#boothill hsr

[odekoyma]

What happened?

[dumbification]

PONYBOY ft. boothill

( synopsis ) it's pretty unprofessional to mess around with your work partner on the job—but a single ride, just for fun, wouldn't hurt.. ..right? (｡•̀ᴗ-)

( tags ) boothill x fem!reader, nsfw, co-workers, alcohol, oral sex ( m receiving ) cowgirl position, tit play, spanking, clothed sex, photography of said sex, under the influence

( wc ) 2.2k

( toni's note ) i literally wrote this at night on a cup of matcha and a benadryl pill to help me sleep. but anyway AAA!! sorry for being suuuper inactive, since my life is pretty much active!! i hope my friends are still here.. .·°՞(¯□¯)՞°·.

“you can��t just boss me around!” he cackles. “then can you do me one last favor, pumpkin?” 

“fine.”

you step outside to leave the cockpit, in search of something boothill had assigned you to look for. it was said to be inside a red crate, so it must have been inside the storage room, right? you eventually find the said crate after about ten minutes running around looking for it. the phrase ‘special supplies’ is plastered all around it. After taking a look at what’s inside, you find nothing but a flimsy looking camera. well, you thought it was flimsy. you boot it up, introduced to a high quality opening animation on the screen. not knowing how to navigate the camera, you press and play around the countless buttons on it, and one of them initiates a flash. a small film prints out the image you just took. this must be what boothill was looking for, so you take it back to him.

“perfect, we’ll be using this for the.. documentation of our mission.” he smiles as he gently handles the camera, careful not to break it. “we’re not gonna.. fight anyone?” boothill shakes his head. “come on. I was prepared.” “better luck next time! hah!” he cackles. “well, look at that,” you look through the window. “we’re here.” brushing the dust off of your pants as the gates of the ship open, a ramp slowly settles into the ground. “alright, where to?” “nowhere but forward.”

so you may have gotten lost in the middle of nowhere. it felt like days on end, days of you and boothill searching for the town you were supposed to look after. the eternal scorching heat of the sun pricked at your skin, covered in a thin coat of sweat. you looked like you’ve seen the end of it all, while boothill barely broke a single sweat, he looked untouched–unscathed. “don’t you have some GPS device installed inside of you?” your brows furrow and eyes squint. “I’m a cyborg, not some multifunctional home device.” you groaned, but momentarily let out a small gasp. “i can see it.” your hand grasped at what seemed to be nothing as you collapsed to the ground in victory. “see what, the light?” you wheeze a simple no, he turns to see whatever your hand could possibly be pointing to. “holy shirt. we’re actually here.” a cluster of buildings could be seen in the distance. “finally!” you almost sobbed.

“that feels amazing..” your parched throat cleared up after a few desperate gulps of water. “just what i needed.” boothill heaved, placing a now empty whiskey glass back on the bar’s counter. “boothill,” he looked in your direction. “we should be settled in a hotel by now.” you yawned. “come on! let’s have a little fun. you drink, don’t you?” he said, handing over a glass of whiskey. you hesitatingly took his offer, taking the shot. you eventually loosen up and get into it,

It was hours and hours of talking, full of random conversations, and small talk. you would mention whatever crazy thing you thought of, paying no mind to what your sober self would say about these decisions. It was until you acted out one of these crazy thoughts of yours. “and then i–hey, sugar, what are you doin’?” his eyes were open wide in genuine curiosity and shock, at what you were doing right now, and what he knew you were about to do. you leaned forward to feel around his chest, one hand tugging at the zipper of his jacket, and the other leading up to take his hat. you slowly take the hat and place it on your head–all while keeping your eyes on the cowboy. “sugar, i don’t think you know what you’re doin’. you know what this means, right?” he looked eager himself to grant what you wanted–but now and here was definitely not the time and place to do it. “oh, trust me,” you bring your face closer to his. “i know. please.” boothill’s eyes soften, bringing himself to whisper in your ear. “not here. come with me.” your eyes widen as he sweeps you off of your seat with a single arm, carrying you bridal style. “here’s the money, sir. keep the change, thank you kindly.” 

he grabbed your things with his free hand, and took you to a small, local inn in the town. you grew impatient at boothill, who did his best to be as quick as possible–practically throwing money at people instead of paying them properly, like the bartender or hotel concierge, without a care in the world. he had one thing in mind, and it was to get the two of you some privacy–for what was to come. the door behind boothill–who was still carrying you–had closed shut. “boothill–” you yelped as he dropped you on the bed. “eager, aren’t we?” your words slur. he turns to you with a dark look in his eyes. “you made the move, don’t you want this more than i do?” well, he was right. the two of you have been waiting for this for a while, but it was mostly you who subtly pushed the idea onto him. he always played around it, but now was truly the moment for him to take action on it. 

his eyes flicker down to your lips, giving you a hint of what he’d do next. he hesitates for a moment, but soon gets into the sensation of kissing you. It was slow and sensual, tongue massaging the other as lips crash into one another. you break away to catch your breath.

despite being so eager and hungry like some dog moments ago, he surprisingly took things slowly. he kneeled down and folded his body to meet yours. feeling around your clothed body, his hands patiently explored the planes of your abdomen. little shivers would send down your spine when his fingers would brush against the more ticklish parts of you–particularly near your already wet heat. he’d bring his hand to play with one of your tits, as he kissed around where he pleased, palms kneading the flesh and fingers toying with your hardened nipples. they were sensitive, and you knew that. but you didnt know they could get this sensitive–especially when they’re not even bare. “i need more..” you bite your lip, rubbing your thighs together to compensate for the lack of friction between them. 

while he mindlessly grinds the mattress beside you, he slips his hand underneath your blouse, to have his cold metal thumb to play with your stiffening bud. boothill’s eyes blow wise after a moan slips out of you. wanting to hear more, he climbs on top of you to rut into you instead.“may i?” you nod, and he slips his other hand to play with your other, neglected breast. as you pant and mewl, he nudges you to the edge, grinding his hips into yours fervently, brushing his fingers against your nipples with a steadily quick pace, and lips travelling down from your mouth to suckle at the crook of your neck. 

you whine as he sucks harder and harder, leaving small, dark bruises. “h-hey.. stop. it hurts.” and he does. he pulls away and licks his lips, thumb brushing them right after. “sorry, sugarplum.” his words start to slur as well, his southern drawl thickening. “wait, did you really–”

“i did. because i care, hon.” your heart pounds and melts into mush at his small but meaningful words. but well, now you didn’t want to stop. you pull him up by the collar of his jacket to turn him around and push him back down. “may i?” he pleads a yes, and you then hurriedly unbuckle his belt to slip it out, and pull his tight leather pants down to reveal the very evident tent in his boxers. It was soaked in his arousal, which you knew was synthetic–but it still amazed you, knowing how detailed his anatomy was constructed to be. you slip his boxers away to see his erection spring up. you felt a wave of fear crash through you. how is this thing gonna fit? you shake away those useless thoughts and test the waters.

you experiment things you’ve thought about on him, starting by lightly stroking his dick. he brought his palm to cover his mouth, and squeezed his eyes shut–to prepare himself for whatever you had in store for him. “what, do you not like it?” you ask with genuineness. “n-no. i love it..” his face flares up in arousal, a deep blue appearing on his cheeks. his sensitivity settings must be high. your tongue flicks at his tip, then swirling your tongue around it.  you attempt to take him in his entirety in your mouth, just to further lubricate him. but to be honest, it was pretty difficult to take more than half of his cock inside. 

his dick reached the back of your throat by now. your head sloppily bobbed up and down, wrapping everything around him until you reached the base. he groaned and covered his mouth again, to suppress his whimpers and moans. “oh fork me.” you pull away with a pop, and start to unbuckle your own pants. 

“whatever you say.” hearts practically carved into your eyes, your face showing a newfound kind of love for him. your trousers are pulled down, with your panties pulled to the side. you drag his cold and hard tip along your folds, teasing boothill. “do you like it like this?” you ask, continuing to rub your pussy along his tip. “as long as it’s you.” he would always sweet talk you just for the sake of sweet talk, but now it feels full of love and genuine care, it was like sugar. “stay still, sugarplum.” he fixes his hat on your head as it threatened to fall off.

“now, i think you should stay still.” you drop your hips without warning and snuggly wrap his dick with your warm walls. you groan in unison holding onto each other for dear life. his hands reach to grab your ass, smacking it firmly seconds later. you squeak. “ride like there’s no tomorrow, baby.” boothill glares with lust and love in his eyes, staring you down. you slowly move around his cock, grinding against his hips to get into motion. slowly but surely, you began to bounce on it, a wet smacking sound filling the room. with each thrust after trust of yours, he bucks up his hips to hit that spongy spot inside you. your arousal squirts everywhere as you  squeal and scream his name endlessly. “that’s it, babygirl. keep going.” he spanks your ass again, having you squeak and throw your head back.

he pulls the camera from earlier out to take a shot. “smile!” the camera’s flash lights up the dimly lit room for a second, and reflects on your skin–which was coated in a thin sheen of sweat. boothill took a few more pictures, of your fucked out expressions, or crazy angles of you bouncing on his cock.

“i’m–i’m gonna come.” tears roll down your face, which are soon wiped away by boothill’s thumb. he hums lowly, telling you to go ahead. you yell out his name as you cream all over his dick, cum slowly dribbling out. his own climax follows after yours, and babbles your name drunkly. as you both come down from your highs, he comforts you as you sob and cry through it, waves and bolts of pleasure crashing and striking through you. all this tension between you two had finally been broken, and this might have been your best orgasm yet.

you languidly grind your hips against his, riding out your high. “ready for round two?” his hand rakes through your hair. your eyes light up. “hell yeah..” you were ready for another go, but your body said otherwise. you plop down on top of him in defeat. he lets out a soft laugh. “It’s alright, sugar. don’t sweat it.” 

you raise your hips up for his still hard cock to pop out. boothill turns you around to pepper you–and especially your neck, in small pecks and kisses. you pull the hat on your head to cover your flushed face, but he pushes it back up to see you again. “I might just give this to you, you look good with it on.”

“you know,” he says in between kisses. “i’ve been waiting to do this with you for a while.” “really?” you coo. he hums in response, continuing to adorn your neck in loving marks. “i’ve just been.. waiting for you. I want to respect you and your decisions as much as i can.” “are you serious?” he paused to look at you, waiting for what else you had to say. “I’ve been hinting this at you for months..” nonetheless, your heart practically melted at those sweet words of his. he chuckles softly. “well, we both get want we want now.” “yeah.” you gently cup his cheeks as your forehead touches his. you both giggle. 

“by the way, can i see the photos?” you’re curious about the shots he took.

[hquntinghunter]

saw this and thought of boothill

[jaskittea]

SAVE A HORSE RIDE A WHAT?!

[aventurineswife]

UNDER THE MISTLETOE WITH THE FOLLOWING

Aventurine, Kaveh, Dan Heng, Mortefi, Xiangli Yao, Aalto, Sunday, Boothill

(I say you break it into parts and add more characters you wanna write for for this one)

-Smooch Anon 💋

Under the Mistletoe

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Mortefi x Reader, Kaveh x Reader, Aalto x Reader, Xiangli x Reader, Romance, Holiday Season, Mistletoe kiss, Slow burn, Gentle intimacy, Slight angst, Soft Kaveh, Mutual Feelings, Tender Moments, Heartwarming, Sweet Confessions, Comfort, Winter Special!

The warm glow of the holiday decorations illuminated the cozy room, the soft crackling of the fireplace adding to the festive ambiance. You and Aventurine found yourselves standing near the mistletoe, a playful glimmer in his eyes.

"Ah, it seems we’ve been caught under the mistletoe," he remarked with a smirk, one eyebrow arching. His voice was light, playful, but there was an unmistakable tenderness behind it. He tilted his head, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "What do you think we should do about that, hmm?"

You glanced up at the mistletoe, a light blush creeping up your cheeks. "Well, tradition says—"

Before you could finish, Aventurine stepped closer, his fingers gently tracing your jawline. His gaze softened, and he leaned down with a playful grin. "A kiss, then." he whispered, before capturing your lips in a gentle, teasing kiss.

The world around you seemed to fade as his warm embrace enveloped you. When he pulled away, his smile was one of both mischief and affection.

"You know," he murmured, eyes gleaming, "sometimes fate plays its hand quite well."

The dim glow of the holiday lights danced around you as the train moved through the vast expanse of space. You stood in the small common room of the Astral Express, your thoughts drifting in peaceful solitude.

That is, until Dan Heng entered, a quiet figure in the doorway. His gaze flickered to the mistletoe hanging in the corner, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he caught sight of you standing there.

"I... didn't expect you to be here." Dan Heng said, his tone as reserved as ever, though you could detect the slight tension in his voice.

You smiled at him. "It seems the mistletoe has decided our fate for the evening," you teased gently, the warm holiday spirit making you bold.

Dan Heng’s usually calm demeanor faltered just slightly, his lips pressing together in a tight line. Slowly, he stepped closer, and the moment stretched out. “I... I don’t usually partake in such traditions,” he admitted, his gaze avoiding yours for a brief moment.

But then, almost as if drawn by some invisible force, he closed the distance between you, his fingers brushing the side of your hand before cupping your cheek. He leaned in, his lips brushing yours softly in a rare moment of vulnerability.

When he pulled away, his eyes met yours, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I suppose it wasn’t so bad."

The cold wind of the galaxy’s outskirts ruffled Boothill’s white hair, and his sharp, shark-like teeth glinted as he scanned the space station’s holiday decorations. His mechanical limbs clicked with each step, a mix of metal and muscle, as he followed you through the crowded halls.

You couldn’t help but laugh at how out of place he seemed among the bright, colorful decorations. "Not exactly the place you'd expect to find a cowboy, huh?"

He shot you a smirk, his eyes glinting under the dim light. "I’m a man of many surprises," he replied gruffly.

As you rounded a corner, you found yourself standing beneath a hanging mistletoe. Boothill raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “What now?” he asked, his voice laced with challenge and curiosity.

Before you could say a word, he stepped forward, his hand resting on your shoulder as he leaned in close, his mechanical arm gently grazing your back. "Guess it's tradition, darlin’," he muttered, his voice low as his lips met yours in a quick, fiery kiss.

You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the tension of the moment quickly evaporating as Boothill pulled away, offering a rare, roguish grin. "Wouldn’t want to break tradition, now would we?"

The soft glow of holiday lights twinkled through the windows, casting warm, golden reflections onto the floor. The chill of winter air had made its way into the room as you stood, adjusting the decorations hanging from the ceiling. As you reached for the last sprig of mistletoe, the sound of footsteps behind you made your heart skip a beat.

Turning, you were met with Sunday, his eyes glimmering with an unreadable emotion. He stood tall, his shoulder-length hair flowing like a cloud of silver-blue waves, and his long, dark coat perfectly tailored to his frame. His usual composed demeanor softened, just slightly, in the warmth of the moment.

“I see you’ve been busy.” Sunday remarked, his voice calm yet laced with a subtle amusement.

You smiled, positioning the mistletoe above the doorway with a sense of finality. “It’s almost perfect.” you replied, eyes meeting his.

The silence between you stretched for just a beat too long. Sunday’s eyes flickered to the mistletoe, then back to you, the flickering of his halo shimmering faintly in the soft light. His usual restraint was evident, but there was something different now—something almost inviting.

You couldn’t help but laugh nervously, realizing the unspoken rule. “You know what comes next.” you said, the words hanging in the air.

Sunday took a slow step closer, his presence commanding but gentle, his golden earrings catching the light. A soft smile tugged at his lips, though it was still tempered by his usual thoughtful composure.

“Under the mistletoe, is it?” he mused, almost too casually, his golden eyes locking with yours.

You nodded, unsure how this would unfold. There was a subtle tension in the air, the quiet warmth of the room at odds with the thoughts running through your head. His calm nature was always a grounding force, yet you felt something new simmering beneath the surface.

Without a word, Sunday’s gloved hand reached for yours, his fingers warm despite the chill in the air. “I suppose it would be improper to leave you standing here alone...” he said, his voice still quiet, but there was something deeper now, something vulnerable.

He leaned in, his face inches from yours, the soft scent of his coat mingling with the festive air. His lips were a whisper away from yours, the space between filled only with the steady rhythm of your heartbeats.

The moment hung in balance, his breath warm on your skin as he paused, waiting.

You had only a moment to decide. The choice felt monumental, though Sunday’s presence was enough to make you feel safe, even in the most uncertain of moments.

Finally, he closed the distance, the kiss slow and deliberate, carrying with it the weight of his quiet affection and complex thoughts. For a fleeting moment, the world outside faded, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of your shared connection.

When you finally pulled away, Sunday’s gaze softened. “You are my dream...” he whispered, the words carrying more meaning than you expected. His voice, usually so detached, now seemed to hold an intimacy that stirred something deep inside you.

“Even if it’s a dream I’ll never wake from?” you teased softly.

His lips curled into a knowing smile, but his eyes held a certain sadness. “Perhaps,” he said, his voice low, “but some dreams are worth living forever.”

And in that moment, under the mistletoe, you understood. His world, with all its complexities, found a kind of softness in you. And for now, that was enough.

The cozy warmth of the holiday season had settled into the lively halls of Sumeru, and the air was filled with the scent of spices and pine. Lanterns glowed softly, their light dancing across the walls of the grand hall where you stood, adjusting the last few decorations on a towering tree. The sound of footsteps approached, and you turned, finding Kaveh leaning casually against the doorway.

His hair, slightly tousled as always, framed his face perfectly. The red hair clips and feather above his ear gave him a distinctly regal air, while the intricate design of his cape—flowed elegantly behind him. His eyes, sharp yet gentle, softened when they met yours.

“You’ve outdone yourself again,” Kaveh remarked, his voice full of admiration. He pushed off the doorframe, stepping closer. “I swear, I’ll never get used to how beautiful everything looks when you’re in charge.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the compliment, feeling a little warmth in your chest at the sincerity behind his words. Kaveh had always been generous with praise, but this time, it felt especially meaningful.

“Thank you, Kaveh,” you replied, adjusting a few stray branches. “I had to make sure everything looked perfect. You deserve something beautiful for all the hard work you’ve been putting in lately.”

Kaveh chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I’m not the one who deserves all the credit here. My work’s always been more about others than it is about me.” He paused, his eyes flickering to the mistletoe hanging above the doorframe. “Though, I suppose some things are meant to be.”

You followed his gaze, and with a small laugh, you realized the implication. The tradition of the mistletoe, hanging there like an invitation to something more intimate, stirred a sense of anticipation between you.

“Well,” you said, stepping closer, “it seems we’re supposed to follow the tradition, aren’t we?”

Kaveh looked at you for a long moment, his sharp eyes softening in a way that made your heart race. He had always been the kind of person to let his emotions show—open, passionate, sometimes even too much for his own good. It was part of what made him so endearing, but it also left him vulnerable in ways others might not understand.

His lips curled into a small, playful smile. “I suppose we are.”

Kaveh’s presence was calming, yet there was a tension in the air, as though both of you were aware of the quiet, unspoken connection between you. He took a step closer, the scent of his cologne mixing with the festive atmosphere of the room, and for a moment, it felt like time slowed.

His hand reached up, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. The touch was gentle, as if he was savoring the moment, and it sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. His eyes locked with yours, and for a fleeting instant, it felt like everything else disappeared.

Then, without another word, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a soft, almost hesitant kiss. It was tender, careful, as though Kaveh feared pushing too far, but there was also a depth of feeling in it—an unspoken promise of understanding, of connection, of him offering a piece of himself that few ever saw.

When the kiss finally broke, Kaveh lingered, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm and steady. “I’m not sure if I’ve ever been more relieved to follow a tradition,” he murmured, his voice low, the weight of his usual burdens momentarily forgotten in this shared moment.

You smiled softly, a gentle laugh escaping your lips. “I’m glad I could make it worthwhile.”

Kaveh’s hand rested against your cheek, his thumb lightly brushing over your skin. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who makes me feel like this,” he confessed, his tone full of raw honesty. “I’ve spent so much of my life thinking I had to carry everything on my own. But when I’m with you…” He trailed off, his words faltering for a moment.

You pressed your palm gently against his, your smile tender. “You don’t have to carry it alone anymore, Kaveh.”

His smile, soft and genuine, reached his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For this, and for everything.”

Under the mistletoe, amidst the holiday lights, the world seemed to pause just long enough for Kaveh to let down his guard—just enough for both of you to share in something beyond the trials and struggles of everyday life. Something beautiful, something real.

The soft, rhythmic hum of classical music filled the air, mingling with the crisp winter air that crept through the open windows. Snowflakes gently settled on the windowsills of the academy, their icy beauty casting a delicate glow across the room.

You glanced around, taking in the sight of the holiday decorations carefully arranged for the occasion. Huaxu Academy had always maintained an air of strict order, but today, there was an unfamiliar warmth in the air, one that seemed to soften even the hardest edges of the most meticulous minds.

You weren't sure why you had accepted the invitation to the academy's annual winter gathering. But there you were, sipping tea in a corner, admiring the decorations, when a familiar presence made itself known. Mortefi. His crimson hair, combed neatly, caught your eye, glimmering like a flame against the backdrop of winter. He stood, as always, with an air of reserved elegance, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd with cool detachment.

You couldn't help but smile at the thought of how effortlessly he stood out—his pristine white robe, the Tacet Mark on his chest hidden beneath bandages, the fiery energy that he radiated despite his careful composure.

As you moved closer, your gaze caught the mistletoe hanging from an archway above, positioned perfectly in the center of the room. You blinked, realizing the perfect opportunity to finally have a moment with Mortefi.

Before you could even make your move, Mortefi seemed to sense something, turning his gaze in your direction. The slightest flicker of annoyance flashed in his eyes before he spoke, his voice sharp, though the tension in his posture was palpable.

"What is it now, [Name]? Are you planning to mock my scientific rigor with another one of your childish antics?" His words, laced with irritation, still held an edge of fondness underneath. It was how he spoke when he was trying to hide his softer side.

You smiled mischievously, stepping toward the archway, ensuring that both of you stood directly under the mistletoe. The moment was impossible to ignore. You had to admit, the suspense was delicious.

"Well, if you insist on being so… rigorous," you teased, the words coming easily. "I suppose this might be the only scientific way to test your… emotional control, Mortefi."

He blinked, his expression shifting to one of confusion, and for a moment, his ever-present pride flickered. His jaw tightened as he glanced up at the mistletoe, then back at you, realizing the game that was unfolding.

"You—" he began, but the words failed him as his usually composed demeanor faltered, just for an instant.

He sighed, his breath visible in the chill of the room. "You are insufferable," he muttered, but his eyes gleamed with something softer now, something closer to resignation—or perhaps curiosity.

The warmth in his gaze caught you off guard. Mortefi, for all his hubris and perfectionism, had a side to him that only a few had seen—and you, it seemed, had become one of those few. A slow smile curved at the corner of his lips, and though his posture remained stiff, there was a palpable change.

Without a word, Mortefi leaned in, his breath warm against your skin as he gently cupped your face with his gloved hand. The moment was brief, but the kiss was soft, almost hesitant, as if the fire that so often burned inside him had been temporarily quelled.

As he pulled away, his crimson eyes flickered with something unreadable. "Don’t think for a second that I’m taking this as a weakness," he warned, though the faint blush staining his cheeks told another story.

You laughed, the sound light and teasing as you stepped back, savoring the rare moment of vulnerability. "Of course not, Mortefi. Who would think that?"

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, the fire in his eyes momentarily dimmed, before he returned to his usual composure.

"Next time, I expect more… suitable behavior, [Name]." His tone was back to its usual sharpness, but the warmth in his voice couldn’t be ignored.

You simply smiled, your heart lighter than it had been before. "Of course, Mortefi. But for now, how about a dance?"

He raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable for a moment before a smirk tugged at his lips.

"I suppose, if you insist."

Under the mistletoe, surrounded by the glow of the season, Mortefi was still the same brilliant, proud man. But for just a moment, you’d seen a different side—a side he would only let you glimpse.

And that, you realized, was enough.

The winter evening at Huaxu Academy was serene, the snow gently falling outside as lights twinkled from the windows, casting a soft glow on the polished floors inside. The academy, always a place of quiet intellectual pursuit, felt different tonight, alive with the hum of conversations and laughter as students and faculty mingled in celebration.

Xiangli Yao stood near the edge of the gathering, his deep-set eyes scanning the room with the same focused intensity that defined his approach to life. His prosthetic arm, a marvel of Automata Mechanics, gleamed in the ambient light, a stark contrast to his calm, collected demeanor. Despite the festive atmosphere, his mind was always racing, considering the boundaries of human knowledge and the complexities of his ongoing research.

You had noticed him standing alone, as he often did, caught between his devotion to academia and his reluctance to fully immerse in the chaos of social interaction. With a soft smile, you decided to approach, weaving through the crowd with a quiet grace.

"Xiangli," you greeted gently, your voice cutting through the murmurs of the event. His eyes flicked to you, his expression softening ever so slightly.

"[Name]," he replied, his tone polite but tinged with an emotion that was hard to place. "I was just—" He paused, glancing down at his prosthetic arm, his fingers flexing instinctively as if testing its strength. "I was just reflecting on my latest project. There are always new mysteries to solve."

You could see the familiar tension in his shoulders, the weight of his constant drive for discovery evident even in this moment of reprieve. You knew him well enough to recognize that his work often consumed him, and sometimes, a gentle reminder to experience the present was necessary.

"The mysteries of the season, perhaps?" you teased lightly, nodding to the mistletoe hanging above them, a playful invitation that had long been a part of the holiday tradition. Xiangli’s gaze followed your gesture, his brow furrowing slightly, as if the concept of a simple holiday tradition were as foreign to him as the mysteries of his latest inventions.

"You know I have little patience for such trivialities," he remarked, his voice betraying a hint of amusement despite the sharpness of his words. But there was something in his gaze, a glimmer of curiosity or perhaps something deeper, that made your heart skip a beat.

Without waiting for an answer, you stepped closer, positioning yourself beneath the mistletoe with a playful smile. "Perhaps," you mused, "this one mystery is worth solving?"

Xiangli stared at you for a moment, his usual calm demeanor wavering. His mind, as brilliant as it was, must have struggled to reconcile the present with the complexities of his thoughts. You watched as his fingers slowly relaxed, the tension in his form easing just a fraction.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, though his lips quirked upward in a smile that was rare for him. It wasn’t often he allowed himself such moments of frivolity. His eyes held a tenderness that you hadn’t expected from the man whose life was so consumed by the pursuit of knowledge.

Before he could pull away, you reached up, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Just for tonight," you whispered, "leave the questions behind."

For a long moment, Xiangli was still, his gaze deep and contemplative. Then, almost imperceptibly, he leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek as he met you halfway under the mistletoe.

The kiss was soft, fleeting, yet it carried with it the weight of all the things left unsaid—his unspoken vulnerability, his struggle between intellect and emotion, and the quiet connection you shared that was anything but trivial.

When he pulled back, his gaze lingered on you, the light of contemplation still present in his eyes, but his usual analytical distance was gone, replaced by something warmer, more human.

"Perhaps," he began, his voice lower than usual, "some truths are better discovered when not in a laboratory."

You smiled, your heart lighter than it had been in a long while. "I agree," you said softly, taking a small step back. "And maybe some mysteries are better enjoyed, rather than solved."

Xiangli’s lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at them. For once, his mind seemed quiet, his curiosity tempered by the warmth of the moment.

And for just a moment, Xiangli Yao—the brilliant, thoughtful, and complex man—was content to simply exist in the here and now, under the mistletoe, with you.

The glow of the city streets outside was softened by a light snowfall, the cold winter air making its way through the cracks in the windows. Inside the bustling café, the warm scent of spiced coffee and freshly baked goods mixed with the sound of laughter and soft music. It was a rare, quiet evening, the type where you could almost forget about the danger that often lurked around every corner in your line of work.

You were enjoying the calm, for once. At least until you felt that familiar presence before you. The air shifted, subtle yet unmistakable.

"Mind if I join you?" Aalto's voice slid through the space between the bustling crowd and your own thoughts, smooth as ever, with a hint of playfulness that never quite left him.

You looked up from your cup to find him standing there, his ever-present sunglasses perched on his face, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He was always dressed impeccably, his usual ensemble of dark, practical clothing reflecting his elusive, mysterious nature.

"Didn't expect you here today," you teased, motioning to the empty chair across from you. "I thought you'd be too busy making deals or causing trouble."

Aalto chuckled lightly, taking the seat with an almost exaggerated nonchalance. "The mist has a way of keeping me occupied... but tonight, I'm in the mood for something more... low-stakes."

His fingers tapped rhythmically against the surface of the table, and as always, you couldn't help but wonder if he was calculating his next move—or if he was simply enjoying the moment. Knowing him, it was probably both.

The conversation drifted between small talk and the occasional, cryptic remark only Aalto could make, leaving you with the sense that he was always hiding something just out of reach. As the evening wore on, the mood in the café began to shift, and soon enough, a soft laugh caught your attention.

Aalto looked up, his eyes twinkling behind those ever-present sunglasses. He raised an eyebrow as he motioned towards the small decoration hanging above you—an innocuous mistletoe, which had appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

"Looks like we're in a bit of a predicament," he said, his voice smooth as velvet, though there was an unmistakable challenge in his tone. "What are we going to do about that?"

You stared up at the mistletoe, the weight of its tradition suddenly hitting you. Aalto’s smirk grew, and you could see the mischievous glint in his eyes behind his glasses.

"Don’t tell me you're one of those who believes in the magic of mistletoe?" he teased, leaning closer. His breath was warm against your skin, the subtle scent of fog and something else, something uniquely him, filling your senses.

You rolled your eyes, but your heart couldn’t help but race. You knew exactly how unpredictable Aalto was, and in moments like these, when he was this close, there was a tension in the air you couldn't escape.

"You never miss an opportunity, do you?" you said, your voice quieter now, just loud enough to reach his ears.

He didn’t answer right away, and for a moment, the two of you just sat there, suspended in the space between the past and the present. He was the type of person who could read every situation like a book, but in this moment, you were the one who had the upper hand.

With a sigh that seemed almost theatrical, Aalto stood up. "I suppose if we’re bound by tradition..." He placed his hand on the top of your head, pulling you gently but decisively toward him.

Before you could react, he leaned down, his lips brushing against your cheek—light, playful, but carrying an underlying sincerity that made your heart skip a beat.

"Consider it a business transaction," he whispered in your ear, his tone laced with a subtle, playful promise. "A deal sealed under the mistletoe."

The moment was fleeting, as elusive as Aalto himself. But as he straightened, giving you one last, lingering look through the dark lenses of his sunglasses, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something even more unexpected than you'd ever imagined.

He turned to leave, his voice calling back to you softly, "And don't worry, your next piece of information will be on the house."

You smiled to yourself as he disappeared into the mist outside, the echoes of his laughter leaving behind a warmth that stayed with you long after he was gone.

[avensuersa]

art dump but you've seen most of it before

[strawbunyy]

a beautiful rose or a bullet to the face, take your pick

[pinoppll]

where is the boothill ace content

[m1rabillis]

Been seeing this fit a lot on Pinterest, so decided to draw the silly guy in it xixi

[kattkeyy]

Maybe in another life

[kwoojii]

good luck with your pulls! 💒

[uehulnah]

save a horse

[121231212i]

Honkai: Star rail | Boothill

[hquntinghunter]

[espikola]

His lore dropped and I’m feeling like killing myself so have some fluff I do not believe in angst

[sunnbnn]

It's high noon in Penacony...