#he obviously cries at very sad things like loss of a loved one
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
musubiki · 2 years ago
Note
does lime ever cry about anything or is angry more of his emotion? cause in all the childhood limochi comics mochi seems to be more the overflowing emotional one and lime is the more repressed on even back then. does that change at all ?
good catch!!! youre correct little mochi was VERY much the cry easy child. even if it was a little inconvenience or when she was angry the tears would flow!! not that she was a whiny brat but any time she got upset she couldnt stop the tears lol
and yes lime channels his negative emotions into anger. baby lime was very "haha REAL men dont cry!!!" type and even as he got older he recognizes "okay yeah everyone cries no big deal hahah" but theres still that underlying mindset. that being said hes a very dry anger type, so it takes a lot to actually get tears to come out, usually the only people hed ever cry for or to is his family + mochi.
the only time we actually SEE him cry is whatever the point is where all his pent up resentment about mochi leaving all of them without any word or warning comes out!! and as SOON as his eyes start watering he just freezes he cant even get anymore words out once he gets to that point
(and actually tried to up and run once the tears started but mochi wouldnt let him. and thats the only time we see lime cry -w- )
34 notes · View notes
javierpena-inatacvest · 20 days ago
Text
Chapter 7- For The First Time
Tumblr media
Summary: Eight days ago, you kissed Frankie Morales for the first time. Eight days later, you want to do more than just kiss him.
Word count: 8.6K
Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname, no use of y/n)
Warnings: SMUT (18+) protected p in v sex, loss of virginity/first sexual experience for Frankie and Reader (some brief mentions of momentary discomfort bc of it) oral (f receiving- building the lore for Pussy Eating King Francisco Morales brick by brick), vaginal fingering, Frankie's got a big dick (it's also part of the lore, don't @ me) sweet and awkward teenage love, Frankie being everything and more, lots and lots and lots of consent, a four letter word that starts with an L, please don't yell at me, they're both 18 at this point in the story!!!
A/N: Soooooo all of a sudden I blinked a this was 8K plus words WHOOPS 🤠 I ain't gonna lie with y'all, this may be one of my favorite things I've ever written and have cried the whole way through it 😭 My plan was to have Frankie picking up MacKenzie from work in this chapter too, but obviously things got away from me very quickly, so that will be next chapter's problem!! Your kind words about this story mean so much to me, I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as I've enjoyed writing it!!! 🥺💕
All The Things We Never Said Masterlist
Previous Chapter Next Chapter
You, Summer of 2007, Age 18 
123 days. 
That night Frankie told you he had made up his mind to join the Army after he finished with high school, you counted out every square on your calendar from April 15th to August 16th. You had 123 days left together before you left for college and Frankie left for boot camp. 
But April 15th was 2 months ago. 67 days ago, to be exact. Each day you crossed off your calendar filled you with a little more dread than the last. You tried not to think about the dwindling number, or the impending doom of August hanging behind July and June on the wall above your desk, but it was hard to not let the thought constantly nag in the back of your mind that the carefree summer days of spending practically every waking minute with Frankie were coming to an end. 
The only thing that seemed to put you at ease was just that- after the hurt and sadness of Frankie’s departure had subsided enough, you had promised each other that the last bit of time you had together, you’d do everything in your power to make the most of it. 
If there was anything you knew the other was good for, it was keeping a promise. 
There was no denying that the past 67 days spent with Frankie had been nothing short of magical. It seemed like for once in your life, everything was falling into place exactly how you wanted it to. 
Your soccer team had won the state championship, Frankie being the first to rush onto the field to congratulate you on your victory after cheering for you at the top of his lungs the whole game. The stress of school seemed to become irrelevant, your teachers easing up as you came to the close of your Senior year, you and Frankie’s after school hangouts now focused less on homework and more on goofing around. Graduation had come and gone, you and Frankie both walking across the stage of your high school gym, diplomas in hand, teasing the other relentlessly about how awful the other looked in the stupid, tasseled caps they had forced you to wear. 
Then, there was prom.
It had been no question that you and Frankie were going to prom together- it was an unspoken, standing agreement that the both of you had since the start of your senior year. For as much as homecomings or school dances had never been your (or Frankie’s) preferred way to spend a Saturday night, there was an undeniable excitement you had about it you couldn’t really quite describe. You kept chalking it up to the fact it was the biggest night of your senior year, or that all your best friends were gathering together to have an incredible party filled with dancing and fun. 
But neither of those things could account for the butterflies in your stomach when Frankie showed up at your front door, tuxedo on and flowers in hand, watching his jaw drop and heart stop when he laid eyes on you. 
“You look beautiful, MacKenzie.” 
From that moment on, those 4 words hadn’t stopped ringing in your ears. 
They rang in your ears as he held your hand the entire night, refusing to unlock his fingers from yours. 
They rang in your ears as you felt him grab your waist while you danced. 
They rang in your ears as he lovinging teased you about your drunken hiccups off sips of stolen beer cans in Santi’s basement where the party had traveled to long after prom had finished. 
They rang in your ears in the middle of your moonlit street as Frankie walked you home, making it no less than ten steps past Santi’s porch before he froze, staring at you like a trembling deer in headlights.
“What’s wrong, weirdo?” 
��There’s something I wanna do. I’m terrified you’ll hate me forever if I do it, but I’ve wanted to for so long and I don’t think I can wait anymore.” 
“Frankie, what are you-” 
“Can I kiss you, MacKenzie? Fuck, I wanna kiss you so bad.” 
“F-Frankie, I-” 
“Fuck. Fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Just forget that I-” 
“I was scared you would never ask.” 
It wasn’t until then you realized just how badly you wanted to kiss Frankie Morales. 
Now, you’re absolutely sure that you never want to stop kissing him. 
There’s something about the warmed, welcomed June air that makes you want to throw every caution you’ve ever had to the wind, finally understanding what all of those books and movies had meant about falling victim to a summer fling.
Ever since that night at prom, Frankie Morales was the only thing in the world that mattered. It had only been eight days since his lips had met yours under the midnight moon, but every day since, neither of you had passed up a chance to sneak away for stolen kisses and bodies tangled in messy dances of limbs, finding any excuse to spend a moment alone together. 
Maybe your pink cheeks and goofy grins were enough to let the world know how hard you had fallen for your best friend- even if they weren’t, you wouldn’t care. Right now, consequences don't exist. 
Right now, the only thing that does is you, Frankie, and a four letter word that lingers in the back of your mind. 
They especially don’t exist when you’re wide awake at one in the morning for the third night in a row, unable to sleep as butterflies rumble in your stomach and fly up to your chest after another day spent with the boy four doors down. 
You toss and turn under your sheets, unable to stand staring hopelessly at your ceiling another minute. You reach across your bed, plucking your phone off your nightstand, finding Frankie’s name in your messages. 
You: 
Hey, are you still up? I can’t sleep 
It’s barely ten seconds before his contact is lighting up your screen, making your heartbeat just a little faster.
Frankie :) <3
Im up 2. I cant sleep either 
Cant stop thinking about u 
You: 
Me either, even though we literally spent all day together haha 
You smile at your screen as you wait for Frankie’s response, fingers anxiously tapping on your keyboard until your phone lights up again. 
Frankie :) <3
Do u wanna come over? 
I wanna see u 
Your face scrunches in confusion, sitting up in your bed to peer out your window, like Frankie would be able to see your puzzled expression from down the street as you type back. 
You: 
I mean, yeah, but it’s 1 AM Frankie??? What about your mom? 
Frankie :) <3 
Shes working overnight at the hospital 
She wont be back until like 9 tomorrow 
Its just me 
You’re unsure of how to describe the feeling that’s beginning to brew in your stomach as you read his last three texts. A strange mix of excitement and anticipation washes through you at the idea of letting yourself indulge in the teenage rebellion of sneaking out of your house in the middle of the night. An even stranger mix of nerves and something else you can’t quite explain floods your veins at the idea of sneaking out of your house to find Frankie, alone in his bedroom. 
The feeling you quite can’t explain churns faster in your gut and travels down your lower half when you realize if you’re alone with Frankie in his bedroom, you want to do more than just kiss him. 
You: 
Are you sure?? 
Frankie :) <3
Promise 
I really wanna see u Kenz 
At this point, the strange feeling that’s seeped through every inch of your body must have made it to your brain, because you’re convinced it’s the reason you don’t know how to breathe anymore. 
You: 
Okay 
I’ll be over in 10 :) 
Frankie :) <3 
Ok :) 
Come in thru the back door  
Txt me when ur there and ill let u in 
You’ve never been up and out of your bed so quickly, fumbling with your comforter and pillows just enough to resemble something close to a body under your sheets if god forbid either one of your parents wakes up and decides to check on you for the first time since you were a toddler. 
Your breath trembles, inhaling and exhaling in long and deep rises of your chest, carefully tiptoeing across your bedroom floor. You’d give anything to be in something cuter than your pajamas, but opening your closet seems like too risky of a move in your plot to escape. 
You grab Frankie’s sweatshirt hanging over your desk chair, quietly shuffling it over your head before attempting to use the moonlight spilling in through your window as enough illumination to comb your fingers through your messy hair and wrangle it into a quick braid. It’s hard to tell from the half lit reflection staring back at you in the mirror, but you pray the once over you give yourself is enough to keep you from looking like a complete mess when you show up at Frankie’s door. 
The adrenaline of it all seems to kick your nerves to the curb as you stuff your phone in Frankie’s sweatshirt pocket before your fingers gently wrap around the curve of your doorknob. As soon as you open the door, you’re well aware of the ramifications that could await you on the other side. 
You’re also well aware that consequences are temporary, and no amount of fear of future punishment is keeping you from making it to Frankie’s bedroom tonight. 
It’s a James Bond worthy performance, the way you sneak down your staircase, avoiding every crack and creak with expertise, stealthily sliding past your parents bedroom and across the family room until you’ve crept through your kitchen to find your back patio.
You flinch with every squeal of the sliding glass door as you nudge it open, just enough to squeeze your body through. You grimace your face in fear as you pause, back to the bricks of your house, waiting for someone to catch you in the act. 
A few moments pass and the silence of your home stays stagnant, giving you the all clear to bolt across your backyard, dashing through your neighbors lawns until you find yourself at Frankie’s, hands shaking as your fingers punch at your keyboard. 
You: 
I’m here! Let me in!  
As your thumb presses send, your adrenaline has waived just enough to let the anxious tension take hold of your body, palms sweating and heart racing so fast it just may beat out of your chest. Your teeth gnaw at your fingernails, waiting for his response to text you that he’ll be right there, or he’s about to let you in, but this is Frankie- It should be no surprise when he opens the back door immediately. There’s not a chance in hell he hasn’t been waiting for you down here since the moment you texted him you were coming. 
“Hi.” You whisper, biting down your lip to contain the smile that’s spread across your face as he’s opened the door. 
“Hi.” He whispers back, tongue darting between his lips as his eyes wander up and down your frame before locking with yours. 
His palm grazes your cheek, cradling your jaw as he steps into you, chest to chest while your lips lock in a gentle, electric kiss, the kind that makes you want the taste of him to linger on your tongue forever. 
“You wanna go up to my room?” He asks, the hot breath of his words dancing across your skin as his mouth still hovers over yours. 
Before, you would have quipped him with some sort of witty, sarcastic response, teasing him that you’d rather stay out in the pitch black and get eaten by mosquitos until he dragged you inside, eyes rolling at your sass. Now, the best you can manage are shaky breaths while you nod your head in agreement, praying your brain will let you form some sort of coherent thought before you speak. 
Frankie grabs your hand as he pulls you into his house, taking the familiar path through his kitchen and up the stairs to his bedroom, the pounding in both your chests filling the silence for the words you seem to lack. 
He doesn’t even bother closing the door behind him as you make it to his room, your bodies tangling and intertwining in a frantic dance, stumbling across the floor until the backs of Frankie’s knees collide with the bed, the two of you toppling over in soft giggles onto the mattress. 
“Fuck, I missed you.” Frankie sighs, one arm wrapped around your hip and the other resting on your face as he leans back in for another kiss, your smiles pressed against each other. 
“It’s only been like, three hours since I saw you last, dummy,” You quietly snicker, letting your hands wander up his chest, “You really missed me that much?” 
“Yeah, really.” He replies in between kisses, fingers digging just a little bit deeper into your side, “I can’t stop thinking about you, Kenzie. You’re all I think about. You’re all I ever wanna think about.” 
You try to swallow the lump that’s lingering in your throat, but with each second that passes, it seems to grow, trapping the words your brain is fighting to get out. The simple bliss you’ve found in pressing your mouth to Frankie’s has become overshadowed by the looming tension spreading through you as you imagine the soft plush of his lips across your skin, or the way you want his hands to creep down the waistband of your shorts and ease the ache that’s been building between your legs. 
Your body freezes at the realization that you want to tell him that you can’t stop thinking about him either, that you can’t stop thinking about the fact you want more than just his lips pressed against yours, how you want him to be the first one you feel inside you, that he’s the only one you ever want. 
That there’s nothing more than you want to be his. 
It doesn’t take long for Frankie to realize he’s making out with a half open mouth, pulling away with concern as he studies the pained expression across your face. 
“Kenz, a-are, are you okay? D-did I do something wrong?” Frankie stammers, gulping as he shifts himself to follow your lead and sit up on the bed. 
“N-no, no, it’s just that- fuck- I just- fuck, I don’t know how to say this.” You stutter, face growing hotter and hotter as you furrow your brow, eyes peeled to Frankie’s blue and green plaid sheets as you try to find the words you want so desperately for him to hear.
Frankie reaches out his hand, gently resting it on the bare skin of your thigh, just below the hem of your pajama shorts. You glance down at the way his fingers carefully rub back and forth, trying to calm your nerves enough to look at him. 
“It’s okay, Kenzie. Whatever it is, I’m- I’m here to listen.” He responds, trying his best to be the anchor in your storm, despite his own nearly shot nerves. 
“I- I- I really like you, Frankie.” 
“I really like you too, Kenz.” He smiles softly, just enough teasing inflection in his tone to get you to giggle, just a little. 
“I just- I- um, do you- Frankie, do you- do you ever think about doing more than just kissing me?” 
A stark silence fills the room, quiet enough that each breath through your nose and thump in your chest amplifies and echoes in the space between you. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek watching Frankie’s face go blank, eyes widening with every second he lets your question process. His Adam’s Apple bobs in sync with the trembling exhale he takes before he looks back at you, praying that your word vomit hasn’t led to a detrimental mistake. 
“Do um, holy shit- you mean like, l-like what? Like, like, h-having sex? W-w-with you?” 
He’s panting like he’s just finished a marathon, his eyes darting wildly between you and his sheets, terrified to answer your question with anything else but his own question to make sure he’s really just heard what you said. 
The tops of your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you nod your head just enough, the subtle shake just enough to let him confirm his suspicions that you’re asking as a way of letting him  know how often it’s crossed your mind. 
“Y-yeah. Yeah, I think about it.” He stammers, feeling his fingers tremble against your skin, hand still resting on your thigh, “D-do- do you? Um, think about it?” 
“Yeah.” You whisper, voice shaking as you reach down to lay your hand over his, letting your fingers slide between the gaps between his knuckles until they intertwine, gripping each other tightly, there was no chance the other could float away. 
The silence shifts to a different type of tension, a thickness in the air so palpable, it makes it just as hard to move as it does to breathe. The two of you stare at the interlocked hand resting on your thigh, stuck in a game of chicken of who dares to make the first move into the uncharted territory you’ve entered. 
“I- I’ve never-” 
“Me either.” Frankie interjects, cutting off the end of your statement.
It’s almost humorous to admit it out loud, like the both of you didn’t already share every detail of your lives with one another, and had somehow managed to let this fact fall between the cracks.
The two of you let out quiet laughs to yourselves, finding comfort in the comradery to work up enough courage to let your gazes meet again, wondering if Frankie can see the same yearning in your eyes as you see reflected in the soft brown his. 
“MacKenzie, I- I-” he mutters, scrunching his face with his swallow, trying to compose himself, “I only wanna do what you wanna do. I don’t- um, I don’t want you to think that if- if you don’t want to, o-or whatever, that I would be mad. I promise I would never, ever be mad at you because of that. Y-you know that, right?” 
“I know.” 
There’s not a part of you that doubts it. Not for a second. You know that there’s no one else on the face of this earth you trust more than him. 
There could be no one else but him. 
“You know I would never be mad at you either, right?” You ask, relieved as you watch Frankie gently nod his head. 
You’re not sure if it’s instinct or the weight of the tension that makes you lean into him, foreheads pressing together so that the messy curls of his sleepy hair are tickling your skin. You can hear how hard his heart is beating, waiting on your every breath as he leans back into you. 
“I want to. I want you, Frankie.” 
“F-fuck- Are you sure?” He asks, his free hand creeping across the sheets, carefully sliding up your thigh and under his sweatshirt you’re wearing, letting his fingers toy at the softness of your stomach and the waistband of your shorts. 
“I’m sure.” You whisper back, your own hand traveling up his leg and towards the tented fabric of his pajama bottoms. 
“I-if it’s too much, t-tell me to stop, okay? I promise I’ll take care of you, MacKenzie.” 
“I know you will. I trust you, Frankie.” 
“O-okay.” 
“Okay.” 
It’s then your mouths crash together in a messy dance of tounges and teeth, an instant electricity igniting in your core with anticipation and want. It’s frantic yet sensual, the way there’s nothing more you want than him, but can’t bear to miss a moment to take it all in, savoring every second you melt into him.
As your hands wander across each other’s bodies, Frankie shifts you to lay on your back so he can cage his frame over yours, the ends of his fingers barely daring to roam any farther than just below your hips or too far above your stomach. 
“C-can I take off your shirt?” He asks, already breathless at just the sight of you underneath him. 
“Technically your shirt, Morales.” You smirk, making his cheeks turn even more pink at the way you giggle when you say his name. 
“It’s yours now, looks way better on you than it does on me. Drives me fucking crazy seeing you in my clothes, Kenz.” He grins, carefully tugging your sweatshirt and the shirt underneath it above your head as you lift up your arms, helping him wriggle it free. 
As you pop out from under the fabric, the first thing you notice is the way Frankie’s jaw is hanging open, eyes wide as can be as they stay glued to your bare chest. 
“Holy shit.”  Frankie whispers to himself, tongue darting between his lips, staring at the way your nipples have hardened from being exposed and aroused. “Um, w-wow.” 
Seeing you topless sparks something in him to do the same, reaching over his shoulder to tug his t-shirt off his back and over his head, leaving nowhere for the heave of each heavy rise and fall of your chests to hide. 
Slowly, Frankie lets his hands slide up your stomach until he’s palming your breasts, grouping each one in his hands, making your breath hitch in the back of your throat as his fingers brush against your sensitive buds. 
He leans down to kiss you, starting at your lips before trailing down your neck and collarbone, until he reaches your chest, carefully kissing each handful he has in his grasp. 
You’ve never felt your core ache the way it does now, throbbing with want and need for more, just from the way Frankie’s groping you. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling- you’ve touched yourself before with this exact scenario playing in your mind, but never has it made you feel like this. 
“Y-you can take off my shorts, i-if you want.” 
“O-kay.” 
The gentleness of Frankie’s gaze makes your heart skip a beat, the chocolate brown of his eyes locked on yours as he scoots himself down the bed until he finds himself settled between your legs, now parted open for him. 
It’s then you’re overtly aware that Frankie is about to see you completely naked, a new wave of anxiety crashing through you as heat rises in your cheeks and makes you fidget the fabric of his sheets between your fingers. 
“I- I- I’m not wearing cute underwear. S-sorry.” You stammer, wincing as Frankie’s thumbs begin to dip below your waistband. 
“Seriously, Kenz?” He chuckles, pausing in his tracks to shake his head in disbelief, “Do you really think I care what underwear you have on right now?” 
“Well, n-no, but-” 
“You really think I’m about to turn down having sex with you because you’re not in the right underwear? That you won’t even have on in like, three seconds?” Frankie snickers, trying to help ease your clearly visible nerves. 
“Shut up.” You sigh, rolling your eyes as you playfully swat at him, forgetting about the fact you were topless and immediately clamming up again as you felt your breasts sway against your chest. “S-sorry, I- I’m just kinda nervous.” 
“Why are you nervous?” Frankie questions gently, wrapping his hand around your calf, thumb softly circling your skin. 
“Well you’re about to see me naked for the first time, Frankie. I think that’s a pretty fair reason to be nervous.” You force the stifled laugh stuck in your throat, attempting to uphold any confidence you have left in your facade. 
“You’re about to see me naked too, Kenz. Would it make you feel better if you saw me pantless first?” 
He says it like he’s teasing, but you know there’s a part of him that’s serious- that he’d do anything to make you feel better, even something as simple as being the first to forgo any clothes on his bottom half. 
“No, I know, Frankie, it’s just-” 
“Do you know how beautiful I think you are?” 
It catches you off guard, how quick he is to stifle your protest, the warmth of his words flushing your cheeks, now shifting to fit the delicate grin that’s growing between them. 
“You’re so beautiful, MacKenzie. Everything about you, I swear.” 
He must feel the butterflies churning in your stomach, his hands sliding down your thighs to grab your sides, leaning over to press soft kisses just above your waistband. He stares up at you once more, giving each other subtle nods of reassurance as his fingers play with the elastic, carefully helping you to lift your hips just enough to shuffle your bottoms down your legs until they’re a crumpled pile on the floor. 
It eases the tension that’s built throughout your body as you watch in real time how Frankie’s brain short circuits, mesmerized by the view that’s revealed itself between your legs. You timidly squirm your lower half against the sheets, just enough to feel the sticky warmth of your arousal that’s been pooling since the minute you stepped foot in Frankie’s bedroom. 
“H-holy- holy fuck. O-oh my god.” Frankie murmurs to himself, eyes locked on the puffy, wet mess of your pussy, “MacKenzie, I- wow. C-can, um, can I touch you?” 
“Mmhmm. Y-you can touch me, Frankie. F-fuck, I want you to. Please.” You whisper, letting your legs part for him more, clit pulsing with anticipation to feel Frankie’s fingers. 
“I-if it doesn’t feel good o-or, you know, you want me to stop, just tell me, okay?” 
“Okay, Frankie.” 
You didn’t even know it was possible to feel this wound up, every throb of your core pulsing through your body with so much intensity you’re convinced you may explode if Frankie doesn’t touch you this second. 
The pads his fingers gently slide over your swollen lips, collecting the slick that clings to them before he brings them to your clit, his precise and delicate touch still making you gasp the moment he starts to circle around your sensitive nub. He swirls his fingers with the lightest touch like you’re made of glass, scared he’ll break you if he dares to push too hard. 
“You can, fuck- you can press more if you want.” 
“Okay. I just- I didn’t wanna hurt you, or anything.” 
The corner of your lips curl with a soft smile, the stiffness in your muscles relaxing with how warm and safe he makes you feel. 
“I-in the same place, though? Same circles, just like, more pressure?” He asks, quietly calculating his next move as you shake your head in response. 
Frankie begins to circle again, slowly increasing the weight of his fingers against your clit, brushing against it in just the right way to make you whimper in delight. 
“Oh my god-” You sigh, breath hitching in the back of your throat. 
“Good oh my god, or bad oh my god?” Frankie questions, terrified he’s done something to upset you. 
“No- no, good oh my god. K-keep doing that.” You stammer, pulse quickening as a familiar tingle of pleasure begins to build in your stomach. 
Your reassurance gives Frankie the boost of confidence he needs, drawing tight circles around your nub with the pads of his fingers for a few moments, until his thumb takes over, leaving his middle two fingers free, ghosting over your entrance. 
There’s a louder moan as Frankie barely slips his middle finger inside of you, lightly prodding in and out of your hole, welcoming the new fullness in the warmth and wet of your walls. 
He pumps a few more times, letting his finger sink deeper with each stroke until he’s knuckle deep, reaching further than any spot you’ve been able to feel yourself. It’s when a second digit joins his first that you feel nearly breathless, the stretch and sting making you wince for a moment as you adjust, realising how much thicker and stronger his fingers are than your own when you touch yourself. 
Frankie immediately notices your tense expression, quickly pulling back, raising his hands like he’s been caught in the act, guilt ridden look painted across his face. 
“Fuck, Kenzie, are you okay? Did I hurt you? Fuck, I’m sorry.” 
“No, no, it’s okay, Frankie! It feels good, I promise, your fingers are just a lot bigger than mine.” 
He tilts his head in confusion for a second until the lightbulb clicks with him that he’s not the only one in the room who's ever been horny and taken care of themself to help solve their problem. 
“Wh-what do you think about? Wh-when, when you touch yourself?” He asks with a quiet caution. 
“I- I think about you, Frankie.”
You answer without hesitation. Not to appease him, not to convince yourself, but because it’s the truth. You’ve thought about him more times than you can count. 
Your answer ignites another spark of self-assurance in him, carefully letting his thumb swirl against your clit as his middle finger gently slides back into your entrance, working up to the same tempo he was at a few moments ago. 
“I think about you, too. All the time.” He confesses, a willing admittance now that you’re laying your cards out on the table for him. 
“Well, there was one time, a long time ago, I thought about Orlando Bloom after I watched Pirates of the Caribbean.” 
You’re not sure what spurs on your unnecessary addition to your comment, but it makes you and Frankie both snort, needing a moment to compose yourself from your fit of giggles. 
“Are you trying to tell me you’re really into pirates?” Frankie laughs, biting down on his lip. 
“No, you dork! That’s not- Jesus, you know what, forget I ever said anything, okay?” You sigh, rolling your eyes at Frankie, trying to will away the reds and pinks that plague your cheeks. 
“Your secret’s safe with me, Kenz, don’t worry.” He teases, his smile slowly shifting to a stoic sort of concentration as he stares down at his fingers pressed against your pussy. “I- I wanna try something.” 
“What?” 
“Can I um, can I go down on you?” 
“Wait, really?” 
Despite your own inexperience, you weren’t naive enough to ignore the rumblings from friends of friends, or stories of girls on your soccer team, constantly complaining about how all their boyfriends wanted them to suck their dicks with nothing in return. They’d claim it was gross, or weird, or that it would taste disgusting, so you’d be hard pressed to not believe that every boy under the sun mostly likely found themselves in the same school of thought. 
“Do you not want me to?” Frankie questions, trying to hide the small pang of disappointment you’re sure he feels in his chest at your puzzled reaction. 
“N-no, it’s just that- I didn’t think that- I thought guys thought that was gross.” 
“What? Who said that?” Frankie scoffs. 
“I don’t know, like, Sarah and Morgan from the soccer team always complained about how their boyfriends never wanted to because they said it was gross or whatever.” 
“Well Sarah and Morgan’s boyfriends have a single brain cell left between them after all the hits they’ve taken during football this season.” 
The two of you laugh again, finding relief in the way your friendship prevails through the discomfort. 
“You really don’t think it’s gross?” 
“No. I- I think it’s kinda hot.” 
It’s now Frankie’s cheeks that are flushed with crimson, trying his best to hide his embarrassment. You can tell he has more he wants to say from the way his eyes dart between yours and the bed, forcing you to tilt your head with that little nod he knows means that you’ll keep pestering him until he breaks. Lucky for you, it won’t take much. 
“Santi stole this DVD from his cousin's house, and honestly most of it was so stupid because obviously it's all fake. Like, no one’s that excited to get fucked at a doctor’s office. But anyways, there was this one part at the beginning where uh- where the guy goes down on the girl and I- um, I don’t know. I- I wanted to try it, I guess.” 
“Really didn’t think I was gonna have to worry about not picturing Santi in my head tonight.” 
You and Frankie giggle as you pretend to gag at the thought of Santi becoming a part of you losing your virginity, praying there never comes a day he finds out he’s in part to thank for Frankie’s peaked curiosity. 
“I- I want you to. If you want to.” 
“I want to. Fuck, I wanna taste you so bad.” 
The pace of your pulse begins to quicken again, watching the way Frankie’s face lights up as he races to position himself between your legs, laying flat against the mattress with his face hovering above your heat, his hot, trembling breath tickling your folds. 
You swear he licks his lips before his mouth meets you, but the slow, long drag of his tongue across your clit already has your head thrown back against his pillow, the warmth and wetness lighting you up from the inside out with jolts of electric pleasure. 
He repeats it a few more times, languidly lapping in smooth and steady strokes, each with just a little more pressure than the last. It’s instinctual, how you buck your hips towards his face, like your body knows it wants more before your brain can process it, signaling to Frankie you’ve given him the okay to keep going, to give you more. 
Little gasps escape your parted lips as his tongue moves faster, circling your clit the same way he had with his thumb, making your body melt into the mattress. It’s almost unearthly, how good it feels, little fires igniting in your stomach with every flick of his tongue. 
You don’t mean to startle him with how loudly you whimper as he intensifies the pressure, mouth still latched around your clit while his brown eyes peek up at you, breathlessly nodding to him that he shouldn’t dare to stop now. 
He takes it as a sign to test the waters even further, letting his middle finger be sucked into the warmth of your velvety walls before ever so carefully sliding in another. The stretch is still there but the sting has faded, his fingers a welcomed addition to ease the way you realize you’ve been clenching around nothing, subconsciously desperate to fill the empty ache in your core. 
Inch by inch, he sinks them deeper until you feel him bump against a soft spot inside you that makes you scream in a way you’ve never felt before, fireworks exploding everywhere in your body as his tongue and fingers work in tandem. 
A familiar tingle rapidly begins to build at the base of your spine, except the same type of tingle you’ve experienced alone has never multiplied and compounded in the same way this one does. 
Desperate for something to grab on to, one hand fists at Frankie’s sheets, the other, shooting down to the messy curls of his hair, burying your fingers until they disappear under his unkempt locks. 
You’re not sure if you’re so pleasure drunk you can’t think straight, but you swear you can feel that stupid, smug smirk pressed against your pussy as you hold onto him for dear life. 
He keeps the same pace with his tongue, fingers prodding in just the right spot to make you feel like you’re losing control, limbs numb and shaking like jello as you feel the tingle creep down your legs and up through your chest. 
“F-Frankie, I- oh fuck- fuck, oh my god, fuck, I- I- oh my go-ahhhhhhhhhh-”  
It’s all consuming, the way the pleasure washes over you, like waves crashing into the shoreline- relentless and never ending. There’s a moment you’re convinced your body’s left this planet, floating off in space in a cloud of endless ecstasy. 
You’re not sure how long you’re lost in the electricity of it all- Minutes? Hours? Years? You’d believe any and all of the above. Your chest rises and falls with each heavy breath as you come to, greeted with the image of Frankie still settled between your legs, wild haired and goofy grinned. 
“Frankie…. Holy fuck.” 
A beaming, boyish smile lights up across his face at the way you’re panting, wiping the shiny slick stained around his mouth with the back of his hand. 
“Yeah? D-did it feel good? Did you um- did you-” 
“Yeah. Holy shit. Remind me to thank Santi’s cousin if I ever meet him.” 
“Jesus Christ…” Frankie sighs, rolling his eyes at your giggles, heart melting at the way he can’t hide his rosy cheeks and curled lips every time he looks at you, “It felt good though? Like, Actually?” 
“Yeah, it felt really good, Frankie.” You coo, watching Frankie prop himself up to sit back on his haunches, letting your gaze wander down his bare chest until you reach the clearly tented fabric of his pajama pants, lingering just long enough for him to notice where you’re staring. 
Silent tension fills the room again, the both of you realizing that you’ve only conquered one part of the journey you’ve embarked on together, and that the second half of your travels pose many more risks than the first. Frankie is the only one you want by your side as you brave your adventure together. 
With a little push, your back parts with his mattress, sitting up to close the gap between you. You’re close enough now that your hands can roam up his thighs, softly palming at the stiff bulge straining under his pants. 
“Oh f-fuck-” Frankie stutters, jaw going slack with ever pass your hand makes over his erection. 
“Can I take off your pants, Frankie?” You whisper, burying your head in the crook of his neck, craning your head just enough so that the hot words of your breath dance in his ear. 
You can barely finish your sentence before Frankie’s scrambling off the edge of the bed, standing up straight to give you the easiest access to shuffle his pajamas down while you kneel on the mattress. 
You pray Frankie can’t feel the way your fingers shake as they sink under his waistband and brush against his stomach, pulling his bottoms down just slow enough to memorize the subtle V that sinks between his hips, or the soft trail of barely there brown hair under his belly button that thickens with every tug. 
With one final breath, you slide them down enough to finally free what’s been hiding underneath, his length fully hard, bobbing as it springs free. This must have been what it felt like for Frankie, understanding the way his eyes went wide and brain went blank after he saw you for the first time.
It’s not like it’s a surprise to you, the concept of what he’s had tucked away in his pants.
What does, is how the sight of it nearly knocks the wind out of you. 
“F-Frankie… Holy shit.” 
“What? I-is something wrong?” He winces, immediately bracing himself for the worst. 
“No, it’s just- just like, Holy shit, Frankie.” You reiterate, making it very clear you’re more than impressed as you gesture at what’s hanging in front of you. 
“O-oh, t-thanks.” He stutters, a sweet shyness overtaking him as a result of your admiration. 
You scoot yourself closer, a boldness overcoming you as you delicately wrap your hand around his length, slowly sliding it up and down his shaft. You pray that whatever you’re doing feels okay, but from the way Frankie’s whimpers and moans escape from his parted lips, you take it as a sign you’re safe to take another step further.
“Since you went down on me, do you want me to go down on-” 
“N-no!” He pauses, drowning his face in his palm for the way he’s panicking, making you drop him from your grasp, “No, I- uh- shit- sorry, sorry, no it’s just- No, not because I don’t want you to- b-believe me, I really want you to. Like, really want you to.” 
“O-okay, so?” 
He must feel awful for the puzzled and pained expression on your face, reaching with both hands to cradle your jaw, making sure your gaze is fixated on him. 
“I’m sorry, I promise nothing’s wrong, I just- fuck- I don’t wanna cum yet and I know if you go down on me, I will in like two seconds, and I wanna cum when we’re having sex. I-if you still wanna, ya know, have sex. Jesus, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I freaked out like that. I think I’m- I’m nervous, too. ” 
The top of your teeth graze your lower lip, batting your lashes in heavy, long blinks, your lips curling in a sympathetic smile that you’re not alone in your uneasiness. Finding comfort in the uncomfortability, together. Knowing how easy it would be for him to play it all off like no big deal, or pretend to mask the confidence he lacks, and yet, he doesn’t, makes you want him even more. 
“Do you still want to? I- I’m nervous too, but I want to. It makes me feel less nervous that it’s with you.” 
The tender kiss he plants on your lips as your bodies move in sync down the bed is the only answer you need, shuffling backwards towards the pillows while Frankie hovers his body over you, mouths only parting to let you settle into the mattress. 
Each kiss becomes more frantic and desperate than the last, mouths melting together as your tongues wrestle. The way he kisses you is all consuming, enough to make you feel like the only people in the world that exist in this moment are you and him. 
“You sure you want to?” He gasps, fighting for his words to escape his parted lips. 
“I’m sure.” You whisper back, barely soft enough for him to hear. 
The two of you nod, Frankie shifting his weight to reach across you, shuffling through the drawer of his nightstand until he fishes out the box of condoms he has hidden away. He sits back on his knees, carefully ripping a square from the line of packages, tossing the rest over the side of the bed. He’s even more delicate as he tears the edge of the foil he’s holding in his hands, removing the rubber and methodically rolling it down over his shaft. 
“It’s on right... Right?” 
“Yeah. I practiced putting them on earlier this week so I didn’t look like a complete idiot when I tried to do it the first time. Although I think telling you that probably makes me look like an even bigger idiot.” 
“No it doesn’t,” You softly reassure him, “I’d rather have you do that than put it on wrong. I don’t want any of your babies yet, Morales.” 
Yet. 
You’re not sure what makes your brain decide to add those three letters into your sentence. You’re also not sure why you don’t hate that it did. There’s a part of you that thinks there’s a chance that maybe Frankie didn't hear it, but you know that boy would die before he stopped hanging onto every word that fell from your lips. 
There’s a part of you that also swears he’s trying with everything in him to keep from smiling. 
Your attention shifts with Frankie’s body, hovering back over yours with his fist wrapped around the base of his shaft, sinking his hips to line himself up with your entrance. His tip brushes against your clit, a familiar jolt of pleasure swirling in your stomach at how you clench around nothing, anxious and aching to feel him inside you. 
“I-if it’s too much, or it doesn’t feel good, or you wanna stop, just-” 
“I know, Frankie. I’ll tell you, I promise.” 
Your low exhale syncs with Frankie’s gulp, each of you bracing yourselves as you finally feel his tip breach inside you. You try your best to relax, squirming your bottom half with each inch Frankie sinks himself deeper. You’re sure there’s a wince as he pushes past the halfway point- not painful, but a sting and stretch in a way you’ve never felt. Frankie freezes, gently grabbing your hip. 
“You good, Kenzie? You want me to stop?” 
“No, I’m okay, just kind of stings a little, but it still feels good. Maybe if you didn’t have such a big dick, it wouldn’t be a problem.” You tease, letting out a little huff of laughter. 
It’s now Frankie’s turn to scrunch the muscles of his face, cocking your head at the grit of his teeth. 
“Frankie, are you okay?” 
“Yup. Yup, I’m good. When you laughed it squeezed my dick and it felt really good and I’m trying not to make a fucking fool of myself right now.” 
“Sorry, no more laughing, got it.” You grimace, desperately trying not to giggle at Frankie’s pained concentration as he shakes his head at you. “Y- you can keep going, though.” 
“F-fuck, o-okay.” 
There’s another deep breath before he’s pushing his hips towards you, taking his time as you feel the pain start to shift to indescribable pleasure, the feeling of how full he is inside of you making every wire in your brain short circuit. 
“Holy fucking shit.” Frankie whispers under his breath, “Fuck, you feel so good, MacKenzie.” 
You wish you had the words to tell him how you feel the same, but the best you can muster is a muffled moan that escapes from your unhinged jaw, brain empty at the sweet stretch of his fullness, stagnant inside you. 
F-fuck Frankie. Oh my god.” You murmur, letting the muscles of your face untense so the weight of your eyelids can flutter open, soaking in the image of Frankie above you. The rest of your body follows, slowly beginning to relax as you adjust, yearning for more than just his hips flushed against yours. “Y-you can move, Frankie.” 
He lets his arms sink from the plank he’s holding, letting your chests flush together so he can bury his face in the crook of your neck, groaning into your skin with the first thrust of his hips, steadily sliding in and out of your heat, savoring every second of the sensation. 
“You still okay, baby?” Frankie coos into your ear, the new nickname only adding to the way you want to clench down around his length as he keeps his languid pace, dragging his cock along the warmth and wetness of your walls. 
“Mhmmm. You can go faster, i-if you want. F-fuck, it feels so good, Frankie.” 
The way you whimper and whine his name sets off a low rumble deep in his chest, lips locking with yours as you feel him pump just a little harder, his length nudging the same, savory spot he had found before with his fingers. Your hand shoots up to wrap around his bicep, nails marking crescent moons in his skin. 
Every move he makes is solely based on your reaction, reading the way your body responds to him before daring to take a step further. Your iron grip and sweet moans are enough to spur him on further, a steady rhythm now working through each thrust of his hips. 
There’s a new knot in your stomach that starts to tighten, building in your gut and slowly creeping its way to spread throughout your body. The coarse hairs curling at the base of his shaft brush against your clit just enough to spark a jolt of electricity to your core, bucking your hips into his with each thrust. You’re desperate to reach the same high he had given you before, eager to ease the ache of your sensitive bud. 
Frankie picks up on the way you rut back into him, snaking his hand down your front, making just enough space between your bodies to let the pads of his fingers find your clit. The pressure he adds with the circles and swirls makes your breath hitch in the back of your throat, overwhelmed with arousal by how all encompassing Frankie is. 
It’s hard to believe how quickly you find yourself becoming addicted to him, your body yearning to become one with his and never separate. You want your heart, your soul, for all of it to be his, and only his, to be unable to find where you end and he begins. 
The only thing you want is to be his. 
With each stroke, your pussy flutters faster around his length, the tingle that had formed at the base of your spine now seeping through your veins, teetering on the brink of collapse. 
“F-fuck- fuck, Frankie, don’t stop. Fuck, I- I think I’m- I’m close.” 
If it was anyone else, there would be no words to describe the embarrassment from the pathetic whimper you let out at the way Frankie groans while he punches into you. A look of pained concentration splays across his face, focusing with every brain cell he has left to make sure you finish first. 
“Shit- I- I- fuck, I’m close, too.” He stutters, chest heaving in between each word. 
He presses his forehead into yours, meeting you with the tacky sheet of sweat that now clings to his skin and dampens his curls. His scent, his warmth, the weight of his body laid across yours- you almost dare to wish that this moment, this feeling, would never end. 
But the way he whispers your name, each letter warm and tickling your skin, a sweet symphony only he can sing is what sends you over the edge, pushing you past the point of no return. 
“M-MacKenzie… f-fuck, MacKenzie-”  
Each syllable is an explosion inside you, lighting you up to send sparks through every last limb until you’re sobbing his name, singing his own sweet song back to him. 
“Frankie, Frankie, Frankiefrankiefrankie-ahhhhh-” 
The dam inside you finally breaks, wave after wave of pleasure crashing through you as you squeeze around him, swallowed whole by the electricity of it all. 
There’s not much your mind can process after you snap, but there’s enough strength left to keep your gaze locked on Frankie and the way he gasps as his jaw drops after you’ve finished. He’s just as lost as you, relishing in your afterglow as he chases his own high, each thrust more sloppy and erratic than the last. 
“Fuck, fuck, holy shit MacKenzie, fuck, I’m gonna cum so ha-aaaaahhh-” 
There’s only one last shift of his hips before he’s spilling into the condom, a final moan that follows his release as he collapses into you. Your chests rise and fall in sync, breaths heavy as you pant in the soft silence that fills the room.
The quiet brings a gentle comfort, basking in the bliss that radiates off each of you as you let yourselves drift back to earth, praying it gives you enough time to remember how to speak. 
It’s Frankie who arrives back first, too consumed with your own journey back to hear the way his voice breaks as he carefully whispers your name. 
“MacKenzie?” 
“Yeah, Frankie?” 
“C-can I tell you something?” 
“Anything.” 
His sweet call brings you back, thumb brushing against the warmth of his cheek, waiting on every word he's working himself up to say.
“MacKenzie, I- MacKenzie, I- I think I love you.” 
It's then you're sure your heart stops- four little letters forcing a smile so wide across your face, your positive your cheeks may hurt for days after.
Maybe, if you're lucky, they'll keep hurting like this for the rest of your life.
“Can I tell you something, Morales? I think I might just love you, too.” 
Tumblr media
@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine
@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24
@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos
@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo
@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise
@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled
@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog @itsokbbygrl
@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr
@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild
@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog
@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @jolapeno @ovaryacted
@amanitacowboy @mystickittytaco @anoverwhelmingdin @greenwitchfromthewoods
@witchofthedeepwoods @ericamarie093 @readingiskeepingmegoing @whimsiwitchy @whoaitspascal87
@vickie5446 @katw474 @ravenpoe67 @inthedarkestnight @brittmb115
@harryscherrysugar @wonderpillar @sunnytuliptime @pasc4lfuzz @yesjazzywazzylove-blog
@kungfucapslock @vannabanana1995 @beezusvreeland @guelyury
@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs
285 notes · View notes
the-s1lly-corner · 2 years ago
Text
How they deal with outliving you
Some angst I've been having on the brain; particularly for the characters that dont age/live for a long time + adding a new character to the base list!!
Obvious CW for loss of a loved one/partner + the grief that comes with it, cause of d3ath across all is by natural causes
S/o is mortal, of course
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Slenderman;
Tumblr media
Considering the fact that he's an ancient creature that's existed for lord knows how long, it was inevitable that he would outlive you
The concept of you one day being gone was something he already thought about before pursuing you romantically
I feel like out of all the ones on this list, he's the most calm about it, he isn't obviously broken up about the loss
That's not to say he doesn't care; he does. You were very likely his first love; and you will likely be his only love. It'd be a different story if your life was snatched away by someone else; but if it were something natural like for these scenarios, he grieves quietly. In fact, deaths in his woods temporarily slow down during this period
He has a designated area in the woods dedicated to you; flowers, pretty rocks, mementos, etcetera
He does 'guard' over your old home, for a while. That's likely the most drastic thing he'd do; he can't bare the idea of someone taking your place when the wound is still so fresh
Splendorman;
Tumblr media
How ironic to add in this new character; someone so bubbly and sweet, with a prompt so... sad..
He doesn't handle it as smoothly as slenderman does; he's an absolute wreck. You were his absolute favorite person in the whole wide world, and just like that, you were gone
Is visibly wilted for a long time after your passing; only really putting on his usual happy face when he's needed
He cries, loudly, and he almost looks lost as he sits; almost as if he's awaiting your return
He understands mortality and the concept of death, but he never prepared himself for this
How could loving someone hurt so bad?
He talks about you to everyone who'll listen; both so he doesn't ever forget you, and so others can hear how amazing he thought you were
I like to think that when you were alive he gave you flowers... daisies, probably... he always keeps a daisy on him; either pinned to his coat or hat
Laughing Jack;
Tumblr media
Denial
Denial
Denial. It will take him so so so long to finally come to terms that you'll never be coming back
He sprials; at first selfishly believing that you had purposefully abandoned him.. and given his past with being forgotten; he first responds with rage... before fully caving in on himself
Rumors are spread in town that your old house is haunted; thanks to Jack's howling cries
Hoards a lot of your belongings
It takes him a while to recover; and he's more irritable after all is said and done
Eyeless Jack;
This one's gonna hurt; because Jack is already gloomy and reclusive as is
Unlike the others, he's mortal; however he ages on a slower rate
So while he retained his youth he saw you change
After you're gone, he just
Sits in his cabin for a few days
He doesn't really leave unless his monstrous hunger gnaws away at him enough to prompt him to go into one of his feral episodes
I feel like he'd be similar to slenderman; in terms of the fact he will likely never love again
It feels...
Odd, for him to return to his lonely life, the one he had before you stumbled into his life
Some days he found himself wishing to relive the day he met you; or to wake up one day in your arms
As if this were all some long nightmare
But it never comes
470 notes · View notes
mixsethaddams · 2 years ago
Text
Throwing my hat into the latest trend of Shovel Talk posts. tw reference to past child abuse (not detailed)
Eddie gets the shovel talk from no less than five people.
Dustin, Robin, Erica, Max and Lucas. (Those two came as a pair, as they so often did since the Vecnapocolypse) Actually, technically six, if you count the fact that Dustin kept saying And Will Said...
They all say in and around the same thing. Steve deserves the world, he's been the babysitter for longer than Eddie's been the DM, blah blah blah. Honestly, Eddie's getting a little tired of people assuming he'll hurt Steve and leave him heartbroken. By the time he closed the door after saying goodbye on the final He Means More To Us Than You Do conversation, he was left in no doubt that the kids expected him to fuck up royally and they would not hesitate to choose Steve when (not if, as far as they were concerned) it happened. They would never forgive him. It was good to know where he stood, he guessed.
What Eddie didn't know, was that Steve was getting a few shovel talks of his own.
Wayne was first, obviously. Steve wasn't surprised to be pulled aside at the Byers/Hopper barbecue to listen to some very unsubtle threats about what might happen to him if Eddie came home with so much as a pout Even One Time, Boy, You Hear Me?
More surprising, was Joyce.
Joyce came by one night under the pretence of bringing by some leftover lasagne. Steve offered her a tea and they sat in the kitchen together while she asked polite questions about how things with Eddie were going. When Steve was done telling her all about the constant butterflies in his stomach, she clasped his hand gently across the table.
"I'm happy for you sweetie, I am,"
"Thanks Joy–"
"But you need to understand that Eddie is a fragile boy, and he needs real love, Steve. He's not the type to be happy with a, what do you call it, a fling? He's not the type for that,"
Steve was taken aback.
"This isn't a fling, Joyce,"
"Can you promise me that? I remember him from when he was just a kid and, god, well, I'd hate to see him hurt,"
Steve's mouth was open and closing like a fish, totally at a loss for words.
"Steve, can you promise me that? I know you're grown now and things are different, but I need you to say it for me,"
"I promise, I... I'm not who I used to be,"
Joyce patted his hand.
"Good boy. I better get home,"
And then there was Hopper.
Hopper knocked on the front door of the Harrington house early one Saturday morning, three sharp thuds on the door that made you think, Yup, Cops Are Here.
Steve answered still half asleep, barely aware he'd even pulled on a pair of sweatpants.
Hopper didn't accept the invite to come inside. He noticed Eddie's boots by the door.
"He here?"
"Uh, yeah, has been since yesterday, why? Did someone say he done something?"
"No, he's not who I'm here for,"
"What? I haven't done anything?"
"Good, and I expect you to keep it that way,"
Steve didn't know how to react. His eyes were still adjusting to the daylight and his brain hasn't quite woken up yet.
"Hop, I don't know what you're talking about,"
"El told me that you all know about the night he went to live with his uncle, says he told everyone the basics when Jon was worrying about turning out like Lonnie,"
"Yeah, he told me some more about it after too,"
"Figured he might,"
Steve shuffled from one foot to the other.
"I still don't know why you're here..."
"I was the one who carried him out of that house that night, Steve,"
"Oh,"
Oh indeed. Hopper's voice was gruff and low. Steve was actually nervous.
"I listened to him cry for hours. He couldn't breathe it was so bad. I never wanted to hear another child even speak after having to sit in the room while he told Wayne what went down,"
"I–"
"And I don't think I'll ever be able to sit right with the idea of that kid being sad again, because of someone else messing with him. I never forgot what he sounded like when he cried. Don't make me have to see him cry again, Steve. Do you understand me?"
Steve was stunned. All he could do was nod dumbly. There was no point offering any sort of defence, Hopper obviously wasn't here to listen. He was here to tell. Of all the people Steve might have thought would be on Team Munson, the former chief of police wasn't exactly top of the list. Eddie's distinct lack of criminal record through his teens might have been some indicator though.
Hopper gave Steve a curt nod and turned back down the driveway without another word.
He closed the door and leaned against the wood, letting out a low breath. Eddie appeared at the top of the stairs, rubbing his eyes.
"Baby? Who was that?"
"Uh, Hopper..."
Eddie huffed a sleepy laugh.
"Hmm, shit, Law Man swing by to make sure I was behaving myself?"
Steve went to Eddie and pulled him into a tight hug, nuzzling into his hair. He really had no clue, did he?
"He was just checking in,"
Eddie hummed and went towards the kitchen to switch the coffee pot on. He had told Steve about the shovel talks he got from the kids earlier in the week. Trivial threats about leaving Hellfire and never helping him write a song again or going to one of his shows, taking back his Walkie privileges, things that seemed like the end of the world to a group of minors. Eddie had wistfully mentioned that Steve would never have to worry about being on the receiving end of something like that, he didn't think anyone really cared enough. Maybe You'll Get A Weird Look From Wayne, But I Think You're In The Clear, Golden Boy.
Eddie had no idea about the people that were looking out for him without him realising it. It made Steve's heart hurt. He'd half expected Robin and the others to have words with Eddie. It was almost a joke, he hadn't thought twice about it because he just kind of knew it would happen. He knew they cared, and he couldn't imagine how it would feel to be so sure that they didn't. That no one did.
Steve made a promise to himself then and there to never let Eddie feel like no one cared enough ever again, giving himself his very own version of the Don't Hurt Eddie Munson shovel talk.
It was the least Eddie deserved.
(Also posted to my ao3)
487 notes · View notes
alcalystrasz · 10 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
(This has been said a lot but idc)
He loses his bestfriend, he's destroyed and he cries because he thinks he's dead and he's going to blame himself because he'll think it's his fault. The song in the background is Heroes. And the lyrics, at this precise moment are:
"And we kissed, as though nothing could fall. And the shame, [changing to Joyce and Jonathan] the shame was on the other side."
Which is a clear queer coding. That means that Mike and Will kissed (= spent time together, very close) as though nothing could fall (= nothing could go wrong), and the shame (= of being gay) was on the other side (= the Upside Down, where Will is. Because he's the obvious gay one). And it changed to Joyce and Jonathan because they're Will's family.
And now, let's skip to Season 3:
Tumblr media
This hug, from end of season 3 is a clear parallel of the first one we saw on season 1. His face isn't obviously the same. In season 1, we can see he's sad, crying and he hugs his mom desperately. But season 3, shows a confused, emotionless Mike who hugs his mother like he's in shock. Why's that? Well...
The parallel is to show Mike's feelings. In the end of season 3, when El kisses Mike, his eyes are wide open, he doesn't move and when she's done and leaves he doesn't move, instead he looks on the side with a super confused and shocked face. And in the original script (sorry couldn't find it), we saw that Mike's reaction was like this because it was written:
What is wrong with me?
Tumblr media
So it was meant for him to be that way (and btw Finn played it well). And then, when Hopper reads his letter to El, we can hear his voice with scenes showing up. And when he says:
"And if I'm being really honest, I don't want things to change."
Mike looks back at Will's house before leaving with his bike.
Tumblr media
This is a lowkey queer coding. Change is the liking boys realization from Mike's side. And why Hopper says "I don't want things to change" ? Because the change means the behavior change for Mike. He'll feel like a mistake, just like Will, he'll feel different, incapable of liking a girl like every other boys his age...
So what I'm trying to say is. That these two scenes are parallels to show Mike's improvement and changement over the seasons. Season 1 he was sad because of the loss of his bestfriend. But why would we only see Mike's POV and not Dustin's or Lucas' ? They also cared about Will. No, we only see Mike's because he's Will's love interest. And in Season 3 we see a total confused Mike hugging his mother, trying to understand what happened. Because what happened is that he understood, he finally admitted he was in love with Will. Why's that? Well, first he's confused by El's I love you, and kiss. Then he looks back at Will's house, knowing he just left. And finally he hugs his mom trying to figure out what's wrong with him. Cause he thinks there's something wrong with him, as seen in the script (try to find it yourself, cause I couldn't. But I remember sawing it on Twitter 'X' !). And it's even more possible because Mike's introduction in season 4, has a lot of queer coding. I'll try to list them all.
Tumblr media
Rainbows on the letter (= signifies lgbtq+), One Way arrow pointing to an open closet (= one way arrow -> "only possible thing/explanation", open closet -> he's out to himself), Poster with a naked Dragon (= just like Steve or Billy, straight boys, have, almost naked women, on their walls, Mike has almost naked character, men and animals from dnd), poster from a movie with an almost naked man (= to understand he likes them naked, just a gay thing I guess ;-;). For this last point, yes there's also a woman almost naked, however since the movie is about men, being way superior to women (that's the movie don't blame me, and I can't remember its name, sorry), I'm not sure he'd really want to have this woman in particular in his room.
Also there's one of Will's binder under his bed, the same one where there are tons of his drawings and finally, I'd like to end up with Mike literally destroying El's letter when Nancy tells him he's late (who does that?). So yeah that's all I could find, there's probably more, which needs more attention and analysis but I did the minimum let's say.
So all of this, to say that season 1 and 3 hugs were parallels of Mike's feelings, and that the season 3's is more possible when we notice the character introduction of Mike in season 4. So yeah, he really had a Gay realization over there!
55 notes · View notes
strudelbumsen · 9 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Some semi-refs for my BTD/horrorporn OCs! They got a bit of a revamp and redesign.
Top left: Sammy Lovejoy (29, they/them) A stereotypical surface level activist except gone horribly wrong. Sammy stalks down, kidnaps, and kills bigots that they find online, and they stream it to get monetary compensation for their "hard work making the world better." Sammy's activism is incredibly performative and shallow, and they are not in any way an actual good person that cares for those around them. They are a sadist who uses the veil of activism to enact skewed 'justice' that really helps no one in the end. They are very tech savvy, and they program a completely new website for every stream, which has helped them avoid capture so far. The inaccessibility of their work is a saving grace against the cops. Sammy is deaf and uses hearing aids.
Top right: Riley (25, he/she/they) A Strade MC who has the disorder CIPA, which causes them to be unable to feel pain. Strade was immediately fascinated by this and injured them very heavily the first three days she was there. Strade cut off two fingers on each of his hands, as well as causing a huge amount of blood loss that Riley was unaware of and therefore unable to alert him to. Strade did begin noticing the symptoms, and was slightly terrified at the idea of losing such a fun toy. Riley was brought upstairs to live with him and Ren through their recovery, but it ended up being permanent. Riley and Ren get along very well, and their eye patch was a gift from Ren that he sewed together himself.
Bottom left: Rhett (30, he/him) A coyote beastkin and Strade & Fox MC. Strade kidnapped this sad little guy very easily, in fact Rhett just went home with him, thinking it might be a one night stand kind of thing, only to be knocked out inside the door. Strade loved his screaming and cries, what can I say, he has a thing for canidae. Rhett was kept, owned. Strade loved to pit Ren and Rhett against each other and have them fight half to the death for his entertainment. Rhett lived with Strade and Ren all the way up to Strade's death. He was there to watch Ren spiral about the hurt and trauma of it, but was too weak-willed to change his inevitable course of becoming Fox. Ren grew a slight hatred for Rhett, blaming him for Strade being gone and for all the bad he has ever been hit by, loathing him for listening to Strade's orders and beating him within an inch of his life nearly daily. Rhett was the one to be beat up now, being tortured or otherwise fucked with through the entire day every day. And when Fox had traumatized him to the point he was no longer fun, he sold him just like any other pet.
Bottom right: Leigh/Le-le (nonhuman so age not applicable but an adult of her species, she/her) Leigh is a merrow, and her species is capable of taking on a human-like form and breathing on land for a good amount of time. They do need to go back to the water eventually in between sessions of using the ability. Merrow are also capable of human speech, but it can come across as very child-like, slurred, and stilted. More of a mimicry of speech than actual talking. Leigh is kind of a spoiled brat, she is very conventionally attractive to her species and therefore was handed most everything she wanted in life with no effort. Leigh loves being on land, and she love doing risky, ridiculous things. Obviously she had no money so she would steal anything she wanted, or flirt with men until they bought her things. She flirted with the wrong man one day, at the seediest bar she had ever been to. What a great excitement to be threatened to be fucked right there on the table! She was taken with Vincent instantly, so obviously went home with him. Vincent was very shocked to see a nonhuman just like him, and at first was responding very positively and treating her very well. Then she saw the skull in his closet. Vincent took her to the bunker and she was tortured on and off for days. Bizarrely it just made her fall for him even more. What an experience, she has never felt pain like this, it's so delightful, it's so exciting! Needless to say, she joined Farz and Vincent in a polycule, and has been living with them willingly ever since. They installed a salt water pool in the backyard just for her, of course, their spoiled little girlfriend.
13 notes · View notes
thelioncourts · 2 years ago
Note
Hello. first of all I'm so sorry to read about your sad loss. Sending you love x
Youre so lovely with anon asks, I just happened to see in a blog that Jacob said in an interview, he cried bts in the final scene as he said "he got freaked out by it all ending, and doing this to Sam, the dynamic changing next year and its going to be different". That's kinda my worry is that we'll get barely if any Loustat for a few seasons, and viewer numbers could drop a lot as they'll miss Jacob and Sam together and we might not get to see a reunion season, years down the line if its cancelled 😞 Plus seeing Jacob doing promo with the guy who plays Armand and if they have the same amazing best friend chemistry that he and Sam had, will (in the nicest way possible) make me sad and miss Sam. What do you think?
Oh, thank you ❤ Charlie was the best girl. I think about her an obnoxious amount and hope, with all that I am, that she's playing in endless snow piles and taking the longest naps on comfy couches and eating the largest amounts peanut butter treats.
Now! That Jacob interview and Loustat speculations and everything else:
So obviously a lot of what I'm going to say is going to be pure speculation because I have no actual idea at what is going through Jones' mind and this particular story, this second interview, is not something that exists within the books.
First thing is that one thing the writers of Interview have already promised that is significantly different than the books is this promise of more Louis. For anyone not familiar with the 13 TVC books, Louis disappears significantly throughout the books, all before finally coming back in a real and lovely way in the last three, the last three that cement him in the vampire world and as the love of Lestat's life. (I've said it before, but if anyone ever wants to talk about Anne and her relationship with Louis, etc. I'm always down because it's sad and understandable and yet had such a horrible impact on Louis as a character, something I'll, selfishly, never get over). By adding Louis back into the narrative, I think we're going to see a (imo, necessary) shift in certain aspects of the book, namely Lestat's jumping around, especially given the insignificance of several of his partners, partners that would take too long in a show to build up as anything other than a weird one-nighty-stand kind of thing (another thing I could talk about all day is that I don't hate the idea of Lestat with others, to a point (okay, that's a lie, I kind of do), but Lestat needs stability in love and he could have had that had Anne kept Louis in, etc. etc.). As the narrative of the show will eventually be focused on Lestat as our main character, the promise of more Louis means that we will see Louis, predominantly, in how he interacts with Lestat.
Second thing is that while the show is inspired by TVC, it's obviously its own creation. I genuinely do not believe TVC would not do well as a show in exactness, for a multitude of reasons, and one of those is the lack of stable romance. Television audiences, fandoms, they thrive on romance. And I think Interview is very obviously setting up the entirety of the show to be focused, to some point, on Louis and Lestat's romantic relationship. I think if season 3 comes around and Louis and Lestat are still incredibly separated, people that are not TVC book fans (because if they are just trying to appeal to a book crowd, they're not going to stay on air, that's not how things work, and they are, obviously, not appealing to all book fans given the backlash they've gotten from some lol) are going to start falling off.
Third thing is that the #1 consistent review that has come from Interview's first season in all of the publications and whatnot is that Sam and Jacob's chemistry is an ultimate selling point. Like, every single thing I've read is stuff like "Only Sam Reid and Jacob Anderson and their sizzling chemistry could make the ethics of blood drinking believable," or "Sam Reid and Jacob Anderson are breakout stars, both for the individual performances they display as Lestat and Louis and also for the portrayal of their romantic, and doomed, relationship." Interview is too smart to not capitalize on that. They know that.
All of that being said, I think we can fully expect some Loustat moments next season, but I also do believe next season will be the hardest season re: Louis and Lestat, because of separation. There is a line in one of Claudia's diaries that we see, something about how Louis was acting like Lestat's ghost was around every corner and/or something about his constant mourning of Lestat while they're in Europe. And I think we may get flashbacks because of that, stuff like Louis dreaming of Lestat and waking up to realize he's not there, Louis discussing how, in his grief, focused on the happiness he missed, on the happiness that was once there. I also think Daniel is going to call him out on a lot of stuff and that's a whole different thing. I have this hope that we won't just get flashbacks though, but that we'll get Louis, so caught up in his grief, so in his head, that he hallucinates Lestat there, alive and full of golden life and just -- ugh. And I also think, if the show is, again, smart (and I do think they are, this set of actors and crew and writers and everything very clearly love these characters and love the world they're writing in), they will introduce Lestat into the modern world at the end of season 2 as to allow us a smooth transition into The Vampire Lestat for season 3.
Now, as for Jacob and Sam and promotion and stuff !! They will most definitely have them do promotion together, even if they'll have Jacob do a decent amount of promotion with Assad for obvious reasons. I think we'll get a lot of Assad and Eric interviewing together, for Armand and Daniel nightmarish shenanigans, I think we'll get a lot of Jacob and Sam because Louis and Lestat are still going to be considered the main characters of the show, I think we'll get a lot of Jacob and Bailey for European adventure interviews, I think we'll get a lot of Eric and Jacob for the actual interview portions, etc. etc. And! I do fully believe that they will let Jacob and Sam do a lot of promotion together simply because they want to. I won't get into too much because some people get weirdly uncomfortable talking about it (I'll save it for another post lol), but Sam and Jacob feel safe with one another. They truly love one another in a way that is glaring obvious, and beautiful, to audiences and to the cast (specifically Eric, who calls them out 24/7). They will fight to do things together, and it would only make sense to let them anyway, so I fully anticipate seeing plenty Jam Reiderson <3 (I selfishly demand it, too, Jam Reiderson is my entire life right now.)
So. After that essay, what I will conclude is I am not too worried. I do think next season is going to have its pain because there will be inevitable separation, but I truly believe, in my heart, that the show will have Louis and Lestat together much quicker than the books and that it will be, for lack of a better word, permanent. And I think Jacob and Sam will have plenty of time to be...them <3 and I think all of that is beautiful.
78 notes · View notes
hils79 · 1 year ago
Text
Hils Watches The King's Avatar - Ep 35
I have the day off today so I'll probably have time for a couple more episodes than I usually watch. While it's tempting to cram in all 6 and finish it I probably won't do that but we'll see how it goes.
Tumblr media
I am having a lot of feelings about these literal children having to raise themselves. I know shit like this happens a lot in the sports and idol industries and it makes me so sad. I know Ye Xiu got kicked out but where are Mucheng and Muqiu's family?
Also, yesterday @hphaeton pointed out that the voice actor dubbing Ye Xiu is the same person who dubbed Cheng Yi in Love and Redemption. It's so obvious now I know. I can't believe I didn't spot it before. He has a very nice voice.
Tumblr media
Oh no he's crying again
Tumblr media
Poor Mucheng this must be so hard for her too. It's like losing her brother all over again.
Tumblr media
Oh no they're all blaming each other for the loss and it's making Ye Xiu Even Sadder. But, look, isn't this the first time they've actually lost a pro game? No team can win all the time this is something they're going to need to get used to. I'm sure Ye Xiu will teach them that.
Tumblr media
Oh do NOT start lashing out at my son who is trying to keep the peace
Tumblr media
Everyone is so upset. Also, that is a very Western breakfast they are eating
Tumblr media
Look, obviously I love them all. But if you're going to suggest disbanding every time you lose a game then maybe you aren't suited to being a team. Take the loss, reflect, bounce back. That's what sport is. To make it All About Me when I first got into hockey my team of choice had one of the worst seasons ever seen. 5 years later they won the championship.
Tumblr media
I shouldn't laugh when everyone is dramatically breaking up but Mo Fan is such a mood
Tumblr media
He's tired and sad and that should be your rallying point. Unite to cheer him up and help him rebuild his weapon (which I'm assuming they will do when they get over all this)
Tumblr media
Ye Xiu at least understands that they need more time to properly bond as a team. The latest member joined them right before the game that they lost.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
NO THE GAMER GIRLFRIENDS HAVE BROKEN UP THIS IS TERRIBLE. They were my first ship in this drama 😭
Tumblr media
I'm glad you've learned this lesson but you literally ran away from your esports team because you lost a competition and back to your piano school that you also ran away from because you lost a competition. We seem to be going in circles here.
Tumblr media
So Tang Rou has gone back to music school and Wei Chen is selling his account. This is all feeling very permanent and I am Concerned
Tumblr media
Oh, thank god. Baozi is there to (hopefully) stop him
Tumblr media
How could anyone resist the puppy face
Tumblr media
I love Baozi so much. He really is the heart of the team. He just wants to hang out with his friends and do the thing they all love whether they win or lose. I think he should just go around everyone and 🥺 at them until the agree to come back
Tumblr media
Great now I'm crying
Tumblr media
Well, fuck, he signed it anyway
Tumblr media
Ow, shit, Mo Fan comes out of left field and kicks me right in the chest
Tumblr media
God, he still looks so sad! Everyone is so sad and I hate it! If Yifan cries again I am done!
Tumblr media
I can't believe this many journalists and photographers have shown up for one minor league esports team
Tumblr media
No journalist ever has asked for proof in the middle of a press conference
Tumblr media
Wu Chen of all people to the rescue. Holy shit!
Tumblr media
To the surprise of no one Wu Chen's 'betrayal' was all just a big misunderstanding
Tumblr media
I'm very sorry I called you a dirty cheater. Thank you for being the voice of reason
17 notes · View notes
lumiereandcogsworth · 1 year ago
Note
I’ve been meaning to ask !!! Its possible you’ve already posted abt this BUT I got in an angsty mood recently and was curious, do you think Adam or Belle dies first? and how does the other cope with it ?
ooohhh i love that you Know i’m just crazy enough about them to know the answer to this question. i’ve thought TOO much about this, unfortunately! look you have one otp for six years, YOUR MIND WANDERS, OKAY?
okay so obviously in the ideal perfect world, they die at the same time asleep in bed in each other’s arms after a very long life of being so ridiculously in love. that way no one has to deal with anything (except the rest of their family, of course). that’s the ideal otp death scenario. BUT. i do have a sadder answer, yeah
so for a while i actually could not decide who would die first. it really wasn’t ideal either way because if adam dies first, belle has to go through experiencing his death TWICE in life. and if belle dies first, adam is… disaster. but ultimately, belle is by far the stronger one between the two of them, they both know it and always have, so i decided that adam would die first.
i once entertained the idea of belle dying first and adam just… oh my gosh… like they’re always very old when they die but even still it’s like… belle is the air that adam breathes… watching him lose her is so… dark. and grim. he really can’t live without her and the aftermath is far too upsetting to include it into my canon. he becomes so unwell…
now, obviously, belle is utterly heartbroken by adam’s death, and she doesn’t do all that much better than the alternative. i headcanon they both die in their 90s (no i do not CARE that they’re from the 18th century!!!!! they’re living long ass lives because i SAID SO!!!!!!) and it’s really no specific illness that takes adam. it was just his time. he was in bed for a week or so, too weak at this point to do anything else. belle never left his side, caring for him even though she had slowed down in her old age too. even as nurses and grandchildren tried to take over, she wouldn’t let them. she’d do anything for him. she’d take his place if it were possible.
he dies at the grand age of 98, surrounded by his family and loved ones, holding his wife’s hand. she can tell he’s nearly gone, but he’s fighting it. he loves his life too much now to leave it. he’s been sunbathing in happiness for over 70 years and he doesn’t want to let it go. but belle kisses his hand and tells him it’s okay, they’ll be okay. this family he’s raised, this family he’s protected, this family he’s loved. they’ll be okay. rest now, my love.
silent tears fall down belle’s wrinkled cheeks as adam turns and looks at her. though his face and body age, his eyes never changed. still the same crystal blue that she fell in love with. he looks at her and he squeezes her hand. his lips turn up in a slight smile. “my darling…” he whispers, just as his last breath escapes his lungs.
everyone knows he’s gone. he was husband, father, grandfather, great-grandfather, beloved king. he was rescued so many years ago, it seems none of it matters anymore. but belle remembers. belle remembers when her love was lost in the darkness. belle remembers when he accepted her light.
the following days are a blur. everyone is sad, but relieved too — in the way anyone is when an old, beloved family member passes. he deserved to die that way. life fulfilled, loved by plenty, surrounded by those who meant the most to him.
while the children (grown and old themselves, frankly) tend to announcements and letters and funeral arrangements, belle keeps to herself. she sits on the balcony of their chambers in the west wing. she watches another sunset alone. she hasn’t felt such sadness since her father died many years ago. she thought she would never recover from the deep pain she felt at his loss. but adam had been there to hold her while she cried. adam had kissed her head and told her things would be better again. and at the time she couldn’t fathom it, but she never left his arms. his warm, comforting arms. belle had never felt safer than when she was in adam’s embrace. and now… now she shivers under even the warmest of blankets.
they were old. and belle always thinks too much. she knew their time on this earth could not be much longer. and when adam could no longer get up, it was only a matter of time. what she did not anticipate was how utterly betrayed she would feel by death itself. how dare he be taken away from her? to leave her alone? she always prided herself on being able to do things on her own, but the true reality of it was devastating. she didn’t want to do anything alone ever again. she wanted her best friend back. who was she going to dance with now?
the last entry of her diary was short, but clear in how sad the queen felt. how lost she was, how high up in the clouds her head floated, with no one to keep her grounded. her heart had completely and irreversibly broken in two. she would see adam; visions of when they were young, and some when they were older. but he’d always vanish again before she could say anything to him. “where is my adam?” she’d ask her children when they found her. they would simply take her hand and kiss her cheek, asking her to come and sit awhile with the little ones.
a week after adam’s death, their children found belle in bed, having peacefully died in her sleep. they were devastated, but equally knew how much their mama loved their papa. they had always known of their parents’ grand love. and they knew this may just be too much for her. knew that dying from a broken heart was as real as it could be.
so, adam and belle were buried together, entombed in the rose garden behind the castle. their precious home. a huge, lovely structure was placed to honor them, with vines and flowers growing around it, and eloquent words on a plaque speaking of a beloved king and queen, who loved like no other.
9 notes · View notes
kaelsleftverdantsphere · 2 years ago
Text
A pocket full of nightshade
This thingy is strongly inspired by my own experiences and numerous talks with my own father while still keeping Genn bareable (so, not as bad as my dad lol)
Sort of a vent fic, but hopefully not that bad, although really, read at your own risk
Dealing with neglect, loss of a loved one and all the trauma and familial tension that comes with those topics
╞═════𖠁𖠁═════╡
Tess found herself in a room that felt, somehow, way colder than she ever remembered it. The Stormwind Keep was not her favourite place for a wide multitude of reasons but the bonechilling cold of the stone all around, in a way so similar to her birthplace, was certainly one of them. It reminded her of all that could have been. Of all that she could have had.
She was lost in thought. Her mind in a whole different place, with Liam, within the walls that promised them safety... That inherently failed.
What brought her out of her own head was footsteps. Heavy footsteps on the cold, cold floor. She immediately knew who they belonged tho. Her whole body tensed as she turned her head to the source.
"Tess..." Her father's voice came in rough, but not a warning. He looked tired, his eyes telling many gutwrenching stories she did not want to get into. "You came."
She wondered for a moment. What should she respond to that? Of course she came, he can obviously see that. Why would he even say that? Is there nothing he would like to ask her?
"Yes... I did." She managed to get past her lips. "I heard that- Anduin is currently not present."
"Indeed..." He nodded, nervously looking around. "Is that why you-?"
"Not entirely I just... Wanted to see you since you never try to make time for me." She was frowning, she came here to pick a fight after years of searching for validation. But there was still a little girl behind all those thoughts fighting to run out and hug her dad.
He looked into her eyes before closing his eyes for a short bit. "I have a lot of work, Tess-"
"I understand that, but how long has it been since we've last properly seen each other? Not weeks, not months... Years." She was not able to control her tone well anymore. It was either crying or talking through bared teeth and she swore that she will not cry infront of him again.
Because after all, that's what always happened. They argued, she cried and ran away but- that's not happening this time.
"Tess... You are your own woman now, I can't keep standing behind you-"
"Oh yes, but the prince is not his own man? Is he not an adult? Why must you watch over him but not care for your own blood?"
"You know it's not like that!" He sounded... He sounded so very sad. And for a moment, she wanted to believe him.
"It is like that!" Her hands flew up in the air in frustration. "It's not even as if I need your attention or you to be there for me all the time I just want you to be my dad, light damn it!"
"I will always be your father, Tess, what are you talking about?"
"A father, yes, but any man can be a father... A dad is different. A dad sends you letters asking you how you've been, a dad visits you to tell you how you should take better care of yourself and tells your partner that he'll beat them up when they hurt you... A dad is not indifferent... A dad cares." She had to take a deep breath after vomiting all her words out with the speed of an average Kul Tiran. "Hell, even Shaw is being a better dad to Vanessa than you are to me! And they aren't even related!"
"I do care, Tess, it's just difficult with everything-"
"You keep repeating the same things over and over again. You really think that makes it understandable for me? The years of you just not being there? The years I had to take care of myself? Do you even know me anymore?"
He opened his mouth multiple times, a couple of huffs coming out but no words truly forming. He could pass for a wounded wolf now and... That hurt something deep within Tess.
"Do you even know your daughter?" She wanted to sound strong, but her words came out a whine. She was pleading, begging for an answer.
He looked into her eyes, both of their eyes stinging with barely disguised tears but both of them so light-damn stubborn. "Liam said the same thing to me once..." He whispered, his voice soft beyond belief from such a big man. "'Do you even know your son, dad? Do you care about him?' he said... He had the same biting tone you do, young one. And I could not blame him."
"Can you blame me?" She rubbed her eyes, trying to get rid of the tears welling up in them. "Can you look me in the eyes and tell me that my pain does not make sense and that I am to blame for the strain of our relationship?" She sniffled and straightened her back, standing tall and as intimidating as possible while sobbing.
"That is not what I said, child... " He looked away for a moment, carefully picking out words. "I don't want to blame you but... You don't speak to me when we see one another. You don't share your life with me. How am I to know you've been feeling this way?"
"So you're telling me it is my fault? I don't talk to you because you don't listen! You don't care!"
"I do! I have always cared for both of my children, what do you not understand about that?"
"Then why did you stop caring about me the second he passed?" Tears now streaming down her cheeks. "The second he was gone I was just as well... Nothing but a memory of a little girl you once loved as your own... "
"That is not true... I-I... I lost my son! My only son! You cannot even imagine how that felt!"
"I lost a brother! My closest friend! And I lost everyone else I have ever cared about that day!" She yelled at him, hardly concealing how broken her voice must have sounded.
"What are you talking about now?"
"The moment I lost my brother I lost my entire family, Genn..." She frowned at the oh so familiar man standing infront of her. "I am no orphan but on days like these I wish I could state I were."
He stopped, dead in his tracks, again, not finding a single word worthy of being said out loud.
"I am getting married, Genn..." She turned her back to the man. "I just... Wanted to let you know... That I am happy... And that she cares..."
And with that, she left. Walking away, holding her head high for as long as she could before the last piece of her strong persona shattered.
In the end, she could not help but blame herself for her father feeling so horrible. She left him there, so broken, when she should have held him above water... Or maybe she did everything right... Maybe he- Maybe he did deserve every drop of poison she had put into her speech and more.
For now, she was not sure.
8 notes · View notes
ao3-rex1223 · 5 months ago
Text
Chapter 10: Plain View Doctrine
Twelfth Floor Intern Masterlist
Pairing: Miles Edgeworth x fem!reader
Summary: You finally get a few minutes to catch up with your dad and tell him who you're new mentor is. You attempt to tell him about your relationship with Miles, but it goes about as well as you expected. Later, your investigation continues and the more you uncover, the less things are adding up. At the morgue, you're given the preliminary results of the autopsy, however, your first interaction with one of the medical examiners doesn't go like you imagine. You're not the only one with eyes for the chief prosecutor.
Tags: Power Imbalance, Mentor/Intern, Miles wants you so bad but he's ethical AF now, No use of y/n, depictions of violence, Discussion of Rape, description of murder victims, adult murder victims, child murder victims, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Creampies, Loss of Virginity, Miles is the king of prosecutors but also the king of consent, Fluff and Smut, Romance, Blow Jobs, Nightmare about sexual assault, cross posted on AO3
"Hi, Sweetheart! Your mom and I miss you! Are you doing alright?" Your father asks. It really is good to hear his voice; the soothing voice of the man who raised you, held you when you cried, and rocked you when you were sick. So much has happened since you last talked, it feels like it's been a lifetime since you heard him speak.
"I'm fine, Dad. I've just been busy. I'm really sorry, but can I call you back later? I'm still at work," you admit, saddened you have to terminate the call.
"Wow, you're still at work?" He asks, surprised.
"Homicide never sleeps, Dad; you know that," you reply.
"No, it doesn't. Alright, Sweetie. Just get home safe, okay? I'll talk to you later. I love you!" He says, sounding sad.
"Love you, too, Dad," you reply and hang up.
"You could have taken a few minutes to talk with him if you wanted," Miles said.
"I figured I owe him a nice, long chat. I'll call him back when I'm home," you reply, withholding the fact that you're still afraid to confess to your dad that you're even interning with Miles let alone also sleeping with him.
You arrive at the morgue to meet with the medical examiner. Ms. Ozcar's body lays on the exam table, the telltale, Y-shaped incision running across her chest. You approach the table and see a white coat move in your peripheral vision. You turn your eyes up to a beautiful blonde woman looking very intently at Miles. Your Miles! Not hers! What the hell? MEs are all supposed to be old geezers! She stands directly in front of him.
"Miles! Great to see you!" She greets emphatically. She smiles sweetly with pearly white teeth. Her silky blonde hair is tied back with a few flyaways and long bangs free to frame her face. Her eyes look fierce, but with totally fake eyelashes. Her lips obviously have gloss on them, but you can't tell if the underlying color is really her natural lips or makeup; it's such a lovely shade of pink. Could she really be that perfect? She hasn't even acknowledged me yet! "How are you?" She asks, still ignoring you. "You don't get down here to see me enough," she comments flirtatiously. You can smell floral perfume that was obviously just sprayed. Apparently, she's completely unaware that Miles has absolutely no affinity for perfume. 'To me, it simply smells,' he'd say.
"Terribly sorry, Dr. Anderson. I don't get much time for social calls," Miles replies, his expression neutral. Unless I'm naked on his desk. Then he's very social, you say to yourself, wishing you could repeat it out lout.
"You should make some," she retorts with a smirk. Aren't you just classy? Your eyes are about to light her on fire. "And call me Sarah! You know that!" She playfully scolds.
Miles ignores her comment and places a hand on the small of your back. He introduces you to the doctor, sharing your name and the university where you're studying. "She's at the top of her class and well on her way to one day surpassing even my skills as a prosecutor," he brags. You reach out your hand to shake hers. The exchange happens over a few seconds but you wordlessly challenge her with your grip. She responds in kind. You stare daggers into each other's eyes. You both squeeze tighter and tighter until Sarah pulls away, her expression just barely showing a wince. Ha! A lifetime of thumb wrestling with Dad, is finally paying off! You withhold the smirk.
"Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Anderson," you greet with a soft, sweet tone.
Sarah forces herself to return your greeting, then turns immediately to Miles again. "Miles, I'm surprised at you. You hate interns; a trait you and I share," she says and flashes you a glance as she speaks the word 'interns' with venom and disdain. Listen here, Dr. Zhivago, you better back up before I... You shake your head at your rage imbued thoughts. Is this how Miles felt around Professor Fredericks?
"She's shown such an impressive aptitude for the practice of law that I just couldn't resist. Her talents would be wasted on the simple cases she would see with the other prosecutors. I figured her progress would be most significant under my mentorship," Miles explains, looking fondly at you.
"Well," Sarah begins with a longing sigh and glares at you briefly before returning her flirtatious gaze to Miles. "Just when I think you can't get any sweeter," she continues and places her hand on his arm. Your breathing holds steady on the outside, but in your mind, you shriek as if obscenely offended. "Here you are, taking on the burden of teaching a student."
Don't touch him, you cretinous hag! Your head screams. You're about ready to rip that arm of hers off her body, but Miles quickly removes the promiscuous doctor's hand from his arm and changes the subject. He looks annoyed. You relax a bit.
"Dr. Anderson, my intern and I are quite pressed for time. I'm afraid I must cut the pleasantries short and insist we obtain the preliminary results of the victim's autopsy." Miles instructs.
"Of course. All work and no play, huh Miles? It's your best and worst trait," Sarah comments. Miles ignores her. Oh, sorry, honey; he only plays with me. She lets out a sigh of defeat and grabs a clean pair of latex gloves to pull over her hands and begin her report. "The victim died at around eleven-thirty last night. The cause of death was asphyxiation by a ligature made from her clothes," Sarah explains looking solely at Miles. She points to several, small, crescent shaped marks on the victim's neck. "Take a look at the curvilinear abrasions on her neck, they're from…" Sarah is cut off by your enthusiastic interjection.
"Fingernails. She tried to pull the cloth off her neck as she was strangled," you conclude. "Her killer was likely much stronger than she was."
"Yes, that's correct," Sarah reluctantly admits. "Notice the petechial hemorrhaging in the eyes, also indicative of strangulation," she continues and gently opens the victim's eyelid to reveal dark red spots on the tissue. "There wasn't much other internal damage aside from superficial bruising, but there is pretty significant tissue damage to the external and internal genitalia. Sexual assault is very likely and it was before she died."
Miles leans his head toward yours and softly adds, "keep in mind, the defense will likely argue the encounter was 'consensual rough sex'. The important counter argument to develop is the witness testimony about the victim's typical sexual behavior. They certainly aren't pleasant questions to ask or answer, but it is necessary."
"Got it," you acknowledge.
"That actually shouldn't be too difficult. Her blood alcohol content was high. Point-zero-nine," she reveals.
"That means we can argue she was too intoxicated to consent to sex," you add. Miles nods.
"I was able to pull what I believe to be semen from the vaginal vault. DNA analysis will take a bit, though," Sarah continues. "There was a good amount of dirt and tissue under her fingernails, but again we won't know who it belongs to for a while. There's a fair chance it's her own skin from her neck." Sarah turns around to grab a printed report off of her desk and hands it to Miles. "That's all I have so far, but there are still tests to be done. I'll be in touch with the results." She pulls the gloves off and drops them in the trash.
"Thank you for your report, Dr. Anderson," Miles says, forcing politeness.
"Miles, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Sarah?" The relentless doctor asks through pouting lips.
"I prefer to maintain a sense of propriety, Dr. Anderson," Miles answers.
"You call the intern by her first name," she argues and quickly darts her eyes to you. That's so he knows what to moan when we're in bed together.
"There's a special bond between a mentor and a student. A first name basis is necessary to cultivate a therapeutic rapport. Perhaps you will understand one day should you choose to accept interns yourself. We appreciate your time, doctor." Miles places his hand on your back and leads you out of the morgue.
"What new things come to mind now that you've been given the autopsy report?" Miles asks as he drives back to the office. The sun is setting and it's obviously going to be another late night.
My ability to restrain myself from screaming at that handsy tart is pretty top notch "If I had any doubts our perpetrator was a male, they're gone now. The victim struggled, but was unable to save herself. With the adrenaline that must have been coursing through her body, the aggressor had to be very strong. Once we determine if the cells collected from the victim's body are sperm cells, well, I think I'm comfortable making that conclusion. I think if the DNA under her fingernails can be matched to the sperm cell DNA, we'll have a pretty good idea who our suspect is."
"Very good. There is one more thing to consider…" Miles hints.
"Her intoxication. Right. That probably did weaken her, but I still think it would have taken a great deal to overcome. All that aside, the consensual sex argument the defense might use is moot given her blood alcohol level."
"Precisely. Well done. Before long, every defense attorney will dread meeting you in court," Miles comments proudly. He pulls into a parking space in the lot for the office which is nearly empty at this point in the evening.
"I think that doctor already dreaded meeting me," you reply, frustration returning to your voice at the thought of her. You walk beside Miles with your arms folded firmly in front of you, bound for his office.
"Dr. Anderson is one of the…less professional medical examiners. I apologize if she offended you," Miles answers. He clearly picked up on at least some of the angry tension between you and the flirtatious doctor.
"She's the one who should apologize!" You exclaim. You both exit the vehicle to head inside. "I've never seen a physician so unprofessional in my life!"
Miles chuckles. "I am very interested to hear which behavior you deemed so offensive," he muses, unlocking his office door.
"Her hands belong on corpses not my mentor!" You fume, stepping inside. Your nails dig into your palms from the tight fists your hands are making.
Miles closes the door. "I do believe you are now able to fully empathize with me," he comments, still chuckling.
You turn to face him and let out a tense sigh. "Professor Fredericks?"
Miles nods with a smirk.
"My God! Is this what it feels like for you?" You ask. This poisonous jealousy feels awful and guilt boils up within you for putting Miles through it.
"Mhmm," he confirms.
"I am…so sorry," you express genuinely.
"It's a powerful emotion isn't it?" Miles says.
Your eyes fall to the floor. "Yes, but I know what I'm feeling isn't arrogance, as you called it. I am jealous. It's terrible. She's so beautiful and charming…and a doctor," you squirm, leaning against Miles' desk again. Your face twists back into a scowl. "She's so pushy! Does she not hear herself?! Where did she get her medical degree? The University of Impudent Audacity!?"
Miles moves to stand in front of you. "While I'm pleased to see your feelings for me run as deep as mine do for you, you shouldn't concern yourself with her or her distasteful behavior. There are far more important things for you to worry about right now."
"Is she always like that with you?" You ask, finally looking up at him.
"She is. I never respond to her comments other than redirecting her to her job. The only emotion she gets from me is indifference, although I did find her particularly annoying today. I have a good idea why," he explains.
"Do tell," you reply, you glance up at him through hooded eyes, the rest of your angry face still turned down.
He brushes your hair behind your ear and cups your face, tilting it up toward his. "I'd wager that as soon as she saw you, noticed your beauty is vastly superior to her own, and that all the attention she seeks from me is clearly given to you, her own jealousy became nearly unbearable. I will admit, the urge to confess our relationship to her was intense," Miles reveals.
"I wouldn't have told her…I'd have shown her with a graphic demonstration!" You declare through gritted teeth.
Miles leans down to kiss you lightly. "We truly do understand each other," he comments happily. You reach up and wrap your hand around his forearm, stroking his wrist with your thumb.
"If Professor Fredericks touches me again, I will call him out on it and set a very firm boundary," you vow.
"I'll do the same for Dr. Anderson," Miles replies.
"Good," you reply and pull him in for a deeper kiss. The urge springs up on you quickly and you have to fight to stop yourself from tearing Miles' clothes off. As your mind struggles for control of your hands, your tongue takes advantage of the lack of mental supervision and slips into his mouth, moaning at the delicious taste of him.
He grabs your hips and pulls you tight against his. He sucks on your tongue and moans back into your mouth.
You enjoy your sensual kiss until Miles manages to pull himself away. "We should stop, lest your bed end up empty for another night," he admits, begrudgingly.
"Yeah," you agree, sadly. It would be nice to enjoy some time together alone after the day you've had, but it's already late and you could almost collapse from exhaustion.
"And," he begins and pecks your lips once more. "You owe your father a phone call. Are you going to tell him about us?" He runs his fingers gently through your hair.
"Us or us?" You ask.
"Both," he answers.
"Us, yes. Us...I'm still working on that one." You look away, trying to hide the guilt in your eyes.
"Why not just tell him?" He asks, eyebrows raised.
"I want to; I just…I really want him to be happy for me and not be immediately disapproving. I've been trying to figure out the best way to bring it up. I love my dad. I don't want him to be upset with me, but I…won't give you up, either," you explain.
"From what you've told me, it probably doesn't matter how you tell him. He will be upset, but he is your father. He loves you. He'll come around eventually," Miles reassures you and kisses your forehead. "It's your decision, but I think the longer you wait the worse it will be."
"Yeah, I guess," you reluctantly agree.
"Let me take you home," Miles says, kisses you once more, and steps away to pack up his briefcase. You follow suit and both head for Miles' car.
You sit on your bed, pajamas on, face washed, staring at 'Dad' in your contacts list.
"It's a cell phone, hon," Nora teases, just about to head into the bathroom to shower.
"Trying to get myself to call my dad," you admit weakly.
"Are you going to tell him everything?" Nora asks, tilting her head forward, eyebrows sliding up.
"I don't know if I can. I think I'll try…" you reply.
Nora pushes the bathroom door open. "Well," she begins flatly, "good luck, whatever you decide to do. Personally, I think you should just tell him. Rip the band-aid off now." She walks in and closes the door.
I have to tell him, you coach yourself. You take a deep breath and release it, then press the 'call' button.
"Hi, Sweetie!" Your dad greets you happily. "Are you finally home? How was your day?"
"Yeah, it was great. It's really really busy, but it's great! I love it here!" You answer.
"I'm glad. You've been busy for weeks now. No time to call your mom and dad?" He asks.
"I'm sorry. It's non-stop. This summer has been…" you pause. Incredible, terrifying, amazing, overwhelming, unforgettable, hot. "Crazy. I've gotten to see a few trials now. It's fascinating," you explain. "I helped with a few guilty verdicts, too!"
"That-a-girl! I'm so proud of you, honey! So, that Mr. Payne has really been putting you to work, huh?" He replies.
"Well…" you pause, readying the first part of your updates for your dad. "I'm actually not assigned to Mr. Payne anymore." You cross and uncross your legs and fidget with your pajamas, trying to alleviate your nervousness.
"What happened?" He asks, concern weighing on his voice.
"Oh, nothing bad. It's actually good news. The chief prosecutor was really impressed with my performance, so he invited me to intern with him instead. I get to see more complex cases," you reveal.
"Well, that doesn't surprise me! Of course, my little girl is impressive! Now, I'm trying to remember the chief for that district," he pauses, searching his memory. "Oh! That's not Miles Edgeworth, is it?" He asks excitedly.
"That's him," you confirm.
"Wow! Wait til Cotter hears about this!" He gushes. Dan Cotter is your father's good friend and chief prosecutor of your hometown. You've known him since you were about five years old. "Well, that's just the best news! My baby girl is interning with the great Miles Edgeworth!"
"Yeah, it's been…it's been great. I'm learning so much!" You add. Maybe now is the time to tell him the rest!
"I hear he can be a bastard, though. Is he being nice to you?" Your dad asks. Or…maybe not.
"Yes, he is, Dad. He's a great teacher. He lets me do a lot with his cases and he makes sure to pull me aside if I'm making a mistake and explain what I need to do," you say, defending Miles.
"That's good. I guess it's not tough to believe he's nothing but professional to you," he replies.
depends on how you define 'professional'. "Yeah, Dad, he's been a perfect gentleman," you confirm. It was still true. Even though you've become intimate, Miles has never been anything but good to you.
"That's good! He better be!" He adds.
Come on! Say it! Say it! "Well, he is kind of…handsome…and he's really smart!"
"Hm, bad idea, honey," he begins. You can all but hear him shaking his head. "He may be a talented attorney, but he would be all wrong for you. Men like that, they put everything into work. They make for great prosecutors, but trust me you'd be miserable! Not to mention, your law school and his office would have a big problem with you two being together. That's not a headache you want to deal with. And it's not like you'll be in LA forever. I can't see someone like him picking up and moving back to Colorado with you. Not even close to good enough for my little angel. Best keep your relationship with him strictly professional," he rants.
You let out a silent sigh. "Got it, Dad," you reply, sadly.
"Chin up, Sweetie. You'll meet a nice man when you get back home," he says, attempting but completely failing to reassure you. "Give your mom and I some grandkids!"
You fall back onto your bed. Such a 'dad' answer. It's not that you don't want to be a mother, you'd just like to be able to pick the father.
"Sure, Dad. How's Mom doing?" You decide to quit while you're already behind and change the subject.
"She's loving retirement! She started a garden in the backyard. I tell you, she is trying to grow everything! She's got peppers, cucumbers, tomatoes, zucchini…she's even got pumpkins! She's having fun with it, though. It's got me thinking about hanging up my badge, myself," Dad reveals.
"Really!? You're going to retire?" You ask, shocked. Your dad was certainly old enough to retire, but growing up you always saw your dad as a hero. He saved lives and solved crimes. It was hard to picture him not doing that anymore. He had become a legend.
"I've been thinking about it for a while. I love my job, but I get pretty tired at the end of my work days and you know they get pretty long. Hell, you're dealing with the same thing now yourself. Body's only good for so long. I'd kind of like to be able to enjoy my twilight years for a bit, maybe travel around with your mom," he elaborates.
"It'll be weird to see you retire, but…I guess I can't blame you," you reply.
"I'm still deciding, but it will happen one way or another," he says with a chuckle. Dad always had a dark sense of humor and you usually could laugh at it, too, but you have seen enough death today that you didn't find joking about your Dad getting killed in the line of duty palatable.
"Don't say that, Dad!" You exclaim, nearly tearing up. "You promised Mom and me you'd always come home!"
"I'm sorry, Honey. My point is, I think I'd like to retire sooner rather than later," he replies.
"Well, you already have your pension. I guess now is as good a time as any," you add.
"Maybe I'll have a chat with my captain next week," he ponders. You hear the faint sound of a pager going off in the background. "Uh oh, speak of the devil. Duty calls, Honey."
"Okay, Dad. I'll talk to you later," you say, already missing him.
"And, Sweetie, please call us more often. I know you're busy, but whenever you can, we really want to hear from you," he pleads.
"I will, Dad. Love you," you say. "Be safe."
"Love you, too, Sweetheart," he says. You hang up the call and sit back up in bed.
"How'd it go?" Nora asks. You didn't realize she had come back into the room. She sits on her bed applying lotion.
"Eh," you respond. "I sorta tried to tell him, but he shot it down immediately."
"So, he knows you're dating Miles?" Nora asks.
You sigh and lean over to plug your phone into the charger. "No," you groan.
"I know it's not easy to tell your dad the truth but what's going to happen down the road when you and Miles decide to move in together? Or when you decide to get engaged? I think he will be angrier if he's kept in the dark longer," Nora argues.
"I know," you groan and absentmindedly rub your neck. "I'll tell him after this case."
Nora sighs with disapproval. "Okay."
"Don't give me the disappointed mother 'okay'!" You pout.
"Okay…" Nora says, comedically leaning into her disappointed tone. You throw a pillow at her.
The next day brings a few more pieces of evidence and a list of friends of the victim. One in particular catches both your and Miles' attention.
"His name is Bradley Hogger," Gumshoe explains. Miles has turned his office phone to speaker so you both can hear the detective's report. "According to her other friends, Bradley has been a close friend of the victim's for years."
"Did they ever have a relationship?" You ask.
"Not according to any of the victim's other friends," he answers.
"Miles, I just had a thought," you begin. He turns his attention to you. "What if we're not looking for an ex-boyfriend? What if we're looking for a friend who never got to be the boyfriend?"
"You read my mind," Miles replies. He turns his attention back to the phone. "Detective, we'd like to speak with Mr. Hogger. Please ask him if he will agree to an interview."
"Yes, sir," Gumshoe acknowledges.
"Oh, and Detective," Miles begins.
"Sir?" Gumshoe replies.
"My intern and I will be conducting the interview," Miles states.
"Understood, sir," Gumshoe acknowledges and hangs up.
Miles gives you a smile, "I think you should lead the interview, should he agree. I have yet to observe your witness interviews and I think this will be a beneficial learning opportunity for you."
You nod in response; a jolt of nervousness surges through you, but you override it with your desire for answers and to impress Miles.
Mr. Hogger thankfully agrees to meet with you. You and Miles sit across from him in the interview room at the police station. He appears genuinely distressed, obviously grieving the loss of his long term friend.
You introduce yourself and Miles. "Thank you for agreeing to speak with us, Mr. Hogger," you begin, keeping your tone even and calm. Miles' words about following the facts and not getting ahead of the evidence ring in your mind and you consciously maintain an impartial attitude. You tell yourself you are not speaking to a suspect but merely a witness and he will only become a suspect when you have evidence to support that designation.
"Anything to find Suzy's killer," he replies, tears pooling in his eyes.
"Can you tell me about your relationship with Ms. Ozcar?" You ask.
"Suzy and I go way back. We met in high school, actually." His mood brightens a bit from reminiscing. "She was the cheerleader; I was the debate team guy, but she took pity on me, I guess, stood up for me when the jocks ganged up on me. We became best friends. We still are to this day!" His frown returns and he slumps in his chair. "...well we were." A tear falls from his eye.
"When was the last time you saw her?" You ask.
"Last week, I think it was. We went to a movie together," he answers.
"What can you tell me about her relationship with her boyfriend?" You continue.
"Julian? Well, he's okay, I guess. I'm not sure he's good enough for her," Bradley answers, leaning back in his chair with a huff.
"What makes you say that?" You follow up.
"He just didn't seem right for her, you know? Sometimes you can just tell. I just don't think he really loved her like she deserved. He said he wanted to marry her but who knows if he'd ever have actually done it. He seems flaky to me," Bradley explains.
His disapproval of the victim's boyfriend strikes you. You try to stay your judgment but keep the observation in your mind.
"Did you and Ms. Ozcar ever date?" You ask.
"No, never," he replies quickly, and shifts uncomfortably in his chair. "She was my best friend, I never thought of her that way."
"So, you never had any romantic feelings for her?" You ask.
"No!" He fires back and leans forward in his chair. "Why? Do you people think I did this?!"
Your heart quickens with Bradley's escalation. You try to hold your neutral expression. "Mr. Hogger, we are not accusing you of anything," you reply, voice trembling.
"Good! Because I didn't do it! I didn't even see her that day!" He proclaims.
"Did you speak to her at all?" You ask.
"I don't think so, no," he replies. "Look, what are you people doing talking to me when you should be out looking for Suzy's killer!?"
"Mr. Hogger, I promise you, we are doing everything we can to find the killer, but we need this kind of information to know where to look," you reply, attempting to calm him. "Can you tell me what you did that day?"
"I went to work and I went home. That's all," he answers sharply.
"Would you be willing to give us your fingerprints and a sample of your DNA?" You ask, bracing yourself for a blow-up.
"No! I wasn't around her at all that day! You don't need it! You got some nerve, kid, dragging me in here and making me feel like a murderer! Is that what they teach in the law schools now?"
An idea hits you. "Mr. Hogger, you're right, I've been rather rude. Let me make it up to you. Can I get you a cup of coffee? Maybe a glass of water?" You ask as sweetly as you can.
"That's more like it! I'll take a cup of coffee!" Bradley says and relaxes into his chair.
"I'll be right back," you promise with a smile.
You carefully pour coffee into a freshly cleaned mug, avoiding touching it with your bare hand, using a paper towel to lift it, then gingerly carrying it back to the interview room, sitting on top of a napkin in your palm. You lean down and present the cup to him as a waitress might.
"Thank you," Bradley says calmly and takes the cup. "You know, maybe you're not so bad. Hey, you kind of remind me of Suzy, you know?"
You force a smile and continue your questions, "where do you work, Mr. Hogger?"
"I'm an auto mechanic. I work at a local repair shop; Syd's," he answers and takes a sip of the coffee.
"How long have you worked there?" You follow up, not actually caring about the answers he gives you. You're simply filling dead air while your witness enjoys his coffee.
"Three years," he answers.
"Do you work long hours?" You ask.
"Ten hour shifts, five days a week," he answers.
"Sounds like an exhausting job," you comment.
"Eh. It keeps me in shape," Bradley replies. He holds up his arms and flexes his muscles. He certainly would fit the profile of the killer, you note. Follow the facts, you remind yourself. He lowers his arms and takes another drink of his coffee.
"You mentioned you and Ms. Ozcar went to a movie last week. What else did the two of you like to do together?" You ask.
"We'd go out to the bars from time to time. Julian doesn't drink so he never goes with," he answers.
"Did Ms. Ozcar ever mention Mr. Gates hurting her or did she ever express that she felt unsafe with him?"
He ponders for a moment while drinking more coffee. "No, she never said anything like that. She seemed to really like him. I don't know why," he scoffs. He downs another gulp of coffee.
"What about anyone else in her life?" You ask.
"Nah, I don't think so," he answers. "Everyone loved Suzy." He takes another swig of coffee.
"I appreciate your time very much, Mr. Hogger. Unless my superior has any additional questions, I believe we can conclude this interview," you announce and glance at Miles. He allows a placid smile to form on his lips.
"I have no additional questions. Thank you for your time, Mr. Hogger," Miles says, calmly.
You call for a uniformed officer to escort Bradley out of the building. Once out of ear shot, you call for Gumshoe to bring an evidence bag and collect the used coffee cup. "This should get us a few fingerprints AND some DNA," you announce proudly. "Please take that to the lab, Detective."
"Right away!" He replies happily and turns to leave the interview room.
"You never cease to impress me," Miles compliments.
"Learned that trick from my dad. If they leave their DNA out in the open, I can take it. Plain view," you state.
"Very clever. What do you think about this witness?" Miles quizzes.
"I'm withholding my judgment," you promise, then let out a worried sigh. "But I'd be lying if I said I didn't still have…concerns," you admit. "I'm not sure I believe him when he says he had no feelings for the victim."
"I have the same thoughts. He seemed very defensive when you asked him. There isn't enough to designate him a suspect yet, though. I'm very anxious to see the results of the DNA analysis, as well. That should help guide our search. What would you like to do next?"
You carefully consider all of the facts floating around in your head. Julian Gates seemed genuinely devastated when he heard Suzanne was dead. He was fully cooperative with the police, which, in Hollywood, always leads to a twist, but according to your dad, it was usually a good sign. Bradley Hogger was mostly cooperative but did show some suspicious behaviors and refused to give his DNA and fingerprints. Maybe the boyfriend has some insight. "I think I'd like to talk to Julian Gates again," you finally conclude. "I want to find out what he knows about Bradley Hogger."
You earn a proud smile from your mentor. "My thoughts exactly."
0 notes
sehnsuchts-trunken · 3 years ago
Note
Hi!! I saw you opened up requests so obviously here I am!!
I would love to see some headcanons about what would’ve happened if Newt had survived in tmr, bc I’m forever going to be in denial about death cure lmao
ah. this. rightttt let's just quickly establish that i've completely been ignoring that that part happens- so there's a high chance i'll cry but let's go!!
triggerwarnings: talk of death and depression and both major/minor injury, spoilers for death cure, this is sad so brace yourself 
Tumblr media
- The Ivy Trio would be t h r i v i n g I'm telling you. Certainly they still are sorrowful, they still are sad, they mourn the losses and the dead, but they are also absolutely partying. They somehow never get too annoyed by each other either. Like sure, Thomas is a bit too daring and too naive, Minho is a pain in the ass with his sarcasm and his confidence and Newt has to keep up with their shit all the time, but they're all alive and well and they're not dumb enough to let any fight destroy the friendship they built as they went through, well, all that happened.
- Newt would be the first one to re-bond with Gally, I believe. Not that the other two don't - especially Minho has been a friend of him in the maze anyway, so they do reconnect. But Thomas takes a loooooong time to do so and basically needs a lifetime to stand being in the same room as him without Chuck's death flashing before his eyes and getting the urge to kill him. Newt though, while Thomas cannot convince himself that all that happened was because WICKED was controlling Gally, knows that very well; and since he's experienced what it's like to lose control, he's absolutely trying to rebuild that friendship with Gally.
i’m also pretty sure that they become each other's therapists because they went through a quite similar thing
- Newt needs his time to recover of course, and he does change, even if sometimes that's not visible. Once they reach the Safe Haven, once he's treated and well again, he's someone else despite being himself again (Minho goes through the same). He takes a long time to smile again even when all the others have done so, and it's quite hard to make him smile ever again. Not that he doesn't, oh, he does. But it's never the same smile that he's had in the maze.
- Despite all that, he adapts again. His limp is more apparent now and stays that way, because he does not hide it and does not see it as the inconvenience he'd convinced himself it was before. He takes it as a reminder of what they went through, of what he went through, to never forget that and to never forget what they survived.
- Thomas sleeps in the same room as him. It's not because there isn't enough space for everybody, but he simply can't sleep on his own anymore. He has horrible nightmares and often wakes up drenched in sweat and sometimes even screaming, and the only way to get him to calm down again is when he sees someone else with him, so Thomas just shares a room with him. It did take quite some time for him to convince Newt that he's not doing it out of pity (because after all Newt does not want to be a liability), but they end up sorting it out and doing it that way.
- When Minho gives Thomas Newt's necklace and he reads the letter, they all cry. All of them. Thomas cries reading it and Minho sobs when Thomas hands it to him, and since Newt knows well what he's written, tears also slip down his cheeks. It's both a sad and a very... hopeful moment, in a way. There's no shame, only utter happiness that they've all come to this very point, that they've survived it and that they're still here. Thomas keeps the letter. He asks Newt if he wants to keep it, but Newt says that he couldn't bear it, so Thomas does. Neither of them read it ever again, but the fact that it's there reminds them as much of everything they've gone through as if they did.
and also because i want to end this on a happier note:
- Newt absolutely loves the sea. He takes hour-long walks on the beach and is about the first one to explore it further. He often sits and stares out at the endless water and the sky, thinking about everything and anything that comes to his mind. Even though he mostly goes alone, especially in the beginning he's often joined by Thomas and Minho and even Gally. Sometimes he meets Frypan sitting there, too, so they sit there in silence. It's peaceful for him. He's thought of places like these in the maze, and now that he's here, he thinks of the maze. And after all, the only thing that he cannot figure out and never will is which of those places was the better one.
275 notes · View notes
quirkle2 · 2 years ago
Note
yeah no i asked what i asked and i still . hated myself for imagining it bc i really hate that the idea that the loving and caring family the links have built isnt meant to stay AJSJSAJAHJ i say i love angst but really. i love hurt/comfort and yeah no theres barely any of the comfort . ask ouchy questions get ouchy answers on my part </3 but still ty for indulging me (i say with equal amount of tears) !!
so now i am sitting patiently like a kindergarden kid about to hear storytime . that storytime is your ranch au :>> please ramble as long as you like <33
NO NO UR SO VALID I TOTALLY GET IT imso sorry if i made u sad . i made ME sad. we're both sad :(
kicks my feet up into the air i will cheer us up mark my words
ranch au ...................my beloved and most cherished ranch au. a lotta people prolly have this idea but here is my interpretation of it i suppose
to sum it up rly quickly it's the boys not getting a permanent goodbye and Instead sticking together and going to live on time and malon's ranch happily ever after <333 that's it that's the plot GVEAIYGV
sometime after wars is exiled from castle town and he's had a bit to reflect, he realizes that he's not gonna have Any place to stay when they separate. he hates thinking about their inevitable goodbye in any capacity, but he knows that at some point he's gonna have to come to terms w the fact that he won't have them forever (he will.) and they'll have to say goodbye for good (no.)
he's . obviously very troubled by this in general but That on top of the exile has him stressed and upset and worrying about the future and how he'll even continue without them. the chain can See he's upset—of course he is, he was just betrayed by his "friends" and banned from his home, stripped of his title—and luckily, time comes to da rescue :)
time knows wars is worrying abt living situations n such on top of the Betrayal(tm), and he,,, offers him a place, at the ranch :) they both know very well that that might not be possible—fate drags them around as it is, and they doubt it'll be kind enough to allow wars such a luxury—but the offer is there, if they find that it's possible. and wars isso fucking touched by that that he nearly cries GVIAEYGV
fast forward to . The Inevitable. in this au they Do say their goodbyes, and they Do separate and branch off into their different eras. everything goes as it should, according to fate. everything goes well Except the fact that there's only 8 portals. wars' isn't there. and that just,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
that kinda cements it in wars' head that he's truly been thrown away by his Entire Era. why else would fate not let him go back home? that means he's Truly not needed anymore, and just like artemis and impa, his world abandoned him when he stopped being useful. even fate says there's no point in going back. wars might as well not even exist there anymore
so he goes through time's portal instead. and for the next few days they live on the ranch and ,,try not to fall apart. time basically just lost seven of his fuckin boys, the one remaining one an absolute wreck and definitely working himself to the ground to keep his mind busy and Also to sate that fear that he'll be thrown out by time too if he's not useful enough (malon is more than welcoming to wars and so very happy to have him there and she'sso fuckin gentle w him u don't even know)
and for those few days, they both live w Giant holes in their chests. it feels utterly and dreadfully empty, to just continue life after a loss that great. they're both constantly reminded of the other boys and neither of them are sleeping much at all; wars and ledge were So incredibly close and wars constantly misses him every fuckin moment and all the work he's doing around the ranch is not doin a goddamn thing to distract him from it. time has to stop him from overworking himself too hard multiple times
but one night time's lyin in bed, unable to sleep and Feeling Empty, and then wars is suddenly banging on his and malon's bedroom door. he drags them outside—wars has his sword on him, that's not a good sign—and lo behold, when they step onto the porch, there is a portal in front of their house. just,,,,,,, sitting there. waiting
call it magic or a sixth sense of sorts, but for some reason, Both of them know this isn't a simple calling for another adventure. they just,,, know it in their bones. this isn't that. somehow, somewhere in their minds, time and wars both understand what fate is offering them
they quickly pack, fully arming themselves just in case they're wrong, and they say goodbye to malon in hopes that they'll only be gone a few days or so (they,,, hope to god)
they r dropped in skyloft. so far, promising
they track down sky. he bursts into tears at the sight of them GVUYEAGV at first he thinks it's another adventure, and they say while they can't Promise it's not, they r pretty sure—"like . 80% sure"— that it's smth else entirely. the Opposite, rly
sky goes w them. next up is four, a tearful reunion ensues, same explanation is given. it repeats and repeats and repeats until they,, eventually have everybody :) Everybody is back together—and yes, wars and ledge did run to each other and absolutely Tackle the other
one last portal stands before them. they don't know for sure it's the last one, but they Hope. they hope to god. they all,, hold their breaths and walk through it .
and they r deposited right back where they'd left at the ranch
there is . a sort of strange, underlying apprehension that resides w the sheer Holy Shit We're Together and Home. it's the fear—mostly and justifiably felt by legend, since he's experienced,, what, 7 journeys now ? give or take—that fate is simply gathering them together at a safe spot just to get ready to throw them into smth else
in reality they Can't know what the Entities behind these portals r doing, what their intentions are. they can only assume. but ultimately, even though legend honestly doesn't think his body can Make it through another adventure, if he's dragged into another one and it's w These idiots ? he'd go, and risk destroying his body and mind a lot more in the process, just to spend more time w them. it's not the ,, best circumstances to spend time w ur family, but hey . when else is fate gonna let him do it
malon sees them all back in one piece and races for them, and that's sorta the thing they need to snap out of their little shell-shocked trances and Celebrate. it's . a very big emotional rollercoaster GVYEAGV they cry and laugh and holler and while they're all distantly aware there is a chance this isn't the end of their journeys and there's more to go, they still celebrate. they're back together. gang's all here
and this lets the boys be boys. they all get to live in a normal household (as,, normal as a house full of traumatized heroes can get) w PARENTAL FIGURES . HALLELUJAH. and the younger boys get to be kids and the older boys gets to catch up on a childhood that was taken from them. they get to be normal people
eventually time expands the ranch house to accommodate them. it is a very big change—malon: "there are 8 extra people in my house and i love them all dearly but also there are 8 extra people in my house."—and yeah they definitely struggle to adjust a bit, but eventually everything calms and settles and it's Peaceful. they live peaceful lives, for once
AND YES I . I KNOW THIS HAS MANY MANY HOLES IN IT. but frankly my dear i do not give a damn HVGIEAGVA don't think about how all of them effectively left their families to join a different one. don't think abt that. they visit . it is canon in my eyes that the portals occasionally appear and let them visit their families. it's absurd but have u been paying attention ? so is everything else GVIEAYGV
ofc it's not all flowers n rainbows. they all just went through the fucking ringer w this last journey, and for people like legend who barely had any time in between each adventure to process the trauma, he's got,,,, a lot of catching up to do. they all struggle w a lot of different things, and even several months in they r still learning each others' boundaries when it comes to living in the same household
legend doesn't unpack his bag until 2 months in because he's fully convinced it's not over and he wants to be ready and packed when another portal comes to yank him from reality. hyrule's never,, lived in a home like this and he feels a bit out of place and unsure of what the etiquette is. twi in particular is absolutely terrified of the possibility that they could be dragged into smth else or separated again. both bc he's dealt w this before—being separated from midna between realms—and bc time, well.... the hero's shade thing is another can of worms entirely.
wars is still terrified he'll be thrown out despite the numerous reassurances from time, malon, And the others that they'd never. even though he had several years between the end of the war and the beginning of lu, a Few Years is not enough time to process and even Begin to heal from all the trauma that came from that war. he's still paranoid. he can't go outside at night, even within the safety of the ranch fences—yes, he'll admit he's developed a fear of the dark over the years, terrified of traitors lunging at him from alleyways or from around corners
they all still take time to spar outside, working hard to hone skills, and when time gently reminds them that they don't Need to do that anymore, they all ,, look so shocked and dumbfounded. a lot of them still keep emergency potions in their bags that they take to town. several of them r armed at all times w Some sort of weapon on them, even in the house
legend is still in Adventure Mode and keeps buying useful tools for journeys he might need, even though he's never going on one again. wild realizes that he doesn't have to mold his recipes around what will give them all the biggest buff in strength or defense; they don't need that anymore. he can just make whatever tastes the best w Whatever he wants
u get it. they all slowly learn to Live, instead of survive. they help each other heal in a safe environment, in a world they no longer have to babysit. time has his boys again. gang's all here
50 notes · View notes
tf2-hellhole · 3 years ago
Note
Could I request some headcanons for what the mercs would be like crying in front of their s/o? Or what it would take to get them to?
Scout:
It’d have to take him getting really, really angry or frustrated. Typically the only things that will push him this far are embarrassing himself really badly, losing a match, or somebody insulting him about something that he’s really sensitive about (like his lack of a dad, or if they tore him down about his appearance).
When he cries, he runs off somewhere to sit in a dark corner and bury his face in his knees, because he doesn’t want anyone to see him. When you come to see if he’s alright, he yells at you to leave, but makes no physical effort to force you. He still doesn’t do anything when you wrap your arms around him; in fact, after a while, the tension in his body leaves and he kinda slumps into your arms, burying his face in your chest or shoulder.
Soldier:
Solly is a person that you’d never expect to cry. Typically, he never does, because insults go over his head and he typically just demolishes a punching bag when he’s emotional. But he can come incredibly distraught when thinking about his early experiences in war.
When he feels like he’s about to cry, he locks himself in his room. He’d get angry at anyone who knocks on his door, except you, of course. When you knock, he opens the door wordlessly and captures you in a tight hug. He holds you close and buries his face in your shoulder, almost like an upset toddler. Usually, he’s never been able to talk about things that make him upset without getting brushed off, so getting held and being allowed to talk things out makes him feel a lot better.
Pyro:
I can’t really imagine Pyro as being much of a crier????? Like, maybe they’d cry if you were really upset with them, but that’s about it.
I guess that when they cry, they typically just sit by themselves, softly but audibly sniffling under the mask. If you ask them what’s wrong, they don’t answer, but if you come close, they’ll rest their head on your shoulder and tightly grip your hand. They’re back to normal in a few hours, but they don’t wanna talk about the crying and will disregard it if you bring it up.
Demo:
If he’s drunk, he constantly cries over things that are often random and unimportant. When he’s sober, he usually gets frustrated or angry rather than sad, so he’d only cry about something huge like losing his mom. Also, he’s quite touch and affection starved, so give him gentle affection when he’s upset or stressed- might make him get emotional and tear up a lot.
The way he gets emotional when he receives affection is actually quite cute. He’s big on affection and initiates it 99.9% of the time, so it’s a surprise to him that you would actively seek out affection from him and initiate it. He gets a little flustered and has the cutest nervous smile, but he melts into your arms and cuddles close like a happy cat, puts his head on your shoulder, and wipes his eye and cheek behind your back.
Heavy:
Heavy likes to present himself like he doesn’t get scared or sad or upset, but he does, he just hides it and uses healthy ways of coping or releasing emotion. So it’s very rare for him to cry, especially around other people, even his family. It’d have to take something extremely impactful, like the loss of a family member, to make him cry in front of other people.
When he cries, he does it quietly and by himself. When you find him by accident, he says nothing and just looks away, but he doesn’t try to stop you when you approach him. You reach up and touch his cheeks wordlessly, acknowledging that he clearly doesn’t want to talk. He only looks up at you for a moment before pulling you into a gentle hug, taking in the warmth and comfort of your body.
Engineer:
I don’t actually think Engineer is much of a crier either? His emotions probably come out as anger and frustration (which is obviously never taken out on you). I can imagine that he might cry after losing a loved one. And he’s a very patient and well-tempered person, but I think a very, very long string of failures with inventions might make him angry-cry.
When you find him crying, he wipes his eyes and hangs his head, refusing to look at you. But when you approach him and try to comfort him, he weakly complies and lets himself get wrapped in a hug. If you ask him to, he rants his heart out. Once he calms down, he pulls away, wipes his eyes again, and gives you a weak smile, clearly grateful for the comfort. “Look at me, moping and crying like a child,” he says with a soft, breathless chuckle.
Medic:
Saying that Medic’s childhood was rough is an understatement. He tends to ignore that part of his life and doesn’t talk about it/won’t ever elaborate, but sometimes he can’t avoid bad dreams and scary memories. They tend to stress him out a lot and take him back to the roughest events of his life, so of course he tends to cry after one of these flashbacks.
When he has these memories, he tends to hole up in his lab or his quarters, as it often comes with a bad mental crash. Another mercenaries had mentioned that he seemed out of it earlier, so you went to go check on him, and you found him an exhausted and miserable mess. He immediately crushed you in a hug, crying into your shoulder or cheek. Your body’s warmth and your voice really helps ground him and calm him down. Over a little while, he relaxes a bit and practically melts into you, maybe even falling asleep, but not before he manages to softly thank you for staying with him and comforting him.
Sniper:
Sniper doesn’t seem like much of a crier, and he’s typically not. But he spent a lot of time crying his eyes out until alcohol made him numb in the first few months after his parents’ death. And, like Demo, a lot of affection could easily make him emotional and cry a little because he’s so unbelievably touch starved.
One time, you find him in his quarters (no I don’t think he lives in the van), clearly having a bad day. You sit down next to him and stroke his back, asking him whats wrong. “Nothin’. Just a long day,” he responds weakly. When you reach up to touch his face and comfort him, he jumps a bit in surprise, being unused to people touching his face, but he leans into your hand and closes his eyes. For a moment, you didn’t even realize he was starting to cry, but he sniffles loudly and his eyes are wet when he opens them. He still gives you a soft smile, grateful for the comfort.
Spy:
Basically never cries because he’s excellent at bottling up every emotion he feels and acting like everything is okay. Even losing a loved one wouldn’t make him cry, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not absolutely traumatized and heartbroken; He just doesn’t show it externally. The only thing that could make him cry is a loved one trying to help him improve his mental state- of course, letting out his feelings is an incredibly important part. He strongly resists their attempts for a long time, but seeing how worried they are about him and how much they care makes him fall apart.
He just randomly starts crying in the middle of a conversation about you trying to help him mentally heal. Like, all of a sudden, he buries his face in his hand and sniffles softly. He lets you hug and comfort him, but he hides his face out of shame as he silently sobs into his hand.
700 notes · View notes
clouds-rambles · 4 years ago
Note
hi bestie!! i loved the prompt you wrote where the reader dies in the genshin boys arms,, so do you think you could do that for zhongli and xiao? :]
We about to cry again huh?
Bro Stormbearers Lair is making me sad and for what? All I’m doing is looking for chests. Bruh. Kinnie moment
Pairing(s); (Seperate) Zhongli, and Xiao x reader
Warnings; major character death, angst, hurt/no comfort, injury description, blood
Keep reading under the cut!
Zhongli
He had lost many a person over the millennia, so loss isn’t exactly foreign to the ex archon
But you, even if you were mortal. In Zhongli’s eyes you would grow old with him. You would get to see your children grow into adults, you would get to see grand children, maybe you would even get to see great grand children if you were lucky.
But no
Your body lays limp in Zhongli’s arms. You were both fighting a particularly tedious foe, like you have done some many times before. But this time ended with you dying
And Zhongli didn’t even get to say his goodbyes to you for he was too preoccupied with putting down the enemy. Like has happened so many times before, people close to him, gone without even a goodbye let alone a kiss on the cheek
It had happened with Guizhong too. One day she was there fighting beside him and the next. Gone
Zhongli finds himself doing something that he hasn’t done in a very long time. He cries. He cries for you. Your loss of life, for your loss of experience. For all those years he was going to spend with you. For all those years that he did spend with you that are going to be nothing but a painful memory that he has to dwell on to remember why he’s alive
How would he explain it to his children? Children that are certainly not going to understand why one of their parents are gone. Especially when the said parent is used to being gone for long periods of time? How would he explain this to himself? That the person he loves above all things has been taken away?
Hu Tao is funnily enough the one to find Zhongli dry sobbing in the middle of the plains. She says something about how she was in the area, but really? Hu Tao had this sudden gross gut feeling, as if your spirit was trying to call out to her. The gross gut feeling she had was right
Hu Tao suddenly ever so professional helped the broken Zhongli up. She doesn’t mention it when his trousers are stained by your blood, nor does she mention Zhongli’s wet face. Hu Tao knows better, especially when dealing with the dead.
The service is as small as it could physically be, considering that just in Liyue you and he have made so many friends that want to say goodbye
Both Zhongli and his children are so overwhelmed with emotion that none of them cry at the service. But everyone knows how they’re feeling. 
After the service Zhongli sits his kids down and tries to explain everything to them without crying. He must stay strong for his beautiful children, he wont let himself crutch onto them.
Often when the kids are tucked away happily in bed Zhongli will visit your grave. Often with flowers, it doesn’t matter which ones. You always had a way of finding beauty in even the weeds that litter both the garden and the wilds
On more than one occasion Zhongli has found Xiao and Ganyu silently saying goodbye to you. In all honesty you were the reason why the human adepti started seeing the ex-archon in the first place. It’s only right they offer their blessings to the person who bought them closer to the only father figure they have
As the years pass your loss has gotten easier. Zhongli still visits your grave often and occasionally brings the kids to say hello. 
Though Hu Tao cannot help but note that Zhongli still wears his wedding ring on his finger. And sometimes, she can catch glimpses of what she can only presume to be your wedding ring hanging around his neck.
Zhongli isn’t going to be letting your memory within him die anytime soon
Xiao
Having a mortal lover really wasn’t the best plan for Xiao. But he had always pictured at least you getting old. That way it would be less painful for the adeptus to let you go.
But fate obviously didn’t want that for him
He should have been more careful about having you near. You had helped him open up, so much so displays of PDA were something that he really began to enjoy. Holding your hand as you wonder about Wangshu’s market stalls, or kissing each others cheeks just when you feel like it
That’s what must have enticed the Abyss to target you. While you were defenseless
It was just a night like any other. Xiao had decided to go out for some monster slaying. He had noticed a slowly growing presence and generally a night out slaying monsters cleared out the area for a week or two
And it was going great until he heard the bloodcurdling scream of his name. If Xiao wasn’t a lightning fast adepti the scream of his name alone would have caused him to cry
The scene as he entered your room was much worse
The first thing he notices is the smell of the elemental traces of the abyss, but that smell is quickly overpowered by a metallic smell Xiao has become more than acquainted over in his lifetime. Blood
They you are lead on your bed, somewhere that should have been a safe space for both you and Xiao by extension
“Xiao” you speak again between laboured breaths, he is by your side in an instant, he clasps your hand in his
“Tell me who, I’ll ki-” he says before you interrupt
“shh” you shush with a weak smile “Xiao, I’ll” you pause coughing “I’ll find you in my next life, I promise” you manage to say
“[name], [name] stay with me!” Xiao yells as he begins to shake your body. It’s obvious from your glassy eyes and lack of breath that you’re not going to
Xiao leaves Goldet to clean up the room of blood, and you as he tracks down the culprit of your demise
He eventually does. But Xiao realises that much time has passed since your death. How long had he been pursuing this abyss herald? Days? Weeks?
When Xiao returns to Wangshu Goldet almost hugs him exclaiming that she and her husband had been worried sick. They had almost come to the conclusion that he to had taken his own life
“How long have I been gone?” Xiao inquires
“Four months” Goldet responds “We tried to hold [name]’s funeral back as much as we could, but we buried them three months ago. I’m sorry Xiao”
The adepti shakes his head. A million thoughts race his mind as he ponders what he should do next. Visit the grave and make himself be lost in your memory? Or just bury you in his head like he had done with the yaksha during the war?
He settles on both
Xiao visits your grave and says his goodbyes. He sets up some incense to help your spirit rest if its in turmoil before he turns to leave your grave. Your memory is like a wound. He will bury it in the sand like all the others in due time
A hundred years later is when he visits your grave again. Not because he forgot to before. But because this wound of your memory has infected his brain. In the last decade your memories have resurfaced once more
The memories range from the first time the two of you shared a kiss, shared the bed to when he had reached you in the bedroom
Xiao wonders to the promise your dying breaths offered, were they an empty promise like all other dying breaths? Or was this a true one?
“You know I’ve been tending to this grave for the last decade or so” a voice behind Xiao speaks. “My name isn’t [name] but I think I am them” the voice continues standing just behind the yaksha
“A hundred years is a little long for you to have grown” Xiao tells the figure behind him. You hum
“I think I was blessed by the gods” you confess “For I am truly a century old”
432 notes · View notes
alliluyevas · 2 years ago
Note
top 5 asoiaf sibling interactions?
i'm assuming you mean sibling relationships more than like one-scene interactions, let me know if you meant the latter and i can answer this again lol
okay I'm absolutely putting my lannistan clown hat on as we speak but the lannister sibling relationships are soooooo interesting. I'm not necessarily going to rank them but they'd definitely be my top three I guess. (Or can I group them as one? They only have one scene with all three of them and each of the three pairs are so distinct in their dynamic but also they do all inform each other). But anyway just my thoughts:
Jaime and Cersei is obviously THE train wreck sibling relationship of the highest level but it is so, so fascinating on so many levels to me. The mirroring and this sort of false self, the gender dynamics there, all those layers of ugliness and codependency layered on top of what once might have been something innocent. SO good.
Jaime and Tyrion are at first blush sort of the saving grace of the Lannister family, the one good thing that isn't twisted or tainted somehow. And they do love each other. In both their chapters, they're always looking to each other in spirit--what would Jaime do? What would Tyrion do? Jaime is the only person who's ever really loved Tyrion. Isn't he? Jaime is the only person who's never let Tyrion down. Except that's not true either. And Jaime has also always chosen Cersei over Tyrion--until he doesn't.
And then you've got Tyrion and Cersei which is in some ways like...recognition of the self through the other. At least on Tyrion's part, I think Cersei is too blinded by paranoia and hatred and not self aware enough to really see herself in Tyrion. But there are these little glimmers of a moment where something else breaks through during the period where they're both separated from Jaime and missing him and they're both struggling under the weight of their father's will. Ugh it is SO good.
And then all three of them are just drowning under all this trauma and symbiosis. Oh it is SO good.
Non-Lannister favorite sibling relationships would be Stannis and his brothers--the opposite of love's not hate but indifference, right?--only Stannis, seemingly alone, is anything but indifferent. They're not like the Lannisters who love too hard and hate as well--there's just this sort of empty hole where something used to be and Stannis is the only one who remembers there was something there once, even when he digs the hole deeper. That whole dynamic is so deeply poignant and sad to me.
Also--the Martells! It's odd, because Elia has been dead this whole time, but the love her brothers feel for her is so, so present that it really makes you sort of see her ghost and feel her loss. To me, both Oberyn's trial by combat and Doran's line about how he was the eldest and is now the last are some of the scenes that stick with me most in the series.
Honorable mentions to Ned and Lyanna--another ghost haunting the narrative, another loss deeply felt and constantly present--and to all the current Stark siblings. And to Cat and Edmure, who are just very sweet. Oh, and Theon and Asha of course, I think their reunion in ADWD was the hardest I’ve ever cried over a book.
15 notes · View notes