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bqstqnbruin · 3 days ago

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Letters Unsent

Listen listen I know this is my second Quinn fic in a row but I was scrolling through Libby yesterday during parent/teacher conferences and I saw a book that was about letters written between twins that never got sent and then I browned out and next thing I knew this fic was written.

Shoutout to @nicohischier for reading thing while I yelled about it in her dms when she was living life

Warnings: SA(?) (kissing without consent and then she knees him in the dick), swearing, drinking, mentions of sex, angst

WC: 4006

____________________

Dear Quinn,

My therapist told me I’m supposed to write letters to the people I wish I had one more conversation with. Apparently it’s supposed to help me get all the feelings that I’ve kept bottled up, out in a way where I don’t have to actually say them. Not only did she tell me I had to, but she told me she would read them. Talk about an unnecessary invasion of privacy. Is that even legal?

But, I’m paying her (or my health insurance is paying her) for a reason, and Kelly seems chill anyway, so I guess that’s fine. I’m writing to you and to my grandmother, the one who passed away when I was little, so don’t feel that special. You’re not even going to read these anyway, so I’m not sure why you would.

Do you remember when we first met? Elias was convinced that the two of us were meant to be, and for some reason, Brock and Ally agreed, too? Ally still brings up that even when we were friends, our entire friend group somehow knew that you and I would end up together. I’m actually surprised it was Elias who said it was us first, and not Ally. It was always supposed to be us.

I just wish we didn’t end that way.

Lov From,

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

I don’t remember the last time I went out to a bar and got as drunk as I did last night. Ally kept buying drinks (or, conning men into buying us drinks, her favorite pastime). I think the last time I really drank that much might have been the night we first met. Ally told me that I needed to go out for once and forget, since I’ve really just been moping around the apartment (Kelly I know you’re going to read this, calm down I’m writing it for a reason). But what’s the point of going out when there’s nothing to really see?

Going to bars bores me, you know this. Why spend money to get to the bar, then spend money to get into the bar, then spend more money once you’re inside the bar, then spend even more money to get home from the bar, when I can stay at home and drink for a lot less money and with a lot less people around?

Anyway.

I still don’t really understand how we all became friends. At that point, Ally was just my roommate, and it was just the two of us against the world. I think if Brock hadn’t spilled his drink all over me, we probably would have just avoided the three of you. The fact that we even went out in the first place was astonishing. I didn’t even realize what had happened, the fact that I was covered in some sticky, alcoholic liquid, until I heard you scolding him for it. Your voice is what pulled me in to the group, you were what kept me in.

Brock, of course, insisted he make up for it, as he would, while you just stood off to the side and laughed into your drink, the scolding from moments before gone while you watched Brock make a fool of himself (as Ally and I would later learn, was actually just him being him). He brought the five of us so many drinks, he might have spent a year's worth of his salary that night alone.

Ok, not his salary. My salary, maybe.

I don’t know what came over me that night we met, though. You know me well enough to know that I am not the type of person to do something big, or something that might scare me if I can help it.

Asking you to dance was definitely because of the alcohol. Working up the courage to do that when the rest of our friends were standing talking was easy because of the alcohol. There was something about the vibe that night that made me want to do it. Something inside me was telling me I had to, or that I would regret it.

Part of me does regret it, sometimes. But, fuck, I’m glad I did it.

Maybe that’s why they all say that we were meant for each other. Something about you had me doing things I never would have done otherwise. Ally took pictures of us while we were dancing. She said that we should use them for when the two of us inevitably got married. I don’t think I’ve ever looked at someone the way I looked at you.

Maybe it was the alcohol.

Maybe it was because you were looking at me the same way.

LoFrom,

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

I hate my job I hate my job I hate my job I hate my job.

Something, something, Kelly would tell me that if this is making me this unhappy, that I should quit, blah, blah, blah.

In this economy, though??? With this job market??? Maybe I go to another country…

I fucking hate that one guy, Jamie. Do you remember him?

I feel like I ask you that a lot, if you remember certain things. I guess I’m just wondering if you think about me and us as much as I think about you. I hate how that sounds/reads/looks, but unfortunately for me, it’s true. I shouldn’t think about you as much as I do, but, here we are. That’s probably why you were the first person I thought of to write to when Kelly told me to start (sorry Grandma).

Anyway, Jamie was that guy we ran into that one night at the bar, before we started dating. Of course you remember him. You probably remember him more than you remember anything about me at this point.

He kept hitting on me, at one point had his hand on my arm and you went fucking crazy.

It was insanely hot.

I’ve told you that before, but I might as well tell you that again.

What was even hotter in the moment was when you came up behind me and wrapped your arms around my waist. I always felt safe in your arms, if I’m being honest. That’s fucking corny of me.

Whatever.

You came up behind me and told him that you were glad he was keeping me company, that I was safe with someone I knew. I’m almost positive I heard you call me ‘your girl,’ but it was so loud in there, who knows. I hope you did.

I’ve never seen someone so pissed off as I had when Jamie stomped away.

I’ve never seen someone look the way you did, almost hungry? Jealous? When Jamie came over to me in the first place. I saw you the entire time, the way you clenched your glass, how you nearly threw it at Elias when you first saw Jamie touch me. I thought you were just trying to be a good friend.

But it was the fact that you didn’t let go of me, you rested your chin on my head, even when Jamie was out of my sight.

I finally was able to turn around and get a look at you at one point after we just stood there for a little bit, the two of us starting to sway to the music. For me, it felt like there was no one else around us. I asked you why you were still holding on to me.

The fact that you just smiled at me, your hands tightening on my waist instead of outright answering me made my heart skip a beat. Every stupid, gooey, wonderful feeling you could think of when you know that you were in love with the person in front of you ran through me.

My mind went blank when you finally kissed me. When I finally could form a coherent thought, the only thing I could think of was how that felt right.

You felt right.

I started this letter to talk about my job, but honestly, Jamie isn’t even worth it. He never really was.

LFrom,

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

The fact that we didn’t outright start dating after that night you kissed me drove me fucking insane. I don’t think I ever told you that, but seeing you talk to any other girl when we went out made me feel like I was going fucking insane.

I can’t believe you let me be jealous about a guy, about you of all people. I’m honestly pissed at you for that. And, the fact that I can see you reading this, see you throw your head back laughing at this, that kind of smile on your face as rare as it is would make me even more pissed at you.

The first time you asked me to come to a game after we kissed was the worst. Together, both of us tried to act like it had never happened. Ally apparently kept texting you telling you what you should do next, since, of course, she would be the one in our friend group to not only see us kiss, but to record it. Another video for our wedding, apparently (I still don’t know what she meant by ‘another’). Regardless, we had continued on like nothing happened, like we hadn’t kissed. Like it hadn’t meant anything to you.

And I had to pretend the same, even though it was sending me into a spiral.

After the game, you told us how to meet you outside your locker room so we could go get dinner (I kind of hate matinee games? They’re too early to do anything before and end too early to do something meaningful after? I felt like we were supposed to get a senior citizens discount when we finally made it to dinner). I saw you talking to that one girl; she was gorgeous. Honestly, when you think of the perfect girl, you probably should think of her.

I saw you laugh and smile at her, and I felt a pit in my stomach wishing it was me you were talking to.

When you hugged her, your hand lingering on her arm and the smile on your face staying there after you walked away, before you saw Ally and I with Elias and Brock, I felt like I could scream.

You knew something was wrong when I barely said anything on the way over. You were the one who didn’t buy it when I said I was just tired from work still, that I hadn’t slept the night before. You were the one who called my bluff when I said I wasn’t hungry because you were the one who heard my stomach, who was on Facetime with me when I went to sleep the night before.

I hated that you were the one who could call me out; not Ally, who I’ve lived with and been best friends with for how many years, you. I hated that you were the reason I shut down.

I hated you for a second.

How was I supposed to know that was Jake’s sister?

From,

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

When you finally asked me out, I knew it was because Ally had threatened you (affectionately). I pretended to be surprised that you were going to ask me, but I knew it was coming, I just didn’t know when. You never really were the type to let everyone in on things right away, were you?

I was surprised how you had the audacity to take me out to dinner and only let me know after you dropped me off that you thought it was a date, our first date. It must have been nice to go into dinner knowing it was a date when I had no idea it was.

Sometimes I just wish you would have talked to me when you were thinking. You’re so quiet, you always look like you’re lost in thought, and I thought I could tell how to find you again. I felt like I knew everything, but apparently, I didn’t.

From,

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

Kelly told me that she wants to open up more in these letters. Apparently, I’m not letting myself ‘feel enough’ and that these letters are too vague, whatever that means.

Fine, Kelly.

You know when I knew for sure that I loved you? The first time we slept together.

I didn’t tell you for three weeks after that that I loved you, even though I knew, and you didn’t tell me you loved me for almost two months after that.

I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.

If you had told me, we wouldn’t have gotten so pissed off at each other all the time. I know I’m shit when it comes to sharing my feelings, but god, you were even worse.

The first time we fought was barely a real fight. It was just us not talking.

You were pissed off when I told you I had to do a project with Jamie. It’s not like I asked to be paired with him. I actually actively asked to not be anywhere near him as much as possible, but apparently, so does everyone else (capitalism is the worst, what do you mean the guy we all hate can stay at the job because he brings in a lot of money?) when I said I was talking to him at night because we had to get this project done, that the faster I could get the project done, the sooner I could go back to ignoring him.

Jamie was a fucking prick. Jamie is a fucking prick. But god, that night I would have talked to Jamie if it meant you didn’t act that way.

I don’t remember everything that brought us up to it, but I remember it dawning on me. I didn’t know for sure that you liked me, or if you hated Jamie more from the stories I had told you. I doubted you. I doubt you. I never told you that outright, in those words, because how do you tell the person you’re supposed to love that you don’t think they love you back?

I asked you if you kissed me that night because you actually wanted to, or if it was just to make Jamie mad. He was still in the bar, even if I didn’t see him. You had seen him. You could see him. You saw him when you kissed me. You saw him over my shoulder when you pulled away. You admitted to it.

You kissed me to get back at a guy you hadn’t said more than a couple words to.

And then you told me it was because you loved me. Because you were in love with me. That you apparently knew when you first met me that you were going to fall in love with me, if you hadn’t fallen already.

I stared at you, furious at you and believing that you started our relationship because you wanted to, what, claim me? Mark me? I don’t even know. But then you told me the one thing I wanted to hear from you and the only thing I wanted to do was throw something at you.

So I walked out of your apartment instead. I called Brock, I had him pick me up, and he drove me back to my and Ally’s place.

It was Brock who tried to convince me that what you said was real, that you actually meant it, and that he and Elias knew it was the truth because you told them. For some reason, you had waited until then, until we were screaming at each other, to tell me. It was Ally who needed to be calmed down after threatening to kill you, only once Brock pointed out that the city would probably riot against her.

I was numb.

And it was you who made me feel that way. I felt nothing. I wanted to feel so many things, anything really, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t feel a fucking thing. These letters are supposed to be me going back and figure out and really acknowledging what I was feeling throughout what I think were our biggest moments. But I didn’t feel anything.

Are you happy now, Kelly?

From,

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

I think after that last letter, I was nervous to write another. Ally found me sitting and crying at my desk. Apparently I never told her the full story of what had happened that night or why I didn’t talk to you for two weeks, even though she and Brock tried to get it out of me, Elias going over to your place once you called him. Elias didn’t know either, from the sound of it. We were Rory and Logan without the Bridal Party (if you still don’t get the Gilmore Girls reference, then we really shouldn’t have been together in the first place. We watched the show seven times, at least).

We didn’t really know how to be around each other for a bit after that, did we? It took us a while to get back to where we were before.

Who says that they love someone when they’re in the middle of a fight like that? Who says it for the first time like that? If you loved me, shouldn’t you have told me before? Shouldn’t you have told me in a different way?

I didn’t think you meant it when you told me you loved me, but everyone told me that you did, so I think I let myself believe it. At least at that point, I did. I think you loved me. You never seemed to be able to reassure me when I had my doubts, if you even knew that I had them. I know I loved you.

I’ve spent the last year and a half trying to convince myself that I don’t love you anymore.

Kelly, is that what these letters are supposed to be doing? Am I supposed to convince myself that I don’t love Quinn, or that I do?

We’re about to have a really intense session, aren’t we?

From,

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

At this point, I’m just mad. These letters are just making me mad. I’m still mad about how we broke up, I’m still mad that you kissed me the way you did.

I’m still mad that I think about you all the fucking time.

The reason we broke up is what makes me furious.

I told you nothing was going on with Jamie.

I don’t like him. I have never liked him. I will never like him. The only person who mattered to me the entire relationship was you. You are were the one who mattersed to me.

I told you so many times that Jamie was the one who kissed me. You knew I would never kiss that guy.

But the fact that you saw it? I’ve never felt like screaming and crying more than I did in that moment, causing a scene in public and embarrassing everyone be damned. The look on your face when I finally was able to push him off me, only to see you standing right there, drinks for both of us in your hands. I could see the tears in your eyes, your Adam's Apple bobbing up and down while you swallowed what I was sure was rage, anger, hurt, fury. You didn’t see that I was crying, too. You didn’t see that I was struggling to get him away from me. It was only a kiss, one that I didn’t want to happen, and you didn’t see anything other than his lips on mine.

If you did, you didn’t seem to care.

You nearly broke the glasses as you slammed them down on the table near you, knocking over multiple people when you stormed out of the bar.

I had to knee Jamie in the dick to get him off me so I could chase after you.

You broke up with me right there. I don’t know how I could forget the look in your eyes when you told me you didn’t want to see me anymore if I was going to cheat on you with Jamie when you were standing right there, as if I intended to do that. You looked like you could kill someone.

You didn’t care that I wasn’t the one who fucking kissed him, that I didn’t kiss him back, that you are the only person I want to kiss. If you heard anything I yelled at you when you were walking away, you didn’t care. You left me there, and I had to watch you walk away.

Ally found me on the sidewalk, sitting on the ground against the building outside where you told me you didn’t care about me anymore. I couldn’t even tell her what happened because I screamed so loud that my voice was gone.

Fuck you for that, Quinn.

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

Fine, I fucking miss you. That’s why I thought of you first to write to. There are so many fucking things that I never got to say, that I never got to ask, that I know you never told me that have been eating away at me and occupying my thoughts more than I want them to.

I miss you, I miss being held by you, touched by you, kissed by you. I miss the feeling if your skin against mine, the feeling of you inside me, for fucks sake. I miss when you would talk to me like I was the only person who mattered to you, because I know that you loved me as much as I love you.

I miss every god damn stupid habit that you have, every little quirk of yours that you did on a game day that would drive me fucking insane.

I still come home sometimes when you guys are on a road trip and expect you to call me, no matter where on the continent you are, because you missed me and I missed you and we needed to hear each others voices.

I miss the guys and being friends with them, even though Ally still talks to them and gets to see them.

You never let me tell you what really happened, because I don’t think you cared. I don’t know if you loved me.

I wish you did, because, fuck, I still love you.

Are you happy now, Kelly?

I still love Quinn. You’re going to tell me that I’m too young to say this, but: I will always love that stupid, sad, wonderful boy that I met by chance one night at a bar and got to spend time with. I will always love the guy who made me laugh so hard I couldn’t breathe and cry so hard I couldn’t speak. I will always love Quinn, no matter who else I will fall in love with, or out of love with, if I stay here in Vancouver until I die, or if he gets traded or if I move on my own.

Fuck.

Love,

Sarina

Dear Sarina,

I get that I was never supposed to see these. I probably am not supposed to know they even exist, but I’m fucking glad I do. You’re going to kill Ally for sending these to me, but, let’s face it, she’s the one who’s been pushing for us since minute one. Would we have had anything if we didn’t have Ally?

But I don’t want to talk about her.

I miss you.

I want you back.

I’m a fucking idiot for not being with you, for walking away from you that night.

You think that I didn’t love you? I’ve loved you this entire time. I loved you from the first time we talked, even though, you’re right, I didn’t say it when I should have because I’m an idiot.

Can we talk?

Love,

Quinn

Dear Quinn,

Yes.

Love,

Sarina

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fic #vancouver canucks #canucks #vancouver canucks fic #vancouver canucks imagine #canucks fic #canucks imagine #hockey #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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esquilone · 3 days ago

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What I would say/i guess about women who are attracted to Dutch Van der Linde and Sean MacGuire:

RDR2 and You

❤︎ Based on that request! ❤︎

❤︎ Note: the images aren't mine, they're from Pinterest, I just edited them and changed details and made a cover for this post! :p

Right... I don't think Dutch and Sean are characters I'm going to be able to give a good assessment of, so much so that my focus is more on Micah and Javier, but I've done some research with some things I already knew, I've just added them with others and put together some unfinished texts, okay? I hope they match up a bit with reality and what I believe would make a woman like men who look the same as them.

𝓓𝓾𝓽𝓬𝓱 𝓥𝓪𝓷 𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓛𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓮 -

Why do some women like Dutch van der Linde?

Dutch has an absurd magnetism. He is a charismatic leader, always with a speech ready and the ability to make anyone believe in him. This can be attractive because he has that energy of a “great man, a man who knows how to solve everything.”someone who seems to know exactly what he is doing (even when, in reality, he is just improvising so he doesn’t appear to be falling apart).

Psychologically, he represents that figure of the “revolutionary dreamer,” someone who challenges the system and promises a better future. Many people are drawn to this kind of idealism, even when it turns dangerous. He also has a way of seducing without needing to be direct, simply through the power of words and presence. Want proof? Many incredibly intelligent members (Arthur included) followed Dutch and Hosea blindly. However, I strongly believe that Dutch always had a slightly psychotic tendency. I firmly think he struggled against his own selfishness and greed because Hosea was there to put him in his place. He probably revealed this side of himself during the Blackwater massacre and robbery, but the ones who witnessed it are already dead, so no one could say anything without proof. Hosea often showed both excitement and disagreement toward Dutch’s plans, and I believe it was because he had already seen that darker side of him.

As the game progresses, he reveals this dark side more and more—he becomes paranoid and manipulative, his biggest red flag. However, this doesn’t stop some women from being attracted to complicated men, thinking they can “save” them or bring back their good side. (I mentioned this in my analysis of Micah.)

I believe Dutch truly loved once, and that was Annabelle, who was murdered by Colm O’Driscoll. He becomes violent and loses patience when talking to Colm about her, not because Colm apologized, but because he showed complete disdain for what happened. I think this event pushed Dutch further toward becoming cold and violent out of pure selfishness. So yes, if Dutch loved a woman enough, he could sacrifice anything for revenge in her name. He mentions more than twice how much he despises Colm for killing her, and Arthur even tells him something like, “You should let go of revenge, you killed his brother first once.” But Dutch refuses to let it go.

Dutch's old love: Annabel

Anabelle is one of the greatest mysteries of Dutch’s past, something he never truly got over. She is almost like a ghost in his story—someone who represents a time when he was still a different man, perhaps more noble, less corrupted by his own pride. We already know she was murdered by Colm O’Driscoll—I’ve mentioned this before—the impact of her death is one of the reasons why he never truly committed to anyone again. He may have romanticized Anabelle in his mind, turning her into a perfect and unattainable figure. This might explain why he never treated Molly the same way.

And what about Molly O’Shea?

To me, Molly is a perfect example of someone who fell in love with the idea of Dutch rather than the real man he was. In fact, I believe he presented himself as the perfect, caring man to her—maybe because, in some way, she reminded him of Anabelle. Molly got involved with this strong and charismatic leader. She is described as a woman of “high class and society,” so we see that she left some things behind—perhaps for Dutch? I’m not 100% sure, because Molly is a proud woman, someone who wants to be seen and considered the best. She wanted to be the woman by his side, but Dutch never gave her the attention she craved. He was more focused on the gang and his own delusions of grandeur.

So as time passed, she realized that he was not really available for her, not giving her attention that she had always received, without time for her. This led her to a cycle of frustration and resentment, until, in a moment of anger, she made the mistake of saying that she betrayed him (when in fact, she didn't) she just wanted him to look at her again like the first time, you see that she drank, probably because she lacked the courage to say everything she wanted.

Molly was nothing more than a shadow of what Dutch wanted—a woman who loved him desperately but could never reach his heart. She spent her time trying to be seen by him, wanting the love he had already given to someone else, and she was consumed by it. Molly's tragedy is that she was just one more in the long list of people who believed too much in Dutch and ended up destroyed by it.

Attraction to Men Like Dutch – The Fascination with Power, Dangerous Charisma, and Protection:

Women who are typically attracted to men like Dutch are often influenced by deeper psychological factors, which can range from unconscious patterns to past experiences. His manipulative charisma triggers something called the halo effect, where his intelligence and eloquence make him seem more trustworthy and desirable than he actually is, creating the illusion that there is no need to worry because he appears to predict and plan everything before it happens. Additionally, there is the visionary leader archetype, someone who seems to understand the world better than others, a man who promises a grand future—something extremely attractive to those seeking emotional security or meaning in life.

(Most people who seek emotional and physical security are women, which is why it is not uncommon for younger women to choose older men, as in some cases they resemble the protective presence of a maternal figure, but in a romantic sense.)

Another explanation may also lie in what is called attraction to the charismatic narcissist. Men like Dutch are magnetic because they project absolute confidence and power, qualities that can activate primitive instincts of survival and protection. Some women also feel that they could be the “exception” for him, the only one capable of conquering his true love and being the constant companion by his side, which reinforces and fits into the savior fantasy, where they believe they can bring out the good side of a troubled man. But in the end, this usually leads to frustration and pain because the truth is, Dutch belongs to no one but himself—and perhaps his first true love. If you happened to be the kind of woman he truly desires, he might surrender that pride for love, but you would have to be the most unforgettable. He is the type of man who is nearly impossible to have kneeling at your feet.

What would it be like to be in a relationship with him?

If Dutch were truly in love, the relationship would be intense and psychological. He thrives on control and admiration, so he’d naturally take on a protective, almost mentor-like role with a younger woman. He’d enjoy being the one who teaches, impresses, and leads. In the beginning, he’d be incredibly charming—seductive, confident, making her feel like the most important person in the world. But Dutch also has a narcissistic side. He craves absolute loyalty and validation, and if he ever felt like he was losing control or giving in too much, he could emotionally distance himself. If she became an obstacle to his ambitions, he would likely grow cold, prioritizing his dreams over her. Dutch always seeks something greater, something that fuels his ego, and if he ever felt trapped, he wouldn’t hesitate to walk away.

However, if she wasn’t an obstacle—if she admired him, supported his vision, and fueled his sense of power—then he could be deeply devoted in his own way. He would spoil her with attention, make her feel special, and keep her close as his most trusted confidante. As long as she reinforced his greatness and never made him feel small, she could be the one person he’d truly hold onto.

What would it be like if it was the opposite of an obstacle, but rather his pure Love for her?

If Dutch truly loved this woman and saw her as his ally, he would be intense and protective. His affection would come through striking gestures—firm embraces, deep kisses, holding her waist or face while speaking in an intimate and captivating tone. He would love to see her admiration and make sure she knew how special she was.

He would show his affection through small luxuries—a ring, a necklace, or something symbolic; he is a man of refined tastes. If she strengthened his pride, he would protect her above all else. In his most vulnerable moments, he might lower his guard only for her, lying beside her at night, sharing his dreams and fears—things he would never admit to anyone else.

( - ❤︎ - )

𝓢𝓮𝓪𝓷 𝓜𝓪𝓬𝓖𝓾𝓲𝓻𝓮 -

Sean???? Oh my, he's the complete opposite of Dutch, I know a few things about him that I believe define him as the man he is; boy, Sean seems to be younger, not as young as Lenny or Tilly, but young, Arthur calls him a "kid" sometimes. He's that outgoing guy, who makes fun of everything and never takes himself seriously. He has a chaotic and youthful energy, a free spirit that likes a good fight and a good drink. Many women are attracted to this type of personality because he is the opposite of monotony. It brings fun, and a little irresponsibility. Psychologically, he can represent that guy who makes you forget the problems, who requires nothing but to live in the moment. In addition, he has an Irish accent that can be very charming for some people, and his self-confidence (even exaggerated) gives a certain charm. I've talked to some people in English and I don't understand the accent because everything seems the same to me, but the redneck accent of the United States I can feel when they speak, so the Irish would be a faster accent and with some elongated words when pronounced. He is bold, playful, often drunk—a man who takes pleasure in teasing and being teased. He makes people laugh when they don’t want to, and even when the entire gang is sighing in frustration, they know he’s an enjoyable presence. He pulls you into situations you never imagined yourself in, and suddenly, you realize you’re enjoying it. There’s something pure about the way he throws himself into life—fearless, without overthinking the future. He may not be the most reliable, he may be reckless and quite irresponsible, but there’s something charming about that—because with him, life is never dull.

Sean MacGuire’s Possible Red Flags:

Sean has always had a chaotic energy—in a fun way—but he can also be frustrating. He’s not the kind of man you can trust with your life—let alone your heart. He’s the guy who disappears for days and returns as if nothing happened, probably laughing with a wild story to tell. He also has an inflated ego, always believing he’s the center of attention, which can be annoying if someone tries to have a serious conversation with him.

And… what about Karen? Well, they had a fling during Sean’s welcome-back party at camp, but it was never serious. Sean never seemed like the type to commit—he lives in the moment and doesn’t get attached. That carefree attitude can be thrilling for someone looking for excitement, but frustrating for someone wanting something deeper. He makes you feel special in the moment, but the next day, he might be making another woman laugh just the same. However, he didn’t really flirt with other women at camp, at least not openly. There’s even a scene where Karen almost slaps him, possibly days after their fling, and later she cries, saying he only cares about her when he’s drunk. Sean asks why she’s upset, and she just says everything is fine and tells him to keep doing whatever he was doing. After his death in Rhodes, Karen starts drinking heavily, which might say more about how much she actually cared.

What Attracts Women to Sean?

If Dutch is a dangerous addiction, Sean is pure mischief. What makes him attractive is that he has no filter—he says what he thinks, and what he thinks is usually funny. Physically, he has a rougher charm. He’s not the best-looking guy in camp (at least not in my opinion!), but he has that mischievous smile, that glint in his eye that makes it seem like he has a secret only you can uncover. He’s not a typical heartthrob, but his energy is irresistible. Many women end up with men who make them laugh, caring less about looks when the personality is that magnetic. His carefree and spontaneous nature is also a big part of his appeal. He’s not always trying to impress—he simply is that way. That makes interactions with him feel genuine, even if he’s not the most reliable man around. For those who love a free spirit, someone who lives without fear or restraint, Sean is hard to ignore.

His playful and teasing nature creates a quick sense of intimacy, like he’s someone you can truly be yourself around—laugh until your stomach hurts and forget about your worries. He provokes and challenges, but never in a threatening way, which can be exciting. And his slightly childish pride can even be charming, making it feel like he’s always trying to impress, even if he won’t admit it.

Attraction to Men Like Sean – The Charm of the Teaser and the Free Spirit

Men like Sean represent a different kind of psychological fascination. They are teasers, playful, and INSISTENT, which triggers a phenomenon called the chase effect—the idea that the more someone provokes and challenges you, the more engaging they become. Their bold and daring nature creates tension, a push-and-pull dynamic that can be exciting for many women.

Additionally, Sean fits the archetype of the man who pursues, which can activate something known as validation through desire—when someone feels more attractive and valued because they are being intensely desired. He has no fear of showing interest, and that can be irresistible, especially in contrast to men who are more closed off or indifferent. He’s not a bad choice. c:

How could Sean be if he was really attracted in the romantic sense, by a woman?

If Sean truly liked a woman, he would show affection in a spontaneous and playful way. He’s not the type for grand romantic declarations, but he’d express his feelings through teasing, cheeky nicknames, and casual touches—throwing his arm around her shoulders or messing up her hair just to hear her complain. He would probably try to impress her by telling exaggerated (or completely made-up) stories about his adventures, just to make her laugh. In more sincere moments, he might lower his guard and be surprisingly sweet—holding her hand when no one was looking or pulling her into a dance for no reason, just because. And despite his reckless nature, if he truly cared, he would try to protect her in his own way, even if it meant getting into trouble to defend her.

At his core, Sean’s affection would come from his loyalty and the way he’d make sure to always be around, making life lighter and more fun.

Conclusion:

Dutch Van der Linde and Sean are the complete opposite of each other, each reflecting a different type of masculine figure for different women, or perhaps there are high and low levels! It all depends on the person.

I hope you liked it, goodbye! ❤︎

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption two #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 community #rdr2 dutch #dutch van der linde #dutch #sean mcguire #sean macguire #red dead redemption 2 #rdr fandom #rdr x reader #rdr2 fanfic #psychological analysis #end

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fictionfolk-safehaven · 3 days ago

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Ok sorry small rant about anti Endos but why are they always the weirdest ones about "problematic" in sys relationships???? Like ok Endos and pro Endos can be weird too but I know some anti endos and the way they'll react to learning like, an alter who presents as a minor used to date an alter who presents as an adult is TELLING like pls why are you calling my headmate a pedophile what's wrong with you????? (Genuine event that has happened to me-)

Like I'm sorry but some people have such..... Strict views of what alters can be in terms of how they present and alter age and shit. In our system, alter age isn't worth shit unless they're actually mentally or emotionally a child. Which can apply to alters who present as adults. Like we have a little who's 25, that's just how we work!!! But we're like "oh yeah ray is 12 but he can do whatever he wants, he has the same mentality and emotional capacity as any other alter" and suddenly people are like "BUT HES A LITTLE!!!!! HES A CHILD!!!!!" like wow really? I didn't know. 🧍‍♂️but then I say the 17 year old boy can't even date and people are like "why can't he have autonomy :// don't treat him like a child" LIKE MAN YOU DONT KNOWWWW HIMMMMM. anyways sorry it pisses me off???

The whole "blah blah blah can littles consent" discourse was crazy like man, we have a 12 year old dating an 8 year old and they're chilling. They're vibing. We have a 17 year old who can't even be trusted alone because he has a panic attack if someone talks to him. ALTER AGE DOESN'T MEAN SOMETHING FOR EVERY SYSTEM AHDJSJSJ sorry I'm calm, I'm so calm......

Shout out ray, he would have a boyfriend if he wasn't aroace

(also people who comment on littles having sexualitys are the ones making it weird....

"oh how does the 5 year old know he likes Men???'"

Idk leave me alone 🧍‍♂️)

-🕷️📺 anon? I think that was the order

This is a goddamn mood because our ages are all varying forms of "Lol idk. Around the age of everyone else in terms of mentality."

Usually either "I dunno, in source I was probably around [age] so... That, but like, I'm the same as everyone else with age." Or "I am an immeasurably old, vast creature. Age is laughably irrelevant."

#last bit sounds dramatic but isually in SP it presents as “older than you” or “from the beginning of time”#the inmortals get sassy about their age idfk #so like. mood in the sense that we're the exact opposite #plural #endo safe #fictive #plurality #plural community #plural system

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novella-november · 5 months ago

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Is this fanfic friendly? I feel like an outlier.

I guess this is my sign it's time to throw together a FAQ post to link to lol.

Yes, every event for this blog is fanfic friendly :D

Though as I mentioned on my Ominous October post, for events that include multiple short stories, I encourage everyone to flex their creativity and take one of their planned short story fanfics, and at least *attempt* to turn one of them into something entirely original; rebuilding a character and story from the ground up to stand on its own two legs is no easy feat, and that is what makes it so fun!

It really gets your creative gears turning, to make an "au of an existing material" to be something entirely original, and you can be pleasantly surprised about the things you come up with!

As a few people say, its not just a matter of "filing the serial numbers off" -- you have to add in just as much *or more* as what you take out when you are turning a fanfiction into something that is original and completely divorced from its original source material / inspiration, and that is a hard, but very rewarding challenge!

Obviously, this is not a requirement (there's no hard requirements for any of the challenges, other than no cheating, including no using AI),

but if you would like an extra challenge for the short story events and you're planning on doing entirely fan-fiction, I highly recommend trying it out at least once, and seeing where it leads you--

you may find yourself pleasantly surprised by what you find down that rabbit hole!

#replies #novella november #long rambly tags to follow lol #including anti royalist / anti billionaire shit #ominous october #this is what my novella november is going to be #something that WAS a huge earth-shattering fanfic AU #but before I even got past a WIP Oneshot I'd already realized that what I was planning was going to turn canon so far on its head it would #be unrecognizable and it would be much better off and more coherent if I made it entirely original #so now it is!#not only does this involve changing every single characters name #everyone is now a completely different species other than human because thats always fun #and of course we're also tackling all the issues that had annoyed me in omega verse fics since I was like 14 and liked the #creature aspects but hated the biological essentialism and misogny / caste systems #if your fantasy people have an enforced caste system you gotta actually treat that like the horror and systemic oppression it is #not just say 'biological = right' like dude what do you think people have been saying about real women this whole time????#people literally insist women are biologically inferior to men do you really think supporting that idea is going to make you sound #progressive just because your main character is a tomboy independant woman?#also like she lost all her independence as soon as she found a man to marry so uhhhhh #what happened to being ready and willing to hit the bricks if people kept talking down to you and condescending you for being a woman????#why did you go from independant badass tomboy to fainting damsel who spends all her time worrying about failing to produce an heir #so her husband can take power #instead of just straight up telling your husband #'hey I don't want to deal with the bullshit from your father how about we do the-#- socially acceptable thing and just go off to make our own independant settlement with some of the villagers who are on your side'#like your husband would literally be escstatic about this idea of finally getting out from under his dad's tyrannical thumb #and its more like way more than half the villagers would go with you not just a handful #theyve been sick of the kings shit for years and only your husband's potential rise to rule kept them in check #cus he actually cares about the villagers and goes among them #while still clearly having some biases to work through when it comes to class and gender equality

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boyobjectifier · 2 months ago

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a relationship so terrible you end up questioning your entire sexuality and everything about yourself

#i think i’m genuinely still upset about our ex (i say our because he was dating five separate people)#not even ‘i think’ — i KNOW i’m still upset.#and it’s making me wonder why i keep turning to emotionally unavailable masc people who VERY #clearly are trying to take advantage of me and very clearly demonstrate the fact that they will not be there in the way they should be #because in the moment of those Times i find myself giving people the benefit of the doubt in the way i wish people would give me the benefit #of the doubt. and i find myself forgiving them because that’s how love should be.#but i’m forgiving them for things that are so unforgivable that when i look back on it…. i get upset and angry and want to defend myself and #tell them that what they did is wrong. and they should apologize for it and own up to their shit.#but i know they never will and then i feel like i’m standing in front of my parents begging them to see me and hear me out and treat me -#like they should. i find myself repeating cycles that shouldn’t even exist all because i love. i love and i forgive and i trust and i give #and i confide in people who make themselves seem trustworthy #just so they can get their fresh hit of dopamine from someone new. and i feel like they mean it.#until i look back again and see that it’s all the same. every time. it’s the same thing when i read between the lines of their messages.#i’m not even just talking about one person. it kept happening and i’m always left feeling like i did something wrong because #i just wanted them to love me. and i loved them. or i could’ve loved them in a very real way.#i never know if they leave because they’re not interested or if i’m too much or if they were TOO interested.#i don’t know. but i’m still mad. i’m upset.#perpetually pouting.#if you care.#still gay as fuck obviously. just routinely questioning if i even like men. idk idk idk.#h.txt

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mrfoox · 10 months ago

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Sooo... Not being able to sleep and crying for 3 hours didn't do me any good huh

#miranda talking shit #I want to die but otherwise I'm good #Learning in real time how little I mean is not a fun bonus when that's what I'm already crying about #I guess I'm just too hard and everyone is different but man being told “I don't want to see you suffering” as I am #And then having the person ignore me as I'm sobbing on the other side of the room... Jao #Words means less than dirt then. Men's solution to any bad emotion someone feels being “ok ill leave you alone”#Without asking... No. I don't expect therapy or extreme care but even just sitting next to me would have done so much more #But at least I get to practice my quiet crying skills #I went out on an 50 min walk at 3 am and the reaction I got was an text that asked where I'm going #His cats showed more concern for me and they have brains like babies #“if something happened you can tell me” why is it always with men that something must have happened suddenly?#No nothing new has happened but my life situation is garbage rn and I feel alone and isolated and unloved? But that's not something that #Is new. So no. Nothing happened I can't say that uh #Feel like dewie in mitm “I expect nothing and still I'm let down”#Ok rant over its 9 am yeah

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bettsfic · 10 months ago

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one of the best decisions i've ever made was to stop arguing.

i'd always been an arguer. i was defensive about everything and mindlessly contrary. it wasn't all my fault; i was (and still am) talked down to and patronized a lot, and when you live your life that way, you become kind of a raw nerve and dedicate a lot of energy to trying to prove yourself. someone even told me once, "it's just fun messing with you. you get so upset."

at 23, i was working in an environment where about a half dozen middle aged conservative men were always telling me what to do and explaining things to me. i either argued with them when they said heinous things or stewed about it for hours or even days. and so my new year's resolution one year was simply: no arguing.

it felt a little like defeat at first, like i was no longer standing up for what i believed in, even though no matter how right i was or how much proof i had for my claims, no one had ever been swayed by anything i told them. part of that was because they had no respect for me and didn't take me seriously; the other part was the simple truth that arguments are almost never productive. when someone says something and you immediately reply with, "you're wrong and here's why," a wall goes up and nothing can go over it.

i couldn't just let these men talk at me though, so i started asking questions. not leading questions, not with an intention to prove a point or walk them into a corner. i genuinely wanted to understand how they came to shape the opinions they held. i realized that understanding and agreeing are two different things, and just because i seek to understand doesn't mean i condone.

a truly fascinating thing happened: these men walked into corners all by themselves. it turns out nobody had ever actually tasked them with speaking their opinions aloud to a neutral audience. no one had ever been sincerely curious about them and their views. sure, their loved ones probably asked, "how are you doing?" all the time as a show of affection, but that's much different than, "what do you think?"

knowing what i know now, i think that's true of everyone. how many people ask you for your opinion and listen to what you have to say without speaking their opinion back to you? without judging you? how many people actively and intentionally try to understand you?

it's been over ten years since my resolution and i think i can count the arguments i've gotten into on one hand. one finger, even. it's amazing what happens when someone tries to rile you up, pick a fight with you, and your only response is, "can you elaborate on that?"

you can work someone into a very open and vulnerable state when you ask questions. they eventually run out of their usual talking points and move into the personal. when i do this, it's not like therapy; i'm not trying to help anyone. and it's not like teaching; i'm not trying to educate anyone. i just want to understand how people reach the conclusions they've come to. even after all these years of asking questions and not arguing, it still amazes me how few people in this world feel understood, and how easy it is to get them to open up when you say, "i want to know what you think."

#writing advice

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tobeornottotc · 5 months ago

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They probably refused to say it was a romance or bl because it isn’t. it won’t have a happy ending and that’s what an actual romance requires and how Gmmtv views the criteria of a bl. with this new plot twist clearly they won’t end up being with each other but more like help each other grow and find peace and move on from their guilt unfortunately that a romance does not make. It’s very Parbdee to take something tragic and make it semi romantic but have it not a true romance because they are separated by death and the afterlife sigh it’s their ammo only time we got lucky was Be my favorite because it had to fulfill the bl criteria lmao. Parbdee strikes again and I’m not surprised…

Ugh! Peaceful Property! You wanted a cross-class romance!? How about we actually dive into the full-on physical and spiritual oppression that produces those classes?? How about we actually depict capitalist systems as literally horrific?? But let's not stop there!! How about we show the wealthy protagonist as directly complicit in those horrors?? Not enough?? How about we make him literally kill the poorer romantic lead?? How about we actually explore what it would mean for someone whose wealth is built on nepotism and a history of exploited labor to recognize what that means about their relationships to other people in the world?? What kinds of compassion do the wealthy need to ask for and what practices and mindsets do they need to change before those they've hurt can even begin to live life unafraid of financial ruin, let alone actually caring for the wealthy love-interest?? What ghosts haunt a cross-class romance and how can we truly exorcise them????

#the only way it seems for them to give a good writing for bl is only when it’s depressing it seems #or ending with death I just have to laugh #because to me like it can be tweaked every time it can be made into something substantial and deeper and have a happy ending after #they tell the story they want but with Parbdee #especially the bigger Parbdee lot the good writers it’s like queerness is so intertwined with seperation and death #or just intense friendship and tbh I know it’s great writing #it always is with them however it never sits well with me #that that’s all they have the mind for each time they want to #show a bond between two men that’s love but also not #it works cause we desperately need good stories about relationships with men that aren’t bl ified in Thai terms #but it always never sits well with me each time #I wonder why they just can’t make it end fully with that romance after giving a deep complex plot somehow #shipper they gave a way out but never intended to return to focus on the romance of it all #it’s just all so Parbdee #can’t even be shocked they are the team I beg the most for bl #but you only get great writing from these writers effort and what not when they #know they don’t need to add bl to it #and that’s sad cause a bl should have this effort of story telling this pain this healing journey this slow burn and growth #this mystery this fantasy this depth this complexity #even the whole plot is a BL romance and it can end happily it can weave a plot hole it can give the romance at the end #but it won’t happen #and that’s why I’ll be stuck where I am constantly craving something but never really getting it with Parbdee big writers #at least people get to enjoy good writing in gmmtv and get a good story #I just don’t do well with tragedies or seperation so it’ll never be for me #if this was a Kdrama they would make it both romance and semi open at the end cause they know how to do both for het stories #but for bl it’s like it must be one way or another

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partiallysame · 9 days ago

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I'm sorry if this is a weird request, I love your writing a lot and you bring me great comfort, and I've been binging ur stories after my ex cracked me in the face (enjoy jail Ryan)

how do you think poly 141 with a civilian s/o who comes home from work, not expecting them to be home from deployment, with a bloodied lip and black eye, a tear across her forehead that slowly oozes blood. Maybe her own knuckles are bruised and split from where she had fought off the two men who jumped her. Her pants were torn at the knees from where she grappled on the ground. Johnny's jean jacket he let her borrow was nowhere in sight left in dust as she ran for her life.

I love your writing again, I hope ur safe and please eat well and rest ❤️❤️ don't let anyone get away with putting their hands on you.

First and foremost fuck you Ryan rot in jail and hell bitch

The adrenaline had finally started to wear off as you pulled your car into the driveway, only to start to panic again when you realized your husband and your boys were home early. Like two weeks early. You sat in your car for a few moments trying to wipe the blood from your face, your hands, your knees, trying anything to look like what just happened didn’t actually happen. But the second your car pulled in they all made their way out, too excited to see their Missus to wait for her to come inside. Johnny was the first to reach the car, always so eager to see you. You sat still in your car. He tried to open the door but it was still locked. Crouching down to motion for you to open the door, maybe you were on the phone or something and that's why you hadn’t gotten out yet. But as he lowered himself to see you, only to be met with a nightmare sight.

“Sweet’art open the door.” Voice serious in a way you had never heard before. His hand reached behind him to wave the rest of the men over, not wanting to yell for them and scare you more than you already seemed. You shook your head no. They weren’t supposed to see you like this. You were fine. You made it home, you were safe now, you were gonna fix up all your wounds and be healed before they got home. But here they were trying to coax you out of the car as tears streamed down your face. Fingers slowly pressing the unlock button, both the drivers and passenger side doors were swung open. Johnny reached over you to unbuckle your seatbelt and scooping you up out of the car.

“Bring me my wife.” It was an order that MacTavish was not going to follow until you were pulled from his arms. “M’sorry’s” poured from your mouth between sobs as you clung to your husband and were brought into the house and set so gently on the kitchen counter, allowing the four men to get a full view of your beaten body. You sat, body shaking slightly from the adrenaline and pain that was starting to set in as they stared. Stared and the dark purple forming around your eye. Staring at the gash across your cheek and your split lip. Drops of blood on your torn shirt, jeans shredded at the knees, wet bloodied fabric stuck to the scrapes on your knees. They were all looking at you so differently. You thought your husband was going to cry, Johnny too. Kyle looked so broken. You had been working so hard for Simon to soften to open up to you and he was, but the look on his face scared you.

Working in perfect unison the men started to undress you, removing your bloodied clothes. A first aid kit was set next to you as they each took a portion of you to care for. Apologizing when you’d wince at the pain of being cleaned up. Johnny was holding an ice pack up to your eye as Kyle took off his shirt for you to wear. None of them were willing to leave your side long enough to just grab new clothes from down the hall. Another “I’m sorry” fell from you and your husband felt like he was going to snap.

“My Love, please stop apologizing. It’s not yer fault honey. Can ya tell us what happened?” You nodded and recounted how two men had cornered you after work, wanting your purse. How they thought you weren’t handing it over fast enough.

“But I’m a captain’s wife you know? Not just gonna take it lying down now am I? You should see the other guys.” You tried to joke and motioned to your split knuckles that Simon had so carefully wrapped up for you.

“Where?” Simon’s voice came out harsh and the men snapped their heads toward him, a warning to calm down. (They’d find who did it later but rn the focus is on their Missus)

“I’m sorry Johnny.” You turned toward the large scot still holding the ice pack. He lowered it because he wanted you to see his face when he told you there was no reason to apologize.

“But I was wearing your jacket. You know the jean one you left for me. The one that smells like you. The one you look so handsome in. It came off and I left it there.” Your breathing picked up again, tears threatening to spill at losing his favorite jacket. You barely finished your confession when he was pulling you into his chest, strong arms feeling so warm and gentle around you.

“Don’ care about a fuckin’ jacket. You came home lovie. That's what I care about.”

#prices lil wife #tf 141 #poly!141 #comfort #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #cod x you #soap x reader

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yazmarina · 6 months ago

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walk me through it

for the love circuit series

—you're used to being flirted with in front of the camera. but something about franco is really doing you in.

franco colapinto (f1) x fem!reporter reader

warnings/notes: smut, unprotected sex (no condom, yes birth control), guided masturbation, lewd photography, lots of flirting, franco is shameless (naturally), some Spanish sentences and phrases

a/n: will resume hit play for a bit after this one! enjoy franco girlies mwa

Your job was simple enough. Well, for today, at least.

Stand in the media pen, gather statements, and piece together a couple of stories later that evening for publishing first thing tomorrow morning. All in a day's work, like all the other days before.

You've grown immune to the charms of rich, adrenaline-seeking men. Didn't take you too long, the illusion breaking as soon as any one of them opened their mouths. Some you tolerate more than others, but some you'd rather steer clear of completely.

This isn't to say that you've brushed all of them off. You might have agreed to a date here and there but nothing ever stuck, the nature of your jobs a bit too similar and all too different at the same time. You've given up on the prospect that you'll somehow end up with one of the many Formula 1 drivers you've interviewed and spoken to. And you've spoken to a lot. You've had this gig since you were shipped off fresh from uni and one too many 'What happened there?'s and 'Tell me about qualifying's can put a damper on the romantic side of things.

But someone new's in town. Well, er, new in the paddock. And you'd be lying if you said you weren't even a little bit excited.

He's charming, that much you can already tell. He walks into the media pen like he's done it thousands of times before and you have to actively suppress a smile as he walks over. Confidence is always a plus. For the interview, of course.

"Hola, Franco. Antes que nada, enhorabuena," you greet warmly, extending your arm over the barrier to place the microphone nearer to him. Hi, Franco. First of all, congratulations.

Franc's eyebrows shoot up, a wolfish grin settling on his face. "Oh. I thought this was an English interview?"

You smile back. "It is, but I know my way around Spanish, as well."

"Ah," Franco nods. "Gracias, _______."

"You know my name?" You ask, momentarily forgetting that you're being taped and recorded. You clear your throat, ignoring the quiet snicker from your cameraman.

"Yeah, I've seen you around and watched some of your other interviews," Franco confirms, a hand settling on his hip as he leans against the barrier, closer to you.

You can smell his perfume from where you stand.

"Thank you, I've heard and seen a lot about you as well," you respond, trying to return to your original train of thought.

"Which is why I want to ask you how it feels on your first day as a Formula 1 driver," you quickly follow. "Have you done anything special to prepare for this weekend? Other than the obvious, of course."

Another easy smile spreads across Franco's lips. "I've definitely added to my training and done some new things to prepare. I haven't done a full F1 weekend before so everything will be new."

"We definitely don't have reporters like you in the lower Formulas," he adds.

You feel a violent blush rip up through your neck all the way to your cheeks. As if the Monza heat wasn't enough.

"Well, I'm glad you could meet me here," you manage to get out.

The thing is, Franco isn't even the most attractive driver you've met. He's definitely up there, but not the most.

That's a discussion you have with yourself semi-weekly: ranking the drivers in terms of attractiveness, factoring in personalities and general attitudes towards the people around them, specifically the media.

Look, people love to shit on the media and press, calling journalism all sorts of derogatory words, but you're just here to do your job, like anyone else. And it gets pretty fucking hard when your boss is ringing your phone every five minutes demanding four stories by tomorrow and drivers are sassing you out as if you asked them if they've murdered their whole family.

So, naturally, the way they treat you determines a big chunk of how you think your day is going to pan out.

And right now, Franco seems to be lifting your spirits just fine.

"What are your goals for this weekend? Are points on the horizon for you at your first F1 race?" You continue, trying not to stare at the way Franco starts to rub at the back of his neck, bashful all of a sudden.

"We'll try," Franco begins. He plants both his hands on the barrier and leans even closer. You have to physically take a step back.

You gulp. Franco smiles.

"Anything is possible this weekend."

"You broke the internet last night."

You scoff, sending your cameraman a vicious side-eye. It's crowded in the paddock today, everyone wanting to get a glimpse of the new rookie, it seems. Such is the eagerness for this young driver that even that 30-second clip of your interview with him blew right up in your face. Your inboxes at capacity, your own voice speaking back to you with every other swipe on your TikTok.

It's not all bad, though. A tweet with one of your Instagram photos attached to it captioned 'TE ENTIENDO MUCHO FRANCO ES MUY LINDA PERIODISTA' did weasel out a chuckle from you.

Your cameraman shrugs, gesturing with a jerk of his head in front of you.

"There he is. I'm sure he knows all about it."

You look over to where he's pointing and lo and behold, Franco is right there, chatting with a few Williams team members, his race suit hanging undone around his waist. He turns to you even before you can fully register that it's him you're looking at.

But your training kicks in even faster. A megawatt smile appears on your lips and you wave enthusiastically at Franco.

"Hi."

"_______," Franco says, face lighting up at the sight of you. Your name seems to fall even more effortlessly off his lips.

You reach over and pull him into a half-hug with one arm, but both his arms wind around you and you have no choice but to squeeze back.

"You saw?" Franco asks, a gleam in his eye as he pulls away. His hand remains casually on the small of your back.

"Saw what?" You know what it is he's asking but you'd like to hear it from him.

"We went viral, no?" Franco says with a laugh, reaching further around you and squeezing your waist. You lean into his touch, heart jumping as his fingers graze just underneath your cropped top.

"That's all because of you," you reason, pointing an accusatory finger at Franco. "I bet you say that to all the other reporters."

The Williams team members standing nearby burst out laughing and even your cameraman affords a snicker. A deep blush spreads across Franco's face as he rubs your side reassuringly.

"No, no, I don't. Just you," Franco admits with another lighthearted laugh.

"Sure," you say with exaggerated skepticism. You pull away from his touch, catching his hand before he slips it fully off of you.

"I'll talk to you later," you say. And it's fully intentional, the words you choose to say. I'll talk to you later. Not 'I'll catch you later' or 'I'll see you later'.

I will talk to you later.

Franco understands, giving your hand a squeeze.

Later that day, you pray that no one catches you grinning behind your hand as Franco takes the chequered flag at qualifying.

P11.

Almost there.

"Hi. Come in."

Franco beams at you from across the threshold, stepping into your room with slow, measured steps.

"Great qualifying," you compliment, eyes traveling down Franco's body, noting the way his team kit hugs his frame just right, his hands shoved into his pockets, exposing just his arms, veins and all.

Your eyes snap back up to his face when you hear the door shut in place.

"Q2 on your debut. Not bad," you go on, taking a step back. Franco takes one toward you.

"You're just repeating what you said at the media pen earlier," Franco points out. He reaches out and gently circles an arm around your waist.

Always straight to the point.

Like this morning.

You tried not to make it so obvious when you ran into Franco earlier, but all you could think about was The Message.

You were doing your cursory social media checks a few minutes after you had woken up, still snug in your bed and unwilling to get up just yet. A message in your Instagram inbox caught your attention, sitting at the very top of your 'verified followers' tab.

Franco Colapinto: hola, hermosa 😉

It took a minute for your motor functions to return, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you pored over what to reply. You settled on a nonchalant greeting, asking if Franco needed anything.

You realized rather belatedly that this was looking a little familiar. You wished he wouldn't say the dreaded answer, the more-than-predictable response that every man liked to use.

Franco Colapinto: you, maybe?

You groaned into your pillow, not because you were repulsed by his answer, but because you liked it. If you were easy, then so was he.

You: i finish work at 9 pm tonight...? 👀

It's 9 PM now. Franco's in the room and your hand is running up his chest.

Easy.

"It's such an honor," Franco teases, backing you up further into the room. His hands feel heavy on your waist and your heart hammers against your chest.

"I get to work with people like you now," Franco continues, stopping right in front of the bed.

The kiss comes as a shock more so because of how good Franco kisses. One of his hands is now cradling the back of your head, keeping you in place while he licks into your mouth, groaning with every pucker of your lips.

You pull away for barely a second to get both of your tops off before you dive back in, seemingly too desperate and too starved for each other's mouths. Franco's hands are everywhere; they run down your arms, paw at your waist, tugging at the belt loops of your jeans.

You giggle as he pulls you even closer, your bare chests pressed against each other. Franco pulls back and peers down at you, reaching behind to unclasp your bra. You let it fall, already guiding one of his hands to your tits.

"Couldn't stop staring at them?" You ask, your voice rising with an innocent lilt.

Franco kneads at the mound beneath his hand, eliciting a moan from you. He grins.

"I wanted you to notice," Franco admits simply, kissing you again.

"Perv," you mumble against his lips. Franco laughs, already undoing his trousers.

You wiggle your own way out of your jeans, letting Franco get the shortest of glimpses at your baby pink underwear before you discard them off to the side.

"Mierda, you're so sexy," Franco compliments as you crawl backward onto the bed, laying back and letting your hair splay out beneath you.

Franco pounces on you like a man starved, bare atop your own naked body, his arms caging you in.

"Big moves from somebody so new," you whisper, carding your fingers through Franco's soft locks.

"I like to make a statement," Franco says with a shrug. He glances up momentarily, something piquing his interest off to the side.

"Is that your camera?"

You crane your neck to see where he's looking and sure enough, your personal DSLR is right there on the bedside drawer. You look back at Franco, an eyebrow raised.

"You wanna use it?" You ask, not expecting him to actually say yes. But a mischievous grin settles on Franco's face and you feel your heart skip several beats.

"Knock yourself out," you say.

Franco reaches for the camera and fiddles with it for a few seconds. His eyes scan over your body and you suddenly feel the urge to hide away with how hard he's looking.

"May I?" Franco asks, brandishing the camera. Your mouth falls open as you realize what he's asking.

"You can keep them for yourself. For your eyes only," Franco hurriedly adds, planting his knees firmly on either side of you.

You stare up at him, a million thoughts running through your mind.

"Just...touch yourself."

You gasp, stunned at his proposal. Franco watches through the LCD monitor, glancing up at you through his lashes. Your bottom lip slips between your teeth, and as if on instinct, your hand inches down slowly between your legs.

"You're in front of cameras all the time," Franco reminds with a smirk. "This should be easy for you."

You suppress a whimper at his words, your fingertips swiping through your slick folds. You're already soaked and you start to wonder if it started even before Franco got here.

The shutter clicks and the lens whirs, sharp against the soft breaths you're letting out. Franco is concentrated, snapping photo after photo as you rub yourself closer to release. But it's not enough. You need more.

"Franco...," you implore, peering up with bright, begging eyes.

"Slowly, mi amor," Franco coos. "Just where you like it. Right there."

Click.

"Harder now, but still slow. Yes? Feels good?"

You whine, eyes fluttering shut as your pleasure picks up again. Several clicks. You're panting now, the tendrils of release wrapping themselves around you.

"Faster, yes, like that," Franco eggs on. Your fingers speed up against your sensitive clit and a litany of Franco's name spills from your lips. Before you know it, he's putting the camera away. You reach for him, gripping the back of his neck as he smashes his lips into yours.

Franco bites down on your lip and you cry out, your orgasm washing over you like a tide. You arch against Franco, feeling his own stiffness heavy on your thigh.

You blink, Franco's face coming into focus, barely an inch from yours. He watches you closely, pupils blown wide and plump lips even redder. You hook your legs around his waist, letting him know that you're not done yet.

Franco is quick to pick up, smiling as lines himself up with you. The groan that escapes him is nothing short of delicious as he pushes himself in. You gasp along, the stretch a welcome sensation.

Franco wastes no time and pounds right into you, catching you by surprise. You let your head fall back against the mattress, a long, drawn-out whine erupting from deep within your chest as Franco licks a stripe up your neck.

Your whole body quakes with how hard he's thrusting into you but you're clearly enjoying it if your wanton moans are anything to go by. Franco meets your eyes and you pull him down, wanting nothing more than to drown in those lips of his.

It's feral and it's unrestrained, spurred on by the knowledge that this is more than unprofessional in your line of work. Not illegal by any means, but risky enough to warrant warnings from your coworkers. Never sleep with a driver unless you're committed.

Oh, well.

Franco groans loudly in your ear, movements losing their rhythm as he speeds up. You're clinging to him as if he'd disappear if you let go, your own belly tightening once more with that familiar feeling.

Franco. Franco. Franco.

He kisses you just as he finishes. Passionate, eager, heady. You feel him inside you, a different kind of elation filling you as you release all over him.

Franco pulls away to allow yourselves to breathe. He pulls out, rolling over to your side. You hug your folded knees to your chest, too lazy to get up and find something to deal with the mess.

"No hagas eso. Eso es demasiado doméstico," Franco jokes, moving closer and planting a kiss to your shoulder. Don't do that. That's too domestic.

"Relájate, estoy usando anticonceptiva," you reassure with a lighthearted roll of your eyes. Relax, I'm on birth control.

Franco hums, laying an arm over you. He pulls you close and you face him, reaching up to brush away some of his unruly hair.

He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Happy that you're a Formula 1 driver?" You ask, grinning.

Franco chuckles. "Very."

#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #f2 x reader #f2 fanfic #f2 smut #fc43 #franco colapinto x reader

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joelsgoldrush · 4 months ago

Text

“you can use my skin to bury secrets in” | 6.8k

old man!logan x f!reader

SUMMARY: Saliva floods his mouth as you rise to your feet, looking down at him from above. Gracefully angelic, and yet— “I know what I’m asking for,” you continue, your voice descending to a low murmur that scratches pleasantly against some dark and remote corner of his brain. Then you lower yourself onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his waist. You repeat your question: “Can I help you?” OR Logan had always known your generosity would get him in trouble. WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ cursing. drinking. pining. mentions of alcohol. dirty talk. age gap (reader's in her late 20s). logan’s POV. angst/self-deprecation (he just needs a little loving). religious imagery. feelings. petnames. chauffeur!logan. oral sex (m receiving, tiny bit of f receiving). sort of dom!logan. doggy style. unprotected p in v. creampie. A/N: i could say i'm sorry for this, but i'm not. love love love this old man (#needthat). heavily inspired by the song "i know" by fiona apple. @lubdubology my partner in crime who keeps putting up with me, tysm!!! hope you all enjoy it <3

The line between being a good and bad person is thin. So thin, in fact, that Logan finds himself stepping back and forth across it constantly.

Rescuing a kitten from a tree? Good.

Punching a guy at a bar because he didn’t feel like being acknowledged? Bad.

Saving countless lives from mass destruction? Good—heroic, even.

But killing others to do it? Bad—condemnable, scum of the earth.

Where does that leave him? Which side has laid claim to his soul? He’s long accepted he’ll never see the pearly gates.

When the day comes that his body can no longer take it, and he only grows wearier, he’s pretty sure there’s a special place in hell with his name on it, etched in some grave awaiting to be filled.

Maybe Satan’s already counting down the days until he shows up at his door, who knows?

Yet, the more time passes by, the less afraid he is of what lies beneath the surface. He’s learned to coexist with the darkness, with the kind of pain and loneliness that would crush most men.

He doesn’t know how, but he survives it—the agony, the memories, the solitude that hits him from time to time.

And still, he doesn't lose himself entirely. He’s tempted, of course, to linger in the past—it’s always easier to drown there.

If he could go back, he knows he wouldn’t be alone in choosing that path. Some days, it feels like the only option.

But there’s no you in his past.

Logan inhales sharply when your tongue teases his slit, lapping at the precum pooling there. You hum at the taste, your hand resting on his bare thigh, fingers pressing into his skin. Your other hand lazily strokes the length of him, working the inches your mouth can’t take.

It’s clear you’re enjoying this. He can tell from the way your lashes flutter each time he thrusts a little deeper into your slick warmth. A win-win situation.

Letting a girl like you do this to him? That’s bad. Very bad. Red flags all around.

He meets you when he least expects it.

It’s a night like any other. He’s been driving for God knows how long. His joints ache from being in the same position for hours, and a part of his left knee he didn’t even know could hurt begins to throb.

It takes everything in him not to call it quits for the night, not to turn around and head home like a coward.

When exactly his life fell into this monotonous cycle, he’s not entirely sure, but it happened somewhere along the way. Now, it’s all the same: taking care of Charles during the day, catching an hour or two of sleep, then gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, driving through endless stretches of road, resisting any attempts at small talk from the passengers he chauffeurs around.

They all try—every single one of them. They think if they can crack his harsh and bitter exterior, he’ll open up, reveal something, anything to make their eyes go wide.

But why? Why do they insist on breaking through his shell? What do they hope to discover?

No one really cares what’s going on in his mind. They just want to feel good about themselves—like they’ve been kind, amiable, empaths intending to fill some empty and obscure corner of their own lives.

Logan refuses to be the person who grants them that satisfaction.

You slip into the backseat of his limo, closing the door with a soft click. The night clings to you, the scent of the bar still lingering on your clothes. The music is loud enough for him to hear from outside, and he sees the people lined up at the door, willing to cause a fight if it means securing a good time.

There's a slight frown tugging at your features, your lips pulled downward, though your voice is still polite when you blurt out your address.

Five minutes into the drive and you haven’t said a word. Internally, he’s savoring the silence, so happy he could jump on one foot.

This kind of peace is rare. He’d grown unaccustomed to it. The tension in his shoulders eases as the city lights blur past.

But, all good things come to an end, because—

“How’s your night going?” you ask, fiddling with the seatbelt to have something between your fingers. Logan glances at you through the mirror, his eyes catching yours just for a moment, long enough to see the faint, apologetic smile you offer him. He allows himself a heartbeat more to take you in before focusing back on the road.

You click your tongue, a soft sound of disapproval ringing in his ears. “Well, thank you.”

He lets out a quiet huff, grinding his teeth together. “I’d prefer if we stayed like we were before,” he mutters, his voice rough and gravelly. His attention flickers between the passing cars and the occasional glimpses of you that startle him every time he searches for the mirror. Cars. You. Cars. You. You. You. “Y’know, not talking.”

“But that’s no fun at all,” you retort, sliding more to your left, nearly positioning yourself in the middle of the backseat. It gives him a better view of you—whether intentional or not, he can’t say.

The lipstick on your lips is still flawless. A sparkly necklace glints just above the neckline of your dress, and matching earrings dangle from your ears. Wrapped in a leather jacket, you look effortlessly alluring.

This entire sequence is enough to confirm that by no means is he going to heaven. Straight to hell, he thinks, allowing his gaze to trace over each detail of your frame. Straight to hell.

You don’t give up. “Your aura is off.”

That prompts a crooked smirk from him, a shake of his head as he mumbles under his breath: “M’sorry, my what’s off?”

“Your aura,” you clarify, motioning toward him with a light jingle from the many bracelets adorning your wrist. “It’s the energy that surrounds you.”

Logan snorts, amused for a brief second. “Well, you weren’t exactly a beacon of life when you got in either.”

You chuckle softly, leaning back against the seat and looking out the window. “I’m much better now.” A pause before you continue, your tone shifting, losing strength. “My date stood me up. Last-minute cancellation.”

It’s not anger, nor is it disappointment, that laces your words. You seem more resigned than anything else. He’d have expected you to sound at least a bit more conflicted.

“I should’ve seen it coming. He’d been asking to move it forward for a while.”

Does he look like the type of driver who doubles as a therapist? He wishes he could understand why you're telling him all this.

“That sucks,” he still responds, because even though he hasn’t gone out with a woman in what feels like centuries, he understands that sensation all too well. “First time meeting him?”

Listen up, everyone—he’s genuinely engaging in conversation with another soul. This doesn’t happen often.

He hears you hum, eyes still trained on the outside world. You sigh, crossing your arms over your torso. “Would you mind rolling your window up? I’m kind of freezing here.”

“I’d mind that very much,” he says, his voice carrying its usual gruff edge. He fights the urge to grin, but then you unbuckle your seatbelt, leaning in closer to him. Your body is wedged between his seat and the passenger’s, and he perceives your stare boring into his side profile. “Put your seatbelt back on.”

“You’re fucking with me.” Your finger taps his shoulder once, twice. “First, I get all dolled up for an idiot who bails on me, and now you have the nerve to make fun of me? Give me a break.”

Your eyes stay on him, a smile plastered on your face, anticipating any possible answer.

Crack, crack, crack—you intend to break through his shell, watching him from the front row, waiting for the moment it gives way.

Before you can say more, he cuts you off. “Seatbelt.”

It’s a command, an instruction, and you comply without hesitation.

Warmth pools and stirs low in his gut as he notes how quickly you obey him.

Would you still look at him like that if you knew the blood he’s scrubbed off his hands? The flesh that his claws have shredded? The names of the lives he’s taken?

Would your warm gaze turn cold, filled with dread instead of curiosity?

Maybe this is hell. Are you the Devil in disguise, tempting him to cross a line he won’t be able to come back from?

A few minutes later, he pulls up to your building. A really nice one, he notes. You announce you live on the sixth floor. He doesn’t need to know that, does he? Why would you tell him that? Why give that piece of information to a complete stranger?

You linger in the backseat, as though you’re expecting him to turn and look at you. And he does, though not for the reason you might expect. “You got everything?”

Eager and full of life, you nod, clutching your purse to your chest. You avert your gaze to read his ID tag, the one that contains his personal details. “James?”

“Glad you can read,” he utters, pulling out a small bottle of liquor from under the seat. He drains it all in one go, savoring the fleeting burn as it slides down his throat, which is enough to keep him going. “C’mon, kid. I already charged you.”

“You drink while you drive?”

“Keeps me entertained,” he says dryly. It’s the only thing he knows how to do. Raising the empty bottle in your direction, he arches a brow. “Goodnight, darlin’. Leave me a good review on your way out.”

You roll your eyes at him, silent as you exit the vehicle, closing the door behind you. While fumbling for your keys, four words escape your mouth. Casual yet devastating, they ruin him: “I’ll see you around.”

For a couple of days, you don’t bother him again. Bother—notice the implication of the verb in question.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t think of you after that drive. Each time his phone buzzes, a small, restless part of him hopes it’s you, asking for his services, wanting him to be the one you seek out.

And it happens. The best things seem to occur when the moon hangs high and bright.

You: Hi.

He stares at the message, recognition washing over him. He knows it’s you; he can see the other texts you exchanged that night he took you home.

You: Are you working tonight?

You’ve got to be kidding him.

Logan: Why are you texting me?

He types the words with frustration, his thumb hovering over the screen longer than usual.

You: Why are you answering me?

Oh, you’re smart.

Logan: Take my advice. Talk to a guy your own age.

You: Damn. Already jumping to conclusions. I was just going to ask you if you wanted to have a drink with me.

Logan: I’m busy.

You: Well, what time do you get off?

Logan: I work all night.

You: Can’t even make a quick stop? I swear it won’t take you more than twenty minutes.

An impulse to throw his phone out the window surges within him, but he manages to restrain himself.

Then, as if on cue, the device vibrates again—of course, it’s you.

You: The drinks are on me. Let me know if you change your mind.

Do you think he’s going to let you pay for him? Absolutely not.

What surprises him more than the message is how easily he remembers your address. It appears to be ingrained in his mind.

He cancels his next trip, scheduled for ten minutes from now, his new destination being your building.

Once he pulls up, he does what feels most natural: he honks. Multiple times. Maybe he’s lucky and you’ll tell him to fuck off.

But you don’t. You’re laughing as you make your way over to the limo, sliding into the backseat in the same way you did a week ago. Your plan had succeeded—you had him exactly where you wanted.

Far from hiding it, you make it evident, obvious. Your heartbeat thrums in the air, and Logan can hear it loud and clear, like the bass in one of those funky songs he likes.

There’s no room for mistakes. He won’t deny it. Even if the feeling is mutual, he can’t shake the idea that he’s doing something wrong.

In his eyes, you’re the forbidden fruit—irresistible, the ultimate temptation known to humankind, camouflaged in the fur of a pretty woman.

You, his paradise on earth, could only lead to one thing: a longing for a chance with you, which he should never be granted in the first place.

He’s diving headfirst into disgrace, and the more he realizes it, the worse it feels. If he were to be scolded like a child, maybe he’d feel relieved, but he’s no kid. He’s a grown-ass man who should be able to resist.

Yet, self-restraint is like sand slipping through his fingers—never lasting long enough.

“You came.” Astonishment. Uncertainty. Amusement. Blinking your eyes at him, you sit very upright, and you don't even bother fastening your seatbelt. “Honestly? I thought you were going to block me.”

I can’t, he thinks. I wouldn’t be able to. I’m not that strong.

“What happened this time? Another failed date?” he inquires, still not starting the car. A look of perplexity appears on your features, puzzled about why he’s not moving. “Ain’t you forgetting something?” He tugs on his own seatbelt for emphasis, the fabric snapping back into place against his coat.

Once again, you follow his lead. “I don’t need to get stood up to want to see you,” you say, placing your hand on his shoulder for balance—or so he tells himself. It takes him all his willpower not to collapse right then and there. “Besides, I’m not bad company. I’ve been told I can be pretty funny.”

“I see…” he trails off, catching your gaze through the rearview mirror, not shocked in the slightest to find you waiting for him to look back. “Where to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you should. You invited me.”

How easy it is to make your chest rumble with laughter, the genuine sound bubbling up, pure and unrestrained. He feels like some amateur comedian who has just realized his real passion is to cause this type of response in others.

Except, it’s not just anyone’s laughter he insists on provoking—it’s yours, and yours alone.

An unsettling sensation envelops him the second you retrieve your hand, not before squeezing his shoulder in a friendly manner. “There’s a bar I go to with my friends sometimes,” you suggest after a beat, shoving your phone in the pocket of your jacket. “We could try that one.”

The moment he steps inside, regret washes over him. Why is everyone here under forty? He feels ancient, like fucking Fred Flintstone.

A fossil out of place, meant to dwell in the shadows, not in a scene like this.

When he freezes in the middle of the bar, your fingers intertwine with his, tugging him along, and he follows after you like a lost puppy. The only thing he’s missing is the leash.

You’re met with his quirked eyebrows as you peer into his eyes over your shoulder, a toothy grin threatening to shake the floor beneath his feet. “You know, people usually sit down before they start getting shit-faced.”

“I’m not getting drunk tonight.” Logan exhales a deep breath, trying to hide his discomfort, his eyes scanning the room. “And neither are you,” he practically yells in your ear trying to make himself heard above the pounding music and incessant chatter. He wonders if you even hear him at all.

The two of you eventually settle at the counter, drinking in silence. Logan half-expects one of your comments to pierce through the quiet, but you delight in proving him wrong.

Instead, your head sways gently to the rhythm of the song playing in the background, and you take a trial sip of your beer.

He’s acutely aware of the stares from the rest of the patrons. He can pretend to be oblivious, but the weight of several pairs of eyes burning holes into the back of his neck doesn’t go unnoticed.

Being watched has never been his favorite pastime, and somehow, it feels even more uncomfortable with you by his side.

He knows what those looks imply, can nearly taste the hidden implications behind each fleeting glance.

What’s a girl like you doing with a man like him? A question that makes no sense.

Does he have money? A well-endowed reputation? Did he recently inherit any properties?

Are you truly that desperate for human contact?

Is your bed so cold that you decide to go for the first guy who can string ten words together?

Logan doubts whether this whole experiment is part of the community service you must be doing. Maybe he should look up your name online to see if any criminal records come to the surface.

Now that he takes a moment to ponder it, you certainly fit the mold of the criminal type. The kind who gets what she wants when she wants it, leaving a trail of intrigue on her wake.

His fingers circle the glass so tightly he fears it might shatter into a million shards. You notice his tension, nudging his arm with yours, aiming to meet his eyes.

When you do (because, as he said, criminals have their own ways), you smile, and he internalizes that gesture as something familiar, something he feels he’s grown used to. Something rankled in his memory.

It’s as if he’s known you for a lifetime.

“Thank you for coming,” you say softly, and he may be going down the path of hallucinations, but your attention remains a little too long on his lips. Then, just as quickly, it flickers back to the rest of his face, and you lean back to drink from your beer once more.

Straight to hell, he thinks, tasting the remnants of whiskey on his tongue, for ever daring to believe himself worthy of even a moment of your precious time.

You’re probably the first person to have his full, undivided attention. And that’s… well, that’s saying something.

Most days, you’re pretty talkative, a steady stream of conversation, your words pouring out in an endless flow.

You tell him about your family, your career, that pet of yours that died when you were six years old. You mention a friend you no longer speak to, and the events that led to the downfall of your friendship.

There’s also that dish from your all-time favorite restaurant, the one you buy at least once a week because it never fails to comfort you.

Nonstop, you talk and talk, and Logan doesn’t mind one bit. Soon, he finds himself becoming an active listener—asking follow-up questions, chuckling at your jokes, even when they’re not funny at all.

He sincerely cares about what you have to say.

This whole situation with you is beyond his comprehension. Before he realizes it, you start wanting to spend more time with him.

Sometimes, you ride along in the passenger seat while he drives aimlessly through the city.

Sometimes, you invite him over, cook a meal, and he always takes the leftovers with him, as if a part of you goes with him when he leaves.

Sometimes, you come over to his place, and the roles reverse—you’re the one with the mic, asking the questions, fully aware that you’re treading on holy ground.

Logan’s got a sign on his forehead that reads ‘Stop: do not enter.’ It’s rough around the edges, hardened by the years, all capital letters in stark blank ink. But in the end, you just take the sign and set it aside.

He never goes into too much detail. Not because he doesn’t trust you—it’s just that there’s too much to unpack, and you don’t need to know all of it. You’ll be better off not carrying the garbage he does.

Yet, you’ve got him by the throat, encouraging him to cough up disjoined pieces of his life, bits of his day, his thoughts, his feelings. It sounds stupid to him, but you make him feel alive.

You never judge him, never flinch when he brings up stories from his past. As he sits at your table one afternoon, you look at his hands, his claws fully extended, and you don’t shy away. You rub the pad of your thumb across the rough skin of his knuckles, right where the adamantium tears through his flesh.

You don’t care that he’s a mutant, that he’s killed people. You don’t try to deny who he is or what he’s done. Oddly enough, you just wish to be by his side, staring off into the void with him.

“But why?” he asks, partly flattered, partly frustrated. This could be compared to learning a new sport from scratch—he can’t figure you out, can’t understand why you haven’t run the other way yet.

He likes your company, though he’s always bracing himself for the inevitable day you find a better hobby and leave.

Your reasoning defies logic, and he’s afraid that at any moment, you’ll grasp the gravity of your choices.

Almost as if you could feel the turmoil brewing in his mind, you simply say: “You’re nice to be around.”

Nice. Nice. Nice. He’d cackle if he were alone. That word reverberates through him. When was the last time someone called him nice?

Bad-tempered, sure.

A pain in the ass? Definitely.

But nice? Not a term people employed to describe him.

It’s a quality reserved for you, with your endless charisma and kind heart, but not for a man of his kind.

He’s nothing more than a chauffeur, a driver, someone who does and says what’s necessary to survive. Does that make him nice?

When he tells you he’s probably going to hell, you don’t try to make him feel better. Anyone else in your position might try to soothe him, to offer some hollow reassurance.

Your intention isn’t to change him, for him to pretend to be something he’s not. “Then I’ll meet you there,” you mutter, your shiny eyes searing into his. Under the table, your hand finds his, tender fingers grazing over his knuckles, and for once, he doesn’t pull away.

Could it be that an afterlife catching fire doesn’t sound so bad after all?

As much as he likes to admit how easily you can shift his mood, today is not one of those days.

He’s had a nightmare—nothing new, but this one had been… different. The empty bottle on the nightstand hadn’t been of any help; it never does when they visit him in his sleep.

The ghosts of those who used to be his friends, his family, tiptoe around his dreams in the form of shadows.

Blood. Screams. Shouts of his name. He can’t save them all. Walking through the wreckage, he dodges the bodies of those he couldn’t protect, the knot in his throat tightening with every step, not allowing him to breathe.

Wherever he turns, there’s death, destruction. Sadness. Did he save them all?

It’s always the same routine. He wakes up, screaming, chest aching from the effort. His lungs burn, and he has to remind himself that the limbs attached to him are his own and not the remnants of an immobile corpse.

Sweat clings to his skin, pooling at his temples and nape. He wipes it away with the back of his hand, rubbing at the soreness in his neck.

His phone rings somewhere in the distance, pulling him from his dizzy state. He scrambles to his feet, accepting the call just before it hits voicemail.

It's you. Despite it being late, he swears he feels the gentle kiss of the sun over his brow. Your sweet voice chases away the lingering shadows of his dreams, replacing the bitter taste in his mouth with something real—a reason to get up, to start moving.

He holds onto every second of the brief call, replaying those thirty seconds in his head as he steps into the shower. When the cold water shocks his system, it pulls him fully back to consciousness. He has to get ready.

Even though you insist on getting a taxi, he refuses. He doesn’t mind the drive. His gas tank does, his wallet maybe, but Logan? He just doesn’t.

At the end of the day, he’s protective by nature, and who knows what kind of men are roaming the streets at night?

God forbid they’re anything like him—eager to prompt a smile from you, trying too hard to impress you. He arrives at the conclusion that he’d rather lose fuel and money if it means orbiting around you for longer.

You make him feel better, and tonight, he needs it more than ever. He needs you.

(Now he’s driving. He honks five times when he pulls up to your building. You get on the limo, giggling as you say: “My neighbors must hate you.” He grins. You kiss him on the cheek. Subtle. Not the first time. Still, it doesn’t get old. He feels the faint residue of lip gloss on his skin. He doesn’t wipe it off.)

Not in the mood to cook, you declare as you step into his place. The mouth-watering aroma of the Chinese food you bought fills the air, but when he reaches for the bags, you insist that he sit and relax.

Sure, he can take a seat. But to expect him to relax with you around, playing this intricate game? That’s simply impossible. You’re asking for too much. He’s a player at heart, drawn to the thrill of the chase, and he will play along.

What seems inconceivable is the expectation that he can act as if nothing is happening between these four walls.

His attempts to focus on you are futile, as his mind betrays him tonight. All he hears spilling from your lips is pure and plain gibberish. Your very presence is no longer enough to anchor him.

Already immune to your charm, Logan eats his noodles, occasionally nodding when your voice rises at the end of a sentence, indicating a question.

But he nearly chokes on his drink the moment he registers your serious expression, having never witnessed you like this before.

“Are you even here?” you ask, shoving your food aside with a swift motion of your wrist.

What should he answer? What is it that you want to hear? Of course! I’m here, listening to you. It’s a delightful night. Should I start by telling you about my most recent nightmare? Quite the entertainment!

There’s a shake of his head as he lowers his gaze, escaping your concerned expression. “M’sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty.” You tug your chair forward, claiming a piece of his personal space. You know he doesn’t mind. “Want to talk about it? Did something happen?”

“My brain is just… off today.”

“Many thoughts at the same time.” Not a question. Have you completely figured him out?

“Yeah.”

He remains still, dragging his plastic fork across the now-cold steamed veggies, which have lost their appeal.

How amusing—your knees bump against his, drawing his attention. “Can I help you?” It’s new, the breathy tone you’re using, a whisper of agitation weaving through your calm demeanor.

“Can you erase my memory?” he shoots back, attempting to smirk through the wave of memories that flash behind his eyelids. When he looks into your eyes, the siren in his head blares.

Your pupils are dilated, blown wide, chest rising and falling rapidly. Sweaty palms that you wipe on your jeans. Tongue darting out to lick your lips. Your heartbeat accelerates, drumming wildly like the fluttering of a hummingbird’s wings.

He hasn’t been with a woman in ages, but he knows how they react when they see something they like—or, in this case, someone.

“Logan.” His name rolls off your tongue once more, tinged with an unmistakable need. The thought of checking his temperature dances through his mind, but the heaviness in his limbs roots him in place. He feels feverish. “I want to help you.”

Oh, no. No, no, no, no—

“What—what are you on, sweetheart?” Get up. Find your keys. Drive her home. “You don’t even know what you’re sayin’.”

Saliva floods his mouth as you rise to your feet, looking down at him from above. Gracefully angelic, and yet— “I know what I’m asking for,” you continue, your voice descending to a low murmur that scratches pleasantly against some dark and remote corner of his head. Then you lower yourself onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his waist. You repeat your question: “Can I help you?”

He’s no longer in control of his actions. His right hand crawls up your knee, palming the fabric of your pants. It’s numbing: a lapful of you, your rich smell, your quickened pulse.

Tempting. So fucking tempted to take you right now, just like this, without the need for words. Your bodies can communicate in a language of their own, one that transcends spoken phrases.

I want you, he lets you know through the way he gropes your breasts over your shirt, squeezing them together. He’s always been good with his hands. But what the hell am I supposed to do with a sweet thing like you?

His patience teeters on the edge of a precipice. “Tell me what you want.”

“I asked you first.”

“You’re gonna pretend you don’t know the answer?” He thrusts into the air, grinding against your clothed core, and you close your eyes. He’s rock hard beneath you, the bulge in his jeans shockingly obscene, bordering on grotesque. “We both know what I want, but I’m no telepath, baby. Need you to speak up.”

Twisting the locks of hair at his nape, you press your lips to his neck. “I want to make you forget, to focus on this moment. I want you to live in the present, Logan.” A bite on his earlobe sends shivers down his spine, and he grips your hips with a primal growl. “I can do whatever you want. Just tell me. Tell me, and I’ll do it, please.”

Please? He’s spiraling. Please? That’s it—he’s doing it. He’ll grant you your plea, which aligns perfectly with his own desires.

Once his back meets the mattress in his room, you get to work. With delicate precision, you pull down his pants, sliding his boxers off until only his thick thighs and the crown of short curls adorning his cock remain in sight. Your fingers tremble slightly before you wrap them loosely around his length, and it springs to life in your grasp.

Your gaze pierces into his, mirroring the intensity of his own. But something holds you back, prompting you to reach for his hand.

At that moment, it all clicks into place. Logan urges your head down onto him, and he’s welcomed by the slick warmth you provide.

Indeed, he’s very much alive.

“That’s it. That’s—fuck. There you go.”

His fingers dig into the mattress, clutching the cotton sheets, stopping himself from thrusting into your mouth. It’s not that he doesn’t want to—God, he does—but tonight, he’s on his best behavior.

He wipes the trail of drool from your chin, smearing it gently across your cheek, his thumb lingering as he watches your nostrils flare with a strained, muffled gasp.

Bringing his thumb to his mouth, he tastes the wetness on it the same way you’re sucking him: greedily, without any trace of mercy.

This proves I’m going to hell, he thinks, enraptured by the sight of his cock disappearing between your parted lips. Straight to hell.

You draw him back to the present, nuzzling your face against his thigh, your humid breath teasing his thick shaft, pulling him from a deep reverie. Your glossy eyes roam, exploring until they find his, and you gift him an authentic smile. Wrecked and blissed out, it’s as if the lights are on, but no one’s truly home.

He would’ve never guessed how much you reveled in sucking cock, radiating enthusiasm with each of your movements.

“Am I doing it okay?” you wonder aloud, hovering over the tip, swirling your tongue around the velvety head. He’s no fool, and neither are you; deep down, you know you’re doing more than just okay. Actually, you’re giving him the best blowjob of his long, long life.

Each panting, airy praise he huffs fuels your eagerness, making you even more receptive to his desires as the words slip past his lips.

“Fuckin’ amazing, honey. Got me so hard, y’see?” His tone is heavily charged with carnality, gripping himself and smacking the tip against your mouth, the wet sound echoing like music to his ears.

He pulses against your tongue, and you seize the opportunity to trace the thin veins scattered along his length. Gulping, with his gaze fixed on you, Logan notices how you’re still wearing your clothes, wiggling your hips against the mattress, rubbing your thighs together to get something in return. “Are you wet?”

Humming against him, you suck in shaky breath.

“Words.”

“I’m—I’m wet,” you rasp, voice hoarse. You try to guide him into your mouth and fail miserably, because his grip only tightens, stroking himself instead. “Logan,” you keen, stretching your neck in a silent plea, “don’t be mean.”

“Not mean. Just enjoyin’ myself,” he replies, pulling the foreskin back to expose the head, arching his eyebrows. His fingers curl around your chin, drawing your face nearer to his girth, fascinated by how your eyes flutter shut the more you surrender to the pleasure. “C’mon. Be polite.”

Blame him for it—he believes he’ll never get tired of this game.

“Please.” You whisper, returning to your begging while tenderly rolling his balls, staring at him through your lashes. And then you say it again: “Please.”

Your gaze burns a hole through his crumpled heart. He lets you have it, eager to give whatever you may ask him for. You dive back into it, engulfing his length and bobbing your head up and down with fervor. Hushed whines escape your lips, savoring another bead of his precum.

Logan almost loses it as you hollow your cheeks, instinctively cradling the back of your head. “Easy, baby. M’not going anywhere. Take your time.”

Whenever he feels himself approaching that long-awaited release, he forces his mind to conjure thoughts that will stall his impending orgasm.

The water stains from flooding on the walls.

The supermarket list.

The rising price of gas.

The—

“Fuck. Slow down,” he groans, utterly captivated by the way you point your tongue to draw imaginary patterns along his cock, seemingly memorizing every detail. “Don’t go too hard on me, remember?”

You mumble something under your breath, and at first, he can’t quite make it out. “What is it?”

“I said I want you to fuck me.”

Under no circumstances is he surviving this night.

“Really, doll?” Logan seeks the reassurance he desperately needs, fearing that this is all a dream from which he’ll awaken the moment he properly touches you. “You sure you want this old man to fuck you?”

You’re a rambling mess, murmuring Yes, Logan, please, until he maneuvers you to lie on his chest, his glistening cock sliding against your clothes, leaving a trail of dark spots. A whimper dies on your tongue as you brush your lips together, your hot breath enveloping him. “Give me a kiss at least.”

Tilting your head up, he connects his mouth to yours, growling as he detects the dull, sour tang of what must be him. He sucks your bottom lip, hardly aware of what his hands are doing until he shifts your positions, pinning you down.

Logan tugs at your clothes, peeling them away with urgency, his fingers dancing over your nipples until you’re grinding against his thigh, quivering beneath him. With a nip at your damp skin, his eyes flutter open as he studies your expression, casting you a glance that seeks your permission.

A ripple of desire courses through him when you dutifully turn over beneath him, pressing your face further into the pillow. He runs his knuckles along the curve of your ass, his throat going dry as you follow after his touch, arching your body in response.

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, he licks a long, slow stripe up your wet folds, keeping his tongue flat against your clit for a brief moment. Your arms give out and you stumble forward, stuttering as you mewl his name, fully consumed by the feeling.

So he does it again, and again, and again, flicking the sensitive bud, even though you’re already beyond soaked. It’s a pleasure he indulges in simply because he can.

Straight to hell, he thinks, coating his length with your arousal, teasing your entrance while pushing in only the tip. That motion alone is enough to make him draw a trembling breath before he continues, gradually feeding you his cock, inch by inch.

Straight to hell, the voice in his head utters as he buries himself to the hilt deep within your body, his heavy balls resting against your ass.

Like an intruder in your territory, he’s free to do as he pleases, and you let him have his way with you.

If only this moment could stretch into infinity—he longs for time to relent and never draw to a close.

What will happen after? Will you spend the night? Does he—

“L-Logan,” you mumble, having adjusted to his size. You rock back into him, impaling yourself even more on his cock. “Please, move.”

The pace he establishes is brutal. Your warm, inner walls exquisitely massage him, and the earth as he knows it stops spinning. Fire pools low in his abdomen, his hands holding you by the flesh of your hips to keep you anchored, each thrust driving you closer to the headboard with an intoxicating urgency.

“You wanted it from the very start, didn’t you?” He doesn’t know if a response will ever come, but these kinds of thoughts are impossible to contain. He’s just a simple man, powerless against the allure of a tight cunt. “Just got in my car and knew it would end like this?”

His next thrust punches a whine out of your lungs. Even as you clench around him, stuffed and filled to the brim, you beg for him to fuck you harder. He would’ve laughed at you were he able to catch his breath.

With a more deliberate rhythm, he rolls his hips, jackhammering your most sensitive spot, pulling you closer as he wraps an arm around you. When his fingers find your clit, drawing slippery circles, a cry escapes you, and your body merges with the mattress under you.

Your release takes him by surprise, urging him to continue as you reach back, encouraging him to chase his own climax. He knows all too well the struggle of bringing you to this point without succumbing to his pleasure too soon. Your nails graze along his thigh, leaving delicate marks in their wake, and somehow, the passion and bliss he’s been nurturing ignites into a fiery crescendo.

Shortly after, he goes completely rigid inside you, pressing his forehead against your back as he bites down on your shoulder to muffle his groans. His hand squeezes your breast tightly, riding out his high, blood buzzing in his ears, continuing to spill into you. You spam around him, milking him until the last drop of his seed, his release painting your insides with his warmth.

Logan tucks you under his chin as his vision returns to clarity. You nose his jaw, your fingers softly tracing the contours of his beard. He pulls you closer into his chest, gliding his hands up and down your back.

Half a minute of dreadful silence, then: “Can I stay?”

Oh, yes—pillow talk. He’s not great at this either. Despite that, his eyes soften, snapping to your face.

Logan pauses for a moment. “Sure,” he retorts, dragging his fingers along your shoulder blades. He’s a one-word kind of guy. Just perfect.

Tell her you like her. Tell her you don’t want this to be a casual fling. Tell her it’s more than just sex for you.

Or maybe don’t. Get ahold of yourself, will you?

“Logan?” you ask, resting your palm against his heart.

“What is it?”

“I know.”

You do?

Try as he might, he can’t deny it. He might care about you more than he ever realized.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

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chrollohearttags · 1 month ago

Text

love thy neighbor • r. sukuna

(Y/N) moves into an apartment complex on the other side of town and winds up living right next door to one of the most notorious drug dealers in the city nonetheless! But looks can be deceiving…

📝: black!fem plus size reader, plug!sukuna, age gap (6 years or so) mentions of toxic relationship and baby trapping, religious trauma, anxiety, alcohol + drug use, comfort + fluff and angst to smut, missionary, prone bone, oral sex, reader cries during, daddy is used a couple times, size difference, lots of kissing, positive affirmations, creampie

wc: 3.0K

🎙️: I swear imma get back to posting regularly! I’m just being lazy and hating my writing rn (it sucks) 😭 but I hope y’all enjoy

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you didn’t know what to expect when you found yourself residing on the same floor as plug!sukuna..it was your first time living on your own. Fresh out of your parents’ house with minimal belongings and all of the savings you had managed to scrounge over the years. Enough to cover first and last month’s rent with some extra left over..working as a receptionist in a local doctors office by day and offering online tutoring services at night to suffice your income. You'd return home from your shift, ready to relax by at least eight o clock..meanwhile, plug!sukuna was just beginning his night. Heading out into the streets to do God knows what until the early morning hours. But he’d never leave until he’d done two things: said hello and made sure that you were straight. You never really understood the logic behind it..especially considering the fact that you weren’t exactly close friends or even acquaintances beforehand. Hell, he didn’t know you at all and yet, he was just as kind as an old lady bringing you cookies to welcome you to the neighboorhood.

nonetheless, plug!sukuna would always tell you “..keep that door locked, don’t answer that shit for nobody and call me if you need anything, aight?” his deep voice was the last voice you’d heard for the evening and the first when you awoke in the morning. Sometimes, he’d even bring you breakfast per your request and you’d eat together. You’d cut off all ties to your controlling, religious fanatic family and the narcissistic ex who’d all but attempted to stick you with a kid you didn’t want and turn you into his personal doll…trapped inside of the house with no purpose other than to serve him. It was the way all of the men in your former faith operated. But you weren’t interested. Not in the slightest. In fact, you wanted change so drastic, it’d make their goddamn heads spin! Over time, you’d grow closer to plug!sukuna. His second long check ins and warnings became full blown conversations as the two of you congregated downstairs in the pool area or at the mailbox for a cup of coffee. A cigarette dangling from his fingertips to go light once he went outside.

“I know this place seems nice and all from first glance but…imma let you in on a lil’ secret, baby. It’s all types of people who come here..looking for trouble and hell, I’m not gonna lie to you. I’m part of the reason. That’s why I tell you to keep your door locked. Your pretty ass answers for the wrong person and somebody is bound to try and take advantage. ‘Damn shame I’d have to fuck someone up if something were to happen to you..”

plug!sukuna was sweet and endearing in his own right. But that’s what drew you into him..he was the very antithesis to what you knew men to be. Brutally honest yet so empathetic to your feelings. Rough as hell around the edges but a total gentleman. He may have done horrible things but he was a good guy..the best damn one you’d ever met. Unbeknownst to him, you’d watch him from the window leaving out; others surrounding him in the parking lot in similar cars. Blacked out with tinted windows..doing sleight of hand to pass something to other tenants who you’d recognized. Only what you could assume to be drugs. A couple of the guys you’d recognized from church, talking to deacons and pastors..now it’d all made so much more sense. Even so, plug!sukuna kept you out of that part of his life as much as possible. Eventually, some months would pass and it was a secret to no one that you’d grown quite fond of him..damn near smitten even.

however, plug!sukuna was adamant on not taking it there with you! He’d admitted himself that you were beautiful and in another life, any other circumstances..he wouldn’t hesitate to make you his. The problem was, you were still too vulnerable and he was knee deep in a lifestyle he wanted you to steer clear from. You were healing from years of trauma and downright abuse..trying to navigate this world on your own. If he were any other scumbag, he could have easily sucked you into his world and had you out here doing his bidding.

“(Y/N) baby..do you know how many girls just like you..who leave bad situations and end up in worse ones because some nasty motherfucker saw how vulnerable they were and used that to their advantage? How many girls went from being in the church to being on their knees for some pimp? I care too much ‘bout you to let that happen. I’m no good for you, I swear. You’d only end up hurt because I can’t give you all of me. Shit, I can’t even promise I’d make a good boyfriend. I’m selfish as hell, I’m always gone..I’ve slept with more women than I can remember. What could you possibly want with somebody like me, huh? What could I possibly do for you, (y/n)?”

but you saw right through plug!sukuna’s facade. He was gentle at heart..a romantic even. He wanted his person to spoil and adore just as much as you did. The streets were his only love for most of his life. He’d seen many things but nothing quite like you..those round, doe eyes; so innocent and pure. Pouty lips, chubby cheeks and the soft, ringlet curls that surrounded that gorgeous face. That soft, plump body and those thighs that rubbed together when you walked away. He wanted to devour you whole sometimes..many nights had plug!sukuna lied in his bed next door, thinking of you being on top of him. Those perky breasts jiggling as he bounced you up and down on his cock. Those nails clawed at his chest as sweat poured down his skin. But those thoughts were far too lewd and disgusting for someone like you! He was ashamed of even having them. But he couldn’t help himself..especially when that sweet, airy voice all but begged him to take you.

“Because I love you, Ryo..I love everything about you. Even the bad shit. I don’t care what you do because it’s not who you are..you’re the man that brings me food and coffee in the morning so I don’t have to rush before work. You’re the man who kisses my forehead when he leaves because you know, deep down..it could be the last time I see you. You’re the man who calls me every time he hears a gunshot or sirens because he worries himself sick about me when I’m not near him. You carry my laundry baskets and groceries, you clean my apartment while I’m sleeping because I’m too tired. And not once have you ever tried to touch me. You never made me repay you with sex or anything. You could easily hurt me and you can’t even bring yourself to raise your voice, even when I’m dead fucking wrong. No one has ever cared about me that much, boyfriend or otherwise and I don’t give a damn if you sell drugs or blow up buildings. A man who’d do all of that for me and never asks for anything in return is exactly who I want.”

plug!sukuna found himself dumbstruck for the first time in a long time..standing there with your small hand cradling his chiseled jaw, tears streaming down your face, he’d find that his own eyes were welling and burning. He’d never heard anyone speak about him in such a way. “Damn, I guess you can read me like a book.” Hell, he’d never acted that way with anyone else either. Yet here he was, treating you like a princess. He couldn’t pretend anymore..he had to be honest with you..and himself.

“I—I love you too, (y/n). So much..”

“Then make me yours. Right now..right here.”

“you know once we do this, we can’t go back..”

“Please..leaving the past behind is kind of my thing.”

it didn’t take long for your lips to meet in a fiery haze, tongues intertwined in a moment of heated bliss. Your hands roaming one another’s bodies as moans slipped through..your clothes all but becoming discarded heaps on the living room floor like a movie scene cliche. His lips traced from your neck to your collarbone; slightly dredging his teeth along the skin in the process.

“Here, baby..take my hand.” plug!sukuna, in one fell swoop hoisted you into his arms as if you weighed practically next to nothing. Continuing to feed you those slow kisses, he’d carry you to a nearby wall and part your thighs. With your legs resting on his shoulders, he’d mark every inch of you. From your sensitive nipples which he cradled in his mouth to that pudgy tummy he loved so much to that juicy center, which was practically leaking for him.

“This all me? Just from some kissing?..” “This is nothing. I touch myself every night thinking about you..you should see the mess I make then.” plug!sukuna could barely sate his urges now, hearing how nasty this supposedly innocent girl was for him! He wasted no time slithering his tongue into that aching cunt. Swirling it around on that throbbing clit, spitting into those pretty pink folds and those succulent brown lips encasing them. He feasted like a man unhinged; greedy and selfish as fuck, just like he claimed. You’d grasp a hold of those dark reddish and black locks, grinding yourself into his face. Rubbing his nose in between your slit.

“Mmmph! Ryo…” “Yeah, fuck my face. Don’t hold back now. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do this.”

plug!sukuna would eat your pussy until he heard you sobbing and felt that orgasm come barreling out. Your tight hole spasming on air as those juices trickled down his throat, chest and mouth. He couldn’t help but to laugh as he watched you writhe in pleasure. Attempting to push him away as you rode out that orgasm.

“Wha—how did you?—“ “What? I told you..I’ve had a lot of practice.” Choosing to omit the fact that he’d fantasized about you sitting on his face more times than he could count. Tossing you a wink and one final lick before carting you over to the sofa. Where he laid you down gently against the cushions…pinning those legs back whilst hovering over you. The entire time, he couldn’t take his gaze away from those gorgeous eyes..they glimmered so bright. Full of lust, adoration and excitement. No matter how much you smiled, he always sensed a certain emptiness behind them. A light stolen from you and now, he hoped to reignite it.

observing your movements, plug!sukuna began to chuckle when he saw you pawing at his crotch. So eager to unsheathe that hard on from his boxers. He could tell that the shy, bashful demeanor you presented was only a front. If given the opportunity, he could turn you into his personal slut with ease..but for now, he wanted to focus solely on making love to you. Giving you every part of him that he’d long to for months now. You’d examine his chiseled torso, reaching up to caress his abs and trace your fingertips along his various tattoos. But you couldn’t distract yourself from how large that bulge was..protruding and leaking with precum…

“Can I?—“ Go ahead, baby..take it out.” And without hesitation, you’d tug that elastic waistband back and let it spring forth. He was so girthy and long. Clean shaven and although he was erect now, you could tell he was huge even when flaccid. Nonetheless, plug!sukuna grasped those thick thighs of yours and mounted in between them; gliding that aching tip along your folds. ”Now you tell me if it hurts, okay baby? If I see you flinch or look uncomfortable, I’m pulling the fuck out. We clear?” And you knew when he spoke, that was law. Nodding in agreement, you’d consent to his terms as you rubbed your folds, waiting for him.

“Good..and tap my arm if you can’t talk. I’m ‘bout to start moving. You ready?” with your permission, he’d glide in slowly and immediately, he thought he’d seen stars! Plug!sukuna, by his own volition, had been with countless girls. From strippers to models, but never had he felt pussy this tight! The warmth immediately cradling him and not letting go. He’d suck his teeth before muttering a single ‘fuck’ under his breath. You were going to be some pressure, he was certain of it. But he’d continue on, gathering his footing and working that cock into your entrance. A single pop, along with wet, squishing sounds rang out across that living room as you lie underneath him.

“Goddamn…your shit feels incredible, baby. I know you had some good pussy..I can tell just by looking at you.” Forcing a wide, toothy smile on your face. You’d never heard him talk so vulgar but it was the side you’d brought out. He was officially obsessed!

“Yeah? Well I’ve been wanting to give it to for so long..I never thought you’d fuck me..”

“I kept you waiting, huh? I’m sorry..guess it just means we gotta make up for lost time then, huh?”

plug!sukuna was thrilled to know that he’d no longer have to hold back because you were on the same wavelength. You’d have no issues matching his energy..so with that, he’d speed up those thrusts. Pounding you with gentle but well paced strokes. The sound of your thighs and skin slamming together, coupled with the sounds of both your moans, made for a beautiful chorus. Your hands around his neck, scratching at his back; legs around his waist and his muscular arms planted right at your sides. Drilling you just as you’d requested and there was no limits between the two of you.

“Yes! Keep fucking meeee..oh my goodness. I’m gonna come again!”

“You’re so fucking cute..damn..” adoring how you sounded squealing and laughing as you met his thrusts. He couldn’t believe how receptive you were and how it took no time at all for you to open up.

“And you look so pretty taking all this dick for daddy. I can’t stop staring at you.” That deep voice showering you with praise as his thick cock thrashed around your insides. Even though you had always been a bigger girl, he made you feel so dainty and small..like a precious treasure he never wanted to lose. “You deserve this, baby..to get fucked just like this. To be spoiled and get whatever you want. I can put you up..you ain’t ever gotta worry about shit. Not a bill, not rent, your family..I got you, baby. I promise. I love you..” You believed every single word and clung to them with every fiber you had. You’d never had anyone treat you with such grace and care before..and that wasn’t the end. He’d continue doting. Telling you how proud he was of you and how far you'd come. How he admired your strength to get out of your situation…he was in awe. plug!sukuna would continue singing your praises until he looked up and spotted tears coming down your face. He was tempted to stop until you told him that you were just fine. He on the other hand..was struggling to maintain his stamina.

“No no..please don’t stop. You just make me feel so good. No one has ever fucked me like this.”

but that alone seemed to ignite a second wind and in a moment of haste, you’d find yourself flipped over into your stomach with his entire body weight shifted on top of you.

“You mean that, baby?” Those outer fangs of his teeth glistening and mouth slicked with saliva as he began pounding you once more..hands pinned to your back and his frame covering your own. The plumpness of that ass ricocheting off of him as he penetrated those walls. You’d come once again, dripping onto the leather couch and making that aforementioned mess he’d been dying to see. This time, his pace was rougher..less structured and sporadic. He couldn’t help it..he was running on pure fumes, trying to give you the first time experience you deserved. Tugging your head back by those thick curls, plug!sukuna fed you the deeper strokes he could muster until those chocolate eyes rolled back.

“Y-yes! This dick is amazing..”

“Tell me who it belongs to. Who’s this good pussy belong to now?”

“Y-you, daddy. It’s yours! Oh fuck..”

never having uttered such lewd words in your entire life, you reveled in the fact that he had been the one to bring this side out. And now, you were about to bring a side out of him. One far more vulnerable than the public witnessed..one that would beg you to let him come inside of you and cry out your name in sweet ecstasy as he did so. You’d feel those warm seeds pouring into your womb as he came to a halt and you welcomed them. plug!sukuna didn’t hesitate to swaddle you in his arms for kisses and comfort.

“I don’t want this to end..tell me it doesn’t have to, Ryo. Can we be this way forever?”

“We can stay like this for as long as you want, baby. I’m not going anywhere.“

and it was a promise he intended to keep. Not just as your neighbor or the guy next door looking over you. But now, as your lover and the man who’d never leave your side.

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criminalamnesia · 5 months ago

Text

Traitor part 8

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

here it is everyone :)) took me forever but it’s finally here! now I can disappear in peace lol. I’ll proofread everything later, but I hope this lives up to everyone’s expectations. thank you all for the love you’ve given this series. I hope this gives you some closure.

let me know if you want any drabbles from the series <3

thank you again!

after kyle finally leaves you alone, you slink back against the door, shutting your eyes so tightly stars dot your vision.

it never ends, does it?

apologies. worry. sympathy. pity.

it was in each of their eyes— the one-four-one. each of them trying to mask their pity for you behind sickening sympathy. you were exhausted of that look— not just from them, but from everyone you had walked past or looked at since everything had happened.

you open your eyes, scanning the room. what once had been a haven had become a hell. shattered glass sprinkled the floor near the mirror. clothes were still strewn about. you hadn’t bothered picking up what had been disturbed.

you’d be gone too soon for it to matter.

your phone rings then, the screen lighting up in the dimly lit room. you let the ring tone play for a second longer before you’re moving, reaching for the device on your nightstand.

it’s kate, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“hello?” you say as you answer the call.

“it’s kate,” comes the woman’s familiar voice through the speaker. “im on my way to base. should be there by tomorrow.”

you startle, eyebrows raising in confusion. “you’re coming here? why?”

you hear her sigh. “we can talk about it tomorrow. I need to meet with john, anyways. two birds, one stone and all that.” she tells you.

“can you at least tell me if the paper work is all set for my transfer?” you ask.

she doesn’t answer for a moment, and then:

“we’ll talk about it tomorrow, sergeant. get some rest. you sound like you need it.”

you hear a click, and then the line goes dead. you furrow your brows as you look down at the phone in your hand.

why on earth would she come all the way here just to talk?

your mind is moving a mile a minute, and suddenly, it clicks.

laswell is coming here to do damage control.

you huff a mirthless laugh, dropping your phone as your hands come up to run through your hair.

you weren’t being reassigned. you were being discharged.

but was it at her insistence, or someone else’s?

you whip around, wrenching open the door and storming down the hall to price’s office. those you pass in the hallway give you bewildered stares, and suddenly you’re aware that you’re still in that damned robe, but you’re on a mission.

and when you start something, you see it through.

you don’t bother knocking as you reach price’s door. instead, you barge into the office, effectively interrupting an argument between price and simon. their voices die off, heads turning to appraise who had barged in.

price’s eyes widen at the sight of you, but simon’s face is as unreadable as always. the door clicks shut behind you, and you stalk towards the two men, your fists clenched as you seethe.

“you motherfuckers,” you hurl the words at them, “you fucking knew. you knew.”

“love, what are you talkin’ about?” price questions, his brows furrowed as he turns to you.

“laswell,” you say, and price’s eyes widen. he knows. and now he knows you know.

“whatever she told you—”

“she didn’t tell me shit,” you huff. “I figured it out. why the fuck else would she come here just to talk? she’s playing fucking babysitter, isn’t she?”

price doesn’t speak. your gaze flits to simon’s.

“I’m sure you were rooting for this outcome, weren’t you? couldn’t finish me off in that fucking room, but hey, this is just as good, isn’t it? sending me back to fucking nothing.”

“this job is my life,” you turn your attention back to the captain. “and you fuckers just can’t stop ruining it, can you?” your voice is raising, and tears prick the corners of your eyes. you’re becoming hysteric.

“all because of a fucking lie!” you’re yelling now, jabbing a finger into the chest of your former captain.

“calm down,” the sound of simon’s rough baritone leads your head to snap toward him. your eyes are wide, fury and terror blazing in them.

and he expects you to let loose. scream and hit and scream some more. but you don’t.

you stand there and you stare at him with those wide eyes. the rest of the room— hell, the world falls away— and it’s just him and you.

like it was on patrol during countless nights, your bare fingers dancing over his gloved hands as you prattled on about a show you liked.

on countless nights curled up in his bed, your back to him, pressed so close he could feel the beat of your heart in his own chest. his arms wrapped around you, one of your fingers lazily tracing the ink on his forearm. no words spoken, yet so much said.

in the field, when you and johnny bicker over comms and he takes your side. when you take a bullet to the shoulder and he holds pressure on it until evac arrives.

when he makes eye contact with you as you pin kyle to the training mat, finally able to overcome his strength. when price tells him you’re the rat and he doesn’t want to believe it.

it’s just him and you. a lieutenant and his sergeant. but it’s more than that.

it’s a deep understanding of this job being your life. of losing everything and everyone you hold dear. of finding family again in this team, and doing whatever it takes to keep that family safe.

and he fully realizes, then, what you have been condemned to.

what they condemned you to.

what he condemned you to.

he breaks from his thoughts as you slam your fist into his jaw.

price’s eyes widen, his feet carrying him forward to intervene, but simon waves him off as he cradles a hand to his jaw.

“let ‘em,” he grunts out, and price looks bewildered, but he nods. he takes a step back, his hands falling to his sides, and he lets you strike again.

“fuck you,” you seethe, and despite your best efforts, your voice cracks. emotion seeps in, and your eyes are wet as you swipe a leg out from under him, forcing him to his knees.

he falls with no grace, knees hitting the concrete floor with a dull thud. you’d cringe if this were any other circumstance.

instead, you deliver another blow, cracking his nose with the force of it. blood sprays out and wets your robe.

“ghost—” price begins from somewhere off to the side, but simon just shakes his head.

“fuck you, simon! fuck you!” you scream at him, and your fists are flying blindly as tears cloud your eyes.

and he just takes the hits. you subconsciously register the sound of the office door squeaking as it opens and quickly closes. price didn’t want to be a bystander any longer, it seems.

but he still didn’t jump in. was it because of ghost’s insistence? or because your captain didn’t want to watch one of his soldiers finally snap?

you finally stop yourself when blood drips from your knuckles. unsurprisingly, they’ve split again. there’s no doubt in your mind that there will be little scars between each of them once they’ve healed.

more to add to the reminder of everything. god, at this point you knew you’d never forget it even if you wanted to. even if you tried to. even if you did for a brief moment, those little white lines— discolored and jagged skin in the place of what should be smooth and unmarred, would be your reminder.

blood pools on the floor, a mix of yours and simon’s. you pay it no mind as you wipe the backs of your hands on your completely ruined robe. good— now you had a great excuse to throw the damned thing away.

you would’ve thrown it away anyways.

you bring your hands to your eyes, wiping away tears that had freed themselves their cage. you see simon clearly then, his face bloodied and yet still beautiful in that way of his. his nose is obviously broken. lacerations above his eye and on his cheekbones.

his eyes are staring back you, the icy blue of them never more intense than now.

you heave in your breaths as you look at him. his split lip cracks further as he opens his mouth.

“done?”

and you don’t have anything left to give, so you nod. then you slump to your knees, down onto his level, and you don’t look away from what you’ve done.

it’s no different than what you did to the doctor, or to countless enemies in the field. but, at the same time, it is different.

because it’s him, and he let you do this. he could have easily stopped you. he’d shown his strength against you numerous times on the sparring mat, picking you up and tossing you around with ease.

and yet he didn’t stop you.

“why?” you ask him, and it’s a loaded question. your voice is a watery tremble, and the word comes out as a whisper, but he doesn’t shy away.

he shrugs. “you needed it.”

he’s focusing on one aspect of the question— on why he let you hit him. you open your mouth to respond, but he surprises you by speaking again.

“least I could do,” he says.

you close your mouth, your chapped lips pressed into a thin line. why is he doing this now? saying this now? what changed?

“is it your fault, then? that I’m being discharged?” you find yourself asking, and you’re not sure if you want to know the answer.

maybe you just want a reason to hate him more.

“no,” he says, and you know he means it.

he never lied to you, regardless of any pain it may have saved. it was one of the things you had loved about him.

he sighs. “I didn’t want you to go.”

that surprises you. simon was never one to freely speak on his feelings. he had opened up to you during your relationship, but it was as if there was always an invisible line he could never cross. never did he utter the complete truth to his thoughts or feelings. and you had accepted that— because that is who he was.

and you would take him with all his walls if it just meant that you could have him.

“I don’t want you to.” he corrects himself.

the room falls silent around you. the part of you that still holds love for him yearns for his embrace at this moment. but you push that side of you down. you will not go crawling back, not after what happened.

“you’ve been an asshole,” you say, and he gives a curt nod.

“probably.” he concedes. “but I wouldn’ take anythin’ back. I told you, I meant what I said.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” you ask. god, he has a horrible way with words.

“no,” he tells you. “nothin’ I can say can do that.”

you snort. you fall back on you haunches, your hands in your lap as you look at him.

“I am never going to forgive you,” you tell him, words full of so much hurt.

he nods again. “I know. I don’ blame you. don’ expect you to, neither.”

“but I’m…” he starts, and his lips crease in a frown. “im sorry.”

you just look at him. perhaps you had wanted an apology at one moment in time, but now? now none of it mattered.

“I hope so,” you tell him. you move to stand, and he remains still. he hasn’t moved an inch since you’d finished your assault.

“I hope you feel this way for the rest of your lonely life. I hope that you never forget what you did to me, and I hope that it keeps you up at night. because I can tell you with certainty that I will never forget. and I hope the others remember, too. I hope it tears you all apart from the inside. that it follows you around for the rest of your career.”

you breathe in, then out. “and I hope no one ever gives you the chances I did,” your voice is soft. “because I would never wish what you did to me on the next person you think you love.”

his face conveys no emotion other than the small frown still on his lips. his eyes, so cold, have softened the tiniest bit. you used to love when you could bring out that softness inside of him. when it was just the two of you, your hand in his, his eyes on you.

those memories would suffocate you if you let them. what could’ve been will suffocate you. you refuse to let it.

you turn and stalk towards the door, not bothering to spare him another glance. you open it, stepping out into the hallway, coming face-to-face with the rest of the one-four-one.

their eyes are all wide as they take you in. your bloodied hands and robe. the dried tear streaks on your cheeks. you pull the door shut behind you before you speak.

“i don’t care to speak to kate,” you say to price, your eyes meeting his. “fuck her for not giving me a chance. and fuck you for laying down like a damn dog and not fighting for your fucking team.”

you turn to johnny next. “you shove your sorries up your ass, mactavish. I don’t want your sympathy, and I don’t want your pity. I hope your regret eats you alive.”

finally, kyle. “and you,” you glare at him. “if anyone other than simon should’ve defended me, it should’ve been you. I met you first, kyle. you were my closest friend, my brother. and you turned out to be just another fucking lap dog.”

you shake your head, blinking away hot tears. “I want you to get me temporary housing and a car because that’s the least you owe me, after ruining my life. and I don’t want to hear from any of you ever again. if I do, I guarantee you I will not show you the mercy you think you showed me when you had me tied up in that chair.”

none of them spoke, and you didn’t give them a chance to as you pushed past them, heading back toward your room to change.

a yellow cab retrieves you from base the next morning before kate arrives. it’s still dark outside when you leave the shelter that had once been home. rain pours down around you, a raging storm hanging overhead as it had all night prior. perhaps it was a reflection of your mood. you liked to think that it was.

you toss your duffle bag into the trunk, shutting it before climbing into the back seat. you hadn’t bothered to pack anything other than a few pairs of clothes you’d recovered from the floor of your room. everything else could be trashed, especially anything the boys had given you.

the driver doesn’t speak— price had given him all the information he needed— and paid him— before he’d fetched you. it seems your final outburst— and beating simon to a pulp— had finally put some urgency in his movements.

none of them had seen you off, per your request. you thought it was the least they could do for you after continuously disrespecting your boundaries.

(unbeknownst to you, simon had watched you leave through a window.)

the driver turned up the music— some pop song you didn’t know the name of— and you slumped in your seat, your head turned toward the window as you watched the rain race down it.

you found yourself drifting off quickly, and you didn’t try to fight it. you’re finally free of that place and the men you thought were your family. free of the anxiety of seeing them around every corner. free of the hate that sparked in your heart every time you heard their voices.

you sleep, and for the first time since before everything, it’s peaceful.

you wake to the taxi driver talking to you.

“we’re here,” he says, knocking on the glass separating the front and back seats. “can you get out now? I gotta get home. it’s my wife’s birthday.”

you blink the sleep from your eyes, nodding before you even register what he’s saying. “sorry,” you mumble as you fumble with the seat belt.

you slip from the car, your boots splashing in a muddy puddle. you grimace as the murky water seeps in, wetting your socks.

you trudge around to the back of the car, opening the trunk and retrieving your bag. you’ve just shut the trunk and stepped back when the car is driving off, kicking up mud that further dirties your boots and jeans.

you pay it little mind as you look at the small cottage before you.

nestled between some trees, it’s beautiful. a shingled roof. light blue paneled siding. a small front porch with a rocking chair and a bench swing. a beautiful dark blue door.

your favorite flowers live in the flower beds surrounding what you can see of the house. it makes you wonder if its a simple coincidence or if simon or price planned it.

how long have they known that you would have to come here? that you would have no where else to go except for where they put you?

you vowed that this house would just be temporary. you would get away from it as soon as possible, putting the rest of the one-four-one behind you. you didn’t want any of them knowing where to find you.

the rain slows to a sad drizzle. drops prick your skin as you make no effort to avoid puddles, splashing carelessly to the front door. you can hear birds beginning to chirp, slipping out of their hiding places as the sun’s rays begin to illuminate the earth once more.

a new beginning, you think.

you reach a hand toward the door knob, twisting it open and pushing inside. it’s a cozy little place with wood floors and a brick fireplace. it’s furnished, but there’s no personality to it. it clearly hasn’t been somebody’s home.

the door clicks shut behind you as you toe off your boots and drop your duffle by the door. as you nudge your boots out of the way with a foot, you notice an envelope on the floor.

eyebrows scrunched in confusion, you lean down and scoop it up. your name is written on the front in a scrawl you don’t recognize.

who else knows you’re here?

perhaps you’ll need to leave sooner than you thought.

you push your thumb under the seam, ripping it open with little finesse. inside is a typed letter. it’s an offer, you realize. a job offer.

its got an american stamp on it, and its signed by a phillip graves.

a new beginning indeed.

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gravegoer · 3 months ago

Note

OMG sevika x reader who fills in for silco after he dies?? 🤍 but sevika is oddly shocked at her kindness—

Sevika's boss ꩜

i absolutely love this idea ! sevika pledging her loyalty to you whilst you pledge yours to her !! so this is how you met + how you treat her on the job.. and off (i fear silco didnt provide a safe work environment)

visit my masterlist HERE , part 2

Zaun needed a new leader, and you just so happened to be the second in line to the throne.

You had the option to throw Sevika out if you really wanted a different right hand man. But in your opinion, if she worked for SIlco; she would work for you.

You'd never met her before, only heard the things that Zaunites whispered about her on the street

" She took on three men at the last drop yesterday. I think Silco put her up to it. "

" The way she looked at me made me think I was going to meet my end. "

Silco was no gentle ruler, he was strong and fierce. You could only imagine how he treated his goons, and and only Gods know how he treated Sevika.

You sat in his office chair, displeased with the scattered papers on his desk and the old whiskey in a glass that now smelled rank.

You had called her in to have a chat, so that you knew who you were really working with. Not knowing what to expect; you watched as the door creaked open and you nervously drew in a quick breath.

In walked a tall woman, definitely over 6', obviously muscular with one prosthetic arm. Your eyes traveled up to her face, and now you knew why everyone talked about her gaze. It was steely and almost frightening. She looked you up and down with something in her eyes that you couldn't place. Her skin was littered with scars, the biggest one was smack dab across her cheek. How intimidating.

You spoke to her, firmly but gently, "As you know, I'm taking over for Silco until things can be.. sorted out-"

She cut you off with a brisk, "Get to the point."

You eyed her full lips as she said this, the gap between her teeth was more prominent when she spoke. Not to mention her husky voice, she sounded tired but with still a hint of determination.

"I'm not demoting you or anything, just so you know," you spoke while raising an eyebrow at her, "I just wanted to get to know you before I start ordering you around, y'know?"

She narrowed her eyes at this statement. Its obvious she expected you to immediately ask her to do things for you the way she did for her former boss. Always running around the city cleaning up his mess, fighting his battles. But no. You weren't Silco. There was something different in the air around you.

Now that you've officially met its time to put this girl to work !!

She was almost always available. This concerned you. If you asked for her presence she would be there within minutes. It was like she was waiting for you at the door 24/7.

This made you bring up off days to her, "You know, if you ever need time off or anything don't hesitate to ask me. I don't bite"

She was confused at your willingness to let her do nothing but sit around while you did the work. And even after you said this she never asked to be called off.

"Okay, you know what. If you're injured after a mission don't even think. About trying to leave your house," You called her in to run some errands but what she didn't tell you is that she got stabbed roughly in her side the night before.

This made her angry, did you think she was weak? You're making her take a break because she didn't do her job good enough for you? Trying to cut her pay by putting her out of work?

But no, surprisingly in the next few days you sent her out again, and when she came back you slid a hefty bag of coins her way. She questioned your ways but she wasn't complaining.

You tried never ask absurd or unnecessary things of her. If you needed to talk with someone in the city you would go down and do it yourself. She caught you out one day, talking to a shop owner about prices.

"Why the hell are you out without me."

You turned around to meet her eyes (also having to crain your neck to look up at her.) "Well, I don't need a body guard to walk around you know that right?" You said, tilting your head to the side.

She drug her hand over her face at this, "You could have asked me to do it for you, I'm free. Plus don't you know anyone could be trying to get at you? Are you an idiot?"

"I can handle myself Sevika. But if you're soo worried about me ill let you come next time," You teased before turning around to speak to the owner again.

She grumbled to herself before taking a seat in one of the old chairs behind you and crossing her arms. If you didn't know any better you would think a small embarrassed blush kissed her cheeks.

When you walked around in the streets with you she always walked behind you, looming over your shoulder. Sometimes you thought she would start barking if anyone came up to you. You slowed down a bit to match her pace before latching onto her arm.

Her body tensed at your touched and she looked down at you, though you didn't meet her gaze as you continued looking forward. The neon lights illuminating the angles of your face. She shook her head at your willingness to touch her, but didn't comment on it.

You felt the flex of her bicep when she tensed up at your fingers. Her arm was hot under your touch and you could feel the scars that littered her skin.

This became routine, when Sevika walked you home late at night she would get comfortable enough to drape her arm around your shoulder, her poncho sheltering you from the cold.

And yes, she started walking you home at night because she stayed in your office to keep you company whilst you did paperwork into the late hours. Saying, "Its the least I could do since you don't let me do it for you."

Lighting a cigarillo she sat on the couch, putting her feet up on the coffee table. The smoke wafted from her position to your nose, the smell oddly comforting.

When you groaned and dropped your head into your hands it was her queue to get up and pull your chair out from your desk.

"Its too late, you should get home."

Sometimes you'd fall asleep in at your desk, but this was no problem. Sevika would pick you up, gently as to not disturb you and carry you to your home. And she was careful to walk through quieter places in the city so that the hustle and bustle of people didn't wake you.

And yes she tucks you in.

If you really insisted on staying to do paperwork she would grumble a few curses but stay anyway.

You were starting to grow on her. Maybe being cuter than Silco gave you some brownie points.

thank you for reading ! if you sent an ask in the past few days, don't worry, I'm getting to them all :) I appreciate all the support !! ♡♡

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m-neuvillette · 2 months ago

Text

Star Rail and Genshin men: Giving them the silent treatment

Characters: Boothill, Diluc, Jing Yuan, Lyney, Moze, Neuvillette, Sunday, Venti, Wriothesley, Yanqing

Notes: female reader, blood, injury, creepy guy in Diluc's, jealousy, drinking, Moze being Moze

Author notes: FINALLY FREE OF FINALS!!! Prepare for more posts in the future hehe. Comment if you want a pt 2 (let us know what men you want!)

Boothill

Boothill is all kinds of confused right now. After that damn profnana messed with his head, now you avoiding and not talking him has his brain in overdrive.

He doesn’t fully know what changed. March 7th told him what profnana tried to make him do to you. He really wishes he could shoot that forkin thing in the head after the shirtbag tried to make him shoot you. March 7th also said he talked about his past but he’s fine with that. So he really doesn’t get what is up with you.

You’re sitting in one of the open sitting areas Boothill has on his ship thinking about all that has happened. You met Boothill early into your journey as a galaxy ranger and were always really close with him. He helped you so much and liked being around you so he asked you to join him.

You two only grew even closer as time passed and everyone knew you were more than friends. You two only got together before the whole trip to Penacony so the relationship is still fresh. But that isn’t what’s bothering you or has you upset.

It’s about Boothill’s past. It broke your heart hearing a young Boothill talk instead of the raspy voice you’re so used to and love. As you listened to that little soft voice talk about his past, you couldn’t stop your heart from breaking. It also made you realize you don’t know much about him. You know he wants revenge on the IPC for what they did to his planet but you didn’t know what happened.

Did he not trust you as much as you thought he did? Did he only see this arrangement as convenient to help reach his goal? Does he actually have feelings for you? You don’t know and don’t know how to talk to him about it. You feel the ship go into cruise mode indicating Boothill planned the next planet and you two have time before you get there.

You can’t help but get frustrated at yourself because all you want to do is to talk to him but you don’t know how. You start to tear up while thinking about a plan when you hear him walking into the room.

Boothill was quick to set the ship to cruise so he can figure out what’s going on. Once he’s got everything lined up, he makes his way to where you are.

He sees you with your head down and your hands clenching at your pants. He instantly knows something is wrong. Boothill makes quick strides over to where you’re sitting to start figuring this out.

He stays standing and tilts your head up to see your red eyes and tear stained face. Boothill rarely gets shot but seeing you like this feels like he’s got shot hundreds of times. He lets go of your face and sits next to you and pull you into his lap. Boothill tucks your head into his neck then says, “I can’t help ya, if ya don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

You’ll pull yourself from his neck to look at him. He reaches one of his hands up to wipe your tears which makes you let out a shaky breath. You lean your forehead again his and quietly ask, “Boothill, do you not trust me? Am I a bad girlfriend?”

Boothill eyes are wide open now as he stumbles out, “Wait whaddya mean? Of course I do. I trust ya with my life. And you’re not a bad girlfriend at all. Why would you ask that?”

You look down not being able to look him in the eyes anymore and start to play with the zipper on his shirt, “When you talked about your past with that soft voice my heart broke. But it also made me realize I never got to know you.” You start to cry again but you continue to talk, “I want to know you more. I want to help you. I want you to count on me so I don’t have to hear that soft little boys voice be in pain again.”

Boothill tilts your head back up to face him. He wipes your tears then kisses your cheeks, “Baby I want nothin’ more than to share everythin’ with you. I’m sorry that’s the way you had to find everythin’ out. From now on I’ll be more open with ya. But you also gotta promise you won’t shut yourself out from me and doubt yourself. Okay? I love you.”

You look him in the eyes and respond, “I promise Boothill. I love you too.” Then you go to give him a tight hug burying yourself in his neck again. Boothill quickly returns the hug holding you tightly to him and pressing a soft kiss on your forehead.

Diluc

Diluc didn’t think he could meet anyone as stubborn as Kaeya, that was before you decided to give him the silent treatment. It has been two days since your guys argument.

It all started at Angel’s Share. You asked Diluc to teach you how to make drinks so you can help him and Charles when times got busy. After a while you started working there. You love your job and everyone you get to meet. Well most people.

You love the regulars like Venti, Kaeya, and Rosaria. You also love when Lisa drags Jean here or when you meet new faces from or outside of Mondstadt. But there are a good amount of men who have been creepy towards you. You keep your work outfit simple with a white blouse and a black skirt (and sometimes Diluc’s jacket when you get cold). Whenever a man gets too creepy or tries to touch you Diluc is quick to stop the situation and kick the man out.

Your outfit isn’t that revealing. You made sure to keep the skirt at a medium length so no perverts could try to see something they shouldn’t. You also keep your chest covered so again no perverts could be weird. But sadly it’s only been getting worse lately and it’s making you stressed.

One night Diluc couldn’t get to Angel’s Share until later in the evening due to a meeting he had to be at. You are perfectly fine working with Charles and love talking to him when times are slow. Tonight is pretty slow but a couple groups needed refills so you offered to do it so Charles can stay behind the bar and continue his conversation with Kaeya.

You walk over to the group in the far back corner and see all the men drunk. You roll your eyes before tending to them. You ask if they would like anymore drinks but all they respond with is that they want you to warm them up. You ask again if they want DRINKS but none of them say yes so you begin to walk away. As you do one of the sleazy guys grabs your wrist and pulls you back. He starts to say something but that is before you see a tanned hand grabbing the guys wrist. You look up to see Kaeya glaring at the man.

“Let go of her now and get the hell out of here.” The men quickly follow Kaeya’s order and he follows them out making sure they don’t try to come back in. When he’s outside he sees Diluc walking towards him and says a little hello. Diluc quickly asks what happened and Kaeya relays the story. Diluc gets visibly mad and stomps inside to go find you. Once he does he grabs your hand and has you follow him to a spare room upstairs.

He gives you his jacket and asks if you are okay and if the guy did anything to you. You say you’re okay and that he didn’t do anything. Diluc shakes his head and tells you to stop working here and that you don’t have to work because he can fully support the both of you. You argue back saying you’re going to continue working here whether or not he likes it or not. Then march out of the bar leaving him behind.

Diluc then quickly follows you after telling Charles he’s got to go. He also turns to Kaeya and begrudgingly thanks him and leaves. Kaeya knows you two got into an argument but he definitely knows you aren’t too mad because you left still wearing his jacket.

After you thought about it for two days you realized you overreacted. You barely let him explain why he thought about you stopping now you feel bad because you haven’t spoke to him in three days. So you sat down in front of the fire waiting for him to get back from his Dark Knight Hero patrol.

Diluc walks into his mansion expecting it to be pitch black but he sees you sitting in front of a fire. He sets his sword by the entrance then makes his way over to you.

He kneels in front of you and breaks the silence, “Hey, everything okay? Did you have a nightmare, is that why you’re down here?”

Oh this man even when you’re giving him the silent treatment he is still asking if you’re okay. You shake your head and respond, “No I was waiting for you to apologize.” You brush his bangs out of his eyes, “I’m sorry Diluc. I overreacted and didn’t let you explain why you wanted me to stop. I just want to help you and not sit around here all day. Plus working at the bar with you is so fun. I get to see you in a whole different light and I love it. I don’t want to let go of that.”

Diluc gives you a smile and reaches for your hand and gives it a tight squeeze, “No pretty girl it’s me who should be apologizing. I’m sorry for getting so mad, I just hate seeing you get harassed. It also didn’t help Kaeya was the one to help you and not me. But you don’t have to stop. Just every time you work I want to be there so I can stop it or prevent it.”

You smile down at him and squeeze his hand, “That is perfectly okay with me. I have more fun working with you anyways, sorry Charles. I love you Diluc.”

Diluc smiles and brings your hand to his lips to give your knuckles a soft kiss and replies without hesitation, “I love you too.”

Jing Yuan

You thought you believed the phrase “wisdom comes with age” because that is Jing Yuan in his entirety. But now? You are starting to doubt that very much, because it’s not very wise to have wise to have an old friend spear you to take out an enemy now is it?

While you do understand that everyone was ready to defeat Phantylia at any cost, you really didn’t think that Jing Yuan would try to sacrifice himself in the process. Did he even think at all during that moment? Let alone think about how he’d leave you behind? You’ve already been left behind by so many people, and Jing Yuan knows all about how that’s affected you. So why would he try to leave you behind too?

When Jing Yuan first comes back after the fight was over, his first priority was to see you. He wanted to make sure you were okay, and he wanted to make sure that you didn’t find out about his little stunt against the Lord Ravager. He didn’t want you to worry about him. But unfortunately for him, March 7th found you first and told you all about the fight, including Dan Heng hurling his spear through him.

To say you were upset and fuming might have been the understatement of the century, because as soon as he came into your line of sight you were glaring daggers at him. Yanqing had been right next to you when Jing Yuan came up to you and he could feel the anger coming off of you so he turned around and ran off before he got caught in the middle of a “lover’s quarrel” as the General called them.

“GOOD LUCK GENERAL DON’T DIE!” Yanqing gave his best regards to the General before scampering off to avoid your rage. Jing Yuan tilted his head amusedly before fully looking at your expression. “Now what could have you this angry, my dear?” If it was even possible you narrowed your eyes even further and harshly grabbed his wrist and dragged him to your shared home.

The entire time you were dragging him tears were burning in your eyes because even though you are behind thrilled that Jing Yuan is safe and sound you can’t help but think that he wanted to leave you behind too, just like everyone else. “My dear, can I request that you be a little less harsh, your grip is beginning to hurt my wrist? Also, may I know what is troubling you so much? You know you can confide in my right my dear?”

When he said that you had reached his room and you dragged him to the nearest chair and shoved him in it, while also being careful not to aggravate his glaringly obvious injury. When you lift up his shirt to take a look at the injury and once you see the blood seeping through the bandages, you take a minute to take a deep breath before finally talking to him.

“Jing Yuan, tell me were you really trying to leave me behind too? Why would you ever think that having your old friend throw his spear through you to defeat an enemy is alright?! Don’t you always teach Yanqing to not be reckless?? What you did goes against those teachings don’t you think?! Please, I’m begging you, tell me why you thought that was the best course of action? Did you even think at all? Let alone about leaving me behind, like everyone else has?!”

Jing Yuan’s eyes widen in alarm before he’s trying to get up to comfort you. “Don’t you even think about getting up Jing Yuan! Do you want to make your injury worse?” At that he say right back down and responded sitting down. “My dear let it be known that what I did was the only option that we had to defeat that Lord Ravager, lest I become a Mara Struck. That, my dear, would’ve been much worse a fate than I would ever allow you to witness. I am deeply sorry for worrying you, know this, I will never leave you behind, not if I can help it. Though as an Arbiter General you just realize that I cannot choose my death as freely as others can.”

You turn around after he finishes and he realizes that you had been crying this entire time. “I know that Jing Yuan’s, I knew that the second I got into this relationship with you that your life as an Arbiter General was not going to lead to a pretty death, but sacrificing yourself like you did is beyond me! What would the Luofu do without you? What would I do without you?? Please just don’t leave me behind, I can’t take anyone else leaving me.”

Jing Yuan’s eyes soften and he beckons you to come closer to him. As soon as you reach him he’s standing up and wrapping his arms round you and kissing your forehead. “My dear I will never leave you, not of my own accord and that I swear on my life. I am deeply sorry for any pain I have caused during this time. When I am fully healed I intend to make this up to you to the best of my abilities.” You gently wrap your arms around him and place your head on his chest. “I will hold you to that my darling, I love you so much.” He smiles softly down at you before leaning his head on top on your head. “And I love you so much more dearest.”

The next day Yanqing giggled and smiled smugly before remarking with hand gestures and all. “I see the General lived through yet another ‘lover’s quarrel’. Nice job General, I’m impressed, can I have a few pointers?” Jing Yuan looked at him with the most deadpan expression before smiling softly and telling Yanqing to get back to training.

Lyney

A magician’s charm is like no other, that is the first thing you learned when you met Lyney. And it became even more prominent when you got into a relationship with him. His charm is his best quality and it attracts so many people, including unwanted gazes of new assistants of his.

As his popularity as a magician was increasing, Lyney decided that he should get a few more assistants to make his shows run more smoothly. And you are perfectly fine with him getting more assistants, after all that that’s how you two met. But this new assistant he chose is getting in every last one on your nerves, because who is she to flirt nonstop and try to get to get with your magician, when it is incredibly obvious that you two are together?

While you are helping prep for Lyney’s next show, it seems that the new assistant, Louise as you’ve unfortunately come to learn, is yet again all over Lyney. Instead of actually preparing the necessary materials for the show, Louise is clinging to Lyney’s and asking about a million questions about completely random topics. Everyone in the room can see that Louise has the hots for Lyney, his magician’s charm seems to work wonders, must to your dismay.

Even though he has a show to prep for and he has a girlfriend, Lyney doesn’t try to stop Louise and her antics at all, he even answers all of her random questions. It’s quite disheartening to see your boyfriend have another girl all over him and him not stop any of those advances, it makes it look like he doesn’t have a girlfriend when he actually does.

“Oh Lyney! What are you going to have for dinner after this? Do you want to go get dinner together? I’d love to have dinner with you!” You had to walk away to keep yourself from gagging at her horrible flirting. Though you stopped when you heard Lyney’s chuckle in response. “Oh my dear, what a most generous offer that is indeed! I have yet to make plans for dinner, but I will get back to you on my thoughts on dinner after this show, so wait for me alright?”

When you heard him say that your heart broke and you couldn’t help but let the tears fall from your eyes. Was he really going to have dinner with another girl, when having dinner with you, Lynette, and Freminet, has been your tradition since you guys were in your “courting stage” as Lyney loved to call it.

Lynette, who saw the whole interaction, was also very stunned that Lyney was entertaining the thought of having dinner with someone else. She walked up to Lyney and told him that the show was starting soon and that he needed to get on stage and then immediately went to find you. When she found you, you were sitting on one of the boxes that was backstage hugging your knees to your chest and your head buried on top of them. Lynette could tell that you had heard what Lyney said and walked up to you.

“Hey, I heard what that idiot said, just try not to take it to heart I guess. He’s not one to let people know they’re bothering him. If I had to guess he’s, probably, going to turn her down after the show. If it’s any consolation, I am also mad that he would ditch us for that idiot of a girl.” You look up at Lynette while she talks and silently nod your head in agreement.

After the show ended, the first thing Lyney did was look for you because you were always waiting backstage with a hug and a kiss for him. When he didn’t immediately see you when he walked off stage, he was very confused because you had never missed your routine hug and kiss, it’s become a tradition for you two. While he is looking for you, Louise clings onto his arm and begins questioning him about dinner again. He looks down at her and says that he’s looking for you and that he can’t talk right now. Louise let’s go at that and walks away.

Once Lyney finds you, he realizes that you haven’t moved since the show began. “Hello there, my dove! Let us go home now shall we?” You look up at him silently and get off the box you were sitting on and begin walking out. Lyney’s eyes widen in alarm once he sees the dried streaks of tears on your face and when you start walking he rushes to grab your hand.

“Oh my dearest dove, what could have you crying?” You shake your head and continue walking, because you can’t handle talking to him right now. Not after him basically accepting to eat dinner with another girl. He decides to leave it alone until you get home because that is the best place to discuss what happened. Once you two get to your home, you fumble with the key to unlock the door and more tears begin to fall out of your eyes in frustration.

Lyney sees this and gently grabs the key out of your hand and unlocks the door. He grabs your hand and pulls you to your shared room, so that you two can sort all of this out in private. Once you reach your room you let go of his hand and sit on the bed and pull your knees to your chest again and look away from Lyney. His eyes soften and he walks around to the other side of the bed and wraps his arms around you.

“My dove, what is it that’s troubling you? Please talk to me, I want to help you but I can’t do that if you don’t tell me what the problem is.” You shake your head and mumble “it’s nothing, just go have dinner with Louise.” His eyes widen again before he realizes that you must’ve hear him and Louise talking about dinner before the show.

“Oh my dearest dove, I was never going to entertain her and have dinner with her. I just didn’t want to create animosity before the show, though you have my deepest apologies for even saying that I could have dinner with her. I will never have dinner with anyone but you, Lynette, and Freminet. You have my word on that, I promise. So please forgive me for making you cry.”

You look up at him and swiftly wrap your arms around him and bury your head in his chest. “Please never do that again, I don’t think my heart could take it. I love you too much for you to do that.” He lightly kisses the top of your head before responding, “my dearest I love you more than you could possibly know.”

Let’s just say that he got an earful from Lynette when it was time for dinner, because no way was he ever eating with anyone eot on her watch.

Moze

Birthday presents are surprises. At least that’s how they’re supposed to be. Moze does not seem to understand this, not at all. Moze’s birthday was coming up and you wanted to surprise him, but could he let that happen? No apparently he could not, and he just had to spoil your surprise.

His birthday was coming up and you wanted to surprise him and get him a new custom dagger, you thought he would really like it. So when you decided what to get him, you got up extra early that morning and slipped out of your shared bed to go to the blacksmith. You made sure you were extra quiet so you didn’t wake Moze up and spoil your surprise.

When you finally made it to the blacksmith and made your order you decided to walk around and get some food. The dagger wouldn’t be ready until later that week so you had a lot of time on your hands. You decided to bring some food back for Moze and when you got back to your shared home he appeared out of nowhere and nearly gave you a heart attack.

“Moze seriously you got to stop appearing out of nowhere like that, you’re going to give me a heart attack one day.” He softly laughs and wraps his arms around you. “Where’d you run off to this early in the morning my love? You never get up this early.” You panic internally for a moment before you remember that you got food too, so you don’t have to worry about spoiling his surprise. “I went and got some food for us for breakfast, I woke up early and couldn’t fall back asleep, so I thought why not get some food?” He takes that answer and leave it at that.

Later that week you had to go pick up the dagger again, conveniently it was the day of Moze’s birthday. That day you got up early once more and snuck out of bed to go pick up his present. Though little did you know that when Moze woke up not long after he was surprised to not find you in bed once again, 2 times in one week? That’s suspicious, so he wanted to make sure you were okay, so he decided to go look for you.

He was looking all around the Yaoqing and he found you outside a blacksmith holding and admiring a dagger. What could you possibly need with a dagger? He decided to walk up to you to ask you about it and once he was in front of you, you about jumped out of your skin. “Moze! I swear please stop appearing out of nowhere!” You also realize that you have the dagger on full display so you quickly hide it behind your back.

“Now why are you hiding a dagger behind your back my love? That’s dangerous you know.” You then realize that he caught you red handed and quickly put the dagger in the bag you had along with the little card you made inside and shove it in his hands and run off. He stands there stunned at the fact that you just ran away, but before following you he looked inside the bag that you had given him. It held the dagger and a cute little note that said “Happy Birthday Moze! I love you” with a little heart next to it. He then realized that today was indeed his birthday and he came to the realization that he spoiled your gift for him.

When he finds you after he looked at your gift, you are in your shared room on the bed with your head between your knees silently crying, though he could still hear it, it is Moze after all. He quickly puts the bag on the nightstand and gets on the bed and pulls you into his lap. “My dearest love you have my deepest apologies for spoiling your gift for me. I wanted to make sure you were okay since you left so early but that does not excuse me from spoiling your surprise. Please forgive me my love.”

You look up at him teary eyed and bury your face in his neck. “You really don’t get the point of surprises do you, please try not to be so nosy around your birthday next year. I love you too much to have your birthday surprise spoiled.” He laughs softly before gently taking your head out of his neck and softly kissing your lips. “And I love you, I’ll try not to be so nosy next year, though I did forget it was my birthday in all fairness.” Your jaw drops at that and you realize that you have a new story to tell Jiaoqiu and Feixiao.

Let’s just say you three did not let him live down forgetting his own birthday, but you did it by giving him the best birthdays ever. Though when you told Jiaoqiu and Feixiao about all of this, Moze was lectured for hours on how to not ruin a surprise.

Neuvillette

Neuvillette is stressed. He doesn’t completely get “the silent treatment”. Why is it even a thing? Don’t humans love communicating? So why do they do this to themselves?

Furina watches in amusement seeing all the gears in Neuvillette’s turn trying to figure out why you’re giving him the silent treatment. You went to her to talk about how much he’s been working and it feels like he doesn’t even try to make time for you two anymore. She told you to talk to him about it because that’s the only way it’s ever going to get fixed. Little did she know it was going to make everything worse.

You went to talk to Neuvillette about it that night after you talked with Furina and he completely brushed it off. All he said was “What do you mean? Aren’t we spending time together now? We do this every night, get ready together and go to bed. That’s spending time together.”

You try to explain that you want to do more than that. You want to go on a date with him, you want to go on a walk, or even just stay in and cuddle. All he said back was “As the Iudex I am quite busy and you know that.” Then went to bed. Since then you’ve been ignoring him and going to bed before he gets home so now his routine is thrown off and he hates it.

Furina speaks up, “My dear Iudex what is troubling you?”

Neuvillette looks up at Furina and asks “Why am I getting the silent treatment? I don’t get it”

“Well Neuvillette, do you make time for her? Do you take her on dates? Do you get her flowers? Do you show her you love her?”

Neuvillette clears his throat and looks away, “Um… no…”

“Here lies your problem. It’s like how you make time every week to have a tea party with me and relax. Or catch up with Sigewinne. You’re not making time for your girlfriend you claim to love.”

Neuvillette sits there and reflects on this. He looks at Furina and says, “I must go. I have to fix this.”

Furina smiles and dismisses him as he walks out she calls out to him, “There’s no cases today so take the rest of the day off. But you have to start planning this stuff on your own.” Neuvillette shakes his head and leaves his office.

He stops on his way back home to get you flowers and some baked goods. Neuvillette arrives home and looks for you. He sees you and walks towards where you’re sitting in the bay window.

You’re shocked when you see Neuvillette home so early and then you see what’s in his hands. He has flowers and baked treats.

Neuvillette reaches you and begins to ramble, “My love I am so sorry. I didn’t put into perspective your feelings and how you want to spend more time with me. Which you 100% deserve because we are in a relationship and as a good boyfriend I must be present and make time for you. So after today I am going to make more time for you. I mean well it starts today as well because I am taking you out for dinner tonight. But in the mean time enjoy these flowers and treats I got you. I promise I won’t ever do this again. I love you so much.”

You watch and Neuvillette catches his breath after that long declaration but it makes you smile. You scoot over and make room for him to sit next to you. You pat the cushion and he is quick to listen and sit next to you. You grab the flowers and treats and put them to the other side of you.

You turn to give your full attention to Neuvillette. You reach out your hands and cup his face, “Thank you Neuvillette, that means a lot to me. I can’t wait for the date tonight and for many other moments together. I love you so much.” You go to give him a kiss which he quickly returns and pulls you closer to him.

Once you two break apart you stare lovingly at each other. Neuvillette vows to himself he will never have this happen again because he HATES the silent treatment.

Sunday

You’ve known Sunday and Robin since you were kids. The three of you were always playing together and created some unforgettable memories. Robin could tell yours and Sunday’s feelings grew into something stronger as you three got older. She made it her mission to get you two together before she left Penacony which she was successful with.

You laugh at her determination now but it also breaks your heart. You are Sunday’s girlfriend but you never knew what he was planning and what he was going through. You can’t help but blame yourself a little bit with not being able to stop him. But you’ve heard he’s out of confinement and planning on leaving. Is he really leaving you behind again? Can he not say goodbye? You look at the stars and wonder what will happen.

You hear a cautious hello behind you which makes you turn around. You see a young man with gray hair and a girl with pink and blue hair. You recognize them being the nameless that helped Penacony. “Why hello you two. I’m sorry I don’t remember your names could you remind me?”

The girl introduced herself as March 7th and the young man introduced himself as Caelus. March then asks, “Miss you’re Sunday’s girlfriend right?”

You smile at her, “Yes I am. I am sorry for all the trouble Sunday has caused you. Only if I knew I could have tried to stop him. But if you’re here to ask where he is, I don’t know. I just know he’s leaving and he could have left.”

March quick responds, “Oh we aren’t looking for him. We were curious if you would like to come with us? Like back to the Astral Express? We want to invite you to become a Nameless if you would want to.”

You think about the offer and quickly agree because you don’t exactly have a purpose right now. This can give you what you’re looking for.

March and Caelus took you back to the express where they showed you around and introduced you to Himeko, Dan Heng, and Pom Pom. Himeko tells you everyone has agreed to make you a Namless and that Welt is bringing someone else back to see if the Express wants them as a Nameless. To kill time you sit with March and Caelus.

You hear the door open and you see Welt and someone walking behind him. The person feels so familiar. March and Caelus stand up and walk over which you follow them. You stand behind them listening to Welt catch everyone up. Then you see him walk out from behind Welt. The man you dreamed of seeing since this whole disaster started.

Everyone begins to vote and say yes. Sunday looks happy but Pom Pom is quick to say, “Well we haven’t heard from our other new recruit. What do you think?” You step out from Caelus and March and make eye contact with Sunday and he sucks in a breath. “Yes I agree. He should become a Namless.” Everyone smiles and cheers for Sunday but he is frozen in place.

As soon as you and Sunday recite the creed you quickly go off ignoring Sunday. He tries to reach out for you but he realizes it’s futile. He knows he messed up. Welt comes up behind him and places a hand on his shoulder, “Don’t give up so fast. You’re on a new journey, don’t you want her on it? Go and talk to her.”

Sunday quickly follows where he saw you go and sees you looking at the stars. He takes a deep breath and walks over to stand next to you, “Aren’t they beautiful? They’re real and not fake ones. I’ve grown to learn that someday we will wake up from our dreams and have to face reality. I know that better than anyone now. After saying goodbye to Penacony and Robin I realized that I must start a new path. I regret not finding you first. You’ve always been in my path, dreams, future, anything really. I am lucky the Nameless are giving me this chance to fix everything. My angel I am so sorry. I should have went to you first, but I just thought about how I shouldn’t. You shouldn’t have to deal with a criminal and someone that went on the wrong path.” He starts to tear up, “Aeons I cannot imagine a life without you. I want you in my life and I want to take this next step with you. I am truly and deeply sorry for all I have caused. I love you so much. I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore but just know if you give me another chance I’ll do everything in my power to prove to you I will change.”

You turn to face him and start to cry looking at his tears. You dive right into his chest and hold onto him tight. He quickly wraps his arms around you and cries with you. You missed this, you missed him. Sunday’s familiar scent is home to you.

You hiccup, “Sunday, Sunday” you grip him tighter. “I don’t care if you’re criminal. I don’t care if you walked the wrong path. I want you. Yes it hurt that you didn’t say goodbye but I know that it isn’t necessary because anywhere you go, I’ll follow. I’ll always be right with you because I love you so much. I want nothing more than to continue this Nameless journey with you.”

Sunday takes a deep breath and buries his face in your neck and plants light kisses on your neck. Between kisses he thanks you and promises you it will always be you and him.

Venti

When you’ve been alive as long as Venti has, you tend to not forget things you find precious or important. At least that’s what you had come to think. But now you are starting to doubt that. Because why else would you be sitting in front of Windrise for hours all by yourself, with all the picnic essentials, and no sign of your lovely bard showing up, if he didn’t forget?

When it started to get dark you decided that you had waited long enough for Venti to show up and made your way back to the city. When you walked through the gates you run into Rosaria, which was a pleasant surprise because you only really see her when you go to Angel’s Share with Venti.

“Oh, hey there Rosaria! How are you doing tonight?” She tilts her head at you and looks at you a little confusedly, “huh I’m surprised you aren’t at Angel’s Share with that bard tonight. He’s never there without you anymore, something happen between you two?” Now it’s your turn to look at her confused because what does she mean Venti is at Angel’s Share tonight?

“Rosaria, what do you mean? He’s at Angel’s Share right now?” You then mumble to yourself “that would explain why he didn’t come to Windrise for our picnic date then I guess.” Her eyes widen just a fraction before she narrows them. “You’re telling me he skipped out on your date to go drinking with Kaeya, what a lousy guy.”

You let that all sink in before tears start forming in your eyes at the realization that you were in fact ditched by your beloved. You let your head fall before you quietly tell Rosaria that you’re going to go home now.

When you get to yours and Venti’s shared home you place the picnic basket on the counter and you immediately go to your shared room. You change out of your clothes and hop into your bed, and it doesn’t take long for the tears to pour out of your eyes. Next thing you know you hear Venti walk into the room, and you don’t even want to know how long it’s been but you’re awake now but facing away from the door.

When he gets into bed you realize that you are now facing him and you will yourself to go back to sleep, because you don’t want to cry anymore tonight. When he fully settles into bed he softly looks at you and notices that you’re awake and softly whispers to you.

“Well hello there my windblume, what has you up at this hour? Sleep is important you know.” He reaches to cup your face and when he rubs his finger across your cheek he realizes that it’s kinda of wet. “Oh my windblume, whatever could have you crying?” He pulls you into his chest, and you immediately try to pull out of his hold and turn around.

He looks at you quizzically because you have never pulled away from him before. Did he upset you in some way? “My dearest, please talk to me, I wish to know what is upsetting you. Allow me to be the one you confide in my windblume.” You sigh before whispering softly, because that’s all you can manage without crying again.

“Venti do you remember what we planned to do today? Am I really that forgettable? That you would stand me up on our picnic date that we’ve been planning for weeks? Was drinking with Kaeya really more important than our picnic?” Venti’s face pales at what you said because he realizes that he totally forgot about your guys’ date.

“Oh my dearest windblume, no apology could ever be worth your forgiveness and tears. But please allow me to apologize all the same, I have no excuse for forgetting our date. Please allow me to make it up to you in any way possible, I’d even do the impossible for you because that is what you are worth. I hope you can find it within your heart to forgive me for this transgression but I know that an apology alone will not suffice. My beloved I am truly sorry.”

Venti then wraps his arms around your waist and gently kisses the top of your head. You sigh softly and turn around in his embrace, hug him tightly, and bury your head in his chest. “Please never forget about me again my beloved bard, I couldn’t stand it ever again.” He takes one hand from around your waist and brings it to tilt your head up towards him and he gently kisses your lips. “Never again my beloved muse, I will never forget you again.”

Let’s just say from that point on you guys were practically glued to each other, you could never find one of you without the other, and that’s just how everyone came to know and love Venti the bard and his muse.

Wriothesley

The strong and formidable Duke is passionate in his job. Maybe sometimes a little too much for your liking. Which is why you are shocked to hear from a guard that a big brawl broke out and your boyfriend was in the middle of it and didn’t leave unscathed.

You went up to the surface to get some quick refills of some supplies you and Sigewinne needed before the bigger supply would come to the fortress. After hearing the news you quickly run to the fortress to see the wounded and you can tell the guys that were on the receiving end of your boyfriend. But you don’t see the man in question here.

Sigewinne sees you come in and walks to meet you. “If you’re wondering where His Grace is, he isn’t here. I think he went to his office after the brawl. Go to him and I’ll stay here.” You nod and tell her to send a guard if she needs your help.

You walk to his office and smile at the guards and tell them not to come in. You hear grunts coming from upstairs knowing he is in pain. You head up the stairs and see him on his chair. You walk to one of the cabinets and grab the mini first aid kit you kept in here for situations like these. It only makes your blood boil now.

You got the kit and walk over to Wriothesley. You take a good look at his bruised face, split lip, blood dripping from his eyebrows, and scraped up knuckles. You see his nicely done hair flattened against his forehead and his nice dress clothes out of place. Then you see his bright blue eyes staring right at you. Wriothesley smirks at you, “It was a rough one wasn’t it haha.”

You glare at him and unbutton his bloodied gray vest so he isn’t wearing bloodied clothes, “Ohhh so that’s what you want. You wanna have some fun sweetheart?”

You glare at him again and take off the vest. Then grab the kit and start working on his face. You clean up the blood and put some bandages on his face then some ointment on his split lip. “Hey leave some scars, gotta scare the prisoners somehow.”

Once again you sent him a glare, “Wow that’s a death glare. Wait why aren’t you talking?” What a real funny question, he promised you last time he wouldn’t take on a big brawl again. But he obviously didn’t keep that promise. It makes you angry and upset. You just want him to stay safe, is that too much to ask?

You reach for his left hand start to clean and bandage it. You then switch to his right hand and can’t stop the tears that fall. Which fall right onto his knuckle which makes his freak. “Hey wait why are you crying? Sweetheart come on please look at me.” He grabs your chin and sees your tear stained eyes. “Talk to me please. I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

You sniffle and let more tears fall, “You broke your promise. You told me you wouldn’t take on a brawl by yourself again. Wriothesley I get you’re the Duke but seriously hold yourself in a higher regard. You are still a person and don’t deserve to be beaten up to stop a fight. You have people that can help you break it up. It’s not your burden to carry all by yourself. Don’t you care about your body? Because I do. I care SO much. I don’t want to see your beautiful face beaten up and your nice clothes ripped and bloodied. It breaks my heart and I can’t keep seeing you like this.”

Wriothesley stops, wait were you breaking up with him? “Sweetheart please don’t break up with me. I know I promise, and I’m very sorry I broke it. I’m the Duke and I want to send a message and not have my men get hurt over stuff I can handle on my own. I truly promise from now on I’ll go into these situations better. I’ll bring extra men just archons don’t break up with me. I love you so much it hurts.”

You think he misinterpreted the last thing you said but at least this promise seems like one he won’t break. You smile at him, “I’m not breaking up with you handsome. You misunderstood.” You brush your hands through his hair, “I just don’t like seeing you hurt. I like seeing your handsome face free of blood and bruises. I love you so much too Wriothesley.”

Wriothesley smiles up at you and pulls you toward him and slots his lips with yours. You feel like with this kiss he’s sealing your promise.

Yanqing

Yanqing is not only recovering from his little run in with Blade and Dan Heng but is now having a crisis because you’re ignoring him for some reason?? He tried to ask Jing Yuan why you were avoiding him, but he was like “I don’t know Yanqing, I think you need to solve your little lover’s quarrel by yourself.”

To say he was bewildered might have been an understatement. All he wanted to do after he was thoroughly beat up by an infamous Stellaron Hunter and the previous High Elder was to just be in your presence and have you tend to his wounds because you always did it better than he ever could.

So here you sit, all by yourself, in the Exalting Sanctum, trying to calm yourself down. You just can’t believe that Yanqing would try to recapture one of the Stellaron Hunters, when he knows just how dangerous they are, and all by himself on top of that.

When you had first heard that Yanqing had gone off on his own accord to try to recapture Blade, it wasn’t even from Yanqing himself, rather from the seat of Divine Foresight himself. To say you were bewildered and just plain terrified was probably an understatement, because Blade is a very dangerous criminal with a high bounty on his head. Why would Yanqing try to go after him by himself for starters and without an order from Jing Yuan??

When he first got back after Jing Yuan told him to take his leave, he finds you sitting in Exalting Sanctum all by yourself looking quite upset. His first thought is that someone bothered you but when he reached where you were sitting all he got was a very harsh glare.

“Hey there my dear, what’s got you so upset? Did someone bother you?” You glare at him even harder once you see his injuries and stand up and huff before grabbing his hand and dragging him to your home. Yanqing can tell that you are very clearly upset but he can’t seem to figure out why, because you have never been this mad before. You drag him to your room where you kept your medical supplies and push him to sit on your bed, and you were not that gentle with it.

He winces at the sting it causes his injuries when you push him and you glare harder at the floor. You grab your little medical kit that you have, for times just like this, and begin on working tending to his injuries. He looks at you quizzically, because by now you would have said something, anything at all in response to him, and he is growing more confused and nervous by the second, because was it something he did?

The silence between you two lasts for a little longer until he speaks up and asks “hey, did I do something wrong? Did I upset you somehow? Please just talk to me?” You look up and glare at him again before silently getting back to his injuries, and you don’t know if it’s because you’re angry or because you were so nervous for his safety, but you realize that your hands are shaking.

Yanqing soon realizes this too and his eyes widen in alarm. “Wait, why are you shaking? Please tell me what’s wrong and I’ll do all I can to fix it, please, please just talk to me!” You begin to fumble with the last of his bandages and as soon as he sees that he grabs your hands with one of his and your face with the other. You look up at him and it doesn’t take long for you to break, tears start forming in your eyes before you’re spilling what’s bothering you.

“Yanqing how could you think that going after a Stellaron Hunter all by yourself was a good idea?? Do you have any idea how worried I was when Jing Yuan told me that you went off on your own with no orders?? Blade is such a dangerous person and you thought that the best course of action was to go off on your own and try to recapture him?? You could’ve avoided getting these injuries, don’t you know that?? It hurts me every time that I have to tend to your injuries because I know you’re out there getting hurt everyday and there’s nothing I can do about it! That’s why I’m upset Yanqing because I hate seeing you hurt!”

To say Yanqing was stunned was an understatement, because he was the reason you were upset? How could he have let that happen? “Wait, I’m so sorry my dear I never meant to upset you. I just wanted to prove myself and recapture the Stellaron Hunter after he escaped, I know he’s dangerous but I thought I could do it. I’m sorry for overlooking your feelings when I get hurt, please forgive me.”

Your eyes soften before you take your hands gently out of his and wrap your arms around him. “I forgive you Yanqing, please just stop being reckless alright?” His arms immediately come to wrap around you before he buries his head into your stomach. “I promise I’ll try to be less reckless, my dear.”

Let’s just say that from that point on Jing Yuan was impressed when he noticed that Yanqing got just a little less reckless, and he mentally thanked you for that.

#boothill x reader #sunday x reader #jing yuan x reader #moze x reader #yanqing x reader #hsr x reader #star rail x reader #diluc x reader #neuvillette x reader #wriothesley x reader #venti x reader #lyney x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader

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