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starsofang · 4 months

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Change of Heart

hitman!simon x f!reader / part 8

previous part

tw: alcohol use, angst, mentions of death

When life has completely and utterly failed you, you hire a hitman to take you out, too afraid to do it yourself. Instead of killing you like you had planned, he strikes up a deal with you, and you're too stubborn to bail out.

Waking up the next morning was the biggest slap in the face. It singed your skin with a burning sting, leaving you disoriented and lost. It was as if the brutal force of realization had hit you so hard, it knocked any form of thought right out of your mind except for pain. Irrepressible pain that caused you to feel numb.

Simon had left. All of your worried texts proved futile. What once showed as blue was now a sickening green that glared back at you. Your number was blocked, your messages unable to go through, and you were left an even shattered version than before. You were glass shards left to lay on the floor, you were a broken wind chime that could no longer provide a charming ambience.

You were broken and useless, tossed to the side like a damaged piece of scrap.

Simon had lived up to his name, and disappeared like a ghost. Drifting off into shadows of darkness, seeping into them and becoming one, never to be seen again.

You were hurt. Scratch that, that was a nice way of putting it – you were devastated. The walls you had so graciously taken down for him were now jagged pieces of debris with no mortar to glue them back together one by one. They were unrepairable, crumbling far too much to be saved.

Everything you ever learned about Simon felt like a lie, because that’s what he did – he lied. The glass was too foggy to tell the difference between what was a lie, and what wasn’t. If there were any parts of Simon that were truthful, you didn’t believe it. There was no grace of god to be there to lend a guiding hand to point you in the right direction. All you had was your gut, telling you deranged criticisms.

He lied to you, this was all a game, and you fell for it.

You should’ve known, really. A man like Simon was not one to love and be loved, not when he had an apparition named Ghost to steer him away from any attachment. After all, spirits could not grow devoted to a mere mortal woman who had nothing left to offer. You were stupid to think otherwise.

Graves was a bad enough person. He hurt you, tormented you, claimed you in order to assure your life was a living hell, with or without him. Now, the smallest part of you didn’t think he could be as cruel as Simon at this moment. It was a brainless thought, one you knew was far from true.

Simon never hurt you, nor did he treat you as bad as Graves.

But at least Graves didn’t have the gall to abandon you like an unwanted dog on the street.

Your mind was ping-ponging back and forth between truth and deception. You didn’t know what was real. It hazed over you, muting out every bit of you that was left inside and replacing it with nothing but cracked foundation.

Nothing was real. Nothing was worth it.

You didn’t leave the house for the entirety of the day, nor the next. You stayed in the confinement of your own home, feeling like a caged animal with no way out. You were slowly decaying away, losing the truest part of yourself, no longer able to see her in the reflection. She stared back at you with a ghostly image, whispering about how disappointed she was in you, how hateful she felt towards you.

She whispered about Simon, burdening you with reminders of what could’ve been if you were simply a little less broken. Bringing him up just to dig the knife in more, twisting it under your skin and basking in the bloodshed.

You were spiraling, just like you always did, because it was all you were good for. Simon was another excuse to crumble back into a deeply rooted self hatred. He was just a chess piece, a single card in a stack of dozens, while you picked it up and returned to your old game of reckless entertainment.

Day fourteen came before you know it. And you spent it completely by yourself, pondering why you ever made a deal with the devil in the first place.

It was easy to fall back into old habits when there was nothing there to offer recovery. Relapsing was what you did best, even when Simon was around, and you’d be damned if you didn’t do it again with him gone. It was a part of you, this endless cycle of self abuse, and it wasn’t going anywhere. It was simply on a temporary pause, now returning with more fiery persistence than before.

Alcohol was the only home you ever knew. It warmed you to the bone, engulfing you in a buzzing fervor. It welcomed you back with open arms, holding on to you with no intent of letting go. You were its lovely hostage, and you had grown Stockholm Syndrome.

Weeks passed by of tireless nights filled with the bitter taste that burned in your throat on repeat. Weeks were spent holed up in your apartment, nursing the only friend you had. This time around, you weren’t picky. You took whatever you could get, uncaring of the repercussions

And even in those weeks, Simon never left your mind. It was like a punishment for being good enough to fuck, but not good enough to stick around. It tortured your mind to the point of insanity.

The more alcohol you had, the more the memory of him became cloudy. It was exactly why you drowned yourself in it. You didn’t want to picture Simon’s face. Didn’t want to picture the way his eyes lit up when he saw you, or the way his smile was a bit crooked and off center. You didn’t want to picture him, and the future you grew too eager for, one that consisted of the two of you. Two puzzle pieces fitting together, only to be wretched apart and pressed down in separate corners.

You were completely losing yourself. All over a man who had broken you.

The cycle repeats. And repeats. You let it repeat, until hopefully one day, the alcohol would prove to be enough to give you the death you so greedily wanted.

It wasn’t until nearly four weeks in utter disarray that the cycle began to morph, railing off of the tracks that you worked so hard to have control over.

Deep into your daily routine of excessive drinking and wallowing in your own self-pity, the door knocked. You nearly missed it, brushing it off as your imagination. You didn’t have visitors, and the only one who cared to take that spot until leaving you was Simon.

Glancing around your apartment, you visibly winced at the disheveled sight of it. Bottles were thrown around carelessly, littering the kitchen counters and living room floor, where you were currently residing with a nameless show playing on the television. Hell had flown through your apartment, and it was your fault it had gotten this way again.

Old habits die hard. And you were always its unfortunate victim when those habits needed a host to leech on to once more.

Clambering up from where you sat on the floor, you somehow made your way to the door by the grace of god. It was late, and if you read right from the clock on the stove, it was past midnight. Anybody could be outside – a killer, an intruder, a thief. It was a mix between not caring about dying, and having enough logical sense to know nobody dangerous would knock first, that had you opening the door.

An unfamiliar man stood tall in the frame, bushy facial hair, sunken eyes that barely held a spark, almost as broad and stiff as Simon. But it wasn’t Simon, and this man was a mere stranger.

“Jesus,” the man muttered under his breath at the state of you. You frowned, feeling small and weak in comparison. After a moment, he cleared his throat, speaking again. “Need to talk to you. Can I come in?”

“I don’t even know who you are,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes.

“M’a friend of Simon’s,” he explained woefully. The sound of Simon’s name coming from somebody else’s lips and not yours had your heart clenching with a dull ache. It sent ice cold chills running through your veins. “The name’s John Price.”

You stared at him with a look of disdain. You never heard Simon mention him before. The more you thought about it, you never heard Simon mention anybody. He was an enigma that you fell into too easily without even knowing a lick of who he was outside of your temporary protector.

“If you’re looking for him, I don’t know where he is,” you replied dryly, gripping a hand on the door and beginning to close it. Before the hinge could click into place, John’s boot stopped it, wedging itself between the door and its frame. He gave you a tight smile, one that had you tensing.

“I know where he is, dove. I said that I need to talk to you.”

The two of you became trapped in a staredown, one that you were too exhausted to fight to be the champion of. Begrudgingly, you opened the door wide enough to allow him to slip in, shutting it behind him. You watched as he took in your apartment, surely judging the whirlwind of it. He wasn’t exactly the type to hide away his distaste, if his mockingly amused expression was any type of indication.

“What do you want?” you asked him, disregarding your own mess and instead focusing on him. He turned to look at you, flashing you another smile. It seemed trusting enough, kind even, but by this time, you knew better.

“Came to offer you a deal, of sorts,” he vocalized. “Might I sit?”

You glanced over at the living room, shame bubbling in you at the sight of the bottle you’d been indulging in before he came around. “Sure.”

You trailed behind him when he took his seat on the couch, letting out an exaggerated sigh, leaning back into it. His display of comfort made you feel uneasy. You made no effort to join him, opting to stand in the middle of the room.

“You were rather close with Simon, weren’t you?” he asked, causing you to scoff to yourself.

“Sure. What’s that got to do with anything?” you asked grimly.

Price hummed to himself, tapping his fingers against his knee. It caused a faint, muted sound of rough, calloused fingertips to chafe against the material of his pants. “Figured so. Allow me to ask you somethin’. You know of Simon’s occupation, right?”

“Yes.”

“Right. Silly me, that’s how you met, isn’t it?” He chuckled to himself. You weren’t sure what was so amusing. “Well, here’s the thing – his performance has been a bit… hindered as of late. I have a strong inkling that it’s because of you.”

The air in the room was tense, nearly suffocating you. Price had such a soft aura that was hiding menacing intentions. You could see through it.

“I need a favor from you, doll.”

“And that is?” you asked carefully.

He smiled at you, cocking his head. “I need you to reject him. Tell him you’re better off, that you don’t need him, whatever you can say to make him get his head back in the fuckin’ game. This job of ours isn’t a joke, you see. I can’t have him slackin’ off. That’s how he’ll end up caught and thrown in jail. Once it reaches that point, I can’t help him out of it. That’s why I need you to help me before that happens.”

Your eyes widened in bewilderment at the sheer nerve of Price. Asking you to tell Simon off, to lie and say you were happy without him? Fuck, the proof was in the pudding – you weren’t, and you could almost guarantee that Simon would know you were lying from one single word. Sure, you were mad at him – pissed – but you also wanted no part in this game Price was playing.

The more you sat on it, the more it became twisted. You were thrown in a tangled web of deception and betrayal, stuck to it like glue, fighting for your way out.

But how much of it was betrayal? How much of it was trickery?

Price’s words echoed in your mind on repeat. They formed together, creating a clear picture.

Price had been the one to have Simon toss you out. He was the reason for your harrowing spiral. He was why Simon had left you, treating you as if you didn’t exist. Just a pawn in his game, and you were too stupid to realize it all sooner.

“You did this?” you snapped. Price raised an eyebrow at you, but said nothing. “You… you’re the reason for all of this, and now you’re asking me for help to lie to him? Are you insane?”

His expression twitched into a flash of annoyance before returning back to a mask. Alarms rang in your head. “I’m doin’ this for Simon. You’re a little bird he fell into when he shouldn’t have, and now I’m tryin’ to fix it before it’s too late.”

“Bullshit. You’re doing this to save your own ass.”

“I’d highly advise watchin’ yourself, doll,” Price muttered in warning, eyes narrowed and expression darkened. “You don’t know anythin’ about what we do. Don’t know how dangerous it is for you to be involved with Simon, and for Simon to be involved with you. I’m savin’ Simon’s ass from fuckin’ up one too many times.”

The atmosphere was even thicker than before. It was hard to breathe. It made you queasy, as if poisoned with a heavy gas that may just kill you if you inhaled it for too long.

Price and you stared at one another, both stubborn and pulled taut. His anger simmered to a low boil once the two of you took that silence to gather your thoughts, but it didn’t entirely vanish. You could still see a flicker of a flame in his eyes.

He was dangerous. Not somebody you wanted to get tangled up in, but you had no choice. You were too deep into this webbed mess, and it was only a matter of time before it came to bite back at you.

“What’s wrong with him?” you finally asked, voice quiet and solemn. You crossed your arms over your chest, turning your gaze away from him so you didn’t have to see his display of weak sympathy and mock judgment.

“He fell in love with you, that’s what’s wrong,” Price bit back, sneering. “Now he’s weak. Can’t do his job correctly, got his head in the fuckin’ clouds, snaps at everybody who tries to talk to him. He’s riskin’ himself, riskin’ us, and I can’t afford losin’ a brother over some girl.”

Price’s words were bitter and cruel. It only irritated you, pricking at your skin until it drove you mad. All calmness that had festered in your brief silence washed away, replaced with the old flame of your anger.

“Losing him?” You laughed bitterly, throwing your head back in disbelief. “Sounds to me like it’s your fault and not mine. Have you ever thought that maybe you’re the reason he’s all fucked up?”

Price stood from where he sat on the couch. There were no longer kind features adorning his face. It was replaced with twisted anger, morphing into something unrecognizable. When he stepped closer to you until you were nearly nose to nose, it was like looking into the eyes of a feral wolf, ready to tear you apart at any given second.

“Wise words comin’ from an alcoholic,” he muttered lowly. It was a hard pill to swallow. “I was tryin’ to be nice, doll. I was givin’ you an option. A choice. You’re just as fucked up as Simon. The difference is that you’re goin’ down a path nobody can save you from. I can save Simon.”

The words slapped you harsh in the face. It was brutal and cruel, and he showed no remorse for the damage he was doing. This was a man who got what he wanted, hurting everybody in the process so long as he achieved it. His goal was to save Simon from his impending doom, and he was willing to take you down to make it happen.

“If you really cared about Simon, you would’ve never let him get to this state in the first place,” you retorted back just as cruelly. “It’s not my fault, and I’m not going to sit here and let you blame me for it. Take a look in the mirror and you’ll get your answer on why he’s being this way.”

Silence. Aching, deafening silence. It tinged the air with a sour smell. The two of you were making no moves of backing down, and it was simply a recipe for disaster.

You didn’t know why you were defending Simon. After what he did, he didn’t deserve your care. He didn’t deserve to have you bandage over his name from the countless wounds he’d inflicted on it by leaving you behind after taking all of you in this very apartment.

However, with a missing puzzle piece being added to the pile, that being Price, you couldn’t help but offer your support from afar. It was clear he had no hand in this game. He was a pawn, just as much as you.

“I’m not helping you toy with his feelings,” you whispered. This time, you sounded defeated rather than angry. Broken, sad, dejected. “He doesn’t deserve that.”

Price sucked in a sharp breath, stepping away but keeping his gaze pointed to you. He said nothing for the first few moments, eyes flickering over the worn out lines on your face. Empty eyes, ones that were surely full of life at some point in your life. Perhaps even lit up with Simon around.

He had taken that away from you, and it was only then he was realizing how cruel he was being. All of it, for the sake of protecting his own, of protecting Simon. He was so consumed by the thought of keeping Simon out of trouble, that he only sought to create more for you. A civilian, one who simply got wrapped up in the wrong crowd.

No outsider had ever cared for Simon like Price, Gaz, and Soap did. They were all each other had, bound together by an unfortunate calling. Nobody was allowed in, or out.

Then you came along, and Ghost had quickly become Simon again.

“You’re not goin’ to make this easy for me, are you?” Price sighed, shoulders deflating, releasing its built up tension.

“No. I’m not,” you agreed grimly.

“Stubborn one, you are,” he hummed, and dare you say it, he sounded amused. “Can see why Simon likes you.”

You glanced up at him, noting the faintest of smiles on his face. It was barely visible, a ghost on his lips, but even through your hazed exhaustion, you could see it.

“Tell you what,” he began, crossing his arms to match your stance. “I’ll talk to him. See what I can do. M’not promisin’ anythin’. This isn’t the type of life I want you wrapped up in, but I can see that you’re only goin’ to wallow here until you drop dead. I don’t want that blood on my hands.”

“What are you saying?” you asked suspiciously.

“I’m sayin’, that I’ll try to see if it could work. Again, m’not promisin’ you anythin’, doll. But if you’re the reason Simon can get his head out of his ass and stop doin’ sloppy work, then I’ll see what I can do.”

It was no guarantee, but Price was trying. One moment, he was begging you to hurt Simon to the point he’d never think of crawling back to you. Now, the story had changed, and he was making a peace offering.

You weren’t sure whether or not to trust him. You shouldn’t. It was a bad idea.

But the thought of seeing Simon again, to mend the broken bond you had formed, caused you to agree.

Simon was fucked. He’d drowned himself in a world of pure guilt ever since he’d blocked your number and called it quits. He was miserable, more than he’d ever been.

He didn’t feel guilt. In fact, he wasn’t supposed to feel anything at all. He was Ghost, after all, and ghosts didn’t feel. Yet with you, the narrative had switched. It was as if the gates of heaven had opened up, offering him a chance at redemption. He felt everything all at once – love, care, affection, longing, heartache.

Everything felt right with you. It was like he had finally found his home, only to have it torn away from the grasp of his hands. No matter how much he tried holding on to it, it proved a fruitless effort. It was gone before he even resided.

Simon’s mind became a jumbled mess. He returned to the empty shell he was before when nothing mattered and he only saw the world through a red-colored lens. It was straining, it was harsh. It hurt to wake up everyday and see a colorless world waiting for him.

His shattered, frail mind affected everything he’d ever known. Work became a chore. He was messy, careless, and the darkest part of him wished he would be caught so he could force himself into punishment for hurting an angel sent from above that was placed in his life to nurture him.

It was what he deserved. Simon was a man who fell in love, and Ghost was the devil that reminded him that he was undeserving. Unworthy.

You deserved better than him. You deserved the world, and Simon was the one who would take from it with greedy hands caked in the blood of God’s creations.

Everyday burned with an itch to see you, to send you a text. He missed you, but he hated himself more. It stopped him from reaching out, caused him to pull back on the reins and pace himself. Nothing could scratch the burning itch except for the brutal reminder that you deserved better.

The weeks were hell without you. He’d grown agitated at everything around him, going as far as to snap at Gaz and Johnny when they attempted to console him, to snap at Price out of unfiltered rage at what he made him do. He was too far gone, and the only foundation he had left was beginning to crumble, all because of him.

Damn Price for taking you away, and damn you for making him fall in love.

Simon didn’t know how much more he could take. It was eating away at him, like a parasite feeding off of its host, draining him of all soul. Even now, as he sat in his own apartment, hidden on his balcony and smoking all of his worries away with hopes of succumbing to the nasty tar that threatened to rise in his throat every time, he was decaying. Withering away, like a fragile flower.

The night was dark. The stars didn’t shine as brightly as they did on your balcony. The air didn’t feel as pure without you to share it with him. The smoke didn’t wisp up into silly, little shapes, and instead, tainted the air with polluted illness.

It was positively suffocating.

As Simon nursed the cigarette to the very end, stubbing it out with his boot and carelessly leaving it littered with the rest of them on his balcony, he heard the faint knock on his door. He silently prayed it was death, here to take him away and rid him of his pain for good.

It wasn’t death, but it was damn near close.

“Price,” he grumbled at the sight of the older man. It was too late for him to make an appearance, so he wasn’t sure why he did. Maybe Price had truly given up on him and was here to offer mercy.

Price didn’t care for greetings, stepping past Simon and into his apartment. Simon followed after him with his gaze, mentally preparing himself for another lecture. It was bound to happen at this point, seeing as Price was fed up.

Simon knew he was putting their lives on the line by being reckless. He just didn’t have it in him to care.

Closing the door behind him, Simon kept his distance, not uttering a word until Price spoke first. The man in question lingered around his apartment, seeming to stall with time, too choked up for words.

“You need somethin’, sir?” Simon finally asked. Price lifted his eyes to look at Simon. For a moment, they were unreadable. Masking away his thoughts, tucking them far in the back of his mind.

Price let out a deep exhale through his nostrils. He stood there in silence for what felt like eternity. Simon could see the gears shifting in his mind, working overtime.

“Go and get your bird back, Simon,” Price sighed, but to Simon, it sounded like church bells ringing on a Sunday morning, beckoning him home.

so many of y'all thought the last part was the end, but i'm not that cruel ;( i promise

#call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #john price #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley #ghost cod #hitman!simon #hitman au #cod mw3 #ghost x reader #cod fanfic #cod mw2

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lizthewriter · 4 months

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red wine supernova / regina george

SUMMARY regina george has made you the new victim of her attention. it's a different kind of attention than you expected from her.

QUOTE "she was a playboy, bridgette bardot, / she showed me things i didn't know, / she did it right there, out on the deck, / put her canine teeth in the side of my neck," - red wine supernova by chappell roan

WORD COUNT 1.1K

WRITTEN 6.3.2024

you've always been introverted and shy - some people were loud, rambunctious, easily likeable. easily sociable. it had never been that easy for you - anxiety rumbling at the bottom of your stomach every time you spoke to someone new, hands trembling and voice stuttering as you spoke in front of the class. it didn't help when others began to tease you for it - it only made you more reclusive.

but then, she noticed you. everyone knew who she was. regina george. queen bee of the mean girls, the plastics, the fake and bake's, whatever people liked to call them these days. and believe me, no one wanted to be noticed by regina george, not the way she noticed you.

it started out as small, targeted comments in the lunch line. on your clothes, on the foos you ate, on the way you did your hair. cute, girly tips hidden behind the pretentiousness of a pig with lip glass. okay, perhaps that was taking things way too far. she was gorgeous and she wasn't completely terrible. you just couldn't figure out why you were so special to be one of the few victims of her attention and insults.

but now she was making it obvious to everyone that she had taken some odd liking to you. swinging her arm around your shoulder and calling you pet, playing with your hair and giving you beauty tips with thinly veiled conceit, things like that.

you tried to stay away from her as much as possible, but unfortunately that was impossible. world history and of course, for your final project, you abaolutely had to be thrown with her.

regina plopped down in the seat next to you as people scattered across the room to find their project partner. aaron was sitting practically next to her, but she wasn't even watching him. she seemed to give all her attention to you lately. "hey babes, looks like we're stuck together."

you laughed nervously. "yeah, looks that way," you responded in a small tone, staring down at your notes. "so i was thinking, i'm very educated in world war two discourse, i was hoping we could do our project on -"

"you know, you should totally come over my house this weekend." most of your classmates around you froze and glanced towards regina. she never invited anyone but the plastics at her house. "i can show you how to do makeup - i'll even let you borrow my lip gloss."

"you never let me borrow your lip -"

"oh my god, will you stop taking things so personally gretchen?" regina responded, not even turning around in her chair to face gretchen, who was sitting behind her. regina gestured to gretchen and rolled her eyes, finally returning all her attention to you. she grabbed your hand and started to trial her fingernail around your hand in circles. "what do you say, pet?"

"umm, i'll bring my notebook so we can work too," you responded in an uncertain tone.

"great!"

"and don't worry girls, if you want to have a party, i still have all of my old nas cd's downstairs!" regina'a mother exclaimed as she left the room. you and regina were situated on her bed, sitting rather close to one another. as you reached to pull your notebook out of your bag, regina pushed your hand back down so that your notebook was firmly back in it's place.

"don't be a bore, let's have some fun first," regina responded with a roll of her eyes, popping her lollipop back in her mouth. she grabbed you by the arm and hauled you all the way over to her vanity, turning on the lighting and grabbing all the possible makeup in sight. "we are giving you a makeover."

she grinned at you, and in that moment you couldn't tell if it was genuine or not. you decided to go along, for the sake of it - why upset her now? she could have her fun with you and then you could go back to working on your project. "all right, i guess."

she started to pull out all sorts of makeup application devices you either recognized and didn't use or had never seen at all. she tapped her phone and punk rock music began to blare through the speakers in her room - you found yourself suprised at her music taste but said nothing, only tapping your feet along to the beat.

she began by brushing your hair and pulling it back with a headband, giving her free reign to do whatever she wanted to your face. she started out with skincare, washing your face and applying a face mask.

"so, what do you like to do in your free time, or whatever?" regina asked you in a bored tone, though her eyes seemed rather interested as she looked down at you. enamored, almost, but that must have been a trick of the light.

you started to name a few hobbies but before you knew it, the two of you were deep into conversation about various different things and surprisingly, as she did your makeup, you found yourself opening up to her, becoming louder and louder, while she somehow became more dormant - less mean and commanding and more, understanding and listening.

"okay, take a look!"

you turned around and faced yourself in the mirror. you smiled widely as you felt rather pretty, wearing the makeup regina had put on you, sparkly yellow eyeshadow and pink mascara. you saw regina biting her bottom lip as she looked at you in the mirror - suddenly you felt shy again and felt a blush fall over your cheeks.

"how do you like it?" regina asked as she turned you to face her.

"i feel really pretty . . . thanks," you mumbled shyly, staring down at your feet

"you are really pretty," she told you in a low tone, placing her finger under your chin and raising your head so you met her eyes. "you're so fucking dumb, how long will it take you to realize i like you, pet?"

she laughed at your confounded expression. you felt your face turn a tomato red and you buried your face in your hands, feeling embarrassed. "i thought you were making fun of me!" you exclaimed between your fingers.

"i was endearingly teasing you, or whatever," regina said in a defensive tone, though she was still falling over laughing at your expression.

"this isn't a prank, right?"

"of course not! now let's finish this dumb project so i can take you out on a date, hoe."

#regina george x you #regina george x reader #— [ glizzy posts ☆ ]#my writing #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my fic #writing #fanfic #harry potter

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tsumuhours · 4 months

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CLANDESTINE PARING: suna rintarō x fem!reader TAGS: smut, best friends brother trope WORD COUNT: 5k

If there’s one thing about the end of exams and upcoming – high school – graduation, is the plethora of parties that follow. Call it what you want; schoolies, freedom, and an amazing – yet awful – experience full of drinking, hangovers, or the flu.

At this moment, you’ve been crashing at the one and only Niki Suna’s home. Your best friend, and number one party animal who has a killer house in the centre of all the house parties being thrown by, now, old classmates.

It has been incredible, her parents aren’t home which gives the two of you the freedom to leave every night and come back after midnight without any questions or secrecy. The only issue is that her twenty-year-old brother is home.

Rintaro is not a big problem, he keeps to himself, never leaves his room. He’s only in the country for his sister's graduation, free food, and the fact that he doesn’t have to do his own laundry. Plus, it’s a free vacation.

Although, the times he does come out of his room, you can’t help but feel awkward around him. The last he saw of you was two years ago, when you were sixteen – an age that wasn’t sweet at all. Despite the short time span, a lot can change in two years, you’re evidence of that statement.

You’ve grown into your face, matured, and don't look as young anymore. You’ve gotten more confident with yourself, your body, and it all reflects in the clothes you wear. You speak with a certain command and authority, you walk with a grown confidence, and radiate an aura of gold.

Who knew that the girl that he knew would morph and change into a completely different person in the span of two years? No one can blame him for keeping a fixed gaze on you whenever you pass by, it’s admirable to see the person you’ve become.

However, it doesn’t matter how much self-confidence you’ve built up over the last two years. Around him, around his sharp stare and gaze, it’s hard to keep your head up or find the will to get up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water out of the anxiousness that he’ll be there too.

Which brings you and Niki to now. Friday night, one thirty in the morning, the two of you are walking through the front door. You have managed to sober up from that mysterious, sweet, and addictive, rum punch concoction that you’ve had one too many glasses of.

You cannot say the same for Niki, who had spent the night downing one too many shots and has yet to ride out the alcohol. Nevertheless, she’s still able to walk on two feet and not stumble into every coffee table or shelf stacked with family photos.

“Oh my god,” Niki laughs, kicking off her shoes by the door. “I kept my mouth shut about this at the party, but fuck what was Rina thinking going for Jennie’s man?” She scoffs, “We need to debrief in my room.”

“Girl, I’ve got so much to fucking say about Rina.” You add, forcefully removing your shoes, “Like, I was talking to Jasmine earlier on the balcony and god has Rina been pissing a lot of people off recently.”

“Tell me about it,” Niki rolls her eyes, starting to walk up the steps with you following behind her. “Like, she was fucking wilding out tonight.” She mutters, pushing open her room door – revealing the mess created from getting ready – and collapsing onto her bed.

You, however, reach into your bag for the little toiletries pack, wanting to get all the makeup off your face and make sure no future breakouts happen. Skin care is a priority. And head towards the ensuite bathroom, “And she didn’t even know what she was doing.” You say.

“Me personally,” Niki hums, “if I was Jennie, I would’ve swung on that bitch.”

“That’s so fucking valid though,” you nod, pulling out a micellar wipe before dragging it over your eyes. “Like, what the fuck are you doing? Get away from my man, if it’s like, you know I’m into him, we’ve hooked up multiple times before, what are you doing?”

“Literally!” Niki exclaims, “We’re supposed to be friends! Why are you cuddling next to him on the couch?” She questions, shaking her head at the awful events that transpired throughout the night. “But! Don’t think I didn’t see you and Atsumu earlier.”

“What about me and Atsumu?” You question, poking your head through the open bathroom door – still scrubbing away the mascara from your eyes. “Bro, Helen even asked me about that! She was like: when did you and Atsumu get so close?”

“Did you do anything?” Niki asks, sitting up from the bed. “I know you have tendencies to get with people then not tell me!” She laughs, “Who was it again? There was Mattsun, and then his best friends? You have a tendency to go for the whole group.”

“No, no, I did not do anything with anyone tonight.” You reply, “I mean, I wanted to… don’t get me wrong, but I had a feeling no one was down.”

“Ugh, boo!” She groans, “Shit, okay, I need to change.” Niki thinks aloud, standing up from the mattress, “God, I’m so fucking ready to knock out and have the best fucking sleep of my life.”

Your best friend opens up her closet, digging out a big t-shirt and shorts. “God, I need some fucking water.” You mumble, tossing the dirty makeup wipes into the bin, “I peed like five times at the party.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Niki snorts, slipping through that big t-shirt of hers.

“Dehydration is the biggest cause of hangover headaches,” you inform. “We’ve got two more parties coming up, and I’d like to be in good shape for the next forty-eight hours of ragers.” You exit the bathroom, then dig into your bag to change into pyjamas.

Simple. Shorts and a tank. You walk back into the bathroom, half closing the door as you get changed. “Okay, so go downstairs and get water.” Niki says, stating the obvious.

“Can you come with me?” You ask from the bathroom.

“What? No, go by yourself.” She says, “You’ve been here a billion times before, my parents see you more than they see me. This is practically your second home, why do you need me to come with you?”

You adjust your tank top before stepping out into the bedroom, “Niki! Your brother is downstairs, I don’t want to go down there alone.” You plead, “If it was just us, or your mother, then yeah, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Girl,” your best friend looks at you as if you’re crazy. “It’s Rintaro, he probably won’t even clock that you’re down there. He’s not the brightest in the bunch, he’s studying business.”

“Yeah, but like, can you just… please?”

“You’ll be fine! He’s just Rintaro, and he’s probably high as fuck.” She assures, “He’s probably too stoned to care.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.” You dramatically sigh, trudging towards the closed bedroom door. “I feel so betrayed right now.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Niki laughs. “Hey, and since you’re going down there, get the big water bottles from the fridge and get those crab or prawn crackers from the pantry.” She adds, finding a perfect opportunity to stuff her face with snacks.

Although, Niki is underestimating how tired she really is, because the second she gets comfortable in bed – she will be out like a light. Niki has always been a quick sleeper, she claims it’s iron deficiency.

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” You wave her off, mentally preparing yourself as you walk down those steps.

As you navigate towards the kitchen, there’s music playing quietly from the TV in the dark living room. Rap, hip-hop, 21 Savage. And no doubt, there’s Rintaro sitting on the couch, a weed pen between his lips as he sprawled out on the couch, the dim light from his laptop casting shadows on his face.

Lord knows what overdue assignment he’s working on, or how he can possibly be in the right state of mind to write a 2,800 word essay before the – extensions – deadline.

Still, he lays on the couch, inhaling that condensed form of THC. Wearing sweats and a flannel that has been – purposely – unbuttoned. The way he sees it, is if you can wear those little black shorts with the white rims, he can unbutton his flannel.

Now, never in a million years did he think he’d find himself attracted to you. It’s not meant to be an insult, but after watching you go through the most unflattering, awkward, phases and being his little sister's best friend… this new change, of seeing who you are now hit him like a pile of bricks.

Besides it’s not fair to see you parade around in those clothes, unknowingly teasing him. The past couple days have been hell, a game of look but never touch. You’ve been connected at the hip with Niki, you’ve been avoiding him.

Talking loudly about these random guys who looked ‘so fit’ at whatever party. Yeah, he’s heard those late night conversations you’ve been having. Niki doesn’t know how to close a door, and the walls are quite thin.

Rintaro just wants a little fun, he wants to poke the bear, he wants to mess with you. Nothing serious. Just something to keep him entertained, being home has been extremely boring, and the last thing he wants to do is hang around a bunch of high schoolers at parties.

His eyes glance up from his laptop screen, watching you like a fox, as you walk into the kitchen. He watches you as you grab that litre water bottle from the fridge, then dig into the pantry for those god awful prawn crackers.

Rintaro gets up from the couch and approaches you. This is his chance, his chance to have a little fun, to get into your head with some sadistic ploy that will now doubt keep you up at night. Nothing more than a little flirty comment.

“Fun night?” He hums, catching you off guard as you hold the heavily inflated packet to your chest. “It seems like you and Niki are out every day, how many parties could there possibly be?”

“You should know, you went through the same thing.” You comment, calmly, nonchalantly. You can’t let him see that he gets to you in a way no one else does.

Rintaro is the type of guy who is attractive and knows it. He’s cocky, and until now, barely gave you the time of day – or looked at you the way he’s doing now. It’s obvious, it’s in his eyes, one of the main reasons you’ve been avoiding him.

He’s giving you the look that you’re no stranger to.

You know what he’s doing, and lord knows you’ve played these exact same games in the last couple months. Nevertheless, that doesn’t excuse the pick up of your heart, or the slight shake in your hands as you talk to him. Rintaro is a tall guy, he’s intimidating, and on top of it all, crazy attractive.

Anybody would be nervous.

Even you, with your big mouth and presented confidence.

“But yeah, it was a good night.” You add, walking over to the counter to grab the bottle of water. You can’t be gone for long, that would only raise questions from the very best friend who is waiting upstairs for her snacks.

Or so you think, at this moment, Niki is knocked out on her bed – late night scrolling on socials instantly sent her to sleep – as what was previously mentioned, Niki underestimated how tired she was.

“Anything interesting happen?” Rintaro asks, resting back against the countertop. “From what I heard Rina is about to get shunned from the friend group,” he teases.

“Well, she wouldn’t have to worry about that if she had backed off.” You reply, “Never go for a friend's man, that’s claimed territory.”

“What about brothers?” He muses, “Are they off limits too?”

You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, that was corny. “Yeah, I’d say they are.” You nod, fighting back the temptation to playfully flirt back. “It’s worse if this brother is someone you’ve known since you were thirteen.” You shrug.

“Well, if I could plead the case that the brother probably didn’t want to push any boundaries before, and didn’t see the sister's friend as a proper… prospect.” He says, “Besides, no fifteen-year-old would ever consider looking at someone younger. That’s weird.”

“How is it different now?” You question, “It’s still two years.”

“Eighteen is an appropriate age for a respectable gap of that size,” Rintaro hums. “It’s not like I’ll be playing on an illegal field either.”

“‘I’ll’?” You repeat, “What are you implying Rintaro?”

There you go, you’ve caught him. May as well surrender and stop whatever he’s planning. A real shame though, you’d be lying if you say you’ve never considered or thought about what it’d be like. It’s just that, he’s your best friend's brother.

Sure, the song is a good escape and great material to think about, but it’s not something you actually ever considered pursuing. He makes you nervous, even talking to him now feels like a crime. And the fact that you’re flirting doesn’t make the situation any better.

“I’m not implying anything,” he shrugs. “And I don’t know what possibly drew you to that conclusion,” he says. “Are you implying something?”

“Well, I don’t see any reason for something to be implied.” You shake your head, “All I’m wondering is why you brought up the concept of brothers being off limits, as if anything like that has stopped you before.”

“Oh, wow, you’ve got a sharp tongue.” Rintaro remarks, “Flirting with me, and patronising me at the same time. I have to say, I’m impressed.”

“That’s nice, but I should get back to Niki.” You say, “You know, your sister, my best friend, who is currently upstairs.”

“Oh, come on, you and I both know that she’d probably be knocked out in bed.” He comments, “Stay down here for a while, I could use the company.”

“I know what you’re doing, Rintaro.” You inform, “I see it in your eyes, and it’s not going to happen.”

He’s been looking at you as if you’re prey. And the alcohol still in your system makes it a lot easier to talk to him without stuttering over your words or getting flustered. His stare is probably the worst part about this whole interaction.

“What am I doing?” He asks.

He’s failed to realise that it’s hard to play a player. If you were considering flirting back, it’d be sly. The small hand placements, comments, the simplest of looks that would trap him in. You have your system, and it works. It worked for Matsukawa and all his friends.

And it would have worked on Rintaro.

“You know what you’re doing,” you hum. “Now, I will be heading back upstairs. Lord knows I’m not drunk enough to betray my best friend.”

“And I’m not high enough to not care about the consequences,” Rintaro shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I still don’t want to do it.” He takes a step closer to you, grabbing the items in your hand and places them down on the countertop.

“You cannot be serious right now,” you shake your head. Sure, you knew that he was trying to play you, use you for a little entertainment, but you didn’t actually think he was being serious. You didn’t actually think he’d make a move.

And no, he’s not expecting anything to happen or to come from this. He’s pushing his limits, seeing how far he can get until you end up running off. If anything, what’s persuaded him to be so forward is the sight of that little gummy bear charm hanging from your necklace. That stupid pink charm that you and Niki got as a symbol of your friendship or whatever.

That stupid pink charm that dips down to the crevice of your chest – something he hasn’t seen before, considering, in the past, they’d always be hidden behind a hoodie or some unflattering t-shirt.

“I’m being serious,” he hums. Going along with some bit he’s come up with in his head. His fingers wrap around that little pink gummy bear as he plays with it.

“Don’t do that, don’t even try Rintaro.” You shut him down, looking up into those striking pair of eyes, “Niki is upstairs. What would she think if she came down here and saw this?” You question, swatting his hand away.

Curse your fucking loyalty.

Rintaro rolls his eyes, placing his hands on either side of you on the counter, trapping you between his arms. “Niki this, and Niki that. She’s not down here, is she?” He questions, “What if Niki wasn’t a problem? Because, it seems like your only defence here is that she’s upstairs.”

“That’s because she is,” you say. “I can’t possibly encourage this type of… behaviour with you. You’re her brother.”

“What if I wasn’t?” He hums, “Would you change your mind then?”

“Will you let me go if I tell you?” You ask, wanting to get out of this situation before anything bad happens.

“Yeah, I will.”

You sigh, meeting his gaze. And the sight of looking down at you, the flash of darkness in your eyes, it all sends Suna off a ledge. This must be what happens when he pokes the bear. There’s something behind your eyes, something that fucking pulls him in. That has him thinking this isn’t a joke, or a game anymore.

“If you weren’t my best friend's brother, then yes, I would change my mind.” You reply truthfully, “Honestly, if I were drunk enough, or bold enough, I would change my mind. I’d even risk saying that if Niki weren’t upstairs right now, I’d change my mind.”

“She doesn’t have to know,” Rintaro hums. “It’ll be a temporary fix, nothing serious. No one has to know.” He composes himself, trying to steer the conversation back to his control. He can’t show weakness.

He can’t show how much he wants it now.

“As much as I love temporary fixes,” you begin, “and the idea of sneaking around… I don’t think it’s the best idea.” Now you’re teasing him, running your hands down his flannel. He can’t poke the bear and not expect to get bitten.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this, you know you’ve been so back and forth, but you can’t help but find some fun in this situation. It’ll be like one prolonged drum roll, an ellipsis, something which implies more but is never finished or reveals an ending.

“Well sometimes we have to be selfish,” he whispers. The tension building up in his veins, blood, and mind. “And the best ideas aren’t always the smartest.” His hand moves to play with the ends of your shorts, the faint linger of his touch brushing against your thigh, up to your hips to the hem of your shorts.

“I shouldn’t.” Correction, you shouldn’t be the one to make the first move. If he wants this, he will make the first move – despite everything which was just said, you won’t stop him. There’s something electrifying about the light touches, the tension you helped escalate.

He wanted to play a game, and a game is what you’re giving him.

“You shouldn’t, but you can.” Rintaro mumbles, unbeknownst to the fact that you’ve managed to have him wrapped around your finger in a matter of seconds – of playing dumb – due to the simple trick of making him feel wanted.

“Lord knows I can, but what about Niki?”

“She can go fuck herself.” He says, immediately connecting his lips with yours in a heated kiss.

Kissing Rintaro is nothing like you’ve experienced, kissing him is like daring to run over knives or fire, it’s a rush of adrenaline caused by a strike of lightning. Kissing him is like knowing you’re doing something bad, but it’s too addictive to pull away. His eyes close, hands firmly placing themselves on your hips.

Rintaro pulls you closer to him, your hands tangling themselves in his hair. He gives in, kissing you with a growing desperation, arms snaking around your waist. Mouths linking together in a mess, tongue slipping past.

He can taste the remnants of alcohol on your tongue, and you can smell the weed that has attached itself onto his clothes.

He’s deep and urgent, pushed by the forces and temptation of a quick temporary fix, an illicit affair, and clandestine meeting. His hands travel down to your ass, underneath your shorts, holding the flesh in his hands.

His touch lingers down to your thighs, Rintaro lifts you up onto the counter. Your hands run down his bare chest, and he shudders at your touch. Cold fingertips trailing down his body, to then pull at the drawstrings of his sweats.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this. You know that Niki could come downstairs at any moment and see the position you’re currently in; legs wrapped around her older brother, his hands exploring his body, learning every curve and crevice. Entangled together, connected by a messy kiss fueled by boredom, and frustration.

Out of breath and completely intoxicated by the moment. Suna’s hand travels up, tugging down the tank top. Exposed to him, the chill of the night in the cold. He moves down, kissing your neck, throat, and the slope of your shoulders. Lips attaching themselves onto your chest, tongue placed flat against your nipple.

His breaths come in harder, faster. Your hands threaded in his hair, clinging to him in this ice-cold heat you’ve been placed in. Pulling at the roots, bringing him back up to your lips. Suna’s hand replaces his mouth, beginning to knead the flesh.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you breathe out. He’s moving away from your lips, moving down to nibble and bite at the sensitive skin on your neck and jaw.

“But it feels good doesn’t it?” Rintaro hums against your neck, holding your body against his chest, trying to devour every piece of you he can. Loving the way you shudder at his touch, and the shortness of your breath. “I know you want me, because god knows, I want you. It’s only one night princess.”

He returns to hover over you, head tilted down as he uses his thumb and index finger to bring your chin up. Looking down at you with a sinful glint in his eyes, grinning at you like the devil. Almost obsessed with the seemingly innocent, wide eyed look in your eyes, slightly parted lips.

His thumb drags down your bottom lip, continuing to tilt your head up at him, keeping your gaze in place. “Come on, one night is not bad. Nothing is wrong with a little quick fix.”

“Well, I’d rather not risk my morals, and integrity for something quick.”

A flame ignites behind those eyes, a quirk of his eyebrow. “Whatever you say,” he says. Rintaro hoists you off the counter, your legs wrapped around his torso, as he carries you towards the couches. He throws you down onto the cushions, wraps his fingers around the bundled up fabric of your tank top and pulls it over your head.

Then he drops down to his knees, in front of you. He tugs down your shorts along with your underwear, leaving you completely exposed on the couches. Rintaro pushes your legs apart, “Keep them open for me.” He smiles, pulling your body closer to his face.

His tongue darts out, lips enveloping themselves around your clit. He uses a free hand aiding the stimulation. He’s devouring your cunt as if he’s never eaten before, as if he’s intoxicated by the feeling of the moment and the sinful act of going down on his younger sister's best friend out in the open on the couch.

Savouring your taste on his tongue, his fingers prodding your entrance.

Your back arches, throwing your head back. Chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, quiet and hushed whimpers escaping from your lips. One hand gripping onto the cushion behind you as the other pulls roughly on his hair. Hips bucking up, obsessed with the insatiable sensation of Rintaro’s tongue on your clit and fingers curling inside you.

Suna hooks your legs over his shoulders, diving deeper into your cunt. Willingly obliging to the fact you’re pushing him closer. At the twitch of your legs, Rintaro quickens his movements, wanting to milk you and push you towards your orgasm.

Whimpers and muffled moans, a strain of fuck, don’t stop, although the most motivating of them all is the pretty sound of his name slipping off your tongue. “Rin,” you say. A fire burning up in your abdomen, as he begins to leave a trail of sloppy kisses from your clit up to your stomach and chest.

In the absence of his tongue, his fingers move quickly against your clit – forceful movements – determined to have you reach your peak. Your hips jolt forward, lost in the haze of pleasure that succumbs you.

Eyes clenched shut and mouth agape, it’s a fucking sinful sight.

Suna reconnects his lips with yours in a sloppy makeout, drowning out your moans and taking them in as his own. A result of his fingers, you’re shivering under him, so needy and desperate. “Go on sweetheart,” he whispers. The pads of his fingers rubbing harshly against your sensitive clit.

Your nails dig into his back, forehead leaning against his shoulder as you feel yourself reach climax. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” breathing out, your body growing weak under his touch. Mind spinning from pleasure.

Strained whines, legs pushed back as he milks out your orgasm. Rintaro hovers over you, impressed by his own work and your finger and tongue fucked expression. He runs another finger through your folds, lapping up the cum and saliva.

Using his free hand, Suna grips the back of your head, tugging harshly at the roots of your hair as he forces you to look at him. Then forces his fingers past your lips and onto your tongue, “Suck.” He instructs. Reluctantly, your lips wrap around his fingers as he slowly pulls them from your mouth.

There you are, tired eyes, and completely vulnerable and exposed underneath hin. But the little smirk that appears on your lips. You sit up, pushing him back against the couch. Cocky as ever, Suna sits back, memorising the beautiful sight in front of him.

He watches you with lustful eyes as you work your way down his body, tugging down his sweats. Your hand wrapping around his dick, stroking it, pumping him. Rolling your wrist over the tip, milking out the precum.

“You got a rubber?”

“I’ll pull out,”

You shrug, placing a hand on his shoulders, pushing him down onto the couch and keeping him down. Lining his dick with your entrance, you lower yourself onto him. The sensation, and feeling, of your walls clenching around his dick sends him spiralling.

His head rolls back, hands reaching up to grip at your hips. You roll your hips, finding all the right places for you, and absolutely driving him insane. She begins to lift, setting up a steady rhythm. “Oh, fuck, you little tease.” Suna breathes out.

He has laboured breaths at the irresistible and mind-fucking feeling of you taking him in all so well, your tight little cunt that sends him off the edge. Getting to have you all, without a barrier. The rise and fall of your hips, bouncing on top of him. A hand reaching up to your chest to grab a tit, a thumb running over your nipple.

You grab his wrist and pin it back behind his head, “No touching.”

“We’ll see about that,” he groans. Quickly changing your positions, flipping you around until you're face down on the couch. Suna lifts your hips up, pushing down on your back to create an arch. He keeps a hand on the back of your head. He pushes his dick inside, causing you to intake a sharp breath. “What was that sweetheart?” He teases.

A firm hand placed on the side of your ass, as thrust into you. A quiet “fuck” sounds from his throat as he begins to fist your hair in his hand. He rolls his hips, roughly, forcefully pushing into you. Bottoming out to reach the deepest part of you.

Breath taken away from you, gripping onto the fabric of the couch. Back arching at an insane angle, “Ah,” you moan. He snaps his hips forward again, feeling weak and heavy from the current position, and the consistent thrusts coming from Suna.

His movements become harsher, rougher, as he pounds into you. He pulls your head back by your hair, leans forward until his chest is placed against your back. Suna connects your lips in a roush kiss, biting down on your bottom lip.

Although, he quickly disappears again, lost in the moment. His hands gripping onto your hips as he pulls you to him, matching his thrusts. You begin to lose any ounce of strength left in your body, letting your upper body lay slack on the couch.

Suna lands a slap on your ass, kneading the flesh as he continues to thrust into you from behind. “Oh, fuck,” he groans. “You feel so good,” he hums, “fuck, I want to see your pretty fucked out face.”

He pulls out, flips you around, hoisting your leg over his shoulder. He wraps a hand around your throat, basking in the way you grip onto his wrist. Looking at him with those half-lidded eyes, as he pushes into you. Loving the way your pussy sucks him in, loving the look of his dick moving in and out of your cunt.

He picks up the pace, eyes fixed on your chest and how they bounce given each forceful buck of his pelvis. “Faster,” you whimper, gripping onto his hair. “Fuck me,” you plead.

Suna pounds into you with relentless speed, and under him you’re falling apart. Becoming nothing more than a limp body that had been taken over by an overwhelming amount of stimulation and force. With the growing pit in your loins growing incredibly, the heel of your foot digging into his back. Dark vision growing blurry, mind clouding – blocking any thought or action, temporarily blocking your senses as you started to reach your peak.

Your pussy clenching around his dick, it sends Rintaro off a spiral, and he’s threatening to break. You’re close, so close, and all you need is one last push. His hips slam into you, body filling with pleasure as your orgasm rides out.

Suna quickly pulls out in time, cumming all over your stomach. He crashes down onto you, snaking an arm around your waist as he rests his head onto chest. Your hand brushing his hair, trying to regain your breath.

“So, how long are you going to be in town for?”

“Until graduation, why? Wanna do it again?”

“I’d like to hear those whimpers again.”

#✰ workie works #haikyuu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu suna #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#suna rintarou #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarō #suna rintaro x reader #suna x reader #suna rintarou x you #suna rintaro fic #hq x reader #hq smut

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allfearstofallto · 6 months

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I swear to God Childe has so much potential as a yandere, I have this feeling that his soul “died” when he fall into the abyss, after that major event he is a completely different person and his parents knows it they saw it in his eyes, soulless, thirsty for blood and violence.

Imagine him in utter shock when his kids get scared of him, not realizing his love is twisted and sick in the head after they saw how he treats their mother by trying to mimic what he thinks is “love”, how she gets anxious whenever she’s around him,they can hear her cry every night from their bedroom despite her trying her best to be the mother they deserve knowing the circumstances that led to their births, Generally children can feel when something is happening in their household but cannot fully understand it due to their age (lol speaking from experience).

He thought he’d have a picture perfect family with his darling, but why now are they seeing him as if he some type of a monster? That will for sure would make him insecure and it brings up the abyss memories. He claims he loves them and their mother so much but why does he hurt their mama?.

Friend, this is literally a full fledged fic already! And it's incredible!! I've been thinking on this idea for a bit already cause I already had an ask similar to it, so I'll add onto your fic just a little bit!!

Yandere! Childe x Fem! Reader

Forced Marriage AU

TW: Yandere themes, reader has children

Growing up in a large family with so many siblings to love and care for, laughter was a sound that he often heard. It was his favorite sound, other than the distinct noise that blood made when it dripped into freshly packed snow. Snezhnaya is cold, but laughter coming straight from your belly is so so warm.

He loves coming home to the sound of laughter. Childish giggles and your rich chuckles. He'd sit his bow down to the side and close the front door to the manor, a noise that was rather loud. He'd be smiling ear to ear, wanting to join in on all the fun, only to realize that the house was now quiet.

Childe went to the living room, where you sat with his two sons. Your two sons. His little bundles of joy that he was eternally grateful to have. The younger one rested on your lap, the other on the carpeted floor at your feet, with a myriad of toys splayed in front of him.

Why did you always make that face at him, he wondered. Big doe eyes, like deer in headlights, you always looked so stiff and scared around him. Maybe that's why in turn, the kids made that same face, maybe that's why the laughter always stopped when he entered the room. The kids would huddle in closer to you and farther away from him.

"It's nice to see you all together when I come home," he'd say, with that smile still on his face, but you could see the edges of his lips twitching. He was forcing this smile and you forced one back, gently tapping your son with your foot to tell him to do the same. He hesitated for a moment, then beamed up at him with a grin, missing his two front teeth.

"We missed you, papa!" He yelled, just as you told him to. Just the way Childe wanted. Your younger son continued to bury his face in your lap, trying to look any where but his father.

Childe didn't seem bothered by this and leaned down to tousle the boy's orange hair, making him flinch in your hold, "I always loved that they got my hair color," he said while looking at you, eyes so dead and empty, you thought you were looking into a void, "I never realized how well my hair and your eyes went together until I saw them."

"Is that so, my love?" You spoke warmly while gently trying to nudge your son from your lap, "We could talk more about it now. I was just going to send the boys to their rooms."

His expression finally changed. The facade finally fell. His smile dropped and his eyebrows furrowed. You could tell that he was trying to hold the expression back, trying not to scare the children, but they'd already notice his change in demeanor. His shift in attitude making the air feel thick and tight, constricting your chest.

"Why would we do that? We can just talk together, as a family,"

#mai<3 answers #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x you #yandere childe x reader #yandere childe #genshin childe x reader

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vampiresbloodx · 5 months

Text

warnings(18+ ONLY): smut, sub!reader, Dom!Wanda, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, teasing, blow jobs (on strap), spitting, slight praise, more degradation, rough s/x, strap on use, all of it is consensual, petnames use (good girl, baby).

emo!gf!Wanda uses you however she pleases and you gladly let her.

The first time she got a taste of you, she was obsessed. No, that wasn't a joke. No one has ever seen her been like this before about anyone. You bring out a completely different side to her than not even her best friend could know about.

Wanda claimed she didn't like girls, she always told herself she wasn't a lesbian and denied any rumours surrounding that.

It wasn't that she was ashamed, she didn't give zero fucks about their opinions. Maybe a little. That's what she was known for, her no bullshit attitude, the resting bitch face, someone to not fuck with.

Then she met you.

The cute adorable nerd who's too shy for their own good.

Wanda wanted to have you all to herself, and she did.

No one was allowed to touch you, flirt with you, go as far as to ask you out.

She would kill them.

Only you'd have to stop her from even putting them in the hospital.

Even if you were left alone for a few hours, minutes, seconds, if someone tried to come at you, she would randomly pop up out of nowhere scaring the hell out of them.

But not you.

She liked that.

She really liked you.

What she liked most was making you come as many times as she wanted. How you squirm under her gaze and touch, just one look and you're begging on your knees, it drives her insane. She has to use you.

You gladly accept it. Because you know she likes you. That's all you wanted.

You've had a crush on her for as long as you can remember, and you weren't the type to crush on people easily. Sure, they'd come, but they would never last that long.

And yet with Wanda, you knew you'd do anything she asked. She was the prettiest girl you've ever met, you just wanted her attention, her everything.

Wanda knew that too.

And she used it to her advantage.

"aw, is my pretty baby already soaking wet?" She cooed, slipping her fingers inside of your tight hole, moaning when she feels your walls clench around her. "Fucking hell, I've never fucked anyone who's pussy was just dripping, begging to be touched."

You whined, bucking your hips into her but she forced them down, glaring at you.

"now, you know I'm gonna have my way with you, I'll let you come once I know you've behaved well, don't move" she demanded.

Your body shuddered, somehow you listened, you always did.

There were times where you liked being a brat, getting the worst out of her was fun, however, this time you really didn't want to mess around.

"good girl" she cooed gently, her voice sending a shiver down your spine, she didn't waste anytime, nor did she back down with starting slow and easy, practically splitting you open with her fingers hard enough that'll make you cry.

Wanda smiled wickedly, watching your every move and reaction, your mouth gaped open, your eyes never leaving hers, fuck, it drove her wild.

"aw, does someone wanna come?" She teased, slowing her movements. "Hmm, it seems this pretty pussy is ready for my cock, don't you think?" She said, loving the way your eyes widened, pupils dilated at the sound of that.

She pulled her pants down, releasing her long, lengthy strap that she kept hidden to surprise you. It was one of her favourites she brought online. A cute, pink dildo that reminded her of you.

It's just too precious.

"spit on it" she muttered, watching as you did as she ordered, once she was pleased enough, Wanda's hands came up to your head, you eagerly wrapped your mouth over her fake dick, she groaned.

"good girl, sucking my cock so well" she moaned. "God, you're my personal fucktoy, aren't you?, my flesh light, you like that, don't you?."

She heard you whimper, causing her to smirk.

"do a good enough job and maybe I'll reward you with something else."

#wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #emo!wanda #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff smut #stuff i wrote

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ajortga · 9 days

Text

timeless

pairing: wednesday addams x fem reader

word count: 1k+

a/n: originally this was supposed to be a completely different story with a happy ending so if you like reading fluffy stories, maybe skip this one? pls let me know if this makes u sad!!

summary: wednesday visits the room that held all her favorite memories, bringing back a reminder that you two were so close to being timeless.

Wednesday didn’t know how she felt so different in this place, even though everything was the exact same.

The room she was in felt cold, empty, unknown. It was like a piece of coal that was once an ember, it was stale.

It was all so strange, looking around and knowing that everything was like how she’s always seen your room. The way there were fairy lights and vines everywhere, the guitar that Wednesday learned how to play because of you, the random knick-knack animals that hung upon your display case.

She would’ve never felt like what she’s feeling now. That feeling was you, she had always thought your room had brought her so much comfort and a sense of tranquility.

Maybe it was the way she could hear the faint wind chimes when you told her all the things you wrote about in her journal, or the way you turn on your lamp at night, illuminating a soft glow in your room.

Or maybe it was just you.

Everything was the same, except you. And Wednesday tried to convince herself that you weren’t even a part of the room itself, yet some part of her felt as though you were the biggest piece.

Because why did she feel so empty when she looked around? Why did it feel like a wilted candle that no longer burned?

The braided girl looks where Thing was at, his hand movements sad on your bed. She would’ve rolled her eyes, but she doesn’t feel anything when she sees it, just opens her mouth, “I feel more anxiety when I’m in here than the haunted houses I explore.”

And though it was lingering, Wednesday knew that your perfume was fading away. Because no longer did your sweaters smell like the sweet musk of your skin and a faint hint of flowers, it smelled washed.

And sometimes Wednesday wished that your parents had saved unwashed ones for hers, for that it would’ve comforted her when she slept at night now. For that it would've kissed her goodnight like you would’ve instead of Wednesday laying on an empty, cold bed in the days to come.

A deep exhale escapes her lips, her hands cascading over a journal that she knew all too well.

Thing tries to ignore the way Wednesday’s chin quivers as she bites on the inside of her lip, turning away from him to somehow make her feel better. She opens the journal, tons of photos falling out and onto your desk.

Photographs of you and her.

Us, Wednesday thought. It would’ve been us. Our lives against the world.

And instead it was a car against yours.

And it felt like all the spirit that the places those photos had captured were now dead. Wednesday’s heart and feelings were dead. You were dead.

But some part of you was alive somewhere in Wednesday’s heart, and it kept it beating. All these different shards and sides of you were all stored in the souls you knew.

The photograph was wrinkled, and as much as the girl was brought with negativity, your smiling face made it all better. Like you brought the light that she felt when you both were in that photo.

God, you had always found a way to make Wednesday feel the emotions she was so unfamiliar with. The happiness that came with what love was given. She was always an emotionless person.

But now the traces of you linger, and she no longer feels emotionless. Where in the past she would’ve felt the feeling of you. The feeling of happiness, a sense that she was at ease, that you were always there to catch her when she fell.

But she wasn’t there to catch you when you did. And now you were gone, and she was stuck with feeling the emotions she never felt when you were by her side. Stuck with knowing that she had never told you she loved you.

And Wednesday couldn’t handle that thought. In every other lifetime you would’ve been exploring mysteries that were unsolved, sharing unspoken and sacred kisses.

Wednesday couldn’t bear to know that in this lifetime, it was different.

Because she wasn’t there when you breathed your last breath, she wasn’t there to comfort you when someone had crashed straight into your car. She wasn’t there to hear your last words, or for you to see her for the last time.

She hated the fact that she slowly saw the people around her move on from their grief. She hated the fact that she was still stuck to you. She hated the fact that people didn’t feel the grief she did, because you deserved everyone staying at your grave till night. Why did other people move on so easily?

Why didn’t they see you in the eyes of Wednesday?

Everytime she was in bed, she’d turn and see you, nuzzled up to her. Her hands would run through your hair as your lips slightly parted, your peaceful face resting as your cheeks were flushed with warmth. She would pull up the blanket to your neck so she could quietly press her lips to your forehead.

She always found it so endearing.

The reason she fell asleep with a small smile.

Then in the blink of an eye, she’d remember running up to the stretcher, seeing your peaceful face and a cover being draped over you. And this time, she remembered screaming, “It’s not sweet now Y/N! Open your eyes!" The tears that she fought back drizzled down her cheeks.

Wednesday never cried.

"You can't be gone."

For the first time in her life, she was scared. She was terrified. It was no different to how you looked when you might have slept, but oh it did. It terrified her knowing that you were sleeping and not waking up anymore to her brown eyes, to her kisses.

You were so cold, and as Wednesday stares at the journal, she knew it made her her heart cold again too.

“We had so much ahead of us,” Wednesday says, voice raw and a crack hiding underneath. She tucked the journal with your photographs into her bag. It served as a reminder on how your smile looked, and then your smile brought back how your laugh sounded, how your voice sounded, your smell, her memories of you. “We were so close to being forever.”

You two were so close to being timeless.

#jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega imagine #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #vada cavell x reader #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #vada cavell x y/n #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader

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ellecdc · 6 months

Note

Hiii, so i got really excited about all the new ships and i wondering if i could request a poly!prongsfoot x female reader where maybe the reader completely matches their energy and its like a college au and the boys bring reader to meet all their friends for the first time and everybody is like… woah… now theres 3 of them. Just some super energetic cutesy fluff if you dont mind, thank you for considering this i really appreciate it!!! Hope your doing amazing🫶🏻

omg so I saw a post the other day and there's another ship name for Sirius x James = starbucks!! How cute? Thanks for your request and your patience - it took me some time to flush this out (I think any new ships likely will take me longer!)

poly!prongsfoot x fem!reader who's just like them

Remus doesn’t think he’s ever seen his two best friends as excited as they currently were, sitting and waiting (rather impatiently) for your arrival.

Peter, Mary, and Lily were sitting on the booth against the wall, with Remus and Regulus sat together to the right of them, with Sirius and James to their right.

Sirius and James had been talking about this ‘perfect girl’ they met in their psych 101 class last semester, likely since the very day they met you if Remus assumed correctly.

“She’s so pretty, Moons! I’ve never seen eyes as beautiful as hers.”

“She’s so funny! You should have heard her snarking the frat boys behind us in yesterday’s lecture.”

“She’s brilliant! She helped us study and I got 88% on our last exam!”

And now, a whole semester and a half later, they’d finally convinced you to meet their friends.

Lord knows how two of the most hyperactive and mischievous people Remus has ever had the pleasure of knowing managed to trick another person to put up with them voluntarily, but he did really like seeing them so happy and excited in life; both so deserving for different reasons.

James deserved all the love that he so openly and willingly shared with others, and Sirius had worked so hard to become the man he is and deserved to be celebrated for it.

So, if what made them happy was a cute girl from their intro to psychology course? Well, Remus couldn’t argue with them.

“I can’t wait until she gets here; you’re all going to love her.” James declared, shifting closer to Sirius in his excitement who quickly threw his arm over his boyfriend’s shoulders.

“So, don’t embarrass us, alright? We want to keep her around.” Sirius added, placing a chaste kiss to James' shoulder as James practically vibrated in his seat.

“I assure you, Sirius, you do not need our help embarrassing you.” Regulus drawled, not bothering to look up from the drink’s menu in his hand.

“Oi! You take that back!” Sirius barked as he flicked the menu up into Regulus’ face.

Remus had to quickly grip his boyfriend’s shoulder to hold him in his seat as he looked like he was about to crawl over the table to strangle his brother.

“Easy, babe.” Remus commented teasingly, “I doubt Pete, Lily, or Mary will bother calling 999 if you kill him, but their new girl may not be as understanding.”

Sirius harrumphed earning him a conciliatory kiss from James as Pete and the girls just snickered.

Regulus’ muttering was interrupted by a commotion at the door as a group sitting near the entrance cheered at a new arrival.

“Yay! Are you finally joining us for a pub night, Y/N?!” someone shouted, causing both James and Sirius’ head to snap to attention; Remus was sure if they were dogs, their tails would be wagging and their ears would have perked up.

“God no! I wouldn’t dream of it!” You called back teasingly, pulling away from someone who had stood to give you a hug.

“Foul!” The person called back as their friend group laughed.

“Next time!” You promised as you moved through the crowd, face lighting up somehow even brighter when you spotted James and Sirius.

James was up on his feet the second you made eye contact with him and he all but carried you over to the group.

“Hi angel! I’m so glad you could make it!” He cheered at you as he kissed your cheek.

“Of course, Jamie. I was looking forward to it.” You responded as you beamed at Sirius who stood as well to give you a proper hug.

“Hiya, dollface! How was your day?” Sirius asked as he held you to his chest.

“Good! Good, I’m looking forward to a drink, though.” You laughed, shucking your jacket off which James was quick to take from you to hang it on the hook attached to the booth.

“Everyone; this is Y/N! Y/N, that there is our best mate Remus, that’s his boyfriend and less importantly my brother Regulus,” Sirius introduced, causing Regulus to scowl and Remus to chuckle as he consolingly squeezed Regulus’ knee. “And that there is our other best mate Peter, and these beauties here are Lily and Mary.”

You enthusiastically exchanged handshakes with those you could reach and no less enthusiastic waves with those who you couldn’t.

“It’s so nice to meet you all! I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Which is concerning, considering you guys met in class?” Regulus commented, earning him a booming laugh from you.

“I was doing too well in that class anyways; it’s good to keep your GPA well rounded.” You responded in jest, gently nudging a furiously blushing James with your elbow as Sirius beamed at the two of you from your other side.

As the group of you spoke, Remus noticed a number of people coming up to clap James or Sirius on the shoulders who knew them from their classes or various extracurriculars., though that wasn’t all that unusual when attending a pub night near campus. What Remus found to be quite phenomenal was how many people happened to come up to you to do the same.

Remus supposed it made sense for his two social and quite popular friends to find a kindred spirit, but he couldn’t believe that there were three of you who appeared to be so universally liked.

Well, Remus was sure some of Sirius’ notoriety was less from his likeability and more for his flirty nature.

Mary had a lot of fun talking to you about her Instagram feed and your TikTok, which was full of videos of you, Sirius, and James doing trendy dances to various degrees of success.

You were eager to discuss your latest reads with Remus, Regulus, and Lily, and you all laughed at the furious blush that took over Regulus’ face when the three of you started discussing the erotic books you’d enjoyed recently.

“I mean, really; is that appropriate to be discussing in such a public setting?” Regulus had muttered as he looked over his shoulder to ensure other patrons hadn’t heard the scandalous books the three of you had read.

“Oh, don’t be such a prude, Reggie. I’ve seen the love bites you’ve left on my mate; you’re no saint.” Sirius had drawled, causing the blush to migrate all the way down Regulus’ neck.

You even joined in with some of Peter's quick-witted jests at the boys' expense.

In the end, it was the way you fell easily into the friendly banter with the group as if you’d been part of it all along that really won Remus over, had his friends’ lovesick smiles not already thoroughly convinced him of your worth.

“I really like Y/N.” He commented to Regulus as he finished flossing his teeth that night. Regulus scoffed without lifting his head from the book he’d been reading already comfortable in bed.

“You would.”

Remus furrowed his brow as he turned the bathroom light off and climbed into bed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She’s exactly your type.”

Remus barked a laugh and pulled Regulus (quite rudely, if you’d asked Regulus) into his side, forcing him to lay the book flat on the bed lest he lose his place for good.

“I’d argue that’s not the case, seeing as you’re my type.” He murmured into his boyfriend’s neck.

Regulus rolled his eyes though his face betrayed the fondness he felt for Remus. “That’s not what I meant, tosser.”

“What’d you mean then?” He asked, trailing kisses along Regulus’ collarbone.

“I mean she’s bubbly, she’s bold and outgoing, she’s mischievous, and she seemed to put up with the lot of you quite well.”

Remus lifted his head to look at Regulus bemusedly.

“She’s a carbon copy of two of your best friends, she’s basically Sirius and James.” Regulus clarified, looking smug as Remus’ face fell in understand.

“Oh my God...” Remus whispered in horror. “There’s three of them.”

#ask elle #marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #reader insert #self insert #college au #poly!prongsfoot #poly!prongsfoot x reader #poly!prongsfoot x you #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x sirius black #ellecdc fics

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wriothesleybear · 6 months

Text

A True Angel Amongst Us

~warnings: Some angst but ends with fluff, insecure Sunday, slight story spoilers, fem!reader, 1.9k words.

~a/n: I've been wanting to write for Sunday for a while now and the first thing I write has angst ;-; I've been having trouble coming up with ideas for him, but after the 2.1 patch, I've wanted to write fluff for him and about his insecure side because I feel like he sort of has one deep down. Angel just needs some love.

Sunday has been tenser than usual lately. The stress from the loss of his dear sister, the struggle of finding her murderer, and the stress from the possibility of a traitor being amongst The Family and the pressure from his master being the main cause of his tension. He puts on a mask and pretends that everything is fine to ensure that The Family's image isn't tarnished, but behind closed doors is different. When he's alone, he just stares off into space, lost deep in the sea of his endless thoughts. Even with you, his dear wife, he puts on a mask sometimes. He doesn't want to worry you and show you the strong leader that he is, who is capable of overcoming any obstacles and who will deliver righteousness when the day comes.

But no matter how much he tries to hide his weaknesses, you can see beyond his mask. You notice in the way his shoulders are always tense, his hands in fists, the frown that lingers on his face when he thinks you aren't looking, and the way he's less talkative during your limited time together. You hate seeing your husband this way, knowing he's bottling everything up inside. It's only a matter of time until it all bubbles up and he eventually snaps.

You decide to visit him in his dreamscape mansion office. You hadn't seen him all day due to him being busy with work. You weren't even able to see him off this morning as his side of the bed was already empty and made up. Knocking on his door, he tells you to come in. "What brings you here my dear?" He says with his masked emotions. Your eyes survey his office, noticing how it's a bit messier than usual even for Sunday's standards. He usually has everything in perfect shape given his ocd. Nothing was ever out of place for him unless something was wrong, further proving your suspicions. He notices how your eyes survey his office, the look of concern on your face is apparent. "I wanted to check in on you, my love. I wanted to make sure you were doing okay." You offer him a gentle, kind smile. "Of course I'm doing well. Why wouldn't I be? As head of The Family, it is my duty to be competent to fulfill my role." He gives you a smile, but it's not a real one. It's one of those fake smiles he puts on for show when out in the public eye.

"Sunday. I know something's bothering you. Please, just talk to me." His smile falters, his fake smile fading as he contemplates your words. You had been worried about him ever since the death of his sister. As the caring wife you are, you've been by his side, making sure that he was doing alright. Bless your soul, but with all the questions and pity stares, he couldn't help but get disgruntled. He knows you meant well, but his insecurity couldn't help but get the better of him. He thought you saw him as weak. I mean, he couldn't protect his dear sister for god's sake. It's his duty to protect those he cares about and he failed. He surveys your face while lost in his thoughts. His train of thought is broken by your calls of his name. He plasters on his fake smile.

"Dear, there's no need to worry about me. Or do you truly believe I'm just that weak?" You're taken aback from his accusation. You gather your courage and try to shut down his allegation. "Of course I don't. You're the strongest person I know, Sunday. It's just.. I can tell you're undergoing a lot of stress lately given the loss of your sister and work. I want to help you." By now his fake smile has fallen completely, replaced with a emotionless look. Turning away from you, his back faces you, making you unable to see the pain on his facial features. "I'm fine. You should leave, dear.." You could hear the coldness in his tone. The emptiness in his words sending slight shivers down your spine. You try to protest and get him to open up to you, but he cuts you off. "Don't let me tell you twice." He says in a strict voice, void of emotion. You hesitate but respect his wishes. You turn to leave without another word said. He doesn't even notice the breath he was holding until the door shut behind you.

Later that night, you lay wide awake in bed. Thoughts of your earlier event with Sunday replay in your head. After you left Sunday's office, you thought everything would be okay by dinnertime, but he never showed. You tried not to take it to heart too much, taking in consideration what he's going through right now, but when it got to midnight and he still hadn't arrived home, you began to feel worse. You've known Sunday for years. You knew how he was raised to become the perfect leader to represent The Family. He was a strong leader who believed in righteousness, in helping those in need, and caring for the people of Penacony. You know he's the kindest and most compassionate person with many strengths, but you also knew that he had many insecurities. He was scared that others would see him as weak and he was worried that everything he worked so hard for would be taken from him. Getting tired of wallowing in your thoughts, you finally decide to find him and try to get him to talk to you one way or another.

Arriving to his office once again, you knock on the door and patiently wait for an answer. "Sunday? It's me. Can I come in?" No answer. Maybe he was shunning you, but you weren't one to back down and walk away. You weren't going to give up on your husband. "Sunday. I'm coming in." Grabbing the door knob, you push the door open and are welcomed to a dark office. The only faint light coming from the windows in his office. Even with the limited lighting, you were able to see that Sunday's office was a bigger mess than earlier. Papers and books were thrown about the floor, the miniature display of Penacony in ruins. Worried, you continue to scan the room until your eyes land on the man slumped over his desk. Walking over to him, you observe his appearance. His clothes are in disarray, coat thrown recklessly on the chair, his wings and hair disheveled. "Sunday.." You hesitate for a second before resting a hand on his head. He tenses from your touch, causing you to withdrawal your hand. "Darling? What happened?" You ask in the most gentlest voice you could muster while trying not to push him too hard to talk. He doesn't reply to you. He keeps his head down on his desk, not willing to move an inch.

You quietly sigh. "Sunday. I understand if you don't like me pestering you with worries and questions. I'm your wife and I care about you. I'm only trying to be there to support you. I am here to support you. For anything. I'm here." Silence. You didn't expect him to reply but you wanted him to hear you out. "I'll give you your space, but just know, I'm here for you with open arms when and if you need to talk." You turn to walk away but suddenly, you're stopped in your tracks by a hand grabbing your wrist. Turning your head back, you see that Sunday is finally looking at you. You can see the pain in his eyes and by how his hand slightly shakes. Without saying anything, you turn your body to fully face him and open your arms wide, silently welcoming him into your arms.

He doesn't waste another second and wraps his arms around your waist, burying his head into your chest. Wrapping your arms around him, you feel his body slightly shaking as you hold him close. "It's okay Sunday. You don't need to hide from me. I won't judge you. Please, don't push me away. I'm here for you." You gently whisper as you stroke his hair. He doesn't speak, all that's heard is his deep, shaky breaths as he tries to control his emotions. It's taking all his willpower to not breakdown crying right there.

"Can you look at me darling?" He's hesitant, but eventually pulls his head away from your body without releasing his hold around your waist. He looks up at you. You notice the painful expression that graces his beautiful features. His golden eyes water as he tries to prevent the tears from falling. He hates showing weakness let alone looking weak in front of you. You cup his cheeks as you search his eyes, giving him a gentle smile. "It's okay to show weakness sometimes, my love. You're the strongest person I know and nothing will change the way I feel about you. I will always see you as the strongest, most caring leader and husband."

Without realizing, tears have begun to fall from Sunday's eyes as he listens to your reassuring words. Your thumbs move to wipe his tears. "I'm...I'm sorry...for pushing you away." He quietly says, his voice slightly cracking. "There's no reason to apologize, Sunday. I know you didn't mean to. I don't blame you." He feels guilty and embarrassed as he tries to move away so you don't see him cry, but you stop him. "It's okay to cry my love. Let it out if it'll help you feel better." He can feel the love through your words and the look you give him, causing more tears to fall. All you do is give him a comforting smile and continue to rub his wet cheeks as he lets his emotions out. You lean down and press a kiss to his left cheek. He gasps, surprised by your sudden action. You switch to his other cheek and continue to kiss his tears away. You leave one final kiss on his forehead and pull his face into your chest. "We can stay like this for as long as you want my angel." He buries his head further into you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you comfort him.

You can feel his body relaxing as he continues to bask in your comforting hold. "Thank you, my love. You are the true angel amongst us." You giggle and continue to hold him close for as long as he needs, occasionally giving him words of comfort and gently stroking his hair and back. You'll wait as long as it takes until he's ready to talk to you, but he understands now that he has you to catch him when he falls and he'll never push you away again.

#hsr sunday #sunday x reader #sunday headcanons #sunday fluff #hsr x reader #hsr headcanons #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail headcanons

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kookslastbutton · 4 months

Text

Those Eyes Chico ༓ myg (m) | chapter two

✑ Summary: As the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour, you’re expected to bring your expertise to the table. This shouldn’t be a problem—you’re the best in the business and you’re used to drawing a strict line between your professional and personal life. But what happens when the lines you’ve fought to keep as separate blur for the first time?

pairing: idol!yoongi x plus size!poc!reader

genre/AU: angst, fluff, smut, slowburn, coworkers2friends2lovers, winter setting, forbidden love

word count: 6.1k+

warnings: This chapter in particular is written from Yoongi's perspective, oc is 28, Yoon is 30, oc is not originally from South Korea, oc has light brown eyes, swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, smoking, mentions of body shaming by Hybe executive, bestie!tae is wonderful support 🥹, light fighting between members (literally crack), Namjoon has a little crush, Oc being a total boss at work bc she is amazing at her job, and cute & meaningful Yoon and OC interactions that make them finally start bonding (a little flirty too, hehe) 😉

now playing: Sweet Dreams by The Last Shadow Puppets

a/n: CHAPTR TWO IS HERE! GOD...the slow burn exists outside the series too with me not updating for two months. I'm sorry guys but TYSM for your patience! I'm VERY excited to release this chapter bc I think Yoon & Oc are super cute, hehe. Okay anyway, this series is dedicated to my wonderfully crazy friend and sorta beta, Gloom @theuselessdaydreamingidiot, and to all our fellow Yoon lovers bc we miss our sweet man SO MUCH 🥺 Enjoy! 🥰 Also huge thank you to @itaeewon for designing this beautiful series header! Love it!!

Series Masterlist | next chapter >>

Yoongi stands with his hands placed loosely on his hip, chest heaving as he attempts to catch his breath. The seven of them had been practicing choreography for their new RUN BTS song nonstop when Jimin called for a much-needed, fifteen-minute break. There’s a part of him that’s thanking the younger for it and another that’s wishing he hadn’t, as every moment left alone with his thoughts is spent decoding his last encounter with you at the cafeteria.

Why had you made such a beeline for the exit the moment he was waved over by his member?

You also completely ignored his attempts to greet you on your way out. He only stopped by the cafeteria to slip an orange in his pocket before returning to his studio. He didn’t mean to intrude or incite that you had to leave with his sudden presence.

Taehyung assured him that you merely left to tend to work matters, which he’d typically sum as hyper-fixation with one’s work as he’s prone to do the same, but this felt different at its core. Your behavior seemed more intentional than that. The last thing he wants to do is misread the whole situation, but he must’ve done or said something to cause your uneasiness.

“Hyung, how did the album meeting go this morning?” A clear voice comes from Yoongi's left as his fellow band member, Namjoon, strides next to him, water bottle clenched in his fist. Like himself, large droplets of sweat dots around the man’s brow. The minor interruption shakes Yoongi out of his slightly dazed state.

“Went well.” He takes a big swish of his own water before screwing the cap back on. “We reviewed everything in three hours and the album looks better than I anticipated. There are a couple of promotional strategies that still need finalizing, but I’m pretty confident about it overall.”

“That’s great, man. __-nim’s been doing good work with TXT for the last few years, so she’s definitely suited for the job. I thought about requesting her help to promote Indigo but the timing of it all didn’t work.” Namjoon’s voice drops an octave at the last part, as if remorseful for more than a missed professional opportunity.

“Ah, maybe your next album hyung,” Jimin suddenly chimes in, slapping the taller man on the shoulder from the side. “I have a feeling you and __-nim would work well together. Think about it, you’re both natural born leaders and you’re smart too. I bet __ -nim has as high of an IQ as you.”

Namjoon’s cheeks flush with the faintest tint of rose as Jimin flashes a knowingly cheeky grin. Yoongi, of course, witnesses the entire exchange, the slightest part of him feeling uprooted by the thought of his band member and new marketing manager suddenly hitting it off. He decides not to comment on the matter, choosing to remain in ignorance instead. This is all speculation, right?

Now that they’re all on the subject of his album though, it gets him thinking that maybe he’s been too narrow viewed regarding the reason for your off putting behavior at lunch.

D-Day’s release has become a consuming priority lately, with everyone involved worked to the bone. Aside from himself, you’ve been bearing the brunt of it. He’s appreciative of course, considering the album holds a deep sense of meaning to him, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it to be perfect. A little pushback during the first proposal is natural, yet he did get more resistant toward ideas during this morning’s meeting than anticipated. Perhaps some of his nitpicking was unnecessary, adding to your already heavy load.

Yoongi’s head feels worse the longer he entertains the possibility. He doesn’t want to make the first time working together a complete whirlwind, especially this early. A strong, healthy partnership starts with trust, safety, and mutual respect. The same philosophy can be applied to relationships of varying natures. That reminds him—since when did Taehyung and you become so close? He’s been ruminating over it all afternoon, like a jigsaw puzzle he can’t solve.

It’s odd how little he knows.

“I heard someone mention __-nim over here. I want in.” A small grumble leaves Yoongi’s lips as Jungkook pushes next to him, displeased by how tiny his space bubble has gotten due to the huddle his members have formed around him. Just why the hell is everyone so interested in his new marketing director? That's what he wants to know.

“Can you introduce me to her sometime hyung?" Jungkook pleads. "I’m thinking about releasing an album in the next year and it’d be great if you could hook us up…yknow?”

Oh, Yoongi knows. He knows exactly what this young buck is insinuating, but it isn’t mating season yet and even if it were he will do no such thing as to “hook them up”. Besides, his conscience tells him that you wouldn't be interested in the company of a younger man anyway—not that your dating life is any of his business or anything.

“Get in line Jungkookie, behind Namjoon. He needs her for his album first.” Jimin squeezes down on Namjoon’s muscular shoulders with both hands, shaking him just enough to hype him up. His hands are removed seconds later when he’s told to knock it off.

“That’s enough about this, okay? I’m pretty sure Yoongi-hyung is the only one who actually needs __-nim right now because, in case you dumbasses have forgotten, D-Day is set to release in April,” Namjoon scolds the two with a commanding tone. Jungkook, per usual, remains persistent in his original request and keeps his full attention on Yoongi.

“Anyway hyung, as I was saying, I know your album takes priority so I’m in no hurry to meet her. I can be pretty patient as you know-“

“Heh, that’s a lie.”

“Shove it Jimin, no one’s talking to you.” Jungkook’s eyebrows scrunch together as Jimin snorts helplessly next to Namjoon.

“You shove it Kook,” Jimin counters. “And stop trying to date __-nim! Find your own woman!”

“I’m not trying to date her! She's my noona for gods sake! Do you think I’m oblivious to how the public reacts to idols dating? Also, __-nim is a Hybe employee, not an idol. I can only imagine the type of scandal the media would spin it as.”

“Right, we all know you actually just want to take her to your bed instead,” Jimin interrupts for the umpteenth time. “Our handsome leader, on the other hand, is interested in her professional abilities. We can learn a lot from him.”

“Why are you always trying to start a fight with me Jimin? Is it because I can take you, now that I've been building up more muscle?” Jungkook’s accusations earn him nothing more than a sea of eye-rolls until Jimin lunges himself towards him, puffing out his chest the best he can to size him up.

Namjoon rubs his face with a hand, a clear visual display of his exhaustion. He’s been moderating these stupid squabbles for nine years now. “Alright very mature, biggest boy band in the world and this is what it’s come to? Amazing, congrats to everyone for winning the award for most-”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Seokjin interjects, effortlessly shouting over everyone while waving his hands. “My brothers…why are we fighting over here like a couple of peacocks? We are all beautiful in our own, individual ways. Mine, for example, is my handsome face.”

“For the love of god hyung, we’re trying to settle something. Go take your inspirational pep talk elsewhere!” Jungkook bends his knees, swooping down to throw Jimin over his shoulder but he misses when the man starts tickling him ruthlessly.

“St-ah-stop it Jimin!"

“You stop it, you frickin’ brat! Trying to take advantage of our hyungs for your own selfish gain.” Jimin then slaps Jungkook on the ass which does not go unappreciated as Hoseok cackles from the other side of the room. Up until this point, he’s been scrolling on his phone, completely unbothered by the chaos. As Hoseok nears the action, Jungkook delivers a swift kick to Jimin’s rear end.

“Ow, what the fuck Kook?!” Jimin tries soothing the sting by massaging it with his hands. “You little prick!”

“Oh come on, I barely hit you. Gaining sympathy points won’t help this time, plus I see you trying to hide a grin. You think this shit is funny. You’re sick you know that?”

Jimin makes a move to return the kick to his youngest member but ends up hitting a far taller, and leaner subject instead. Taehyung, who just returned from the bathroom, throws a hand over his abdomen and grunts from the sudden impact.

“What is—shit Jimin that really hurt!” Taehyung’s baritone voice echoes off the walls as he winces from the pain. He takes a few deep breaths, then viciously eyes the two brawlers followed by the rest of the room. “What the hell is going on? I heard you all talking about __-nim from the hallway. Yoongi-hyung here is trying to kick off his album and tour, which we are supposed to be celebrating over drinks this Friday, but here you are arguing with each other and who has the biggest dick. Well, you can all put it away because as __-nim’s best friend, and number one wingman, only I’m allowed to set her up with someone and it won’t be with any of you! Sorry hyung…” he looks at Namjoon who appears to have brushed the comment off.

As soon as Taehyung ceases his mini-speech, eery silence sets in. Hoseok is the first to dare say a word.

“Uh, so what’s this about being her best friend Tae?”

“Yeah, I had no idea either.” Jimin quirks his head to the side, awaiting the details.

“Same,” Namjoon adds in a short breath.

“What happened to us, man?” Jungkook pouts at Taehyung, a total 180 from moments ago when he was in an unsolicited sparring match with Jimin. “You used to share everything with me. Now you’re holding out on me. Since when did you and __-nim start hanging out?”

Yoongi’s ears perk up for the first time since all the commotion began, curious to hear Taehyung’s response. He only recently discovered the blossoming friendship hours ago and even then, it was a brief inside look.

“I didn’t think to mention it but yeah, we started talking since her first day at Hybe. I bumped into her on the way into work, early morning for both of us. I expected her to be a bit on the reserved side, considering she was a new hire, but she was quite friendly. The more we talked, the more I felt like I knew her as if a childhood best friend I’d reconnected with.” Pausing, he wets his lips before continuing. “We share a lot of our meals together now, like our lunches during the weekday. Her food tastes amazing by the way. I think she missed her calling as a chef but it’s more than food— it’s a love language, a labor of love.”

“Wow, you two sure are connected,” Hoseok speaks first again, seeing the rest of his members working to process the new bit of info.

“Platonically, yes.”

“This’ll be good for Yoongi-hyung and his album then! No bad blood exists here!” Hoseok shifts his gaze between Taehyung and Yoongi, pleased with the outcome. The older of the two remains speechless, yet it’s far from a dazed expression. Yoongi is instead deep in thought, the wheels turning in his head.

So maybe it’s true that birds of a feather flock together, he hums to himself. The two of you seem to be social butterflies with a vase full of commonalities. He, on the other hand, prefers his solitude. That’s not to say he’s a hermit or anything though. Hybe hosts a company-wide New Year’s Eve party every single year and he’s made his best effort to attend them all. He mainly mingles with his members, but he still makes sure to small talk with other coworkers. Come to think of it, did he even see you at last year’s New Year’s Eve party?

He can’t remember much from the night except Seokjin scolding him for not wishing him a happy birthday the minute the clock struck midnight. He was a bit tipsy at that point. Taehyung disappeared soon after to make his usual rounds, stopping to chat with everyone in his path. Maybe he took off to talk to you during that time.

Okay, he really needs to stop thinking about you.

"Just to confirm, is everyone still on for Friday night to celebrate D-Day?" Jimin pipes. "I booked us a good place to have some food and drinks.

Taehyung nods, "I am, as long as it's not the same place we saw our CFO and his much younger date feeding each other. I couldn't eat for the rest of that night."

Jungkook fakes a gag before replying. "I'm sorry but does anyone know how is he still working here? Guy creeps me out."

"I swear, I couldn't agree more. Just yesterday he made an egregiously body-shaming comment toward __-nim to someone else on the board. She kept a brave front when she told me, but I'm damn tempted to get him removed from his position myself!" Taehyung's nostrils flare as he shares his frustration, fingers digging into his hips.

Yoongi takes a final chug of his water before abruptly tossing the bottle on the floor. A sharp crack resounds through the space, instantly commanding the authority of the room. “Fifteen minutes is over,” he gruffs. “It might be twenty minutes with all the bickering earlier. We don't have time to be talking about this anymore.”

“Come on now," Hoseok says. "Didn't you hear what Taehyung said? Our CFO really is a class-A jerk. I feel so bad that __-nim has to put up with his bullshit, she doesn't deserve it." His eyes frantically search the room, hoping to rally support.

"Don't worry about that asshole," Yoongi assures, "I'll handle it." He strides over to his choreographed position on the dance floor as if a leader in his own right, the rest of the members following in his steps.

"Just don't kill him, hyung," Namjoon says, resting a hand on the older's shoulder from behind. Yoongi merely snorts lightly in reply.

Yoongi is dead tired, his feet feeling heavier the minute he stands from his studio chair. He could have left hours ago, but here it is nearly 9:30 at night, and he's only just leaving the office.

As he shuffles down the hallway towards the elevator, he notices the eerie silence. It's thick, almost palpable. There's not a soul left in the building this late at night. When the elevator doors open, he leans casually against the metal rail, closes his eyes, and mentally retraces his day.

Overall, it was a decent day, he thinks, productive at best. Skipping dinner to work on his album tracks was an easy decision, but he might be paying for it now given the intense growling of his stomach. Despite his songs being considered perfect by his members, he can't help but tweak each one a final time. It's as if his gut tells him there's still a piece missing from the whole.

All at once, the elevator comes to a sudden stop. Yoongi's eyes shoot open, anticipation flooding his senses. Is someone still here? He listens intently, straining to hear any sound over the faint hum of the elevator. After a few moments that feel like an eternity, the elevator doors slide open to reveal an empty, dimly lit hallway. It's the 16th floor. He hesitates for a second, peering into the shadows, but there’s no sign of anyone. Strange.

Just as the elevator doors begin to close, Yoongi hears a distant, unmistakable voice. "Please hold the door!" you plead, your voice strained with urgency. He responds immediately, stretching out an arm to block the door. "Thank you so much," you say, slipping in beside him, your bag thrown over your shoulder.

Yoongi watches as you enter, curiosity in his eyes. It seems you were of like mind tonight, working late and likely burdened by the extra work he caused for you. The feeling of tension is as clear as it was yesterday, lingering as a reminder of the unspoken discomfort between you both.

But then again, there's that issue Taehyung mentioned, looming in his thoughts. He hadn't realized you overheard the horrendous comment his CFO made about you. No wonder you hurried away from him like a bat out of hell yesterday; you knew he knew. He wouldn't dare shine a light on the situation and risk embarrassing you further; no one needs to relive such a belittling experience. Yet, he's wrestling with the right words to say.

"Heading home, Min PD-nim?" You surprise him by speaking first, voice firm with a touch of gentleness.

Yoongi allows a faint smile to tug at the corners of his lips, hoping it'll relieve some tension. "I am, it's been quite a day. What about you?"

You nod, shifting the bag on your shoulder. "Same here. Just had to wrap up a few things before heading out."

He hesitates for a moment, noting how you speak as if it were only a few minutes past five or six in the evening. "I understand. I was working in my studio up until now. I should be back up there tomorrow too," he says, then chuckles lightly, "Sometimes I feel like I should just live up there."

You return the subtle laugh and smile softly at him, your light brown eyes catching his dark ones. It feels like the same prolonged gaze you shared upon first meeting, yet now, it's somehow become easier; perhaps a hint of familiarity.

"By the way," he continues, seizing the opportunity, "feel free to call me Yoongi-ssi. I'm not that formal in case you didn't know." He playfully gestures to his casual attire; tan cargo pants, grey plaid button-down, and sneakers.

You seem hesitant towards the request at first, evident from your delayed response. "Are you sure?" you choke. "I don't want to over step my boundaries."

"There's no need to worry about that," he assures. "We're on equal level aren't we? If we're going to be working side by side for the next eight months give or take, I want us to feel comfortable with each other. Please, call me Yoongi-ssi."

"Okay, I might need some time to get used to that," you say, head nodding, "I'll try calling you Yoongi-ssi from now on."

"There's one other thing too," he pauses, "since we'll be working on D-Day's promotion from start to finish, I'll have many of my own opinions. It's a natural instinct for me, but I don't want to be a hinderance. I don't want anyone else giving you issues either, so I'd like to hear your full thoughts on matters, especially when it comes to important decisions."

"That means a lot Yoongi-ssi, thank you. I'm very grateful that you'd allow me to be a part of this and I'd very much like us to have an equal partnership. This is your album though, so I want to make sure it gets the recognition it deserves in the way you'd prefer."

Yoongi glances at the floor numbers displayed to the right of the elevator doors. Any second now and you'll reach the lobby. He wouldn't mind talking longer, but letting you both get a decent night's sleep is the far better idea at this point.

"I trust that D-Day is in the right hands with you, __ssi," he replies. "It's why I recommended that we work together to promote it in the first place. Bang PD was also confident in the idea. We don't doubt your expertise for a second." He pauses when the elevator doors slide open and allows you to be the first to exit. "Have a good night, okay?"

For the first time, you reciprocate the wish with a full, illuminating smile. It's not a professional one, Yoongi notes, its a real one—as genuine and sincere as his words. He takes it as a sign that the tides may finally be turning for the better. "You too," he hears you say before you push through the large revolving doors and step into the cool night air.

In the evenings that follow, Yoongi finds himself back in his studio as promised, a glass of whiskey in hand. He ultimately decided that if he was going to be here until all hours of the night, he might as well have a cold beverage to keep him company.

As he leans back in his chair, swirling the dark amber liquor in his glass, his mind inadvertently wanders to you. Were you downstairs again? Were you here with him? It would seem that given your unexpected late-night encounter in the elevator, the validity of the idea wouldn't be all that wild or far-fetched.

With each passing minute, as the clock inches closer to the late hours, he finds himself circling back to the same thought. It's as if the possibility of running into you has become a highlight of his night.

Just then, a deep and familiar voice interrupts. "Burning the midnight oil again, hyung?"

Startled, Yoongi looks up to see Taehyung standing in the doorway, a sympathetic smile on his face. Despite it being almost 9 at night, his younger member is nothing short of flawless in appearance.

"Yeah, working on my tracks," Yoongi replies, offering a small smile in return. "What are you doing here?"

Taehyung steps further into the room, hand tucked in his pocket. "I wanted to stay late to keep __-nim company, but I'm not sure how much longer she plans on staying tonight. I was on my way out when I figured I'd stop by to see you too."

"Well, thanks for thinking of me. Want a drink?" He offers, nodding towards the nearby whiskey bottle.

"No, thanks," Taehyung declines politely, shaking his head. "I'll let you enjoy your whiskey in peace. Although, __-nim might take you up on that same offer one of these days. She has a strong taste for it, as you do. Anyway, I'm heading out. Don't overdo it with your music, hyung, they're already perfect."

Once Taehyung leaves the studio, Yoongi's previous string of thoughts return to him tenfold.

So you really are here, he muses, and you happen to like the same throat-burning alcohol. Should he venture downstairs and offer a drink? No, that would probably be too much, and he wouldn't want to interrupt you. Maybe if Taehyung were accompanying him, but not alone; he doesn't share enough rapport with you to merit such a spontaneous drop-in yet.

No, he takes another sip of his whiskey, he'll see you tomorrow morning instead; during your morning meeting. But that gets him thinking—he's still yet to decide on whether or not he'll make an appearance on Fallon's show. He’d done it with his members numerous times, but this would be the first time doing it alone. His album would indeed benefit from the exposure, though.

"Damn it," he curses, raising from his seat. "I work my ass off. I work my ass off for it all!" He then sits back down, finishing off the rest of his whiskey in one gulp, the burn soothing his frustration momentarily. With a resigned sigh, he turns his attention back to his music. "Damn it, I guess I'll do it."

If it weren't for his phone notification reminding him of his 10 am meeting on Friday, Yoongi would have missed it entirely. Normally, he never forgets important events, but several late nights in the studio had predictably caught up with him. He feels extremely sleep-deprived today, his memory more prone to blanking than usual. Waking up with a throbbing headache at 5 am, which hasn't dimmed in the slightest, doesn’t help either. Nonetheless, with only ten minutes to spare, Yoongi has no choice but to pull himself together and head downstairs to the conference room.

"Good morning, Min PD-nim," you greet him as he walks through the door. "We're about to start."

Yoongi drags out a chair and takes a seat. You look nice today, he notes quietly to himself. He makes sure to send a small smile your way before returning the warm greeting. "Good morning __-ssi," he says. "I told you we can speak informally didn't I?"

He waits for your response, easily tuning out the startled reactions from the rest of the team. Most high-ranking officials in the organization expected to be addressed formally by those in lower positions, but here he was, openly requesting you to speak as equals. It was almost unheard of during work hours. He was Min Yoongi, after all.

"Right, of course," you reply, "You'll have to excuse me, Yoongi-ssi. It slipped my mind for a moment."

Yoongi watches as you shuffle a few papers in your hand before continuing. "To get us started, I thought we'd discuss the decision to schedule a spot on The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon. Will we be proceeding with this?"

"After mauling it over I think it's a good idea for the album. Do we have an idea of when this would happen?"

"Ideally after the album releases and around the time the U.S. tour begins April 26th. I say we aim for early May. Given Fallon's show's high demand, we'll need to get a jump on this as soon as we can." You shift your attention to your digital marketing and promotions team. "So-hyun, can you reach out to the producers and see what strings we can pull?"

She nods, scribbling a quick note on her writing pad. "We'll reach out today. I'll let you know as soon as we get a response."

"Excellent, thank you. I'm glad to hear you're on board with this Yoongi-ssi. It'll be a great way to promote D-Day and attract a global audience. The more smartly we utilize our resources, the better your album will be positioned in the current market." You take a brief pause to flip through your notes again. "Speaking of resources, we'll need to start booking magazine shoots and interviews. I'm proposing we run cover pages with Marie Claire Korea and Vogue Japan."

Yoongi would be taken aback by the flood of ideas and schedules you're firing at him, all within the first fifteen minutes, if he weren't already aware of your level of competency. This is exactly why he chose you, he hums to himself, your preparedness is impressive, but not surprising.

"I presume this will take place next year?" he asks. "During their spring issues?"

"Absolutely. We'll submit inquiries soon to get the ball rolling, but having the shoots completed now would be premature. Plus, it'll take some time before there are any openings with the companies. I think we should be consistent with tour dates and have Marie Claire go out in May and Vogue ready in August of next year."

"Okay, I'm fine with all that but we'll need to have something exciting released now, don't we? I know I start my weekly lives tonight, but shouldn't there be something more we can do?"

"I agree," you reply. "That's why I wanted to propose a brand new idea that came to me a couple of nights ago while I was drafting promotional content. Anytime idols release a new album or music, it gets published on YouTube, right?"

He nods, curious on where you're heading. "Right."

"Why don't we start a talk show with you as the host Yoongi-ssi? It can allow your fans to see another side of you, as well as the general public. We can invite your BTS members as guests where you can discuss music or past challenges that you've had to overcome—the choice is yours. To make it more interesting for viewers, you can have these frank conversations over a glass of whiskey or soju."

"I like the idea," he says, weighing it in his mind. "What would the timeline look like for this?"

"If we move forward with the idea, I suggest December 5th and we continue it for a max of two months. I know that only leaves us with just under two weeks to get started, but creating the set shouldn't take more an a day or a day and a half. We can also easily shoot a 30 to 60-minute video in an afternoon and publish it on YouTube the following week. Of course, a preview of the show will need to go out beforehand."

"Would we be able to invite other guests to the show? Outside of my members, I mean."

"Yes, feel free to invite whoever you'd like. We can start with the member for the first several episodes but ultimately, welcoming a variety of guests from the same or differing industries would be the goal."

"If I may." A member of the social media team suddenly joins the discussion, "I think Kim Namjoon-nim might be a good person to feature first since Indigo releases December 2nd."

Yoongi nods in agreement. "I can ask him."

"That would be fantastic, actually. If his availability is limited, we could have him guest star for the second or third episode instead," you add. "Hoseok released Jack in the Box this summer so we could have him be the first guest as well."

"Do we have a name yet?"

"Suchwita," you answer without hesitation. "It's a play on words with Daechwita."

"Suchwita..." Yoongi repeats, "Time to get drunk." He chuckles at the last few words, amusing the room, but you remain contemplative.

"How about Suchwita...time to drink with Suga, instead? It's simple and has a slight whimsical nature."

"Sure, let's use that," he answers, noticing that you've already begun jotting down the idea. "Yours is better."

Despite the adrenaline from the productive meeting with you and your team, Yoongi still feels the weight of his sleepless nights bearing down on him. His headache remains relentless and he is in dire need of a moment to himself. Once the team disperses, he slips his phone into his pocket and makes his way outside. The crisp, early morning air should offer him some relief, along with the pack of cigarettes tucked in his pocket.

When he reaches the building's designated smoking area, Yoongi takes out a cigarette and lights it, taking a deep drag as he leans against the cool brick wall. As he exhales, watching the smoke dissipate into the clear sky, his thoughts drift back to the meeting. The idea of hosting a talk show, "Suchwita...time to drink with Suga," still lingers in his mind. It’s an intriguing concept, and he can already envision the relaxed, candid conversations that could come from it.

His thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the sound of footsteps crunching on the ground nearby.

"Oh, Yoongi-ssi," you say with alarm, obviously startled by his presence. "I didn't mean to interrupt you. I'll come back lat-"

"There's no need for that. Join me if you'd like." Yoongi watches as you hesitate to accept his offer, your feet already positioned to head back inside the building. "Seriously, there's plenty of room, and no matter what they'll tell you, I don't bite."

He allows himself to smirk as you carefully move beside him, only stopping when there is at least two feet of space between you both.

"Thanks," you say, pulling out your own pack of cigarettes and lighting one. "I needed a break too."

"Rough morning?"

"Just busy," you reply, leaning against the wall next to him. "But the meeting went well. We should be able to get the ball rolling now that we have a more finalized plan. I'm glad you liked the idea of starting Suchwita, by the way."

"I do," Yoongi says, nodding. "It has a lot of potential and I'm sure Namjoon will be more than happy to help us out. He's a natural at this kind of stuff. I guess it's why he's our band leader."

"You know you're good at all of this too, don't you, Yoongi-ssi?" You pause, taking a puff of your cigarette. "Even when you have a lot on your mind and a packed schedule, you have a knack for making people feel at ease. It's why I think producing Suchwita will be such a great way to connect with fans and other artists—you'll be the host."

He chuckles, appreciative of the remark. "You really think that? That I make people feel at ease? It's not what a lot of people assume."

"Nah," you reply, tilting your head up toward the clouds. "They're just on the outside looking in. Those who know you, who are around you and talk to you, will agree that you're a pretty calming presence."

"Well, I think we're not so different then." Yoongi shifts his eyes to your face, still looking up at the sky, and smiles softly. "So, what made you come to BigHit? Didn't you say you worked for Atlantic Records? That's a pretty good gig."

"Yeah, it was. I learned a lot there, and man, I was thrilled when I got offered the job as a brand manager. I've always loved music, ever since I was a kid. I could connect so intimately with the lyrics. Music is one of the few things that could soothe me during rough times, and it still does today. I'm sure you can understand."

Yoongi nods, intent on listening to your every word, intrigued by your story.

"Anyway, sorry about getting long-winded here" you chuckle. "I ultimately decided to move on when Bang PD reached out and offered me the marketing manager position for TXT. It gave me the chance to be a more integral part of bringing music to individuals who need it most. It's like we say, 'music for art and healing.' I'd never had the opportunity to manage a completely new set of musicians before either, let alone a group. Plus, being on the global marketing team? I couldn't turn it down."

"It makes sense why you joined us then, and I have to say, it's a blessing you did too. Music is a way of communication for me, a way I can best express my story. That includes my past, present, and hopefully future. After hearing all you shared, I don't think there's anyone else I'd trust with handling my album promos." Yoongi pauses a moment, unsure if he should ask the next thing on his mind. "How come we never met before? I mean really meet and talk?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure myself. But things have a way of falling into place when the time is right, I suppose." You're now looking at him, the intensity of your gaze mirrors his own. A gentle breeze tousles a few strands of your hair and for a split moment, Yoongi begins to understand what Taehyung meant earlier when he said it feels like he's known you his whole life, like a childhood friend he'd reconnected with. While it may not be to that extent for himself, there's a comforting warmth emanating from you that leaves him feeling strangely tranquil.

"Given the circumstances, I feel like we should have at least met through Taehyung by now," he slips out. "Or even at a company-sponsored event."

"Why, do you like me that much, Yoongi-ssi? After five days of working together?" Your playful tease catches him off guard, revealing a side of you he hadn't seen before. It's kind of cute-wait, what?

"I-"

"Sorry," you quickly interject, feeling the need to backtrack. "I shouldn't have said it like that."

"Don't worry, there's no need for apologies. And to answer your question, I like you enough." He hopes you can hear the tease in his own tone as he responds.

You both lapse into a comfortable silence for the next few minutes, the only sounds being the distant hum of traffic and the occasional chirp of a bird. He finds all of it soothing in a way he can't quite explain.

After a few minutes, you turn to him, your expression thoughtful. "You know, if you ever need to talk or just need a break, I'm here. We're teammates now."

Yoongi looks at you, his tired eyes softening with gratitude. "Thanks, __-ssi."

You give him a reassuring smile before pushing off the wall. "I'll let you finish your cigarette. See you later? And by later, I likely mean at 9 or 10 pm in our company elevator."

"Yeah, see you later," he laughs, watching as you walk back toward the building. He takes one last inhale, extinguishing the cigarette and letting the remaining smoke escape his lips slowly.

Yeah, he likes you just enough.

a/n: Hope you enjoyed it! Lmk what you think 🥰

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