#mikhail hsr x reader

[q1ngqve]

hello! I like your fics, can u do Mikhail smut? 🥹 that npc man is making me feel things a gurl shouldn’t. Any for, is fine, be it from the LC’s Tomorrow’s Journey or the old form ♥️🥺

🪷🫧💭 — sorry if it’s ooc… i tried (also requests are closed!)

CW; sex. no other warnings 😜ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི

"do we really have to?"

you shoot him a glare as you adjust your necklace, the jewelry shiny and cool against your skin. "yes, because you reserved it." a tiny yelp escapes you at the sudden warmth on your nape, making your hair stand on end as you elbow him in the ribs.

he chuckles at your reaction to him appearing behind you without warning before parting your hair to one side and plants soft kisses on your skin.

"do you have to wear this specific dress then?" his arms snake around your waist, "you know it's my favorite." mikhail takes a step back as you remove his arms, spinning around to face him and draping your arms on his shoulders.

the corners of your lips curve into a soft smile as you lean closer, pecking a kiss onto his lips, staining them light red with your lip-gloss.

"I guess you'll have to wait till we come back," you shrug, "I don't wanna waste all the effort on doing my makeup."

his smile matches your own as his hands roam to the small of your back and nape, pulling you closer. "a quick one?" your eyes narrow at the feeling of his bulge against your stomach. "please?"

"fine."

"you're so good to me, my love."

his lips come fervently, sucking all the air from your lungs, desperate to taste and feel you. he walks you backward, hands and mouth never leaving you until you hit the wall with a thud. you push at his shoulders, trying to get him to release you so you can get some air.

soft gasps fill the air as he pulls away, his hands continuing with their ministrations. while you try to catch your breath, he already has your dress bunched up and you held up against the wall with your legs wrapped around his waist.

"mikhail— need you..."

his kiss comes again, harsher this time, as he undoes his belt, muttering an "mhmm" into your mouth. a soft hit lands on his shoulders at your disapproval when the sound of lingerie tearing fills the air. "we'll get you a new one."

your arms wrap tighter around him, gripping on for dear life, knowing how hard he goes when he's in a rush. whimpers of his name spill from your puffy lips as he nibbles on them, thrusting into you at the same time. the stretch has your back arching and legs tensing, and you hear him chuckle.

"love, you gotta relax—" mikhail hisses as his free hand slides between you two and draws circles on your clit. "you're so fucking tight."

deep grunts sound from the man before you as he finally bottoms out. he manages to pull another yelp from you as he pulls back and thrusts back in almost immediately, not giving you the time to adjust.

"wait— slow down!"

his chest reverberates as he laughs. "slow down? you told me to be quick, did you not?"

your head falls on his shoulder as you hang limp in his arms, body tensing at each rub of his tip on your gummy walls. you find yourself coming undone too quickly in this position, especially with him coaxing you on with each drive of his hips.

mikhail plants another kiss on your lips as you start shuddering and clenching against him, body tensing up at the knot building in your lower stomach. goosebumps litter your skin as he kisses down your neck, the warmth of his pants and groans urging your impending orgasm.

under the influence of his soft "cum for me"s in your ear, you cum with loud whines of his name, nails digging into his suit for support. he doesn't stop his movements, guiding you down from your orgasm as he reaches his own.

warm spurts fill your insides as he holds you up, hugging you close as you both ride out the high. when he senses you've relaxed, he sets you down and cups your face, kissing your blood-flushed lips gentler this time.

you lean against him as he smooths down your dress, a bright smile on his face as he holds out his hand.

"shall we go then, my love?"

[mothtral]

sunday with a darling who wished to journey to other planets because they wanted to explore the cosmos. he was hesitant in supporting their wishes, but after robin left the nest and seemed to thrive on her freedom, sunday ultimately arranged for the best ship to take you on your journey.

you wore a necklace robin gifted you when you were children, she wore a matching one to this day. your ears were studded with gold posts that matched the ones in sunday’s wing. a grin never left your face, and confronted with your happiness, sunday felt a part of himself reluctantly relax.

a picture, you insisted on. you wrapped an arm around robin and sunday’s necks and dragged them to your level, and snapped the picture before sunday could blink. the image was immediately sent to everyone’s phones—a keepsake, you insisted—and goodbyes were shared.

it was time for you to leave. he didn’t want you to leave.

and then—

contact was lost with your ship.

you were nowhere to be found. the first planet marked for your adventure was a well-established planet known for accepting visitors. sunday had privately arranged for someone to escort you through your time there. no one ever saw you or your ship land. it was as if you disappeared like a figment of imagination.

nothing sunday did could bring you back, or make sense of what went wrong. robin tried to drag sunday and herself out of the hole that appeared under their feet, their grief threatening to drag them under. but sunday couldn’t move on, couldn’t strive forward like you did to your demise.

the plan with the festival, to revive ena and bring order to this world—to drag you back to his side because you were always meant to be there—was sunday’s last gamble. imagine his surprise and dread when sunday found a familiar figure standing with the astral express crew, and there wasn’t a signal sign of recognition in your eyes.

[bitterbutblue]

Hi hi!! I was thinking for your writing requests maybe a platonic!reader comforting misha from hsr?? I love misha but I can't find much writing with him ;w;

Rest of it is really up to you, I just wanted to see some misha content lmao

coming to terms with slumber ☆ misha x platonic!reader

~ thank u for this submission!! ur the first person so u have a special place in my heart now <33 ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⤷ The concept of slumber never really came to him much, at least he never really thought about it too much. Misha never thought it would concern him, so he never thought about it. He never questioned, he never liked to. Clockie was never one to indulge in these thoughts, at least not around him. And he was passive until he found the memory bubble.

⤷ Misha is a timid boy, the mind of a twelve year old. He's a child, one who should be protected by the world and all of its love if possible yet truth is, he's only a fragment of a child.

⤷ When it first hits him, he's numb.

⤷ He first goes about his day but you can tell something's off. His laughter seems just a tad bit more forced, he moves a bit more stiffly and he doesn't have that same lightness to his voice.

⤷ You approach him, slowly, like you would if you were approaching an injured stray.

⤷ He doesn't say anything at first, he just tries to play it off but the more he plays it off the worst it gets. It's like Prince Rupert's drop- he won't break unless it's the exact person he trusts, the exact person he's looking for.

⤷ Like that, it falls. When his crystal eyes met yours, he dropped to the ground. He heaves, he sobs, cries, screams until his voice is raw and gone and all that fills the empty halls of the Reverie Hotel because really the world he lives is just you and him.

⤷ He doesn't remember any of that- the adventures, the pain and the losses and when it hits him it hits him hard.

⤷ You drop to your knees, pulling him to your chest because what else could you do? He's dead and he's just realising it. He's a kid who just realised he could never grow up.

⤷ You hold him tight, whispering sweet nothings into his ear as he trembles like a bomb ready to blow and all you can do is sit and wait for it to either diffuse or blow

"It's okay, Misha, it's gonna be okay."

But how do you even comfort a kid who will never get to grow up? Who has to turn to eternal slumber sooner or later before he can even come to terms with the full idea of eternal slumber.

"Don't worry."

But how can you not worry? You have to watch this boy fade into what is only an idea, perhaps a fragment in your mind. Knowing that how you hold him and comfort him is only simply a piece of what is him, knowing that you've never even held or comforted the real Misha.

"Don't let go."

He's tired now, exhausted from crying so hard he feels like he's going to throw up. He lays in your arms, breathing uneven but more calm now. You can only listen to his words and take them in, knowing what you say back cannot impact anything because his future was already determined. His future was the past.

"I won't."

[fyxestroll]

The Finite and the Infinite

Mikhail Legwork/OC; masterlist A Namless will witness many changes in their long journey.

“Conductor, do you think anyone from the Express’ old crew would return?” The crew ticket is clipped to the strap of her dress, its golden shine a sharp contrast to the muted pastel of her clothing. It’s a proud reminder of her decision to return—to the closest a Nameless has to—home.

Pom-Pom pauses their sweeping, “Why? Is there someone you’d like to meet again, Inka?”

The archivist shakes her head, “I don’t.” She does but doubts those she wishes to reunite with are still alive or have any intention to come aboard the Express again. “At least, not that I can remember.” There’s a twinge of sadness on the conductor’s face as they resume sweeping.

Inka leans against the plush seats of the parlor car, staring up at the whale-shaped lights on the ceiling. Currently, it’s just her and the conductor as Himeko and Welt went off to explore. The silence is something she’s unused to. The Astral Express Inka remembers was one teeming with life, passengers—crew or otherwise, milling about, cluttered objects left behind in the parlor car and an old friend dragging her off into another misadventure.

It reminds her all too well how much has changed. 

It’s a reminder she tries to avoid.

It's why Inka spends most of her days indexing the logs in the data bank, resuming her role as the Express’ archivist. It’s better to drown in her self-imposed workload than to drown in nostalgia. She’d find herself working to the point of collapse, waking to Himeko—occasionally Welt, draping a blanket over her and telling Inka not to work herself too hard.

(And in her half-asleep state she’d mistake them for a well-dressed young man playfully smiling at her, saying the exact same thing.)

She stares out into the star-studded cosmos and sighs. “Why did I even leave the Express in the first place?”  In her long journey, she has forgotten and could only hope that a reunion with those she parted ways with would remind her.

(Or would forgetting all memories of them be for the best?)

notes: reader version will be posted when im done with exams. no actual mikhail on this one yet. this is mostly meant to establish inka as a character.

thanks for reading <33 please let me know what you think <33

[unabashednightmarepizza]

The realization I came with the fact of me not daring to finish Penacony Quest entirely: Just like the people were not ready to awaken from their dream and say goodbye to the "Sweet Dream", I wasn't ready to say goodbye so Gallagher and Misha and everything about the Quest over all and Sunday's philosophy just came crashing down on me...

Finished it after hours of playing it, cried after the events that followed after defeating Sunday's boss... Now, I am not sure what to do, probably level up characters and shit like that...

P.S: Why did I get too attached to Misha, Gallagher, Tiernan, Mikhail and Razalina... 🥲😭🥹

Expect to see some angsty works, and some sahsrau in the future

[lateraniansweets]

exams soon but I ended up rewatching frieren and ended up writing something frieren inspired with Mikhail and my OC does anyone wanna read it cause 💀💀

[skinblanket]

im feeling very toxic after defeating the bug thing at lv 82 with lvl 1 chrs and a maxed out march 7th

[mymarifae]

OMFGGGG UR SO RIGHT ABOUT THE 2.1 STUFF 😭 this was such a good and meaningful and well executed story but whenever i try looking up stuff to see what ppl think about it its just. boothill! which is fine i guess but i really would like to see actual discussion about the story from this update (especially with how much it personally effected me lol)

like okay guys who's here for the plot. and when i say plot i don't mean "i play hsr for... hehe. the plot 😏 (sexy characters)" i mean who wants to analyze themes and character motivations and philosophy and create theories with me. PUT boothill and your yaoi ships and naked pin-ups and weird "character x reader" posts AWAY. we're playing with MY toys now. let's discuss gallagher's relationship to "mikhail" (aka, the watchmaker) and how it's affected his opinion on the dreamscape and the family. and with this and all the other information we currently have at our disposal in mind, what might his end goal be? answers must be at least 4 sentences-

[fyxestroll]

I feel like I should actually make a full blown mikhail x reader series and not just a bunch of interconnected one shots thoughts gang?

[fyxestroll]

Echoes

Mikhail Legwork/OC; masterlist All that is left of them are likely just distant echoes.

aka loonsie tries and fails to reach 1k words. 900 something word barf because im going through it rn. possible tw for derealisation

The planet no longer hosted felons but from experience Inka knew that criminals were the least of her worries in Asdana. Something about Penacony felt wrong, from the moment she stepped off the express she knew by the hollow sinking feeling weighed down on her stomach. She tried to stave it off as nervousness, with the mention of former crewmates and her sensitivity to memoria it wasn’t unrealistic so she shook it off like any Trailblazer.

In hindsight, she shouldn’t have. Maybe, then she wouldn’t have puked in her dreampool and she wouldn’t have to go through a room service call of shame.

As the staff cleaned up the mess she wandered the hotel, walking down the endless halls and taking note of the varied species and factions the guests belonged to. She spotted some Intellitrons, a Xianzhou native, the usual overworked and dead inside IPC employee and some blue-haired weirdo. They pay her no mind, too caught up in being the land of festivities. It makes her stomach sink further. So many factions were invited by the Family and for what exactly? What would they gain from it? Why did those factions agree? Is this invite simply that or is it another powerplay between factions?

She stops in her tracks. The floor is cold through her thin-soled shoes.

Does it have something to do with their invitation? What did it have to do with the Watchmaker’s legacy? Do those three have anything to do with this? 

The hallway seems longer, the air colder. The questions pound at her head begging to be answered. She walks on.

Inka hears a whale call and stops.

She looks around. The hall remains the same, with no whale in sight. It’s nothing, she tells herself. 

Are you sure?

I am.

She finds the elevator. It’s old, like several Amber Eras old. She gets on it, pressing a random button up. The elevator creeks as it ascends, lagging slightly from time to time. It’s quite small, thank the Trailblaze no one else is using it. 

Absentmindedly, she traces the buttons. It’s barely used and the numbers are in Interastral Standard but the numbers with 4 in them are missing.

Why? Isn’t that a Xianzhou superstition?

She rubs her eyes. The buttons have the number 4 in them.

Was she mistaken?

Maybe. The memoria here is— The elevator halts.

She checks the floor number. ███. That isn’t the floor she pressed on. She presses the close button again and again and again. It doesn’t work. Is it broken? Surely, not. The Family prides themselves in the Reverie’s top-notch service and facilities.

Slowly, the elevator door opens. Inka decides to get off one she’s reigned in her surprise. The air is cold and the hallway is long. It looks the same as all the other hallways in the hotel. Is she lost?

She is– “█̵̨̬̞̺̯̦̱̰̬͔̥̦̬͎͔̑̊͊͘█̶̮̭̺̽͌͑́̓̍̒̔͒̍̚█̴̨̺̳̤̏̈́̆█̷̡̛͖̲͖̺̹̼̗͍̗̺̰̈́͐̈́͐█̵͕̜̫͉̺̲̔̓̿̀̐̔͊́̿́̐̏͘͘ ̴̛͉̥͕̱̪̘̗̫̲̗̜́̈́̓̀͌̾̀̎͑͛̚ḋ̷̨̛̫̤̹̺͑̿̎̀̆̑̐͂̈́ǒ̴̢̫͓̟̩̭̺̜̬̿̐̀̈́̓̂̓͊͛̋̋̽͜ņ̵̨̟͙̱̗̳͒͂̉̊̍̈́̐̊͋̌̈̀'̵̛͍̥͙͖̺̰͕̖̞̫̹͆͐̂̒̈́̀̔̈́̑̊̿̕t̴̨͇̗̟͉̜͍͎͎̹̭̲̓̄͝ͅ ̶̨̞̥̈́̔̈́͠f̸̗͒̽̔͗́̄͋̇͑́̈́̂͠͝a̸̡̨̹͍͖̼̟̝̞̟̺̬͎̯̾̈́̆̌̈́̽̃̏̀͘͝l̷̡̖̦̞̽͆̽̈́̌̀̔̓̓̓͌̓̆͝͝ḽ̸̄̈́ ̸̨̪̳̯̥̮̹́͜b̴̨̨͎̱̲̳̙͎̪̹̺͚͒͐̈̕͜ͅͅể̴̗̘̟̪͖̥͕̬̣͖̻̟͍̹̊͋̓̃͝h̵͖̟̰͖͇̠̭͎̟͉̩̘͍̹͊̆͐͜i̵̧̡̛̱̲̣̦͖̬̟͔̤͊̒̊̒̾͋̋̀̑̀̇̇ñ̸̠͛́̎̈̉d̵̛͇͓̯̘̲̜̫͑̌͑͝͠.̵̢̩̗̟̏̄̈́̏̀̎̃̅̃̇̄̕̚͠”

“███████?”

Her mouth and legs move on their own, walking down the cold hallway and calling out blurry names. The prison—prison?—is vast and she’s lost sight of her companions. Tiernan’s—Tiernan?—probably on his way to drag her back before she could stray off any further.

███ ████ ████ ██ ████ ██ ████ ██████████ ███ ██████

██████████ ██ ████ ██ ██ ████?

The voices are coming from a room, the door is slightly ajar, allowing for bits and pieces of conversation to escape. She spots two familiar figures in the room one short with mousy brown hair and the other a tall gentleman. Without thinking Inka swings the door open. “Razalina! Mik–”

They’re gone.

A whale call rings in her ears.

“–hail…?”.

 The entire room is gone. A gaping black hole of memoria stands in place of the room. It pulls at her, threatening to swallow her up too. Digging her heels in she attempts to resist. She succeeds momentarily, regaining her balance until–

A force pushes her downwards. 

She shrieks and–

She lands on the cold marble floor.

What?

Confused, she looks around her. She’s in the hotel lobby, lying sideways on the floor. People are looking at her, taking note of the cause of the sudden noise. The music box—the Family’s lies in front of her, thankfully unharmed.

She stares at the invitation. Didn’t Himeko take it with her? Did Inka misremember? 

But she doesn’t remember getting injured…That’s…strange–“Miss?” 

A hand reaches out to help her. 

She takes it.

“I’m fine,” she says, standing up quickly and straightening out her dress, “I was just lost in thought.” 

“I see,” The young boy, no older than fifteen smiles at her, “Please be careful next time.” Judging from his uniform he’s a bellboy of some sort. Does The Family allow child labor? She’s pretty sure that’s illegal under interastral law.

“Don’t worry I will…” she trails off waiting for his name.

“M-Misha.” He stutters out.

“Misha…” she repeats, picking up the music box. He’s stealing excited glances at her Crew ticket. “That’s…” That gaze is too familiar to be simple curiosity. “Never mind. Is my room cleaned up?”

“It is,” He nods, “The staff have been looking for you. They think you’ve gotten lost somewhere.”

“I did.” She confirms, “But I found my way back here–” I’m not sure how. 

“Would you like me to escort you back to your room?” Cheerful purple eyes look to Inka,  waiting.

The archivist’s eyes flicker from the music box in your hand and to the young boy. Pom-pom’s request comes to mind. “Sure.”

She wanted the opposite but fate had given her little choice in carrying out the conductor’s request, it seems. A clue—a descendant?—has already found her just as Mikhail once had. It’s likely her former companions are long gone and whatever she’ll find of them are just distant echoes like this boy.

The very idea leaves her insides hollow.

notes: yall should i drop inka's lore???? yay or nay?

n e ways thanks for reading <33 please please let me know what you think <33

[fyxestroll]

Epilogue

Mikhail Legwork/OC As the Penacony trailblazing expedition comes to a close the crew say farewells to their predecessors. Inka can’t find it in herself to do the same

The Watchmaker’s grave is the quietest place in Dreamflux Reef. Its peaceful and sombre atmosphere doesn’t fit the person it's dedicated to. In life, Mikhail had been a ball of energy always smiling and going about with an enthusiasm that was both draining and infectious. 

It’s hard to…

Briefly, she locks eyes with Micah. The grave keeper nods solemnly and leaves his post by his father’s side.

…but she best believe it.    

Inka lets out a breath as she reaches Mikhail’s resting place. That feeling of trepidation had worn off by her third visit. He wasn’t the young man she knew nor would he open his eyes, exclaim it was a prank and laugh at the sight of her face.

She sits on the pavilion’s ledge and observes the sleeping Mikhail. Time had changed him like it did Inka.

“I…We..” She pauses. Verbal communication had never been her strong suit, “We…We’re leaving Penacony in a few days…Wake up or you’ll miss the train.”

It’s useless to say so, Inka knows that. Still, his silence crushes whatever hope she had left that he’d wake up to pieces.

“...”  She casts a shadow around him as the memoria around her ripples. This dreamscape was stable, and well-built, courtesy of that fictionologist. It’s a far cry from the grandeur of the twelve moments resembling more so the early dreamscapes of Penacony. “Many, consider this the ‘true’ Penacony. Do you think the same?”

Of course, the old man doesn’t answer.

It’s useless talking to a corpse

She sighs. “I want to say a lot of things.” Starting a one-sided conversation and expecting him to answer is useless. “If you talked back to me I’d have probably said it  by now. You were always good at ‘getting me to talk’ whatever that meant but…you aren’t and you can’t anymore.”

Time would change Mikhail much sooner as a short-life species as compared to her. Even in the best-case scenario, Inka had long abandoned hope of seeing that charming young man again. She’ll change just as he has even if she had tried everything in her power to stay the same.

“...”

“I wanted you to wake up and come with us.” I’ll even share my room with you until we can set up your own. Payback, as March says for when I came aboard.

“...”

“Since you can’t. I’ll have to say goodbye.” I want to stay here.

“So,” She leans in on his sleeping form and whispers, “████ ████ █████ ████████ █ ████ ███”                                                                               

[fyxestroll]

Sleep Well, The Night Is Long

“There are only two directions on a Nameless’s compass—the unknown scenery that spurts adventurous curiosity, and the place that will bury our bones. Sometimes they are the same thing” — Baiheng, Foxian Explorer A cluttered collection of a Nameless archivist’s memories centered on one Mikhail Char Legwork

I. The Finite and the Infinite

A Namless will witness many changes in their long journey.

oc | /reader

II. Moongazing Pavillion

A long-awaited reunion

oc | /reader

III. Jelly

Mikhail was a skilled mechanic but his real talent lied in spinning tales.

oc | /reader

IV. Echoes

All that is left of them are likely just distant echoes.

oc | /reader

V. Wake, then Weep

The sweet dream's fatal variable

oc | /reader

notes: gave into my demons and made a reader and oc version. inka, the oc has she/her pronouns. the reader in the x reader version is referred to as 'you' and 'they'. i try to keep the x reader versions as gender neutral as i can. im sorry if i slip up, English isn't my first language