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meiieiri · 3 months

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water’s edge | 03

₊˚.༄ pairing: crown prince!gojo satoru x f!reader | setting: modern royal au

₊˚.༄ summary: in a world where titles define their fates, gojo satoru, the crown prince of japan, and his wife-to-be, face a tempestuous court of deception and schadenfreude. as they waltz on the edge of ruin, can their love endure the treacherous waters that threaten to pull them apart, or will the whims of the enigmatic chrysanthemum throne prove strong enough to drown them both?

₊˚.༄ author’s note: please don’t kill me omg this took too long. also, thank you to the warmest of messages, it really helped a lot. <33 i’ll see this through to the end. and thank you for sticking by me all this time. rbs are appreciated<3

₊˚.༄ warnings: physical harm/abuse, references to theft, adultery.

₊˚.༄ masterlist

He doesn’t want to wake up.

Not right now, when everything feels so real, so painfully tangible that he could make out her voice, her gentle breath, her plumose touch grazing his flesh as she leans in. “Satoru?” The woman in his dream whispers his name, and light seems to burst forth from that sound alone. It’s her; she iswas here, Satoru could almost touch her if he searched hard enough. If he imagined her face with just a little more effort, maybe she’d become real and not a figment of his guilt-ridden imagination. “Satoru, wake up. We can’t stay.”

I’ve missed you, I’ve missed who I could be when I’m with you.

Suddenly, he is brought back to light-hearted days when he used to sit underneath the imperial palace’s cypress, his fingers absentmindedly flipping through a book he found in the imperial archives while the love of his life sits beside him. His orbs gaze up at the chemtrails that paint the canvas of the turquoise summer sky.

He doesn’t want this dream to end. Shaking his head, he refuses her request the same way he did back then.

How cruel could she be to ask him to leave her again? He’s left her once, he wasn’t about to do it again. He hasn’t even begged for her forgiveness yet and now, she was telling him to wake up from this fantasy world his troubled mind created and to confront reality.

Don’t make me go, he begs her. Weren’t they happy here being together after being forced apart by those around them? Why would she want to go another minute without him being by her side? Did she still resent him? Stupid question, Satoru thought bitterly. Of course she does, after everything he’s put her through-

Suddenly, the hand that was reaching for her falls slack against his side. He doesn’t deserve her forgiveness, nor the very privilege of claiming to love her when every action he has ever committed said otherwise. Then, like a clock striking at midnight, the dream abruptly vanishes in a cloud of smoke.

Gojo’s eyes flutter open with a start.

“Shit,” he clutches his still asleep shoulder and sits up, looking at the empty room. How long has he been asleep? He looks at his watch — he’s an hour late — but he doesn’t really seem to care about the time. Immediately, he sends a quick text to Himiko asking where she is, only to receive a text with a picture attached of the cathedral. It seems she went ahead thinking it would only stir up more trouble if they arrived at the venue together.

Gojo’s mind wanders back to the dream before it is inevitably forgotten. Like a movie that he wants to watch over and over. He gazes at himself in the full body mirror with an empty gaze. All that is in his mind is to smash the reflective material into pieces, knowing that this is not the man his love wanted him to be: a prisoner in his own skin. When is all of this ever going to end? He huffs, slipping on his shoes and shrugging on his navy blue sash.

Not wanting to delay the inevitable any further, he turns on his heel to head to the cathedral reluctantly leaving the traces of his now corroding past behind for an even bleaker future with you as his wife.

“…Where’s Satoru?”

The entire nation is silent when only moments before, they were happily celebrating this supposedly joyful day. A reporter trains his video camera on you as you stand there motionless before an empty altar. Pretty soon, other members of the media who would get a huge scoop out of this travesty follow in his example as if you haven’t been humiliated enough by your groom who couldn’t even bother to show up at your wedding.

The empress who is seated right of the altar shoots you an apologetic look; she didn’t realize that Satoru could stoop this low. This wasn’t anything less of a transactional marriage and you thought that the prize that Satoru was promised he would get for marrying you would be enough for him to at least be civil with you. And here you thought that the earrings he gifted to you were a sign that things would eventually settle down.

Without warning, as the VIP guests start to chatter amongst themselves about how pitiful you looked, the woman you dreaded seeing bounds over to you, a solemn expression on her face. You would have believed that, despite the quiet rift between you and Chief-of-Staff Himiko Zenin, she felt a little sorry for you but her choice of wearing white on your wedding day says otherwise.

“Ms. (Y/N). I’m sorry there must have been a problem with the schedule, if you could follow me please—“ she begins to lead you to one of the cathedral’s private holding rooms before the grip on your hand tightens.

“—Suguru?” you looked at Suguru with a sad and confused expression. His heart clenches in his chest when he gets a good look of the damage Satoru dealt to you. He looks like he wants to throw something at the press for making a dogshow out of your agony — his hands are clenched into fists, his knuckles white — he takes a few deep calming breaths before he does anything rash.

At Himiko’s persistence, Suguru’s gaze hardens and he gently pulls you away from her as your feet remain planted firmly on the marble floor of the cathedral, leaving you frozen in place at Satoru’s betrayal. He hopes what he’s thinking isn’t true, but that’s proving to be a challenge since he doesn’t miss the hickey on Himiko’s neck which had been conveniently hidden by her long brown hair. Maybe she had a part in all this mess? She and Satoru had a history together after all and judging by the way you looked at her with apprehension — he doesn’t want to consider it — but perhaps you already knew that.

You are blinded by a camera’s flash and Suguru springs into action. Turning to the nearest guest, he politely asks, “Excuse me? May I borrow your suit for a second?” When the guest agrees, he shields your face with the Zegna suit to conceal you from the hounding eyes of the press who must be having the time of their lives right about now. Just one picture of the Crown Prince’s crying bride could sell for a good buck but not on his watch.

Not on his fucking watch.

Suguru looks at his father, and then his stepmother, and he couldn’t bring himself to be surprised to see them frozen in their places unable to do anything, much less act like they care. Their priority was to look good in front of all these cameras that were terrorizing you, not to comfort their future daughter-in-law. “Hey, it’ll be okay,” Suguru begins to urgently lead the two of you back to the car, his arm protectively around you while you hold the suit over your head.

“Will it?” You probably sounded like a child, begging for reassurance that all this was some sick dream but at that moment, it didn’t matter. You need someone - anyone - to tell you that everything will be alright. The question makes Suguru’s heart sink. In all honesty, he doesn’t know, but he didn’t need to make you feel even worse if he spoke the truth. So, he nods, choosing to lie to spare you from even more pain because he couldn’t count on anyone in this goddamn cathedral to do the same. He’ll have to talk to Satoru later on, this is a bad start to any marriage - no, bad would be an understatement, this is a catastrophic omen of what’s to come.

Pretty soon, Suguru requests that the roof of the car be reinstalled to hide your desolate expression. “Put it back up, please. The princess must be protected!” In his panic, he accidentally refers to you as a princess even before you are formally crowned Princess of Japan. The imperial household agents quickly get to work and pretty soon, Suguru helps you back into the car, putting up the tinted windows.

You can’t feel a thing. You don’t even know if you should harshly laugh at your foolishness or cry now that you’ve just been humiliated in front of thousands of people all across the world. Shrugging off the suit over your head, Suguru is surprised to see that you weren’t crying. You simply sat there, blankly staring at the ring on your finger.

“(Y/N)? Come on, say something…” He’s desperately trying to get you to express the tiniest bit of emotion, somewhat unnerved by your silence.

Turning to look at him, you wonder if he had been surprised by his brother’s behavior today or if a part of him expected this to happen. “He hates me.” You were numb. “I don’t know if you already knew but—“

“—-It’s arranged, I know.” Suguru scoffs under his breath, almost in disbelief that he didn’t figure it out sooner when he first heard about your engagement. Just when he thought his family couldn’t stoop any lower than they already were, they just had to drag a naive girl into their royal messes. His father and stepmother always preached about modernizing the monarchy but, their archaic ways such as actively banishing a woman of the imperial family should they marry a commoner and having some sort of proclivity for disastrous matchmaking through arranged marriages only say otherwise. “Fuck,” he buries his face in his hand, the thought of this predicament was making his head hurt.

You remove the tiara from your head, somehow feeling that a weight has been lifted when you do so. In a span of mere seconds, Suguru now appears exhausted. “I thought he’d at least wait until after the wedding to ignore me for good,” you muttered sadly. “That was fine, you know, him acting like I don’t exist; I know I never stood a chance…against her.”

You recall the way Gojo’s lips locked with Himiko’s in a searing kiss, and the way your heart seemed to disintegrate in your chest as you drove off that day, your eyes on the rearview mirror, heartbrokenly watching the both of them as you convinced yourself that you had no right to feel bad. And that is precisely what makes this situation so difficult; you feel like Satoru is cheating on you when in fact, he isn’t because he never once told you he loved you. You should be angry, furious, crestfallen at your fiancé’s betrayal, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

“Himiko,” Suguru nods in understanding.

He knows her well, and while he doesn’t exactly have any hard feelings towards her, he acknowledges that having her around in the imperial family is a misstep on Satoru’s part; he’s seen her many times before cajoling Satoru into ditching his royal duties for the two of them to spend time together, he has witnessed how she blatantly disrespects the emperor and the empress, he has also been made aware of the many lustrous gifts she has received out of his younger brother’s pocket.

“Yeah.” Your shoulders slump in defeat. “I never asked him to love me, I’m a lot of things but I’m not a thief.” You begin to shed tears as you try to convince yourself that you were perfectly fine with Satoru never loving you. You were so confused. Did you want him to love you? Are you now finding yourself craving for his ocean eyes to gloss over with an emotion other than hatred, an emotion similar to love?

Suguru watches you intently as these silent questions fly over your head. “You’d never ask him to love you but you love him…otherwise, why would you be on the verge of tears all the time whenever we talk about something remotely related to him if you didn’t?”

You swallowed harshly. “Is it so wrong though? To feel cheated on knowing we were never together in the first place?” You’ve been wondering about that since the day of the public announcement of your engagement and you’ve searched your heart for answers from the minute you wake up to the moment you fall asleep on your tear-stained pillow.

Suguru looks pensive for a moment, taking a deep breath before he speaks. “No, there’s nothing wrong with that. The heart wants what it wants, it’s pointless to even try to understand it.”

“But I don’t want my heart to want him.” You shook your head. You were going to be in for a world of hurt if you even entertained the idea of falling in love with Satoru Gojo. “He’ll never forgive me for it.”

A sad smile creeps up your face at the thought of Satoru admonishing you, one day, for saying you loved him even at his worst. Being in your early twenties, this was the age of recklessly falling in love, like a car speeding on an empty highway showing no signs of stopping, while you desperately look for the brakes.

A larger hand eventually finds its place above yours, his thumb gently rubs your knuckles that have turned white as you clenched them into fists to stop you from crying and making an even bigger fool of yourself.

“It’s not your fault. To be loved by another is a privilege most people overlook.”

You glance over at Himiko again, and then at yourself: you wore the dress but you weren’t the bride. You had the ring but not his affection. Feeling your gaze, Himiko looks at you for a brief moment and an exchange of sorts occurs between you and her: two women desperately envying one another. You had the vote of the people, yet, she had his heart. Almost in condolence, she offers you a curt nod before turning away.

“You are exactly the kind of girl he needs, (Y/N),” Suguru offers you his handkerchief to dry your tears with. “He’ll need you.”

“He’ll never want me.”

At exactly 2:35 in the afternoon, two hours and five minutes after you set foot at the chapel, Satoru arrives in a proxy vehicle, disguised as some foreign dignitary who arrived late. He steps out of the car behind yours and a collective sigh of relief washes over everyone. You craned your head back to see him dressed in the attire you first saw him in, a blank expression on his face as he was approached by his courtiers who instructed him on what to do.

Suguru looks in the direction of your gaze and he hurriedly steps out, squeezing your hand a final time as he does. A confused expression flashes over Satoru’s face when he sees Suguru step out of the bridal car. What was he doing there? According to the protocol sheet, wasn’t Ijichi supposed to be the one to accompany you today?

“Suguru,” Satoru greets his half-brother. “How’s she doing?” He suddenly asks about your well-being which causes Suguru to be taken aback for a second.

“She’s been crying but I think she’ll be fine now that you’re here,” Suguru informs him, looking back at the bridal car where you were. The older of the princes pulls the younger aside for a bit. “Where were you? She’s been waiting for more than an hour and—is that—?” He suddenly stops mid-lecture when he sees a bruise on the corner of Satoru’s bottom lip. Then, he recalls the hickey he saw on Himiko’s neck. “Satoru,” Suguru bites his lip to stop him from scolding Satoru.

What irks Suguru is that Satoru doesn’t even bother to hide it with the palm of his hand or even show a scintilla of regret. Did he really just fuck Himiko on the day of his wedding? “It was a farewell gift,” Satoru shrugs. “Besides, I’m here now, does it really matter?”

“Yes, it does,” Suguru pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’ve no idea the amount of trouble you caused (Y/N) today, how are you even going to begin to make it up to her?” Not like Satoru plans to make it up to you. In his eyes, you should be on your knees thanking him for showing up at all.

Satoru clears his throat, fidgeting with his left epaulet. “I did nothing wrong.” He believes every word he says. He did nothing wrong, he has nothing to make up for when it comes to you. He never betrayed you, there isn’t a relationship to ruin in the first place. “Himiko did nothing wrong to her and still, she’s suffering the consequences of my actions which shouldn’t be the case since, if I can remember correctly, if it weren’t for her intervention, if she hadn’t stepped in at the last second, you’d be visiting your own brother in jail.”

“Well, if you deserve it, I’ll even bring some snacks,” Suguru counters, earning a harsh warning glare from Satoru. He takes a second to steady himself before continuing. “Look, Satoru, what you did that night isn’t something that’s easily made up for like your little affair with Himiko.” Gojo scoffs in response to that. “You didn’t just hurt our family this time, or that man you brutalized, you hurt the entire nation. And you have to at least make some effort to clean up after yourself—“

“—By making my life a living hell without the woman I love? Forced instead to be with the likes of her? How is forcing the two of us to marry for some shitty publicity stunt any more evil than everything I’ve done in the past?” Isn’t that what they all thought of him?

“—She’s not doing anything evil, she did nothing to hurt you—“

“—She did everything to hurt me by forcing me into this marriage, ripping me from the future I dreamed of with Himiko, so you don’t dare make her out to be some saint because she isn’t.”

A hush descends on the two brothers: one who’s made it his life’s mission to despise you and one who’ll vouch for your integrity. The two stare each other down, wondering how it was possible they shared a father yet they couldn’t be more different. Perhaps, it’s the fact that Suguru was never the empress’s child, rather, he was born of a common woman – a reluctant homewrecker, which would explain, at least to Satoru, why he’s so protective of you. A whore’s son will defend a whore.

Geto doesn’t see you step out of the car, you must have heard the commotion outside the car when Satoru arrived. You blankly stare at Satoru for a good minute who seems to have just finished up a heated discussion with his brother. He looked angry, but why should that surprise you? Some of the imperial household staff encourage you to re-enter the car until the prince has made his way to the altar, but you couldn’t listen, you were simply at a loss for words.

He was here.

Almost three hours late, but he's finally here.

Satoru scowls when he sees you. He’s tried his best to be civil with you, but from what he’s heard from Suguru just now, you were clearly turning everyone against him. Sensing his anger, you tilt your head down for any crime you could have committed whether knowingly or unknowingly, but it seems more like the latter since he always finds something new to hate about you, an act that came so effortlessly to him.

“I don’t want to hear another word about (Y/N) from you.” Satoru turns his wrathful gaze to his brother who simply matches his death glare with a bored and disappointed look. Suguru lets out a tiny ‘tch’ at Satoru’s command, his hatred for you is an established fact, after all, and not just some rumor he’s heard from a jittery bride — the very sound of your name was like nails on a chalkboard to him.

Suguru couldn’t believe this. Satoru has been the one willfully hurting you ever since the two of you had that under-the-table arrangement with the empress yet, he had the sheer nerve to act like he was the one being wronged. While he understands his brother’s sentiments, you didn’t want any part in this in the first place, and whatever has driven you to this point of gambling your entire future on a man who doesn’t love you must be something that could persuade you to put up with this torture. “Is that a request or a command?” Suguru says flatly, the two men watching you get briefed by the floor director like some actress for a commercial shoot.

“A command from your emperor.”

“Fortunately, you’re not the emperor yet.”

Suguru promptly leaves to take his place beside you, nodding to Satoru to get moving and head to the altar already. You shakily take Suguru’s hand, waiting for the doors to open to restart the ceremony. “He looks angry.” You watch your groom storm to the back of the cathedral. Suguru wants to kick himself, the last thing you needed was Satoru to take out his anger on you once the two of you are alone.

“Sorry, I’m sure it’s just another one of his tantrums. He’ll cool down.” You sincerely hoped that was true. The last thing you need is Satoru getting even with you by suddenly walking up to Himiko and obscenely reciting his vows to her, though you were unaware that the two of them had indeed made a vow to continue loving one another earlier today whilst you were being publicly humiliated by domestic and international media for your failure of a wedding day.

You watch as Himiko scurries to the back of the cathedral as well, and you feel bile rise in your throat at the mere thought of what they could be doing behind closed doors. “Don’t even think about it, (Y/N). Don’t,” Suguru says firmly. “Just keep your eyes forward, and concentrate on taking one step at a time.”

“I can’t. I just can’t.” You can’t shake them out of your head no matter how hard you try. “The more I try to forget about them, the more I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Think of something else,” Suguru suggests. “Anything else.”

The last thing you need right now is imagining Himiko and Satoru obscenely murmuring whispers of love to one another, assuming that that’s the worst they could do. But from what Satoru told him earlier, Suguru might need an anti-hypertensive, enraged at the thought of those two literally screwing one another while you were out here on the verge of an emotional breakdown waiting for a groom who can’t be bothered to show up on time.

“Five minutes ‘till the doors open. Everyone, please stand by now,” Ijichi peeks out of one of the cathedral’s entrances, eyeing you particularly, as the great double doors slowly creak open, again revealing the majestic interior of the cathedral. Ijichi holds up a hand, signaling you to wait for the Trumpet Voluntary to start playing. You hold your breath then at the sound of the first chord, you and Suguru begin to walk down the altar.

It’s a long way to the front but the sheer distance between you and him couldn’t dull Satoru’s inimitable contrarian beauty, a prose you simply can’t understand. “Don’t look anywhere else. Focus on the act, focus on what you can see,” Suguru reminds you but really you get what he’s trying to say. Don’t go looking for Himiko.

And the only person you can see right now is him, Satoru, the man you are falling for at such a dangerous acceleration that if you were in a car on the freeway, you’d crash and burn in a heap of scorched gasoline in your crazed attempt to outrun these shittyass feelings.

You gulp as you continue on. How is this taking forever? Step by step, you are racing to your own demise. You just know it. But the doors are closed behind you, forever separating you from your past, there is only him. A bitter future.

“Suguru,” The two of you reach the nave of the cathedral, and just a few meters away from the altar, you stop on cue and wait for Satoru to lead you up the steps, towards the altar where the Archbishop of Tokyo is standing. “Thank you for being there for me.”

“Well, it was either me or Ijichi.”

Satoru begins to descend down the steps and a look of annoyance passes through his features when he sees you and Suguru chuckling to one another like you’ve been friends for the longest time. But then again, he can’t really seem to complain, having you off his back because you’re all too busy being chummy with Suguru doesn’t seem to be too bad. Satoru casts a glance towards Himiko and then over to you.

“Let’s go.” Satoru takes your hand and you are surprised at how he doesn’t seem to have any intention to drag you towards the archbishop. Nodding, you follow your groom’s lead. The ceremony is foreign, no other imperial couple has ever been married in a Christian ceremony so, even Satoru, who has been born to know all the imperial customs, is left trailing off and even, stuttering at some points during the entire affair.

Eventually, the two of you tide miraculously through it and in just one hour, you aren’t (Y/N) (L/N) anymore, but instead, you are Princess (Y/N) Gojo, the wife of the crown prince. The usual kiss between the bride and the groom is omitted to preserve the usual custom for an imperial Shinto wedding. As the archbishop and the other key religious figures in Japan gather behind you and the prince, your maid of honor, Utahime, solemnly bows before you with your bouquet in her hands. You turn just a bit to greet her and something catches Satoru’s eye now that your veil was no longer obstructing your features.

It can’t be.

The Tokyo Philharmonic Orchestra begins to play the recessional and you and Satoru bow before the emperor and empress, traveling down the aisle, your hands interlocked. Somewhere halfway through to the cathedral doors, you feel Satoru gripping your hand a little more aggressively than usual. “Satoru?”

He’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Surely, you wouldn’t. How on earth did you find those earrings? Unless, someone had snuck into his room and nabbed it while he was asleep earlier. Something in Satoru tells him that you probably didn’t know and that you probably didn’t do it intentionally — stealing from him — but that doesn’t excuse the fact that you’re wearing it like it’s yours when clearly, it didn’t belong to you.

Satoru never thought he’d see it again, having kept it locked up in his drawer of memories past their due date to be completely forgotten. He never thought it would ever see the light of day again. But here they were, still in mint condition, reminding him of everything that has slipped through his fingers and everything he has destroyed thus far.

“Not here,” he hisses, glaring at you and that’s enough to get you to shut up.

Satoru has been indifferent up to this point, and sure, he may be seeing someone else but he is normally civil with you, with a few occasional snarky comments muttered under his breath, but he has made every effort to keep a handle on his emotions. Not once has he ever seemed as angry as he is now. But the scary thing is, you don’t even know what you’ve done other than wrench him away from Himiko and even that was unintentional on your part.

You make it to the car and he slides up the privacy shutter so the driver doesn’t hear a word. It’ll take a few minutes for the convoy to get moving en route back to the Asakusa Palace, the imperial palace that had been originally built to serve as the crown prince’s chief residence before it was turned into a state guesthouse by the National Diet.

Settling into the seat next to you, Satoru’s breaths are ragged trying to control himself from choking the life out of you. His voice comes out, a dangerous edge to it. “Where’d you get those?” He asks this question like one wrong move or syllable could cost you dearly.

“What—?” And as expected it does when you don’t reply quickly enough, not exactly knowing what he’s talking about.

With one swift movement, Gojo abruptly yanks off the earring off your right ear causing you to gasp in shock as it shatters in his grip. “I-I don’t know what you mean…!” you pleaded with him.

“You little thief,” Satoru stares down at the crushed earrings for a while before flinging it onto the car floor. “When did you steal this? Who did it for you?” He hits you with a fusillade of accusatory questions and you whimper in fear. Just like a kicked dog, Satoru rolls his eyes at you. “Answer me!”

“I didn’t steal them!” you protest your innocence. “Please, you have to believe me!”

Satoru punches the window of the car next to you, cutting off any more of your pleas, they’ll fall on deaf ears anyway. “Did you order one of the servants? Maybe Ijichi? Who stole this for you?” He asks again.

“N-no one I swear!” you inched away from him.

A huff escapes his lips when he realizes he isn’t getting anywhere with this and Gojo finally relents after what seemed like an eternity of him holding your head underwater. Your breath comes out in shaky huffs, utterly afraid. You look even uglier now with that expression, he rolls his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that.” The monarch sneers at the horrified look on your face. “Like you don’t deserve any of this.”

You wanted to speak against that but he’s right. You should have known that every one of your actions wouldn’t go unpunished on Satoru’s watch when, as he unfailingly implies every time the two of you are within ten feet of each other, you’ve single-handedly ruined his and Himiko’s entire lives.

“You’re right.”

He feels a wave of annoyance at how pliant you sound, struggling to remain calm after lashing out on you like that. He looks over at you, his mind filled with a mixture of anger and just a tiny bit of remorse when he sees your pained expression. He’s aware that what he did was out of line, and while he normally gets into spats with others, he’s never one to lay a hand on a woman much less even think about doing something of that magnitude.

“You know, when you ran away that night when we met at that restaurant, you should have gone straight home.”

That way, you’d be spared from all this despair. He almost sounds regretful for what he did and what he will continue to do, but he really didn’t mind if he never knew your name in the first place.

“That would have made the most sense, yeah.” It’s quiet in the car despite the thundering cheers outside. Satoru looks pensieve, his lips pursed into a thin line. “But there weren’t any taxis that night and the empress is pretty agile for her age.”

“What did she say? Did she offer you money?” Satoru casts you a disgusted look.

You wonder if you should tell him. You doubt there’d be another chance for you to tell him the real reason you agreed to marry him. There won’t be another vulnerable moment like this, you just know it. Satoru deserved to know why you’d kill yourself over and over again in your ill-fated quest to love him, to accept him.

Somehow, you can’t help but feel you’re so dishonest compared to him, at least, Satoru had the decency to be casually cruel and brutally honest about Himiko to you, making no attempt to hide the plain fact that he doesn’t love you and he never will. But at the same time, you don’t want to make things even more difficult for him by burdening him with the truth, so you settle on maintaining your silence. He could believe whatever he wanted to believe, not that he’ll ever change his opinion of you.

“You’re not even gonna deny it?” Satoru sneers.

“Even if I do, you’ll never believe me.”

How could he? All you’ve done and all you will do from this point on is lie, lie, lie. Lie that you married him without accepting any personal favors from the empress, lie that you don’t deserve half of what’s happening to you right now, lie that you don’t feel physically sick when you see Himiko — the very woman you’ve trampled on, the woman closest to his heart — lie that everything will eventually turn out alright, lie that you’re not dying every second a hate-filled syllable falls from his lips, lie that you could ever stop this mad freeway chase of loving Satoru Gojo.

But the freeway is empty, your opponents long gone, the stoplight to doomsday is perpetually green, and all that’s left is a husband that wishes you were dead. You dejectedly take off the earrings’ pair and set it down on the seat in between the two of you, returning another thing you unwittingly stole from him.

Eventually, the convoy reaches Asakusa Palace and on the historic balcony of the 19th century Western-style palace, he takes your hand as the members of the imperial family wave to the crowd, thinking this day to be a hard-won triumph. Satoru meets your lips for the first time, you are left taken aback at the forced gesture, but there is warmth in that eternal split second that you felt his hot breath against yours, maybe some affection even.

But then again, you are known to be a delusional optimist who still believes her mother who has been in a coma for almost three years now will one day wake up.

Satoru pulls back his eyes that have been wide-open during the kiss scanning over your face and he sees nothing. Nothing at all worth loving. You were just simply you, and that in his eyes, is your biggest crime. You don’t show up to the wedding reception.

That same night, Satoru doesn’t show up to your room either. Instead, he sits in the dark of his office, staring at the earrings he recovered from you under the yellowish light of his desk lamp. His fingers brush over the ruined bejeweled earrings; no one will be able to use it now. Somehow, he feels he should apologize to you for scaring you like that. You should, he could almost hear her say.

He sighs deeply, looking over at his ashtray. Not bad, he expected he would finish an entire pack tonight, but he’s only made it to four before he started coughing. She never really liked his habit of smoking anyway.

The door to the study creaks open breaking the silence, but Satoru doesn’t look up, only one person would be brave enough to intrude in his office past dark. The crisp floral smell of top-shelf whiskey fills the air. “Got you something to drink.” Himiko sets down the glencairn on the desk, planting a kiss on Satoru’s lips which he surprisingly doesn’t return with equal devotion much to her dismay.

Her eyes then fell on the jewelry piece Satoru was holding. “Did someone else go into my room today?” That alone could explain how the highly-revered Golconda diamond earrings fell into your hands. It wouldn’t be hard to steal since the night before, whilst he was searching for a lousy wedding gift he could give you, he accidentally left the earrings outside its dedicated safe.

Himiko stiffens at the question, but she quickly recovers her composure. A hysterical woman like you could never hope to win Satoru over the same way she has. “I don’t know, I didn’t see someone on my way out,” Himiko shrugs.

“Did you at least see them still sitting on my nightstand on your way out?”

“I didn’t notice.”

Somehow, Satoru finds that a little difficult to believe but he knows she wouldn’t lie to him. “I saw (Y/N) wearing these earlier today.” He places the earrings back in their respective box, tucking it away, and making a mental note to chuck it in the safe later tonight before he goes to bed.

Himiko’s throat runs dry as she wracks her head for a response. “Oh?” She moves to sit on his lap, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. “I’m guessing you got pretty angry.”

“I did,” Satoru sighs. “But I just can’t wrap my head around one thing.”

“What’s that?” Himiko asks softly. Her heart was pounding in her chest. The last thing she needs is for her little plan to get Satoru to be angry with you on your wedding day to backfire. “Look, haven’t we already established that she’s a golddigger? Are you really that surprised she stole them?”

Satoru shrugs.

It doesn’t add up.

He understands that you might have shown interest in it, and maybe it did cross your mind to steal them, but how could you have known these pieces existed? It’s not like you ordered one of your ladies or retainers to specifically steal the Golconda earrings, it just didn’t make sense to him, even then, some of your retainers might not even be aware that such a thing existed especially since most of them have only been recruited by the Imperial Household Agency recently.

“Look, why don’t we just forget about it, hmm? We could sneak out and go for a drive somewhere. I’m sure (Y/N) won’t mind,” Himiko presses open-mouthed kisses up Satoru’s neck, her hand coming up to fondle him through his slacks. “Come on, you need some cheering up.”

“I’m not driving at this hour, we could stay here.”

Satoru’s eyes flutter close at the sensation, his hand gripping Himiko’s slender waist, allowing her to continue her ministrations. He did need some cheering up after today’s dismal affair. But at the same time, he can’t stop his thoughts from wandering away from how Himiko is unbuttoning his shirt. Damn it. Satoru can’t focus on her, it’s like his normally calculated mind descended into a valley of fog.

Himiko grimaces at Satoru’s lack of attention. She quickly stops her futile attempts at intimacy. “Just stop thinking about them. You got them back, didn’t you?” she says, a hint of frustration laced in her voice. “Besides, even if (Y/N) did steal them, it’s not like you’d have any use for them anymore.”

Something stirs within Satoru and before he could stop himself, a flash of anger appears on his usually calm and flirtatious demeanor when he’s with Himiko. “That’s not the point. You know very well what those earrings mean to me.”

He’s shared it with her before. She knows everything about him, more so than anyone who has ever known anyone else on an intimate level before. There exists a version of Gojo that only Himiko knows, and keeps like a sacred prayer. Which is exactly why Satoru is livid about her downplaying the importance of everything he keeps in his safe, his personal mausoleum of the warmest spring of his youth that he would have longed for still had it not been for Himiko.

Himiko, for once, allows herself to be vulnerable even if for just a bit. And a look of pure hurt takes over her lovestruck demeanor earlier. But that is instantly replaced with anger. Anger at Satoru for continuing to hold onto things that should have no meaning anymore because she’s here now. Loving him is a dangerous game, what else could she expect from a man who is caught between the past and the future?

“Forget it.” Satoru stands up, shrugging Himiko off his lap. “I’ll find out one way or another. You should go home.”

Himiko painfully picks up on the fact that Satoru told her to ‘go home’ and not ‘head to bed’, meaning she won’t be sleeping with him tonight. Satoru runs a hand through his mop of white hair, calling Ijichi. He knows it’s late but Ijichi should still be in the premises right now.

“Ijichi? I’m heading out.”

“What now? It’s two in the morning. You still have a ribbon-cutting ceremony to go to with the princess tomorrow.”

“Just get over here right now, I won’t take long.” He’ll still show up to that stupid ribbon-cutting at the Tokyo University of the Arts with you tomorrow. Speaking of you, he should probably refrain from doing such things again. He begins to think of ways he could, in a way, make it up to you for his behavior but that doesn’t mean you’re out of the frying pan just yet.

Just because he’s suspicious about these circumstances doesn’t mean that he believes your desperate plea earlier that you didn’t attempt to steal an integral part of his past. No one could replace the person whom those earrings first belonged to. Not even the woman standing in front of him right now, the object of his desires, the source of your pain.

“What? You’re going there again? Don’t tell me you’re still hoping she’ll answer for once.” Himiko’s nostrils flared in anger at the thought of Satoru leaving.

“Don’t push it, Himiko.” Satoru takes a dangerous step towards her which causes her to somehow, for the first time in her life since she met the prince, shrink in fear. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You’re already hurting me!”

What Satoru says next is like a bullet being fired through a thin sheet of glass.

“(Y/N) is enduring far worse than you and not once have I heard her complain or throw a tantrum like you’re doing now.”

Satoru leaves immediately after, ignoring Himiko’s angry cries. He comes back at about eight o’clock the next morning to see your newly framed wedding photo shattered on the floor next to a crumpled up picture of another person whose name Satoru couldn’t even speak without bursting into bitter tears midway.

How ironic it is to be married on the day he lost her.

water’s edge taglist: @dummyf @kentokaze @esthelily @mandysfanfics @userbananababes @strawberryjimin13 @snowprincesa1 @naturallyspontaneous @kooromin @gojoist @dcvilxswish @13-09-01 @peachipeachy @iluv-ace @sawendel @helloitsshitzulover @jjuniescuderia @ackermendick @starrylibras @timetobegone @heelariously @idktbhloley @jeon-blue @8aif9sgbsnn @purpleguk @rednezvous @yeseurri @floralsightings @yoheyyosup @dontwannacry04 @dragonladyy @darling006 @ethereally-lyann @nikitopia (still open!)

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nakachuchu · 9 months

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Protector | Gojo Satoru

SYNOPSIS: Your life was far more important than Gojo Satoru’s life, but no one understood why.

READER: female

WORDS: 1.9k

WRITTEN: 07/24/2023

NOTE: I never read gojo's arc bc I hate flashbacks so things aren't the same. I cranked this out on a whim.

EVENT: part of the Sly Fox Collab

Before the Satoru bloodline, there was the L/N bloodline. The very blood throbbing within the layers of your skin and flesh stood above all other bloodlines.

Despite not being as gifted as Gojo Satoru, you were still above him. Your very existence — your very breath — meant that the Jujutsu world was still standing.

If the beacon of light was struck down, there would be no saving others.

Your clan built the Jujutsu world and it was your great ancestor who closed off a portal that allowed demons — not only Curses — to roam free in Japan, destroying everything in their paths.

Gojo Satoru was your bodyguard — your protector since birth. Despite being born before him, he was still the person who was supposed to put your life above his.

However, as the first to hold both the Six Eyes and Limitless, he was an anomaly all on his own. His clan didn't like the idea of him having to sacrifice himself to protect you, should the time come for it.

So, his parents taught him one thing when it came to you: "Her life means nothing compared to yours."

Wherever you went, Gojo was supposed to go.

Gojo Satoru hated you. He despised your very existence. You were the reason he was on a tighter leash. He was already being watched since birth, but now he was being watched more heavily and had to watch out for others.

Gojo attending the Tokyo Jujutsu Tech School was only for him to learn responsibility and how to hone his abilities.

It was a struggle to allow him to attend, but a simple "Yes" from you allowed him to attend. You were his master and he was your dog.

Because of your approval for him to attend, you attended as well. There was no better protector than Gojo, so you had to stick with him.

Your clan didn't want you to leave the confines of their estate, but they had no choice.

You were the one who held the seed of life within your very soul. Your death would unleash unimaginable death into the world, causing destruction to the very earth itself.

Only high members of your clan could know the true power you held. You may not have been as strong on the outside as Gojo Satoru or Geto Suguru, but you held your own power.

Despite Gojo being your bodyguard, you were the one who followed him everywhere. You never spoke to anyone unless spoken to, and so you became his shadow.

He had no shame in voicing his opinions on the annoying shadow trailing after him day after day, but you had never reprimanded him or told anyone how he treated you.

It made no difference to you. As long as he kept you alive, you didn't care. Your clan members only listened to you because of the power of life you held.

You knew that if you were just another woman, they wouldn't listen to you.

You currently sat on a table, swinging your feet back and forth as you watched Gojo and his classmates bicker.

You envied him. You wanted to have friends as well. You wanted to go out after school to grab ice cream and gossip about crushes.

You let out a soft sigh and fell back onto the table, laying on it peacefully as you looked up at the blue sky.

"Are you alive?" Gojo questioned.

You turned slightly to look at him.

"Oh," he said, disappointed. "Good, I guess."

You turned to look back at the sky.

He stared at you for a moment before shrugging and going back to his friends.

The school day continued until it was time for Gojo to drop you off at home. He lingered around campus as usual, enjoying the idea of you having to wait on him because you couldn't walk home alone.

He was feeling quite smug about it — he felt smug every day — until a random dog entered the school grounds and bit him in the ass.

"OW WHAT THE FUCK — "

Geto and Ieiri burst out laughing, unable to contain their laughter. However, you were also unable to contain your laughter. You let out a snort before covering your mouth with your fist and clearing your throat.

Almost immediately, Gojo rounded on you after swatting the dog away.

"Did you just laugh?"

"No."

"You did. You just laughed at me."

"Not at you. At the situation," you responded.

He narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Come on."

He grabbed your sleeve and dragged you away, pulling you like an owner would pull their dog.

Gojo had never seen you laugh before. Who knew it would take his pain for you to laugh?

Since that day, he was always trying to make you laugh. He wanted to see what kind of person you really were. He wanted to know if deep inside you were just like him.

You were put in an unimaginable position, just like him. What were you thinking on the inside? Did you really like the life you were born into? Did you wish you were human instead? Ignorant of the Curses and death around you?

Geto and Ieiri exchanged glances at the scene in front of them: you and Gojo were laughing together.

A month shortly after the dog incident, you and Gojo had been more open around each other. He was more comfortable with your presence and didn't think of you as his shadow much.

You were more like an extension of him, always going places together. He even started walking you home right after his classes so that you would have enough time to stop by a place to eat sweets.

Today, the four of you would be going to a cafe together for the first time. It was your first real-time spending time with Gojo's friends. You usually left him alone when he was at school since you didn't want to bother him.

His life was much more difficult because of you and you felt responsible for the heavy chains wrapped around his neck.

You and Gojo walked side by side while Geto and Ieiri walked side by side in the front. The two would casually turn around to talk to you when the chance arose.

The atmosphere was fun and relaxing. It was your first time having a small group to spend time with, but of course, the happiness wouldn't last.

Before Gojo could even comprehend what had happened, your body was already on the floor and a warm splatter had formed on his cheek.

He didn't even notice Geto shaking his shoulders or Ieiri shaking while holding your body in her arms.

The bullet went straight into your head.

"Where?" he whispered. "WHERE?" he shouted, pushing Geto off him and frantically looking around for the culprit.

Gojo ran off to look for your murderer, leaving Geto and Ieiri alone with you.

But, that was exactly what the group of culprits wanted. They were silent and invisible until the very end.

One masked man pulled Ieiri off you, while the other dragged your body toward him. Before Geto could attempt to do anything, a skilled assassin appeared before him.

Geto was forced to fight for his own life while watching the culprits get ready to take your body.

"Let me go!" Ieiri shouted as she kicked around with one of the culprits.

"GOJO!" Geto screamed, knowing his friend would hear him.

Gojo appeared a few feet away, cursing his inaccuracy under the stressful situation. He frantically looked between his two friends struggling and your limp body being thrown over an assassin's shoulder.

Before he could even take a step, your body jerked and the screams of the assassin you were draped over alerted the other culprits.

Your supposedly dead body had taken a chunk out of the assassin's neck. Your hands dug into his body, clawing at him through his clothes as you spat out the chunk of flesh.

The assassin dropped you onto the floor and he scrambled away from you in fright, holding his hand against his neck.

You dropped to the floor on your hands and knees. Your bones cracked as you slammed a hand onto the concrete.

You turned abruptly to look — blood in your eyes — at the assassins who were fighting Ieiri and Geto.

The three teenagers were frozen in fear. You looked rabid — like a zombie covered in blood.

You slammed your other hand down onto the concrete. Cracks formed in the concrete, shaking the earth as the assassins attempted to scramble away from it.

Despite having a bounty on your head, no one knew the true reason why you were so important. They just knew you were important enough to have Gojo Satoru protect you.

A large monstrous hand shot out from one crack, while shadow-like tentacles shot out from the other one. The assassins screamed in agony as they were pulled under by the demons.

The "seed of life" within you was the ability to control those in the underworld. That was why you were so important.

Your very existence was the barrier between the underworld and the real world.

With the assassins gone, the cracks closed and repaired themselves. It looked as if nothing had happened, except for the blood that stained you and Ieiri's clothes.

You slowly got up to your feet and wiped your face with the sleeve of your jacket. The bullet lodged in your head pushed itself out and the hole repaired itself.

The three teenagers were silent.

"I died once before," you said quietly.

A tear rolled down your cheek.

"I got hit by a car when I was seven. I was walking home from school. And when I died, I saw things. I went to where those things were and I was in so much pain. Everything hurt. Everywhere hurt."

The more you continued to talk, the more it turned into sobs. You couldn't control your tears. You tried to stop them by rubbing your eyes raw, but your sobs turned into cries as if a child was crying.

"And I — I came back an hour later in the arms of my mother. I couldn't stop shaking and screaming. I tried to kill everyone who got near me. I — I didn't know who — who I was or where — where I was — "

Gojo walked the distance between you two and hugged you, smothering your head in his chest.

You wailed like a baby, clutching his school uniform into your fists. You refused to let him go and he wouldn't dare to let you go.

"Go ahead," he said to his friends. "I'll see you later."

Ieiri and Geto glanced at each other and nodded before walking home together. Geto wrapped an arm around her shoulders in comfort.

"I — I don't know if I can die," you said, muffled. "But each time I do, it hurts so much. It scares me. I hate it. I hate what I see. I'm damned to eternal hell."

His hand cupped the back of your head, large and warm.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Apologies were hard for Gojo. He hated showing vulnerability and sincerity, but he couldn't imagine what you had been through.

"I should have been more careful," he said. "I'll take better care of you now."

Gojo Satoru now understood why you had to be protected. His parents were wrong. His life wasn't above yours. You were far more important than him, but they would never understand that.

He would protect you until the day he died.

#jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #slyfoxcollab #slyfox collab

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oneforthemunny · 11 months

Text

can't hurry love |older!dilf!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: a little blurb about older!dilf!eddie and reader adjusting to life as parents, which includes learning to have quickies where they can.

contains: domestic fluff. age gap relationship. reader is thirty-three, eddie is forty-nine. dad!eddie x mom!reader. fluff and smut. minors DNI 18+. quickie p in v sex.

Eddie was sure if he heard 'Let It Go' one more time he was going to scream, rip his hair out and shove it into his ears so he didn't have to hear the song ever again. He thought Strawberry Shortcake was bad, but it was nothing compared to this- a new level of hell that Delilah insisted on playing on a loop over and over and over. He figured it was probably because of her new Elsa dress, a costume blue replica of the character's that came with all the accessories- including a very tangled and tattered wig that you were "fixing". He had Wayne to thank for that, the old man could never say no to either of his grand babies.

Eddie was going to make sure he put the idea in Lilah's head to make Poppa watch the sing-along version the next time he dropped her off, give him a taste of his own medicine; but he knew deep down Wayne wouldn't mind.

"Delilah," You called carefully, padding into the living room with a basket full of her clothes on your hip, ready to be washed from the week before. "I think it's time for us to go lay down."

Eddie cringed, the soft whimper of shock, rounding eyes and a pout that made his heart lurch in his chest, followed by the expectant whine, loud and shrill. "Noooo..." Delilah stomped her foot. "No, Mama, we're not done with the movie!"

You looked at Eddie, lips pursed. You knew he'd cave if she begged too much, and you wanted to stop it before it started. "Delilah," You warned lifting a brow. "You gotta have a nap, baby. You'll be so mean and cranky if you don't."

"Daddy, tell her no." Delilah whined, climbing into Eddie's lap, curling into his chest. Your lips twitched, biting back a smile. You wanted to be irritated, but you couldn't. Three years old and already knew exactly how to play Eddie so he'd bend to her every whim. You wished you were surprised, but between you and Brielle, she was bound to learn the ways of the women around her.

Eddie's eyes softened, cradling her head into his chest, stroking her soft curls. He looked up at you pleadingly. "Just a few more minutes," He said, face melting. He looked down, Delilah's tiny fist rubbing her eyes as she fought back a yawn, easing into his chest and relaxing under his touch.

You tsked, lifting a brow at him. "Eddie, we talked about this." You warned quietly. You had been trying for weeks to get Delilah to go to sleep on her own, starting to ween her out of long snuggles and holding her until she fell asleep. She would start school in only a few years, and didn't need to be coddled like that and make it worse on herself.

Eddie had been less than thrilled. He loved nothing more than cuddling with his baby before she went to bed, reading her a story, his readers perched on his nose doing animated voices that riled her up more than soothed her. Often, especially if he was working at the shop late, it was the only time he got with her. He was so pouty when you talked to him about it the first time, petulant with huffy grumbles and protest, but he knew you were right.

"Just give us a few minutes, please?" Eddie's face contorted into a small smile. "The troll songs about to come on, then we'll go nap after that. Right, Pickles?"

Delilah giggled, half her face still resting on her dad's chest, her eyes still trained on the movie. You narrowed your eyes at him. "Fine, I'll go start this load and then you're going to take a nap, missy." You pointed at Delilah, who huffed and whined. Eddie's gruff, soothing voice peppering words and kisses into her hairline.

You dumped the clothes in, bending over to see a pair of your panties had dropped between the washer and dryer. You shimmied your hand down to snatch the clothing piece, blushing and rolling your lip between your teeth when you held it in front of you. It was a lacy black pair, part of a set you bought for Eddie's birthday, that you must've dropped, seeing as it was still covered in your release and his, dried and crusted on the black fabric.

Your legs squeezed together at the memory. You'd taken Eddie to the bar, meeting all his friends for his birthday, even bringing a cake to share at the small booth you rented out, everyone drunkenly serenading the birthday boy. The real surprise was when you got home. Madeline had offered to watch Delilah for the night, ecstatic to see her niece and spend time with her, so you had the house to just the two of you. As soon as you'd shown Eddie the lingerie set, he'd bent you over the arm of the couch, pounding into you relentlessly, not even bothering to take the panties off.

That had been over two weeks ago.

The shift from fucking each other anytime you wanted to with no worries, to having to sneak and worry about being interrupted by the baby monitor or tiny feet padding to your room was a hard adjustment for both of you. Even for Eddie, who had done it once before, it was still hard.

You poured the detergent in, tossing your panties in the wash, before starting the machine. You placed the basket on top, lips twisting in thought before walking back into the living room.

Delilah was heavy lidded, curled into Eddie's chest nearly half asleep when you stepped in front of the TV, hands on your hips. "Nap time, sweet girl." You cooed, turning off the television.

Delilah cried, angry and irritated, burying her face in Eddie's chest. "No, Mama, no!" She wailed, clinging to Eddie tightly. "Tell her no, Daddy!"

"I don't think that will matter, baby cakes." Eddie snorted lightly, running a hand down her back. "You know Mama's the boss lady around here. You better listen to her."

You bit back a grin, shaking your head at him. "Lilah, let's go. C'mon, Mama will go tuck you in."

Delilah cried, fat, crocodile tears streamed down her little red face. You knew it was probably from exhaustion more than anything else. She always got so cranky after lunch. "I not tired!" Delilah lisped, her 'r' sounding more like a 'w', and it made Eddie's heart swell, holding her closer to his chest, pressing his cheek against her head sweetly.

"Here, baby, I'll come lay with you ok? Just until you go to sleep, and then when you wake up we can play with your toys some more, ok?" Eddie cooed sweetly, avoiding your hard gaze.

"No," You said, shaking your head. "I'll go put her down, and I need your help in the bedroom, please." You eyed him carefully.

Eddie's brows knitted in confusion, twisting with a questioning look. You blinked, eyes flickering to your room down the hall. "Just go wait for me, please." You grit though your teeth. "I've got a really bad itch and I need you to scratch it, please."

Eddie's eyes flashed in confusion before widening, bulging in realization. The euphemism wasn't great by a long shot, you were trying to talk in code in front of your toddler, who was more interested in crying and screaming than whatever you two were discussing. Eddie blushed, mouth running dry. He pressed a quick kiss to Delilah's cheek, muttering a small promise that soothed her a bit before her nap, then handing her off to you.

You looked at him over the top of Delilah's curls, nodding down the hall before going into her room.

Delilah went down fairly easy, too exhausted from the constant running and excitement of the day to whine and protest too long. You'd tucked her in before sitting outside her door to make sure she stayed in her bed, listening until her little cries turned into sniffles then silence, the noise machine drowning out her little snores. You peeked in the room, illuminated by the soft glow of the night light and the sun peeking through the drawn curtains, before tip toeing down the hall to yours and Eddie's room.

Eddie perked up when you walked in, eyes lighting up when you shut the door behind you. "Did you get her down?" Eddie asked eagerly, standing up.

You nodded, shimmying out of your sweatpants and pulling your shirt over your head. "Yes," You muttered, feeling his eyes gawk at your bare body. You didn't wait for whatever lewd and suggestive comment was on his tongue, pressing yourself against him, your lips catching his, tugging him in deeper and deeper into you.

Eddie's hands found the small of your back, calloused skin skating down towards your ass, cupping and squeezing the fat of it until you moaned into his mouth. He dropped lower, hands tucking between your legs, swiping through your wet folds. You could feel him smirk into your mouth.

"Dirty girl," He tsked, pulling his shining fingers out with a dimpled grin. "What's gotten into you, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, huffing and reaching for the band of his sweatpants. You could see his growing erection already tenting the soft fabric, rolling your hand over his cock, squeezing it lightly before shoving his pants roughly to the ground.

"Shut up." You muttered with an eye roll, feeling his arrogant grin on you, mouth watering at the sight of his cock, thick and veiny, practically touching your nose. You wanted to bury your face in his groin, smother his dick with wet kisses, that's how much you missed it.

You pumped him a few times, silken skin soft in your hands. Eddie groaned, tipping his head back and you huffed. "Be quiet, you'll wake her up." You pouted, swiping your tongue over his tip.

"Then don't do that-fuck." Eddie groaned, hands finding your hair, gripping it lightly. You swallowed him easily down your throat, hands gripping his hair thighs to steady yourself, bobbing up and down on his shaft. "Shit, bunny, that-that's so good, but I need to be inside you."

You pulled off him with a small pop, eyes lifting to his in amusement. You wiped the back of your mouth with your wrist, his hands guiding you to stand up. "Never thought I'd here you say that." You smirked.

Eddie snorted with an eye roll. He smacked your ass playfully, hard enough to have you yelp and squeal, thighs rubbing together for friction. "Just get on the bed." He muttered. "Let me scratch that itch." He grinned.

You blushed, turning and climbing onto the bed, crawling into a table top position. "What? I didn't know what to say." You laughed with a small shrug, bending your front half to sink onto the mattress.

Craning your head to look over your shoulder, Eddie smirked, eyes rolling over your body, your presented ass and glistening pussy, ready and needy for him. You wiggled your hips, ass jiggling in front of him.

"C'mon, hurry up, before she wakes up and interrupts us, again." You groaned, watching him pump his length before situating himself behind you. "Gotta be quick."

Eddie exhaled slowly out his nose, smirking and rolling his tongue over his bottom lip. "I gotcha, bunny, I know." He grinned. "I'll get ya there, just slow down." He swiped his fingered over your folds, pushing his pointer finger into your sopping hole. You shoved your face into the mattress, muffling your loud, desperate moan that tore from your chest.

Eddie moved, positioning himself behind you. "Ready?" He asked, and you nodded. Eddie pushed in slowly, cock splitting you open, the burn from the stretch of his length against your walls made you whine, simmering out with the familiar mind numbing pleasure that always left you complacent and dizzy.

Eddie groaned lowly when he bottomed out, hunching over so his bare chest was pressed to your back. "Holy fucking shit, bunny." He ground his hips against the meat of your ass. "Been too fuckin' long, baby. Way too fuckin' long."

You moaned when he pulled out, hips snapping against yours, a rhythm building and pleasure pooling deep in your belly. You knew you'd be cumming in no time, the overwhelming pleasure mixed with the fact that you hadn't had him in so long, your legs were already beginning to shake, abdomen clenching and fists grappling at the sheets.

Eddie huffed, hot breath on your bare shoulder blades, pressing sloppy, wet, open mouthed kisses to your hot skin, nuzzling the scruff of his beard into you. "God, fuck, 'm not gonna last long." He warned, hand snaking between you, fingers expertly finding your clit, rubbing tight circles that had you crying out.

"Should be a fuckin' crime to not fuck you for as long as I did, shit." Eddie hissed. "A pussy this sweet? And I've gone too long without it, haven't I?" Eddie cooed into your ear, a little taunting and mean. Your legs clenched around his hand. "You've just been a little pent up, haven't you, bunny? So needy for me, and I didn't even know, huh?"

"Fuck," You whimpered, tears pricking your eyes. His hand on your clit pressed down harder, cock jabbing your g-spot so hard you were sure you'd be spilling over him in no time. "Too long, 's too long." You babbled.

Eddie felt his stomach clench, cock twitching deep inside your velvety walls. His hands gripped harder on your hips, thrusting deeper and harder, sloppy and sharp thrusts that took your breath away. "Fuck, baby, I'm gonna-" Eddie's fingers worked faster on your clit, jaw clenching when he rocked harder into you, bed squeaking, mattress springs creaking with every harsh snap of his hips.

You whimpered, the pleasure building so closely you could feel yourself tipping closer and closer towards the edge of ecstasy. Eddie could feel you clenching, his hand still working on your puffy, sensitive clit, thrusting harder, while his other cracked down on the side of your ass, a resounding smack that left you crying out- a bit too loudly- a final thrust sending you reeling falling into the mattress with a fucked out cry.

"Thank fuck-ugh!" Eddie groaned, his own cock spilling deep inside you. He moved slow, pushing farther and farther into you until you'd collected every drop of him. His head fell forward, curly tendrils tickling your back, his hot breath ghosting over your skin.

You could feel him, warm inside of you, filled with every drop of his rather large load. Eddie rested his cheek, stubble skin pressed to the skin of your back, eyes closed and breathing in your scent, calming and grounding while he caught his breath.

You grinned, eyes fluttering at the feeling of him, his weight on top of you, still buried deep inside of you. The house filled with an odd moment of silence, the ceiling fan above you spinning was the only sound other than the labored breaths of you and Eddie. If you listened closely, you could hear the very faint sound of Delilah's sound machine, muffled to a small buzz down the hall.

Eddie moved his hand, tucking it so it cupped your cheek sweetly, tilting to bring you closer to him. He didn't say anything, slotting his lips over yours in a tender, sweet kiss, full of love and passion, like after a date night and a few glasses of wine. You smiled, his forehead against yours as you moved closer to him, content and basking in his embrace. He left you warm from the inside out, bubbly and happy, full of joy that he was yours; that this was your life together, a life you created that was far sweeter than anything you could've ever imagined- even if it started out a little unconventional.

The chirping sound of the washer singing and ringing rang through the house, signaling the the wash cycle was done. You sighed slowly, eyes meeting Eddie's through a glassy gaze. "I think I better go switch them over." You muttered, your lips brushing his, nose touching. "And you better go smoke now if you want to, before she wakes up."

Eddie sighed heavily, lips brushing against yours in a gentle peck, before he pushed himself up, groaning and the creaks and clicks of his joints and bones. "Agh," He hissed, pulling out of you slowly, his release falling in a puddle underneath you.

"Ed," You huffed, lifting your ass up farther to try and keep anymore from spilling. "Now I have to wash that too."

Eddie smirked, grabbing a wash cloth out of the bathroom and wetting it before coming back. "Sorry, baby." He muttered, wiping you slowly. You shifted, rolling over onto your back while he finished cleaning you, sucking in a breath at the sensitivity between your legs.

Eddie settled himself back between your legs, rubbing against your ass suggestively. "Think she'd stay down for another round?" He asked, scanning your naked chest.

You scoffed, pushing him back lightly by his sternum. "Please, we better not test our luck." You rolled your eyes, sitting up, legs hanging over the side of the bed.

You stood, bending down to shimmy back on your discarded sweatpants. You could feel Eddie's blistering gaze on your ass. "Besides," You smirked, biting back a smirk. "You couldn't get it up for a second round, geezer." You teased.

Eddie's jaw ticked, scoffing challengingly, arms crossing over his inked chest. You laughed, putting on your shirt with a small blush. "Alright," Eddie's tongue rolled on the inside of his cheek, eyes narrowing lightly at you. "I'll remember that, baby."

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck, lifting on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "'M just kidding." You giggled, batting your eyes lovingly at him.

Eddie's hands snaked down, cracking against your sweatpants clad ass before gripping your waist tightly. "You wait until tonight, bunny. We'll see how many rounds I can go." He growled threateningly, but his eyes twinkled playfully, lustfully and alluring.

You broke apart, gathering the blanket from the bed in your arms while Eddie got dressed. He caught your waist when you passed him, arms full of the blanket, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, your head tipping back and reeling under his touch.

"Love you," Eddie muttered, kissing the tip of your nose. He fumbled in his top drawer for a cigarette and his lighter, winking at you when you dreamily repeated the phrase back to him, feeling airy and gooey, like a school girl with a second period crush. He still made you feel so important, so loved and adored.

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sailor-aviator · 2 months

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Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Twelve

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Content Warnings: Panic attack, Mentions of dog attack, Tense Daggers, Arguing, Skipper sneaking away, Cursing, Monster appearance, Crying, Begging, Murder confessions, Execution, Gunshot, Descriptions of blood. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 4.5k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

When you were little, your grandmother had a dog. It was a sweet thing, always eager for pets and treats. You always liked that dog, but the dog tended to be a bit skittish.

You remember walking into your grandmother’s living room one day, no older than five at the time, and seeing the dog - Mitzi you think her name was. You had walked up to her, paying no mind to the fact that she was sleeping, and you stuck your little face by her to greet her. You hadn’t meant any ill by it, but the dog had snapped at you anyway, drawing blood and a screech from your tiny lips. Your parents and grandmother had come running into the room, finding you in tears and Mitzi trying to console you.

Of course, you knew that it hadn’t been the dog’s fault, but it didn’t stop you from shying away from her every time you saw her after that, afraid of the teeth of the otherwise sweet as could be creature that always happily greeted you.

Now you stood on the boardwalk, the ringing in your ears drowning out the laughter and chatter around you, sending you spiraling into a panic as you came to terms with what had just happened. You knew that it hadn’t just been Mandy or Jake to sing to you, but you had allowed yourself to be lulled into a false sense of security, sure that Mandy had been the one to kill the others.

After all, she had tried to kill you.

Your breath came out in ragged gasps as your body went into panic mode, your fingers and toes growing numb as you continued to stare after the space where Cole just stood. He had been the one to tear Mandy apart, but why? To protect you? Why had he killed those other girls then?

In order for a sea person to claim their chosen mate, they have to drag their partner down, down, down beneath the waves, cutting them off from air until they’re to the point of death.

Your breath caught in your throat. Had he been trying to claim them? Is that why he had been singing to you? To drag you beneath the waves of the ocean as well? Your head whipped around to the darkening blue just passed the rails of the boardwalk, the thunderous sound of the waves crashing against the shore sounding more ominous with each passing moment.

Skipper.

Your breathing picked up once more, your hands shaking as you froze, vision becoming pin points as you fought to remain standing, your knees threatening to buckle.

“Skipper!”

A hand grabbed your shoulder and you let out a terrified shriek, drawing the attention of several people around you. You whipped back around, tears in your eyes as they met familiar blue.

“Skipper,” Bob murmured, brow furrowing as he took in your trembling form. “What happened? Are you okay? Where’s Jake?”

Your eyes darted around the crowd, several people glancing over at you with hushed whispers and concerned looks. You let out a choked sob as you finally realized that you were safe. For the moment anyway.

“Bob,” you whimpered, a breeze alerting you to the fact that your tears had long since spilled over. Your bottom lip trembled as the tension finally broke, and you threw yourself in his arms, sobs wracking your body as he held you.

“Skipper, what happened?” He asked again, firmer this time as he ran a comforting hand over your back.

“It was Cole,” you managed to get out, pulling away to look at him, shaking your head frantically. “It wasn’t Mandy. At least, not all those other girls. He dragged them down and something happened, and-”

“Honey, slow down,” Bob said, gripping your shoulders and leaning down to look you in your eyes. “Take a deep breath, can you do that for me?”

You nodded, following his lead as he took in a deep breath through his nose, holding it for a beat, and then letting it out through his mouth. He had you repeat the process a couple more times until you stopped shaking, some clarity returning to you.

“Okay, good,” he smiled, rubbing your arms. “Now tell me what happened.”

“I ran into Cole,” you started again, “except that I didn’t know it was him at first.”

You stopped, pursing your lips as you stared at your best friend.

“Bob, he sang to me.”

“He sang to you?” Bob balked, eyes growing wide as he looked around. “Where is he now? Has he been singing to you this whole time?”

“Yes,” you nodded, taking his hand. “This whole time we thought it was just Mandy, but Bob, it was him too. He’s been calling to me since I ran into him that day at the tilt-o-whirl. He’s the one that’s been killing all of the girls.”

“Why would he do that?” He asked, more to himself than to you. You gripped onto Bob’s forearms, drawing his attention back towards you.

“It’s his frenzy,” you murmured, the pieces clicking together the more you thought about it. “Jake told me that the longer a sea person goes without taking a mate, the more dangerous the process becomes. The frenzy causes sea people to lose their control right?”

“Right,” Bob answered hesitantly, the wheels in his head turning as you continued on with your theory.

“He’s losing control, Bob,” you breathed, looking past him and back towards the water. “He doesn’t have a mate, and he’s trying to take one, but he keeps losing control and killing them. He’s going to keep going until he finds someone to be his mate.”

“Not someone, Skipper,” Bob frowned, worry shining bright in his eyes as he looked up at you. “You.”

“What?” You blinked, confusion sweeping over you.

“He’s been calling for you, Skipper. Ever since he laid eyes on you, it’s been you that he wants. He’s not going after anyone else,” he hissed, hand grabbing your forearm and scanning the crowd wildly. “We need to find Jake and the others. Come on.”

Without waiting for a response, he started dragging you through the crowd, the both of you searching wildly for your friends.

“There!” You shouted at him, pointing to your right towards the haunted house attraction. You saw Bob let out a sigh of relief as he pushed through the crowd with you in tow to stand before your friends.

“Hey!” Nat chirped, smile dropping when she saw the two of you looking worse for wear.

“Woah,” Reuben said with a whistle. “What’s up with the two of you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Which can’t be because we haven’t even gone through the haunted house yet,” Mickey grinned, pointing at the building behind him. Nat rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to the two of you.

“What happened?” She asked, eyes searching yours. “Where’s Jake?”

Before you could answer, a hand came up to tug you away from Bob, the bespectacled man moving to protest until he saw who it was, relaxing only a fraction.

“There you are,” Jake drawled, placing a kiss to your temple. “You disappeared on me.”

You looked up at him, and his demeanor instantly shifted from easygoing to alert.

“What happened?” He demanded, eyes glancing at your friends.

“We were just about to get there when you interrupted,” Nat scowled, hands on her hips as she glared at the blond. Jake muttered something under his breath but turned his attention back to you expectantly.

“Skipper is in danger,” Bob said, eyes hard and serious as the words left him. Jake stiffened next to you, the sound of a low growl emanating from his imposing frame.

“What do you mean she’s in danger?” He hissed, green eyes narrowing at your best friend. You turned to face him fully, hands grasping his tightly so that he looked at you.

“It’s Cole,” you breathed, “he’s been singing to me. He’s been singing to me this whole time, and we all just thought it was Mandy. It’s his frenzy, Jake. He’s losing control.”

You cursed internally at the way your voice cracked at the end, emotion overtaking you. You thought about Jake and how close he was to being in the same position as Cole. Even now, you could see how desperately he was clinging onto his control, the greens of his eyes glowing at the very thought that you might be taken from him. You reached up to cup his cheek, pulling his attention back to the surface and away from the depths of his inward spiral. He blinked at you, confusion warring with desperation as you stared at him.

An unspoken message passed between the two of you, and Jake let out a long sigh, reaching up to place his hand over yours.

“Let’s get you out of here.”

“That’s the dumbest fucking idea I’ve ever heard,” Nat snapped, glaring at Bradley as he leaned back on the couch, tossing his hands up in defeat.

“If you’ve got a better one, I’d love to hear it,” he growled back.

All of you were seated around Jake and Bradley’s living room, a common spot for you all to gather these days. You wished it was under different circumstances, but it seemed that you were once again the center of discussion.

“We could just leave?” Bob suggested, arms crossed over his chest where he sat perched on the end of the coffee table. A low growl ripped through the form beneath you, and you squeezed the arms wrapped around your waist.

Jake had been reluctant to let you go or out of his sight once he knew you were in danger, insisting on your current position once you all had made it back to the house.

Jake didn’t look at you, but squeezed you tighter to him as he fixed your best friend with a warning glare. No one was taking you away from him.

“That might not be a bad idea,” Reuben muttered, eyes darting up to look at you. You could feel the anger radiating off of your boyfriend, sighing as Reuben averted his gaze once more.

“We know you don’t like the idea,” Nat started, running a hand over her face as she stared at the blond, “but we’re running out of options here, Jake. She’ll be safest away from here.”

“One of us will be with her at all time,” Mickey offered, flinching at the snarl that tore through Jake. Your brow furrowed as you looked around at your friends.

“I’m missing something,” you said after a beat of silence. “Why are you acting like Jake can’t come with me? What am I missing?”

Everyone avoided your gaze before Bradley rolled his eyes.

“He can’t come with you,” he groused, shooting annoyed looks at all of his friends, “because his frenzy is about to reach its peak, and the ocean is the only place where he can go to release some of that energy without hurting anyone. If he leaves with you, it’s a recipe for disaster and we all risk exposure.”

The room was silent once again as he finished his explanation. Your eyes darted around to each of them, waiting for someone to contradict him. When no one did, you let out a sigh. You knew the goal was to keep you safe, but the thought of leaving Jake behind filled your mouth with a bitter taste, and you knew that leaving wasn’t an option.

“He’s right.”

You jumped, turning as much as you could to look at Jake. A solemn expression sat on his face, eyes pensive before locking on yours. You couldn’t help the stab of betrayal that washed over you, and it was obvious that he noticed.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours, “but if it’s the only way to keep you safe until this passes, then so be it.”

“But what about you?” You implored, feeling the tears kiss the back of your eyes once more. “You shouldn’t have to go through all this alone. I can stay and-”

“Not an option,” he whispered, a wry, humorless smile tugging on his lips. “I need you safe more than I need you here. Don’t you worry about me, angelfish. I’ll be just fine.”

He grazed his nose against yours, breathing you in for a second before pulling away and fixing your friends with a hard stare.

“She’ll need to go inland.”

And with that, they began to discuss plans to take you away from North Island. A feeling of unease and restlessness filled you. How could they expect you to just up and leave? Did you really get no say in what happened? No. Jake might be okay with this, but you weren’t.

While your friends planned, you began to form a scheme of your own.

An hour passed, and you moved to stand, Jake’s arms stopping you as you let out a huff.

“Where are you going?” He asked, eyes immediately glaring at the front door as he listened for any sign of danger.

“To the bathroom,” you scowled. “I think I can do that by myself, don’t you?”

Jake gave you a sheepish look before helping you to your feet, hands on your waist to steady you as you stood in between his legs. The two of you stayed like that, his hands on you as you cupped his jaw in yours.

“I love you,” you said, never breaking eye contact. Jake’s breath hitched at your words, eyes shining as he studied you. He reached up to grab your hand, turning his face into it as he kissed your palm once, twice.

“I love you too,” he smiled, meeting your eyes once more. Your heart swelled before a wave of guilt washed over you, and Jake must have sensed the change because his smile dropped and his brow furrowed. He moved to say something, but you stopped him with a kiss to his forehead.

You pulled away from him, moving down the hall like you were going to use the restroom. The voices in the living room faded slightly, and you paused just out of sight. You waited for a moment before your gaze shifted from the light pouring into the hall to the dimming light filtering through the back door. As quietly as you could, you opened the screen door, slipping out onto the porch and into the night.

You weren’t sure where to go, but you knew you needed to be far away from other people. So you walked the length of the beach, coming to a rocky inlet that was sheltered by the surrounding cliffs. The waves crashed gently against the shore, coaxing you to step closer.

You made a seat out of one of the flat rocks along the shoreline, crossing your legs as well as you could in the dress you still wore. You wished you could have changed, but the group had been in such a hurry to get you away and to somewhere safe, that a change of clothes had fallen by the wayside.

Now here you sat, watching the sun dip below the shoreline, the raucous from the festival still heard even this far out. Still, you waited on the rocks even as the cold seeped through your dress and to your bones, sending a shiver up your spine. The air was calm and unassuming, a stray gull crying out overhead.

“I know you’re out there!” You hollered, watching the waves as they lapped against one another. “I know you’re looking for me too. I’m right here, Cole! Come and find me.”

You waited, still watching the water for any sign of a disturbance. Minutes passed, and you knew the others had discovered your disappearance by now. Another pang of guilt rocked through you, but you remained where you were. After a moment, you stood, stepping back onto the sand and facing the water. With a determined breath, you stepped forward. Then again. And again, until finally you came right to where the water stopped.

“If you won’t come to me,” you shouted, eyes flickering across the waves as the sky around you grew darker, “then I guess I’ll just have to come to you.”

You took a step into the water, feet sinking further into the sand as you shuffled through. Stopping again once the water reached your knees, you looked around for any sign of life. It wasn’t until your third sweep that you spotted him, and your heart stopped.

Cole’s eyes glowed an inhuman green, unblinking as they stared at you. Everything from his nose downwards was hidden beneath the water, but you saw him. It unnerved you how he didn’t move, simply content in that moment to watch you.

“I wanted to talk to you,” you called, hoping you could be heard over the crash of the waves against the rocks. A wave crashed against you, sending you teetering back a little bit as you lost your balance. You stretched your arms out to steady yourself, looking down to frown at the water around you. Looking back up, Cole was gone and your heart dropped. It was only a moment though before he resurfaced, just a foot or two away from you this time, and your heart nearly lept out of your chest at the sight of him.

He looked even worse this close up, olive skin looking pale and shrunken as he stood in the water to face you. The pupils in his eyes were almost slits at this point, and you could see the webbed claws of his hands resting on the surface of the water. He looked like the stuff out of nightmares.

“Cole?” You questioned, unsure if he would even recognize you in his current state. He cocked his head to the side, seeming to contemplate you with a series of clicks that didn’t sound unlike something a dolphin would make. You swallowed around the lump in your throat, continuing, “Why don’t we go back to the beach, huh? We can talk there?”

He stayed silent, still watching as you retreated to the beach, keeping your eyes on him as you moved. Finally, he followed after you, moving like something out of one of those b-grade horror movies Bob made you watch sophomore year.

You let out a small sigh of relief as your feet finally left the water, placing you back on dry land. You retreated a couple more steps until Cole stood in the surf, the two of you only three feet apart now.

“You didn’t mean to hurt those girls, right?” You asked softly, and a flicker of recognition flashed in his eyes before turning into something akin to sorrow.

“Wanted…a mate.”

The change in his voice startled you as well. It was a mixture of a gurgle and a rasp, once again highlighting how inhuman the man before you had become.

“I know,” you murmured, tears stinging at your eyes. “It’s your frenzy, right? It’s making you lose control.”

“Frenzy,” he hissed out, cocking his head to the side once more as he regarded you. Something flickered in his eyes, and he took a step towards you, sending you two steps back. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears as he sneered at you, and you caught a glimpse of his teeth. Teeth that just earlier that evening were normal - human. Now, they were serrated and sharp like a shark’s. You dared to scan the rest of him now that he was completely out of the water, and you noticed now that slits had opened up along the column of his throat. Gills.

“Is this what happens when you don’t take a mate?” You asked him, heart clenching in your chest. “You don’t just lose yourself, huh? You become something you were never meant to be.”

“Skipper,” he said, voice ringing out as he used his song, and a wave of dizziness ran through you, hitting you like a brick wall. You fought against it, shaking your head and clamping your hands over your ears as he went on.

“Need you, Skipper. Come away with me.”

You shook your head again, willing yourself to stay put, but his song that close? It was almost impossible to resist.

“Please.”

Your hands fell to your sides as you quickly lost the battle for your senses, gaze fogging over as you gave in. You took all of one step towards him before the sound of a snarl mixed with what sounded like the call of a whale rang out.

Hands ripped you back before slashing towards Cole, drawing out a pained cry from the man as he fell to the sand, a snarl twisting his lips as he glared up at the person that stood between you and him.

Jake’s eyes glowed a richer green than Cole’s, fury so clear on his face that it almost distracted you from where his pupils were now drawn into slits of their own. His teeth were bared against Cole, hand raised to claw at him again should he move.

“Mine,” Jake growled, the rumble coming from deep within him as he stood over the other man. Cole’s eyes darted to yours, and your heart broke at what you saw.

For a moment, the man you knew before shone through, tears lining his eyes as he looked at you desperately, pleading with you. Without thinking, you placed a hand on Jake’s arm, pushing it out of your way as you moved to kneel down beside Cole.

“Skipper.”

You turned to see Bob and Bradley standing a few feet back, the two FBI agents standing next to them. The older of the two had a grim, sorrowful expression on his face as he watched Cole and the younger looked like he was still coming to terms with what was happening before him. Bob looked like he was about to rip you up from the ground himself while Bradley watched you with an unreadable expression on his face. You gave the two of them a reassuring smile as you turned your attention back to the man in front of you.

Slowly, gently, you cupped his face in your hands so that he looked at you, and for a moment you were reminded of your grandmother’s dog. A sweet thing, but perhaps not meant to be around other people.

Tears flowed freely down Cole’s cheeks as he watched you, the man you knew resurfacing once more. You stroked your thumbs carefully over the apples of his cheeks, wiping away his tears. A sob wracked through him as he closed his eyes, face pinched in pain. You wrapped your arms around him then, holding him to you.

“I’m sorry,” he cried, quietly at first. His shoulders shook as he began to cry harder, his voice raising in pitch as he continued. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! I just wanted the pain to stop, and I-I-I didn’t mean to wait this long. I thought I had more time! I thought that I could pick a mate, but every time I tried to bond with them, it went wrong!”

His tears soaked through the fabric of your dress now, and you were only vaguely aware of the tears that streamed down your own face.

“I didn’t want to hurt them,” he whispered, clinging to you.

“I know,” you whispered back, nodding against the top of his head.

“Make the pain go away.”

“Cole,” you trailed off, looking helplessly at the men around you. He shook his head, pulling away from you.

“Not like that,” he rasped, the look in his eyes growing farther and farther away, and you knew that the moment of lucidness was coming to an end. “It’s too late for that now. There’s only one way out for me.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you moved to argue, but he shook his head.

“I’ll do it.”

You turned to see the older of the two FBI agents, Kazansky if you remembered right, stepping forward to stand beside Cole. You hesitated, looking down at the man in your arms. He gave you a reassuring nod, letting you go as Jake helped you to your feet. The blond pulled you back to stand with the others and you watched as Cole readjusted himself to kneel with his back straight. Kazansky moved to stand behind him, pulling out his service weapon and aiming. A shudder ran through Cole as the monster within came crawling back to the surface, his eyes darting to you.

“I’m sorry,” he sang out, claws digging into the sand. “Please.”

The shot rang out, and you let out a startled cry as Cole’s lifeless body slumped to the ground, crashing with a deafened thump. Your hand flew to your mouth as you stared, watching his blood soak the sand around him and turning it a sickening maroon.

Kazansky holstered his weapon, glancing up at your little group with a purse of his lips as his partner, Simpson, walked cautiously over to him.

“Kerner is going to be pissed when he hears about this. He loves crazy shit,” the younger man muttered. Kazansky scowled at him before turning his attention back towards the four of you.

“You kids should get out of here,” he grunted. “Somebody was bound to hear that shot and call someone. You don’t want to be here when the cavalry shows up.”

“What are you going to say happened?” Bradley asked, eyeing Cole’s corpse. Kazansky shook his head with a sigh.

“You let us worry about that,” he replied. “Now get.”

The boys didn’t wait to be told a third time, moving to leave, but you stayed rooted on the spot. It felt wrong to leave Cole there, and you suspected it had a lot to do with the man who wrapped his arms around your shoulders in a bid to steer you away.

“There’s nothing more you can do for him, Angel,” he murmured, thumb stroking over the skin of your arm as he pulled you along gently.

“That could have been you,” you whispered, and he froze. It was true. Jake was nearing the the point of no return with his own frenzies. He knew it, you knew it, everyone knew it. His hand came up to cup your cheek and you finally looked up at him. His eyes swam with an indiscernible emotion has he studied you.

“It’s not,” he told you quietly, placing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “It won’t be.”

The promise between you two was a silent one, but one that you accepted, finally allowing Jake to pull you along to catch up with the others as police sirens sounded off in the distance.

The weeks of danger, terror, and uncertainty were finally over and behind you.

A/N: Only one chapter left! How exciting!! Anyway, gentle reminder that if you would like to receive updates on my stories or other content I create to follow @sailoraviator-library and turn on post notifications! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! You can also find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator. Until next time! Happy Valentine's Day!!

#mmats #meet me at the sea #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #hangman top gun #top gun hangman

184 notes · View notes

jomgiiu · 1 year

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HEAT OF THE MOMENT

The king of Hawkins high, Steve Harrington asks you out on a date but not for the reason you think. After that night, you learn who the real Steve Harrington is.. or so you thought.

paring: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

CW: ANGST ANGST ANGST, i guess bully!steve?, steve being a douchebag, king steve taking effect, swearing obviously, mentions of wounds/blood not to major.

A/N: i wrote this one a whim, got carried away it’s not the best but i need feedback to see what i should do next with it lol. i liked writing season 1 steve, i made him meaner than in the actual show but ofc i hope you all dont mind! enjoy and reblog! (not proof read and poor writing oops)

Last night was the worst nights of your life, you got stood up by Steve Harrington. He'd asked you on a date during lunch and you obviously said yes. You and your friends were giggling and whispering about it all day, they gave you advice about what to do and say, what to wear, how to do your makeup, they seemed more excited than you. The moment you got home you got ready. He said he’d be there at 6 and it was already 3, so you had enough time to plan everything out. You put on your favorite record, pulled out your lucky socks, and got ready. The outfit you picked look like it came out of a magazine, so elegant and beautiful; Steve was definitely going to fall for you. At least that’s what you thought.

Sitting on the couch, you waited and waited and waited. 6 o’clock rolled around and the butterflies in your stomach would not stop.

6:13. He's just running a bit late.

6:28. Maybe he had car trouble?

6:41. Maybe he actually meant 7!

7:15. Or maybe he didn’t mean anything at all.

7:35. You were nothing to him.

Your parents didn’t get home from work until 8, so you decided to go up and change to save yourself the embarrassment of them asking about anything. Feeling like you came out of magazine just to feel like you were a thrown-out magazine because it’s the wrong issue. You went to sleep that night, crying over a stupid boy and a stupid date. It was stupid.

What felt like forever, you finally got to your locker. Fumbling with the lock, you got it to open and put your things away, grabbing stuff for your classes. Laughter was heard a few lockers down, glancing over it was Steve and his idiot friends. You sighed and shut your locker. You didn’t want to confront Steve but you had the right too. Confidently, you walked over to them but that instantly left when Carol whispered something to Steve, making him snicker. Your stomach felt like it was twisting and winding, you felt sick.

“Hey, you!” Carol greeted; her words were sweet but was sour coming out of her mouth. You gave her a small wave and went to focus on Steve. He had on a blue polo, Calvin Klein jeans and a dark windbreaker complementing his outfit. His hair was perfect as always, he spent more time looking at himself than he did anyone else.

“Can I help you?” He asked.

“Um,” the words were stuck in your throat. His stare was burning you. Either you chicken out or you confront him.

“Where were you last night?” the words came out in almost a whisper.

“Huh? What was that?” he put his hand behind his ear, leaning down a bit to you. “What did you say?” Steve’s teasing was cruel, he has a smirk planted on his face waiting for you respond.

“I think our friend here asked about your date last night.” Tommy commented.

“Ah.” Steve moved his hand away from his ear and resting it in his jean pocket. “Listen, I was planning on going but I got wrapped up in somethings. I was going to call. Promise.” The sympathy in his voice was forced.

“Yeah, Steve was too busy studying anatomy with Nancy.” Tommy teased, making Carol slap him on the chest playfully. Steve smirked and looked at you.

“Tom, pay up man.”

What?

You tried to process what was going on. You watched Tommy give Steve a $20, shoving it in his pocket looking so proud of himself.

“Why did-”

“Oh gosh, for being a straight ‘A’ student, you really are stupid.” Carol said.

“W-what?”

“Tommy over here told me if I asked you out, I'd get the 20. I did and I got the 20.” Steves words felt like a knife to the heart.

“You put a bet on me?”

“Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner!” Tommy exclaimed, making everyone laugh.

“You really believed that Steve would go out with you!” Carol snorted.

“I-”

“Listen, you seem like a great girl, I just don’t think you're up to the Steve Harrington standard. Nancy on the other hand, well she is. Don’t get me wrong, she just like you but more put together you get what I mean?” Steve’s words were harsh but said with ease.

You began to shake, you tried to hold the tears back forming in your eyes letting one fall down your cheek.

“Aw are you crying?” Carol pouted.

“I just thought you wanted to actually get to know me.” You choked out.

“Get to know you? I’d rather talk to a freak than talk to you. But I guess that’s what I’m doing now huh?” Laughter erupted around you. People stopped and stared at you, all eyes were on you, people where whispering and giggling.

You quickly walked away from them, tears clouding your vision you didn’t want to go anywhere else but out. Your friends tried to stop you but you ignored them, you were just trying to get to your car where you could be alone. Getting in your car, you finally let it all out. They humiliated you in front of everyone, Steve placed a bet on you, everyone knew why. You were a loser. You’d never be Nancy Wheeler and you’d never be with Steve Harrington. Going home that day felt awful, you told your parents that you got sick and just needed to be home for the day, or the week. Thankfully, they took the bait and let you come home early and stay home for the week. Your mom went to the school to pick up your work you missed and that kept you occupied for the time being but didn’t distract you from your feelings.

It didn’t help either that one of your friends called you, basically screaming at you that Steve asked her out on a date and she was calling you from the diner payphone that they were at right now. Your heart almost about blew up when you heard that. The day he does that to you, he asks one of your friends out? You told her congrats and when she briefly asked about your date, you just told her that you canceled because you didn’t feel well, hence why you left school today. She instantly bought it and told you that she’ll update you later and hung up. Of course, everyone had a crush on Steve and everyone wanted to be Steve. You wanted Steve but you didn’t know his personality, you didn’t know who he was as a person until now. Every girl he’s been with was ranting and raving about him and the dates he brings them on, you just wanted to experience one. You knew you were pretty, smart and you had a pretty decent reputation, why would he do that to you. Steve made you feel like nothing. He made you feel ugly, stupid and a loser. Steve Harrington was an asshole and no one knew that expect for you.

Tuesday finally came. You begged your mom to stay home again, since you did Monday. You tired the fake puke trick but she saw right through it. Your mom convinced you if you went to school, you could buy something out of a catalog. You couldn’t pass that opportunity. If you were coming back, you were coming back looking like you haven’t been crying for the past week. You threw on the cutest outfit you could find, made sure the tear stains were off your face, kissed your mom goodbye and headed to school. The moment you walked in, the counselor grabbed you by the throat and dragged you into her office. Ms. Kelly was a nice lady; it was clear she cared about the students but it annoyed you because you didn’t want to talk. She asked how you were doing and what you plan on doing to keep your grades up. You explained that you have all your work, you just need to turn it in.

“Wonderful!” she said.

Ms. Kelly looked down at her paper, dragging her finger along until she stopped.

“Ms. Click has actually requested to see you, I told her I'd send you down to talk to her. She couldn’t wait until your period. You can also take your work for her class and turn it in then.” She said, writing a hall pass. “Just come back here when you’re done okay?” You nodded gripping your history work, taking the hall pass and walking to Clicks. You liked Click, she was nice to you and you had her 5th period which was such a calm class, you liked everyone in there. As soon as you opened the door to Clicks, everyone's eyes were on you and even pair you didn’t want. Steve Harringtons.

“Oh, perfect timing! Class, turn and talk about the question on the board I'll be a moment.”

You walked into the classroom more to Clicks desk. She smiled at you and offered you a little candy. How could you say no. You handed her your stack of papers as she sat down at her desk.

“How have you been. 5th hour hasn’t been the same!”

You glanced around the class to see the people. Steve was still looking at you. You began to fiddle with the hem of your shirt.

“Oh, I've been sick. Flu season I guess.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you for doing your work while you were sick. Not a lot of kids even do their work in class.” you nodded. “I called you here to obviously see if you were alright but also to see if a student can borrow your notes. You did them perfectly and I think it would help them. Don’t worry, he’ll give it back to me so you can have it back.” Click began to look through another pile of papers.

“Sure, who’s using it?”

“Steve.”

The color drained from your face. God was not on your side today. You didn’t want the cause of you missing school to look at your notes, it’s his fault he’s stupid.

“Ah, here we are,” She pulled out your notes and handed them to you. “Give those to Steve please and you can be on your way. We can talk more in 5th hour!” She smiled. You grabbed your notes and have her a tight-lipped smile. Turning away from her desk, you walked to Steve’s. He clearly wasn’t doing the assignment, just goofing around and flirting with the girls around him. Making it to his desk, he stopped talking to the girls and instantly looked at you.

“What-”

“Ms. Click wanted me to give you my notes to help you out.” you interrupted, holding out the notes to him.

“Pfft, I don’t need your notes. I don’t want to read mistakes.”

Hold it together.

“It wasn’t my choice. It was Ms. Cli-”

“Does it look like I care about what she has to say? No. Do I care what you have to say? No. I'm surprised you even came to school today looking like this.”

The girls around him started giggling and whispering to each other.

“I think I look fine.”

“Well, I'm glad you had the confidence to wear clothes from the salvation army.”

Don’t cry.

“For your information, I got an ‘A’ on these notes and Ms. Click said I was the only one who got an ‘A.’ And I got these from a catalog and I'm sorry my daddy doesn’t buy me every new thing like your ugly BMW you drive and at least I'm not a wannabe dickhead.”

Steve put his hands over his chest, having a shocked expression on his face which quickly switched to a smug look.

“Wow! You got me there! You showed me!” Steve scooted up closer in his seat, resting his arms in front of him looking right at you.

“I'm not the wannabe sweetheart, you are. You want to have my money and BMW so bad but here you are driving your run-down Ford Escort and thinking that catalog clothing is going to save you. It’s not. Sure, you think you're all smart but looks will do you better in the future. Remember that.” Steve snatched the notes from your hands and started to talk to his friends again.

You left the classroom so fast, before you could say goodbye to Ms. Click. The whole day you were worried about what Steve said. About how you looked and how looks will get you places. You knew it was bullshit, you had colleges already begging for you to go to school but it’s the way Steve said it. Worse of it all, you went to 5th hour, hoping for a good period. Until you got your notes back to notice he scribbled all over them, writing things, drawing crude things on all your work. You frantically began to look through the notes until one comment stood out to you.

‘When you walk out of school, make sure to wear the bag on your head I left you at your locker. You need it.’

Tears filled your eyes. You shot up from your seat and ran out of your class. Ms. Click was yelling for you as you ran down the halls until you got to your locker. There you saw a paper bag with eye holes cut out of it, tapped to your locker. You ripped the bag off your locker and fell to your knees, sobbing into the paper bag. Why was Steve being so mean to you? You should be ruining his life; he shouldn’t be ruining yours. This all started with a date that turned out to be a joke and then ever since your life went downhill. Classmates from your period found you and tried to comfort you of what happened. You broke and told Ms. Click what happened and what Steve did which led to Principal Higgins getting involved and calling your parents and Steve's. He got a suspended for the rest of the week which was a relief to you but didn’t help the situation. Now since this situation, you were known as the ‘Cry baby.’ Your friends tried to help you feel better and stood up for you when the time was right. You were grateful to have a support system but not grateful for Steve Harrington.

It’s been a few months since the whole Steve situation and some forgot about it and moved on to other things like the Byers youngest boy going missing and Barb Holland also going missing, making the whole town worried. Steve was still a dick but he didn’t pay any mind to you though, he was too busy dealing with his goons and his dream girl, Nancy Wheeler. A part of you still had a crush on him, just the smallest he was still cute but he was still a dick. You had to go see Ms. Kelly every Friday since what happened which you didn’t mind but it was still annoying. It was the same bland conversation about your week. If there's any people giving you a hard time, grades, college, just boring, stupid conversations that waste your time during 6th period but you got to leave earlier which was a plus. Before you left, Ms. Kelly told you that your mom called and wanted you to stop by Melvald’s to grab some more dish soap so that’s where you are now, looking for dish soap and Melvald’s. Why are there so many soaps? You never paid attention to what one you used it was just soap. You notice someone move at the conner of your eye, you paid no mind to it until you noticed who the someone was. The navy-blue jacket, the blue jeans, the green shirt, the hair. Yeah, it was him.

Oh god not here.

Focus on the soaps.

Glancing over at him he was looking at the band aids and ointments he looked dazed, squinting at labels trying to make it clear. Then a pair of hazel eyes fell on you, making you quickly look at the soaps. You swore your heart was going to explode it was pounding so fast, it felt like someone was squeezing your whole body you couldn’t breathe. Was this really happening? Why was he here? How could you not see his BMW in the parking lot? Anxiety riddled your body as you heard someone shuffle up to you. God don’t let it be you.

“Hey,”

Frozen in place, you moved your head slightly to look at him. You were taken back by the way he looked. The right side of his face was bloody and bruised with the wound already scabbing over, his right eye swollen, a small cut settled on his lip following one on the bridge of his nose., going slightly down to the right of his cheek. He looked awful. You tried not to stare at him too much, you didn’t want to be rude but it was impossible to look away. Who did this to the king of Hawkins high?

“Sorry to bother you. I just--I can't really read this. Is this the right ointment?”

Your eyes trailed down to the box he was holding making you huff out a laugh.

“Well, if you have hemorrhoids then yes, but otherwise no.”

“Uh, no. Not necessarily.” His face turned a light shade of red. “I need something for um,” he pointed to his face rising his eyebrows. “This.”

“I’ll help you. Hemorrhoid cream definitely isn't gonna help that.” you kicked yourself for that and made your way to where he was before. Steve stood watching you look through the hundreds of creams and ointments on the shelf. You eventually found one and replaced it the original ointment in Steve's hand for the new one.

“Zemo will help a lot it does wonders; it makes it less itchy and heals quicker. You'll thank me later.”

Steve looked at the medicine and looked back at you. There was no hatred in his eyes, no cruelness. Just hurt. He was hurt inside and out; he was guilty for what he’s done to you and so many others. He’s guilty for hurting the only girl he loves. He’s hurting.

“Thanks.” that’s all he could say to you in this moment. A simple thank you, not anything else.

“Have you cleaned them?”

“Uh no, just had an aspirin and a cold coke to put it on.” Steve shrugged.

You sighed.

“Okay, just get that, I'll finish what I need and meet me outside okay?”

The stinging sensation of the alcohol covered cotton pad on the open wound made Steve wince, making him pull his head away from you. You muttered a sorry and he just huffed and let you clean him up. Never in a million years you would be sitting here in the Milvad’s parking lot taking care of Steve Harrington. He watched you carefully as you take your time with him, carefully moving so he wouldn’t be in as much pain as he already was. It took someone to beat the absolute shit out of him for him to realize how much of a dick he was. How miserable he made people feel. How miserable he made you feel.

“Sorry, this happened to you, I can't imagine how much it hurts.”

Steve scoffed at your sincerity.

“I deserved it, you out of all people should be happy this happened to me.”

“A little part of me is,” you admitted. “Who did this to you?”

You put the cotton pad down and grabbed the Zemo putting a glob on your finger and gently rubbing it in over his wound. Steve hissed at the contact.

“Jonathan Byers.” Steve mumbled.

“Oh wow.” You were quite shocked that a quiet boy like him could rock Steve’s shit. Steve was fit, he had to be for basketball and baseball so you assume he could win a fight. You finished applying the Zemo and giving it to Steve.

“Make sure you put this on twice a day, and only once if you shower. It should help the itch and the scaring a bit. You'll be healed in no time.”

Steve held the Zemo in his hands and watched you clean everything up. You were really pretty up close. Yeah, he looked at you close up a lot of times but this time he noticed every detail of your face, every curve, every wrinkle, every texture, he was scared of looking away because he didn’t want to forget it. Steve thought back to the paper bag he taped to your locker, Tommy and Carol thought it would be a funny idea and so did he at the time. When he was in the principal's office with his dad with you and your parents, he glanced at you and his chest was tight. Your head was hanging low, tears falling down your cheeks and landing on your hands, silent sobs coming from you. Steve recoiled when heard let out sobs after him and his dad left the principal's office. Mr. Harrington made it clear if he pulled that shit again, he would be kicked off the basketball and baseball teams, he wouldn’t get into an ivy league school and end up as a drug dealer on the streets. Mrs. Harrington told him that’s no way to treat girls, there’s no reason to bully girls anyway. She was disappointed in her Stevie and Stevie was disappointed in himself. Of course, that didn’t stop him from being an asshole, if he didn’t get caught then he wouldn’t have to go through that whole fiasco again so he moved on from you and started being an arrogant prick either way to everyone around him. That ended up getting beat up, ditching his “friends” and getting taken care of by the girl he bullied.

“Thanks for doing this, you didn’t have to you know?”

“I know.” you responded.

“Why did you?”

You sighed and looked at him. He looked so vulnerable, his hazel eyes soft and looking at you. Steve looked like a lost puppy; in some cases, he was. Now he was. He had no friends anymore, he was hurt and lost, no guidance, nothing. You seemed like the only thing keeping him afloat at this moment.

“Unlike some people Steve, I care. No matter what you did to me, how you treated me, you deserve some type of -- I don’t know but I was always taught to help people that needed it. I know you know what's right. I know what you have to do, so do it. You're better than this Steve Harrington.”

You walked towards your car, quickly getting in throwing the stuff in the front and driving off before Steve could say anything to you. Deep down, you knew Steve was a good person he was just around bad people. As much as you hated it, you knew he had to apologize to Nancy, he had to make everything up to her and even Jonathan but it was selfish to think he’d do the same to you.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x fem reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things angst #enimies to friends to lovers #steve harrington angst #king steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #angst #season one steve harrington #stranger things season 1 #mean!steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n smut

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fafnir19 · 21 days

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Desire upon the sea

It all started with a stroke of unbelievable luck. I, Lennart, a carefree 20-year-old student with a penchant for casual attire, had won a first-class voyage on an exquisite cruise ship. The grand prize seemed tailor-made for an older, more refined audience, a fact only accentuated by the conspicuously elegant attires the other passengers flaunted. As I stepped onto the luxurious cruise ship, I couldn't help but notice the elegant attire of the other passengers. It seemed like everyone had walked straight out of a black-tie event, while I was just a casual bloke in my everyday clothes.

Still, I brushed it off and decided to make a joke out of it, because that's just the kind of guy I am. I spent my days wandering around the ship, enjoying the sights and sounds, until one evening, I heard peculiar noises trailing behind me. As I turned to investigate, a strange figure materialized from the shadows. It was a goblin, of all things, with a sneer etched onto its wrinkly face.

"What's your problem, buddy?" I said, half-amused. "You're the problem!" the goblin retorted, pointing a gnarled finger at me. "You're ruining the ship's reputation with your scruffy appearance and lack of grooming. Clean up your act, lad!" I couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation before bidding the goblin goodnight and heading to bed. Little did I know that the night held a surprise for me. The following morning, I shuffled groggily to the bathroom, only to realize I'd been blessed with a new haircut—a perfectly styled 'do that I hadn't asked for. Confused and a tad worried, I heard the goblin's cackling echoing in the room. I looked around, but he was nowhere to be seen, leaving me to exclaim, "If I can get my hands on that little troublemaker!"

The day took an even stranger turn when I found myself at the spa, enjoying a massage from a petite, skilled masseuse. As her hands worked their magic, I felt an odd sensation spreading through my body, like I was being tugged and twisted in ways unimaginable. I winced in discomfort and pleaded with the masseuse to stop, but all I heard was the goblin's laughter. And when I looked in the mirror, a shock awaited me. My unkempt form had vanished, replaced by the silhouette of a young Greek god—toned muscles, blond hair, and piercing blue eyes. It was as if I'd stepped out of a marble statue, and with a mixture of bewilderment and annoyance, I muttered, "What in the goblin's name is happening to me?"

Determined to escape this madness, I embarked on a shore excursion, hoping for some respite. However, upon my return, I found my clothes gone, replaced by a sleek suit and accessories—courtesy of the goblin's mischievous handiwork. From that moment onwards, it seemed the goblin held the reins to my desires and appearance, turning me into an impeccably groomed, preppy youth. As the days went by, I longed to break free from this bizarre spell, but the ship was already bound for a week-long journey across the Atlantic, leaving me at the goblin's whims.

As I sauntered across the deck, trying to make sense of my inexplicable transformation, a sleek sports boat docked at the cruise ship. A suave, sophisticated businessman disembarked and strode towards the pool deck, exuding an air of confidence and allure.

My gaze inadvertently intersected with his, and it was then that I discerned a disquieting fascination glinting within his eyes. Despite my efforts to elude the intrusive weight of his lingering stare, the sensation of being undressed by his gaze trapped me in a discomfiting nexus of unease. Seeking to extricate myself from this distressing conundrum, I made a hasty retreat to my cabin.

A futile hope, as it turned out, when I found him seated at my table during dinner.

"Good evening," he greeted me with a captivating smile. "I'm Pierson. I couldn't help but notice our paths have crossed numerous times on this ship." I swallowed nervously, feeling the weight of his gaze, and managed a polite response. "Lennart," I said, trying to keep my cool. "Yes, indeed. It's quite the coincidence." Pierson leaned in slightly, his eyes never leaving mine. "Coincidence, you say? Or is it fate that led us to each other?" His words, dripping with a hint of flirtation, left me flustered. "I-I'm not sure what you mean," I stumbled, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. As the dinner progressed, Pierson's attention remained fixed on me, his subtle innuendos fluttering around the air like mischievous butterflies. Being straight, I felt a wave of discomfort and couldn't help but squirt under the weight of his suggestive remarks.

Night descended upon the ship, and soon I found myself in a tormented state of slumber, plagued by the most bewildering dreams. Dreams of Pierson, his intoxicating eyes, and the touch of his lips upon mine. It was a series of vivid and erotic dreams. When I woke up the next morning I realized that the dreams were not only intense but also wet dreams. The following day, I attempted to evade Pierson, hoping to dispel the lingering echoes of those perplexing dreams. However, the next night I had the same dreams again.

One sunny morning, as I lounged by the pool, attempting to find solace in the ocean breeze, I spotted Pierson striding past. His eyes met mine, and a faint but unmistakable smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Suddenly, an unexpected sensation sent a shiver down my spine—a telltale sign of arousal. I shifted uncomfortably, desperately hoping to conceal my hard-on.

Later, as we convened for dinner, I found myself battling with an unfamiliar, unwelcome sensation. My cock twitched by the mere sight of Pierson.

Flustered and at a loss, I hastily excused myself, feigning an excuse to retire early. Alone on the deck, I let the cool ocean breeze wash over me, attempting to clear my mind from the bewildering entanglements stirring within. Before I could process my thoughts, I felt a presence behind me. A familiar one. Pierson's arm wrapped around my shoulders, and he leaned in, planting a tender, albeit unexpected, kiss upon my lips. For a brief moment, I flinched, but then something within me surrendered to the moment, allowing it to unfold. The night swiftly turned into a whirlwind of passion, eventually leading us to Pierson's suite, where our mysterious liaison reached its climax. The morning light revealed a revelation—a revelation that struck with the laughter of the irksome goblin.

A voice, singing, "That's how I like you, sweet gay Lennart!" I protested, adamantly refuting the label, but the goblin's words reverberated in the chamber. "I planted gay dreams in your head, and you made them happen. You've sealed your fate, lad. Embrace it." Before I could offer a rebuttal, Pierson reappeared, casting a suggestive glance my way, proposing an amorous shower together. In a moment of bewildered impulse, I accepted, and it marked a peculiar turn of events for me. In the days that followed, Pierson bid farewell to the ship, leaving behind a bewildered, conflicted Lennart, lost in the peculiar conundrum of his newfound reality. Days passed, each rolling into the next, veiling me in my own introspection until an unexpected surprise awaited me one fine morning. There, upon my bed, lay a pristine steward uniform, intricately folded, bearing the goblin's crimson laughter. He explained, "Pierson was pleased with your service. As a reward, you're destined to don this uniform and live out your gay fantasies amidst the opulent corridors of this ship." And so, clad in the uniform, I embarked on a whimsical journey, serving the passengers with impeccable grace, while navigating the bewitching intricacies of my newfound desires. Is this my fate—a twist of magic and mishaps, or perhaps an unforeseen realm of revelation that awaits amidst the billowing seas? Only time would reveal the enigmatic path that lay ahead.

#male tf #male transformation #straight to gay #servant

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thistlefaethfort · 2 months

Text

SIX COLOURS

She hadn't been this organised for years. Honestly, probably not since her own dad had sat down and put a wall calendar in front of her with a red pen and told her to pull herself together. Last night though Fig had cried with her head against Sandra Lynn's shoulder and then fell down the stairs with her foot stuck in a bucket of cement, and this morning she had come downstairs to find Adaine sniffling as Kristin slept with her head in her lap, and she had had more than one meeting with the Thistlesprings or Sklonda about how horrifically busy their kids were. She took the silence from Seacaster manner to mean something equally as troubling with how often Fabian was crushed under a puppy pile of other bad kids in one bed or another.

It didn't take a genius to know that they were tumbling towards burnout.

So she had called off of work, asked Jawbone to email her all the kids' schedules, and then called the school to talk to the rogue teacher about paying better attention to their students because Riz's schedule was insane. After that, she drove to the local art store and picked up the biggest cork board they had and a million different things in sets of six. Six balls of yarn, six journals, six diaries, six wall calendars, six sets of gel pens, and six boxes to fill with snacks at the local hobby shoppe.

It was maybe silly, but she was careful in assigning colours, one for each kid so they could keep their stuff straight. Even if they didn't use the planners and the bags of chips went stale, she could figure out their favourite colours.

She chose a light purple for Gorgug, who was so kind and gentle, but so good at letting his friends in on how deep the recesses of his mind went when he was left alone for too long. Crimson was red for Fabian, who was so confident and uplifting but bled emotion and love and care for his people. Riz got a deep, emerald green because he was so energetic and smart and freely affectionate. Her intelligent, careful Adaine got cornflower blue, a softer, less brash version of the colour that Sandra Lynn hopes was calming. Her loud, thoughtful Kristin got a yellow that reminded her of honey and buttercups because Kristin was a mess of tangles and wanted to be there for everyone who needed her to catch them. Fig got pink because sometimes she caught her little demon picking at the paint on the walls as if it would still be that same blush underneath. Like it had been before they moved to Mordred Manor. As if she could go back to before everything was messy, or at least tidy it up again.

On a whim (or call it mother's intuition), she picked up stickers and tape as well so everyone could decorate theirs if they wanted to, and smiled at the halfling who checked out her cart.

It was late, nearly nine, by the time the last few bad kids trickled in through the doors and her shoulders sank at the lack of lame excuses or too-innocent grins. Instead, Fabian and Gorgug sighted practice, and Riz was covered in honey for some reason. They followed her instructions and sat themselves around the kitchen table like she asked, and she wished whichever deity was currently listening to make this easier for them. Hadn't these kids died for this world enough times?

There were nachos and hot cookies thanks to Lydia — who had squeezed her arm so tight that it hurt when she explained and dragged her right back down to earth — and she had dropped a paper bag in front of each of them, their names scrawled on in sharpie. She didn't know how to do this, how to be the mom who kept everyone's shit together, but she had tried the passive thing and the wedge between her and Fig had been brutal; that wouldn't happen again. It was time to muddle through the hands-on approach.

"I know you're tired," she started and grasped at her mug of coffee like a lifeline, "and I know everything is piling up, but I'm not gonna lose you kids to highschool, so we're gonna deal with it together."

#sandra lynn #ficlet #fantasy high #fhjy #fantasy high junior year #fantasy high ficlet #the bad kids #fig faeth #gorgug thistlespring #adaine abernant #kristin applebees #riz gukgak #fabian seacaster #sharkie writes

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kaiijo · 8 months

Text

SUGARY SWEET — GOJO SATORU

pairing: gojo satoru x gn! reader content: pining, confessions, mentions of eating notes: highly unedited, this has been in my drafts for ages so

you really couldn’t understand why gojo was staring at you (well, is it staring when he wears his blindfold?), slack-jawed and obviously scandalized. “what?” you ask him. “all i said was that i never really had sweets growing up.”

it’s true; you grew up in one of the lesser clans, one that bowed to the whims of the great zen’in, kamo, and — of course — gojo clans. your parents had been pretty strict about what you did, including what you ate, with your mother always going on and on about how the artificial sugars were unhealthy and would rot your teeth so most of your desserts consisted of fruits in season. you didn’t really mind, but gojo’s making you think that you’re mildly insane for that.

“so you’ve never tried raindrop cake?”

“no.”

“taiyaki?”

“no.”

gojo pauses and takes a deep breath. “what about mochi?”

“nope,” you say with a shrug. “i’ve already told you, gojo, i wasn’t allowed to eat sweets. my mother always said it would have messed with my cursed technique or something like that.”

gojo frowns. “well, that’s just bullshit. clear your schedule, we’ve got a field trip!”

you reply, “we have classes to teach.”

in an instant, gojo whips out his phone and taps out a message with lightning-fast fingers. when he ceremoniously thumbs at the screen one last time, he flips his phone around to show you a text blast he sent to all your students.

YOUR FAVORITE SENSEI [8:23 AM]: classes canceled today! don’t do anything i wouldn’t do!

you give him an unimpressed look and say, “yaga’s never going to let that fly.”

gojo leans closer with a conspiratorial smirk. at this distance, you can smell the mint gum he had been chewing earlier on his breath. he lifts his blindfold off with one finger, showcasing those bright blue eyes and says, “who said anything about telling him?” gojo grins when you feel your cheeks start to heat and continues, “change into something cute and meet me at the front gates!”

with a pat on the head, he turned on his heel and went whistling out of the school building. you obey gojo’s instructions, changing out of your sorcerer’s uniform and into something more casual. gojo’s already at the gates when you arrive, leaning against the structure. he swapped his blindfold for his signature black sunglasses, the frames sliding down the bridge of his nose as he looks you up and down.

you feel suddenly self-conscious as you surreptitiously glance down at your clothes. “something wrong with my outfit?”

he shakes his head. “no, no. i just don’t think i’ve ever seen you out of your uniform.”

“ah.”

he straightens up and bows in a grand gesture. “onwards to the city!”

you walk past him and towards the train station that would take you to tokyo’s metro area. as you trudge ahead, you completely miss the redness to gojo’s ears and the extra bounce in his step.

you buy your tickets at the station and when you board, gojo sits across from you, long legs bumping into yours as he stretches. you swat them away and ask, “couldn’t you have just teleported us to tokyo? why’re we on the train?”

gojo replies, “what’s the fun in that? it’s the journey, not the destination. besides, train travel’s romantic, don’t you think?” he looks over his frames at you and you try to calm your quickening heart.

the train pulls into tokyo metro station and gojo practically drags you out, weaving through the tourists and tired salarymen (“hey,” he says, pointing at one that looks particularly fed up, “doesn’t that guy look like nanamin?”) until you reach a storefront that’s a pale, bubblegum pink. the chalkboard outside has a cutely drawn manga cat girl and boasts “japan’s best treats!” in bubble letters.

gojo throws the door open and stands in front of the hostess. you definitely don’t miss the way her eyes light up, practically vibrating with excitement as she eyes him unabashedly. something sour courses through your body as she chirps, “haven’t seen you here in a while, sir.”

you make a face. sir? gojo offers her a charming smile, tilting his head and letting his sunglasses slip down his nose again. “i’ve been busy,” he says, throwing an arm around your shoulder. she startles a little when her eyes land on you, like it’s the first time she’s realizing there’s another person here.

her smile tightens when gojo asks, “would you mind finding us a table?”

you can feel the animosity radiating off of her as she gives a much less cheery, “sure. right this way,” and brings you two to a table at the wide window that looks out onto the cherry-blossom lined streets. she practically slams your menu down while passing gojo one politely, bowing woodenly and scurrying back to the hostess podium.

gojo doesn’t even bother looking at the menus when the waiter comes over to the table. before he can even say anything, gojo declares, “we’ll take one of everything, please!”

you gawk at him. there had to be at least twenty items… there’s no way— “coming right up!” chimes the waiter as he goes off to place your orders before you could stop him.

“why would you do that?”

gojo answers, “we have to make up for years of a sugarless childhood!”

“but this is twenty-seven—”

“just trust me on this, okay?”

“fine.”

the desserts all come out together — plates and plates of pastel-colored sweets and clear jellies injected with vibrant colors — and you’re a little embarrassed as the rest of the establishment watches your waiter pull over another table to fit everything.

gojo claps his hands together, grinning like a kid in the candy story (technically, he is). “which one do you want to try first?”

your eyes take in all the items and you want to be excited to try them, but it just looks like a pastel color wheel threw up on your frilly tablecloth. instead, you tell gojo, “you choose. you know better than me.”

stroking his chin thoughtfully, gojo points at a pink mochi shaped like a cat. “these are limited-edition! try these!”

you gingerly pinch the little rice cake between your fingertips, examining it from paw to whisker before you (savagely) bite off half the cat-mochi’s face. the taste of strawberries bursts across your tongue and spreads through your mouth, paired with the undeniable sweetness of way too much sugar.

you can’t stop the pleased hum that leaves your lips and you pointedly ignore gojo’s proud simper as you chomp away at the second half of the cat. he practically pushes a raindrop cake at you next, a refreshing coolness from the cloyingly sweet mochi and the following bitterness of the melting matcha ice cream.

you don’t know how much time has passed until you and gojo have eaten through the twenty-something sweet treats he ordered. (it’s twenty-nine, but who’s counting). you feel like your teeth might just fall off from the sheer amount of sucrose you consumed — maybe your mother hadn’t simply been trying to scare you off when she mentioned your teeth rotting from sugar…

still, you as you two make your way back to the train station, you concede: “okay, i’ll admit the sweets were pretty good, but i think my mouth needs a month to recover.”

you mentally applaud gojo’s restraint in not making a ‘that’s what she said’ joke, a habit he passed to yuuji recently that you’ve made a mental note to break. instead, he replies, “guess you’ll have to start that recovery a little later because…” gojo pauses for dramatic effect before he reaches behind him and produces a small white cake box wrapped in blue string. “i’ve still got one more thing for you to try!”

“gojo, i think we tried all their cakes there.”

“no, no, no! this one’s special! open it!” he shoves it into your chest.

cautiously, you let the strings fall away and you crack the lid open to see a neatly frosted blue cake with white lettering that asks: “go on a date with me please?” and beside it is a chibi-headed version of gojo, rendered in blue frosting, with a pleading look on its face.

you glance up at him from the cake in suspicion. “are you joking?”

he raises an eyebrow. “no. these are my feelings. i really mean it. i want to take you out on a date.”

you blink at him and then the cake and back at him and the train in pulling into the station. you both wordlessly step on and it’s a surprisingly silent ride back, boring without gojo’s constant commentary about the going-ons around him. you don’t particularly mind the quiet, save for the whooshing of the train, as you mull over gojo’s proposal.

it’s… flattering. really, really flattering.

you bite back a smile, still staring down at the cake box.

it’s only when you return to the schoolgrounds that you say, “i’d love to go on a date with you, gojo.”

he snorts, “it took you that long to consider?”

“on second thought…”

“no, wait! there are no take-backs!”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #.𖥔 ݁ ˖ kaiijo writes

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cebwrites · 1 year

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could you write hc's for Zoro, Sanji and Ace (separate) having a dom boyfriend? Like, not just sexual sense, but a bf who likes to have his man on his lap, who spoils his s/o a lot and stuff. Ty !!

a/n: hi anon ofc!! this idea is super cute 💕 full disclosure however that i'm not super familiar with dom/sub dynamics and culture so if i mess something up please correct me!

having a dom boyfriend (Zoro, Sanji, Ace)

masc reader, trans zoro and ace nsfw under the cut word count: 1.4k

Zoro

Roronoa "Demon of the East Blue" Zoro, a man who's so unfamiliar with tenderness and warmth that on the first night he trusts his dom to have his way with him - he cries out of the eye that's long since scarred shut when he receives such unearned affection

Zoro would be the first to reject any notion of a higher power but his devotion to you is almost pious, loyal to the nth degree and willing to sacrifice anything for you as he does for his captain

So for someone to want to return those feelings with overt displays of endearment - it's almost and is overwhelming in a lot of ways, not that he didn't think you wouldn't be willing to go all in, he was just expecting more... subtlety

He'd be lying if he said that being so openly and unabashedly desired, loved, didn't feel good, though

Up until this point, Zoro's always been on top - figuratively and literally with how he rode his previous partners into the sunset - so letting you in with these current new arrangements was a different ordeal entirely

Handing the reigns over and learning to relax, without being the one in control, wasn't easy, but you made sure to repay him handsomely every chance you got with delicate, loving touches and words of praise whispered into his ears

He's surprisingly obedient, and oh so sweet, making the most beautiful sounds you've ever heard from another man as you slowly, carefully, open him up, kiss the scars underneath his pecs and trace the diagonal one across his torso with your tongue

He's desperate, silently begging for you to fully take him already, but Zoro promised not to whine so he bites his tongue like the well-trained beast he is

His reward? Hours of being able to let out as much of his voice as he wants until Zoro's throat is raw or the hotel manager bangs on the door for "the loud one" to quiet down, saccharine sips of sake and kisses in the long moments of aftercare between,

And inevitably being playfully side-eyed by Robin, Franky, and Brook when the two of you stumble back to the Sunny at the crack of dawn, one of your arms around Zoro's sleepy (and a little wobbly) figure no doubt intending to pass out again for another few hours, and the other holding bags of goodies for your mossy boyfriend - most of them alcoholic in content

Sanji

It's a constant fight for Sanji to get used to this, grappling with the need to spoil you and cater to your every whim- and his general feelings of wanting to be swallowed by the earth when you give him a look and say that you're supposed to be spoiling him instead

Blackleg Sanji, someone who's similarly been depraved of affection like his mossy green counterpart, unsurprisingly finds himself bursting at the seams to serve you, the light and love of his life, someone with the angelic kindness to smile upon and choose him of all people to be your sub

You don't question how eager he is to throw himself at your feet "in the presence of a man as dashingly handsome" as you, his words, but you do find it incredibly cute when he melts just a little bit at your quiet affection

It's meant to be purely physical, a pretty stranger who visited your house for the duration of the Strawhats' stay on this island (you'd approached him with your proposition and according to Nwami-swan they'd be stuck here for a few months because of this that and the other, so what the hell, right?)

He wasn't a complete noob, Sanji could figure out what to do and what went where generally, but he was still wholly new to this and near entirely reliant on your guidance - he'd heard of people doing things like this behind closed doors and discussed it with the ladies on Momoiro sure, but actually engaging in it? A completely different story

A glutton for punishment, Nami stares with intent at the rope burns on hairy arms when Sanji rolls his sleeves up to prepare dinner and Usopp pointedly avoids prolonged eye-contact with Sanji if he can help it, Zoro only fixes him with a big ol' Cheshire grin as he's kicked out of the kitchen for trying to smuggle more booze and pointing out certain marks under his collar

Sanji does, however, get a bit squirmy in the aftercare if your touch is a tad too soft, a bit too kind with your words, pad him down with a damp hand towel with just too much tenderness - as if a loving embrace was alien to him or like he felt it wasn't deserved

Sanji always hurried out on these nights, coming back to the ship in a tizz a little out of sorts and praying that no one was there to see him agonizing his commitment allergy over the railing, but on any other occasion he'd stay to make a light snack for the both of you to eat in comfortable silence

On the Strawhats' very last night docked at this island, Sanji made you a beautiful meal and spent the night bending, twisting to your every whim, breaking the news at dinner so you knew this would be your last chance - he was obedient and giving as ever, not once complaining and even encouraged the hand prints on his hips

At dawn he leaves you with breakfast in bed and robbed of a heart, knowing that he was the one (pirate) that got away

Ace

Spoiled and proud of it - Ace is a bratty sub who loves nothing more than to whittle down his lover's very last nerve, reaping the fruits of his hard work when he's bent over that man's desk and hollowed out for hours

He walks with a waddle the next morning but is no less proud of himself every damn time

He can and WILL drain 👏 your 👏 pockets 👏👏👏 - you're paying for breakfast, lunch, and dinner - and whatever cute little lace outfit you (he) think he'll look cute in later

Ace fancies himself a (promiscuous) little jackrabbit and he definitely lives up to that title, it takes a lot to wear him out and god he'll make you work for it, too

He's down to clown in most places that isn't outright in the public eye but he's been known to skirt boundaries with a little persuasion and the need to tease - his favorite by far is the underside of your desk while someone else is on the other side droning on about whatever

Ace lives to tease and he yearns for the punishment from riling you up all day, degradation and being mean isn't frowned upon (in some cases he's waiting for it) but don't go too far or you'll actually hurt his feelings - all that fire has to come from a heart, of course

He's loud and shamelessly proud, even if the place is risqué, even if the neighbors across the street have full view of the curtainless window he's enticed you to fuck him in front of, the neighbors can talk all the shit they want but it doesn't bother him none

He'll sing your praises to the high heavens through punishment or reward, apologies or howls of affection, Ace wants nothing more than for you to know how good you make him feel, mark up your back and have you leave hickeys on his neck in return so everyone knows he belongs to you and you alone

He blows up your pager with messages all day to come to the ship and plow his pussy already, hangs around your work place and shows little flame hearts at you outside the window despite the amount of times you've nagged that he's being a fire hazard, snuggles in your lap on your lunch break that always ends up going 5-10 minutes over the limit - you got an earful from your boss the one time it went over an hour, watching Ace sneakily leaving out the back door and blowing a kiss at you like the little rat (affectionate) he was

Long distance isn't ideal, but he really likes you so he makes it work; if it means he has to be a bratty sub to monopolize your time then so be it, he wants all your attention and he wants it now!

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juyuppang · 10 days

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FORGET-ME-NOT | one

pairing: park sunghoon x f!reader

synopsis: sunghoon never believed in love due to his biggest secret: having the disease hanahaki. when he meets you on a whim one night, he realizes he may have found his cure...you. will love be both in your favor, or will it all crumble before it even started?

word count: 2.7k words

warnings: cussing, alcohol consumption

taglist: OPEN! send in an ask or comment if you’d like to be tagged

The sun shone brightly on the sidewalk and the streets surrounding the area.

You and your best friend Chaehyun decided to check out the Farmer’s Market today, knowing the nice old lady who sold flowers would be back once again with more commodities.

In your shared apartment with Chaehyun, there was a flower vase that was the centerpiece of the dining table. As the flowers her boyfriend Heeseung got her were withering, she decided to replace them and get a fresh bouquet. You decided to tag along, needing a breath of fresh air.

It was a routine to always go to the farmer’s market ever since the two of you moved into your apartment back in freshman year. Now on your second semester of junior year in university, the two of you were always glued together-literally.

You walked through the rows of buckets, looking at the different flowers. Your eyes glistened as soon as you spotted your favorite flowers: Forget Me Nots. You bent down, looking at the blue and purple flowers bundled up in the bucket.

“Did you want to add those to the flower vase?” Chaehyun asked as she held a few of her favorite flowers in her hands.

You nodded, picking a few. “Sure, why not?” Standing up, you handed some of the flowers you chose and gave them to Chaehyun as she looked at the bouquet as a whole. “Wow, they added a nice touch with the sunflowers and tulips.”

You never really knew why Forget Me Nots were your favorite flowers. There was never a backstory to it; all you could say was that whenever you saw the flowers, they seemed to have a bigger meaning than thought. Maybe it was the hopeless romantic in you or the movies of the main leads finding their soulmates in the most random places- but for you, it just gave you the feeling of true love.

As Chaehyun went to pay, you walked down the sidewalk to find more vendors and other things to buy. You then stumbled upon one of your friends from your Photos class last semester, Jake Sim. As you both crossed paths, he waved from the side of the area he was in. He held a bag of fresh oranges, looking for the perfect ones to buy.

You and Jake talked often as he was notably one of the most handsome guys in your grade- also one of Heeseung’s closest friends. He, Heeseung, Jay, and Sunghoon- his entire friend group was known as the campus hunks per say. They were all known to be flirtatious- well minus Heeseung since he got together with Chaehyun.

They always showed up to the parties, knew almost everyone, had high grades, and overall just had a reputation that shone across the campus. It is known that they were never serious about one thing which was love.

Maybe that was why you were skeptical as soon as Chaehyun confessed to you she started seeing Heseeung. But soon enough, he proved himself worthy of dating your best friend.

“Hey Y/N, what brings you here?” Jake asked politely as you stood by the crate of oranges.

“Chae wanted to grab some flowers for the vase in the dining room.” You replied.

“There you are, you wandered off-” Chaehyun sighed as she glanced towards Jake, giving him a wave.

“Let me guess?” Jake smiled as Chaaehyun nodded her head. “The flowers withered.”

Chaehyun showed Jake the bouquet of flowers as he looked at each one, admiring how pretty the bouquet was. He then snapped his fingers, as if a lightbulb appeared on the top of his head.

“Wait, before I forget, you and Y/N are coming to Yeonjun’s party tonight right? It’s the first last party of the spring semester since he’s graduating in May.”

“Hee told me about that, I’ll tag along,” Chaehyun replied. She then looked at you and shook her head. “I don’t know about Y/N though.”

“You guys have fun,” You smiled. “I got assigned a paper already in my Sociology class.”

In honesty, the paper was not due in 3 weeks, you had another deadline: your article in the Campus Online Paper. As a journalism major, you must participate in the school’s online newspaper under an Alias for at least one semester in your last two years of university. No one knew it was you who wrote those articles, not even Chaehyun.

It was your little secret to keep, you wanted people to critique your writing because of skill not because it was you per say.

You decided to get it over with and participate this semester under the alias Forget Me Not (you had no clue what your alias should be) and write about Classics and Myths. As you had the creative freedom to choose a topic and stick with it for that semester, you decided to write about different stories that piqued your interest and analyze them.

You remembered the first day of your Intro to Classics and Myths, stunned by learning about the Narcissus flower.

The myth was about the nymph Echo and the hunter Narcissus. Echo was cursed by the goddess Juno, the Roman counterpart of the Greek goddess Hera. Echo was cursed to only repeat what someone had already said.

Echo then falls in love with Narcissus who rejects her; she does not give up, only for her body to then go to waste with only an echo of her soul to be heard. Narcissus then is punished by Nemesis, the Greek counterpart of Artemis, and curses him to only fall in love with no one but himself.

As Narcissus then stops by a nearby pond, thirsty, he sees his reflection in the pond, not realizing he is looking at himself. In pure bliss, Narcissus decided to lean closer and realized he could not fall in love with the reflection, falling into his death; the Narcissus flower then started to grow in his place.

After learning about the Myth and being intrigued by the story, you wrote about the piece and your thoughts. You felt like you just rambled in your article analyzing it and adding your feelings and how pitiful love could be for people.

Frankly, you were supposed to stay for just one semester. As the number of reads slowly increased after your first article, the student president of the paper, Choi Soobin, asked you to stay just for one more semester, promising to put in a good word with you for the broadcasting company he was currently interning at.

Now here you are, trying to pry your way out of an offer that you probably can’t refuse knowing it was going to be one of the biggest parties of the semester. Especially since Yeonjun moved into an apartment space that was larger than the last one he last lived in.

“See I told you.” Chaehyun chimed. “She’s a busy girl.”

“Ah, well I tried,” Jake replied. “But if you do change your mind, you should tag along. It’d be cool for you to hang out with everyone.”

“Wait, you haven’t even properly met Jay and Sunghoon,” Chaehyun said as she nuzzled up to you, smiling. “Okay, I guess you have to go now.”

“I can meet them another time-”

“Oh yea, they’re nice. Jay’s really funny and easygoing. Sunghoon’s a bit cold but he’s just reserved.” Jake replied. “Y/N, I still think you should come.”

“I’ll think about it.” You nodded your head.

The two of you then said goodbye to Jake, walking towards the vendor who was selling kettle corn at the end of the other side of the market.

You had no clue how you went from an “I’ll think about it” to sitting on Yeonjun’s couch, in the middle of Jake and Chaehyun.

Your best friend was too busy talking to Heeseung enjoying their time together as Jay sat on the other end of Jake sipping their drinks.

You could barely hear what anyone was saying or process what was going on as the strobe lights took over the entire area and loud music blared from the speakers placed near the couch.

Everyone was busy doing their own thing and you on the other hand, just wanted to go home.

You had just met Jay and he seemed very sweet and polite. You guys talked for a little bit earlier in the kitchen as they poured their drinks into their cups. You found out how he was a Business major alongside Sunghoon while Jake majored in Chemical Engineering and Heeseung majored in Music Therapy.

The three of you rambled about how much work your classes assigned in the first week and how slumped you all were, already waiting for the summer. You got along with them pretty nicely and you wondered if you’d get along with the last person in Heeseung’s friend group which was Sunghoon.

Sunghoon was one of the quieter guys in Heeseung’s friend group. You've seen him a couple of times and how he rarely had a smile on his face. He was the one you’d hear the most stories of in your classes and amongst girls in your classes.

You heard of stories of girls trying their best to get closer to him or asking for his number or how some would even gift him chocolates as a confession. He would then decline each request, leaving many in heartbreak and some in embarrassment.

He seemed to be the opposite whenever it came to parties and larger functions. His walls would crumble down only to be rebuilt the day after.

You did not want to judge his character since you did not know him at all but he was distinguishable from his friends personality wise.

“Dang he must have drank on his own or something,” Jake mumbled, looking around for Sunghoon. He looked at his phone, seeing that the message he sent to Sunghoon was still left unread.

You stood up and looked down at your phone. Seeing it was almost 10 PM, you needed some fresh air knowing the party wasn’t going to end anytime soon.

You lightly tapped Chaehyun’s shoulder, trying to get her attention. “Chae, you said there was a rooftop here?”

“Oh yes, you need to see it, it’s pretty! Just press the 5th floor and go straight down the left hall and there should be the entrance.” Chaehyun replied trying to talk loudly over the blaring music.

“Also if you see Sunghoon there, do you mind texting Chaehyun to let us know, I have a feeling he may be there.” Jake asked you as you nodded your head.

You then walked out, saying a bit of loud “Excuse Me’s” outside of Yeonjun’s apartment and towards the elevator in the middle of the floor.

Sunghoon lost count of how much he drank so far. He felt the flower petals start to grow in his lungs again. There was no one sitting by the balcony on the rooftop, it was just him and the alcohol keeping him company. He coughed a little as a few flower petals fell from his mouth.

He looked down towards the blue and purple petals. “Damn Forget Me Nots.” He whispered to himself.

As he shrugged off the flowers, he just sat and looked at the view of the city, sitting in one of the plastic chairs, trying to control his breathing.

Sunghoon was in a shitty mood, to say the least. Getting a call earlier today from his dad telling him to get over his disease and help his older brother with the family business was not what he wanted to wake up to. With his dad pestering him over an arranged marriage and possible “cures” to help him get “back on track with his life”,

Sunghoon was frustrated, wishing his dad would just stop.

He took another sip of the beer in his hands, feeling the wind blow its breeze lightly on his face.

You opened the entrance to the rooftop and sighed in awe. As the entrance was on the other side of where Sunghoon was sitting, you did not see him just yet.

You got your phone out of the pocket of your jacket and took pictures of the view. You took a deep breath, relieved of the fresh air. You felt suffocated, to say the least at the party and were finally happy to be alone for once.

The rooftop was decorated with hung lightbulbs in all four corners. You figured this was a spot people go to often to wind down and drink or have a midnight conversation at. It was decorated nicely, it was no wonder people liked to come up here.

You walked towards the other side of the rooftop to find someone sitting in a plastic chair alone. As you walk closer, you see a few bottles of beer with flower petals all over the area. You look in confusion, curious about where all the flower petals came from.

There were certainly no trees around unless this mysterious person was picking petals from flowers they brought up to the rooftop.

You then see Sunghoon sitting, staring at the view, sighing. As you took another step, he put down the bottle of beer he was drinking. You immediately text Chaehyun to tell Jake that Sunghoon is up on the rooftop.

“Jake, is that you?” Sunghoon asks softly with his back still turned towards the view.

“Oh, um, no.” You reply as you walk closer. “I was just here to get air.”

Sunghoon looked at you as he turned his head slightly. As you bend down, you pick up a blue flower petal and raise an eyebrow. “Forget-Me-Nots?”

“You-you know the petals of those flowers?”

“Yeah, actually they’re my favorite type of flowers.” You replied. “Where did you get so many of them to rip up these many petals?”

Sunghoon could not process what he was hearing. He just looked at you as you picked up some of the petals in awe. He did not reply, confused if he was hearing things correctly.

This was probably nothing but a small conversation, he thought to himself.

There is no way you would just show up in his life with the flowers that filled his lungs to be those favorite flowers of yours.

“Who hurt you?” You asked, looking up at him.

“It’s not a who it’s a what,” Sunghoon muttered as he looked back at the view, trying to deflect all the questions you asked.

You just looked at the petals in front of you, still in the same position. You picked up a petal, poking it with your finger, seeing it glisten under the lightbulbs that perched up above the both of you.

He then glanced back towards you who stood up, holding the petal in your hands.

You looked down at the petal in your hands and back up at Sunghoon, clicking your tongue. “It’s too bad you ripped them up. These flowers symbolize true love.”

Sunghoon started to feel his chest at ease. He held his chest a little, perplexed by this new still of calmness. He blinked his eyes quicker, thinking if his suspicions were just him unaware of what was going on at the moment. He put his hand down, sitting up a little. “Is that why you like those flowers?”

“Mhm.” You replied. “Oh, I’m Y/N by the way, Chaehyun’s best friend.”

As soon as Sunghoon was going to reply, Jake rushed in with Jay. The two looked a bit frazzled by the sight of the flower petals. You stepped back a bit as the two carried Sunghoon in their arms.

“Thanks, Y/N for letting Chaehyun know,” Jake said as he gently put Sunghoon’s left arm around him as Jay did for his right.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Tell Hee and Chaehyun we’re heading back to our apartment earlier. You’ll be okay here?” Jay asked.

You nodded your head, giving the boys a thumbs up. “No worries. Get home safely.”

Sunghoon felt too stunned as he turned his head back to you, feeling a bit defeated he didn’t properly introduce himself to you. He just kept his head down a little, feeling his chest start to tighten again.

As the boys bid farewell and walked back inside to the hallway, you glanced back at the sight in front of you.

You walked around the petals and glanced towards the view of the city in front of you. You slid the petal into your pocket, sighing. You then turned around and looked back at the rooftop, stunned by what just happened.

Sunghoon was the complete opposite of what you thought he would be.

And why did that intrigue you in the slightest bit?

prologue || 02

masterlist | main masterlist

#enhypen #enhypen au #enhypen x reader #park sunghoon #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x y/n #sunghoon x you #enha x reader #enha #enha imagines #enha scenarios #enha x you #enha x y/n

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