sundaysconsort

[sundaysconsort]

Lord have mercy, this art is divine. Sobs. It's so eye catching, I can't look away. AAHHH!! HEEEELPPP!!!

@aventurineswife Ehem- Y'know who this reminds me of?-- ehem. ehem.

angel phainon

[sundaysconsort]

Guys—I’m so excited. A friend of mine is going to meet Boothill’s EN VA in May at a con near his school, I’m so excited. He’s gonna get a print signed for me, I’m like—blushing. I’ve never had anything signed before. I’m going to cherish it. 🥹💝

[sundaysconsort]

THE MORE I LOOK INTO YOUR BLOG, THE CLOSER I TURN INTO SUNDAY'S SIMP 😭🤏🏻, THE PFP AND THE MAJESTIC ART BEHIND YOUR PFP IS SO TEMPTING TO MAKE ME ONE OF SUNDAY'S SIMP!

WHEN I TURN INTO SUNDAY'S SIMP I WILL BLAME YOU 🫵🏻😔( in the happy way). Angel boy really look so *sobs handsome, he already in the list of my 60+ husband but not in the top list.

Pffft, you're far too kind. Adorable, even. Didn't think I could have such a sweet fan of my blog, even while I'm inactive. Sunday is a character I deeply treasure, and I’m honoured to be the one who could’ve possibly raised him higher in that list of husbando’s you’ve got.

His character is divine, in more ways than one—I remember I was so excited for his release when they finally announced him to be playable. I got him C6, but alas, now my friends have used him more than I cause I don’t like the direction the games been heading. I’ll continue to admire him from the sidelines til I see him return with more lore to indulge in for his character.

[sundaysconsort]

I have one of the cutest lil' followers in my inbox, makes me feel bad I've been inactive.. I'm tempted to write the more they bring up one of my works. They're so passionate about it <3

[sundaysconsort]

🥹 I love your writing about ghost!femreader so much 😭 the sad feelings I get it, 1 is dead 1 is alive they can't touch each other because of it.

Your writing is so amazing THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR WRITING ABOUT IT 😭😭😭 I LOVE SUNDAY SO MUCH ❤️.

Oh, Sobs, you're so kind! I feel a bit guilty for being inactive lately. When I do come back, it might be a shorter story, but I promise to keep the usual quality as best as I can! I share your love for Sunday.

I've always had a fascination with ghosts, so when I got that request, it was a real treat! Part 2 will carry the same spirit once I find the time and inspiration to dive back in.

[sundaysconsort]

To the one who made a request for part 2 of the Ghost!Reader x Sunday? I'm 100% going to work on this at some point. They deserve to touch, I agree. Sobs.

[sundaysconsort]

"Admiration," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "You give me too much credit." <- Sunday, people don't give this sweetheart enough credit. For him to believe this as true.

I adore the dialog as usual, sorry for short reaction this time around. I'm fried from you-know-what. But I adore all the parts!! From Avens question, to the tenderness of Yuans.

❤ The Language of Flowers | 003

❤ | Your options shall be: Sunday, Aventurine, Boothill, Jing Yuan, Moze, Dan Heng, Blade, Dr Ratio

❤ | Flower & it's definition : Aster flower | A symbol of patience, daintiness, good-luck, and a talisman of love. When given as a gift it means admiration and can also mean elegance.

The Language of Flowers

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Romance, Emotional Depth, Fluff, Light Angst, Self-Reflection, Inner Conflict, Healing, Vulnerability, Symbolism, Slow Burn, Complex Emotions.

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma, Introspective and reflective moments, Potential for mild angst or emotional struggles, Light conflict or misunderstandings, Mentions of past manipulation (for Aventurine), Mentions of loss and survivor’s guilt (for Aventurine and Sunday).

A/N: this was way better in my head 😔🙏

[Part 1] | [Part 2] | [Part 4] | [Part 5] | [Part 6] | [Part 7] | [Part 8] | [Part 8.5] | [Part 9] | [Part 10] | [Part 11] | [Part 12] | [Part 13] | [Part 14] | [Part 15] | [Part 16] | [Part 17] | [Part 18] | [Part 19] | [Part 20] [Part 21]

The serene silence of the evening stretched across the quiet expanse of the Astral Express. You leaned against the window, watching the stars twinkle in the void of space, your thoughts drifting like the cosmic winds. Suddenly, a soft rustle behind you interrupted your reverie. Turning, you saw Sunday walking toward you, his ethereal presence illuminated by the soft glow of his halo.

"You're still up?" you asked, surprised by his late-night appearance.

He nodded gently, his eyes reflecting the distant stars. "I often find peace in the quiet hours," he replied, his voice as soft as the breeze.

He stopped beside you, his wings fluttering slightly. His gaze lingered on the flowers in your hand—Aster flowers, delicate and vibrant. The petals gleamed under the starlight, their meaning profound: patience, elegance, and love. You had found them during a stop at a nearby planet and thought of him immediately. Without a word, you handed him the bouquet.

He took them carefully, his gaze softening. "Aster," he murmured. "A symbol of patience, daintiness, and love."

You smiled, your heart warm at the thought. "Yes, they remind me of you."

Sunday's expression faltered for a moment, and then, almost imperceptibly, he let out a breath. "Admiration," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "You give me too much credit."

But despite his words, there was a faint flush on his cheeks, the golden halo above his head flickering with warmth. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of your hair behind your ear, his touch gentle, almost reverent.

"Perhaps it's not too much," you said, your voice quieter now, your words a soft echo of the meaning behind the flowers. "You have a way of making everyone around you feel at peace. I admire that."

Sunday's wings fluttered once more, and his usual stoic demeanor softened. He held the flowers close, as if seeking comfort in their delicate embrace. The language of the flowers, so often unspoken, seemed to resonate deeply within him. A moment of silence passed between you, filled with shared understanding, before he spoke again, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken feelings.

"Thank you," he whispered, "for seeing me... as I truly am."

You smiled, the stars above flickering like a quiet promise.

The night was thick with tension as you made your way through the dimly lit corridors of the IPC’s headquarters, your heart racing with a mixture of anticipation and dread. You had finally tracked down Aventurine, the infamous strategist—and it had been quite the task. Rumors of his unpredictable behavior had followed him like a shadow, and you couldn't shake the feeling that your encounter tonight was going to be no different.

As you entered the lavishly decorated study, you found him standing near the window, gazing out at the bustling city below, his usual flamboyant aura restrained tonight. The peacock feather in his hat swayed slightly with the soft breeze coming through the open window. His eyes flicked toward you with a calculated glimmer, but his smile—always so charming—seemed to carry something else tonight.

You stepped forward, holding out the small bouquet of Aster flowers you had picked for him. He raised an eyebrow, his gaze narrowing slightly.

"For me?" he asked, his voice smooth and dripping with curiosity.

"Yes," you said, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. "Aster flowers... for good luck, for elegance, and for admiration. They carry a message."

Aventurine's lips curled into a smile that never quite reached his eyes. "Admiration?" he mused, taking the flowers with a swift motion. "Such a bold gesture... And yet, there's more to it, isn't there?"

His fingers toyed with the flowers as if trying to decipher their meaning, his gaze flickering back to you. "I’ve learned that the language of flowers is far more intricate than it appears. But I wonder, do you give them out of affection—or out of strategy?" His voice was laced with both amusement and intrigue.

You met his gaze, unflinching. "Perhaps it’s a bit of both. But does it matter? The meaning is still the same."

Aventurine studied you, his eyes gleaming with the slightest hint of respect, mixed with something far more complex. His fingers tightened around the Aster flowers, and for the briefest of moments, you saw the cracks in his facade—a vulnerability he quickly masked with a smirk.

"You've given me a gift," he said, the words slowly coming to him as if he were savoring the moment. "It would be unwise to underestimate the power of that gesture. Let’s see what fortune awaits."

His smile deepened as he turned his back to you, slipping the flowers into his coat’s inner pocket. "Luck is always on my side," he said, almost as if testing the words. "But perhaps, for once, it will be a gamble worth taking."

You couldn’t help but wonder if this was one gamble that could change everything.

The quiet elegance of the Xianzhou Luofu was something you had grown accustomed to, but tonight, the stars outside felt closer than ever. The streets were bathed in the soft glow of lanterns, casting a golden hue over everything. You wandered through the streets, your thoughts drifting, when you found yourself in the courtyard where Jing Yuan often came to unwind.

There, under the soft light of the moon, you saw him standing, his long hair fluttering gently in the night breeze, his eyes distant, as though lost in thought. Despite the tranquility of the moment, you could sense the weight of his thoughts.

“General Jing Yuan,” you called softly, not wanting to startle him.

He turned, his calm demeanor never faltering, his gaze settling on you. "Ah, it's you," he said, his tone lazy but kind. "What brings you here at this hour?"

You approached him slowly, holding out a small bouquet of Aster flowers, their delicate petals glowing faintly in the moonlight. "I thought you might like these," you said, offering them with a small smile.

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling slightly. "Aster flowers," he mused, accepting them. "Patience, daintiness, admiration... and good luck. How fitting."

His eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, they seemed to soften, as if the weight of his position could be set aside just for this. "You're very thoughtful," he said, his voice warmer now, though still composed. "The Aster flower is said to be a talisman of love. Do you truly believe in such things?"

You nodded, your gaze never leaving his. "I believe that flowers speak louder than words sometimes. And these... they speak of admiration."

Jing Yuan chuckled softly, the sound like a distant melody, as if time itself slowed in his presence. "Admiration, huh?" he repeated, turning the flowers over in his hands. "I have my fair share of admirers, but few give such thoughtful gifts." He paused, his eyes studying you with quiet intensity. "I suppose it’s a rare thing, then. Thank you."

For a brief moment, he was no longer the calm, strategic leader. He was simply a man receiving something precious, something that spoke to a side of him he rarely allowed others to see. His fingers brushed against your hand, the touch light but lingering.

"The meaning of the Aster flower is clear," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "But perhaps the greatest gift is the trust you’ve placed in me."

You smiled softly, feeling the weight of the moment. "I trust you, Jing Yuan. And I admire you."

He nodded slowly, his gaze softening as he took in your words. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, and you knew that the bond between you had deepened. And in the language of flowers, a new chapter had begun.

[sundaysconsort]

Just say you love him and he’ll leave, you’ll scare him off 🙏 Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Jokes aside, I adore glimpses of Noah in these fics—Its like an entire different air here than there is between him and Zeal… I love every facet of his being, I swear to you. I have nothing appropriate to say about this man. (I actually have a lot to say, I yap in your dms nonstop—but…ehem.) thank you for this 🙏🤍🖤❕

The Sylus one is great too, ehem. 🙏🙏 Sorry, I’m distracted by the main course.

Ma Meilleure Ennemie

Tags: Sylus x Reader, Noah (OC) x Reader, Enemies to Lovers, Dark Romance, Toxic Attraction, Power Struggles, Psychological Manipulation, Slow Burn, Angst & Tension, Violence & Blood, Forbidden Love, Obsession & Possession, Morally Grey Characters, Push & Pull Relationship.

Warnings: Violence & Gore (Blood, gunplay, injury descriptions), Psychological Manipulation & Gaslighting, Toxic & Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics, Death & Immortality Themes, Emotional & Psychological Turmoil, Obsession & Possessiveness, Mafia/Crime Themes (Murder, power struggles, organized crime) (?), Mature Themes (Dark romance, intense emotional/physical tension).

A/N: this is just an excuse to write Sylus and my oc, Noah, because this song suits them so well 😔💔 (and because I'm not okay after watching the official mv).

The first time you hear his voice, it's a whisper in the dark—a ghost of something long buried, something that should have stayed dead. But he’s real, standing before you with a smirk playing at his lips, red eyes gleaming like molten fire.

“Miss me?”

You hate him.

And yet, when the bullet stops mid-air, when the world slows to the pull of his power, it’s his voice that anchors you. Your breath catches as you meet his gaze, a heartbeat too long, too dangerous. His right eye glows, and in that split second, you swear you hear it again—an echo not of his voice, but of something deeper, something threading through your very being.

Your fingers twitch, the weight of the gun he gave you heavier than it should be. The metal is cold against your palm, but his touch as he curls his hand over yours is searing. “Go on,” Sylus taunts, pressing the barrel over his own heart. His smile never wavers. “Pull the trigger. End your nightmare.”

You want to. You want to erase him, to erase the way he makes you feel—this unbearable pull, this infuriating magnetism that chains you to him. But your hands tremble, and his smirk deepens as if he already knew you wouldn’t do it.

The shot rings out.

His body jerks. A moment of stillness. Then he laughs, low and dark, as red blossoms across his chest. And right before your eyes, the wound vanishes, leaving nothing but the memory of your hesitation.

“Pathetic,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. “You say you hate me, but your hands tell me otherwise.”

Your breath is ragged, your pulse unsteady. “I do hate you.”

“Liar.”

The word coils around you like a snake, suffocating, inescapable. You should run. You should kill him. But instead, you stand there, frozen in the firestorm of his gaze.

You love him. You hate him.

It’s all the same, isn’t it?

The first time you saw him, he was a shadow at the edge of your world. A force both magnetic and terrifying. Noah—Mafia King, Arbiter of Justice, Immortal enigma.

You knew he was dangerous, yet your heart never heeded the warnings.

I love you, I hate you, I love you, I hate you…

The words echo in your mind like a curse. A rhythm you cannot escape. The mantra of your existence with him.

He watches you from across the room, golden light flickering against his sharp features. One brown eye locked onto you, the other forever hidden behind that damned eyepatch, concealing a truth you were never sure you wanted to see.

“I should stay away from you,” you whisper, voice barely above a breath. “You ruin everything you touch.”

A slow smirk curves his lips. “And yet, here you are.”

Your hands tremble at your sides. Your heart pounds a desperate war drum against your ribs. You should leave. Run. Forget the way his voice wraps around you like silk and steel. Forget the taste of his name on your tongue.

But you don’t.

You never do.

My best enemy is you.

He steps forward, slow, deliberate. The air between you is electric, alive with an unspoken war neither of you can win. His gloved fingers brush against your wrist, the touch barely there, yet it sends lightning through your veins.

“I hurt you,” he murmurs. It’s not an apology. It never is. “And yet, you keep coming back.”

Your breath catches, something sharp lodging itself in your throat. “Because you always find me first.”

A chuckle, dark and amused. “You like being caught.”

You swallow hard, willing your pulse to steady. “I hate you.”

He tilts his head, studying you like a predator toying with prey. “Then why do you look at me like that?”

Your nails bite into your palms. The answer is too cruel, too honest to speak aloud. Because despite the blood on his hands, despite the shadows curling around his soul—you love him.

And that is the cruelest curse of all.

His lips ghost over your ear, his voice a whisper of prophecy. “You’ll never leave me.”

You shudder. He’s right.

He’s always right.

Flee from me, the worst is you and I.

But you don’t move.

And neither does he.

[sundaysconsort]

:0 do you perhaps have request in your inbox?

I do! Quite a few actually... but I've been caught up with real life n' as a result it's hard to maintain a balance. Writing is a little hobby of mine, n' recently I've been preoccupied with personal projects which take up my short-lived free time a well. Haven't written since February... sobs.

[sundaysconsort]

My man. He's as sweet as the cake. Your art is so yummy, thank you for this delightful art.

[sundaysconsort]

🫂💖

don’t wanna be annoying buuuut can i request a sick fic with Aventurine taking care of Reader?

maybe Reader is kinda overemotional when they’re sick — they’re always feeling sad or irritated when they’re like this. they try their best to behave tho!!

(my dad may or may not have gotten sick. and just being around him may have gotten me sick too… 😭)

Calculated Kindness

Summary: When you fall ill, Aventurine takes it upon himself to care for you, blending his characteristic charm and subtle vulnerability. As you struggle with the emotional toll of being sick, he offers comfort in his own unique way, revealing glimpses of the man beneath his flamboyant facade.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Emotional Vulnerability, Subtle Angst, Protective Aventurine, Reader Feels Useless (me honestly), Tender Moments.

Warnings: Mild emotional distress (Reader struggles with feeling weak and overemotional while sick), Brief mention of dehydration (in a lighthearted context), General themes of vulnerability and comfort.

A/N: bestie, you're never annoying me 😭🙏. Also, rip I hope you get well by the time this fic comes out 😔🙏 (ngl I can relate lmaoo happened to me plenty of times)

The first thing you noticed upon waking was the ache, sharp and unrelenting, throbbing behind your eyes. The second thing was Aventurine’s voice, low and teasing, cutting through the fog of your illness like a finely sharpened blade.

"Ah, you're awake," he said, his tone laced with that familiar blend of charm and calculation. "And here I thought I’d have to call the medics—or, at the very least, write you a will."

You groaned, shifting beneath the blanket cocoon he'd apparently wrapped you in. The weight of his gaze made you simultaneously want to melt into the bed and throw something at him.

“I’m not dying,” you muttered hoarsely. “Just… sick.”

His lips curled into a smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was seated at the edge of your bed, legs crossed, his overcoat draped casually over the back of the chair. His hat rested on the nightstand beside a tray of what looked like soup, tea, and a suspiciously well-folded napkin.

“Good,” he said lightly. “Because while I’m known for extravagant gambles, I draw the line at dragging corpses around.”

You tried to glare at him, but it came off more as a tired pout. "You could at least pretend to feel bad for me."

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and tilted his head with mock concern. “Darling, I am positively heartbroken. Can’t you see the sorrow etched into every perfect feature of my face?”

Despite yourself, a weak laugh bubbled up. "You're insufferable."

“And yet, you keep me around.” His grin softened into something warmer as he plucked the tea from the tray and handed it to you. “Here. Drink. Hydration is key, or so I’m told.”

You took the cup, cradling it in trembling hands. The warmth was soothing, though it didn’t do much to quell the swirl of emotions bubbling beneath the surface. Being sick always turned you into a mess—sad, irritable, and just a little bit pathetic.

He must have noticed your expression shift, because his voice dropped to something quieter, less performative. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just…” You trailed off, swallowing hard. The tea in your hands blurred as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “I hate feeling like this. Useless. Weak. I hate that you have to take care of me.”

His brow furrowed slightly, though the gesture was almost imperceptible. “Is that what this is about?”

You nodded, biting your lip to keep the tears at bay. “I’m trying to be good, I promise. I’m just—”

“Stop.” His voice was gentle but firm, cutting through your spiraling thoughts. He reached out, placing a hand over yours. The warmth of his skin was a grounding contrast to the chaos in your chest. “You don’t have to ‘be good’ for me. And you’re certainly not weak.”

“You don’t understand,” you whispered. “You’re… you’re you. Always in control, always on top of everything. And I’m just…”

“Human?” he supplied, his tone laced with dry humor.

You scowled at him, though it lacked any real heat. “I mean it, Aventurine. You’re too good at this.”

A flicker of something crossed his face—an emotion you couldn’t quite place. For a moment, his usual mask of confidence and charm slipped, revealing a glimpse of the man underneath.

“I’m not as infallible as you think,” he said quietly. “I’ve just had a lifetime of practice pretending.”

You blinked at him, startled by the honesty in his words.

“But this?” He gestured vaguely to the tray of soup and tea, the carefully tucked blankets, the feather-light touch of his hand against yours. “Taking care of someone I care about? That’s not pretending.”

Your chest tightened, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. “Aventurine…”

“None of that now,” he said, his teasing tone returning as he gently brushed a stray tear from your cheek. “If you cry too much, you’ll dehydrate, and then I really will have to call the medics.”

You huffed out a weak laugh, the tension in your chest easing just a little.

“There’s the smile I’ve been waiting for,” he said, his grin widening. “Now, finish your tea like a good patient, and maybe I’ll let you win our next card game.”

You snorted, lifting the cup to your lips. “You never let anyone win.”

“True,” he admitted, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smirk. “But I do make an excellent nurse, don’t you think?”

As much as you hated to admit it, he wasn’t wrong.

Now I need to see him in a nurse dress... 😔🙏

[sundaysconsort]

Okay, this made me sob. I'll be honest.

don’t wanna be annoying buuuut can i request a sick fic with Aventurine taking care of Reader?

maybe Reader is kinda overemotional when they’re sick — they’re always feeling sad or irritated when they’re like this. they try their best to behave tho!!

(my dad may or may not have gotten sick. and just being around him may have gotten me sick too… 😭)

Calculated Kindness

Summary: When you fall ill, Aventurine takes it upon himself to care for you, blending his characteristic charm and subtle vulnerability. As you struggle with the emotional toll of being sick, he offers comfort in his own unique way, revealing glimpses of the man beneath his flamboyant facade.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Emotional Vulnerability, Subtle Angst, Protective Aventurine, Reader Feels Useless (me honestly), Tender Moments.

Warnings: Mild emotional distress (Reader struggles with feeling weak and overemotional while sick), Brief mention of dehydration (in a lighthearted context), General themes of vulnerability and comfort.

A/N: bestie, you're never annoying me 😭🙏. Also, rip I hope you get well by the time this fic comes out 😔🙏 (ngl I can relate lmaoo happened to me plenty of times)

The first thing you noticed upon waking was the ache, sharp and unrelenting, throbbing behind your eyes. The second thing was Aventurine’s voice, low and teasing, cutting through the fog of your illness like a finely sharpened blade.

"Ah, you're awake," he said, his tone laced with that familiar blend of charm and calculation. "And here I thought I’d have to call the medics—or, at the very least, write you a will."

You groaned, shifting beneath the blanket cocoon he'd apparently wrapped you in. The weight of his gaze made you simultaneously want to melt into the bed and throw something at him.

“I’m not dying,” you muttered hoarsely. “Just… sick.”

His lips curled into a smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was seated at the edge of your bed, legs crossed, his overcoat draped casually over the back of the chair. His hat rested on the nightstand beside a tray of what looked like soup, tea, and a suspiciously well-folded napkin.

“Good,” he said lightly. “Because while I’m known for extravagant gambles, I draw the line at dragging corpses around.”

You tried to glare at him, but it came off more as a tired pout. "You could at least pretend to feel bad for me."

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and tilted his head with mock concern. “Darling, I am positively heartbroken. Can’t you see the sorrow etched into every perfect feature of my face?”

Despite yourself, a weak laugh bubbled up. "You're insufferable."

“And yet, you keep me around.” His grin softened into something warmer as he plucked the tea from the tray and handed it to you. “Here. Drink. Hydration is key, or so I’m told.”

You took the cup, cradling it in trembling hands. The warmth was soothing, though it didn’t do much to quell the swirl of emotions bubbling beneath the surface. Being sick always turned you into a mess—sad, irritable, and just a little bit pathetic.

He must have noticed your expression shift, because his voice dropped to something quieter, less performative. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just…” You trailed off, swallowing hard. The tea in your hands blurred as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “I hate feeling like this. Useless. Weak. I hate that you have to take care of me.”

His brow furrowed slightly, though the gesture was almost imperceptible. “Is that what this is about?”

You nodded, biting your lip to keep the tears at bay. “I’m trying to be good, I promise. I’m just—”

“Stop.” His voice was gentle but firm, cutting through your spiraling thoughts. He reached out, placing a hand over yours. The warmth of his skin was a grounding contrast to the chaos in your chest. “You don’t have to ‘be good’ for me. And you’re certainly not weak.”

“You don’t understand,” you whispered. “You’re… you’re you. Always in control, always on top of everything. And I’m just…”

“Human?” he supplied, his tone laced with dry humor.

You scowled at him, though it lacked any real heat. “I mean it, Aventurine. You’re too good at this.”

A flicker of something crossed his face—an emotion you couldn’t quite place. For a moment, his usual mask of confidence and charm slipped, revealing a glimpse of the man underneath.

“I’m not as infallible as you think,” he said quietly. “I’ve just had a lifetime of practice pretending.”

You blinked at him, startled by the honesty in his words.

“But this?” He gestured vaguely to the tray of soup and tea, the carefully tucked blankets, the feather-light touch of his hand against yours. “Taking care of someone I care about? That’s not pretending.”

Your chest tightened, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. “Aventurine…”

“None of that now,” he said, his teasing tone returning as he gently brushed a stray tear from your cheek. “If you cry too much, you’ll dehydrate, and then I really will have to call the medics.”

You huffed out a weak laugh, the tension in your chest easing just a little.

“There’s the smile I’ve been waiting for,” he said, his grin widening. “Now, finish your tea like a good patient, and maybe I’ll let you win our next card game.”

You snorted, lifting the cup to your lips. “You never let anyone win.”

“True,” he admitted, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smirk. “But I do make an excellent nurse, don’t you think?”

As much as you hated to admit it, he wasn’t wrong.

Now I need to see him in a nurse dress... 😔🙏

[sundaysconsort]

Sobs, when will we not? (I was so excited for AE Sunday only for him to get no screentime too... I mean, he did in his quest n' all after his release- but wanted to see him in amphoreus ngl. They had me hype with the trailer of him with us.)

MISSING HIM HOURS 🥺🥺🥺🥺

[sundaysconsort]

“This flower,” he held out the Yellow Acacia, “represents a secret love... a love hidden away, like the one that resides in my heart.” You took the flower from him, the petals so soft, almost fragile. "Why hide it, then?" you asked gently, your voice barely above a whisper. Sunday’s smile was faint, a subtle reflection of both sorrow and peace. “Because sometimes the most precious things are the ones that can never be fully realized.”

Lord have mercy, the angst- the burn- I've succumbed to you, Sweetheart. Please, the fact he is unable to express his feelings, while at the same time it's very clear this is in it's own way is a confession to us... uuuugh. I love you too, Sunday. He's so gentle, so soft!! AAHHH!!!

❤ The language of flowers | 001

❤ | Your options shall be: Sunday, Aventurine, Dan Heng, Veritas Ratio, Boothill, Jing Yuan, Blade or Moze. Whoever you think suits this prompt.

❤ | Flower & it's definition : Yellow Acacia | Secret love; It can also represent optimism, enlightenment, and happiness.

The language of Flowers

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Romance, Slow Burn, Character Development, Emotional Vulnerability, Symbolism, Angst, Fluff.

Warnings: Mild Angst, Mentions of Emotional Struggles, Subtle Manipulation (Aventurine’s part), Complex Relationships.

[Part 2] | [Part 3]

It was a quiet evening at the Oak Family estate, the last traces of the setting sun casting soft golden light across the lush gardens. Sunday stood amidst the swaying flowers, his eyes fixated on the delicate petals of a single Yellow Acacia resting in his gloved hand. He had chosen it with purpose—a secret love, one that had been carefully buried beneath his calm demeanor for as long as he could remember.

You approached, the evening breeze carrying the scent of blooming flowers, and paused when you saw him standing there, the weight of something unspoken between you two. His usual composed expression softened just enough to betray his inner turmoil.

“Have you ever noticed how fleeting beauty can be?” he asked, turning to you, his eyes shining with the weight of years and wisdom. “This flower,” he held out the Yellow Acacia, “represents a secret love... a love hidden away, like the one that resides in my heart.”

You took the flower from him, the petals so soft, almost fragile. "Why hide it, then?" you asked gently, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sunday’s smile was faint, a subtle reflection of both sorrow and peace. “Because sometimes the most precious things are the ones that can never be fully realized.” His gaze lingered on you for a moment, his presence calm yet heavy with the unsaid. “But for now, let this flower symbolize our shared optimism and happiness.”

The evening drifted on, the two of you standing together in silence, each savoring the moment that held a quiet promise, unspoken yet deeply felt.

Aventurine’s laugh echoed through the luxurious suite, a sound that, on the surface, seemed carefree, almost careless. But his eyes—those eyes—told a different story. You had witnessed the calm before the storm, the moments when his charismatic grin faltered, and the weight of his past caught up with him.

He slid a small flower across the table to you, a Yellow Acacia. Its soft petals were a contrast to the whirlwind of emotions in his heart. “You know, they say this represents secret love,” he remarked, his voice dripping with the playful confidence that defined him. “But to me, it’s more than that. It’s the optimism that life can sometimes be played... and won.”

You took the flower, its symbolism not lost on you. “A secret love? What are you trying to tell me, Aventurine?”

His smirk lingered, but there was something vulnerable in the way his eyes danced with shadows. “Sometimes,” he said, his voice quieting, “the things we hide are the only things worth keeping. But I suppose,” he leaned closer, “perhaps I can let you in, just this once.”

His words were a dare, a challenge, but you could feel the flicker of something real, something that existed behind the games he played with everyone around him. Aventurine's charm and confidence hid the truth that his heart yearned for something more than the risks he was always willing to take.

With the Yellow Acacia in your hand, you sensed his struggle, his willingness to risk everything for something, or perhaps someone, he couldn't control. The flower was not just a symbol of secret love, but the optimism that maybe, just maybe, this gamble could be worth it.

Ratio stood by the vast library windows, the last light of the day casting a golden hue over his study, yet his mind seemed elsewhere. He was always so intensely focused on knowledge, on wisdom, that you sometimes wondered what truths he kept hidden from those who looked up to him.

This time, he held something different—a Yellow Acacia. It seemed to stand in stark contrast to his usual cerebral nature, with its gentle petals and quiet symbol of secret love.

"You know," he began, not turning to you immediately, "this flower... it carries a meaning that intrigues me." He turned to you then, his violet eyes piercing yet thoughtful. "A secret love," he murmured, a trace of uncertainty in his otherwise steadfast voice.

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “And what does that mean to someone like you, Dr. Ratio?”

He allowed himself a brief pause, considering the weight of your question. “Optimism, perhaps. A desire to believe in something that transcends the confines of intellect,” he said, stepping closer and offering you the flower. “Even I, despite my… dedication to logic, find myself occasionally captivated by the allure of the impossible.”

You took the flower from him, your fingers brushing his, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. A rare emotion, one not often displayed by the brilliant, self-assured man who seemed to pride himself on his unshakable intellect.

“You believe in love?” you asked, the question hanging in the air.

Ratio’s lips curled slightly into a half-smile, his voice carrying a weight of reflection. “I believe in the pursuit of knowledge, but love…” He trailed off, as if the concept were both a mystery and a challenge. “Perhaps, in the right moment, even a mind like mine could understand its importance.”

You held the Yellow Acacia carefully, feeling its soft weight in your hand—a delicate reminder of the complexity behind Ratio’s brilliant, calculating exterior. Secret love, optimism, and enlightenment… all tied together in a single flower.

"Maybe," he added, his tone almost playful now, "it’s time to learn something beyond the pages of a book."

[sundaysconsort]

OH MY GOD ITYS HERE- TIME TO READ

❤ The language of flowers | 001

❤ | Your options shall be: Sunday, Aventurine, Dan Heng, Veritas Ratio, Boothill, Jing Yuan, Blade or Moze. Whoever you think suits this prompt.

❤ | Flower & it's definition : Yellow Acacia | Secret love; It can also represent optimism, enlightenment, and happiness.

The language of Flowers

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Romance, Slow Burn, Character Development, Emotional Vulnerability, Symbolism, Angst, Fluff.

Warnings: Mild Angst, Mentions of Emotional Struggles, Subtle Manipulation (Aventurine’s part), Complex Relationships.

[Part 2] | [Part 3]

It was a quiet evening at the Oak Family estate, the last traces of the setting sun casting soft golden light across the lush gardens. Sunday stood amidst the swaying flowers, his eyes fixated on the delicate petals of a single Yellow Acacia resting in his gloved hand. He had chosen it with purpose—a secret love, one that had been carefully buried beneath his calm demeanor for as long as he could remember.

You approached, the evening breeze carrying the scent of blooming flowers, and paused when you saw him standing there, the weight of something unspoken between you two. His usual composed expression softened just enough to betray his inner turmoil.

“Have you ever noticed how fleeting beauty can be?” he asked, turning to you, his eyes shining with the weight of years and wisdom. “This flower,” he held out the Yellow Acacia, “represents a secret love... a love hidden away, like the one that resides in my heart.”

You took the flower from him, the petals so soft, almost fragile. "Why hide it, then?" you asked gently, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sunday’s smile was faint, a subtle reflection of both sorrow and peace. “Because sometimes the most precious things are the ones that can never be fully realized.” His gaze lingered on you for a moment, his presence calm yet heavy with the unsaid. “But for now, let this flower symbolize our shared optimism and happiness.”

The evening drifted on, the two of you standing together in silence, each savoring the moment that held a quiet promise, unspoken yet deeply felt.

Aventurine’s laugh echoed through the luxurious suite, a sound that, on the surface, seemed carefree, almost careless. But his eyes—those eyes—told a different story. You had witnessed the calm before the storm, the moments when his charismatic grin faltered, and the weight of his past caught up with him.

He slid a small flower across the table to you, a Yellow Acacia. Its soft petals were a contrast to the whirlwind of emotions in his heart. “You know, they say this represents secret love,” he remarked, his voice dripping with the playful confidence that defined him. “But to me, it’s more than that. It’s the optimism that life can sometimes be played... and won.”

You took the flower, its symbolism not lost on you. “A secret love? What are you trying to tell me, Aventurine?”

His smirk lingered, but there was something vulnerable in the way his eyes danced with shadows. “Sometimes,” he said, his voice quieting, “the things we hide are the only things worth keeping. But I suppose,” he leaned closer, “perhaps I can let you in, just this once.”

His words were a dare, a challenge, but you could feel the flicker of something real, something that existed behind the games he played with everyone around him. Aventurine's charm and confidence hid the truth that his heart yearned for something more than the risks he was always willing to take.

With the Yellow Acacia in your hand, you sensed his struggle, his willingness to risk everything for something, or perhaps someone, he couldn't control. The flower was not just a symbol of secret love, but the optimism that maybe, just maybe, this gamble could be worth it.

Ratio stood by the vast library windows, the last light of the day casting a golden hue over his study, yet his mind seemed elsewhere. He was always so intensely focused on knowledge, on wisdom, that you sometimes wondered what truths he kept hidden from those who looked up to him.

This time, he held something different—a Yellow Acacia. It seemed to stand in stark contrast to his usual cerebral nature, with its gentle petals and quiet symbol of secret love.

"You know," he began, not turning to you immediately, "this flower... it carries a meaning that intrigues me." He turned to you then, his violet eyes piercing yet thoughtful. "A secret love," he murmured, a trace of uncertainty in his otherwise steadfast voice.

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “And what does that mean to someone like you, Dr. Ratio?”

He allowed himself a brief pause, considering the weight of your question. “Optimism, perhaps. A desire to believe in something that transcends the confines of intellect,” he said, stepping closer and offering you the flower. “Even I, despite my… dedication to logic, find myself occasionally captivated by the allure of the impossible.”

You took the flower from him, your fingers brushing his, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. A rare emotion, one not often displayed by the brilliant, self-assured man who seemed to pride himself on his unshakable intellect.

“You believe in love?” you asked, the question hanging in the air.

Ratio’s lips curled slightly into a half-smile, his voice carrying a weight of reflection. “I believe in the pursuit of knowledge, but love…” He trailed off, as if the concept were both a mystery and a challenge. “Perhaps, in the right moment, even a mind like mine could understand its importance.”

You held the Yellow Acacia carefully, feeling its soft weight in your hand—a delicate reminder of the complexity behind Ratio’s brilliant, calculating exterior. Secret love, optimism, and enlightenment… all tied together in a single flower.

"Maybe," he added, his tone almost playful now, "it’s time to learn something beyond the pages of a book."

[sundaysconsort]

a-c-c-b-b-c-c-d-c

I'm quite pleased with this result. Majority of c!

🌹🌹"weeeeeelcome to 'the worst dating show in hsr'! i'm your host, angelesca(no one cares🙄), and today, we'll find out who will be your lucky valentine's date this year, based on a crappy personality test~" ft. the victims candidates: mydei, dan heng, stelle n' caelus, and phainon!

rules:

for each question, decide which applies to you most - remember to keep tally of the letters you choose (will determine your valentine's date~)!

other notes:

total of 9 very unoriginal questions

five endings (who you end up with!💗) + a song to match from my trash playlist!

this is a post meant for fun! my headcanons will not line up with everyone else's, but hopefully i didn't do them too bad😭

mentions of hugging and kissing, but nothing beyond that😎

the game show is about to begin! lights, camera, action!

thanks for deciding to take part in the game! let's start with the first question:

Q1] pick a season!

a] winter

b] summer

c] spring

d] autumn

Q2] what's your fav food/most likely to eat?

a] noodle soup, phở, ramen

b] spicy, hot wings, mala hot pot, or foods with acquired tastes

c] cake, biscuits and tea/cookies and milk, parfaits

d] whatever is convenient, or you don't have much preference

Q3] plan your ideal valentine's date!

a] dining out, relaxing spa day/museum trip, shopping spree

b] amusement park, arcade, photo booths and cute accessories

c] going for a drive, stargazing, cosy picnic with fairylights

d] staying in, watching a film under blankets, playing boardgames

Q4] choose a valentine's gift!

a] flowers and chocolates

b] stuffed animal

c] jewellery

d] handwritten poem/letter

Q5] what's your fav trope out of these?

a] forbidden love/star-crossed love

b] childhood friends to lovers/soulmates

c] rivals (or enemies) to lovers/opposites attract

d] fake dating/workplace romance

Q6] pick an ideal love language for your partner!

a] words of affirmation

b] gifting

c] physical touch or acts of service

d] quality time

Q7] what are the most important qualities you look for in a partner?

a] outgoing, flirty, romantic!

b] quirky, humorous, spontaneous!

c] headstrong, loyal, protective!

d] intelligent, calm, reliable!

Q8] there's a pink cupcake on the table. how do you eat it? (help im running out of ideas)

a] the conventional way, unwrapping it and using your hands to eat. nothing fancy

b] twist it in half and stack it so you can eat it like a burger

c] with a knife and fork, or chopsticks, anything to not make a mess

d] remove the frosting and eat just the cake, or eating them separately

Q9] lastly, pick a cheesy and cringey pick-up line! (that i totally didn't steal from the internet)

a] "remember me? oh, that's right, i've only met you in my dreams."

b] "my love for you is like diarrhea, i just can't hold it in!"

c] "i'm not good at holding conversations. can i hold your hand instead?"

d] "forget hydrogen. you're my number one element."

⚔️ if you got mostly a's... 𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐧 is your valentine's date! ♪♫ angel - alice phoebe lou ♪♫ extroverted, easygoing, well-liked by everyone! flirty, romantic, always planning dates like they are anniversaries. any praise will make him shy despite his confidence, lots of blushing. gentleman fr, loves hand-holding, guides you softly with his hand on your lower back, will not kiss you first - only when you want to initiate it! will get clingy if you two are separated for some time, sends teleslate messages every morning and likes using cute puppy stickers. compliments you at every corner, makes you feel like you're in the centre of his universe, looooots of affirmations of his love for you! but behind all the smiles and extravaganza, hides secrets and a pained past unveiled... keep an ear open to let him know you're there for him!

🎇 if you got mostly b's... 𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔠𝔞𝔢𝔩𝔲𝔰/trailblazer are(is) your valentine's date! ♪♫ it was love - yena ♪♫ there's never a dull moment! spontaneous, adventurous, hard to predict their next moves. loves to make you laugh, expressive, will make a fool out of themselves, always goes along with your ideas and jokes, will heal your inner child! loves clinging to your arm, crawls into your bed at night. looooves gifting you! almost always a box in front of your door, filled with trinkets and gadgets that reminded them of you (was it found in a trashcan? welllll it's the thought that counts, right?). all their medals gained from trailblazing are given to you just to impress you! hoards all your gifts, their room might as well be yours. clumsy, never dated before so this is a new journey for them. make sure to tell them if they accidentally upset you! they're willing to learn and understand.

🍷 if you got mostly c's... ʍʏɖɛɨ is your valentine's date! ♪♫ honey - porch light ♪♫ an undying loyalty, his exterior seems tough, some bickering and competition at the start, but he eventually melts, a passionate love behind closed doors revealed to you only. small and quiet gestures like making you walk the inside of the pavement, carrying heavy baggage, always helping you even if unprompted. will send anyone who wrongs you into orbit, never to return. unexpectedly touchy, makes up for his lack of words probably - loves giving back hugs, kisses all your moles, freckles, scars if you have any, hugs you when sleeping, some affectionate biting, worships your body. likewise, loves when you reciprocate. miiiiight get overprotective and possessive, but it's only because he's afraid to lose you someday. bro needs your reassurance. and head rubs too.

🐉 if you got mostly d's... 𝒹𝒶𝓃 𝒽𝑒𝓃𝑔 is your valentine's date! ♪♫ blue salvia - PRYVT ♪♫ pragmatic and reliable. once you get to know him, he becomes more comfortable! his tail will hug every part of your body, uses it to pull you closer, rests your head on his shoulder, and tell you some of his dry humour jokes. always giving you his undivided attention - puts down everything to listen to you, silence is not uncomfortable or awkward for you two, greatly respects your personal space. really loves watching you be passionate about hobbies, work etc.! will sit with you and help if you have a hard task at hand. will research all your interests in depth, notes down your favourite things in his notebook, eventually knowing it by heart. communication can be stiff sometimes, just remember to be honest and open with each other.

🌹if you got no dominant answer (e.g. there's a tie) ... well... that's depressing- uuuh, is that ar-argenti?? he says he's very sad to be left out on valentine's day, so you two can pair together? oh, nice! he's already reserved a restaurant for the both of you. huh? a wreath of 999 roses and a statue in honour of your excellence is on it's way to you?! (alternatively, you can pick whoever you like most out of your results!)

i'd love to know who you guys got!!!♥️♥️♥️(i got ma boi dan heng😎[dh gang assemble here!])

a/n: literally felt like a couple therapist writing this✍️ anw happy early valentine's!! I MADE IT ON TIME YAAAAAY!!!!! this one is going in with my halloween gang😋 if you enjoyed this, lemme know! maybe i'll make more in the future and other minigames? i have one more draft brewing in my lab, a very special one heeheehe. will prob post soon! thanks for playing! 💐

[sundaysconsort]

“You’ve been staring at me for a while,”

“I was admiring you,” “Is that a crime?”

“I might let it slide this time.”

“Come here,”

Ugh, the entire vibe between Sunday and the reader is to die for. Sunday makes a request? Please. I can hear that soft tone of voice, beckoning us towards him n' we listen then AHH!! THE KISS!!! Crying. The dialog.

Would it be okay for you to do something hotter?

I would like to place a request for a make out session with Aventurine, Sunday and Stelle

If you don't feel comfortable, you can skip it.

Kisses Like Promises

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Stelle x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Romance, Fluff, Tender Moments, Slow Burn, Domestic Scenes, Intimacy, Light Humor, Established Relationship, Soft Angst (implied), Emotional Vulnerability, Passionate Kisses, Warmth & Comfort.

Warnings: Mildly suggestive content, emotional intensity, brief physical intimacy, mentions of touch.

A/N: I tried my best 😭🙏

The flickering warmth of the fireplace painted the walls of your shared home in rich, golden hues. The opulent yet cozy space reflected Aventurine’s flamboyant tastes—polished dark wood, plush rugs, and a roulette-themed coffee table he insisted was “a necessity.” His hat lay abandoned on the armchair, and the man himself lounged on the couch, shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal chest.

“Back so soon?” Aventurine teased, a sly smile tugging at his lips as he met your gaze.

You rolled your eyes at his theatrics but couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your face. “Miss me already?”

His eyes glinted mischievously as he leaned forward, patting the cushion beside him. “Always. Come here, darling. You’ve left me absolutely bereft of your company.”

You obliged, settling next to him, but before you could say a word, his hand snaked around your waist, pulling you closer until your legs brushed against his. The other hand reached up, his thumb tracing the curve of your jawline with a deliberate slowness that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You know,” Aventurine murmured, his voice low and smooth, “if you keep looking at me like that, I might start thinking you’re up to something.”

His lips hovered tantalizingly close, his breath warm against your skin. Unable to resist, you tilted your head slightly, closing the distance. His kiss was deliberate, teasing at first, a slow press of lips that soon deepened as his hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him.

The kiss grew more insistent, his tongue brushing against yours with a practiced grace that left you breathless. Aventurine’s grip tightened, and you felt the heat of his palm through the fabric of your shirt. His other hand, which had been cradling your jaw, trailed down to your collarbone, fingers grazing the edge of your neckline as he smirked against your lips.

“Careful, darling,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble. “You’re playing with fire.”

You grinned, breathless but eager. “Good thing I’m not afraid of a little gamble.”

His laugh was soft but full of promise, and as he leaned in again, his lips claimed yours in a kiss that was anything but subtle.

The Astral Express was quiet, the soft hum of the engine providing a comforting backdrop as you and Sunday sat in his quarters. His room, much like him, was a blend of the ethereal and the orderly—cool tones accented with golden light from his floating halo.

Sunday sat across from you, his reflective gaze fixed on your face. His wings shifted slightly, feathers rustling as if mirroring his mood. You reached out, placing your hand on his, and he looked up, a faint smile gracing his lips.

“You’ve been staring at me for a while,” you teased gently.

“I was admiring you,” he replied without hesitation, his eyes meeting yours. “Is that a crime?”

You laughed softly, leaning closer. “I might let it slide this time.”

The corners of his mouth lifted further, and he reached up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear with a tenderness that made your chest ache. His hand lingered, fingertips brushing your cheek.

“Come here,” he said softly, his voice carrying a weight of unspoken affection.

You leaned in, and his lips met yours in a kiss that was as gentle as it was deliberate. His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you close as the kiss deepened. Sunday kissed with a quiet intensity, as if every press of his lips was a vow he couldn’t yet put into words.

The warmth of his halo illuminated the space around you, casting a golden glow as his other hand found your waist. His wings shifted again, the movement subtle but telling as he drew you closer, his kisses growing more fervent.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours with a vulnerability he rarely showed.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I hope you know that.”

The two of you sat inside the lounge car of the Astral Express, the stars stretching endlessly outside like a tapestry of light. Stelle leaned back on her hands, her sharp gaze softening as she turned her head to look at you. Her hair caught the starlight, making her look almost otherworldly.

“You’re quiet tonight,” you said, shifting closer until your knees touched hers.

She tilted her head, a faint smirk playing on her lips. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

She hesitated for a moment before reaching out, her fingers brushing against yours. “About how lucky I am to have you.”

The sincerity in her voice made your heart skip a beat. You gave her hand a gentle squeeze, leaning closer until your faces were mere inches apart. “I think I’m the lucky one.”

Stelle smiled, her calm demeanor cracking slightly as a faint blush dusted her cheeks. “You’re too good to me.”

Before you could reply, she closed the distance, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that was as firm as her resolve. Her hand cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin as the kiss deepened, her usual calm replaced by a quiet fervor.

You leaned into her touch, your fingers tangling in her hair as the kiss grew more passionate. Stelle’s free hand found your waist, pulling you closer as if she couldn’t bear the thought of even an inch of space between you.

When you broke apart, her gaze was steady but filled with unspoken emotion. She rested her forehead against yours, her voice soft but resolute.

“You mean everything to me,” she said, her words carrying the weight of a promise.