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seriiousgiirl · 2 months ago

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𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁𝒿𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝓈𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓍 𝓉𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓇!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇.⊹ ₊ ݁.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. alternate universe - canon divergence, post-silent Hill 2, angst and fluff and smut, touch-starved, redemption, grief, mourning, psychological trauma and horror, mutual pining, James adopted Laura, age difference, smut, vaginal sex, rough sex, rough kissing, aftercare, daddy kink, James deserves his happy ending, James is desperate and pathetic, based on the Silent Hill Games and mostly the remake

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. Three years after the harrowing events in Silent Hill, James Sunderland has survived the haunting memories of his past but carries the heavy burden of grief and guilt. Adopting Laura, James strives to create a normal life for them both, but the echoes of his former life linger, haunting him in moments of solitude.

As he navigates the challenges of fatherhood and a corporate job, James grapples with PTSD and the lingering shadows of his late wife, Mary. His daily interactions are fraught with anxiety, especially when it comes to Laura's teacher, Y/n. Young, vibrant, and filled with warmth. But as Y/n becomes an unexpected source of comfort and tension in James's life. He is drawn to her kindness and beauty, yet he feels undeserving of her attention, burdened by the ghosts of his past.

When Y/n reaches out with genuine concern for James's well-being, he wrestles with feelings of guilt, lust and longing, torn between the desire for connection and the fear of betraying Mary's memory. As James's pent-up frustrations bubble to the surface, he finds himself navigating a complicated emotional landscape where love, loss, and redemption intertwine.

❛ Part 2 ⋅ masterlist ⋅ ao3 ⋅ requests ❜

➜ ┊ a/n: Hello everyone! After years of being more or less in the Silent Hill fandom, the remake rather inspired me... :') After seeing how cute James is in it, I felt like I was rediscovering his character. The story is a bit different from what we usually see, but I hope it will appeal to the (few, I don't think many would be interested in a silent hill fanfic) people who read it.

➜ ┊: chapter 1/?.

James woke up again, his body snapping upright in bed, his breath ragged and uneven as if he had just surfaced from drowning. His chest rose and fell with frantic breaths that refused to calm, his heart hammering against his ribcage like a prisoner desperate to escape. The room around him was silent, still, and blanketed in shadows, the faintest silver glow of the moon seeping through the thin, worn curtains. It painted his surroundings in an eerie light, enough to make out the vague shapes of his furniture but not enough to chase away the weight of the darkness.

He knew it was early—much too early. The alarm on his nightstand wouldn’t go off for hours, not until the unforgiving numbers clicked over to 7 a.m. He set it religiously, every night, clinging to the hope that one day he’d wake naturally to the sound, as if that simple act could restore some semblance of normalcy to his broken life.

But that never happened.

James never woke peacefully anymore. His body, his mind, refused to grant him that mercy. Instead, he jolted awake in a cold sweat, his body rigid, his pulse racing. Each time, it felt as though he was being pulled from some unseen nightmare—ripped out of a hellish dreamscape that he couldn’t remember clearly but always left its mark. The fear, the panic, the suffocating sense of dread stayed with him, lingering like smoke in the air long after his eyes had adjusted to the dim glow of his bedroom.

He pressed his palm against his face, wiping away the sheen of sweat that clung to his skin. His body felt tense, coiled like a spring that had been wound too tightly. His muscles ached from the constant strain, from the battles he fought every night within the confines of his mind. The nightmares weren’t just dreams. They were fragments of a past that refused to stay buried, haunting him in the dead of night when the world outside was quiet and his mind had no distractions to keep the demons at bay.

The medication bottles on his bedside table gleamed faintly in the moonlight, their labels worn from use. He reached for them out of habit, his fingers brushing the cool surface, but he didn’t open them. No matter how many pills he swallowed, how many prescriptions doctors wrote, nothing ever worked. Sleep was supposed to be a sanctuary, a refuge from the waking world, but for James, it had become another battleground.

He let his hand drop back to his lap, staring down at his shaking fingers. He could feel the tension still coursing through him, the residue of whatever nightmare had dragged him awake. His body hadn’t yet realised he was safe, that it was just a dream, and the adrenaline still pumped through his veins. Every night, it was the same—this restless terror that clung to him, trapping him in a cycle he couldn’t escape. He longed for sleep, yet feared it in equal measure, knowing that the darkness of his subconscious held more horrors than the light of day ever could.

For a moment, he considered lying back down, closing his eyes, and trying again.

But the thought alone made his stomach twist.

With a sigh, James decided to give up on sleep altogether. There was no use lying there, waiting for his heart to calm down or for the remnants of his nightmare to fade. His legs still trembled as he swung them over the side of the bed, the cool floor beneath him grounding him just enough to pull himself up. The shadows in the room seemed to shift as he stood, though he knew it was his mind playing tricks again. He had long stopped trusting the darkness.

He moved carefully, trying to stay silent as he made his way to the door, not wanting to wake Laura. She was the only constant in his life now, the only reason he hadn’t completely unravelled. But even the thought of her, sleeping peacefully down the hall, wasn’t enough to ease the tremor in his hands. As he stepped out of the bedroom, the familiar creak of the floorboards echoed too loud in the silence of the house, and for a fleeting moment, his breath hitched.

Sometimes, in these quiet hours, he could swear he heard them—the monsters. That same sickening creaking sound they made, their grotesque forms dragging across the cold. Or worse, the heavy, slow scrap of metal—a blade being dragged along the ground. His body tensed, instinctively waiting for the ominous presence of that thing— he came to call Pyramid Head. He hadn’t seen it in three years, but its presence still lingered, like a ghost lurking in the corners of his mind. His chest tightened as he imagined that scraping sound growing closer, louder, but he knew… or at least, he tried to convince himself it wasn’t real. Not anymore.

On the worst days, though, it wasn’t just the monsters.

Sometimes, he would hear her—Mary. Her voice, soft and sweet, like the Mary he remembered before everything went wrong, calling out to him. It always started the same way, a gentle whisper at first, like she was in the next room, waiting for him. And each time, it grew louder, more urgent, until it was a siren’s call, relentless and cruel. It was enough to make his heart stop, to make him question everything, and then he’d remember—he knew where that call would lead. Straight into oblivion. Straight into the abyss of his own guilt.

On other nights, he could swear he felt Maria—her warmth next to him in bed, the way her body would press against his. It was so vivid, so painfully real, as though she hadn’t died in his arms multiple times, as though Silent Hill hadn’t swallowed her whole. She had been a ghost, a reflection of everything he had lost, and yet… sometimes she felt alive in those moments. His doctors told him it was all hallucinations, the remnants of trauma deeply embedded in his mind. Certified and explained away in clinical terms, but knowing that didn’t change how real it felt in those fleeting, terrifying seconds.

Even now, as he stood in the hallway, his breath uneven, James couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere—beneath the layers of his fragile reality—the horrors were still there, watching, waiting.

James padded quietly into the kitchen, his bare feet brushing against the cool tiles as he reached for a glass. The water flowed smoothly from the tap, cool and refreshing, and he drank it straight, the crispness washing over him. It helped clear his mind, if only for a moment, pushing back the lingering echoes of the night’s terrors.

After finishing the glass, he flicked on the small lamp in the living room, its soft glow spilling light across the space, chasing away the oppressive darkness. He made his way to the couch, settling himself in front of the window, where the city still lay shrouded in early morning silence. Outside, the world was just beginning to stir, but here in this moment, everything felt suspended in time.

They had moved far away from Silent Hill, away from Maine altogether, as if he was still trying to escape the town’s haunting pull. When Laura had expressed her desire for a place near the coast, saying she wanted to feel the warmth of the sun and breathe in the salty scent of the ocean, he had obliged her wishes. It was the least he could do for the little girl who had become his lifeline, the one bright spot in his otherwise dark world. It had taken time, but he had learned to appreciate the small things—like the sound of waves crashing against the shore and the way the sunlight danced on the water’s surface.

He pulled his journal from the side table, the worn leather cover familiar against his fingers. The pages were filled with thoughts, memories, and an ongoing dialogue with himself—one that his doctor had encouraged. Writing was meant to help him sort through his feelings, to separate reality from the nightmares that still clung to him like shadows. It was a way to document the moments that felt tangible, grounding him in the present.

With the pen poised above the page, he took a deep breath, letting the silence of the morning wrap around him.

Date: [XX/10/1993]

Another night of waking up in a cold sweat. The dreams feel heavier lately, more vivid. I can still hear Mary’s voice sometimes, like she’s calling out to me. I know it’s not real, but the longing… It’s hard to escape. I need to remember that I’m here now. That I have Laura. She needs me to be present. I need to plan my day—take her to the beach, show her the tide pools, maybe? She deserves to explore, to laugh, to feel alive. Maybe it will help me too.

James paused, staring at the words he’d just written. The ink was still wet, and he felt the weight of each line pressing against his chest, a mixture of hope and dread swirling within him.

He continued, allowing his thoughts to flow onto the page.

I’ve been thinking about the way the ocean looks at dawn. It’s a beautiful sight, the horizon slowly illuminated by the first light of day. I want to share that with Laura. She deserves to see the world as it is. Maybe if I can show her that, it’ll help me remember what it feels like to be alive, too.

He turned the page, feeling the familiar texture beneath his fingertips, grounding him in a moment that felt too fragile. The nightmares are starting to blur again. It’s like I’m drifting between memories and dreams. I know I should talk to Dr. Fischer about it, but I hate feeling so exposed. Every time I sit across from him, it’s like peeling back layers of skin. I don’t want to keep reliving the past, but I also know I can’t pretend it doesn’t exist. It’s a part of me now—part of what makes me who I am.

But sometimes, I wonder if I’m doing enough. If I’m enough. Laura is so full of life—she deserves happiness, yet I feel like a ghost in my own home. The laughter that fills this place is often followed by a silence that weighs heavily on me, as if I’m a spectator in my own life, watching a play where I don’t belong.

He paused, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, fighting against the swell of loneliness that threatened to overwhelm him.

Some days, I can still hear Mary’s laughter, the way it used to light up the room, but now it’s a whisper in the wind. I wish I could reach out to her, ask her for forgiveness, tell her how much I miss her. But she’s gone, and I’m left with nothing but my guilt and the memories that won’t let me go. It’s a bitter irony—I have another chance at life with Laura, yet I feel more alone than ever.

I thought time would heal me, that the scars would fade, but each day feels like a new reminder of what I’ve lost. I watch Laura play, her laughter cutting through the silence, and it fills me with joy and pain all at once. I want to protect her, to shield her from the darkness I carry. But how can I do that when I’m still fighting my own battles?

Anyway, plan for today: Take Laura to the beach, explore the tide pools, and have a picnic.

As he continued to write, the rhythm of his thoughts began to settle, the initial chaos giving way to clarity. He documented everything he hoped to achieve that day, the things that could distract him.

After some time, the soft patter of small feet echoed in the hallway, and Laura emerged from her room, her hair tousled and her eyes still heavy with sleep. She settled next to James on the couch, curling her legs beneath her as she leaned against his shoulder, still waking up.

“Did you even sleep at all?” she mumbled, her voice thick with the remnants of slumber.

James chuckled softly, the sound warm and gentle. “Just a little. You know how it is,” he replied, glancing down at her. The early morning light filtered through the window, illuminating her features and casting a soft glow around them.

“Not again,” Laura sighed, shaking her head in mock exasperation. “You should really take better care of yourself, you know.”

James smiled, closing his journal and setting it aside, feeling the comforting weight of their shared silence. His relationship with Laura had evolved significantly since that first day they met. In the beginning, there was an undeniable tension, a wall between them built from grief and uncertainty. Laura had been sharp-tongued and defiant, often testing his patience with her stubbornness. But over time, that wall had crumbled, brick by brick, revealing a bond that had become more profound and genuine.

“Maybe I just like the quiet,” he teased, nudging her lightly with his shoulder. “It gives me time to think.”

Laura rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. “Yeah, right. More like you spend it worrying about everything,” she shot back, her familiar sass coming through. But he could sense the softness in her demeanour, the way she had begun to let him in, and it filled him with gratitude.

There were still moments when she wouldn’t call him “Dad”—it felt too heavy, too final—but there had been instances where the word slipped out, once or twice. The first time he had felt a rush of warmth and something almost like fear at her words. It had caught him off guard, pulling at his heartstrings in a way he hadn’t expected. It was one night after a particularly rough day at school.

The kids had been relentless, and when she had come home, her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She had cried so much that night, seeking solace in his arms, and in that moment of vulnerability, she had whispered it—Dad—like it was a fragile promise, something she wanted to believe in.

He had held her tightly, whispering reassurances as she poured out her heart. It was one of the hardest days for both of them, but that single word had changed everything, reinforcing their bond in ways he never thought possible.

The shrill sound of James’s alarm cut through the quiet morning, signalling that it was finally 7 a.m. He groaned softly, the sudden noise pulling him from the lingering remnants of his thoughts. “Time to get moving,” he muttered to himself before swinging his legs off the couch and standing up.

“Laura,” he called out gently, “you need to get ready for school.”

Laura groaned but slowly pushed herself upright, her hair sticking up in tousled spikes. “Do I have to?” she whined, rubbing her eyes.

“Yes, you do,” James replied with a chuckle, heading into the kitchen to start breakfast. He could already hear her muttering under her breath as she dragged herself away from the comfort of the couch, but he couldn’t help but smile at her antics. As he prepared breakfast, the scent of eggs and toast filled the air, mixing with the cool October breeze that slipped in through the slightly ajar window.

He could hear the soft shuffle of Laura getting ready in the background, her footsteps echoing through the hallway.

When breakfast was ready, he set the table, placing a plate in front of her just as she joined him. They ate together in comfortable silence, the clinking of forks the only sound between them for a few moments.

“So, there’s this kid in class…” Laura began, her voice a mix of enthusiasm and worry. As she recounted her stories, James listened attentively, nodding along as she shared her concerns about a class project and the kids who were teasing her again. She spoke with an earnestness that made him proud, she was a smart little girl.

“...and I do think the teacher likes me a lot,” she finished, her voice dropping slightly, smiling shyly.

James reached across the table, placing a comforting hand on hers. “You’re doing great, Laura. I’m so proud of you,” he encouraged, hoping to convey his support.

Once they finished breakfast, he cleared the table while she dashed back to her room to grab her backpack. The familiar morning routine helped ground him, a stark contrast to the chaos that often filled his mind.

Then, James returned to his room, feeling the familiar weight of his thoughts returning. He turned on the water for a shower, the warm spray washing over him, almost as if he were trying to cleanse himself of his sins and guilt. Each droplet felt like it could wash away a little more of his guilt, his pain, and his memories.

After his shower, he stood in front of the mirror, towel drying his ash-blond hair and tidying it up, shaving his stubble. The cold air from outside seeped through the window, sending a shiver down his spine as he dressed for the day. He pulled on a simple shirt and jeans.

But as James stood in front of his closet, the morning light filtering through the curtains, his gaze fell upon his signature khaki jacket hanging quietly amidst his other clothes. For a moment, he hesitated, his heart tightening.

The jacket felt heavy with the weight of the past. He recalled the feel of it against his skin as he navigated the fog-laden streets, the chill of the air contrasting sharply with the warmth it provided. It had shielded him from the elements, yes, but it had also cloaked him in the pain of his choices, the guilt that clung to him like a second skin.

James swallowed hard, staring at the jacket, the muted fabric whispering secrets of the past. He could almost hear the echoes of Mary’s voice, feel the pang of loss that accompanied every memory. It was as if the jacket was tainted, infused with the blood and tears of that time—but also her scent, her warmth and gentle touch.

Perhaps… Today, he could indulge himself.

He took a deep breath, fighting against the swell of anxiety that rose within him. This jacket is just a piece of clothing, James, he reminded himself, yet it felt like so much more. With a decisive moment, he pulled it from the hanger and slipped it on, the familiar weight settling comfortably on his shoulders.

James looked at himself in the mirror, the reflection staring back at him was a man still fighting battles. With a shameful sigh, he adjusted the collar, feeling the jacket’s fabric against his skin. When he stepped outside, the brisk October wind greeted him, a sharp contrast to the warmth inside.

Laura stood at the door, a look of surprise mixed with concern crossing her face.

“Why are you still wearing that jacket?” she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly as she gestured to the fabric. “You know… after everything that happened in...” She couldn’t bring herself to say the name of the haunting town.

James shrugged, a faint smile creeping onto his face. “I still like it. It’s comfortable.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. “You’re so weird, James,” she teased, nudging him with her shoulder as they made their way down the path toward the car.

“Weird or not, let’s get you to school on time little girl,” he said, his tone quite firm. Together, they stepped into the brisk morning air, ready to face whatever the day had in store.

‧───────────────

Dropping Laura off at school had become a routine, but for James, it was anything but simple. As they approached the bustling entrance, he felt a familiar tightening in his chest, a sense of dread creeping over him like a heavy fog. It wasn’t the school itself or the noise of children chattering and laughing; it was the attention he attracted.

In a small town where traditional family structures were the norm, a single father with a daughter who didn’t even remotely resemble him stood out like a sore thumb. James had chosen to keep his past private, and he was grateful that Laura’s adoption remained a secret. He avoided any conversations that might lead to questions about their relationship or as to why he was alone, fearing the scrutiny that came with revealing the truth. After all, in the eyes of the world, he was just a man dropping off his daughter, and that was how he wanted it to stay.

As they parked and stepped out of the car, the sun shone brightly, but it felt cold against his skin. He could already sense the gazes of the mothers lingering on him as he helped Laura with her backpack. Their eyes were sharp, curious, sizing him up like sharks circling prey, ready to pounce at the slightest sign of vulnerability. James kept his head down, focusing on Laura as she adjusted her straps and prepared to head inside.

“Have a good day, okay?” he said, forcing a smile as she turned to him, her enthusiasm bubbling over as she waved goodbye.

“Bye, James!” she called, her voice full of cheer as she dashed toward the school gates, her ponytail swinging behind her.

With her back turned, James felt the full weight of the mothers’ stares. He could almost hear the whispers beneath their breath, speculating about him—why he was alone, where Laura’s mother was, and why they didn’t look alike. It was all too easy to imagine the conclusions they would jump to, and he wanted no part of it.

Every step he took toward his car felt like walking through a minefield. He avoided eye contact at all costs, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground as he navigated through the throngs of parents and children. Conversations buzzed around him, but he focused solely on his breathing, trying to ignore the anxiety tightening around his chest.

As he passed a small group of mothers standing near the entrance, he couldn’t help but catch snippets of their conversations, even as he tried to block them out.

“Did you see him? He looks so sad,” one of them whispered, her voice dripping with faux concern. “Who could leave such a handsome man alone?”

James felt a familiar flush creep up his neck, a mix of embarrassment and irritation. He quickened his pace, but their comments followed him like shadows.

“I know, right? A single father is so sexy,” another chimed in. “I wish my husband was as committed to our son’s school life.”

He clenched his jaw, biting back a retort. The last thing he wanted was to be part of their gossip, yet he was helpless against the words that floated through the air like smoke. Each compliment felt like a reminder of everything he wanted to avoid—attention, scrutiny, and the inevitable questions.

As he reached the edge of the parking lot, he heard another mother say, “I heard there’s a parents-teacher meeting tonight. Can you imagine? He’ll probably be all alone again. It’s such a shame.”

The words hit him like a cold slap, and he paused, taking a moment to gather himself. The thought of attending the meeting, sent a fresh wave of anxiety crashing over him. Why did they have to bring that up now?

He finally reached his car, fumbling for his keys in his pocket as he tried to push the whispers from his mind. The weight of judgement lingered in the air, but he didn’t look back. He slipped into the driver’s seat, exhaling slowly as he gripped the steering wheel. “Just another day,” he murmured to himself, willing his heart to calm.

James had avoided women religiously since he came back, erecting barriers around himself that felt both protective and suffocating. The loss of Mary had left a gaping hole in his heart, one that he couldn’t bear to fill with anyone else. Allowing himself to indulge in the warmth of another felt like an insult to her memory.

In the years following her death, he had retreated into himself, building walls high enough to keep the world—and the painful reminders of his past—at bay. He threw himself into fatherhood, pouring all his energy into raising Laura and ensuring she felt loved and secure. She was his anchor, the one bright spot in the dark fog of his grief. Yet, in avoiding connections with women, he had inadvertently created a deep well of pent-up frustrations within himself—frustrations that simmered just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment.

Every time he caught himself looking at a woman, whether it was a fleeting glance at a passerby or—especially a longer gaze at Laura’s teacher during a school event, he felt a wave of guilt wash over him. What am I doing? He would ask himself, immediately diverting his eyes, as if the very act of looking was a betrayal of the love he once held dear. He had convinced himself that he wasn’t ready to move forward, but in truth, he was terrified of what that would mean.

In the quiet moments, when he was alone with his thoughts, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the weight of his solitude. The nights grew long and lonely, and sometimes he found himself longing for the comfort of another person—a hand to hold, a voice to soothe him.

But the thought of crossing that line felt insurmountable, like stepping onto a precipice with no way back. He often wondered if this self-imposed exile was healthy or just a way of avoiding the inevitable. Deep down, he knew that if he ever did let someone in, it would come with a torrent of emotions he wasn’t prepared to face—the guilt, the grief, and the fear of moving on without forgetting.

Sometimes, when the darkness of the night enveloped him and the oppressive solitude weighed heavily upon his chest, James found himself struggling to resist his deepest, most shameful urges. Alone in the dim light of his bedroom, the air thick with silence, he would reach for the only source of warmth he had left—his own body.

But every time he started to jerk himself, trying to think about anyone other than Mary, he would falter. His thoughts would slip, no matter how hard he tried to redirect them. The moment he ventured into the realm of fantasy, attempting to conjure images of the warmth he longed for, his mind would betray him. Instead of the embrace of another, he would see Mary’s face—her soft smile, the way her eyes sparkled with mischief, the lightness in her laughter that had once filled their home. The memory of her enveloped him, suffocating and punishing him in its intensity, and he would feel a deep-seated shame clawing at his insides.

But jerking off while thinking about his dead wife, the one he had killed, felt utterly wrong.

With a trembling hand, he'd stroke his hardening cock, trying to drown out the memories that haunted him. But no matter how hard he tried to push them away, they always crept back in, taking over his mind and filling him with an overwhelming sense of guilt. Images of Mary would flood his vision, her soft smile and sparkling eyes etched into his mind, along with the lightness of her laughter that once filled their home.

As he stroked faster, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, he could feel the pressure building inside him. But just as he was about to reach the edge of ecstasy, he would see her face again, and the guilt would consume him. How could he possibly find pleasure in this, knowing what he had done to her?

The guilt was overwhelming, flooding his senses as he would try to push it all away, but it clung to him like a shadow. Tears would fill his eyes, hot and stinging, blurring his vision as the shame washed over him. He would cry, feeling pathetic and broken, as if indulging in his own body was another betrayal on a long list he had made in his mind. How could I even think of anyone else? He would chastise himself, the guilt wrapping around his heart like a vice, squeezing tighter until it became unbearable.

Knowing that he could never truly find solace in this act, James would eventually release his warm cum spilling onto his hand and stomach. But even in the aftermath of his orgasm, the guilt remained, and he would lie there, spent and broken, wondering how he could ever redeem himself.

It was a cycle of longing and despair that left him feeling more isolated than before. He would swipe at his tears, but they would keep coming, relentless and unyielding. The echoes of his cries seemed to linger in the air, a haunting reminder that he was still trapped in a cycle of grief that he could never escape…

‧───────────────

The day had finally drawn to a close, and the muted hum of office chatter began to fade as the fluorescent lights overhead flickered in their final moments. James gathered his belongings, the familiar weight of his briefcase resting heavily in his hand. The corporate world had wrapped around him like a well-worn coat, the same job he had held before, one that felt both calming and predictable.

It paid well enough to keep the bills at bay and provided a stable life for him and Laura, allowing him to indulge her little whims—the occasional treat, a new book or doll, or even a day out at the beach.

As he waved goodbye to his coworkers, offering polite smiles and half-hearted chuckles, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of isolation. Their lives seemed so vibrant, filled with laughter and casual conversations about weekend plans, while he felt like an outsider peering in. Part of him wished he could simply slip away unnoticed, disappearing into the anonymity of the evening. But the thought of the upcoming parent-teacher meeting loomed over him like a dark cloud, the spectre of his insecurities rising to the surface.

What if Laura’s teacher had concerns about her progress? What if she brought up issues he was completely unaware of? The prospect of engaging in a discussion that could highlight his shortcomings as a parent filled him with an unfamiliar anxiety. He recalled how he had struggled to help her with her homework due to his absent mind, the frustration evident in both their faces as they would argue over James’ implications. Laura would always end up saying that she wished she had a better family…

As he walked through the now empty parking lot, James’s mind drifted to the scenario of the meeting. Maybe it was a bit late, and he secretly hoped Laura’s teacher wouldn’t want to linger past the working usual hour to talk with him. He envisioned himself slipping away, feigning an urgent call or an unforeseen obligation, but guilt gnawed at him, tugging at his conscience.

He couldn’t let Laura down; she had come to rely on him, and he owed it to her to at least try.

“Just get through it,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head as if to clear the impending doubts swirling in his mind. The crisp October air washed over him like a cleansing wave, invigorating him for just a moment. Inhaling deeply, he felt the coolness slice through the tension that had built up in his chest throughout the day, if only temporarily.

Sliding into the driver’s seat of his ageing car, he turned the key in the ignition, the familiar rumble reassuring him, if only slightly. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard; he still had a little time before he needed to pick Laura up from school. As he drove toward the school, the streets blurred by in a rush of colors, and he allowed himself to mentally prepare for the meeting.

Maybe he could muster enough courage by the time he arrived, but deep down, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that this meeting would push him closer to confronting the ghosts of his past—something he had been desperately trying to avoid.

Thoughts of Mary flitted through his mind, uninvited yet persistent. What would she think of him now? Would she be proud of how he was trying to raise Laura, or would she shake her head in disappointment? These questions haunted him as he navigated the familiar streets. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions roiling within him.

The school building came into view, and he parked in a spot near the entrance. As he sat there for a moment, staring at the looming structure that housed his daughter’s daily adventures. With a deep breath, he pushed open the car door, stepping out into the cool evening air.

As he approached the entrance, he reminded himself that this was part of the job of being a parent—a role he was still desperately trying to fully embrace. After all, it was true she deserved more than a father lost in his own grief.

As he approached the school gate, he spotted her standing there, the last child waiting to be picked up. His heart sank at the sight; he had hoped to arrive earlier, to be there for her when the final bell rang. A wave of guilt washed over him, but when Laura turned and her face lit up with a smile, that guilt was momentarily pushed aside.

At least she wasn’t angry.

“James!” she called out, her voice bright and cheerful, as she stretched out her hand toward him. He could see a small backpack slung over her shoulder, and his heart swelled at how she looked—so much like a little girl embracing the world, unbothered by the worries that often plagued him.

“Hey,” he replied, kneeling slightly to take her small hand in his.

As he thanked the school attendant, a friendly woman with kind eyes who had watched over Laura, he glanced around, hoping to catch a glimpse of her teacher. He didn’t see anyone lingering by the entrance, and a relieved sigh escaped him. Perhaps she had decided to leave, not waiting for him to discuss whatever concerns she may have had about Laura. That was one less thing for him to handle, and he felt a slight weight lift off his shoulders.

“Let’s go home, shall we?” he suggested, his tone light as he turned to lead Laura away. The sight of her eager nod and bright smile made his heart feel lighter, even if just for a moment. He began to walk toward the car, feeling a sense of normalcy return to him—until a soft voice called out behind him.

“Mr. Sunderland!”

Here’s an expansion on James' perception of you:

James turned, the sound of your voice pulling him back from his thoughts. You were striding toward him, your expression a mix of determination and urgency, the late afternoon light catching in your soft hair.

There was something striking about your presence that always made his heart race, even amidst the rising anxiety he felt at these interactions. It was as if you carried a warmth with you, an energy that seemed to radiate in the space around you, igniting a flicker of something long dormant within him.

“I was just about to leave,” you said, a hint of breathlessness in your tone as you approached. “I wanted to talk to you before you went. Is this a good time?” You looked unsure.

James glanced at Laura, who was watching the exchange with curious eyes. He felt the familiar knot of anxiety twist in his stomach but nodded, trying to mask his apprehension with a calm demeanour. “Sure, I have a moment.”

“Laura’s been doing really well, by the way,” you continued, your voice lightening as you spoke about his daughter. “She’s incredibly bright and has made some good friends this semester. I’m really proud of her progress.”

James felt a flicker of warmth at your praise. He was grateful to see Laura thriving, especially after the rough patches they had navigated together. “Thank you. I know she’s been working hard,” he replied, glancing down at her, who was beaming at your words.

“But…” you paused, your tone shifting slightly. “There are some areas where she might need a bit more support. I think if we work together, we can help her really shine.”

James felt a wave of gratitude and unease wash over him. While he wanted to support Laura, the idea of deeper involvement with her teaching felt daunting. “What do you suggest?”

Your eyes met his, and he felt a strange mix of comfort and vulnerability in that gaze. You began outlining a few ideas, your passion for teaching evident in your animated gestures. He found himself hanging on your words, drawn in by the way you spoke.

As you began to speak about Laura’s progress, he couldn't help but take in the little details—the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about the kids, the way your hands moved animatedly as you explained your thoughts, and the curve of your soft pink lips. It struck him how youthful and beautiful you looked, filled with a vibrancy that he found both comforting and terrifying.

He had known you for years since Laura started school, but he had always kept his distance, avoiding lingering too long in your presence. Every encounter felt like a double-edged sword; he wanted to connect, to know you better, but the fear of what that meant held him back. Your passion for teaching shone through, and it was evident that you genuinely cared for each child, especially his daughter.

Yet, for James, that made you all the more dangerous. It was a kind of warmth that he couldn’t dare to approach or touch, as if it would burn his skin. Your laughter and bright smiles were like sunlight piercing through the clouds, illuminating the shadows that loomed over his heart.

But it also reminded him of how far removed he was from that happiness.

The innocence and light you carried felt worlds away from the darkness he had endured. It made him question if he was even deserving of your kindness, let alone your attention—even if it was strictly professional. You had a purity about you that felt both inviting and forbidding. It was the kind of innocence that reminded him of everything he had hoped for once—everything he felt unworthy of now. How could someone like you, who radiated joy and hope, ever understand the darkness that clung to him? The guilt and despair that wrapped around his heart like a vice?

Yet, as you continued, he realised that part of him didn’t want this moment to end. Just a short while ago, he had dreaded this conversation, but now he found himself wishing to listen to your soft voice all night long.

As you concluded your thoughts about Laura, your smile remained bright, and for a moment, James caught himself wishing he could linger just a bit longer in your presence, absorbing the warmth you exuded. But the instinct to retreat kicked in, a familiar defence mechanism rising to shield him from the vulnerability he felt around you.

“Thanks for the feedback,” he said, forcing a smile as he tried to mask the storm of emotions brewing inside him. “I appreciate you taking the time.”

You smiled back, but there was a flicker of something in your eyes—curiosity, concern?

He couldn’t quite decipher it.

As you stood there, a moment of silence stretched between you, and James noticed a flicker of hesitation in your eyes. You looked shy, as if you were unsure whether you were crossing a line by speaking up.

“Mr. Sunderland,” you began, your voice soft, “are you okay? I’ve noticed you’ve looked... a bit tired lately.”

The question caught him off guard, and for a fleeting moment, he found himself wondering if it was painfully oblivious or truly observant of the details that everyone else seemed to overlook. But quickly, he concluded that he must have been projecting his exhaustion more than he realised, and he must definitely look tired.

The question wasn’t intimate.

He forced a smile, trying to shake off the weight of your concern. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied too quickly, dismissing your worry as he nodded almost vigorously. “Just, you know, work and everything.”

For a heartbeat, you searched his face, perhaps hoping to see something more, a glimpse of the truth that lay beneath his carefully crafted exterior. But after a moment of hesitation, you seemed to accept his response. You nodded, though there was still a hint of worry shadowing your features.

“If you or Laura need anything, please let me know,” you insisted gently. “I’d be more than happy to help.”

The kindness in your offer made his chest tighten, his heart pounding with a mix of gratitude and desire. He appreciated it, truly, but it also fueled the raging fire of lust that had consumed him. Here you were, simply trying to be helpful, and yet he couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to have you all to himself, to explore every inch of your body and lose himself in your embrace.

His mind raced with vivid, graphic images of you—unbuttoning your shirt, revealing your tantalising curves; running his hands over your smooth skin; kissing and licking your neck, tasting the salt of your sweat. He could almost taste the sweet moan that would escape your parted lips, the moan of a woman ready to surrender to his sinful, wanton needs. The very idea of it made his breath catch in his throat and his cock twitch in his pants.

He felt like a beast, a predator stalking its prey, as he watched you. Every move you made was a tease, every word you spoke a seductive whisper that echoed in his mind and stoked the flames of his desire. You were a forbidden, irresistible delight that he craved with every fibre of his being.

“Thank you,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper and his voice painfully strained. “That means a lot.” He managed to nod, hoping to convey his gratitude without revealing the turmoil churning inside him.

James' lips curled into a polite smile, but his dark thoughts raged like wildfire beneath the surface. He tried to ignore the forced gentleness of his own tone, reminding himself that he was only being polite. Yet, every word he uttered was weighed down by heavy lust for you, and the knowledge that he should never let these desires surface again.

As you stood there, a mixture of warmth and uncertainty radiating from your presence, he felt a pang of regret. You were offering him a lifeline, yet he felt as though he was dragging you into a murky depth he didn’t know how to escape. The moment hung between you, a fragile thread of connection that he wanted to reach for, yet feared would only end in disappointment. In your eyes, he saw kindness, concern, and a spark of something he dared not acknowledge. But with every passing second, he also felt the walls he had built around himself begin to tremble, as if you might be the catalyst for change he had been both longing for and dreading.

“I should go,” you said, breaking the silence, and James felt an odd mix of relief and disappointment wash over him.

“Right,” he replied, forcing his mind to focus on the present. “Thank you Miss, and have a good night.”

You offered him one last warm smile before turning to leave, and he watched you go, feeling the weight of what had happened. The kindness you had shown him stirred something deep within—a longing he couldn’t quite satisfy.

#silent hill #silent hill 2 #silent hill 2 remake #silent hill james sunderland x reader #james sunderland #james sunderland x reader #smut #james sunderland/reader #x reader #female reader

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starbop · 7 months ago

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How SMELLY all the Honkai Boys are...

Here's my ranking of HSR boys based on how much I think they smell. Explanations + headcanons below the cut!

The Top Stinkers

Caelus literally digs through garbage for fun. I don't think I need to defend their spot as the #1 stinkiest mf in this whole game. 11/10 on the stink scale.

Sampo also has the energy of someone who enjoys garbage. I, for one, have no idea where that thing has been and I don't think I want to know. He is also known to hide in piles of snow when need be, meaning he's just out there rolling around on the ground sometimes. 10/10 would not sniff again.

Luka is the sweatiest man alive. But he looks SO good doing it. The sparks and smoke his arm produces, while very cool to look at, do not help his smelliness rating. 8/10 because he at least has good reasons for smelling funky.

I do not think Blade has ever taken a shower. You could fry a whole chicken with the oil from his hair. 9/10.

Boothill smells like a mixture of motor oil, grease, and sweat. Not a smell I would personally hate, but objectively not a good one. Yeehaw/10.

The Smelly

I feel like, in theory, you could smell like anything in the Dreamscape. I just also feel like Gallagher would not choose to smell good. 7/10.

I really want to believe that he'd smell good, but the second he finishes his magical girl transformation sequence, Imbibitor Lunae reeks with the smell of seaweed. I will deduct a stinky point from my initial rating because some people may think this smells good. They are wrong. 7/10.

Neutral Smelling

Yanqing should reek from all the time he spends fighting and training, but Jing Yuan is not letting that boy leave the house without taking a bath. 6/10.

Arlan bathes regularly, but I can't imagine him having a particularly strong smell. Asta will occasionally gift him some lightly scented soaps, though. If anything, he smells vaguely like Peppy. 5/10.

Gepard might get a little sweaty under all those layers, but he doesn't have a strong scent one way or the other. 4/10.

I Am Sniffing Respectfully

I just KNOW that the Astral Express has the nicest bathrooms in the universe. Dan Heng and Welt stay smelling FRESH. 3/10.

(Though Dan Heng has ended up smelling like bubblegum on a few occasions after borrowing March's shampoo...)

Misha smells like a sweet dream. I don't know what dreams smell like, but that's the only way to describe Misha's scent. Vaguely like cotton candy, perhaps. Ethereal/10.

Jing Yuan takes bubble baths with Mimi and you can NOT change my mind. I can totally picture him dozing off peacefully after a nice, warm bath. I-can-overlook-the-cat-hair/10.

We've seen Ratio take SO many baths at this point that I don't think you could find a single speck of dirt on that man's perfect body if you tried. How are his fingers not just permanently pruney? I hate him so much. 1/10.

I AM SNIFFING DISRESPECTFULLY

Argenti smells like roses and sunshine. 0/10 smelliness can I please bottle your sweat sir

Luocha has to smell great with all those flowers he summons. I would grind him down to make potpourri. Not sure about the coffin, though. -2/10.

And as for Aventurine? Cologne. SO much cologne. Whether this is a good or bad thing is up to you, but he certainly has A Smell. Subjective/10.

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chlorophasmic · 1 year ago

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THAT’S FAIR. IT’S PROBABLY HARD TO PERFORM WITH A BUNCH OF LEAVES IN THE WAY, TOO.

BUT, SORT OF? I DON’T THINK PEOPLE HERE REALLY GET SICK. I FEEL LIKE MAYBE I’VE SEEN IT HAPPEN, BUT AGAIN, IT GENERALLY PASSES THE SAME WAY ANY DAMAGE DOES FROM OUR BODIES. YOU TWO HAVE ALWAYS BEEN EXCEPTIONS TO MOST RULES, THOUGH..

..WHAT DO YOU HAVE?

i cant say i can really help you there!!!! being in texas made me realize that i really only know the surface level information about life for trolls and humans outside of the weird post-apocalypse. i dont think flippy things are inherently unique though, i just think that a lot of the more extreme moves are just way hard to do on things that are not bars!

um. is being dead supposed to keep you from getting sick? because we have already established that im sort of dead but not really, but i think the angel is at least deader than me. so if hes got what ive got, then houston we might have a problem beyond just whether or not this counts as a blood transmitted illness

#AS MUCH AS EVERYONE HERE SHIT TALKS THE BUBBLES I HAVE TO AGREE.#I CAN'T FATHOM THE CRUELTY OF A WORLD LIKE THAT.. WHERE YOU'RE JUDGED AND ETERNALLY SENTENCED FOR MADE UP RULES.#THE GAME HAS ITS OWN SORT OF INJUSTICES BUT. I HONESTLY THINK THE DREAMSCAPES ARE AN AMAZING PLACE.#I'M SO GRATEFUL TO BE HERE. LIFE ISN'T COMPLETE FOR MOST BUT AT LEAST WE CAN STILL CONTINUE ON.#IF YOU PLAYED THE GAME I THINK YOU PROBABLY WOULD HAVE WON.#fatalroyale #response

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venusandsaturnsrings · 15 days ago

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★彡 theoretic exposé.

summery: he had intended to wiggle is way into your life and by a stroke of luck, discovered the perfect way to keep you in his palm.

contains: post 2.7 tb mission, blackmailing, power dynamics, halovian reader, afab/fem reader, sadistic sunday, aftercare at the end, and this was supposed to be a small blurb but turned into a 3k words whoops!!

it was quiet. you sat amongst the books of an overfilled library on one of the Xianzhou ships glossing over various titles as you digested all of the recent happenings aboard the Astral Express. much of it was far too difficult to fully grasp, despite pestering Mr. Yang with endless questions, so you settled for sticking your nose into some light novels; surely the rest of the crew wouldn’t mind? well, Dan Heng might but when you brought up the idea to both March and Stelle they had brushed it off in favour of various games around the dreamscape. not that it bothered you, of course, some alone time never hurt and you weren’t too keen on spending it with the newest passenger as some reservations of your own remained alongside burgeoning desires.

picking up one of the books you read the title, ‘A Mages Lessons in Rope; Magic and Arousal?!’, and though you scoffed at the typical tacky wording you couldn’t help but tuck it under your arm. without prying eyes no one could judge you for wanting to read something so… mature, for lack of better words. glancing over the shelves you picked up two other novels of similar content before shyly approaching the cashier who rung you up without a second glance, perhaps used to people buying erotica and not wanting to further embarrass them which brought you peace of mind. sliding them into your bag after paying, you walked down the streets and enjoyed the fresh air. the calm and nearly homely atmosphere was soothing after all the chaos and you opted to snag a bubble tea before returning to the express.

heading to your room without delay you unwinded with a bath before settling down in your aptly proclaimed reading chair and cracking open the first of the books with knees almost to your chin.

crude and sufficiently embarrassing to read, you made your way through the first handful of chapters before warmth began to swirl in your stomach at the descriptions of many intimate encounters between the mage and her trusted albeit mysterious companion before an even and self-assured knock came from your door. you jolted up and shoved the book beneath a pillow after mentally noting your page number before opening the door in a flustered state; this was supposed to be your alone time with nothing but these tacky novels and maybe a hand down your shorts! who dares to knock? low and behold, behind the door was none other than the fresh passenger, Sunday. you shifted nervously as you greeted him and he returned it coupled with a practiced nod, ever so formal.

“apologies for interrupting any preoccupations, but i don’t believe we’ve made acquaintances yet. Sunday, the pleasure is truly mine,” he smiled in a manner that could only be described as an attempt to be casual but lined with a stiffness he clearly couldn’t shake. you returned the greeting and filled him in on your name though you knew he already was aware as you were of his. he hummed pensively and looked over your shoulder for a moment, “would you be offended should i ask to come in? i’d quite like the honourable chance to know you better,” and though you weren’t entirely pleased at the idea you nodded and side stepped to allow his entry.

his steps were smooth and straight to an unnatural degree as it wasn’t something anyone would usually notice and you forbid the thought that you cared. he turned his head this way and that to take in your space and all the decor you had taken the time to gather and put up. his gaze held a hint of calculation as he ascertained his thoughts though he didn’t voice approval or lack of. it wasn’t exactly comfortable to know a man so obsessed with perfection as Sunday was sizing up your room for anything askew but if he noticed anything, he didn’t voice it in favour of walking further in with the rhythmic clicks of his shoes on the hardwood. you almost screamed watching him approach the chair you had previously sat in and put himself there instead. his eyebrows furrowed and your shoulders raised, ready to squeak out some sort of excuse for him to actually please not look at what he’s sitting on but he was simply faster. a gloved hand retrieved the book and he dusted off the cover, though there was certainly no dust to accumulate in all of sixty seconds, before his face hardened even further and his cheeks flushed bright vermillion.

“this is…” Sunday trailed off not knowing how exactly to broach the subject of your reading material. he flipped the novel over in his hands to read the back and you almost died; hopefully the floor would soon swallow you up. “quite the choice. fascinating, i’d go so far to say,” he cleared his throat and you could swear the corners of his lips were quirked up for a moment, “are the other Nameless familiar with your taste in writing? or is this perhaps a naughty secret of yours? i’m beyond curious and this is seemingly better than any light chatter i could’ve produced on my own to pick your brain.” you fumbled over every word in your vocabulary before opting just to shake your head, eyes wide and palms suddenly damp. “i see. they’d be curious to know, i’d think,” Sunday stood back up from the chair and easily made it across the room once more, “a precious member of theirs indulging in grossly sinful material. perhaps we should take this to the parlour car for all to judge.”

after making a couple choked noises of protest, you slapped a hand on his chest rapidly shaking your head, “n-no!! they definitely do not need to see it!!” given your unfamiliarity with the man you really couldn’t tell if he was serious or not and certainly didn’t want to take the risk. he hummed at your desperate response and brought a hand to his chin to fake contemplate his next action. his nonchalance bordered on infuriating as if he hadn’t just threatened to put you as some sort of gross pervert to all of your dear companions. the embarrassment of such a thing would surely leave you with no choice but to depart the plane of the living. what a nuisance.

“the perhaps repenting for such things would be your best choice. as the former Bronze Melodia, i’m the perfect person for such a task, no?” Sunday seemed even more smug at his own suggestion, “i’m a very good listener, i’ll have you know.” you hesitated briefly, mortified at his suggestion, but if this was what you needed to do to avoid everyone knowing then so be it. dropping your head so you didn’t have to bear looking at him you responded in the form of a nod and he hummed in a pleased tone. “very good choice, little vixen. i expect you to follow my every word.”

with that, he lead you back to the same chair and once more seated himself before beckoning you to kneel between his legs. an indignant huff left your mouth but you listened to him anyways and dropped to the floor making sure your posture was perfection; you expect he’d scold you otherwise. he cleared his throat before speaking, “you must be honest with every answer you provide me. firstly tell me why you were drawn to such literature and secondly tell me how many novels of this variety you’ve read before.” you fiddled with your fingers and pretended to ponder his questions to put off having to answer but he snapped his fingers and arched one flawless brow, signalling you to hurry up.

“i… isn’t it obvious why i’d be reading that? the content is arousing,” you cringed at the admission and poor imitation of his speech, “and does it matter how many i’ve read? i honestly couldn’t give you a number if i tried…” Sunday chuckles at your response, amused at your flustered state and obviously enjoying exercising his power over you. he nodded in acknowledgment with an expression that could only be described as pitying as if he hadn’t put you in this position himself.

“very interesting. you’ve got quite fascinating hobbies, little dove,” with his words he leaned forwards to twirl a strand of your hair before grabbing your chin to keep your gaze on him alone. “i’m curious still. when you read such things, where do you imagine yourself? and who do you imagine it with? is it Dan Heng? or maybe you like your partners older, Mr. Yang perhaps? are you more interested in girls and is your taste more suited to miss March or miss Himeko?” his eyes seemed to shine with satisfaction at the way your jaw dropped in shock and your own wings twitched, curling in to attempt to cover your face. Sunday simply brushed them away and took great pleasure in knowing the touch was so very intimate. left with no choice you mumbled out a teary eyed answer.

“this is humiliating and invasive but i… i’m always on the submissive end. and i definitely don’t have any interest in my friends, they’re friends and nothing more,” you let your eye wander elsewhere with a thick swallow and attempt to stave off the impending sobs, “i wouldn’t consider us friends though… and i can’t help that i think of you.” he broke into a grin that read as predatory like a wolf that finally caught the deer. perhaps more akin to the peregrine and dove. Sunday only held your chin tighter.

“i had assumed as much. your face truthfully reveals all emotions and thought regardless of any attempts to conceal. it’s quite adorable,” he seemed to think for a moment before speaking again, “maybe we should test out your fantasies. compare your thoughts to reality and maybe it’ll be a sweet dream in its own right.” left with no room to argue, you wouldn’t anyways as even thought it was mortifying, how could you turn down a chance to be with a man you’d listed after over simple glances.

he helped your rise from the ground before settling you in his lap. through your shameful admirations of his face and form you’d always noticed how sultry his eyes naturally seemed to be with low lids and a firm gaze but he seemed even more sharp than anytime before. Sundays hands landed on your thighs where he smoothed over your skin and seemed pleased though a touch unsatisfied. you felt near humiliated at his lack of praise but your heart jumped as he coolly removed his gloves and set them along the arm of the chair before lowering his hands once more and nearly purred at the feeling. you felt like a victorian maiden seeing his bare hands for the first time as he appreciated the soft plush skin, palming and dragging his hands along everywhere he saw fit; not a spot was left untouched. his hands slowly slid up further to dip beneath the edge of your skirt and play with the trim along the bloomers you always wore beneath. it seemed as though he got off on layers of clothing if his own outfit was any indication paired with the melodic noises he made at every new piece of fabric. his hands easily slipped around you to undo the zipper and clasp of your skirt, helping you manoeuvre it off followed closely by the shorts. he turned his attention to your top, playing with the neckline before peeling it off as well and leaving you in nothing but your undergarments and jewellery atop his fully clothed lap.

he turned himself to your neck and licked his leo’s before leaning down to place soft kisses and to gently suckle and lick along your skin. you whimpered and shifted in his lap with and air of desperation, earning a chuckle against your throat, hands sliding along your stomach and waist, and a muttered praise you didn’t catch due to the fog swimming in your brain. Sunday gently rocked you back and forth along his lap, the stiffness beneath his trousers evident with every drag. bruises now speckled your skin like diamonds and he leaned back with a sigh to admire his painting. you reached to slide the jacket from his shoulders but he caught your wrists and disapprovingly tsked at you with a faux expression of disappointment.

“none of that, little dove. you’ll take me with only my cock pulled from my trousers. a befitting coupling for us, considering there’s not a doubt in my mind you take pleasure in this humiliation. for a little birdie you most certainly act like a dog in heat,” his fingers danced along your wings and drew a full body shiver from you. Sunday shifted his hips slightly to undo the button and zipper keeping you apart before fishing down his pants to pull out the dick you’d been longing for. he was just as pretty as his face and the tip shone with the evidence of his own arousal. you had to catch yourself before you started actually drooling and making a further fool of yourself. tender hands tugged you upwards to align himself with your needy and weeping hole, brushing himself back and forth teasingly. you almost smacked his chest at the action but he was quick to ease you down before you could. the sighs you both let out synchronized perfectly to create a private duet.

he was a perfect fit inside you. his cock nudged along every oh so sensitive place and curved just right to prod against each delicious spot. Sunday gently gripped your hips to set a rhythm that was intimate and deep, every thrust placed perfectly. you had assumed he was a virgin but his skill seemed to say otherwise. praise flowed from his mouth like a fountain between every delicate sigh and moan as you bounced atop him. you couldn’t help the desperate cries and sobs that left you. one of his hands left your hips to instead dip between your folds and quickly find the pretty bud with his fingertips to play with in tune.

“simply gorgeous. tight, warm, and dripping. you fit me like a glove,” he panted out, “you’re so beautiful above me like this. perhaps i’ve found something new to worship.” Sunday mindlessly let his mouth run and with every sweet phrase you tipped closer and closer to the edge. he felt you clenching clear as day and your hips move slightly more sloppy and desperate. he cooed gently, fingertips moving faster against you to encourage your peak and when you finally tipped over your back arched and your wings fluttered with each pleasured cry and squeeze of your insides. he followed closely behind and warmth spread through your guts. you could’ve sworn he glowed with the force of his own end, every drop seeping inside.

pulling you close to his chest, he smoothed one hand over your back as the other came to dance through your hair. Sunday hummed a tune you couldn’t recognize but was stunning nonetheless. spent and satisfied, you let your eyes shut and bathed in the afterglow until he gently prodded you to go wash up. your whole body was sticky with sweat and when you slid off him with a whimper pearly globs of his seed dripped out of you. you truthfully didn’t want to imagine how he felt through all those layers of clothes but you took pride in every wrinkle staining his typical flawless appearance; it was symbolic of your own victory.

he didn’t hold back, bathing along with you and gently cleaning you of everything between peppered kisses. you hadn’t expected romance to come so easy from Sunday himself but he was evidently well versed in the art. you took time to memorize every freckle and detail of his body finally getting to see him bare. you didn’t miss the flush that rose to his cheeks or the way his wings curled inwards to hide his flustered state and you felt proud to finally get him to feel embarrassed. he was beautiful and you hoped many more encounters would come. maybe you hoped for the relationship to bloom into something deeper too.

#cw: blackmailing #cw: power imbalance #2.7 spoilers #sunday x reader #sunday x you #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you

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wriothesleybear · 9 months ago

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A True Angel Amongst Us

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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kotoku · 10 months ago

Text

ꜱᴜɴᴅᴀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀɪɴᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴛᴇᴇɴ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

pairings - sunday & teen! reader / aventurine & teen! reader

content - reader is gender-neutral/not a lot of angst/mainly fluff/sibling or family dynamics/ kind of a found family fic (?)

warnings - none

⋘ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ... ⋙

↻ I imagine Sunday meeting you as a bellhop working alongside Misha, another bellhop, who welcomes distant travelers to Penacony

↺ If you’re a bit clumsy like Misha and accidentally spill some luggage after tripping over a hill in the rug, he’d stumble across your defeated form scattering to pick up the fallen belongings

↺ He’d offer his assistance in organizing the fallen trolley, assessing if you had gotten hurt when you had tripped

↻ Because Sunday’s many responsibilities are to ensure people are following the rules and regulations during their stay in Penacony, he’d come across you on multiple occasions in the hotel lobby

↺ It seems like you were a fairly new worker, asking your coworkers about certain things and needing some guidance with doing things

↺ However, for the most part, you were an inquisitive and hard worker, Sunday noted

↻ One day, he would find you wandering Golden Hour, looking around at the shops curiously while holding a couple of bags

↺ He had conversed with you a couple of times, having small chats during breaks before the two of you had to return to your duties

↺ Sunday had decided to say hi, asking if you were enjoying some of the few renovations done to the dreamscape

↻ At first, you were startled at his sudden appearance, confused about why he approached you

↺ You would then answer his question, stating that you were enjoying some of the shops that had just opened up since it was your day off

↺ Sunday would give you a recommendation, a place that had recently been buzzing with customers as their food selection was one of the best Golden Hour had to offer

↺ Excitedly, you’d thank him for the tip and bid farewell to him, watching him fade in the distance

↻ When you and Sunday had gotten closer together, he’d kinda adopt you as a younger sibling

↻ On the days the both of you weren’t busy, he’d take you to see some of the events that are happening in Penacony (or different locations that he thinks you would like)

↺ Spending his time with you reminded him of the time he used to spend with Robin when the two of them were younger

↺ Watching you bubble with excitement when you saw something you liked, asking him if it was a good idea to get it reminded him of old times

↻ One time, you jokingly call him old which made him reevaluate his life a bit (did he really seem that old??)

↺ You grew a bit worried when he didn’t respond, watching him hold his chin in deep thought (he snapped out of it after you shook him a bit)

↻ Sunday would take on the role of an older brother to you, fretting whenever you got injured while working and spoiling you rotten with trinkets he had found

↻ He would feel bad whenever he has to turn you down when he’s busy, promising to find a time when he is free from work to accompany you on what you’ve planned

↺ If it was a limited-time event, he’d feel especially bad, planning to treat you to something to make up for the lost time (you tell him not to worry but he insists)

↻ Something that became routine for the both of you would be tea time (or going out to a restaurant)

↺ During these sessions, you and Sunday would talk about your week/day, basically spending the time talking and sometimes even gossiping about some of the rumors heard around Penacony

↺ You were careful about rumors that concerned The Family, not wanting to upset Sunday, so you mainly focused on small gossip circling around work

↻ Something that interested you about Sunday was his wings, and when the two of you hung out more, you asked him about them

↺ He explained to you about Halovians and the experiences he had with them (how he had to clean them, take care of them, etc…)

↺ If the two of you are closer enough, he’d allow you to touch them, chuckling as you gaped at them in amazement and wonder

↻ Sometimes when one of you is overworked and exhausted, the other would give a light scolding and have them rest on a nearby lounge chair, giving them a moment of rest

↺ Sunday would offer you to rest on him, providing you his coat as a blanket and humming you to sleep

↺ You would lead Sunday to his room, making sure he was resting comfortably after you brewed some tea for him (you’d softly close the door and resume your duties after making sure he was actually sleeping)

------

“I will be fine, _____. You do not need to worry about my well-being.” Sunday was seated on his couch in his lounge clothes, arms crossed as he watched you pour water into a kettle.

Huffing, you turned on the heat and let the water boil, scavenging his cupboards for his tea packets. He couldn’t help but sigh when you ignored his protests, opting to lean against the couch and listen as you worked.

“You haven’t been getting much sleep for the past few days. I know that it’s been busy with the Charmony Festival in full swing, but you need to take care of yourself too, Sunday.” Setting down the finished cup of tea in front of him, you took a seat on a different chair next to him.

Sunday blew on his tea, the smoke wafting away as he took a sip of the chamomile tea you brewed for him.

There was a small silence between the both of you. You were fiddling with some of the accessories of your uniform, eyes cast towards the wooden coffee table. On the other hand, Sunday held his cup of tea with both of his hands, feeling the heat of the cup fade to a nice warmth.

When Sunday had finished his tea, he set it down on the coffee table and relaxed into the soft material of the couch.

“I understand that you are concerned, _____. I promise to take better care of myself but know I will be fine.” Sunday assured you and your worries, opening his eyes to glance at you. You didn’t meet his eyes until you heard him get up from his spot on the couch, feeling a lightweight being put on your head.

His hand lightly ruffles your hair, moving back to his side. “To ease your worries, I will be going to bed now.”

You blinked at him before shaking your head. “Thanks, now get to bed old man.” “

I’m not that old, _____...” “Old man.” “Sigh…”

------

↻ Aventurine would meet you when you’ve just joined the IPC, becoming your superior and having you run errands or finish up paperwork

↻ You, being the dedicated worker you are, would spend countless nights finishing projects and studying

↺ You would be so engrossed in reading something that you would accidentally bump into Aventurine from behind, stumbling back with your book falling to the floor

↺ Massaging your temples, you would see a hand outstretched to you as an offer to help you up (which you graciously took)

↻ When you think back to that time when Aventurine helped you pick yourself up, along with your book, you flush in embarrassment and lightly berate yourself for not watching your surroundings

↻ Working with Aventurine had its perks and flaws, the perks being the pay and the flaws being the tasks and having someone so unpredictable as your boss

↺ You could never tell when Aventurine was joking or not (you found it hard to understand him so you just nodded along to the things he said)

↻ After a few months of working under him, the two of you started bonding over various things

↺ Although you were too young to gamble, you learned a couple tricks that Aventurine had when playing different card games with others (you also learned a few cheat hacks Aventurine does but we won’t talk about that)

↻ Aventurine was able to watch you slowly come out of your shell, becoming more talkative and friendly with him and your coworkers

↺ When he noticed your change in behavior, he was taken aback but was happy to embrace this newfound side of yours (he feels like a dad watching their child make friends)

↻ There is a hint of favoritism that Aventurine has with you, choosing to dote on you by purchasing various souvenirs and trinkets he gathered on his trips (they reminded him of you)

↺ A keychain? Consider it purchased. A snack basket? He already has it on hand. Aventurine spends his money like it’s nothing, especially when it comes to his kid (despite you being a teen, he still calls you ‘kid’ much to your dismay)

↻ Aventurine would definitely gossip with you about work, etc…

↻ Honestly, in a more modern (?) setting, he’d be that proud soccer mom who takes photos of his kid and boasts to the other soccer moms

↺ “You see that little rascal up there? That’s my kid!”

↻ At first, seeing you get along with Aventurine was a surprise to many, even Aventurine himself

↺ He didn’t really have friends, or at least, someone he could freely talk to about anything and everything

↺ He doesn’t really open up to you about his past until later, and even then, he tries not to be too descriptive as he doesn’t want to make you feel bad (but you still do)

↻ When you open up to Aventurine about your struggles, why you joined the IPC, etc.… he’ll see himself a bit in you, making him feel protective of you and this ultimately brings the both of you closer together

↻ Thinking about this dynamic the two of you share, Aventurine wonders if he would make for a good parent, despite the infamous reputation Sigonians have

↺ You’d notice him going quiet here and there as he looks like he’s deep in thought, waiting patiently for him to snap out of it, you’d watch as he resumes the conversation like nothing had happened

↻ If there is a chance you guys get to visit a planet together, especially if it is one that he is familiar with, he’ll give you a tour and take you to some of his favorite spots

↺ If it is one he isn’t familiar with, the two of you would look like lost children who are wandering around looking at popular spots

↻ Honestly, if you had the chance to meet Topaz, she wouldn’t understand how you can tolerate Aventurine’s behavior

↺ Nonetheless, Topaz is happy that her coworker has a connection with someone, finding the small family dynamic adorable (she’d never admit that to Aventurine)

↻ Of course, Aventurine would definitely tease you because you’re younger than him, acting like the annoying big brother he is

↺ “Huh!? Where did my chips go!? Aventurine!” “What~? Don’t look at me, I didn’t touch them.” “You’re such a liar! You have crumbs on your face! What– is that my drink that you’re holding!?” “...No..?”

↻ Despite everything, you still enjoy spending time with your unexpected friend (and newfound family member)

------

“_____! Look at what I’ve brought~.” Aventurine sang, plopping a huge gift basket on top of your desk. The papers that were stacked fluttered a little, some falling around you onto the ground.

You were startled at the unexpected gift, looking at all the luxurious gifts and snacks that were neatly displayed in a beautifully woven basket. The red and gold ribbon tying the clear bag at the top finished it nicely, giving it a clean yet expensive look.

“Aventurine!? Just how much did you buy this for??” You gaped, examining the interior although the lightning made it a bit difficult to see. You could recognize a few items, all being pricey and popular on its original planet.

“Bah! Don’t worry about it. I couldn’t help but get it since it included some of the things you were talking about before.” The way he was so casual about getting something expensive threw you off, but then again, this was Aventurine. Deciding to shake off the shock, you gave him a grateful smile.

“Thank you, Aventurine.” “Don’t mention it, kid.” “I’m not a kid, Aventurine! If anything, you act more like one than me!” “Pff, good joke. Now get back to work, kid.” “Ugh.”

------

⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ⋙

note - hope you guys enjoy this! i had fun writing this lol. there was actually two separate requests for an aventurine and sunday with a teen! reader, so i decided to write them together.

#writing➠#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #aventurine x reader #hsr sunday x reader #sunday x reader #platonic #found family kinda?#fluff #smidge of angst

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