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reverse dating tropes w hsr men!
in which — what the title suggests / those classic fanfic tropes but with a twist
featuring — boothill, jing yuan, blade (separately) x gn!reader
✧.* — wc: total 1.5k, used up half my brain for this (the other half is for pt2 w aven sunday geppie!!), lovesick boothill + clingy jy + jealous blade fr, anyway pls enjoy! reblogs r appreciated <3
boothill ꩜ .ᐟ
love at many sights with boothill whose memory card was tinkered with, and every time you meet, he thinks he's seeing you for the first time, so he falls for you over and over again.
when boothill returned from a dangerous mission, it was evident that he had endured significant damage. his once sleek and polished exterior was now marred by dents and scratches, and his mechanical limbs were either partially missing or severely damaged. the exposed wiring, usually neatly tucked away beneath scraps of metals, now hung in tangled strands, sparking occasionally with residual energy.
he looked barely salvageable. it's safe to say that the mechanics had a hell of a time fixing him.
though they were skilled enough to piece him back together, his memory card wasn’t as lucky. a tinkering in his system left him incapable of recalling or retaining information in his synthetic brain, temporarily —leaving the mechanics scrambling to find a solution.
weeks later, you find yourself walking down the familiar corridors of the laboratory where your favourite cyborg is being held for reparation.
boothill’s eyes immediately land on yours when you enter the lab. “well ain’t this a surprise! haven’t seen ya in a good long while.” boothill drawls, tipping his hat your way, his voice carrying a metallic twang.
"i heard you took a bit of a tumble, figured someone should come make sure you didn’t lose all your screws." you shrug nonchalantly, a smirk playing on your lips.
boothill's eyes flicker for a moment, taking in the curve forming on your lips. he thinks you’re adorable with that infectious smile of yours.
“heh, nothin’ bad, just had a r-r-run in with some cuties" he says, failing to hide the glitch that caused his voice to stutter. (and that damn synesthesia beacon! he swears he’ll get it fixed this time around…)
“guess you took more than a tumble huh...” you lean casually against the workbench, the sterile scent of machinery and the hum of various devices filled the air; your gaze sweeps over the freshly repaired parts of boothill's metallic frame, “anyway, glad to see that you’re mostly fine now."
“aww! do ya care ‘bout me?” he teases, his grin widening, revealing his pointy teeth peeking out mischievously. you don’t reply, your eyes glinting with the faintest hint of amusement dancing in them.
"boothill, we go through this every time, your memory card's still damaged. you forget things sometimes, so for the 5th time this week, yes i do care about you.”
boothill's expression shifts, a mixture of realization and sheepishness crossing his features. "right, right," he murmurs, scratching the back of his head with his metallic hand. "sorry 'bout that, sugar. guess i just keep forgettin'."
you chuckle and shake your head, finding the situation amusing. he feels like he might overheat from the sheer warmth radiating from your smile.
“you’re beautiful, date me.” (he didn’t mean to blurt that outloud)
you raise your eyebrows at the sudden compliment, “why thank you,” a surprised laugh escapes your lips.
“—and we’re already dating, silly.”
a shower of sparks erupts from his circuits, you can particularly hear the fans inside him sputter and whir. you rush to his side, concern etched on your face.
“wh- are you okay?! you’re short circuiting again!”
and this happens every time his memory lapses. you offer an apology to the mechanic on the next shift for the extra work required to fix yet another damaged wire after your visits. perhaps they should ban you from getting too close to boothill, lest he completely breaks down again like that one time where you told him, yes you actually kissed before.
jing yuan ୭ ˚.
"secret relationship" with jing yuan but he is completely unaware of how his public displays of affection towards you keep revealing the supposed secrecy of your relationship.
on the rare case that the general is found in his office, you are there too, beside him.
“pleeeease? just one kiss, really really miss you, darling”
“no jing yuan, not now…”
he wraps his arms around you as he leans in, caging you from the back. he rests his chin on your shoulder, “then how about a kiss on the cheeks?” he murmurs in your ear. you try to push him away, but he just chuckles softly against your neck, his arms still secure around you.
“no, and get off me before someone sees!” you protest, feeling your face flush from the close proximity, and the tightening of his arms suggests that he has no intention of releasing you just yet.
this stubborn man… you swear you’re gonna burst a blood vessel someday.
as if to echo your exasperation; he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, peppering it with nibbles and gentle kisses. jing yuan certainly knows how to test your limits, yet his affectionate gestures never fail to chip away at your resolve.
suddenly, a series of loud knocks come from the door, you freeze, and immediately attempt to wiggle your way out of his grasp. but he remains unfazed, his hold on you firm, and seemingly unbothered by the interruption.
the door bursts open, “general! there’s a situation at starskiff ha—ven...” yanqing trails off as his eyes widen at your position. the room falls into a momentary silence as yanqing's gaze shifts between you and his general, his expression reflecting a blend of shock and embarrassment.
clearing his throat awkwardly, yanqing stammers, "i-im sorry for interrupting... i’ll t-take my leave now!” with a hurried nod, he practically sprints out of the room.
oh bless that kid’s poor eyes…
you shoot a glare at jing yuan from the corner of your eyes, you just know that he has a shit eating grin on his face right now. nowadays, it’s probably common knowledge that the general’s most treasured person is you, evidently shown by how he latches himself onto you every time you’re within his vicinity. you wouldn’t be surprised if the entirety of xianzhou knows about your supposed “secret” relationship.
“so… can i have my kiss now?”
aeons, he’s insufferable. (you love him tho!!!!!)
blade ؛ ଓ
"fake dating" with blade but you are actually dating —somehow everyone is convinced you aren't.
“blink twice if you need help.” march whispers-shout; dan heng leans against the doorway, blocking the way into your room, nods in agreement.
“this is absurd… i’m alright guys, really!” you try to reassure your friends, frustration edging into your voice. though no matter how many times you insist that no blade isn't holding you hostage and that you are indeed in a relationship with him, they seem convinced otherwise, somehow deducing that you're not able to speak freely.
you sigh in resignation, knowing that they aren’t going to relent anytime soon, and with blade idling in your room, you can't afford to keep him waiting any longer. “dan heng please, let me through, he’s been waiting for me for the past 10 minutes now…”
“good, let him wait.” dan heng responds curtly. (what a guy)
march takes hold of your hands, “do you owe the stellaron hunters something, and him out of everyone?! he looks scary…and totally not your type!”
“not their type?” a low voice rings out from behind dan heng, the three of you turn immediately and see blade looming at your doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.
“stellaron hunter. stay back.” dan heng furrows his eyebrows, his stance defensive as he pulls out his weapon, positioning himself to block you and march. sensing the growing tension, you step forward, reaching out to gently grasp at dan heng’s shoulder.
(blade’s expression darkens at your hand resting on him)
“it’s okay dan heng, he means no harm.” dan heng hesitates, his grip on his weapon remains tight, but he doesn't move to strike. so you slowly move between him and blade, “see? i’m fine… he’s not gonna hurt me.” you smile reassuringly at your friends.
just then, as if to further aggravate dan heng, blade settles his hand on your waist. dan heng’s hand is visibly twitching now. “what? can’t i touch what’s mine?”
dan heng’s eyes narrow, “...we still don’t believe you, leave now. before it’s too late.”
before you can interject, blade grabs your chin, silencing any words of protest with a sudden kiss. caught off guard, your eyes widen as the unexpected gesture leaves you momentarily stunned. but you soon reciprocate his kiss, his intensity drawing you in.
(march quickly covers her eyes with her hands)
“there. now leave us alone.” and with that, he pulls you into your room, slamming the door shut behind, pinning you against it.
it’s just the both of you now, finally.
“did you really have to touch him.” his voice tinged with possessiveness. “blade, he would’ve hurt you, i didn’t mean—” he shuts you up with another kiss, more desperate this time, welp guess you’re stuck with him for the night.
though your friends might not believe that a person like you would “be in cahoots” with someone as dangerous as him; convincing them otherwise is a task for another time. tonight, he wants your attention focused solely on him, and him only.
ᯓ★
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ʕ·͡ˑ·ཻʔ ꒱ ⋆ love dive ✿ 𓈒 ݁ ♩
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finally updated my masterlist yippee!!!!
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‘I LOVE YOU’
synopsis: blade doesn’t say ‘i love you’ but…
ft: blade x gn!reader
cw: established relationship, reader is a stellaron hunter
🦢’s note: hiii so sorry for being inactive finals r killing me 😵💫 i come home exhausted from school and crash immediately after im done studying lol,,, but im back for now hihi with another blade (short again 😖) hope u enjoy !! ♡
blade doesn’t say ‘i love you’. well at least not as often as one might expect, after all love doesn’t come easy for someone like him.
blade doesn’t say ‘i love you’, but he doesn’t argue when you insist on tending to his wounds, he lets you gently dab the cotton on them with a worried expression on your face.
blade doesn’t say ‘i love you’, but he always makes sure you’re safe. be it by walking on the edge of the sidewalk; leaving space between you and the road, getting you out of uncomfortable situations, or shielding you from any possible danger.
he knows that you’re strong and that you can definitely fend for yourself, he’s seen you in action multiple times. nevertheless, he can’t deny that protecting you puts his mind at ease.
blade doesn’t say ‘i love you’, but his hand can’t help but always find refuge on your lower back, keeping you close. sometimes it fully wraps around your waist, and some others it cradles your cheeks gently. his hands are rough and calloused from wielding his sword, but he still handles you with the utmost care, like you’re the most delicate flower.
blade doesn’t say ‘i love you’, but he’s very observant; especially when it comes to you. you can’t really hide anything from him, he’s the first to notice when you injured yourself after a mission, and you thought you were doing a good job at hiding it…he notices when you’re sad, letting you lay your head on his shoulder as you telling him about whatever is upsetting you.
he also remembers everything you tell him, even the most trivial things, your favorite color, favorite drink,the delicious pastry you had on your last mission… he always makes sure to give you his undivided attention when you’re speaking.
blade doesn’t say ‘i love you’ often but you don’t mind. you know he does, you can feel it in every little thing he does for you, every glance, every touch, and that’s more than enough for you.
— ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡
#irene’s writing#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#honkai star rail fanfic#hsr fanfic#hsr fluff#honkai star rail fluff#hsr x y/n#hsr x gender neutral reader#honkai star rail blade#blade x reader#blade x you#blade x y/n#blade x gender neutral reader#hsr blade#honkai star rail imagines#honkai star rail x gender neutral reader
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incandescent feelings overflow!
in which — you found yourself “forced” to dance with a man that delights in outmaneuvering you at every turn / you (really) hate aventurine
pairing — aventurine x fem!reader (no pronouns used but reader is mentioned to be wearing a gown once, otherwise it’s still written w gn reader in mind, tagging fem js incase)
˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — wc: 1.4k, enemies to lovers but it’s js forced prox w tension, denial is a river in egypt, silly aven calling you love every other sentence, anyway reblogs are much appreciated! please enjoy <3
based on this!
you have every reason to despise aventurine. ever since you first crossed paths, he has been nothing but a constant source of frustration and irritation. It isn’t just his smug demeanor or his irritating charm— it’s the way he seems to take pleasure in ruining everything you work for.
it's as if fate’s playing a cruel joke on you, your encounters never stopped. each time, it feels like being dragged into a twisted dance orchestrated by some malevolent force. and in every dance, aventurine was always one step ahead, always ready to trip you up and leave you stumbling in his wake. you’ve always vowed to turn the tables; to become the one who led the dance, who stayed ahead of the game.
but just when you think you have him figured out, he throws you off balance with those vexingly sweet pet names. "love," one of his favourites. his voice dripping with honeyed charm; a calculated move, specifically designed to distract you. and despite your best efforts to resist, you find yourself unable to ignore the stirring of something within you.
aventurine, this name, like the man it belongs to, fills you with a seething, visceral hatred that coils in the pit of your stomach like a venomous serpent. it doesn't make it better that tonight you actually have to dance with him.
you move through the crowd, searching for him even as you try to appear disinterested. then you see him, standing tall and confident, his gaze meeting yours across the room. he makes his way towards you, and you find yourself holding your breath.
“we meet again…” he says, stretching his hand out, offering a handshake as if this is a cordial reunion between old friends.
you stare at his outstretched hand, feeling a surge of indignation rising within you. he’s acting so nonchalant after everything he’s done. every fiber of your being screams at you to refuse, to turn on your heel and walk away, to show him that you will no longer be drawn into his twisted games.
though despite your better judgement, you find yourself hesitating. aventurine’s hand hangs in the air, waiting for your response, and for a moment, you're frozen in place, torn between your pride and the inevitability of the situation.
with a sigh, you finally relent, placing your hand in his with a forced politeness that belies the turmoil raging beneath the surface.
whatever. this will be a great chance to get some information out of him anyway. (you convince yourself)
aventurine holds a firm grip, his touch sending a shiver down your spine; and you can't help but resent the way he seems to revel in your discomfort.
tonight may be a seemingly innocent dance, but it's one you refuse to lose. and if he thinks he can best you with a simple handshake, he's sorely mistaken. you’ve prepared for this moment meticulously, concealing a dagger beneath your gown as a precaution. you knew aventurine would be here, and you anticipated the dance that would inevitably follow.
just as you’re lost in your thoughts, he catches you off guard by retracting his hand, pulling you close. almost stumbling over your feet, you find yourself drawn into his embrace, his arms encircling you as he leads you onto the dance floor. as if on cue, the tempo picks up, and a hush falls over the crowd, the sound of whispered conversations fading into the background, all eyes turning to the dance floor. there's a palpable tension in the air, but you ignore it as the rhythm of the dance carries you away.
“so, mr aventurine, what brings you here? surely it's not just to exchange pleasantries.” you ask as you stare into his eyes, trying to gauge his intentions.
“oh drop the formalities love, you truly wound me…” he replies teasingly, dragging out the endearment with a smirk.
you roll your eyes and ignore the way he completely disregards your initial question, opting to save the interrogation for later. there's a strange sort of chemistry between you, if you can even call it that —an undeniable tension that defies explanation, even as you find yourself effortlessly matching his rhythm, and his movements to yours, a natural fluidity.
aventurine’s eyes, sweet like honey, yet always so keen and calculating; now holds a spark of amusement as he meets your eyes once more. his penetrating gaze seems to delve into the depths of your soul, studying you as if he's attempting to peel back the layers of your defenses, and you stare back, matching his intensity, determined to uncover the truth hidden beneath his carefully constructed facade.
he spins you gracefully across the floor, barbed words exchange silently between you as you move in perfect synchronisation. as he pulls you closer, your bodies brush against each other, his expression shifts. there's a flicker of surprise in his eyes but it's swiftly replaced by a widening smile. he feels the cold metal of the dagger strapped to your thigh pressing against his leg. aventurine’s grip on your waist tightens, he leans down, his warm breath caresses your ear.
“is this a surprise for me?”, his voice a low murmur that sends a tingling sensation coursing through your body.
“maybe.” you try to keep your tone cool despite the warmth radiating from his proximity making it increasingly difficult to catch your breath. he raises an eyebrow seemingly challenging you, "at least wait ‘til the song ends, love."
the air is suffusing with the intoxicating scent of his cologne, enveloping you, trapping you with him. you’ve always tried to keep him at arm's length, but somehow he finds his way by your side; his presence suffocating, his touch burning against your skin.
“don’t call me that, it’s annoying.” you retort, words coming out sharper than you intended. though you can’t deny the subtle flutter in your chest, and quickening of your pulse that betrays the effect his endearment has on you.
“alright sweetheart, as you wish.” (you want to punch a hole through his face)
as the night comes to an end, aventurine reluctantly releases you from his grasp, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer. it’s a subtle gesture, but one that doesn’t go unnoticed by you. executing a bow with his eyes still locked onto yours; you curtsey in return, the intensity of his gaze weighing on you as you straighten up.
just as you remember the question you were supposed to ask him after the dance, he interrupts your thoughts by bringing your hand to his lips, the touch of his kiss a brief, searing contact; imprinting the sensation of his touch upon you before he releases your hand.
“until next time”, his words carrying both promise and threat. you cast one last glance into his mesmerizing eyes, hoping to glean something behind them, but to no avail, you find only your own reflection staring back at you.
the sounds of the bustling ballroom gradually seep back into your awareness, laughters and chatters of other guests filling the air around you. returned to your senses, you hurriedly glance around, searching for any sign of him amidst the crowd, but he has vanished without a trace. as if he was never there at all, leaving you to wonder if the encounter was nothing more than a figment of your imagination. you shake your head, attempting to dispel the shroud of confusion that clouds your thoughts.
(unbeknownst to you, a pair of eyes remain fixed on you from the shadows for the rest of the night. hidden in the dimness, his captivation is made obvious by his unwavering gaze and subtle smirk that tugs at the corners of his lips.)
tonight, you found yourself caught in a dance with a man that delights in outmaneuvering you at every turn, who was as captivating as he was dangerous, and you can’t help but wonder when might be your next rendezvous.
˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
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#irene rambles#need this to be injected in my blood…#love love looooveeee it so much omg…#UR LITERALLY INCREDIBLE….
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thinking about baking with bf!blade while wearing cute little pink aprons…(๑﹏๑//)
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— the angel who lived. ft sunday
— warnings: f!reader (referred to as mother) but still uses "you/they" pronouns, angst, mentions and themes of death, brief mentions of blood, very lengthy/word vomit (~8k words), not proofread that much so apologies for any grammatical errors
— author's note: this is more of a character study on sunday and how i think he'll come to learn that escapism isn't really the way go about things but overall, i'm really happy with how this turned out. i hope you guys enjoy :p
death doesn't have a requirement. regardless of age, gender, or race, it will eventually reach everyone at the right moment.
sunday has always remembered the words - or rather the rumors the dreamchasers spoke of - that when death comes knocking at their door, they'll be clad in purple and a trusty crow perched on their shoulder for a companion. sunday wasn't the type of man to believe such rumors, but now, after waking up from what seemed to be an endless dream, he was forced to believe their words.
“can the angel walk?” you spoke. emphasizing the way you called him angel made sunday furrowed his brows in contempt. you were mocking him. with a huff of his breath, he slowly rose from his position and walked with you.
“where are we?” he asks. you looked at him from the corner of your eyes before replying. “death's waiting room.” sunday felt his blood run cold. “you'll be staying here with me and the rest until your time is up.” he wanted to question you more. press you for answers on when and where death will take him.
but he never had the chance to. not when children of all ages came rushing towards you, all with bright smiles on their faces. he stood in shock, mind boggled at the thought. they were hugging death. did they not feel any ounce of fear?
one of the many children that surrounds you took notice of his presence. she had long brown hair kept in two low pigtails and bright green eyes that remind him of the garden he and robin used to play in when they were just their age. she waved him over and you urged him to walk up the steps of the giant house that stood in front of him.
“you'll be staying here with us until your time runs out. do be an angel and help me around with the chores, alright?”
and so for an indefinite amount of time — and against his will — helped you around the “orphanage”.
the younger children were all unruly and liked to cause trouble. every morning he'd wake up to a young child jumping on his bed and would be subsequently dragged into his bathroom to get ready. they'd tug at his hand with an iron grip - it really wasn't, sunday could easily pry his hand away but choose not to hurt the child’s feelings - leading him to the main kitchen where you and one of the oldest girls, elenaor he learned, cooked everyone breakfast.
“woke up on the wrong side of the bed, i presume?” your voice laced with amusement made sunday sigh. putting on the apron elanaor had given him, he reluctantly stood by your side and waited for you to hand him a few ingredients to chop. “it was more of woken up by a gremlin and getting dragged all the way here.” your and elanaor’s snickers of amusement never failed to make heat rise up to his cheeks. he had to fight the urge to hide behind his wings, if he did, you'll tease him relentlessly. this wasn't how he would normally act under any circumstances. he had a reputation to keep, but here, in what you call “death's waiting room”, no one knew him. so he was free to act how he wished.
“you've been here for a while,” turning off the tap, you pat your hands dry and walk towards a pot on the opposite side of where he was. “you'll get used to it.”
“i don't think seeing “death” act like a mother towards soon to be dead children is something i’ll ever get used to.”
the halovian bit his tongue the moment his words stumbled out of his mouth. he could still hear you moving around the kitchen but you had made no effort to respond. sunday was ready to issue an apology but you had beat him to it.
“it's something i’ve never really gotten used to.” the sound of chopping ceased from his station. the sound of water boiling echoed between the two of you - he hadn't realized that elanaor had left to escape the tense atmosphere - he turned to stare at your back, watching you dutifully stir the pot. something that reminded him of his mother. he wonders then, did you also take his mother here to this very orphanage. did she also chop ingredients as you stirred soup?
“i find that quite hard to believe…” his voice is uncharacteristically quiet and unsure. so unlike the voice of the head of the oak family.
you turn to him with a raised brow. “and why is that?” he walks to your station, chopped vegetables in his hand as he dumped them into the pots before putting the lid back on. “you look at home here. is this your home, death?”
you close your eyes and smile. “for a while, yes, yes it is.”
sunday didn't question you further. the two of you quietly set the plates on the multiple tables in the dining room. he would often take glances at you, soaking in the black off shoulder top you wore under that frilly apron; the long muted purple skirt that swayed with your movement like it was your dance partner for years; and the most eye catching of them all, the black gloves you never took off. all of the sudden, sunday remembered this one particular rumor about you.
“they say before death became death, they carried life in their steps; but their fingertips eventually caused everything they touched to wither away.”
sunday wonders if that particular rumor is actually true.
elanaor came back with wary eyes flickering between him and you. with a small smile from you, the girl started taking the utensils from the cabinet and started laying them on either side of the plates. sunday will never get used to this almost domestic scene unfolding in front of him.
“breakfast is ready!” you cup your hand beside your lips as your voice echoed throughout the house. it wasn't long before little feet dragged against the wooden floor and started to pile in the dining room. “be sure to wash your hands first.” your gentle reminder was met with a chorus of ‘we remember!’.
sunday stood idly in one of the corners, hands crossed over his chest as he started to remind himself of the next chores he'd be doing. sighing to himself, he pushed through his messy hair as his wings fluttered. without another word, he left the dining room and made his way to the backyard where there were piles of wet clothes waiting to be hung dry.
“oh! good morning, mr. sunday!” said a young boy with blonde hair and matching blue eye - the other covered with a black eye patch. “good morning, louis.” he replied with a smile before starting to take a few pieces of clothing and helping the boy with his chores.
“breakfast is ready,” sunday reminded. “i’ll take it from here.” louis shook his head and continued his actions. the older man didn't bother to urge him to get breakfast further. if there was one thing he learned by being here, it's that the children had adopted your stubborn and independent nature.
after hanging all the clothes, sunday bid louis to get breakfast - scolding him for trying to skip eating - and quietly made his way back to his room and plopping rather ungraciously on his bed with a sigh. his arm came to cover his eyes as he pondered, “when will death come to me?”
“not now, that's for sure.”
sunday quickly sat up from his position to see you come inside his room, a tray with plated food in your hands.
“it's rather rude to enter someone's room without knocking first.” he barked. you only rolled your eyes at him and placed the tray on the small table in the middle of his room. “i did, but the angel seemed too lost in his thoughts to notice.”
“be sure to finish everything. once your finished, bring them downstairs so i can clean them.”
and without another word, you exited his room. sunday sighed for the nth time today and made his way to the table, pulling a nearby chair and said his prayers before digging in.
he didn't want to admit it, but you were a good cook. every dish that you served him tasted like home; as if you had dug around his mind to take all of his nostalgic feelings and poured them all in the soup he was eating now. for “death's waiting room” it was ironically peaceful. sure the children would get into scuffles here and there, but without a fail, you'd come just in the nick of time and quell the burning banters.
but today you seemed distracted. sunday was an observant person by nature; he reads through people's emotion by the frequency they create and interpret them through the halo behind his head. recently, your usual soft yet peculiar frequency was replaced by something erratic; something that couldn't sit still. in the back of his mind, sunday wonders if it's related to the crow that's been following you like a shadow recently.
taking the tray in his hands, he made his way back downstairs to help you wash the dishes. on the way the children greeted him with bright smiles as they haul one another to play in your reading room, eager to pick out the bedtime story he or you would read later tonight despite it not being even noon. sunday didn't fight the small smile that crept up his face as some of the older kids tried to take the tray away from his hands, urging him to rest while they wash his plates.
“it's nothing to worry about.” he would reassure them with a pat on the head. “a few plates won't be the death of me.”
by the time he was back in the kitchen, his chest began to feel heavy as you and elanaor talked. both your backs facing him but judging from the heavy and somber frequency you created, he could only assume you're talking about something sorrowful.
“angel?” you're voice snapped him out of his stupor. “apologies, i zoned out.” he avoided your eyes as he set the down his dirty plates to the side and pulled his sleeves up to his elbows.
“you alright?” you question him, a brow quirked up in wonder. he looked to elanaor who was already looking at him with worry, “i should be the one asking that, but i’m alright.” you only hummed as you wiped your hands on the spare cloth and took off your apron.
“i have something i need to do.”
elanaor's frequency spiked making sunday’s heart skip a few beats.
“ely, angel, can you keep an eye on the children? i’ll be in my office if you need anything.”
“mother, wait!”
sunday felt his eyes widen as elanaor called you “mother”, dropping the plates she held on the sink and instead came to grip at your arm. her head hanging low as her hands curled into fists.
“does he need to go…?” she asks, voice below a whisper.
golden eyes met yours. sunday was trying to decipher how, or rather, why, your frequency suddenly flatlined, like how a heart would when someone passed. you were the first to break eye contact. leaning down to whisper something in elanaor's ear that broke the girl’s heart.
“angel.” your voice felt off too. it made his ears ring uncomfortably. it sounded like an untuned violin trying to play a complicated piece to impress the audience. “keep the children entertained while i’m absent.”
sunday didn't like you; he hated you. but right now, as you left the poor girl trying to harshly rub away the obvious tears spilling from her eyes, not bothering to turn back as you walked away, he decided he hated you even more.
—
“i understand. we’ll proceed like usual.”
your office was off limits to certain people for various reasons, but sunday and elanaor were exceptions. without turning to look back, you heard elanaor's voice from the other side of the door as you put the telephone down.
“come in.” you called out. the creak of the door always unnerved girl, you said you'd get it fixed but after the angel’s arrival you hadn't found any time to do so. “do you need something?”
“the children are asking for you.” this time it was the angel who spoke. his voice like a river flowing endlessly in a creak, you were distinctly aware that his kind had a natural affinity to having captivating voices.
“i’ll be down in a—”
you were cut off as a crow started cawing and scratching at your window. from its reflection you see elanaor look down and sunday staring at you with a narrowed gaze. with a sigh, you circled around your desk and opened the window. the crow situated itself on your shoulder, a piece of paper tied around one of its foot.
“the two of you go ahead of me.” you spoke, taking the piece of paper from the bird. “i still need to finish this.”
from the corner of your eyes, you see elanaor leave but sunday didn't budge from his spot.
“something the matter, angel?”
“enough with the mind games, death.”
he barged in your office, closing the door on his way and standing face to face with you. an angry fog clouding his eyes that reminded you of molten gold and sweet dreams.
“what's going on?”
“nothing is going on.”
“you're a terrible liar.” he snapped. you quirked a brow at him with a tilt of your head that made him even more furious.
“so the angel can feel angry. that's good to know.” you turn your back on him and open up the piece of paper in your hand despite already having guessed it's content.
gaining back his composure, you heard him take a deep breath before trying to calmly question you further.
“what did you whisper to elanaor this morning?”
“i believe that's none of your business.”
“you—!”
sunday was ready to snap again but reigned himself in just in time for you to walk past him.
“if you're so curious,” you opened your office door and paused to turn back on him. “why don't you join us later tonight?”
“join you for what?” he didn't like where this one was going. the air felt heavy, it's as if the entire world were resting on his shoulders. it didn't helpt that you gave him a bitter closed eyed smiled as you left the room.
“one of our boys will be leaving soon.”
—
“and so, they all lived happily ever after…”
by the time you and sunday reached the reading room, children of all ages were all huddled into a cozy circle with elenaor in the middle. in her lap was an old storybook you had found in one of your travels.
you placed blankets on each and every children sleeping on their makeshift fortress of scattered pillows and stuffed animals. brushing some of their hairs away from their eyes, letting your gloved hand linger on their faces for a while longer. all the while, sunday kept his gaze on you as elenaor stood by his side, storybook in her hands with an iron grip.
after tucking in everyone, you joined the two of them. you were the last one to exit the room. turning off the lights and letting your gaze loiter around the many sleeping faces in the now dark room.
“let's go.” you uttered with a sigh. taking the storybook from elanaor's hand and tucking it under your arms. “where are we going?” sunday asked who was a few paces behind you.
“we'll be bidding farewell to one of the older boys here.”
he didn't question you further like you had imagined, but you were grateful nonetheless. on the way you stopped by your office to take a candlestick and lit it up to serve as your guide through the dark house.
after climbing up a few steps, you stopped in front of an old rusting door. turning back to elanaor and sunday, you asked, “are you sure you want to be here?”
sunday was the first to answer.
“you were the one to invite me.” he crossed his arms over his chest. he kept his eyes closed to hide the anxiety he felt, but the wings behind his ears betrayed him as they came to try and hide away half of his face.
you turn to elanaor who only nodded solemnly.
“death doesn't have a requirement..” you mutter as you open the door and enter the room. the two followed you inside and heard elenaor choking back on her tears. “it will eventually come to everyone, regardless of their age, gender, race.”
“death will find us all.”
in the cold and lonely room stood a bed, a boy with deadly pale skin laid there as he looked at you with a knowing look on his face.
“it's good to see you again, mother.”
sunday was at a loss for words as you sat down on the edge of the bed as you took off the gloves you wore and placed them on the bedside table along with the candlestick. the crow that was perched on your shoulder came to rest on the boy's bedframe instead.
“it's good to see you again too, corvy.” the sickly boy reached out his hand to pet the crow’s head but heaved a cough in the middle of the action.
the sound of his coughing urged elenaor to leave his side and run towards that other side of the bed opposite to yours. she gripped the sheets in a tight fist, sunday feared her palms would begin to bleed if she gripped any tighter.
“everyone's time eventually runs out…” you mutter as a strange red chord appeared in your hands the moment you touched the boy's forehead. “it's only a matter of when and how you're time runs out.”
“did you enjoy your stay here, michael?”
the boy named michael smiled with content. his boney hand holding yours that rested on his cheek.
“i did, mother.” you smiled at his response. the same smile you would greet the children with once they have woken up; the same smile the children would close their eyes to whenever you finished reading them a bedtime story.
“that's good. i’m reassured that i did my job just fine.”
“you've always done a good job, mother.”
sunday couldn't believe his eyes. he didn't want to believe his eyes as your tears slowly cascaded down your face as you leaned down to press a kiss to the boy's forehead. elanaor jumping over to your side and hugging you tightly as her tears soaked your shirt.
your other hand came to hold the red string that was tied around the boy's sickly figure on the bed. you motioned your hand in a weird way and suddenly a pair of black scissors appeared. sunday felt his blood run cold as sweat dribbled down to his chin.
“may destruction have mercy on you.” you whisper to him, forehead resting against his. “leading your journey in the afterlife, forever peaceful.”
“may this be the end of your painful dreams.”
and in the blink of an eye, the cord was cut and the boy closed his eyes.
sunday read the way his lips moved and felt his heart break in sympathy.
“may you have peaceful dreams, too, mother.”
—
you carried destruction — death — in your fingertips. ever since that night, sunday had kept his distance from you. he always kept his distance with you, but now, you would never catch him standing near your vicinity.
the children found it strange. the two of you, without a fail, would always banter back and forth until the halovian had to leave to do other chores. some would turn to elenaor and ask what had happened between the two of you, but girl would only smiled with her eyes closed, pat them on the head and say “it's alright, they'll come around.”
but sunday thought otherwise.
how could death, shed any tears? it didn't make any sense. you were an emanator of destruction - he deduced from your words that night - death itself, so how come you brought life to the very house he and the soon be deceased children here?
they all considered you a mother. a mother. a parental figure they could go to to share their sorrows and woes.
you couldn't possibly be the death he's come to know and fear, but at the same time you were.
he wanted to hate you. hating you would be easier. it is easier. but his mind kept reminding him of the multiple times you would treat these children with the utmost gentleness. because you knew that one wrong touch could end their dreams.
“mr. sunday,” he looked up from his downcast position to look at elenaor. she'd been crying, sunday concluded. her eyes were red around the corners and she would sniffle from time to time. “will you be joining us for lunch?”
“ah…” he awkwardly turned his head away to hide the scratch that one of younger girls had accidentally given him. if she were to notice, elenaor would come bursting into your office to inform of his injury. “i’m feeling rather full as of now. I'm afraid i’ll have to decline.”
“i… see…” she only gave him a closed eyed smile. “well, goodbye then, mr. sunday.”
he waved goodbye to the girl who ran back inside the orphanage and sighed. hand coming to graze the cut on his left cheek and wincing as he did so.
“it'll get infected if you don't get that treated soon.”
sunday visibly froze, much to his dismay, as your figure emurged from his side. speak of the devil and they'll arrive, he thought.
“it's a scratch.” he weakly argued to which you only just hummed.
he kept his eyes on his hand playing with the grass as a shadow was cast over him. sunday flinched back when a gloved hand came to reach for his face, making him back up more to the tree he had been leaning on all morning. his actions startled you making you recoil your hand, all the while your hair obscured your eyes. but sunday swore he saw a flash of hurt in them. he felt guilty.
against his better judgement, his free hand came to hold yours in his.
“sunday?!” you said in shock trying to pull your hand away.
your hand was warm. he wondered if they ever got sweaty and uncomfortable when the heat reached its peak, wearing black under the scorching sun didn't seem too appealing.
“you said my name.” sunday replied, making you furrow your brows. of all the things he took note of, it was the way you said his name. slowly, he let go of your hand and let it fall back to your side. you held such a strange expression on your face, but who was he to talk. he did something strange too.
with a sigh, you pinch the bridge of your nose. “come on, let's get that scratch of yours a bandaid.”
sunday walked quietly with you as you navigated to the house’s makeshift infirmary. on the way there, children looked at the two of you with wide eyes and quickly rushed to each other's side to have hushed conversations.
“sit down.” you command and he followed.
the following minutes were spent in silence. you scavenging for a bandaid and some disinfectant, while he sat on the bed watching you move from one place to another.
“look to the right for me, angel.” your voice instructed him. this time, it wasn't your usual soft tone, nor was it the mellow and somber one on that night. it was more monotone this time around but still held some semblance of what he assumed was “fondness”.
your fingers carefully dabbed the cotton on his scratch before placing a bandaid over it. sunday noticed you didn't let your touch linger on his face like how you would when you patched up some of the kids when they got their own injuries.
“do you sing?” sunday asked on a whim, making you pause as you put away your tools. “what brought this on?” you question with a tilt of your head.
“louis and i heard someone humming the other day.” his finger grazed the fresh bandaid on his face. gold eyes never leaving your figure as you turned to look at him. “he told me you often hummed some of the children to sleep.”
“there's your answer then.”
sunday wanted to throw a pillow to your face. with an aggravated sigh, he stood up and followed you out the door.
“would it kill you to try and answer directly?”
“maybe.”
before you could step out of the infirmary, a pecking noise came from one of the windows, stopping sunday and you in your tracks.
you left his side and opened the window and let the crow inside the room. like the first time, it sat on your shoulder as you unraveled the piece of paper it handed you.
“will another child be leaving?” he mumbled. you walk towards him again and the both of you walk out of the infirmary. “everyone in this orphanage will leave.” your eyes met his and sunday pondered on what was going on in your mind.
“including you?”
“yes.” your answer was unexpected. “including me.”
“how so?”
“i’m no exception, angel.” there you were again, calling him by that blasted pet name. he couldn't fight the urge to roll his eyes as he followed you to the library. “i may bring death, but death will eventually come for me one day.”
“will someone replace you once you're gone?”
you only nod your head in agreement. hands grazing the many spines of the books that make up your library.
“ely would probably replace me.”
sunday pressed his lips to a firm line. in his mind, it made sense. elanoar was undeniably the closest child to you. she even accompanied you and him when michael departed, and he could only imagine how many children she's seen leave this orphanage in that room.
“they aren't really children, you know.”
the gray haired man furrowed his brows in confusion. “what do you mean?”
“you know what dreamscapes are, right?” he nods and follows you to sit down on one of many seats in the library beside the window. “people sleep and enter this fantastical world created by your predecessors. this place is similar. the reason why i call it “death's waiting room”, is because it's actually a waiting room.”
“do you mean…” sunday paused, trying to connect all the pieces you've given him. “these… children… they probably aren't children. they're people who've fallen asleep and are waiting for death.”
“exactly.” you flip through the pages of the book you had taken from one of the shelves. every page was filled with different words in elegant cursive handwriting. “right now, you're in a dream. waiting for your time to run out. waiting for death to come to you.”
“then, if that's the case, when will you cut the cord of my life?”
“even i don't know the answer to that.”
“is my name not written on the paper your companion gave you?”
you shook your head. “then how do you know when someone's time is up?” you take a few minutes to organize your thoughts, trying to think of a way to explain it, but in the end you couldn't.
“i don't know.”
“you don't know?!” sunday snapped. hands crashing on the wooden table as he stood up. his eyes were furious at you, making you sigh. “i’m not a god, angel.” you snap the book shut in hand. the sound echoing in the empty library as sunday sat back down.
“i may bring death to everyone i touch, but i am no more than a pawn in the grander schemes of things.”
“even i don't know why death comes to take the lives of us humans.”
sunday was speechless as he looked at you. you looked tired — absolutely exhausted — just like how his sister would describe him whenever he refused to leave his office back in penacony.
“i… apologize..” he bowed his head in shame. “i don't normally lose my composure like this.”
“it's fine.” he heard you sigh. “everyone grows on edge when death is waiting outside their door.”
“do you have to cut the cord?”
what a silly question, you must've thought. but sunday wanted to know even if what he was asking was inevitable.
you only smiled bitterly in response.
“even i fear the consequences of death, angel. i have to.”
sunday felt sick in the stomach when dinner approached. his ears ringed with your response, that you too, will eventually meet your end. it made him sick, and he didn't want to admit it.
he didn't come down to the dining room as usual. he expected elenaor to knock on his door, carrying a tray of food, something she's been doing after michael’s departure. but this time, when he opened the door, he had to stop you from stumbling inside his room as elenaor kept pushing you inside even with her hands occupied.
“elenaor..?!” you both whisper yell to the girl.
“you two need to talk!” she said with a huff. you winced when she dropped the tray of food on his table. “everyone's been worried about you two, y'know.” you both look away, sunday scratching his cheek while you were blatantly ignoring the girl as she put her hands on her hips.
“mother,” she called out to you but you pretended to not hear. “mother!” she said a little louder, now standing in front of you as she tugged and whined for you to acknowledge her. “you're so mean, mother!”
sunday’s wings hid the growing smile and laughter that was bubbling in his chest at the comical sight.
your cold facade was cracking with the way your lips were curving upwards; eyes pooling with mirth as the girl continued to scold you for some odd reason.
“and you!” elenaor pointed at sunday with her finger. he saw you snicker under your breath, fist in front of your lips, a futile attempt to hide your amusement. “you're supposed to be the more mature one between the two of you!”
“i am?” he points to himself with a tilt of his head. “yes!” she replied with a huff. elanaor made her way to the door, but not without giving the two of you another half attempt to glare. “by tomorrow, the two of you should be back to normal!” and for good measure, she slammed the door shut on the both of you.
the room was quiet, that is until, your giggles filled the room. your poor attempt in stopping your laughter made sunday's eyes go wide in shock, though he didn't know why. you always laughed in the house. be it from the teasing you always do to him and the other kids or by something else, you were always a giggly person.
but this was different. sunday just knew this was different. the way your eyes crinkled and shaped itself into little crescent moons and how tears of pure joy would escape every now and then. and your smile, aeons your smile. that smile didn't belong to death, it belonged to you.
sunday's laugh rang like church bells, you had to double check if what you were hearing was real. the two of you shared a moment of silence before erupting into fits of giggles again. the sound reminded you both of children running around the orphanage, playing kings and queens, monsters and knights, and the laughter that came after all the playing.
“what a strange girl she is.” sunday said after coughing into his fist. he had to reign himself in when you laughed in reply. “she is. but she's my strange girl.”
your eyes lingered on the door the younger girl had slammed. they held such fondness, sunday wouldn't have guessed the “death” he's always been afraid of would be so loving.
“well, now that's done.” you wipe away any stray tears left and motion sunday to his food. “eat. louis told me you hadn't eaten lunch. you must be starving.”
sunday sat down on the chair while you sat on the edge of his bed. smoothing out any creases on his blanket as he ate his food. every once in a while, he'd look at you between bites and still see that smile present on your face.
“you should smile more.” he said before wiping his lips on the towel elanaor had kindly prepared his food with.
“i could say the same to you, angel.” you look back at him. the same soft smile still on your lips as the streams of moonlight in this beautiful dream started to fill in the gaps of the window in the room, bathing you in a glow that made you look divine. “you look more handsome when you smile.”
he coughed into his fist as you laughed. wings coming to try and cover his face and hide his flustered state.
“i never… took you one for compliments.”
you tilt your head curiously, “do i not look like the type to give compliments.” sunday shook his head. hair and wings following his movement that made you swoon inside, it was nothing short of adorable. seeing the always composed mr. sunday stuff his face with the food you cooked for him.
this wasn't good. but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.
“you're wrong then.” you say as you let yourself fall onto his bed.
“are you fond of children?”
“well, i wouldn't have gone through all this trouble by creating this dream if i wasn't.”
“just answer me directly, death.”
you laugh again in response. how strange it was, that the name “death” the halovian would always use to describe you no longer sounded hostile.
“yes.” you said softly. “i’m very fond of them.”
“why?” he questions. you hear the sound of plates and utensils move around and it wasn't long before another weight made the bed dip from the other side. “everyone dreams of having their own family, angel. i’m no exception.”
you closed your eyes for a moment before they open again in bewilderment as you looked to your side.
your right hand, still with it's glove on, was being held by sunday's own hands. his thumbs and index finger would tug at your fingers before his palm settled in your own.
you could hear the way your heart was beating in your ears. “do you not fear death, angel?” you ask as you let the man play with your hand like a child.
“i do.” he answered. you felt the bed dip and shift as he turned to lay on his side. “but recently, i've come to know them very well.”
you close your eyes again. letting the feeling of sunday tracing shapes in your palms lull you into a momentary sleep.
“what is death like, if you've gotten to know them very well.”
“death is a scary thing.” he paused, making sure you were listening. “i tiptoed around it back at home, like how two siblings would've tried to hide from their father when they played hide and seek.”
“i didn't believe death existed until it took something - someone - very important away from me. it was the first time in a while did i felt the fear and fury of it all being poured into my body.”
“do you hate death, angel?” you ask, still not opening your eyes.
“i do.” he answered with no hesitation, making you scoff. “death is impatient, not waiting for me to finish my explanation before jumping to conclusions.”
alright, you admit, he got you there.
“i hate death. i don't ever want to experience it anytime soon. it takes and it takes, and i don't want it to take anything important away from me ever again.” you felt sunday weave your fingers together as he spoke. “but i learned that death, also gives.”
“death is a lot kinder than i imagined. they didn't snarl or bite - but they did tease and scoff - at me. they're fond of children, much to my surprise. treating them with the utmost care and gentleness, even i believe i don't possess.”
“death, though not intentionally, showed me that even beautiful dreams can cause suffering. something i've refused to believe — to acknowledge — for the longest time.”
“are you scared?” you ask. opening your eyes to turn to lay on your side as well. not letting sunday's hand slip away from yours.
“no, not anymore.” somehow, you could almost see the smile his handsome face wore. “because death is gentle when someone's time is up.”
“what if they aren't gentle with you?”
“well,” he only chuckles. “death is gentle with me right now, are they not?”
ah, he got you again.
—
sunday, from a very young age, was taught that dreams were one of the many ways that the gods used to convey their intentions to mankind.
all his life, sunday had seen the ugliest side of humanity and yet he wished nothing but the best for them. he dreamed of creating a paradise where humanity no longer had to fight for survival; the strong wouldn't grow stronger nor will the weak grow weaker. everyone would be equal.
sunday's existence was to be everyone's savior; their saving grace in this perpetually cruel world. he would willingly spend the rest of eternity in solitude if it meant that others could live in a paradise, free from all misery and suffering.
he's never seen anything wrong with wanting to escape; taking the easy way out. who would want to be in pain after all.
you would.
why does life slumber? he always asks — he wanted to ask you but never got that chance to.
“we slumber because we don't want to wake up. we do not wish to see a painful and unfair tomorrow. we want to hold on to this beautiful dream where everything is alright. because we fear the future, we don't wish to wake up. the future is not kind, not to everyone. we will lose everything.”
“but we still have to.”
jolting awake, sunday pressed his hand over his chest where his heart was beating erratically, its sound ringing uncomfortably in his ears. no longer was he in the orphanage he'd grown accustomed to. now, he was all alone, in a damp, cold, and dark room.
“can the angel walk?”
twisting his head to the side, there you sat. the same black off shoulder top, muted purple skirt, and your companion perched on your shoulder as you close the book in your grasp.
you smiled at him. “so the angel can wake up, good to know.” your words ring in his ears. it feels nostalgic, a sudden sense of deja vu, but it left him with a feeling of doom as you walked to stretch a hand to him.
sunday took it with a moment of hesitation. he let himself be pulled up with your help and let you lead him somewhere else.
“where are we?” he asks.
“in reality.”
his eyes narrowed in a confused glare.
“what happened to the orphanage?” he didn't like the quietness of everything. he couldn't read your emotions, frequency practically nonexistent. “gone. everyone left.”
the ground shook along with his heart. he couldn't properly process the way you took hold of his hand and began to run straight into the darkness.
he was scared. he was so uncontrollably scared with what you've done because why…. why was he still alive?
“pick up the pace angel.” you turn your head to him. a teasing smile on your lips trying to hide the panic and terror in your eyes. “don't tell me the angel forgot how to run?”
“what's going on…”
“nothing's going on.” there you were again, avoiding the question; leaving him guessing in the dark.
against his instincts — the nagging voice in his mind to follow you and run — he pried his hand away from yours and skid to a stop.
“angel?!” you shout in confusion. your panic doubled as the ground shook more and more.
“you can't just keep me in the dark, death.” his hands balled up into fists at his sides. the look of foreboding did not suit you, he much preferred your easy going natured smile. “i’m not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on.”
what a stubborn child, your mind replayed. eyes fogging up with an unreadable emotion.
“alright,” you say calmly. “how about a game then?”
sunday looked confused but stayed patient with you. something you're not used to.
“let's play a round of tag. you're it. if you tag me, i’ll tell you everything.”
“this isn't a game, death.”
sunday had come to the forlorn conclusion that he didn't even know your name.
“all is fair in love and war.” your voice matched your somber eyes.
what did you mean in love and war? what love? what war?
“come on now, angel, can't you just play one game with me?”
his adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed his fears down along with his hesitation.
“okay.” he said. “let's play, but just one game.”
you smiled in thanks. “on my count, we run.”
.
“three.”
.
“two.”
.
“one.”
.
“RUN!”
and so the both of you did. you ran with such vigor, sunday felt that he'd lose here. lose the chance of finally knowing the truth.
“don't give up on me now, angel. we're almost there!”
your laughter echoed in the dim lit corridors of this nightmare that seemed to never end. but the way a crown of light bathed you, sunday felt his feet push further and further until they burned from the pain.
you kept smiling back at him. the childish smile he'd always see on the faces of the many children back in the when they also played tag. you would always be “it” and tagged one child to another, leaving you the victor by the end of it all.
but this time, sunday would rise victorious.
“brother!”
sunday skid to a stop as a body slammed on his own, nearly making him stumble down. a warm embrace enveloped him, the same embrace that woke him from his dreams of order back in penacony.
“it's mr. sunday!”
“are you alright?”
everything was too fast. one moment he was playing tag with death and now he's reunited with his sister and the astral express crew.
“robin…” he quietly murmured. arms snaking to hug his sister tightly as tears pricked the corner of his eyes. “i’m here, brother.”
sunday let a smile break out of his face as he let robin check up on him. laughing at the way she weakly punched him on the chest.
“it's a good thing you're unharmed, mr. sunday.” welt said, fixing his glasses. “it took us quite a while to find you, but i’m glad our efforts weren't in vain.”
sunday furrowed his brows. “what do you mean?”
“after your disappearance in penacony, me and the astral express crew had joined forces to track you down.” robin explained.
“i… see…” sunday pondered if the reason they weren't able to find him was because he was inside your dream.
wait.
“death?!” he shouted into the space but no one answered. he was sure that everyone was looking at him weirdly as he lightly pushed robin to the side to try and look for you.
“death?!” the pink haired girl exclaimed. “what's going on mr. sunday?!”
before sunday could respond, another tremor broke out.
“brother!”
something flashed in sunday’s mind for a quick moment. his mind replayed the first time he arrived at “death's waiting room”, how he was forced to do chores and help around, tell the children bedtime stories and tuck them in for bed. how the first night he witnessed death made his stomach swirl with uncontrollably fear and how “death” itself cried for the departed.
he remembered how elanaor barged into his temporary room and pushed you in. how he ate his dinner in silence as you smooth out the creases on his bed. how, against his own judgement, came to lay on the bed and hold your hand that he couldn't believe brought upon ruin to someone's dream.
“it's time to wake up, sunday.”
sunday felt a body hug him tightly before he was pushed out of the way. in a quick flash, a red cord wrapped around him and death before it snapped.
the loud clamor of a giant gate dropping made his ears ring. sunday felt his breath quicken as he ran to the metal gate and slammed his fist against it in a poor attempt to get it to open.
“death!” another slam of his fist. “death you said you'd explain!” and another. “don't leave me in the dark!”
sunday felt his breath becoming shorter and shorter.
and how his heart dropped when crimson started to slip through the cracks of the metal gate.
“you didn't tag me, so i still win.”
“no…” another slam of his fist, louder than ever. “no! death hang on, we can save you!”
“you can't.”
“you don't know that!”
the trailblazer came to pry him away from the gate but he persisted.
“i know death better than anyone else, angel.”
“you…!” sunday felt his legs give out on him. he could only gaze at the way your blood pooled at the floor. “what did you do…”
you chuckled. “i never thought i’d die for someone else, you know.” sunday's caught wind of the cawing noises on the other side of the gate.
“no…”
“who would've guessed i would die for your sins.”
“the papers…” and you only hummed to confirm his suspicion.
there was one thing that sunday noticed whenever s child needed to depart: your companion will always bring you a piece of paper with their name written on it.
“my name…” he weakly muttered. “i was supposed to die…”
“you were.”
were. you didn't kill him.
the papers that started to pile in your office and the way your companion never once left your side; they way that never - not even once - have you taken off your gloves off whenever you fondly brushed his bangs away from his eyes or the way you let him hold your hands.
you didn't kill him.
the room shook again, this time stronger than the previous ones.
“we need to leave, now!” the navigator shouted.
sunday felt his body being supported as the trailblazer slung one his arms over his shoulder.
“fly. fly far, far, away from here sunday; you're free now.”
how ironic it was, that you, “death” itself, would die for a man who tried to go against the principles of the aeon he claimed to follow.
you brought the head of the oak family to your waiting room, waiting for the moment when his name would be delivered to you so could cut the cord of his life. but you never did.
“you're no longer guilty, your sins have been cleansed.”
you didn't want to let him go, as he did with you when he held your hand that night.
“i’m sorry i couldn't be gentle like you hoped for. but this was the only way.”
“i hope you finally understand that human suffering is inevitable. that even when we're in pain we still find a way to value our lives.”
“we are not gods, angel, we don't get a say in what happens to humankind. but i hope you'll come around to accept that it's what makes us all human. remember us — me — with fondness in mind.”
sunday will never come to know death, because death died for him and his sins.
“i hope you enjoyed your time with death, sunday.”
© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.
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⟡ within your waking thoughts (there i’ll be).
⎯ what do they do when they miss you? how do they cope with yearning when you're away? { y for yearning ノ ordered by @floraldresvi! }
RESERVED FOR! ノ characters. aventurine, sunday, dr. ratio ft. gn!reader. { 1.3k words }
FLAVOR! ノ genre. fluff, slight angst (sunday lovers i'm sorry), established relationship.
TOPPINGS! ノ tags. aventurine has his tech savvy moment, pre-2.2 sunday (heavy references but no spoilers), ratio has two phones (king of separating work & personal life !!!).
BAKER’S NOTE! ノ thoughts. my aim with these prompts is to write smth simple but significant, still working on it! wiping a tear of joy upon writing this as we speak.
© seelestia on tumblr, may 2024. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.
in your absence, aventurine welcomes little thoughts of you that float around his mind with open arms - and the way he indulges them is by simply texting you. effective and efficient, there is a reason why the cosmos calls it the second most used means for long distance communication. what about the first? well, he would've opted for calling you with his earpiece if only his line of work doesn't require 90% of its usage time.
let's just say the idea of fellow stonehearts interrupting his conversation with you ruins the fun. besides, he has deft fingers; coin tricks aren't the only thing in his book, you know, typing a few sentences in one go is no problem at all.
but maybe, he is using that too much to his advantage . . . considering the “25+” staring back at you from your notifications every few hours or so. aventurine is truly, irrevocably relentless.
anything even remotely in your favorite color found within his vicinity? new message: Saw something that reminded me of you, you must really like crossing my mind.
an item he thinks would fit you well? new message: I got you a gift. Does it suit your fancy? [1 attachment]
reminded of how cruel fate is to separate you two for so long? new message: Haven't seen your face in a while. Fifteen hours are a total too cruel, don't you agree?
have faith that you will never grasp the true meaning of boredom when you’re apart from him. luck follows a man like aventurine, so do interesting events - remember how he won a vacation to a resort with one chip? he revels in telling you stories of his encounters while you're away. it is as if thrill revolves around him constantly. . . one wonders just how he fares living on the edge of it all.
(you, for one, are aware of his ways. he has allowed you to wander far enough behind his masquerade, after all.)
of course, texts on an illuminated screen can barely compare to seeing you in person. he prefers having you in his arms instead - but he'll live. solitude is an old friend of his, albeit distant and cold, aventurine can deal with its company every once in a while. at the end of the day, he knows you’ll be there when he comes home.
though, it's such a shame he cannot see your face when you're apart. the curve of your lips as you smile, the twinkle in your eyes with his reflection in them, and. . . ah, seems like he is making this harder for himself. maybe, he should consider buying that HD holographic communicative device on the market? his ears caught wind of some P45 officers at pier point whispering about it before.
it'll cost a large sum of credits but hey, he thinks it'll be worth it. for you? anything is possible.
(...him? clingy? well, guilty as charged.)
sunday ’s self-discipline is not something to be underestimated. halovians are a species known for their enchanting voices, yet he feels as if he cannot spare any for even his inner thoughts. what an irony. his longing for your presence is persistent, tumbling at the edge of his tongue - but he is equally as, if not more, stubborn and so he swallows this yearning down instantly.
you are not confined to the dreamscape like he is, as self-imposed as that may be. sunday is aware of that, hence his first instinct is to keep quiet. the curse of sealing his lips till forevermore; watching you leave through the grand doors, letting his gaze fall to where your shadow used to be, savoring the last of your remaining fragrance from when you last bade him goodbye - all without a word.
(don't go, he wished he could say.)
is it a bad habit? “your voice shouldn't be used just to utter words that others want to hear,” you reminded him once. “it's also for you. it's yours.”
but even then, your words are akin to a faint whisper; muffled by the thoughts that plague his mind like a mist. he can't help how they fog up his reflection in the mirror, leaving remnants of something acrid that wafts in the air. something like doubts, sunday would know because he has dwelled in it for as long as he remembers.
you are outside, fluttering your wings in the sky and enjoying what it has to offer. does he have any rights to disturb you? perhaps, in his eyes, sunday views himself as a string tied around your talon, trailing all the way from the heavens where you soar to the humble ground where he resides. each time your absence compels him to reach out, it is as if he’s tugging on that string and dragging you lower from the height you truly relish in, from the height you deserve to be at.
(sunday believes that you belong to the sky, unlike him.)
so here, he shall stay and here, he shall wait until you return. sunday’s heart begins to grow cold - but the farewell kiss you've left on the apple of his cheek hasn't faded. its warmth remains, even when he brushes his freezing hand against it, it remains.
you remain.
(and that is enough for him.)
dr. ratio is a man with a packed schedule, so it's safe to say he keeps himself occupied particularly well. tasks at the intelligentsia guild are nothing short of demanding, after all. there are researchers asking for his input left and right, although some tremble while speaking to him even when he hasn't even uttered a word yet. ignoring that, he also aids in projects that require his expertise. last but not least, his students and classes which he takes very seriously.
(but be careful with how you phrase it — the doctor doesn't view them as distractions, no, he sees them as his responsibilities — saying the former might offend him.)
as you can see, he is perfectly capable of spending time away from you. . . .or at least, until it's time for a break and a part of that perfection chips off.
his office is quite tranquil, free from outside noise, just the way he likes. this place bears a similar purpose as his headgear, to let him focus in silence without disturbance - but he hasn't expected that exact silence to be this deafening. hah, how absurd! in what realm of possibility could silence ever be associated with deafening as an adjective? he supposes it could be a case of tinnitus. . . but veritas knows that isn't the case.
something's missing and it is, much to his dismay, you.
veritas has his standards. he prefers things to be set at a specific level - and this level of silence, one marred further by your lack of presence, is too low for him. he's getting too used to seeing you barge into his office with neatly packed sandwiches in your hands, a revelation he'd rather keep to himself.
veritas reaches for his personal phone, his work one left neglected at the far end of the desk. he considers making a call to you but the clock is ticking. tick tock tick tock, as if to hang the fact that his break is reaching its end over his head.
utilizing whatever time he has left, his finger gives the gallery app a tap. various pictures pop up on the screen; selfies of you with silly expressions, candid shots of veritas himself and some photos of random objects like your matching mugs. all of these were taken by you, of course. seriously, is this his phone or is it yours?
who knows at this point? he nearly lets out a snort, but that smile on his face is fooling no one. the doctor continues scrolling through his gallery, utterly content with just this until he gets home. to you.
(yes, yes, this still counts as keeping himself occupied. thank you for your concern.)
— thank you for reading! reblogs with comments are most appreciated.
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sweetest treat
tw: lowercase writing, fluff, established relationship between reader and neuvilette(married), reader is said to be from inazuma(chiori's friend), reader and neuvilette are both immortal.
disclaimer: the similarities between my work and another author's are not coincidences this time(i have asked for permission from the original author).
note: thank you so much @/lunaekalendar for letting me use her post as inspiration for this post!
⋆｡°✩ m.list, navigation
your daughter rested in her father's arms arms, lovingly named 'coralie' and nicknamed 'corra' by the melusines. she was 7 years old and the product of the love [name] had for the chief justice of fontaine, neuvilette. she had her father's pure white hair and her mother's golden eyes.
she was as socially awkward as her father, preferring to keep quiet. much to your delight, you knew that coralie could never go lost in fontaine - she had made herself known to all the melusines one day by following her dad to work.
they all crowded around the iudex's daughter. safe to say that they all agree that little coralie is just as kind as her mother.
"corra~" the duke walked into the iudex's office. wriothesley kneeled beside the little girl as her eyes lit up.
"uncle wrio!" she said, leaving her dad's lap and jumping into the duke's waiting arms instead. "daddy said you were busy today.."
the iudex coughed before returning to his paperwork.
"uncle wrio is never too busy for coralie~" wriothesley smiled at the girl. "come on, uncle will take you to sigewinne, she said that she prepared a little gift for you."
the duke took the girl's hand and started swinging it slightly. "make sure to come back before 2." the girl turned back to her mother.
"okay mom!" corra quickly scurried off with her uncle wrio, leaving the couple alone.
"wriothesley would be such a good father..." the iudex lifted his head at [name]'s comment. "look at how he takes care of coralie."
"his grace is rather soft when it comes to corra." he puts his quill down and replies. "an assumption on my part, but i always thought of the duke as someone who doesn't wish to settle down just yet." he comes around and pulls his wife onto his lap, resting his head on her shoulder.
"i guess... but any woman would be lucky enough to have wrio as her husband." neuvilette lifts his head.
"why do you say that?" he plays with her violet hair strands, twisting it around his fingers. "is it because you fancied the duke before you met me, dearest?"
she blushes and takes his hand out of her hair. "that's not true! wrio is basically like my brother..."
neuvillette chuckles. "dearest, you're forgetting that you are inazuman, not from fontaine." he kisses her forehead. "miss chiori should be closer to you, no?"
she shifts in her husband's lap. "nee-san is close to me, but wrio was also there to help us, as well as miss navia." neuvilette brushes away loose hairs on her forehead.
"don't get defensive now dear, i would trust wriothesley with everything that i have too." he runs his thumb over her bottom lip. "except you."
she blushes, a shudder running down her spine and her brain feeling fuzzy. "w-why is that..? you would trust wrio with corra then?"
the iudex nods. "we both know that the duke handles corra with the utmost care. i have no doubt in his ability to protect her." he gently prys her mouth open a little. "i would never trust his grace, let alone anyone, to protect you."
she smiles, straightening her back to meet neuvilette's lips as they engage in a soft, chaste kiss.
"before you, it was always wrio protecting me you know?" she said, playing with the iudex's white hair. "what, are you jealous neuvi?"
"not jealous." he said, smiling a little from the nickname. "the duke protected you back then was because you had not met me yet. but you know that dragons mate for life, you know that both of us are cursed with immortality..." he mumbles and buries his head in her crook shoulder.
a gentle peck at the corner of his lips brings him back from his solemnity. "don't get all sad on me now, if you make it rain then corra won't be able to go swim with the melusines like she wanted to."
"mhm..." [name] gets off his lap and goes to bring him his coat. neuvilette watches her graceful movements and bends down a bit.
"speaking of corra, we should go to the fortress and see how they're doing, right?" she smiles and helps the him put on his coat, making sure it fits him nicely. "this is corra's first time with more melusines than just sigewinne so... hopefully she isn't crying in wrio's lap again."
the couple chuckles, recalling how 2-year-old coralie cried when first seeing sigewinne. it was an accident encounter and all 3 adults in the room didn't know whether to laugh or cry at her. neuvilette was in the fortress for a short stop to wait for the natural rain to pass, unbeknownst to sigewinne.
so when baby coralie awoke and saw a short, cute little melusine doctor up close to her, she burst into tears. safe to say that sigewinne poor doctor kept her distance from coralie whenever they visited the fortress.
approaching the fortress, the couple where greeted by the two melusines stationed outside.
"welcome." they greeted, bowing a little at neuvilette and [name]. "the duke and miss coralie are just inside with the other melusines."
the grand doors are pushed open and neuvilette's grip on his cane falters a bit at the sight before him. his precious daughter, coralie, nestled between some melusines who are playing with her pure white hair.
coralie, the normally reserved child she is, now giggling and letting the melusines have free-range with her hair, a part of her that she normally disliked even [name] touching.
[name]'s gaze moves to wriothesley, who also has had his hair messed with clearly, as there are shells and braids scattered through his normally raven hair.
her eyes then move to her husband's trembling hands and leads him to sit next to the duke, before sitting down herself.
"look at her, neuvi" she says, holding his hand and stroking it lovingly. "she's so happy with them, hm?"
neuvillete can't stop looking at his daughter's hair, filled with braids and combed neatly by the 4 melusines who surround her, and an addition who is adding shells and coral to her hair.
"i like that color." she giggles and points to a light blue, almost azure, coral piece in sigewinne's hand. "it's just like daddy's eyes, right mommy?"
[name] smiles and nods her head. "it's very pretty dear, how about you put it in that braid there? it has no clips yet." the child smiles and clips the coral into one of her undecorated braids.
the rain outside slowly gets heavier, making [name] turn to see her husband with tears welling up in his eyes. he buries his tear-ridden face in the crook of her neck, trembling a bit as her thumb gently draws circles on his hand.
"isn't she just so happy neuvi?" she smiles, turning her head a bit to kiss the side of his head. "she's so cute with them and they just get along so well, don't you think?"
neuvilette can only offer a silent nod to this, agreeing to his wife's statement while pulling her closer to him.
[name]'s gaze moves back over to coralie and the melusines, watching as the little group of melusines on the side integrated with the main group surrounding coralie originally.
they had small bracelets with pearls, shells and gems in them and the little girl happy extended her limbs, giggling as they put the bracelets on her wrists and ankles.
she happily shakes her limbs around, smiling widely as they jingle around her arms and legs.
what catches [name]'s eye is a small yawn that comes out of coralie's mouth as she smiles.
"are you tired darling?" she asks, patting neuvilette's shoulder to get his weight off her. "you wanna go home today honey? it's quite late dear and you said you wanted to sleep early to go watch the sunrise tomorrow."
coralie nods and rubs her eyes. "okay mommy..." she says, blinking at [name] with her ocean blue eyes.
[name] smiles softly and picks up her daughter gently from the circle of melusines and she hears them all collectively whine. "don't worry, corra is gonna be back tomorrow too." she places coralie on her hip. "isn't that right darling? wanna come back tomorrow afternoon?"
coralie nods and looks at her dad, who's fixing her coat and shirt from laying on [name]'s shoulder. "daddy... are you okay?" she asks, looking at how her dad's eyes are a bit puffy.
"i'm fine, corra." he smiles softly at her, taking in the coral, shells, bracelets, clips and clams all over her little body: proof that she was beloved by the melusines. "i think we should go home, it's quite late dear."
coralie nods in agreement.
as the family walk out of the fortress, little coralie already half-asleep against her father's built chest, right hand on his shoulder and left tangled in his coat decor.
as she tried desperately to remain awake, the last thing she says is, "dad, can we go to play with them everyday?" before yawning again, nuzzling futher into neuvilette's thick clothing and falling asleep.
the iudex smiles softly at the sight of his two worlds - the leader of fontaine as well as the iudex - merging together in a little dragonling called coralie, the product of his love for fontaine and his wife.
"sure we can..." he kisses the top of her head. "sure we can darling..." he whispers softly into her hair, knowing that she's too far asleep to hear him.
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𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃'𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐘 genshin men x gn!reader
— neuvillette, wriothesly, ayato, diluc, alhaitham
despite the fact that your husband prioritizes his duties above all else, he somehow has a very exceptional soft spot for you. everytime that you enter his office, looking all that (literally only in your regular clothing), it’s like he just saw the most adorable puppy in the world enter the room.
“sweetheart,” he would perk on his seat, smiling already just from the sight of you. “how long have you been waiting for me?”
you weren’t really waiting for him. but he is very adorable as he gushes over how you should have came in earlier to save him from boredom. he’s never actually bored of his duties. but, if he sees you and workload in the same room, it’s like there’s a large distraction that separates him from things that matter. spoiler: the large distraction is the mound of paperwork.
if he could, he would push all these things off his desk and lay you there instead. you opt for his lap instead, so no harm is done. “i missed you,” he coos.
you tell him, you saw each other only mere hours ago.
“hours are long enough for the sun to run around the world without you, dear,” he replies like he’s a poet. “next time, if you ever miss me, drag me out of here and make me yours elsewhere.”
you joke to him that it’s him who would miss you. he ignores your words and lathers you with kisses. and when the knocks come to the door, you tell them that he’s really, really busy.
tumblr works differently than most social media platforms;
reblogs share others' work, so please share me!
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JEALOUSY
synopsis: blade is definitely not jealous!!
ft: blade x stellaron hunter gn!reader
tws: none (i think…)
🦢’s note: short (and horrible) one today….i haven’t been feeling that well these days sorry T0T
blade wasn’t jealous.
why would he be ? after all, you're just a coworker to him, a fellow stellaron hunter, nothing more nothing less.
it’s not like his grip on the now half empty glass tightened at the sight of you giggling with the bartender. the usual scowl on his face somehow deeper and if looks could kill that poor man would’ve dropped dead a long time ago.
blade knew kafka was talking to him, but he couldn’t hear her, he couldn’t hear anything, he was too focused on you, watching carefully, ready to intervene if he needed to.
‘keep it together’ he tells himself, this is all part of the mission, a part of elio’s script and he knows it, he knows that he shouldn’t be getting worked up.
a snap of fingers in front of his face pull him out of his momentary haze back into reality, he turns to see kafka looking at him with a smirk on her face and from her expression alone he can tell what she’s thinking and he chooses to ignore her in favor of observing you again.
as soon as his head turns he can see you approaching the table you sit in the chair in front of him and slip an envelope on the table.
“woah, you actually got it” kafka states, impressed. you smile picking up the half empty cup in front of him pulling it to your lips.
blade watches as you gulp down the remaining of his drink, but he’s not the only one. from the corner of his eyes he can still see the bartender ogling you, he stands up abruptly startling both you and the magenta haired woman, “we got it. let’s go.” he says.
yeah, blade is definitely not jealous.
— ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა
#irene’s writing#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#honkai star rail#hsr blade#blade x reader#blade x you#blade x y/n#hsr fanfic#honkai star rail x gender neutral reader#honkai star rail fanfic#hsr imagines#honkai star rail imagines#hsr x y/n#blade honkai star rail#honkai star rail blade
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quietus!
to find peace in eternal rest ; "death or something that causes death, regarded as a release from life."
in which — elio finally fulfils blade’s wish for death, in an unexpected way.
pairing — blade x gn!reader
✧˖⋆｡° — wc: 1.1k, grgrrrr angst, haha cry hurt/no comfort, bladie my fav edgelord, tw blood but dw there’s no detailed gore, spoiler for blade’s previous name, okey thats all enjoy!!!! likes n reblogs r appreciated <3
the promise of death was a distant yet tantalizing dream for blade. years of endless suffering, a paradise he's been yearning for— finally comes to an end. no longer will his body stitch up the wounds caused by his own hands; the scars holding memories, marked by countless battles fought and the years that went by, to be forgotten.
shackled by the chains of immortality, you too, know how it feels like. you knew yingxing like the back of your hand, both of you had witnessed xianzhou's rise and fall, and felt the crushing weight of loneliness as time went on inexorably. though you managed to find solace in each other, blade never stopped his pursuit for eternal rest.
coming home to you as the scent of blood wafts through the air, a reminder of the price he had to pay, and the sacrifices he made in pursuit of a “dream” that remained just out of reach. his body, marred by countless wounds, bore the scars of a life spent on the knife-edge between life and death.
for too long, you had been bound together by the scripts given by elio. you had played your parts, adhered to the lines etched into the fabric of your existence. but now, as the last act draws near, you feel the impending doom pressing down upon you.
perhaps it's unfair that blade gets to taste the sweet release of death, the peace that has eluded him for centuries. perhaps it's unfair that you are the one who has to deliver his timely demise, to be the hand that grants him the freedom he has longed for.
despite understanding his desire for peace, it tears at your heart.
you grasp at blade’s sword as he stands before you. you meet his eyes in a wavering look, the steel gleaming in the dim light, reflecting both your dishevelled state.
"why…" you whisper, your voice breaking as tears cloud your vision. "why must it be me?"
blade reaches out to touch your face, his blood-stained fingers gentle against your skin. a softness reserved only for you behind closed doors.
"—because only you can understand the depths of my suffering, and only in your hands can i find the peace i seek."
you know he’s right. no one else could understand the torment he has endured, only you were there with him throughout every part of his life. you were there when he was yingxing, a name lost to history; and now blade, a mere tool burdened with the curse of immortality.
but i don’t want to lose you
blade seems to know what you’re thinking at this very moment as he reaches down to your wrist, his touch is firm yet tender, guiding your trembling fingers to align the sword against his own neck. the cold steel presses against his skin, and when he begins to speak, the slight movement causes the sharp edge to bite into his skin, a small trickle of crimson welling up and tracing a delicate path down his neck.
“i love you.”
his eyes remain boring into yours, you’ve always hated when he deliberately hurt himself, but this time it’s different, because now you are the one hurting him. you start to quiver at the thought, breaking eye contact and just as you retract your hand, you feel his grip tighten.
he continues, “…aren’t you going to say it back?” his blood glistens in the dark, a stark contrast to the pallor of his skin. “i love you too…yingxing.” you dare not meet his gaze when you uttered those words back, your voice visibly quivering.
an uncharacteristic smile spreads across his face at your predicament. “don’t regret it now.” he whispers under his breath as he uses his free hand to pull you closer by the waist, the sword digging slightly deeper in his flesh, drawing out a fresh gush of blood.
your face immediately contorts with worry, and instinctively, you try to pull your hand back. however, he laughs at your attempt and keeps his grip firm on your wrist. “don’t resist. you have to follow through”, his voice tinges with an indiscernible emotion.
as a final expression of his love that he rarely ever shows, blade leans forward, his lips capturing yours in a tender, desperate kiss. his free hand moves to cup your face, gently wiping away the trickling tears with his thumb.
“do it now."
the scent of blood mingled with the faintest hint of regret.
with a final, shuddering breath, you push the blade deeper. as he guides your hand to the side, the steel slices through with a sorrowful finality. he collapses to the floor.
you fall to your knees beside him in despair, cradling his head in your hands. a spread of crimson staining your clothes, seeping through your fingers. his eyes, though dimming, remain solely fixed on yours, a faint smile still playing at the corners of his lips.
“thank you… for everything.” he murmurs, barely audible.
your tears flow like a ceaseless torrent of waterfall, streaming uncontrollably. you want to scream, yell, but nothing comes out, you could only stare as the life in his eyes gradually ebb away. the world around you fades into a blur, you clutch him closer, your hands trembling as you feel his body get heavier for each moment that passes by.
you press your forehead against his, your gut-wrenching sobs linger in the air. "yingxing," you whisper, your voice cracking. "please… don’t leave me"
i love you, i always will
for too long, you had been bound together by the shared burden of immortality. blade had endured more than any soul should bear, and the memories of his suffering now yours to carry. his body remains motionless, indicating that his agony has finally found its end; and with it, a part of your soul now irreparably torn. every breath you take, every dream you’ll have, every thought that occupies your mind will be engraved by his final moments.
you brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, your fingers tracing his features, committing every detail into your memory; your heart clenches as you weep silently. the thought of facing eternity without him is unbearable, a pain sharper than any blade.
✧˖⋆｡°
masterlist
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please read this if you don’t support the fucking genocide
there are palestinian kids who should be in school, getting ready for a new semester. they should be procrastinating their homework, texting their friends. they should get to go home when they feel unsafe or upset.
instead, the school year was suspended on november 6th. over 200 schools have been bombed. more than 7,870 children have been killed. kids do not have a safe place. anywhere. their homes are being destroyed and their schools are being destroyed and the places they used to hang out at and eat at and shop at and pray at and mourn at and live at are actively being destroyed
people of palestine, of all ages, should be living their lives. they should be having normal experiences. they should be going to the movies or redecorating their rooms or celebrating birthdays or scrolling their phones for no reason. but they’re not. they’re not allowed to have the comfort of mindless human joy without constant threat and fear and bloodshed, and it is the fault of israel, the united states, and other fucked corrupt governments.
there have been close to 20,000 palestinian deaths, almost 2.2 million people displaced, and an estimated half of those people face starvation.
we need to fucking do something. the fact that the US still refuses to support a ceasefire is disgusting and evil. the claim that all anti-israeli statements are based in antisemitism is hurting both the people of palestine and jewish people worldwide.
here’s some things you can do:
-donate if you can or ask someone you know to donate
-sign a petition to demand a ceasefire
-fill out a form to email your representative. then do it again. then do it again. then do it again.
-boycott and avoid all companies on this list that you can (especially now that the holidays are rolling around: buy from independent stores, non-big name brands)
-spam text your friends and family with this post and these links
-reblog to spread awareness, interact with other posts that give instructions for direct action, follow palestinian voices
-instead of feeling guilt or denying yourself personal happiness, do all you can to make a difference. it doesn’t matter if you don’t have money to donate or if you’re a minor. you can always contact representatives or sign petitions
DO NOT LET THE GENOCIDE CONTINUE.
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a song for you ⟡ veritas ratio
synopsis veritas creating a playlist for you to show his love :3
warnings fluff, gn!reader, modern!au
NOTES back with another veritas fic teehee
veritas ratio is not a big talker.
he prefers to stay quiet while you do the talking for him. there are times when he does say things out loud to give you his opinions on things, but other than that, he will mostly stay quiet.
you were used to it, and in a good way. you like having someone listen to you rather than having them talk back to you because it just feels... awkward when you don't have anything else to say to them.
veritas was an excellent listener, always nodding to you whenever you speak and his eyes are always trained on you so you know that he's genuinely listening to whatever you're saying.
today was no different. you told veritas about how your day went, and he will occasionally hum or reply a short answer when you asked him a question.
you eventually got busy with playing games on your phone, getting a bit too immersed into the game to not see veritas walking towards you.
"love, i made a playlist for you, come sit and listen." veritas says, and motions you to come follow him.
"wait, what?" you almost dropped your phone on the couch when he said that. a playlist? just for you? when did he make it?
loads of questions started to rise in your head, but you didn't ask and he didn't seem like he wanted to answer any of your questions, so you followed him to the bedroom, where he hands you one piece of the earphone he had just connected to his phone.
he opened the playlist and you caught a glimpse of the title, which was "to my beloved" and honestly? it made you blush a little.
the first song starts to play and you almost laughed out loud. it was the very first song you guys started to like in one of your car rides. it was a pretty old song, but it holds a special place in your heart, as it carries the memories of that fun car ride with veritas.
"you remembered this song?" you asked, giving him a soft smile.
"mm, yeah," veritas replies quietly. "how could i forget it?"
the next few songs that played were mostly songs that reminded him of you, and they hold really cute meanings too behind the songs that it almost made you start crying.
because when has anyone ever made a playlist about you and dedicated to you? when has anyone ever used their free time to create something like this for you?
"when... when did you make this?" you asked, taking the earbud off as you faced him with teary eyes. "you're really busy with practice, no? when did you take the time to make this whole thing?"
"at night, when you're asleep," veritas replies. "you know i have trouble sleeping sometimes, right? i... used that time before sleeping to make this. it took me a few days to find out if these songs were-" you hugged him, immediately stopping him from saying anything else.
"thank you for making this, veritas!" you mumbled, face hiding into the crook of veritas's neck. he sighs happily and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.
"mhm, you're welcome," he replies. "i love you, you know that, right?"
"yeah, i do. i love you more, veritas." you replied, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, to which his face turns a light shade of red.
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massage | dr ratio blurb
1.5k words about giving ratio a massage because you're his partner and you love him. that's it. that's the post. there's nothing else i can say about that. purely self indulgent sweetness there's nothing else for me to add. reader is gender neutral, and referred to by him and themselves as veritas' partner. i wrote wayyy too much about such a simple concept but what are you gonna do ? lock me up ? i dare you.
you knew how veritas liked to wind down for the night. after a few years being married to him, you've figured out the routine by now. you can tell he's starting to get tired when he sits his book down and nods off a little in his chair. you have to gently shake him awake, or call out to him a few times before suggesting that maybe it's time for bed, that you're the one getting sleepy, not him. and then, finally, he'll sigh and tell you that he still has so much work left for him to do, but he supposes that he should humor you for a little while.
he'll get up, and trudge his way to your shared bathroom and begin to get ready for the night. he takes off his robes and puts them up on a hanger, and taking off his gold accessories, including his adornment and chain that went around his neck, and his laurel accessory. after unbuttoning the top button of his vest, he takes off his contacts and puts on his glasses because he's as blind as a bat without them.
and of course, then you come in. you'd change out of your day out and into your pajamas, which was usually just a tank top and a pair of underwear, and then you would make your way to the bathroom where veritas was in the middle of his routine, probably brushing his teeth. you would brush out your hair and make sure that you had taken off any makeup - and probably remind him to take off his eyeliner, too. you were usually trying to get a good look at yourself while behind him in the mirror, often ducking or tilting to the side so you could see yourself.
after brushing your teeth, were were mostly done, save for whatever skincare you did at night. and then you would glance at veritas, your eyes raking over his body, and you would snake your arms around his torso, your head against his back. " you look so nice, veritas, " you would mumble against the fabric of his vest, pressing a soft kiss against his back. " this is my favorite veritas. the guy with grandpa glasses and messy hair who snores at night. "
veritas stifled a laugh, finishing brushing his teeth and rinsing out the minty foam from his mouth before turning around, his arms lazily hanging off of your shoulders. " i suppose its only natural you have your favorites, just as i have mine, " he whispered, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly in a half smile, the exhaustion evident on his face. " although, i must admit, it's amusing to see you try to seduce me while i'm half dressed. "
" is it working ? " you asked teasingly, pressing a kiss on his shoulder, leaning into his touch. you could see the tiredness in his eyes, the way he could hardly keep his eyes open even as he shared such an intimate moment with you.
" it's.. charming, " he admits, his voice low and even, and he couldn't stop the small sigh of contentment that spilled from his lips as you kissed him. he knew that you enjoyed these intimate moments, and he'd found himself growing rather accustomed to them too, despite his penchant for a busier, more active lifestyle. but you knew something the world didn't, you saw the warmth in his icy facade that veritas presented to the world as dr. ratio.
" how about i charm you some more, veritas ? " you asked, smiling softly at him, knowing just what he needed. this was the time for your care to shine through, something that honestly didn't happen often enough. " how about a massage, doctor ? " you purred, your eyes glimmering with a longing to please him in a way that only you could. " let me indulge you, dearest dr. ratio. " you only ever used the title dr. ratio in two situations : when you're a guest speaker in his lecture room, and when you're trying to deliberately provoke him into your little games, just so he would let you take care of him for a little while. and it was working splendidly
" you know i've never been one for massages.. " he hums, allowing his voice to trail off as he thought about your little offer. finally, he gave a little sigh, too tired to protest much. " but perhaps, just this once, i might make an exception for you. "
you smiled, taking his hand, as well as a bottle of his favorite scented lotion, leading him towards the bed. once he was laying on his stomach on the bed, his vest long gone, you really had the chance to enjoy his body in a mostly nonsexual way. you sat on his butt with your legs straddling either side of him, hovering over his vulnerable form. you squirted the lotion on your hands, warming it up between your fingers before you began to work on massaging his shoulders. veritas let out a soft grunt as your skilled fingers worked through the knots in his muscles, finding himself relaxing under your ministrations.
your touch was firm and yet gentle, knowing that you would have to be a little rough with him to get out particularly tight tension knots in his muscles. massaging the expanse of his back, you found yourself completely thrown into the little side mission of pleasing your husband that you gave yourself. " when was the last time you had a massage, dear ? " you asked gently, your fingers trailing down his spine, pressing into his skin to work through the tension. " you should let me take care of you more often. you know i enjoy helping you out, you've just gotta ask your lovely partner for help sometimes. "
" i can't recall. perhaps its been far too long, " he mused out loud, his voice deep and grumbly as he closed his eyes, his head in his arms while he enjoyed this moment with you. he knew you well enough by now to know that you weren't talking about just giving him a massage when he needed to relax. you were also extending yourself to comforting him, or supporting him through his endeavors. you'd be there to listen and offer a shoulder to lean on should he need it. and although he may not say it verbally, he couldn't help but appreciate your unwavering support more than you could ever know.
" you know i'm always here, veritas, " your voice was inexplicably warm and loving as you massaged his back, feeling him relax so much more underneath your touch, your every move melting the stress from his body. " i always will be. "
" i wouldn't expect anything less from my beautiful partner, " he chuckled softly, the sound muffled by his arms. there's a note of admiration in his voice, a rare glimpse of vulnerability revealing itself beneath the layers of his typically stoic demeanor. he couldn't help but feel a sense of calm wash over him. for all of his faults and flaws, this is where he found his solace; in the quite moments shared with you. the world fades away gradually to him, leaving only the two of you together.
in this moment, he's not dr. ratio, the scholar within the intelligentsia guild, nor the doctor working tirelessly to save his patient's lives. he's got no doctoral under his belt that taught him to how to love, and yet he found himself doing so effortlessly with you. he was simply veritas, a man basking in the comfort and love of his partner. as you work your magic on his tense muscles, he lets his thoughts drift aimlessly. veritas lies there, basking in your tender touch, and he can't help but feel a sense of contentment.
you smiled when you began to hear the soft, familiar sounds of his snoring. you stopped for a moment, looking over his features. his hair was messy and in his face, his eyes closed, and there's no negative emotions on his face. he wasn't angry, or stressed, or worried. he looked peaceful, and happy. you picked yourself up, walking over to grab a towel to clean your hands from some of the lotion. the sound of his snoring became almost like a lullaby to you, a signal that something went right, that you had done something right. you wiped off the remaining lotion from his back, putting the towel on his bedside table before leaning over to him.
you paused, taking in his features up close, before gently brushing his hair out of his face, your hand resting on the top of his head before you gently kissed his cheek. " i love you, veritas. not the man you present yourself as, but the man that you are when no one else is looking. " you knew that underneath his many layers, veritas was a man who wasn't so different from everyone else after all. he was inherently kind, although stubborn in his ways, something that you had grown to love about him.
as you settled in beside him for the night, you couldn't help but think that you were the luckiest one in the room.
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boothill x writer&reading enthusiast!reader!!
wc: 680
tags - fluff!!!!!, hurt/comfort without the hurt, so just comfort, this is my first fanfic EVER!?!?!?, lots of projection, probably inaccurate portrayal of boothill srrie, boothill calls u darlin'/sugar, this is really really messy oops
a/n - the story kinda diverges into them just reading a simple book written by someone else but the idea was that they'd slowly work into reading more n more complex stuffs-- which eventually include reader's works !! tbh i like to think even if boothill doesn't fully understand yet he'd still wanna know what reader is writing. i'll probably rewrite this sometime in the future with the same concept, diff execution b/c this lowkey didn't turn out how i wanted it to ૮ ྀི◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ྀིა
he feels bad and a little insecure about his illiteracy!! because he bets you're so so talented in what you do but he literally cannot appreciate what you write :((
sometimes he wonders if you'd be happier if you were with someone who was able to fully understand all of you-- all of your cute rambles about the usage of different literary devices in the books you were reading, all of the times you cried over dystopian novels and heart-crushing personal narratives and profound, emotional sentences that he just didn't have the capacity to understand.
when he sits you down one night and confides in you about this, your first course of action is to comfort him (obviously!!).
"trust me, i don't love you any less just 'cause you dunno how to read," you coo, peppering his warm face with loving kisses. "if i had to be with anyone else, i'd be sad forever knowing you'd still be out there. i love you, don't forget that, 'kay?"
you can see his worry-addled face relax a bit as you remind him of just how much you love him-- but you can still notice the crestfallen look in his eyes. you realize he has been worrying about this for a while; possibly since the first time you told him you were a writer.
you come up with a plan.
he's a little confused the first time you lay in bed earlier than usual with a book in hand, gesturing excitedly for him to join you under the covers. you usually read books on your own, no?
it didn't take him long to notice a difference between the book you were holding and the books you usually read.
he saw a few of the books you'd read previously-- they were thick, way thicker than the book in front of him now, and definitely way smaller in size. the covers also had pretty big differences. the covers of your usual books were much more mature-looking-- like they were meant to be read by adults. this book, however... had a fat, crudely drawn green caterpillar on the cover.
his metallic body slips underneath the sheets, relaxing on the mattress. he protectively wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.
"what's this, darlin'?" he asks, pointing to the book with his free hand.
"the very hungry caterpillar," you reply, a bright smile on your face. you pause for a bit before speaking up again.
"i feel like i've been making you feel bad by leaving you out of my passion for literature-- i mean, reading, and writing and whatnot. i'm not the best teacher, but i still wanna share this part of me with you."
he has to try his hardest not to explode on the spot.
"'s alright, sugar, 's not your fault," he murmurs, gently caressing your side in an attempt to comfort you. "did 'ya get this book just f'me?"
you nodded, the solemn look on your face suddenly being replaced with one of excitement.
"this book is real simple, so i can read it to 'ya and hopefully you might learn a few things," you smile, giving him a peck on the cheek as you open the book.
since he barely knows how to read, you have to read the entire book out loud to him. that doesn't bother you, not in the slightest. in fact, you'd say it's even more fun that way.
he starts to snicker as the drawing of the caterpillar slowly gets bigger and bigger, eating food in larger quantities as the pages flip.
after you shut the book closed and put it on the nightstand, you turn to him. "how'd you like the book?"
"it was so stupid," he grins. "that [beautiful] caterpillar was still hungry after eatin' all that?"
you burst into giggles, hugging him tighter as you laugh. "mhm, i guess so. it's like me whenever you take me out to get fast food."
"oh, don't compare your pretty self to that thing," he smirks, tucking the both of you under the covers.
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「 # REVERIES IN CUPS! 」
ANNOUNCING the arrival of a new section on the bakery's menu: drinks! gone are the days where you leave through our front door without something to soothe your parched throat. feel free to stop by and take a look at our new additions! { sfw alphabet event }
[ 📭 . . . accepting orders! ] from May 14 (GMT+8) till May 20 (GMT+8). The end date may be subject to change depending on circumstances.
⟡ ─ ・・“TELL US MORE!” (info)
Welcome to Reveries In Cups! — a SFW alphabet event where you pick an alphabet letter and pair it with a character! But to play along with the theme, there are tiny changes. . .
Each alphabet letter has its own assigned drink in the event menu and one letter = 1 drink. For the characters, one character = 1 pastry and you can choose from either: genshin or hsr.
There is a limit for how many drinks and seats you can order! So, I've prepared three packages you can choose: [ 1 or 2 drinks with 1 pastry ], [ 2 drinks with 2 pastries ] and [ 1 drink with 3 pastries ]. These are the only packages applicable.
Completed orders will be posted after the bakery's mailbox has been closed (or in other words, after the end date passes).
⟡ ─ ・・“HOW TO ORDER?” (order etiquette)
Before proceeding, please check whether we’re still receiving orders! Orders that are sent after the closing date will be ignored.
To place an order: state the package you desire out of the three mentioned earlier, the names of your drinks, and the characters you bought pastries for.
It doesn't have to be in order as long as your ask is complete with the details. If it helps, an example would be: “can i get 1 drink with 1 pastry? i'd like a cup of lost twilight and one pastry for neuvillette, please. thank you!”
( EXTRA: If you can include a thank you in your order, it will make my day! )
You may find the event menu here and a full list of characters I write for here if you're unsure. With that said, I'm looking forward to your orders!
⟡ ─ ・・“ANYTHING ELSE?” (reminders)
Only orders placed through my askbox will be accepted. If you place an order through a reblog or a comment, it is considered invalid.
Separate the characters accordingly based on what fandom they're from! I prefer keeping my fandoms in separate posts, so only one fandom per order, thank you.
Please use an applicable package. Other types of packages like [ 3 drinks with 2 pastries ] or [ 2 drinks with 3 pastries ] will not be accepted. This is to prevent me from getting writing burnout, so I hope you understand.
Do not rush or pressure me. Be mindful that your order’s size works in tandem with the time it'll take for me to write it. For example, an order with the [ 1 with 3 ] package might take longer than a [ 1 with 1 ].
Do not submit more than one order per person. I cannot dictate this so this is solely dependent on your moral compass - but I'd like to give everyone a fair chance at requesting.
Lastly, if you're familiar with how I like to do my events . . . please include the keyword: macaron in your ask somewhere. This helps me differentiate between those who've read this far and those who haven't! Orders without this keyword will be promptly declined.
— thank you for reading! all matters related to this event will be tagged as [ #reveriesincups ]. boosts will be greatly appreciated! ‹3
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