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slutshamethesquirrels · 3 days

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Superbloom - Part 3

tws: abuse, domestic violence, self harm and suicidal ideations

pairing: cc!satosugu x reader

part 2

Gojo stays up impossibly late. When he's home, you try your best to keep him company, but often end up nodding off on the couch, or the floor. One time you even fell asleep with your head down on the dining room table beside your late night bowl of cereal, spoon still in hand. You couldn't remember it, but Gojo found it greatly amusing.

You always woke up in your bed though.

Did he touch you when he carried you there? Or did he scoop you up with the infinite barrier between himself and the rest of the world? Did he brush your hair away from your face, rest his cheek against your forehead as he cradled you?

You couldn't imagine he did. Sensory input seemed to be a sort of hurdle for him.

He liked taste. Particularly sugar, but oftentimes he could also be lured away from responsibility by way of food trucks and pop up shops with menus that may as well be eligible to him. Different combinations of taste and texture seemed to fascinate him. There was something very human in those moments; the tilt of his head and the slow maneuvering of his jaw. It seemed it was only in those fleeting moments he could entirely lose himself in the sensation of something new.

Sight was a curse, quite literally. You’d learned the blindfold was more than just a comfort, more than just a mask. Occasionally he'd come home from missions and fall face first into the couch swearing he’s fine, but you knew better. There was a tension in his shoulders that only seemed to ease when all the lights were off and the only sound was your colliding breathing. You’d sit on the floor in front of him and worry, so loud you'd think he could probably hear it until his breathing slowed. You couldn't carry Gojo to bed if you tried, but you'd retrieve his blanket from his room and pull it up over his sleeping form only to watch it hover a few inches above his slumbering frame. You wondered if it was still warm.

And touch?

You wouldn't know. You aren't sure he would either.

He treated infinity like a party trick, throwing up invisible walls for you to walk into for a quick laugh, or blocking your chopsticks from reaching your lips– he especially loved it when you got irritated enough to throw something at him.

Little reminders of how untouchable he truly was.

It was lonely.

You hadn't gone so long without being touched in years. At first you missed the obvious: the kisses, the cuddles, the sex– but you knew you were truly broken when Gojo had come home fuming after a meeting with the higher ups and you got excited over the idea that he might lose it enough to hit you.

He didn't. He wouldn't.

Instead he stormed past you, his infinity bumping you roughly out of the way and made a b-line for his room, slamming the door behind him with enough force to rattle the walls.

The loneliness only grows.

Day fades to evening fades to night. You fill the time with instant ramen and doom scrolling through social media.

You know you shouldn't check, but you can't stop yourself from pulling up Suguru's instagram.

He loved pictures. You'd always had the feeling that he was a little vain, but he would swear it was all about the image.

He didn't post often, but when he did the comments we're always flooded with new age spirituality bullshit. Praising him and his “healing”, stroking his ego about his “divine masculine” energy. You had half a mind to tell these people that man had a better skincare routine than you did, but decide against it.

Something catches your eye.

His most recent post was liked by Manami.

You knew better than to open her profile, because seeing her name alone makes your stomach churn and your blood boil. It almost feels good-

“Y/n?”

Gojo's voice snaps you out of your trance and you drop your phone with a clatter against the table. If he's curious, he doesn't say so. It seems like there are other things on his mind.

“Pack your bags.”

The words cut through you like a hot knife, nausea welling up in your gut.

What was wrong with you that this kept happening? And even more importantly, where would you run to if not to Gojo? You’d lost all connections when you decided to follow Suguru in his defection, and not even a coffee shop would be impressed by “highschool dropout” written in the fine print of your resume.

Still, what was there to do?

“Okay.” It comes out muted, shakey.

“We’ll be there for an entire week, and it's gonna be cold, so choose your outfits accordingly.”

Oh.

Relief floods you. You take a breath you didn't know you'd been denying yourself.

Planes are nice, but nowhere near being better than rides on Suguru’s curses. Still, you lean against the window, watching the expansive sea trail out for miles below you, wondering how it’d feel to drop right there in the middle. One would assume it’d be peaceful, but you knew better. People said water burned when it entered your lungs.

Still, there must be something interesting down there. Perhaps a sunken ship, or plane– just like the one you were on now. Or maybe something less human, something darker.

You’d never find out under the watchful eye of Gojo, who by all means looked relaxed. His long legs were stretching obnoxiously into your space, his fingers interlocked behind his head, tipped back like he hadn’t a care in the world, and yet you knew that something was eating at him. Whatever this mission was, it had him pissed, though he wouldn’t divulge exactly what had him so riled. It came through in subtle bursts- flares of his nostrils, clenches of his fists, impatient legs jiggling and jostling your seat with every move.

“Gojo.” You scold, moving to rest your hand against his ever bouncing knee but being stopped just a few inches short.

A grin cracks across his face like lighting; violent and bright.

“Yes?”.

He jiggles his leg harder. If it were anyone else, you’d punch them, but this was Gojo. Not only did you have a particular sort of patience for his class clown behavior, but you also couldn’t– the fact that he paid your rent being just as big of a placater as the physical inability to do so.

So you choose a different route.

“Are you nervous or something? Awfully jittery over there.” Your tone lets him know it’s an accusation, not a question.

He freezes, and then sneers “Please. I don’t get nervous.”.

He stays still for the rest of the ride.

Gojo had warned you it would be cold, and you should’ve known he meant you’d be staying in a glorified desert of ice and snow. Another thing about him that hadn’t changed; overstating the inconsequential and understating the important. Not that you had access to clothing of that caliber anyway. You hadn’t left the temple unless tucked under Geto’s arm in all your years away, there was no need for anything other than the uber-casual. Sweatpants, jeans, leggings and t-shirts. You had traditional wear as well, but you’d left it in your room back at the temple. There was no way you were ever donning that again.

The early morning light is played like a game of tennis across the expansive white of the snow-laden rooftops and sidewalks and Gojo’s luminescent features. Both are too light to be accepting of any new particles of light, rejecting the sun's warmth with a beautiful type of determination.

“Fuck.”

The word spat through Gojo’s colgate teeth to some would detract from the beauty, but you’d been taught the debauchery and violence went well with beauty, so it only felt natural.

He shocks you by yanking the blindfold off of his face, scrunching his face up against the blinding light, his features almost wound as tight as his thick knuckles gripping the steering wheel of the rental car. The cold chill that seeps into you isn’t coming from outside, but from somewhere deep in your core.

His eyes had always been beautiful, would’ve been enough to jostle you with a fair warning all those years ago, but with the blindfold removed it was even easier to see just how much he’d grown since then. His features were developed, sharp and smooth all at the same time, with sparse boyish details painted into his aura. Fluttering lashes, long and stark white, soft cheeks and round eyes that– stunned you. You could almost see a faint glow emitting from his pupils, a myriad of memories and lessons and raw power emanating from his gaze. They were horrifying.

They were beautiful.

He flops his blindfold in your lap and motions to his bag in the backseat.

“My glasses are in the front pocket, be a peach and grab them for me?”.

When you turn around to fulfill his request you see exactly what he was perturbed by. A white cop car with ghost detailing on the sides.

“Awwwh, Gojo’s scared of pigs!” You coo as you fish around in the front zipper of his suitcase, smiling to yourself when he laughs. It sounds like caramel tastes; the kind of sweetness that would only come from burning something just right.

He was fun to tease, sometimes.

“Don’t feel like having to make pork chops because they pull me over for driving with my vision obscured.”

Gojo leaves you at the rental cabin with a strict set of rules. You’re not to leave under any circumstances. Stay indoors and away from windows, and when nightfall comes, all lights are to be turned off and left that way. If anyone approaches, you are to act like you’re not there.

You asked him why.

He said you were weak.

It didn’t take you long to discover there was no service this far out in the sticks. You busy yourself as best you can, wandering around the far too large estate and yanking open cabinets and doors like you might find something spectacular (or horrifying) awaiting you.

The best it had to offer was a mostly empty bottle of cleaner under the bathroom sink and a brown recluse in an empty closet. You tell him (her?) hello but she doesn’t respond, so you decide it best to leave him to his biddings. He was here first, after all.

It’s when the sun sets that you really start to lose it.

You’d never been afraid of the dark before, so why now did it feel like it was suffocating you?

The walls seemed to be closing in, tighter and tighter until you felt as if you were pushing on the edges of your own coffin, buried six feet beneath the damp earth. Maggots gnawed at your flesh, rainwater seeped in through the cracks and somewhere you hear Suguru yelling your name. He sounds displeased.

You fumble in the darkness until your hands find a wall and you trace it, blindly feeling for anything that might give you a sense of direction in the unfamiliar environment. The disorientation is blinding, the heat from your hammering pulse making the air burn with every intake.

Suguru would be disgusted, to see you flailing and fumbling in the dark all because you were simply left alone with your own thoughts for too long.

Weak.

You hand finds cool metal and you recognize the familiar sensation of a knob against your palm, turning and throwing the door open without a second thought.

It's no brighter, but the freezing night air shocks your nervous system, hitting you like a brick to the throat– like the hand of a lover.

You take a shuddering gasp, and then two, and then three, until you finally feel some sense of sanity again.

Your eyes adjust to the moonlight, and you can make out the white fields that seem to stretch on for as far as the eye can see. The snow quiets the sounds of nature, quiets the kick drum in your chest.

Your back slowly presses against the cool wall of the house behind you, exhaustion wracking your frame as you come down from your panic. It's real, you tell yourself, it's all real. The wind nipping at your skin, slicing through the thin fabric of your clothing. The shards of razor sharp snow and ice caught in said wind that feels like they’re stabbing through your body. It all hurts. It makes you homesick.

You can't say for sure when you end up on the freezing surface of the covered porch on your side, curled into yourself, but you stay there, relishing in the feeling of the cold burn, thinking that if you close your eyes the frost bite on your jawline kind of feels like Suguru's teeth. Sharp.

Sleep overtakes you, eventually.

You dream of nothing.

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seeingivy · 1 year

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new year's day

actor eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic, masterlist here

content: reader mentions insecurity, connie and reiner teasing you, smooching, levi being a dad for ten minutes straight, sukuna cameo

an: I MISSED YOU POOKIES SO MUCH. SO SO MUCH. war (my 9-5) is over. this ended up at 9k, I hope it can compensate for the wait. ALSO VERY IMPORTANT WE'VE REACHED OUR FIRST TAYLOR SONG OF THE FIC. you can listen to new year's day from reputation before reading - it'll make the end part make more sense <3 (me furthering my turning people into swifties agenda, I saw her last night and my brain chemistry changed)

previous part linked here

“Go outside and look at the moon.”

“No. I’m really comfortable in my bed.”

“Oh, come on Y/N. Just go outside.”

You grumble some nice profanities at Eren over the phone as you shuffle out of your sheets, pushing open your window to stick your head out. The breeze in the air is cold, the frigid atmosphere invading your already freezing room.

Erwin won’t justify turning on the heater. There are only four people in the townhouse right now - you, Levi, Hange, and Erwin (which is totally not your worst nightmare) - and apparently, that doesn’t justify heater use at all. Luckily enough, Eren and his very convincing angry face will arrive tomorrow to save you from your eternal winter.

“S’cold, Jaeger.”

“Yeah, yeah. Do you see the moon?”

You crane your head up, twisting back in the window to look at it. A small crescent pressed against the sky, just slightly hidden beneath the clouds.

“Yes, Eren. I see the moon.”

“Okay. Now look to your right.”

“Are we playing Simon Says?”

“STOP SASSING ME AND JUST DO IT.”

You’re thrown off by the irritation in his voice, and you turn over, peeking your head entirely out to look to the right.

“Very exciting views, Eren. It’s literally pitch black.”

You don’t see much, just the tandem bike you set out for tomorrow - when Eren would be here and not berating you through the phone - and the small patch of flowers that are by the front door.

“I meant your other right, Y/N.”

You shift your head to the left and see Eren standing there, his green hoodie pulled over his head and a cheeky smile pressed into his face.

You drop your phone flat on the floor, running (falling) down the steps out into the cold air, your socks against the cold pavement as you run out to greet him.

He’s already holding his arms open, which you run into, as you burrow your face into his shoulder, his warm arms squeezing around your frame and his laugh in your ears.

“You were supposed to come tomorrow, Eren.”

“And yet I’m here today, Y/N.”

“Shut up. You know what I meant.”

“Flight got moved up. And maybe I just wanted some time in the house where it’s just you and me - you know, without Mikasa interrupting us every two seconds.”

You laugh as you and Eren sling your arms around each other’s shoulders, trudging out of the cold and into the kitchen.

Before you can even mention it, Eren’s pulling out two bowls, and you’re grabbing the ramen packets, the two of you leaning against the counter as you watch the water boil. As excited as you are to see him and actually to be near him, there isn’t really much to talk about.

You guys literally talk every single day.

“How’s the song coming?”

You groan, leaning into his shoulder as he laughs, his hand coming around your shoulder to rest in your hair. But it’s better. Because you can see him with your own eyes, hear him with your own ears, feel him with your own hands.

“Bad. I’m never going to finish it.”

“You’ll finish it. Plus, Armin’s coming soon, and he knows how to rhyme and stuff.”

“That’s not the problem. I feel like the lyrics work when I can figure out the backing tracks and the music. But I keep getting tangled up because I can’t figure out the piano.”

He reaches forward, opening the packets of noodles and dipping them into the water as you start chopping up the vegetables on the side.

“I play piano, Y/N. I can help you if you want.”

“No. That would just be more embarrassing. I get super frustrated when I’m writing. It would be infinitely worse if you were there watching me fail.”

He rolls his eyes as he takes the knife from your hand, lightly pushing you to the side to watch the noodles.

“You’re not going to fail. Let me help you. No one gets a hit on the first try, stupid.”

“Don’t call me stupid, idiot.”

“My bad, dumbass.”

“Language, Eren,” Levi says from behind you two.

You watch a smile spread across Eren’s face as he moves, running past the side of the counter to give Erwin, Hange, and a now-annoyed Levi a hug. Hange and Erwin are ruffling his hair, Hange cooing about how their little stars are back together again.

Eren joins you again at your side as you're dishing out the food, Erwin pulling out a stack of papers as you and Eren start eating at the counter.

“Business.”

“Go ahead, Erwin.” Eren says, handing you the hot sauce before you can even reach for it.

“So. Final scripts. As you’ll see, there aren't too many big scenes for you this season. It’s mostly focusing on this whole Utgard Castle arc, which you’re both not in.” Erwin explains.

“Okay, that’s-” you say.

“That doesn’t mean you both can slack off. There are more scenes for the rest of them because we need you two to nail the scenes you are in. Eren - this whole Colossal Titan reveal, you need to put everything you’ve got into it. If you think I’ve pushed you hard before, you’re in for a whole different playing field this season.” Levi says, glaring at Eren.

You watch Eren roll his eyes, grumbling under his breath as he agrees and starts flipping through the script.

“And you too, Y/N. This whole “Thank You” scene at the end - the majority of the dialogue falls on you. But you need to deliver in all ways. You better be acting with your eyes, your mind, your entire being. This is the type of scene you both could get nominated for as awards that’ll get you more roles. Take it seriously.” Levi continues.

At the mention of awards, you and Eren both perk your ears up, flipping to the end of the script to the scenes tabbed at the ends with your name on it. You quickly run your eyes through the scene and the staging and feel your throat constrict at the staging lines right in the middle, bolded.

Y/N leans forward, grabs Eren by the collar, and presses the softest kiss to his lips. It’s not overly passionate or sensational, but to the two of them, it’s a simple message. One they’ve known all along, maybe since they first met - in that cabin all those years ago.

I know how you feel. You don’t have to say it.

You feel your eyes widen as you look up at Hange and Levi, the words spilling out of your mouth.

“You want us to kiss?”

“Huh?”

At your words, Eren’s leaning over into your space, reading the line marked, and suddenly your cheeks are both burning pink. You both give each other a glance, which only makes it more awkward, as you shuffle as far away from each other as possible.

“Yeah. It’ll fit the scene. It’s just one kiss, maybe two if we don’t get it on the first take.” Hange says nonchalantly as they start flipping through the rest of the highlighted script.

As Erwin, Hange, and Levi start milling through their own conversations - discussing sets, costumes, that scene - you squeak out something that stops them in their tracks.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Hange’s eyes light up as they nearly jump to your side, taking your cheeks into their hands and teasing you. They flip you around so you’re facing Eren, which you’ve been avoiding this entire time, and start whispering into your ear.

“Aw, isn’t he so sweet? It’ll be so nice to have your first kiss with your best friend, someone you trust.”

“Uh, I-”

“Cmon. Eren won’t bite now, will he?”

Eren awkwardly pads to the other side of the room, shoving his face into his script, as Levi comes over and yanks Hange by the hair, muttering something about how they need to stop teasing you.

“Another thing. While they’re filming the Utgard Castle scenes, you’re both not really in, you’re both going on a press junket. We’ll all be there as well.”

“The rest of the cast too?”

“No, just you two, Eren. They’re all going to finish filming so we can maximize time and all that. You’ll return on New Year’s Day to film that last scene.”

“Can we come back earlier? Y/N’s birthday is on New Year’s Eve. She should be here to celebrate with everyone and not on a stuffy plane.”

“Fine. You’ll come back that day. And then the scene is the day after.”

Hange, Erwin, and Levi give the two of you a curt nod as they pad back upstairs, leaving you, Eren, and your two bowls of ramen in the kitchen. You and Eren take the bowls and place them on the table, eating silently.

It’s still hanging in your mind. In a little less than a month, you’re going to be kissing Eren.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah, Eren?”

“I haven’t kissed anyone either.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I just mean, it doesn’t have to be awkward. We’ll just…figure it out together. And it’s you and me, so it won’t be weird.”

You smile, watching the last of your noodles swirl around the bowl as his words seep into your head. Right. It is just you and Eren. You’re best friends. It’s just one kiss. Or maybe two. It’s not a big deal.

“Yeah. You and me, Eren.”

He smiles in response, the awkwardness lifting off of you as you both finish eating.

The second Connie, Reiner, and Ymir make it back on set, their incessant teasing starts. They read the scripts. Kissy faces, smooching sounds, purposely pushing you and Eren into corners together just so they can tease you.

“Eren. Are you excited to kiss, Y/N?”

“Shut up, Connie.”

“Is this your first kiss together? You must be sooo excited, Y/N.”

“Okay, Reiner. Are you excited for your weird pervert lines about Historia?”

The entire room laughs, Historia and Mikasa coming over to yank you out of the corner and sit at the table with them as you all catch up. Armin’s going around - taking pictures of everyone for our first day of filming with his Polaroid - as he starts labeling them all.

There’s one of Reiner and Bertholdt - in their iconic fists to each other’s back poses - labeled “pervert and giraffe” by Connie.

Another one of Sasha sleeping face first on the table from her jet lag while Connie and Jean are spraying whipped cream into her hair, labeled “connie springer, ultimate menace”

And another one of you and Eren, fist-bumping each other, labeled “l/n-jaegers, season two”

Connie films his first incriminating video ten minutes after that. It's Eren tucking your hair behind your ear.

You yank your earphones out as you crunch the pebbles under your feet, rubbing the sleepiness from your eyes. When Armin walks up next to you, he’s immediately leaning his head on your shoulder, his eyes sleepily shut as you wait for everyone else to join.

It’s five in the morning. And you really, really hate Hange for this.

You’re all supposed to be filming a scene two hours away, in the snowcaps. It’s meant to be a flashback scene, primarily for Ymir and Historia, which is why you’re pissed that you had to wake up this early anyways. The light is barely peeking into the sky, the hues still a dark navy as everyone strolls out of the townhouse.

Jean’s grumbling profanities, Mikasa’s dragging Connie out, and Sasha's the only one who’s really awake. Erwin slides open the bus door, and you trudge in, sliding into the first seat.

You're leaning your head against the glass, ice cold, as you try to flutter your eyes closed again to rest a little bit on the drive over. You feel a shifting in the seat next to you and two hands on your head, moving you through space.

You peek your eyes open to find Eren, placing your forehead against his shoulder instead of the glass.

“Huh, what-”

“Sorry, Y/N. Didn’t mean to wake you. Just figured it would be more comfortable this way.” he whispers, lightly pulling the hood of your jacket back over your head.

You nestle more into his shoulder, letting the weight of your head fall entirely onto his shoulder as he readjusts under you, his arm splayed across your back. You feel his head resting on top of yours, your breaths in tandem as you both shut your eyes and drift off to a very unrestful and bumpy sleep.

You wake up two hours later to the flash of a camera. And when you open your eyes, Armin and Connie are smirking at you, holding up the Polaroid of you and Eren sleeping in front of your face and then running out the bus.

You frown as you rub your eye sockets with your knuckles, readjusting your hair and cracking out your neck.

"Fuck Erwin for getting Armin that camera."

“I really hope they’re not there when we have to kiss each other, Eren. They’re never going to let us hear the end of it.”

“You and me both.”

He holds his hand out, helping you up from the chair as you both pull on your jackets and join everyone else in the snow.

“Sleep well?”

You and Eren turn your heads to find Marco standing beside you, a shy smile on his face. You and Eren both reach forward, pulling your arms around him as you start talking at the same time, shocked at his presence.

“Marco. What the fuck? What are you doing-”

“You didn’t even tell us you were coming! That’s so messed up. You bitch.”

He pulls back, a hand resting on both of your shoulders as he smiles, the look soft.

“Sorry, guys. I wanted it to be a surprise. I’ll be here after you’re back from the press junket, too, Y/N. For your birthday.”

You smile at him, giving him one more hug as he ruffles your hair, the two of you linking arms as you wait to film the scene at hand. After you film the aforementioned extremely short scene - which just makes you more aggravated at Levi and Hange because why the hell did you have to come out here for that - the lot of you head into the cabin, peeling off your snow coats and settling into the seats.

Armin and Eren settle at the window, the two of them teaching each other card tricks while Bertholdt follows Sasha to rummage for snacks. Mikasa and Reiner run off to explore the upper level of the cabin as you and Marco sit flat against the wall, watching everyone walk around.

“How are you, Y/N?”

“Okay, Marco. How are you?”

“I meant. Regarding everything we talked about last time and all that.”

“Oh. Right.”

The last time you saw Marco was when he came to visit you and stay with your family for a week. It was an impromptu trip after you mentioned to him that things weren’t going so great. Granted, he was only an hour away from filming a short film and had the time to spare, but it still meant the world.

He places a hand on the top of your knee as you look over at Eren, his eyebrows scrunched in concentration as he starts talking.

“You doing okay? Seriously?” he asks.

“It feels better when I’m here. With you guys. Especially you, now that you’re here. I feel most normal here and wildly out of place when I’m home.”

He sighs, squeezing your knee as you watch Eren place his card down, a victorious screech leaving his mouth as Armin rolls his eyes.

“I can’t say I understand. We all went to the SHWA when we were so little, and I guess there was always some understanding that we’d be…in the spotlight. Scrutinized. No grocery stores or going to the beach, or any of that. Those things wouldn’t be normal. There was really no…normal to go back to.”

You reach down, holding his hand, as you tilt your head back on the wall.

“I don’t know. It’s weird. Sometimes it feels like I can’t even be normal without people picking apart everything I do. I knew this was something I wanted badly but never figured it would be like this.”

“Yeah. I know the feeling.” he responds.

Eren looks over from his spot on the windowsill, eyebrows scrunched together in frustration now as he mouths the words.

You okay?

You nod, albeit halfheartedly, as Marco pulls you up, the two of you scooting into the kitchen.

“Did you tell him about any of this?”

“No.” “Don’t be silly, Y/N. The first thing they say at the SHWA is to rely on the people around you. The ones who understand.”

“I do rely on the people around me. I’m talking to you right now.”

He reaches forward to flick your forehead, the spot stinging.

“Ouch, asshole.”

“I’m not a series regular anymore. And he’s the person you should tell. He’d want to know.”

You roll your eyes at him as Sasha comes up, splitting half of her chocolate bar with you. Armin and Eren amble in a little while later, the lot of you all standing in the kitchen, watching Connie shove as many marshmallows as he can into Reiner’s mouth.

Armin takes a picture. Labels it “chubby bunny gone wrong” when Reiner’s choking over the sink.

The press junket is insane. You and Eren are spending three days, all at the same convention, doing panels together. All while trying to memorize the lines for your kiss scene. Levi and Erwin said to meet as many people as the two of you could socialize as much as you can. Answer questions about the show for fans without letting Eren spoil the show.

The first interview was a get-to-know-the-actors test. You and Eren are tasked with asking each other simple questions and talking about them. It should be easy. As the camera beeps red for recording, Eren turns to the side and starts.

“My name is Eren Jaeger, and I’m one of the cast members of Attack on Titan.”

“And I’m Y/N L/N, and I’m also from the cast of Attack on Titan. We’re going to be doing an interview today for you to get to know us better!”

Eren leans forward, giving you a warm smile as you talk. He reaches forward, reading off the question on the first card.

“Y/N. Did you take anything home from the set?”

You turn to the side, making a fake warning face into the camera.

“Levi, if you’re watching, stop.”

Eren laughs as you turn back to him, trying to ignore the lights blaring in your eyes.

“Um. I totally accidentally took one of the scarves home. But that was an accident. Did you take anything?”

“I stole one of Armin’s polaroids from the wall. I keep it in my wallet. And I totally stole one of the ODM gear swords.”

“Huh? What do you even do with that?”

“Threaten my brother.”

“Oh my god, Eren. Jesus. Which polaroid did you take?”

“I have it, actually.”

Eren smiles at you as he yanks his wallet out of his pocket, handing the shiny white Polaroid over. You smile as you remember the day, the picture being of you and Eren with your ramen bowls. Armin’s inscription says, “sosuke and ponyo.” You hold it up to the camera before handing it back to Eren, making a mental note to steal one of Armin’s Polaroids too.

“Okay, Eren. Your question is…who is the first person you call when you get good news?”

His cheeks turn pink as he pinches the bridge of his nose, rolling his eyes at the camera.

“This is kind of cheesy.”

“Huh, Eren?”

“The person I call is you.”

You smile, twiddling with the end of your braids as you respond.

“My answer is you too.”

He smiles back, the two of you getting through the rest of the questions and thanking the crew team in the filming room. As you and Eren swing out of the door, he pulls the tiny little sheet Levi had made for the two of you out of his pocket, looking where to go next. You’re leaning so close into his space to read the little sheet that you can smell his minty gum, the smell filling your nose.

You’re going to the networking event.

You and Eren slide into the hallway, a big expensive conference room filled with people milling around. Almost everyone is nursing a glass of red wine in their hands, all adults talking over and around you as you both awkwardly stand at the front. You instinctively reach down for Eren’s hand, the two of you locking fingers as you move forward.

You both naturally lean against the wall, watching everyone walk around as you enter the room. All men. Well, almost all men. But from what you can tell, the only other women in the room are actresses - the producers, directors, screenwriters - they’re all men.

“Does it feel weird to you here, Eren?”

“Kind of. I can’t really place what it is, but it doesn’t really feel like we’re allowed to be here.”

You’re both significantly younger than almost everyone in this room. And they’re all drinking. Talking about god knows what. You try to scan the room - looking for Erwin, Hange, or Levi but come out dry from your search. Eren must be sensing your unease because he’s leading you toward the doors, ready to yank the two of you out of the situation.

But before he can, a man stops him, tapping him on the shoulder to talk to him. You both stop in your tracks, half turning around to look at him. He’s extremely tall, looming over the two of you, and you feel infinitely small in front of him. He looks at Eren, a self-assured smile pressed on his face as he introduces himself.

“Scott Clarkson. I’m a producer for Stone Studios.”

“I’m Eren Jaeger. This is-”

“I know who you are, Eren. I was invited to see one of the first cuts of the latest movie you just filmed and-”

Before you can even understand what’s happening, he has his hand on Eren’s shoulder, and they’re walking down the length of the hall, the end of their conversation lost to you. Eren looks back, and you give him a halfhearted smile as he tries to turn back before getting stuck in a larger group of people.

You make your way back against the wall, sliding into one of the farthest chairs and swirling a cup of lemonade in your hands. You watch the pulp of the lemon dissolve into your cup as you aggressively swirl, the drops landing on the black of your skirt.

It’s moments like this where you feel like you don’t belong. Marco’s words swirl through your mind, that this type of stuff is normal for them because they have no normal to return to, but you can’t help but feel other to them even if they are where you feel most comfortable.

Eren’s on the other side of the room, now stuck in a big group and laughing with producers and casting directors and talking about movies he’s filming and what he has lined up next. You’re on the other side of the room, sulking against the wall - you’d be shocked if they even knew who you were.

You’re not jealous of him. If anything, it’s everything Eren deserves and more. He’s always been phenomenal. But that’s just the thing, he’s everything and you’re not even on the same playing field.

Sometimes, it feels like Eren’s too good to be your friend. Your co-star. Someone you’re around. You can feel your knuckles turning white against the plastic of the cup, crushing against your hand.

“You know, if you do that any harder, you’re going to spill it all over yourself. Then I’ll have to take my pants off so you don’t look like an idiot.”

You look up to find Sukuna smiling at you, with Nobara and Maki rolling their eyes at him. You hop up, crushing Nobara and him in a hug and physically feeling the unease untangle in your chest.

“Hi. I’m really glad you’re here I-”

“This shit always sucks. I have no idea why we’re forced to come to these things.” Maki says, sliding into the seat on your left. Sukuna sits to your right, his arm resting across the back of your chair as the four of you whisper, well, more like the three of them explaining who all the producers in the room are, as you sit there.

“Hey Sukuna.”

“Hm, doll?”

“That guy. The one talking to Eren. Who is he?”

He squints his eyes as he cranes around the room, trying to find where you’re pointing at Eren. And when he does, you watch his eyes widen before he talks again.

“Ah. That’s Clarkson. He’s kind of an asshat.”

“What? Why?”

“No, he’s just a dick. A really great producer makes super cool movies, but he’s…not the best. All that shit you hear about the industry running people dry, taking advantage of people. They’re talking about him. And his lot.” Nobara explains, glaring daggers at him.

“Not his entire lot, Nobara. His daughter is fine.” Sukuna says, reaching over to you and Maki to flick her cheek.

“She’s a bitch. You’re just saying that because you’re dating her.” Nobara responds, flicking him back.

“Who's a bitch?”

The four of you break apart, still leaning over each other, to find Eren, Levi, and a short girl with brown hair staring at you.

“No one, Hyla.” Nobara says, grumbling as she and Maki stand up. Levi gets side-swiped into a conversation. He looks like he’d rather be five feet under than whatever he was talking about as the six of you stand up. You hold your hand out, introducing yourself to Hyla.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hyla Clarkson. Your dad was the one who acted in Interstellar, right?”

“No. That’s Historia’s dad, but I get the confusion. We’re just from the same show.”

You watch her eyebrows pinch up in confusion as she crosses her hands around her chest.

“Oh! Was your mom the one in Moonrise Kingdom?” she asks.

“Nope. I-”

“So what film were they-”

“My parents are dentists. They’re not really in the industry like that.” you ramble out, trying to spare yourself from any more embarrassment.

She smiles, the expression not meeting her eyes, as she reaches down and links her hand with Sukunas.

“That’s really sweet, actually. Humble beginnings and all that,” she says.

“I think it’s pretty cool. Like yeah, we all land roles because our parents kind of help us get them in some way. But, Y/N worked her way to the lead of the show, sans famous parents. It’s a testament to true talent. ” Eren says, his voice firm.

“I agree. L/N has always been badass, especially on the screen.” Maki says, glaring at Hyla altogether.

She rolls her eyes as she reaches into the pocket of her dress, taking out a shiny silver card and handing it to Eren.

“Eren. This is my dad’s card. He wanted me to give you another one unless you lost it.” Hyla says, giving Eren a hug before she walks away.

You both wait outside for Levi to join you, quietly standing against the wall. You watch Eren turn over the card in his hands before ripping it up, slashing right through Scott Clarkson’s shiny name in the middle.

“That’s a bit harsh, Eren. He’s a really good producer from what I’ve heard,” you say.

“Don’t care. We’ll get there on our own - we don’t need leg-ups from guys like that.”

You smile as you lean your head on Eren’s shoulder, the anxious feeling still tingling in your chest. Levi makes his way out, giving you two a smile as you both get dragged to your next panel, individual interviews.

You go first. The interviewer is a pale blonde girl with a stack of cards in her hand.

“Y/N. Who's your favorite male co-star on set?”

“Oh, um. That’s a hard question to ask, we’re all friends.”

You can tell she’s not satisfied with your answer by her uptight posture, the irritation rolling out of her mouth.

“Oh, don’t pick a cop-out answer. Who's your favorite male co-star? Is it Eren?”

“Um, sure? He’s my best friend on set. But I like everyone.”

She smiles, switching to her next card.

“Fans have picked up on matching bracelets you and Eren have been wearing during this press tour. Can you comment on the story behind them?”

“Oh, sure! It was last year, at the Savant Awards TV show awards. A pair of sweet fans gifted them to us.”

She doesn’t comment any further on the story, switching to the next card as you swirl the bracelet around on your wrist, concealing Eren’s name on the beads against the inner part of your wrist. You have a feeling that what you just said will already get twisted into something it’s not, which in the worst way, distorts the entire thing for you together.

“Okay, well, that’s all I have for you.”

You give her a smile as you switch seats, taking Eren’s previous seat. Hange places a hand on your head, and you watch them share a look with Levi as Eren takes the seat.

“You’re a phenomenal actor, Eren. What gets you in the zone on set?”

“Thank you so much! I usually have to take a second before I start filming a scene just to get in the right headspace. Especially for scenes that I film with Y/N, I usually need her to be right there next to me just so I can…feel the scene before we film it.”

The interviewer smiles, sliding to the next card as she asks Eren the questions. She couldn’t be this cheery and enthusiastic for you?

“Do you have any pre-filming rituals before you get on set and start filming?” she asks.

“I need to eat a bowl of ramen with Y/N before we start. It’s not like a good luck thing or anything, but we’ve just always started our day like that and now we just have to do it before we go on and film.” Eren responds, looking over to give you a smile.

You give him a thumbs up as he keeps going, trying not to pay too much attention to the fact that all of Eren’s questions are about his upcoming roles, his acting techniques, his favorite parts of acting, and how yours were all about him. Granted, Eren somehow brings you up in almost every question he answers - even if it’s not explicitly related to you - which only makes the entire thing fester in your mind more.

What are people going to say about it? This would just make what everyone says about you guys worse.

Not that it’s bad, but they just…say things. Granted, everyone had been saying things since the start, but you’ve always chalked that up to the fact that you and Eren are closer than everyone else is. And you know how the two of you are, but everyone else seems to have their own opinions about it. And maybe you should try to stop it? But if that’s how you are, who are you to change and-

“You okay?”

Eren’s taken the seat next to you, leaving Erwin to get interviewed next. You’re both slumped into the chairs at the back, Levi and Hange whispering in hushed voices in front of you. You can’t help but wonder if they felt this way when they were filming La La Land, but then again, they had no reason to deny anything that anyone said. They were actually together.

“Yeah. Just want to go home.”

He frowns as he brings a hand to the top of your head, leaning it to rest on his shoulder again. His cold fingers are in your scalp, pressing against the pulsating headache you’d been ignoring for the past hour, soothing the feeling.

Should you guys really be sitting like this if there are cameras five feet away? And what if-

“Do you want to take a walk? We can go look for lemonade or something.”

You nod as you both stand up, giving Hange and Levi a wave as you walk off. You’re slowly ambling behind Eren as he looks around for the drinks, the entire day replaying in your mind.

You just want to go back to set. Have Mikasa tell you goodnight, eat breakfast with Sasha, play cards with Armin. None of this press junket, stupid interviewers, uncomfortable producers business.

You feel a tugging on your arm, and you look back to find two girls looking at you. They can’t be much older than you, maybe eighteen or nineteen, with matching Attack on Titan shirts. With your face on it.

“Hi. We’re Sarah and Sofia. We’re really, really big fans of the show. We were wondering if we could get a picture with you?”

“Oh! Yeah, of course. I’d love to.” you respond.

You take a few pictures with them before handing them their phones back.

“Are you guys enjoying the panels?”

“Yes! We’ve gone to every single one of yours, you’ve been doing really well.”

You can feel your cheeks burning at their praise, reaching forward to hold both of their hands as you talk.

“You guys are too kind. And I really, really love the shirts. Did you make them yourselves?”

“Yeah! We also drove down two hours just to come watch, it’s been such a good weekend. We really, really admire you for what you’ve done. It seems like we hardly ever see “normal” people in the media. But every time we watch you do an interview, you always bring up our favorite songs and slang that we use, it just…makes it feel like there’s someone like us on the screen.”

You squeeze their hands, the tears welling in your eyes as you fight them down while responding.

“I promise, I’m a thousand times more like you than any of them, in more ways than you’d think. And…you could do it too. It’s like you said, we’re one and the same.”

They’re smiling so brightly at you that it’s making your heart squish in your chest, the feeling all warm and gooey and self-soothing. Right. You can do it. Who gives a fuck if a stupid reporter or these people think you’re lame - the people who watch your show are the ones that matter.

“We love you so much. You’re so, so sweet. You’re literally the nicest celebrity we’ve ever met. I’m sure you have to run soon - I can see Eren back there staring bullets at us - but we hope you have a really good birthday tomorrow, and we can’t wait to meet you again.” they say.

You wrap your arms around both of them as they both run off, excitedly talking, as you see Eren coming up to join you. He has a cup of lemonade in his right hand, the left hand reaching forward to wipe away the one tear that escaped your eyes.

“Sure you’re okay?”

You look over at him, green eyes looking into yours, and reach down to take his hand.

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Let’s go home, yeah?”

You nod, the two of you shuffling off to where you came from.

When you get on the plane, your impending panic of the “Thank You” scene comes back. You’re both landing on set on New Year’s Day - which is your birthday, so you won’t be filming. Levi and Hange granted you the night off, and Eren says the two of you can go get slushies when you land. But then you’re filming the scene the next morning. You’re both still stuck on the plane for another seven hours running through the lines.

“Listen, you’ve always been at my side...thank you.”

You drop the script onto the table and groan loudly, to which Eren laughs in response.

“It-it’s falling flat. This scene is too serious, I-we’re going to have to do a million takes.”

“It’s fine- we’ll just practice a lot.”

You switch seats so you’re right next to Eren, the two of you looking down at your scripts and switching. You read each other’s stage notes - you both have a habit of writing notes to help remember lines and blocking - which you’ve found helps reading each other's notes helps you stay in line. Like you’re in each other’s head.

You read through his little scribbles - keep eye contact, start crying here, practice this.

“Eren.”

“Hm?”

“When you say practice this, you mean…”

He leans over, eyes going wide as he snatches his own script back, face burning. The arrow saying “practice this” was pointing to the line referring to the two of you kissing.

“Were you going to practice kissing in the mirror?”

“Shut up.”

“I think a pillow would be more sanitary. Maybe you could find a video of it on the internet or-”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to practice with me,” Eren responds angrily.

You can feel your throat drying, eyes met with Eren’s burning stare.

“Um.”

“I just thought it-it would be worse if we did it wrong. And had to keep trying, and you know that everyone’s going to come to watch us and-”

“I guess, but-”

“You don’t have to, Y/N. I was just thinking about it, and I was going to ask. Just so we don’t…have to do it for the first time in front of cameras.” he mumbles, turning his head away to look out the window.

You sit there for a second and think about it. Eren does have a point. Having Ymir and Reiner stand there while you kiss Eren, or anyone, for the first time would be horribly embarrassing if they were actually standing there. And it would be weird to have your first kiss for the first time in front of someone, maybe it would be a better memory if it was more isolated and someone else.

“Okay, Eren. That actually makes sense.”

He turns back, a shocked expression spreading across his face.

“Really?”

“Yeah, just…don’t be weird or something if it’s bad. I’ve like never really done this before, Eren and-”

“It’ll be fine. We can figure it out together. It’s just…kissing. Can’t be rocket science.”

You nod, albeit apprehensively, as Levi and Hange join you and Eren in the seats across from you.

“You guys doing okay?” Levi asks, pushing bottles of water toward the two of you.

You both nod as you take in their expressions, the two of them more stern or serious than normal. Well, Hange being more stern - Levi has resting serious face.

“We wanted to talk to you about something,” Hange says.

“Okay. Is everything okay?” you ask.

“The press junket. You both were exposed to many different things you really haven’t been to before and we just…want to give you our own advice before we let you go on and about in your careers.” Hange says.

“We care about you both, and there are just some things you should know. We don’t care what you do because you’re your own people, but we just want you to be warned about things you…might see.” Levi continues.

You and Eren give each other a weary look, halfheartedly nodding at the two of them.

“There are some producers in the industry that don’t have your best interest. I’m sure you guys have heard rumors before of what the industry is really like and what it can do to someone - we’re trusting you both to keep your heads when dealing with situations like that.” Hange says.

“I don’t give a shit if it ruins your reputation. You don’t let them ruin you, control you, whatever. Your safety and what you’re comfortable with comes first.” Levi says.

“Have you guys ever been....near stuff like that?” Eren asks

Levi and Hange give each other a weary look before nodding.

“Yes. That’s why we’re telling you because no one ever told us. They’ll make you do things you don’t want to, make it feel like they control you, and take away the things important to you so they’ll know you’ll stay. Some of them are also very deep in some very, very illegal shit, so again. If you value where you are, you won’t interact with them.” Levi says.

You both nod, reaching for each other's hands as Levi and Hange study you with their eyes.

“Eren. Y/N. Did you notice anything weird about the press junkets we did today? Or what the media says?”

“Not really,” Eren responds.

You look down at your hands, focusing on the way your knuckles look when they’re flexed, from clenching so hard, as they all wait for your response. But you guess your silence is enough of an answer because Hange takes that as their sign to start talking.

“I had a feeling. What have you been thinking?” Hange asks.

You can feel your voice getting tangled in your throat and the tears coming to fill your eyes when it comes time to explain, to tell the three of them something they might entirely reject. Or just not understand.

“I just-the press junket was weird. It seemed like the interviewers were all asking me questions about Eren or Connie, or my other co-stars while they were asking Eren questions about his acting and what he does to get ready on set. It just feels like-that’s the only thing they care about when it comes to me. How I interact with other people.”

Eren’s squeezing your hand - three times - as the tears are freely spilling out of your eyes. Right with the words because now that you’ve opened this can of worms, it seems like you won’t stop until they’re all out on the floor.

“And. At the networking event, everyone wanted to talk to Eren and not to me. And it’s not that I’m jealous of him because I want Eren’s dreams to come true just as much as mine, but it…just feels like I’m less than. Like I’m stupid for even trying because my parents are just dentists in a small town, and the only acting I’ve done before this was in a very shitty small-scale production of Hamilton at my middle school.”

Hange and Levi scoot into the seats at your sides, Hange’s arms around you on your left and Eren’s around you on your right. Hange and Eren are squeezing your hands, Levi’s hand softly running through the strands of your hair as you sniffle through all the tears.

“I’m sorry, kid, but this part doesn’t go away. Especially because you’re a girl, something about that makes people think they have the right to the most heinous things about you. They’ll criticize anything and everything you do. You’ll learn to roll with the punches because, at the end of the day, you’re here to make art. Let that do the talking for you.” Hange says.

“I know. I just have to ignore them. Plus, there are nice people out there who really care about the show and what I do so-” you respond.

“More than just care about it, Y/N. People love you. The ones around you and people out there.” Eren says.

“Another thing. Eren, the type of scrutiny you’ll face is nothing compared to what she’s going to face, just on principle. It’s your job to not be the asshole who turns a blind eye to that and it’s your job to defend her if it calls for it. And if anything, it should infuriate you enough anyways that-” Levi mentions, looking over the tops of your heads to look at Eren.

“It already does infuriate me. Who gives the people the right to say anything about her when she’s one of the best ones on the show?” Eren responds, the anger spilling out of his mouth.

Levi and Hange give your hands one last squeeze before walking away, muttering something about how you should just focus on enjoying your birthday tomorrow and the scenes, leaving you and Eren in the seats again.

“What were we talking about before?” you ask.

“Everyone is stupid. You know that, right?”

You sigh, leaning against the chair so you’re looking up at the top of the airplane, the white lights shining on the two of you.

“I know that logically. But sometimes, it just kind of sits in my head. Repeating, and I try to convince myself it’s not true, but-”

“I’ll convince you.”

“What?”

“Just tell me. I’ll convince you. You could have told me before too and whenever you want. I’ll drop whatever it is I’m doing for you if this is what you need me to do.”

You nod, thinking of the best response. Because how do you tell him that he’s the best person you’ve ever met, and this only furthers the fact that he’s just too good for you. Because you’ve never had someone defend you or be so ready to come to your aid before that you don’t know what to do with it?

“I know how you feel. You don’t have to say it, Y/N.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes at him.

“Are you quoting the stage directions from our kiss scene?”

“Maybe. But it’s true. And also, that’s what we were talking about before. Practicing kissing.”

“Maybe after we go to get slushies for my birthday later?”

“Yeah.”

You both smile as you dig your noses back into your scripts, waiting for the plane to reach back to set.

You guys land on set the next day, around three pm. Eren and Levi woke you up on the plane with a little mini-cupcake and a candle to surprise you. Hange then smashed almost all of the frosting onto your face, which just earned them a good amount of scolding from both Eren and Hange. When you land, you and Eren head to the townhouse together, to change before getting slushies.

“Why do you have your phone out, Eren?”

“What? I always have my phone out.”

“Not when you’re like…walking somewhere. And there isn’t even any wifi outside the townhouse, so I don’t even know what you’re doing on that.”

“Can you just walk into the house, please? Do you have to question everything I do?”

You pretend to scratch your temples, like you’re pondering his questions, as Eren rolls his eyes and lightly pushes your head, gesturing you into the house. And when you walk inside, they’re all waiting for you - the foyer of the townhouse decorated for your birthday and little party hats on all of their stupid little heads.

They’re all singing Happy Birthday off cue - Reiner singing opera again, Connie screaming cha-cha-cha off cue, and Historia singing like she’s the next contestant of America’s Got Talent. Mikasa and Sasha bring over a cake with seventeen green candles, each of them giving you a tight hug as you blow out the candles.

“Surprise!” Armin says, flashing the camera in your face.

“This is so sweet, you guys. Thank you,” you say.

“We have gifts. Come on, let’s open them.” Jean says, grabbing you by the hand and leading you to the center room.

They each hand you their gifts, excitedly watching you rip off the wrapping paper. And you get why because it seems like everyone put so much thought into their gifts that it makes your heart squeeze. Mikasa gives you a nice, leatherbound notebook so you can stop writing song lyrics on napkins, and Armin compliments her gift by buying you a nice set of green guitar picks.

You take the time to squeeze everyone in a hug and press a kiss to Ymir’s cheek, much to her dismay, because she writes you the sweetest little birthday note that makes you cry, and Reiner buys you a vinyl player to use for when you make your own record. And when you go all around the circle, you end up back at Eren, who is seemingly empty-handed.

“Did you get me something? You don’t have to, I just-”

“Shut up. Of course, I had to. I just can’t really wrap my gift.” Eren responds, grabbing you by the hand and leading you to the closet near the front door.

The rest of them all follow suit, watching you guys from a little distance.

“Wow, Eren. I love it. I’ve always wanted my own closet.”

“Shut up and open it.”

You reach forward for the handle and swing it open, only to be met with your brothers - Colt and Falco - springing out of the closet and wrapping their arms around you. You’re squeezing the both of them so hard, so excited you’re crying because it’s literally been months on end since you’ve seen them, and you never dreamed they could even be here.

“What are you doing here? Coco, you literally have class in like two days, and Colt so do you and-”

“Eren flew us out for your birthday. We’re leaving at the end of the day tomorrow.”

You turn around, and you know you’re all teary-eyed and pink in the face, but you reach forward and squish Eren into the tightest hug known to man, eliciting cheering from the rest of them still watching you - that you entirely forgot about.

“Eren. I love you so much. Thank you. I’ll pay you back for the plane tickets, but this really means the world to me, and I-”

“You don’t have to pay me back. This was a gift for you, birthday girl,” he says, pinching the side of your cheek.

Nine hours later and the whole new year in the flesh, you’re scribbling lyrics into the little book Mikasa bought you. The party they threw you - fully set with games, karaoke, and a pinata that Bertholdt procured out of thin air - turned out to be so tiring that they all passed out in the foyer, sleeping on top of each other on the couch and the floor.

“Writing a song?”

“Yeah. I think it’s done, actually, I just need to go play it now,” you say.

“Want me to come? I can help with the piano.” Eren asks.

“It’s three in the morning. Aren’t you tired? And I don’t even know where the key to set is where we can access the piano.”

Eren reaches for the closest drawer, pulling out a shiny black key and dragging you out by the hand. You both pull on jackets and run out into the dark to the tandem bike, pushing towards set while shivering in the cold air.

And when Eren opens the set door and turns on the lights, you immediately scream and duck behind him.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Ymir’s prosthetic titan.”

“God. Do they need to leave it at the front door? That literally scared the shit out of me.”

He laughs, locking his hand in yours as he drags you to the piano near the back of the set. You yank your hoodie off your head, placing the lyrics on the front of the piano.

“Okay, so. Sing it. I’ll see what chords make the most sense after.”

You nod, going through the first verse.

There’s glitter on the floor after the party Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor You and me from the night before, but

Eren starts playing the piano around the chorus, a light piano tune filling the air. And he’s watching you so intently as you sing the lyrics, change words around with your messy handwriting, and he thinks at this moment, with your forehead all scrunched up in concentration and your sweet voice in the air that you might be his favorite person to be around.

Don’t read the last page But I stay, when it’s hard, or it’s wrong, or we’re making mistakes I want your midnights But I’ll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year’s Day

And when you finish, he’s wrapping his arms around you, his voice so soft when he whispers in your ear that it makes the hair on your skin stand up.

“You are…amazing. You know that?”

“Eren. You’re so-”

He cups your cheek in his hand, his thumb rubbing back and forth as he looks into your eyes, the look so warm, so sincere that it makes your chest tingle and your heart pound. Any denial of the fact will be met with pushback, so you drop it.

“Thank you, Eren.”

He smiles, dropping his hand to play the chords again and write them in the book.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Is this song about me, Y/N?”

“What?”

“Well, the line. You squeeze my hand three times in the back of a taxi? Isn’t that kind of our thing? Squeezing hands three times.”

You can feel your cheeks burning as you focus on the lyrics. And god, maybe the song is about Eren. You didn’t intend to write it that way, but he’s right. The candle wax, and the polaroids are mentioned in the song.

Those are all things you associate with him.

“I guess so. I mean, I didn’t mean to really write it that way, but I guess that’s how it came out.”

He smiles, a smirk on his face as he starts teasing you.

“Am I your muse?”

“Shut up. You’re so fucking stupid, Eren.”

“You and me, forevermore huh?”

“Eren. Stop.”

“I’m teasing, Y/N. I like the sound of that. And the entire song, it’s really good. You should submit it to perform for the Savants.”

“No. I could never do that.”

He rolls his eyes as he shuts the book, swinging on the other side of the piano bench to lean against the now-closed piano. You’re both sitting silently, taking in the set when it’s so empty. Everyone’s ODM gear is labeled in the closet with their names, Eren’s prosthetic titan arms lying nearby, and Levi’s cleaning supplies.

Eren clears his throat, breaking the silence.

“We-um. Were supposed to get slushies yesterday.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I just got so distracted.”

“Yeah. And.”

“And?”

“Weweresupposedtopracticethekiss.” he mumbles out, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck.

You feel your eyes widen as the recognition hits you. You’re supposed to kiss Eren tomorrow morning.

“Oh, shit. That’s literally tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

The silence hangs between the two of you as the pit in your stomach starts burning.

“Do you want to practice now? Just so we’re good for tomorrow morning?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess.”

You both awkwardly shuffle on the piano bench facing, splitting your legs between each side so you can both scoot closer to each other. And you can feel your heart beating really fast at being this close to him, all alone.

He must sense it, because he puts his hand in yours, squeezing three times, before talking.

“You okay? We don’t have to.”

“No. We should. I-I want to.”

He nods, lifting his hands in the air as confusion spreads across his face.

“You can put your hands wherever. It’s okay.” you say

“O-okay. Right, Y/N. Sorry I-”

“Don’t worry. I’ve never done this before either.”

He settles for cupping the side of your face with his right hand and leaving his left hand resting against the side of your waist. You place your hands against his hoodie, crumpling the fabric in your hands as you try to limit the sweat gathering on your palms.

“Okay.”

“Okay, Y/N. You ready?”

“Yeah.”

He leans forward and presses his lips to yours, the sensation so strange that you forget to move your lips and freeze up against your face. You both stay there for three seconds - but it feels like an eternity. And when he pulls away, you can feel the embarrassment rushing to your face when you realize what just happened.

You just kissed him wrong. You forgot to kiss him back.

“Oh my god, Eren. Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I was so thrown off by it, and I just made your first kiss wrong, and I-”

“Y/N.”

“Oh god. We’re going to fuck this up so badly tomorrow. I’m going to fuck this up so badly tomorrow. And we’re going to-”

“Y/N.”

“Ymir is never going to stop making fun of me. And then I’ll probably-”

He drops his hands and reaches for your wrists, squeezing hard as he talks.

“Y/N. Stop.” he says, his voice so soft, so earnest that it stops you in your tracks.

“It’s okay. You didn’t mess anything up. I think you’re just…thinking about it too hard. This isn’t the kiss we’re doing for tomorrow or the show. This is just you and me, kissing here and now. So just…relax. It’s just us.”

You groan as you put your hands on your face, murmuring through your fingers.

“How do you always say the right thing like that? It pisses me off.”

He laughs, grabbing your wrists and placing them back on his shoulders where they were before. And when he secures his hand around your cheek and your waist again, his green eyes are shining in the set light and you think he might be your favorite person to be around.

“Ready, Y/N?”

“Ready.”

And when he leans forward this time, you move your lips too, taking notice of how soft, how warm his lips feel against yours. How the sensation tingles all the way down to your stomach, makes your cheeks burn and your brain prickle. You instinctively lift your hands off his shoulders, feeling the softness of his hair between your fingertips and how his hand is only guiding your mouth closer to his like he’s pushing your lips together more than they already are.

And when you both pull away, you’re both staring at each other - dilated eyes and swollen, pink lips. Your hands in his hair and his hands around your waist, breathless.

When he cracks a smile, you can feel your entire resolve shattering. You make no effort to stop beaming at him the way you are, because you know you couldn’t even if you tried.

“Hi Y/N.” he whispers.

“Hi Eren.” you whisper back.

And you both laugh so hard that it makes your chest hurt.

“Listen, Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“You know. We’re practicing. And doing it one time doesn’t mean it’s perfect, so-so we should try again. You know, for method acting purposes and-and.”

You smirk, reaching forward to pinch his cheek.

“You want to kiss me so bad.”

“Shut up. We don’t have to, I just want to make-”

“We can.”

He smiles, leaning forward to press his lips against yours again, his breath tickling the tip of your nose and his lips pressing against yours again, this kiss better than the last. You’ve committed it to memory - how his lips fit perfectly against yours, where his hands feel the best.

For acting purposes, of course.

You and Eren are ready bright and early to film the scene. Seconds before you start, Levi comes over and drops a key piece of information that leaves you and Eren pink in the face.

They’re cutting the kiss from the script.

next part linked here

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yuzukult · 3 months

Text

from home 03 || jjk & reader

title: from home pairing: jungkook x reader genre: richkid!jk, baker!reader, fakedating!au, fluff, angst, e2l, smut in future chapters word count: 8.1k prompt: jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class? a/n: .......... LMFAOOOOOOOOO SORRY FOLKS I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE ORIGINAL... anyways hopefully i copied the right chapter hahahhahahah

“You going to the staff dinner tonight?”

Raising a finger at Hoseok, Jungkook slips his phone from his pocket, skimming through the pages before landing on an app, typing a few things in before he looks up with a saddened expression on his face. “... I guess not.”

“Why? What’s wrong? Why can’t you go?” He turns his phone to show the both of you.

JEON JUNGKOOKACCOUNT BALANCE: ₩33,258.75

“Jungkook!” You and Hoseok in unison exclaim in disbelief. “How the fuck do you only have $30 in there?” Jungkook shrugs, slumping his shoulders as he leans against the conveyor belt. “My mom hasn’t given me the modeling money yet. Our accountant is still calculating all of my earnings. You’d think with how much my parents pay him that he’d work a little faster...”

“We just got paid two days ago,” Hoseok points out, completely baffled as to how Jungkook was able to go through that money so quickly. “What did you do?”

Standing in the middle of Jungkook’s apartment, you and Hoseok just heave out a heavy sigh, shaking your heads in disappointment. He has new curtains, one that makes it easier for the sun to shine through in the mornings which has been an incredibly huge mood booster for him. His futons now have pillows and a blanket to claim their own. Then there was the fridge— full of almost every type of frozen meal from the aisles of the grocery store. And the pantry was an entirely different story; stacks of ramen, chips, cookies— they were practically spilling.

“Jungkook, you need to learn how to control your spending.” You say with great dismay, skimming through the labels of all the ramen bowls and packets that pile on top of each other. “If you keep going at this rate, you’re going to be so broke that you’ll be living on our couches on rotation.”

His face brightens. “You’d let me live on your couch if I needed to?”

Ignoring his question blatantly, you start browsing his apartment with Hoseok. His suitcases and boxes remain full of things that he brought back from the estate which has you going through them in pure amusement. “You guys... wanna help me unpack or something?”

“Unpack or something. Either or.” You pull out a velvet royal blue suit from one of the boxes that’s still in its clear plastic jacket for the outer protective layer. “Jungkook, want to give me a reason why you have this?”

“Oh. That’s this year’s Hugo Boss. Haven’t worn it yet, I needed to get it fitted.”

Your nostrils flare at the words. “... OK, so why do you still have it? You’re a lower middle class guy living in a studio apartment that’s still probably being paid by his parents who have a butt load of money so they honestly don’t even know they’re still putting money into this. Why they hell would you have a suit that’s...” flipping the label around, your jaw nearly pops off when it drops to the floor, “₩665,175,000.00? Jungkook, what the flying fuck—”

“What?” Hoseok drops the bag of chips he’s in the midst of opening from his hands. Despite also coming from money, he was never that rich in comparison to Jungkook. “Yeah, Hobi, you heard that right. $600,000.00 buckaroos. That’s the cost of a house right there.”

“The Jeon estate is actually—“ You place your index finger against Jungkook’s lips to hush him. “Don’t even. You need to sell this suit.”

“Sell—“ Breathless, Jungkook looks like he’s going to pass out. “I can’t sell a limited edition suit. It was hard to even get it in the first place! What makes you think I’m going to sell it?”

“Because you have 30 bucks to your name.” You respond bluntly before picking up another suit that he has lying underneath the first. “Or sell this one.”

“Not the 2021 Vintage Gucci Men’s Suit!”

“How— One, how can something be vintage if it’s in 2021? And it’s not even 2021 yet?”

The sun begins to set; the rays peering through the curtains gradually dissipates, leaving the three of you sprawled across Jungkook’s new apartment with clothes splattered on every possible surface in the poorly lit room. He still lacked another lamp, but the one his mother left was going to have to do. The staff dinner plans are cancelled, mostly because reorganizing Jungkook’s belongings has been an unanticipatedly gratifying yet a fraught chore that took up more time than predicted. Jungkook was hoping to attend the dinner, but after seeing how much effort you and Hoseok put in trying to make his living space a bit more comfortable, the hope for going to the event has been pushed to the back of his mind.

“Do you guys want to order take-out?” Jungkook suggests, and both you and Hoseok nod while sharing each halves of the futon. “But we’ll pay since you barely have any money. You can get us next time.”

Next time, which means that you guys want to hang out with Jungkook again.

To him, this is a huge step in the friendship direction. Throughout the entirety of his life, having friends had never really been a thing. Sure, he had play-dates per request from his mother, but those kids were fans of the stuff he owned, they didn’t even like him for him. It had become a recurrence up until high school, where the replacement for the need for friendship had been occupied with flings with women instead. People hung around him for the image, but he never felt a connection with anyone.

That was, until he met you and Hoseok.

Although he’d known Hoseok from showing up at the same parties, he never actually got to talk to him on this level until he visited the supermarket that fateful day. He was always the fun guy at parties; attention constantly gravitating toward him, whether he liked it or not, and he came from money as well, so Jungkook wasn’t sure if those people were surrounding him because of it. Sure, Hoseok’s parents weren’t as rich as Jungkook’s, but they were pretty high up there and could afford almost anything they desired.

Yet, he preferred this sight of Hoseok. Baggy hoodie and jeans, skin greasy from spending the day at work then coming to Jungkook’s apartment to unpack. He’s nagging at you for taking up too much space, covering the surface area that Hoseok had claimed to be his under an unspoken contract as you frown when he slaps your leg.

He likes this. There’s no gowns and tuxes in a ballroom with hors d'oeuvres worth the price of a car per bite; there’s no young people at a party, getting wasted and high, fucking in bedrooms that they weren’t sure who it belonged to; there wasn’t a dining room full of both family and strangers that attempted to start small talk about things he didn’t care about— there was none of that. Just comfort from people he genuinely wanted to impress and make proud of him. He’s not sure if he’s ever felt this way before and he’s barely even known either of you that long. Jungkook has been spending most of his life trying to fill a void in him and has been unsuccessful. He’s finally feeling like he’s going somewhere.

You and Hoseok finally agree on what to eat and he learns that it’s your favorite. Pizza. Extra cheese, pepperoni, sausage, spinach with an ungodly amount of jalapeño peppers, Hoseok mentioned earlier that night that your tolerance for spicy foods is stronger than the pits of hell.

“Jesus, how are you eating this?” Jungkook cries, snot dripping from his nose while Hoseok wipes his tears after taking another bite. You sit there, unfazed, picking up the abandoned slices of peppers that sit in the box, dropping them into your mouth. “It’s honestly not that spicy. Don’t be dramatic.”

“Bitch, we are not being dramatic, your stomach is made out of whatever Captain America’s shield is made from...”

Jungkook’s phone buzzes in the midst of your argument with Hoseok and just from the name on his lock screen, his heart drops. Jeon Junghwan.

There were a couple things in life that Jungkook wanted to attain— the acceptance from Junghwan and his parents being on top of that list. Ever since Jungkook was younger, Junghwan had been the golden child, the rest of the four were just barely making it, arduously following in his footsteps. But he failed, he hasn’t been able to win the approval from him.

Jeon Junghwan [7:55PM]: Mother is having a charity banquet on Saturday. She would have called you but figured it’d be best if I contacted you instead. Something about ‘inspiration’. Please be at the estate at 7:00PM sharp.

Jeon Junghwan [7:55PM]: Goodnight, Junghwan.

“Why does he text like an old man?” Jungkook flinches, head turning sideways to meet with Hoseok hovering over his shoulder. “Junghwan, I mean. But cool, I was supposed to go to that banquet too, until I got called on a shift. Luckily you’re not scheduled.”

“Yeah...” He says quietly, seated on the floor as he leans back against the sides of the futon. “This is the first time I’m seeing my family after moving out. I need to plan this out right.”

“Well, what’s the plan?” Cheeks full of fries, you’re munching away on the other side of Jungkook as he contemplates the next steps he’s going to have to make in order to reach his goal. “One thing is for sure. You’re going to be my date.”

The breath has been stolen away from his lungs and his heart feels like you’ve pierced through his chest cavity and squashed it into the palm of your hands. He doesn’t know what it’s called (maybe a blowout) but the way your hair cascades down to your shoulders is marveling. In a black long dress with a slit that exposes the entirety of your legs, his breath hitches when his eyes meet the skin of your thighs, the spaghetti straps drape over your décolletage with the v-cut neckline only finishing it off right. He thinks this is his fatal moment. He’s never seen you dolled up like this before; cheeks brushed with a peach blush, lashes emphasized with mascara, liner that makes you look even more fierce, and lips... so buttery pink and plump that almost wishes he could—

“Jungkook?” He shivers, immediately pushing the thoughts out of his head. You’d probably stab him in mere seconds if you knew what he was thinking about. “H-Hey. You look good.”

You grin, adjusting the fabric that hangs around your legs. “Thanks, you don’t look so bad yourself. Anyways, let’s get going. You said your brother sent a car for us?”

Even though Jungkook is a model and has posed in magazines in suits, it’s still a surprise to see how stunning he manages to look in person. He keeps his hair casual today, despite the formal attire, but when his fingertips rake through those luscious locks, it makes sense why he went with that decision. If you didn’t know any better, you wouldn’t believe that this hunk was living off of frozen meals and instant ramen for the past week.

He’s pretty, yet there’s something that you can’t help but loathe about him.

Jungkook is still from money, despite the amount of times you’ve seen him in the supermarket’s uniform and apron. It’s something you’ve been trying to force yourself to remember when you feel yourself slowly falling into the traps of his smile and looks. The reminder is there when a Mercedes Benz S-Class pulls up and Jungkook isn’t as astonished as you are. The window of the driver’s side rolls down, revealing a middle-aged man who wears a chauffeur’s hat and a grin upon his lips. “Jeon Jungkook, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Hyungjin,” He dips his head in acknowledgement before saying your name, “... this is my date. This guy has been my driver since I was born. Park Hyungjin. He’s going to be taking us to the estate tonight.”

Jungkook opens the back door for you as you slide in with ease, completely in veneration at the characteristics of the vehicle. It feels luxurious, from the leather seats to the center console, and when you see Hyungjin beginning to raise the customized partition between the front and back seats, you’re shocked it can even do that until Jungkook halts him from doing so. “Uh, sorry, Hyungjin, she’s not one of those nights.”

Oh, you think to yourself, this was a routine. His preceding lifestyle is starting to unfold before you.

Arriving at the ‘estate,’ which was something you’d had been stuck with trying to adjust yourself in calling Jungkook’s family home, it’s an unreservedly different part of the home compared to your first visit however a sudden coldness hits your core from incredulity. How could anyone need a home this big? Jungkook guides you out of the car before you could even register the visuals of the home, waving Hyungjin goodbye and brisk “thank you.”

“Hold my hand.” His fingertips brush against the back of your hand discreetly, and as a reflex, you slap him away while he whimpers in pain. “What the hell was that for?”

“Sorry. Habit.” When you try to reach for him again, he opts for resting his palm on your lower back instead, keeping you close. “It’s okay. Is this alright?” You nod. “This is better anyway. We look close yet at the same time professional.”

When you step into the ballroom, you quickly learn that your previous time at the Jeon estate had only been a glimpse of what Jungkook’s sumptuous home had to offer. There’s something of a mezzanine or indoor balcony of some sorts with staircases that branch around the perimeter where a couple people stand idly. The chandelier that you saw in the dining room before was no comparison to what was currently hanging from the ceiling right now— there’s diamonds that hang like raindrops, intricately scattered with clear clarity that only the rich could identify and have the opportunity to see in person. The guests are dressed like those diamonds— sparkles and jewels of women that bathed in the crystals, accompanied by men who simply wore tuxedos and suits.

But the real stars of the show were the Jeons. With Mrs. Jeon’s hair in an updo, it accentuates her collarbones and shoulders where her dress lies; a beautiful detailed lavender gown that you can already sense the weight of when she drags it behind her. You see where Jungkook gets his genes from.

The filler music from the orchestra that plays in the corner stops, the chattering along with it as they all divert their attention to the Jeons that stand by the railings of the balcony— the four boys and their dates. All that’s missing is Jungkook who stands beside you, hand graduating from your lower back to your waist.

“Hello, everyone,” Mrs. Jeon greets, a pearly white smile upon her lips. “I am so thankful for your attendance here. As you know, tonight is dedicated toward the Cancer Research Foundation of Seoul, known as the CRFS, and I will be the host tonight but the true genius behind this all is my son, Jeon Jungsik.”

Jungsik approaches his mother from the side, dressed just as well as the rest of his siblings, shaking his head in disapproval. “Mother, I couldn’t have done this without you,” He says humbly, eyes browsing the crowd but pauses when he sees Jungkook with you by his side. There’s something hidden behind his stare, Jungkook hypothesizes, because his modest brother suddenly wants the spotlight whereas previously, he’d be standing in the audience. He can’t tell if it’s because it’s the first family event where he’s sober or if truly there’s something about Jungsik that’s different. “But tonight is a different kind of night. We’re here today not to just donate what we can to a good cause, but celebrating as well. I’m announcing my engagement with Kim Nari.”

An abrupt realization washes over Jungkook.

Kim Nari. The daughter of a tech mogul whose relationship with Jungsik would further advance the Jeon Corporation and skyrocket their profits. Her marriage with Jungsik would link the two companies together, creating possibilities for what seemed to be impossible. Which brings to question, why would Jungsik be interested in Nari? She’s a reflection in the mirror of Jungkook himself— uncontrollable, spoiled, and dependent with no future planned. Why would Jungsik, someone with passions, dreams, and stability want to be with someone like that? Something was up, and Jungkook can taste the bitterness in his mouth.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You ask, but you genuinely don’t care. Anything would be better than listening to conversations that were beginning to start up again at the hasty announcement. Nari has one of her hands sitting upon the rail, waving as if she’s the Queen of England, with a dress that may be deemed inappropriate for a setting like this. It seems that the rest of the family is hearing the engagement for the first time though because Mrs. Jeon looks like she’s going to faint and Mr. Jeon is holding in his anger rather than noticing Nari’s attire.

“Nothing, just... something weird with my brother.” He says before turning to give you his attention again. “Anyway, should I introduce you to my horrific bloodline?”

When Jungkook guides you toward his family members that have begun trickling down the staircase, you’re appearing to have heart palpitations from the suspense. The way the Jeons walk is intimidating alone; shoulders pushed back, straightened posture, and smiles that resemble authenticity on the surface but daggers will be pulled at their disposal if anything goes haywire.

“Mother, Father, this is my girlfriend...” You altogether miss when Jungkook says your name from the sight of his family up close until he squeezes your waist gingerly to capture your awareness again. “Oh, yes, hi,” You bow speedily, “I’m uh, Jungkook’s girlfriend.” Wait. Didn’t he just say that?

“Are you now? Last time we spoke, you said you weren’t,” Mrs. Jeon comments, and albeit her words sound harsh, the draw of her lips upwards say otherwise. It feels a bit forced, but you know it’s from the sudden news coming from Jungsik. There’s a façade of happiness when deep down, she’s disappointed. “We... we met after that night and he treated me to dinner for taking care of him. We’ve been... seeing each other ever since.”

Mr. Jeon stands there in silence, observing the conversation between you and his wife before unexpectedly speaking up. “Did you attend University? And have you graduated yet?”

Jungkook knows what this is. The Interrogation. Every Jeon child’s significant other has gone through this and you were next. He had completely forgotten about it— mostly because his other brothers had gone through it years ago, and Jongseok’s ‘girlfriends’ had never really been girlfriends, so their dad had given up on that until someone serious came by.

He never thought it’d be him before Jongseok.

“Yes, back in 2016.” You state, fingers fidgeting with the metal chain of your purse. It was a simple question yet the way it’s executed is as if he’s searching for a particular answer.

The older gentleman tilts his head, the space between his brows crinkling in perplexity. He looks so much like Jungkook, except matured with wisdom, and if Jungkook was of any replication of his father when he’s that age, he’d probably still have a line of women after him. “So you’re older than Jungkook.”

“No, father,” Jungkook chimes in, “... Quite the opposite. She’s actually a year younger than me. Graduated University rather early. Or... well, she finished high school early.” He can see from his peripheral vision that he has captured the ears of his other siblings that stand languidly. “Gifted, really. Child prodigy. Despite all the talented Jeon children, we’ve never had one of those.”

There’s a glimmer in his father’s eyes. He’s impressed. “Really?” His stiff tone has shifted to a lighter one. “Did you study in Seoul? What was your degree in?”

“No, uh, I actually studied abroad in New York after graduating high school. I was about... maybe fifteen at the time? I chose Food Science— I thought about being a Chef because my inspiration is Guy Fieri but someone told me to be a bit more realistic with my brain so here we are.”

Guy Fieri? Jungkook stifles a laugh at your secretive role model, rubbing your sides comfortingly. It’s something to tease you about later, but right now, you have a job to do. Swoon his father.

Mr. Jeon nods, hands slipping into the front pockets of his slacks. “Remarkable. We could use someone like you in the Jeon Corporation.”

Both you and Jungkook choke, clearing your throats at the sudden suggestion, glancing at one another. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m thinking about opening a chain of restaurants, something high end, something different.” Jungkook’s brothers are stepping in closer to listen shamelessly to the conversation, the look of disarray stamped onto each one of their faces as if it’s the first time they’re hearing this information, for the second time tonight. “I would love it if you gave me your take on how to proceed on some things, and help the chef formulate something that makes sense without him cheating me out on prices. Jungkook, tell Maeri to schedule something for us so I can discuss further details.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” You blurt, palms growing sweaty. “But you just met me, and Jungkook and I just started dating. Are you sure you trust me?” It’s another experience of déjà vu; Jungkook mirroring his father’s actions at the yacht party when he claims that he’d pay for your aspirations.

“Of course. Jeon Jungkook doesn’t have girlfriends.”

Just then, someone taps his shoulder and whispers something ineligible into his ear before he turns to you with his hand extended, and you take the offer with a firm shake. “I’m needed elsewhere. It was nice meeting you. Glad to know Jungkook chose someone fitting.” And with that, he leaves.

“Well, that was pleasant,” Mrs. Jeon comments, hand resting on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Seems that sending you off to live alone has brought nothing but good impressions on your father. Keep it up, Kook-ah. I’m going to go accompany him, so in the meanwhile, introduce her to your brothers, why don’t you?”

Turning your body to face Jungkook, you let out the hugest breath you’ve ever held in your entire life. “What was that?”

He looks equally as stunned as you. “I don’t know but that went so much better than I actually thought. I think that was the fastest he’s ever been fascinated by any of our girlfriends.”

Jungkook’s father had strict outlooks for the company, one of them being that he wanted nothing but pure Jeon blood leading the corporation. This meant that the significant others of any of his children weren’t allowed to be part of the trade. So why did he ask you particularly for a hand in the family business?

“Jungkook,” One of his brothers calls out, your heads sharply jolting at the sound of his voice.

Have you ever watched Boys Over Flowers? When the Flower 4 walk through any entrance, it’s like time slows down and their hair flows through the wind like they’re models?

That’s what pretty much happens.

“Hyungs.” He says; it’s their own version of a hello and the atmosphere between them is tense. “It’s nice to see you sober, Jungkook.”

His jaw tightens. “I wasn’t an addict, just you so know. Made it easier being around you all.”

“Yeah, yeah,” The one you assume is Jongseok from your previous google search waves his hand, disregarding Jungkook’s statement before pointing his finger directly at you. If only you could bite it off along with his rude mannerisms. “Girl toy?”

“Girlfriend,” Jungkook corrects him and his other brothers are intrigued. “This is my girlfriend,...” As he says your name, your eyes immediately are drawn to the woman behind one of the males; shiny caramel colored hair with the simplest white dress that hugs her small waist that still manages to make her look like a goddess with a smile that was so sweet your teeth start to hurt. You recall catching a sight of her in the same magazines that Jungkook featured in and on the posters at the mall whenever you’d walk into a store but how she looked in person was flawless compared to those photos. She was like the real life version of a photoshopped picture.

“This is Hayoung, my brother Junghwan’s wife.”

“Uh, H-H-Hi,” why does she make you so nervous? Do you get anxious around extremely beautiful women? “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” She hums, cheekbones high with her grin. “Kookie never mentioned he had a girlfriend, let alone brought anyone to meet his family before.”

“Kookie?” You reiterate with a mocking tone. He knows you’ll never let him live this down. Least he still had the Guy Fieri thing up his sleeve. “Noona, it would’ve been nice to keep that away from her for a bit. I’m trying to ease her into this madness. She’s probably still recovering from that conversation with our father.”

“As if!” Hayoung counters back. Her husband, Junghwan, wraps an arm around her waist before dipping his head slightly toward you. “I’m Junghwan, Jungkook’s older brother.” He then begins to point at the other gentlemen. “Jonghyun, Jungsik, and Jongseok, respectively.”

Frankly, it had been a lot to unpack for the night, and you assumed that the boxes back at his apartment were a lot, but this was truly a lot. Within an hour, Jungkook introduces you to almost anyone that plays a significant role in his life and elaborates on each of their backgrounds.

Junghwan, his eldest brother, is married to the international supermodel Na Hayoung, and he’s the next in line to inherit the CEO position when his father steps down from the company. He’s been trained all his life for this role, apparently, and it’s evident in how he carries himself. Jonghyun, the second oldest, stands behind Junghwan in the company, supposedly his right hand man when it comes to business, joined at the hip although their personal relationship with each other isn’t as close. He’s also married, Jungkook mentions, but his wife is currently very pregnant and at home. He skips over Jungsik, only because you’ve met him over dinner, but he doesn’t miss a beat when he says that Jungsik is purportedly the angelic Jeon. Lastly was Jongseok, the last sibling before himself, and was described as something along the lines of, “the most useless, right after myself, and if it weren’t for his involvement with the marketing department because of his diploma, he’d be living in a studio apartment downtown, cut off from this family too.” Jungkook’s words, not yours.

The night slowly reaches an end, people scattering to leave the estate, thanking Jungkook’s parents for hosting such a charitable event. Just before you’re about to step out along with Jungkook, his mother had her fingers wrapped around your wrist. “Jungkook, you and your lovely girlfriend should stay the night. Downtown is far and your siblings will be here as well. Maybe you can show her to your bedroom? I know you’ve been missing your bed and well... maybe show her around your childhood home.” She pauses for a moment as Jungkook hesitates as you eye him suspiciously before interrupting his thoughts. “Your father wants to speak to you and your brothers in the morning anyways, so it would be nice for you to stay for breakfast, dear.”

“Are you fucking dense, Jeon Jungkook? I do not want to stay the night here.” Contradicting your angry words, you’re already unlatching the attachment on the straps of your heels, sliding them off while seated on the bay window seats of his bedroom, rubbing the soles of your feet. “I’m sorry,” He mutters weakly, falling on the foot of his bed. “I don’t know how to say no to my mother.”

“Well, quit being a fucking momma’s boy and call an Uber. I want to go home, Jungkook.”

“Uber’s don’t run this late at night in the area. We live too far off the grid.”

“Well, then ask Mr. Hyungjin to pull up in his whip and take us home.”

His face drops, a guilty look pooling in his orbs. “We sent him home. He’s technically off on the weekends. Hyungjin only came out because Junghwan asked for him beforehand.”

You grumble, laying back on the cushions, locks tangling along with your mood. “What are we supposed to do here? Share a bed? What am I supposed to wear to sleep? Did you already ask your housemaids?”

“No,” He answers bleakly, standing up. “But I’ll go ask now. In the meantime, you can watch some TV? Then when I come back you can shower and do whatever you need. I think I have a spare toothbrush for you to borrow. As for the bed thing...” Jungkook looks over at that California King that he misses so much. “... it’s more than big enough for the two of us, I’ll keep my distance from you without a problem.”

Before you can counter the suggestion, he’s already out the door.

Perusing through his bedroom, you soon learn that this ‘room’ of his is the size of your childhood bedroom times five with a closet the size of your apartment with a connecting bathroom that was equivalent in surface area.

Then it has you thinking. Jungkook grew up like this, in a life of grandeur where everything he had, he had a plethora of. Whether it be education, belongings, or the aid of people who tended to every need he had, it never seems to run out. He had a driver since he was born while you struggled to learn how to take the bus alone at the age of 7. Or running out of money to pay for a new notebook for class since you’ve been using the same one for the past two grades in order to save cash so your parents could put food on the table. While Jungkook over here was probably tearing down trees in his yard to make all the paper in the world. What about noticing that you were ahead of the kids in your class? No one seemed to have realized it until you said to someone that you were bored, and needed more challenging material when you got sent to the Principal’s office per request, begging to be with the bigger kids.

If you had the money Jungkook had, you would’ve been able to pay off both yours and your parents’ debt in addition to opening your bakery all within the same year.

But you aren’t Jungkook, and jealousy just runs through your veins alongside the enmity.

Entering through the housemaids’ chambers was a nostalgic feeling that he couldn’t exactly say was his favorite. Sneaking down here during the late hours of the night for quick sex and running back up to his bedroom felt like such a teenager thing to do at the age of twenty, so he instantaneously gave up on that.

There’s two wooden doors to choose from. Nayeon, the house servant he slept with several times before realizing that she had falling for him while thinking it was some forbidden love, and Hana... also a servant that he had sex with until she also fell in love with him.

So which one of them would be less upset about him asking to borrow their sleepwear for his new girlfriend?

Answer to that question: neither because they both slammed their doors on him after asking. He should’ve figured that sooner.

Next stop: Junghwan’s room. Maybe Hayoung had something for you.

He hesitates when he’s standing outside of his brother’s bedroom door. It takes him back to when he was a kid all over again, desperate for his big brother’s attention who didn’t even have enough time to dedicate to him. Taking in a deep breath of courage, he does it yet again, his knuckles tapping against the wood that makes the same knocking sound.

Peeking out, Junghwan looks at Jungkook with a perplexed expression. “Jungkook, what’s up? Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah. Is noona with you?” He nods. “Yeah, of course. She’s washing her face right now, wanna come in?” Jungkook steps into the room, ambivalent with each movement because he’s never been invited into Junghwan’s room before. It’s almost exactly what his room looks like, except all the shades are dark, varying from grey to navy, with his bed, closet, and bathrooms in the same locations.

“Hayoung, Jungkook is looking for you.”

“Kookie?” Coming out the bathroom with a robe on, her hair is drenched as she attempts to towel dry it, face pretty even without makeup. “What’s up, bub?”

“Uh, my girlfriend,” He starts, rubbing the back of his nape anxiously because he’s never said those words before, “She doesn’t have anything to wear tonight. I have some clothes, but I think she’d feel more comfortable if she at least has some pants.”

“Tell her to sleep in her underwear, what’s the problem?” Because she’s not really my girlfriend, is what he wants to say, but he takes a different approach. “We’re... still in the early stages. So, uh, you know. She’s shy.” She shakes her head with a smile upon her lips. “Okay. Give me a second. I have a bunch of clothes that I left when we used to live here.” With that, she disappears into the closet.

“I’m... proud of you, Jungkook.” Junghwan speaks up, protruding through the silence. Jungkook just stares in bewilderment, unsure what he even did to make Junghwan say those words he had dreamt to hear coming from his eldest brother. “Other than landing a girlfriend who is definitely way out of your league, you’re actually showing some progress living alone. I honestly didn’t really agree with the plan that Jongseok proposed but... I see it’s working well.”

“W-What do you mean?” Jungkook questions. He still can’t believe what he’s hearing.

Junghwan hums. “You were able to find a job yourself. I haven’t seen you coming back begging for money again, and you found someone who doesn’t have the facilities to give you the lifestyle that our parents gave us. You found love without money and I think it really makes a person humble.” He’s fiddling with the strings of his sweatpants now, comprehending that the two of them don’t really talk one-on-one. “I know I changed a lot when I met Hayoung.”

“Kookie, I think I have a couple options for you— whoa, why does it feel so sad here?” She remarks, stopping in the midst of her walk toward Jungkook. “You guys... alright?”

“Nothing,” Junghwan responds quickly. “I just wanted to tell Jungkook that I’m proud of him.” This does nothing but prompt Hayoung to roll her eyes, laying out a pair of shorts and a silky baby blue nightgown. “Junghwan is always proud of Kookie, just not always the decision he makes. Anyways,” She completely brushes off the topic that Jungkook wants to hear, but he’ll circle back to that later. He had a pretty girl waiting in his room who had the temper of the Hulk. “I have two options for you to give her. Maybe you’ll get lucky and she’ll wear the night gown?”

Jungkook scoffs. “If I brought that to her, she’d probably wrap it around my neck and choke me within seconds. Keep the gown, I’m taking the shorts. I’ll let her wear one of my T-shirts.”

“Are you sure?” Hayoung sings and Jungkook tells her he’s almost confident that he’s going to die tonight if he so much reaches the door with that thing in his hands.

Jungkook chucks the shorts at your face while you’re laying on your back on his mattress. “Here you go, Mrs. Fieri. The girls wouldn’t lend me anything because well... I may have slept with them both and they were hopelessly in love with me. Hayoung noona gave me those shorts instead.” He’s babbling on about how rude the housemaids had been when he asked, but you’re canceling his voice out because the coolest chick you’ve ever met just lent you her shorts.

“... Are you even listening to me?”

“Huh?”

He snaps his fingers in front of your face but registers that it’s no use. You’re too busy trying to decipher how God decided to gift Hayoung the looks and the personality that you miss when Jungkook leaves the closet, throwing a plain white t-shirt at your direction. It’s huge compared to you, yet seems like it would fit him well. “Go shower. I’ll be in there after you.”

It’s awkward.

So goddamn awkward.

Jungkook is wearing a black T-shirt of some band you can’t recognize because the majority of the print has been worn off paired with grey sweatpants that hug his ass so beautifully. Scratch that. You never thought that. They look soft. That’s what you meant.

While you’re currently occupied with attempting to avoid looking at Jungkook, he can’t stop staring at your exposed legs and notice how small and cute you are. Soft. It’s tempting him to want to wrap his arms around your frame and snuggle his nose into the crook of your neck while inhaling the scent of his body wash on your skin. He wants to blame it on the dry spell he’s having because all he does is work nowadays that once he gets home, he’s completely drained. Alcohol doesn’t even appear in his mind either. Or maybe he genuinely thinks you’re pretty and having you in his bed doesn’t make it any better.

Sitting on the farthest opposite ends of the bed, Jungkook clears his throat. “See? I told you that the bed is way too big for the two of us. Should be easy to steer clear from each other.”

Wrong. Incorrect. You should’ve known that Jungkook would be fallacious.

The sun gleams through the sheer white blinds of his prodigious windows, illuminating your faces on an unironically Sunday morning, emitting a groan from a stiff beside you. Your body feels heavier than usual, almost like something was pressing down on you.

You panic. Were you having a stroke?

After forcing your eyes open from the dry boogers, you can’t believe the sight. Jungkook has his arms and legs tangled in the sheets with yours, nose brushing against your shoulder. He’s so cosy, the most he’s ever been, and the warmth from your body is like a different feeling of home for him. It’s comforting like a cup of hot chocolate during the harsh weather in the Winter or swaddling yourself in a blanket in front of the fireplace. Now knowing how it feels to be in your embrace, he’s not sure if he wants to let go.

“Jungkook, please get the fuck off me.” You bite. Cuddling was not what was discussed in the terms of agreement. Not that there was one but having a buff guy curled up beside you that wasn’t actually dating you was making your heart do cartwheels when it shouldn’t be. He doesn’t seem a bit rattled knowing that he’s snuggling up against you because he scoots even closer. “Five more minutes.” He mutters. His dreams of taking in the aroma of your natural scent mixed in with his shower gel were coming true.

You push him off with as much strength as your body could gather, yet you fail underneath those muscular arms. Those big, thick—

There’s one knock and someone just immediately flings the door open with a gasp.

But then you see them. Jungsik and Jongseok.

You don’t know why but you care about how Jungsik sees you, but you care. He’s the closest to your ideal type— as unrealistic as it is for him to ever have a relationship with you, especially since he has a fiancé now— yet at the same time, he knows you’re ‘dating’ Jungkook, and whether or not he believes it, you’re not sure, but your chances were already wearing thin as it is, even worse now that he’s witnessing you in the same bed as his youngest brother. You may have a teensy weensy little crush on your fake boyfriend’s brother.

“Cute,” He chuckles, already dressed in his daily attire; grey slacks that crop at the ankle and a navy dress shirt that doesn’t button up all the way, hugging tightly around his pecs that doesn’t leave much to the imagination. “Well, we’re sorry for intruding. Father wants us down for breakfast within an hour. Wake up your boyfriend for us, will you?”

“I’m not sorry,” Jongseok adds with a devilish grin before he quickly shuts the door and leaves promptly with Jungsik. Jungkook hasn’t even moved, not even twitching the slightest bit despite his brothers’ abrupt invasion.

You officially hate Jungkook even more... if that was even possible.

There's an abundance of choices for breakfast foods that sits on the length of the dining room table that you had gotten a glimpse of during your first visit to the Jeon estate, more food than you've ever seen in one place. They had waffles, pancakes, sausages, bacon, toast—all that’s expected of a typical American breakfast laid out like it’s a picture from the Food Network Magazine. He has servants, shuffling through in and out of the room, placing plates and utensils in specific detailed orders before they pull out the heavy upholstered wooden chairs for each and every member of the family in invitation.

"Uh, it's okay, thank you, I got it—" The woman who has her hands gripped on the framing of the seat tightly as she clenches her jaw, has a glare shooting lasers in your direction. Maybe you'd just take the offer and sit instead. She might be one of Jungkook's late night affairs, you never know what she'd do to your food if you didn't comply.

Sticking out like a sore thumb, you settle yourself by your now claimed to-be-boyfriend who sits comfortably in his own seat since he's owned it for two decades now. You, however, it's your first day and you're not even sure how to feel. Hayoung seems to be doing the opposite; eyes shiny from excitement at the sight of all the options that are laid out in front of her. You can agree to her interest, the Belgium waffles that's stacked at the center of the table with a square of butter residing on top makes your mouth water.

"Thank you all for coming," Jungkook's father announces, the chair he's rested on makes him look so tiny at the head of the table. "I want to discuss some matters with all of you and also invite Jungkook's new love into the family. Honestly never thought this day would come where I'd see my most troublesome child make such advancements in a short span of time."

There's reticence along the table, Mrs. Jeon beside him, eyes searching the table for something in particular. "The proceedings with this engagement with Kim Nari, Jungsik. What did you expect would happen with that?"

And there it was. The conversation that had been put off last night due to guests being on the residence. It's because of two of the things that Mr. Jeon stood by when it came to his family and business: no bloodline, no business entrance had been challenged and the Interrogation had never been in place.

"Father," Jungsik clears his throat, pressing his back against the cushion. "I'll have you know that I'm only thinking of the future of our company."

"Without talking to me about it?" He snaps, agitated. He doesn't even care that a complete stranger is sitting at the table with them. "What gives you the right to be the only person to know what's good or not for the company? Why not consult with Jonghyun and Junghwan? Why am I told that no one knew about this?"

"Well, I thought—"

"You thought wrong." He confirms, and the Belgium waffles don't seem as appealing anymore. His firmness makes your stomach queasy, despite not being his current victim. "Terminate your engagement. You don't love her anyways. I don't need any affiliation with a self-obsessed tech company."

"But father—"

"None of that." He shushes his son, laying a beige cloth napkin on his lap. "I'm tired of having to teach you how we run this business. I gave you a percentage of the company and I expect you to know what to do with it, which is not to share it with some airhead who doesn't even understand what her own father's company does." Jungsik's body stiffened at his father's lecture after he made a decision solely for what he believed was beneficial for the family business. "Anyways, let's eat."

"Why do you favor Junghwan over the rest of us?" Jungsik spits, fist slamming against the table. The cups, silverware, and plates trembled underneath his strength, startling you. "I can't believe that I let you walk over us for so long. I can't believe that any of us has let you do it. In reality, none of us get your fortune, just Junghwan. What about the rest of your children? Do you have the only one? Or did mother have an affair for the remaining four?"

Yum, drama. You admit you were getting a little bored last night at the banquet, but his conversation was perking you up in interest. Jungkook oddly remains cool, turning to tap one of the housemaids to pour you some apple juice, patiently waiting for the go to eat.

Jungsik is disparate in this light because he's not the compassionate and gentle soul you had assumed he was during your first encounters and what was seen on the internet. He’s fierce and competitive, in actuality, with this hidden duel behind doors against his eldest brother. The description written of him was all an image that was portrayed to the public and you start to see what Jungkook means now when he says "apparently" or "supposedly" whenever talking about his older brother.

And Jungkook... he's strangely distinctive as well when sitting amongst his siblings. He's quiet, actually, and attentive, but you take note that he mentions before how he often comes to these things under the influence, and that your presence was what halts him from doing so.

"Just eat. We'll talk privately later." Mr. Jeon says through his gritted teeth, tips of his ears fading red from Jungsik talking back.

"I saw you eying that waffle earlier," Jungkook says in a hushed tone, leaning into you. "Want one? I'll grab it for you."

OK, maybe he wasn't that bad. He knows what you like and he’s getting it for you. You’ve waited long enough.

The Jeons are awfully good at pretending the argument between Mr. Jeon and Jungsik didn't occur. Everyone sits in lull, occasionally exchanging comments with whomever sits beside them but consuming their breakfast with glee. It wasn't something you were used to.

When you're back into Jungkook's room, you slip on a jacket that you brought the night before, zipping it up. "Is that... normal?"

"What's normal?"

"That whole thing with Jungsik and your dad. Do they fight often? And do you guys normally just... sit there and forget it even happens afterwards?"

He slides onto the bed one last time, inhaling deeply in the scent of lavender, wishing he could take this bed with him as he absentmindedly responds, "Mmm. Yeah."

What kind of family dynamic is this? "Yeah? And you just... watch?"

"Well, what else are we supposed to do? Join in? Take sides? Hell no. It's a different sibling each meal and every time there’s always someone being jealous of someone else. We don’t really get along here and it’s just what we’re used to.”

Treading into Jungkook’s reality was starting to become comprehensible. Almost justifying the way he is, how he’s utterly clueless in basic situations and disconnected he was from the world. Because this is his world; his parents, four brothers, and house full of servants, and he knows nothing outside of it. Their home is completely off the grid, separated from people living regular lives, he even has his own tennis court (you learned from the view from his bedroom), and no one normal has their own private tennis court. His mother has been shielding him his entire life, letting him grow and become a shell of a man in an empty home.

Family isn’t family to him, is what you’ve come to terms with and something he hasn’t yet accepted because he hasn’t seen what a real family looks or feels like. His home isn’t a real home but brimming with employees who work for his family that probably see him more than the people who he called relatives.

It makes you pity him and want to show him what it’s like to be home.

#jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts #bts fanfic

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mitsvriii · 1 year

Text

Attraction, pt 2

Pairings: Tomioka Giyu x reader, Obanai Iguro x Mitsuri Kanroji

TW's: none

Word Count: 730+

A/N: all images are from the KnY manga, thank you for the support on part 1. Giyu and Muichiro treat each other like siblings.. Again, sorry if anything is inaccurate. Sorry if it's shorter than you expected, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless!

Tags: @vkqxc20, @minnipe, @imyourbrokenfridge, @sugaremedy

It wasn't long before you and Giyu had made it to the ramen shop, still hand-in-hand. Despite how off-putting he might seem, he was actually enjoyable to be around. You two had chatted about random things, like favorite colors, weather, different breathing styles. And he surprisingly answered all of them, even your stupid questions like, was he a dog or cat person, would he cry at weddings, and do you snuggle your pillow when you go to sleep.

He seemed to be enjoying your company, and he even smiled at you. To which you responded with smile yourself. You were glad he was so comfortable around you, he wasn't like that with anyone besides Muichiro.

"We're here", Giyu interrupted the silence. "What do you want? I can order for you."

You looked up at him, "Just chicken ramen."

Giyu nodded at your words, "Then I'll get some, too." He gave you a short smile before opening the door to the shop for you.

You sat down at a small table, waiting for Giyu to come back once he ordered. You let out a small yawn as you looked around, the shop wasn't that full. But you supposed it was because it was about to be three, everyone was finishing up work.

It was a little later when Giyu returned, sitting down beside you. "It should be ready in less than ten minutes."

Okay so ten minutes more with Giyu, that wouldn't be awkward at all. You two had talked about everything, well, you had talked about everything. Giyu was more of a listener than a talker, although that was mostly obvious. Maybe you should ask him if he wanted to ask you anything?

"Do you want to ask me anything Giyu? I've been the one bombarding you with questions after all", you turned your head to look at him, awaiting his answer.

"Oh um, not really", Giyu fiddled with his hands, "I don't have any right now."

You nodded and rested your chin on the palm of your hand. A minute had to have passed by, right? It's not like you didn't enjoy Giyu's company, you just didn't know what to talk about with him. The Water Hashira went on most missions alone for god's sake.

But at the same time it was calming to stay in silence. You yourself only chatted if it was with someone new. You remember going out to eat with Kyojuro once after a mission, and having to listen to him say "Omai!" at the top of his lungs every time he took a bite of food.

You and Giyu sat in silence for at least another minute or so, sneaking glances at one another. It wasn't long after that when a waiter had came with your ramen bowls and chopsticks, leaving with a bow.

Giyu looked at you, as if expecting you to start eating first. You glanced at him before taking your chopsticks in hand, picking up a bite. You blew on it, taking a bite. That seemed to be the sign Giyu was looking for, as he did the same. So he was waiting for you to eat first, what a gentleman.

You two ate together, cracking little jokes here and there. You were glad that Obanai had eyes on Mitsuri, because Giyu was much more enjoyable to be around, to be with.

You two had finished eating after a few minutes, you were now heading back to headquarters after you had paid the bill, well. Giyu had paid the bill for you, much to your protests. He insisted that it was his pleasure, so naturally you relented and let him pay it.

You didn't seem to notice the way Sanemi's mouth dropped when you and Giyu walked back to headquarters hand in hand. Or the way Gyomei gave a knowing smile, and Muichiro looked on, confused on who you were. Shinobu smiled in victory as Uzui groaned and handed her 300 yen, and Kyojuro seemed to beam at the sight of you two. Not that you both noticed anything. You honestly didn't even bother to notice that Mitsuri and Obanai were out again, your mind now focused on the raven haired man holding your hand.

The one thing Obanai had done right to you was not recuperating your feelings, because if he did you wouldn't be as happy as you were right now with Giyu.

#giyu x reader #giyu tomioka #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #giyu x you #giyuu x reader #giyuu x you #kimentsu no yaiba #kny giyuu #obanai iguro #mitsuri kanjori #obamitsu #obanai x mitsuri #iguro x mitsuri #obanai is lowkey a bitch

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saey707 · 10 months

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I’m starving for some hearsteel Yone x reader headcanons😭🙏 literally anything you have I will gobble up PLEASE😭😭😭 either that or poly heartsteel x reader🤭

✿ Prompt: Yone and you take care of yourselves ✿

♡ champion focus: yone ♡ tw: none! ♡ Gender-neutral reader

Author’s Note: Here's some fun self-care headcanons with Yone, arcade! (૭ ｡•̀ ᵕ •́｡ )૭ I really love writing dynamics with Yone because he's so old man, and I think he values the little things with you! Enjoy!

Yone was a very busy man, and you knew that very well. While date nights may be far too few during the touring season and recording days in the studio, you didn't mind! You can make a romantic date out of midnight ramen runs and sleepy nights, cuddling up on the studio couch while you both work.

You get a lot of perks dating Yone... Yeah, totally...! For one, you get a smoking hot older boyfriend who lacks sleep and healthy water-drinking habits! Not only that, but you also get an all-access pass to his creative approach and tendencies to lecture his bandmates! I mean, who doesn't want to hear all the stress your boyfriend has trying to keep his friends under control!

Admittedly, most days, it becomes too much, even for you. But you love Yone and wouldn't change a single thing about him. He was hardworking, loyal, giving... Everything and all you could ever ask from a partner. How could you ever think to leave him, especially knowing if you weren't there to balance him out he would drown?

On days when you particularly noticed how stressed Yone is, you were always sure to take extra care of him. Usually, it involves wrapping him up in a blanket, leaving a bowl of fruit at his desk, or even making him a plain-black cold brew. And you most definitely saw no harm in sitting in silence beside him, occasionally raising your fork to his lips so he could have a bite of a hot meal.

But the one thing Yone valued most was when you reassured him with gentle praises and reminders, smothering him with butterfly kisses and hugs.

"I admit, I am... A bit more stressed than usual. I know he's done this before. But... it just hurts. It hurts seeing Kayn being called out because of a stupid mistake." Yone grumbled, pushing his cheek against the side of your head while you cradled him from behind. "I know... But we're in this together. You don't have to deal with all of this yourself, Yone. We can turn things around... Kayn will be just fine, trust me."

"I know that... And I appreciate it. Trust me. When all of this blows over, I'll take you somewhere nice. Somewhere where it's just the two of us." "You don't have to do that, Yone. I'm happy just being here with you." You interjected, shifting to sit beside him, leaning against his shoulder. He shut his eyes, dropping his head atop of yours. "I know I don't, but I want to... We deserve it."

It's trying times like this when Yone begins to value self-care. After spending days neglecting his personal needs? Yeah, he definitely needed some time for himself... And you.

He doesn't do it only for himself, but for you too. He knows sometimes the weight of his job can stress you out, so he's always sure to treat you well during these times.

For him, self-care is a means of relaxation, but at the same time, it also truly reflects his older age. He doesn't like going out often if he doesn't need to. He doesn't enjoy drinking, partying, or trying completely unfamiliar things.

This certainly doesn't stop you from spending all the time you can with him, and you take immense pleasure in participating in relaxation sessions with him! In fact, you think it's good for you.

He's a sucker for using the internet as a means of self-care! He'll watch J-Dramas on his iPad (and fall asleep watching them...).

Definitely, Yone is the type to splurge a bit on his retail therapy, especially if it means he can find a new matching outfit or necklace for the both of you! ...Or even a nice skirt. Would he look good in a patterned print?

But Yone tends to start his mornings digitally detoxing, allotting time for himself to make a smoothie bowl, meditate, and settle into his day.

"You're laughing an awful lot..." He mumbled, startled when he opened his eyes. You were inches away from his face and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

"Sorry~ You're just so cute with your eyes closed!" "Oh? You flatter me..." His cheeks were flushed pink, only transforming into a steamy red when you dropped yourself into his lap.

You tilted your head up, placing a kiss on his chin. "Are we done yet?" "You're cute... But no. We still have time on the clock." He informed you, snickering when you let out a frustrated groan. "But we've been doing this for 20 minutes!" you whined, catching your boyfriend's wrists as he raked his fingers through your hair.

"Well, if you finish off these last ten minutes with me, I'll let you braid my hair." He wrapped his arms around you, permitting you just enough time to contemplate his offer, "How does that sound~ Hm?" "... Pretty good, actually! Okay!"

He usually doesn't trust anyone touching his hair, but he can make an exception for you! He knows you'll be gentle. Besides, it's kind of relaxing... And it gives him time to figure out where he should order from. Hopefully, you don't mind eating Japanese food for lunch for the fourth time this week!

When it's time to finally eat, Yone is dedicated, engaged in deep conversations with you, and hungry to learn more about you. And sometimes, you'll get lucky enough to catch him subtly flirting with you... Just try not to point it out!

At the end of your long, relaxing day, the both of you apply face masks on each other, your thumbs grazing against his cheeks. You always envied how smooth his face was... How perfect his skin was in general. Hell, some days you felt like everything about Yone was perfect...

And falling asleep in each other's arms only confirmed how perfect your relationship could be despite all the stress the two of you endure.

#saeybaewrites #request #headcanons #heartsteel #heartsteel yone #yone #heartsteel yone x reader #heartsteel x reader #yone lol #x reader #yone lol x reader #yone league of legends #lol x reader #yone league of legends x reader #league of legends x reader

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yuna542 · 1 year

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›Bad Idea‹

Pairing: Hong Woojin × Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst, Enemies with benefits to Lovers

Warnings: 18+, explicit Smut, under 18 DNI!, suggestive Themes, Swearing, pet names, hate sex, ANGST, fingering, bruises

Word Count: 6.1k

Note: Part 2… God I have so many ideas for Storys yet so little time to actually write them. But good news: I‘m soon on vacation, that means I‘ll have a lot time for writing. Hope you like this part. There will be big drama soon~ Much love

Summary: As Gunwoo‘s little sister he wanted you to finally meet his best friend. Unfortunately you don't get along. He gets on your nerves, you fight all the time and yet you can't stop messing with each other. One evening you get into a dangerous situation and end up bruised and bloody at his apartment. And you suddenly have to ask yourself: Why do you feel so attracted to that idiot?

Chapter 3:

The Mistake

Waiting, you stared at him when he made no move to turn around.

"Do you want me to change in front of you?" you asked accusingly, and that's when he seemed to remember his manners. With a wry grin, he ran a hand through his hair.

"Well, I wouldn't mind."

Stunned, you grabbed a pillow from the sofa and threw it at him to hide how your face flushed with redness. But he caught it and laughed derisively.

"Okay calm down! I'm going to take a shower too. Can you watch the ramen? It just needs a few more minutes."

Then he disappeared into the bathroom as well, and you heard the water being turned on.

After slipping into his clothes, which were of course too big for you, you had to admit that they didn't look as bad as you thought.

But you definitely wouldn't tell him that.

You continued to prepare the ramen, filling it into two bowls that you placed on the living room table, and just as you were tasting it, Woojin came out of the bathroom.

You nearly choked on a noodle at the unannounced sight of his wet adonis-like torso. He had a towel wrapped around his hips, surrounded by refreshing steam and you were sure it only took a gust of wind to loosen it. The mere thought made your whole head glow and you tried not to let on how hot you thought his entire appearance was. It was wrong to think such things and you were disgusted by your own mind. It was Woojin after all. A dickhead and an idiot with no manners or empathy.

He rubbed his hair dry with a towel and as he did so, his biceps stood out and his abs tightened. You felt reminded of history class because he looked like one of those ancient statues carved out of marble depicting naked bodies of the gods.

The bruises and red marks all over his ribs and stomach already looked nasty, and you scrunched your nose as he came closer.

"Does it hurt a lot?" you asked, pointing to one of the biggest bruises that was just below his chest.

He looked down at himself, threw away the towel in his hand, and shook his head. Casually, he dropped down on the sofa next to you and grabbed one of the bowls and chopsticks.

"It's no big deal," he dismissed it, lying.

In fact, every breath hurt like hell and he feared that a rib or two had been broken, but he would never have admitted that in his life. Not in front of you. You stared at him in disbelief for a while and before you could stretch out your finger, he caught your hand and looked at you with a warning tone:

„Don’t you dare!“, he said and you snorted amused. So you had your answer that he was just playing the hero. But you left it at that, because his tight grip on your hand was already messing up your insides again. With one last warning look, he let go of your hand and tried to look unbothered.

As you continued to eye him concerned, he shook his head like a wet dog, and when you nudged him in annoyance at the drops of water hitting you, he just grinned broadly.

"Bon appétit!" he said enthusiastically, and so you ate in silence.

The fact that he was wearing only a towel played with your mind and you tried not to stare at his body all the time, although that was getting increasingly difficult.

It wasn't long before your bowls were empty.

Woojin took them to the kitchen and when he returned, you nibbled your lower lip uneasily. He looked at you unobtrusively.

It was strange to see you sitting cross-legged, in his clothes on his couch and despite everything you looked like a princess. A sight he never imagined to see.

"Ah shit," you cursed and groaned in pain as you put too much strain on your hand.

Silently, he sat down next to you again and grabbed your hand as if it was natural. He turned it and looked at your scraped knuckles in the light. With a furrowed brow, you watched as he palpated your wrist and pulled your hand away with a hiss as a sharp pain shot through your arm.

"Ouch! Be careful, dickhead! What are you doing?" you whimpered, and he glared at you again.

"Stop bitching around! I'm trying to help so Gunwoo doesn't rip my head off. Luckily you just bruised it because you snapped your wrist when you punched him."

Questioningly, you looked at his hands, which he demonstratively clenched into fists.

"You see that? Your wrist must always be tense when you punch, otherwise you can break your hand," he explained and you made a fist as well.

"Like this?" you asked curiously, holding it out to him.

Carefully he enclosed it with his strong fingers and straightened your wrist. His skin was warm on yours and you resisted the urge to grab his hand at the last moment.

"Almost. That's it. You have to keep it straight and tense as you punches," he said, smiling delightedly. It was clear how much fun he was having teaching you some of his passion.

You caught yourself smiling pleasantly as well, as you watched the enthusiastic gleam in his eyes while he spoke. He continued to hold your hand and that's when your eyes met.

As you gazed at each other in silence, the air became electrically charged and something in your stomach fluttered uneasily.

"Do you want me to take a look at that? That looks pretty bad," he said then, pointing to the wound on your eyebrow.

Before you could even answer, he already fetched a first aid kit, which he probably needed often, and spread it out in front of you.

"Can you put some clothes on first?" you asked before he could come closer, fearing you would lose your mind if he touched you like that too. You waved your hand in front of his chest, while you tried to avoid eye contact:

„That is irritating...“

He himself seemed to have completely forgotten that he was half naked and took a pair of boxershorts from the pile of clothes and slipped into them without further ado.

„Oh really? I thought you could handle a real man“, he provoked and was obviously proud of his stupid saying. You just crossed your arms and looked up to him with raised eyebrows.

„I could if there was one here.“

Offended, he mumbled something unintelligible, which certainly was an insult and rummaged in the pile of clothes. Then he put on a black shirt with the typical 'Metallica' lettering printed on it, before he sat down in front of you again and leaned your head on the chin to the side to have a better view of the cut on your eyebrow.

With skillful moves, he prepared disinfection, a wound ointment and a plaster. It was obvious that he was skilled at this. You already knew the procedure from Gunwoo as well.

You had treated him and his best friend countless times when they came home after training or a fight. Not only boxers knew quickly about such things, but also their environment.

"Now that hurts a little bit. I'm counting to three. One..."

And already he pressed the swab with the disinfectant on the spot and you squeaked loudly in pain. It was obviously the revenge for your mean comment.

Angrily, you punched him in the shoulder. This time your wrist was tense, yet it seemed to have no effect on him.

"What the hell! You said on the count of three!" you snapped at him, squinting your eyes as your entire head seemed to be on fire. God you hated him so much.

"It must come unexpectedly. It’s better," he replied, clearly amused, and dabbed the ointment on your wound with such gentleness as you were not used to from him.

Expertly, he stuck a plaster above your eyebrow and looked at his work with satisfaction.

"Voilà!" he presented it with both hands and smiled.

"Now it's your turn!" you said then and he nodded curtly.

"Okay. But please don't make it worse than it is," he replied teasingly and you gave him an annoyed look. As you set to work dabbing the wounds, you asked in passing:

"Why did you help me?"

"You're my best friend's sister. So you're my responsibility, too."

Your eyes met for a moment and there was that crackling energy again, making your skin tingle. Quickly you averted your eyes and pressed the swab with disinfectant on his wound to stop whatever was happening. It was almost panic as you avoided his gaze. He twitched slightly, but didn't make a sound.

"I mean how did you find me?"

The question had been burning on your tongue ever since he had suddenly appeared and beaten the assholes to a mush.

"I stayed at the party to keep an eye on you. Then when you left, I followed you."

Briefly, you paused and looked at him suspiciously.

"That's kind of creepy..."

He leaned against the back of the sofa with one arm and tilted his head a little.

"Oh well, you're lucky I was there."

He was right about that. Without him, something really bad would have happened. You didn't even want to imagine how it would have turned out if he hadn't shown up like a knight in shining armour.

But then something occurred to you.

"You've been watching me? The whole time?" you asked, thinking about your little makeout session with the guy. Had he seen all of that?

"It wasn't my idea... Gunwoo wanted me to watch you."

That made more sense. Your brother had told him to do it. Woojin probably didn't care at all what happened to you. You breathed a sigh of relief when he didn't bring up making out. He probably hadn't even noticed.

You nodded slowly and began spreading the cream on his wounds.

"Thanks anyway."

He watched as your eyes wandered intently over his face, trying to get every detail. How your eyebrows lifted slightly when you spoke or how you nibbled on your lower lip when you were thinking or concentrating.

Your slender fingers felt comfortable against his skin and he secretly wished you would never stop touching him.

"There is one thing that does interest me..."

"Huh?"

"Why did you just leave the poor guy? Was he that bad?" he asked, and immediately your heart flipped over and heat shot into your cheeks. Embarrassed, you cleared your throat and tried to avoid his gaze.

So he had seen it after all and couldn't just let it go.

And the worst part was that he clearly enjoyed the way shame turned your cheeks red and you uncomfortably brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

"No... he... I was... that's not the..."

You cursed yourself for only stammering coming out of your mouth, but Woojin had caught you off guard. Why were you so uncomfortable talking to him about it, and why didn't he stop looking at you so piercingly? Under no circumstances would you have told him the truth. That you had been thinking about him while someone else was all over you. You hated the fact yourself and still blamed it on the alcohol.

The corners of his mouth twitched knowingly and only now did you notice how close his lips hovered in front of yours. You had been so focused on treating his wound that you hadn't noticed how close your faces were in front of each other.

If you wanted to, you just had to lean forward a little and you could touch his lips with yours.

"So?" he asked teasingly, his voice getting a lot deeper.

His shimmering eyes made you all jittery and when he put his hand on your hip, your breathing only faltered.

"He just wasn't my type," you tried to end the subject, spreading the last of the ointment on his cheek.

"What's your type?" he continued to ask, and you hated his handsome face, prominent jawline and those engaging eyes for making you a flustered mess.

"Why do you want to know?" you mumbled, putting the ointment down and freezing as he lifted your chin with his index finger so you had to look him in the eye.

"Just out of curiosity."

Was he flirting with you? No he couldn't be. He was just messing with you and would laugh at you at any moment for taking it from him. After all, he didn't even like you and you didn't like him, so what was all this about?

"I can tell you what's not my type..."

"I'm listening."

His eyes were luminous in the dim light of his apartment. Your voice was low, but soft as velvet.

"Guys who are cheeky and ruthless. Act stupid all the time. Who don't know when to shut up. Who prefer to solve their problems with their fists rather than their mind. And think with their dick rather than their brain."

"Then I'm your walking nightmare."

You snorted in amusement and there your noses brushed against each other. The brief contact was enough to make everything go crazy in your head.

"And you? What kind of girls are you into?" you asked, just to say something.

Maybe to stop what was about to happen. He put his hand gently against your cheek and you could feel his warm breath brush against your lips as he spoke. You were both fighting an internal battle, wanting to break away from each other and put as much distance between you as necessary. However, your bodies did not obey.

"Until now, I thought I knew."

The rasp in his voice gave you goosebumps. Everything in you screamed to flee, to push him away and never speak a word to him again. But the heat rushed in your ears and your body no longer listened to you.

"What do you mea..." you were interrupted when his lips collided with yours and he pulled you stormily closer.

The defiant voice in your head grew quieter and the kiss was chaotic, emotional. Just as you knew Woojin and sensual at the same time.

His tongue slid over your lower lip and as soon as you opened your lips a little, your tongues fought for dominance. His hands slid to your hips, reaching for you, and you buried your fingers in the fabric of his shirt at his chest. Soon the whole thing was just a mess of tongues, teeth, groping and greedy touches.

All the tension between you, the anger and adrenaline of tonight unloaded between you and he tasted so addictive you never wanted to taste anything else. You didn't know if it was minutes, maybe hours, when you broke away from each other, panting.

Only then did you remember what was actually happening.

"What the... How," you stammered and ran your hands through your hair, overwhelmed. You couldn't bear to look each other in the eye for even a second, afraid of what else you would conjure up.

"I'm sorry. That was stupid," he muttered, and then you dared to look at him again. His lips lured seductively.

It all didn't matter now anyway, did it?

"Yes. It was."

He took a rasping breath as you grabbed a handful of his t-shirt and roughly pulled him closer again.

"Do it again!" you murmured, and he didn't need to be told twice. Relieved, his hands flew to your hips and your lips crashed together again. He pulled you onto his lap and you buried your fingers in his hair as you licked incessantly into each other's mouths.

The kiss was heated and more passionate than anything you had ever experienced. Like a fire it burned everything to ashes and his hands explored your body everywhere the fabric revealed a strip of skin.

"Shit you taste like candy," he murmured between kisses to your lips, spreading them along your jawline. A sigh escaped you as he grazed the sensitive spot behind your ear and you unconsciously rolled your hips against him.

He turned you on in a way that made your heart pound and your head spin. Briefly he paused and looked at the strangulation marks on your neck left by the gorilla.

Carefully he stroked the reddened areas and you thought you felt relief only from his touch.

Then he gently brushed his lips over them, caressing your skin as if he could heal it like that, and you laid your head back with your eyes closed while he worked his magic all over your neck. It was unreal how he melted your whole body just with that.

He ran his hands under your shirt and stroked your belly, your sides, up to your back. Gradually you couldn't stand it anymore. Your core pulsed excitedly and you wanted everything from him at once.

"Stop teasing!" you gasped as he sank his teeth into your neck. He lifted his gaze and looked like a puppy with those shiny eyes and excited smile.

"I can't help it. You're too cute, the way you're so desperately grinding on me."

Startled, you only now noticed how you rolled your hips against his middle. Your body had taken on a life of its own, desperately trying to create more friction to soothe the immense desire in your lower belly.

"Are you blushing?" he teased, squeezing your hips.

"Are you shy after all?"

Annoyed by his jokes and arrogance, you unceremoniously pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it aside. You could play this game, too. He should realize that he wasn't in control.

Surprised, he raised his eyebrows and his gaze was immediately glued to your naked body. He stared at your perfect breasts that he had imagined so many times when you came rushing into Gunwoo's room in those short pajama shirts that were way too small for you to yell at them to turn down the music.

"Fuck... Your tits are really perfect," escaped him and he immediately grabbed your breasts with both hands, cupped them and groped them while he spread kisses on your collarbone again.

"Do you think about my tits often?" you asked provocatively, gasping as soon as he sucked your skin and kneaded the soft flesh of your tits in his hands. The heat flowed together in a river between your legs and you could feel his hardened length through the fabric of his boxers.

"No wonder when you dress so slutty...you always run around in those short clothes at home when I'm there," he shot back less eloquent, completely distracted by your curves and soft skin. Soon his mouth closed around your nipple and he also worked your soft skin on your breasts as if he couldn't get enough.

You pushed him back roughly on his chest until he hit the back of the sofa and looked up at you with a mischievous expression on his face.

"You're insulting me while you're groping me all desperate?" you asked incredulously, taking advantage of the moment to take a breath.

"I thought you couldn't stand me?"

He pressed your hips harder against his in response, so that his hard dick pressed right up against your needy cunt. It was a little scary how big he felt through the fabric.

"I can't stand you. But I still think you're hot. Stop with the sass mouth. I know you want me!" he replied sharply and you laughed in amusement.

"You have a really overrated self-esteem."

Nevertheless, with greedy fingers you finally ripped his shirt off his body and stroked his bruises with care. His abs felt hard under your fingers and you sucked in a sharp breath as he began to rub your hips against his hard length.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, placing kisses all over your chest, nibbling on your neck. You threw your head back, growing,

"Fuck, If i didn't I wouldn't be half-naked on you."

Satisfied, he grabbed your ass and stood up with you as if you weighed no more than a feather. You held onto his neck and so he carried you to his room.

Red LED lights bathed the small room in an spicy atmosphere and in the corner of the room was a bed on which he placed you. He stepped between your legs and climbed over you until he was looking down on you.

He enjoyed the sight of your exposed body beneath him and before he could gape any further, you pulled him down to you and kissed him again.

At the same time he helped you get rid of the sweatpants and couldn’t stop touching your skin everywhere. You could feel his dick pressed against your thigh through his underwear, and your cunt tingled excitedly as his hands traveled agonizingly slowly down your belly.

"You want me to touch you, don't you?" he whispered in your ear, his fingers playing across the surface of your underwear and making you very, very aware of how wet they were.

"You are so arrogant. It's disgusting you know?" you said with a razor sharp tone that made his eyebrows twitch. It was the typical expression you always saw when you got on his nerves and managed to make him angry.

You tried not to look particularly impressed as he brushed his hand over your inner thigh, and yet as soon as he stroked your covered middle, you exhaled loudly.

"Uhh... Do you think you can resist much longer? Just admit you want me," he purred and god he had no idea how much you wanted to tear the last shred of fabric from his trained body, so that he would fuck you senseless. But instead you stubbornly withstood his gaze and let your fingers wander in circles over his chest.

"Do you really think you can satisfy me? You seem to have quite a bit to compensate for.... ah"

A short cry, more like a surprised moan escaped you as he slipped his hand unannounced into your panties and sank two fingers inside you.

Smugly, he began pumping them into your wet cunt while your mouth was open and you clung tensely to his upper arm, which he used to support himself next to your head. He looked down at you with a dangerous grin, like a predator eyeing its prey, and you could no longer hide what his touches were doing to you.

His thumb began to massage your clit at the same time and the heat in your lower abdomen clenched into a coil of pure fire. Whatever he did with his fingers made you drift off completely into the fog of ecstasy and the sinful moan he tore from you was like a reward for him.

"That sounds so much better... If I had known your moans sounded so pretty, I would have shut you up by doing this much sooner."

His words made the anger rise in you again. Why could you absolutely dislike each other, and yet it was the hottest thing you had ever experienced?

He sped up the motions of his fingers and the room was filled with the wet sounds and your moans as he memorized every expression on your face. You were beautiful the way you looked at him out of those angry big eyes, but couldn't hide the way your high rolled relentlessly closer.

"Don't you dare stop!" you gasped breathlessly, and he just laughed softly as your fingernails dug into his arm and he felt your cunt clench around his fingers.

"Don't worry. I want to see your face when you come around my fingers," he breathed against your ear and sucked on your neck, working his way back down and wrapping his lips around your nipple. He bit into it lightly while you were already starting to see stars.

His long fingers and mouth on your heated skin was enough to drive you over the top.

Trembling, you buried your hands in his hair and tugged on his strands overwhelmed as the world around you faded into white while you moaned his name as you came.

He savored your high to the last second and then he pulled his fingers out of your panties. While your chest rose and fell frantically and you tried to get back in touch with reality, he slipped his fingers into his mouth and licked your juices off of them.

Then he leaned down to you again and kissed you. With the kiss you slowly drifted back to reality. He had given you the best orgasm of your life only with his fingers. You could only imagine what it would be like to feel his dick.

The kiss was messy and hurried, tongues exploring every corner they could find and gradually swayed into sensuality. He grinded his hard dick against your inner thigh and you could clearly feel how impatient he was getting.

You felt how you became addicted to more, which is why you ran your fingers down his stomach. Even though you saw him half naked every day at training, it was something else to feel his muscles. Firm and seductive pressed against your soft body.

Almost playfully, you let your fingers wander over his waistband of boxers, sliding them in a bit as he greedily licked into your mouth and kneaded your breast with one hand.

He exhaled rattling as you rubbed your covered pussy right against his dick and he felt the soaked fabric even through his underwear. Your body was like a drug he would probably never get off of again.

His dick was so hard it was already painful and you smiled as he broke the kiss, breathlessly almost begging:

"Can I fuck you?"

"Just shut the fuck up and do it already!" you replied and it was as if you had given the starting signal for a boxing match. He tore off his underwear and got rid of your panties in record speed.

When his cock jumped free and bounced heavily against his belly, you couldn't suppress a surprised gasp.

He was indeed big... Very big.

When he noticed your gaze, he smiled with satisfaction and lined himself up with you.

"Still think I need to compensate for something?" he asked mockingly and you could feel his tip already at your entrance.

"Do you want to talk or fuck me?" you shot back as your cunt was already pulsing impatiently and you wanted to finally feel him. Even if it would hurt.

"You're so incredibly annoying..." he grumbled, and held your hips in place, so that you couldn't move back from his massive cock. Before you could retort anything snarky, he pushed in one unbroken movement inside of you and your entire body came alive with electric pleasure that has you gasping as he held you there, with his hands firmly on your hips to stop you from wiggling away. As he draws back and pushes back in so hard your vision splits with stars and heat explodes beneath your skin.

It hurt as he stretched you out and you could only see through the tears how much he enjoyed your fucked out face as he proved to you that he wasn't just talking stupid. You clawed at his back and your gasps quickly turned to pornographic moans. The pain was flooded and washed away by the arousal the more he stretched you out.

His thrusts hit something inside of you that made you soon choke on your moans, because you were still so tangled up from his fingers teasing you that you were close again already, and you knew exactly that he's never going to let you live this down.

Woojin was a professional athlete, you knew that. But now you realised behind closed doors, under the sheets, he was an olypian.

He set a fast pace, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, deeper inside of you every time. The world around you blurred in arousal and you wrapped your legs around his hips as he seemed to hit deeper with every thrust. His bed squeaked dangerously and banged loudly against the wall. Woojin's neighbors would probably barely be able to sleep a second, but you couldn't care less.

"You feel incredible," he gasped, intercepting your whimpers with intense kisses, and you felt yourself falling apart at any moment. When he perceived that your body was tensing, he intertwined his fingers with yours and pressed your hand into the mattress beside your head.

"Woojin... fuck... I'm gonna..."

You didn't remember how to form words or put them in proper order, but he understood you even without words. He read your reactions and your body like a book.

"It's okay, dollface! Come around my cock!"

At that moment, something exploded in your head and your orgasm gripped you with such force that you moaned his name loudly and your walls almost crushed him. It was like your body was burning and your brain was turning to mush. If you died now, you would be beyond pissed because you were with Woojin, but at least you had the best sex of your whole life.

"Fuck... oh fuck," he moaned, and a low growl escaped him as he too was on the verge.

"Come inside me! I'm on the pill!" you gasped and he moaned at your words.

„Shit... You're naughty."

He only thrusted into you hard one more time until he too came and shot his load deep inside you. After a few sloppy thrusts, he collapsed on top of you breathing heavily and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

So you slowly calmed down, listening to each other's heartbeat, and you stroked him dizzy over the back. It took quite a while for both of you to gradually drift back out of the thick fog of fuzzy state.

Neither dared to say a word for fear of what would happen. Silently you traced the lines of his marine tattoo and he grumbled comfortably, making your body vibrate.

"What did we do...", you whispered after a while and that's when he lifted his head, took another deep breath of your scent to store it in his mind and then rolled off you onto his back.

Suddenly everything was like before, only the heavy smell of sex in the air was new. You swallow at the awkward aftermath because you didn't think this far. You never even thought this was a possibility in any universe.

You both stared at the ceiling, trying to understand what had just happened. You pulled the blanket around your body and rolled onto your side, with your back to him.

What was that fluttering in your stomach? Why couldn't you bear to look at him?

Restlessly, you nibbled on your bottom lip and closed your eyes. Hopefully you would just wake up in your bed and all this had never happened. It would just be a dream, that you could be ashamed of, but nobody would ever know about it. Especially Woojin would never know. You had a feeling that everything he did would now somehow remind you of sex with him.

"Still hate me?" he asked into the silence and you replied:

"Definitely"

"Just as much?"

"Maybe a little less"

You raised your eyebrows in surprise when he actually laughed. You stared at the opposite wall until the corners of your mouth went up as well and you giggled too. The whole situation was too surreal to be true.

First your mortal enemy saved you from thugs and then fucked you senseless.

That's when you turned around and looked at him. He ran his hand through his thick curls and when your eyes met, you grinned like idiots. Never in your life had you expected this situation.

He also rolled onto his side until your faces hovered close to each other.

"That was a mistake," you mumbled after a while and he nodded.

"Yes... Gunwoo must never know about this."

For the first time, you fully agreed with him, and the mere thought of your brother getting to know even a glint of it gave you goosebumps. Still, you couldn't stop looking dreamily at the other and admiring each other's features. Were his cheekbones always this sharp?

"Then let's not regret it until tomorrow..." he then murmured and that was okay with you. Silently you nodded and that's when he reached out and pulled you closer by your hips under the covers.

You snuggled against his chest and he put his big arms around your body, squeezing your ass teasingly.

Just for tonight.

That's what you kept saying to each other in your mind. It was just for tonight and tomorrow all this had never happened.

After all, the whole thing had nothing to mean.

So it was okay when your lips lay on each other again and your hands wandered over each other's bodies. Just for tonight. You delayed the morning as long as possible, until you fell asleep snuggled close to him, relaxed and secure.

And with a smile on your lips.

The next morning, when Woojin woke up, you were gone. So were your things, and he looked in his closet for safety. Only when he saw that his clothes were indeed missing, he believed that he had not imagined the whole thing.

While eating breakfast, he glanced at his phone and spotted a message from you:

"If you tell anyone about this, you're dead."

Despite the threat, he smiled slightly and looked at the sofa where the first aid kit still lay.

You had disappeared in the early morning. It would be too strange to look him in the eyes in the morning. You didn't know what you would say and you would have liked to leave the country, never to see him again.

The worst thing was that you just couldn't stop thinking about last night. On the bus you unconsciously smelled his shirt you were wearing again and you would have loved to punch yourself.

Quietly, you unlocked your front door and were about to sneak into your room, but Gunwoo was already awake and packing his training bag. When he heard the door, he turned to you and froze when he saw the wound on your temple.

Then his gaze traveled down your body and only when he had silently looked at your torn dress in your hands as well, did he ask:

"What happened?"

You couldn't say anything. You just stood there and suddenly everything fell away from you. The attack, the beating, the feeling of the gorilla's hand around your neck, and finally the bruises in your palms from the rope.

It all came back with such force that you trembled and tears welled up in your eyes.

Immediately, your brother came up to you worriedly and wrapped you in his arms. You let everything you held in your hands fall and buried your face against his chest, while your body was shaken by heartbreaking sobs. The hopelessness and fear you had felt reverberated within you, but Gunwoo's smell and warmth softened the helpless feeling.

He was the only one you could admit your weaknesses to, and your heart instantly lightened as he stroked your hair and just held you close.

"It's all right. I'm here," he murmured reassuringly and as soon as you caught your breath, you sat down at the kitchen table where his boxing gloves were.

Then you told him everything. Well, almost everything.

You left out the thing about Woojin and the sex. After all, that had never happened.

Gunwoo's face darkened with every word and his knuckles stood out white, so tightly did he clench his hands into fists. After you finished, you restlessly played with one of his bandages lying on the table.

"Are you mad?" you asked quietly, and that was the first time he really looked at you.

"God no! I'm just glad you're okay. I should have taken better care of you..."

He blamed himself. You quickly shook your head and reached for his hand across the table.

"No it wasn't your fault. Besides, Woojin was there to save me after all."

He nodded, but his jaw twitched tensely. Then he stood up and hugged you so tightly that you could barely breathe. But that was okay.

As he continued packing his things, you took your first real look around the kitchen. The cabinet under the sink was open and there were pipes and towels everywhere.

"What happened here?"

Gunwoo zipped up his bag and slipped into his jacket to leave for training.

"A pipe broke... I've already called a plumber and Mom really wanted to fix it herself. Could you help out at the café today?"

"Sure. Then I'll bring you pastries to training this afternoon."

Gunwoo's eyes sparkled with delight and he nodded vehemently.

"That sounds good. I'll see you later then."

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and you tousled his hair in revenge before he disappeared through the door.

Shortly after, you fell back into bed and slept for another hour before heading to the café.

-> [3]

—

Taglist (open):

@marked-unknown @littlebaby-bunbun @officialshania @choisoorin @fanaticnae @lola2004sworld @penny44224 @artisticbirb @amnmich @tasteskz-sworld

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abbysimsfun · 12 days

Text

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 39 (New Romance!)

Weather was perfect the day of the Romance Festival, but Heather's stomach twisted with nerves. "He's basically Prince Charming," said her sister, Holly, as they arrived. "What are you afraid of?"

"The last time I felt butterflies like this, I couldn't have been more wrong about the man I fell for."

"Stop thinking about Malcolm before Conrad gets here or you'll have to drink two Sakura teas just to get out of your bad mood."

Heather shuddered. "I don't know why anyone would want to feel that flirty!"

"Maybe you'll want to feel that flirty if he's the right guy."

Kris was the first to spot Conrad across the plaza and waved him over. Heather introduced him to her friend, Dylan, and her husband Gavin (yes Richards, sorry no screenshots here. I was laser-focused on Heather and Conrad), who had left their daughter Pearl and newborn son Darrell at home in the Spice District with her mother. Dylan eyed his outfit. "Are you on duty tonight, Detective?"

"Crime doesn't always take a weekend." Conrad blushed. "I got called into work this morning and didn't have time to change before I said I'd be here, but I guess I should take off the badge."

"Don't worry about it," said Kris. "The vendors won't try to overcharge if they see us hanging out with a cop."

"Who wants Sakura tea?" asked Holly, as the group finished bowls of spicy ramen. With Heather's mouth on fire, the flirty pink tea actually sounded appealing. She followed the others to the tea fountain, where Conrad poured two cups and handed one to her. This delighted Holly. "You're a gentleman, Conrad!"

"Thank you," Heather said as she took a sip. Instantly, the flirty brew raced to her head. Her fingertips tingled as they slid over the plastic cup.

"Thanks for inviting me."

"I didn't. I mean, I wanted to, but I don't know if I would've asked if Holly hadn't said anything. I'm not very good at this."

Conrad smiled. "I haven't dated seriously since college. Girl broke my heart, and it's easier to focus on work."

"I know what you mean."

She pulled out the clay from the gallery and fiddled nervously. He smiled. "Did you ever play that video game where you had to dig for clay and jewels and av-"

"-and avoid the demons? Yes! I loved Maniac Miners!"

"When they announced they turned it into a TV show I thought it would be so cool!"

"But it was for babies! My sister Hazel was five then, and she didn't even like it!"

He smiled, taking the clay from her hands. His blue eyes gleamed in the pink light of the festival.

With her hands free of clay she took a breath and emptied her tea cup. The tangy beverage made her lips tingle, but it also made her feel brave. She pulled herself against Conrad and pressed her lips to his.

He didn't even have time to drop the clay.

They pulled apart and shared a quiet look. Both vulnerable, afraid to say out loud how the kiss really felt. But in that look, they knew it meant something. "You can kiss me like that again. Anytime," he said.

Though he spent time getting to know Holly, Kris, Dylan and Gavin, Conrad spent most of the festival at Heather’s side. It might have been the Sakura tea, but that first kiss wasn't their last. Heather had never had a better first date.

At the end of the night, Conrad didn't want to leave her side. "I have to get home to let Gord out, but if you wanted to come by and say hello, I'm sure he'd be thrilled to see you as always."

"She'd love to," said Holly with a grin.

Buoyed by the effects of the Sakura tea, Heather followed Conrad to his apartment building a few blocks away... ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

#sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 legacy #sims in bloom #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 legacy #ts4 screenshots #sims 4 story #ts4 story #legacy challenge #sims legacy #ts4 legacy challenge #gen 2 #san myshuno

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mixelation · 6 months

Text

i wrote some (a)synchronicity :^)

this does feature a conversation about icha icha, because i forgot jiraiya wrote his first book (the non icha icha one that's basically minato RPF, from which naruto got his name) right around kushina's pregnancy (or at least finished it and gave it to minakushi while she was pregnant), and im too lazy to change any of the dialogue. so um. i guess it's a mild au........?

also i did a coin flip on naming minato's teammate kokoha or kotone. kotone won but i did realize kokoha can be written with the kanji for leaf, which seems..... like something ninja would inflict on their children...... HMM

*****

“I– I like girls!”

Minato stared back at Kushina. This was… this was not how he expected asking her out to go. He thought they’d basically already confirmed their mutual affections.

Kushina’s face was as red as her hair, even as she determinedly and earnestly kept eye contact with him.

“S-sorry!” she said. “I know… I know I’ve been sort of leading you on. I did think I liked you, you know. But, um, I’ve been trying to imagine actually dating you for the past few months, and…”

Minato was the one to drop his gaze, his cheeks going hot as he stared down at his sandals.

“Anyway, I realized I don’t like you like that, you know,” Kushina continued. Kushina was never one to back out of awkward situations. That was one of the things he liked about her. “Um, I still like you though. As a friend. Like, I friend-like you a lot, you know.”

“Oh,” Minato mumbled at the ground. “I’m glad.”

“But you’re not…” Kushina trailed off, and Minato mustered up the courage to look at her face again. She was chewing on her bottom lip. “You’re just not a pretty girl, you know?”

“Yeah,” Minato said. “I know.”

They talked. They agreed to stay friends, and Kushina offered to treat him to ramen. They walked to Ichiraku together and joked about talking about pretty girls together in the future. Kushina flicked bean sprouts at him like she usually did and then snatched the naruto fish cake right out of his bowl without asking, just like she always did.

Minato went home and laid face down on his futon and contemplated his life.

He’d never been turned down before. He’d never been in love with anyone besides Kushina, but he’d spent most of his teenaged years on the frontlines, and he’d fooled around. He’d never not smiled that smile at someone, man or woman, and had them not follow him back to his tent.

Why did his first rejection have to be the only one he’d ever really, truly liked…?

And he had a whole month of leave time ahead of him, here in the village, now with nothing to distract him. With the long leave, he’d thought it’d be a good time to finally formally ask Kushina out. They’d both sort of mutually danced around the subject for years, because the war meant they barely ever got to see each other in person, which would have made a romantic relationship hard. But Hiraishin now meant Minato could come home more often, and they'd both turned nineteen that year. It seemed like a good time to move into a more serious stage of their relationship, and Kushina had indicated strong romantic interest the last time he’d been in the village.

And now… well, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do, long term or short. He did still want to be friends with Kushina, but his heart felt delicate. He didn’t want to see her again so soon.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He could… read. He didn’t really want to bother Kushina for material from her personal library of Uzumaki scrolls (which was where anything new for him would be), but he could always ask to reread Tobirama’s various fuinjutsu and ninjutsu scrolls. Or… Jiraiya’s new erotica adventure novel sounded kind of fun.

What is Sensei up to? Minato wondered. He hadn’t seen him in a couple months.

Then, on a whim, he teleported to him.

“Fuck,” Jiraiya swore, dropping his field telescope. “Kid, this better be an emergency.”

Minato glanced around his surroundings. No enemies. No ninja in general. There was no one else around, although Minato could hear civilian voices on the other side of the wooden fence Jiraiya had been peering through. The air was damp and smelled slightly sulfuric. A hot spring, but not in Hot Water Country.

“Are you peeping again?” Minato asked, squinting disapprovingly at Jiraiya.

“It’s research,” Jiraiya insisted. He toed his telescope and then flipped it into the air with a quick move of his foot.

Minato snatched it before he could.

“There’s other ways to do research,” Minato chided.

Jiraiya crossed his arms. “How do you know? Have you even read my book?”

“Er…” Minato hesitated. It was on his to-do list, okay? “Anyway, have you heard from Dekai or Kotone lately?”

Any attempt to pry Jiraiya from his vices usually ended with him trying harder, but it wasn’t difficult to distract him. They went for beers at a dimly lit local bar. Dekai and Kotone, Minato’s old genin teammates under Jiraiya who were now also in a cycle of unending war-related missions, were doing fine as far as Jiraiya knew. Minato told his sad story of finally asking Kushina out.

“Likes girls, you say…?” Jiraiya said contemplatively. He shifted, producing a small notebook from his haori.

“Please don’t take notes on my heartbreak for your porn novel,” Minato complained.

Jiraiya sighed and the notebook disappeared. Minato decided not to mention that he’d known Kushina had liked girls for years and had even had a few girlfriends; they’d just both thought she also liked men.

In particular, she’d liked Minato.

“This sort of thing happens,” Jiraiya said sagely. “You said you were going to try to be friends? That’s good.”

“I don’t know when I’ll be able to look at her without wanting to cry,” Minato admitted.

“The Yellow Flash? Afraid of a girl?” Jiraiya mocked, waggling his eyebrows. Minato kicked him under the table half-heartedly. “Fear not, my apprentice. Why, even your old sensei has had his heart broken by a beautiful kunoichi…”

Tsunade had turned Jiraiya down five or six times during their overly dramatic youths. Minato did not think this was a very comparable situation, as he was pretty sure Tsunade had never even given a hint of returning Jiraiya’s affections. But his Sensei was a good storyteller, and it did make Minato feel better to know that two ninja could be friends even through war and heartbreak.

It would hurt, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

“You’ll find someone else,” Jiraiya finally concluded. “When have you ever not been a charmer?”

Minato stared down at his now empty glass. He didn’t know how to articulate to Jiraiya how different being in love versus just thinking someone was attractive felt. Kushina had been… well, she’d really been one in a million. Minato had never found anyone who could really challenge him, physically or mentally, the way she could. He was afraid he never would.

“If you want a distraction,” Jiraiya said, leaning across the sticky table conspiratorially, a glint in his eye.

Minato perked up. “Yes?”

“There’s an interesting rumor I’m chasing,” Jiraiya said, voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. “There’s supposedly a fuinjutsu master running around, and no one has any idea who they’re working for or why.”

Minato frowned slightly. “A fuinjutsu master?”

Jiraiya leaned back, waving dismissively as he took another gulp of beer.

“They’re just rumors,” he said. “Probably it’s just someone with a couple janky seals, and people are impressed because most of the witnesses are civilian or low-ranking shinobi. I’ll know if I actually find a working seal.”

The notebook reappeared, and Jiraiya passed over a sketch of the pieces of a seal he’d found carved into a tree.

“The bark was hacked away in a rush,” Jiraiya said. “Sloppily done. Not really a ninja’s knifework. Probably civilians covering for them.”

A small piece of the seal had been left behind, which Jiraiya had copied. Minato traced the radical with his fingers.

“A barrier?” he guessed, and Jiraiya nodded. “Carved into the tree?”

Jiraiya shrugged. “I told you: janky. But it really impressed the locals.”

“I’d bet,” Minato murmured in agreement.

Jiraiya’s lips turned up in a wry smile.

“Whatever you’re betting, they were even more impressed,” Jiraiya said. “They claim it went up around someone from the Demolitions Corps, and then completely contained his explosion. Guy blew himself up.”

Minato just raised his eyebrows. Jiraiya wiggled his fingers at him.

“Mastery,” he said, clearly not believing the story. “There was evidence of an explosion, but…”

Jiraiya took another sip of beer, unimpressed. Anyone who could make a barrier would also be able to make an exploding tag or two. It was basic stuff.

“This isn’t a standard barrier, though,” Minato said. “They must have known what they were doing.”

“Eh,” Jiraiya replied. “Non-masters make modified seals all the time, by copying someone better, or by luck, and that’s only a little piece of it. I’ll make my call when I find a whole one.”

“I guess,” Minato said, and passed the notebook back. “So, when you said you had a distraction for me…?”

Jiraiya waggled his finger at him.

“Go home and read my amazing new novel first,” he said. “Sleep in. Eat well. Fuck someone pretty who’s not Kushina. You need a break from the battlefield, or you won’t stay sharp. Trust an old timer like Sensei.”

Minato pouted. Jiraiya held up his hand, spreading his fingers.

“Five days, minimum,” he said. “More, if you need to reread my book ten times. Then you can come bother me about this mystery fuinjutsu user.”

“Fine,” Minato agreed. Then he grinned. “But I’m not holding back in my review if your book is bad.”

Jiraiya’s returning grin showed off all his teeth. “Trust me, kid. You’re going to love it.”

Unfortunately, about this part of their conversation, Jiraiya was right. Minato would love his cheesy book. Jiraiya was also right that Minato would slowly get over his heartbreak.

He was phenomenally wrong about the mystery fuinjutsu user.

#asynchronicity #my writing

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yeonzzzn · 1 year

Text

🫂 touch me again: yeonjun x reader | friends to lovers | warnings: some spice ♡

i don’t want to be just friends...

[3.0k words] ☆ [pls do not repost]

You thought nothing of it when you stared into his eyes. It shouldn’t have been any different than any other time. But this time it was.

He’s your best friend, so when he called you up for just a normal hangout day, you weren’t expecting the outcome of it.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, you let out a small sigh knowing damn well he was losing his patients.

You answered the call, “Yeonjun I am quite literally walking into the building right now.”

“Hurry up dude!” he exhales, “I am STARVING!”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m walking as fast as my legs can take me up these stairs you know.”

You turned the corner to see Yeonjun standing in the doorway to his dorm, phone up to his ear, staring back at you, and pouting.

Ending the call, you scoff, “You literally could have met me downstairs but instead decided to stand in the doorway?”

“I literally just walked out.” he shrugs.

You raise a brow at him, “I don’t believe you.”

His pout gets worse, “Just hurry inside I want my ramen.”

Yeonjun turns on his heels, walking inside. You had no choice but to follow behind him.

You walk in? closing the door behind you and kicking your sneakers off.

You noticed how quiet the dorm was. “Where's everyone else?”

“Soobin is with Namjoon Hyung, Beomgyu and Taehyun are at HYBE, and Kai is spending the day with his family.” Yeonjun took the bag of ramen from your hands, licking his lips as he pulled the packages from the bag and got everything prepared in the kitchen.

“Everyone's out having a good time and you chose to be stuck with me?” you joked.

“Hey,” he points a finger at you, “we grew up together and my best friend you are just as important as everyone else.”

You chuckle, taking a seat at the table, “You really haven’t changed a bit since getting famous huh?”

“Nope! Just got even better than before.”

You rolled your eyes, “whatever you say.”

You both spent the rest of that time watching Yeonjun cook the ramen. Listening to him sing to himself.

You always loved his voice and knew from the beginning he would be a superstar someday. It was his destiny.

He placed the bowl of ramen in front of you, “time to eat!”

While you both ate, the topics of what has been going on in each other's lives came up. Nothing was ever new on your part, besides things in college or family issues. But Yeonjun always treated your stories as if they are on the same par as his own life.

“Oh! I bought that new Mario Kart game for my Switch.” Yeonjun mentioned.

You twirled the noodles with your chopsticks, “about time you did. I was getting bored of kicking your ass at super smash bros.”

He dropped his utensils on the table giving you a side eye, “You literally button smash Y/N.”

You smile up at him, shaking your head, “No you just suck.”

Yeonjun scoffs, turning his head away from you, licking his bottom lip, “Okay, we will have a bet. Whoever wins three races in Mario Kart, the loser has to take the other shopping.”

You rolled your eyes, “it’s always shopping with you.”

“It’s called staying up with the latest trends and fashion baby, learn it.”

Yeonjun practically skipped to his room, and you slowly followed behind him.

He sets up the gaming system and you sit on the edge of his bed.

Yeonjun sits beside you, handing you one of the joycons, “ready to lose?” he winked.

You gave him a side eye, “In your dreams.”

Before you knew it, the three races were over, and you indeed did lose.”

“YES!!! Shopping spree!!” Yeonjun cheers, flinging himself back onto his bed.

You laid back beside him, covering your face with your hands, “I don’t remember ever being this terrible at Mario Kart, you totally cheated Yeonjun!”

“I absolutely did not, in fact, cheat, you’re just a sore loser!”

You looked over at him, his hand was shaped into an L on his forehead. You reached over, slapping his hand away from his head, “Shut up!”

Yeonjun shoves your shoulder, “Sore loser sore loser!”

You push him back, the both of you laughing.

Yeonjun had the biggest smile, and it was one of your favorite things about him.

He slowly turns and looks at you. You stare back into his eyes like you always do. Eye contact was important in your friendship. But something was different this time.

Your heart rate was slowly increasing. What is this feeling? And why are you feeling it? You’ve looked at his smug face a million times, why is this one different?

Before you could answer your own question, you stopped thinking completely.

His hand reached across to the back of your neck, pulling you toward him.

He pressed his lips against yours. They were so warm and inviting, you couldn’t help but kiss him back.

You couldn’t get enough of him. You needed more. As if you lost all your air and he became the oxygen.

Yeonjun runs his hand down your back, hooking his finger in the belt loop of your jeans, pulling you closer to him.

Your bodies touched. Your hands flew into his hair. His hands searched your body. First running to the back up your head, back down to your ass slowly giving it a squeeze and down to your thigh, raising it up and over his hip.

He slowly licks your bottom lip, waiting for his offer to be accepted. You open your mouth just wide enough for his tongue to come through.

Your tongues danced together in the perfect rhythm.

Yeonjun lets out a soft moan, squeezing your thigh tightly and it sends chills down your spine.

He pulls you on top of him, both hands resting on your hips. Your hands found the sides of his neck, your thumb slowly tracing his jawline feeling the moment of it with every kiss.

The front door opens then follows the sound of four voices.

You both quickly jumped up and away from each other, you standing across the room, while Yeonjun sat up in his bed running his hands through his hair.

The laughter of Soobin, Taehyun, Beomgyu, and Kai filled the other room, completely changing the air in this room.

You looked over at Yeonjun and he slowly looked up at you.

The realization of what just happened between the two of you clicked at once.

A boundary was crossed and now your friendship has changed.

Yeonjun seemed to realize it too. He slowly starts to stand up, “Y/N, I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened or came over me.”

You couldn’t find the right words to speak, all you could do was look back at your best friend. You didn’t know what to think or how to feel. Your emotions were tied into a knot.

“I need to go.” was the only thing you could say, and you made it your mission to get out of the dorm as fast as possible.

“Y/N, please don’t go.” Yeonjun reached for you, but you were already out of the room.

The boys noticed you walking out, you gave them hellos and goodbyes, quickly stepping foot out of the dorms.

“What’s wrong with her? Did something happen?” Taehyun asked.

Soobin noticed it too. Something seemed off.

Soobin found Yeonjun hunched over sitting on his bed, his leg was shaking and he had a tight grip of his hair on the back of his head.

“Hyung.” Soobin said.

Hearing his voice made Yeonjun jump, he quickly looked up at his leader, “Hey Soobin.”

Soobin looks out at the front door, then back at Yeonjun, “Did you fight?”

Yeonjun raised a brow, trying to play it off that he didn’t know what Soobin could be talking about, “what?”

“Y/N,” he sighed, “it’s not like her to just walk out like that. She seemed upset. What happened?”

Yeonjun looked away from his leader, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth. Debating if talking about what just happened with his lifelong best friend was the right move.

“Yeonjun.”

And that was all it took. Yeonjun quickly stood up, facing his leader and second best friend, “I kissed her!”

Soobin raises both his brows, studying his hyung’s face carefully.

“I kissed her okay, that’s what happened.” Yeonjun rolled his eyes, falling back down onto his bed. “I don’t know what came over me. We were just hanging out like normal, everything was normal, nothing was out of place but just…the moment I looked at her…”

Soobin nodded, taking a seat beside him.

“I remember not thinking about anything. Just looked at her and into her eyes and the next I know, we were kissing. I escalated it further and who knows where it would have gone if you guys didn’t come home. And by the time I realized what we just did, she was running out the door.”

“Well,” Soobin started, “you guys are best friends, grew up together, families are friends, everything. You crossed a line that has never been spoken about or even thought out. Y/N probably does not know how to respond to this.”

Yeonjun shook his head, “I figured that but..”

“Hey, no none of that, don’t beat yourself up over it,” Soobin wrapped his arm around him, “She seemed deep in thought when she left, just give her time, okay?”

Yeonjun nodded.

“Another question?”

“Alright?”

“Do you have feelings for her?”

Yeonjun shakes his head, “Soobin, I have no idea. I don’t know. I never saw her as anything more than my best friend.”

All Soobin could do was nod and try his best to cheer up his friend, “Don’t beat yourself up. Give her some time.”

Two days have passed and all Yeonjun wanted to do was pick up his phone and call you. To apologize a million times over and make it right. But he was afraid you’d reject his calls and text or write him off completely.

He was terrified to lose you.

Two days turned into a week. Which is the longest either of you has gone without some sort of contact.

Yeonjun slashed water in his face, looking up at himself in the mirror, watching the water trail down his face, stopping at the corner of his lip.

He reached up, tracing his fingers over his lips. The memory of you came back to his mind. The feeling of your lips connected to his. The way your body moved against his. The sound of your breathing. How perfectly synced you were. How life is so wrong without you standing beside him.

Yeonjun pulled his phone from his pocket, dialing your number.

You sat at your desk, turning the pages of your textbook, doing some last-minute studying to keep your mind busy.

It’s been a week since you’ve talked to him. And you regretted every day of that week walking out the way you did. It shouldn’t have ended up like this.

He’s your best friend, who you’ve shared your entire world with. How could you have let things end this way?

As if on cue, your phone rings. Yeonjun’s name lights up.

You slowly pick up your phone, counting down from three before answering the call.

You didn’t have a chance to speak because he was already speaking, “Y/N,” he softly said your name, “meet me at HYBE.”

Yeonjun was already waiting outside for you when you arrived. His head hung down, staring off into the distance, he did not know you have even arrived yet.

You softly looked at him. He wore his favorite white tank top that perfectly showed off his muscular arms. A faded pair of blue jeans ripped at the knees and a black pair of Converse. The streetlamp he stood under shined on him like a spotlight. The summer breeze blew his hair against his cheeks.

You knew you couldn’t stare at him much longer before he noticed you.

“I’m here,” Yeonjun looked up at you. His face might not have shown how happy he was to see you, but his eyes said it all, “why did you call me out here?”

He walked over to you, sliding his hands into his jean pockets, looking off into the distance, and licking his bottom lip, “Take a walk with me.”

You followed behind him, still confused as to why you had to meet him at his place of work.

“Practice today?” you asked.

Yeonjun nodded, “Dance practice, Soobin had a meeting and then we all discussed future plans for the group.

You nodded, “Could have just called me and talked if you were busy.”

“I’m not busy, plus I wanted to see you.”

You stopped walking. Your heart felt like it was about to burst. All you wanted was to see him but thought after everything that happened, you two would not be able to be friends anymore. Everything was ruined.

Yeonjun turned around, concern filling his face, “Are you okay?”

You nodded, “Yeah, just haven’t seen you in a while.”

He nodded too, “Yeah it has been a minute.”

Yeonjun could feel how uncomfortable you were. Things were different between the two of you. He knows that, but still tried to lighten the mood anyways. “Plus, you still owe me a shopping trip.”

You scoff, shaking your head, and continued walking ahead of him, “You called me out of my apartment at nine o’clock at night just to drag me on a walk about your company building to remind me about your shopping addiction? You’re really something Choi Yeonjun.”

Yeonjun sighs, as he watched you walk away from him, but this time he’s not going to let you go.

“Want to know the actual reason I called you out here?”

You stopped walking, afraid to turn around and look at him.

“Look, Y/N, I am truly sorry for what happened…but I do not regret it.”

You slowly turned and faced him, “Why?”

Yeonjun softly smiles, “Because I am in love with you idiot.”

Your heart completely stops at hearing those words, and you lost your breath as he slowly walks closer to you.

“I think I have always loved you,” he continues, “but I was blinded by our friendship and deep down was scared if I made the wrong move I would lose you and I cannot lose you, Y/N.”

You shook your head, “But I ruined everything! I walked away and did not even try to-”

“No we are not doing this,” he interrupted, “you did nothing wrong, it was all me. I am the one that decided to cross that line. I am the one who ruined our friendship.”

“Yeonjun,” you sighed, “I had just as much part of it as you did.”

You stare into his eyes, trying to read every thought that was going through that beautiful head of his.

“I don’t want to be just friends,” he takes one step closer, “I am in love with you. I always have been and I was a fool to not see it sooner than when I did. I can’t get you out of my head,” he takes another step closer, “I can’t stop thinking about how you looked that day, the way you looked back at me while we were in my bed. The way your lips felt on mine, the way you tasted.”

Yeonjun was nearly inches away from your face, slowly backing you up against the wall of his company building.

He places his hands on the sides of your head against the wall, “The way your body felt against mine and how perfect you felt in my hands,” he rests his forehead against yours, “I can’t sleep in my bed without remembering you on top of me and hearing the sounds of your sexy breathing ringing in my brain from the way I was touching you.”

Your heart raced against your chest. His lips were inches away from yours, and his body’s heat radiated to yours. You felt as if you have stopped breathing, and the only way to get that oxygen was to breathe him in.

“I going to give you two options,” he exhaled, “either tell me to move and I will respect your space and leave you alon-”

“Touch me again.” you quietly whispered.

“What?” he asked lifting his forehead from yours.

“I said touch me again,” you took a deep breath, “Kiss me, grab me, run your hands over every inch of me. Breathe me completely in. Use me as your drug, as your oxygen. Make love to me right here if you’d want, do everything you want to me except let me walk away from you.”

And that was all it took. His lips connected to yours. He pinned you completely against the wall, his hands squeezing your hips. His body completely pressed against yours.

“I think that was the sexiest thing I have ever heard you say.” Yeonjun chuckled against your lips, “I am so turned on right now, if we weren’t right outside my workplace, I would so fuck you right here.”

You ran your hands through his hair, softening the kiss, “I’m in love with you too, Yeonjun. I also always have known too deep down. I always felt some sort of jealousness when you liked some other girl, and always felt relieved when it wouldn’t work out, and just told myself it was because you deserved better than what they were.”

“But I did deserve better than them, I deserved you.” Yeonjun tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, “It has always been you, Y/N. It has always been us, just took us twenty-plus years to realize it.” he chuckled.

All you could do was smile at him. Not only did you get your best friend back, but you gained the love of your life.

“So how about I ditch the rest of my practice and we quickly head back to the dorms, because wooo if we don’t I might actually take you right here and now.”

You smiled even brighter, “last one to the dorms owes the other a shopping spree.” and you took off running, the sounds of Yeonjun’s laughter following behind you.

“We haven’t changed, and I am so in love with it.”

#yawnzzn #choi yeonjun #yeonjun #txt #tomorrow x together #yeonjun x reader #reader x yeonjun #txt fanfic #txt fanfiction #txt imagines #txt x reader #reader x txt #yeonzzzn writing

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