#honkai hurt/comfort

[portalmonsterrr]

Memento Vivere

Some additional notes:

[startears0153]

☾ Seeing you cry in your sleep

How they react to finding you crying silently in your sleep.

☾ Characters: Argenti, Blade, Dan Heng, Dr. Ratio

☾ Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, GN Reader, StellaronHunter!Reader in Blade's, Ratio (affectionately) calling you fool in his part

Might write a 2nd part with Gepard, Jing Yuan, Welt and Luocha (and maybe Sampo) in the future :)

Argenti

Upon entering your shared cottage, Argenti finds you sleeping on the chair by the window. They must’ve fallen asleep while admiring the scenery of the falling snow outside, Argenti thought with a fond smile. 

For a moment, Argenti found himself unable to move, for his emerald colored eyes were transfixed upon the serene beauty of the scene before him. The falling snow, the white winter wonderland serving as the perfect backdrop to accentuate the beauty of your resting figure.

Still, he realized it probably wouldn’t do well if you were to fall sick from the cold. So, he quietly made his way through the room and draped a blanket over your figure. 

That was when he noticed the presence of tears on the corners of your eyes. 

For a while, Argenti thought his eyes were deceiving him. It wasn’t until he saw a lone tear fall from your eye that he was finally hit by the fact that you were, indeed, crying in your sleep. 

His heart ached upon the sight and he instinctively reached to cup your cheek; his thumb gently caressing the corner of your eye, wiping away the stream of tears that began to fall like tender snow. 

After some deliberation on how to proceed, Argenti would kneel before your sleeping figure before carefully stirring you awake with a gentle squeeze to your hand and softly calling out your name. 

“Good morning my dear,” He would greet you with a tender smile, though you could easily sense the twinge of sadness and melancholia lingering in his voice. “I apologize if this may sound unpleasant to you but … you were crying in your sleep. Is … Is everything alright?” 

He would fret over you, but he would try to keep it to a minimum lest he were to accidentally do more harm than good. He was obviously worried about what ailed you, but again, what mattered most to him was your comfort. 

Regardless of whether you choose to speak of the reason for your tears, Argenti would remain by your side, kneeling before you as he held your hand in his. 

If he could, he would do anything in his power to vanquish the reason behind your tears. He never wants you to shed tears, neither in sleep or wake, ever again.

Blade

It was almost time for the opening act of Elio’s Script. Blade comes to searches for you in the meeting spot, and finds you asleep above one of the many wooden crates of the abandoned factory. 

How carefree, Blade thought with a scoff. Even so, Blade’s heart blossoms with warmth, that very same warmth that is born from his affection and adoration for you and all your silly antics. 

If he could, he would let you rest for longer and perhaps even join you in your restful slumber, resting your head on his shoulder. But alas, the Script takes priority and it was almost time to begin. 

So he reaches to shake your shoulder … but then froze upon the sight of tears falling from your eyes. 

Blade has never been one for tears. In a different life, perhaps, he would have been. But tears have no meaning for Blade. Crying does not provide one with salvation, no matter how much one cries, what was lost could never return. 

And yet, the sight of your tears shook him to his core. 

Blade didn’t know what to do. What could he do anyway? Reach for your face and wipe away your tears with his thumb? Lean towards you and kiss the corners of your eyes, all in hopes for your tears to stop cascading from your eyes? How ridiculous. As though that would solve any of your problems. 

So, he does what he is supposed to. Grab your shoulder and gently shake you awake. 

“Wake up. It’s almost time to begin.” He says brusquely, already turning around for his back to face you. “Wipe your tears. Don’t let the enemy see even a single hint of weakness.” 

You would be shocked upon realizing you were crying in your sleep and hurriedly wiped away the remains of your tears. Not soon after, you join him by the ledge of the building, watching over the city with puffy eyes. Blade would steal a glance at you and then he would say, 

“Do not be hasty. I am with you.”

You didn’t need to try hard to know that he wasn’t just talking about the battle ahead.

Dan Heng

The hour was late when Den Heng jolted awake from his sleep. He dreamt of a vague memory of his past incarnation and saw a nightmare where his friends were swept away by the waves; of you disappearing in the dark sea of clouds. 

Inhaling and exhaling slowly, Dan Heng takes a moment to recompose himself before shifting to rest on his side, thus meeting the familiar sight of your back. They’re here, Dan Heng thought to himself, breathing a quiet sigh of relief. It’s all just a dream. 

Not wanting to wake you, Dan Heng simply stares at your back. The steadiness of your breathing, a reminder that you are alive. Gingerly, Dan Heng reaches to subtly trace soothing lines on your back. Truth be told, it was probably more soothing for him than you. 

Then suddenly, there was a slight change in the pattern of your breathing. More feeble and erratic. Concerned that he might have woken you up, Dan Heng pushed himself up to check on your condition … 

… Only to find you crying in your sleep. 

Upon the sight of your tears, falling so steadily onto the fabric of your already damp pillow, Dan Heng’s breath hitches. He shakes your shoulders, calling your name again and again until your eyes open and meet his pairs of jaded blue. 

“You’re crying.” He said bluntly, his brows furrowed as a tell-tale sign of his bleeding concern for you. “What? No, I’m fine. Yes, I woke up because of a nightmare but I’m more concerned for you.” 

The two of you would both end up sitting on the bed, both fretting over each other’s condition. You asked Dan Heng about his nightmare and he would reply that it was the usual. He asked you about your tears, and you replied you didn’t even know you were crying until Dan Heng pointed it out. 

In the end, the both of you would end up embracing each other tightly, providing both comfort and strength to one another. You both wind up laying on the bed in each other’s arms. 

Dan Heng would stay awake for a while after you’ve fallen asleep, gazing at your resting figure in hopes that he would never have to see you cry in your sleep once more.  

Dr. Ratio

After a long day full of shameful displays of stupidity from the people around him, Dr. Veritas Ratio was done for the day and is free to visit his beloved. I cannot wait to see them, Ratio thought as he made large strides towards your office. It has been far too long since I’ve had an intellectually stimulating conversation!

He thinks of all the topics he could talk with you, ranging from the most mundane things such as how each other’s days went and the more complex like the discourse regarding a recent hot theory. 

Imagine his disappointment when he enters your office and finds you dead asleep on your desk. 

Frowning, Ratio rationalizes that you were probably just as exhausted as he was and that there were plenty of chances for conversation when the two of you have rested up. Still. He was disappointed. 

He walked towards your desk and took a moment to observe your resting figure. You were sleeping above your paper reports. Now that’s a lark. But then, he noticed something else. 

Your papers were soaked, all from the tears that were still cascading from your eyes. 

Upon the sight of your tears, Ratio’s heart seemingly ceased to beat. There was shock, confusion, concern and all these strong emotions that meld with one another. In a rare moment of panic, Ratio shook you awake, forcing you away from your stained papers. 

“You fool, just what do you think you’re doing?!” He shouts, worry bleeding through his tone. “Don’t ‘What the hell, Veritas’ me! You’re the one crying on your reports and making them unreadable!” 

You would be confused until you realize that you were crying in your sleep. You touched the lingering wetness on your cheeks and laughed feebly. It was probably the pent up stress, you offered weakly, annoying Ratio once more. 

You expect a lecture, but unexpectedly, Ratio places hand behind your head, brings you to rest against his broad shoulder. 

“You are a fool for ruining those reports. If you must cry … cry on my shoulder instead.” 

It was a silly attempt at cheering you up, but you appreciated it all the same. 

Hehe this was a super fun prompt to write! Might write a second part with Gepard, Jing Yuan, Welt and Luocha when I feel the inspiration hitting me 👀

Also still semi-working on banners ... sigh, lets hope I find a good theme soon enough.

Thank you for reading 💖

[morphodae]

Sun-kissed Flowers On the Open Plains

❈ jiaoqiu x foxian!reader ↳reader is described as feixiao's sister but is not given pronouns; additionally, reader also has no tail and has two different colored eyes due to borisin experimentation "you, feixiao's sister, are a renown Genius Society researcher assigned the task of helping jiaoqiu after the events preceding the wardance on the xianzhou luofu. The only problem is… the general’s trusted retainers have never once heard of you." cw: 2.5 spoilers (utc), feixiao lore spoilers, a bit of slowburn, hurt/comfort, mentions of trauma, etc wc: 3.2k

“Checkmate!”

The foxian tilts his head, an amused chuckle escaping his lips. “General, that would be the wrong game —“

A hiccup interrupts his thoughts, a shaky finger reaching over the game board in an attempt to shush her retainer. “Jiaoqiu,” she slurs, a wine bottle held snugly against her other arm, “vic — victory here is inevitable. And I won fair and square.” Looking at the board, her retainer agrees that Feixiao did indeed win fairly. “So, let’s have another round!”

“As much as I’d love to, General,” he says, hands folded under his chin, “I must remind you, despite your enthusiastic efforts in prolonging it, that you are to meet with a client in less than a system hour.” Smirking, he feels around for the phone in his pocket. While acclimating to the lack of sight, his other senses had improved drastically. 

Feixiao pouts before taking another swig of her wine and setting it down loudly. 

“Plus, I did win a few matches ago,” Jiaoqiu begins, “one of the stipulations of that particular match was you agreeing to tell me of this ‘imminent person’ that you’re meeting with.” As someone who, despite his eyesight, was still tasked with taking care of the General’s daily tasks and meetings, Jiaoqiu was stumped when the report was read to him that an undisclosed meeting was to take place later in the afternoon. Not only that, but Feixiao refused to tell him who the person was. The General was always a free and impulsive spirit, so Jiaoqiu didn’t want to nag too much — the General often did as she pleased despite his protests anyhow — but the thought of a mysterious individual so secretive that even he wasn’t allowed to know… well, he’d be lying if he said the thought didn’t worry him.

Feixiao’s silence is deafening. Even the cool breeze surrounding them in the gardens seemed cacophonous compared to the tense atmosphere. A look of determination filled the General’s features, tipsy demeanor seemingly gone, her voice quiet as she speaks. 

“Jiaoqiu,” she begins, “while I still can’t tell you who this person is, I promise they are trustworthy.” 

“I’ll be fine,” she affirms, words as steady as they could be with a good amount of alcohol in her system. A sigh from Jiaoqiu is all she hears in response.

“Alright, General,” he shrugs, “I’ll trust you. I can’t change your mind with this, but you know it’s my duty to vet anyone who might pose a danger to you.”

Another hiccup. “I – if it were a problem, I’d handle it.” “I know, General.” Jiaoqiu rises from his cushion, practiced reflexes fast as he snatches the bottle away from her wobbly hands. “And no more of this. You’ve hardly had anything to eat to offset the effects. What would your guest think seeing the Lacking General lacking in cognition?” Before Feixiao can offer another rebuttal, her phone dings, signaling that Jiaoqiu’s personal assistant was there to escort him back to his office. 

A moment passes when a familiar mop of brown hair belonging to the assistant appears at the entrance; a demure and older foxian who dutifully performed her tasks as Jiaoqiu’s eyes. Feixiao nods in the assistant’s direction before guiding Jiaoqiu to the woman. 

Despite her blurry vision and lingering effects of the wine, she calls out his name before he fully leaves the garden.

“…thank you for looking out for me,” she speaks gently, teal eyes shining with ingenuity and determination. Hidden words unspoken as the pink foxian smiles over his shoulder.

I’ll find a way to cure you, Jiaoqiu. That’s a promise I vow to keep.

────────────

“What strange eyes. Two different colors? Perhaps they’re blind in one of them?”

“Sure, they have heterochromia but have you seen the fact they have no tail? Quite odd. Maybe they were another foxian slave of the borisin.”

The cacophony of voices and whispers as you navigated the confusing streets of the Luofu hardly bothered you. The most pressing concern was ensuring that your directions were accurate, concise, and most of all: timely. Curse your greenhorn lab assistant. Still, you couldn’t quite blame him after all; he was used to the monochromatic layout of Herta’s Space Station and not any of the Xianzhou ships.

Still, it was bothersome to be guided to the Luofu instead of your usual meeting place at Feixiao’s headquarters on the Yaoqing. It was no one’s fault that the Merlin’s Claw had several business meetings with the General of the Luofu.

Not to mention… her incredibly reckless, idiotic, and ridiculous stunt she pulled with the borisin takeover three months ago. You hadn’t seen your younger sister in six months and wanted to strangle her, embrace her, strangle her again, and then revive her just to tell her how stupid she’d been.

A throbbing headache pounds in your temples, a frown twisting your lips. Glancing at the paper in your hand and peering up at the port, you notice that your destination is up ahead. The Seat of Divine Foresight… a rather humorous name for the notoriously lazy General Jing Yuan. You suppose your fellow colleagues in the Genius Society also belonged to eccentric corners of the galaxy.

Approaching the starskiff port, you see no Cloud Knight waiting to escort you to the general’s office. Gazing around, the corner of your vision notices a brief haze of purples and deep blues.

“Excuse me,” you walk up to the figure, a tall man who towers over you, leaning against the side of an empty building, “do you know where any Cloud Knights are currently stationed?”

“...”

The man’s opaque eyes peer down at you, a small scowl that would’ve sent chills down any other person’s spine. Gray strands of hair peek out from under his hood and with arms crossed, he quickly resumes – er, brooding by himself in the corner.

Alright, then.

“Sir,” you speak, tone a bit louder, “I asked you a question.”

A deep, rumbling voice causes your ears to twitch when the man finally responds. “If you are looking for a Cloud Knight, then speak to a Cloud Knight.”

You’re tempted to roll your eyes. What a lovely first impression of the people on the Luofu, you muse. But, you quickly shake those thoughts aside. Perhaps he wasn’t keen on speaking to you due to reasons he may have against foxians, or maybe your general lack of socialization was to blame. After all, you were a researcher who spent most of their time holed up in a lab; your people skills and social cues weren’t always the best.

“Fine. Apologies for bothering you, then.”

As your back quickly led further and further out of the assassin’s sight, something tells him to take one more glance at you. Additionally, a soft breeze passes by that carries your scent: a familiar scent that belonged to a certain someone he worked for. 

A lack of a tail, similar foxian appearance… he understood now.

“Wait.”

Keen ears pick up his voice from a brief distance and you turn around hesitantly. He approaches you in long, even strides before his face softens imperceptibly. 

“I can escort you to your meeting.” “You know who I am?”

A hum of acknowledgement.

“Alright. Well, thank you. Then… may I know your name?”

“....Moze.”

────────────

As promised, Moze and two Cloud Knights escort you to a small, private office off to the side within the Seat of Divine Foresight. It isn’t long after the doors close before a mass of pearly white hair obscures your vision. A tight embrace nearly knocks the wind out of you as Feixiao picks you up in an excited hug and spins you around the room.

“Aeons I missed you!” your sister exclaims, nuzzling the side of her face against your own as she’s almost hesitant to let go.

You sigh half-heartedly, fighting the smile on your face. She’d always been the touchier and more expressive of the two of you. “I missed you too, Saran.”

After a brief catching up, Feixiao hands you a copy of medical records that has sat in her care for months. You glance over the contents, ears drooping as each word, each sentence brings an empathic pain to your chest. 

“And this belongs to your retainer, yes?”

Feixiao nods. “Jiaoqiu, yes. He took the brunt of the borisin jailbreak. As you can see…” she trails off, reluctant to recall the events of three months ago, “...he’s not in great shape. The road to his recovery is a long one and he’s too stubborn to admit that anything is wrong.”

“So,” you begin, “he’s the patient you’re hoping I can treat. With all due respect, what makes you think he’d be willing to accept my help? The texts and reports are just as you said: he’s too stubborn to ask for help or admit that anything is seriously wrong.”

“Just call it a… promise.” Her familiar words rang through your brain; the same exact phrase was written to you when she’d first reached out to you for help.

Strong, calloused hands grip your shoulders. “You’re a member of the Genius Society. With your intelligence and history of biomedical breakthroughs, I have faith in my jiě jie to help.”

“He has so much to live for, and I don’t want him to continue throwing his life away,” she adds, her voice a strained whisper. 

Despite your credentials as a Genius Society member, you’d only joined them out of them pressuring you. After escaping the slave camps on Koolur, you and Feixiao were separated after that fateful “shooting star,” and therefore, followed different paths. You’d come across a mentor who showed you how to read, write, learn the common galactic language, and helped nurture your love of knowledge. Decades passed before you were proficient enough to work independently of your late mentor’s guidance. 

Without ever meeting Jiaoqiu, you could tell how much your sister valued her retainer, valued her close relationships. You two were alike in both holding on to loved ones and throwing your own lives away for the greater good.

“Saran – ” you start. You shake off what you’re about to say; it’s no use beginning a lecture that has no point in even starting.

One more somber glance at the medical report in your hand is enough to determine an answer. You made no promises, but you could try.

Trying is all you could do.

“I’ll do it. When will I meet him?”

────────────

“Well, even if my efforts can’t fully restore your eyesight, my goal is to get you to a place where you can see things as best as you can,” you hum, jotting down final notes on your clipboard. “Maybe a pair of exceptionally strong eyeglasses can help, should we get to that point.”

You smile to yourself on instinct. When you peer up to the patient in front of you, Jiaoqiu does not respond, but simply smiles in contentment. These past few weeks of treating him and you’d grown tired of how nonchalant he appeared about his condition. Not only was he “unbothered” by your apparent insistence to help his condition, it was quite clear that he was, in fact, quite against having another person waste their time and resources on him.

I’ve made my decision and am now paying the price for it. I have no regrets. But, if you still insist on doing this, then I suppose I understand. General Feixiao’s orders are absolute, after all.

Those were some of his first words to you at your initial meeting with him. Now, weeks later, he's opened up with endearing facts about his former cooking skills, his medicinal knowledge, and even his adjustment to having almost full blindness. In a way, the foxian was charming enough. Being as introverted as you were, you found it natural to hold a conversation with him.

Continuing to stir the concoction of chemicals on your table, you decide to make small talk to ease the silence. “You know, I’m actually older than I look.” 

You groan at the memory you endured outside of the Alchemy Commission the other day. “In fact, some short-life kids approached me with some leftover candy and referred to me as “Granny.” It was a bit jarring,” you chuckle.

A chuckle. “Is that so? You sound quite young to me. If I may be so bold, how old are you?”

When you give him an age, he merely hums. You continue sharing tailored details of your past, of your time in the Genius Society, as an independent biotech researcher, and of your unusual foxian traits.

“You certainly are sharing quite a bit of yourself with me, considering that you haven’t known me long and that I’m technically your patient,” he chuckles.

You don’t answer right away, a forlorn expression paints itself onto your face. You study the vials in front of you before quietly responding. “No one has ever cared or taken the time to listen.” Though he cannot see your face, the tone of your voice twists at something inside of him. He offers you a genuine smile, hoping all the while that his expression can convey what words cannot. 

You bite your lip out of nervousness.

“Did she —,” you begin, hesitant, “did General Feixiao inform you of who I was?”

Long-life species wearing glasses wasn’t usually unheard of unless it was cosmetic, or in some cases, congenital. In the case of foxians, strong vision was often a common point of pride that they could all find in common. You become distinctly aware of your lack of tail; a point of pride in many foxians. Despite well over a century of acclimating to the odd stares of citizens — not just your tail, but your heterochromatic eye colors too — it became a mere thought that drifted in the wind.

Perhaps you and Jiaoqiu… could have something in common.

Dragged out of your very brief thoughts, a chuckle reverberates deep in the pink foxian’s chest. “Yes?” He tilts his head on instinct, confusion lacing his tone. “The General assigned me a scientist, one of the best in the Xianzhou, to help with the promise she made for me.”

You let out a nearly inaudible sigh. “Jiaoqiu…. The truth is — the real truth is that I am General Feixiao’s sister.”

Hesitantly, you peer up at his face as he sits motionless on your exam table. His jaw slackens, face unreadable as the cogs in his head turn. A small swish of his tail is the only indicator you have that he hasn’t passed out.

“Please say something,” you murmur, deciding to avoid looking in his direction and instead, busying yourself with your chemicals again. When time continues to tick by, eternally slow, you let out a deep sigh. Your ears perk at a brief laugh behind you.

“If you sigh any harder, I might just get blown away.”

Setting aside the herbs you were crushing, you face his direction once again. “Does this… change anything?”

“Hm? Would it change anything for you?”

Another small sigh. “You really do have a way with being cheeky and annoying, don’t you? This has to be the twentieth time we’ve known each other where you answer a question with a question.” Your tone is light, joking. “Jiaoqiu,” you continue,”no, it doesn’t change anything for me. I only wanted to determine if you’d think of me differently.”

Before he can respond, you clarify. “Feixiao hasn’t made my existence public out of fear any enemies could take advantage of it and use it against her. And although she used to insist that she could take any enemy that comes her way if it meant protecting me, it was mostly my idea that I was kept out of the public eye. Besides that, she is a general, and I’m a scientist. We both have different life paths after we were separated as children.”

Jiaoqiu doesn’t respond, choosing his words carefully. He reaches out his hand gingerly as if asking for something. “May I?”

Confused, you saunter closer to where his legs are swung over the examination table so that you are standing in between his legs. Once he senses your presence within a reasonable distance, he slowly raises his hands to cup your cheeks. The action causes warmth to flow through your face, eyes widening at his actions. A part of you flinches out of reflex, out of a traumatic memory in which you used to associate touch with negativity, but the tenderness in which the pink-haired man is using almost makes you want to cry.

Delicate, long fingers trace up your cheekbones, to your eyes, lashes, nose… he slowly memorizes the features of your face before sliding up to the fluffy ears on your head. When he hears a sharp, shaky intake of your breath, he reaches back down to the area just below your eyes, lightly thumbing away tears that threaten to spill over.

Another small smile. “Yep, similar to the General’s.” A pause. “The skin under your eyes feels thin. Just how long have you been staying up to help find a fix for my eyes?”

You swallow a lump in your throat. “However long I have to stay up.” A tsk reaches your ears as he continues to caress your face. 

“You asked me if I thought any differently of you… and the truth is, I do.” The corners of his lips frown. “But not because of General Feixiao, or because you have an obligation to “cure” me, but because these past five weeks I've gotten to know an incredibly kind, selfless, and enticing individual.”

A lifetime of torture, betrayal, hardship, and isolation has only made you doubtful of others. Your mentor was dead alongside countless people you used to call friends had passed long before you. You understood grief all too well: the looming threat of Feixiao's curse, of losing her too. You stare deeply into his face, studying the contortions and trying desperately to make out any sort of hidden meaning behind his words. His hands fall back into his lap. In spite of your best judgment, a very touch-starved part of yourself immediately misses his skin on yours.

“So, thank you.”

“You’re thanking me?” You blink, confusion lacing your tone. Before you can overthink and retort that you hadn’t made much progress in his vision, Jiaoqiu responds with a short nod. “You have allowed me to feel something other than pain and nightmares.” He bites his lip, hesitating sharing his insecurities with anyone. “That has only ever been accomplished through the use of spicy foods. After my time in the endless throes of war, I thought I’d never have true feelings for anything ever again.”

Blinking rapidly, you fail to notice the nervous swaying of Jiaoqiu’s tail behind him.

He extends his hands again, voice soft as he nearly whispers. “May I?”

You guide his hands back up to your face but he shakes his head no. Instead, he lets one of your hands drop and embraces your hand with both of his. Gingerly, he lifts your hand up to the featherlight touch of his lips before the moment is gone as quickly as it arrived.

The pink-haired healer may not have found a way to heal himself, but he’s sure that in time, your presence will give him the budding hope he’s been yearning for his whole life.

Smiling up in your direction, he gives you gratitude once more for reviving the dead parts of his shattered heart – one fragment, one day at a time.

“Thank you.”

[violestars]

𝙄 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨 𝙢𝙚

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: Sunday x male reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: childhood friends to lovers AU, so the boy that broke your heart proposed to you— wait what?!

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: part 1 definitely not a wip lol, i got too attached to Sunday to let him go. !!only male readers!!

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: angst, hurt comfort, mention of homophobia, controlling family, arranged marriage; kinda suggestive, vulgar language.

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨: part 1, part 2.

“Um— Sunday?” 

The owner of that name, who was clinging stubbornly onto your waist, only replied with a soft nuzzle on your stomach before going silent again. 

How the heck did you even get into this position?

A week without talking to Sunday, not even a small glance from him and you felt too awkward to admire those crystal-like eyes from afar.. listen to those soft lips.. ones that rejected your heartfelt confession— 

“Oh shut it!” You mentally screamed. Past you would not believe this. Sunday? As in the guy that could never be separated from you? The same boy that gained you guys the silly ‘’soulmates’ title? Oh please. 

You were a skeptical person, or a fancier way to call it— anxious. Everything is like a stacked cake to you, so polysemous. Each prettily decorated layer tastes like a plain lie, dig enough and you shall find the sweet truth at the very bottom, if you haven't gone crazy from a sugar high that is! But even if you were a mind reader, Sunday's feelings were always a mystery. Must he be so hidden from you? You have been shaking in your boots at the thought of losing these years of beautiful friendship if he hadn't noticed already. 

“It has always been just him and me together.. Why can't you just share your true thoughts?” You signed, directing your frustrations to the little bear that he got you after a small arcane 'date'— well what your delusional self would call it. You smiled fondly at the memories, him being so deadpanned on how childish the place is, only to gamble his whole life away for a plushie you couldn't stop staring at. Honestly, the strangely designed toy was only cute because it looks like him, just with white wings as ears. 

That is also why it was getting punched to oblivion. 

Ding! 

The abuse stopped as you quickly snatched your phone from the bedside table. Thankfully Robin was updating you on Sunday's condition. All she shared throughout the week with her brother's future boyfriend, the dumb nickname reserved for you specially, was his health and little behaviors. Nothing too useful, not too specific for speculation. “I swear Y/N! If I could I would— the guy was made out of stone or something!” You remembered the poor twin sobbed out, only to be glaring at you for replying with “No wonder he looks like an ethereal sculpture..” 

But this time, your phone wasn't buzzing with several messages of either gossip or complaints, there were only one. 

“Brother mumbled your name and ran straight out after I came home! Please don't fight! His face was as crinkly as an old man's!” 

If the circumstances were different, you would have let out a soft chuckle yet you were at a loss for words. Last time he did that, you had to lie to your sleeping parents about such noisy commotion downstairs. 

“Did I lock my windo—” 

“You didn't.” 

Sunday replied. 

And here you were, laying underneath him, being pinned to your own soft bed. You have dreamt of being treated like this before, and if it wasn't for the fact that the guy laying on your stomach has been on incognito mode for days, you would've started blushing. How did he even get onto your window? Last time you prepared a ladder that you painfully struggled with setting up. Did he drag one here himself? 

“Earth to Sunday?” You asked, hesitatingly patting his fluffy baby blue hair. Your touches carried themselves with confidence after its owner let out a sigh of content, to which you could only muster a small 'cute' under your breath. 

“Fuck them..Those selfish deadbeats..” Sunday grumbled, his voice sending vibration to your tender stomach, making you shivered. You were slightly startled by his wordings, Sunday rarely curses, even around you. Did he have a fight with his family again? 

“Whoa..I just heard some strong words from a guy that never works out— Ow!” You grunted, your sides stinging like an army of fire ants has just devoured your flesh. Who said a crush's privilege was freely inflicting pain onto your delicate body?

You were about to start a fight, there were so many bones to pick with this guy, let's not forget how he ignored your presence first. 

As your hands were about to push Sunday off, he lifted his head up. Crystalized eyes challenging the sparkles of precious diamonds, glistening while they silently begged you to comfort their owner. The first time he looked at you in days and it was when he looked like a kicked puppy. You only sigh, gently pulling him up to your level as he buried his face into your neck. 

“They wanted to marry me off— Well I would thank them if they actually left me alone after. But no! It was to strengthen the family relationships or something. I was given the job to take over my supposed spouse's family business and gain more power to ourselves, themselves if we're being brutally honest.” Sunday finally let out, after swallowing back a hiccup. He was slowly breaking down in your arms, you felt useless for just laying there and rubbing his back. Like you haven't been expecting his family to cook up something as unreasonable as that. 

Unsurprisingly, Sunday knew that clearly, his pained grin proved it. What really was he hoping for? A kiss on the cheek? He was glad you hadn't kicked him out after the isolation he put you through. So he continued to spill out his troubles to you. 

“Of course I didn't agree to that. I don't want to be tied to someone I never loved, like they haven't caged me enough. So I suggested your family.” 

H-Huh???

You felt your eyes were bulging out of its sockets, mouth agape as you were about to question his decision. What did you have anything to do with his arranged marriage? 

“Atta boy. Stay there and look pretty, I'm not finished.” You huffed with a light blush dusted across your face as Sunday chuckled between his soft sniffles. Even in times like this, he was joking around with you. This was definitely not the mysterious guy the girls were gushing over.  

“They shamed you, us. Called us homos or whatever, I couldn't care less if they were only aiming at me. I stood my ground though, I told them your family is definitely on a higher status than any lady’s that caught their nasty attention. The public’s views are changing, if they throw away their historical mindset, they would see how we can manipulate this difference and act like the family is filled with open-minded politicians.” 

You could tell Sunday felt relieved after that rant, which was filled with sassy remarks, yet something was holding his breath back. His heart beats were still jogging around, visible through your own chest. You then noticed how close you both were, not like as best friends you two haven't cuddled, it just felt so so close this time. 

You felt naked under his attentive gaze, looking at you like you were the best thing that God has given him, your cheeks increased in color by instinct. You let out a hum after a tight silence, taking your eyes off his only to be gently led back by the hand on your chin, hopeful eyes boring into yours.

“To simply put. I want to marry you.”

His breath was so close to your mouth. When did he lean in so slyly? You gulped, you were definitely shocked at this plot twist and your expressions were all over the place. You must have looked like a fool at that moment.

Are you even supposed to reply? If so, how?? 

You only licked your dry lips, which succeeded in distracting Sunday's focus. It would have helped if he didn't look at them with such hunger, you felt like a weak rabbit in the wolf's den. The said wolf then turned back to your eyes, ones that he missed admiring with such fondness— ensuring their shine like they were priceless pieces of gemstone. Sunday looked at you with an unsure look, he didn't know what you were thinking as he assumed your heart didn't belong to him anymore. He did recognize the little glint in your eyes though, quietly urging him to continue, just like when you guys were sharing ridiculous stories in your secret spot as mischievous kids. So he did, he owed you a sincere apology after all. 

“I understand. The guy that broke my heart proposed to me, what's up his sleeve this time? I was afraid. Y/N, my love, my life. If they knew we were together, they would use you against me. They would hurt you and I would rip them to shreds— But you would still be trapped. You don't deserve that, my prince. If I knew we were gonna have this argument, I would have brought up marrying you. They have called you such disgusting names.. But they all hide behind me, that's how it has always been. I would be the one hurting you, I am the one hurting you. It pains me just thinking about doing such sins.” 

You were awfully silent, Sunday cringed at how he could clearly hear every movement of the rain, slowly hitting your window. Each drop turned harsher — copying the movement of his heart against yours. They all reminded him this was real, this was reality. 

He was finally facing reality. What he was telling you will change the future for the better or worse. But he will take this shot because he couldn't afford to lose you any further. You are his lover, there is no other. 

“I am a monster, it is clear now. After I pulled you into this mess, I know for sure of my kind. I don't know how you even loved me. Am I not obsessed with you? Aren't you weirded out by that? I'm scared I would let you down, I haven't even experienced real love before I met you, I can't provide you with the affections you're expecting, love—” 

You pulled him into a deep kiss, hands wrinkling his neat white shirt, he definitely just got out from a meeting. 

You could taste the metallic from your mouth, Sunday was returning the action with harsh movements like no tomorrow, like this was some sweet dream of his, biting your lips in the process. You couldn't care less, what mattered was how his actions were screaming desire, like an animal finally being freed from its cage— capturing its prized possession. He definitely regretted giving you the cold shoulder, holding onto you like you would run away once you witnessed his true form.

If you did, what would he do? No, he won't hurt you. He would probably cling onto you like child with its mother, crying like a newborn. He wou—

“..Y-You said you're scared of letting me down.” You managed to say, heavy breaths with shaky hands clutching onto his shoulders to balance yourself as you cut off his chain of thoughts. It was a battle trying to take control with him, all you could do was let out small whimpers once you felt like choking. Sunday looked at you with dazed eyes, this was a side he has never seen, one he would kill to reserve for his own feast. But he was focused, he was getting accepted or thrown away for good— the latter being slightly off chance. 

“How about sticking around to find out first?” You asked, your tone assertive and filled with trust in him. You knew Sunday wouldn't back down from a challenge, you knew how possessive he could be. But you didn't mind. You were inviting a monster into your own home, maybe you were the monster all along. 

“Y/N, you know this isn't a silly game—” 

“Don't you want to make me proud?” Sunday paused, whatever insults he was about to throw up to persuade your stubbornness cut off from his script. He has never felt so weak before. Not even with the family, they still need him. But not you, the way you phrased that, how you were looking at him. You looked like a deity, talking to a dumb buffoon of a peasant, giving him orders he oh so carved.

God, you're divine. 

Sunday only lean into your soft luring touch, his eyes never leaving those that got him so weak in the knees. Filled with much adoration but also power. 

“Cause I'm so proud..” You gently breathed out, fanning his thirsty lips. As they crashed into each other once again, this time full of longing and love, you both have sealed your fate. Where you go, he will follow along. Sunday knew he is yours now, you knew you have always belonged to him. 

Baby, I'm so proud of you.

© art by @/sisi19980408 on twt

[very-small-giant]

more yaoqing trio🤲 my beloveds

[stxneflxwers]

pain reliever.

⋯⁂ summary. migraines. migraines never end.

⋯⁂ a/n. oh my god im so sick of being in pain someone just make it end-

⋯⁂ characters. aventurine. gn reader.

⋯⁂ cw. reader in physical pain (migraines, light sensitive eyes). comfort. all lowercase. aventurine is now designated weighted blankie.

"another migraine, huh?"

aventurine chimes in, his voice soft as a feather – without its typical sassy and teasing edge, too. he stands behind you as you rest on the sofa in his penthouse, your sluggish body flush against the puffy back cushions. his hands rest on the tops of the cushions, caging either side of your head as he stares down at you, your head tilted back to look up at him.

of course, the seating is about as lavish and comfortable as it comes – you wouldn't expect anything less from your eccentric boyfriend.

"yup." you don't even nod, and your words are barely louder than a pained whisper.

"you poor thing," he coos, "here. take it." he offers his rose-tinted sunglasses to you, to help subdue some of the bright lighting coming from the ceiling.

you stare for a long, hard (and painful) moment at the sunglasses offered to you. without another moment thinking about if the rose-tinted lens will actually help with negating some pain, you take the accessory by its temples and slide them on. you then look up at him through the rosy glass, your eyes half-lidded and your expression droopy.

"adorable." he grins, a genuine one he reserves for you – only for you. "now, how about i look for some meds, huh? i bought some recently for times like these." he reaches out a gloved hand, intending on gently petting your head, but ends up holding himself back. his hand awkwardly hovers above your face before it rests back down on the sofa back.

"...you did that? for me?" you blink, eyes widening momentarily with knitted brows.

"i sure did. i can't have my favorite person being in debilitating pain every time i see them, yeah? it's no fun that way." he chuckles breathily before leaning down to press a chaste, feather-light kiss to your exposed forehead.

"i wouldn't call it debilitating, per se..." you drawl, but smile from his tender ministrations.

"well, we'll have to agree to disagree, then," he shakes his head. "i'll be right back. you try to rest some." he walks away, dimming the lights in the living room as he leaves to look for the medication he mentioned.

"thank you, vasha..." you mumble, watching him walk away – his stride holds significantly less bravado to it when it's just the two of you. it's...relaxed.

when he returns with two pills and a cup of cool water in hand, he finds you laying down on the sofa – curled up in a tight, little ball of..., well, pain. he hates seeing you in pain, much less so this frequently. but he masks his concern just enough to not make you worry about him being worried. it's almost ironic.

"hey," he whispers, voice even softer than earlier, "c'mon, time to take your meds~." he teases a little as he bends over enough to meet your scrunched up face, hoping to lighten your mood.

"alright, alright..." you grumble, "thank you, nurse." you tiredly grin at him before pulling yourself up into a seated but slouched position.

"aww, i bet you'd like to see me all dressed up like a cute little nurse, huh?" he jokes while handing you the pills and cup.

"...i will neither confirm nor deny that allegation." you scoff playfully, and then you take the medication as instructed – of course, you down all the water too. or else a certain gambler will get on your case.

"pfft, figures." he snickers, taking a seat beside you on the sofa, slinging an arm on the top of the back cushions.

after setting the empty cup down on the accessory table next to the armrest, you glance at him with weary eyes. but to him, it looks like you're about to beg for something–

"be my blanket."

perhaps "beg" was a poor word choice. that sounded far more like a demand.

"...your blanket...?" he blinks on repeat, looking somewhat bewildered.

"yes. lay on top of me." you blink back, but your expression lacks any sort of discernible emotion. "it's...comforting."

"well," he starts with an awkward, stiff chuckle, "if you insist. i'll gladly be your blanket, then." he smiles and shakes his head.

you lay on your back, opening your arms to him before he settles on top of you – he's the best height and weight to be a nice, warm weighted blanket. he rests his head on your chest as his body sits between your legs. you sigh in contentment, and you swear this is what real perfection feels like.

warm, safe, quiet.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

the general of the luofu has a habit you've picked up on. a habit in which when he finds himself in a place of predicament, he will gracefully place his hands atop each other at the small of his back. that is why you also decided to develop a similar habit of standing just slightly behind him.

never when you had first relocated from a separate xianzhou alliance ship to the luofu's exalting sanctum did you imagine you'd be standing within the seat of divine foresight on a near regular basis. of course, the notion was not unheard of since it is the office of general jing yuan, but then again you hadn't expected yourself to eventually be working so close to him either.

working nearly in step with jing yuan was not in your relocation papers. when you first arrived and he was always on your heels, it nearly made you lose your cool more than you'd care to admit. the way he would just smile your lack of alone time off irked you further. you figured he was just doing it because he could, because no one would demand the general to knock it off aside from the master diviner and- more often than not- her nags were brushed aside unless absolutely dire.

but with that same, insufferable smile and persistence of his, jing yuan did what he did best and used it to his advantage until you were absolutely smitten with him, and he knew it.

you had attempted moving your work to central starskiff haven where all the hustle and bustle of the main hub for all things imaginable could take your mind off the dozing general, but it was a useless feat.

the bond between general jing yuan and yourself was something precious yet unnamed. it was seen and noticed, but you both refused to adapt to the way of labels- another thing jing yuan had a habit of. superstition about labels and them ruining everything he holds dear to him was a belief he had yet to be proven wrong.

the labeling and eventual tragic fall out of the high cloud quintet was more than enough proof for him. he would not risk you slipping away from him if he were to try and repeat the mistake. jing yuan was more thankful than you could ever imagine when you told him you understood.

"labeling a relationship with you, general, would surely bring unwanted gossip."

a rather poor excuse to try and ease his mind, since you both would float around each other's orbit, but it still worked nonetheless. thus, the nameless, labelless, and unspoken relationship that everyone aboard the Luofu knew about grew.

"he's like a weed," you had told fu xuan when she was once again pleading with you to try and convince him to do his job behind his desk and not run around avoiding it. once successfully coerced, fu xuan admitted she had no idea how you could withstand his stubbornness. "he's persistent and tough to get rid of. i just kind of let him be after getting too tired of trying to fix my garden."

jing yuan was easily within earshot of the jab, whether you meant to hurt his ego or not, you did bruise it. how could you not when you were calling him a weed just 20 feet away from the very desk he was confined to?

time can be both noticed and unnoticed by long-life species. on one hand, the passing of time seems so endless it just flits by seamlessly. 100, 200 years are nothing short of youth to them. until you reach the gate of older age where you then worry about when the mara will eventually strike.

jing yuan did not speak much of his past to you, and you never found a reason to harp and pry on it. you knew more than enough from texts and scrolls recorded in the halls you were fortunate enough to work in; no need to reopen old wounds he is too stubborn to admit still bleed.

the general who cares for the luofu cannot decide if he fears being stricken with mara himself and slowly losing his sense of identity to the point he cannot recognize you, or you being marked as an enemy for him to strike down because the mara struck you first more. should the former ever come to pass, he has faith that what needs to be done will be and you will stay safe with yanqing.

now, as you stand in the seat of divine foresight with the newly arrived trailblazers from the express also occupying the office with jing yuan, you notice his hands neatly folded behind him.

a slight advantage to the many layers of clothes he puts himself through dressing every day is that his two-tailed half-cape that rested on his shoulders and flowed down to his hips can offer some peripheral coverage.

like clockwork, when you noticed his hands placed in the small of his back, you took half a step closer to his diagonal and placed the pads of your fingers in the middle of his open palm. his fists would never fully curl behind his back, left open and lazily sitting on top of each other.

jing yuan's shoulders would drop just a fraction- hardly noticeable to anyone even if they were looking directly at him- every time you did so. the tips of your fingers were warm, a reminder of the present and also a teether to not let his mind wander too far.

he could feel the callouses on them, the rough skin so accustomed to battle ingrained into the skin of your hands and it brought him such comfort. his eyes gently shut and a smile lifts his lips, not one to mask behind, but one brought about naturally.

and just like always, when he felt your fingertips push lightly into his palm, his hand opened further, fingers pulling apart before he was curling them into yours.

yes, the general of the luofu has a habit you've picked up on. but he has also picked up a new habit of waiting for you to hold his hand when they're behind his back.

[generalsdiary]

what if ratio breaks down and falls apart?

Dr. Ratio (x Aventurine at the end)

warnings: mental breakdown

word count: 1.9k

a/n: lots of ppl seemed to like this idea so here it is, not beta read, ffs come home aventurine

description: Dr. Ratio breaks down (angst), Aventurine mentioned/shows up at one point (fluff dare I say)

his hands shook immensely with the keys in his hand, the heavy doors open and close. he can feel it. he can no longer hold on. being a victim of routine, he manages to push on just a few moments longer, to put away his bag, lock the door, and take off his shoes. few steps through the hallway and it is over. his body trembling as his chest swells up with pain and sadness, so many emotions mixed up in one. filling up in his throat like a peach pit, choking him and making it harder to breathe. he falls to his knees, his breathing heavy, rapid, and irregular. in moments like these, he knows how to take care of himself, how to help himself, how to fix this. but it is too much. he can't. he also... why does everyone get to break down but not him? he can barely breathe in and breathe out, as many thoughts fill his mind.

eyes filling with hot tears except he cannot cry that much, he has always been incapable of actually crying and letting it all out.

like a water dam overflowing and drowning him along with it. the dam filling with water and using it in useful ways until the workers don’t show up, the tools get clogged, old, and broken. the dam overflows. nature always comes back to take its due, to pick up the price, especially human nature.

he isn't enough. he will never be enough. it is a fool's job, what he is trying to achieve. how could he ever spread knowledge everywhere, making it available to everyone? how is that being realistic? hopeful fool, he knows better than to hope. an idiot. a failure. why did he even think he could be capable of doing that? the aeons were right to not recognize him, he isn't worth their attention- he keeps failing. isn't it the definition of insanity to keep doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome? not enough. never enough. such expectations were put on him and he jumped to fulfill them- and when he didn't achieve the last one- to become a true genius, then he failed. failed the mold he was put in. failed the beliefs of everyone around him and their expectations. they were all wrong; everyone who said he could do something, become someone relevant, someone who matters and makes a significant change. and the things he did, well they were never perfect and always could have been done much better. for fuck's sake he fails his students, just how many get the actual knowledge, and how many give up? he isn't good enough, he should be better, and get the knowledge across in a way everyone would accept and know and learn. why is he not good enough? he keeps trying and it is never enough. not once has the universe said, ‘okay, you have done enough, you can rest now.’

why does he keep trying? and he is alone in all of it. who is there who cares for him- who puts his view of self aside, who can.. please.. who can please view him as a human.. a person.. just... as someone who doesn't need to be extraordinary- can he be loved in such a way, appreciated? who would care for him? when all that is said about him is that he is rude, when he only tells the truth and tries to help, he is told that he is insensitive, egotistical, and he is so far from it. why does everybody hate him? aeons, he hates himself. why was he born, created like this? it would've been so much easier to have been born an idiot, dumb, to work a normal job, and be happy.

he stares at an empty spot as these thoughts overtake him, and then he sobs as the next ones come... he wants to be held, oh so much. to be embraced, to be cared for, thought of in a positive way, for his name to be called with love. no one is enough, he isn't enough.

his thoughts keep spiraling in a whirlpool, almost like he is frozen in space. eyes fixed, hands shaking and the occasional warm tear falling down his cheeks, which are now red and hot.

his skin feels like it is burning, the clothes on him overwhelming him but he cannot move, it hurts, it all hurts. why does it hurt so much? this vicious cycle never ends. how could he stand up again when he is falling apart at the seams? is he worth it at all, the life he lives, if he cannot even help himself? he will never be enough. he wants to shout, to yell in frustration and anger- all swallowed in his throat while he continues to sit.. broken on the floor.

his thoughts become more incoherent, how could he.. why.. help.. not enough.. and so on. curses, hatred directed at himself, sorrow, and pity. his ears deaf at any sound, he is so lost in his mind, it is like he isn't even there.

this isn't the first time, but it was never this hard. he picked himself up before; standing, going automatically around his home to take care of his basic needs. but now he has no hope, no care for it, he cannot move. immobile and lost, so… so deep in this vortex.

the doors open and close. there's a voice, he doesn't even register it, “..tas?... home?”

the person makes a few more steps and sees Veritas, sitting on the ground. Veritas manages to register distant footsteps, rushed- it doesn't matter; he isn't even there. only his body is.

the person sits down in front of Veritas and hands him a glass of water. his eyes are unfocused, he appears still, hands on the floor with a slight tremor, cheeks shiny from the tears and a warm red color. instinctively he accepts the glass and drinks the water. the cool fluid makes him consciously blink and float back to the present moment. he registers the voice of the person in front of him.

“Veritas.. I'm here, good- the water is good for you- I'm here, alright?” his eyes focus on the blond man sitting in front of him. Aventurine's eyes are filled with worry and his hands cup Veritas' face, caressing slowly. his voice is calm, “you will be fine- I got you, okay?” Aventurine nods to himself more than to Ratio. his hand moves to the indigo hair, pulling his fingers through the soft locks in a comforting manner. Veritas' eyes are trained on him, full of pain and heartbreak, yet his face is neutral, so hurt.

“your head got to you again? I keep telling you- don't listen to it- it isn't right it only says mean things which aren't true. do you hear me?” the only thing he gets in response is a slow blink from the taller man. and it is enough.

“it tipped over, it isn't as bad as your head claims- don't listen to it, listen to me, focus on me. I’ve got you, I'm here-“ he pulls Veritas into his chest, cradling him in a way. “-and I'm not going anywhere”

fresh tears soak Aventurine's shirt. it hurts to be cared for, to be seen, and for that person to stay and not leave.. it feels undeserving and it just makes him cry harder. he sobs into Aventurine's shoulder, breaking down fully. his voice comes out high-pitched, breaking, “I... I.. it is so hard-” he sobs harder and tightly embraces Aventurine.

“I'm here, you will be okay, this will pass, I have you, don't- don't struggle against them, focus on me, please?” Aventurine pulls away to raise Veritas' chin and meet his eyes, those sunset eyes filled with tears. and he weakly nods.

“focus on me, my voice, Doc, focus on my voice. and I'm warm- you can feel it yes? my chest is warm and my hands- my scent- you can smell the perfume right? focus on me, ground with me. leave that dreadful place- it never did you any good.” he continues using safe words, repeating them, and when Veritas manages to get a grasp on reality once more; he feels empty, numb and Aventurine takes care of him. Aventurine helps him eat a proper meal, bathes with him where he holds him close against his chest, kissing his temple, and repeating that everything will be okay.

Aventurine holds him tightly in bed and whispers only the softest affirmations. before Veritas falls asleep, Aventurine mumbles kind words with his fingers in his hair.

he stays mostly awake that night, just in case Ratio wakes up in distress or from a nightmare. he doesn't mind it. he cares for him, if needed he'd pick his pieces up every day and help him put himself back together. Veritas is his, and he will always be there for him.

the morning turns out to be a slow one. Veritas would tiredly gaze at Aventurine, the blond man asleep into the late morning, and he wouldn't dare start his day- not yet, not now, not without him. Veritas' thoughts are slow this early in the day, they are quiet. he simply observes the younger man. finding some type of solace in it. he doesn't dare touch him as if the beautiful man was a statue made of glass and might break from a single touch.

when his eyes do open he hums and moves to press his face into Veritas' soft chest.

like it is the first time, Ratio is surprised, frozen for a few moments before he relaxes and embraces Aventurine.

“sleep well?”

he nods.

“I rescheduled my stuff, and I hope you will yours too-“, Veritas interrupts him, “..I did.” his voice quiet, monotone.

“today.. today will be easier, okay?” he raises his head, looking up. “I will be with you as long as you need and then some. please be kind to yourself. you need it” he whispers the last sentence and presses his lips into Ratio's cheek.

“I'll try... thank you.. for.. yesterday, dear gambler”

Aventurine nods, “I love you,” he says, easily, as if he didn't have to think those words through before he said them but it conveyed everything he wanted them to say. that he would be there for him, that he'd take care of him, that he would be his.

slight shock is obvious in Veritas’ eyes, that he would be loved gives him a stutter in his response. he feels so vulnerable, bare and naked in front of him. his emotions nude especially after being seen in the state he was in yesterday and despite that... or perhaps specifically because of it... Aventurine said that. with fear, felt on both sides, but also assurance that this is right, that it is a fact he softly says, “I... I love you too.”

beat. both staring into the other's eyes. Veritas cups his cheek. thumb drawing small circles, voice but a whisper, “please don't ever leave me” in that moment he is baren, vulnerable, his cards are on the table for the gambler to gamble off or hold tightly to his chest and fold.

Aventurine answers quickly with a small nervous smile, “the same goes for you too, Doc”

with all those emotions being so loud and scary, Veritas cannot keep up a coy act and even when he does Aventurine sees right through him.

“I promise” Veritas utters and seals it with a soft kiss.

[faetima]

𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐞𝐧𝐝. .

. . now he's truly all alone in this world.

// tws ; slight cursing, blood ; gn reader ; modern au, hanahaki au 

a/n: part two to dear. my darling !!

sorry it took so long, i have finals soon so ive been busy studying

aventurine stood at the doorway in utter shock.

you lied on the wooden tiled flooring of your apartment, blood smeared across your lips.

your apartment reeked of rotten flowers and, when he looked down, marigolds were splayed everywhere. single flowers, a few petals, clumps of them--they were all covered in splotches of dried burgundy blood.

aventurine snapped back to his senses. you were laying there, completely still, and he was just standing?

he took a sharp inhale and rushed forward. kneeling down by your side, he immediately placed a hand on your neck to feel your pulse. maybe he was just overreacting, right? he always seemed to do that when it came to you. maybe you were laying there completely unresponsive, but you couldn't be dead or anything! maybe you just fell asleep or fainted or-

he felt no pulse.

your skin was frigid, cold to the very touch. your lips and fingertips were blue, body and face bruised. splotches of black and blue covered you, and your glassy eyes looked forward, never blinking.

aventurine felt his heart drop.

you were dead.

he sobbed and sobbed for hours next to your body, hugging it tight. why was he so fucking stupid? if he had just talked to you or paid more attention or hadn't agreed to break up and had said he wanted to talk things through first maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't be lying here dead, surrounded by the pungent scent of rotting marigolds.

aventurine broke out into a coughing fit. gently lowering your body to the ground, he brought one hand up to cover his mouth.

his coughing ceased.

he lowered his hand.

in the middle of his palm laid one bright yellow petal.

[minnaci]

contents: established dan heng x gn!reader. reader is a member of the astral express crew, but is not the hsr mc. hurt/comfort, post-1.2 spoilers

a/n: a little bit of a longer one today! thanks to @itoshisoup, @/petrichorium, n @/kitsunefreak for answering my questions abt dh's reincarnation (ask here)! if u see this i hope u know it took everything in me not to call him daniel heng

you and dan heng have never needed words. why say "i love you" when you could just cut him a plate of fruit? why say "i need you" when you could press little, fluttering kisses to his spine, and watch the shiver of goosebumps spread over his skin?

your language has always been one of quiet actions, quiet loves, which is perhaps why he looks so surprised when you take one look and him and say, quite loudly, "what the fuck?"

because the dan heng standing before you isn't the dan heng you could recognize by touch alone. he's.... taller, somehow. broader. he carries himself with an ease that he hadn't before. and most importantly—

"are those horns?"

"yes," he says, with no further explanation.

"dan heng used to be a cool dragon warrior guy in his past life!" march 7th interjects, seemingly oblivious to your increasing upset. "he was super powerful and super important, too!"

you'd known about the whole... reincarnation thing. he'd explained it to you before, but from your understanding, his past lives weren't important. he'd told you that this life with you was the only one that mattered to him. so why hadn't he told you...?

"that's quite enough, march 7th," himeko takes one glance at your expression and cuts in as march 7th begins rambling about dan heng's... boyfriends? husbands? from his past lives and how handsome and cool and strong they all were, and how their story was so romantic—

dan heng says nothing.

"well," you say abruptly, forcing a smile, "i'm suddenly feeling a bit tired. i'm going to turn in. dan heng, you can sleep outside tonight."

you stand up and swiftly make your way to the passenger car. behind you, you hear march 7th ask, "did i say something wrong?"

you let it all fade into silence as you step into the archive room— you and dan heng's room. at least, it would be silence, if it wasn't for the faint footsteps behind you.

"you're upset with me." dan heng crosses the room to you in a few long strides. gently, carefully, he pulls you into his arms. you let him. despite all of the visual changes, he still smells the same. it's more comforting than you thought it would be. you take a few deep breaths, letting his familiar scent calm you down.

"i'm not angry," you say, voice a bit muffled as you bury your face in his chest.

"you're not," he agrees. "but you are upset."

silence falls upon you. you curl further into dan heng's embrace, and he welcomes you easily, drawing wide circles over your back. he's generous with his touch, his affection. it helps you begin to sort through the mess of feelings in your heart.

"you always told me that your past lives weren't important," you say. the words spill from you, a waterfall of hurt and insecurity. "but then you come back from the luofu looking like some— some celestial war dragon, and then i hear about your banishment for high treason and your two beautiful lovers who recognized you across lifetimes, and how it's so romantic because they're probably your soulmates—"

"i know you don't like when i interrupt," dan heng interrupts. "but i... i want to explain before you get more upset, as there are nuances to this situation that i do not think march 7th handled with enough care. you know how she can be when she's excited."

you nod. you do know. you take another deep breath— in through your nose, out slowly through your mouth. "okay, then. explain. please."

"i do not consider myself the same person as the version of me who lived in the past," dan heng says. "i am dan heng. the person that march 7th spoke of was called dan feng. his deeds and his lovers are not mine. i claim no ownership of nor association with them. thus, they are not important to me. dan feng is not important to me. does that make sense?"

"not really," you say. "you're literally him."

"i am not him," dan heng says. "we may share a soul, but i am not him. i do not remember his life, nor do i want to. i have everything i could ever want here and now, as dan heng."

"really?"

"yes," he says. there's a warm brush of lips against the crown of your head. "the astral express crew makes me happy. you make me happy. we may have our troubles, but there's nobody i would rather face them with than you."

warmth flushes through your body, and you hide your face again. it's rare that dan heng voices his emotions so clearly. his candor strips you raw, scraping at the inside of your chest. he's the one being vulnerable, so why are you the one feeling so seen?

"i mean it," dan heng says, taking your silence as disbelief. "i love you. nothing about my past reincarnation's life will change that."

"you're so ridiculous," you sniffle, willing your tears away. "i love you, too."

silence settles around your shoulders once more, comforting like a feather-filled duvet. dan heng rocks you gently— back and forth, back and forth. new clothes and new horns aside, he still smells the same. he speaks the same way. and when you press your ear to his chest, his heart beats the same, steady beat.

"were your— dan feng's— past lovers really that hot?" you break the silence, and dan heng lets out a rare laugh.

"of course you're curious about that," he says, with no small amount of fondness. "here— i'll let you form your own opinions."

he taps on his communicator a few times, pulling up a picture.

"no way," you do a double take, hands flying to your mouth, and you pull back to look at him, wide-eyed. "dan heng. no way."

"yes way," he says, and you can hear the little smug smirk in his voice. he loves you, you know he does, but you can't blame him for the bit of pride that shines through his tone. if you'd managed to pull not one, but two men that magnificent in your past life, your head would get so big that you'd explode.

"and you don't care about them at all?" you have to ask. dan feng was one lucky guy. it's hard not to feel insecure, just a little—

"why would i? they're strangers to me," dan heng blazes through your train of thought, tilting your chin to look you in the eyes. he sobers. something in his voice reaches into the soft, small animal of your heart, holding it steady as it flutters. "besides, i already have the most beautiful person in the universe in my arms."

extra:

"so does this mean i can sleep in the room again?"

"mrgh," you mumble. if your eyelids were any less heavy, you'd open your eyes to shoot him an incredulous look. your limbs are intwined with his like an octopus, and it's bedtime. surely, he's capable of extrapolating. as it is, you mouth sleepily at his collarbone, and hope he understands it as permission.

"okay. just checking. goodnight, dear."

[peonysgreenhouse]

the ghost of you. (welt yang x reader)

summary: welt finds another version of 'you' among the stars.

tags: welt yang x gn!reader, reader is implied to have been a valkyrie, light spoiler's for hi3rds second eruption, implied march 7th/stelle, sorry for hurting the old man </3

It takes Welt months to rebuild his body.

He had known how the war ended; known that the Void Queen was neutralized and that the Abyss Flower had done much to mitigate the causalities of the war. Welt tells himself that he did all he could, and hopes one day that he can believe it.

Though, he can tell something is amiss. His body and mind may still be getting used to having shape again, but Tesla and Einstein are quieter around him, gentle, even. Even if he could hardly walk they would never treat him like he was fragile; they had been proponents of tough love since he was a child.

Maybe he should contact you and see what was going on... Einstein and Tesla were always more open with you, anyways.

Still relearning his steps, Welt limps out of his room and into the main atrium. Einstein speaks on her comm to Amber, while Tesla types behind her hologram's screen.

"You--?! What are you doing out of the infirmary?" Tesla huffs, quickly wiping her eyes on her sleeves. Einstein turns to face Welt, then hangs up her comm quickly.

"Relax, I'm fine." Despite his words, he finds himself gripping the side of a desk to keep himself upright. "Just wanted to check in with a special someone. It's been too long since I've heard from them, I want to make sure all is well where they are."

Einstein and Tesla share grave looks, Einstein immediately getting up and leaving the room afterwards. Tesla bites her lip, slamming her fist down on the table before grabbing a manila envelope, crossing the room over to Welt with an angry stride.

She hands him the report with watery eyes, apologizes with a gentle touch to his shoulder, then exits the room.

Welt immediately knows something was very wrong. Tesla rarely was emotional without getting angry; if it was something that he did wrong, he'd be sitting in a lecture right now. Besides, she had already scolded him for playing hero. This was something much worse.

His mind works in autopilot, he falls into the empty seat at the desk. Welt pulls the report into his lap, and his heart sinks when he sees it's your Valkyrie profile. His eyes move to the bottom of the page, fighting the panic welling up in his chest.

19xx - Killed in battle against the Herrscher of the Void alongside Cheng Lixue. Body retrieved by Schicksal.

Welt reads the words over and over, as if the repetition would somehow change their meaning. His eyes dart up to see the picture of you in the corner of your file. In the picture you were shining, alive.

You were just 18, then, recently graduated from St. Freya's. He hadn't met you yet, but you had told him many stories about your time there. You even expressed interest in teaching there one day, once you weren't needed on Squad Snow Wolf.

Welt sets the folder on his desk in a neat pile, and buries his face in his hands. He should have been there; should have known you would've done something reckless. He could save billions of people as a Herrscher, but he couldn't save the one person who he loved more than the world.

Welt hopes that in your last moments, you knew how loved you were.

When Tesla comes to check on him later, he's asleep, but she can see that he had been grieving. His face is red, eyes puffy; curled up like he intended to suffer alone. Just like he did as a boy.

-`♡´-

It was meant to be a quick stop at a smaller planet. Somewhere near the Xianzhou Luofu where they could rest after they dealt with the Stellaron crisis. Himeko asserted that all of them deserved a little break.

Himeko ended up choosing a rich planet that traded often with the Luofu; they even had a huge shopping district that March 7th just had to see. March 7th had dragged Stelle and himself along for the trip, and somewhere along the line he had gotten separated from the pair of lovebirds.

Oh well, better to give them some time alone, he thinks.

Welt sighs as he sits down on a bench. The suns shine brightly in the sky as he takes in the sights. Outside the shopping district it was mostly quiet, save for the people training across the courtyard. If he squints hard enough, he can just barely see what they're doing.

He becomes so engrossed watching them spar that he hears it before he sees it. A loud whizzing noise that has him casting his body towards the end of the bench, away from whatever was coming straight at him.

"Apologies." The person calls, jogging on over to the bench. Another inch and the spear would've lodged into his arm. He can feel the cold radiate off of it. He scoots over as far as he can, adjusting his glasses. "I'm so sorry, I didn't think my sparring partner would dodge."

Welt finally looks up at the person who had almost killed him, and the words catch in his throat.

It was you, maybe a little taller, a little older than he remembers, but still you. There is no world, no lifetime in which he wouldn't recognize you.

Welt had thought the ghosts of those he left behind could be ignored. Himeko, Bronya, even the one who looked like Otto... he was fine worrying over them from a distance. He knew that they weren't the same people he knew; their faces might be the same, but their personalities, their destinies were not.

But you... he never expected to see you. On lonely nights he found himself pondering the what-ifs, but he dismissed the possibilities as foolish whims. Even if he did find your counterpart, it still wouldn't be the same person he knew as a best friend, as his only love.

"Joachim?" You say, and he flusters. It had been so long since he heard your voice say his name; his heart races at the mere word.

"How did you...?" He starts, clearing his throat. "How did you know my name?"

Your eyes widen in shock, hand covering your mouth. "Sorry, I didn't... You just look like someone I know. Knew."

Welt wants to press you more, he wants to surge forward and pull you close and live in your embrace for an eternity. But instead he grips his cane tighter. He needed to control himself, like he did around every other counterpart of his own world.

"I was going to say the same thing about you." Gentle. The two of you stare at each other for a long moment, not daring to breathe, lest it shatter the illusion. You're the first to look away, eyes growing glassy as you force back the tide of emotion building in your chest.

"I need to get back to training." You say simply, tapping your lance against the earth.

And before he can get your name, to see if it's the same as the you he knew, you run off back to your sparring partner.

When you're out of sight, Welt feels it hard to breathe. He shouldn't leave you behind; he should reach out his hand and talk to you. Just for a little while, just to satiate that nagging feeling taking root in his chest.

And yet he can't bring himself to follow. The world around him feels hazy, his whole body aching with longing. He walks around the grounds aimlessly until the suns set in the sky, telling himself over and over that this wasn't really you. That his incessant curiosity would only get you both hurt.

But when he closes his eyes that night, he can't help but hope that he would see you again.

-`♡´-

Your name is the same.

Though, that should be the last thing on his mind as you pull your lance out of a dead Voidranger; its body disintegrating into the ether.

"Are you guys alright?" You ask, looking only at March 7th and Stelle. Your chest heaves with effort as you sheath your lance into the ground, leaning on it for support. "I didn't think that the Antimatter Legion had a presence here... This is very troubling."

"Yes, I'm fine!" March 7th speaks first, eyes glittering with excitement. "More than fine, actually! The way you and your friend swooped in like that was so cool! Can you teach me how to do that?!"

"You want her to teach you how to... swoop?" Stelle answers, scratching her cheek in confusion.

"Ugh, you know what I mean! Like make that dramatic and dashing entrance!" March clasps her hands together, lost in some fantasy. "You have a lance, Stelle, I'm sure you could be that charming if you tried."

Stelle mumbles something, and Welt steps in before the two can start their playful bickering. Your partner, a girl that looks about Stelle's age, calls your name. Whatever words the two of you exchange next are lost on him; he rolls your name around in his mind until you turn back to March.

"If you're interested in training with us, you could always join in one of our sparring sessions." You fiddle with the sleeve of your uniform. "I'm not sure how long you guys are staying, but if you have time I'd enjoy seeing an outlander's fighting style."

"You'll do it, won't you, Stelle?" March tugs at Stelle's sleeve, and Stelle shrugs at you. "And you too, Mr. Yang!"

Welt finally meets your eyes, and you smile sheepishly, obviously not expecting March to volunteer him for the training too. After you tell her the date and time, March skips off, her hand in Stelle's.

Without the crutch of March 7th, Welt feels himself not knowing what to say to you. You refused to even look at him, and he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

He would be okay with the rejection. In some ways, it would be better than you accepting him. It had been twenty years since your death, but Welt was just starting to rid himself of the guilt that came from not being able to protect you.

Time could heal some wounds, others would just bleed and bleed and bleed. Your death was one he knew he would never fully recover from. Seeing another version of you older and alive only made those old wounds ache. Like this is the you he could've been chasing the stars with.

"I'm sorry for them, they're a handful." He says, voice shaky. "Thank you for stepping in, though. I didn't want the girls to have to fight on our vacation."

"It's my job." You say. "It can get pretty rowdy over here, with how close we are to the Luofu. Most people here are merchants though... If we weren't here, they couldn't protect themselves."

"That's very admirable of you." Welt remembers you saying something similar as to why you became a Valkyrie. He adjusts his glasses, hoping you don't see the flush on his cheeks. "Most people wouldn't be brave enough to take up such a calling."

You shrug. "I actually joined on a whim. My family are traders, but I just felt like the universe was telling me to join. Like protecting people was my purpose." When Welt goes silent, you add: "Sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you this. You're not..."

"It's okay, I enjoy listening to your voice." Welt steps closer to you, but you step back. "I..." He starts, but can't bring himself to voice his feelings. To tell the you in front of him about the you from his world. "Never mind. I should go. It'll be dark soon. I... hope to see you again."

When you don't answer, he turns to leave.

"Wait." You say, clutching his sleeve. He can feel your nails dig into his arm through the fabric; Welt has to stop himself from shivering. "You're... okay, right? You didn't get hurt?"

Welt swallows, the urgency in your eyes making him feel hot. "Yes, I'm fine. You got here before it could really do much."

You hold eye contact with him, your jaw clenching tight. "I saw you step in front of them when that enemy first appeared. Are you sure it didn't hurt you?"

"...It did hit me, but I'm fine. Just some light bruising."

Your grip on him tightens. "Are you sure? I... don't want you to lie for my sake. There's a clinic nearby, I don't mind taking you there."

Welt's gaze softens. He almost wants to take up the offer to spend more time with you. "Yes, I promise you."

You release his sleeve, walking back over to retrieve your lance. He feels himself missing the contact.

"Okay, good. I just know... my Joachim would lie about that kind of thing to put my mind at ease." You shake your head, expression heavy with grief. "But you're not him. When I look at you, I forget myself. I apologize."

-`♡´-

Himeko crosses her legs, picking up her teacup on the round table in front of her. Welt squirms under her inquisitive gaze.

"You've been acting strange lately." Himeko taps a manicured nail against the glass, inhaling the scent of her 'coffee'. Welt wonders how she can stand it. "I know we both have our secrets, but something is obviously bothering you. I wish you would tell me what it is."

Welt pretends to take a sip of the coffee Himeko made him, making an exaggerated noise to show his approval. Welt had always been a tea person, anyways, and the black sludge Himeko made did not change his mind whatsoever.

"I... am not sure what you mean." He replies, eyes flicking to the floor.

"See? You can't even look at me when you say that." She rolls her eyes. "Darling, if something happened on this planet, I need to know."

Welt sighs, deeply. "Something did happen, but it's nothing you need to worry about."

"Nothing I need to know about, or nothing you want to tell me." Himeko sets her teacup down, focusing all her attention onto Welt. "I want to know if something's bothering you."

"I just... saw someone who looked like someone from my world." He swirls the coffee in his cup absentmindedly.

"Oh? Was it like what happened with Luocha?" She leans forward, red hair falling onto her shoulders. Welt can't help but think her curiosity was just like the Himeko he had once knew. He can't help but smile to himself.

"No, nothing like him." His voice is firm. "It was... someone important to me."

Her eyebrows raise, eyes bright with interest. "Oh? An old friend? ...An old flame?"

Welt takes a sip of the 'coffee'. Maybe if he died here he would be able to dodge her questions. "...Something like the latter."

"What?!" She sits back, cheshire grin on her face. "Mr. Yang, you never told me you had a lover back home!"

Welt's expression falls, and Himeko notices immediately. She quickly apologizes.

"Oh. Did... did something happen to them?" Himeko frowns sympathetically, patting his hand. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed."

"It's fine. It was... a very long time ago." He admits. "But even so, seeing them again, even if it isn't them... I want to talk to them more. I miss their voice, I miss seeing them... Talking to them eases some of that ache."

"Then why not talk to them? To them, you're a stranger, right? It couldn't hurt anything."

"But they knew a version of me." Welt sets his coffee down, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "They knew my name instantly."

Himeko is quiet for a minute, turning his words over in her mind.

"You don't have to listen to me, but if I was in your situation... I would want to get to know them." Himeko smiles gently. "Welt, not many people get a second chance with a loved one. You don't have to feel the same way for them that you felt for the version of them that you knew, but the way I see it... It's easy to see that you feel guilty for losing them, maybe talking to them would help lessen that guilt. And if they lost their version of you, I'm sure it would be the same for them. Call it closure for the both of you."

Welt's eyes feel glassy; emotion threatening to choke him. Himeko was right. Denying himself would only leave him with one more ghost. He had enough of those for one lifetime.

"Thank you, I think I will."

-`♡´-

Welt decides to take up March 7th when she asks him to come and spar with you. Stelle decides she would go too, if only to show off for March 7th.

Stelle announces that she'll go first, and it's hard to take his eyes off the two of you. March 7th bounces excitedly on her heels beside him, cheering on Stelle as Stelle readies her lance to fight you.

You roll your shoulder, readying your own lance. Welt sees a determination in your eyes that he hadn't seen in a long while.

You and Stelle trade blows, but it was obvious that you were a much more experienced fighter. Stelle liked to overwhelm her opponents with a show of force, but you were more lithe on your feet. You move quickly, not letting any of Stelle's blows land. The you of his world was an A-rank Valkyrie, but even so you were still green to the title before your passing. Here, you seemed more confident, your moves fluid and graceful, but still powerful.

After a few rounds, Stelle concedes, running a hand through her sweaty hair. She uses her lance to propel herself off of the ground, going over to rest on the sidelines with March. You look relatively unfazed as you catch your breath.

"Mr. Yang, it's your turn!" March yells, pushing him forward. His glasses nearly fall off from the force. Maybe she should be the one fighting you...

"Well?" You say, cocking an eyebrow. You lean against your lance. "You wanna spar?"

"I don't... I mean..." Welt starts. "I didn't think I'd be fighting you."

"Aw, c'mon, Mr. Yang! Don't be scared!" March 7th winks at him. "We'll be cheering you on, right, Stelle?"

Stelle gives a lazy thumbs up, still laying in the grass. Welt sighs, knowing he can't get out of this; not when his two girls were cheering him on. And especially not when you were there, too.

"Well, alright. I suppose I can go a round or two." Welt picks up his cane; his ever reliable Star of Eden. "If you don't mind, that is."

"I'm down. Just don't go easy on me, okay?" You look serious, readying your lance. Welt nods, announcing that he's ready; it's you that makes the first move.

As you rush toward him, he realizes how much faster you were than he was. Were you holding back against Stelle? He just barely manages to dodge, losing his footing as he does so.

You take advantage of that and slam the side of your lance into his ribs, hard. Welt winces, stumbling back, managing to slow you down with the Star's gravitational powers. Stuck and slowed, you launch your lance at him, ice crystals forming underneath its path. He ducks just in time, but you've already managed to close the distance between you two. You were relentless.

You both trade blows for almost an hour after that, but it was obvious that you were wearing Welt out. Exhausted from just watching, March announces your victory, and drags you and Welt along to get victory dinner together.

Welt doesn't miss your smile as March slips her hand into yours.

-`♡´-

The cool night air doesn't bother him when he sits at your side. The indentation where your lance lodged was still in the bench; he can't help but smile.

Dinner was nice, March 7th seemed to pick up on Welt's fondness for you and made sure to have you both sit across from each other. You were a little more open when it wasn't just you and him; you laughed and told stories about your home planet. He enjoyed listening to your voice.

It was him who asked you to join him on a walk. You had seemed hesitant to accept, but did so anyways. He was glad.

"You're a very talented fighter." He says, sincere. "It's been a while since I've been bested like that."

"You were holding back." You shake your head. "I would almost be mad, but it's so like you. Or, the you I knew, I guess."

"I didn't want to hurt you." Welt grabs his ribs subconsciously; he can feel that they're already starting to bruise. "But it seems like I didn't need to hold back."

"...I just wanted to see how strong you were." You lean back, the golden hour glow making you look breathtakingly beautiful. Welt finds himself unable to look away. He wanted to commit this moment to memory before it slipped out of his grasp. "You're definitely stronger than he was. That's good."

Welt feels himself dancing on an invisible line, but he can't live with the regrets. He has to know. "What happened? To your version of me?"

You laugh, bitterly, feet kicking into the dirt. "He was always playing the hero. Rushing into danger so that no one else would have to... It was one of the things I admired about him before I started dating him. And after... it was one of the things we argued about the most."

Welt had heard this song before; you and Tesla would always scold him for acting recklessly. But he had a Herrscher core that he could rely upon, he's guessing your version of him did not.

When he's silent, you continue on. "It was just supposed to be a routine thing, you know. We were investigating a case about some stolen goods... but it turned out to be a trap. The guys expected us to come and... I was just too slow. They shot him before I even had a chance to react."

Welt puts his hand on your shoulder, but you pull away, sniffling. "It wasn't your fault."

"I know, I know. I've been told that a hundred times but... when you watch someone you love bleed out in front of you and you can't do anything... It just feels like it was. Like I should've been more careful or something." You shake your head. "Joachim was... he was supposed to be a teacher, anyways. He joined us because he needed the money. He shouldn't have been there."

Welt adjusts his glasses, thinking of how similar he was to your Joachim. Maybe if he hadn't met Welt Joyce, maybe if he didn't take up the mantle of Herrscher from him, this too would've been his fate.

"He seemed like a good man. I'm so, so sorry." Welt's voice is gentle. He wants to say more, but knows that words can do little to alleviate the pain of loss. All he can do is sit and listen.

You wipe your eyes with a sleeve, trying to even your breathing. Welt's hand lingers in the air, as if wanting to wipe away the tears spilling down your cheeks. "He was. He was the best." You sniffle, shaking your head. "I miss him every day."

"I know how you feel... I lost my version of you, too." He smiles, sympathetically. "It was over twenty years ago but I think about them every single day."

You look up at him, eyes glassy with tears. "What happened to them?"

He hadn't talked about your death since the day he found out. He didn't like to remember you that way; not when you were so vibrant in his memory, so full of life. When he talked about you, he told others his fondest memories of you. So that your memory would transcend time.

You deserved to be remembered.

"There was a... world-ending level threat on my home planet. I had fought as long as I could, but eventually I was too injured to go on. That's when... them and their squad member challenged the enemy to a fight. It was really a distraction so their friend could get away safely... They... were impaled by a lance." Welt leans forward in his lap, rubbing his face with his hands. "I always feel like I could have done more."

You touch his arm, so feather-light he's sure he imagined it. "Hey. If the other version of me volunteered to do that then... I'm sure they knew the possible outcomes." You give him a watery smile. "I don't think they would want you to feel guilty about it. I wouldn't."

Welt has to blink back tears. It was beyond cathartic, hearing that in your voice. "The other version of me wouldn't want you to feel any guilt either. It wasn't your fault, what happened. You deserve to be at peace."

You nod, slowly. He can still sense some hesitancy from you; it seemed your wound was much fresher than his own. Maybe if he kept reminding you then you would one day believe it.

The night grows dark as the two of you sit there, in a peaceful silence. You both think on happier days, and soon your head falls onto his shoulder.

"Maybe... maybe a change of scenery will help." Welt says, the stars above as your only witness. "What would you say about coming on a trip on the Astral Express with me?"

[cloud-hymn]

how long do you think it took jing yuan to realize that yanqing was actually his son™ and not just some kid he was mentoring?

Honestly as much as I love the “local man adopts orphan child without realizing he is now a dad” trope I don’t think it really works for them. Jing Yuan is shown to be pretty wise and seems to be relatively emotionally intelligent so I just don’t think there’s a situation in which he would take in a child to “teach” without realizing that said child would also need a parental figure. If anything I think it would probably be Yanqing, battling with insecurity and self-doubt, that would have trouble seeing/accepting the fact that Jing Yuan values and cares about him enough to view him as family.

So basically I think their dynamic is less like-

Fu Xuan: So how’s your son?

Jing Yuan: My son?????

And more like-

Yanqing: Oh my god I can’t believe I just called the general dad I’m so embarrassed

Jing Yuan: I literally am your dad calm down

[spooky-activity]

If I didn't make that Borisin run through a convenient stream to wash off most of the blood I would have actually gone insane it was eating up all my rendering energy

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[violestars]

𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙄 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙢

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: Sunday x male reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: childhood friends to best friends to nothing au, where rejecting your confession is worth more than the pain of infecting your perfect image with his sinful existence.

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: not proof read, !!only male readers!!

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: yandere-ish?,maybe ooc, mention of religion, implied homophobia, angst no comfort, just depressing.

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨: part 1, part 2

Your childhood friend is a rather confusing fellow, to the point where one would think his significant other, if he ever has one, is the type to do riddles for fun. You also love riddles but moreover, you love him. Can anyone blame you? You were consumed by these feelings in your undeveloped mind. Seven was the age you fell for Sunday, for the charming boy that is your childhood friend. Maybe it was just some puppy love between two foolish kids but no one can explain the bubbling excitement in your stomach whenever a barely visible pout was drawn on his face, whenever he uses sugar coated words to kindly ask others to leave you two alone or how his clinginess to you was shown so slyly. You were an equal to Sunday and it has left a sweet taste on your tongue till this day.

As you grow older, your mind started to question this fondness for him. You were taught love doesn't need any explanation but you aren't dumb, there are always reasons behind everything. Even the unknown comfort, warmness one could find in another is also a reason. You knew that because you have experienced it with Sunday but that wasn't your concern, for now at least. Deep down you knew this love for the other male wasn't merely a mystery, your relationship did not belong in those cheap romcoms you two would binge on a sunday night. Was it more evident on the day you went crying to him about your religious mother? Was it because of the warm hands that traced your cheeks, causing you to lean into such softness as he teased you with a coo? How you wished he could repeat his supposedly sin against his perfectionist family's belief was the attraction to the same gender, how the boyish smirk once he admitted how good rebellion feels.

School isn't your strongest suit and you beat yourself up for that, it also didn't help knowing your insecurity enabled the hatred from others. From family to friends, even strangers, their greatest gift to you was just pitiful stares. Sunday was different though, the soft smile that never fails to comfort you, the warm embrace of the only friend you can lean on, he was truly a breath of fresh air throughout suffocating days of school. The only subject you were good at is literature but the skills you've gained failed to form a clear answer to why your best friend has never doubted you. Asking him yourself only made the progress more complicated for both your mind and heart, as he flicked your head and told you about how much he worried more about your efforts than some silly printed texts.

“Your mind is built from poetry, not numbers, my little train-wreck.” You remembered his soothing voice right beside your ear, ignoring his ways with words and how it shaded your tear-stained canvas a light red, you let out a weak chuckle to lighten the mood.

“And yours is built of riddles. I'm not stable enough to solve one right now, Sun.” Your lighthearted response only brought him to laughter, a smile now placed onto your face as you silently hoped he would drop whatever sentimental words he just thought of since it was already as awkward as it could be. Who in their right mind would ask their best friend to climb through the bedroom window just because regrets were hitting too hard at 3 am? The guy has a controlling family for god's sake.

“You let people treat you so poorly just because of a subject, or it is everything about you throws them off. Why, though? You might think you're weird but I feel like you're just performing. A spectacular show that doesn't meet its audience, so desperately wants to be heard.”

As you thought you couldn’t drown yourself in thoughts of him further, this only deepened it. How you wondered if he actually has a third eye, silently guilding your thoughts to their respective docks. In your mind, he is the epitome of elegance, sometimes you wonder if the word is made specifically for him. Sunday is just perfect, while in one way he was expected to be due to being the adopted son of such a high status family, you felt like he doesn't even have to try. He handled stressful situations with ease, he joked it's you who taught him so with your antics. You two are the polar opposite, yet it felt like two puzzle pieces finding each other, different notes that falls in tune. You wondered how he tolerated everything throughout the years, not that you were complaining, it was just your anxiety often questions the authenticity of this friendship but as his hand cradled your face, the usual smile reserved for only you entered the view, you knew the dreams about him were real because Sunday adores you.

Unfortunately, your dreams crashed. You mentally cursed him for ruining everything, but it was not his fault he couldn't reciprocate those feelings, it was not his fault he is destined for greatness and you are the loser that existed. You knew you were being petty but it hurt how everything turned out to be a cacophony in disguise, how you two favored the full moon that night like the way you favored each other. Well, the way you favored him. Sunday wouldn't know all these shameful thoughts, you only nodded at his kind refusal with choked breaths after all. His frown only deepened once he noticed how tears sharp as the finest blade threatened to fall from your eyes and slice through his heart, but he didn't say anything. It hurts that your feelings were treated like a slipped word, a dumb accident, by both you and mostly him.

He knew you're worried, he was trained to be attentive to every change to his surroundings yet here he was, hands in a tight grip like how his thoughts were tied together in a messy knot. Sunday has been avoiding you, not right after the night of your confession though, he wasn't that cruel but he was evil enough to do it after reassuring you, hoping you would not throw away such unshakable friendship. Reason was, Sunday didn't know why he couldn't accept your love, he should have trust in every card he played, that was what they taught him.

It just tasted bitter. He isn't a saint, he hoped you also knew that, his mouth is filled with lies and his existence needs to be soaked in soap. In other words, Sunday is a freak of nature. Him and his sister were adopted to a rich family after the passing of their parents. Sadly enough, he still felt like nobody's son, his every step reminds him of walking on fragile ice under the threatening gaze of his so-called guardians but he still walks anyways. His sister, Robin, has her own dreams to fulfill and no one will dared to rewritte her role into another plaything for the Gods. That's why Sunday will carry all the burdens, the responsibility that will never be put onto Robin's freely spread wings and he works hard to keep it that way.

Sunday lived in this facade that is made of others' desires, he was a trapped bird that pretends to be an eagle, he felt like the strongest piece but never the mastermind. Unlike him, his darling was the salvation humanity carved for all their miserable life, you were the living proof that the lord heard his songs. You slowly metamorphosed into his only God though, Sunday believed his schemes were always concealed because he worshiped you. Sunday believed you didn't exist because he was only worthy of your afterimage. You were and are his 'father', his entire universe. He shamefully found himself praying to your name against the family's knowledge, images of your beauty embroidered in his mind rather than any flight of fancy.

But how Sunday loathed himself, how pitiful is he if everyone were starting to lead their own life yet he was still following a script, how unfortunate is he if the boy of his dreams felt like the vast sky from his cage. Why does one feel deep disgust within but still mindlessly follows the same path? He wanted to fly upward, to feel your touch but the sky is unreachable and so is you. Sunday knows his love for you like the back of his hand, it's more than the platonic feeling towards his sister and the ambition towards a perfect future, it's the only thing the family didn't plant into his mind at such a young age. His love for you felt like the only thing he could freely express.

You knew he wished to live in a dreamscape, where he would generate happiness for the unfortunates but you don't know this dreamland of his sprouted from the purest of love for you. Those troublesome worries won't reach you there, he swore upon his life that he would shield you away from this brutal world in your new home. You only laughed at his silly delusion though, you never wanted to live in a lie and he knew that clearly. Sunday envied that part of you, he detested how strong you are despite all attempts to drag you down but maybe that's what confirmed his feelings towards you.

You were able to confuse Sunday in the best way possible. You could sob about how ugly you are, complain about your failure of a life and hatred for reality but in the end, you didn't mean it. You wanted to live for the imperfect tomorrow, you wanted to erode a stone that is your destiny with him, with Sunday. Yes, that's what you are. So imperfectly beautiful as he's perfectly fake. That's why he would push you away, as unreasonable as his actions were, he will not taint your future and dirty your determination, this kaleidoscoping pain shall never reach your ears. Sunday doesn't want anyone to find out you're his weakness, he doesn't want to acknowledge you're the sweet reality to his pained dream. He was happily in your shadow even if he could catch a glimpse of your performance.

Sunday loves you so he will let you go.

© art by @/Ceoretkr on twt

[ksketch731]

I've finally played HSR again and caught up TT

Jing Yuan and Dan Heng's interaction

fdjhasfloheawlofhjkehaflwrh the longing

[screamingcrows]

Between appointments - Sunday x Reader

Tags: soft angst, hints at unrequited love, gn reader Notes: This takes place between the meeting with Aventurine and the confrontation with Gallagher. Not a lot happens in this. Should be 2.2 spoiler free Feed this to an AI and I'm feeding you to Acanthaster planci Minors, ageless, blank blogs; you'll be blocked on sight

In your eyes, it was impossible to miss how affected Sunday was by the negotiations with the IPC's representative. His hand had been so tightly clenched behind his back that you'd worried blood would soon stain his pristine gloves. Once it was clear his 'guests' had left for good, you slowly exited the hidden nook you'd been tucked away in for most of their discussion.

"Sir? Can I-" your voice faltered for a moment, seeing him tense as if he'd been snapped out of his thoughts, "can I do anything for you?"

A sigh left the man, back straightening before he turned to meet your gaze, the same smile as always upon his lips. The sight only made your stomach sink further, having watched from the shadows long enough that his impending response was obvious. Consistency was key to maintaining order, and during your year of serving The Family, he had presented himself as nothing less than a perfect leader.

"Your concern warms my heart, but rest assured, there is nothing I need at the present save for locating the individual responsible for these unfortunate circumstances," his voice sounded somewhat strained, yet the smile remained.

A beat of silence passed between the two of you, your gaze drawn towards the blue ribbons adorning his shoulder, one of them having slid down. Without thought, your hands reached out and fixed it, ignoring the feeling of feathers tickling your skin.

"It didn't seem to go particularly well? It's rare that you turn to-"

"My suspicions were confirmed, that is good enough."

It always made your heart clench when he invoked Their presence, knowing it wore at his heart, but from the firmness in his tone, you gathered it had been more than necessary. He nodded his head and your body obliged without much thought, stepping backwards while he whispered a word of thanks, wings folded a little more than usual. No doubt the confrontation had been strenuous.

"Your suspicions?"

You knew asking was treacherous territory, but the words had already seared your tongue in the meager seconds of hesitation.

"While The IPC is undoubtedly seeking to take advantage of this turmoil, nothing in their representative's conduct led me to believe they are the ones responsible. Merely profiting on the tribulations of others as usual."

His hand had already gone behind his back again. Would he start plucking out his feathers as well if this went on long enough? It was no secret that you harbored romantic feelings for the Oak Family head, and lulling yourself into a belief that your presence calmed Sunday had been easy enough.

"But that doesn't mean you're out of ideas, does it?"

Enigmatic as always, he shook his head softly, faint traces of a smile dancing upon his lips, although it didn't reach his eyes. It was hardly unexpected that you were kept in the dark, as a regular member you had no claim to such knowledge. However, that didn't mean being perpetually unable to help with anything meaningful didn't feel like a knife twisting in your heart.

"Sunday, you know I'm here to help you, right?"

"I assure you, I am well aware. I would, however, prefer to keep any unnecessary involvement out of this."

His words might as well have been a thousand pins. He'd begun moving around the table, gloved fingers trailing along the edge of the polished wood. His wings had spread back out as well, a telltale sign that you were speaking to the family head, not the man you yearned to hold.

"Let me at least prepare you a cup of tea, or perhaps a-"

"There is no need to fuss. I have another matter to take care of shortly, and it is something preferably done alone," he'd turned his head just enough to give you a pointed look.

A sigh left your lips, fingers anxiously fidgeting as you went around the grand table, desperate to cross the chasm keeping him away.

"I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have listened in. But for once, I want to know what's going on, you haven't been yourself since Miss Robin…" your voice trailed off, the soft rustling of feathers accompanied by a wave of uneasiness making you hold your tongue for a moment, "If telling me is out of the question, at least let me take care of you, however fleeting time may be."

"Whatever debt you felt was owed to The Family for taking you in, I assure you, They have long since acknowledged your sincerity and hard work. You are free to enjoy this sweet dream," there was that firmness again, how you wished he'd speak frankly when his own desires surely could not align with those words?

"I'm not staying for Them, I'm staying for you."

"I have to once more remind you, whatever it is you think you will find in me is- well, it's not possible. Not even here."

You were close enough to touch Sunday by now, yet his back was still turned towards you. Close enough that the rise of his shoulders with every staccato breath was impossible to ignore. Peering past him, the dark bird sat perched atop a shelf, keen eyes ever watchful as it looked through your body.

"Even so, I can remain by your side," the waver in your voice was minimal, knowing now was not the time to let emotions run loose. You knew that what you wished for was impossible, but clinging to the hope that your presence could make a difference nonetheless was all that mattered. He didn't deserve to be alone.

The way his head lowered and his hand clenched was in stark contrast to his usual conduct. Had you pushed him too far?

"I would hate to see you tethered to the ground because of me. Opportunity is what leads people here, now that you have it, there is little reason to squander it."

"You think I'd be happy running around in the golden hour, drinking SoulGlad and attending galas while you're working yourself to the bone?"

It had come out as more of an accusation than a question, something that immediately made your eyes widen in regret. When he turned towards you, the small smile was still etched upon his features. A hand came to rest on your shoulder, the weight of it enough that you felt unsteady for a moment, held up only by his eyes.

"My heart belongs to Penacony and the shared dream for the future it holds, so long as it thrives, so too will I."

He looked tired this close, and you couldn't help but place a hand atop his, tearing your gaze away to lower your head, unwilling to burden him with your teary expression. If this was what he wanted…

"In that case, I shall wait here for your return… Do you need me to prepare anything?"

He squeezed your shoulder gently before letting his hand fall, and with a shake of his head he walked past you towards the grandiose doors.

"Sunday?" you had to restrain yourself from doing anything hasty, unrest plaguing your mind already at the thought of leaving him to face this alone, "Once the Charmony Festival is over, I'd like to experience more of the dream, preferably not alone."