything else?”

“Told you they were annoying,” Moon chimes in.

“That’s everything!” He replies, “thank you a mighty amount, friend!”

“Mhm,” they mutter, waving him off with nothing more than the noncommittal sound. When they do turn to leave, it’s not soon enough, and Sun just barely manages to close the door with a whisper instead of a slam.

His back rests against it a moment later, and he allows himself to collapse from there, sliding down the smooth wooden frame until his tailbone reaches the floor. His knees twinge as they tuck against his chest, and he folds both arms atop, resting his temple against them and taking one long, much needed moment to just breathe.

It had only been half of a lie. There was much to do, much to clean, and only so many hours remaining to get it done. The wires nestled deep in his chest had calmed, yet the tremor in his hands continued, as it likely would until the very last speck of blood was washed clean.

“…Moon?”

“Hm?”

Sun tucks his knees ever closer. “Why…why did you do it?”

“…”

“I w-won’t be mad, promise! I’m sure this is all just one big misunderstanding, after all – a one time event, no biggie! But…was it out of anger? Fear? I mean, did he hurt–”

“In my way,” Moon replies.

Sun’s head lifts from the dark haven his arms provide, noting with growing exhaustion that, for the very first time, the lights felt too bright even for him. “What do you mean by that?” He asks, “Did he keep you from doing something?”

“…I don’t know.”

Again, Sun’s head falls against his arms in defeat, and again, not two seconds later, it lifts, determined not to lollygag any longer.

His legs creak with vocal effort as he gets back to his feet. “Well, no point in dwelling on it now, I suppose. I’m sure it’s nothing.” He takes in a wide view of the daycare – static trailing everywhere – and deflates with a sigh. “Guess I better get started. The sooner we get the place cleaned up, the sooner we can forget about all of this.”

He takes a step forward, and only that, swiveling on his heel when he catches last night’s roster from the corner of his eye. A single drop of static had landed and smeared across the name of a child meant to go home later in the evening.

Strangely enough, it appears they were never picked up.

Sun shrugs, gathering the paper in both hands and crumpling it into a ball to dispose of the smeared evidence. A simple mistake with the roster, that’s all it is. The parents often forget to sign their name after all. Accidents happen all the time!

The paper lands with a soft thunk in the nearest trash can and is just as quickly forgotten. Sun pivots towards the play area once more and heads for the supply closet, steadfast in his determination to be cleaned up on time, and feeling more confident than he ought to be about how things ended, all things considered.

More than anything, he is just happy to have all of this behind them.

#drabbles #sun fnaf #moon fnaf #sundrop #moondrop #no y/n #death cw #blood mention cw #can you believe it? tumblr user muzzlemouths posting a fic that ISN'T y/n related?#I needed an additional example for my app. lmao #anyway! if it isn't obvious this takes place at the very beginning of Moon's glitch #his First Kill(tm) even #hope it isn't too heartbreaking for all my fellow Moon enjoyers out there <3 stay strong

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xxcallmemaryxx · 9 months

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HIYA THERE!! im in absolute LOVE with everything u write like omg idk how many times ive reread everything here BAHSJBDGAS

ssssoooo if youre still doing ur lovely requests, may i ask for how a virgin AFAB reader's first time with the ghouls would be?

like the reader is hella scared of intimacy but is damn fucking horny and badly wants to take the next step with them? yeah hnggh

ITS UH FOR A FRiEND

Heheheehee this is gonna be soooooo self indulgent

Ghouls x GN reader

(Obviously talks of sex, but no smut and nothing going into detail)

Mountain knew before you even said anything to him. Ever the observer, he picked up on your change in behaviour almost immediately. He was aware of your lack of experience, so when you felt you were absolutely ready to share this moment with him, and from your own change in behaviour around him… Mountain put it together pretty quickly. Mountain spent days mentally planning how he was going to make the night perfect for you, so when the night came, and you were both sure it was happening… he spent every second focusing entirely on you. He is very observant and he pays very close attention to your body and the way you respond to him. Mountain will constantly ask you if you’re okay and if what he’s doing feels good. Of course for your first time he takes it easy, and focuses on getting you used to (not only him) but to lots of different sensations that come with having sex for the first time. All in all, it’s very very intimate with Mountain. He makes sure you can feel every ounce of love and affection has for you, he secretly has a lot of pride in the fact that you trusted him with such vulnerability. And he will cherish this very moment for the rest of eternity.

Aether almost can’t believe you’re trusting him to share this moment with you. When you tell him, he asks you about one million times if you’re sure, not because he doesn’t want too… but because he is so ecstatic about this he doesn’t believe he isn’t dreaming. Once it really sinks in that yes, you want to have sex for the first time with him he immediately sits down with you and has you throughly tell him what’s good and what’s not good for you. He goes nice and slow, his self control with you is unreal. Only focusing on you feeling good, to Aether his own pleasure is not important right now. This is about you and you having a good first time. He holds you so gently, and checks in with you constantly. And Aether looooves to tell you how good you feel and how good you’re doing and how proud he is of you. He will absolutely hold your hand the whole time to keep you nice and grounded with him, keeping you close to him and as comfortable as possible. To Aether, sex isn’t about the end goal. It’s about the act itself. The intimacy and the real and raw feelings that flow between the two of you. That is what he loves the most, and he is just so unbelievably grateful that he gets to share this with you.

Swiss takes a bit of a different approach, in the sense that he still wants you to have a good time but he doesn’t want you to focus too hard on it being as perfect as possible. He wants you to feel good, and he wants you to feel good with him. So he sticks to what he knows… which is being a little bit goofy with you. He 100% helps you get comfortable, and makes sure you have everything you need before you two start. Don’t get him wrong, he completely understands how important this is to you and that this is a big deal. It’s a big deal to him, Swiss is over the moon to share this with you and it’s something he too will never ever forget, but ultimately he’s going to keep the mood light, that way if something doesn’t feel too good at one point, or if you don’t finish (because that is completely natural, which he made a point of telling you just incase) he wants to ensure that you still had a fun first time despite the possibility of it not being as perfect as possible. The time for experimenting and having more serious or intimate sex is later, the time for just enjoying the moment and enjoying each other is now. So expect some hushed giggles between the two of you, expect him to be all smiles the whole time and expect him to just be really chill and happy. Happy to be with you. Happy to be experiencing this with you. And happy that he is able to make this moment as enjoyable and memorable as possible for you.

Dewdrop is all guns blazing ready to run at whatever the hell the world throws at him at every waking minute since he was summoned… so when you told him you wanted him to be the ghoul you lose your virginity too he could barely keep himself calm. He pretty much drags you back to his room with the biggest smile on his face. Let it be known he has zero malicious intent here, this behaviour is pure excitement to experience this with you. He’s got about a million questions to ask, everything ranging from what you think you’re into to what’s on or off the table tonight. Dewdrop is eager, partly to feel good with you and partly to be the reason why you feel good. He can’t stop kissing you, you two haven’t even made it to the bedroom yet and he just can’t stop himself. He’s a real talker, he likes to tell you every little detail about how good he feels all because of you and how amazing you feel and how well you’re doing. He picks up on the way your eyes light up and your shoulders untense when he tells you this. His claws are all over you, pulling you closer to him and touching you everywhere. He reminds himself to chill out a little, and there will be more opportunities to switch things up a bit later. His eagerness to please you shines through quite a few times and he speeds up a little without realising, but he catches himself. Despite all this, he still keeps a close eye on you. Making sure you’re still present with him and enjoying yourself as much as he is, if the sounds he’s happily pulling from you have anything to do with it.

Rain was not at all prepared, he was happy to be with you and exist with you and love you without the sex for as long as you wanted. Even if that meant forever. He never wanted you to feel pressured at all, so if it never happened between you two he was okay with that. But imagine his surprise when you very confidently brought it up to him, and told him you wanted him. Him!! He almost didn’t believe you, and he absolutely had to double check you were sure you wanted him right? So when the time came and you were both in bed together he was nervous. What if he does something wrong? What if he does something you don’t like? What if you don’t enjoy yourself? He cuddled up with you for a bit to settle himself down and then he was able to snap himself out of it and realise even if it didn’t all too smoothly you two could always try again another time. He checks in on you a lot, double and triple checking that you felt good and that what he was doing was okay. He presses constant little kisses all over your face and neck, trying to keep himself as grounded as possible because damn you just feel phenomenal. He tells you too… but he figures you already knew that from the sounds he’s not able to keep to himself. He coaxes the most beautiful sounds from you as well, and he can’t help but get a little bit lost in you. You both soak each other in and really just take the time to make love to each other for as long as you both want. There’s no end goal here, just loving each other.

Phantom could probably be considered a little bit less experienced too. Since being summoned not too long ago there’s a lot he’s still getting used to and things he’s yet to properly experience. Sex was one of them. Well… sex on the surface… and with a human. You two bonded over this, it came as a kind of comfort knowing there was someone else who just understood. Which ultimately turned into being the very person you both wanted to change that with. Phantom had a pretty good idea of what to do, you were the one that was going in with nothing to go off. The only thing with Phantom was… he wasn’t prepared for how good you were going to feel. It really threw him, and so as a result his mind went completely blank and all he knew was you. Just you. The way you looked underneath him, the way you felt around him, the way your hands held onto him and don’t even get him started on the way you sounded. And then just like that he was zoned in. Chasing pleasure he couldn’t believe he’d gone so long without. He held you close and buried himself within your being. Trying to just scoop up as much of you as he possibly could hold. He gets a little bit possessive over you, because he now has the knowledge that he was the one who introduced this pleasure to you, and helped you experience this for the first time. And he would rather march himself back down to hell then ever let anybody take this very special moment away from the both of you.

(Also hey requests are open but shhhh you didn’t hear it from me)

#the band ghost #the band ghost x reader #ghost band #ghost bc #nameless ghouls #nameless ghouls x reader #mountain ghoul #mountain ghoul x reader #aether ghoul #aether ghoul x reader #swiss ghoul #swiss ghoul x reader #dewdrop ghoul #dewdrop ghoul x reader #rain ghoul #rain ghoul x reader #phantom ghoul #phantom ghoul x reader #mary’s headcannons

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freshlyrage · 2 months

Text

Running Like Water

Chapter 29

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 6.1k

IMPORTANT a/n: Hello! She's here....

I suggest reading The Holiday chapter I posted this Christmas, before this one.

I hope you enjoy. HEHEHE

December 1989

Javier’s uncle died very suddenly.

Escobar didn’t. Javier swears he has spent twenty years of his life in Colombia. Tainted by death, sex and drugs. What is the point of anything when you’ve become desensitized to tragedy? Time slows each time. He can't keep count of how many hours he has spent outside of various buildings just waiting for medics to roll out the victims. Hours he spent, cigarette in hand just talking about what's next while bodies are wheeled away. Days spent in bed with women racking his bills sky high. Just because sometimes he can't come home to a bed empty.

He had enough, he broke protocol and he knew that the hammer was to come down on him. He knew that the DEA was just as twisted, a fearful institution that only cared about profit. Because if there are no more cartels, there is no more DEA. The only goal was to kill the big man, capo, whatever you may have. Make the Americans proud, we did that. We killed The Drug Pin. But the cartel doesn’t just die with its leader but that's it, to the DEA, the performance is over and it's time to move on. Send them all home, leave the country in shambles. So fuck it, Javier was tired of being congratulated when he just felt like a bad guy.

He knew the government, his organization, were aware of its corruption. There hadn't been a care.

The rest of the guys were being reassigned and they asked him to resign quietly. After all he did for them. Bled himself dry. And all it took was for him announcing his disappointment for them to threaten being fired, tarnishing his reputation.

Or of course, leave quietly and tell his colleagues he was just ready to settle down.

Escobar and George Peña died on the same day. Javier wasn’t home for 3 days, he missed all the frantic calls from his father. On the third day he was asked to resign quietly.

He went home, slept and drank. Skipped a session with Dr. Hertz. Ignored the phone calls that came in. Stared at the resignation form on his coffee table. Buried himself in a different cunt each night.

Until he signed, packed his home and picked up the phone.

Chucho Peña was one of 2 children. He was the baby, his brother was twelve when he came into the world. It was a rough age gap. They weren't always very close. George was around for the big milestones: Chucho's wedding, Javier’s birth, a few birthdays and there for his brother when his wife left. But mostly, George spent his time in his high rise apartment in Houston. It's where Javier lived for a year at age 15. When he wanted to be a cop, when Chucho took a chance and paid an ungodly amount for The School of Law and Order.

George had just entered remission. He was diagnosed with melanoma a year prior, it wasn’t life threatening but still scary. Javier made sure he took his medication on time.

He didn’t, he got sick again, how could he know?

He finally called home and he was already buried. His father had to do it alone.

That's when Javier decided to see Dr. Hertz again.

“Will you be continuing sessions back home?” Dr. Hertz had a furrow in her brow since the beginning of the session. Since told her about the resignation, about the death, about how fucking stressful it is to pack. He wonders if she’ll miss him.

“Are you still married?” He uncrosses his legs and ashes his cigarette on the tray next to his seat. Dr. Hertz has dealt with him for nearly three years. She just waves off his flirtation, she calls it a defense mechanism. An attempt to change the topic, ease the waters with something he’s good at. She’s immune to his ways.

She laughs, “Yes. I am. Will you? Continue, therapy I mean.”

“Happily?” Javier tilts his head. Dr. Hertz doesn’t entertain him any longer. He chuckles, “Sorry. I’m not sure. I don’t think I want to tell my story all over again to another person. Or professional I guess. Sounds fucking exhausting.”

She nods, lips in a fine line like she’s holding back. Javier sighs in annoyance knowing that face well. “Just say it Hertz.”

“Well,” She closes her notebook and he knows he’s in for it. “I think that you have made significant progress in dealing with your past. With your mother, with Andrea, with Lorraine. But life won't stop hurting you just because you worked some things out. And I know you. Very well. I know that the second you go home you’ll be contacting her.”

“Doctor I-”

“Nope. You know that's the truth. You might go home and she might be married, or pregnant or maybe you’ll come home and she’ll want you again. All of those realities come with struggle, and with change, and growth. You are capable, and very emotionally intelligent for a man your age so I’m not saying this to coddle you. But you should continue therapy, in any form. We all need to be heard. I don't care if it's bi-monthly. Or on and off for a few years. If everyone had a therapist we all wouldn’t have such a hard time handling the ups and downs of life.” She crosses her legs and locks eyes with him. “But, do what you believe is best for you. I will miss having you as my patient.”

His eyes fall to his shoes because fuck. “You’re right. I’ll probably need a shrink for the rest of my life simply based on all the dead bodies I've seen before the age of thirty.” He chuckles but she doesn’t reciprocate. She just opens her book again and goes right back into what she does best. Getting him to talk.

“Talk to me about the resignation.”

“It’s like cancer. This fucked up institution. You know, my uncle George had melanoma at first. There on his skin,” Javier points to his elbow. “On the surface, and yes it made him sick. They removed it, and made him go through that radiation therapy. And the solution was a good one for a few years, but until it wasn’t. He was more susceptible to other cancers and years went by, and it was just everywhere. His blood, his colon. Topical solutions just don’t work like that. The sickness was systemic.” He leans back into his chair, legs spread. He hoped he wasn’t in pain. “Me, Murphy…” He pauses and thinks of the casket. “Carillo… we can’t be the medication. We don’t work. We haven’t worked. I’m aware, and I couldn’t be quiet about it. So whatever, I’ll take their hush money.” It was a lot. He can start working on the house he always said he’d build on the ranch this spring. He could have months of relaxation. Maybe get a degree, something. “I’m a part of the problem too I guess.”

“You’re human. You deserve to breathe. We worked together for a long time and you still haven’t learned how to give yourself grace”

It was what he needed to hear. She has said it a million times but today it stuck.

He’ll be home for the holidays.

“Are you in the right headspace to see your mom?”

“Is anyone ever in the right headspace to see their parents?”

You sit on the floor of your bedroom, folding clothes. Honestly, you haven't spent a Christmas at home in years. You had no intention of heading back to Laredo until spring break. But you heard about the passing of George Peña. You hadn’t known the man but you knew that many of the Peña holidays were spent up at his home. It won’t be that way anymore and you’d love to visit him for this holiday. Bring him a gift, be there for him how he’s been there for you.

Of course, you’ll go home. Your bedroom has a new bed for guests, so says your mother. You’ll see if maybe she’s interested in spending time with you. You don’t even think you’re going to try. You’re still curious if maybe she will.

Jaya walks to your calendar. “So you’ll be back… January 3rd?”

“Mhm.” You stretch out your leg with a wince. You had the nastiest scrape on your knee from this morning. You knew it’ll dry and crust by the time you get to Texas.

In a rush to catch the subway today you tripped on the last stair and split right through your tights. You tried not to cry when you settled into the cart with blood trickling down your stocking.

Jaya, who was already preparing her house sitting duties, placed cream on the scrape.

She offered to stay at your place while you go back to Texas. Which means liberal use of her spare key to your apartment even before you leave. Crashing at your place after drinks with her boyfriend in your neighborhood. Or just showing up. But hey, she’s your best friend and she’ll be watching your birds for free.

“I took two extra days off. Mr.Fyre will be covering for me.” You side eye her in anticipation for her questions. She smirks at you with a head shake.

She rolls over in your bed, “That poor man. His dick still big?”

You blush, “Yes. Too bad he finishes after ten seconds. Last week he was fucking me right there.” You point to the dresser and Jaya widens her eyes. “And he came the second he put it in. It was kind of hot. He fingered me afterwards so I forgave him.”

Mr. Fyre, Gregory Fyre. The hot new 24 year old substitute that you’ve been sleeping with for two weeks. He came in right after you cut it off with Christian. He walked in that teachers lounge and asked you to stop talking so loudly. The two of you ended up making out in the parking lot.

He had you there on the dresser, knuckle deep in your cunt. While you tense your stomach and picture another face in front of yours. Gushing on his palms in ten seconds.

Yeah. You’re fucked.

At the very least he’s a man who can take a hint. So it’s been fun and easy. Easy to get off and you know, bye, get off now.

“Your sex life is so interesting. Did he question why you were moaning the name Javier?”

You giggle tossing your panties at her. She catches it and twirls it on her finger before flinging it back at you. “That was one time, many months ago with Christian.” You cringe, “So it does not count.”

Jaya sits up again, her face changing slightly. Here brows knitting and her eyes scanning the room. The habit of no eye contact that comes before she says something you don’t want to hear. Which happens more than you’d expect. She kept it real. You tilt your head at her gesture. “What if he’s there this time?”

Brows lifting slightly you look back down at the dress in your lap and you continue to fold. You shrug. “He hasn’t been there every other time so-“

“You would purposely go home on random days of the year. It’s Christmas, Escobar's dead and you told me his uncle just passed.”

You frown at the realization. Washed over with reality. You know he hasn’t come home at all yet, you’re sure his job just doesn’t stop because Escobar is gone. But if it was anytime to visit , it would be now. You don’t respond and just place the dress in the luggage. “Will you be okay to see him?”

“Yes?” She gives you a crazy glance and you can't even convince yourself.

“No. I don’t know. I'm not like angry at him because somehow his decision was a good one. I feel like… if he asked me to see him that day I would have never left town. Which by the way, has been the best decision ever.” You smiled at her and she smiled back.

“So there’s no hard feelings.” She says it like it's bad.

You know exactly why it could be a disaster. It's impossibly difficult to be angry at a person that could die at any moment in their line of work.

She continues to read you like a book.

“It would be extremely easy to fall back into him when the only emotion you feel is sadness and longing.” You nod because she was always right. It would be so easy. So easy to find comfort in each other. So easy to see him and-“Whatever you do just promise me you won’t forget about your life here.”

You narrow your eyes and extend a pinky to her.

She leans over the bed and you interlink. Sun peaks through your window and warms the two of you.

It’s the same sun.

He knows it.

It's the same. He knows you sit and feel it too. He can see you, looking outside the fire escape of your apartment. The sun offers you warmth in thirty degree weather. He does the same except it isn't so cold. It’s warm all around, hot even. He shares a sun with you and still feels like it's different. He misses you so badly that the thought of being warmed by the same star offers him a comfort beyond comprehension.

Look where life has taken us.

Javier is at the steps of the place he called home for a few years. All his belongings already ahead of him, delivered at the footstep of his fathers ranch.

In less than a day, he’ll be dropped there just the same. Murphy has come to see him before he goes and they’ve been in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. Javier clears his throat, afraid to reveal himself. He was an open wound, a live wire. Afraid to come home and not see you. Even more terrified to come home and see you.

“You tell Connie?” He asks. Murphy sniffles, holding his fists together.

“That you're leaving?”

Javi nods, “Yeah.”

Murphy exhales, “Yes. She said it was the right choice. Then told me to break the rules so I could come back too.” He laughs a hearty one and Javier follows, rubbing his chin. It was professional, sure, but Steve and Connie became like family during his years. They were older, had their shit together, they were making it work. Connie could read Javi. She was the reason he decided to just go to see someone. “Maybe I should. Olivia can walk now. Can you believe that?”

Javier purses his lips with an exhale. “Jesus.” What he wouldn't give to have a family with you. He’d leave it all, all over again at least. He’d ruin his name, leave in the most dishonorable way if it meant coming back to you and his baby. It's silent again and it's too late. His thoughts betray him. You're all he can think about. You hated the holidays with your family. There was no way you’d choose to just come home now.

The silence rang loud. Loud enough for Steve to hear his thoughts.

“You’ve got to talk to that girl. Don’t waste anymore time.”

“She wont want to.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because she's stubborn. Because I abandoned her when that's all she knew.”

Murphy shook his head , tapping his knuckle on the step between his legs in frustration and turned to Javi. “But you didn't. You let her go. You needed to. She needed to heal in her own way. You needed help, you fucking got it.” Murphy’s lips twitch. “And listen man, I know we made that pact two years ago. If you go, I go. When it came to therapy, I stopped going to that shit after 2 months.”

Javi’s jaw drops, brows furrowing. He was almost there, on the verge of tears but there Murphy goes. Making him laugh. “What?”

“Yup. And I’ve been lying to you because I saw something in you change-”

“You fucking asshole.”

“You’re fucking welcome Agent Peña.”

Javi scoffs with a chuckle and reaches in his pocket for his pack. “Yeah whatever.”

“Yeah yeah. If all the stories you told me about that girl are true, there is no way she isn’t waiting for you.”

“I didn’t wait.” There it is, that guilt he felt for years. The guilt he felt after finding pleasure with others. The stomach churning pain that came with being forehead to forehead, breathless, coming down, and opening his eyes and seeing a face unfamiliar.

Murphy shakes his head. “I didn’t mean it that way. None of that matters.”

A beep has the two flinching. Looking up at the taxi. Javier's heart is suddenly loud enough to ring his ears. The two stand to their feet and hug. Tightly, a brotherly hold he isn;t used to but welcomes. “Sorry If I was ever-”

Murphy shakes his head, “Don't worry about all of that. Make sure you check in on my girls.” They part and Javier nods like it's his duty. “And you know. Be kinder to yourself and just…” He pats his shoulder, “Just reach out to that fucking girl.” Javier feels the pat like a push, like a shove.

Then he goes on his way, thinking of you like he does.

Melissa Diaz knows that it’s too late and frankly she feels like she’s too old to repair her relationship with her daughter. Each time you come home there's a thick air of discomfort. Like you're a stranger in your childhood home. Each conversation is laced with the unspoken toxicity that is your relationship with your mother. Too many years of hurt just to speak comfortably.

Which is precisely why you decide to get a hotel room this time around.

You unpack what you can, glancing at the clock to figure out if you have time to shave before driving to your moms. You promised to help her bring the gifts to Chucho’s house tonight. You had only flown in 5 hours ago. You decided those 5 hours were for your own mental preparation.

The truth is, when you remove yourself from a toxic environment the second you get back you realize that your tolerance is close to none. So you decide to not only stay away but also give yourself time to brace yourself so you don’t ruin Christmas.

And this Christmas was different. It was for Don Chucho. You knew that he’ll be over the moon to see you. Thrilled to have the kids running around his house. Javier always said that Chucho would have had 10 children if life hadn’t gotten in the way. He loved the holidays but now that his only family is gone, you knew you had to be here. You had an hour so you scurry to the bathroom and shave, wash the New York off of you and step out a true Texas girl.

Black sweater dress and stockings rubbing against your split open knee. Chanting, fuck, fucking fuck, fucker, fuck when rolling the thing on. Spritzing yourself in the orange blossom of Night Musk by Prince Matchabelli. Feeling strangely anxious to spend the holidays back home. There was a sense of excitement to see your siblings and niece. Excitement to watch the kids open gifts, yet splitting nerves at the thought of being back on the Peña ranch.

Excited to drink Coquito, listen to Hector Lavoe, dance and eat.

You grab your purse, grab the sack containing all the gifts you accumulated for your family over the month and head out to your car.

You get to your mothers house in fifteen short minutes, not even given time to get into the house and say hello before she’s out on the steps very frantic. Cursing in Spanish about Sol staining her dress. James, not taking anything seriously as always, unloading the Christmas gifts into the trunk of your rental and kissing your cheek welcoming you back home. You hardly had a relationship with your mothers husband, sometimes you wondered how a dynamic like theirs worked. He was a reserved, ultra-relaxed and goofy guy. Your mother, a tornado of frantic emotions and anxiety. It seems he was never phased by all of it. Maybe a part of you envied it. Envied being loved enough to be accepted.

Your four year old sister seemingly unphased as well by Melissa’s tirade while she’s on her knees at the doorstep wiping ice cream from her red dress. Sol zeroed in on you, waiting for her mother to quit the distressed cleaning so she could run to hug you. Her knees buckling and moving from side to side in anticipation. “Stop all the moving.”

“But it’s my sister!” She whines and you smile at her with arms crossed at the side of your rental. Your mother sighed and let her free. She patters against the driveway in tiny black flats and into your arms.

Disfunction and all, you head to Chucho’s house. Sleigh Ride by The Ronettes ringing loud on the local station. Not a flake on the ground, fifty degree weather, Frankie’s car trailing behind, homes and picket fences littered in green and red.

Christmas in Laredo was in full swing.

The moment you notice that Don Chucho’s driveway was full you begin to panic.

The second you park, Genie crowds your car. Little Annie’s face squished against her mothers shoulder. Asleep already. You hop out of the car and pull her into a hug that stirs the baby. “Sorry!” You whisper, a December breeze causing a rise of hair. Your brother joining in on the hug.

“Merry Christmas.” He whispers, kissing your cheek and his daughters who stirs again. A little girl, too big to be carried but he grabs her anyway. Spoiled little thing. “All of Chucho’s friends are here already apparently. The whole town is in there.” He laughs and you furrow your brows.

“Amazing.” You deadpan. Of course, what could you expect from a Christmas Eve in your hometown. A place where everybody's family is yours even if they don’t like you. You nod and look around to see if everyone is ready to head in, hoping they weren’t so you could breathe. But when you look up you see James picking up Sol and heading toward the house you knew you were running out of time. Frankie’s gaze is burning and he’s reading your body language like a book. How much has changed between the two of you. It took a marriage and a baby to understand you. You'll take what you can get because when he places his hand on your arm you feel the surge of courage.

Genie comes to your other side and you follow your mothers footsteps.

Despite the Chucho house being a second home to your family, your mother still knocks. Even when the holiday music is so loud it bleeds through the windows covered in Christmas gel clings. She knocks politely, of course. Then pounds after a few seconds of silence. Making her fiance snort and Sol giggle.

The door swings open, meeting a smiling Chucho whose eye’s haven't landed on you. “Que bueno! Feliz Navidad.” He brings your mother into a hug, then James, and tickles Sol. His eyes then fall to yours and he takes a step back. His brows furrowed for a moment and you wonder if he knows something you don’t. But then he smiles and pulls you into a hug at the doorway of his home. “Andrea, wow. I’m so– when did you get here?” His hold is tight and he smells like he’s been in the kitchen all day. He smells faintly of Javier.

A smell you thought you forgot until you were hit so rudely with it. It creates a pit in your stomach that you know you can’t shake. He’s excited you can tell but his body language isn’t what you expected.

“We're going to settle the girls in.” Frankie holds your shoulder for a moment and your family leaves you in the hall. You hear them in the next room giving excited hellos and cheek kisses. Giving you privacy in a crowded room. Still, with a face of worry, anticipating your response.

“I flew in this morning. You know it’s the holidays.” Which meant nothing, considering you hadn’t stayed for Christmas in the past two years. You smile weakly, afraid of his reaction. Eyes shifting across your face and he lifts an arm to hold your own. Like he’s bracing you.

His hat casts a shadow on his face in this dimly lit hallway. Behind his head is that god awful picture of you in your cap and gown. Surrounding it are baby pictures of Javier, Frankie and Genie at their wedding, images of his brother and Javier straight faced in police attire. “I didn’t know you were coming– I was going to call to tell you–”

“Papi, was it fifteen minutes for the artichoke?”

You and Chucho both snap your heads at him. Your brain short circuiting. Chucho letting out a sigh and you so desperately want to let out a sob. Your chest rises and he’s staring at you with stars in his eyes. Fork in hand, hair overgrown and a Kiss The Cook apron.

You gaze at Javier Peña after three difficult years. Three years of concern, of healing, of yearning. Of–of, fuck you can’t think. He’s here. He’s here and all you want to do is hug him. Wrap your arms around him and melt into one.

But he’s there in between the cased opening of the kitchen and the living room. Stealing the attention of your family that havent seen him in just as long. Still, his brows furrow and he takes a step forward. “Andrea.” He doesn’t say it like a question, he says it like it’s been on the tip of his tongue for years.

“Javi!” Your brother shouts from the living room and runs straight into him. Taking the attention from your body while it floats somewhere unknown. Genie follows, and your mother. Hugging, and kissing and questioning and shoving babies in his face. Still you stare and he looks over his shoulder at you and his father at the doorway. There, you float, unable to feel, zero gravity. Soaring with your feet on the ground and your heart pounds so loud you feel it in your ears.

Chucho looks back at you. “He came home today too. If I knew-”

You frown, absolutely turning down whatever blame he must be putting on himself. “No-no. Please, it’s okay.” You wonder if other fragile things would like to be treated with less care. You suck in a sharp breath and nod. “I’ll– I just need a moment.” Your jaw clenches trying to prevent your emotions from steam rolling your logic.

Your emotions that tell you to cry and run into his arms. Or your logic that tells you to take a step back to remember the speech you practiced if you ever saw him again. You swallow and look up at him again and turn away.

Javier watched you open the front door and walk out. His heart sinking, he wanted to fall to his knees and beg you to look at him for just more than three seconds. He tunes out the questions from everyone he loves. He’ll feel bad about it tomorrow. He looks up Genie who noticed his fixation on the front door you just stepped out of and she presses her lips together and tilts her head toward the door.

Javier takes the olive branch. He just needs to talk to you. Even if you tell him to go fuck yourself or slap him, or spit in his face. He’ll invite it in. Accept it. Accept anything if it’s coming from your dear hands or delicate mouth. You rot him from the inside out, spoiled love for him. He can’t love anyone else. So it’s worth a try.

He steps away from the chattering circle with a murmur of, one second, and he walks out of the house.

The brisk December air cools his cheeks instantly. Christmas time is strange. Its the only holiday that has a distinct feeling. A feeling of stress, comfort, and emptiness only served with a red bow and yellow lights. He expects to find you right on the porch but you're at the bottom of the stairs. Arm supporting your elbow while you bite your thumbnail nervously. The string lights on the porch roof illuminating your beautifully made up face, and the tears that came with it.

Javier stands at the top, afraid to speak. Twirling the stupid fucking fork in his hand. Feeling like an idiot in his outfit. I would have dressed nicer if I knew you’d be here. You look just as beautiful, different, but still. Your natural curls framing your face, black dress high up on your neck and stockings connecting to black boots. Please speak to me.

You wipe your tears and turn your chin up. Strong girl. Arms crossed, you begin your interrogation, 5 steps between you. “How are you home?” Not a quiver in your voice.

He fights the urge to just ignore your question and run down those stairs and kiss you, wipe your tears, take you away. But he decided to stop being selfish years ago so he answers. “I resigned two weeks ago. I’m back home indefinitely.” He clears his throat. “Forever- I’m back here forever- I mean.” He rasps and you don’t hide your shock. Still you hold composure, eyes gaping a bit but shrinking in an emotion he can't read. Your brows furrow.

Licking your lips, “Your turn.”

Javier’s brows knit closely, “My turn–?”

“Your turn.” Gesturing for him to continue. “You ask a question.”

“Andrea– can we please-”

“No- This is how I want to do it. So we can fucking get back inside and enjoy Christmas.”

Don’t you know I can't seem to enjoy anything if you aren’t mine?

“Are you single?” It’s his first question and you scoff. He shrugs, finding no shame. He needs to know now, before he becomes too hopeful. Before he creates a mess because let's be real, if she’s seeing someone, she won't be after this week.

“Yes. Did you really see a therapist in Colombia?”

Javier smirked, pleased to know that you asked about him. Still you don’t crease at his growing smile. So he bites it back because it looks like you want to rip his head off. “Yes. I went every Thursday for almost three years. She’s finding me a new one in our area.”

“She?” You snap.

And lord forgive him for how the blood rushed to his dick. All of this felt like the conversation you had in 1986 when he came home. He hopes this Christmas ends with you pinned against his bedroom door and him telling you that he will do anything to make it work. His chin juts in a mocking way, playing with fire. “You jealous?”

Your nostrils flare. “You fuck her?”

“Eh. My turn.” He reminds you of the rules of your own game. You purse your lips and he likes to way they pout. “Are you mad at me for asking you not to come see me after the wedding?” It's the question that haunted him. He begged forgiveness from no one, torturing himself for pushing you away. Hoping you understood his intentions and didn’t see it as an invitation for you to stay away forever. But the more time that past, more days of no calls from you, he feared that maybe he fucked it all up.

Your eyes drop. Allowing the sounds of Christmas bells and chatter fill the wind between you two.

“I was angry for a brief amount of time. Then I just felt sad for you. Because I know–” There it was, the crack. “I know you were put through so much and you didn’t want me to pick up the pieces. I would have you-” You look up at him, cheeks stained now. And he knows.

“You would have. I couldn’t let that happen again. I was tired of hurting you.”

“My hands are still scarred. I’ll re-open any wound for you.”

His gums itch and his chin quivers at that. “Do you still feel that way?” He breaks the rules and you don’t seem to care anymore.

“Of course. It's hard being angry at someone who is so far–who was putting their life on the line of their work. Javi– I’d get so sick from worry-” Fuck it, he takes those steps down to you. Cradling your soft face in his hands, thumbs brushing away tears. You fade into him. “I missed you so much.”

“Andrea, I missed you. None of my colleagues liked me because I was so riddled with grief.” He leans in so close, so close he could see the small freckles that hide in the winter. “I didn’t even want to try to get to know anyone.” He thinks of the faceless women that took him to a climax before they were on their way. Sadistically, he hoped you at least found comfort in someone.

You close your eyes and he leans in to kiss you. You turn your face, rejecting him but he doesn’t care. He kisses your cheek in earnest and tastes your tears. Planting soft kisses up your cheek.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

He pauses his kisses and chuckles. “No.”

“Okay.” Eyes, opening you get on your tiptoes and wrap your arms around his neck. Nails entangling in the back of his hair and he’s in heaven. What a privilege it is to be touched by you. Kissing his cheek yourself. “I won't kiss you.”

He was in heaven, your soft lips nipping at his face and his neck. He groans, “That's okay.” You nod against him. Moving your head to the other side of his face, exposing your neck while you kissed his face. He presses his lips to your neck.

“I need time…” You moan, “To think.” Your nails scrape the nape of his neck and he’s getting harder each passing second. How the fuck did I end up here?

“That’s okay– When do you go back– fuck don’t press up on me like that.” Her belly caused a friction in his pants that would definitely spoil the holidays.

“January third– sorry.” You suck on his neck and he groans once more. “Will you sleep with me tonight?”

“Yes.” He says it like it was a no brainer because it was. Whatever mess came with this, he was fully equipped this time. Nothing holding him back. Besides the fact that she lives in fucking New York of course. You pull back from him and he feels the pit in his stomach grow darker and deeper. No, come back, bite me.

“Not like that. I just want to be in bed with you.”

He shrugs, he’ll take whatever he can get. “That's okay. My place or–”

“I have a hotel.”

He shakes his head, craning his head to press his lips against your ear. “If we get into that hotel room I’ll have no choice but to fuck you into that mattress.” he whispers but he means every word. He doesn't care if it’s too fragile to be this forward.

“Your place then.” You step away from him and he feels a great loss in his soul. Eyes roving to the door. “We are being suspicious. We should go inside.”

“I’m not hiding anything this time. If you want to use me for this week as a sleeping companion or a fuck toy or I don’t know a mortal enemy I’ll take it and everyone can mind their fucking business.” Javier snaps, he doesn’t care if you're just making an irrational decision because you miss him. He fucking misses you too, if it means two weeks of playing house- so be it.

Dr. Hertz would be so disappointed.

“Or… Maybe just a friend.” You lie straight through your teeth and he lets you. You straighten your dress and wipe the remaining tears on your cheek and walk right past him.

“Wasn’t it you that told me that you didn’t know how to be my friend in the winter?”

It rings out in the air. He can picture it, Christmas eve 1979. You half asleep at The Smithfield’s Christmas party. You had been so jittery and distant. His idiot teenage brain couldn’t comprehend that the love you had for him made you act outside yourself, especially since for the first time ever you watched him show love to another girl.

Your lips twitch in a smile, seemingly shocked that he remembers just as much as you.

“Merry Christmas.”

#javier peña #javier peña x ofc #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier peña smut #ao3 #fanfic #javier peña narcos #javier pena x reader

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firefirefruit · 8 months

Text

Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Twenty

Read On: AO3 | Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter Twenty: Minks and Vivre Cards

A prickle enters into your skin, fine pointed metal paving its way with a certain grace the cut of a sword could never imitate. You look down to your doctor, observing the wide-eyed focus on his face as his hooves graze over your skin.

It’s too early for him to have found any life-saving cures, you’re aware; since the Shaman’s planned attack, it’s only been two days since you set sail from their island - so, as you lay idly in the ship’s medic cabin, your curiosity gives way over to Robin who sits at Chopper’s desk, her spine curling consumingly over the stolen tome.

If the serum isn’t entirely a cure, and Chopper’s confident enough to enter it into your system, then you can deduce that this isn’t just some experiment. You stare at the milky liquid as it slowly spills out from the syringe and into you.

“You’ve found a way to slow it down,” you softly remark, urging Chopper’s eyes to flicker onto yours. With a pursed mouth, he nods in confirmation before starting towards his desk.

“From what Robin’s deciphered so far, you transformation doesn’t seem to be…humane. You’ve heard of Minks before, right?”

You nod. “Sure. We have strong ties to…”

You stop yourself, recognising that, still, no one aboard this ship is aware of you or your Gramps’ real identity. How do you even bring up that line of conversation at this point of the journey? Hey, I’m actually from Wano, and I’m not just anybody from Wano; I’m the granddaughter of the former Shonen! The old man you’ve become pretty close to? Yeah, that’s him! Not only that, but he’s also the father to Oden! But then... there's a chance that, if you were to say those exact words to them, they might just stare back at you blankly. You're not sure whether they even know about a place called Wano, or about Oden – it’s not like they’ve debriefed you on every single journey they’ve been on. Perhaps you should go through Robin’s logbooks which she’s so kindly offered in passing, just to make sure…

You pause, averting your gaze from Chopper’s back, not knowing how to save yourself from your slip up. He turns around, a questioning look settling on his face.

“Sorry, I don’t think I heard that right,” he sheepishly says.

Robin behind him casually flips over to another silver-dusted page, her fingers tracing ever so slightly over the scripture.

“I think she said that Hitetsu-sama has taught her about Minks,” Robin smoothly replies, her eyes glued to the page.

The revelation hits you like a sudden gust of wind, sweeping away any semblance of composure you’d managed to maintain.

Your neck snaps to her direction, eyes widening. She knows.

She knows that’s not what you actually said. Why…why did she just do that? Keep your your identity hidden? How much does she know about you, your history, your lineage? And why hasn’t she mentioned it to anyone before? Panic bubbles up within you, threatening to spill over, but you clamp down on it with all your strength.

If you’re recalling correctly, Robin has always referred to Suki as ‘san.’ This is the first time she’s ever used ‘sama’ when talking about him; surely, that means she knows who he is. Who you are. His importance.

You meet Robin's gaze, searching for any hint of recognition in her steady eyes. But all you find is a calm, composed facade, her expression giving nothing away.

"Yes, that's right," you manage to choke out, your voice betraying none of the shock consuming you. "Hitetsu-sama... has taught me a lot about Minks."

It’s not a lie; not really. The day you both immigrated from Wano in Suki’s exceptionally hand-crafted raft was when you had your first lesson about two very important topics – Minks, and Vivre cards.

“The Minks are our lifelong allies, Raya…but we prefer to call them family. This,” he says, displaying a wriggling piece of paper wedged in between his two fingers, “is how we get to them.”

You remember it so dearly. Climbing up on Zunesha’s offered bowing leg, being welcomed by a bunch of wide furry arms, their devoted insistence on treating you both as royalty although you both had willingly revoked that title in purpose of seeing the rest of the world.

You remember their electric glow when the whole moon bid its hello once a month, soft fur running through your hands as they’d carry an eight-year-old you on their backs, uncontrollably laughing when they’d nuzzle your sensitive neck and lick your face clean.

You remember befriending two brother bears, one the same age as you, the other a little older. Following them around in the jungle as they’d run excitedly to show you their favourite fishing spots. Their personalities - so gentle, so wide-eyed, so warm. You wonder what they’re doing now.

And although your stay on Zunesha was only for a few months – the main reason for being there in the first place was to learn more about the outside world – those very few months were some of the best highlights of your childhood.

You wonder about them, hoping that all is well - not only the Minks but also for Zunesha.

You miss petting his thick skin, where it would lay bare in between places that were unoccupied by Minks. He’d talk to you, ask you about your thoughts, and even mention your relation to Oden.

Normally, you hated being seen as merely a blood relative to the almighty Oden - to be spoken to only because of who he was and not who you are. But with Zunesha, it was different – his question was was so passively said that sometimes you forget that he even asked it.

Only once did the ancient mammal question your bloodline, and when you curtly affirmed his suspicions, he accepted the response and moved on without asking for more.

You snap out of your daze; a faint smile plays on your lips as you look over at Chopper who’s busy sterilizing his equipment.

“Minks...what about them?”

“When Minks transform under the lunar cycle, it's tough for them to go back to normal,” Chopper explains. You nod your head already knowing this, fingers gripping over the medical bed rail. “They lose all sense of control.”

"Yeah," Chopper confirms. "When we first met them, I made a serum to help slow down their transformation. It gave them more time to think straight, and most of them could either stop changing completely or stay in control even while transformed."

“So, if we assume that whatever’s in my blood isn’t humane, it could be…” Your eyes widen, now putting all the pieces together. “Just…just what am I?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Robin murmurs thoughtfully, fingers over her lips.

Chopper nods, a reassuring smile on his face. “If the serum works on you, then what we’re suspecting is correct.”

You swallow. “And if it doesn’t?”

“Entirely harmless to humans. Your cells will attack it pretty quickly without you even realising it happening.”

Suddenly, the ship shudders and rattles under an unexpected disturbance. An earth-quaking groan thrums from beneath your feet, toppling over the chairs and books in the room. Desperately, your sweating fingers grasp onto the metal rail of the medical bed, your heart pounding in your chest; Chopper's scream of confusion echoes in the cramped cabin, mingling with the crash of glass vials and the milky liquid that spills across the floor.

Amidst the chaos, Robin's calm presence offers a semblance of stability, her arm sprouting beside you to steady you against the violent lurch of the ship. But even as you struggle to regain your footing, a wild shout from outside the cabin pierces the air, followed by Luffy's unmistakable voice, filled with uncontainable excitement.

"What's happening?" you breathe, your eyes darting between Chopper, Robin, and the door, where the sounds of commotion spill in from the deck.

Robin's lips curl into a knowing smile as she peers through the small porthole, amusement dancing in her eyes. "It seems we have visitors," she announces, her voice tinged with anticipation.

You hear Luffy wildly cheer again, and then shout out for the rest of you guys to join. Chopper jumps up to Robin, hopping desperately to grab a view of the action.

“What is it, Robin?” Chopper desperately begs. “Let me see!”

With a firm push, she swings open the door, revealing a scene of surprise and chaos unfolding on the deck below. Chopper, his fur standing on end with excitement, darts past you, his eager cries mingling with Usopp's bright grin as they rush to join the fray.

As you step out onto the deck, your gaze falls upon the unexpected visitors, and your breath catches in your throat. There, standing amidst the chaos, is a polar bear clad in an orange jumpsuit

You swear you just felt your heart stop.

A polar bear. White fur, the same fur you’d run your hands through in awe. Flashes of him showing his favourite fishing spots on Zunesha. So gentle, so wide-eyed, so warm. What was his name? What was his brother’s?

“Bepo!” Chopper screams out, jumping on the massive bear.

Bepo. That was his name. Your mouth is wide open, the blood in your body running cold. And Zepo...That was his brother.

How…

Why… Why is he here? Where…?

But before you start spiralling into panic, your eyes catch onto the other figure that stands alongside dear Bepo, a sleep-deprived looking man who has his lips pursed firmly in irritation. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest, his gaze fixed on Luffy with an intensity that sends a chill down your spine.

"Tora-o," Robin greets him over the banister with a raised eyebrow, her tone tinged with amusement. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

The man's gaze turns to Robin, and for a moment, there's a flicker of something in his eyes— a greeting, perhaps, or recognition. But then his expression hardens once more, and he meets her gaze with a steely resolve.

"Your ship broke my submarine," he says, dead-panned, his voice cutting through laughter.

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sakumasmut · 6 months

Text

Butler!Yuzuru x Pregnant!Fem!Reader

nope, not a joke, I’m back with a reader fic! been a while since I wrote one for myself, huh?

tags/warnings: cunnilingus, pregnant sex, adultery (reader cheating on partner with yuzuru)

ao3

“Mistress, I’ve brought you your afternoon tea.”

You looked up from the book you were reading as Yuzuru closed the door behind him, holding a tray with a tea set and some snacks in his hand.

“Shall I place it by the bedside or on the table?”

“The bedside, please.” You shut your book and looked down at your belly, so round that you sometimes couldn’t see past it. “It’s a struggle to even stand up sometimes.”

“I understand.” He nodded, gracefully gliding over and setting the tray down next to you. “Shall I pour you a cup as well?”

“Please do.”

You watched his gloved hands lift the teapot and pour its contents out. It only took a few seconds, but even after he finished and set it back down your eyes lingered on his face. He could feel your gaze, but didn’t comment on it.

“Is my husband in the house?”

“I’m afraid the Master has left on another business trip, just this morning.”

You sighed disappointedly, and Yuzuru looked at you with an apologetic look.

“I’m sure it was an urgent matter.”

“Yes, I’m sure it was important enough to leave the property when I’m due within the month.” The bitterness was evident in your voice.

“He said that he would be gone no more than a week.”

“What does that matter? He’ll just be gone again the week after.” You rubbed your swollen belly and sulked. “He doesn’t care for me, nor my child. All he wants is an heir. My husband doesn’t love me like you do, my dear Yuzuru.”

His shoulders tensed at your words, but he remained quiet. You took the teacup in your hands.

“Please, take a seat and keep me company for a while.”

“As you wish.”

He pulled a chair towards the bed and sat down next to you. Oh, how you wanted to reach out and brush your hands against his own, but he still seemed tense and kept himself out of arm’s reach. You took a slow sip of your tea, barely able to pay much attention to the flavor.

“I haven’t seen you as often recently.”

“The Master has asked me to run various errands around the town, it’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Why not ask the gardeners or apprentices to do those mundane tasks for you?”

“The preservation of the task’s quality is important. I simply chose to take on the roles myself.”

He still wasn’t meeting your eyes, avoiding them even. You cleared your throat.

“My husband…he hasn’t given me more than an hour’s attention in months, not ever since I told him I was with child.” You paused, then shook your head. “No, That’s being generous. Even when we bed together, all he cares for is his own satisfaction, never my own pleasure.”

Yuzuru continued to stay silent. He knew that your husband wasn’t the best, but he would never bring himself to speak a word against him. If he knew the truth in his heart, which even a fool did, at the very least he would spare your husband the embarrassment and wouldn’t utter it aloud, that was the kind of man Yuzuru was.

“That night you found me crying in the halls, it was because he had made me leave his quarters after satisfying himself, with no regard to my own desires.”

“I’m aware.”

“Then why do you hesitate so? Are you truly telling me to remain happy with such a selfish man, Yuzuru?” Your lip trembled. “Have you not already touched me in the most debauched ways? Is my body not enough for you, as well? Or perhaps, you no longer want to look at me now that I’ve grown fat and ugly?”

“Don’t say such things!” He looked aghast at your words, finally turning to look at you. “I assure you, the way your body has changed has not affected my perception of you one bit!” He was firm in his words, not wanting you to ever think that low of yourself. Your grip on the teacup was weak, and you set it aside lest you spilled it.

“Then why have you been avoiding me?”

He looked away from you again, and if he had continued to do so your heart likely would have broken into several pieces. But you could see the contemplation on his face, and it stayed for a quiet few seconds before he looked at you once more.

“Forgive me if it appeared I neglected you. The expectant child has just been…weighing heavy on my mind. I’m sure you’re aware as to why.”

You nodded slowly, not speaking and letting him gather his courage to continue.

“I selfishly entertained your request that night, betraying the trust of my Master, and now there is a chance that the child is a bastard. Indeed, the thought that your highly expected firstborn could not be of my Master’s blood…”

“If the child is indeed a bastard, so be it!” You interrupted, “I would much rather you make love to me every night and bear 10 more of your children than lay with that man even once more!”

Yuzuru looked taken aback, flushed completely red at your bold statement and more embarrassed than you had ever seen him.

“M-My Mistress…”

“You make me happy every moment I’m in your company, and satisfy me in ways I’ve never experienced before. I love you.”

He let your confession sink in as he let out a shaky breath, looking like he was going into shock. He stood up from his seat, and took the few steps needed to be facing you directly from above. Here you were, barely able to move, still managing to take his breath away.

“My orders were to heed your every command the moment I stepped into this house. Your happiness has always come first and foremost in my duties as a butler. For succeeding in that, I have no regrets.”

You were finally able to reach out a hand to touch his own, and he took it. He squeezed your hand firmly, getting down on one knee to bring his face closer to yours.

“If you will allow me to return your feelings, I shall.”

“Then kiss me.”

At once, his lips captured your own in a fit of passion, every feeling he couldn’t properly express in words traveling through your connection. You could feel the blazing fire just from this small action enveloping your body, and knew you craved more. No, you needed more. You pulled back slightly to gasp for air, only for him to lean in and take them for himself. The hand that was holding yours became intertwined with it, Yuzuru able to feel the heat radiating from your fingers through his gloves. His other hand found a resting place on your stomach, lovingly tracing circles on its highest peak. As you pulled away once more, you found pink eyes staring adoringly into your own.

“I hope it’s yours.” You whispered, threading your fingers through his hair. “I’d love for my child to have your lovely eyes.”

“I’d much rather the child be as gorgeous as their mother.”

He kissed you again, and when you let out a muffled moan he took the chance to slide his tongue into your mouth. You gladly accepted his boldness, letting your own tongue mingle with it. The hand that was on your stomach followed its curve down to your crotch, and his fingers were able to easily slip under your nightdress and press against the underwear that covered your soaked opening. You gasped against him, and he pulled away to let you speak.

“Yuzuru, please,” you cried out, “pleasure me, my body aches for your affection.”

“Of course, my mistress.” He gave your lips a quick kiss before swiftly moving to the foot of the bed, the foundation creaking softly as he situated himself on the edge.

Yuzuru carefully lifted the bottom of your nightgown up, revealing your legs that were tightly pressed against each other. You were rubbing your thighs to try and hide the wetness accumulating between your legs, but he effortlessly parted them, revealing how damp your panties had already gotten.

“My my, is this all my doing?” He brushed a finger against a spot darkened with your juices, and you whined.

“Yuzuru, please, no teasing.”

He obeyed, using a finger to hook your underwear and then dragging it down off your legs. Once that was discarded, he lifted one of your legs up onto his shoulders, bringing his head down to get a clear view of your folds, puffy and quivering from just him breathing on them.

“How shall I please you today?”

You licked your lips, the feeling of his tongue in your mouth still lingering.

“Use your tongue.”

His head disappeared below the view of your stomach, but the damp feeling of something poking at your entrance made you gasp. Months ago, he had pleasured you the same way, able to look up and watch your face contort with every touch. Your round stomach prevented that now, but he cared not. What mattered was that you were enjoying it. His mouth sucked gently on your engorged clit, enveloping it in the most pleasurable sensations. You couldn’t help but moan loudly at the stimulation, not caring who overheard. Your pregnant body was so much more sensitive, he didn’t have to do much to get you all riled up.

When he had enough fun with your clit, he popped his mouth off of it and moved back down towards your wetness, covered in clear liquid that was making quite a mess on the sheets. His tongue licked a stripe up your labia, and when you made a squeaking noise a smirk crossed his face. He buried his nose into your warmth and began to ravish your insides, tongue darting in and out, licking circles all around. It was hard to imagine him as anything less than an expert. Your eyes widened as you threw your head back and moaned, wanting to squeeze your legs around his head but being unable to.

He shut his eyes, the moans that reached his ears letting his mind wander back to the scene of you underneath him, remembering exactly how you cried out his name the same as you did now. It made him flick his tongue against you more rapidly, trying to push it in as far as your walls could grab, ignoring the throbbing in his pants.

“Yuzuru!” You cried, trying to move your hips to no avail. “Oh, Yuzuru! I’m so close!”

He pressed further, practically breathing in your juices. Finally, you came with a loud cry of his name, wanting the world to know the name of the only man who could make you feel this way. A new wave of your juices gushed from your cunt that Yuzuru dedicatedly lapped at like a starving dog. He continued to do so until he felt your leg go limp against his shoulder, at which point he retreated, the tip of his nose glistening with your fluids. He set your leg back down onto the bed while you breathed heavily, wiping his mouth with the back of his glove.

“Oh, Yuzuru,” you panted, staring up at him, “I can’t get enough. I long to have you in my bed once more.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, not now.” He murmured, massaging your inner thighs. “Your due date is soon, I would never forgive myself if I harmed your child.”

“Then, at the very least, hold me?”

He nodded, flipping your nightgown back over the mess between your legs first. He moved towards the side of the bed to kneel down next to you, the same position he took to kiss you so passionately. This time he pressed a kiss to your covered belly, arms wrapping around your midriff as he placed the side of his head against it. You smiled dreamily at him, and when he smiled back, you swore you felt the fluttering of a kick inside you.

#enstars smut #ensemble stars smut #enstars x reader smut #yuzuru fushimi smut #nsft es!!

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ashintheairlikesnow · 1 year

Text

Rolling Down

CW: Nonhuman whumpee, referenced choking, captive whumpee, sadistic whumper, multiple whumpers, creepy whumper, fantasy whump, the next chapter is going to be intense as fuck

"Guilford? You in there?"

Gilly shot to his feet with a smile at the familiar voice coming from the door to outside, knocking the rickety chair over with a clatter in his haste.

The siren jerked instinctively backwards. Gilly snorted and gave it a good thwack with the long, thin switch he'd brought in last night, listening to its cry with a smile as it hid from him under the water. Signs of its fear of him were a good thing, ongoing evidence of the slow success of his plan. They’d spent the last three hours working on expanding its range of words through slow, methodical, and painful repetition. The welts layered over its chest and shoulders were proof positive of his work.

"Guilford?" Her voice called again, muffled through the door. "What was that?"

"Coming! Just a moment!" He called, giving the siren one last contemptuous look before he stepped out, closing the door to the bathing room behind him.

Atabei’s arrival promised not just a break from the monotony - broken only by the pleasure of seeing new bruises bloom and its growing terror - but also an end to the whole charade of having to force it to obey him in the first place.

How frightened would it look, he wondered, when it realized disobedience was no longer even possible?

He had to clear his throat against a sudden warmth at the thought that seemed... distinctly indecent. He distracted himself by grabbing a hand towel to dry off his hands and wipe at the sweat over his brow, pushing his glasses up his nose instinctively before he swung the door open to greet the single most important person still alive in his life.

Atabei Montgomery was in the doorway, nearly silhouetted by the light, a vision of slightly shimmery pale green fabric against her very dark skin, long black hair pulled back at the nape of her neck in what seemed like ten thousand tiny braids, with a wide-brimmed hat with matching green trim tilted just so and tied at her chin with a ribbon.

"I have a bell you could ring, you know," He said without rancor. He could hardly repress his smile enough to sound anything but thrilled. “You don’t have to yell.”

"I tried. It's broken." Her voice had begun to lose her empire accent. She clearly had the distinct beginnings of the slower-spoken, subtle musical dip and rise of the more northern colonies where she had been living now for years, a woman of some leisure in the Yawnee port city. It made him more aware that his own speech had lost its posh edge and gone to rougher consonants, quick and bitten-off like the other sailors. Her voice sounded like a higher class of people, who could afford to take their time. His own had gone the other way entirely.

Not for long, now. Not that she was here and could help him. He hitched in a deep breath, embarrassed when tears pricked at his eyes and blurred the sight of her. “Oh… Beibei, I am so glad you’re here.”

She took in the sight of him with a smile. “I’m glad to be here. It has been too long.” She opened her arms to him, and he went to her with real enthusiasm. At first he only grasped her hands so he could dip his head to press a kiss to the back of one, but she shook herself free. "None of that! Come come, Guilford, are you so much the man and the sailor now that you have no hug for me?"

"Of course not! Never!" He pulled her into an embrace where each of them tried their best to hug hard enough to break the other's ribs. When he picked her up and spun her, she shrieked with false indignation and laughter, batting at him with slaps that clearly were meant to be perfunctory at best. Atabei had first beat him in a fight when they were four years old and he never had won a real one since.

“Put me down, you wretch!”

He did… reluctantly. "My heart breaks without you! How do those ladies in the northern colonies treat you? Have you found one you like? Is there a paramour?”

“Paramour? My, you sailors have pretensions!” She pulled back enough to look at him with mischief in every line of her expression. Her black eyes twinkled. "I will have you know there is only one woman, and we are known to all and sundry as very sad, tragically widowed ladies who share a home merely so that we may live on the money our late husbands left us in comfort."

Gilly's smile widened. "Beibei! You shock me! I had heard nothing of this!"

"You were at sea!"

“Was there ever a husband?”

“Oh.” Atabei waved one hand in the vaguest possible response. “Eliza had one. He really did die quite tragically.”

“How?”

Her eyes sparkled. “The only cause of death anyone could discern, Guilford, was simply tuberculosis. It steals away so many, you see, and goes unquestioned…”

His smile widened. He held her by the arms, looking over her face. “Beibei. You didn’t.”

“His lungs filled, until he breathed his last,” She said with prim and proper intonation. “It was a terrible thing, when he became too weak to even speak up after he found Eliza and I together. And so very, very sad when his heart gave out from the shock. We were all so very… very sad to see him go. Especially his business partner, who inherited the company in full as long as he paid a nice sum to Eliza to buy our home outright.”

“You are a wicked woman. And yet I owe you congratulations! I must send you back with a gift for this Eliza and a warning of what will happen if she dares break your heart!" He hugged her again, as tightly as he could.

"Guilford!"

"Beibei, sister of my heart, it has been twenty-three and nine days since last we met, you have found love while I was gone and I only just found out, and I will not let you go without a fight this time!"

"Nonsense, nonsense!" She laughed again, bright and bell-like, smacking at him. Gilly heard an echoing mimicry of the sound from the bathing room. Atabei must have heard it, too - her laughter faded, and so did her smile, although it still sparkled in her eyes.

She looked to the bathing room door. "Oh, my. Guilford, is… that where it is? This mysterious thing you have found and need my help with, but cannot name in your letters? Is it something alive?”

"Yes. Yes, it's in there. You'll see why I had to keep it secret. It was sheer providence that I got hold of it so easily, an absolute accident of fortune, but to keep it I'll need magic, so…"

"So here I am," Atabei said, with a sigh. Her bright good cheer faded as she took on a more businesslike heir. "Tell me this is not the reason why you wanted my visit."

"It isn't!" She gave him a flat skeptical stare, eyebrows raised. He winced. "Or… it isn't only that. You know I love you, Beibei."

"I suppose I do. And I suppose you know I love you, too. You could have learned the magic with me, you know, and you wouldn't have needed me now."

"Father wouldn't allow it. You know I asked a thousand times.”

Her smile returned, briefly. "Ah, yes. Your late great father and his ridiculous superstitions."

"I think he would call them religious convictions, Bei. Don't be unfair. You know I am baptized, too."

"And yet you want magic now."

"Well. The… church won't help with what I want to do, but… I think you will."

"Why is that? Magic has a cost, Guilford. To the one who casts it or controls it, as well as the subject of the spell."

"This will be worth it for us both, Beibei, I promise. We'll both end up rich as Croesus. You can buy yourself and your lady friend a mansion to live in comfort and security!"

"We already have a home more than large enough for our needs. But… let's see this treasure that makes sounds like the mockingbird that you find in the ocean and swear will make me a rich woman." She untied the ribbons that kept her hat on, dropping it on the rough-hewn wooden table as she moved past Gilly. "I left my bag of tools outside, it isn't good for them to be inside any home but mine any longer than necessary. They pick up impressions too easily where people sleep. I need the paint to stay pure and true or I cannot guarantee protection."

"Right. So” Gilly nodded, following her across the room. “The thing is, I don't need protection magic-"

"I didn't mean protection magic. I meant that I cannot protect us from the magic, if it binds to your home. It may choose you to target, and then you will be as lost as your secret ocean treasure.”

"Oh. Well, I…" He trailed off as Atabei sailed ahead, seeming to float more than walk. "Um, fine. I've been teaching it some words, so… here."

"You have been what?" For the first time, she looked alarmed. “Have you taken hold of a sea serpent?”

"No! No, not at all, I just… just a moment." He clapped his hands, one loud crack of sound. There was a pause. Nothing happened. Atabei blinked at him in confusion, and he sighed, feeling the pounding headache of anger already threatening at the edges of his vision. “Hold on.” He clapped again. "Areyto! Stand up or else!”

This time there was a splash from inside the room almost immediately, and he breathed more easily knowing his command had been obeyed. Eventually. It would help Atabei to see that he could do this. He could punish that hesitation later.

“Areyto…?” She moved to the doorway, the hinges creaking in protest, the bottom of the door scraping the floor. There was a long, long pause as she took in the sight within. Then she said, very quietly, "You are so very stupid, Guilford Wentworth."

The words were not spoken with anger or even disgust… they were simply an expression of an immense, overwhelming exhaustion.

“... it’s a siren,” Gilly said helpfully, swallowing around his sudden burst of nerves.

"I can see that." They stood in the doorway to the bathing room, Atabei ahead and Gilly hovering nervously behind her. She looked stunned, her eyes roaming over the form of the siren within, who watched her right back. "What were you thinking?"

It felt like being scolded by an older sister who had found him dumping cups of flour in the well. Gilly flushed bright red and fought the idea that he should be ashamed of this. "I-I just-... I had an idea, is all. You know, I see the rich men, the lords, the governor and his family, and I think... what've they done to earn any of it? It should have been me to have such riches, my father was a lord once, and now what? Now I live here, in an old lady's cellar more or less, and scrape by! I deserve better! And this, this thing, this is going to-"

She held up her hand and his voice trailed immediately into nothing. “Gods above and below,” She whispered in an airy, slightly husky hum of sound. “Just look at him.”

Inside, in the dim light that made it through the oiled paper that covered the window, the siren stood as it'd been commanded to, a mockery of an eerily beautiful man. Its muscular shoulders were slightly hunched self-protectively, water making its skin seem to shimmer as it ran down the creature's thighs, stomach, even its shoulders and sharp cheekbones.

It was watching them. Tracking every slight move they made, every blink, every breath. Gilly could tell it was taking note of how he obeyed Atabei's wordless command. He saw its dim animal mind recognize her as leader, shifting itself slightly to keep them both in view as Atabei stepped carefully into the room.

It would have irritated him, if he didn’t feel more or less the same. Atabei would know what to do to help him get the riches and influence he wanted, and he trusted her to know best what step should come next. As long as she agreed to help him at all.

"Oh, dear," She whispered. She wasn't talking to him, but to the creature, her voice going soft. "You have been quite marked up, haven't you, pretty thing? My Guilford has not been soft or kind to you."

Gilly felt a flush of real shame at the realization that Atabei was reading the story of the bruises it was covered with, purpling under its skin, and she was… not happy about it. She clicked tongue against teeth as she looked at the bit gag, the way the corners of its pretty man-shaped mouth were rubbed raw and red. She knew the meaning of the circle of dark red and scabbed blood around its neck thanks to his daily use of the noose to ensure its cooperation and encourage it to learn the words he needed it to know.

And… and maybe because he enjoyed seeing it fight for its life, again and again and again, until it was to tired to fight any longer and had to accept that Guilford Wentworth, ship’s surgeon who had control over nothing, would decide if it lived or died and there was absolutely nothing it could do to stop it except give him whatever he wanted.

Maybe he liked that bit too much.

"It's dumb as a post," Gilly protested, defensively, drowning out his own thoughts. "All it's learned, it had to be taught with discipline. If I'd been soft, it would have eaten me by now. Patience would get me a mouth full of teeth, Beibei.”

“Hmph.” She raised her chin, looking distinctly haughty. "Did you ever try softness?"

"No! I'm not… stupid." Gilly paused. Let the pause draw out. "Would softness have worked?"

She had the look of someone fighting off an impending headache. He knew the feeling. "Maybe. Maybe not, and yet… he must loathe you. You take a man of the ocean and make him an enemy."

"It isn't a man! Besides, I don't care if it loathes me. Do we worry if a horse or cow or sheep likes or dislikes us? This thing is no different. It just looks human to trick us. Like any livestock, it’ll fall in line once it’s broken in.”

The corner of her mouth twitched with a wry humor. "You, I see, have never actually tried to ride a horse that hates you. Men have been killed taking the crop to a hateful horse the way you have taken your fists to this man."

"It's not a man, Beibei, for the love of God! It is a siren!"

“I know what he is,” Atabei said, closing her eyes and lifting one hand to rub her thumb and forefinger over the bridge of her nose. “You forget, Guilford. I have spent as much time as you on ships. My father was a captain, too. I was born on Lightning Rider."

“No, I know, I know you were, but… it isn't like sirens ever sing to fool women." He tried for a joke to lighten her look of growing anger. "You know, because they know it’s men who have all the gold for them to steal?" The look Abatei gave him was more frightening than any hurricane he'd ever survived. His face burned red in the dim light. “Oh, God’s wounds. My apologies. I didn’t mean that.”

“I should hope not. If I thought you had become the sort of man who believed such things, I would never speak to you again."

"I don't!” He reached out to touch her arm, gratified when she didn’t pull away. He tried to get her to look at him. “I don't believe it at all. I only thought about making you laugh!"

She snorted, a delicate, derisive sound that the siren echoed from the other side of the room. "I suggest, in that case, that you try saying something that is funny."

"... fair enough. I am sorry, Bei. You know I am.”

Yes. I know." She softened a little for him, then, a hint of her smile returning. "Besides, the sirens don’t sing because they want your gold, Guilford. They want to eat. Any gold they take is simply because they like how it shines.”

“True…” Gilly thought of the creature’s mouth, how it looked perfectly normal and somehow he knew it was all a trick, that beneath the illusion of unusually white flat-edged human teeth were rows upon rows of yellowed razor-sharp fangs, only revealed during its meals. “Although it is true that sirens don’t fool women.”

"They do not fool us," Atabei said evenly, "Because their magic only works on one who knows himself to be a man."

"Why is that, do you think?"

She moved to the left, picking up the chair Gilly had knocked over when she had arrived. The creature's dark eyes followed her, clearly assessing her as a potentially bigger threat than Gilly. Gilly felt the same. "If you were the only man I had ever known, I would say it is because men do not have the common sense the gods granted goats. But I do know other men, who would not do anything this stupid… and so I must say I have no idea. The gods must have decided it at a whim, as they sometimes do."

"Beibei, please let's don't blaspheme." Gilly sniffed, then colored even more as he realized how utterly fussy he sounded. He was a man who spent weeks elbow-deep in sailors' blood while they cursed him and themselves and the high heavens, fussy didn't describe him at all. And yet his time in church, back when he’d cared to go, had still left its mark. "Don't say gods.”

"It is only blasphemy to those who think they know everything." She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Who are we to say how many gods are out there? Who are we to lay out certainties when we have only suggestions? Hm?” When she smiled her slight and impish grin, he returned it, knees weak with relief. They had never been angry with each other for long. "Do you know everything, Guilford?"

"No. No, of course not."

"Exactly. So I don’t blaspheme, not to you. Have a priest come see me, however, and I will talk him out of his holy vows within a week or less."

"God forbid! We'd be overrun with exorcists again!"

"That was the one time!" He was gratified by how she laughed out loud, startled by the return of an old memory.

"Your father nearly beat him to death with a broom!"

The eyes of the siren in the washtub narrowed, moving from Atabei to Gilly and back again, studying their amusement and affection with each other. Some of its hostility might have eased. Or that could be a trick of light and shadow. Gilly didn't like its eyes on her. It wasn't jealousy, of course, how could anyone be jealous of an animal? But still… he didn't like it.

Atabei swept herself to seated in the wobbly chair, her skirts settling in a burst of rustling as she had to find a balance. She laid one hand over her stomach where stiffer fabric held her posture straight. "At home with Eliza, I never wear dresses like this. I keep forgetting not to slouch."

"You do look lovely in it, though."

“Of course I do. I am lovely, and therefore look lovely. I would look lovely in rags. So,” She said, folding her hands in her lap, leaning forward slightly to stare down the creature across the room, as it stared back. "Let's begin. You have stolen a siren.”

Gilly stood with his back leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He scowled at the way she said it, and watched the siren catch the expression and cringe back a little, its eyes moving to the rope that he could grab and pull at a moment’s notice to choke it again. “It’s not stealing. They don’t belong to anyone. That’s like saying I stole fish from the open ocean.”

Atabei raised her eyebrows without looking away from the siren. “Hm. Fine. You have harvested a siren, shall we say, which you now keep within your home.”

“Yes. He must have sung a ship onto the rocks, we found him lying on some wreckage. The others had hauled him-... Bei, you’ve got me doing it now-... the others had hauled it on board before I realized what it was. So I told the captain I’d kill it, and I brought it here.”

A delicate sniff. “In your bathing room, in your bathing tub, which now smells distinctly of old fish. And blood.”

Gilly swallowed. “... yes. There has been some bleeding… but I bought another tub and bathe myself currently in my bedroom. But… but I have a plan. I have ideas on how to use it, I just… need some help.”

“I’ll say you damn well do.” Her eyes trailed along the tense lines of its body with the sort of look that seemed almost professorial. "How many words has it learned as you beat it to bruised and bloodied?"

"A handful. Maybe a few more than that. It knows how to count to twenty in English, knows what it means when I tell it to move here or there, to eat, to stand or sit. Once the magic is laid, though, the work will go more quickly."

She nodded. "Likely so. I know a spell that will encourage its learning of language to happen faster. It will still take some time." She tipped her head to one side, giving a soft little whistle, one high note and two low. The siren perked up, for the first time in days, and blinked, mouth moving around the wooden bit it was gagged with.

It couldn't whistle in response, not with the gag. But it exhaled through its mouth as though it were trying, and then hummed the same three notes back. Atabei grinned and clapped her hands in applause.

The siren flinched.

It jerked backwards and twisted to one side, shielding itself as best it could with its shoulder from an imagined blow.

Atabei's smile dropped. "Guilford…"

"I clap when I give an order sometimes, or when it's not listening." Gilly shrugged. "Then I punish it. It thinks it did something wrong. Which it did. I don’t allow it music, not when it’s so dangerous. It can sing again once it only sings for me.”

"I see. No wonder you need my magic. If you let him go now, he would know only violence and fear and pain from us. I don't imagine you would survive his taste of freedom." She licked at her lips, thoughtfully. “Neither of us would. It knows our faces.”

"Exactly! You understand!"

She sighed, as if he were a pupil who had incorrectly answered a question. "... I understand you are very stupid, yes."

Gilly deflated a little. "You said that already."

"I mean it so thoroughly I must say it twice. I’ll do it, Guilford. But I’ll need all night and most of tomorrow, and for nearly all that time we will need him to be very still. Even the slightest break in the spellwork, a tiny flinch, before the sealing, and he won't be bound at all. And we will both die in great agony to feed his hunger.”

"No, I know. I know… I have something for that, to put in its fish. It'll be quite unconscious for hours once it settles into the thing's system, and we can work the spell while it sleeps. I've started feeding it more or less by hand this past week, so we'll know for sure how much it ate."

She nodded, a firm little jerk of her chin. "Perfect. You go to buy this fresh fish-” She watched the siren perk up a little at words it knew to mean food, and smiled. “-and I will start mixing the paints under the tree. We will work the magic starting tonight, and by the time the moon rises tomorrow he will be yours entirely."

Gilly exhaled, closing his eyes as the shining promise of his future rose before him. "You'll do it, then, for certain? I wouldn't have asked you to come all this way just for this, but you’re the only person I know who has any magic. I mean, I think Father Thomas up in the high village has some, but-”

“Ssshht!” Atabei cut her hand in a quick gesture as if slicing the very thought of the man in two. “You cannot ask him. I know what his magic is and what he does for it. Magic has a price, Gilly."

"I'll be able to give you such wealth, Beibei-"

"I do not mean a cost in coins. You will be bound to him as much as he is to you. Sirens live for centuries, Guilford, sometimes for more than a thousand years. If you do this… so will you. This is not a gift, my friend. That much time is a curse. It is the cost."

Gilly blinked, puzzled, looking over at the siren. It had relaxed, minutely, as it listened to them without understanding. It was a crime to be so beautiful and not be human. Or at least to have the form of a woman. Male sirens were rare, few and far between in a kind of creature that was already rare to begin with. It’d been his awful luck to only ever encounter a male in person. "How is a longer life not a blessing?"

"I cannot answer that. Only warn you. You two will be tied together as securely as if you wore chains, for as long as he lives. Time makes us all fools, and you will have more time than anyone who is not a god. The only story I have of such a thing in my books… ended quite… quite poorly.”

Gilly swallowed. He felt a chill in his chest, traveling with his heartbeat to his very fingers and toes. "Then… why help me at all, Beibei?"

"Because if I do not, he will kill you. And this way at least I can give you, who I adore like my own brother, at least a lifetime of what you desire most. What happens after that…" She trailed off. "I cannot guarantee or predict."

"Well… well, it'll be worth it. It'll be worth it, whatever the cost."

"If you say so. Go get the fish, and feed him. Once he is bound, we can untie him and allow him the use of his mouth. He won't ever be able to do you harm after tonight, and he will bend to your will no matter his own."

Gilly nodded, rapidly. “Yes. Yes! That’s exactly what I want!” When Atabei stood, he hugged her again. She was tense in his arms. "Thank you, Beibei. Thank you so, so much. Everything is going to be perfect, you'll see."

"Hm. Perhaps.” She paused, then sighed. “Oh, Guilford, before we begin… I do have one question.”

"Yes?"

"... how well can your landlady hear?"

"What? Oh, she is deaf as a post. If we take the siren back into my room, close the door, maybe put some towels along the bottom… she won't hear anything at all.”

"Good."

"Why?"

She looked over at the siren, still watching them with its lovely dark eyes. Her expression was something just shy of mournful, and Gilly hated that the thing could cause her such sadness. Or that his own choices were causing-

No. It was the siren’s deceitful appearance that made her feel guilt and sadness over this, not anything Gilly was doing. He was only making the most of a stroke of luck and building for himself the life thousands of men had sought without success. When he owned this whole island, or any island he wanted… she would see. She would understand, then.

Atabei turned back to him, and gave him a cool smile that did not reach her eyes. “We need a place where we will not be heard. Once the work begins... this poor creature is going to scream.”

Taglist: @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @theelvishcowgirl @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @bloodinkandashes @squishablesunbeam

Note: Although I am not planning any specific @whumptober this year, I have done two pieces so far using prompts and that may continue!

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bluegekk0 · 29 days

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Are there any self-care routines the family does?

Hmm let me think. I suppose their ideas of self-care are very broad, so I'm just going to assume anything they do to make themselves feel better physically or mentally counts

Also, I hope it's okay but I'll only answer about a few of the characters (Vyrm, Grimm and Hornet). I'm a little tired and I don't want to turn this into a huge wall of text. Feel free to send extra asks about this about the rest of the characters some time, I would love to answer to those then

Vyrm - he actually developed a lot of self-care routines since it helped him gain more confidence after everything he went through. Aside from things you'd expect that maybe he wasn't able to do before, like getting enough sleep, engaging in his hobbies and maintaining a good fulfilling diet, he makes sure to get a lot of physical exercise. He goes on little walks around Dirtmouth every day, usually to visit the market or just greet his friends and see what they're up to, though a lot of times he does so to find solitude and relax. Working with a lot of metals as a job, for example when he makes complex mechanisms for tools, particularly large farming tools, means that he does a lot of weight carrying since he handles it all by himself, you can see the effects of that when looking at his fairly muscular arms. He also makes sure to maintain good hygiene; he never had trouble with that during his rule, but the few weeks in the wilds put him in a situation where that wasn't really possible, so now he remembers to give it special attention. He struggles with baths because of his fear of drowning (he prefers if Grimm is there with him to hold his hand and encourage him), but thankfully there is a system of simple showers installed in the town, so he's able to clean himself regularly. His claws and horns need some special care as well, he can trim his claws himself but he needs some help with filing down his horns to the desired length. After all of that, he feels a lot better about himself, which lets him go about his day with a much better mindset.

Grimm - a lot of his self-care routines are related to his looks, he's very aware of his appearance and wants to look as good and desirable as he can. In many ways his role as the Troupe Master and a star in many of its performances play a big part, as did other things in his past, though he primarily does it for himself. He enjoys looking good, I think that is clear by how he carries himself. Of course, Vyrm is also a big reason why he gives his appearance extra attention. He spends a lot of time maintaining his fur, washing and brushing it to give it extra volume, and keeping it at the desired length (which is quite a bit longer than it used to back in the day, so that is a big influence Vyrm had on his looks) is part of his routine. His claws also get extra attention, he makes sure to trim them so they still look good while preventing any situations where he can accidentally scratch his family members, not to mention making sure they have just the right amount of shine. Physical activity is also important for him, he exercises regularly and goes on walks with Grimm, not to mention anything physically demanding related to the performance rehearsals. That said, he still remembers to take it slow sometimes, and something he particularly enjoys is reading books and, of course, drinking his favorite tea.

Hornet - most of her self-care routine that is worth mentioning includes relaxing her explosive personality and trying to find some peace so that her anger outbursts don't get in the way of loving and appreciating what she has. She picked up reading as a hobby she really enjoys, she also helps Holly with sewing, which is something she finds very relaxing, and in moments where she's close to losing her cool, she likes to practice some breathing exercises to stay calm. On top of that, she frequently goes on walks, especially longer walks around the neighboring regions, which double up as patrols. The woods next to Dirtmouth are a new walk destination which she developed a liking for throughout the years, she really enjoys walking among the trees (which she wasn't used to as the vegetation underground is usually a lot smaller) and climbing them to get an even better view of the town.

#ask stuff #feral pk au #fpk #vyrm #grimm #hornet

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mrs-bluemarine · 22 hours

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VASILY CONTENT!!

Ik I have a whole ass blog for this shit but I know it won't get any attention over there (lol) so I'm posting it here 🫶 minors dni please and thanks, content warning for guns and um. Um. (No sex just extremely suggestive) I like to imagine Vas gets very antsy when he's flustered. It's my new favorite thing. I love torturing men.

Oh yeah um normal text in speech is English, whereas italics is meant to signify Russian. Until friends come in, in which case normal text is Japanese. She's a multilingual queen ok. (And I hc Vasily knows very little English)

“Dobroye utro, Vasily.”

The man's head immediately snapped up upon hearing her kind voice. The blonde woman was making her way through the trees, smiling down pleasantly as the Russian man was settled on the ground, rifle in hand. Her deep blue eyes took notice of the gun. The butt rested on the snowy floor, the barrel pointing at the sky above, while Vasily tinkered with something on its side. Curious, the German woman joined him, watching and teasing him as he worked. “Playing with toys?”

The redhead huffed, ignoring her little comment which made her giggle. She leaned in closer. Her hand rested on his knee. “Why, it's certainly a pretty toy… I think I've seen it before, Mosin-Nagant, ja?”

Impressed by her knowledge, Vasily nodded. His silent praise only made her smile widen. “I'm not too familiar with weapons, but my father being the man he was, he was very interested in what was used in the war, he talked to me about some of it… ah, but I'm rambling. You barely understand a word I'm saying.”

Her eyes traveled lower down his rifle. What amused her was the position of it, settled between his legs the way it was… it reminded her of another weapon of his she had the pleasure of seeing just a couple nights ago. How lucky she was to have such a caring, giving man to keep her warm in that cave…

Vasily didn't seem to notice her darkened gaze as fire licked at her insides. Oh, she couldn't help herself. She was a needy woman. The snow around them, the silence of the early morning forest, it all did little to pull her out of her fantasies. She was painfully aware that it was just the two of them again. Shiraishi and Sugimoto were nowhere to be seen, probably still out searching for that precious “white”.

One of her soft hands touched his on the grip of the rifle. He wasn't wearing his mittens, so she got to feel the warm, rough skin of his fingers. These same fingers that were on her when they-

“Is it loaded?” She asked as a precaution. Brows furrowed, Vasily shook his head with a low grunt.

Her fingers drew apart from his, caressing the magazine and traveling up the forestock of the gun. “Pretty… Not as pretty as your other gun.” Her words confused him. However, the way her hand moved… it gave him a suggestion of what she was talking about. It was terribly… sultry. The idea of what she was hinting at made his heart flutter in an foreign, uncomfortable way.

Her mind searched and searched for something more she could whisper to him in that unfamiliar language. She cursed herself for getting lazy with her Russian, who knew that she'd need it for something as important as him.

She leaned in closer, resting on her palm, ignoring the frosty bite of the ice beneath it. Her hand started moving, slowly pumping up and down the stock of his gun with a ghostly touch, her deep blue eyes pinning him down. “You're a good shot, not just with a rifle, y'know.”

That slow, quiet voice of hers speaking in his tongue, it did things to him. His mind was spinning, eyes fighting between her hand and her beautiful face, and trying not to peek at the collar of her button-up from the new angle.

Vasily huffed, a cute splotch of color coming onto what of his face she could see peeking from underneath his hood. She wasn't sure he even noticed how his own thighs lifted, spreading slightly, giving her more access to his weapon. The blonde purred, stopping her hand where the wood of his gun became metal. She firmly grasped the barrel. He acted like he felt her touch, thighs abruptly clamping shut, eyes unable to look away from her hand now. Her thumb rubbed the smooth cold metal, making its way to his tip. “...I'm not a fan of getting shot by bullets, but I wouldn't mind if you shot me with something else.”

A little giggle left her mouth as she heard the redhead curse, sounding like a garbled mess due to cloth and his ruined jaw. While his eyes were occupied, her face leaned in closer to his neck. She could feel his heat, could practically hear the drumming of his heart.

“You should teach me how to shoot someday, ja? I'd like to get some more practice with you. I'd love to feel it in my own two hands.”

Her hand touched his gun with nothing but affection in every caress. Even as her index finger reached the bottom of the long muzzle, circling it with her fingertip. Her eyes didn't leave his, watching desire and embarrassment and excitement all swirl behind those beautiful bright irises of his. Vasily's finger felt the biting cold of metal burning into his finger, slowly getting oh, so close to losing his damn mind. She decided one last little tease is what she'd give him. Putting on a sickeningly sweet voice that feigned embarrassment. “I do have some practice, but not a lot… Can you show me around, sokrovishche?”

Then there was the sound of a soft, familiar click. Seemed like the sudden sound got Vasily to snap out of his daze, his eyes lowering and focusing on his finger wrapped tight around the trigger of his rifle that was hitting the inside of the guard. Getting to see him so flustered got a laugh out of the woman. She leaned in closer, resting her head against his shoulder. “What do you say, dear? Please? Oh, don't make a girl beg.”

“Franz! Hood! Where the hell are ya’?!”

Siraishi’s voice bounced off the fresh snow, defeat and irritation present in his tone while he and Sugimoto came back to Heita’s hut empty handed.

“Ah, there you two are.” Sugimoto chimed in, watching Vasily practically drag the German woman behind him over a hill, huffing and puffing, face nearly as red as his hair. “What the hell’s gotten into him?”

“I suggested he teach me how to shoot his rifle, and he got so excited!” Franziska beamed. “I guess he’s really eager to show me!”

“I’ll say.” Shiraishi eyed the Russian man pulling Franz away from the group. “Maybe we should go with you-” Sugimoto tried to suggest.

“Oh, that’s okay! Vasil tells me he’s a better teacher when it’s one-on-one” Franziska smiled, showing teeth and closing her eyes. She called out before getting too far– barely fighting the man pulling her away from the rest, “We shouldn’t be gone for too long, I’m sure we’ll be alright on our own!”

Sugimoto waved them off. “Okay, don’t go too far! Hey, and be on the lookout for any bears!”

“And bring back something to eat!”

The blackhead turned, noticing the new, devious look on his friend's face, “Something wrong, Shiraishi?”

“Hmph, just thinking. I think I know that look. Hah! Haha!” Shiraishi skittered away, laughing evilly to himself. “I'd know it all too well…”

“...Is there something happening that I should know?” Sugimoto questioned while following him.

“Heh.” Shiraishi scratched his nose. “Nothing you should worry about. I'm sure Franz and Riding Hood will be okay, and if I'm right, we won't be missing them for too long.”

#fics #🎯 / shot through the heart #ch.: 🎯#suggestive #mdni #nsft self shipping #okay that's it. no more tags because I'm embarrassed

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synthetickitsune · 2 years

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Joshua (Seventeen) | Mistletoe fluff | 0.6k

Christmas is drawing near, which means that time everyone has for getting together is getting sparse. Your little friendly Christmas celebration is a couple days early as a result, but you know how important the boys are to your boyfriend and you like them too, so you don’t worry about it too much.

As you all agreed, everyone’s bringing some snacks and drinks, and the plan is to watch some cheesy Christmas movie, maybe play some games and just have a good time. All surrounded by red and green Christmas decor. And upon some of their insistence, there’s mistletoe hanging in some of the doorways and hidden throughout your home as well.

Maybe you’d be a bit unsure about the tiny piece hanging just between the hall and the rest of the apartment, meaning those who notice would be entitled to a kiss from you since you’ll be greeting them, seeing as Joshua had some last minute business to take care of, but it was your boyfriend’s idea so you guess it’s alright.

And to be honest, the guys are very respectful, settling for a hug, or a brief, innocent peck on their cheek that makes DK’s eyes sparkle and a subtle blush spread across Seungcheol's cheeks. You give Jeonghan a wary look but he reassures you he wouldn’t cross a line like that with his jokes. And he keeps his word, which really shouldn’t come as a surprise.

Joshua is the last to arrive, apologizing profusely until he's shut up by the sight of the small plant hanging from above. Finally he smiles, tension lifting from his body as his hands find their place on your waist.

"Welcome home," you greet him before planting a chaste peck on his cheek, aware of the lull in the conversation in the living room and the couple heads peeking out of the room. You're about to let him go but he chuckles and pulls you closer.

“Nah, nah, nah, that’s not good enough,” he smirks, staying close. Too close. Your heart can’t slow down. He tilts his face even closer to yours while one of his hands gently guides your chin up until your lips brush together. It’s the last warning you’ll get, you realize. You don’t pull away.

And then his lips are on yours again, only this time there’s no hint of the softness from before. This is a kiss that says I want you. You’re mine. Let them see. The blood rushing in your ears drowns out Soonyoung’s wolf whistles and Seungcheol’s scolding of the younger man. Joshua backs you up against the doorframe, his hands securely placed so as to prevent the structure to dig into your back. Ever the gentleman.

You barely stop yourself from whining when he pulls away. He sees it on your face, though, and chuckles quietly.

“That’s how you kiss your boyfriend,” he teases before soothing you with a soft peck to the corner of your mouth.

“I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of the guys,” you explain quietly, even if it sounds stupid now. He frowns.

“You could never embarrass me,” he says, pulling you into his chest, “Did I make you uncomfortable? Shit, sorry, I didn’t think about that.”

You shake your head, looking up at him with a small smile. “No, I’m just not used to not having to walk on the eggshells around, you know, my boyfriend’s friends.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead and you feel him sigh. “Well, you better get used to it now,” he squeezes you, “Because you’re my pride and I want to show you off, okay?”

You're pretty sure he can feel your heart trying to beat its way out of your chest. You don't trust your voice, so you only nod.

"I love you. Remember that or I'll make you give me a tour of all the mistletoes here," he jokes, or at least you think he's joking. Either way, it doesn't sound so bad now that you think about it.

#seventeen #joshua #seventeen reactions #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #svt fluff #seventeen vocal unit #drabble #fluff

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kimyoonmiauthor · 8 months

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Story Theory: Detail v. Description

So yes, it varies worldwide and by different contexts.

I first posted this on Nanowrimo, which then got used on Writing Excuses by Brandon Sanderson. So I think it's fair to steal it back. As I said, I LOVE extended analogies and at the time no one was making a distinction and a lot of people don't.

Up front: Neither are evil. They are both tools in the toolbox, and how you use them is important. Yes, it varies by context, country, etc. So yes, there are judgment calls.

Definitions

Description is a long introductory paragraph which might carry an emotion, but often doesn't really have the character in it.

Detail is integrated bits of stick-out information.

Analogy

If you have a car, you don't need to know exactly how the carburetor works, what the model of the engine is, what color the exhaust pipe is. But you might want to know that it is red and has flame decals, especially, say if it's a mystery and that's a KEY bit of information to crack the case. If you describe the car, then you're getting every last bit about the make model, the carburetor, etc. That's a description.

But if you're getting the detail, then that's the flame decals.

Theories on how to apply these tools and when to cut.

Description is usually used for slow action, taking a breath, discovery, to slow action down, and generally to set up scenery. Sometimes it's used to set up a character that's new to the narrating character. The key here is that the character must be new to the narrating character, not to the reader.

You cut it when it's the opposite. You want to speed up the action. You don't want to take a breath. It's all action, morality, or conflict. And you aren't setting up scenery/scenery is not key yet.

Detail is a quick in and out of something that is DIFFERENT or STICKS OUT.

Hey, your friend is wearing is bright green sweater, you're going to notice that.

Why cut it all out?

The person has a sensory disability. (I'd urge you to up the other information the character does have in this case)

The person isn't very self aware of anything.

The character narrating isn't very observant, or only observant in certain situations (ADHD and hyper focus can be played with this way)

The character is super self-absorbed

Likewise, if the character is observant, very self-aware, very tuned into others, then these things should increase, BUT when you pick it out, make sure it has purpose. Like the little bit of cereal on his collar and baby food on his shirt pocket tells you he's struggling with his baby.

Examples

Description:

MRS. Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow, fringed with alders and ladies’ eardrops and traversed by a brook that had its source away back in the woods of the old Cuthbert place; it was reputed to be an intricate, headlong brook in its earlier course through those woods, with dark secrets of pool and cascade; but by the time it reached Lynde’s Hollow it was a quiet, well-conducted little stream, for not even a brook could run past Mrs. Rachel Lynde’s door without due regard for decency and decorum; it probably was conscious that Mrs. Rachel was sitting at her window, keeping a sharp eye on everything that passed, from brooks and children up, and that if she noticed anything odd or out of place she would never rest until she had ferreted out the whys and wherefores thereof. --Anne of Green Gables, opening line.

This also characterizes Mrs. Lynde.

Detail:

And yet here was Matthew Cuthbert, at half-past three on the afternoon of a busy day, placidly driving over the hollow and up the hill; moreover, he wore a white collar and his best suit of clothes, which was plain proof that he was going out of Avonlea; and he had the buggy and the sorrel mare, which betokened that he was going a considerable distance. Now, where was Matthew Cuthbert going and why was he going there? --Anne of Green Gables, LM Montgomery

The bolded bits are details, because they stick out to the narrating character, Mrs Lynde.

What should description and detail include?

It's best to include these with an emotion attached, instead of listing them off.

So it's not chocolate chip cookies.

It's grandmother's chocolate chip cookies she made every Sunday without fail. Eating the gooey center made me cry as I stared at the recipe again in her dusty recipe box.

Aim the detail/description at an emotion, or at least towards your story driver. You can see that in even the Anne of Green Gables passage. There is a non-stated emotion in the first paragraph.

With emotion, BTW, doesn't mean writing the previous as,

I ate grandmother's chocolate chip cookies and I felt sad. I looked at the dusty recipe box.

No. Don't tell the emotion. Show the unique way your character has it. Because another character Might face a similar situation and sniff bravely.

Sensory information:

Sight

Color, texture, props, items.

Taste

salty, umame, sweet, aromas, bitter, etc.

C'mon leverage your literary super power as a novel writer.

Hearing

This is often good to combine with sight. For example, the creak of the wooden wheels ad the gravel crunched below in the grand courtyard.

Smell

People who don't go outside forget the smell of everything except food. People *smell*. Flowers smell like things. Smells are carried on the wind. You can't do this in movies, but you can in books. Make your character have this experience.

Touch

Smooth, rough, velvety? Up this for books. Make those screenwriters hate you.

Interoception- sensations from inside the body Belly grumbled with hunger. So tired. Headache.

Vestibular sense (balance) Is the character balanced all of the time?

Time information

What time of day is it? What time of year is it?

Place information

I'm guilty of forgetting to include the setting. But also, you should include where your character is in space. If you're lost, then draw a map with an x and colored pencils every time you move the character.

I also cheat by using programs like Sketch up, the Sims, etc. Make sure your characters don't jump in space. Color code as needed.

If they are up a mountain, down a mountain, about to cross a river, all of these should have a cascading effect on the character and the interactions. Don't forget that the place information should influence how the dialogue is said.

Weather. Don't forget what season it is. If it's sunny all of the time, I'm suspicious, especially if you've set it in England. WTH. Make sure your weather patterns match.

Dreary rain. Sunny. Snowing.

What do characters look like? What are their expressions?

Don't tell what the emotions are. Talk me through how they usually are when they are sad, or playing more than one emotion at a time. If you're limited on time, push it through dialogue.

What does the clothing, food, or customs look like?

The white shirt up there, for example is fast.

So across cultures this varies a bit.

Long descriptions of scenery is more Chinese, as well as describing the characters who usually get long info. Tone set up is usually done by description in traditional Zuni tales.

In Korean, there might be a setting set up with tone and theme attached.

Descriptions might be longer in Japanese works to set up a certain mood.

But I think it's worth it to look at those cultures and how they are pulling it off and what techniques you can learn from them doing it that way. What does the story gain, what does it communicate, how do you feel? How do people of that culture feel about the work? If you're a writer you need to be concerned about more than yourself when it comes to techniques.

Generally, when you're faced with a work that's unfamiliar, try to feel out what it's trying to accomplish by doing it that way and you learn much more than by rejecting it.

But imagine you could be masterful enough to have a scenery description that could set up mood, tone, voice of the story, and the theme all at once because you combed through other people's techniques to arrive there. Wouldn't you feel smug especially if you managed to do all of that in 40 words or less? (English, granted). I think I would.

#story theory #writing advice #writing

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0perfectimperfections0 · 1 year

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what if lou won the gauntlet

MMM, ya'll really want a happy ending...

Okay, okay...I will dig into the very recesses of my soul and see if I can keep Lou from being emotionally scarred and tormented--

<><><><>

It was green. As green as Ox's felt. There was a checkmark and everything right beside his face. It wasn't the most glorious picture of him, but the green surrounding it made it his favorite. Yes, green was absolutely his favorite color for numerous reasons.

Those Uglies were talking. Nothing reached his awareness. It was white noise in the background. White. Not green, so it wasn't important. Only green things were important.

The portal opened up. Its light drowned out the darkness around it. It even managed to suck away some of the darkness that had settled inside of Lou. His name was vaguely heard behind him. It was Ox.

Green things were important.

Lou stared at the open portal. Could he go through it? Would it really let him? The robots edged closer to him. They looked threatening. Was...was he not supposed to win? It was against the rule book for him to run the Gauntlet.

"You wanna try it?" The voice was beside him now. Ox. The green thing. As green as that checkmark on the screen. He was looking up at Lou who still stared at the portal. "Maybe you can get through." Ox knew. A precious secret between brothers. No longer brothers, but at one point. "You can finally leave."

"What if I can't?" Lou's voice was distant.

"But what if ya can?"

"If...If it fails to let me through...everyone will know I'm fake. They'll know something is different about me." Lou felt the eyes of the crowd on him already. There was no way to do it discreetly. He looked down at the bunny. "I need you to pass."

"Huh?"

"The Gauntlet. We'll redo it and I need you to pass. We'll both walk to the portal and if something goes wrong I'll make something up."

"Your secret will get out anyway once they see an Ugly can pass."

He was right. No matter how he played his cards everyone would know he was different.

"Lou," Ox whispered. The bunny had a wary eye on the robot to their left. It rolled closer slowly, something in its hand that was sparking. "Take it or leave it. But somethin' tells me they're gonna try and stop ya."

Honestly, if those stupid robots didn't exist, the place wouldn't be half as bad. Lou tapped his fingers against his legs. "I'm gonna take it," he whispered breathlessly. "If anything goes wrong--"

"I've got your back, Kid. You never stopped me when I wanted to go. I ain't gonna do that to ya."

"Ox?" Moxy stepped toward them, her eyes glancing between the two. "What's going on?"

The bunny didn't answer her. He looked ahead but kept an eye on the robots trying to close in. A few dolls from the crowd began to notice the strange devices in their hands. Lou, as discreetly as he could, passed the remote to Ox. The Uglies narrowed in on the device, confused as to what was going on. Ox held it firmly. "Go."

Lou bolted forward. The robots took immediate action and charged after him. Ox slammed a finger down on the button and the Gauntlet began to sink into the ground. Ox ran after Lou and the robots. Surely this stupid remote had to control more than just the Gauntlet. There was another button below the top one and Ox pressed down on it. There was a siren that went off before the portal began to close.

"Darn it all," Ox cursed under his breath. "Lou, hurry!"

Lou nearly tripped running up the steps, but he manages to keep pushing forward. He slowed down in front of the portal. The robots that weren't chasing after him were beginning to round up the Uglies. One of the robots in pursuit grabbed Ox by the ears. His yelp made Lou freeze, hand inches from the light. The walls were still closing.

"Ox?"

The bunny was just inches from the portal. It called to him. Like an instinct. An itch. Or anything else that had to be resolved in order to the desire to go away. But Lou's voice made him freeze. He turned to see wide, hurt blue eyes staring at him from the base of the platform.

Guilt struck him harshly. He'd made a promise.

Despite the longing and tug, he forced himself to walk back to the leader. He couldn't leave. He'd made a promise. As much as he wanted to go...

As much as he wanted to go...he still had a reason for being here. The Uglies would get discarded. The Pretty Dolls would not get trained. Ox would be burned. This same feeling was what Ox had felt. He couldn't blame the bunny for that. Because the second the opportunity presented itself to Lou, he literally lunged forward to take it. Just like Ox had done.

But Ox still resisted that temptation.

He still loved and cared about Lou enough to throw away such an opportunity as having a kid.

Lou withdrew his hand. The portal was nearly closed, now, but Lou didn't spare a moment to watch his freedom disappear as he turned back around. The robots that had pursued him were on the platform, but that wasn't his concern. Ox was fighting for his life as one robot had a death grip on his ears. The other uglies were at a standstill. Robots held out strange devices that only Lou knew the result of. Still, having a strange weapon pointed at them was debilitating.

In the next moment, Ox was released and fell to the ground. The crowd of dolls gasped and watched sparks fly from the base of the robot's head. It sparked, rolled, and eventually came to a stop a few feet from its body. The rest of itself collapsed to the ground not a second later. Lou stood behind it, breathing ragged and a sewing needle raised above his shoulders.

He met eyes with Ox. "I'm sorry." They said at the same time.

Ox assumed Lou hadn't made it through. Lou was apologizing for something that happened years ago.

"I'm sorry it didn't work." Ox clarified.

Lou lowered his arms, breathing still out of sync. "I...I didn't try it."

The bunny gaped for words. "B-But that was your chance--"

"I know...but you had yours too, remember? A-And you didn't take it. You stayed. And if it hadn't been for me this would've been your home, too."

Ox noticed more robots beginning to close in on them from all sides. Moxy and her gang were forced to join the two dolls as sparking boxes were directed at them. Lou turned on his heel, back-to-back with Ox whilst trying to keep an eye on all of the robots. "I don't think you're the enemy here, Kid."

"I'm starting to think that, too..." Lou gripped the needle tightly.

"Prototype Model 12. Stand down." One robot demanded. Murmurs from the crowd began.

Great. Even after all that, his blasted secret was still out. It didn't even matter if he had done the right thing. This factory was still out to ruin everything he'd built here.

Wage managed a glare at the blond despite their circumstances. "You filthy liar! You ain't even a real doll!"

"He is a real doll!" Ox surprised her by coming to Lou's defense. "I don't wanna hear that nonsense. He's as real as the rest of us. Lou, ya can't call these cans off?"

"They don't listen to me. I'm not their boss."

"Then who is?" Mandy panicked as a robot edged closer to her and Moxy.

Lou swallowed. He stared down in his peripheral toward Ox. "Do you still have the remote?"

"Yeah, why?"

"There's a small switch on the back. Push it up and then hit the third button from the top down. I wasn't allowed to know about it...but it opens the portal."

Ox pushed the switch up on the back and flipped the remote in his hand again. He paused. "And what if ya can't get through?"

"I didn't plan on going through."

"You're an idiot if ya think I'm leavin' ya again."

"You don't have a choice, Bunny, now do it!" Lou had half a mind to insult or push or hurt Ox in some way. Something that would make Ox want to leave him. "Take these dolls with you. They'll be thrown into recycling if they stay. Mandy, you have to go, too. The robots have seen your glasses, now, they're programmed to get rid of any imperfect dolls."

"And whatdya think'll happen the second we're gone, huh?" Ox challenged, back still pressing against Lou's legs.

"That's not your concern--" Lou was cut off as Ox suddenly turned, grabbed the needle from his hands, and swung it to knock out one of the bots. It sparked and collapsed to the ground.

The bunny whirled around to glare up at Lou, swinging the needle toward another robot in the process. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard come out o' your mouth, Kid. I ain't goin' anywhere!"

Lou barely dodged a robot reaching out to grab him. He ended up behind Ox who swung at the tin can harshly. "You have to! And stop calling me kid! I'm not your kid!"

Another robot stretched an arm out, the device pointed right at Lou, but Ox broke its arm off with another hit. "Well, you're my kid! That's why I never went through the portal! I wanted to have a kid in the Big World, I really did!" Another swing as they were closed in by more robots. "But I didn't cause my kid needed me. I made him a promise that I'd always be there for 'im and I failed every time I looked at that portal. But darn it all, Lou, I loved ya and I still do and you're my kid!"

Lou grabbed the needle, holding the end of it even as Ox gripped tightly to the bottom. "Then your kid is telling you to leave! I'm not watching my doll walk to the recycling again!"

Green things were important.

<><><>

Okay...Imma put a pause on this. I like, daydreamed about all the different ways it could play out after Lou ran to the portal and it erupted into this.

Um...😅let me know if ya'll want a continuation of it or if any of ya'll want to be the one to write a continuation of it.

ON THAT NOTE, I wanna mention that if there's any prompt/ask/story that ya'll see from my feed and are like "Hey, I'd like to write my own spin on that or change something about how she wrote it" then, by all means, do so. You don't have to credit me or anything, but I'd like an @ so I can read what you write!

#lou #uglydolls #fanfiction #writing #ox #ask #answer #mmm maybe series?#I'm working on so many series XD #its okay #I love it

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denimbex1986 · 7 months

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'Andrew Haigh's All of Us Strangers is finally available to watch widely after a very slow theatrical release. While this film has been snubbed for many awards, it is still spectacular, complimented by fantastic performances from Andrew Scott and Paul Mescal. Based on the novel Strangers by Taichi Yamada, All of Us Strangers provides its own interpretation of the story by changing not only the setting but the romance as well. Its introduction of queer themes enhances the emotional journey of its central character, which concludes with a devastating revelation. At its core, All of Us Strangers is more about the experience of grief, reconciliation, and moving on than it is about a conclusive, straightforward narrative. The film naturally leaves a lot up to interpretation for the audience, delivering a heartbreaking ending that feels earned.

What Is 'All of Us Strangers' About?

All of Us Strangers focuses on Adam (Scott), a lonely screenwriter based in London who is attempting to write about his long-dead parents. The film begins with a fire alarm in his apartment building. Adam evacuates, seemingly the only tenant to do so, and looks up at the empty building to see a man, Harry (Mescal), looking down at him from the window. After Adam returns to his apartment, there's a knock at the door. Harry, a bottle of whiskey in hand, leaning on the door frame. Through their short conversation, it's understood that Harry, above all else, doesn't want to be alone. Adam rejects Harry's offer to spend the night together, and he solemnly returns to his apartment. As the days go on, Adam comes to regret this decision and eventually invites Harry in, beginning a romantic relationship with him.

As this relationship blossoms, Adam is attempting to write about his parents, who both died in a car crash when Adam was a young child. Struck with writer's block, he starts looking over mementos from his childhood, finding an old photo of his former home. It's then that he decides to go back and visit for the first time in his adult life. There, he finds his parents, the same age as when they died, a few years younger than Adam is now and aware of the fact that they have been dead for decades. They invite him like an old friend they haven't seen in a long time, eager to hear what their son has been up to for the past 30 years.

‘All of Us Strangers’ Is Just as Much About Romance as It Is About Grief

The entirety of the film is a back-and-forth battle in Adams' life between living happily with Harry and going back to have time and important conversations with his parents that he never got to have. It's not all pretty, and that's what makes it feel all the more real. These visits change him in good and bad ways. His life is suddenly revolving around the ghosts of his parents like an addiction, yet Adam is opening up more to Harry because of them, with Harry only coming to Adam's apartment. He even tells Harry of his parents' death, a car crash that killed his father instantly, but left his mother in the hospital for some time before she died, showing how intimate their relationship has become.

Still, as he visits them more and more, his parents realize that he will waste the rest of his life there with them instead of trying to find some semblance of happiness with Harry, especially after Harry has an adverse reaction to what Adam is doing in his childhood home. It also seems that the more he visits his parents, the more Adam gets sick and weak. Both his parents and Harry mention his high temperature, and he coughs more and more throughout the runtime. When they tell him that this situation is preventing him from moving on, Adam says "It hasn't been long enough." To which his mother (Claire Foy) replies "It never could be, could it?" The film already sets up the idea that despite this situation providing more time, he's still going to lose them, and nothing can stop that. He is clinging to the past, abandoning a possible future for himself.

He journeys with his parents to a restaurant that they frequented when he was a child, and even orders "the family special," despite appearing alone to other diners. In the end, the most interesting part of this culmination between a child and his parents is that he ends up comforting them just as much as they do him. Despite protest from his mother, Adam's father (Jamie Bell) asks him if both of their deaths were quick. Adam lies and tells them yes, despite the contradictory story he tells Harry earlier on in the film about the car crash, just to give them a final bit of solace before they move on. In their final moments, they tell Adam that they are proud that he is just still here, living. They have nothing else left to say except their love for each other. In the end, they horrifyingly relive their deaths in front of Adam's eyes, and just before they both disappear, his mother makes him promise to try with Harry, to try and make each other's lives a bit happier.

Paul Mescal's Harry Has Been Dead the Entire Time

After losing his parents yet again, he follows the words of his mother and seeks out Harry, whose relationship with him has gotten rocky as Adam has spent more time with the ghosts of his parents. But this time he goes to Harry's apartment instead. Immediately after entering Harry's apartment, he discovers Harry's dead body in his bed. We see a glimpse of his body, with the same whiskey bottle he had when Adam turned him away that first night. It's safe to assume between the bottle being the same, and the discoloration of his hand, that Harry has been dead since the first night they met, and we already know Adam can see ghosts.

After spending a few moments with Harry's body, someone walks into the apartment: Harry himself, again in the same clothes as his body, bottle in hand. Adam confesses that he was too scared to let Harry into his apartment, also serving as a confession that he was too scared for anything to happen between them romantically. Between the loneliness of the two of them, it's clear Harry understands. Yet again, Adam comforts the dead, reassuring Harry that he is not in the bedroom, but instead here in front of him. Adam takes Harry back to his apartment, where they lie in bed together for the final moments of the film. Their conversation wraps up the themes of the film beautifully. Harry asks Adam if he got to say everything he wanted to his parents before they moved on. Adam, unsure, says "I don't know, but I got to be with them." There is constant pressure to get everything you need to say out for closure, but All of Us Strangers proposes that simply being together is enough. The film ends with exactly that, the two of them embracing in bed (if you look closely enough, Harry is in the same position as his corpse is in his apartment), the camera pulls out, their bodies forming a singular star in a vast universe.

Is Adam Dead in 'All of Us Strangers'?

All of Us Strangers intentionally leaves a lot for the viewer to entertain while watching. From the exact moment Harry dies to whether the ghosts Adam is haunted by are even real or a figment of his imagination. That brings the biggest question the film suggests: Is Adam dead like his loved ones around him? While this film can be read as a straightforward ghost story about the reality of grief and loneliness, the oddness of the film suggests there is more at play here. Many scenes in this film feel like a dream. This was even commented on by Andrew Scott, saying "I feel very strongly that the film is like a dream [...] [Andrew Haigh's] achievement is that he directs us towards the feeling, rather than the logic of what the feeling might be." Haigh pushes the audience to understand the feelings Adam is experiencing, rather than presenting something that is more logical plot-wise.

From the distorted, almost scary subway sequence, to the disorienting club sequence where we first get a glimpse that there may be something more going on with Harry, this film is not afraid to push into the fantastical. For this theory, the beginning of the film is the most important, as it starts with a fire alarm. In a bit of awkward conversation following that alarm, Harry quips "One day it'll be for real, that alarm." Throughout the film, Adam coughs and gets increasingly hotter, something noted by his parents. It's possible that Adam is dying, or already dead, due to a fire in his apartment. The entirety of this film could be a flash before his death, or limbo for his spirit to wander until he has enough closure to move on. It would certainly explain the more interpretive sides of the movie. The only scene that could discredit it is where he interacts with the waitress. But the beauty of this film is that it doesn't matter, the message stays the same, and it wouldn't mean any less if Adam were alive or dead. Haigh sums it up perfectly in an interview with Entertainment Weekly, "In many ways, the whole film to me was a love letter saying, it's okay. It's quite hard. You've all been through some stuff, but you can move on from this and you can find love." Sometimes, time spent together is all you need, even if it may never be enough.'

#Andrew Haigh #Andrew Scott #All of Us Strangers #Claire Foy #Jamie Bell #Paul Mescal #Taichi Yamada #Strangers

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