#astral express shenanigans

[aventurineswife]

Hear me out: Dan Heng having to put up with Yae Miko!Reader’s antics. Not only are they cunning and mischievous, but they probably goad and enable Dan Heng into indulging in some mischief himself, which…honestly spells chaos for anyone unfortunate enough to cross their minds, but especially enemies of the Astral Express (or anyone Reader might deem as threatening the other crew members). The Unshackled, Sanctus Medicus, the borisin, the Preceptors, the IPC, the Banacademic Office’s Assistananas. Chances are, Reader has screwed them over somehow (and maybe even humiliated them) without ever lifting more than a finger — and they’ll gladly rub salt into the wound to drive home the ungodly karma.

They’re very sweet to Dan Heng, tho, in their own exasperating way; which probably contributes to March’s accusations of Reader playing favorites.

That being said, not even Dan Heng himself is safe from Reader’s tomfoolery. 😅

Take a Walk on the Wild Side

Summary: Dan Heng finds himself reluctantly pulled into one of your mischievous schemes aboard the Astral Express. With your charm and knack for chaos, you convince him to join forces in an elaborate plan to subtly humiliate the IPC while stirring up lighthearted trouble for the crew. Despite his initial resistance, Dan Heng discovers a side of himself that enjoys the thrill of your antics—and maybe, just maybe, the connection you share.

Tags: Dan Heng x Yae Miko!Reader, Astral Express Shenanigans, Mischief and Pranks, Slow-Burn Tension, Protective Dan Heng, Humor and Fluff.

Warnings: Light chaos and playful mischief (nothing harmful), Mild suggestive undertones (flirty banter).

Dan Heng leaned against the railing of the Astral Express, his gaze fixed on the vast expanse of stars stretching out before him. The hum of the train was a welcome contrast to the chaos that often followed their travels. But in the quiet of the night, the crew had a way of finding him—one way or another.

And tonight, it was you.

“Good evening, Dan Heng,” you said, your voice light and playful, with that familiar mischievous gleam in your eyes. He didn’t look at you right away, but the subtle shift in the air told him everything he needed to know. You were up to something.

“Evening,” he replied flatly, not bothering to look at you, though he couldn’t help but sense the energy in your presence, like the calm before a storm.

You sidled up beside him, leaning casually on the railing. "You know," you began, your tone deceptively sweet, "I’ve been thinking. The crew’s been too comfortable lately. Maybe it’s time to remind them how exciting life aboard the Astral Express can be."

Dan Heng didn’t react right away. He’d learned long ago to never fully indulge in your schemes, but your words always had a way of pulling him in. The thought of unsettling the others—especially the more uptight members of the crew—was something he couldn’t entirely resist. After all, no one was truly safe from your antics, not even him.

“You know the Trailblazer’s fond of tricks, don’t you?” you smirked, nudging him with your shoulder. “I think you’ve been far too good lately. Maybe it’s time you joined me for some fun.”

Dan Heng sighed, but even as the breath left his lips, he felt his resolve weaken. You had a way of getting under his skin—drawing him into your antics with a precision that both frustrated and intrigued him. Normally, he would’ve resisted—his responsibility aboard the Express always came first. But with you, the lines were always a little more blurred. You made everything feel… lighter.

“March is already accusing you of playing favorites,” he said, the faintest hint of amusement slipping into his usually guarded tone. “I don’t think adding fuel to that fire is wise.”

You chuckled, your voice soft and melodic, betraying none of the mischief simmering beneath. “Oh, Dan Heng, who would I be without a little fun? Besides, what harm could a bit of chaos do? After all, the IPC won’t be the only ones suffering if we don’t make a statement.”

The mention of the IPC made him pause. The ongoing conflict with them was a constant weight on his mind, one he preferred to avoid discussing. But your tone—effortless, confident—reminded him that there was always more to your mischief than met the eye. You never did anything without a reason. And when it came to protecting the Astral Express or those you cared about, your actions often spoke louder than words.

You leaned closer, your breath warm against his ear as you whispered, “And you know, Dan Heng… I think it would be absolutely delightful to humiliate them all without lifting a finger. A little magic, a little misdirection… and we could make them regret crossing us.”

The mischievous edge to your voice sent a shiver down his spine. He could already picture it—the smug faces of the IPC executives contorting into confusion and frustration as you unraveled their plans. Chaos. But it was a chaos he could almost enjoy, especially when you made it seem so effortless.

Dan Heng hesitated, then finally muttered, his voice a mixture of exasperation and reluctant amusement, “Fine. But if we’re doing this, I’m not going easy on them.”

Your eyes sparkled with glee. “That’s the spirit. Just follow my lead, and we’ll make sure they remember the consequences of underestimating us.”

In that moment, it felt as though the universe itself held its breath, waiting to see what would unfold. And then, in an instant, everything shifted. You sprang into action, weaving a web of illusions and misdirection that left the crew scrambling. Dan Heng, despite his best intentions to remain detached, found himself swept up in the whirlwind of pranks and subtle sabotage.

The IPC never stood a chance. Their every move undone by tricks and magic they couldn’t possibly fathom. As for the crew—well, Dan Heng wasn’t sure how they’d ever look at him the same way again.

March would probably have another complaint about favoritism. Himeko would shake her head, as always, in quiet resignation. But Dan Heng? He found himself fighting the urge to smile as the chaos unfurled around him.

You, as always, were impossible to resist.

[mymarifae]

wao... the real herta herself? in the flesh and everything. what the fuck

[tjemegames]

HSR: HAPPY 1ST BIRTHDAY! 🥳🎉 - TJ's 1st Annual Playthrough Recap

The big day is finally here! One full year has passed since Honkai: Star Rail first launched and so much fun was had. I’m so pumped to officially be starting year two and I can’t wait to see what the Devs have in store for us. Until then, let’s chat about my experience over the last year:

⚠️ Extremely summarized spoilers ahead for the events/storylines of HSR versions 1.0-2.1. Read at your own discretion! ⚠️

Also, apologies in advance this post will be a bit verbose because I don’t know how to stop yapping about this game; we'll get into it all under the cut!

Stats Overview

Firstly, what can I say? I fell absolutely head over heels for this game on day one; I was initially a bit turned off by the combat mechanics when the teaser demos came out — I had a very limited experience with turn-based games at this point (shoutout Wizard101 💀) and was confused about how they were going about it. Suffice to say that my weariness was unnecessary because, as of today, I’ve logged 342 days of gameplay on my main account!

The Astral Express Annual Trailblaze Report (data collection as of 03/31/2024 at 23:59) had some great insight on the statistics of what I’ve done since launch:

My e6 Natasha and I were really doing the damn thing together for so long:

She’s since been replaced by Aventurine (because I was finally smart and pulled a premium sustain) but we had a good thing going for us. Thank you for paving the way, Dr. I won’t forget about all our struggles together.

Prominent Story Moments & My Thoughts on Storytelling

Once it was determined that combat wouldn’t be an issue for me, I immersed myself wholeheartedly into the lore and storytelling that was provided. I absolutely adored getting to know the Nameless better and exploring parts of the cosmos with the Astral Express Crew. We’ve done so much already:

Being coalesced into existence, fending off the Antimatter Legion’s relentless attack, and helping restoration efforts on the Herta Space Station

Becoming Herta’s guinea pig in the Simulated Universe

Dismantling a corrupt leader and freeing the under worlders in Belobog

Keeping the IPC from seizing the entirety of Belobog to pay off the backdated interest on their ancestor's 700-year-old unpaid debts

Foiling the war-motivated plots of an Emanator of Destruction on the Xianzhou Luofu

Business Simulator 1.0: Restoring Aurum Alley and making a grown man bark

Becoming the best Ghost-Hunting Content Creator on Ghostly Grove

Getting swallowed by a giant Swarm bug and being fender-bendered by a Knight of Beauty; having to duel him into acquaintance (because he’s just quirky like that) before witnessing him valiantly sacrifice himself for the Express, in the name of “Beauty” (because he’s also a little delulu), and then texting us once to see if we were okay after escaping through the hole he cut in the bug’s stomach. Subsequently, disappearing back into the cosmos without a trace (can you tell that I’m enamored by Argenti?)

Being drugged by Ruan Mei, having to deal with her experiments (I hate that synthetic bug with a burning passion) and becoming a Cat Cake extraordinaire.

Accepting the Charmony Festival invitation and having a “very heartwarming and uplifting” (aha aha-hA 😭) “vacation” in Penacony

And of course, so much more in between all of that but those were the things that stuck out the most to me.

I will say that I am in the camp of people who had to experience the Xianzhou storyline before it was streamlined for comprehension purposes and, as much as I loved it there, there were a lot of missed opportunities and wasted moments in that section of the storytelling. Not a huge fan of games trying to get me to care about something by forcing me into a nonsensical quest line during an ill-fitting moment, thereby muddying my understanding of what’s going on/what the importance of said thing is… But it is what it is, and they slapped a band aid on it for newer players. Hopefully, when we eventually return to the Luofu, they will have a better grip on what it is they want to portray there.

Overall, I’m not too fussed by the story so far. It’s been very enjoyable, extremely satisfying in some parts — a bit less so in others. One of the things that I love about sci-fi/fantasy is the ability to go all out and do pretty much anything you can think of because of the creative freedom that both genres allow. I think we’re just barely beginning to scratch the surface of what the series writers have planned for us.

Simulated Universe & Permanent Endgame Modes

Oh boy, I was almost home free in my drafting of this post when I remembered I hadn’t yet yapped about Simulated Universe, Memory of Chaos, & Pure Fiction. I am so sorry, I will try to keep it short, but I’ve got a lot of feelings about these permanent endgame modes.

Let’s kick it off with the SU. Back in the late summer of ’23 when we had our first bout of dry patches, I did more SU runs than I thought I ever would do because I didn’t want to stop playing the game. I was absolutely hooked, and I wanted to hone my skills prior to facing off against the next Echoes of War boss we would get. Within the first four months of launch, I think I had collected almost all the blessings, curios, and Aeon information that you could possibly get. Hell, there was even a day where I spent probably six hours just trying out all the different resonance paths against Gepard. It was so novel to me, and nothing like my previous experience with other rouge-like domains/dungeons – I just couldn’t get enough…

That was until they started patching in new updates. Swarm Disaster eviscerated all my excitement and desire for SU. I hate that bug; I hate that bug so very much. It’s only now that I have e2 DHIL that I don’t mind going back into Swarm and attempting to collect the rest of the rewards that have been sitting there waiting for me since its debut. The same kind of applies to Gold and Gears, although that mode is slowly starting to grow on me. I haven’t spent enough time in there playing around with all the different dice and strategies to have a definitive opinion on it. I’ll probably make some content of myself exploring the upper levels of G&G when I inevitably unlock them.

Now for the thing that would’ve really turned out to be an essay if I weren’t more capable of reining myself in; the curse that keeps on giving, MoC. Listen, I love this game. I love the combat and having to be a bit strategic, but sometimes floors 11-12 make me want to pull out the tiny bit of hair that my buzzed head tends to have. It took me 11 and a half months to 36 star the MoC for the first and only time that I’ve been able to do so. I’ve reset, changed teams, and fully rebuilt characters in attempt to beat floor 12 within 10 cycles more times than I can count. Sincerely, I wish we could’ve seen a year-end review of just the reset statistics alone. It is a source of infinite frustration for me, and it really shouldn’t be so goddamn difficult sometimes… Please Hoyo, just let me have my last star; I’m tired of sitting at 35/36 stars. There's only so much min-maxing a person can do before losing their mind.

Don’t think that I forgot about PF. Follow-up attackers’ paradise and what seemed like it would be a great time until I remembered that my only follow up attackers are Jing Yuan and an under leveled, mostly untouched Herta. This game mode is truly the one that got away for me. I’ve barely participated in it due to a lack of necessary characters. O7 to all the jades that I’ve missed out on. We’ll get there one day.

The Triumphs & Perils of Warping

What’s a gacha game without pulling? I’ve been keeping track of all my luck, both good and bad, since I started playing. This is what a year, 380 standard passes, and 1013 special passes got me:

Not a bad roster at all. There were a couple questionable choices made by me though. The lack of pulling a limited 5 star sustain until Aventurine came out being my biggest flop of them all. I did attempt to get Fu Xuan on her release banner, but I lost 50/50 and wasn’t willing to put everything I had into her at that time.

Out of all eight 50/50s I’ve had so far, I only lost three of them; I also pulled two of the following guarantees early after that so I’ve been a lot luckier than I thought I would be. My Genshin wishing experience sunk the bar for my pulling expectations well below ground, so everything feels like even more of a win here. I hope things continue to stay that way.

Another thing of note: I chose Bronya’s e1 from the standard banner selection reward once I hit the 300-warp requirement. I probably should’ve chosen Himeko for PF purposes but e1 was just too good to pass up for my hyper carry teams.

Also, Dr. Ratio gave himself to everyone (for free) in the pursuit of “curing idiocy” so that’s why I have him. Had I have been proactive in pulling his signature LC, I could be rocking a Ratiorine team right now – but no, instead he remains in Level 1 Purgatory with the rest of my unused characters.

Let us not forget about the light cones either:

I broke my one cardinal rule of avoiding weapon banners for this game, but I don’t regret it in the slightest — I did lose 75/25 to Sleep Like the Dead twice and then proceeded to get it a third time (from the standard banner), so I'm salty about that. Still no regrets though!

Final Thoughts

This game has been such a safe space of indulgence for me over the last year. It reminded me of my love for turn-based combat and strategy-based games. It has also helped me reinvigorate my creativity — this blog is proof of it. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt so enthralled, inspired, and passionate, so I’m grateful to Hoyo and all the HSR Devs for bringing this game to life.

While there have been some low points from struggling with story bosses, tediously challenging endgame, and incohesive plot lines, I have mostly found great enjoyment in my traversal of the stars thus far. I can’t wait to see who else I’ll meet and where this journey among the cosmos will lead me. I also look forward to sharing even more of my adventures and insights with all of you in the years to come!

Happy Anniversary, Trailblazers! May the next year be fruitful and fulfilling. Don't forget to sign in and collect your 1600 jades!

[kyo-mei]

Astral Express Shenanigans: Game Night

Bonus:

[endursent]

- Biting Cold - Searing Warmth

【 content; sunday x reader , astral express sunday , mutual masturbation , blood and injury, hurt/comfort , huddling for warmth , handjob , self-destructive thoughts , NSFW 】

【 note; thank you for all the likes, comments and reblogs on through the dark, the overwhelming support means a lot to me and gives my souls strength. please enjoy this much longer piece.

as always, the reader's gender is never mentioned, i avoided describing their genitalia and left it vague so that you can imagine your preference. 】

【 word count; 8.075 | read on ao3 】

He feels slightly out of place among the Astral Express, it’s not that he doesn’t physically ‘fit in’, all of you look different, act differently and portray yourself in very different ways… but Sunday hasn’t been able to see himself as part of the crew despite travelling with you for four months. 

  He feels like he’s made of stone, every movement is stiff and he has to make excruciating effort into every little action, he feels cold and hard, like an observing statue as opposed to a member. 

  There are days where he forgets that cold, when what he has come to recognise as typical shenanigans drags him into situations where he’s either forced to use his brain to solve complex problems or empathise with someone in a situation he didn’t think was possible. Days where he is on his feet and his mind tunnels to the mission at hand. 

  And there are others where there is silent travel, two days of calm traversal through the cosmos where he retreats to solitude and sees the sky get further away behind closed eyes. He tries to write down his thoughts and understand them, understand what his goal has become… the path he has taken leads towards the cosmos, towards discovery of himself as well as the universe, but what does he search for in the distant stars? 

  Is he merely searching for redemption? Should he not atone for the wrongs his ideals did to others? 

  Dan Heng had told him that endlessly searching to right a wrong that has already been done will only wear him down to his bones and bring no closure. That it will be an endless journey of selfish fulfilment, he will never be able to touch every person that was drawn into the dream—and that he should start with the person he can touch, himself. 

  He startles when he bumps into your back, his mind having been completely occupied with thoughts and distracted—as usual. Sunday grasps your shoulder to push himself back slightly as he gives the back of your head a glare. “Why do you walk in front of me? There’s more than enough space.”

  You give a small shrug. “Just making sure you don’t walk into something, think of me like a cushion,” you wave your hand vaguely as you turn back around. The snow is getting deeper as you venture through the woods, at one point in the densest part, it reaches up to your knees as you practically climb forward, raising your knee stomach-high with every step. 

  Looking around, you squint through the all-white forest… there’s supposed to be a research facility out here, at least according to one of the locals that showed the group around. But all you see is snow and trees.

  Sunday pulls his coat tighter around himself, he doesn’t yet have a very varied wardrobe to properly adjust based on the world the Express goes to next… perhaps he should have searched in the small town for an extra layer, the biting cold makes his fingers stiff and toes tingle uncomfortably. His nose is cold and whenever you turn your back to him, he tucks his wings against the front of his face like a shield, hoping his warm breath might give some comfort to his red nose and cheeks.

  Finally, the trees spread further apart and the snow congested less, you take out your phone and unlock it… no signal. Well, at least you’ve been walking in a straight line, it’s unlikely you’ll get… lost…

  You see a line of snow that’s been walked through across the clearing, it’s halfway snowed up again… and it looks exactly like the line the two of you have been leaving behind—but how could it be through this same clearing? You swear you haven’t turned at all since you left the town! 

  Sunday spots it as well and his teeth clench together. “That’s ours… have we been walking in circles?” he, too, was sure the path had been straight the entire time. How could you pass by your own footsteps leading across your current path? 

  You both stand still for a time, the gears in your head spinning, trying to understand how this came to be—does it mean that the way you came from now is wrong? Is left or right the way back. You heard Sunday click his tongue and turn to look at him… he looks terribly cold. 

  Feeling a bit bad for him—and certainly not wanting him to catch a cold, you zip down your thick jacket and pull your arms out of it. Being that you’re the only moving thing in his line of sight, Sunday immediately frowns at the sight. “What are you doing? You’ll freeze if you take that off—” he blinks as you hold the jacked out towards him, and he hugs his own coat closer to himself, lowering his chin under the scarf around his neck. “I don’t need your jacket, it is my own fault that I’m underdressed.”

  “Doesn’t mean you should freeze,” you push it against his chest. “Come on, while it’s warm—we can take turns.”

  Reluctantly, Sunday unwinds his stiffly cold arms from around himself and accepts the jacket, it doesn’t fit him perfectly… but the relief it brings is far more valuable. It’s still a bit warm from when it was wrapped around your own body, and he can faintly smell your scent along the neck of it. You give a smile and reach for the hood on the back, you pull it over his head, the fur lining it tickling his cheeks as his wings get pushed against his head and poke out of it, halo bobbing behind his head with snow lined around its outline. 

  “... thank yo—wh—?” his thanks is interrupted as you poke the feathers of his wings that are sticking out and push them inside the hood before pulling it slightly further down. “Stop—it’s perfectly suitable,” he waves your hand away. His cheeks were red already, but now more so with an embarrassed warmth as well.

  You immediately feel the chill of the cold wind and shake your arms a bit before rubbing them for some friction. “Alright, alright—I’ll leave you be, come on. The sooner we find this facility the faster we’ll be out of the cold.”

  He makes a ‘hmph’ sound and hunches slightly so that his face is nestled nicely in the collar of the puffy jacket. If you’re to take turns, he should try and warm up as quickly as possible… he doesn’t want you to be cold either. He only accepted as easily as he did because he knew you would hold him down and force the jacket onto him if he didn’t…

  But the gesture resonates with him nonetheless. It would be easy for you to continue in comfort, the jacket doesn’t prevent cold entirely, but it brings a significant barrier to the wind and chill, especially with the hood protecting his ears and neck. Yet you still chose to share it with him… it almost brought more warmth to him than the jacket. 

  You have always been like this, he shouldn’t be surprised at this point… with every offer, every smile and nudge, his chest grows warmer. 

  His sleepless nights were never unaccompanied, you were usually in the kitchen past midnight—once because you ‘forgot to boil eggs for breakfast and are too tired in the morning to do it’, another time because you were simply thirsty, then it was the night before Welt’s birthday and you and March 7th were baking cupcakes at three in the morning. 

  It has become a habit when he cannot sleep, be it because his thoughts will not stop interrupting him, or because the deeds of the past pull his stomach down until he has to use a bathroom or he simply feels restless and has a need to stand and move… to go to the kitchen. It’s a separate carriage from the bedrooms and gives some peace and quiet, once when you were not there as he had become accustomed to, he had taken out his phone to send you a message and ask if you were awake.

  Of course… he didn’t, as his thumb had hovered over the send button, he set his phone down and turned back to his water. Spending the dark hours of the night alone. 

  Not that there is a true night and day on the Express, it operates on a 24-hour cycle where the lights dim and the windows are blocked to emulate night—but Sunday is far accustomed to strange hours or wake and deep sleep. 

  Sunday is once again taken from his thoughts as you stop for the second time, looking around with a focused expression on your face. He follows your gaze but sees nothing amiss, just more snow and now distant trees. The sky is grey and the ground white, the falling flakes of snow blending the two seamlessly to blur the distance between earth and sky. “What is it?”

  With a shimmer, your weapon appears in your hand, sturdy and warm against your cold fingers. “I heard something…”

  Out here? It was a miracle if anyone found you out in the chilled wilderness like this.

  “Remember what those kids said earlier? When we were in town?” your voice lowers, eyes still scanning your surroundings. 

  Sunday nods. “That… we should be careful because ‘kids who get lost in the forest turn into ghosts that eat people’?” he didn’t entirely believe them, it was most likely just a cautionary tale their parents tell them so they don’t run into the forest and get lost. No child will survive for long. 

  “I don’t much like ghosts…” you mumble, the shiver on your skin not only because of the biting winds. Your muscles are coiled, ready and tense… you’re no stranger to duking it out with a monster or two, or even people. But what if you can’t whack it away like you could anything else? 

  Sunday is equally on guard as you are, but less experienced with direct combat. He’s mostly relied on intellectual disputes in the past, as well as planning for conflicts ahead of time where he won’t have to directly face off against something. 

  You see something shift in the corner of your eye—it’s not a whole form, it looks like a misty shape that drags into the snow as it moves. You shift your feet towards it as it speeds towards the two of you. Sunday grasps your shoulder as if he’s about to pull you backwards, but before he can, you swing your weapon—and the misty form dissipates.

  “...” your eyes flicker around to search for it. “Was that it?”

  “I doubt it,” Sunday says quietly next to your ear, his voice clear above the cool brush of wind that’s been chilling your skin. “There,” he gestures to a shift between trees. “There is a flicker of blue between the shoulders, it must be the weak spot.”

  Weak spot, you can deal with that—it can’t be much different from the game machines in Penacony, whack the glowing part. 

  “Be careful if it—” Sunday’s warning went ignored and interrupted as you lift your leg and charge toward the misty apparition. “Wait—!” damn it, he knows you have a tendency for recklessness, but at least let him do what he’s good at and create a plan of attack!

  He struggles to wade through the snow to follow you, unfamiliar with navigating high snow. But he has no chance of catching up with you. You raise your weapon again and raise your hands to swing downwards—but the misty form moves and you miss, the body dissipating again, it’s already a pretty small form, but it’s mostly translucent too, it’s not easy to follow.

  You’re so damn cold, it’s difficult to move as quickly as you usually could. You see Sunday stop halfway towards you and look around for the elusive creature… you’re not sure what it’s capable of, but your prickling instincts are telling you it’s absolutely not friendly. “Come, stay closer,” Sunday calls to you. “It’s less likely to surprise us if we watch each other’s flanks.”

  He’s right. You start to wade through the snow towards him when something moves in the corner of your eyes to your right—the wraith-looking creature seemed more condensed than before, its form whiter as if the falling snow had blanketed its outline and made it more visible. The blue hue in it’s torso flickered and expanded as a sharp shard of ice formed inside its body, it wasn’t wide, but it was long and jagged—and it was facing Sunday, too far from you to be able to get to him in time if the speed at which the shard was made was anything to believe. 

  He seemed to see it as well, eyes widening only slightly in surprise at the sight—his gaze snaps equally startled towards you as you dash towards the wraith. What are you doing!? Sunday calls your name in both warning and surprise, concern clear in his startled gaze, the creature is clearly preparing an attack—you should be falling back on the defensive, and not charging right at it!

  You hop surprisingly easily through the snow, each large step eating at the distance between the threat and yourself. Swinging the bat at it did nothing but dissipate it and let it reappear elsewhere—and you don’t have the body heat or stamina to chase it around for twenty minutes. Maybe if you grab the blue centre, it’ll materialise enough for you to break it. 

  Sunday cursed the high snow, trying to stumble through it towards you as you ran at the enemy. He watched as you leapt at it and tackled it down—surprisingly, the wraith did fall with you, but the way your body jerked as you landed in the puffy snow made his skin itch. 

  As soon as you tackled the wraith down, the shard of ice it was conjuring short forward as if it had been held back by a tight bowstring—and impaled itself in your body. The sudden, violent pain that burst from your torso made you nearly double over in on yourself. But you persisted and jabbed the end of your weapon into the core.

  With a loud crack and sound of shattering, the core broke apart like a light bulb, as if it had been entirely hollow. The misty form dissipated once more, leaving only shards of blue on the snow under you. 

  Sunday calls your name again with more urgency, heart hammering in his chest as he finally makes it to you, he bends down to take your shoulders in his hands. “Are you hurt? You shouldn’t rush li—” his words stop in his throat once he sees blood padder onto the snow, the red colour a stark contrast to the pure white of freshly fallen snow. 

  For a moment, he doesn’t move, unsure what to do—does he tug you up into a sitting position? Onto your back? Where is it coming from? You’re on all fours already, so perhaps you can straighten slightly. “Let me see, let me see,” his voice is urgent as he sees the tremble of your hands and hears a strange sound, as if a thin sheet of ice was being stepped on. Sunday takes your arm that twitched towards your torso and sees frost hardening on your clothes and skin. 

  As soon as you had physically touched the wraith, your skin began to feel extremely cold, like you were perpetually laid against ice. Your entire torso prickled, but the worse of the pain was coming low in your abdomen, your eyes lower and you see the shard imbedded in your lower left abdomen, it was wider at the bottom and stretched the skin apart and cut your clothes where blood bubbled and dripped down into the snow. It felt like you had drunk ice cold water, the feeling of it leaking down into your stomach—except it was spreading from the ice, and every surface you had touched of the ghost.   

  “Let me see,” he says for the third time, firmer this time despite the small crack of his voice, whether it was from the cold numbing his nose and lips or the creeping anxiety at the back of his mind, it was hard to tell. 

  You gasp and cry out slightly as he tries to right you up, it feels as if the sharp shard in your body had just cut through the entirety of your torso with the small movement, tears bubbling at the bottom of your eyelids from the overwhelming sensitivity and pain. “S-stop—” you pant, voice barely audible between short, quick breaths, as if you were afraid that breathing deeper would hurt more.

  Sunday swallows, he’s not a doctor and though he knows basic first aid, his knowledge of what to do in situations like this relies heavily on the fact further help was on the way—but out here in the snow and wind with no signal… 

  He shrugs off the puffy jacket you had handed to him earlier and he lays it over your back, the biting cold already cooling his shivering body. “I’m sorry,” Sunday apologises quietly, his heart is racing, and though he seems calm outwardly, it’s a very practised and well-crafted front. His thoughts are racing, heart hammering in his chest and cold fingers trembling. All he sees and seems to be able to focus on is the puff of your breath and the drops of blood continuously leaking from you. 

  He’s afraid. Afraid that trying to move you will hurt you further, afraid that it might do irreversible damage—afraid that the damage is already so bad that there is scarce time to act. 

  The wind blows again and a shiver shakes both of your bodies and Sunday knows that just sitting around fretting will do more harm than good. “I am sorry,” he apologises again, more sincerely, because he knows this will only cause more agony. 

  He wraps his arms around you, and hoists you up to your feet. Your breath leaves you as you instinctively try to hunch back down, the stretch of your torso is blinding, your vision almost whites out in pain as you gasp and curse. Sunday apologises for the third time as he tries to drag you with him, pulling your dead weight is no easy feat—he isn’t particularly strong physically, he would struggle to hold Pom-Pom for long. “Hold on…” Sunday says quietly, his breath heaving from the strain of dragging both of you through the cold. “It’s alright, you’ll be okay,” he tries to reassure you, he needs to keep you awake.

  Sunday wasn’t sure he had ever felt so… anxious? Afraid? His skin felt like it was trying to tear away from his body, his hands and knees trembled and his heart clenched with every beat. 

  He is the one who should suffer, not you. 

  “Talk to me, you need to stay awake,” he urges, pinching the skin over your ribs. Sunday doesn’t want to create more pain… but if you fall asleep now, there’s no guarantee you’ll wake up again, and the thought makes his breath tighten. 

  Talk to him? No thought forms in your head, all you feel is pain. You want to throw up, your head is spinning and it feels like your ears are blocked out. “... o-okay,” is all you can manage. You can’t even move your legs to walk with him, he’s taking the entirety of your weight at this awkward angle. 

  “Good,” he peers into the distance. You need shelter—it would be a miracle if he found the town you departed from, or the facility you were looking for. But Sunday doesn’t consider himself so lucky. He looks down at you, slumped against him with sweat on your forehead despite the cold, he tugs the jacket closer to your body, trying to make sure you get some respite from the winds. 

  His legs burn, but he sees a raised part of the earth—there, it must be enough. “Almost there,” he murmurs your name, worry gnawing at his gut. “You’ll be alright, I’ll make sure of it,” he promises, holding you tighter.

  You groan as he sets you down in the small cave you found, your limbs shaking terribly—laying on your back doesn’t feel great, but it’s probably the best position you could be in, it pulls slightly on your wound… but it’s better than being hauled around. Blood has leaked more from the wound because of the movement, and the cold spreading from it, as well as your arms and chest where you touched the wraith has begun freezing your clothes in place.  

  Sunday presses his lips together, this cave isn’t large, but he could immediately feel the relief that the shelter brought. The snow gathered at the entrance shielded you from the biting wind, and that’s what’s most important. He takes his phone out of his coat pocket, his fingers stiff and numb from the cold… no signal, still. It might be the snow and wind, perhaps it will come around if it dies down.

  For now, there’s a far more important matter to tend to.

  Sunday kneels by your side, his throat tight at the sight of your pain. He had never been particularly good at facing the pain of others with a calm and straight face, his deep sense of empathy and compassion makes him wish he could take the pain from you and bear it himself. Not to mention that he’s come to actually care for you, he has never felt himself so shaken like this—not since he had heard of Robin’s injury. Very few instances will shake him so thoroughly to his core as that did. 

  He tugs your sweater up, a small whimper leaving you as more cold brushes against your bare skin. The shard isn’t wide, it’s similar to his thumb, perhaps a bit wider… but he realises the severity of it nonetheless. It’s long, and…

  Sunday hears the cracking again.

  You had only moved your hand, your breath trembling. He looks down at the shard again and sees frost spread from it, it’s cooling your skin and hardening on it—it has to be removed. Everything in his mind is telling him not to touch it, leave it there so that you don’t bleed even more profusely. But if he leaves it in, your skin and body will freeze.

  He says your name quietly. “I need to remove the shard,” he says slowly. Sunday reaches for your hand and holds your fingers in his palm. They’re ice cold, frost covering the gloves and threatening to freeze them in place. “It… it will hurt, and I apologise for having to do it.”

  You squint at him, swallowing thickly. You can’t imagine how it will feel, and you feel anxious to let him. “A-are you sure?”

  “Yes,” he nods, his hand slides up your arm and rubs it slightly, as if he’s trying to create friction and warm your skin. His wings are lowered, sitting against his shoulders as if saddened. He wasn’t entirely sure what the best course of action is, but surely you will have a better chance with an open, but dressed wound and not being actively frozen alive, than you will with the shard still inside of you and trying to actively kill you? 

  It’s a chance you’ll have to take. 

  He takes off his scarf but leaves his gloves on, he doesn’t want to touch the shard with his bare hands. “I will need to remove it slowly to ensure it doesn’t cut you further…” Sunday shifts on his knees next to you, the cave floor is just as cold as kneeling on snow. “I’m sorry.”

  You’re not sure how often he’s apologised at this point, and you’re unsure why he feels the need to, this wasn’t his fault. 

  Before you can examine the thought further, he grips the shard and you gasp—even just touching it makes you panic. “W-w-wait—” your heart races. Don’t, it—

  He pulls gently, and the shard moves. A scream tears from your throat and Sunday’s breath catches. He almost stops, but steels himself. If he stops now, it’ll be worse, he’s already started—he has to finish. He repeats his apologies like a mantra, your body jerks and he uses his other hand to press down on your left hip, trying to hold you still. 

  It only takes a few seconds, but they feel like minutes, minutes of tears and screams, of trembling fingers and gentle pulling. He has to pay attention to his movements perfectly, and has to make sure it doesn’t hurt you further. 

  And when it’s all over, he tosses the shard aside and bundles his scarf to lay over the wound as blood wells in the wound. His white scarf immediately colours red at the edges as tears slip down your temples. Sunday feels a rush of emotions after the ordeal, your screams and tears, the blood. Almost as if moving instinctually, he lays over you and wraps one arm around you, cradling your head into his shoulder as his other still presses against the wound. “I’m sorry, it’s over, you’re okay,” he whispers into your ear, his arms shaking equally to your entire body. “Focus on breathing, slowly. It’s over.”

  He tears up as well, the soft wings by his head touch your jaw as he holds you, his breath shaking. He hadn’t even realised how tense he had gotten, and while the danger hasn’t passed—and you could potentially be in more danger freely bleeding as you are, it brings a small relief that the shard it out. 

  Your head spins, the pain has been so agonising, the fear and anxiety of pulling the shard out that you feel like you passed out for a moment. But feeling Sunday so close, holding you so tenderly, as if he were cradling a delicate feather between his palms… your hand that feels less frozen solid slowly raises, as if to return the hug—but your fingers poke at his halo by accident and he near shoots up, wet eyes large. Ah, touching a halovian’s halo probably doesn’t feel good, you think. 

  He blinks a few times and takes a breath. “L-let me focus on your wound, then we need to find a way to warm you up,” Sunday says hurriedly, sitting back on his knees. 

  His mind races as he tries to focus on pressing down on your wound, hoping it starts to clot faster. Your body was so cold, even your neck and cheek. Sunday himself doesn’t feel particularly warm… but he’s afraid that you’ll die from hypothermia if he doesn’t warm you up quickly. Sunday looks up to see that your eyes have slid shut and he feels his heart tighten. “Open your eyes,” he reaches up and pats your cheek with his palm, he says your name urgently. “Stay awake, just a little bit longer, please.”

  He tries to keep you awake with encouragements and small pokes and pats, but your near violently trembling body needs more help. Sunday ties the bundled scarf to the wound tightly with a long ribbon from his coat—maybe this needlessly complicated outfit has its uses after all. He then focuses on trying to warm you up, he places his hands on either side of your arms and rubs them, creating friction. The frost that had built up on your clothes and skin hasn’t spread further, it was likely driven by the shard. Now he just has to warm you up.

  But friction can only do so much, after a time, you’re moaning about it hurting, and as he lifts your jacket he sees the already reddened skin from the cold is raw and sensitive. 

  Sunday’s eyebrows pinch in thought as he does as before. “Let me share my warmth with you,” he utters and lays over you, now using both arms to wrap around you—he doesn’t dare move you into a different position than on your back. He still tries to rub every surface of your skin for warmth, but it’s not retaining heat well enough. 

  “We need to create warmth—” he jumps as he feels your cold fingers slide under his shirt. His stomach is warmer than his hands, and your icy fingers on it makes his entire body shiver. “O-okay,” he doesn’t say more, he doesn’t trust his voice to form fully. 

  This might be the method you need, and Sunday is determined to warm you up in any way you require… though this doesn’t very much help him retain his warmth.

  As your fingers feel warmer and it’s easier to move them, you retreat them from his stomach and slowly raise them to his ears. Sunday blinks at you in surprise as your warmed fingers envelop his cool ears. “What are you doing?” 

  You give a weak smile, you’re still in pain, but you’re more lucid now that there isn’t a foreign object stuck in you. “We warm each other.”

  His cheeks redden slightly as your fingers rub the shell of his ears to warm them, your fingers aren’t exactly warm, but they’re not completely cold either.

  “It won’t be sustainable like this,” he says, still laying over you, just raised slightly with his elbows on either side of your head, his misty breath wafting over your cheeks. “We need to warm faster, more directly.”

  You squint at him, he sounds like he was trying not to explicitly say something, but you had an inkling to what it was. “Like… sharing body heat?”

  His head turns slightly, gaze avoiding you as one of his wings twitches, moving to his cheek as if to hide his face, you’re unsure if it’s a conscious movement. “... for example.”

  You don’t see why not, desperate times and all that. “Okay, your coat is pretty big, we can use it as a blanket, my sweater too,” he has an easier time taking off his coat by himself, but has to help you take your sweater off. You shiver at first, but as Sunday sets his coat and your sweater over the two of you, and lays closer to you—still wearing a thin shirt—you feel subtle warmth. 

  Sunday struggled to even talk to you as soon as you huddled together, though there were thin shirts separating you, he felt the skin of your arms and collar against him. He’s never been this close to the glimpses of your skin only previously seen from a distance, now he’s close enough to smell you, to touch you. 

  He’s careful not to touch your wound, but keeps an eye on it. Your breaths mingle together and you lay your cold forehead against his shoulder to try and absorb any warmth he gives. Unfortunately, it’s not quite enough to keep both of you warm. He tries to rub your arms again, and you try to breathe warm air on his skin, but the solutions are very temporary. 

  Darkness has begun setting outside, and there’s little light inside the cave. You can still see each other, but it’s clear that nighttime is approaching. You whisper in Sunday’s ear next to you. “You cried for me, earlier.”

  He doesn’t reply immediately, his hands that were rubbing your thighs for warmth halting for a moment. “... I did.”

  “Do you often cry when people are hurt?” you wonder.

  “Sometimes,” he continues to focus on warming you, trying not to think of your lips brushing against his collar when you talk. 

  He hadn’t just cried because you were hurt, because you were in pain… a thought had occurred to him as you screamed and shook as he removed the shard that it might kill you—that his actions might. He had done nothing but stand and watch as you had battled the wraith, he had moved slowly and been unsure how to help you after you broke its core… and he had brought you more and more pain. Even in trying to help, how can his heart not ache? 

  You who have always been so kind and patient, even when he sought to entrap the cosmos. Even when you stood on opposite sides of the grand theatre. You didn’t hesitate to include him, to make him feel welcome as he hesitantly stepped onto the Express. You sat with him during long nights and caught him when he experienced his first warp.

  He doesn’t want you to die, he doesn’t want you to be hurt.

  You seemed to sense that he had fallen deep into thought yet again, you raise your head from his shoulder and he turns his head to look at you. As he does, your cool fingers slowly raise and touch his cheek, it’s warmer than before. “You’re very kind.”

  His lips part slightly, his expression is difficult to read as he stares at you from above, his eyes flicker from your eyes down to your hand, to your eyes again and do a round of your face. He opens his mouth further, as if he wants to say something, but only a breath leaves him that warms your own cheeks. He utters your name and it’s almost too quiet to hear. Slowly, his head lowers and you meet him halfway—his lips are soft, despite not having eaten or had water in hours, stuck in the cold, they don’t feel stiff or chapped at all.

  As if he’d snapped out of a trance, it had only been seconds that your lips touched and he was pulling back, eyes wide. “I-I’m sorry, I should—”

  “It’s okay,” you breathe, hand still on his cheek as you try to guide him back towards you. “You’re warm, and…”

  He doesn’t need more of a reason, he’s been aching to be closer, his arms tremble with the strain of holding back. His body is so damn cold, and the inside of your mouth is warm as his tongue slips between your chilly lips. Your hand that rested against his cheek slides behind his head as he kisses you deeply, your head lowered against the cold floor, only cushioned by the fluffy hood of your jacket. His wings flutter and brush against your wrist as your other hand touches his shoulder. Sunday’s fingers that had tried to keep your thighs warm rise to your hips, one hand dangerously close to your wound. 

  Your mouth opens to warm him, your lips separating for a moment, but he presses on again. “I know,” Sunday assures you, and his gentle tone eases your wariness. “I’ll be careful.”

  His lips part in tune with yours, the sounds of your wet kisses echoing in the cave, his thumbs rub at your hips as if he can’t keep his hands still and the only way to have them put in one place was to at least soothe you like this. Your cheeks are warm from the deep kissing, it’s almost suffocating the way his tongue drags over your lips and traces the inside of them, as if he’s trying to taste every surface of your mouth he can reach. 

  It was too much, the taste of you, the warmth of your mouth and your tight hold on his shoulder and behind his head. He needs more warmth, needs to feel it radiate from you and bask in it like touching a bonfire. Your cold fingers and shivering skin, the frost clinging to your sleeves and collar—he wants to make you warm again, feel your warm fingers against his own, like when you handed him a cup of tea during a long night and your fingers touched. Even the brief brush of another’s skin had stuck with him for weeks. 

  He groans against you and his mouth slides from yours, his lips trailing warmth to your cool jaw and throat, the chilled skin shivering again when he closes his mouth over thin skin between the juncture of your shoulder and neck. Your breath trembles as he worries it between his teeth, tongue gently brushing over the tingling spot once he’s done. 

  “I…” his breath is deep and wanting. “Let me warm you, please. I-I wish to touch you, to ensure you won’t shiver with cold any longer.”

  You nod. “Help me,” the words are pleading on your lips. Your feet are numb with cold and your body has bouts of harsh trembling. You want him to touch you. 

  Sunday takes your lips again with his, as if he can’t get enough of your taste and the feeling of your mouth moving against his, he tilts his head to kiss you deeper as his hands lift your thin shirt to your collar, moving any barriers in his way as he moves the heat from between your lips and to your chest. Your body will quickly warm itself if he stimulates it appropriately, and he intends for the two of you to feel comfortably warm. “Wha—“ you weren’t expecting his mouth to seek there so quickly, and certainly were you not prepared. 

  His lips close around your left nipple, the warmth brought from it makes you inhale softly—but as the texture of his tongue drags over it, you nearly jerk in surprise, your wound aching from the sudden moment. Sunday’s hand holds your hip down on the side where there is no injury, his eyes looking to you from under grey eyelashes. “Please be still, I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” his breath fans over the moist point of your chest and you shiver again—for entirely unrelated reasons to the cold. He resumes his attention and you find that ‘being still’ is your greatest challenge today. Every single drag of his tongue, flick and suckle sends sparks through your body, it makes your fingertips twitch where they’ve claimed hold of his shoulders and your thighs flex. The most prominent tingles settle between your legs where you’re desperately trying to will down the rising need for attention. 

  Your cheeks and neck warm—and you make a high-pitched sound as his gloved hand moves to your other nipple, a poke followed by a pinch and his thumb sliding left and right over it makes your body instinctively squirm and tense. “S-Sunday—“ you breathe his name, unsure exactly what you want him to do or don’t, the sensations of his warm mouth and cold glove on opposite sides makes your head nearly spin. 

  “Do you feel warmer?” he looks up at you again, his golden eyes seem to glow in the darkening cave. 

  You nod again. “A little,” you’re still cold, especially on your stomach that’s bare And exposed to the cold air of the cave. Your left hand rises slightly to touch the wing above his shoulder—causing Sunday to tense as he blinks at you. You want him to be warm too, he’s been so diligent in trying to make friction against your arms and thighs, in hugging your coats together and huddling close… “Warm us both, together.”

  He licks his lips in thought. Warm you both at the same time? He can only think of one method. Sunday takes your hands from his shoulders and holds them in his own, he raises them to his lips and blows air onto them before he guides them between your legs—and a distinct warmth emanates from there. It shouldn’t be surprising, having your chest touched and licked like that definitely pools heat there, but the way Sunday’s hands are so careful and his gaze so focused, as if he were unearthing a grand treasure or under an important assignment…

  He buttons open and lowers your pants only as far down as needed, not wanting to expose your skin to more cold air than necessary. Sunday still holds your hands as he lays them over the radiating warmth of your crotch, he doesn’t directly touch you, only using your own fingers as a proxy to slowly slide and rub your cool fingers over yourself. You bite your lip as you twitch under your cold fingers, the stark contrast of temperature making your heart race more than it was already. But it does warm your fingers, the more he moves them. “This might be uncomfortable at first,” Sunday utters as he brings your hands up before guiding them into your underwear—with no barrier between your warm flesh and cold fingers, the temperature difference is even more stark. 

  His own cheeks are red now as well, and he releases one hand from you to lean over you again and bring your bodies closer. “Keep your hands there, move and touch as you can,” he says and fully lets go of your hands. He holds himself over you with his elbow on the floor next to your head—which you instinctively tilt your head towards to rest against, seeking his touch—while his other hand unbuttons his own pants and tugs them down only slightly. “I-if we… do this, then our bodies will warm… and so long as we huddle together, then—“ his body almost jerks as his cold fingers touch his own aching need. “—then th-the cold should subside somewhat.”

  You nod, the movements familiar to you as your breath deepens—you were so sensitive, perhaps it was your cold fingers, or it could be the prelude of having your chest touched like that. This is surprisingly effective, but you still struggle to pay attention to your own pleasure and movements while Sunday is only a hair’s width of you, doing the same. So much of a distraction that your movements stilled, gaze fixed on the way his breath heaved, his head lowered so that his forehead was almost touching yours, his wings raised and shuddering. 

  Sunday seems to notice that you aren’t moving anymore, he swallows thickly and squints at you. “Wh-what is it?” his voice trembles slightly. “Does it hurt?” 

  He’s worried about your wound—and it certainly does ache, but your attention is far from being focused on that. “No… ah, can I… can I touch you?”

  “What?” he doesn’t understand you at first, even though he’s been quite good at reading your expressions and words today. “You… want to touch me?”

  You nod, and your hands leave yourself towards him, your warmed fingers touching his wrists—and his hands almost fly out of his pants in surprise. “I do,” you confirm. “Can I?”

  He seems conflicted for a moment, eyes lowering before he nods. “Okay… I’ll take care of you too.”

  A smile touches your lips. “Alright, I think it will warm us much faster.”

  Your fingers slide under his underwear, his cock is already straining against his underwear, hard and hot to your touch. Sunday gasps as you touch him—your fingers aren’t nearly as cold as they were before, but he still tenses as if you had shoved snow into his pants. You grasp him gingerly, not sure what is too fast of an approach for him, but as his breath seems to slow at your gentle touch, you take it as a go-ahead. 

  With every stroke and movement, his hips twitch—as if they want to move with you but are held back by sheer will alone. Sunday can barely think clearly, all he feels is you, all he smells is your skin, mixed with sweat and blood that stirs something in him. He joins you, his hand touching you in return and immediately it’s like your entire body flares to life, your hand moves faster, careful still—and Sunday leans down again, his lips on your neck kissing and suckling, his cool nose brushing against your warmed skin. 

  “S-Sunday—ah—“ your breath shudders. “More, l-little bit down—mnh,” warmth was pooling in your belly quicker than you’re used to, the flexing of your stomach amongst the pleasure tugged on your wound a little, but the brief pain was just an enhancement at this point.

  He breathes out your name, once, twice—with every stroke of your hand. You don’t feel that you can properly take care of him when his cock is confined within his pants like that, you turn your hand and tug his length out of them—and he springs free to the cold air, making Sunday suck in a breath, your sweater over his back almost sliding off. “Hahh, y-you don’t need to…”

  “I want to,” you assure him, licking your lips as you have much better freedom of movement now, your thumb strokes over the head and Sunday whines. His hands redouble their efforts between your legs, pushing your pants and underwear a bit further down to give himself more room as well. “Fuck, Sunday,” you curse on instinct, the overwhelming feeling of liquid heat searing through your veins causing you to respond to his hands with your hips—you were getting closer, and with every touch and twist on the upstroke you make, he is as well. 

  “Ahh, please,” he presses his forehead into your neck, Sunday’s hips make no effort to cease their movements now, he fully meets your strokes, hips rolling with your hand—he’s pressed down so much that your stroking him against your stomach, his thigh pressing against his hand as he prays to bring you equal pleasure with his own fingers as you are doing to him. He makes a particular movement that you can’t describe—and the tight coil in your stomach that’s been spreading fire through you for minutes finally releases its tension. 

  You cry out slightly, both surprised by the intensity as well as the relief and soothing warmth that surges through you from his fingers and out to your fingers and toes, to your ears and behind your eyes. 

  Sunday almost seems to come undone simply at the sight of you doing so, he needs only a few ruts against your tightened hand, instinctively flexed with pleasure, to achieve his own, his entire body jerking and shuddering as a sticky wetness splatters onto your stomach. 

  It takes the both of you a few moments to to catch your breaths, but as soon as Sunday’s thoughts realign to a comprehensive read, he tugs his coat and your sweater that’s slid a bit askew over his back—somehow miraculously not fallen off—to huddle the warms built by your combined pleasures. He nearly jumps when he feels the evidence of his pleasure sticking to your stomach and quickly starts to dry it with his shirt. “I-I apologise, I should’ve—should have turned away,” he stutters slightly, his voice not entirely reliable yet. 

  But you only laugh softly, wincing slightly from the strain put on your wound—the worry in his eyes from only a mere wince makes your chest warm more. “It’s okay. We’re warmer now, and… it was good, you’re good with your fingers.”

  His cheeks redden further—somehow—and his gaze leaves yours, looking at the floor next to your head. “Th-thank you… you did… very well, as well,” Sunday mumbles awkwardly. 

  You open your mouth to speak again, and suddenly both of your phones ping. 

  It’s stopped snowing and the winds have calmed, Sunday fishes for his phone to see seven unread messages from the Astral Express group chat. They’re asking for both of your locations and whether you’re alright, it’s been hours. He sighs in relief and sends your coordinates to them, the sooner you get medical assistance, the better. 

  You watch as he sets the phone aside. “No time for round two?”

  Sunday looks at you as if you’ve sprouted two additional heads. “Round two? Already—? No, you—the injury, if—what?” he stumbles through three different sentences, and you only laugh softly. The halovian lets out a ‘hmph’ and turns his head away from you—his cold halo bumping into your forehead.

  “Next time, then,” you rub the spot between your eyes where the spiky point of his halo smacked against you. 

  A sigh leaves Sunday and he turns his head to you again, a soft, warm kiss blessing the corner of your mouth. “… once you’re healed.” 

[chaot1c0]

the way my heart beats for you - sunday o.

alas, the fated day of christmas had arrived. being a new member of the astral express, sunday is not familiar with how the crew celebrates christmas.

so that explains why he is stunned to find a tall tree in the parlor car adorned with ornaments of almost all color that twinkle in the express' lights.

and besides the ethereal-looking tree, is the trailblazer with march 7th on their shoulders, reaching out to place the star on the tree. you stand nearby, next to himeko, dan-heng, and welt, who keep an eye on pom-pom in case the poor conductor faints out of worry.

sunday merely chuckles at the sight, covering his small smile with his fist. he then makes his way over to stand next to you and observe the sight before him.

"oh, looks like the angel decided to grace us with his presence after all," you remark.

sunday merely shrugs with a smile, one that seems genuine for the most part.

"so, what are they doing?" he asked, not bothering to take his eyes off of march 7th and the trailblazer, who somehow end up placing the star on the tree perfectly before falling.

you shrug, snapping a picture of them mid-fall.

"their usual shenanigans," you simply stated.

sunday nods slowly, deciding to leave that as it was .. [ he'd rather not get involved in their interesting activities ]

eventually, the day comes to a close and sunday finds himself staring at something else. well, someone else, in particular.

..it seems the angel has fallen for someone.

guys this was the best I could do I swear one of these days I'll drag my ass out of writer's block ..

[apteryxparvus]

your ‘just a little bit’ suspicious roommate

Pairing — Jiaoqiu / Reader

Word count — 5,191

Content warning — drinking • Astral Express shenanigans

Summary — You’re just trying to survive university life. Your new roommate? Definitely not a vampire. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself—until a drunken, accidental makeout session definitely confirms some suspicions.

Now, you’ve got to explain everything to your friends... who are definitely not going to let it go.

"As we all know, garlic is a well-known vampire repellent," March rambles, her finger waving dramatically at the screen, the laser pointer dancing over a grainy image of garlic. "And as we've discussed before, your smoking hot but totally shady roommate, has yet to touch the stuff—evidence number... what, four? Five? But regardless, this undeniable truth, along with everything else we've gathered so far, solidifies our theory."

"And with that," Stelle chimes in, crossing her arms with a smug grin, "our TED Talk has officially concluded."

"Here are our references," Caelus says with exaggerated politeness, as he presents a final slide filled with sources no one’s going to actually check.

You stare at the screen, watching the poorly edited image of Dracula with pink hair and yellow eyes—somehow eerily resembling your roommate. You blink a couple of times, unsure whether to laugh or question your life choices.

“First of all, the fandom wiki page for Count Chocula is not a proper source,” Dan Heng says, voice flat. "Second of all—no. Just no. Now, can we please go back to the movie? You know, the one that doesn’t involve… whatever this is?"

"I can't believe none of you care about this!" March exclaims, throwing her arms up in frustration. “Our dearest friend is living with a bloodsucker!”

You roll your eyes, digging further into the pile of blankets you're buried under, one hand grabbing buttery popcorn from the bowl. "I don’t care. I just want to see how the movie ends."

"The ending isn't that interesting anyway," Caelus says. "The family’s all dead. They’ve been dead the whole time."

"Caelus!" you shriek, leaping out of your seat. Popcorn explodes into the air, scattering across the couch and floor. Dan Heng groans, already pinching the bridge of his nose.

Without hesitation, you lunge at Caelus, who barely flinches as you grab a fistful of his hair and give it a solid yank. "You cannot just spoil a movie like that, you absolute moron!"

"Ow, hey—it's a classic twist, not my fault you’re slow—"

"Get off him, you heathen!" Stelle rushes to the rescue, only for you to snap at her hand like an angry feral cat when she tries to pry you off her twin. "Did you just—did you bite me?!"

Moments later, the three of you are a tangled heap on the floor—Stelle trying to wrestle you off Caelus, you stubbornly clinging to his hair, and Caelus, smirking like he’s above it all despite being squished under your combined weight.

"Am I interrupting something?" The voice is smooth, sultry. You freeze mid-pinch.

Jiaoqiu is standing in the entryway, leaning casually against the doorframe that divides the open kitchen from the living room, his expression an elegant mix of bemusement and mild confusion.

"No! No, absolutely not!" you blurt, untangling yourself with record-breaking speed and shoving Caelus aside. Scrambling upright, you snatch the remote from March and begin button-mashing like your life depends on it. The TV stubbornly scrolls through several slides until one final image—the ridiculous Dracula with suspiciously pink hair and honey-colored eyes—flashes on the screen.

You freeze. The room freezes.

Jiaoqiu arches a single perfect eyebrow, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smirk. "Interesting taste in… presentations."

You can feel your soul actively trying to leave your body. "It’s just… uh…" You scramble for an excuse, words tumbling out in a panicked jumble. "March! March really wanted to, uh, dive into the intricacies of garlic and Dracula! For—um—for some very important in-depth cultural research!"

Stelle chokes on her soda, snorting audibly. "Oh, absolutely. Garlic research. Very academic."

You whip around to glare at her, betrayal etched into every fiber of your being. "Stelle."

She just shrugs. "What? I’m backing you up."

"Yeah, real convincing. You’re totally selling it," March wheezes, barely holding back another laugh.

Jiaoqiu clears his throat. "Well, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your… research.” His tone is polite, barely concealing his amusement. "I have some client work to finish, so I’ll be in my room. Have fun."

He turns to leave, his footsteps unhurried, but just before he disappears down the hall, he glances over his shoulder. His golden gaze locks with yours, a faint smile playing on his lips. "By the way," he adds smoothly, "that Dracula edit? A striking resemblance."

Your face burns hotter than the sun as he strolls away, leaving you mortified and very much on the verge of curling into a ball forever.

You bury your face in the nearest blanket, muffling a loud, frustrated groan. March leans over, whispering, "So… about that garlic test..."

The morning after, once your friends have cleared out—leaving behind only the faint smell of coffee and a suspiciously large pile of crumbs—you find yourself at the sink, scrubbing the last of the dishes. The kitchen is quiet now, save for the gentle clink of ceramic against metal.

You’re rinsing the final mug when Jiaoqiu steps out of his room. You don’t hear his footsteps— he’s always freakishly quiet—so when his raspy morning voice cuts through the silence, you nearly drop the mug into the soapy abyss.

"Mornin’," he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly as he rubs the sleep from his eyes.

You whirl around, and suddenly, all those memories from last night come rushing back—March’s presentation, and, most importantly, the fact that he saw it.

Your face heats up. Your neck burns.

You manage to croak out a greeting—something between a “good morning” and a choking sound—but the words trail off as you take him in.

Jiaoqiu has always looked unfairly good—but right now, it feels almost absurd. In the soft morning light, he’s effortlessly flawless, like he just walked off the cover of some magazine. His pale skin practically glows under the sunlight. His hair, messy from sleep, somehow falls perfectly into place, and his golden eyes catch the light, sharp and vivid, drawing attention without trying.

“I assume you had a good time last night,” he says, suddenly right next to you, voice teasing.

You nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah. Sorry if we were too loud,” you mumble, rubbing the back of your neck, avoiding his gaze.

“It’s alright,” he replies. “This apartment is as much yours as it is mine. Here, let me help finish this faster.” Without waiting for a reply, Jiaoqiu grabs a dish towel and starts drying the remaining mugs. The two of you work in a comfortable silence, the clink of the dishes the only sound between you.

When you’re done, you wipe your hands on a towel and turn to him. “We made some Songlotus cake. You just woke up, so feel free to grab some. And there’s fresh coffee in the pot.”

He gives you a small nod, eyes soft. “Thanks.”

What you definitely don’t mention is that March—with Caelus acting like her evil mastermind sidekick—turned a few of the crispy cakes into garlic landmines. Powdered, minced, pureed—she threw in every form of garlic known to mankind, probably hoping Jiaoqiu would take one bite, and dramatically burst into flames. Or, at the very least, recoil like someone slapped him with holy water.

After pouring himself a cup of dark coffee, Jiaoqiu sits down at the table. He takes a slow sip, golden eyes flicking to the leftover cakes in the middle of the table. In your peripheral vision, you watch him reach out for one, holding your breath as he picks it up. He inspects it, almost as if he’s solving a particularly tricky puzzle. He sniffs the air, and your stomach drops—does he smell the garlic?

(You’re pretty sure March and Caelus tried to mask the scent with an absolute overkill of vanilla extract. Or was it almond extract? You don't know, and frankly, you don’t want to know. But what you do know, it was probably a huge mistake, all of this.)

Jiaoqiu doesn’t seem alarmed. Maybe he trusts that your friends wouldn’t sabotage baked goods, or maybe he’s just so committed to his side-job as a nutritionist that he refuses to waste a perfectly good breakfast. Either way, he takes a bite.

You pretend to be extremely invested in wiping down the counter, sneaking glances from the corner of your eye.

And then it happens.

Jiaoqiu freezes mid-chew. A split second later, he’s coughing and his eyes are watering, as if someone blasted him with a full can of pepper spray. Wheezes echo through the kitchen as he struggles to swallow. With the last of his dignity the can muster (not that much, by the way), he takes a massive gulp of his coffee, his expression somewhere between betrayed and horrified.

“You and your friends… seem to have… interesting taste in food, as well,” Jiaoqiu manages to rasp out between coughs, his voice strained. You shrink where you stand, guilt simmering beneath your skin. Was March right in her theory? Or perhaps, did you take things too far?

Awkwardly, you step closer and give Jiaoqiu’s back a light pat, cringing at your own inadequacy. The man is choking on a crime against baking, and all you can do is offer this sad little pat. Internally cursing your friends, you grab one of the cakes and take a small, cautious bite to see if they’re really that bad.

And oh. Oh no. You immediately regret it. The flavor assaults your senses with all the subtlety of a brick to the face. It’s salty, sweet, sour, and umami all at once—a culinary abomination that defies all natural laws. 

You gag as minced garlic chunks battle for dominance against unmelted sugar granules, creating a texture so horrifying you nearly spit it out on the spot.

You can’t believe you made Jiaoqiu eat this. All because your friends had convinced you he might be a vampire. A vampire. And for a split second just now, you’d actually believed them. Why? Because he choked on the garlic cake? Anyone with a functioning palate would choke on this monstrosity.

"Shit—I'm sorry." Without a second thought, you snatch the plate of cakes and chuck it straight into the trash, refusing to even look at it. You’re already composing a furious text to March in your head—because if you’d taken a bigger bite, there’s a very real chance you’d have keeled over on the spot. "I can make you something better," you offer hurriedly. But Jiaoqiu just waves a hand, his expression tired, his face somehow even paler than usual.

"Can you pass me the medicine bottle from the fridge?" You nod quickly, opening the fridge to reveal a shelf lined with identical small vials, each filled with a thick red liquid. You grab one and hand it over.

"I think I’ll take this in my room," Jiaoqiu says, holding the small vial as he turns toward the hallway.

"I’m sorry for ruining your morning," you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, hot and unwelcome.

"It’s—" Jiaoqiu pauses, his expression softening just enough to ease the weight on your chest. "It’s alright." He reaches out and pats your head gently, ruffling your hair. "I’ll be fine."

The sun is dipping below the horizon by the time you return from a grueling day at university. Between March’s relentless pestering—complete with even more outlandish theories—and the soul-crushingly dull lectures from your professors, all you want to do is crawl into bed and hibernate until the semester ends. Unfortunately, that’s not an option. Three assignments loom over you, their deadlines inching closer.

The apartment is eerily quiet, but Jiaoqiu’s shoes are neatly lined up by the entryway. The guilt from this morning rears its head again. Is he still locked up in his room, recovering from the monstrosity of a cake you let him eat? You shake the thought away. No spiraling, no distractions. Tonight is for coursework.

With a tired sigh, you settle on the carpeted floor of the living room, leaning your back against the couch and setting your laptop on the low coffee table. The university’s digital platform greets you—an overwhelming grid of assignments and unread announcements. You skim through the options, settling on what seems like the easiest one: “Cultural Analysis: Xianzhou Alliance and the Legacy of the Abundance Wars.”

You plug in your earbuds, selecting a relaxing playlist, and settle into the task at hand. Hours slip by without you even noticing. The topic—the Third Abundance War—seems endless, each paper you open just a little more confusing or irrelevant than the last. You only get up once to restock on energy drinks and snacks, fueling yourself for what feels like a marathon of academic misery.

Groaning, you slam your laptop shut after yet another fruitless attempt to find a decent source. The deeper you dive into the history of the Xianzhou Alliance, the more it seems like you’re wading through layers of conspiracy theories and folklore instead of actual research. Despite the importance of the topic in Xianzhou history, finding proper sources seems impossible.

The amount of nonsense you’ve had to close—websites dedicated to the monstrous Borisin creatures, the mystical Foxians, and other equally questionable topics—is ridiculous. You’re pretty sure if you handed in a literature review about that nonsense, not only would you be the laughing stock of the class, but you’d be expelled on the spot. 

They're just legends, and there’s nothing scientifically sound to back them up. But here you are, wading through a swamp of unreliable sources, praying for anything that remotely resembles actual history.

A hand suddenly pats your head, and you nearly jump out of your skin, heart leaping into your throat. You yank your earbuds out, startled, only to find Jiaoqiu grinning at you, looking far too pleased with himself.

"You scared me," you grumble, swatting his hand away. 

You take a second to really look at him. He seems better now—the sickly paleness from earlier has faded, replaced by a touch of color in his cheeks. His golden eyes are bright again, brimming with that quiet amusement that always makes you wonder what’s going on in his head.

"Were you working on something?" he asks, leaning towards you, his curiosity piqued.

You nod, slumping slightly as you glance at the time. "A stupid assignment... due in—" you squint at the clock, the reality sinking in, "—in two hours and a bit." You let out a long, defeated sigh. You’re done for. There’s no way you’re getting this paper done in time. No proper sources, no coherent thoughts, and you’re still a million words short of the required word count. You're cooked, completely and utterly cooked.

"What is it about?" Jiaoqiu asks, settling down beside you on the floor, his presence warm and close.

His proximity catches you off guard. The faint scent of jasmine fabric softener lingers on him, mingling with something subtler, something metallic that you can’t quite place. It’s faint but distinct, enough to draw your focus for a moment. You shake it off and try to redirect your attention to your laptop.

An idea suddenly strikes you, and you swivel your head toward Jiaoqiu—only to freeze when you actually realize how close he is. Your faces are mere inches apart, close enough that you can make out every flicker of gold in his irises.

“You’re a Xianzhou native,” you blurt, your voice rushing to fill the sudden silence. “Any chance you know something about the Third Abundance War? Because I’ve been wracking my brain trying to find proper sources, and—well, I’m sure you can see how that’s going.”

“Let me see,” he says, reaching over to take your laptop. You freeze, a wave of secondhand embarrassment crashing over you as the screen comes to life.

It is utter chaos—over fifty tabs open, grouped and color-coded in a system that only makes sense to you, with labels ranging from “Decent Source” to “Probably Fiction” to “Absolute Nonsense, but Fun.”

He clicks on your assignment draft, and your soul momentarily leaves your body. A grand total of 400 words stares back at you—two solid citations, a lot of filler, and way too many angry swear words sandwiched between half-baked sentences.

He spends a few minutes reading through your draft, face scrunched up in concentration. Every now and then, he clicks his tongue or tilts his head, eyes lingering on certain sentences for far longer than you’d like.

“It could use some work,” he says finally, in a tone far too gentle for the absolute travesty he’s just witnessed. Some work, he says, as if it doesn’t need to be exorcised and erased from existence. You’re too terrified to reread any of it yourself, unsure of what kind of unhinged caffeine-fueled nonsense your brain had conjured.

“Yeah, no. Better to start fresh,” you mumble, already highlighting and deleting the entire document before he can respond. You refuse to meet his gaze, staring intently at the now blank page, fingers hovering nervously over the keyboard like a criminal returning to the scene of the crime.

 “Perhaps you could focus on the Lux Arrow?” Jiaoqiu suggests scrolling through a couple of tabs.

You frown, tilting your head at him. “Lan’s Sky-Shattering Lux Arrow? Isn’t that just a myth?” The words tumble out before you can stop yourself. You’d stumbled across mentions of it earlier—both in academic papers and in… less-than-reliable historical mythology blogs. From what you’d managed to piece together, it was either a groundbreaking piece of artillery technology that changed the tides of the war or an overblown legend with zero basis in reality.

“I can suggest some sources,” Jiaoqiu offers. His fingers swiftly fly across the keyboard before he pauses, scrolling through a list of results. “Here,” he says, pointing at the screen.

You lean in to get a better look. It’s a book by Zongguang, a renowned cultural anthropologist from The Xianzhou Luofu’s Grand Virtue Academy. The title alone makes your brain hurt with how dense it sounds, but it has piqued your interest, nonetheless. You’ve studied several of Zongguang’s papers throughout your courses in Xianzhou history, though you’ve never even heard of this specific book.

“It has firsthand accounts from the last battlefield,” Jiaoqiu explains, scrolling through the summary, “and covers topics like the Borisin and the Merlin’s Claw—though back then, General Feixiao was simply called Saran.”

“Wait, seriously? I thought the Borisin stuff was mostly folklore.”

“Perhaps some of it is,” your roommate replies, but there’s a shift in his tone. It’s subtle, but you catch it—the way his voice dips, the way his words slow just slightly. There’s something heavy there, almost like... anger? It’s faint, but unmistakable; and it seems to sharpen when he mentions the Lycan beasts.

You blink, caught off guard by the change. “You okay?”

Jiaoqiu’s eyes flick away from the screen, his features smoothing out like nothing happened. “I’m fine,” he says, voice calm again. “Just... the Borisin aren’t mere legends to everyone. Their methods were brutal, and their impact left scars—literal and otherwise.”

There’s something in his words that makes you pause, like the weight of them belongs to someone who was there. Which is ridiculous, obviously, because he couldn’t have been. Right?

"Alright, March, I’m not saying I believe you," you start, lying sprawled out on Stelle's plush carpet with a giant teddy bear clenched tightly to your chest. You stare blankly at the ceiling, the words barely forming in your head before spilling out. "But something strange happened, and I cannot explain it to myself."

“Oh?” March and Caelus call out at the same time from over by the fridge. You turn your head, and you’re momentarily at a loss for words. March is busy scooping homemade ice cream into bowls, while Caelus... well, Caelus is sniffing and biting into a jade-colored cloth like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You shake your head, deciding to ignore his antics. At this point, you've seen stranger things.

"Tell us!" Stelle pipes up. Meanwhile, Dan Heng is across the room, calmly trying to wrestle the cloth out of Caelus’s grip without much success.

Maybe you’re just overthinking it. Maybe you’re grasping at straws.

“You know that assignment on cultural analysis of the Xianzhou wars?” you finally say, sitting up to better face your friends. "I was having trouble coming up with a good topic and finding sources, so I asked Jiaoqiu for help."

"Go on," March says.

"I mean, I asked him because he’s a native, right? But it’s weird—he knows way more than I thought. And—"

“What’s weird about him knowing history?” Dan Heng interrupts, looking up from where he’s now holding a defeated-looking Caelus. March swats him, shushing him with a glare.

“It’s just—he wasn’t just talking about history. It was like he was living it," you continue, pulling your knees up to your chest. "When he mentioned Borisin, he completely changed. He looked... upset, like he was actively repressing anger."

“Borisin might just be a myth, same as the Vidyadhara," Dan Heng replies, shrugging. "But some people are passionate about their cultural history. Maybe Jiaoqiu is one of them."

“Sure, Dan Heng, but his recounts were too elaborate,” you argue. "It didn’t sound like some history buff talking—it sounded like he was remembering it. And when he talked about General Feixiao, it wasn’t like he was describing a famous figure from history. It was like... like he was talking about a close friend!"

“Oh, my Aeons,” March gushes, eyes wide and sparkling with excitement. “So do you think he used to be a warrior in the war? Like, was Jiaoqiu out there with a sword, fighting Borisin and stuff?!”

“March,” you deadpan, “that’s literally insane. He’d have to be hundreds of years old for that to even make sense.”

“And?” she counters, completely unfazed.

You open your mouth to argue, but honestly, what’s the point? Logic has never been March’s strong suit, and you’re too tired to debate with someone who just last week tried to convince you she saw a Vidyadhara in the campus library.

“I’m just saying,” she continues. “It’s not that far-fetched. Maybe he was in the war. Maybe he’s like a retired general or medic or something. Or—or maybe he’s secretly General Feixiao! Wouldn’t that be wild?”

“March.” Dan Heng’s voice cuts through her growing enthusiasm. “Stop filling their head with nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense! It’s a totally plausible theory!” she protests, crossing her arms. “Right, Stelle?”

“I mean... it would explain why he knew so much, right?”

You groan, burying your face in the teddy bear. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to say anything.”

“Too late,” March says, grinning wickedly. “We’re already planning the movie adaptation. I’m thinking: Jiaoqiu—secret immortal of Xianzhou, haunted by his dark past. Directed by me, obviously.”

You groan even louder.

You’re staring at the Google Doc sent in the group chat, eyes glazed over. The words blur together, swimming in and out of focus. Caelus and Stelle had relentlessly begged you to try and outdrink them—and you never back out from a challenge. But now, as you stumble home with your phone clutched in your hand, you're definitely regretting your choice.

Your head swims as you fumble with your phone, squinting at the document like it’s written in a foreign language. The room spins, and you find yourself swaying slightly, leaning against the doorframe for support.

The title stands out, bold and impossible to ignore:

March 7th’s top secret investigation protocol 🔍🔴

You blink. Twice. Slowly.

It’s time to face the facts. Your roommate is 100% a vampire. I don’t even know why we’re having this discussion. I’ve been observing for weeks (because, duh, I’m a professional), and the evidence is everywhere. I’m not saying this lightly, but, I’ve seen enough weird stuff to know. And the guy’s practically a walking, talking vampire stereotype. Here’s the definitive checklist. Foolproof.

The headache pounding in your skull intensifies as you scroll down to March’s “definitive” checklist:

Aversion to garlic ✅ Gagged at the garlic cakes. Suspicious. Dietary restrictions ✅ Weird-looking "medicine" in the fridge. Super normal. Definitely not vampire-y. Listen, I’ve seen blood. It’s the same color. Supernatural senses ✅ Remember that time he overheard us talking about him from the other side of the house? Yeah. Explain that. Remembers super old stuff ✅ Talks about the Abundance Wars like he fought in them. “Good times,” he said. GOOD TIMES.

You’re about to scroll past, when your gaze lingers on the final item:

Vampire canines? 🚨 Priority check!!! Report ASAP.

Your half-drunken brain latches onto the challenge. You stumble into your apartment, shoes clattering noisily to the floor, and head straight for Jiaoqiu’s room. 

Logic? Gone. Boundaries? Absolutely not. 

Fueled by a potent cocktail of curiosity, adrenaline, and alcohol, you throw open his door without a second thought.

You don’t bother knocking. You just slam the door open, the hinges creaking in protest. Inside, Jiaoqiu is sitting on his bed, casually flipping through a book. His eyes flick up at the sound of the door, but there’s no surprise, no alarm. He doesn’t even flinch. It’s like he knew you were going to barge in, unannounced, with no warning whatsoever.

He closes the book with an exaggerated sigh. "Something I can help you with?"

“I need to check something,” you announce, voice wobbling as you stumble over to him. Without waiting for a response, you drop onto the bed beside him, far too close, and lean in.

His brows raise in amusement. “Do you, now?”

“Yeah,” you slur. “Your teeth. Lemme see ’em.”

“My teeth?”

“Yes.” Your hand wavers near his face, trembling slightly as you poke at his cheek. “The canines. Open your mouth.”

He doesn’t stop you. If anything, his grin widens, and he leans in just enough to make your heart skip. “You think you’ll find something interesting?”

“I know I will,” you murmur, your drunken determination unwavering. Your thumb brushes against the edge of his lips, and you swear you see his eyes darken.

His mouth parts slightly, and you squint, leaning closer—a bit too close, perhaps. Your eyes zero in on his teeth, scanning for anything remotely sharp or suspicious. And then you see them.

The soft light catches just right, revealing a pair of faintly elongated canines, sharp and glinting like tiny daggers.

Your breath catches. “No way,” you whisper.

Before you can respond—or think—your hand moves on its own, fingers brushing against his teeth. His smirk deepens, and he leans into your touch. Then, without warning, his mouth closes gently around your fingertip. It’s deliberate, teasing, and before you can pull away, you feel it—a quick, sharp prick. You yelp, jerking your hand back, staring at the tiny bead of blood pooling on your skin.

Jiaoqiu watches you, unbothered, his gaze steady as he slowly licks his lips. “Interesting,” he murmurs, his tone almost lazy.

Your head spins. You stare at your finger, then at him, then back at your finger. “You—you bit me,” you stammer.

“Did I?” His smirk sharpens, his fangs catching the light again.

“I—I knew it!” you shriek.

“And now what?” He tilts his head. “Does your little investigation end here, or…?”

You don’t think. You lean in before you can think better of it, your lips crashing against his in a messy, impulsive kiss. The faint taste of blood lingers between you, but you don’t care.

When you finally pull back, gasping for air, there’s blood on his lips—your blood. He licks it away lazily.

“Well?” he asks, his voice low and teasing. “Satisfied?”

You’re definitely putting a checkmark on March’s last list item.

But that’s a problem for future you. For now, you dive back in, ignoring the faint sting on your lips and the little voice in your head screaming that this is a terrible idea.

"Thanks for inviting us," March gleefully says, her voice full of her usual energy. The whole group is sitting around your dining table, chatting and eating.

Jiaoqiu nods casually, his demeanor as composed as ever. "Of course," he replies smoothly. "It’s important to get to know my partner’s friends better. I’ve seen you all around, but it’s nice to connect properly.”

You nearly choke on your drink at the casual mention of “partner”. But Jiaoqiu doesn’t even glance your way, his expression unreadable as he takes a sip of his own drink.

March is the first to react. Her fork clatters against her empty plate as her head snaps up. "Partner?"

Stelle and Caelus exchange a knowing glance, trying and failing to hide their smirks. Dan Heng pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh, as though he can already see where this is heading.

March leans forward, elbows on the table. "Did I miss an announcement? Since when are you two a thing?”

"You know how it is," Jiaoqiu says. "When you live with someone long enough, you get to know them better. And… sometimes things happen."

"Things? What kind of things, exactly? Spill. Now."

You bury your face in your hands with a groan. "March," you mutter, voice muffled, "please don’t."

Before March can push further, Jiaoqiu rises from his seat with a faint smile. "Excuse me for a moment," he says, gesturing toward the kitchen. "I’ll bring out the rest of the dishes."

When he returns, he sets a dish in front of March first—a well-done steak, neatly plated and still steaming. "For you," he says lightly. His own serving follows, the steak so rare it looks like it might moo if you poked it.

"Apologies if my preference for steak so rare makes anyone uncomfortable," Jiaoqiu says, his golden eyes flicking briefly to March. "I just can’t resist the flavor. There’s something… primal about it."

March freezes. Her expression wavers for just a moment before she forces a tight-lipped smile. You can practically hear the wheels turning in her head as she remembers her checklist.

You shoot him a glare, mouthing, Why are you like this? He simply raises an eyebrow, as if to say, Because it’s fun.

March clears her throat, clearly trying to regain her composure. "You know," she says shakily. "you’re awfully… specific about your preferences."

"Not everyone enjoys their food well done," your roommate-turned-boyfriend adds casually. "Sometimes, a little blood adds that extra something."

A groan threatens to escape you, but you manage to hold it in. "Guys," you mutter, sinking deeper into your chair. "Please, don’t even start."

March swallows, eyes darting between you and Jiaoqiu. Her lips part, but no words come out, just a breath of disbelief.

Jiaoqiu, however, seems completely unfazed. “Cravings, preferences... they’re just part of who you are, aren’t they? No point in pretending they don’t exist." He continues to eat, taking another slow bite of his steak, his smile creeping wider as he watches her, clearly enjoying the reaction he’s getting.

Author's note: i wrote some of this while procrastinating a lab report awhile back, and the amount of revision i had to do because the fic started sounding like a full-blown research paper... yikes 🤧🤧

but yes, here’s my silly attempt at humor. now, if you'll excuse me, i’ll go cry about my resit tomorrow and hope the universe decides to take pity on me and let me pass

[mirrology]

MUSE ❛ ❁. ━━ ( n.) a person or personified force who is the source of inspiration for a creative artist.

❛ ⟡. trailblazer, dan heng, march 7th & gender neutral reader. ━━ wc: 1.1k

❛ ⟡ ━━ strictly platonic. teen reader, the reader is an artist who prefers to sketch in a sketchbook or doodle on post-it notes. Typical Astral Express shenanigans. Reader comes from a poor planet, found family astral express!! March and reader have a lot in common when it comes to capturing memories. Reader likes giving the express drawings.

To you, painting, sketching, doodling, and the like is a way to capture a moment. Just like taking a photograph, yet it takes more time, and it requires more skill. You know that it's faster with a camera. You've seen March snapping photos of the other express members in an instant.

But you take pride in your work. You won't let a camera blow out the flame of inspiration that is burning within you. That flame was the only thing you had left when you were on the streets, dressed in rags that could barely be considered clothes. As you gazed at the shining stars in the night sky from the window of the astral express, those memories resurfaced from the depth of your mind and dripped ink on the pages of your sketchbook The ink, over time, eventually became a silhouette of a child, buildings, and a city.

The piece of art was never shown to your astral express family. It was tucked away in a drawer in your room, never to see seen by eyes other than yours.

But…

There are pieces that you show your family, and all of them are gifts to preserve the memories of them and you. For one day, we will all be gone.

❛ ☆ ━━ Trailblazer

You knew their obsession with trash and trash cans, and their birthday was coming up, so you devised a plan. As an artist, art isn't just painting or drawing. It is also sculpting. The plan was… to make them a sculpture! Of what? Of them sparring with the lordly trash can, of course! So you got to work, it was many hours of grueling work, and your hands were starting to cramp up from digging them into the clay of the sculpture.

You sighed and leaned back into your seat. You stared at the finished sculpture that was sat on the table in front of you. It wasn't big, oh no, you weren't that talented, and it would be suspicious if any of the Astral Express members were to see the big statue of the trailblazer in your room.

This model can fit in your cupped hands. The details of their outfit were difficult to add, but you managed, and just in time for the big day! You turned to the cabinet that was on the side of your bed, ah! It was time! You quickly got up from your desk, grabbed the gift box that sat on your bed, and stuffed the sculpture inside. You tied the ribbon on top into a bow. You were ready! Let's hope they like it!

(And they definitely did. They thanked you almost a thousand times and declared you as their favorite)

❛ ☆ ━━ Dan Heng

You put the cap on your pen as you finished the little doodle of Dan Heng that was on a post-it note. It depicted a chibi version of Dan Heng, sitting in the archives, while reading a book. You quietly chuckled to yourself. You got up from your desk in your room and walked down the hall to the door of the archives. You switched from walking to tiptoeing once you got close, not wanting to alarm the vidyadhara that was inside the room. Just as you were about to stick the note on the door, it slid open, revealing the man in your doodle and also leaving your hand in the air, covering Dan Heng's face from your perspective.

You quickly put your hand down and beamed at the man in front of you. He only stared back with his typical poker face, although his eyes held a certain sparkle that was only reserved for you. “Dan Heng! hold your hand out.” You briefly greet him, then gesturing for him to hold his hand out for you. Dan Heng brought his hand up, and you placed the doodle of him in the middle of his palm. “That's for you! Ihopeyoulikeit,okaybyeeeeee” you blurted out and sprinted down the hallway, the embarrassment of being caught in the middle of putting a sitcky note on his door, finally caught up to you.

A dumbfounded Dan Heng stared at your running form as he awkwardly stood in the doorway. He stared down at the little art piece in the palm of his hand. Dan Heng’s lips twitched up into an amused smile. He walked back inside the archives and placed the doodle in the pile of different drawings and paintings that you had given him. Another thing to treasure.

❛ ☆ ━━ March 7th

“Ready?” March asked, her hands behind her back while a big grin was plastered on her face. “Ready.” You confirmed with a nod. Your hands were also behind your back. This was yours and March's monthly gift exchange, her's usually being photos of the express members and you. Yours being sketches of her or the both of you together, but today was different. For once, you decided to paint for her, it has been a while since you've had the motivation to paint but if it was for March you would paint a thousand paintings if it meant to preserve the memories of her and of course… to see her smile.

Little did you know Ms. March also had an extra special gift for you. March started counting down “Okay, 1… 2… 3!” At the count of three, the both of you held out your gifts. Your eyes lit up at the sight of the album that was held in the pink haired girl's hand and hers at the painting in yours. “Here.” You spoke gently and held out the covered canvas to her. She set down the album on the table beside her. March slowly took the canvas from you. She felt nervous, it wasn't every day that you painted. This must be really special.

The pink haired girl pulled down the cloth that was covering the painting. A small gasp left her mouth as she stared at the painting. It depicted you and her, with big smiles on your faces, hugging, while sitting in a field of pink carnations. A flower crown sat on your head, matching hers. March's lower lip wobbled as tears welled up in her eyes. They weren't of sadness, no. They were of joy.

March sniffled and brought you into a tight hug, startling you who was gazing at the album filled to the brim with moments of the Astral Expresses trailblazing adventures. “Thank you!” March's voice wobbled as she held you tightly. The warmth the she radiated, despite her having ice powers, was comforting and… oddly familiar.

You smiled warmly and wrapped your arms around her, hugging her back just as tightly.

“You're welcome”

[toutallyahoe]

━ energetic ,, honkai: star rail

requested by: – pairing(s): welt yang x male reader word count: 1024 warnings: cursing, age gap (implied), unprotected sex, overstimulation, subspace (implied), marathon sex (implied), dirty talk (implied) a/n: going to blow peepaw's back

dont come @ me, the game is literally about railing people lol

Welt Yang was well aware of how... energetic the "youngsters" (as Himeko would call them) of the Astral Express Crew can be. He had been with them for a while now to notice, so of course he is well familiar with how they could bring such chaos whether they mean to or not.

March 7th for example. Welt remembers when he would join them on the expedition with her and Dan Heng and he would often sigh yet be amused at the younger girl's ignorance and excitement. The many times the crew had to run from trouble on a miscommunication from locals was outstanding, now that Welt thinks about it.

Dan Heng had his times as well despite how reserved and quiet the younger man can be. Sometimes actually teasing the girl which would make March 7th often guffawed that Dan Heng had a sense of humour but then get annoyed that it would only show at her expense which causes the two to sometimes fight a bit (mostly due to March 7th not being able to let go of what Dan Heng had said). So yes, you can say that Welt was used to it by now, even though he sometimes worries and just sigh in exhaustion. Whether he was staying in the Astral Express (much to his dismay) or out on the field with them.

It was no surprise to anyone that the other addition of the "youngsters" would be energetic as well. [Name] had been with the Astral Express Crew for a while and it was safe to say he was more so a balance between March 7th and Dan Heng's energy. He would go along with March 7th's shenanigans that would often leave them in trouble but would then side with Dan Heng in missions, knowing when to actually be serious... well, he still had his cheekiness and would let out some smartass remarks that sometimes gives the older man a headache as Himeko giggles when the three youngsters would come back and retell the stories of their adventures.

So, Welt was very aware [Name] was energetic... too energetic in his opinion...

A soft, muffled moan left the older man's mouth as he bit the white pillow harshly, desperately trying to muffle the noises he makes to avoid the others from hearing what was going on in his room. Although the wet and erotic noises of [Name] slamming onto him would be heard outside if someone would listen closely enough, perhaps putting an ear to his door. But Welt wasn't focused on that, no, he can barely focus on anything, to be honest.

Welt can faintly hear [Name] coo behind him, whispering to his skin, his hot breath made Welt feel goosebumps as the younger man would kiss his shoulder and neck while his sickly sweet voice would utter such vulgar words that would have made Welt flabbergasted if it wasn't for the older man too lost in pleasure already, barely registering [Name] practically calling him a needy little whore as his hole tries its damnest to keep the younger man's cock inside him.

How long had they been going at it already? Welt wasn't sure, but he knows they had been fucking for a while now, especially from how lightheaded he felt. He had stopped counting when he had cum the third time, barely having the energy to do more. But [Name] still did, practically dragging him back to the younger man's cock as he could only just let it happen. Until he was sure he had blacked out a few times and his cock hurts from coming again.

There was no single thought in Welt's head. All those weak protests died down earlier from him and by now, the only thing in his head was nothing but [Name]'s cock deep in him. How [Name]'s dick had practically rearranged his insides to fit the other so perfectly at this point.

Fuck, he was coming again.

Welt body's shook a little as a muffled wail leave his lips, tears in his eyes as his cock was aching from coming too many times now. God, he came so many times that the bedsheets below him were too wet and sticky from his own cum. Welt was going to personally do the laundry tomorrow to keep this thing between only him and [Name]. It was going to be such a fucking bitch to do.

"... you still there?" Welt let out a muffled hum as his body shuddered at feeling [Name]'s warm cum fill him up. A soft whine leave his lips when he felt the younger man pull out his cock, which got Welt weakly stopped biting his drooled-covered pillow and turn back around to see [Name] smiling at him. Welt could only let out a quiet "yes" to his question when he had registered it as the younger man guided him and helped turned around so Welt could lay on his back. Almost immediately, Welt let out a relieved sigh as [Name] seems satisfied for today... well, he hopes...

"You were so far off it this time," [Name] chuckled, thinking back to Welt really lost far deep in sub-space, it gave him chills on how fucked out the older man was. "What a sight to see it was," [Name] said as he leaned down and pushed a hair that was sticking on Welt's sweaty forehead out of the way, smiling at the way Welt leaned into his touch that [Name] decided to hold Welt's face instead. Welt enjoyed the little action as he leaned to the hold while letting out a soft, pleased noise as he then closed his eyes to doze off. Exhausted, the older man was.

"Well, aren't you so cute when tired?" [Name] couldn't help but give a peck at the older man's cheek, making Welt let out a soft noise from the affection as he then unconsciously leaned more to [Name]'s hand that was still cupping his cheek.

God, Welt was so cute. Perhaps he would give the older man a few hours of rest before continuing again. Welt deserves it.

[kotoku]

Hellohello!

May I request an Aventurine x The Nameless!reader? I think that'll give some interesting dynamic

ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ ꜰᴏᴏᴛ

synopsis - When you and your friends are extended an invite from The Family to attend the Charmony Festival, you were looking forward to the opportunity of a get-away! (Despite the suspicion that seemed to surround the invite letter.) That is until a certain IPC Executive approaches the trouble that your group has encountered at the reception desk.

pairings - aventurine x nameless! reader

content - this is kind of an enemies-to-lovers scenario (?) but we haven't reached the lovers part yet folks, front desk drama, character shenanigans, i don't really have much to say because it's not really fluff nor angst, let's just say it's a glimpse into a relationship (that would take super duper long to develop into)

warnings - none, besides the occasional swearing

⋘ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ... ⋙

When Pom Pom had made the announcement that the Astral Express was about to head to its next destination, Penacony, a part of you was thrilled at the opportunity. However, an unpleasant feeling nagged at you. The invitation letter that was sent out by the family had suspicion written all over it. What exactly will happen at this Charmony Festival? Will your friends manage to find relaxation or get dragged down an inescapable rabbit hole? Time will only tell…

Shaking off the feeling of slight dread, you turned back to your luggage and checked that you had everything. You didn’t pack a lot, but enough to last your stay and more than enough room for souvenirs. Your train of thought was interrupted by rapid knocking, a familiar bubbly voice muffled by your bedroom door. 

“_____! We’ll be heading out soon! Don’t forget anything important!” March called, sounding a little impatient. You couldn’t blame her though, she had been waiting for this trip for a while. 

“I’m almost done! I’ll meet you guys in the main cabin!” You called back, scanning your luggage. 

After checking the rest of your stuff, you rolled out your luggage and bid your goodbyes to Dan Heng, meeting March 7th and the trailblazer at the main cabin.

“Are you guys ready?” You asked, smiling at March 7th’s enthusiasm and the Trailblazer’s excitement. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be! Let’s go before Himeko and Welt leave us stranded at the front desk!” March chimed.

March 7th hauled her luggage down the steps of the express, both you and the Trailblazer following suit. 

-----

Stepping into the Reverie Hotel, the floors which looked to span endlessly left you at a loss for words. It truly was a grand sight, the beautiful decor placed meticulously around the lobby. Near the reception desk were Himeko and Welt, seemingly frustrated and confused about something. 

The receptionist had an apologetic look. This couldn’t be good…

“Uh oh… Trailblazer, ____, something isn’t right.” March spoke, a concerned look on her features. It seems she has also noticed the scene up ahead. 

The Trailblazer had waved goodbye to the bell boy named Misha, following you and March 7th to the front desk. 

“Hey, what’s with the big gathering at the concierge about? We’ve just arrived and there’s already drama happening?” March sighed, stopping by Himeko.

“I’m sorry, but your name really isn’t in the system…” The receptionist apologized, Himeko crossing her arms in thought.

“Mr Yang, what’s going on here?” You gave Welt a questioning glance while the others were speaking to the receptionist. He sighed, closing his eyes before opening them again.

“There are 5 rooms reserved for us. However..the issue is that the Trailblazer isn’t on that list. I assume it’s because they didn’t arrive on the express until later.” Welt explained, looking over to the rest of the group. “Ms Alley, if it is possible, can we reassign the last room to the Trailblazer? It would still be the same amount of people.”

As the others were trying to find a solution to this check-in problem, you noticed a blond figure making his way over to the front desk. Observing his clothing, you were able to recognize that he was an IPC executive of the Strategic Investment Department. If you were to guess his reasoning for being here, it would be because of the invite The Family sent out. However, his presence here did not ease the dread that still plagued you.

The man glanced towards you, a smile devoid of emotion remaining on his face as he interrupted the receptionist’s explanation. 

From there, the group learned that his name was Aventurine, an IPC executive and one of the ten stonehearts, Diamond’s subordinate. With the attitude he was giving the group, you almost wanted to wipe that damn look on his face. The worst part was that he knew how frustrating he was, fueling your irritation further. You were about to make a retort to one of his statements before Himeko gave you a knowing glance. Crossing your arms with your brow twitching in annoyance, you spared Aventurine a glare. 

In return, that bastard gave you a smug smirk before returning to his conversation with Himeko.

The Trailblazer seemed to notice your irritation and gave you an empathetic pat on your shoulder, sharing the same frustrations. 

This ‘Aventurine’ was an enigma to you, his intentions and actions being hard to discern with arrows being pointed to varying conclusions. Being through a multitude of trailblazing missions, his character immediately spelled trouble for you and your friends. Yet finding just what trouble he will cause for your group will have to wait. For now, he was busy stirring trouble at the front desk with onlookers whispering and starting to gossip.

“-- I’ll be counting on all my ‘Trailblazer’ friends here. Looking forward to a delightful time with you all.” Aventurine’s voice interrupted your observation. Hearing the word ‘friends’ being uttered by Aventurine made you look at Himeko with a deadpan expression. It seems that you will be seeing each other around often if you were now considered his friends. Hopefully, he’d be much more interested in your Trailblazer friend..sorry Trailblazer.

Surprisingly, the head of the Oak Family, Sunday, and the universally renowned singer who was his younger sister, Robin, approached your group at the front desk. After Sunday spoke with the receptionist, Aventurine dismissed himself and walked with Sunday to the side, conversing about whatever it was Aventurine had business with. Before he left, he gave you a side glance and a smile. 

Robin’s voice snapped you out of your wary gaze, calling your group over to one of the lounges to have a seat. 

----- 

It had taken a while, but before you knew it you were finally checked in and had arrived at the VIP area. Extending your arms over your head, you hummed in satisfaction at the cracking of joints. 

“Glad that that’s over. I'm hoping nothing troublesome will await us when we arrive at our rooms.” You sighed, walking towards the bar that stood in the center of the room. 

People were scattered around the area, lost in their own conversation as you surveyed the area. 

The interior design had a nostalgic and dreamy aesthetic surrounding it, reminding you of vintage designs and items from your home planet. The atmosphere surrounding Penacony felt light, the concept and history of the place fueling your interest. You couldn’t wait for what encounters you’d face in the dreamscape. 

“_____! We’re going to put our stuff away in our rooms. Do you want to come with?” March 7th pulled you from your thoughts. 

Giving her a smile, you shook your head. 

“You guys can go without me. I’m going to look around for a bit.” “Ok! Trailblazer, let’s go!”

Watching March 7th and the Trailblazer race up the stairs with their belongings, you turned your attention toward the man who was playing the piano. You walked over and stood amongst the small crowd, watching his performance. Although you didn’t recognize the song that he was playing, it soothed your feelings and the stress from earlier seemed to almost fade away. 

Key word, almost.

After everyone had left for their separate rooms, you were the last to follow as you chatted with some of the people who worked there. You bid your goodbyes to the Intellitron nurse who was seated near the rooms and turned the corner into the hallway. However, you didn’t expect to see Aventurine walking out of the Trailblazer’s room. In an instant, you felt your stress come back in the form of a headache, just what was he doing in their room? 

“Ah, _____, is it? I apologize for any perceived slight that you may have felt during our first encounter.” Aventurine hummed, stopping in his tracks when he noticed you. “I look forward to any future encounters, friend.” 

Your eyes narrowed.

“What were you doing in the Trailblazer’s room, Aventurine?” You questioned, arms crossing over your chest. 

“No need for suspicion, friend. I was simply conversing with the Trailblazer about the room arrangements and offered my apologies.” He explained, watching you carefully analyze him. 

“Also, I appreciate you finding my appearance attractive enough to stare at during our last encounter, but I have to ask if that is appropriate of that of a Nameless?”

Your cheeks flared up in both embarrassment and anger, fingernails leaving indents on your palms when you uncrossed your arms. “Excuse me? I was not admiring your appearance, it’s best to not come to such conclusions after a first meeting, Aventurine.” You huffed.

“Is that so? Then the same could be said for you, friend. Although I haven’t made the best first impression, it wouldn’t be wise to assume that that makes up my whole character, correct?” Aventurine countered, his smile widening at your increasing irritation.

“I suppose so, my apologies.” You begrudgingly apologized, your balled fists fell lax. 

“Mmmm, I’m glad you agree. Now that that’s resolved, I’d like to discuss something with you.” Aventurine strolled closer to you, a sly smile crossing his features. This couldn’t be good. 

“Apologies, Aventurine, but it seems that–” “Friend, I would like to make you an offer that would benefit the both of us.” 

The distance between the both of you was small, about a foot away from each other. Your brow 

twitched at the closeness, nervousness clawing at your stomach. Yet, you stood your ground.

Before he could speak another word, a woman with purple hair interrupted the both of you. 

“Excuse me, do any of you know where this area is?” She inquired, giving Aventurine a glance and then looking at you. 

“I’m sorry, miss. I think there is a Family Member in the lounge who may know where your room is. Would you like me to escort you to them?” You tried taking the opportunity to get away from Aventurine and whatever he was scheming. 

“...No, that’s okay. Thank you for your help.” The woman left, continuing to pass you guys. 

“...You’ll have to excuse me, but I am feeling awfully tired after my travels.” Aventurine was about to speak up but you had already passed him, walking to your room. “I hope your stay in Penacony is a pleasant one, Aventurine.” 

He stared at your retreating form, turning a corner into another hallway. Aventurine sighed in disappointment, having looked forward to talking with you. Perhaps, he’ll have to wait until he sees you again to have a proper conversation. 

“I look forward to when we meet again, _____.”

⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ⋙

note - hi everyone! i just want to say that it'll probably be a bit until i post something but i have received some of your requests! this week seems fairly busy so i'm sorry for any slow responses. i hope to get something out by tomorrow or thursday. thank you all for your understanding and support! (´◡`)

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Yeah I got a request. Cuddles with mommy characters of your choice would heal me of my ailments, like a victorian child who would be soothed by seeing the sea one final time before the affliction takes hold

(Genshin Impact/H:SR/GFL) Cuddling with Lisa, Yae, Yelan, Himeko, Natasha, Springfield, and RO635

That's...oddly specific.

Lisa cuddling with her S/O is comfortable and very lazy.

Whether it be reading a book, drinking tea, or simply enjoying each other's warmth, there will be nothing productive done that day.

But in order to achieve such heavenly bliss, they will have to work doubly hard right before, so that way they can lounge about with no risk of worrying about work.

That, or she'll find excuses. If it's raining, then oh well! Nothing to do but relax at home.

With her eyes slowly fluttering open, her head rests into the crook of S/O's neck, latching onto them with both her arms.

(Lisa) yawn "It's so early in the morning..."

S/O's eyes glance over to the wall before sighing.

(S/O) "It's ten."

(Lisa) "Hm...still too early, cutie..."

Though cuddling with Yae can lull S/O a somewhat sleepy state, somehow they feel like that's exactly what she wants.

Yae's smile seems to indicate she has something up her sleeve.

(Yae) "Oh? Why are you getting so antsy of all a sudden, S/O?"

(S/O) "I know that look, Miko..."

(Yae) "Do you now? Is it truly so mind-boggling that I too, can enjoy just some regular affection?"

...A moment of silence gives her the answer.

With a flick of their forehead, her hand playfully mimics a fox with her fingers.

(Yae) "Sorry to disappoint dear, but I just wish to spend some quality time today.~"

She of course, jumpscares them later to which she laughs endlessly about.

Yelan rolled the dice, and have dictated to her that she take a break.

And she wasn't really feeling like finishing the rest of work anyway, so this works out.

(Yelan) "Not planning on moving anywhere for a while, S/O?"

(S/O) "Guess not with you laying on me like this."

(Yelan) "Perfect, don't mind if I do.~"

Yelan rests her head on S/O's stomach and dozes off for a while.

S/O smiles as one hand brushes against her hair. Having her relax with them was a rare treat.

And though they didn't know entirely what she did, getting her to sleep with someone in the room meant she trusted them completely.

Plus, they knew Yelan would want to get dinner at some point tonight, no need to rush things, as she would say.

As the Astral Express is travelling through the stars, Himeko spends a good chunk of her time with S/O, close together on the couch.

Sometimes its drinking coffee together, sometimes its talking with the other crew members, and sometimes its even just sitting together in silence.

As much as their expeditions were ways for everyone to bond, it was the quiet moments like these that Himeko cherishes with her S/O the most.

After all, no one quite knew where their final stop could be, and-

(S/O) "Himeko?"

Himeko snaps out of her mini reverie and feels S/O grab her hand, turning to look at them.

(S/O) "You alright? You were spacing out a little there."

(Himeko) "Ah, don't worry, I'm okay."

Himeko lets S/O's head rest on her shoulder and she closes her eyes, committing this feeling to memory.

(Himeko) "I just want to stay this way for a little longer..."

Natasha lets S/O hold her after a long day, a feeling she very much welcomes.

(S/O) "Hey Nat, feeling tired?"

She hums in response, her body relaxing as their hand brushes some strands of hair out of her face.

(Natasha) "As always, my dear..."

S/O chuckled at that, and let her ramble on about her day, ranging from the state of patients or whatever shenanigans the Moles got up to.

Though she'd be right back to doing more tomorrow, for now she could at least enjoy the company of someone she loved.

It was nice to be pampered every now and then.

No objections from her when it comes to being looked after, instead of always the other way around.

Springfield's smile grows wider the moment she sees S/O come into her cafe.

(Springfield) "Welcome back, love."

(S/O) "Thanks. Mind if I get the usual?"

(Springfield) "Already in a cup."

Making S/O sit in a nearby booth, she finishes cleaning her cups before joining them, both of them snuggling into each other.

Though she was a T-Doll, the warmth she gave off was just as real as any human.

(Springfield) "Work around the base busy as always?"

(S/O) "Psh, especially when Kalina and the Commander have me running around!"

A soft giggle escapes her lips as one hand barely moves to cover it, letting S/O continue and listen intently, all while her arm wraps around theirs.

RO sighs when S/O asked to hold her.

She was still in the middle of processing some reports, but she supposed it wouldn't hurt.

At least no one was watching this time.

(RO635) "You have been working hard lately...Okay okay, come here..."

With a blush creeping onto her face, RO holds S/O tightly, and not giving them space to wiggle their way out.

Assuming they even would.

Hopefully, she wouldn't have to say out loud how much she loves them and that the blush on her would do all the talking.

(S/O) "RO, you're head is burning hot, you alright?-"

(RO635) "A-Ah! I'm fine just...j-just a little embarrassed."

(S/O) "I thought you'd be used to this by now-"

She turns to them pouting, but her hold on them has gotten tighter.

[lizdive]

I propose reader being a big brother figure who's responsible and reliable for the astral express trio (March 7th, trailblazer, Dan Heng) since Welt is the grandpa/father figure while himeko is the mother figure

i do 💍 /j this is such a cute idea i love the astral express crew found family trope it’s so cute <33 i don’t think i did this too well concept wise i’m sorry,,, but thank you for requesting <3 If you’re not satisfied then just tell me and i’ll redo it !! <33

notes 𐙚 male! reader — "you" + "he/him" + "big brother" used to refer to the reader ,, reader as an older brother figure ,, platonic relationships ,, trailblazer is not specific — can be seen as stelle or caelus ,, not proofread so excuse typos auhm ,,,,,,,

⭑ Whether you joined first or last, your closeness to the express does not differ. You’ll always be the one MARCH runs to when she wants to try out new outfits and needs an opinion, or when DAN HENG needs help with the archives, or when the TRAILBLAZER wants to go dumpster diving.

⭑ If you joined before DAN HENG, you probably had the role of Astral Express Guard and handled the archives. You left the most of the archive work to DAN HENG when he joined so he could freely enjoy the archives, but whether you give up your role as Astral Express Guard or still hold it alongside DAN HENG is up to you.

⭑ HIMEKO and WELT are very thankful for your responsibility and reliability, and HIMEKO will praise you for it with a pat on the head or the back. While DAN HENG is responsible and reliable, too, it’s nice for someone to relieve the stress of the TRAILBLAZER and MARCH from his shoulders while looking after him, too.

⭑ Also, while DAN HENG is a victim of the TRAILBLAZER and MARCH’s shenanigans, you’re always there to put a stop to them before they get too out of hand. Sometimes whenever you four are on a mission and your separated from the group, the moment you all meet back up DAN HENG will snitch on MARCH and the TRAILBLAZER. They’ll convince you to not snitch to HIMEKO and WELT after you scold them.

⭑ You’re the unofficial official chaperone for those three so good luck.

⭑ During crew group photos you’ll always be in the middle between WELT and HIMEKO. Doesn’t matter if you’re on the shorter side or the taller side.

⭑ After the Xianxhou arc, DAN HENG will find solace in your presence. Whether it’s just in silence or you comforting him verbally, he appreciates it. If you stay with him on the express during Penacony, he may feel a tear being shed from how touched he is.

⭑ The TRAILBLAZER will call you 'big brother' and depending on how you view / play them, it can be seen as either teasing or genuine. MARCH does it, too, but it’s joking.

⭑ WELT always feels himself relaxing more when you join him on missions because he knows you’ll be able to handle yourself and enemies as well as keep up with negotiations and pitch in ideas should there be any. He’ll make sure you don’t push yourself, of course, but he will appreciate you fighting diligently.

⭑ With HIMEKO it just feels like you’re babysitting the crew while she deals with the important things. It’s like when a mother is talking with a teacher and the oldest is trying to keep his siblings in check so they don’t do anything stupid.

⭑ The trio would follow big brother! reader like ducklings and if anyone calls them out on it, they’ll deny it. Maybe TRAILBLAZER wouldn’t and would crack a joke, but DAN HENG and MARCH will definitely deny it, DAN HENG being better at doing so than MARCH. big brother! reader just laughs and says he’s fine with it and doesn’t mind.

⭑ Good heart health is most likely non-existent. Poor heart will be at risk of stopping permanently with all the shit those three get into. HIMEKO and WELT will start taking your place in missions because you’ll need 5–12 stress and anxiety-free rest days after every few missions.

⭑ If anything during a mission is going downhill you’re the first person the trio will think to call. Big brother to the rescue!

[marragurl]

I have this VISCERAL need for an AU where everyone’s perception of Ratiorine is completely skewed and they all think they hate each other when in reality they’re actually married.

They had a small ceremony years ago, fully live together, have matching pajama sets, cutely bicker and have inside jokes with each other, constantly use endearments when referring to one another in public, have a combined 20 step hygiene routine, are each other’s first choice if there’s a mission that require 2 people, AND NO ONE BELIEVES THEY’RE MARRIED! OR EVEN IN A RELATIONSHIP!

AVENTURINE EVEN SIGNS HIMSELF AS AVENTURINE RATIO ON INVITES OR LETTERS OR PAPERWORK (Kakavasha Ratio on their marriage certificate, I like to think in this AU they’ve worked through their past trauma together already), BUT EVERYONE THINKS IT’S A TYPO AND HE MEANT TO WRITE THEM SEPARATELY SINCE THEY’RE ALWAYS ASSIGNED ON MISSIONS TOGETHER.

The only people who know are the Stonehearts, and that’s only due to Aventurine’s contract/work as IPC, so they were the ones who officiated/were witnesses to the wedding.

Everytime they all go out to get a drink or something, I need Topaz in the back looking insufferable as Ratiorine are in full lovey-dovey mode AND NO ONE NOTICES. I’d be the same girl, they could broadcast their honeymoon and STILL people would think it’s some weird powerplay hate thing, Topaz is later found crying to Jade about how she finally understands why Ratio calls everyone idiots, how are people so blind?! They’ve even started using the same motions and same phrases Jade, WHY CAN NO ONE ELSE SEE IT???

The only reason the Penacony plan goes off without a hitch is that everyone has the biggest preconceived notion that Aventurine and Ratio despise each other WHEN IT’S JUST THEIR USUAL MARRIED BICKERING. NO ONE CAN EVEN FATHOM THE TWO OF THEM LIKING EACH OTHER, LET ALONE MARRIED???

(In this AU, Aventurine gives up his room because the Reverie made the same mistake of not understanding the signature and assigned him and Ratio to different rooms, and now there’s a nice clean way of getting rid of the extra room, making a connection with the Astral Express, AND rooming with his dear husband, what great luck!)

I want it to get to a point where they could fully make out in front of Sunday and the man would STILL believe that Ratio would betray Aventurine. Aventurine during the entire interrogation scene is just constantly in the state of “my husband is such a good actor, I’m so proud of him” *heart eyes and winks to Ratio when Sunday isn’t looking* and Ratio is just straight up looking worried for Aventurine and immediately rushes after him when it’s all over AND NO ONE BATS AN EYE

Ratio just mentally apologizing to Aventurine after every little fake fight they have and dying on the inside and doubling down on every bit of affection he can in between (and even during) the fights, and Aventurine is just having fun having his husband’s attention all to himself no matter the form. (plus the rush of knowing just how much they trust each other always makes him warm)

Aventurine is fully ok with this weird perception people have of him and his husband since it always helps with his schemes and gambles paying off, and while Ratio wants to bash everyone in the head for even daring to think he hates his husband, he keeps quiet because he trusts that Aventurine will always come back to him and make it all work.

But that’s not enough to stop him with showering Aventurine with adoration and love in public. If the public are too much of idiots to realize something as obvious as their love, Ratio won’t stop it from showing his dear husband just how much he means to him.

This is fully AU of course, we all know canon Ratiorine is the longest softest pining game in history. Funny enough, Topaz is still suffering in the back due to their relationship shenanigans. She better be getting some financial compensation for this, I just know Aventurine complains to her about his crush. Ratio is fully at his own place writing out thesis after thesis about the meaning of love and psychoanalyzing his own feelings. He forwards them to Topaz for review because I like to think she’s somehow become a weird bouncing board for his frustrations about her coworker. Topaz is crying.

[pishposh-haberdash]

I don’t think we’re in Teyvat anymore.

I’ve had this stewing in my brain ever since one of my favorite Haikaveh enjoyers @ginnungagay mentioned getting into Star Rail again and I just. Could not stop thinking about the absolute shenanigans of these two somehow getting isekai’d into Star Rail.

They’d definitely join the Astral Express, because frankly, they’re so damn lost. What the hell else are they gonna do? (I also designed their room on the Express in the sims, check it out :3 )

[squiddy-god]

Mmmmmm more twst x hsr thoughts but this time

Twst mc/yuu getting transported into hsr

Imagine it's after graduation, Crowley after years finally finds the best solution for everyone! You can travel back and forth between your world and twisted wonderland, amazing right? Wrong because the moment you step through the mirror your tumbling face first onto the floor of... A train? Huh? And staring back at you is 5- no 6 very confused faces a tall older man with brow hair that seems to be starting to grey, a beautiful woman with red hair, a cute girl with pink hair- a guy with black hair and another person with grey hair- and of course the most adorable bunny thing you have ever seen

The older man- welt- is immediately asking your business and where you came from- cane and black hole at the ready

You try to quickly explain that you came from the mirror- now mysteriously in the corner of the astral express lobby. And that you were just trying to get to your home world- rather home universe

You are confirmed not a threat and allowed to stay on the astral express, therefore becoming a nameless

When you aren't helping with trailblazing you travel back to twisted wonderland, telling the others about your adventures in this new world (deja vu anyone?)

The shenanigans are crazy, trying to explain that you went from a modern world, to medieval wizard BS, to the future is a harrowing experience already

Even funnier if you end up getting some kind of elemental ability/blessings from a aeon because now you finally have a leg to stand on

Whether or not the blessings work in twst is up to you

Some funny things I can see happening :

Welt being truly horrified at Crowley and his negligence

You/yuu managing to drink himekos coffee because you have suffered lilia's... Everything tbh

Showing March your magic camera (I feel like the camera isn't talked about enough in the twst fandom) and all the pictures you have taken

Grimm being jealous of the cat cakes because every time you come back you smell like them and also have pictures with them

Grim getting jealous of pompom (vise versa)

Being unfazed by the stellaron much to everyone's shock and dismay ("grim would probably try to eat it")

Being unfazed by boss fights and explaining that at least 8 people have tried to kill you and that's being on the low side

Seeing silver-wolf and thinking "ah shit not again" because it reminds you of idia

Being on the loufu and meeting Jin Yuan like "if I had a nickel for every :3 general I met with a sword son I'd have two nickels"

Seeing dang heng in his IL form and immediately blurting out "HORNTON?!" because Obviously

Telling malleus you met two new dragon

This interaction :

Twst!nameless : *completely unfazed by entering the dreamscape, honestly a little on edge*

Sunday : you seem on edge despite also seemingly being unfazed by entering the dreamscape for the first time, is something perhaps bothering you?

Twst! Nameless : well I've been in a dreamscape before- long story with a dragon- and the last time I was in one I fought in a war-

Sunday : WHAT????

Alternatively twst! Nameless being suspicious of Sunday for the entire time and once he reveals everything its just "see! Never trust a traumatised religious man with grey hair!" Rollo flash backs are real

Or twst! Nameless going "the last time I attended a important singing event/competition with a beautiful singer someone turned into a monster and everyone almost got poisoned and died, the whole place was wrecked... Thankfully we had a dragon to help but-" *the entire penacony quest happens* "I spoke to soon and cursed us"

Just another chaos maker on the astral express

[lilliangst]

guinaifen and sushang shenanigans on the astral express, preview of my piece for the hsr women zine!!

PREORDERS OPEN LINK BELOW