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strangererotica · 2 months

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EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Perv!Dark!Jim Hopper x fem!reader | This is a very long chapter!!! | I don’t even know the word count, but it’s a LOT…

PART ONE | PART TWO

The previous night had been one of the worst in Jim Hopper’s life. He’d endured the long hours till morning with the company of cigarettes and alcohol, ruminating on the way he’d potentially ruined his life the night before. How could he have allowed his obsession with you to sink this low? To the point of revealing his secret in the most damning way possible, literally caught with his pants down (or at least, undone). Hopper had gone to your home last night with the plan of seeing you and your boyfriend, Steve Harrington. To satisfy his curiosity about the relationship the two of you had together. Was Steve really as perfect as he seemed? Were you genuinely happy with him? Or, more pressing on Hopper’s mind, was Steve Harrington able to satisfy you?

Hopper had gotten more answers than he’d expected however, when he’d accidentally stumbled upon you and Steve sharing an intimate moment together. Nothing, especially Hopper’s barely existent sense of shame, could have stopped him from watching. He’d certainly felt shame after being caught, however. The expression in your eyes when you’d spotted him was…impossible for Hopper to read. You hadn’t looked embarrassed, or horrified, or even surprised, at least as Hopper had perceived. It’s possible, he told himself, that you were exceptionally good at hiding your emotions. Or maybe…maybe you’d known that Hopper was watching all along…?

The thought had occurred to him at some point during the night, after yet another failed attempt at sleep. Hopper stared up at the ceiling of his trailer, naked and drunkenly sprawled on his couch. He was surrounded by empty beer cans, a cigarette burning down between his lips. He watched the smoke rise to the ceiling, coiling above him in an almost hypnotic spiral, at least to his alcohol-soaked perception. The image above Hopper perfectly mirrored his life spiraling-out-of-control, and he chuckled darkly at the irony of it. Hopper thought again of your eyes, their expression which completely eluded him. And then…a new possibility occurred to him. What if you hadn’t been shocked at all by his behavior, Hopper wondered? What if the secret of his obsession was something you already knew about? Had you realized Hopper wasn’t what he seemed, that Hawkins’ Chief of Police was actually less a servant of the community, and more a slave to his own perverted impulses?

Hopper found a sick sort of comfort in this new theory, in the idea that you might have already known his secret. If you’d known he was watching you last night, along with the reason why, perhaps you’d have less reason to be shocked at his indecent behavior? Your expression had appeared so vague to Hopper, maybe because you’d known he was there watching all along? Hopper lay on his couch, wondering…if maybe you’d left your curtains pulled on purpose? Had you wanted Hopper to see your boyfriend fuck you?

The character profile Hopper had constructed of you was of an innocent girl yet to be corrupted. If he’d been wrong all this time, and you were actually as deviant as he was, then the possibility of Hopper having you became more real to him. Maybe you liked the idea of being watched, of being obsessed over? Had your innocent behavior around Hopper been an act this whole time, a game you were playing at his expense? Did you get off on knowing he wanted you, but couldn’t have you?

The sun was rising, reminding Hopper of the time. He checked his watch, realizing he’d have to leave for the station soon. Facing you would be much easier if his theory about you was right. Part of him knew it was a long shot, but fuck, Hopper needed this fantasy, the hope that you secretly liked his lusting after you, that you wanted to be wanted by him…?

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The drive to the station was relatively easy for Hopper, considering the fact that he’d had zero sleep the night before and his hangover was getting progressively worse. Regardless of how awful he felt, Hopper was impatient to receive some kind of feedback from you, whether negative or positive. Not knowing how you were feeling about last night was tying a knot in Hopper’s stomach. And as soon as he entered the station, that knot in his stomach tightened.

A young woman Hopper didn’t recognize was seated at your desk. He stopped in his tracks, surprised and growing increasingly worried. Where the hell were you?

Hopper approached the secretarial desk. “Uh, hey,” he began tentatively. “Where’s (y/n)?”

The young woman smiled back at Hopper, and in spite of his anxiety, he couldn’t help but notice how attractive she was.

“(y/n) called in sick this morning,” the young woman replied. Hopper took a deep breath; his fantasy that you’d be alright with his deviant behavior was more than likely only that: a fantasy. You probably thought Hopper was the lowest scum on Earth, and couldn’t bear the thought of coming into work today and having to interact with him.

“Did she-uh-.” Hopper paused, clearing his throat. “Did she say what’s wrong, exactly? Anything specific?”

“No, but maybe she caught the flu?” the young woman replied. “I mean, her voice sounded okay over the phone. But you never know with the flu; it could be affecting her stomach-.” She looked away awkwardly, flustered and embarrassed for rambling.

Hopper took a few seconds to consider the new layer of shit he found himself in. At this point, he was sure you’d told Steve what had happened. Because, after all, Steve was your boyfriend. Why wouldn’t you tell him?

Then again, if you had told Steve, why wasn’t he at the station right now kicking Hopper’s ass? Maybe you’d begged Steve not to tell anyone, afraid you’d put your job in jeopardy?

The temporary secretary cleared her throat to get Hopper’s attention. Her big, expressive eyes drifted up and down his body, a curious smile on her face. Hopper tried to focus on her smile and not his anxiety, grateful for the distraction when she extended a pretty hand to him. “We haven’t met before,” the young woman said. “I’m Mary.”

Hopper took her hand, which disappeared in his. “Jim,” he said, adding, “Mary. That’s a beautiful name, Mary.”

She dropped her eyes bashfully, a light pink blush coloring her cheeks. Hopper already knew Mary wanted him to fuck her; it was more than obvious. Having her would be easy for several reasons. Mary was obviously young, likely nineteen or twenty, Hopper guessed. And from experience, he knew that younger women were easier conquests, because they tended to be inexperienced and therefore, attracted to someone mature and in a position of authority like Hopper.

One of the reasons Hopper was so enchanted by you was the fact that you were the exact opposite of a girl like Mary. You were young, but not so young that you automatically came with the prepackaged naïveté Hopper had grown so bored with after years of fucking women barely old enough to drink. Women who’d maybe had one or two partners, if any. Virgins were easy for Hopper to fuck, but they bored him. He needed a woman who would let him do unspeakable things to her body, not teach her how to fuck in the first place. He was too lazy for that, too selfish. Hopper wanted you, a woman who looked sweet and innocent in public, but could handle the dicking-down he intended to give you in private…

Hopper realized his thoughts were drifting again, so he forced himself to focus on the distraction in front of him: Mary. Secretary Mary. The fact that her name rhymed with her job might help him remember it for a change, Hopper realized. Usually, he didn’t waste time cataloging information about the women he fucked; it was too much of an effort for Hopper to keep track of them all.

He’d likely never see Mary again, after today. You’d be back at the station tomorrow, and Hopper could make things right with you…at least, he hoped you’d come back. The possibility of never seeing you again was something Hopper couldn’t handle right now. He needed to see you, to talk about what happened.

Mary’s pleasant voice pulled Hopper from his thoughts. “It’s nice to meet you, Jim,” she said, and he knew she meant it. “If you need anything…” Mary held the pause in her statement long enough to make sure Hopper understood the full extent of her meaning. “…You know where to find me.”

Hopper nodded politely. He knew he’d have her in the backseat of his Blazer by lunch.

“Likewise, Mary,” Hopper smiled, his voice soft and authoritative, laying the charm on thick. Mary’s subtle change in posture, the way her shoulders went back slightly, accentuating her breasts in the most innocent way possible, confirmed Hopper’s suspicions. He leaned forward, narrowing the space between them. Mary’s breathing changed instantly; Hopper could practically hear her pulse quicken. “Hey,” he whispered, a friendly grin on his lips. “I take my lunch at eleven; you wanna get out of here for awhile?”

Mary’s answer, predictably, was yes.

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Hopper had assumed correctly that Mary-the-Secretary was a virgin. She’d blurted it out as soon as he touched her, as if confessing something. Hopper didn’t react, because of course he’d already known. And he may have been compulsive when it came to sex, but he wasn’t a monster; Hopper never planned on putting his dick inside Mary. He knew she wasn’t ready for that, and he had no desire to make her first time a painful one. His only purpose in doing anything with Mary, or any woman at this point, was to use her body as a substitute for yours…

Mary had a pretty pussy and tasted sweet, so it was easy for Hopper to pretend she was you. He ate her for twenty minutes or so, and didn’t pull her panties back up for her till she’d come twice. He looked at his watch, noting that his lunch break was nearly over. Hopper gave Mary’s thigh a hearty pat and informed her it was “time to head back,” walking around to the front of the car and waiting for Mary to do the same. She of course took a bit longer than Hopper, being unsteady on her feet. Climbing into the passenger side, she closed her eyes and leaned to rest her head against Hopper’s shoulder. He grimaced, frowning at the road ahead, but Mary didn’t see his expression.

Another problem with virgins, Hopper was reminded: They get too attached and usually, right away. Especially the younger ones, who seemed to demand a dual role of Hopper that he wasn’t willing to waste time or effort to play: the role of a father figure as well as a lover. There was nothing about any of these girls that Hopper wanted to nurture, and he tried to convey that message early on with his behavior. But sometimes, the message wasn’t received, and Hopper had a broken heart on his hands that he’d never meant to break. He didn’t mind the slight guilt it caused his conscience this time, because Hopper knew he’d probably never see Mary again. Broken-hearted girls were easy to ignore when Hopper could avoid interacting with them.

He caught a glimpse of Mary’s face in the passenger side mirror. She was positively beaming, glowing… Hopper realized she’d probably never had an orgasm before today. He sighed to himself; she was definitely attached. Hopper didn’t want a puppy, but he seemed to now have one on his heels. Mary tried to get Hopper’s attention all day after lunch, making frequent trips into his office with one excuse or another, cheeks flushed rosy, giddy with excitement at just being near him. By the time Hopper got off duty, he was more than happy to be parting ways with Mary. She saw him leaving and trotted after Hopper to his car, asking if she could see him later tonight.

Rather than give her illusions of anything further happening between them, Hopper decided to rip the emotional bandage off quickly, and be done with it. “No, Mary,” he said over a cigarette. She watched him turn his key in the ignition, her smile softly fading. “I can’t see you tonight,” Hopper continued flatly. “I have a date.”

Mary’s sweet features melted into a look of sorrow that Hopper was familiar with. He didn’t enjoy hurting young women, but delivering a well-intentioned lie was better than handing out false hope. He backed out of the parking lot and onto the main road that ran through downtown Hawkins. It would take less than three minutes for Hopper to get to your house. He was tempted. The urge to know what was going through your head right now was eating him up inside.

As usual when it came to Hopper, temptation did get the better of him. He began to feel angry at you for denying him a response. How could you not let him know where your mind was at, after what happened last night? The anxiety of not knowing was making Hopper miserable, emotionally sick. His dick had barely gotten hard when he was eating out the temporary secretary, even though he’d mentally replaced her with you.

An ugly sense of rage began to boil in Hopper’s gut. How dare you avoid him…how dare you pretend that everything was okay, that the world wasn’t caving in, making up some absurd excuse about being sick to avoid Hopper? His grip on the steering wheel had tightened to the point of discomfort, but as with his obsession, Hopper couldn’t. let. go.

The sun was setting as Hopper pulled down your street. It reminded him of where he’d been exactly twenty-four hours ago, driving from Steve’s house to yours, and how everything about his life had changed in the hour following. Hopper saw Steve’s car in your driveway, but that didn’t stop him. He was determined to get an answer, to get some kind of reassurance from you that everything last night was real, and not the result of a drug-induced dream his subconscious had conjured up. Hopper knew he had to control himself, to stuff his rage deeper lest it take hold of him and guide his mind in a direction that would cause even more harm than he already had.

Hopper pulled to a stop in your driveway, rather than parking further down the street like he had last night. What was the point? Hopper planned on being confrontational, on getting the answers he was owed. A thin line of sweat dripped down his chest as he put the Blazer in park. Hopper’s deep blue eyes were darker than usual when he checked his reflection in the rearview mirror. He was reminded briefly of those cheesy horror movies where a character in the film becomes possessed. Their eyes were always depicted as changing color, going a darker shade, as if the demon that had overtaken them was seeping through the very windows of their soul. Hopper’s reflection was slightly jarring. He wondered what was possessing him? His answer came easily; Hopper was possessed by you.

He threw open the driver’s side door and slammed it shut. Hopper wiped the sweat from his forehead, then reached into his pocket for a cigarette, quickly deciding against it. He didn’t want anything distracting him, not even a cigarette. Hopper decided he could smoke after he’d handled you. He could have rang the doorbell, but opted for the more aggressive option, banging his fist against the door in three firm, thudding knocks. A muffled voice from behind the door called out, “just a sec,” and Hopper cursed under his breath. It was Steve.

The front door pulled back and Hopper found himself once again in the presence of “King Steve,” Harrington. “What an honor,” Hopper sarcastically muttered. Steve didn’t hear, as he was too busy adjusting the t-shirt he’d obviously pulled on in a hurry to answer the door. It was on backwards, tag visible on the neckline. Steve looked less like a king and more like a pauper at the moment, his shorts crooked and hair a mess. Hopper took in the sight of the younger man, the rapid pace of his breathing, perspiration glistening on the end of Steve’s nose.

Except, it wasn’t sweat. Hopper could smell sex all over Steve, and he swallowed, hard. That was you…your sweet scent radiating from Steve’s body, covering his face and neck. Steve must have realized he looked a mess, because he quickly pulled up the bottom of his shirt and wiped his face, and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it. “Uh-hey Chief,” Steve said distractedly. “What’re you doing here?”

Hopper chewed his tongue so hard it hurt. How he wanted to end Steve Harrington, to shove past him and into your house. Hopper would find you and finish the job for Steve. And he’d do it better, too…

Hopper realized you must not have told Steve about last night, and that the time to confront you was not now. He took a deep breath before speaking. “I heard (y/n) called in sick today,” Hopper said quietly, then cleared his throat to speak more clearly. “Just checking to make sure she’s okay.”

Steve leaned an elbow against the doorway, nodding quickly and assuring Hopper in a flurry of words that you were “fine-just fine,” and “I’ll let her know you uh-you stopped by-.” And then, the door closed in Hopper’s face…

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Hours passed.

Hopper drank.

The Hideaway stayed open till three AM on Mondays. It was a clever business move designed to entice customers in after what was typically the most stressful work day of the week. Right now, Hopper was just grateful to have a drink in one hand, and a cigarette in the other. The location didn’t matter; he would have gladly laid his cash and self respect on the bar of any nearby watering hole. Luckily for Hopper, The Hideaway was only a few minutes drive from your house, which made it the perfect place to kill time.

He checked his watch more often than he needed, drinking shot after shot of whatever contained the highest percentage of alcohol. After his encounter with Steve that evening, Hopper needed this. If he was angry before, he was furious now. That bastard had literally been fucking you in the next room right before answering the door. Hopper threw back another shot of vodka, sucking the last of it from the glass. The bartender had been watching him for some time now, taking note of how much alcohol Hopper was consuming. He’d known Hopper long before he was ever an officer, or an adult for that matter. Randy had known Hopper his entire life. He understood the pain Hopper had endured, from his time in Vietnam to the death of his daughter, and the eventual breakdown of his marriage. Randy understood how a man like Hopper could be motivated to drink in excess, turning to alcohol to quiet the memories that haunted him, like so many others who visited the bar. Although Hopper was an adult now, Randy still kept an eye on how much alcohol he had while in his establishment. It was one small way Randy could still take care of him. And he decided that Hopper had had enough.

“Hey Jimmy,” the old man said, approaching Hopper from behind the bar. He had a glass in one hand and a towel in the other, drying it as he spoke. “You driving tonight?”

Hopper shook his head ‘no,’ and then laughed. Why should he lie? He was the Chief of Police, after all. But to spare the old man any worry, Hopper didn’t retract his lie. Instead, he doubled down on it, telling Randy through a series of slurred words that he’d walked there tonight, and planned on walking home. Randy wasn’t convinced; he knew Hopper’s trailer was all the way out by Lover’s Lake. Too far for anyone to choose walking into town over driving. But there was nothing else the old man could do besides refuse Hopper anymore alcohol. “Regardless,” Randy said. “I think it’s time for you to call it a night, Jimmy.”

Hopper groaned, rising from his barstool. He opened his wallet and removed more than enough money to pay his tab, leaving it on the bar. “Keep th’change, Randy,” he drawled, adding “Thanks for always lookin’ out for me.” Hopper staggered to the front door, leaning on it for support as he pushed it open. The night was beautiful; the cloudless sky an inky canvas, sprinkled with stars that were easily visible. Hopper stood in place but swayed on his feet, staring up at the moon. He wondered if your bedroom curtain was open tonight, letting the moonlight in? Hopper decided to find out for himself…

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You’d said goodnight to Steve around eleven that evening. After a long bath, you’d climbed into bed with a good book, read for awhile, then switched off your bedside lamp to go to sleep. Your mind, however, had different plans for you.

It had been nearly impossible to stop thinking about Hopper since last night. He’d been on your mind so often throughout the day, you’d swear he’d taken up residence inside your head. You knew he’d stopped by earlier that afternoon, claiming he wanted to make sure you were feeling better, or something to that effect. But you knew the real reason Hopper had shown up at your door, and that he was also worried you’d told Steve, maybe everyone, about last night. Your absence at work must have confirmed Hopper’s worry.

The truth, however, was much more complicated. You knew Hopper was sick. You’d known for awhile now. You’d seen the way he looked at you, sensed the energy coming from him. You’d recently become aware of Hopper’s compulsive masturbation in his office, ever since you’d taken his trash liner out (as you did with all the bins at the station before clocking out every night). At first, you’d been shocked by your discovery…but you quickly became intrigued. You wondered why Hopper needed to come so often…if maybe the way he looked at you was an indication of where his need was coming from?

The possibility of Chief Jim Hopper wanting you that desperately was…intoxicating. You’d had a crush on him from the moment you met, and in spite of your relationship with Steve, your crush had flourished into a kind of obsession. You knew exactly which cigarettes Hopper smoked (Camel’s, that was his preferred brand) how he liked his coffee (black with a spoonful of honey on the side), that his beer of choice was Schlitz. You’d purchased an aftershave that smelled like Hopper and made Steve use it. You’d snuck a peek at the tag on the navy jacket Hopper wore, and purchased one for yourself.

A favorite ritual of yours was to lay in bed wearing Hopper’s jacket and nothing else. You’d sprinkle a few drops of his aftershave onto your chest, and touch yourself. It wasn’t the same as having Hopper, but…it was enough to get you through the nights when Steve couldn’t satisfy you. Of course, your boyfriend made you come, and often. Steve was amazing in bed, and the sex you had with him was nearly perfect. The one fault you had with Steve (and it was major) was his sex drive. He simply didn’t need sex as much as you did, as often or as rough. Sometimes, you’d convince Steve to play rougher and he would, but not without asking a million times afterwards if he’d hurt you, if he’d made you feel cheap or used, or unloved? Steve was sweet, but his sweetness often got in the way of pursuing rougher intimacy, the kind you craved.

Like last night…Spitting into your mouth, and fucking you in the ass, were acts Steve never would have initiated himself. He preferred gentle, tender sex over anything. While Steve was content to be making love, you needed to be fucked. You wanted a man like Hopper to hurt you and not apologize for it. You wanted him to pump and dump you, leave you split in half and covered in his cum, and to never once say sorry…

You knew Hopper was sick, and you didn’t judge him for it. Because what no one else knew, not even Steve, was that you were sick, too. You couldn’t get enough sex, and Steve wasn’t meeting your needs. You’d kept your crush on Hopper a secret, resigning yourself to good, not great, sex.

When you saw Hopper standing outside your house last night, you made the spontaneous decision to dance for him. And when Steve appeared in the doorway, you realized an even better opportunity to ‘perform,’ for Hopper had presented itself.

Making sure to stand directly in front of the window where you knew Hopper could see everything, you’d let Steve fuck you. Knowing that Hopper was watching in secret made you unbelievably aroused. Seeing him coming all over himself afterwards was the confirmation you needed that Hopper wanted you. The visit he’d made to your home earlier had only been the beginning. You knew that if Jim Hopper wanted to fuck you…he’d be back.

The sound of your front door being unlocked startled you. It must be Steve, of course, since your boyfriend is the only other person with a key to your house. At least, that’s what you thought…

“Steve?”

The door slammed shut. Footsteps on the stairs told you immediately that this was not Steve. You knew his gait, the sound of his walk. You’d heard your boyfriend go up and down those stairs dozens of times. These steps were heavy, uneven. The intruder paused at the sound of your voice, when you called out “who’s there?”

Hopper stepped through your bedroom doorway, making you jump. “S’okay, it’s alright,” he said, lifting his hands to show you he meant no harm. “I just wanna talk, okay? We need to fuckin’ talk…” Hopper sat on the end of your bed, his weight shifting the mattress under you.

“I don’t want to talk,” you told him, to which Hopper immediately replied, “I understand. You’re probably very confused about last night, but you don’t have to be embarrassed.” You tried to interrupt, but Hopper wouldn’t let you get a word in. “I just wish you would have fucking talked to me.” His voice was intense, darker. “You don’t show up at work- What am I supposed to think?!” Hopper slammed his fist against your bed, making you jump. “That my life is over? That I’m never gonna see you again?” Hopper’s speech was slurred, but you understood exactly what he was saying.

He was staring you down, his eyes lingering over the sheet concealing you. Hopper wanted so badly to rip the fabric back and see your body beneath it. All of his strength was focused on controlling himself, because despite the alcohol slurring Hopper’s words, he was very much aware of what was happening, and where he was. He was sitting on your bed, the most intimate place in your home. The place where you laid your head each night and dreamed, where you likely touched yourself. You were so vulnerable like this, Hopper realized. If he lost control right now, and let his darker impulses take hold of him, he might do something even worse than he’d done last night…

“I don’t want to talk,” you repeated, and Hopper laughed darkly. “Well that’s just fine, because I AM gonna talk and you’re gonna fucking LISTEN-.” Hopper grit his teeth, his jaw tensed. He wanted to punish you right now so badly, for making him endure the torture of your silence, your absence. You sat forward in bed, the sheet concealing your body falling aside. Hopper’s features softened, his lips parting slightly, eyes fixed on your exposed breasts. You watched as Hopper’s body language shifted, the muscles in his neck contracting as he swallowed. He was obviously aroused by your nakedness, and for the first time all night, Hopper was at a loss for words.

Taking his hand, you placed his palm over your breast. Hopper drew in a deep breath, staring at his hand cupping your tit, feeling your nipple harden against his palm. You repeated the same words, but slower. This time, Hopper knew precisely their meaning: “…I don’t…want…to TALK…” Hopper understood. You weren’t interested in talking. You wanted him to fuck you.

Hopper’s lips replaced his hand over your breast. Latching onto your nipple, he pressed the tip of his tongue against it before circling and sucking. Your surprised whimper at his intensity made Hopper’s cock stiffen, throbbing against the confines of his jeans. He sank his teeth lightly into your breast, grunting into your tit when a low moan escaped your lips. The sounds you made were divine, even prettier than Hopper had imagined.

His hands gripped the flesh at your hips, groping along your belly to your thighs. His lips crushed against yours as he used his hands to spread your thighs wide open. Hopper felt your cum on his fingers, and put them to his lips. His tongue swept over your slick once, twice, three times, because to Hopper, you tasted like God. The scent of you hadn’t done justice to the divinity of your taste. Hopper sucked his fingers clean before grabbing your legs and tugging your ass down the bed toward him. You gasped, smiling, that smile Hopper could never get tired of seeing, all innocence and corruption at the very same time; a smile that looked angelic on a mouth built for nothing but sin…

Nestling between your legs, Hopper rested his cheek against your inner thigh. He wanted to savor these sensations…your cum slicking his cheek where it rested against your thigh…your scent vanilla sweet, just inches from his nose…the view of your soaked pussy glistening wet and warm…

Hopper lowered his face and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to your clit. Your skin tasted so sweet, like a ripe peach waiting to be bitten. Hopper couldn’t go a second longer without your cunt in his mouth. With his big hands clenching your hips, Hopper pulled your cunt over his lips. Your back arched as Hopper flexed his tongue inside you, curving it around your g-spot.

Your fingers latched onto Hopper shoulders, bracing yourself as your body shivered. No one had ever licked your cunt like this, eating you from the inside out. You twisted and writhed, your lower back lifting off the mattress. If your hips hadn’t been anchored down by Hopper’s hands, you were convinced you’d be floating by now. It already felt like you were. Hopper was licking places so deep inside you, he forgot to breathe. His nose was pressed flush to your clit, his chin rutting against the curve of your ass. Hopper never wanted to leave the warmth of your cunt, not even for air. He pressed two fingers inside you and with an almost hypnotic pace, Hopper expertly fingered your cunt. He spread your slippery lips apart with his tongue, honing in on your clit. Wrapping his mouth over the raised pink bud, Hopper sucked in time with the thrusts of his fingers inside you.

Your eyes were on the ceiling, but you didn’t see it. You were floating, melting, dissolving under Hopper’s lips and around his fingers. The sopping wetness of you sprayed over Hopper’s face, your pillowy walls sucking and contracting around his fingers as you came. Hopper lapped at your cunt like a thirsty animal; he’d never been so drunk on a pussy that he’d blacked out like this, lost track of time and space and everything in between. Your cunt in Hopper’s mouth was like a strong hit of the best drug he’d ever tried. He was addicted instantly. No other pussy would be able to satisfy Hopper after this; he was sure of it. Hopper rubbed his face into your cunt, smearing your cum all over his face. He knew now why Steve was always covered in you; Hopper understood completely. Your cum smelled like every good pussy Hopper had ever had, combined.

As your hips stilled, Hopper lifted his face to look at you. Your eyes were glossy, a thin sheen of sweat coloring your cheeks ruddy, eyebrows cinched together. Your voice was weak, but you managed to softly whimper “more…” and pressed Hopper’s face into your cunt again. He took another hit, another drag, another shot of you. That euphoric bliss went straight to Hopper’s cock, and his climax took him by surprise, filling the crotch of his jeans with cum. You came harder this time, losing yourself for a moment in a black pool of pleasure, your eyes on the ceiling but not in this world anymore.

Hopper rose up from between your thighs, cum dripping off his chin as he hovered over your body. He smacked his palm against your pussy and you choked back a sob, a pain that Hopper was as quick to rub away as he was to dole out. He alternated between spanking your pussy with a force so brutal it shook the bed frame and made you cry, then rubbing his palm against your abused cunt till you were crying in pleasure. Hopper forced three fingers from one hand inside your sopping cunt and hooked them around your insides, ramming into your pussy as hard and as deep as he could, his knuckles disappearing inside you, fingertips nudging your cervix. All throughout this beautiful torture of your insides, Hopper continued to spank his other palm against your cunt. Your lips were already swollen but now, they were twice as puffy and twice as tempting to suck. Hopper removed his fingers from you and pushed his face between your legs again, growling into your plump heat, his spent cock stiffening again inside his cum-soaked jeans.

He pulled your lips between his, suckling at their pillowy softness. Hopper gulped your cum as you squirted again, sealing his open mouth over your pussy so he wouldn’t miss a drop. His stomach was full of cum, his tongue thick and heavy, and Hopper had never been a happier man. You pressed his shoulders back, and he let you climb on top of him. You rubbed yourself against Hopper’s crotch, the bulge in his jeans wet with both his cum and now yours. Speeding your lips around the outline of his cock, you humped Hopper through his jeans. The weight of you on top of his cock made Hopper groan, the rocking of your hips as you rutted over and over again along his clothed erection pushing Hopper over the edge. He came inside his jeans again, grunting through his climax as you never stopped humping him, as you drained every drop from Hopper’s cock and refused to climb off till you’d come again, too.

Despite the fact that he’d already come twice, Hopper couldn’t stop getting hard again within five minutes of coming. He pulled his cock from his jeans, shaking it by the base, letting his cum fall off his dick and onto your stomach. Hopper grabbed your hips and flipped you over, spitting on your asshole and rubbing his fat tip against it. Without warning, he buried himself inside you, splitting you open just like you wanted. You yelped in pain; Hopper’s hand found your mouth, cupping around your face from behind. “Bite down,” he ordered, shoving his fingers between your lips. Hopper fucked you harder as your teeth sank into his skin. The pain in your asshole began to subside as you braced your teeth around Hopper’s fingers. His cock was stretching your asshole beyond its capacity to hold him; but with every punch of your guts, the pain got easier and easier to take.

“I’m gonna come-,” Hopper panted over your back. “I’m gonna come again-FUCK!” Hopper emptied his third load inside you, painting your asshole with semen. His body shivered, trembling, and you felt the vibration through his cock, still hard as a diamond in your ass. Sweat dripped from Hopper’s chest onto your back. He pulled his fingers from your mouth, sucking the small bit of blood off of them. Hopper lazily humped the soft curves of your ass, pushing his cum deeper as his cock softened inside you. “You did so good,” Hopper murmured against your ear. “Such a good fucking girl…”

You tilted your head back, lips parted in a contented smile. Your hair was drenched in sweat, wispy strands sticking to your forehead. Hopper took his time kissing each one, letting his cock linger inside you, making sure every single drop of his cum was deposited there. When he did pull out, Hopper trailed kisses along the curve of your back, gently removing his cock from inside you.

“Is there a mess?” you asked, and Hopper smirked, looking down at his dick.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he replied, reaching for a tissue box on your nightstand and using them to wipe his cock clean. You realized the sun would be coming up soon, and that you’d both have to get ready for work. “How about a shower and some breakfast?” you asked, and Hopper smiled. “I’d like that,” he said.

After showering, you showed Hopper where the kitchen was and he made you both scrambled eggs and toast. He needed to leave a little early to go home and change into his uniform. You kissed Hopper goodbye and watched him walk to his vehicle through your front doorway. And it occurred to you that this…all of this…was absolutely going to happen again.

@mrshopper84

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dfortrafalgar · 1 month

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I'm Losing You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Law x Fem Reader

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read these warnings before reading this fic. Genuinely, I implore you. I started writing this fic on a whim a few weeks ago, when I was contemplating my own experiences with reproduction-related health conditions such as the one that will be addressed later on in this story (endometriosis). Reproductive education and health is something that I feel very strongly about, and I feel that topics such as pregnancy complications and loss aren't addressed enough in media for fear that they're too taboo or shocking. Which, to be fair, is true, at least for the shocking aspect. Pregnancy loss is difficult, traumatic, and life-changing, for better or for worse, truly dependent on the person and the world around them.

Now you might be wondering... why would you drag one piece into this? well, i don't know. i felt like it, perhaps. Law is a character who resonates very deeply to me, his character is emotionally complex and layered, and imagining him in a scenario like this one became very interesting to me. Combine that with everything i stated above and taddaa, you get this fic.

this story does and will eventually have a happy ending (a very happy ending!) however it will take a bit to get there. this is a multi-chapter fic that i'm moving from my ao3 to my new blog, and the same warnings there apply here.

if this fic doesn't seem like your cup of tea, i encourage you to check out some of my other fics on my blog. i have a few law/readers that are tooth-rottingly fluffy and much more feel good.

with all that out of the way, thank you for reading.

Chapter 1

[Next]

The air in the room was as stifling as a sauna from the stress and anxiety filling the air. It was so silent, the tiles surrounding the small area blocking any and all noise from outside. The door was closed, caging you in.

You were sitting on the toilet lid, your hands rapidly perspiring and your whole body shivering with nerves. Across from you, your husband had his arms crossed, his head hung low, his heel bouncing off the floor. The tension was unlike anything you had ever experienced, however this had unfortunately become the norm for the past six months.

On the side of the sink sat a long white stick. Neither of you wanted to look at it.

“Do you think it’s ready now…?” you asked, inwardly cringing at how pathetic and weak your wobbly voice sounded.

Law picked his head up, his golden eyes creased in profound concern and worry. “It should be. Five minutes, right?”

“I think so,” you replied. With a trembling hand, you grabbed the stick from the counter. Law watched your every movement with a close eye. With a deep breath, you flipped over the test and gazed at the result window.

A single red line.

After the last failed attempt, you made a joke that you didn’t have any more tears left in you to cry, but clearly that wasn’t the case as fat, salty tears rapidly welled in your eyes and flowed down your cheeks. Law immediately knew what the result was the second your lips twitched downward. His heart sank into his stomach, immediately stepping toward you, grabbing the test from your hand and blindly chucking it into the small garbage can in the corner. He knelt on the floor in front of you to pull you into his chest.

“Damn it…” you whimpered. Your body forced you to take a shuddering inhale before sobbing an anguished, “FUCK!!!!”

Law’s heart broke. He didn’t even know what to say to comfort you anymore. 6 months of failed attempts at conceiving a very wanted baby had caused nothing but pain to both of you. You had both been scientific about the process. All birth control and protection was ceased, and the two of you were religiously tracking your cycle to make sure you would try during your ovulation window, but nothing but failure after failure showed up.

You thought you were broken.

Law thought he was broken.

You wept into his shoulder, your body shuddering with each pained sob that crawled from your sore throat. Law’s hands were frozen around you, firmly gripping your back. You couldn’t see the tears that were forming in the corners of his stern eyes, biting his lip and forcing every muscle in his face to prevent those tears from slipping downward. The last thing you needed was to see him cry, but he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to hold it in.

“Law…” you whimpered into his shoulder.

Law stayed silent.

“I’m sorry–”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he quickly retorted, cutting you off. He felt you lurch in his arms. “This isn’t your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault… it’s…”

Now you stayed silent.

Law took his own shallow inhale. “I… don’t know.”

For one of the only times in Law’s life, he was rendered completely incapable of speech. Normally calm and analytical, looking for every possible solution or reason for an issue, he was now left completely helpless to the crashing waves of sheer dejection. As your quivering body clung to him like a lifeline, his entire brain was scrambling for some sense, any logical thought, for the current predicament, but it was starting to become glaringly obvious to both of you.

It was very likely one of you was infertile.

When you finally picked your head up from his shoulder, Law’s previously broken heart fractured into even more irreparable pieces.

Your eyes were puffy, swollen and bloodshot from your tears. Your entire face looked bloated from the force of your crying, and you were clearly flushed. You looked, for lack of a better word, completely miserable. Law helped you stand from the closed toilet seat, keeping your eyes away from the trash can where the negative pregnancy test lay on top of discarded tissues and makeup wipes, to guide you to your shared bedroom. Neither of you had to say a word, you knew he was going to put you into your shared bed and let you get some much-deserved rest after the stressful eternity (10 minutes) you had just endured. It was almost 8:00PM anyway, and regrettably, both of you still had work the following day.

You didn’t fight it when Law eased you down onto the mattress by your shoulders. You kept your eyes pinned closed, not wanting to let your husband see any more of your beaten state. You rolled over onto your side and hid in your pillows. You didn’t hear Law mention that he would join you after cleaning up, and you didn’t notice the overhead light dimming. You simply begged for sleep to take you quickly and painlessly.

When Law finally returned after washing his face, he gazed dejectedly at your weary form. Finally asleep, fortunately, but your cheeks were glossy with fresh tears. The man carefully crawled into bed behind you, carefully pulling your body into his. He wished more than anything that he could make your pain go away. He ran through the many years you had been together, and struggled to find a time where your sorrow was as profound as it was this evening. His mind was constantly at war- his analytical, doctor side beginning to list specific reasons why this could be happening, and his sincere, passionate, loving husband side breaking apart reflecting over the sound of your sobs.

It could have been either of you. But it also could’ve been both of you. The thought was enough to finally force the tears in Law’s eyes to break free and travel down his cheeks. Some of them plotted into your hair.

—

You awoke to the sound of whispering in your hallway outside the bedroom. The blinds covering the window above the bed you shared with Law were pulled shut, but the sunlight still beamed through them leaving patterns on the walls and floor. The side Law slept on was empty and freshly made. No surprise, he left for work early in the morning after all. You slowly sat up in bed, your head pounding. The events of the previous evening came rushing back to you, but you felt nothing but an empty melancholy, a dark fog that hung over your brain and clouded your vision.

The door to your bedroom slowly opened. You looked up just in time to see a very large, very fluffy cloud with four legs and two beady eyes come sprinting into your room. Its feet ripped across the carpeted floor as It hopped on your bed with a loud huff, immediately snuggling on top of your duvet and leaning into your body for some much needed cuddles.

You mustered a weary laugh, your hands instinctively moving to the back of the dog’s neck to rub his fluffy cheeks from behind, eliciting happy grunts from the large animal. He had his tongue out, a tiny pink blep among the sea of rich white fur.

“Bepo,” you sighed. “You know Law doesn’t like it when you get on the bed.”

“He missed you!” called a voice from the hallway. Spiky red hair appeared in the doorway. “So did we, actually. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

Shachi had, actually, woken you up, but you didn’t need to tell him that. “No, not at all.” You shook your head. Bepo’s tail was wagging in your face, causing you to sputter out small strands of loose fur from your mouth. The red-head entered your bedroom, leaving the door open. The smell of French toast instantly wafted into the space, making your mouth water and your eyes widen. “Is Penguin cooking?”

“Yee-up,” Shachi replied, popping his lips to enunciate the word. “Law invited us over, if you couldn’t tell.” He flashed a smirk. “You got the day off, by the way.”

Your eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. “What?”

“Law called in sick for you,” the man confirmed.

You frantically reached for the night stand and grabbed your phone, tapping the screen to illuminate it. It was almost 10:00AM, and sure enough, your alarm had been turned off. Three texts from Law sat waiting on your screen, as well as two texts from your coworkers.

Baby~~<3

Sorry, I broke into your phone to turn your alarm off. You get to sleep in today, I called you out sick. I didn’t tell them anything, just that you weren’t feeling good.

Baby~~<3

Shachi and Penguin might be there when you wake up. I did tell them a little about what happened, just so they know to give you space if you need it.

Baby~~<3

Call me if you need anything at all, I love you.

Ika-chan

I heard you called in sick today!!! I hope you’re alright, let me know if you need anything!

Nami Swan

How r u feeling? If u caut the flu u can blame Usopp :P

You smiled, your heart beating in your chest. “You guys are too much sometimes.”

Shachi proudly rested his clenched fist over his sternum as a display of pride. “Nothing is ever enough for your best friend!” The sight made you chuckle.

You were caught off guard by Penguin entering with a much larger platter of food than you ever expected. He excitedly approached your bedside with a wide grin, marveling at his own work. A bowl of mixed fruits, a plate of French toast drizzled with maple syrup and dollopped with a swirl of whipped cream, a small portion of sausage on the side, and a single unopened bottle of apple juice. You graciously accepted the spread, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t completely befuddled.

“You guys know I’m not actually sick, right?” you asked, glancing at your husband’s best friends with concern. You shooed Bepo away from getting too close to the sausage.

“We know,” Penguin clarified. “We can treat you to a nice breakfast even when you’re not sick, though!”

You smiled, forcing down the lump that formed in your throat. “Thank you guys, I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I know what you’d do,” Shachi stated. “You’d eat your breakfast and savor every bite!” He stood up from your bed and clapped his hands twice, beckoning Bepo off of the bed and over to his side. “We’ll take Bepo for a walk around the neighborhood! Take some time for yourself!” The two men left with your dog in tow, leaving you to stare in awe at the spread of food.

Your mind was reeling. Law’s text informed you that he had given his two friends a brief summary of what had happened, but you didn’t really mind. If anything, it brought you some comfort to know that you and your husband’s two closest friends understood the predicament you were currently in and were more than willing to go out of their way to support you. You also couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Law calling you out sick for the day, putting your passcode into your phone to turn off your alarm, and making sure his friends would be there for you when you woke up. You were beyond grateful for such an incredible support system, but just to be on the safe side…

You grabbed your phone once more, opening your text messages with Law.

Good morning baby, thank you for calling me out. Im feeling a bit better, Shachi and Penguin made me breakfast. I hope you didnt give them too much grief ;3; Take care of yourself today, I’ll see you when you get home. I love you!!! <333

With your breakfast completed, you slowly trudged to the bathroom to take a relaxing shower. The sight of your negative pregnancy test filled you with nausea, but you pushed past the feeling and turned on the water.

#trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #fem reader #law x reader #x reader #reader insert #tw pregnancy #tw miscarriage #tw pregnancy loss #im losing you

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g0nta-g0kuhara · 5 months

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The Chapter 4 Essay Part 1: Kokichi Ouma

A metapost on my thoughts on Kokichi’s overall motivations and Gonta’s actions during ch4. Split into two parts. You can find the Gonta half here: (LINK)

I think the way Kokichi acts when he’s telling the truth says something crucial about his personality. When he’s telling the genuine truth, his expression becomes carefully neutral.

(post trial, chapter 1)

To me, it feels like he’s trying very hard to keep this face of neutrality. Normally, he’s able to expertly express any emotion that he wants to. In these moments, its almost like the emotion he’s feeling is so overpowering that he’s trying to repress it in order to maintain control over the face he presents to everyone else, but isn’t quite able to do so.

Kokichi is very careful about keeping people from seeing the parts of himself that he doesn’t choose to show. His villain persona and constant lying is part of this- He wants to keep people away from him. During the events of the killing game, he uses the distance that he creates in many ways. Part of it was that not having many close alliances allowed him to go off and do whatever he wanted during daily life. This let him explore the school and investigate the truth of the killing game without interruption or much attention. Lying also gave him distance between the game and himself. Pretending that the killing game was fun might’ve been his way to cope with everything that was happening. I think Kokichi is really damn good at separating himself from his emotions, lying to himself to do what he thinks needs to be done. This line from Chapter 1 is pretty telling…

(post trial, chapter 1)

This was also something he says himself to Kaito in the exisal hanger during chapter 5.

(post trial, chapter 5)

I’m inclined to believe everything that Kokichi says to Kaito in the exisal hanger. As Kiibo says when Kaito questions it, “I think his dying words may have been the honest truth.” Knowing he was about the die, and that he absolutely needed Kaito’s help to get his plan to break the killing game to work- to achieve his genuine, true goal- I don’t see any reason for him to lie.

This emotional distance extends past just the killing game. I think it's a key part of how he interacts with others around him.

Kokichi is an ultimate leader. I think he uses his talent throughout the game in an attempt to “lead” everyone from the shadows. He wanted to stop the killing game and escape with as many people as possible. However, his methods are very ends-justify-the-means. I believe that he did genuinely care about everyone at the ultimate academy, but in the detached way a distant king might care about his subjects. On the other hand, if he had to use or sacrifice a few as pawns for the greater good, that is what had to be done. It’s not like it didn’t emotionally affect him, but I think he was deliberately trying to keep his distance so that it would not impact him as much, and so that he could continue trying to tear the killing game apart with as many tools in his arsenal as possible.

(post trial, chapter 5)

With this core motivation in mind, this brings us to Chapter 4.

In my opinion, the Killing Game Busters was never a plan that was meant to succeed. From an in-game perspective, the idea that he was originally going to follow this mercy kill plan doesn’t make sense to me. Firstly, Kokichi already had suspicions that they were being watched as early as chapter 3.

(post trial, chapter 3)

…and he later confirms that he was fully convinced of this fact when Monokuma agreed to reuse the chapter 4 motive in the virtual world.

(post trial, chapter 5)

He knew that this killing game was for somebody else’s entertainment. I’ll go a bit into the secret of the outside world in a moment, but considering this, I don’t think he ever fully believed in it. Choosing to mercy kill everyone, in the name of a “truth” that was incompatible with what he had discovered… just doesn’t make sense to me.

Not to mention, from a narrative standpoint, I think the idea that he was completely for this mercy kill plan, decided to throw out the plan mid-trial, and then start an entirely different plan to end the killing game in chapter 5, isn’t very compelling. It weakens Kokichi’s overall character by making his motivation less cohesive and making him seem less organized over all, which I think is one of his strengths as a character. A Kokichi that is this fickle with what he’s trying to do would not have been able to write the script for chapter 5.

I think he always had different goals in mind with the Killing Game Busters. The first was something that is made very clear in chapter 5, but started here in chapter 4: He wanted to stop the killing to give himself room to break the game while minimizing deaths. The second was to further villainize himself, for all the reasons I talked about above, and some more I will get into in a little bit.

Seeing the secret of the outside world was undoubtably disturbing, regardless of whether he believed it or not; there is a noticeable shift in how Kokichi acts before and after he swipes that card key. Combined with discovering that Miu, someone he’d been working with closely, was planning on murdering him, I believe that seeing the destruction of the outside world pushed him towards more drastic measures than what he had been doing in previous chapters. He decided that in order for his plan in chapter 5 to work (which he had almost certainly already been planning at this point, considering how elaborate it was), he needed to make everyone question if pursuing the truth was the right thing to do at all.

After Miu’s body discovery, nobody was really worried about losing this class trial. Everyone had seen how Shuichi had guided them all to the truth and caught the blackened three times in a row, despite the unique difficulties in each case. They had full confidence in his abilities.

(investigation, chapter 4)

Shuichi is also not really doubting his abilities as a detective anymore. One of Shuichi’s core internal conflicts is his fear of the consequences of revealing the truth. Up to this point, it seems like he’s been moving past it. Especially after catching Korekiyo “Actual Serial Killer” Shinguji, who had no regrets or grey motivation for his killings. Shuichi’s morale, and subsequently everyone else’s, was at an all time high. (Of course, he was starting to feel a lot of pressure to solve these cases and save everyone on his own… but that’s another issue. ily Shuichi)

If Kokichi could take the wind out of Shuichi’s sails, really destroy the confidence he had built up so far, he could set up his impossible trial in chapter 5 to be more likely to work as intended. Everyone will be less motivated to try and figure out what happened if they are uncertain that finding the truth would actually result in anything good.

And I do believe he was trying to knock Shuichi off balance specifically. Damaging his confidence is one thing, but he was also deliberately trying to drive a wedge between him and Kaito. He antagonizes Kaito all chapter 4 investigation, including making up a nickname for Shuichi (“Shumai”) that directly riffs off Kaito’s closeness with Maki. He insists into the trial that he and Shuichi are partners now.

(class trial, chapter 4)

(Sidenote: Kokichi’s behaviour during trial 4 is genuinely really interesting to me. On top of the direct digs like this, he says a lot more subtle things to get under Kaito’s skin during trial 4 that I think are super neat to pay attention to.)

Theoretically, pushing Kaito away from Shuichi, combined with the powerlessness he’ll feel in the wake of the truth of both trial 4 and the outside world, could make him easier to convince to join Kokichi’s “side”. He even directly asks Shuichi to team up with him before leaving the virtual world:

(daily life, Chapter 4)

This leads me to believe that Shuichi was originally the one that Kokichi intended to use to build his impossible trial. I mean, if Shuichi was the one in the exisal hanger and presumed dead instead of Kaito, the chances of everyone else solving that mystery drops Significantly. Everyone else, aside from maybe Kiibo, was 100% convinced that Kokichi was the mastermind at that point. No one except Shuichi would’ve tried to dig as deep as he did, for better or for worse. I think this idea is supported by the note that Kokichi wrote next to Shuichi’s face on the whiteboard in his room (“trustworthy?”). He was clearly considering Shuichi as a person for one reason or another, and I believe this is it.

By condemning Gonta, who everyone else perceived as a kind soul who would never hurt anybody, someone who was struggling to understand what the virtual world even was with his amnesia, would be perceived by the others as kicking someone when they were down. Gonta has an absolutely miserable time through the accusations and wholly blames himself for how things turned out in the end. That, and Gonta’s actions were even well-intentioned. The secret of the outside world was apparently so horrible, Gonta thought it would be kinder to mercy kill everyone rather than force them to face it. This result would make everyone question if the truth was really as undoubtably good as they had come to think so far; Not only did Gonta suffer because they had to find the truth, but seeking the secret of the outside world would apparently also only lead to suffering. This would make them hesitate during Kokichi’s impossible trial.

(class trial, chapter 4)

As I said before, Kokichi’s second goal for trial 4 was villainizing himself even further. He says that this was a goal himself to Kaito in chapter 5.

(post trial, chapter 5)

Part of this villainization was just adding to the persona he had already created for himself and that I already talked about his motivations for before. The other part was what he says here. He specifically wanted everyone to think that he was the mastermind. This gave him leverage in two main ways. First, making himself appear to be the mastermind with an actual mastermind as hands off as Tsumugi genuinely gave him power over everyone else. He used this in chapter 5 to put a pause to the killings and give himself more room to enact his plan to break the killing game from the inside.

(daily life, chapter 5)

Although he then says “You guys can commit suicide together or kill each other… / Or, you can change your mind and stay here! You’re welcome to do that too!”, having experienced the secret of the outside world already, I think he’s pretty confident in what they will be feeling in this moment. No one is going to kill each other, and he knows that. He wants them to take that second option for the time being while he sets up his plot.

Making himself appear like the mastermind also benefited his impossible trial plan directly. Everyone would be much more likely to vote for someone they were convinced was the mastermind rather than one of their friends. No one would suspect that it was really him that was the victim.

“Using Gonta and making him into a murderer” was a significant part of how he villainized himself, but the way he treated Gonta during this whole experience was also a major factor. Starting as early as just after Miu was killed, he begins to be really aggressively mean to Gonta. He just straight up bullies him throughout the second half of the trial.

(daily life, chapter 4)

(class trial, chapter 4)

And then, after all this, he acts remorseful and sides himself with Gonta at the very end. It isn't genuine emotion like he felt before Kaede's execution, shown by his neutral expression. To me, this uncharacteristically open expression of grief feels like it was just set up to exacerbate the impact of his cruelty after Gonta’s execution. At this point, everybody’s little faith in Kokichi has been shaken significantly. With the shock of the trial, maybe you Could start to believe they were on the same side, as a team. Then, at the reveal of the extent of Kokichi’s manipulation, that is all ripped painfully away again.

(post trial, chapter 4)

Even if these parts of trial 4 make my stomach turn, I don’t want to imply that Kokichi is completely cold-hearted and unfeeling. Actually, I think there were multiple moments in chapter 4 that show him struggling to regulate his emotions and keep face around everyone else while he enacted this plan.

1: I don’t think Kokichi initially planned to make the reveal that Gonta was the killer as dramatic (or frankly, a bit traumatic) as it ended up being. He had been carrying himself a certain way during the first half of the trial, and I think Shuichi lying to his face in front of everyone about Kokichi’s own alibi dramatically changed his attitude. I mean, Shuichi lied (as he had done almost every trial and gotten 0 flack for) and Tsumugi even called him out on it, but everyone believed him over Kokichi anyways. So when Kokichi lies, it’s completely inexcusable, even though he’s been working tirelessly on his own trying to save everyone?* But when SHUICHI lies, and gets caught in it, people go along with him? They don’t doubt their trust in him for even a second? This double standard infuriated him. It’s at this point that he completely shifts in energy. If Shuichi, no, everyone, is going to disrespect him like this, he was going to make them suffer for it.

(class trial, chapter 4)

2: Kokichi only goes full villain after Kaito says “Kokichi, If you really cared for Gonta, explain yourself to everyone” in the post trial. I think that even though he was always going to paint himself as the villain, he was legitimately affected by the things that had just happened (Gonta’s death, Miu’s attempted murder, the secret of the outside world, even if he knew it wasn’t real) and what he’d just done. Even if he was trying hard not to be. The sudden shift he has from not saying anything to cackling about how little he cared about Gonta feels to me like he was kicking himself back into gear after trying to process some genuinely difficult emotions. 3: After Kokichi punches Kaito down, and everyone completely ignores him in favour of helping Kaito up, Shuichi says these iconic words to Kokichi: “Kaito always has us by his side, see? But no one wants to be around you. / You’re alone, Kokichi. And you always will be.” Kokichi responds like this:

(Post-trial, chapter 4)

There’s something about the way he cuts himself off, pauses, and then his mask falls. I think Shuichi’s words got to him more than he wanted them to. Honestly, Kokichi’s attitude towards cooperation, keeping everyone at arm’s length, and insisting (to himself) that he (as a leader) must fix the killing game completely on his own just seems so lonely to me. Even if he is intentionally trying to alienate himself and get everyone to hate him, being so viscerally cut into like this must have hurt. Especially from someone he was trying to work to get onto his side. It’s no wonder he quickly left after this moment.

This is what I think drove Kokichi in chapter 4. He’s a leader who wants to “lead” his classmates into safety, but he isn’t afraid to use underhanded, cruel tactics if he thinks it will get him ahead in the game for the greater good. He viscerally represses his emotions in order to keep himself going and keep everyone else away from him. He tried to destroy Shuichi’s confidence and drive a wedge between him and Kaito to get him on his side for his plan. He used and made Gonta into a murderer to villainize himself and discourage everyone else from seeking the truth.

Whenever I imagine Kokichi on his own, out of the spotlight of the Audience or the eyes of his castmates, he’s never as expressive as he is in the open. I think in reality, Kokichi is a pretty depressed and lonely person. His clownish personality isn’t entirely a facade, and outside of a killing game scenario, I think he would act pretty similarly to how he does in game. But I do think that he uses it as a mask for his true emotions. While I feel like the “evil villain” persona is a genuine part of Kokichi’s personality, outside of the killing game he probably doesn’t act on it as deeply as he does in-game. I also think Kokichi struggles with letting people become close to him, even without anything on the line. The killing game just caused him to lean into these aspects of his personality hard, and in potentially the worst ways.

*I feel like here it’s important to mention that personally, I still think the collateral damage he caused in his attempts to stop the killing game matters. A lot. I don’t think he should be excused for the things he did, even if he had good intentions. This makes him a really interesting, morally grey character, and I like that about him.

#kokichi ouma #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #ndrv3 #ouma kokichi #kokichi oma #oma kokichi #drv3 spoilers #meta post #long post #(Sorry- I'm not putting this under a readmore because in the case where I change my username or deactivate #I still want this post to be readable)#id in alt text #Caveat that this interpretation is entirely based on the english localization #which I still think is valid #Part 2 coming in literally a couple minutes- just need to read over it one more time and add tags #shut up me

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jikookiekosmos · 1 year

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Seneschal || jjk (Part 1)

➥Pairing: vampire!jungkook/reader, former prince!jungkook/reader

➥Summary: Having been burned by the rest of the world, Jungkook was content to watch it go up in flames. Or, at least, he was until you gave him hope for something new. As plans are set in motion to unite your rival kingdoms, unforeseen circumstances arise. In the midst of the chaos, Jungkook is sure of one thing: he’d be damned if he let you get burned, too.

➥Genre: strangers to lovers, angst, slow burn, (eventual) fluff, (eventual) smut, royalty au, supernatural au

➥Rating: 18+

➥Words: ~6k

➥Content Warnings: a bit of angst, no smut in the first part but there is a little bit of nudity mentioned, blood and violence are mentioned, vampire lore(?), swearing, this is more of an intro chapter than anything else so there isn’t a whole lot that happens

A/N: so uh…it’s been a while, yeah? I haven’t updated any of my BTS fics on this blog in over a year due to a lot of life things (you can read here if you’re curious as to why), but I finally had a little time to sit down and dedicate to this idea I teased back in November 2021. As mentioned in the content warnings, this is more of an intro chapter so there isn’t a whole lot going on…definitely will be more happening later.

Anyways all that to say thank you to everyone who has supported/is still supporting me and my writing even during my hiatus. It means the absolute world to me 💜

(Also special shout-out to @dntaewithluv for listening to me ramble off idea about this for a literal year, I love you so much and appreciate you immensely ❤️)

seneschal [sen-uh-shuhl] (noun) an officer having full charge of domestic arrangements, ceremonies, the administration of justice, etc., in the household of a medieval prince or dignitary; steward.

Otherwise known as Jungkook’s consolation prize when he was coerced to step down from the throne.

It had been 2 years since the…incident occurred, but Jungkook could still remember it as if it had just happened.

Which is exactly what he was reflecting on as a vial was being thrust into his vision.

He blinked rapidly a few times before staring up at the person holding the vial out for him, their face a mixture of excitement and mild impatience.

“Well? We don’t have all day. Drink up, Jeon.”

Jungkook glared.

“My apologies, please drink the potion, Mr. Jeon.”

“Jimin, you know how I feel about you and formalities-”

“It just so happens that my manners come out more as my patience grows thin.” Jimin teased. “So,” he tried once more, “drink it.”

Jungkook sighed and shook his head, knowing it was better to leave well enough alone.

“Are you sure this is safe,” Jungkook asked as he stared hesitantly at the vial filled with blue liquid just inches away from his face.

Jimin rolled his eyes before grabbing Jungkook’s hand and closing it around the vial. “Yes, for the billionth time I wouldn’t give you something I thought might harm you.” He took a step back and crossed him arms, waiting patiently for Jungkook to do something.

With a sigh Jungkook carefully brought the vial to his lips, swallowing the liquid without putting too much thought into it. The taste was bitter, but not wholly unpleasant, and a few more moments passed before either of them spoke.

“And the verdict is?” The genuine curiosity in Jimin’s voice was something Jungkook had always found to be endearing.

Jungkook chuckled. Jimin may have still been a wizard in training, but he always had Jungkook’s best interest at heart.

“How am I supposed to know if anything happened? You tell me.”

Jimin blinked before the realization set in. “Oh, right.” He stepped forward once more, peering into Jungkook’s eyes as best he could in the dim lighting of the room.

Jungkook already knew the results before Jimin could confirm them. The way his face dropped said it all.

“They’re still red. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, I’m following all the rules-”

“Jimin.”

“Maybe the spellbook is outdated, you know? This is the only one I’ve ever seen anyone else use, it must be centuries old at this point-”

“Jimin,” Jungkook stated more firmly this time, clapping his hand on the other’s shoulder to keep him from pacing around more. “It’s fine.”

Jimin groaned. “But it’s not fine, what kind of a supposed ‘wizard’ am I if I can’t even do a simple eye color changing spell.”

“You’re one that’s trying and that’s what matters.”

“Yeah, but,” Jimin broke off, pout prominent on his face. “you shouldn’t have to wear contacts all the time.”

Jungkook offered a gentle smile to his downtrodden friend. “There’s lots of things I shouldn’t have to do, but I do them anyway. It’s only a slight inconvenience, not a big deal.”

Jimin didn’t seem convinced. “I don’t know why you need to wear them in the first place, does it really matter if people see-”

“Yes,” Jungkook cut him off with a tone of finality. “We’ve been over this. It’s best for everyone if they don’t figure it out.”

“So you’re honestly fine with everyone thinking you did something horrible enough to make you step down from the throne? You’re ok with letting people drag your name through the mud constantly?”

Jungkook shrugged. “It’s just better this way.”

Jungkook could swear he heard Jimin growl. “It’s not right and you know it. You’re just too set in your ways about not wanting to bring dishonor on your family. Which, by the way, not sure if you noticed but they aren’t the most honorable people.”

“Don’t.” Another statement with a stern tone. This time, Jimin obeyed.

Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, letting the dark curls fall at their own leisure. “I need to get going or I’ll be late.”

If he left now he had just enough time to stop by his room and grab his contacts he’d left behind on his way to see Jimin, as per Jimin’s request.

“I’ve got it all figured out, so you won’t even need them this time!” Jimin had promised.

Jungkook had hope that one of these days Jimin would be victorious in all of his spellcasting endeavors, and he’d be there to support him the whole way through.

Right now, however, he had bigger matters to attend to.

On his way back to his chambers he saw Seokjin, who he figured was en route to go check on Jimin, seeing as he was the appointed court wizard and Jimin was his apprentice.

Jungkook nodded at him as they passed by each other, but Seokjin calling out for him had him turning around.

“Yes?”

It was then that Jungkook could see just how tired Seokjin looked. “Lord Jeon requests your presence before your meeting with the king.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Did he now? He bother to tell you what it was about?”

Seokjin shook his head, brows somewhat furrowed. Jungkook sensed that he seemed tense overall, and Jungkook didn’t like it.

“He didn’t. He just said it was important and had to be done as soon as possible.”

With a deep sigh, Jungkook relented, mumbling a thank you to Seokjin as he changed the direction he was walking. His brother’s chambers were located in a completely different wing of the castle, but he still had enough time to stop by his own room afterwards if he played his cards right.

He could hear the noises before he even approached the door, faint enough to go unnoticed by other passerby, but due to his heightened senses he had the unfortunate luck of not being able to remain oblivious. Jungkook knocked on the door despite the urge to just barge in; protocol was a big thing here and it was best for him to keep that in mind.

When he got no answer, he knocked once more before he squared his shoulders and turned the knob to open the door.

Without waiting for a greeting, he walked in, fully prepared for what he might find, seeing as it’d happened before.

Sure enough, the sight he was met with was exactly what he expected.

“Ah, so you finally came,” a snarky voice called out to him, slightly muffled. Jungkook rolled his eyes as he waited for the other party to get situated.

“What do you want, Yoongi?”

The blonde man in the bed not far from Jungkook smiled as the sheets fell around his waist. The woman next to him had even less shame, not bothering to cover her naked torso.

It wasn’t like Jungkook had never seen it before, anyway-

“Now is that anyway to address your superior?”

Jungkook gritted his teeth. “It is when my ‘superior’ is my younger brother.”

Yoongi tutted disapprovingly. “If you recall, you’re still only 24 years old-”

“Yoongi.”

“Which makes me the older brother now since I just turned 25.” he flashed a grin and the woman beside him snuggled up to his arm, still not completely covering her breasts. Jungkook looked away.

“So,” Yoongi continued, “you care to try that again?”

“I don’t, thanks. What do you want?”

Yoongi huffed, clearly unamused. “What I want is for you to tell our father what my requests are for the event we’re holding.”

This intrigued Jungkook enough to turn his sights back to his brother. “You’re not attending?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Yoongi feigned remorse. “I have more important matters to attend to.”

Jungkook watched in disgust as Yoongi grabbed a hold of the woman’s chin to turn her face so that he could kiss her. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath.

“So you’re not coming then?”

“Oh he’s not, but he will be,” the woman ran her hand up Yoongi’s arm. Long, teal hair covered her shoulders, reminding Jungkook of when it was first dyed. He’d been there with her after all, so of course he’d remember it.

She giggled at her own joke while Yoongi laughed boisterously, 2 sounds Jungkook wished he’d never have to hear again.

He’d never been that lucky.

“I don’t have time for this,” was his only remark before he turned on his heel to exit the room.

Jungkook ignored Yoongi’s calls for him to come back, instead taking longer than necessary strides to put as much room between him and his brother as possible.

A low growl died in his throat as he pulled on the edge of his chain dangling from his neck. It looked like an ordinary chain necklace to the untrained eye, but it was long enough to where the end of it could fit in Jungkook’s pocket. From his neck, the rest of the chain disappeared beneath his shirt, covering the length of his chest.

It was a safety measure more than anything, something Seokjin and Jimin had helped him come up with following the ‘incident.’

⊱─────✧༺✧༻✧─────⊰

“Silver has been known to cause excruciating pain to vampires,” Seokjin had explained, “but this is a special chain, charmed with a spell that dulls that effect.”

“It doesn’t get rid of it completely?” Jimin’s confusion was evident alongside his concern for his friend.

Seokjin shook his head. “It won’t, only because that was Jungkook’s request.”

Jimin’s worried stare shifted to Jungkook, who was sitting on one of the tables in Seokjin’s chambers. His shirt was shredded, and his chest was stained scarlet: souvenirs of his most recent outing.

He went out to feed, traveling several towns over, and ended up failing miserably. Jungkook maybe got a few seconds of satisfaction before he was being ripped away from his willing victim and promptly beaten by 3 other men.

He absolutely could’ve taken them, but he was already ashamed of what he was doing in the first place. He figured that this was punishment that he had coming in one way or another.

That night when he stumbled into Seokjin’s room, bloodied and defeated, they put together a plan straight away.

Jimin asked to sit in and observe, since he was still unfamiliar with certain spells, but he missed that part of the conversation when he was fetching supplies.

“I don’t understand, why do you want the chain to still be able to cause pain?”

Jungkook sighed, wrapping part of it around his fist and noticing instantly the slight burn the metal singed his skin with. “Because the pain will hopefully be enough to stop me.”

“Stop you from doing what?”

Jungkook slowly raised his eyes to look at Jimin, a small, sorrowful smile stretched across his face.

“Something I regret.”

⊱─────✧༺✧༻✧─────⊰

The familiar sting of the chain branded the inside of his palm with invisible marks, and he kept it curled inside his hand until he was in front of his own chamber doors. He was really pushing time now, close to being late for his advisory meeting, but he’d risk a slight delay in the start of the meeting versus having to explain why his eyes were crimson colored.

Once he had his contacts fixed, he all but jogged to the large meeting room down the hall. A few guards and his father were already there, waiting on him as it seemed he was the last to show up.

“You’re late,” the king greeted, a hint of disappointment in his tone.

Jungkook was used to that by now.

“Sorry, Your Majesty, I had to run a few errands first. Shall we start?”

The king cleared his throat and nodded, holding out his hand to the guard nearest him. A scroll was placed into his large palm before he quickly unraveled it.

Jungkook watched his eyes flit across the parchment, and when he deemed it satisfactory, the king handed it back to the guard so he could pass it down to Jungkook.

“You’ll find the agenda there for tomorrow’s event. I’m entrusting you, as usual, with all the planning so you can make sure everything is taken care of.”

Jungkook hummed as he read through everything. It all looked to be in order: designated time for the other guests to arrive, instructions for what catering needed to be prepared, an outline of what was required for Yoongi’s meeting with the princess-

Jungkook read that line again. And another time. He ground his teeth together as he looked back up at the king whose eyebrow was raised as he waited.

“Well? Is something the matter? You look perturbed.”

“Father-”

“This is an official meeting, boy. No informal titles allowed.”

Jungkook’s jaw was clenched. “Your Majesty,” he tried again, “what is this last portion here about a meeting with a princess?”

“Ah yes, that.” The nonchalant answer made Jungkook’s anger rise even further. “The meeting between their princess and our prince is what will be the defining moment for the entire event.”

Jungkook had known there was some sort of event happening that was supposed to – hopefully – demolish the rivalry between the two neighboring kingdoms. There had been bad blood for far too long, and it sometimes made it difficult to retrieve supplies from other areas without conflict arising.

Jungkook had been tasked with planning everything for the guests arrival, as his job required him to do. Despite being kicked from the royal lineage, he was allowed to stay a part of the royal court and act as a steward of sorts. It wasn’t always the best, but he figured it beat being exiled from the kingdom entirely.

He worked tirelessly over the last several months to ensure that all boxes were checked for this gathering. But this new information blindsided him, and now it suddenly made sense why his father and Yoongi both seemed so cocky and sure that this would work.

“And no one thought it pertinent enough to tell me that this would be happening?”

Of all things he could’ve done in that moment, the king had the audacity to shrug. “You won’t be present for that bit of it, so we didn’t feel it was necessary to tell you.”

“Then why isn’t Yoongi here for this instead of me,” Jungkook tried to keep his tone respectful, but even he couldn’t stop some of the malice from slipping through.

“The prince” the king put heavy emphasis on the title, “is busy carrying out other affairs, so it didn’t seem important to bother him with this.”

“Yeah, affair is certainly one way to put it,” he mumbled, crossing his arms as he looked to the side.

“I beg your pardon?”

Jungkook exhaled through his nose. “Nothing, Your Majesty.”

The king stared at Jungkook for a few more moments before he dismissed the other guards in the room.

“Gentleman, if you’d kindly take your leave for a moment – I need to have a discussion with my son. Two of you may remain posted at the door in case you’re needed.”

The guards obeyed quickly, bowing as they exited.

Jungkook scoffed. “So now I’m your ‘son?’ I’m surprised that word still exists in your vocabulary where I’m concerned.”

“Jungkook, be quiet!” The king raised his voice as a warning and slammed his fist against the table, stopping Jungkook’s jabs in their tracks.

“Regardless of your faults and any heinous acts you may have committed, you are still my son. Whether I like it or not.”

Jungkook hated how those words caused a dull ache in his chest.

“And because you are my son, that is why you are still allowed to be here in the first place. Do you ever think about how easy it would’ve been to toss you on the street like some mere commoner,” the king spat, his own outward frustration mirroring what Jungkook felt on the inside.

“You only tell me every chance you get, how could I not?”

“Watch your tone with me, boy. I am not above throwing you in the dungeon for insubordination.”

Jungkook was well aware. At this rate, he had his own personal cell with how often his father (and more so his brother) felt the need to send him there.

“Can we go back to what this ‘meeting’ is supposed to entail? Why is their princess involved?”

The king squared his shoulders and smiled. “They’ve offered a marriage proposal.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, a what?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. The king’s eldest daughter, Princess Mina, is being offered as a marriage candidate for Prince Yoongi.”

“And Yoongi agreed to this?”

The king frowned at Jungkook’s continued lack of formality before he nodded. “He’s been preparing for it for a while now.”

Jungkook clenched his fist under the table.

“Fucking unbelievable,” Jungkook muttered, a few seconds from leaving the meeting altogether in order to give the prince a piece of his mind.

“Language,” the king reminded him sternly.

“Look, fa- Your Majesty. With all due respect to you, I think this is a terrible idea.”

“Please do enlighten me as to why you feel that way.”

Jungkook sighed as he rubbed his temples. “Arranged marriages amongst royals never seem to work out well from what I’ve seen. Arranged marriages amongst anyone just seems like a poor idea.”

“Your mother and I married as part of an arrangement, and we turned out fine.”

Jungkook would beg to differ, but that was an entirely different conversation for some other time.

“I just think it’s odd that he would accept this proposal when he’s already involved with someone else.”

Finally, it was the king’s turn to look taken aback. “Whatever do you mean?”

‘He doesn’t know,’ Jungkook realized.

“Don’t worry about it, I just assumed he already had someone in mind is all.”

“Unlike you, the prince seems to be able to keep his mind off of finding love amongst the common rabble outside the castle walls.”

Jungkook winced.

“Additionally, if he did already have someone in mind, I’m sure I would’ve heard about it by now.”

“You know better than I would,” Jungkook lied. He knew that Yoongi kept many, many secrets from their parents, which is why he’d always been the favorite. They never got a glimpse of his true nature, but unfortunately for Jungkook, he got to see all of it.

“Indeed,” the king said with finality, marking the end of that conversation. “Now, back to the preparations for the event-”

“I’ll handle it,” Jungkook sounded much more deflated than when he entered the room. Animosity exhausted him.

“Good. I expect nothing less of you. I don’t expect much from you to start with, but I at least anticipate you will do your job.”

Another mindless insult. Jungkook stopped keeping count of how many times his father shamed him years ago after the scandal first broke.

If anyone asked him, he’d even go so far as to say his father’s love for him died the same day his human life ended.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, the queen and I have other matters to attend to before tomorrow.” The king got up from the table and walked off, not even bothering to see if Jungkook would also make way to leave. Before he exited through the door, he turned back one last time to look at Jungkook.

“Don’t make me regret letting you stay here. This is the most important thing the kingdom has faced since you were a child, and if you mess it up somehow, being exiled will be the least of your worries.”

Jungkook received the threat with a solemn stare, no more words spoken as he was then left alone in the large room.

On the way back to his chambers, Jungkook had a lapse in judgment. He turned and let his feet carry him to his new destination, landing three hard knocks on the door before it opened quickly.

“What?” An annoyed tone filtered through the open doorway. “Oh – it’s just you.”

Yoongi’s hair was less disheveled than it had been earlier, but it was clear he was now trying to get himself ready for later activities in the day.

“What do you want?” Yoongi crossed his arms as he leaned against the doorframe, not allowing Jungkook any space to enter the room.

Not that he really wanted to, anyway. He just needed to know one thing.

“Does she know?”

Yoongi blinked in confusion. “Does who know about what? You gotta be more specific, I can’t read your mind-”

“Does she know,” Jungkook interrupted, more sternly this time. “What’s happening tomorrow. Does she know?”

He had to ask. As much as he loathed her now, he still thought she deserved better than to be cheated on and discarded like she was nothing.

Even if that’s exactly what she’d done to him.

Jungkook watched as Yoongi’s eyes sparked with amusement when he finally understood. “Aeris? Yeah, she knows. She actually just left by the way; sorry you didn’t get to see her again.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed.

“So she knows and she’s fine with it?”

“Yeah, I mean – she gets it a ‘thing’ I have to do. It’s completely transactional and I’m only doing it for the betterment of the kingdom.”

Yoongi was lying through his teeth and Jungkook wanted to wipe his smug grin off his face. His entire life Yoongi had been selfish and only looked out for himself, so this idea that he was doing it to help the people living in the kingdom?

Absolutely preposterous.

Jungkook needed a fucking break. He needed to get away, clear his head before he had to come back and deal with everything else tomorrow.

He walked off without another word, something he knew Yoongi hated – which is most of the reason why he’d done it.

“You know,” Yoongi shouted after him, “I think bitterness suits you. It’s a good look since it matches the rest of your miserable demeanor!”

Jungkook ignored him and continued walking, not stopping until he reached his favorite spot in the entire castle.

He would often come up to the highest balcony, somewhere he could be alone with his thoughts and not have the added stress of other’s opinions for a short while.

The balcony was all but abandoned as he was the only one to frequent it. The only crime he’d ever say he committed was stealing the key to the door that granted access up here. After a while, everyone else forgot about it, so he was able to keep this spot hidden. A place of his own, where he didn’t have to worry about being found.

A place of his own where his thoughts could run wild. A place of his own where his demons continued to follow him despite his best efforts.

A place of his own where he could just be alone.

After all, that’s what was best for everyone, right?

Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder, as he’d done many times before, what his life would be like now if he hadn’t been attacked. His entire life – as a prince, as an official royal family member, as a living, breathing human – was cut short in the blink of an eye. His humanity as he knew it was gone in an instant.

If it hadn’t happened, though, where would he be now? Would it be him getting ready to marry someone for political gain instead of his brother?

He shook his head as he let out a humorless chuckle. He knew he’d fight that decision with everything he had, and for he first time since it had been stripped away from him, he was relieved he wasn’t in that kind of position anymore.

The thought of sharing his life with someone he didn’t truly care about, whether it was for the greater good or not, just didn��t seem right, nor did it seem fair. Not to mention the fact that it didn’t just include him: someone’s else’s life would be affected just as much as his.

It dawned on him then that he was standing here, genuinely putting thought into how he would handle such a situation. He wasn’t some cold, heartless being. He still had the ability to care for others, and that alone gave him some sort of hope.

He looked up at the moon, admiring how the light spilled through the branches of the tree overhead.

“Maybe I still have some humanity left after all.”

lady-in-waiting (noun) a woman of noble birth who serves a female monarch as a member of the royal household.

“Please hold still, Your Highness,” you huffed with thinly veiled frustration as you tried to lace up the corset you were currently working on.

You made a mental note to go shopping later in order to find better dresses for the princess. They still would be ones that were just as extravagant, but hopefully didn’t give you a blood pressure spike to assist with.

“Oh please, what’s with the formal treatment? It’s just us right now, you don’t have to do that, you know.”

“Yes, but,” you tugged once more, finally letting out a sigh of relief when the strings worked how you wanted them to. “With the event happening soon, it’s better for me to get back into the habit.”

Being best friends with the princess granted you some privileges that you were grateful for. When it was just the two of you, you didn’t have to uphold this extra formal, fancy attitude and instead you both got to be much more laid-back. You knew she appreciated it just as much as - if not more than - you, since she was held to a higher standard and scrutinized more heavily.

However, by the kingdom’s definition, you were first and foremost her lady-in-waiting, which ranked above any and all other duties you had in the royal court. Which, unfortunately, meant that at certain times your role took precedence over your friendship, and that was just the way it had to be.

“Ugh, I can’t wait for all this stupid royal relations stuff to be over.”

“Mina-”

She held up a hand. “Let me get it out, then you can scold.”

You waited patiently, fixing the other parts of the dress while she rambled on for the umpteenth time about her dislike for the event happening soon.

“…I mean this is a rival kingdom, we don’t even like them, so why bother. You know?”

“Mhm,” you hummed as you agreed honestly. It did seem like a stretch for your kingdom to try and force relations with one who had been a long-standing rival. The way you saw it, if after all these years and prior failed attempts had yet to work, what made the king think this would be any different?

Of course, there was now the added factor of a new bargaining chip: the king and queen were offering one of their daughters as a potential marriage candidate for the other kingdom’s prince.

Mina, being the oldest princess in line, begrudgingly accepted for the sake of the kingdom.

The plan had been set in motion months prior, but it was all finally happening tomorrow – both you and Mina were on edge, anticipating the worst but hoping for the best.

What was supposed to happen seemed simple enough: the king would accompany the princess on her visit to the other kingdom, escorted heavily by guards and with you at her side, as you always were. She would meet the prince officially for the first time, and both kings would try to strike up some sort of arrangement.

You figured this would actually be more beneficial for them, seeing as their kingdom was still recovering from a huge scandal that happened a few years ago. You remembered it vividly, taking note of how the abruptness of it all never sat right with you.

The eldest prince stepped down from his position as next in line for the throne, following some sort of act that was only described as ‘utterly disgraceful’ and never really elaborated on in the public news.

Before the news broke, the kingdom was well known for its power and influence all over the land, and the downfall from it all landed a huge blow to their standing. It aided your own kingdom in rising above them in their rivalry, but it appeared that now your own monarchs wanted to put everything behind them and unite for…whatever reason.

You tried not to get too deeply involved in the politics. Your duty was to serve Mina, and the royal family as a whole – this didn’t leave you much room to voice your own opinions.

Mina’s soft calling of your name pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Yes?”

Any frustration you had left from the dress fiasco quickly evaporated when you saw her face. She was biting her lip, and in that moment she looked very meek, small. Very unlike the exuberant, confident young woman you knew.

“I’m scared.”

You sighed at that, pulling her into a hug that she gratefully accepted. This was this first time she had outright said it, but you could tell she was terrified from the moment she was first told about this arrangement months ago.

“I know,” you patted her back. You wanted to tell her everything would be alright, that it would all work out, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

Lying to someone to provide them comfort was never something you could get behind, and you didn’t plan to start now.

“I promise you, though, that whatever happens, we’ll get through it together.” You didn’t feel bad saying that because it was the truth; you were ready to face anything when it came to Mina, and you’d do anything for her.

She was basically the most important person in your life, and you’d be damned if you let anything bad happen to her.

Well…anything short of letting her go through with a marriage to a man she’d never met.

Just as your duty to her came first, her duty to her kingdom came first. You knew it and respected it, even if you didn’t always like it.

Mina giggled, her frame shaking slightly in your hold. “It almost sounds like you’re the one I’m supposed to be marrying,” she teased.

You joined in her laughter. “I mean, I don’t think it would yield quite the same results-”

“We both know we’d be arrested before we could even say ‘I do.’” Mina joked, despite her dark attempt at humor having a level of truth to it.

“A princess marrying her lady-in-waiting?” You covered your heart and pretended to be appalled. “Imagine the scandal!”

Mina shoved you lightheartedly, her laughter echoing off the walls. She looked miles happier than she’d been a few minutes prior, and you were relieved to see it.

“C’mon, help me with my hair or we’re gonna be late.” Mina collected her hairbow from her dresser and handed it to you so you could tie up her hair in the back. When you were done, she glanced quickly in the mirror and nodded, pleased with the result.

“Is there anything else you need to do?”

You gave yourself a once-over in the mirror as well and decided that your outfit would have to do. It wasn’t bad by any means, but if you had a little more time, you probably could’ve spruced it up some more.

“All good here. After you, my Lady.” You made a grand gesture out of letting her go first, which earned you another light shove.

“Cut that out! We still have a few minutes of freedom left before we have to be formal.”

You chuckled. “You got it.”

✧───────⊱✧⊰───────✧

You accompanied Mina to her final etiquette training before the big day. Everything she learned was more of a refresher than new material, but her nervousness kept her from doing her best, which led to her being reprimanded by the queen.

“How can you expect to marry someone if you can’t play the part of a prim and proper princess?”

Mina bit her tongue, as she usually did with her mother, and you expected to get an earful from her later about the situation. To your surprise, instead of venting, she was quiet and calm upon returning to her chambers.

Before she was ready to sleep for the night, you checked in one her one last time. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

With a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, she responded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

✧───────⊱✧⊰───────✧

You had never woken up more stressed out in your entire life.

All your training had culminated in this moment. You were to make sure that the princess arrived safely along with her appointed guards, and it was also up to you to make sure that everything went off without a hitch.

Such a small responsibility, right? What could possibly go wrong?

Well, for starters-

The castle you found yourself in was much larger than you anticipated, which was saying a lot considering the castle you lived in was already rather large.

Also, you weren’t the best with directions, but as long as you and Mina didn’t get separated, that shouldn’t be a problem.

And it wasn’t a problem…until it came time for her to meet the prince.

“We’re sorry, miss, but only high-ranking royal officials can be present for this meeting.” A guard held out his arm, blocking you from following Mina into the room. She frowned and tried to protest on your behalf, but her father wasn’t having any of it.

“She’ll be fine, we need to get a move on.” He grabbed a hold of her elbow and ushered her along, and you got one last look at her worried countenance before the doors closed.

Now was when the panic set in.

“I-I need water. Or just- something.” You said it aloud but didn’t really know if anyone would hear you or help you for that matter.

Thankfully, the guard who had just cut you off was kind enough to give you directions to the kitchen and dining area. You’d been there not too long ago when everyone was eating the meal that had been prepared, so surely – you thought – it wouldn’t be an issue to stop by and get a drink to calm your nerves.

That plan worked for all of about ten minutes before you re-entered the hallway from the dining room only to find nobody was around. No guards, no passerby, nothing.

It didn’t help that, from what you had seen, most hallways looked nearly identical.

You were officially lost. Alone, panicking, and lost in a castle you’d never been to before with no one in sight to help. Unsure of what else to do, since walking around aimlessly definitely did not seem like a good idea, you did what any normal person would do.

You sat down on the floor and wrapped your arms around your legs, resting your head on top of your knees.

This had to be your worst nightmare. You were separated from Mina, the one person other than yourself who you were responsible for taking care of, and you were also stuck in unfamiliar territory which was one of your biggest fears.

None of your training ever prepared you for this-

“Are you alright, miss?”

A soft voice filtered through your thoughts, making your head snap up. Your breath got caught in your throat.

There was a man kneeling down in front of you, his hand extended as he offered you a gentle smile.

Suddenly, your situation didn’t seem like such a nightmare anymore.

A/N: thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!

permanent taglist: @inlovewiththemoonn @lavienjin

fic taglist: @veronawrites @thisartemisnevermisses @outro-kook @cravingforhotchocolate

please let me know if you want to be added or removed!

➥Series Masterlist

➥All Works Masterlist

#bts #jungkook #vampire!jungkook #jungkookangst #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios

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chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter · 2 months

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I'll love you better when I'm dead

(chapter 206 from Sanzu's POV)

(tragic MuSan drabble)

(link to ao3 in case some one preferes to read it there)

First of all...I'm sorry for this (not really but yes a lot at the same time, but I did this to myself too). An evil snail shared with me this AMAZING AND BRUTAL essay on Sanzu & katana-chan and reading the last pages about Mucho, this fic happened. So first of all...

GO, READ THE ESSAY NOW!

Summary: "We are both dying here today, captain."

[or why Sanzu looses his grip]

Warnings: Manga Spoilers. Major Character Death (chapter 206, duh). Hurt/No Comfort. Like for real, comfort has been slashed with a katana and is sinking in the bottom of the ocean.

The title is from "Love you better" because I listened in a loop for two days while reading the essay and writing this.

Oh, I played with Sanzu name (again, yes) but this time doing a full Jinx, ooopsie!

(English is not my first language, so be nice please 🙈)

It’s been six months since the Kanto Incident. Six months of planning for this day, of imagining how he’s going to punish that damn traitor. Of pretending his whole body doesn’t ache at the idea of killing the only person that made him feel like he mattered.

Haruchiyo is good at that, at hiding his true feelings from the world, lying to himself as much as he needs as a way of achieving it. He’s good at rationalize the overwhelming whirlwind of emotions that threaten to flood his mind all the time. He’s used to repress the pain, keep his anxiety at bay, bury all of it next to the memories he can’t face without having the need to scream and break everything at his reach (including himself).

Six months that seem to crumble the second his captain’s eyes light up when he spots him outside the detention center.

The ride is dominated by silence, that only breaks with Muto’s simple questions about how he’s been doing during this time. Genuine concern plastered on the face he’s supposed to hate. Haruchiyo wants to laugh hysterically at this, the irony that even now the older boy is only worried about him. Instead, he just gives short answers, knowing the other won’t push his boundaries.

They are finally at the wharf and his resolve flatters for a moment, overwhelmed by a kindness that he forgot how warm it feels.

“I’ve been waiting for this day...”

Haruchiyo trails off, talking mostly to himself. His hands grip the hilt of the katana, steading his inner turmoil with the reminder of why he’s doing this. The tangible proof of his vow, of the promise that gives him purpose. Wielding it with years of practice, preparing himself to strike a fatal blow.

‘Is that it? Is that the only reason I’m doing this?’

He hesitates, consciously loosening his grip on one hand and landing a sloppy cut that buys him some precious seconds.

“You damned betrayer!”

‘Liar, you made me think I could trust you, made me feel safe, seen. How can you say you love me when you couldn’t tell your treason would rot everything we shared?’

“Sanzu...?”

Muto looks at him in shock, trying to stop the bleeding with his hand and falling on his knees. He’s the perfect image of bewilderment, like he can’t comprehend what is happening, why is happening.

“I’ve been fooling you all along.”

‘I’ve been fooling myself, pretending this never meant anything to me. Pretending you never meant anything to me.’

Haruchiyo keeps talking, winning some time in order to collect his thoughts, to understand his own feelings in order to let them go and fully put his heart on the second hit.

“Remember our conversation that day when we were playing shogi? I said it, right?”

‘Do you remember how you told me I also mattered? You made me yearn for more, you were the first person that taught me to be selfish, to listen to my own needs.’

It’s almost ironic, realizing killing Muto is a sick way of putting himself first. Realizing this is personal.

“Protecting the king is the priority. You betrayed Mikey, didn’t you?”

‘You betrayed me, didn’t you?’

He takes off his mask, the scars reminding him of his place, letting go the faint illusion it could ever be somewhere else. That it could be next to his captain. He can’t forget it again, can’t keep hiding his devotion behind his craving for affection.

A sadistic grin on his face. That’s the new mask he’s going to show to a world that will never be the same for him.

“Now it’s checkmate.”

This time the cut is fatal, slashing a lot more than flesh and bones and severing the ties between them.

‘We are both dying here today, captain.’

Somehow, Muto hears the words he never says. But his will be the only tears shed, no one else will mourn the Haruchiyo that knew genuine love.

Sanzu can’t allow himself to grieve. He can’t be weak again, these seconds that felt like ages will be the last entertaining the idea he could be more than a loyal knight to his beloved king.

He made a promise and Sanzu is willing to do anything in order to fulfill it. Even killing a part of himself forever. His weakness, the love that tempted him to break free of his sacred vow. In a twisted way, he can’t avoid thinking how fitting it feels burying it with his captain.

Haruchiyo is dead.

Only Sanzu prevails.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers spoilers #me writing🌻#tokyo revengers fic #drabble #kanto manji timeline #bonten timeline #hurt/no comfort #comfort is not here anymore #angst #sanzu angst #sanzu haruchiyo #muto yasuhiro #musan #tragic as fuck musan #but what's new #tr chapter 206 #katana-chan is here again #canon complicit

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bookishly-ariel · 3 months

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Am I the only one not upset at Azriel in his Bonus Chapter?

I'm not looking to argue for shipping sake just wanting to understand I guess.

As a fellow reader, I'm just saying that Lucien thinks sexual thoughts of Elain too and his only connection at that time was knowing they were mates and not knowing her as a person.

Why is it wrong for Azriel to have a natural reaction and thoughts to being attracted to someone he has come to like over the time they got to know one another?

Rhys and Cassian were the same with their love interests before they were even together, so how come it is damning for Az but no one else in Acotar?

Because she has a mate? A mate she didn't, doesn't and has said she positively does not want.

Because people made up some headcanon about Azriel as a person and hate that SJM had a completely different character behind his silent, stoic mask?

Perhaps I see it differently because in person I am the quiet, never says much person. I understand not talking to the best friends you call family about something and burying it because how can you burden them with something so trivial when they're juggling so much.

During his conversation with Rhys what he says isn't said with possession or entitlement. It was an argument he had been having with himself for a long time and never said aloud and when Rhys ordered him it was like being thrown into that wall of emotions and thoughts bottled tightly like molotovs.

A few fell and shattered, they were spoken with hurt questioning, confusion, longing.

So why? Genuinely why do people get mad at Azriel for having normal emotions and thoughts.

Those kinds of thoughts don't change who he is, he is still the guys who helps her without question, smiles and laughs with her, listens to her talk for hours and sits in peaceful silence with her.

Having sexual thoughts doesn't take away from those sweet, tender moments.

And if you think it does, look at your own partner and apply that thought process to them too. If you don't have a partner then you're going to be flabbergasted when you meet someone you want to be with.

Like, these characters are legit characters in an Adult Romantic Fastasy series which is heavy on the adult romance.

Not sorry for this one, have a good nignt.

#azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel acotar #shadowsinger #Azriel did nothing wrong #pro azriel

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boboteam89 · 4 months

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This may contain Saha and Rebirth arc spoilers as well as the Day of Transcending Finality arc, read w caution!

This is a very sudden thing to post at 3am but am I the only one to genuinely feel surprised when people say that Senti's writing is "nulled down to a point of comedy relief"? There is a clear difference between just a comedy relief character who has no specific lore or traits, worries assigned to them / their lore is completely ignored in the story, and a character who is a comedy relief one BUT they still have unique traits and even worries shown throughout their actions and words. And Senti is EXACTLY that.

Take even the Saha and Rebirth arc. God did she make some of the moments in the chapter the funniest (but damn it was so needed throughout all the stress built up tbh) and not to mention the fact just how much of an impact she made on the story. Sure, she may not have done something outright crazy good, but as some examples :

She DID help with the connecting the anchor points bullshit, SHE was the one to actually head-on transfer Vita to her sentience space and launch a technical counter-attack on her, ALSO delaying Vita??? Sure it may not have changed that much but the fact itself?? Also the fact that she was the one to comfort Veliona when she was worried about Selee even willing to go to such lenghts as telling her the technical "limit" of sentience?

And if we talk about worries, do you not also see through the fact that she is genuinely worried about Hua during the arc? The fact that she pretends not to care yet she still helps others throughout the arc? And are we NOT going to talk about the moment when she technically finally got her own body? I think it's goddamn UNDERAPPRECIATED because she had been dealing with an existential crisis for so long, and despite not seeming to care as much anymore and moving on, she still had an internal conflict as literally described in the chapter. With herself. There has been a lot of metaphors and it's so mind blowing. And I quote :

You saw "you" being eaten away by the void that symbolized death. You saw "your" efforts destroyed by the light that obliterated all things. You saw "you" sunk into the darkness untill you heard rain.

Then who am "I" now?

End quote.

Is that not literal self conflict to you?? It is both describing the process of technical "revival" from Selee's power, AND Senti's conflicting thoughts. This was such a big moment to me that I almost cried?? And YET

She still made the arc funny, she still had a lot of moments where her comedic side shined, god there is even something funny about being so self-righteous and (although only seemingly, sometimes) sure of herself. Even during the fighting. Even during the explanation of all the difficult stuff from the arc. Even the "all hail the Herrscher of Sentience!" moment. Yet this arc balances all the worries and topics of hers pretty much perfectly.

That is without even covering THE FINALITY ARC which honestly the fight with Kiana LITERALLY speaks for itself, girl had so much piled up on her mind since that battle methinks. And we won't even mention the Kevin fight and just HOW MUCH she helped and to WHAT LENGHTS she would go. The talk they had during AND AFTER the fight is so. How could you ignore it. She def wasn't just a comedy relief in that arc despite still being VERY funny here and there.

And I am not going to talk about how she manages to seem to have worries even in the goofy shenzhou spring festival, with basically her just wanting recognition but ending up in a misunderstanding and then giving everyone a chance to enjoy a good festival, although it might seem like a far strectch which I would aggree on.

But yeah. I had to ramble. Thanks to anyone who decided to read this! Feel free to share any thoughts or correct me <3

#honkai impact 3rd #herrscher of sentience #senti #ramblings

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taccobelle · 1 year

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Teenage Dirtbag

Paring: Eddie x fem!reader, Eddie x Cheerleader!Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Summary: In the small town of Hawkins, Pixie Dunphy, and Eddie Munson couldn't be more different, living in a small town like Hawkins, where rumors define you. Pixie is a charming and independent girl who seems to have it all. Pixie is adored by many in Hawkins High, Eddie, on the other hand, is the school's freak. Their paths cross unexpectedly, igniting a love story that defies expectations, learning they have much more in common than they initially thought.

Authors note: Hiya! this is my very first story🫣 (that I have made public). I really hope you all enjoy reading this, I truly tried my hardest to make this as good as possible, but please be kind 🥹

Warnings: language, slow burn, opposites attract, she/her pronouns, the reader is FAB, Eddie might be a little shit, I gave the reader a nickname because y/n is so cringe. There is no mention of race, but I do occasionally describe what Pixie looks like, but those are subtle enough that you can ignore it!

Chapter One: The Notorious Rumors

As I cautiously navigated the foreign halls of Hawkins High, my heart raced with anticipation and uncertainty, school would start next week, but the halls flooded with freshmen and their mentors, getting a tour of the decrepit building, an attempt of avoiding the inevitable, the freshmen being lost on their first day. You can’t help but relate to those poor kids. Entering the halls of this high school, knowing damn well that the fact that Hawkins High is small, is exactly what makes it that much scarier. Tiny meant close knit, everyone knew each other from birth, and you were just an unwelcome stranger. You huff in frustration, realizing the freshmen had one leg above you, they at least had pre-existing friends from junior high, you on the other hand, knew nobody.

Being the new girl in a sea of familiar faces would be like treading on uncharted territory. A group of teenage girls, all adorning white and green cheer uniforms, hairs perfectly in place, tied in a fashionable ponytail stood in front of the packed bulletin board, near the principals office. The group of girls chatted away, each holding printed out copies of extracurricular activities offered for the fall, pretending to show any interest in the activity. They looked as if they owned the building, displaying fake smiles, whispering about every person that walked by, commenting on their shoes, if they had volunteered to hand out sideways glances, they’d get their credits immediately. This all only heightened my anxieties, their presence made me feel like an outsider, an alien amidst the established cliques and well-worn friendships. But then, like a shimmering ray of sunshine piercing through stormy clouds, she appeared before me. “Hey there! You must be the new girl Higgins told me about, I’m Chrissy!" a cheerful voice called out, I turned to find a girl with a crooked smile, strawberry blonde ponytail, flashing a genuine smile that instantly dissolved my worries. You introduce yourself as Pixie Dunphy and explained that Pixie is not even actually your name, it was a nickname your grandpa had given you as a kid because of your short stature, and it just sort of stuck.

Chrissy showed you around the school, going on about which teachers were a pain, and which weren’t, the school policies, and which table was the best to sit at during lunch. The halls of Hawkins high couldn’t have looked more like a maze to you, surprised how a school so small, could be so confusing, the walls filled with posters and fading pieces of art projects made by past students, lockers that resembled a bumpy road, adorned with dents and grooves from the years of nerds being shoved against them. The chipped paint on the wall gave away the lack of maintenance, and the yellowed lights above on the drop down ceiling flickered with every gust of wind. As you both rounded the corner, back to the bulletin board by the principals office, you see all the posters for sports and clubs the cheerleaders had been holding pretending to pass out to fulfill their community service hours requirement for graduation. “You know, we’re having tryouts this tomorrow at 10, I know it’s short notice, but u can talk to coach to let you bring in your physical when school starts off. . . It is just that I noticed you looking at the flyers” Chrissy’s voice startled you out of your day dream, her warm smile brought you back to reality. it is true that you had previously been eyeing the flyer, it is a sure way to make friends, and you had been part of the cheer team in your old school as well, you had thought about joining anyways, but the ironic group of girls that lacked any sort of cheerful bone in their body kind of made you get cold feet.

In the end of the tour, Chrissy and I stood by the front door waiting for your rides home, you both spend hours waiting for your parents to arrive to pick you up, you found out you both lived near each other, meeting her had given you hope. Hope that maybe things in Hawkins would be so bad, maybe you’d get along just fine. After finding you you two will basically be neighbors, she mentions something about a party on Saturday, something about it being the last of the summer before school started back up in the fall, the small amount you both had exchanged, made her invitation not feel unexpected, Chrissy even offered a ride. What could go wrong? I needed to socialize if I didn’t want to be some outcast. It felt like a golden ticket into a world of belonging and acceptance, a chance to shed the label of the "new girl" and find my place among the vibrant tapestry of high school life. In Hawkins, the opinions others had of you determined how others would treat you. In this tiny town, full of people with even tinier brains, one rumor could determine a person’s whole life. As I mulled over Chrissy’s invitation, a whirlwind of emotions swirled within me, excitement danced in my veins, a symphony of nerves and doubt as I imagined myself at the party, surrounded by laughter and music, feeling like I belonged for the first time since my arrival. I had never been the outcast, always had made friends easily in school, but it wasn’t anything like Hawkins. Hawkins felt claustrophobic, like a small box of a high school. Chrissy’s invitation was a glimmer of a future where I wouldn't be an alien, where I could forge connections and weave myself into the intricate threads of teenage camaraderie. In the face of uncertainty, I chose to embrace the invitation, to believe in the kindness behind Chrissy’s smile.

When it came around the time of the party, you take one last look at yourself in the full-length mirror hanging from the inside of your closet door, boxes haphazardly stacked on top of each other full of unpacked clothes, decoration, and untouched sticker packets you have been saving for a “special day” to use them. You take a minute to look over every detail of your outfit. You had spent your whole Friday afternoon at the mall with Chrissy picking out the perfect outfit for tonight. You had settled on a pair of white Keds you already owned, with wool white socks that bunched up around your ankles, a bubblegum pink sweater with a white turtleneck collar underneath, and a denim pencil skirt that reached slightly below the middle of your thighs. Chrissy had convinced you to wear the skirt, it was a little short for your liking, considering you haven’t worn a skirt this short since you were about 14 and Jennifer McLaughlin pointed out how thick your thighs were, and offered to lend her mother’s copy of the Jazzercise VHS for the summer. You had tried curling your hair with the heatless curling rods you secretly took from your mother’s room, making a secret bet with yourself how long the curls would hold up, your hair being way too slick to hold them for more than 2 hours. You fixed your wispy bangs and tied half your hair you with your favorite scrunchie, matching the color of your eyeshadow, which was a pink of Pepto Bismol, and glossy lips.

You looked nice, nice was good; nice would get the kids at this god forsaken town to like you. Chrissy had said she’d be over to pick you up at your house at 8:30pm, you look at the digital clock laying on your desk, and curse under your breath, you were going to be late. “…shit” Pixie huffs out making haste to grab her purse and house keys her dad had given, he the new copies earlier today, making her promise not to lose it in 5 minutes like always. Once she got downstairs, she sees Chrissy sitting in the front seat of her boyfriend’s burgundy wood panel Ford Station Wagon Jason had gotten as a birthday gift earlier in the year. Pixie makes her way down the steps of her suburbia home, and made her way into the back seat, sitting behind Jason to get a better look at her friend. “It’s no problem at all, Jay would be coming this way anyways, I live two streets down” Crissy says with a cheery tone “So, you excited? You look so nice” Chrissy said, turning her body back to have a better look at her friend. I feel your face start to heat up from the comment, I gently smile and express my gratitude and buckle up, I clear my throat and say “Jeez, thanks Chris, you look amazing as well! I take a deep breath and chuckles out her answer “I’m a little nervous” I take a deep breath and continue with a chuckle “but I think it’ll be fun” I feel Jason’s eyes on me, preparing to say something.

As they arrive Pixie looks out the window. The house was considerably larger than the others on the street, it was a pale shade of green, and was littered with teenagers talking around on the lawn. The song was booming from the inside of the house, and it belonged to one Steve Harrington, Chrissy said that the 16-year-old had the house to himself after his parents went on a business trip very often, frequently throwing the raddest parties that anyone who was someone, was invited to. Chrissy mumbled a quick hello to the girls sitting on the couch with red solo cups in their hands, grabbing my hand, dragging me across the sea of people in such haste you’d think her life depended on it. In high school, everyone has an “identifier” a descriptive word, that everyone will associate it to you for the full four years—or how many years it takes for you to graduate. Tommy Fletcher’s identifier was “Angel face” Tommy just had this face to him, that made people almost want to trust him from the get-go.

It was at that party where Pixie met Tommy, they hadn’t really talked much, but when Tommy asked if you wanted a ride home, you didn’t sense any malice in his words. That is how whispers began to ripple through the streets, carrying with them an account that had the power to stir curiosity and ignite judgment. It was a false rumor, a tangled web spun by idle minds, woven with threads of teenage gossip, and embellished with imaginations eager for scandal by the elder women of the town. According to the murmurs that churned like a hidden undercurrent. The vicious rumor began with none other than Tommy boy himself. Tommy felt the pressure of his friends’ questioning gazes after he had giving Pixie a ride home. Not confirming nor denying his pal’s suggestions of going past first base, when in fact Tommy had gone in for kiss as he parked his car in front of her modest house but failed miserably spilling Pixie’s drink on her lap. Too embarrassed to admit his lack of game, he just said something about not kissing and telling, and their futures forever altered. The truth, obscured by the thick fog of gossip, remained elusive, leaving Pixie to bear the burden of a rumor born from the whispers of a small town's collective imagination.

That is how Pixie got her very own identifier, as a matter of fact, Pixie got multiple identifiers. From that party on, Pixie started to be known as "easy" and "Hawkins whore." The shit these people will come up with is unbelievable. The rumors spread like wildfire through the halls of Hawkins High, each murmur chipping away at Pixie's resilience, threatening to tarnish her spirit. But Pixie, with a strength hidden beneath her delicate frame, refused to let these cruel words define her. Instead, she clung to the unwavering support Chrissy had shown her, Chrissy saw beyond the gossip and knew them to be untrue, stood by her side, solidifying their friendship even further. Every day they’d walk to and from school together, seeing as they only lived two blocks away from each other. Chrissy's unwavering support and friendship became Pixie's sustenance, a constant reminder that she was not alone in the trenches of the American school system. With Chrissy's support, Pixie found the courage to rise above the malicious rumors, and chose to defy expectations thrust upon her, everyone thought she’d shrivel away and hide. Anyone else with an identifier like that would. But not Pixie, choosing to rebel against the rumors, and in defiance, Pixie joined the cheer squad the following month. It was a decision that sent shockwaves through the school, challenging the judgments and assumptions that had been cast upon her. Though some still regarded her with a lingering skepticism, Pixie discovered a newfound sense of belonging among the spirited cheerleaders. The support and camaraderie within the team became a shield, warding off the arrows of judgment that continued to be hurled her way. Yet, even with her newfound confidence and belonging, Pixie couldn't escape the persistent advances of boys who believed the rumors to be true. Their unwelcome attention became a bitter reminder that the stain of gossip could be stubborn to wash away. However, Pixie refused to let their misguided perceptions diminish her worth or tarnish her spirit. She stood tall, armed with resilience and an unwavering belief in her own truth. Pixie's journey through the tangled web of rumors and judgments was not without its scars. It tested her strength and resilience, leaving behind wounds that would heal with time. But she carried on, navigating the intricacies of high school life and her untiring belief in her own worth.

As Pixie walked out the house, the crisp morning air hit her skin, sending a chill down her spine. Pixie never dressed for the weather, she dressed for the fashion, always trying to mirror the magazine covers. Today’s ensemble would embrace the essence of the times, it included a pair of form-fitting acid-washed jeans, hugging her figure with a rebellious edge. The jeans, featuring strategically placed rips and frayed edges, you choose a pink oversized sweater, slouchy and comfortable. It would drape casually over your shoulders, and exposing your collarbone, and giving off an air of nonchalant confidence. To complete her outfit, she would slip into a pair of high-top sneakers, their pristine white canvas sneakers that exuded an athletic-chic air and added a touch of sporty flair to her look. Accessories played an integral role in Pixies fashion, a collection of jelly bracelets, stacked high on her wrists, would jingle melodically with each movement, letting everyone know once she had walked into a room, a testament to her trendsetting status. Oversized hoop earrings, gleaming with metallic finishes, framed her face perfectly and added a touch of glamour. Your makeup of the day was a delicate light purple eyeshadow, thick lashes made darker with mascara, eyebrows perfectly in place, and lips were adorned with gloss, shining n shades of hot pink, amplifying her radiant smile.

As the students make their way into the halls of Hawkins High, Pixie’s day began like any other, spirit radiating with confidence, she gracefully navigated the bustling corridors. Conversations and laughter filled your ears as you weaved through the throng of students, your presence attracting friendly smiles like moths to a flame. As you approach your locker, the familiar chatter of your circle of friends caught your attention, pulling you in animated conversations, going on about the outfits in Whitney Houston’s new music video. As the bell rang, books and notebooks were quickly retrieved from the organized chaos of your locker. Walking into class before the second bell rang, you gave Ms. O’Donnell a tight-lipped smile, a silent apology for rushing into class right before the bell. It’s not like you absolutely loved Ms.O’Donell as a person, but the teacher adores you! Ever since you had helped the woman in the library carrying the mountain of books, she has taken a liking to you, always brushing minor tardies under the rug, you weren’t complaining. But you couldn’t deny the way your teacher’s voice never failed to lull you to sleep, just as you were about to start to doze off into a comfortable nap, a rushing mop of dark curls comes bursting into the room. “Late again Mr.Munson” O’Donnell’s graining voice pointed out the painfully obvious.

Eddie Munson, identifier: Freak. Eddie had a distinctive sense of style, everything that he wore screamed that. Eddie's wore a pair of well-worn dark denim jeans, cuffed at the bottom, bore the marks of a well-worn piece of clothing. He wore his favorite band T-shirt, faded just enough to give it character. Always adding layers to his outfit, Eddie wore his customized jean jacket, heavy with pins of various sizes. On his feet, Eddie would sport a pair of worn-in white sneakers, his bulky studded belt and his folded bandana tucked away in his back pocket. Eddie’s outfit, much like your own, perfectly reflect your personalities. Eddie looked down, being caught trying to sneak into the room, he grinned had the back her O’Donnell’s head, and took a seat in the back of the room, near the right corner. You never understood why everyone hated him so much. I mean sure, he can be kind of annoying sometimes, with all his screeching and hollering in the halls, or his disinterest in school, but cult leader was a bit much, it’s literally a board game, nerd shit. He is just a geek, that has it out to lose his hearing, with the type of music he enjoys listening. You’ve come to learn not to judge a person solely based on rumors.

You had always enjoyed joining extracurricular activities, you knew it looked nice in your college applications. So, when Higgins suggested you be the head of a study group afterschool, of course you said yes. Higgins had said I would be able to pick the time and date, but to be able to earn credit, It would have to be at least once a week. You had agreed to do it every Wednesday, after cheer practice, it’d be a taxing to administer this tutoring business, and cheer every week, you would have to rush to the library after cheer practice on Wednesdays. You were a little nervous to meet the kids you’d be tutoring. Higgins hadn’t given you names, only a number. It would be you, and two other students inside the stuffy study room in the back corner of the clammy library.

You slugged your compact backpack on your left shoulder, heavy with thick textbooks, the canvas material of the straps making a permanent dent on your soft skin, leaving a red mark where it rested. Making your way to through the empty school hallway, a profound sense of anticipation hangs suspended, the ache from practice making its way up your back thigh. The distant hum and flicker of fluorescent lights, their yellowed glow casting long shadows along the vacant corridor. That is when you meet the eyes of Principal Higgins, the look on his face displayed a certain amount of concern. As you approached him, he stood in the way of the entrance of the library. “There has been a change of plans Ms. Dunphy” he pauses, almost looking for words “…Ms. O’Donnell has informed me that Amelia Richardson won’t be needing tutoring any longer…so, it will be only you and Mr. Munson.” Munson? You hadn’t known you’d be tutoring Eddie. You don’t have anything against him per say, you feel bad for him even, in the unfair way people treat the guy. But one thing remains true, Eddie Munson was intimidating, perhaps it was on purpose. The hair, the clothes, the chains, and tattoos don’t really make him look like a boy next door. You would manage, you had never interacted with Eddie before, but he was hard to miss, making his presence known in every room possible. After you gave your principle a tiny acknowledgement as you passed by him, making your way to the study room. You knew Higgin’s worry stemmed from the fact that your father had recently made an extremely generous donation of new textbooks to the school earlier this year, he was rather important in town. As you make your way into the musty room, your body reacts before you can hold back. Stopping in your tracks, holding the handle, you lock eyes with the metal head. You knew he’d be the one you would tutor, you thought you’d have time before he showed up. He sat there like he was in his living room, feet up on the table, chewing on the end of a pencil, patiently waiting for your arrival. The foreign feeling of his eyes fully locked on yours, causing all the hairs in your body to stand up. “Cats gotcha tongue Tink?”

I really hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter, I have so much planned for these characters. Please be patient with me as I am definitely not a pro at this yet, but I will get the hang of it!

If you have any sort of constructive feedback, feel free to leave them down below! I’d love them 🫰🏼 leave a heart for support, or repost for double support 🫶🏼🥹

Much love,

Belle.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #slow burn #stranger things #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson masterlist

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randomgentlefolk · 3 months

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CPC CHAPTER 169

I swear I gotta put up a reminder or smth man I can't keep posting these posts just 2 hours before the new damn episode

(I must admit, making a review for this episode is kinda difficult)

ISOLDE TO THE RESCUE!! Also I just remember that Maria is still afraid (?) Of Isolde lmao XD

I was wondering where the old guard went :') the fact that he fell asleep during a WAR is honestly impressive though.

WAIT WAIT WAIT NO I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT LELAND BUT BLAINE???? BLAINE FELL??? But before I go to that I must say that plant holding Leland's leg is strong AF. What kinda root does it have...

The parallel of Frederick ripping his sleeves to cover Gwen's wound and then Gwen ripping Maria's blanket to save Leland.

WH. OHHHHHH. OH DAMN OH MAN. YOOOOOOOO. I DID NOT EXPECT THAT. Wait so I'm guessing here that Isolde forged Leland's signature? But when did she send that letter? Was it sent during the war? If yes then the process is really quick! It's just one day.

Honestly I'm so glad Isolde wrote that she's going to take the throne until her sons are ready because they CANNOT rule the whole damn kingdom right now with that mental state. And I honestly love the idea of all of them ruling the kingdom instead of just one of them.

WAIT WAIT WAIT This is what I'm getting but correct me if I'm wrong. I'm guessing Leland signed on the pastry catalogue and gave it back to isolde and that's how Isolde can forge his signature? That's actually really smart.

And she kinda bribed (more like raising their salary, really) the Parliament so they'd accept it right away!! Also by giving them more power! HAH And there's more power for Lavern lmaooo

Aaaannndddd the omniscient clam comment is literally just digging his own grave xd

HECK YEAH JERRY TO THE RESCUE!! FINALLY NAME REVEAL!!! Tho ngl I really thought the lemoncillo was for a molotov cocktail or smth XD

Syrah.............

WAIT DAMN ISOLDE HAS POWER OVER JUDGE, JURY, AND EXECUTIONER???? She really thought it through.

Damn...spoken like a true queen (and she IS a queen!). You go Isolde!!

Ooooh that sentence "what more did you want?".... Leland fr needed to hear that. I mean okay man I get it, your bestfriend said he doesn't need you behind your back and that hurts. Words can hurt like shit, I get it. But that does NOT mean you can just, declare a whole damn war. You can always, y'know, continue to live your life knowing there are people you SHOULD love and people who loves you. Also I gotta add that Jack was probably stressing the fuck out in that moment. His wife is literally dying, dude. There's a chance that he might say things that don't seem right because of impulsiveness. And y'know what if it really bothers you that much, COMMUNICATE. DAMNIT.

Did I say all of those right? I hope I did.

I gotta say I love Isolde even more now. That "off with his head" caught me off guard like I know sometimes we joke about that but I didn't actually think that would happen. Cpc is always about redemption and stuff after all. But now I'm genuinely wondering if Leland should actually be executioned. War, abuse, torture, those should get life sentence right?

So I'm guessing he's going to prison then? Fancy words sometimes gets me mixed up.

OH!! IT GLOWS BECAUSE OF HER KINDNESS, I'M ASSUMING? THAT'S AMAZING. Also the fact that she offered to help the man who just tried to kidnap her...We don't deserve Gwen fr.

So, uh...Blaine? Yeah where is he? I'm theorizing that the tent Nell moved will save him but he should still have some injuries. And the chances are he will break at least one bone. I don't think tents are that soft. But I'm willing to hope that he will be perfectly fine....physically.

Well that's all for now!

Mono out! (But still in to hear your thoughts)

#cursed princess club #cpc #mono reviews

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anderscim · 9 months

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@eventide-roses asked:

I would like to drop in something that has been.....kinda bugging me??? Not really bugging, but idk if you can even make a theory off of it. It's more Xanvid inclined anyway (and ig Teruvid if you squint really hard), but it's something that I found kinda interesting imo

Ask yourself this. How much screentime did David even have before chapter 2? I find it odd (my brother and I joke about him being the "Levi" of chapter 1 - having very little screentime) that he wasn't on screen for.....really most of chapter's 1 daily life, except for when he intervened Teruko and Xander's conversation in the dining hall (where he went on about how there is so much pressure on his shoulders from being looked up to a lot). Keep in mind Teruko knows his optimistic facade is merely an act. Lots of ppl (included myself) think that David only intervened cause he was watching Xander and Teruko, cautious cause one person knew something that they shouldn't have. But that also sounds a little too cautious, wouldn't you say? Sure, as an inspirational speaker, you are expected to be always happy and cheerful, seeing the world through rose tinted glasses. But surely, as a human being, you are also not immune to being sad. His slip up in the introduction just sounded like an introvert to me. Maybe a bit of a bitchy introvert, but not......something worth total contempt from someone. Yet, David is paranoid enough to keep to himself for the majority of chapter 1 and (most likely) just watched Teruko and Xander's interactions carefully. Why would he do this? Obviously he doesn't want anyone else to know about how his facade is just....well, a facade. But it honestly seems like he genuinely values Xander's opinion about him. He doesn't want anything negative to smear Xander's opinion about him. And keep in mind, ever since the killing game was announced, David (most likely) automatically went in his head "Well, it's only a matter before we all die" yet he still desperately tries to keep up his happy go lucky facade, even when he knows he could die the very next day

I found it kinda odd he never really played a big part until after chapter 2, episode 4 where he became the so called 'leader' and started the plan to share secrets again. But wasn't this also after the end of the first trial where he says "I lost hope, I won't bother to keep it up anymore, we are all going to die here" <- paraphrasing rn, don't kill me. And yet he STILL tries to keep up the persona. I remember one blog made a post about how David's plan was actually better than what the cast could've done (sit around the let the motives be revealed or reveal them without permission) which I agree with. But then it backfired and everyone started to gain up on David during the trial. I think the straw that broke the camel's back was when Teruko said David has been faking not only his personality, but also being a good person. Like damn girl, you think he's a bad person just cause you caught him saying a few negative things to himself? It fits with her character of not trusting people, but still. All that was revealed about his 'true true' personality was that he was some mildly bitchy introvert that wanted to sleep in I have no idea where I am going with this, but these are some findings that I thought was interesting enough to share with you (hopefully I'm sending it to the right blog as well). I guess what I'm trying to say is not only does David truly care about Xander, but possibly everyone else in the cast (he probably even had some respect for Teruko, until Xander died, which is a whole other can of worms, but I also think he blames her for Xander's death and her secret he received in chapter 2 only verifies his belief) And (this is also an extremely long stretch but also worth considering) the gag comic that the dev made I think? 2021 ish? Where David received too many letters and he was worried how he would get through all of them? It wasn't even his idea to throw them out, it was Whit's (to which, David even asked him isn't that a little mean?). It shows that David still cares about his fans (again, it's a really big stretch, but still has the character's canon personalities, since the dev themself made it)

first off, thank you for the submission lexi! i hope you don’t mind that i transferred your ask to this blog ^^

and yeah, i noticed these things too, but in my opinion it may mostly be an indication that david is adamant about maintaining his persona and what the cast expects from him.

(take this with a grain of salt)

despite his (at the very least) pessimistic dialogue at the end of chapter one, i think he tries to consistently keep the “ideal image” that the rest of the cast expects from him as the ultimate inspirational speaker—leading the group, presenting that entire plan (despite likely making it up on the spot), etc—in the beginning of chapter two. similar to what you said, i think it’s a very interesting contradiction to have david act so pessimistic and say that they’re “all certainly going to die here,” and then suddenly find him within the next few days leading the group and doing everything he possibly could to keep his plan going. like i mentioned in this older post, david’s plan was likely better than any of the alternatives—and based on the fact he could potentially convince everyone to follow a separate path from what he outlined in ch2 ep4, it’s likely that he wasn’t actually attempting to “foster the right atmosphere for murder to occur,” like he claimed in episode 11.

so if he was trying to help and prevent another murder despite the (very) limited means to do so—despite him clearly saying how they’re all going to die the chapter before—it might point to the fact that david is pressured by his own reputation to act in a way that is fitting for an inspirational speaker, regardless of all of his slip-ups from earlier. after all, david may have felt that it was wrong to watch all of the discourse happening in ch2 ep4 and not do something about it, especially since he has a career that literally helps other people for a living.

however, this internal(?) pressure could imply that he sets unrealistic expectations on himself to maintain that image—which might explain why, despite his slip-up in the prologue only showing us that he was more pessimistic and lazy than the cast expected, he was paranoid enough to check on xander and teruko. as implied from the MV and all of the secrets that it has, there’s a lot of evidence that points to david not feeling human (the dolls, the albino mouse / arabidopsis / footnote 2)—instead, he thinks of himself as a sort of “model organism” and someone who’s supposed to hold up an ideal for everyone else to follow. if this is true, this may explain why he felt cautious enough to go out of his way and monitor(?) the two people who may know something past his persona/reputation—true, it is only human to feel negative emotions and express them outwardly, but in david’s case he may hold incredibly high expectations for himself as a role model and pretend that he’s immune to those emotions. after all, he doesn’t feel like he’s human.

i also agree on the “he at the very least had an iota of respect for the rest of the cast at one point” part <-paraphrased. no specific evidence for this but i might get to it later

i hope you get what i mean. (-.-;) thank you again for the submission!

#bagel’s asks #bagel’s train of thought #drdt #danganronpa despair time #despair time #david chiem #fangan #fanganronpa #slightly shorter post #again thank you for the ask!

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harryleatherfit · 10 months

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Upper East Side || A.U || Frankie Morales

Chapter 11: Opening Night

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Word Count: 7.8K (i was gonna keep going but Warnings: mentions of fucking bad family, unprotected p in v (um), oral f receiving, mentions of sub space (when you squint at the end), spanking, hard fucking, tit sucking, some fluff, performance on stage, lmk if i’ve missed any

Authors Notes: let me know what you guys think! genuinely this is the longest thing i’ve written but i fear i’ll be hated for the next few chapters 😵‍💫 i love you guys ♾️

Chapter Playlist

Jungle Fever- The Chakachas

Somebody Like You- Bree Runway

Lust For Life- Lana Del Ray

🪩Main Master List🪩 Series Master List🪩

Opening night, electricity filled your body. You woke up with light peeking through your window, you stared at the dust particles floating around, you wish you could stay here forever. Both nights were sold out, your heart racing thinking you had to be on stage tonight. Performing in front of thousands excited you on second thought. You loved the crowd, the air, the excitement as you smiled. You had gotten leads at UNCSA, but nothing could compare to this. You didn’t know where you lay in the acting world at all, but you had to remember that no matter what you would be yourself on the inside.

You had gotten up before Laylah, Rose, and Hannah, making coffee and staring at the sun. You were hoping Frankie was up looking at the same sun. You did breath exercises, prepping your lungs for the amount of talking you had to do for the next few days. Setting your headspace was most important to you. You were scrolling on your phone and Frankies name popped up in the corner of the screen.

New Message:

Frankie: Can you come early to the theater? Somethin I wanna show you.

You: My call times at 3, want me to come at 12?

Frankie: 11.

You: Okayyy, need me to bring food?

Frankie: No, assistants already brought a shit load, I need to see you.

You: Packing my bags as we speak🥱

“Hey hotstuff,” Laylah walks out of your room, yawning, “Smells good. Ready for your big day?”

“Ready as I can ever be.” You shrug, embracing the heat of your coffee cup. The mornings were always so cold.

“Anything planned for the morning?”

“Well, he asked me to come in early, something to show me.” You whisper.

“Oh shit, damn ok,” They get excited, “Have fun gettin old man dick.”

“Laylah!” You laugh.

“Nah, I bet it’s good. Look at him.”

“Believe me I know.”

“Have you guys fucked yet?” They nudge.

“No, but I'm not even sad. So many times guys just want to immediately fuck and it’s such a massive turn off.” You explain, “He’s soft and gentle with me, never in a rush.”

“Yeah me and Bryce haven't done the deed yet. Have high hopes for him. And he also uses my correct pronouns so yay men!” They cheer.

“Well here’s to fucking men I guess.” You click your coffee in the air, “Is he treating you right?”

“We haven’t done much aside from hangout during rehearsals and stuff, so after we’ll actually have time to be with each other.”

“You should go with him after the show tonight, get dinner and walk around the city.” You suggest.

“I think that’s what I’ll do.” They hug you, “My beautiful astonishing Lady Macbeth, I’ll see you tonight.”

-----

You arrive at the theater, New York Streets bustling with people at this hour. Broadway never fails to have thousands of people in and out. Tonight was going to be a big one. Book of Mormon was on, but that show was always on broadway and Macbeth was only on for two nights.

You wondered how many stars were going to come, how many people you loved that would come to see your show. How many playbills you were going to get to sign.

Your interaction with Wes Anderson made you think about your spine, your eyebrow conjecture, the way you present yourself and your character on stage. Everything had to be different. Mattias had a pep talk with you before you left the theater, no matter what happens on this stage, we both know we have put our souls into this show.

It was true, there’s no need to stress about impressing people.

You set your bad down at the entrance, seats already blocked off, ushers clocking in their hours.

“Hey, up here.” Frankie calls up from the theater's booth, “It’s set up a little differently here, Broadway has way more money than our school could ever imagine,” You walk up the steps, “I know so much bigger than our little shabby room at the school.” You take in the scenery of the room.

“I bet you’ve worked here a lot though, right? I mean this is like your job, to do shows for the college, teach the building basics of theater, and fucking work Broadway shows.” How could he act like this wasn’t a big deal.

“Honey, my job is cool and all but doesn't mean I enjoy it. Long hours, having to meet people's demands, spicy celebrities, whiney actors.” He purrs.

“Hey! I’m not whiney, you’re the whiney one, arguing with everyone who pisses you off.”

You hug him, he’s sitting on a stool in front of the lighting board, “I wanted to be an actor actually, but never went through. I never had the courage to do bigger roles and my dad was always focused on my brother. So I just went into tech, it’s easier anyways.” He mumbles.

“Sometimes I wish I went into tech, being an actor is fucking hard,” You stare at him, “Why’d you quit acting? You could never be second to anyone.” You rub his face, hands lingering on his porno stash, his scruff felt like lightening under your fingers.

“When we were in our twenties, he’s a little bit older than I am, he was breaking through the stock market and everyone was shocked. I mean he broke through after 9/11 so he was everywhere.

My dad was disappointed that I wanted to do theater and acting and not anything business related. I was doing mini side jobs for Broadway and small film roles. I went to Spain for some time. Until I started doing this I was finally important to my family.” You back off from him, circling the room.

He hasn’t talked to you about his family too much, he said he’s an open book but you didn’t want to push him too much.

“Sad boring people want to go into the stock market. Margot Robbie was the only interesting thing about Wolf of Wall Street by the way,” You chide, “You're not a fucking disappointment, you’re motivated. You create worlds for people to see, you have so much passion. I wish I was you.”

He moves from his chair, standing up, he’s way taller than you

“Smart girl, go turn off the lights.”

“Frankie,” You stare at him, “We can’t, you know we can’t.” Even though you fucking want to.

“We’re not,” He laughs, “Just go turn them off, I want you to see this.”

You do as told, flipping the switch and returning to your sanctuary.

“Lay down and look up, cmon I’ll do it with you.” He instructs.

You find your way in the dark, glimmer from the ceiling illuminating the room. You lay down as you feel his body next to yours.

“See the ceiling? It’s stars, they painted stars in here for the actors to relax before shows. I’ve done shows here before and they always help me even before a long tech run.” He whispers, the ceiling reminds you of a galaxy, calming and beautiful. He moves to your neck, smelling your hair. You could bathe in his after shave, bask his cologne. He always smelled so expensive.

“Don’t get too comfortable pretty girl, someone could walk in.”

“Then don’t smell so fucking good.” You shove him away, laughing to your side. The pain in your lower abdomen could never subside when you were around him.

“I have something to give to you now, but would you wanna come over to my place later? We could get food, or walk around, or if you want to go back to your place after the show home then we can go there, orwecanjustleave-”

“Shhh,” You shove your finger to his lips, “I would love to go to your place tonight, please. We can finally be alone. Finally be with each other without anyone interrupting us.”

“Ok, ok.” He shakes his head like a giddy boy, “ Oh baby you’re gonna do amazing tonight.,” He kisses you quickly “Before I set up, I wanted to give you these.” He fumbles into his jeans pocket, pulling out two VIP Caroline Polachek tickets.

“No fucking way, you did not do this. Frankie, you did not spend this money.” You squeal.

“Stop, I didn’t spend any money gorgeous. I pulled some strings and magically got them.”

He hands them to you, they were metallic with black printing of the venue and time, with her name in this beautiful ceryllic, you couldn't imagine being in her presence. You’ve wanted to see her since the beginning of college, but you never had the money to go. Since her breakup from Chairlift, you fell in love with her artistry. She was meticulous about what she exposed to the world and you wanted to be like her.

“A little something for an opening night present, and the concert’s before your recital. A win-win.”He looks at you, “I know her new album came out and I know her producer, maybe you’ll get to meet her.” He winks. Get to meet your fucking idol? You were shocked but it was Frankie, of course he would do something like this.

“Don’t worry about tonight darlin,” He holds you, “This weekend is gonna be amazing.”

------

Is this the real life, is this just fantasy caught in a landslide. No escape from reality.

Bohemian Rhapsody was blaring throughout the dressing rooms, never able to run away from Freddie Mercury.

After your soiree with Frankie, you had gone to freshen up, prep your hair and skin. Ate a protein bar and met with Mattias. You blindly went over your scenes, and then he offered some cigarettes You shouldn’t have, but you did.

You fled out the back, door checking to see if anyone would see you. Not that it would matter but felt too familiar. You found a cozy spot, wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket the team gave you and lit one up with him. You felt like you were a teenager in high school again, smoking before a show to ease the nerves.

Passing on local tradition.

“You’ve got any family coming tonight?” He opens his zippo lighter.

“Nah, just my friends, I don’t have family up here. You?”

“Mom and dad, they weren’t too happy I came to this school but it’s starting to grow on them” He taps his cigarette, “Anyone special coming tonight?”

“Something like that. It’s recently new with him and I, but he’ll be here.” You blow smoke,“You?”

“I just broke up with my boyfriend so probably not. We’ll see.”

“Ahh Mattias, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, just means I’ll be clubbing fucking extra tomorrow night at the afterparty, are you excited?”

“Fuck I forgot about that, I haven’t clubbed in years.”

“It’s at this hoity toity place in the Upper East Side, not The Box I promise but it’ll be fun as fuck. The directors are supposed to come, like the whole school is going to show up.”

The fucking Box. Frankie being there.

Flashbacks of Frankie fingerfucking you agasint the bathroom counter race through your mind, you couldn’t understand how bad you wanted him. The one person in your life that has changed your entire being.

You guys finish your cigarettes, small talk with him was so easy. Giggling about the shit you’ve seen in high school and college as theater majors. Mattias knew what the struggle was like, he knew the difference between stage anxiety and general anxiety. You guys were the perfect pair on stage.

“You go head on in Ms. Macbeth, get your shit done and I’ll see you soon sweet cheeks.”

-------

“So at 3 tomorrow the whole cast has an interview with The New Yorker.” Ms. Roylance announces, it’s an hour before show.

“And the main 2 have an interview with Vogue at 5.”

Vogue, what the shit.

Tech crew, all the actors and directors were in a circle, saying a couple final words before curtains would go up.

Across from you, Laylah and Bryce are holding hands and Frankie is talking to Mr Miller.

You were trying to calm your heart rate, you felt comfortable with everyone around you, but if you sit in a dark closet and rehearse for the last hour you would.

“I want us to hold hands, close our eyes and say one word we're feeling, and the last 30 minutes before show we can just roam in the back, hows that sound?” Roylace gages the group. Everyone agrees, clasping hands, shutting eyes and embracing each other's energy. It’s the best you can do.

“I’ll start, pleased.” She finishes.

“Happy.”

“Elated.”

“Horrified.”

“Worried.”

“Terrified.”

“Thrilled.” Bryce bellows.

“Overjoyed.” Laylah says.

“Light.”

“Captivated.” You immediately knew that was Frankie, his voice, the utmost bass in his voice. Shakes you alive. You open your eyes, looking at everyone around you, soaking up your last minutes with everyone before you break apart.

“Wondrous.”

“Flamboyant.”

“Flustered.”

“Scared.”

It’s your turn, you’ve had the whole circle to think about this, “Content.” Your eyes closed, the mid stage lights shining on you, the murmurs from the full crowd behind the red curtain, the smiles on all your faces, you’re ready.

“Happy.”

“Petrified.”

“Euphoric.”

The last words slip into the air, opening your eyes exasperated.

“Places in 40.” Frankie says.

Everyone separates, straggling across the stage, getting to their righteous spots but you stay. It only feels right and you know he will stay with you.

As soon as everyone is out of sight, he gets closer to you, but not daring to touch your hand. You watch him go to the middle of the curtain, he opens it slyly only to peek through to the crowd.

“Wanna come see?” He asks.

You walk downstage to him, setting in stone to his exact steps, letting one eye peek through the red fabrics and the whole crowd is lively, everyone is dressed so elegantly. The laughs, the people finding their seats. Ushers smiling. House lights dimmed sensually. This is what Broadway is about. Your jaw drops, but you wouldn’t let this dare scare your heart, you’re fucking ready for this.

“See, they are all here for you and Mattias, they are here to see the most wonderful production of the year and because of you, you bring the feisty energy they need.” He whispers into your ear. You shudder, almost tears of happiness, you had no stage fright anymore. “Now fucking blow there minds away baby.”

-------

The raven himself is hoarse, that croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan, under my battlements. Come, you spirits, that tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, and fill me from the crown to the toe top-full

Of direst cruelty. Make thick my blood, stop up th’ access and passage to remorse, that no compunctious visitings of nature, shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between, th’ effect and it. Come to my woman’s breasts

And take my milk for gall, you murd’ring ministers, wherever in your sightless substances, you wait on nature’s mischief. Come, thick night, and pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, that my keen knife see not the wound it makes, nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark

To cry “Hold, hold!”

Make me fucking human.

For more or less, there was no crowd in front of you. Just Mattias holding your hand. Rebirth. Refinery. Frankie watching you from the booth, admiring every step you take. Acting is simple, people pleasing is simple, it’s melodic from making up the emotions on the spot and zoning through the waves of the artistry. It’s for the people, acting is a service. You’re giving your heart out to the world.

You follow your footwork with Mattias, Macbeth and Lady Macbeth, husband and wife. Forcing your husband to follow through with your plan, killing the king. So detrimental.

You rush to the wings, dipping your newest costume with blood. Lady Macbeth is a woman of thrill and duty, she would do anything for her husband, and you know how that feels. You soak yourself with the sticky substance, getting it all over your face, fingerprints of deadly sins.

Hands so poignant with red, your heart could be falling out and no one would notice. Cue.

My hands are of your color, but I shame, to wear a heart so white, I hear a knocking

At the south entry, retire we to our chamber, a little water clears us of this deed, how easy is it, then! Your constancy, hath left you unattended, hark, more knocking, get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us, and show us to be watchers, be not lost so poorly in your thoughts.

You move the rest of the act, sit down through act 4, nothing involving you and finally act 5.

You mess around your hair, flick blood on your lips and action.

Out, damned spot, out, I say! One. Two. Why then, ‘tis time to do’t. Hell is murky. Fie, my lord, fie, a soldier and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account? Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?

Instantaneously you have flashbacks when you were a child. In your cold room alone, dad and mom are fighting. This always fucking happened. The yelling would make you cry, but you learned how to get over it, you accepted that was your life. But now you’re safe, now you’re with people who love you and want the best for you. Men could never have control over you, ever again.

Do you mark that?

The Thane of Fife had a wife. Where is she now? What, will these hands ne’er be clean? No more o’that, my lord, no more o’that. You mar all with this starting.

Go to, go to. You have known what you should not.

She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that. Heaven knows what she has know.

The moment you’ve been waiting for,

Here’s the smell of blood still. All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand-

You don’t hold back, you dig into the crevices of your voice box, finding every follicle in your body to scream. To scare this crowd. You aren’t a little girl. Lady Macbeth is a story to never be let down. You drop to the floor, shrieking your mind away, begging for air and life. Letting the blood on you trickle with slobber and tears.

The exhaustion mixed with the heat of your scream made your head spin, but the crowd was silent- you lay there hiccuping for a minute, letting the waves of grief pass by.

What a sigh there! The heart is sorely charged.

I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the dignity of the whale body.

Well, well, well.

Pray God it be, sir.

The disease is beyond my practice. Yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep, who have died holily in their beds.

You shiver, shaking over to the edge of the stage,

To bed, to bed. There’s knocking at the gate. Come, come, come, come. Give me your hand. What’s done cannot be undone. To bed, to bed, to bed.

You exit, and the audience erupts in roars. They quickly sit back down, as there’s more dialogue with the doctor and gentlewoman, but not one moment did you hesitate to throw yourself into your monologue. It felt so powerful, unbelievably life changing.

The show finishes, sitting in the wing as your castmates finish the last monologue. Opening night was one for the books. You all line up for bows, tech right behind you, the curtain opens up and finally the moment you’ve wanted. Not the applause, but able to see Frankie in that chair, just staring at you. All you’ve wanted today is to be with him, but your performance was truly dedicated to him, he was the one that shocked your headspace, he’s the one that makes you want this all. You each take your singular bow, your feet wobbling, walking to the end, tearing up with this crowd, the graciousness you felt.

The standing ovation of the crowd was magnificent, every section clapping for minutes, no soul daring to leave their seats. New York, what a beautiful city. The strong whistles, the numerous claps, the chatter warmed your heart. Roses being sent your direction, hearts shown with hands.

Your crew was instructed to go back to your dressing rooms, clean up, hang your costumes and prepare everything the same for tomorrow, then you could go greet people if you wanted to.

Before you knew it, Mattias was dragging you out to the street, to see all the fans lining up on the street waiting to get their playbills signed.

You only wanted to find Frankie and Laylah, but you didn’t have one second to revive for yourself.

Mattias thrashes with your hand, opening the back door to the cold howling air, embraced by cheers,

“We love you guys.”

“I cried at your performance.”

“We’re coming tomorrow night”

“Lady Macbeth saved me.”

“I love you.”

Screams and shrieks were surrounding you, it’s not that you couldn’t believe it, but your heart was overpowered and overjoyed. So much in one sitting, your head turning in every which way, grabbing sharpies and scribbling your name as fast as possible.

One lady stands out, she’s quiet but vigilant, waiting for it to be her turn, and the closer you get you notice,

“Ms. Kim?” You could barely recognize her, it’s only been 4 months.

“My honey sugar, look at you!” She hugs you, tighter than a mothers hold, “Your teacher Mr.Miller gave me a shout and I booked my flight immediately, I couldn’t miss your Broadway performance.” She shakes her head.

“Ms. Kim, you didn’t have to do this, I could’ve sent you a picture, or a notecard, or a playbill.”

“Now that’s nonsense honey and you know that,” She swats your shoulder with her playbill copy, “Besides I know the whole team here, no need to worry I’m here for a week, so a coffee catch up is on your list after this weekend.”

The things that you could tell her.

“I miss you, I miss North Carolina.” You hug her again, breathing down her back, trying to not let people see your tears. She was there for you when you missed your mom, she was North Carolina in a summary, and you missed it so much.

“It’s okay sweetie, you were meant to leave that state it had nothing to offer, look at this,” She pointed at all the people, “This was your destiny.” She kisses you on the cheek, “I’ll text you for a coffee date, but go spend the night away.” She smiles.

“I love you!”

“I love you too honey.”

You leave her in the crowd, finding Mattias taking a picture with a group of girls. You tell him you’re gonna head back in to get your bag, to check your phone and possibly run into Laylah, find Frankie. Unlatching the door, the air rushing in your face, Laylah was already there with Bryce waiting for you.

“You did amazing! These flowers are for you,” They smother you, “The shock in the audience when you dropped to the floor, you stretched all of their hearts out.”

“Thank you.” You laugh, holding their hands, best friends working on Broadway together, your 16 year old selves would be thrashing down right now.

“My guys in the booth couldn’t believe they were at a college show, you and Mattias rocked it.” Bryce says.

“Thank you, that means the world. Seeing all the full seats was just fucking mind blowing and I’ll have to say that a million times to process.”

“We love you, were gonna get dinner now,” They wink, “See you tomorrow? Same time, same place?”

“Same time, same place.” You agree.

They grab your arm, pulling you close, “Get that dick tonight.”

You laugh so loud it refracts around you, we’ll see.

They leave you, content with the night. Smiling dumb because now finally you get to be with the man you’ve been itching to see.

You call him,

“Hey pretty girl, I was waiting to hear from you.”

“Sorry I was out signing playbills with Mattias. Working the night off.” You respond.

“Don’t be sorry, s’busy night for you. How d’you feel?”

“Good, Frankie, I feel amazing.” Seducing him over the phone, itching for him.

“That’s my star girl, shining so bright on that stage.” He smiles in the phone, you can feel it.

“Where are you right now?” You ask.

“In my car, just watching the sky.”

“And where would that be?”

“Behind the theater and the crowd, come find me princess.”

“Ok Playboy, I’ll see you in a second.”

You end the call, chucking your bag behind your back. You slowly walk to the door, finally entering a world you can’t step back out of. Reminiscing when you had no idea what the fuck you two were.

You sprawl out, no one would be here at this time of night. He’s smoking a cigarette, convertible top down. Collar open and his hat is off, puffed locks chasing every direction. He looks up to you.

“Frankie, an Ashton Martin Convertible?”

“Yeah.”

You stare at him, some fucking longer. “I don’t know, just an Ashton Martin roaming the streets, a really nice car I’ve only heard in books.”

“Would you feel better if you knew I saved a couple paychecks for this.” He raises his eyebrows.

“Sure.” So he had money, money. Double shit.

You get in and he stares at you, flickering between your lips and eyes. You could jump him now, but you had to wait. You liked the game.

“Food, bar, coffee, books, my house? What’s your wish tonight?” He holds your hand.

“Hmmm your house remember? Wouldn’t pass that up for a lifetime.” You remark.

He nods, setting the car in gear. You flicker your hands to his cigarette, he lets you take it and the drag of his menthol cigs felt smooth on your throat. Menthol and Frankie just make sense.

He’s playing Pink Floyd, blasting it through the dark streets of the city, and all you can do is smile stupidly. Your hair flying everywhere, hands perpetually finding the power of the wind, eyes closed.

You feel his hand sneak to your thigh, creeping to your body. Speaking to you through your mind. If his hand could do that now, what else would happen tonight? He moves further and further up your leg, eyes shooting open at him.

“What?” He turns to you, stopped at a light.

You grind your teeth, his hand was big enough to almost cover your whole thigh.

“You say something?” He smirks.

You wince as his hand lays on your skin, never moving but lingering so close where you crave his fingers.

A guitar ripple catches your attention from the speakers, he’s strumming to the beat on your thigh, and you can’t move.

“And we’re here darlin, what do you think?”

He parks in front of a modern brownstone, pillars glossing the entrance like a greek house. Bigger brownstone than usual. Everything about him makes sense, the expensive taste made sense, but this house was beautiful.

You take a breath, “It’s beautiful, Frankie. I couldn’t imagine anything different.” You’re scared to get out, but you itch to find what’s inside. He closes the top to the car, running around to open your door.

“Cmon pretty girl, don’t be shy.” He holds your hand out, he walks behind you up the stairs, punching in a code you looked away for.

“3570, didn’t need to look away baby, that codes yours.” He whispers to you, walking into his house.

Your first steps are met with roses, sprawled on the outskirts of the floor. His first floor, open for the world to see. Piles of roses, rose petals begging for your touch, he grabs your hips pulling you to him. “This is all for you.” You stand there with him, holding you. No man has ever gone this far to express something for you.

Grand piano deep into the room, kitchen with a marble island, champagne with two glasses full for you both, one staircase with golden spiraling leading to the top on the side. White columns and archways holding the house.

“And one person lives here?” You poke.

“Yes, but I quite enjoy it,” He lugs you closer to the kitchen to set your stuff down, “This is the house I dreamed of as a boy.”

“Well, it’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like this.” You ponder around like a child lost at Disney.

The back archway was all glass, you could see a light on outside to his backyard. His dining table to the wall of glass, next to the greenery. He had a conversational pit as his couch, dark green leather with faux fur overthrows. His TV was massive, and next to it were beautiful oil paintings.

He had shelves as a wall, lined with books and vinyls. Years of purchasing and collecting.

You take a peak, letting your hands run across the dusty spines.

“The Chakachas, João Gilberto…hmm Gerry Rafferty” You laugh, “Your music taste…is sexy Francisco.” He’s watching your every move.

“What can I say, I’m a cultured man.” He smugs a smile. He’s behind you, raining his fingers around your waist, you take Jungle Fever out of its sleeve, placing it on his record player.

“Just to set the mood don’t you think?” You snicker, “Have you seen Boogie Nights? You do look like a young Burt Renolds, scary kinda.”

“I get that sometimes, you like that darlin? Like broad-“ Kiss, “Hairy men?”

You dance with him to the music, listening to the women's moans of the song. Letting the dim lights glisten around his living room.

Moaning in his ear, grinding against him. Melting into his body.

“I love it.” You purr, “He was so sexy, don’t you think? That playboy pose he did made everyone in the seventies go crazy. I’d let him fuck me on spot if I was alive back then-”

He laughs, “Hmp, you wanna get fucked?” His head turns to the side, mouth curving open, with his eyebrows falling inward.

Your mouth falls, drooling over his voice. You hold onto his hair, sheething his body into yours, “Fuck me tonight Frankie, fuck me hard.” You whisper.

A lion raptures through his physicality, lifting you up to the closest thing, the Grand Piano.

“Frankie, we can't do anything here, I’ll break it!”

“I don’t care princesa, I don’t care, I’ll eat you out for hours and it could break, I’ll pay for another one.” He growls, “I need to taste this pussy now.” He set you down, looking you in the eyes as a rabid beast. His eyes were blown black, glaring at you for more.

He pulls your shorts down leaving you in just your shirt, your bottom half bare in front of him. “Mmh, no panties,” He chuckles, “What brought you to do this miel?”

“I figured there's no point, you’d rip them off anyway.” You shrug, head slating on the lid of the piano. Goosebumps rising on your body, the cold of the instrument touching your ass, air meeting the gloss of your entrance.

“Perfect fucking pussy, perfect fucking body. My girls so fucking perfect.” He spreads kisses down to your stomach, leaning when he reaches your mound. You grimace, you haven’t shaved in a long time.

“It’s okay baby, see?” He presses his hand on top of your sex, “Hair doesn’t change a thing how I feel about you. Hair doesn’t change a thing about how I want to fuck your brains out, okay?.” He kisses on top of your bush, shivering when you feel the wet of his lips with his mustache, nose bracing your clit. “I’m the only one that gets to touch your pussy like this, understand?”

You shake your head yes, “Only you can touch me.”

“Look at me, look at me while I destory your fuckin pussy.” He pushes your legs closer to him, eye level with your pussy. You wouldn't believe you’ve gone hours without this, without his tongue. He adamantly drives into your cunt, moaning as he shoves his tongue inside you.

He moans, the usual vibrations of his mouth floating through your lower abdomen. Cells inside your pussy sensationally fucked up from his mouth.

The tip of his nose would rub against your clit, he always managed to do it, but this time he was moving his face. His nose was creating circles against your nub, tongue squeezing the life out of you.

“Frankie- ngh- baby- feels so good- keep going-” You plead. Instead of grabbing his hair, you wrapped your hands around the edges of the piano, keeping your body from contorting due to the immense pleasure.

Your request followed through, he kept circling, shaking his head between your thighs. He would never let up, swallowing everything your cunt had for him.

“Pussy on my tongue, so tight. Pussy walls are quiverin for me baby.” He groans, dancing his hands to your stomach, legs dangling over his shoulders.

“Hold onto my hands dirty girl, I know you’re strong, cum in mouth.”

He raffles inside you more, squeezing his hands so your body doesn’t escape from his touch. Your clit suddenly buzzes, repeatedly shaking. Your walls come crashing on his tongue, he doesn’t stop pushing into you.

You scream for help, violently shaking against his hold. You couldn’t control your voice, begging for more. You can’t do anything other than yell because the movement form his tongue

“I’m gonna cum Frankie, I’m gonna cum on your tongue-” You cry.

“Give it to me, drip into my mouth.” His sinister base flows through your pussy, the room spins and you shriek against the piano. He sucks you clean from your orgasm, releasing his hold from you.

“Breathe baby, breathe.” The fuzziness of the lights die down, and his face comes in contact again.

“Your tongue- is fucking magical.” You drunkenly smile, “But I want more tonight. Please.” He pulls you off the piano, leaving a sweat mark on the top. You plant your feet to the ground, he holds your body up.

He chuckles, “Tell me what you want mi amour, what is it that you want?” He taunts.

“Fuck you, you know what I want.” You seethe.

“Ok,” He nods his head, “If you think I know, then fuck yourself for me. Go down to the couch, take your shirt off, and fuck yourself with your fingers.”

He had your full attention and you feel small, you’ve never done anything like this in front of a man.

“Go on princess, I’ll be right here.”

You faintly walk to his couch, slipping past the steps. You sit down at the edge of the couch, taking your shirt and shifting your bra off your chest. You’re completely naked in front of him, nipples begging for his touch.

“Play with yourself for me, pretty girl.”

You snake your hands down to your entrance, fiddling with your slick. You touch your clit, but it feels nothing like his hands.

“Frankie please, I need your cock.” You whine.

“You should’ve just said that, now look at you, yeah?” He walks to the steps, sitting down, “I need to you to cum on your fingers before I fuck you, I wanna see it.”

You hum, discoing your fingers on your clit, you imagine his cock finally slipping inside of you. What you’ve wanted since you’ve laid eyes on him.

“Push those fingers inside, think of my cock dirty girl.” He growls, looking you up and down.

You plunge your fingers inside, moving your hips against your hand. Wishing to have his thick cock inside you.

“Frankie, I’ll be so good, please. I want you inside me. I want you holding me down, I wanna be filled with you.” You mumble, terrorizing your hand.

“Wanna be a good girl for me? Fuckin tie you down, fuck you until soak me.” You shovel your fingers inside your cunt faster, imagining yourself restrained against his bed. His cock pushing into you at an unforgivable speed. “You’d like that huh dirty fuckin girl. Not able to move while I fuck your cunt, fillin you up til you feel it in your stomach.”

You slant your eyes open,” I want you to tie me up one night Frankie, be your-fucking rope bunny. Want you to use my pussy.”

“I wanna do everything with you, dirty girl, so perfect.”

You feel yourself tightening around your hand, his words making you interclose on your hand.

You would never be able to make yourself cum this fast because of your fingers, but because of him, because of his coaxing words, your own orgasm felt stronger.

“I can it hear baby, I see you leakin, cum for me, let go. Then I’ll give you my cock for as long as you want. Shove those fingers in for me.” He purrs.

You fall back on his couch, wavering your body to your orgasm. You gave a final push, laying stagnant from your orgasm. You watch him stroll to you from his steps.

He’s hungry.

“So gorgeous, so wet for me.” He smirks, “Now what do you want, so perfect and plump for me.”

“I want your fucking cock, I need you inside me Frankie.” You tremble.

He licks his lips, sitting down on the couch, “Don’t wanna do anything you’re not comfortable with pretty girl,” He moves your hair behind your ears, “Is this how you want me? Let me get a condom.”

You push him down, you should use a condom but you couldn’t be less botherd, “You could’ve fucked me in that bathroom and I would’ve cared less Frankie, fucking on this couch will be more than heaven,” And it is, “Don’t worry about a condom, I need to feel you bare.” He goes to object, but you shove your fingers to close his mouth.

Your eyes linger on his cock, he’s already swelling, “I wanna do everything with you Frankie, you could never make me uncomfortable.”

You close in to the crook of his neck, kissing him everywhere, praising him for making you feel so good, “I need you to fuck my brains out, make it hurt Frankie.”

Without blinking, he lifts you to his lap, placing your naked pussy on him. He kisses you sloppily on the lips, holding you close so you don’t fall, he growls possessing more of you.

“My beautiful girl, I’ve been waitin for this to happen, been dreamin of you sitting on my cock. I’m so glad we’ve waited, it’s gonna feel so good baby.”

You rub against him, letting your liquid leak all over him.

“I’ve been so good Frankie, I’ve been trying so hard not to think about your cock, when you were down my throat all I wanted was to be full of you everywhere.” And now-” You shimmy his shirt off, kissing his collar bones, rushing to his belt.

He flings it off slamming it to the ground, you look past it as it impacts the floor, making a hard whipping sound.

“Bet you’d like that naughty girl, fucking whip until you’re red. Tie you up with my belt.” You squirm against him, humping his bulge.

Images of Frankie whipping your ass with his belt, slapping your pussy, makes your brain short circuit.

He pulls his pants down with his boxers, flinging his cock out. You don’t remember it being this big. He was uncut and at least 8 inches. How could he fit inside you? The sight already making your pussy leak.

You rush your hands to his head, dangling your legs on his lap, pussy out for the world to see. You pull his foreskin back letting his precum bead down to your fingers.

“Feel s’good baby, fingers feel so good wrapped around my cock.” He grimaces.

You pump his dick, letting him grow against you, he keeps getting bigger and bigger. His tip was so pink, you wanted to suck him off like a lollipop. You wanted his dick down your throat. Embellishing in every way he can fill you up.

You lick his precum off your fingers, and he shoves his thumb in your mouth, “Suck.” He demands.

You enclose, treating his thumb like his cock. Swirling, letting every part of your saliva coat it.

He parts from you, soon attaching it to your pussy to moisten you up. He was going to stretch you so wide.

“Tell me if it hurts baby, please, I don’t want you to hurt.” He requests.

“I don’t care if it hurts Frankie, I need you to push me open. I need your cock.”

You shift until your lips are hovering over the head of his dick, waiting for him to pump into you. The tension was so thick you could barely breathe.

He carnally anchors into you, his cock magnetizing inside your cunt, the moment he surges into you, holding onto his shoulders stronger, you both gasp from feeling each other for the first time.

“Holy fuck, princesa you’re so tight.” He braces.

You try to move up from him but he attaches his hands to your hips and pushes you up and down. The air is eccentric and you’re so grateful you get to be so close to him, clasping on to his figure as he fucks into you.

He nips at your collar bone, lazily kissing you. Your hair disheveled from your body shaking.

“I love your cock, I love your cock. Oh my god- FuFuFuFuck.” You chant in his ear. The simplicity of having sex made you feel safe, this was more than magical. He was almost fucking your heart. He was so deep inside you, your mound was connecting to his base.

You loved when he was so dominant with you, you loved when he was in control, you loved Frankie.

“Fuck me- as hard as- you can. Use- my pussy.” You yelp.

The more you felt your pussy lips gripping onto his cock, the more you seized. The connection was beyond powerful. He aggressively slips into you, his tip touching that perfect spongy wall that would make you lose all will power.

“God darlin, love watchin those eyes roll back. Didn’t know you’d get this cock drunk baby. You love my cock so much?” He rasps.

“Spank me, please, slap my ass and fucking mark me.” You whine.

He lifts his hand, slapping your ass. He grabs onto your love handles, pulling you onto his dick harder.

“You like that? When my handprints on your ass? You want more?” He grunts.

You shake your head, and he continues, the sting firing your pussy up. His animalistic movements make you worship his soul, he matched your sex energy and you couldn’t be more thankful. You relished this moment, so grateful for Frankie.

He lusted over your tits, he slowed to kiss them, suck your nipples to hardened peaks. Somehow your heart hammered, watching him take care of every need your body craved, made you pussy twitch with his cock inside you. Watching his mouth wrap about your tits intensified your lust for him.

“I want you to do something for me,” He releases, “I want you to spell my name.”

“How-”

“Move your hips, move your hips with my cock still inside, ride me.” He stirs.

He intertwined his hands with yours, you back up from his chest preparing. He doesn’t lose your eyes for one second.

“F” You shake, his dick is everywhere inside your walls.

“R” You whine, the contact so slow and vivid, you could almost hear the colors off the walls.

“Keep going, that's it, just use that dick.” He coaxes.

“A” The tip of the A making his cock arch into you deeper than you could have ever imagined, you yell, soliciting for neighbors to hear.

“N”

“K” The ache in your pussy crying to cum, but you weren’t done. You knew you had to finish.

“I”

“E” You whimper, not able to sit straight any longer.

“Such a good girl, knew you could do it. My good fucking girl.” He kisses you, “I know what that pussy wants, I know she needs to cum. Wanna cum pretty girl?”

“Mhm, please Frankie. I-I was so good. I wanna cum on your cock. I’ll do anything, I’ll be so so good.” You plead.

His cock was intoxicating your brain, oxytocin so high you couldn’t think about where you were, only that Frankie was all you cared about in your life right now.

He aggressively hurls into you again, pinning your hands behind your back as he holds them in place. You couldn’t do anything but take his cock, you had to accept that he was gonna fuck you til you saw stars.

“You can do it baby, pussy’s already leakin all over me and the floor. She’s clamping around me. I wanna see that pretty face when you cum.” He finalized.

“Fran-Frankie keep going, I’m gonna cum I’m gonna cum,” You praise.

You couldn’t even process his words, half-lidded and half dazed, all you could focus on was your pussy devouring his cock. Him driving past you until you couldn’t hear. The power to force you knew your voice was giving out. You couldn’t touch him, but him holding your hands back made you grateful, your orgasm so powerful you felt as if you were gonna break his cock.

Your voice box cracks, you immediately fall against his chest, stagnant from movement with the only action you could do was breathe.

He lays there will you, wrestling his heart from fucking you so fast. You couldn’t open your heart, let alone walk.

He picks you up, he leaves his couch area and you sense he’s taking you upstairs. He saunters into a dark room, placing you on top of his duvet cover keeping the lights off. You couldn’t tell what his room looked like, but you felt like a vegetable. He came back to you, cleaning your entrance with a baby soft towel. He has to move your legs, you were unresponsive with the widest smile on your face, eyes slanted to only see that he was getting in bed with you.

He lifts the cover, tucking you in next to him. You snuggle against his chest, embracing your body heat, spooning into him. Your breathing falters, in sync with his.

He rubs his hands through your hair, making you fall asleep faster.

“I love you, mi amor.”

And that's the last thing you remember before sleeping off the best night of your life.

—

i love lady macbeth soooo much. looking into the meaning of her monologues are so powerful and she changed my thoughts on shakespeare 🔁🔁

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insomniac-101 · 6 months

Text

Here is some fanart I made to accompany the wedding fic I made for the lovely @hgracieeees for @tentoodaygiftexchange

A Union Of Timelines

Main Pairing: Tentoo/Rose Tyler Summary: A wedding fic with these two idiots in Scotland; need I say more? Word Count: 9,411 Chapters: 1/3

“Hold on–Doctor, be careful!” Rose whispers (yells) as he switches between clawing at her waiting hand and the stone ledge. Out of all the hasty and ill-timed decisions to pull on the day before their wedding, scaling her balcony was not one she thought him capable of, and for that, she could just about smack herself on the forehead for being so naive.

This is the Doctor she's talking about; of course, he’d do this!

“Shhh….tell the whole east side of Scotland now, why don’t you?” He whispers back, equally hasty but tinged with a wee bit more panic. She glances down at his feet; his slippers are slipping on the stone slabs– or rather, her mum’s bunny slippers are currently sliding on the slabs. She frowns. Of course, leave it to him to follow one impulsive decision with another.

‘I defeated the Sycorax unscathed in a pair of jim jams and a borrowed robe, Rose; what is one building going to do?’ The sheer cheek to say that when she told him this was an awful idea. She just about shooed him away with a blunt,’ A lot,’ but he was far too stubborn to hear reason– already three steps up the stone wall before she could so much as ready a few choice words of her own

Two things concerning the unscathed comment... One, during that specific incident, he did not, indeed, come out unscathed. In fact, his mere existence at all is due in part to the loss of a hand that took place on that day. Two, he is fully human now as far as it matters, so there is no repeat of number one in the case that something does indeed go wrong, and sorry for the cynicism, but she’d rather marry him as he is, not in a full body cast.

‘Oh, you worry too much. I’m great at climbing; some might say even extraordinary— everything will be fine,’ he had reassured her, again, big pleading eyes and all, when his flawless reasoning fell flat and she looked at him like he grew a second head. Didn’t take long after that, to drag her into another one of his schemes, with how utterly irresistible that pout of his is. Damn him for being so hard to say no to; otherwise, they wouldn’t be in this mess– with him clinging to her hand, feet sliding, while she does everything in her power to pull this daft man of hers up the stone ledge.

She could kick herself for this. Maybe then, Jackie would have reason enough to set both of them straight with a good smack upside the head. But above any genuine worry, also swells a fondness for his madness, and in spite of her better judgment, her love for him seems as blinding as it is all-encompassing, for it is that very reason that she pulls harder.

“Just heave with your back–good, that’s it. You must’ve been a rock climber in a past life, Rose Tyler. You have one hell of a grip!” He says in that manic, breathless way that is so him as he uses her desperate grip on his hands to muster up some sense of stability in his back legs.

She grunts out when his wriggling gets especially taxing on her shoulders , “Oh, I’ll show you just how good my grip is if you don’t get your arse–” but the rest of her threat remains unsaid when a swift switch of positions on his end, manages to get his body more than halfway up the stone ledge, and they capsize. Falling to the ground with a clap of dust that momentarily renders them a coughing heap of limbs.

You can read the rest of the fic here on AO3 :)

#tentoo x rose #tentoo #tentoorose #gift #gift exchange

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gravessyard · 2 years

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To Have Loved and Lost Ch. 3

Notes from the Crypt: I'm alive! I must apologize for such a long wait, after I recovered from being sick I fell into a slump, and then things with work began popping up and I was experiencing hella writer's block. I finally sat down today to finish this last chapter of To Have Loved and Lost and I gotta say this is the biggest chapter I've ever written, so I really hope you enjoy! This is going to be the last chapter of this series but I hope you look forward to future work! Chapter 1 here, chapter 2 here and chapter 2.5 here

Tags: GN!Reader, revenge arc, angst, fluff sprinkled in

Summary: You're in your villain revenge arc and prove to Jean and Diluc that you can be the worst thing that's ever happened to them

“Alright, here’s what I was thinking… Hit them where it hurts the most”

The night ended with a brief brainstorming session, the four of you throwing out ideas on how to taint the perfect reputations of the two most prestigious names in all Mondstadt, before the last call was announced by Charles and you’re forced to leave the tavern with the date of the next meeting. Kaeya walked closely beside you, shoulders almost pressed together while you silently pondered to yourself, thinking of further ideas for your revenge.

“You don’t have to stay, you know”, Kaeya’s voice broke you from your spell, your eyes looking to meet the side profile of the cryo user, who wasn’t looking back at you. You were so enraptured by your ache and bubbling desire for revenge that you had completely forgotten why you visited Diluc in the first place; you went back for your travel permits so you could return to Inazuma. In another lifetime you would have returned to your homeland, heart aching and the drive to just cry with your closest friends and eventually move on, learn to stop being lost in thought over the what ifs and the doubts that plagued your soul, eventually find someone else who would cherish you the way you deserved. This lifetime isn’t that however, and you could only smirk devilishly, stepping closer to bump your shoulder with the man.

“I know, but after what your brother said and did to me, I’ll be damned if I return now without doing something”, there was malice in your tone, bloodthirsty almost, but Kaeya of all people knew that your intentions didn’t match your voice. He still had to suppress a shiver that threatened his spine, sending a genuine smile in your direction instead. He stayed silent the rest of the way home, knowing there was no need for further talk, the last thing you both exchanged was a gentle good night along with a hug before going about your nightly routines and heading off to bed. You were going to need the energy for the long war you were about to bring to Mond.

The morning sun offended your eyelids when it snuck through your open curtains, making you scrunch your face and turn over in hopes of getting more sleep, but your other senses were also starting to wake up as you took in the birdsong outside the window, the gentle breeze flowing through leaves and the scent of pancakes and bacon. You opened your eyes slowly, convinced you were kidnapped during the night as it was rare for Kaeya to cook. Sitting up, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, legs moving to the side of your bed so you could stand up and stretch. Part of you wants to begin your morning routine of brushing your teeth and washing your face, but your stomach had better plans and guided you towards the kitchen, where your eyes widened slightly at the sight; Kaeya at the stove, still in his sleep bottoms and an apron that covered little of his bare chest. You learned very early on after moving in with the captain that he liked to sleep with little to no clothing on, and while he did offer to let you sleep in the same room as him, you insisted a guest room was fine since you didn’t want to end up embarrassing yourself if you got caught staring at his chest during bedtime. As much as you hate to think of it, Kaeya served as a good distraction when you found yourself thinking too deeply about what your relationship once was. There was more than one occasion where you would find your mind drifting to Diluc and then your vision would be blocked by a handsome, toned chest. There was something about Kaeya when it comes to those moments, as if he could sense your despair and used his charm and good looks to bring you out of that dark place. The sight before you, however, was just Kaeya in the rare mornings you both shared. You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and a sleepy smile on your face as you took in the way he flips the pancake he was cooking with elegance.

“If you’re going to just stand there, why not make yourself useful and help me set the table? I’m almost done”, his deep voice was pleasant to hear, he sounded as if he had woken up not too long ago himself. You hummed softly, moving from your place, and quietly setting up the table as he asked, setting down two sets of plates, glassware, and utensils just as Kaeya was finishing up his cooking and moving food onto plates. The morning was just comfortable silence, something you grew to appreciate as you felt it was the only time where your mind and heart were at ease, sitting here with the calvary captain enjoying some nice bacon, even if it was a little overcooked. You teased him about it while washing dishes, giggling at his feigned hurt reaction. With stomachs full and the morning becoming late, you and your icy roommate finally begin your routines of washing up and preparing for the day ahead, the ball of anxiety sits heavy in your stomach as you double checked yourself in the full length mirror that Kaeya owns, the bastard wont even entertain the idea of getting one for your room so you’re forced to use his while he’s putting his accessories on. “If you keep scowling like that, you’ll get wrinkles you know”, Kaeya chuckled from behind you, eye meeting yours in the mirror as you exhaled loudly, as if it would help calm your nerves.

“I know… Just have a lot of thoughts”, you mumbled, turning to face him. Clearing your throat, you reach out and begin to fix his shoulder pelt, not that it needed to be fixed anyway but the soft fur was doing an excellent job at grounding you. Kaeya refrains from voicing the sly comment that was on the tip of his tongue, he’ll tease you about wanting to touch him later when you don’t look like you’re on the verge of tears. Instead, he leans forward to press his lips right where your brows were creased with worry, smiling when he felt the muscles relax and your breath hitches. His hand comes up to wrap around yours as he moved his lips from your brows to your knuckles, placing a gentle kiss on each one before he gives you the softest smile you’ve ever seen. “It’s going to be okay, remember that you’re not doing this alone, and I’ll always be by your side until you’re satisfied”, his eye glints with something mischievous, and the romantic tension in the air morphs into something else as you pulled your hand back to slap at his shoulder, making Kaeya burst out in laughter. It didn’t take long to finish getting ready, meeting each other at the front door before doing your traditional routine of a tight hug, a crack of a joke and where to find the other for emergencies before separating outside, Kaeya going to the Favonius Headquarters and you returning to the tavern to meet back up with Rosaria and Venti to further discuss plans. You’ll relay whatever was said to Kaeya when he gets off work, but you knew you needed to set up a thorough plan if you wanted your justice to be swift and merciless. Before opening the tavern door, you rummaged through your bag, confirming the paperwork you had with you since before you even left home and taking a deep breath before finally entering Angel’s Share. Immediately your eyes landed on the pair you were looking for, a smile on your lips that lasted all but a few seconds, they appeared on edge. You didn’t have time to think why however as you looked over from their spot at one of the tables to the bar, where the one and only Diluc Ragnvindr was standing behind, accompanied by Charles. No one said a word, not you, not the men behind the bar, not your soon to be accomplices, and definitely not the passed-out drunkards at the other tables. Diluc stared at you, expression unreadable and like the smooth dickwad he was, resumed his conversation with Charles as if you didn’t even exist. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your own poker face intact as Charles tilted his head curiously at you, asking a silent question that you subtly shook your head at before walking towards Rosaria and Venti and sitting with them.

“This is bad… Who knew Master Diluc would actually be here today! Should we relocate?”, Venti whisper-yelled at you as soon as you sat down next to him, his question going unanswered as you reached over to pick up his drink and take a big swig out of it. You needed the alcohol to help steel your nerves and who cares if it was 10am on a Monday, no one bats an eye when Venti does his day drinking so who’s gunna fault you for starting just as early? “Just give me a second… I’m thinking”, you whispered back at Venti as you took another sip of his drink, cringing at how strong it was but you didn’t care, the poor bard had to practically wrestle his drink from your grip. “Hey, stop being idiots. He’s watching”, Rosaria whispered into her drink at you both, making you and Venti pause to look over at the bar and directly at Charles and Diluc, who were indeed watching you both wrestle for the mug. Diluc crossed his arms, unamused written all over his features and if you looked closely, you could see a faint scar on his cheek, right where you socked him the last time you saw him a few weeks ago. You felt the shortest moment of pride swell in your chest before it was snuffed out by anxiety, remembering why you were in the tavern in the first place and you were the first to break eye contact, returning your attention to your partners in crime. Diluc sighed, shaking his head, and resuming his conversation with Charles, while you made idle chit chat with Rosaria and Venti, refusing to acknowledge anything about your master plan while the very man you’re conspiring against is physically present. You listened to your bar mates dive into a story completely off topic, the alcohol seeming to affect all of you before your hearing blessed you with eavesdropping into Diluc’s conversation.

“We haven’t heard back about next month’s shipment from Ookami’s, and our current supplies are starting to dwindle, what do you suppose we do Master Diluc?”, Charles’ voice wasn’t loud, but with the lack of more active bodies in the tavern, it didn’t take much to pick up on the name he mentioned. It took a lot from you not to break out into a grin, recognizing the name immediately as it was something you were heavily involved in. Ookami’s is a rather famous sake house located in Inazuma, part of its appeal to customers was the anonymity of the owner that is said to work in the shadows, using the faces of their closest business companions to represent them in interviews and magazines. It took a lot of trial and error for the company to get to where its at now, going from a humble little sake house in Inazuma City to branching out to other nations that hold several warehouses and contracts. You’re rather proud of the work, leaving the warehouses to your business partners yet keeping the contracts of every tavern that asked to serve your goods, you felt like the most powerful being in Angel’s Share, being the object of Charles’ conversation. You knew it was only a matter of time before Diluc sent out another letter to Ookami’s, trying to get to the bottom of the sudden stop in shipment, which you absolutely did have something to do with. It was no rumor that you liked to work in the shadows, you rather liked the simplicity of your current life before it went to Hell. The spotlight wasn’t something that attracted you, you couldn’t see yourself doing these interviews or look forward to your page in magazines, so you left the task to those you knew were a much better fit to represent you. Of course, they never took the credit for themselves, always addressing you as Master Ookami and expertly redirecting conversation should it try to pry into your personal life and whereabouts. You were left to live your life as normally as you wanted, so when you visited Mondstadt to personally see how your wares were faring in Angel’s Share, a nation so far from home, you hadn’t expected to fall for the wine tycoon who still is unaware of how much power you actually had.

“I’ll send another letter today, and hopefully one of their representatives will actually respond, in the meantime just keep selling what we have”, Diluc huffs, clearly annoyed that his business was beginning to suffer a little, and you cracked a smirk at that. Two weeks ago, you sent an urgent letter to your partners, telling them to cease shipment to Angel’s Share until further notice and any letters addressed from Diluc should be redirected to you at Kaeya’s address, under no circumstances should he be made aware where his inquires are being sent to. You hummed to yourself, Rosaria and Venti going silent as you stood from the table, pointing your gaze to the door and after a few seconds they also stand, wobbling slightly towards the door and going back to bickering with each other. Diluc pauses, watching as you approach the bar with a sweet smile not aimed at him. “Charles… Be a dear and give me a shot of Ookami’s sakura sake?”, you purred, reaching into your bag for your mora pouch while your drink was being poured for you. Giving him a few coins, you picked up the glass, and while making direct eye contact with Diluc, downed the liquid in a single go and returned the glass to Charles with a wink. “You may want to think about switching to something else, as we’re experiencing… difficulties with our sponsor”, Diluc comments, tensing when you looked at him, or rather at his scar.

“From Ookami’s? Hm, wonder why, that sake is good stuff”, you feign a sigh, returning your mora pouch to your bag before bidding your farewell to Charles and leaving the tavern, returning to your tipsy friends, and guiding them to Cat’s Tail instead. You spent the majority of the day polishing up details of your revenge, giving Rosaria and Venti specific tasks that you knew they could execute flawlessly and only when the sun was beginning to set did you remember that Kaeya was getting off work soon and you rushed to finish the meeting, much to Venti’s relief after sniffling and sneezing the entire time. After making sure the drunks could actually walk themselves home, you hurried to the Knights’ Headquarters to wait for sir tall, dark, and handsome, only to interrupt what appears to be a sweet moment between Jean and Diluc. You felt bile in the back of your throat as you paused a little bit away from the entrance, noticing that Athos and Porthos were no longer guarding the front doors which gave them the needed privacy to share a kiss. You contemplated turning back, unable to face them together, let alone apart, but they already spotted you and were awkwardly stepping away from each other, as if they were still trying to keep their relationship a secret. “y/n? what can the knights help you with?”, Jean asks, putting on her acting grandmaster act that makes your blood boil, the way she still holds herself all high and mighty as if she didn’t have a hand to play in your suffering, in why you’re doing what you’re doing now. All logic went through the window the moment she spoke, and you opened your mouth to almost put your plan through the shitter if it wasn’t for Kaeya emerging from the doors, a tired look on his face that brightened up when he saw you. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting doll, thank you for coming all this way”, his voice broke through your tension, and like a true guardian angel, he takes his place by your side and drapes an arm around your shoulders, ignoring Jean and Diluc in favor of pulling you close to kiss your temple. Your eyes never strayed from the pair, watching how Diluc seems to ruffle at the act of intimacy, and how Jean is trying not to jump to conclusions regarding her calvary captain and her lover’s ex.

“What’s going on here?”, Diluc was the first to speak, choosing to call it out as he sees fit and his frown only deepens when Kaeya smirks his way. “Whatever do you mean? It’s clear to see my roommate came all this way to make sure I get home safe”, to really drive home the point, Kaeya moves his hand from your shoulders to your waist, and you had to fight the blush that was blooming on your cheeks, subconsciously putting your hands on his chest but not having the strength to push him away.

“That’s inappropriate, Kaeya”, Diluc glared at his brother, fist clenching when the cryo user only laughed in response. “Inappropriate? One would think you would know more about that than I do, Master Diluc”, Kaeya’s gaze darkened, and for once you felt the air drop in temperature around the captain, Diluc’s bold claim seemed to get under Kaeya’s skin, and he was struggling to keep his emotions and therefore his vision, in check. Acting quickly, you pulled away from Kaeya’s hold to start dragging him away, without a goodbye to the acting grandmaster and her dog. Kaeya followed without a struggle, the only noise from him was a huff as you took him home and pinched the bridge of your nose, not in annoyance with him but with yourself for almost blowing your own plan. “Hey, how about some wine?”, Kaeya takes your hands in his to lead you into the kitchen, where he wastes no time in pulling out a bottle of wine and a pair of glasses to pour it into. You set your bag on the table, nodding as you pulled out the paperwork you had with you and quietly thanking the man when he places a full glass in your waiting palm. You take a sip as you picked up the first letter Diluc sent out, the handwriting as gorgeous as the man himself as you read and re-read the contents as if you hadn’t gotten them memorized by heart. “To our friends at Ookami’s, I am writing to inquire about the sudden stop in shipment to the Angel’s Share, blah blah blah”, Kaeya began as he poured his own glass, earning a snort and a chuckle from you. Aside from your business partners in Inazuma, there was a very small number of people who knew you were the owner of the famous sake house, you chose to tell Kaeya of your ‘secret identity’ as it was a vital piece of information that you were going to use against Diluc, not to mention you couldn’t even begin to figure out how you’d continue to keep it a secret if you were having letters sent to his place addressed to ‘Master Ookami’. You thought of it as no big deal, you knew Kaeya wouldn’t go around Mondstadt boasting about some top-secret information about you, but you were unaware of how his heart flutters in the knowledge that you trusted him enough to reveal something that quite frankly, was pretty big in the alcohol industry. Not only did Diluc break your heart, but he possibly royally fucked his sponsorship over with Ookami’s, and it’s currently the number one name that’s bringing his tavern revenue.

“Come sit, I’ll bring you up to speed on what happened today”, you pull out the chair next to you as you sat down, patting the seat and giggling when Kaeya sits and makes a show of scooting closer to you. From his perspective, he can really see the hardworking individual that you are from the way you present things, laying out your master plan that you talked about with Rosaria and Venti, their roles and even walking him through his part in the plan, its clear to see that you put a lot of heart and thought into really shoving his brother and the acting grandmaster as far into the dirt as you can. It was endearing, if you ignored your want to absolutely destroy them the way they did to you, but it still brought a smile to Kaeya’s face as he studied your face through your presentation, absorbing every detail.

You gave everyone a rough estimation of two months before shit hit the fan, which was ironic since it took two months before you found out that the love of your life was cheating on you, but fate calls it karma. While you were working behind the scenes to continue stringing Diluc along with his missing shipments, your entourage were hard at work out on the streets. Like how many things start, a small rumor was all it took for your master plan to start everything planned. Similar to a seed, it was planted just outside of Cat’s Tail, a whisper here and there detailing sightings of Master Diluc and Acting Grandmaster Jean behaving inappropriately with each other around the city, and that rumor only spread like wildfire that Diluc was unloyal to poor little ole you, who most people knew you left your life behind in Inazuma to be with him. Jean grew suspicious much quicker than you thought after she tried to ask Kaeya if he had any idea of who started the rumors, which he could only shrug and say he was too busy catching up on paperwork to go out and catch whoever was starting gossip. “Can you maybe ask y/n if they’ve heard anything?”, she tried to ask, faking sincerity in her voice that Kaeya could only quirk a brow at. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t… Haven’t you heard? They went to visit Liyue days before the rumors began, so that’s evidence that they didn’t start them, don’t you think?”, he narrowed his eye at her, watching the way she deflates. He had a point, you weren’t currently in Mondstadt, part of your plan was to leave the city as soon as Rosaria began the rumor at Cat’s Tail so you could have a credible alibi and not have fingers immediately pointed at you, the scorned lover. No one needed to know exactly why you went to Liyue, but if a prying acting grandmaster really had to know, Kaeya was instructed to tell her that you were requested by a family member who moved to Liyue, even though you went not only for leisure but to see how your wares were doing at Third Round Knockout, sipping a warm cup of tea while you sat with Wangsheng Funeral Parlor’s consultant listening to one of his many stories. You listened without worry, knowing that your accomplices were doing their best to turn Mondstadt into your battleground, the rumors circulated, growing bigger with each passing day and with it, so did Diluc and Jean’s stress. Diluc has yet to receive a response from Ookami’s just as he had run out of their supply of sake, and with the rumors making their rounds around town, he found out from Charles that hardly anyone visits the tavern now, not wanting to be a part of any drama. Anyone that does stop by is either a traveler passing through, or a green bard who is allergic to cats and a tired nun who refuses to drink at Cat’s Tail without him.

Weeks went by just as similar, Jean and Diluc would wake and prepare for the day, only to be blindsided and left feeling uneasy seeing how the townsfolk would whisper and laugh behind their backs, no doubt adding more to the rumors that were already beginning to break away at their status. ‘Did you hear? Master Diluc was caught in bed with the acting grandmaster’, ‘Poor y/n, if they find out they’ll be crushed’, ‘The other day I saw a purple mark on acting grandmaster Jean’s neck, I wonder who that could have come from’. The stress was becoming too much for Jean as she sat with her sister in the cathedral one day, weeping into her hands while Barbara patted her shoulder in consolidation. “I just don’t understand why someone would spread those rumors, what have I ever done to deserve this?”, Jean sobbed, missing how Barbara furrowed her brows.

“Jean… I know this isn’t the best time, but I need you to be honest, here in front of Lord Barbatos”, Barbara began, and Jean lifts her head to hiccup and give her a questioning gaze. “Did you… sleep with Master Diluc while he was in a relationship with y/n?”, the words were whispered, but even through Jean’s sniffles it was clear, and to hear a question come from her own sister was enough to send a cold chill up her spine, her silence speaking volumes. “Oh archons”, Barbara teared up, the weight of revelation heavy on her as she stood, Jean following suit and breaking out into another sob. “Barbara wait, please! I… I can explain, I…”, she choked out, legs too weak to follow Barbara as she hurried off, whether to pray for forgiveness on behalf of Jean or because it was just too much for her to handle, Jean will never know. She breaks down, guilt and remorse overwhelming her as she sobs in the middle of the cathedral, thankful of its emptiness but still uncaring should anyone stumble upon her in her current state. She leaves alone, empty, and numb but with a clear mind and time to self-reflect, time to realize that no matter how you tell the story, what she did to you was unforgiveable and she knew what she had to do to begin to help make it right. So, when she sees Diluc standing outside of her abode, worry written all over his face when he spots her, she hopes that you can find it within yourself to forgive her one day. “Jean… what happened? Are you alright?”, Diluc reached out towards her but pauses when she reels back, hurt and disgust evident in her eyes that makes Diluc’s heart clench. “Diluc… I can’t do this anymore… I’m sorry”, Jean’s voice came out hoarse, but it was still enough to drive a spear through Diluc’s heart, crushing him bitterly. He remained silent despite the many questions running through his head, ones he didn’t need answers for when he knew exactly why she was breaking up with him; the rumors had a big part to play but he also knew that deep down, what he and Jean did to you was also eating away at her just as it had with him, he confirmed it after he saw the way Kaeya acted with you, protecting you as though you were something precious to him. His hand fell to his side, fist clenching as he watched Jean enter her home and promptly close the door, leaving him out of her house and her life. He returns to Dawn Winery alone and empty, the only sliver of hope in his life being the letter addressed to him from Ookami’s saying that a representative will meet with him within the next few days for further discussion.

Angel’s Share is bustling with life the next time Diluc comes in for a shift, surprising him greatly, only for his surprise to twist into anxiety when he saw that it was a welcome back party for you, who returned from Liyue the night before. At Kaeya’s insistence, he brings a number of knights with him along with Rosaria and a Venti who is tuning his lyre, prepared to sing a tale he heard of recently. Diluc doesn’t miss the way Kaeya sets his hand on your thigh while he laughs at one of the knight’s stories, nor does he miss the way your lips stretch into a smile, one that doesn’t look forced. He couldn’t help but stare at how plump your lips look, to briefly reminisce how they fit perfectly with his. “Ladies, Gentlemen… y/n~, I am now about to sing to you a recently popular tale, so sit back and enjoy!”, Venti giggles before he strums his lyre and dives into an overexaggerated telling of your story, names omitted so none would be the wiser. To the drunkards, it was the catchy tune that had them slinging arms around each other and singing the words after Venti, but for Diluc it was a nightmare. It was clear to him that the story was fabricated from the rumors, but for it to have gained enough popularity that there was a song about it, he didn’t know if he could save what’s left of his dignity by kicking the bard out. To add salt to the wounds, he caught the way you stared at him with a knowing look as Venti continued to sing your tale, and as if time were slowing down Diluc realized. ‘I hope something else comes along and ruins your life with Jean too’, those were part of the last words you exchanged with him after you punched him, and Diluc could only look on in slight horror as he realized that you were behind everything. The rumors, the citizens mocking him and Jean behind their backs, the bard currently finishing his song in his tavern, everything was your doing. He wanted to be angry, but who can he turn to when the acting grandmaster is also a victim of your heinous deeds and no one in town takes him serious anymore? He stands behind the bar, defeated as you leaned more into Kaeya and clapped along with the other patrons as they screamed for encores from the bard. Venti sang more stories well into the night, and the Knights began to filter out at Diluc’s call of last rounds, and as you bid farwell to Venti and pecked a kiss to Kaeya’s cheek with a request to wait for you outside, you’re left by yourself with the owner himself. Diluc frowns at you, wiping a glass as you sat at the bar and began to rummage through your bag, pulling out a single sheet of paper and presenting it to him on the bar. His brows knit together as he scans the sheet, recognizing it as the contract he has with Ookami’s and he nearly drops the glass he’s wiping.

“Y…You? You’re the representative from Ookami’s who’s meeting with me?”, he asks incredulously, and is even more puzzled when you tilt your head in confusion. “representative? Oh, no, I’m Master Ookami”, you chuckle as if he told you a joke as you watched his expression go from shocked to serious within seconds. It was clear he didn’t believe you, and you anticipated that as you reached into your bag to pull out the rest of your contracts, placing each one on the table as he looks over them, the serious glint in his eyes morphing into slight fear. You intertwine your hands together, chin resting atop your hands as you flashed him a mocking smile. “I’m here to cancel my contract with Angel’s Share following recent rumors, you must understand that whatever bad rumors you circulate will reflect on my brand, so we have to let you go”, you sighed, collecting your other contracts and placing them back in your bag before lifting the one you had with Diluc and tearing it in half right in front of him, then tossing the pieces at him with a frown. Diluc could only watch the paper float to the floor as he finally feels himself break under you, the nauseating sensation of defeat along with the helpless feeling of no one to turn to fills his empty shell with something he could only wonder was the same you experienced that night. He was left to wonder as you exited the tavern to a waiting Kaeya, a soft smile on his face while he takes you into his arms under moonlight. “Well, are you satisfied?”, he asks, chuckling when you pretend to think and flash him a mischievous smile.

“I’ll say this is the best ending I could have achieved, but I think it could be missing something”, you hum, eyes moving to his lips as he swallows hard. For a while you both knew something changed in the air, but with recent events it was hard to sit down and properly discuss these feelings. With your revenge arc coming to a close, you wonder if the next chapter of your life will remain in Mondstadt, a question that didn’t need a voiced answer as Kaeya leans closer to finally kiss you, your lips as soft as he dreamed.

Epitaph: This piece can also be found on AO3. Thank you guys so much for joining me on this journey, I've been keeping up with tumblr notifs while I was away and it was how this piece was still getting love in my absence that really drove me to sit down and finish this piece, so I tried to do it justice for you all <3 I do have ideas for other fics as well as a follow up to Birthday Poptart for those curious, so look forward to that!

Taglist: @seiiblue @crowleysthings @misas-toe-sucker @rendezvousedhats @gwennesy @xiaos-primordialspear

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact fic #genshin fic #genshin x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc #genshin diluc #kaeya alberich #kaeya #genshin kaeya #rosaria #genshin rosaria #venti #genshin venti #jean gunnhildr #genshin jean #kaeya x reader #tombtales

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