#hsr welt x Reader

[digiflora]

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍!

... aka something super self indulgent because i'm going insane right now

༊*·˚ featuring ➻ the hsr men

༊*·˚ gia's notes ➻ this is probably gonna get posted way after exam season is over but here it is!!! my coping mechanism!!! i have 3 exams in 8 days im gonna explode bro. and before that i had a THREE HOUR STATISTICS EXAM 😀😀

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 MAKES SURE THAT YOU SLEEP COMFORTABLY.

you've been running yourself into the ground recently with revision- yes, it's important and you need to study to get good grades, as he is more than aware of due to your multiple stressed rants to him when he suggests that you take a break.

it doesn't bother him, not really. he knows that you're beyond stressed right now and don't mean to be so snappy. he just wants to make sure that you're still taking care of yourself despite everything.

he's in your dorm room, not really making much noise, scrolling through reals with his phone on mute, just present to keep an eye on you and get you to take a break whenever it's been a little too long since you've moved from your desk.

it's some time where it's debatable whether it's very late or very early- both of your sleep schedules are fucked- and there comes a little thunk from your desk that interrupts the otherwise silent room.

your boyfriend glances up, smiling in triumph as he sees that you've finally succumbed to the nap that he's been trying to convince you to take for the past... 36 hours? something like that.

and now that your body has finally given in to exhaustion, he springs to action.

you'd been studying for days, you'd done more than enough for your upcoming exam, and a solid few hours of uninterrupted sleep is exactly what you need right now.

he slips off of your bed, his movements quiet and calculated as he sidles up next to you. your glasses are smushed against your face, and he gingerly removes them as gracefully as he can. you stir a little as he does so, and he grimaces, waiting for you to settle again.

it looked like you would wake up if he carried you to your bed- looks like he'll have to improvise.

he snags the fuzzy blanket folded neatly at the foot of your bed, wrapping it around your sleeping form still sat at your desk as best as he can. he then takes one of your smaller pillows, coaxing it between you and the solid wood of your desk as best as he can before admiring his handiwork.

hopefully, you wouldn't wake up with a stiff neck.

and finally, as a cherry on top, he places a kiss to your squished cheek and sits back down to let you take a well-deserved nap.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ BLADE, gallagher, BOOTHILL ++ your faves!

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 IS YOUR PERSONAL ASSISTANT WHILE YOU'RE STRESSING.

you don't have to lift a single finger when he's around. luckily for you, his exams finished a lot earlier this term than yours did, leaving him ample time to help you as much as he is capable of.

and what an attentive boyfriend he is! amidst all the stress, you can't help but swoon for him all over again because of how attentive he's being towards you. he just wants you to help you study and not worry about anything else!

if you're hungry, he'll have a plate of food ready for you before the request has even left your mouth. your back or neck is aching due to being hunched over? his strong hands are rubbing circles into the muscle, making you sigh contentedly as the stiffness melts away.

he's honestly like an angel in your time of need.

you feel guilty about how one-sided this all is, but he merely smiles, giving you a quick kiss and assuring you that he understands and just wants you to do well. you almost cried because of how sweet he was being.

once these exams are over, you're definitely going to make it up to him.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ GEPARD, jing yuan, sunday ++ your faves!

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 ACTS AS YOUR TEMPORARY STUDY PARTNER.

despite not doing your degree, he's clever, and he knows enough without googling to help you out when you revise.

he's an advocate for the "teach someone about a subject until they understand it as well as you do" and luckily for you, he's all ears... and even if he does get some things a little quicker than your fried brain can explain, he still bites his tongue and plays a little dumb to probe you further with questions to test your understanding.

it'll help in the exam.

you've decided that this is way better than being cramped in a booth in the library- you have the freedom to wave your arms around and pace the room, to fully illustrate your thoughts and knowledge as he flips through the colourful flashcards that you made, reading the answers on the back of each of them, grilling you on the questions like a tiger mum.

he'll be damned if you don't get an A.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ dan heng, DR RATIO, welt ++ your faves!

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 DEFUSES YOU WHENEVER YOU'RE GETTING TOO STRESSED.

in the days leading up to your exams, it was best to describe your stomach as a pit of nerves. it was honestly distracting you from revising, all the pent up anxiety that churned within you until you were on the verge of a meltdown.

and while you may be too stressed to realise all of this and do something about it, your boyfriend's watchful eye realises this.

and so he does what he does best- he makes you feel better.

he pulls your body to rest against his where he lies in your bed, his large hand drawing comforting circles up and down your spine- and after a few minutes he can feel you melt into him, your body finally releasing the pent up stress that it's been holding for too long.

"it's ok to take a break, honey."

you sigh into him, and he hugs you tighter.

"c'mon, let's go outside for a few minutes. it'll help you feel a lot better."

you shake your head.

"you wanna just stay here for a bit?"

he feels you nod against his chest.

"ok, then let's do that."

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ SAMPO, luocha, AVENTURINE ++ your faves!

IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ... do you want somebody like i want somebody?

the sweet and caring nature of the hsr men is also shown through them being your roommate <3

[lovegasmic]

ᰋ. FREE USE : welt yang x f! reader ᰍ 

‘ 𝑚𝑑𝑛𝑖 : prone bone◞ consensual / established relationship◞ chatting through foreplay ’ ୨୧ taglist

a click, followed by the usual sound of the car’s room door sliding open before Welt’s footsteps against the carpeted floor are heard, “you’re back early” you greet him, belly down on the bed, his tablet on your hands, scrolling through some social media website while your feet kick in the air.

you don’t have to turn to know what your boyfriend is doing, his cane pushed against the near wall and the just unbuttoned coat hangs from the closet, “the situation got fixed earlier than expected” you hum at his words, that low and deep tone of his voice already bringing warmth to your belly, how much you missed him.

and considering how the bed moves slightly under his weight as he crawls to your back and plants a kiss on your neck, he missed you too.

“you smell good” he murmurs, another kiss, then another, trailing down your shoulder to the back of your head where a shiver runs down your spine, his lips are on your skin and his fingers tugging on the straps of your top, “is that the new shampoo you asked March to order?”

“mhm!” your feet are no longer kicking but your eyes are sure still on the tablet screen, “i’m liking it a lot, smells good and it’s pretty good for the scalp”

“good” Welt murmurs, still attacking your skin with kisses, now your top is pooling around your waist and his hands come to play with your bare tits, nibbling on your earlobe until you whimper, “get another bottle, i’ll pay”

a little sigh leaves, “no need... mmmm.... there’s a lot of money left from the express budget..., i’ll beg pom pom”

“okay” his voice is low and full of lust, releasing a nipple to tug on your pants barely under the curve of your ass, ��... no panties?” all shampoo related conversation long forgotten.

“knew you’d might wanna fuck”

“good girl” another whine leaves your throat and hips buck back, “i can assume you’re ready as well?” the weak mewl and nod is all he needs as confirmation, cock head already swollen and dark red pushing against your soaked hole, teasing for a little before pushing in, slow but so deliciously that you fear the tablet might break under your grip.

a little curse comes out of his lips, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass cheeks to spread you, noticing how your cute fluttering hole sucked on the whole length, pulling him deeper due to the position with your legs squished together, Welt was naturally big, but the position got your thighs shaking already, each drag feeling extra good with the pressure, “n-ngh... ah... fuck...” he grunts behind, eyes locked on your pussy while starting to fuck into you, “so damn tight”

his lips land on your neck again, kissing and licking while ramming your tiny cunt that gushes around his cock, so deep, so tight, “i’m... feels so full...” you mewl, nails digging on the sheets, it’s so hard to simply focus on scrolling through social media when your boyfriend is giving you such a nice fuck.

“what a sight” he mumbles through heated pants, resting his forehead on your shoulder blade and staring at how good you’re stretched, using a thumb to rub on a swollen lip covered in slick and white cream that stains the base of his cock, “i’m going to cum darling, i’ll pull out, okay?”

much to your dislike of Welt pulling out you agree with a tiny pout, already missing the stretch as soon as he pulls out with a loud pop, although rewarded by the deep, manly and disgustingly sexy moan he lets out as he paints your butt and lower back with thick ropes or warm semen.

[mrpenguinpants]

See you, space cowboy

— Parting words at the end of the day.

— Jing Yuan, Blade, Dan Heng, Imbibitor Lunae, Dr. Ratio + Luocha

[Masterlist]

The title is from Cowboy Bebop. I used their "Parting" voice lines if anyone was curious. Ignore how I'm using a Kafka gif for a fic with only men. I promise this is still a "genshin" blog.

Jing Yuan

"Mmm, rest well... My apologies. There is still some work to be done and I can't see you out personally."

You blink at him before you narrow your eyes and give him a judging stare. Your fingers reach out to curl around the sleeve of his uniform, giving it a small tug that he willingly steps into despite his earlier words. He doesn't try to hide the amusement in his eyes, even letting out a soft chuckle that makes your lips downturn into a frown. Jing Yuan reaches up, smoothing the crease between your eyebrows before resting on your cheek.

"It's obvious that you're tired. You should rest for a little bit more before you go back to work," you lightly scold as you give another weak tug for him to return to your shared home. Another chuckle escapes him as he places his other hand on your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles through the fabric for a few seconds to attempt to appease you. "It's been a while since we've shared a meal together..."

Jing Yuan's eyes soften yet he politely removes your hand attached to his sleeve. This time he avoids your gaze, the disappointment flowing heavy in the air, when he shakes his head and steps back.

"Next time, I promise," he whispers, squeezing your hand to hopefully convey his sincerity. "I'll take a day off as well. I heard that our Trailblazer friend has restored Aurum Alley back to its former glory. I'm sure Yanqing would love to join us as well."

You seem to mull over it in your head. To trade one night for a full day is tempting, plus Yanqing has been running himself ragged given the recent events. It would be nice to have a break where it can just be the three of you without any military or political weight hovering above you.

"...fine. But if you break your promise, I'll sic Mimi on you," you pout at him, twisting your hand from his grip to poke him in the chest.

"I...shall plan accordingly then," he laughs awkwardly because he knows you will follow through with that threat. He still has the scratch marks on the walls as proof. Playful or not, Mimi is unfortunately an overly heavy lion.

Blade

"Go. When the mara strikes, you don't want to be next to me."

"Is that what you say to everyone who tries to help you?" you huff as you carefully bandage his wounds, the white bandages seeping red slowly as you wind them around his torso. Despite the sarcasm dripping from your tone, he can tell you're genuinely angry with him this time. If it were anyone else, he would shake them off to leave, but when you look like you're two breaths away from bursting into tears, so he can only take a deep breath and let you bandage him up.

"They'll heal. They always do," he says after a moment of silence. Alas, his attempt at comfort does nothing but make you more stressed. He winces slightly when you pull too tightly on the bandage, the gauze scrapping against his gash that's already stitching itself together again.

"I know, so shut up already," you spit in an attempt to save face, and he decides to offer a bit of kindness by not commenting on it, "I'm not doing this for you."

He knows. You used to be an ordinary medic before the Stelleron Hunters recruited you, and you incidentally had to switch careers to something more violent. But old habits die hard, and this small bit of control helps to ease your worries. Even if it's only by a small margin. Your weakened hold lets the bandages fall into a heap on your lap as your shoulder shag. You press your forehead against his shoulder just slightly above where his wound is already rapidly healing into another scar.

"Can't you be more careful?" you sigh into his shoulder, a smear of red on your cheek that you both ignore. Blood will wash out.

"I'm sorry," he replies. He won't lie to you and say that he'll try. For as much as the mara controls him and his emotions, he wills them away for a few seconds.

Dan Heng

"Time to turn in already…? Thanks for the reminder. It's easy to lose track of time in the archives — before you know it, a whole day's gone by… See you tomorrow."

You have to stifle your laugh lest you make Dan Heng more embarrassed that he kicks you out of the room to save some dignity. Even though he says all that, he hasn't once lessened his hold on you for you to actually get up and leave. If anything, his arms around your waist tighten so you're practically molded into his chest. To be fair, you had lost track of time as well. After the recent adventures and running everywhere, it felt nice to settle into Dan Heng's lap and waste a day away in the archives, just basking in each other's presence. No crazy hunter trying to stab Dan Heng or overactive mara-struck enemies attempting to decapitate you. Just the hum of the machines and the warmth of company that neither of you are ready to leave so soon.

"You know...technically it's already "tomorrow" since it's 2am. We could just stay here," you muse as you tilt your head up to look at his unimpressed expression. The longer the two of you stay up, the worse the rest of the day will be from the lack of sleep. Plus it's not healthy to stay up to reset a sleep schedule.

"You know we can't do that. Besides, you might be comfortable but this shelf has been digging into my back for the past few hours," he sighs, shifting his body to prove a point further.

"10 more minutes," you bargain.

"2," he denies flatly.

"5?" you try again.

"2." He stares you at with a frown.

"3!" You stare right back with a cheeky grin.

"...fine."

He hides the fond smile into your hair as you cheer on gaining a single minute.

Dan Heng • Imbibitor Lunae

"It's getting late, I won't be staying up much longer. Sleep well."

You have to stifle your amusement less you make Dan Heng recede even further into his shell, but you can't help but think it's kind of cute how awkward this dragon can be sometimes. The way he stands so stiffly and not at all relaxed for sleep, how his eyes are staring at anything but you who is standing right in front of him, coupled with the uneasy way he says for you to "sleep well.". As if he's questioning if it's okay for him to say something so casually despite all the time you've spent in each other's company. Dragon horns or not.

"Much longer...huh. And pray tell, how many minutes does that equate to again? It's kinda hard to tell when I'm talking to an infinite respawn glitch," you tease, lightly punching him in the shoulder makes Dan Heng crack a tiny smile. You mentally pat yourself on the back for that little win. Ever since the Astral Express concluded its journey on the Xianzhou, the new dragon had been walking on eggshells around everyone.

"You're talking too much to that hacker girl. That's not how the vidyadhara reincarnation works either," he sighs but the tension is gone from his shoulders. If you're able to joke about it then you're not mad at him lying about his origins, even though you haven't been in the first place. "But I will return to the Archives with the system hour."

You spare a glance at the clock. It'll be midnight in another 20 minutes. Has it really gotten that late so quickly?

"Alright, but if I check the data bank and there are new entries, I'm kicking your door open mister," you place your hands on your hips as you gesture two V-sign fingers at your own eyes, then at him. "Good night Dan Heng. See you in the morning.".

Dr. Ratio

"Another day has passed. If your problem still hasn't been solved, is it possible that the problem is you?"

He tilts his head to the side gracefully as you hurl your pen at him. The cheap plastic breaks on impact and leaves a smear of ink that you'll have to clean up unless you want another stain for Dr. Ratio to insult you for. Perhaps you can use his name as a tax write-off? It's the least he could do for you with how much attitude you put up with.

"What if my problem is you? If you didn't dodge then I wouldn't have to waste so many precious pens," you counter as you reach for the white cloth hanging from his waist to use to mop up the ink. One that has Ratio slapping your hand away with his stone booklet. He even dares to wipe at it with a handkerchief, as if touching your skin is equivalent to touching trash, rather than offering it to you!

"Ow! Geez, you really don't hold back. I wasn't going to actually use your clothing!" you fake sob as you nurse your poor hand close to your chest. It doesn't hurt as badly as you're making it out to be. You've seen Veritas throw chalk at his enemies and leave chalk-sized holes in them. "Besides, it's not like I can do anything about my "problems". [ Rahu ] isn't the easiest place to investigate..."

Your body slumps in as you think back on how little progress you've made with that strange planet. Diamond has been kind enough to not assign a deadline but you can feel the quiet disappointment every time you report that you don't have anything new to share each month. Maybe Veritas is right. Maybe the problem is you.

"Which is why you've been given the role. The numbers written on a stats page or monthly reports do not measure the trial and error of someone's pursuit of knowledge. Very few scholars I know would be capable of continuing for the sole purpose of finding the truth. Surely you're capable of seeing that? Unless I've severely underestimated your intelligence," Veritas states as if it were a fact. He reaches to take your hand, giving it a once over to see if he has truly hurt you. His words bring a small smile as your heart swells at his encouragement as you squeeze his hand back.

Luocha

"Have an early rest. I'll keep watch here."

It's the last thing you hear before your eyelids droop close and sleep takes you under. Your body slumps against Luocha's side, his hands already out and ready to catch you, before he gently maneuvers you so your head rests in his lap. He hums humourlessly as he combs through the strands of your hair, a bit of dirt clinging onto the ends. He'll have to tend to that later.

"I wonder what someone like you dreams of," he contemplates although he doesn't expect an answer. Your face is the picture of serenity as your chest rises up and down slowly with each breath, completely dead to the world. You're far too trusting of him, even his first meeting on friendly terms with Dan Heng hadn't made that man lower his guard. Sure, they had been on the same team but Dan Heng would constantly look behind him as if he was waiting to get stabbed in the back by Luocha's sword. Yet here you are, fast asleep in his lap and entirely defenseless.

A loud buzzing sounds from your pocket that Luocha reaches for to check, you're not going to be awake to answer it anyway.

"What considerate companions you have," he muses as Dan Heng's caller ID flashes on your phone before his call gets sent to voicemail. It's truly a blessing that all phones operate under the same system programming as he holds down the power button, effectively shutting the phone and other potential distractions silent. Under the artificial night light, when it's just the two of you here, no one can see the secret smile on his lips. Nor the possessive hold he has on you.

[blueysobssesions]

HSR MEN VOICE LINES ABOUT YOU

Characters: Dan Heng, Sampo, Mr.Welt, Gepard, Argenti

Dan Heng

"I don't mind you asking about my relationship with Y/N, but it's complicated. You see, I care deeply for them. I've never felt this way about anyone before. But my past keeps coming back to haunt me. It's like a dark cloud hanging over my head, and I don't want to put Y/N in danger because of it."

"I've tried to push Y/N away, to protect them from the dangers my past presents. But every time I do, it feels like I'm tearing apart a part of myself. I know it's selfish, but I can't help but want to be with them. Even at the risk of putting them in harm's way, I can't bring myself to let them go." "Sometimes I feel like it would be better for them if they left me. But there's a part of me that desperately wants to keep them around."

Sampo

“She’s something special, that’s for sure..” “When I first met her, I was just doing my usual routine and scamming some people. And then I ran into her and…oh boy.” “From the very first time I started talking to her…I instantly knew she was different. No one else in the Overworld or the Underground caught my attention like she did…” “I spent more and more time with her and I got to know her more and more. And I just..I don’t know how to explain it. There was something about her that just drew me in. I don’t know if it was her personality or if it was just the way she was so effortlessly charming, but I just started feeling this weird feeling in my chest every time I would be around her..”

Welt Yang

"It's... hard to describe our relationship. We didn't start as anything. We bonded, we grew, and we slowly fell in love over time."

"It sounds cliche, but we just... feel at home when we're with each other. That's the simplest way to describe it."

"What's so special about her?"

"There's lots of special things about her. I could talk for hours if I wanted to, but I'll summarize it in two main traits: She is kind to a fault, even towards those who do her wrong.

She's very, very stubborn."

Gepard

"Ah... where do I start..... well we've been a relationship for a while now, we enjoy doing lot's of stuff together, such as eating, walking around the city, sometimes I take her to train a bit, but she really doesn't have a talent for it, I take her to dates from time to time...." "I love her.... very much...." "I.... there are so many things I like about her. She's very kind, she's funny, has a nice sense of humor, she very attractive-" "She's perfect... for me... I can't really imagine my life without her....."

Argenti

"I have a deep affection for y/n. I admire their strength and determination, and their beauty makes my heart race." "W-well, whenever I look at them, it's as if time around me stops, all I can focus on is them. Whenever I hear their voice, my heart leaps, I feel like I'm going to lose my mind... a-and whenever they touch me, my skin tingles..." "It's as if... my whole world revolves around them..."

^REBLOG W/ COMMENTS AND I WILL MAKE A PART 2^

MASTERLIST!!!!!!!!!!

[n0tamused]

Welt nerding out about his little special interests and his tv show he likes and whatnot... Dr.Ratio going on and on about all his bath soaps and bath salts and whatever he has... Sunday snuggles and sleeping after a long and heavy day of work....

A/n: Sorry for taking so long pookie I hope you like these little imagines :( <3 mwah, ty for requesting <3

Contents: gn reader, separate drabbles for Sunday, Dr. Ratio and Welt, a bit angsty in Sunday's part, fluff otherwise

Gloved fingers held around the black stylus pen as it glided over the digital screen in a few precise strokes. The character on screen is becoming more and more alive, and looking over his shoulder you can see the several other frames that lay finished, resembling only the start of this little project you managed to convince Welt to partake in. 

“I take it you like it, right?” you ask, tiptoeing playfully around the direct question, prompting the man to laugh heartily, mirth seeping into the crinkles in his face. Leaning back in the chair he takes a small break from the lineart, adjusting his glasses before he look up at you where you stood at his side. 

“You’re spoiling me, you know?” he begins, his eyes mellow with a childlike wonder and joy that isn’t too often seen on his person these days. “Yes, I do like it, a lot. This tablet is even more advanced than the ones I was used to using back in my day. I mean, it holds so many functions, and the program itself has many great features to assist with the process - whether it be just one piece of art or a whole animation” His eyes gleam as he looks back at the screen, his eyes flickering over the corners of the canvas, the little icons and frames and the low opacity sketch of the animation.  

“That is a relief, and I’m glad to hear you’re enjoying it so much. You do deserve it, Mr. Yang” cooing at him softly you pat his shoulder and give him a light squeeze before taking note of what’s on screen. It’s a simple set of characters, and in a more cartoonish style - chibis, is what you heard them call this style. But the characters are oddly familiar to the crew itself.

“Huh..? Is that.. us?”

“Yes… Since this gift was from you, and also the crew has left its mark on this old heart, I thought that my first project on the tablet should be something special too.. Uh, wait..” He fumbles a bit with the frames and animation, brief images flickering of different character - Dan Heng surrounded with books, March 7th’s chibi showing a worried face as she stands next to a pot of Himeko’s coffee and Himeko looking pleased as she drinks from her mug, and there’s PomPom next to the Express, but what  gets your attention is the chibi version of yourself at the very start of the frame set. You’re sitting at a round table with a few chubby stars above you.

“Starting with you, I am first making an introduction to each character..”

“But where are you?”

“Hm?”

“I saw everyone in these, but not yourself? This crew is incomplete without you, Welt.. You should put us together in one frame. I mean, we can be drinking tea at the table together, right?"

Welt looks at you, then at the frame, noting the vacant left side of the big table. 

“You’re right…”

“Sunday..” sleepy mutters fall from your lips as you push yourself to sit on the big bed, the covers pooling at your hips. Your hand is lifted up to shield your eyes from the golden light that spilled from the hall. 

“Apologies... I'll turn the light off now.." comes a reply from the figure shrouded in darkness, but by silhouette alone you could tell him apart from another. His wings droop underneath his ears, showing that even the lightest parts of him felt the heaviness of today’s work. He swiftly but quietly slips into the hallway to turn the lights off, before his footsteps mark his return to the bedroom. Now you can only listen to him shuffle about, the heavy breathing making your heart throb from concern, but you know asking him about it wouldn’t grant you an answer.

So you wait until he lifts the bedsheets and until his palm searches for you across the vast expanse of the mattress. Taking his hand in yours you lead him to where you are, laying on your back and feeling the bed dip and move underneath you until Sunday has settled himself with his head on your chest. Sighing the biggest breath you heard from him so far, you tighten your hold on him, arms circling around his shoulders.

His arms wrapped around your waist as he had you both sinking further into the bed, desperate to feel your warmth, hear your peace and feel it rub off on him too. “I missed you…” he confessed, leaving a chaste kiss on your collarbone before his ear pressed above your heart, listening to the trapped drumming within. 

“I missed you too..” you reply, combing your fingers through his hair, feeling the wings around his waist stretch out for arguably the first time today, one wing shorter than the other, feathers cut halfway. 

“Rest now..” you prompt, kissing the top of his head and he hums into you, wanting nothing more than to dream of you and freedom with you.

"I told you to be a little more careful with which shampoos you purchased.." you heard him say when you pointed out how a particular shampoo on the shelf made your hair damaged the last time you used it. You sighed, in agreement with him, but as he plucked the bottle from the shelf you looked over the other products on the shelves, taking a hair mask container and putting it in your cart.

“See, this is why this shampoo didn’t sit well with you” Veritas says, looking over the ingredient list after catching sight of the logo of the producer, a sneer already on his face as he never had good experiences with this company’s products. 

You look over at him, holding onto the shopping cart with one hand as you peer at the bottle in his hand. “Oh, yeah- that one did have my hair feeling like hay.. ugh” you frown a little but as Veritas looks further down the ingredients list, you let your eyes wander over the shelves in search for a possible alternative - one that won’t leave your hair feeling dry and ready to snap. 

“Hmm…” Veritas looks up, his coral eyes looking over at you after he had returned the bottle onto the shelf. “Let me see..” he muttered, already reaching out to grasp a lock of your hair in between his fingers, twirling it for a moment before thinking hard about it. Then his eyes return to the vast selection of shampoos, reaching for a green bottle on a higher shelf. “Ah, this one would go well for your hair type. And it will regenerate whatever damage that other bottle left you with”

“Oh, let me smell it-” you whisper with soft excitement, forcing a huffed chuckle from Veritas as it seemed you cared more about the smell than what the shampoo actually had to offer. He shakes his head as he pops the lid open and brings it to your nose. 

“Does it smell good enough for you?” he asked, teasing laced in his words, but despite that he brought the bottle to his nose as well to inhale the light green apple smell. He relishes in the scent, imagining the way our hair would smell the same if you purchased this. 

“Ohh.. oh definitely, it smells so good. Give it here” you smile up at him and take the bottle to put in the cart. “I should ask you more often on this guru advice, Veritas, you’re more help than I gave you credit for” you playfully jab at him as you walk a few steps forward, looking at another section where bath salts and bath bombs lay. “Oh! Look at this!” you gleam as you pluck a round bath bomb colored blue. 

“Lavender?” Veritas asked as he came up next to you, choosing to ignore your initial jab. 

“Yeah. Lavender suits you, and it is a relaxing scent over all. Didn’t you run out of those bath salts too? We should get some new ones” you throw the bath bomb into the cart before he can reject it, but you make space for him to look over the other products, smiling up at him coyly as he gives you a daring look, yet you knew he meant no malice, he was being playful. 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[pwettybbybunny]

HSR Men & the Garlic test (aka My green flag test)

Sunday, Luocha and, Jing Yuan will happily peel them for you if you asked

Argenti, Dan Heng, Jiaoqui, Gallagher and, Welt would have them peeled before you can even ask, maybe have them stored in jar the moment you get back from the grocery run.

Dr Ratio will do it if you begged him or do it too unproductively, other than that he's busy.

Blade physically can't do it cause fucked up hands.

Aventurine would rather get you premium already peeled garlics.

Boothill, Gepard, Sampo and, Caelus would try their best but will take hours or end up cutting their fingies. 'It ain't much but it's honest work'.

[anantaru]

DAY 24 — BRAT TAMING

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — welt, dan heng

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, brat taming, very rough!! they're meanies, mating press, hitting it raw, spanking

𖧡 — WELT

the air inside the tenebrous room stood still as another delicious whine slithers down your tongue, instantly planing inside welt's ears as he returns to thrust into you with fervor— your hands tied up and pinned against the headboard, liquid lust glissading over your clouded expression as you luxuriate in the breathless groans from above you.

if you would being honest with yourself for just a second, acting out like a brat in order for welt to put you back in your place was all planned and calculated and you adored every second of it— yet, if he were to ask, he was wholly mean towards you, a terrible person, and ruined your fun entirely.

with your shoulders tightly pressed against the mattress, welt drapes his entire weight on top of your figure as you abruptly jolt up within a pitiful cry when he slaps across the flesh of your ass, making the skin jiggle at the mildly painful impact, "when i give you an order," he pauses, his length glistening as your cunt swallows and gushes out copious amount of your arousal mixed with his own cum to plaster it all over him— and even if he'd never admit it to you right now, this was definitely on welt's list of favorite parts to do with you;

to bring into effect on just who, out of you two, was in control.  

"i expect you to follow it obediently," he spat, referring to the scenario from earlier today where you did the exact opposite of what he asked you to do.

a loud click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth made you flinch out when welt grabbed a fistful of your ass to squeeze it tightly into his palm, thoroughly content to tease you, "..brat."

you bite back a whimper when he thrusts into you before swiveling his hips a little to grind against your clit, welt's hands working from your chest to your upper thighs before placing another harsh blow on your plush ass, and fuck, you were about to cum if he was to keep that up— your ass was on fire and the urge to shove your hips up at him to meet his pace was ringing in your body.

truly gone were the days where welt would go easy on you, believe that you're just having a bad day, needing much required space, and that there was no reason for you to behave in such an ill mannered fashion in front of him, right? but, in secret, that was the reason as to why, welt being rough and feral with you, holding you accountable for your wrong doings and bratty behavior, just the way you covertly needed it.

𖧡 — DAN HENG

dan heng was surpassingly aggravated with you tonight, quite terribly that he didn't even bother to put on a condom before shoving himself in raw, clasping his palms under your knees to press your legs against your chest— his complete weight was planted right on top of you next so you're practically folded in half, and it's stinging a little, feeling like you're about to snap in two due to the intensity of his power.

"you're awfully quiet right now," he remarks from above, his eyes since long shadowed with a darkness looming on top, a small voice in the back of his head telling him to go easy on you, but he was utterly annoyed, unable to think past it, "not like earlier where you had so much to share."

dan heng slowly sinks into you before drawing himself away right afterwards, giving you the impression that he will tease you to your very core tonight and delay your climax— yet, the moment you thought you had figured out his plan all along, dan heng sinks all the way back with a rough snap, and his pace was brutal, precisely tearing past the constricted ring on your hole as he set a steady tempo instantly, rough and deep, and it felt divine when he filled you over and over until you're hiccuping needfully at the pressing tension on your used core.

"apologize," he grunts, "now," and he always adjusts the angle of his thrusts ever so slightly so he could be sure he was hitting that one spot of yours,

"—for being a brat tonight."

"no, no, no," you quietly mewl under his warm body, your lips curved into the brattiest grin dan heng has ever seen as your hands drop to the bed sheets to squeeze the linen for a better hold.

despite you struggling to catch your breath and being so incredibly vocal due to his fast thrusts and drags of a heavy cock pressing in and out of your clamping hole— you wanted more, contemplating if you should just never apologize to him entirely, aggravate your handsome boyfriend just a bit more until you're able to indulge in this devilish side of him— while he continues to fuck you into the mattress without a single shred of pity in his delirious eyes, strong hips repeatedly pressing into your sore hole each time he bottoms out.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[gay-dorito-dust]

Do you think you could write some hcs about HSR men comforting reader who woke up from a nightmare?

Bonus if the source of the nightmare was Silver Wolf telling scary stories.

Argenti

Would immediately wake up the moment he senses that your sleep was being disturbed.

‘My sweet, what’s troubling you?’ He’d ask you, his eyes shone with concern.

‘Just got spooked by the story Silver Wolf told last night.’ You tell him.

‘Aww my beloved rose.’ He coos softly.

‘I know it’s stupid.’ You scoffed.

‘Oh no, not at all.’ He replied as he scooted himself closer to you and brought his hands up to hold your face and used his finger pads to caress your skin soothingly.

‘It’s okay to be scared for it is a reaction shared amongst all beings, but you should never feel such a way when I’m here to keep you safe.’ Argenti said as he presses his forehead to yours and began to hum a sweet, tender melody that swiftly had you drifting off back sleep within seconds.

‘Goodnight my beloved rose.’ He whispered after performing his song, pressing a kiss to your forehand and followed you in the dream realm where he could continue protecting you.

Welt

When Welt saw you had woken yourself from a nightmare and were obviously still reeling from the effects, he would wordlessly bring you into his arms slowly enough as not to frighten you and have you rest your head against his chest.

‘Are you comfortable in telling me what happened?’ He asks barely above a whisper.

‘It’s stupid.’ You replied, voice muffled from the way your face was pressed against his chest.

‘Not if it’s got you frightened this badly.’ He says against your head, his hands rubbing up and down your back soothingly.

‘It was the story Silver Wolf told last night.’ You finally tell him after debating on it for a bit.

‘It was truly a well put together story,’ Welt began as he recalled the events of last night and how tense you were the entire time, ‘I must admit I was slightly taken aback at times.’

You raised your head from his chest to look him in his warm eyes. ‘You were scared too?’ You asked.

‘Kind of.’ Welt chuckles as he brought your head back to his chest and press several kisses to your forehead. ‘Now if I’m allowed, I would like to tell you a story of my own. I must preference this beforehand that it’s not a well written one, but I hope it brings you comfort regardless.’

‘Please.’ You pleaded as you burrowed yourself further against his chest, practically clinging on to him. ‘Anything you say is better than nothing.’ You added.

‘Very well then.’ Welt cleared his throat. ‘There once was a young lady with vibrantly pink hair who had an…habit of wandering into places she probably shouldn’t have. This is merely one story out of many, many, many others…’

Blade

Is an extremely light sleeper, so any movement you made was picked up almost immeditly and he was more than ready to grab his sword when he felt your breath hitch in your throat.

He genuinely thought you were in danger, only to find out you had just woken up from a nightmare.

‘What’s wrong.’ He’d ask gruffly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

‘Nothing.’ You replied.

‘Bullshit.’ He scoffs.

‘Fine it was the scary story Silver Wolf told.’ You admitted and Blade raised a brow.

‘You do know none of it’s real right?’ He then asks while biting back a yawn.

‘Yeah no shit but that doesn’t stop the fact that it really freaked me the fuck out.’ You told him as you looked away from him, knowing you weren’t going to get much comfort out of him, seeing as how he’s never known a day of it.

Blade sighed when you showed him your back, knowing you were expecting to be comforted, as he then shuffles himself behind you and puts his arms over your waist all the while caging you against his chest.

‘Nothings going to get you, I won’t allow it.’ He reminds you as he burrows his face into your neck. ‘So there’s no need to be afraid when I’m here and am willing to put body on the line if it meant you sleeping soundly. What’s a few new scars compared to the old.’ He adds as he kept his eyes locked onto the door to the bedroom for a while, just long enough for you to comfortably go back to sleep before following soon after.

[deathbxnny]

Ok but Boothill, Aventurine and Welt with a reader being controlled by Sunday ( him and his tuning gift? ) and being made to attack them (idk maybe then trying to snap reader out of it or something along them lines ) please!

Ooh! I really love this idea, Anon! Now I wasn't sure whether you wanted this to be romantic or platonic, so I made it romantic! Thank you for the request, and I hope you'll like this!<3

Content: Mind control, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of guns, injuries, Romantic relationship, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not proofread))

》WELT YANG

Welt knew this wouldn't end well when he saw you succumb to the Halovian man's tuning ability. He tried to stop it before it took over you and yet found himself reaching you way too late. It was as though the world slowed down, the wretched music playing through the battlefield falling deaf on his ears, once he realised that there was nothing he could do that wouldn't possibly hurt you.

His heart ached when he saw you mindlessly attack him, trying your best to end his life, one you swore to live at his side with forever. He was losing his cool, unable to control the anger and desperation that ran through him with every hit he deflected. And yet, he still couldn't find it in him to attack you back even once, as he called for you to finally wake up.

When he does get you back to reality, he won't let you dwell on what you've done for even a second. He may have some injuries, but that means nothing to him when he knows you're safe again in his arms.

》AVENTURINE

This wasn't a part of the plan. It was never supposed to happen. You were never even supposed to have come with him to this forsaken planet in the first place. And yet... had he perhaps let his own plans and ideals lead him to both of your ruins? Alot ran through his mind whilst he watched you attack him viciously, skillfully dodging every hit without even ever thinking about hurting you back. Not that he ever could.

He realises that he'd let you place your hands around your neck and squeeze the life out of him if it means to not lay a singular hand on him. His anger towards Sunday was burning through his soul, and yet he had to stay confident in hoping that his plans would simply come through one way or another. He could only pray to his long, forgotten God that it would.

However, that doesn't mean that he won't risk both of your life's, if he finds a way to save you from the Halovian man's control. Risk is something he lives for. It's the gamble that kept you alive for so long, and he trusts in your own trust for him to do the right thing. Being injured in the process doesn't mean anything to him, once he realises that he hit the jackpot and got you right back at his side.

》BOOTHILL

To say that Boothill never takes any chances on your safety would be an understatement. His temper rises when he sees your conscious slip away, and Sunday's tuning takes control of your mind. Now, he would never hurt you either, but that doesn't mean he won't manhandle you into a position that will stop you from moving and potentially hurt yourself, him or others, for that matter. He needs to get you out of the way immideatly, so he can get revenge on your behalf.

With that said, he is not afraid to pull the trigger on the evil chicken boy the second he can. He can look past alot of things, but certainly not someone messing with the last person he still had left. He's angry, beyond angry, in fact. He won't let Sunday get away with this and if it's the last thing he does.

Once he finally gets you back to reality, he'll try his best to comfort you whilst assuring you that he wasn't hurt in any way... even if he can't necessarily be hurt physically anyway.

Alrighttt... I finally was able to post SOMETHING after being tortured by life for so long lol... anyways, thank you again to the Anon for the great request and I hope you guys liked this!!<33

[zealofchronos]

i share ur struggle.. i ACHE for gepard or welt content so hopefully i could request for something like that? im js gonna throw a bunch of ideas and you can choose whichever

relationship hcs (what he’d be like, how does he show his love etc)

sleeping together (take this whichever way you want)

cooking together in the kitchen (im a whore for this stuff idk why😭)

bedroom hcs (kinks, fav positions, literally anything i need it so bad)

KISSING IN THE SNOW W GEPARD😞

anon i hope you know this ask gave me like 5000 braincells. like suddenly i am THINKING. it's so insane how one little ask full of random blurbs gave me so much life to write even just the smallest things.

literally welt and gepard are my two faves rn, i'm fr just waiting for jing yuan to come out. jing yuan my beloved <3<3

but anyway, as for this little ask, i think we'll ease into the hsr content with some fluff ( i am all due for it anyway, i have Not been writing and i also need the fluff because my god does life hit hard ) so sit tight >:)

love and cherishing you ♡ ;; various x gn!reader headcanons

content;- sfw , fluff , headcanons list , how some hsr boys show their love for you ♡♡ , overall just really fluffy because i need toothrotting stomach ache inducing head swirling sweet fluff sometimes... , nothing about getting together but just general hcs on what they'd be like in a relationship , reader is nooooot...? the trailblazer but could possibly be interpreted as such if you squint

characters inc:- welt yang , gepard landau ( includes post-belobog arc content, not extremely spoilery but take note that i chose after the jarillo-vi conclusion to open up more opportunities >:3 )

together with welt yang . . .

welt has lived life longer than perhaps anyone on the express, being from another world and used to living as the first ( second generation ) herrscher of reason, a herrscher that sided with humanity. he didn't expect to get sucked into another adventure, one where he'll meet many companions, see unbelievable sights or even... fall in love.

he's an old soul, yet his heart still has a grand passion for what he does. the fire within him burns, and perhaps, you stoke the flames. a motivation unlike any other to show you the wonders of the galaxy— of every world.

his love is not the most openly shown, an old man can be embarrassed sometimes. especially in the face of his family of the astral express. his affections for you are for you two only. his touches, his words, the little things that make sparks fly are all special and meant for your ears and eyes only. be it in the privacy of his room, or late nights when everyone else is fast asleep, he'll always find a way to make his love for you known when nobody else is looking.

time together with you is always time well spent. he enjoys it perhaps just a little more than going on adventures with everyone. you could be doing anything, and he wouldn't mind simply sitting in silence together with you. it's comforting, relaxing. it's moments like these where he gets to unwind with you. it's essentially a recharge— he doesn't even have to hold you ( but if you'd like that, he'd be more than happy to ).

he used to be an artist— an animation storyboard artist. his skills on paper would definitely outmatch the rest of the crew. he already likes to have his experiences captured in little drawings in his notebook. well, you happen to be one big, long lasting experience. one that he can't wait to see what more comes while experiencing it. you swear that you can catch him gazing at you every other day, and you always see his pencil moving across the papers in his book. inside are sketches of you in all your beauty, how he adores you, even complete with little notes about the things you like.

he wishes to show you the world, all there is to be seen across the entire galaxy. he will be there, to guide you, to accompany you. it's not that he doesn't trust the rest of the crew, but really, this is the closest thing to a date you've ever gotten. taking in the sights of new worlds, creating new memories together, and maybe getting tossed in a bit of trouble along the way. sure, it may be tiring or troublesome, but he wouldn't want to face it with anyone else.

those that come across him know him as welt yang, but this is the name he has inherited. he doesn't tell it often, perhaps, but at least you know him. the real him. he's not just welt to you, but also joachim. it is something he entrusted to you, who he is, who he once was, who he shall become— everything about him.

he adores you, and all your entirety. you are like a burning star in the galaxy above, one that burns with him.

together with gepard landau . . .

gepard, captain of the silvermane guards is a busy, busy man. between his duties as captain and his daily life, he does his best to find time for you. his lack of charm is exactly what makes him charming, some may say. he's no nonsense, stubborn, "famously uncompromising" ( as his sister claims ) with an unmatched loyalty. it sounds horrendous, but perhaps that's exactly why you love him.

you tell him he should prioritise his duty first and foremost, he is an important figure in belobog, after all. and he does, he stubbornly commits to it. even if he can see in your eyes that you're hesitantly letting him go again. it's in these rare moments that he gives you a small, warming smile and a gentle embrace— he tells you that he'll do his best, for the preservation of belobog, for its people— and most importantly, you.

bothering him on patrol isn't one of your favourite activites, there are definitely more enriching things out there, but you still do it from time to time. usually, it's when the nights are a little colder and you can't seem to sleep. it's the same old thing, each and every time. he tells you you should get home, but not after a quick walk together with him. you'd chat about the little things, and he'd even shyly try to hold your hand in such a moment. after that, he personally escorts you back to your residence, and never forgetting to leave without a kiss goodnight. it may be a simple kiss on the back of your hand, or you might get up for a quick kiss on the cheek. you don't know what you do to him.

gepard doesn't strike me as a type that knows a lot in this area. he was born and raised as a noble child, and then went straight into becoming a protector of the city he grew up in. he'd feel a little flustered at a few things, the ideas and thoughts that come to him while together with you. he's even more embarrassed as he goes to his sister for advice on how to deal with such emotions. he reads books, fiction of romance that he does best to turn into your reality. it's not perfect— he's still clueless on what's a really good date— but he's always trying harder just for you.

it's not often that he gets free time, but once he does, he's quick to seek you out... after his sister of course. for many good reasons, actually. other than the usual check in with his sister he loves so dearly, she is more helpful than most others despite her teasing. serval is a big source of support in his relationship with you, not to say you two can't handle it yourselves. he's just rather clueless about love as a whole sometimes, and she's there to give him a little nudge in the right direction. thanks to her, gepard brought you flowers once, and he does it every so often.

never underestimate the lengths he'd go for you. he may be constantly out there in the front lines trying to combat the antimatter legion and the fragmentum, and he may be busy with training the guards or some other silvermane business, but he would always keep you in mind. you're part of his motivation, and you've grown to be the biggest part of it. you could tell him it's nothing important, if you ask for something, like a favour or likewise, but because it's you, he'll put it right at the top of his priorities. you are his priority.

dates are difficult, especially when you're captain of the guards. walking around with him attracts more attention than any other thing, but it doesn't stop him from inviting you out. the luxuries of belobog would be easy for him to indulge in, as a landau and as captain, but truly, simply spending time with him is enough. your favourite dates are ones where you freely walk aimlessly in the day, perhaps after a bite to eat. fresh snowfall is light upon the city streets, unlike the eternal freeze. you find it hard to resist temptation, letting yourself be swept off your feet for a sweet kiss in the everlasting winter snow.

gepard landau has an immense lack of charm. he's stubborn, he's uncompromising, and maybe even a little dense or a little blunt. but the brighter side of these qualities always show around you. he'll find a way to see you, and he won't rest until he has. his lack of knowledge in this department has him cutely flustered from time to time, but also has him doing unknowingly romantic things. he loves you, and he wants you to know that.

[genshin-obsessed]

The Honkai men receiving a flower bouquet got me wondering, what if they got a homemade bento lunch from their s/o?

✩ Ooh this sounds cutee! I know some of them are like too busy to eat and they constantly make excuses or lie like "yeah I ate earlier" but they didn't. Reader would NOT stand for that >:0 ✩ Characters: Caelus, Dan Heng, Welt, Sampo, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Luocha, and Blade.

✩ Caelus

Honestly, with how busy this man is you're surprised he's even eating or sleeping at all. He's always running around helping others.

So, you decided one day you'd make sure he was eating well by making him lunch every day. You were already making meals for yourself and seeing as how he was too busy, you could offer a helping hand and make something for him too.

Caelus was shocked and couldn't refuse- especially since when he saw the bento box itself, his stomach grumbled just a bit.

Your response was to giggle and push it further into his hand, "eat it, ok? I know you're busy but your health comes first." The thought was so sweet and so innocent, he just couldn't help but feel almost overwhelmingly happy at it.

Honestly, when he was eating it a bit later on, he almost cried. Like you care so much about him and he just felt... so happy. You were so kind and he was just so lucky to have you in his life. Not that he ever took you for granted, but after that day he vowed to do everything he possibly could to love you, help you, and be as supportive as he possibly could.

✩ Dan Heng

You and Dan Heng always shared meals together but he started to get busier and busier as time went on. So, you often found yourself eating your meals alone.

You weren't angry at all, just worried. If you were eating meals alone, you wondered if Dan Heng even had time to eat at all.

So that led you onto your mission of making Dan Heng lunch boxes like every day. You would make him the same thing you would be eating so it was technically like you two were eating together.

Dan Heng's heart skipped a beat when you offered him the lunchbox with that giant smile of yours. He graciously took it, giving you a small kiss in return.

"Make sure to eat all of it, ok? Don't bring back leftovers." You said with a smile, making him chuckle. He absolutely would. After all, you did go to the trouble of making this lovely meal for him.

✩ Welt

Welt isn't as busy as the other two, but he still has a tendency to skip meals by accidentally forgetting. Especially recently as how everyone's been so busy.

Welt is apologetic every time you get upset, because it's fair. You don't want to see his health take a turn for the worst because he wasn't eating properly.

So, you had the genius idea to make him lunchboxes every now and then! You would make something for yourself to eat, so it wouldn't be too hard to make something for him too, right?

The first time you handed the bento box over to him, he kinda just froze up, asking what it was. You explained it was a bento box and that you wanted to make him a meal.

He was SO happy. Like, over the top happy but he didn't let it all out. He gave you a tight hug before kissing you on the forehead and thanking you repeatedly. You two still found plenty of time to share your lunches, but the days you can't, you'll leave cute little notes in the lunchbox for him. He keeps them, every last one.

✩ Sampo

You know how busy Sampo is. It's not a surprise he can't eat meals on time. He tries, he does, but sometimes, he just ends up eating a small snack between hours of not eating.

Nothing's ever happened, but sometimes Sampo can feel the lack of food taking it's toll. Those are the days he'll treat himself, but it never feels right.

Sampo makes all kinds of excuses under the sun, but the real reason is that he doesn't like eating a meal without you. You don't know this but still, you decided to take some action and start making him bento boxes.

They're not too full but have the right amount of food for a meal which is exactly what he needs in his days. Of course, now that he's got these bento boxes, he can't NOT eat them.

Yeah, he still wishes you were with him, but not eating something you worked so hard to make felt worse than eating with you. Though, he does still work hard to make time for you guys to share a meal at least once a day, if not once every two days.

✩ Gepard

Gepard's never been one to keep up meal times. Like, he ate when he had time. Sometimes he ate his lunch at 12pm, sometimes he ate it at 9pm. Didn't matter to him much.

That changed when you two started dating. Gepard did his best to find time to share meals, but those became harder once the fragmentum started to get worse.

Knowing that Gepard couldn't share meal times the way he wanted, you still wanted to do something for him since he was working so hard. So, you opted to make him a bento box so he still had a meal to eat every day.

He was so shocked when he got it at first because he really wasn't expecting it. His cheeks just flushed red and he graciously took it. You explained that you still wanted him to eat proper meals even if you two couldn't share them.

Since then, he's been trying even harder to meet you for meals, but on the days he can't, he'll happily enjoy the lunch box that you made, specifically for him.

✩ Jing Yuan

Jing Yuan is a busy man but he can find ways around it so he doesn't have to be. Such as afternoons being when he takes his naps. Though, there are days where he happily sacrifices naps for you.

Because of how busy he is, he doesn't eat meals at intended times. He'll often skip breakfast, eat a very late lunch, not even bother with dinner. Small snacks in between is how he lives life.

Of course, this took a turn for the worst when Jing Yuan collapsed. To this day, he says it's just because he was tired and he "fell asleep", but according to the physician, it was because he hadn't been eating well.

He knew how upset you were but he was just so busy. So, you began to make him bento boxes. The first one you showed him made him so happy.

Just because of that, he'll make sure to either eat his meal before his nap or after, but he will now make time for meals. Especially if they're with you.

✩ Luocha

Luocha's not very busy, but due to his traveling, he doesn't always have set times he eats. Sometimes he'll run into a shop that's selling specialty desserts and have a bite which causes him to lose his appetite for proper meals.

Of course, you always scolded him for such things, telling him to worry about his healthy meals first and THEN dessert. Unfortunately, that only took effect once you two got together. Luocha made it a point to eat lunch with you and only you.

Here's the thing though. He's busy and can't always sit to eat with you, even if it's only an hour or something because he travels. So, you took it upon yourself to force him to eat even without you. Bento boxes!

Luocha was so very happy to receive a lunch box FROM YOU! Like, special made by you! He couldn't stop thanking you, to the point where you covered his mouth and laughed, letting him know you were happy to do so.

Luocha stopped skipping meals after that. Honestly, the second he got the bento box, he'd want to eat it. But he'd hold of until he was actually ready to eat. Never did he come home with the bento box full.

✩ Blade

Blade's meals solely depend on you. Otherwise, he just eats what he can. He does try to eat at least one meal a day at a proper time, whether it be breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

Before you, he wasn't eating properly. However, you'd make meals and make something for him too. It would've been rude if he just... didn't eat. SO! That's how it started. You two sharing meals with one another.

There are days where he's out and about and he completely forgets to eat. However, he'll always remember your face and at least get a snack. You wanted to try and promote healthy eating for him. What was the best way? Bento box!

At first, Blade wasn't too sure, but he felt an odd warmth in his cold, dead heart. You... made something for him? You made the bento box, all for him? That was so very sweet of you. "Thank you, my sweet, you're so very thoughtful." he said, giving you a kiss on the head.

There was ONE time where Blade attempted to make a bento box for you. He kinda failed but the thought made you so happy. He could see how happy it made you and that's all it took to make all the embarrassment go away.

[digiflora]

𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐄!

... aka fictional boyfriends as things my pet cat does lmfao

༊*·˚ featuring ➻ my genshin, hsr & jjk faves

༊*·˚ gia's notes ➻ switching up the layout bc i can teehee... also this one is kinda slop cos its just every character on my masterlist oop. N E WAYS i found out that im allergic to my cat but love is pain and i am a masochist so here we are

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 DOESN'T RESPOND UNLESS YOU CALL HIM BY HIS NICKNAME.

he's leaning against your kitchen counter, fingers tapping against it as he's poised so deliberately to give off the impression that everything he's doing is so absent-minded. the way he's scrolling through his feed so aimlessly, just tuned out from the world, including you and your futile attempts at getting his attention.

you call his name, tug at his sleeve, and you don't miss the mischievous smirk on his lips as he glances up at you.

"i don't know who that is, sorry, i hope you find him though."

it's infuriating, sometimes, when he lets his more playful side out. but you know him well, and you play along, not being able to help the smile that fights to stay on your lips.

"well then, my beloved, could you help me look for him?"

and there's an instant change from him, back straightening as he stops leaning against your counter, arms open wide to receive you, a beam on his face.

"gladly, my love."

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ kaveh, welt, dan heng, luocha, GETO

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 GETS EXTRA AFFECTIONATE AND CUDDLY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.

no matter as to whether you had gone to bed with him or before, you're woken up prematurely in the middle of the night at the sensation of your body being moved, ever so gently, across the sheets, closer towards a warm body that nestles itself solidly behind you.

you're barely awake, but you smile to yourself at the newfound comfort, having drifted away as you slept, and now happily reunited.

"i missed you," he breathes against your ear, turning his head to dip down and press kisses to your cheek. you smile, nose scrunching at the ends of his hair that tickle your skin, but welcome it nonetheless.

his arm slips around you, keeping you safely anchored to him, and he lets out a contented hum that almost sounds like he's purring, chest solid against your back.

"you're acting like you've come back from war," you murmur, and he can hear the way you tease even in your half asleep state.

"every second away from you is agony, my love."

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ DILUC, alhaitham, JING YUAN, choso, NANAMI

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 RANDOMLY BITES AND HEADBUTTS YOU.

sure, there's doing something unexpected to grab your attention, but it catches you off guard every. single. time.

he has seemingly no regard for whatever it is that you're doing- you're cooking something? he sneaks up behind you, teeth sinking into your shoulder before he slinks away like it never happened.

trying to get work done? he comes up to you, using his head to poke you and offering no explanation as he walks away.

it's ... endearing, to say the least. it comes from a place of love, that's for sure. make no mistake that you like to bite him too, but he still manages to one-up you each time.

while it started off as surprising in the early days of your relationship, over time you've adapted to it, now even offering a body part for him to headbutt as a greeting.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ cyno, WRIOTHESLEY, neuvillette, BLADE, toji, HIGURUMA

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 FOLLOWS YOU AROUND AND WHINES IF YOU DON'T GIVE HIM ENOUGH ATTENTION.

"babyyyy, i'm bored."

you don't have to turn around to know that he's pouting, some grown ass man acting like a toddler in hopes that you'd pay attention to him. you can't help but roll your eyes, what with him pushing the limit between cute and aggravating for the past half an hour or so.

ever since you had invited him over and he practically let himself in, he had basically followed you from room to room, huffing and puffing as you focused on your work instead of entertaining him.

and as you finally settled in your room, at your desk, you watched out of the corner of your eye as he flopped down onto your bed, his head dangling off the edge as he scrolled through his phone half-heartedly.

and you had to admit, he looked cute like that. you bite back your smile as you see him glance up at you to see if you're looking at him before flopping back down on the bed with a huff.

you'll be done soon, then you'll give him all the attention he wants.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ CHILDE, thoma, sampo, gepard, GOJO

IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ... enjoy the silence!

an introduction to your new roommate dan heng, and the guitar that he loves to play so much

[lovegasmic]

⋆ BEING WELT’S STRESS RELIEF

mdni. + f!reader, mating press, creampie.

Welt has been part of a countless number of adventures, whether it was just gathering some material or sealing Stellarons.

but even though he was an expert in expeditions and even enjoyed a few of them, his favorite moment of an adventure was returning to the astral express and to your arms; or more like, between your thighs.

he never showed it, but he was exhausted, longing for the warmth of your pussy to ease his frustration and tiredness.

“you’re so beautiful, my darling” is what he always mumbles, voice hoarse and eyes glossy while bullying the tip of his cock into your slicked hole, thighs bent over your own chest to give him better access to where he needs you the most.

regardless of your attempt in stretching yourself beforehand, with Welt’s text of “we will return soon” bright on your phone screen and two fingers buried in your cunt, taking him was never an easy chore.

“Welt, it’s too much” you squirm, getting a soft pinch on the side of your thighs as a warning.

the beg for a break fell on deaf ears and instead, large hands cup the back of your soft thighs with big thumbs spreading out your lower lips, mesmerized by the slight struggle of your pussy trying to take him whole, “just a little more” Welt grunts, angling his hips enough for the rest of his girth to fit inside you.

and gods if he tries so hard not to ravage you as soon as he’s balls deep into your cunt, heavy pants, sweat dripping down his bare chest and back with a soft shiver at the same time you clench around his length, barely moving in tiny thrusts as to savor the warmth and wetness or your tiny pussy.

“you’re doing so well” Welt praises in a groan, pressing his mouth against yours as to swallow the squeal that left you with the sudden change of angle and his cock almost pushing against your cervix.

the sound of skin slapping is almost immediate when a “please, move” leaves your mouth, adding a recognizable squelch that makes your ears burn in embarrassment at the idea of someone from the astral express hearing you both.

although you’re most certainly many of your traveling companions are aware of the treatment you give Welt after each mission, since your brain decided to shut down when his thumb found your clit, collecting slick and using it to rub tight circles on it until you cream around his length, and then he’s fucking you without mercy, practically bouncing you both on his bed mattress.

you sob back, biting down a choked scream, “so close...!” breathing heavy with Welt’s stronger body pushing you down further into the bed, earning a grunt and nibble on your sweat coated neck, toes curling as his pace went harder, deeper. all the air inside your lungs escaping in a scream as you came so hard your vision turned blurry, Welt following shortly after and emptying his balls inside your sobbing cunt.

“well done, my love” you thought you heard as you found yourself drifting away to sleep, followed by two heavy knocks on the wall, but you will worry about that tomorrow.

[mrpenguinpants]

Memorabilia [ Commissioned ]

— Unable to sleep, Sunday seeks help from the Astral Express's most unusual crew member. With each anecdote, he wonders if, someday, he too will have pleasant memories of companions to reminisce.

Word Count: 13k

Request: [ A platonic first encounter/found-family fic between the Astral Express and a male reader. Due to an accident, the reader is corrupted and has a "glitchy" appearance with multiple voices in their head. ] Reader is based on an OC, so there are a few extra details/lore, but no OC names or physical details are mentioned. This is still an x reader fic. [Masterlist]

Thank you so much for commissioning me and trusting me with your OC although this fic doesn't feature him specifically. I hope I did his lore and character traits justice. Regardless, I hope you like it!

It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes... sometimes, the memories claw their way back into Sunday's mind, suffocating and unrelenting. They descend without warning, shadows of a past he can never escape. Images of a time when he had pinned his own wings down, seep into his consciousness like spilled ink creeping across the parchment, staining everything they touch. They are vivid, merciless, and inescapable, dragging him back to the place where ambition bled into ruin.

In these recollections, he is not a distant observer; he is the architect of every misstep, every wound, every betrayal. The walls of Penacony stretch endlessly before him, their grandeur gleaming like a lie. Marble floors echo with each step, cold and unyielding beneath his feet, while gilded walls glimmer with an opulence that now feels hollow. They form a labyrinth—beautiful, yes, but suffocating—a maze carved out of blind conviction and arrogance. He strides through them as he once did, head high and eyes forward, an Aeon in form, resplendent and untouchable. But that same pride, so intoxicating back then, now feels distant and alien, like a suit of armor he no longer fits into. The faces are always there, clearer than he’d like, sharper than he can bear. They loom in the shadows and step into the light, their expressions shifting with every memory that takes shape: admiration, fear, then quiet simmering resentment. Their eyes cut through him, piercing the illusion of grandeur he once wore like a shield. He feels their gazes heavy on his skin, weighing him down, their unspoken accusations louder than any words. He remembers the promises he made—the oaths spoken with all the fervor of someone who believed he was doing what was right. Words that once rang with purpose, gilded by his ideals, now echo hollowly in his mind, stripped of their luster. Their weight grows heavier with each repetition, each memory, pressing down like the cold hand of inevitability.

And then, the worst of it: the downfall. The moment his grand vision crumbled under the crushing weight of his own hubris. The cries of those he swore to protect tear through the air—their anger sharp as blades, their pain sharper still, like a wound that never heals. He sees their faces, once filled with hope, now twisted with betrayal. The very people he had sworn to uplift have become his accusers. The world he had built, piece by careful piece, unravels before his eyes. And he is powerless to stop it. His actions, meant to save, have instead been condemned. What he had thought was salvation—the future he had crafted with such fervor—has become nothing but ruin, a collapsing empire of promises broken. His good intentions, like poisoned arrows, strike true and deep, far deeper than he could have ever foreseen. Each one finds its mark, each one a reminder of his failure. The sting of it lingers long after the dream has faded, the weight of those choices pressing down on his chest as if the very air had thickened in the wake of his decisions. And in that moment, in the bitter silence that follows, he realizes that no matter how hard he tries, he can never escape the truth: he failed.

Sunday wakes with a start, his breath sharp and ragged, his chest rising and falling in uneven rhythms. The memories cling to him like a heavy fog, stubborn and suffocating, refusing to loosen their grip. His hands tremble as he sits up, the cold sweat on his skin a stark contrast to the warmth of the bed beneath him. His eyes dart around, disoriented, searching for something familiar in the dim light.

Right. He's not on Penacony anymore.

The walls are unfamiliar, not the cold, opulent marble of Penacony’s halls, but the soft, worn wood and steel of the Astral Express. His room—no, his temporary space—is simple, much like the rest of the train, but it's a world away from the grandeur he once commanded. Here, he's just a wanderer. Ordinary and even inconsequential. No longer an Aeon, no longer the ruler of a broken vision. The weight of the past, the crushing responsibility he once carried, no longer weighs on him in the same way. But the echoes of that past still haunt him, slipping into his dreams when he least expects it, reminding him of who he was. He closes his eyes briefly, willing the tremors in his hands to stop, before slowly rising from the bed. The room is quiet, save for the low hum of the train moving through the stars. No pitiful looks of betrayal, no echoes of failure—just the distant sound of a train journeying onward through the vast unknown.

These flashes of mistakes made, when Sunday dazes off unintentionally, March had dubbed it "dream paralysis." In her ever-cheerful logic, the term made perfect sense—it was like sleep paralysis, but trapped within the labyrinth of his own thoughts and dreams. A clever turn of phrase, at least in her eyes. But no matter how neatly she labeled it, the reality was far from simple. To him, it was a suffocating experience, a haunting that left behind an uncomfortable weight—a constant itch beneath his skin that couldn’t be ignored. The feeling was relentless, the sensation of being trapped in a nightmare where even waking didn’t offer escape. More often than not, it ended the same way: a desperate sprint to the bathroom in the dead of night, where he’d stand beneath scalding water, scrubbing his skin as if he could somehow scrub the discomfort away. His skin would burn, reddened, and raw, but the rashes that followed only mocked him. They were a cruel reminder of his futile attempts to cleanse himself of a discomfort that ran far deeper than his flesh. It wasn’t just his body that was being scratched at—it was something deeper, something he couldn’t reach. Despite Mr. Yang’s steady, measured advice and Miss Himeko’s gentle, empathetic suggestions, nothing seemed to ease the unease that gnawed at him. It remained stubborn and unshakable, no matter how much he wished otherwise. Yet, for all his frustration, there was no way around it... until Caelus made a suggestion. It was a well-meaning idea, of course. Caelus, always the problem-solver, had come up with something that seemed harmless enough, but to Sunday, it was nothing short of mortifying. The idea itself was simple, but the potential consequences left him flushed with embarrassment: Would it really help to let someone else know what he was going through?

Tonight, however, the remembrance come with a relentless hunger, pursuing him with unyielding force. Each time he closes his eyes, he sees her—his sister, her beautifully sad smile as they both fall from the sky, tumbling into the depths of the dreamscape. He has no wings to stop their fall and no way to save them. The weight of it drags him down, spiraling deeper into a nightmare that refuses to release its grip. Sunday is tired, truly, deeply exhausted. It’s a weariness that sinks into his bones, leaving him hollowed out, drained of energy and resolve. His eyes burn with the constant strain, the never-ending conflict between the waking world and the one that holds him captive in his sleep. His head pounds, the rhythm of two worlds pulling him in opposite directions, each tugging at him until he’s stretched too thin to bear. His gaze shifts toward the door across the room. It’s sealed tight, yet somehow, it calls to him, its pull irresistible, like a siren’s song echoing in the stillness of the night. Dangerous, but impossible to ignore. A choice looms before him, sharp and undeniable. A path he’s walked many times before, though each time feels like the first, fresh with the weight of uncertainty. With a sigh that carries the full weight of defeat, he pulls his coat over his shoulders. The fabric feels like a second skin, familiar yet stifling. His hands tremble slightly as he steps out of his temporary room, the quiet hum of the Express a constant background to his thoughts. He’s not supposed to feel like this—like he’s walking away from something important. There’s nothing shameful about leaving, about taking this moment for himself. But guilt clings to him, sticky and suffocating, like a secret he’s too tired to keep. It’s far too late to be doing this, but here he is again. Driven by something he can’t fully name, something that draws him away from the safety he’s built for himself on the ship.

Nothing has changed. Nothing ever does. And still, he keeps walking, each footfall a soft echo of a decision he’ll never be able to undo.

The warmth hits him as soon as he steps into the hallway, a sharp contrast to the chill of his temporary space. He’s always preferred the cold, finding comfort in the way it sharpens his thoughts and isolates him from the world. With each step, he tells himself it will be the last. That he will stop, turn around, and retreat back to where he started. He promises himself that this time, it will be different. He won’t dream of them—those people, those faces, those ghosts from his past that refuse to fade. But with every step he takes, the promise slips further from his grasp, a fleeting whisper drowned by the weight of his own exhaustion. Now, standing in front of an unassuming door, the warmth seems almost alien, its presence too gentle, too inviting. It’s comforting, yes—but also unsettling in its softness, as if it carries a weight of expectation he isn’t ready to face. The door itself is plain—just another identical threshold in the corridor—but it’s the small detail on the corner that catches his eye. A sticker, carelessly slapped there by March with her usual irreverence. A simple star, grinning back at him with its wide, beady eyes and too-cheerful smile. At first, it seems like nothing more than a trivial decoration, an innocent touch of whimsy. Yet, there’s something about it—something in the way those eyes seem to pierce through him, like they know more than he does, more than he’s willing to admit. The smile feels a little too knowing, a little too mocking, and for a brief moment, he wonders if it's laughing at him, at the way he feels so far removed from everything this small gesture represents. For a fleeting instant, the urge to retreat, to step back into the cool isolation of the archives, nearly overpowers him. The cold offers sanctuary, a place where he can hide from the world’s expectations and his own restless thoughts. But his feet remain rooted, unwilling to obey the instinct to flee. Instead, something inexplicable pulls him forward, toward the warmth, toward the comfort of the door. Something that feels like it’s asking him to stay, even as he longs to turn away.

He raises his arm and knocks three times, the sound sharp and purposeful in the quiet hallway. He waits, letting the silence stretch out in front of him. If you don’t respond, he’ll simply turn and return to his room—no harm done. But then, a sound breaks the stillness: a muffled voice, static, then followed by the shuffle of footsteps. The mechanical hum of the door's engine stirs to life, and with a soft whoosh, it slides open, revealing you. The Astral Express’s most enigmatic resident.

Though you’ve been traveling with the Express for months now, even before Sunday’s arrival, he doubts he’ll ever grow accustomed to your appearance. He suspects it would never feel “normal,” no matter how long he's stayed in your presence. He doesn’t know the full story—not that he feels compelled to pry—but whatever happened to you, it’s left a permanent mark. Your form glitches and flickers, a jarring patchwork of neon hues that pulse and shift like a broken screen. Bright flashes of color flare in and out of existence, twisting into shapes that defy any sense of order. If he didn’t know better, if he weren’t so attuned to the dangers of the corruption, he might be tempted to reach out—to touch the glowing lights. To see if they felt as unreal as they looked, or if they would dissolve at his touch like mist caught in a breeze. But he knows better than to test the unknown.

"Sunday?" Your voice is softer than usual, a touch deeper as if the hour has wrapped itself around your words. Do you even need to sleep anymore? In the corner of his eye, he can see your hands flicker into particles of shapes that form into gray crosses, "It’s late. What do you want?"

The words aren’t unkind, but they carry a weight that settles uneasily in Sunday’s chest. He’s caught off guard, his breath halting for a moment. There’s something about your tone, something subtle, that makes him hesitate—a pull he can’t quite name, but one he can’t ignore. Even though he knows this is the right thing to do, even though it was Caelus who suggested it, the moment feels different than he anticipated. He stands there for a beat longer than he should, battling the strange urge to turn around and leave.

"My apologies, I didn’t mean to disturb you at this hour," Sunday begins, his tone more clipped than he intends, the words leaving his mouth with a sharpness he doesn’t quite mean. He immediately regrets the faint edge in his voice, but the annoyance festering inside him makes it hard to suppress. Why is he even doing this? Of all people—of all things, it feels ridiculous. He shifts his weight impatiently, unwilling to let the awkwardness fully settle in.

"I—" He cuts himself off, irritated at how he sounds, even to his own ears. Caelus had insisted that he talk to you, someone who might understand the disorienting weight of mixed emotions, someone who’d probably dealt with more than enough confusion himself. But standing here now, the whole thing feels like a stupid idea.

“I don’t know what to do with it,” he says instead.

"That bad, huh?" you remark flippantly, leaning against the doorframe with an air of nonchalance. The words catch Sunday off guard, and for a moment, he freezes, blinking at you in surprise. He had expected the usual volatile reaction—some distorted image of yourself breaking down, maybe even spiraling into an incomprehensible mess of glitches and shadows. After all, he had heard the rumors of your unpredictable mood swings, the flashes of anger, the strange moments when you seemed to slip between states of reality sprinkled with black zigzags. But instead, you reach for him, hand faltering in the glitchy blur of your form before stabilizing, your fingers finally wrapping around the tassel of his coat with surprising precision. The motion is absurdly gentle, like a small tug on a leash, and Sunday, in spite of himself, allows you to guide him inside your room.

He hums in response, a non-committal noise. There’s an unspoken understanding aboard the Astral Express. No one presses too hard, not unless there’s harm meant. As long as your secrets won't bring any danger to any of the passengers intentionally, no one will pry. It’s an arrangement Sunday can appreciate, even if it can lead to many dangerous paths.

As you lead the way, stumbling slightly as your form blinks in and out of reality, Sunday instinctively reaches out, his hand resting gently on your shoulder to steady you. A soft curse escapes him, his fingers tips burning even through his gloves at the slightest brush of your shoulder, as he nudges you just in time to avoid crushing one of Himeko’s gadgets under your erratic foot. Your room is a curious thing, with a charm all its own. It’s not as fluffy as March’s, nor as bare as his own quarters, but it feels lived in, touched by every person who calls the Express home. The small items scattered about—the faint traces of everyone’s personalities—add warmth to the otherwise utilitarian space. He can almost sense the traces of each person’s energy here, something unique to the crew in every object. It’s not a place of perfection, but it feels like it belongs to someone. To you.

"Interested? Need a bedtime story to go to sleep?"

Sunday blinks, momentarily caught off guard, then looks up to find you smiling at him with that familiar, teasing grin. The static hum around you pulses gently, soft yellow stars twinkling across your face and words, distorting the edges of both as if the world itself was slipping between reality and dream. It’s a strange, almost hypnotic sight, something he only see in the dreamscape. He huffs softly, a small exhale of air that escapes almost involuntarily, before looking away. His gaze drifts to the side, lingering on nothing in particular as he settles on the edge of your bed. The cool, unfamiliar comfort of the moment leaves him uncertain, and he remains silent, unsure of how to respond. What could he say to something so... absurd? Something so blatantly casual that it felt almost out of place.

"Bedtime story? I haven't heard one since I was a child," he finally mutters, his voice a low murmur, clearly not sure whether you’re joking or serious. After all, this—whatever this is—isn’t normal for him.

“You know,” you begin, eyes cast downward, “the first time we saw the Astral Express… I thought we made a mistake, walking into it. Felt like we stepped into the wrong universe altogether.”

---

The moment you step into the archives, pixels, and particles following you, you know you’re not alone. The quiet hum of the Astral Express is ever-present, but there’s something sharper lingering in the air—an edge of awareness that prickles at the back of your neck. The hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention, and your senses sharpen, alert to every small shift in the room. You don't need to turn around to know you're being watched. The weight of the gaze on your back is palpable, almost tangible, like a shadow that hangs too close. You pause, considering your options, but before you can make a move, something cold and unyielding presses against the side of your neck. The cold pressure against your neck tightens just slightly—enough to send a chill through your spine. Whoever is behind you is no amateur, you realize. This is someone who knows how to move in silence, how to strike without warning. Slowly, carefully, you let out a breath, knowing you need to react before the situation escalates further. The quiet hum of the ship feels distant now, swallowed by the tension building around you.

"Not here for trouble," you finally say, your voice low, but steady. "Just passing through."

The silence stretches on, thick and unyielding, as you wait for a response.

"State your intentions," the voice commands, low and steady, yet laced with a razor-sharp calm that cuts deeper than any shout ever could. The words hang in the air, each syllable calculated, each pause deliberate—an unspoken promise that any misstep would be met with swift retribution. You turn your head slightly—not enough to dislodge the weapon, but enough to catch a glimpse of its wielder. He’s tall, with piercing teal eyes that seem to see straight through you, and a faint energy radiates from the spear he’s holding against your throat. The voices in your head are thrown into a panic, mumbled words of different meanings that you can't decipher yet pound against your head. A flicker of annoyance, a burst of black zigzags, and that spear is now digging into the skin of your neck.

"You’re here to harm the Express," the man says in lieu of your response. It’s not a question. He’s sharp, this one. Smarter than he looks, and far more perceptive than you’d like. If you were a worse person, you'd bang your fist against the precious computers and send the man flying in a shower of electrical sparks. But you need him, and you need what the Express carries.

"Maybe," you admit, leaning just slightly into the cold pressure of the blade, testing him, watching for the smallest sign of hesitation. He doesn't flinch. "Or maybe we just needed a ride."

The man's teal eyes narrow, piercing into you with an intensity that feels like it could slice through steel. His grip tightens around the weapon, a subtle shift of muscle that speaks volumes about his readiness, "Then you’ll explain why we've been tracking an additional signal monitoring the train’s systems for weeks. Why your presence coincides with unusual disruptions in local Stellaron activity. And why my instincts are telling me not to trust you."

A grin tugs at the corners of your mouth, despite the palpable tension, despite the deadly situation. You can't help it—.

"Instincts, huh? You trust those over facts? Dangerous habit for someone like you," the edge in your voice is almost playful, but there's an undercurrent of challenge that hangs in the air, thickening the space between you like a storm cloud waiting to break. He doesn't respond immediately, but the subtle tension in his jaw speaks volumes. His mind is already working, piecing together fragments of information, weighing what little he knows against what he's yet to figure out.

"Listen, I have something you need. Those twins? Stelle and Caelus? We're the same," you say, your voice slipping into something quieter, a complete tonal shift that catches him off guard. "You're not wrong. We're not here entirely by coincidence. But harming the Express? That’s not our style. If we wanted to, we’d have done it already. But we will, if we need to."

The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken implication. For a moment, his gaze flickers—just a split-second hesitation, barely perceptible. It’s enough to make his grip loosen just a fraction, a slight shift in his stance. The crack in his armor to protect his own companions, however small, is enough for you to notice. You don’t let the opportunity slip by, "You can lower the spear, or we can stand here all day while your friends wonder why you haven’t come back yet."

The man studies you for a long, heavy moment, the tension crackling in the air between you. Finally, with deliberate slowness, he withdraws the spear, the sharp edge of the weapon no longer pressing against your skin. The atmosphere in the room doesn’t exactly lighten, but it does shift—enough to let you draw a breath without the sensation of impending danger gnawing at your chest.

"If you make one wrong move," he warns, his voice cold and unwavering, like steel on the verge of snapping, "I won’t hesitate next time."

You nod, casually brushing nonexistent dust from your jacket, the act dismissive but calculated. "Duly noted."

He takes a step back, his eyes never leaving you, still as sharp and calculating as ever. You feel the weight of his gaze, like a silent promise that he’s not done watching you. In the midst of it all, an unexpected thought crosses your mind: This man is going to be trouble for you. Smart, careful, stubborn to a fault—he’s exactly the kind of person who sees through people like you. What a bother.

---

"We were kind of a bastard back then," you admit, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "Surprised Dan Heng even gave us a chance to tolerate us."

"Us?" Sunday asks, the word hanging in the air, his curiosity piqued. It’s been gnawing at him for a while now, this strange way you refer to yourself as if there’s more than one person within. You give him a half-hearted grin, it's grim, before tapping your head, then making a motion with your hand—a fluid up-and-down flick of your fingers, as if mimicking someone talking. Each finger meets its thumb in a rhythmic gesture. The understanding dawns on Sunday, a quiet realization creeping in. Some things, some details, are better left up for interpretation but never the truth.

"So," Sunday continues, shifting the conversation, "you arrived without warning, gave them every reason to be cautious, and still managed to walk away unharmed. That’s... fortunate."

It's quite frankly offensive that the same situation happened twice. If the Express keeps giving hand-outs, maybe the train will one day sputter out of fuel.

"Dan Heng could tell we weren’t there to cause trouble—at least, not immediately," You shrug nonchalantly, the motion effortless. The words are spoken with a hint of amusement, as though the whole situation had been a delicate dance, one you were somehow able to navigate without triggering the full force of suspicion.

Sunday tilts his head, his expression thoughtful, "Or perhaps he exercised more patience than most would in his position. A rare quality, considering the circumstances."

"Maybe," you admit with a faint smirk, though Sunday’s gaze remains steady, as if searching for something beneath your words.

He lets out a quiet hum, his voice softening as he speaks, "Trust isn’t something easily earned, especially with the Astral Express. It’s a privilege, not a guarantee."

Right now is his chance—his opportunity to rebuild trust that was shattered before it was ever truly given. The weight of it settles on him, heavy and undeniable. He’s not sure if he can ever fully erase the past, but this moment, this fragile opportunity is all he has left. It’s a test—a chance to prove that he can be trusted, even when everything before suggests otherwise. The quiet moment of self-reflection is broken by the jingle of keys. Sunday turns his head to see you holding up a keychain, its odd charm catching the light. It’s a trashcan, miniature, and oddly endearing. It has cartoony arms forming a thumbs up, the lid slightly opened to show the black trash bag inside. The absurdity of it makes him pause, a flicker of amusement pulling at the corners of his lips.

"Another story?" he asks, his tone light but laced with a hint of curiosity, as if he's not sure whether he wants to hear more or is merely indulging you.

---

"You two need something?"

You don’t need to turn around to know that Caelus and Stelle are lurking, their presence is as obvious as an elephant in a room. The twins are hidden behind a potted plant, doing their best to remain inconspicuous, but their attempt is about as subtle as a bull in a china shop. They peer out from either side of the skinny plant, wide-eyed and guilty, like two kids who’ve just been caught raiding the cookie jar. They don’t move, sharing some silent exchange between themselves—one of those unspoken conversations that only twins seem capable of, their eyes darting back and forth with a kind of synchronized rhythm. You don’t have to wait long before you decide to break the silence. Leaning casually against the wall, you snap your fingers with a sharp, deliberate sound. It’s a quick, attention-grabbing motion, and to anyone who might be watching, you might as well have been trying to corral a pair of raccoons. The twins, startled at first, perk up immediately. Like clockwork, they abandon their hiding spots and scurry toward you, grinning sheepishly as if they hadn’t been caught in the act at all.

"Well? You two are the most unsubtle pair of idiots we know," you say, your tone flat but with an edge of amusement. "So what were you two trying to do?"

You level them with a stare, eyes flickering with jagged, glitching teal squares that ripple beneath the surface of your corruption, catching the light like fractured glass. The momentary flashes make your gaze feel sharper, more unsettling, but the effect doesn’t seem to faze them. Stelle is the first to break the silence, a grin tugging at the corner of her lips.

"We were trying to scare you," she admits, her voice playful, but there’s a mischievous lilt that betrays her intent. She taps her chin thoughtfully with her thumb and index finger, adopting an exaggerated stance like some kind of inquisitive scholar. Her eyes gleam with an almost theatrical curiosity, her gaze flickering between you and Caelus. Caelus, ever the mirror to his twin, nods in agreement, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin of his own. He matches Stelle’s pose, almost to the letter, his subtle smile hinting at some shared joke. The synchrony between them is uncanny, and it’s clear they both find this moment far more amusing than it has any right to be. You raise an eyebrow, your patience thinning, waiting for them to elaborate. Stelle’s grin widens even further, and Caelus, picking up on whatever idea is dancing through her mind, mirrors her expression with a gleam of mischief in his eyes.

"We’re bored," Stelle begins, her tone dripping with exaggerated seriousness as if she’s about to reveal some profound, existential truth.

"Really, really bored," Caelus chimes in, his voice practically bouncing with the energy that radiates off him. He shifts from foot to foot, practically vibrating with pent-up energy, as if he’s struggling to contain his excitement.

"We were gonna try to scare you," Stelle continues, leaning forward slightly as if sharing a great secret.

"But then you found us and spoiled it," Caelus finishes with a dramatic sigh, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. Their synchronized performance makes it hard not to smirk. The sheer childishness of their attempt, paired with their boundless energy, is somehow endearing, despite the fact that you feel like you’re dealing with two hyperactive children who think they're being clever.

You shake your head, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. Leaning forward in mock disappointment, you raise an eyebrow, "Yup, good job. We were totally scared."

Caelus huffs indignantly at your sarcasm, his pout deepening as he crosses his arms over his chest, making a show of being offended. Stelle, never one to miss an opportunity for drama, rolls her eyes so dramatically it’s almost impressive. Then, without warning, they share a look—a silent exchange so loaded with meaning that you can practically hear the unspoken conversation between them. It’s a look that says more than words ever could. And then, just as suddenly, they launch into a silent argument, their exaggerated gestures and comically furrowed brows making the entire scene seem more like a theatrical performance than a real disagreement. You watch them, amused, for a few moments, shaking your head at their antics. And then, as if an invisible cue has been given, they stop abruptly, turning to face you with matching, exaggerated expressions of innocence.

With sudden synchrony, the two of them pull something from behind their backs. It's a keychain—strange and, to say the least, unexpected. You stare at it as Caelus hands it over, his grin widening.

“It’s for you,” he says, his voice light, but there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes. It’s a small trashcan keychain, with a tiny, empty can dangling next to it. It's...quite ugly if you're being honest. You look up at the two racoons, your eyes screaming "seriously?" but you still take it from him. Stelle beams with pride, crossing her arms and watching you intently as if waiting for your reaction.

"It’s a symbol," she declares, as though it’s some grand gesture of deep significance. "Of our collective boredom."

You blink at the keychain, shaking your head. It’s utterly silly, but in that weird, inexplicable way, it’s perfect. It’s the kind of quirky, offbeat gesture that somehow fits this strange little crew you’ve found yourself with. Hands too wide, arms too open, and eyes far too crescent. You roll your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips is unmistakable as you slip the keychain into your pocket.

"Thanks, you two," you mutter dryly, the glitch in your hands weirdly stable enough to not drop your new gift, "We’ll treasure it."

---

Sunday watches, his expression a mixture of restrained bemusement and reluctant fondness as you finish retelling the tale. He hasn’t had the chance to experience the twins’ antics first-hand, but from Robin’s stories and the occasional interaction, it’s clear that Caelus and Stelle are the type to act first and think later. Silly, carefree, and utterly unburdened by the weight of anything that doesn't immediately concern them. It’s almost baffling how easily they offer their trust, without a second thought, to someone like you—a stranger, someone whose past is tangled with so much uncertainty. His gaze drifts to the keychain still resting in your hand, and he suppresses a quiet sigh. A small trashcan with a gusto of positivity might have been enough to irritate him in another context. But right now, in this odd, unexpected moment, it doesn’t do what he expects. Instead of irritation, he feels something else—a strange sense of warmth. It's silly, it truly is. It reminds him of the cartoons he's indulge when Robin would tug on his sleeve to please, just for 2 minutes, watch the newest episode with her. Despite the complexities of everything else weighing on his mind, it serves as a reminder of something he’s almost forgotten.

It’s fleeting, like a brief flicker of sunlight through a cloudy sky, but it settles in his chest with an unfamiliar comfort. A quiet smile, barely perceptible, tugs at his lips. You set the keychain down on your bedside table with deliberate care, moving on to the next object. A plushie of a white ball. There are slanted blue and purple eyes stitched on with a scar going across the left eye.

"It's called a Wubbaboo. They're mischievous Astral Spirits that possess individuals and commit pranks for fun. Although they are not deadly, they have the potential to cause trouble and should be kept from breaking loose. March found it funny to compare them to us," you say, an annoyed notch in your eyebrow as you squeeze the "wubbaboo" until it's face is smushed together so close you can't see the angry eyes staring right back.

---

The neon lights of the room pulse erratically, casting every-changing glows over the crowd. March 7th bounced from one foot to the other, her bright eyes locked on the brightly lit claw machine ahead. Inside, the prize—a pink plushie with a dopy grin and pink cheeks—sat just within reach, taunting her with its unyielding proximity. Her gaze was unwavering, her fingers twitching with anticipation.

"Come on, just one more try," she muttered under her breath, digging into her pocket for the last of her coins. The weight of them, small and cold in her palm, felt like a promise she couldn’t quite break. She'd come this far—surely the next try would be the one.

Behind her, the air hummed faintly—an odd, almost imperceptible static that seemed to vibrate with a quiet energy. It was the kind of noise that made the hairs on the back of March’s neck stand on end, a discomfort she couldn’t quite place. At first, she paid it no mind, her full attention fixed on the claw machine. She slipped the last coin into the slot, her gaze narrowing with steely determination as the machine beeped, signaling the start of her next attempt. But then, from the corner of her eye, she saw it. A figure. Someone watching her. She turned instinctively, expecting to see one of the crew members, perhaps Caelus or Dan Heng, idly observing her antics. But no. The figure she locked eyes with was unfamiliar, unsettling in a way she couldn’t immediately define. Your form flickered—barely a glitch, just a brief ripple in reality, too subtle for anyone else to notice. But to her, it felt like a silent warning, a quiet anomaly that sent a shiver racing down her spine. The space around you seemed to warp for an instant, as though reality itself was struggling to contain you. March blinked, but when she looked again, you were still there—just standing, waiting, like an enigma she hadn’t figured out yet. And that strange, unsettling feeling refused to leave her.

“Oh, hey!” March called out, her usual energy slicing through the lingering unease like a burst of sunlight. “You’re here to watch me win this plushie, right?”

You didn’t respond immediately, your attention unwavering from the claw machine. There was something about the way you stood, casually leaning against the wall, that felt... off. Not the way someone would watch a simple game play out, but with an unsettling precision—like you were studying the machine’s every move. Your eyes tracked the claw with such intent, it was as though you were dissecting its every twitch, every mechanical shift, as if the game were a puzzle to be solved. March tilted her head, momentarily curious about the strange intensity radiating off you. She didn’t mind the silence—after all, who needed words when you had her enthusiasm to fill the space? But something about the way you held yourself made her feel like she was performing on a stage where you were the only audience.

“What? No encouragement? I’m about to win this thing, I can feel it!” She threw a grin over her shoulder, half expecting the same playful teasing she’d received from the others, but you didn’t flinch. No laugh, no words of support. Just your eyes, fixed and unmoving, on the claw’s next movement. It made her pause, just for a moment. But only for a moment. Her confidence bounced right back, her smile widening as she adjusted her grip on the controls. “I’m telling you, it’s happening this time. Watch and learn!”

You finally looked at her, your expression unreadable for a moment, then a flicker of something—amusement, maybe?—passed through your gaze, "If you really believe you're about to win, there’s no need for encouragement."

March raised an eyebrow, her smile fading just a little as she tried to make sense of the shift in your tone. She knows that you're quite aloof, not prickly per say, but you definitely don't indulge in the express's whims. But that's okay! Dan Heng was just like that until she managed to whittle away those iron walls.

“Uh, okay... but I still need all the luck I can get,” she said, trying to shake off the eerie undertone in your voice. She turned back to the machine, her fingers hovering over the controls, the tension of the moment stretching out.

"Luck has little to do with it," you added softly, your eyes flickering to the claw again. There was something in your tone, something that made March pause, just for a second, as she processed the weight of your words. But before she could respond, the machine gave a soft beep—your prediction, it seemed, had been right. Along with the last of her coins.

“Gah! I ran out of time! I’ve been trying to win this plushie for hours!” March whined, her voice carrying a mix of light-hearted frustration and exasperation. “The claw just doesn’t grab it! I’ve tried every angle, but it always misses. It's like the machine’s rigged!”

You simply raised an eyebrow, because obviously all the arcade machines are rigged, and take a step closer. Your fingers twitched, the subtle erratic energy that often surrounded you almost palpable, as though the air itself hummed in response. A mischievous glint flickered in your eyes, the pink diamonds trailing after you beneath the neon lights of the arcade machine shimmering more vibrantly than usual. Without a word, you slid into position next to her, your hand reaching toward the controls with an almost practiced ease. March's frown deepened in confusion, her brow furrowing as she watched you. Before she could protest, the machine seemed to shudder with a strange, low hum—a sound so faint that it barely registered at first, but enough to make her pause.

“You—what did you just do?” she asked, her voice a strange mix of awe and disbelief, as if she couldn’t decide whether to be impressed or unnerved by what had just happened. Her words seemed to hang in the air, heavy with confusion and fascination. You didn’t offer an immediate response, just watching the machine as your fingers twitched again, a barely noticeable movement that seemed to set the air vibrating with some hidden force. For a split second, the claw hung motionless, as if frozen in time. The hum of the machine stilled, and everything around you seemed to hold its breath. Then, with an almost imperceptible shudder, the claw jerked downward, the movement sharp and precise as it latched onto the plushie’s corner. The machine groaned as it whirred to life again, the claw lifting with slow, deliberate force, its grip firm yet delicate, holding the plushie aloft as it dangled precariously by a single corner, swaying ever so slightly. March’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open in utter disbelief. Her jaw dropped, her voice barely a whisper as she stared at the plushie now hanging in midair, clearly suspended by some matter. You stood there, still as ever, a subtle glint of something in your eyes—a fleeting amusement, or perhaps something more calculating, like you had known exactly what would happen all along.

"Just a little glitch here and there," you said, your voice cool, though there was a faint static buzz beneath your words, as though your presence was subtly affecting the machine's circuits. "Machines like this are predictable if you know how to... persuade them."

March stared at the plushie as it was deposited into the prize chute. She scrambled forward, pulling it free from the machine with a loud, excited gasp. "I—I can’t believe it! I actually won it!"

“Looks like you’re finally getting lucky," You watched her, your arms crossed as you leaned back against the wall, your eyes still flickering with that odd energy.

March couldn’t help but laugh, clutching the plushie tightly to her chest, "I should’ve asked you to help from the beginning! I’ve spent hours trying to get this thing. I owe you big time!"

"You’re welcome," you said, though the words were laced with a strange, robotic quality. Your eyes flickered again, as if you were seeing the world in a way no one else could, "But next time, maybe try using your own hands instead of relying on glitches. It’s better that way."

"Nah, I think I’m gonna keep asking you for help," she teased, her energy back to its usual brightness. Her grin alone would power the arcade with how brightly it was shining, “You’ve got the magic touch.”

You raised an eyebrow, pink diamonds flickering once more, but this time, you hurriedly brush them away, "Whatever you say."

As March bounced away, clutching the plushie, she suddenly stopped, eyes wide with a new idea. Without warning, she turned and grabbed your arm, tugging you toward another claw machine nearby, "Alright, you helped me get mine, now it's my turn to get you one!" she declared, practically bouncing with excitement.

"You don’t have to do that," you protest, but March was already running to the coin dispenser to buy more arcade tokens, determined as ever.

"Nonsense! You made my night, so now it’s my turn to return the favor," she said with a grin. "Besides, this one has a super rare plushie. It even looks like you! You’ve gotta have it!"

---

"It took her another two hours to win once. We could feel the voices in our head getting louder. Any longer and who knows, maybe we would have started smashing machines and gotten us all kicked out of Penacony sooner," you say, your tone light but with an undercurrent of something darker, like you might be persuaded to actually go back and cause mass property damage just for the fun of it. Although Sunday is no longer apart of running Penacony, he hopes that you keep that little side adventure sealed in a box.

"Sounds like it was... fun," he murmurs, his voice as steady and measured as ever, but there's something else—something unspoken in the way he looks at you, a subtle acknowledgment of the weight behind your words. It reminds him of Robin's not-so-subtle attempts to drag him away from his office. The puppy-eyes unbefitting her image, how she's bemoan and cry like a spoiled child despite being the most generous person he's ever known. You lean back, letting the memory of the night with March linger in the air between you both, but it’s not the laughter that stands out now. It’s the strange, almost imperceptible warmth that comes with sharing something so unremarkable, yet so anchoring.

"Yeah. I guess it was. But, you know, I don’t need any more prizes. I can't find half my things under all this fluff. Though I’ll admit, it’s nice to be a part of something so... simple for once," your words trail off while your fingers absentmindedly trace the edges of a leather-bound notebook resting nearby. It's a habitual gesture that helps you center yourself, pulling away from the chaos of your thoughts, gray crosses make their reappearance with each stroke. It’s a small thing, yet it feels oddly comforting as if you're balancing yourself to something real amidst the constant shifting of your mind. You don’t look at it directly, but the weight of it under your touch is familiar, as though it’s tied to a version of you that’s been buried, one that doesn’t need the noise or the complications of the present to feel whole.

---

The corridors of the Astral Express were unusually still that afternoon, the kind of stillness that felt more like a pause—like the entire ship was holding its breath. Welt, ever perceptive and attuned to the nuances of his crew, couldn’t ignore the subtle shift in the atmosphere. There was a hum in the air, almost imperceptible, yet it was unmistakable to someone who knew the rhythms of the train as well as he did. Something was off, and it wasn’t just the absence of the usual banter.

He found you in one of the lounge areas by the window, sitting on a plush chair, your back rigid and unmoving. Your eyes were fixed on the stars outside, yet they seemed distant, unfocused, as though you were seeing something far beyond what was visible. A flicker of tension lingered in the air around you, something that made the quiet feel unnatural. Welt’s instincts tingled, the way they always did when something wasn’t quite right. He stepped closer, careful to keep his presence subtle, but as he neared, he saw the flicker of anxiety in your movements—the twitch of your fingers, the way your gaze darted restlessly around the room, as if you were trying to catch hold of something just out of reach. Your mouth pressed into a thin, controlled line, betraying the internal struggle playing out behind your eyes. It was like a storm was brewing just beneath the surface, one he couldn’t quite read. It also didn't help the black zigzags cascading down from your head like water. The suddenness of it struck him like a spark before the crackle of thunder—quick and sharp, but brimming with an undeniable intensity. Something had changed in you, something deeper than what words could reveal. And Welt, ever the observer, felt a weight settle in his chest. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“You’re not okay,” Welt’s voice broke the stillness, soft yet firm, the kind of tone that held no room for argument but also offered a space for understanding. He knew you’d hear him, even if you weren’t ready to respond.

You didn’t answer immediately, but he could see the shift in your posture—the slight stiffening of your shoulders, the way your hands clenched and unclenched, restless, as if they were desperate for an outlet. Your eyes flickered to him, but they never fully met his. They danced around the room, unfocused, searching for something just beyond the edges of the present. And Welt knew, without needing to read further into the subtle tension in the air, that something was brewing beneath the surface. There was a storm in those eyes—wild, untamed, as if your emotions were battling each other in a silent war, and your mind was struggling to keep up. The turbulence inside you was palpable, though you made no effort to show it outwardly. But Welt, who had long learned to read the unspoken, could see it—the flicker of something, a fleeting moment of vulnerability, quickly masked by a wall of distance. He stayed quiet for a moment, letting the space between you linger, his gaze steady but patient, waiting for you to find your footing amid the chaos. He knew you didn’t need his answers or his help—not yet. What you needed was someone to acknowledge that what you were going through wasn’t something to hide, something to sweep under the rug.

“Talk to me,” he urged, his voice softening, an invitation more than a demand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Talk? Why does everyone want to talk? I'm sick of hearing other people's voices-" You spit, those same black zigzags spilling down from your mouth like tar. Your corruption flares up, lashing out towards Welt like hands if he hadn't raised his cane, the pressure of a blackhole swallowing them with one motion. Although your powers are strong, Welt has dealt with beings far more dangerous. Right now, you only look like a lost boy whose confused and anxious. You flinch away, the dark matter in Welt's cane temporarily mixing with your curse snaps you back to reality. "It’s happening again,” you murmured, the words barely a whisper, but they carried an undeniable weight that seemed to hang in the air, heavy with the force of a brewing storm. It's as close of an apology as you can say, the admission of your weakness. Your voice, strained and fragile, barely reached the space between you and Welt, but the tension it carried was palpable, suffocating the room. It was as if the words were not merely spoken, but dragged from you—born of some unseen pressure that twisted around your very being. Welt’s brow furrowed, a faint crease appearing between his eyes as the words sank in. His normally composed exterior slipped just slightly, concern flickering like a distant ember. He stepped closer, but the distance between you both felt miles apart like there was an invisible barrier keeping him from reaching you. His steady, calm demeanor remained in place, the calm before the storm, but there was no mistaking the quiet alarm in his eyes. It was the kind of concern that didn’t need to be spoken—it was in the way he watched you, the careful way he approached, as if unsure whether any sudden movement might cause the fragile equilibrium of your mind to snap. He wasn’t a stranger to the Antistar’s influence, the thing that had fused with your body somehow. Welt had witnessed it before—the way it sank its claws into people's mind, its voices echoing in their thoughts like a cacophony of distant whispers, each one dragging their host deeper into a void. He had watched the shift, the way their thoughts could become erratic, spiraling into madness. But this… this felt different. Your eyes, wide and unfocused, darted around the room like prey under a predator’s gaze. They never settled, as if your surroundings had become something foreign and threatening. There was an almost panicked quality to your movements, your hands fidgeting in agitation, fingers twitching involuntarily. Welt could see it—the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way your muscles tensed, anticipating some unseen danger. Yet you kept everything constrained under a deteriorating cracking iron fist.

“Let it out,” he said, his voice soothing, though there was a firmness to it, like he was anchoring you to the present moment. “Tell me what’s going on in your head. If you lose control, I will be here.”

You clenched your hands tightly, the fingers trembling ever so slightly. The irritation, confusion, and pain on your face were unmistakable. You weren’t ready to speak, but Welt could see the frustration in your eyes as you fought to keep control, as if you didn’t want to burden him with it.

“The voices… they’re too loud,” you muttered again, the words barely coherent, slipping from your lips like the last tether to reality was breaking. You weren’t speaking to him now, he realized. You were speaking to something else—somewhere inside yourself. Your eyes flitted around, unfocused, the flicker of your gaze darting in every direction as if trying to escape the storm inside you. But no matter how hard you looked away, the shadows seemed to follow, pressing in on you, crowding your thoughts. The chaotic whispers, fragmented and incoherent, spun like a whirlpool in your mind, each thought louder than the last, pulling you under. Welt’s hand twitched, but he held himself back, unsure if any touch would push you further away. He could feel the shift in the atmosphere—something heavy, suffocating, that seemed to darken the space between you both. It wasn’t just the usual voices. This was something deeper, something suffocating that made the air feel thick, pressing against your lungs, forcing every breath to feel like it could be your last. Your fingers twitched at your sides, and for a moment, it looked like you might collapse under the weight of it all. Something about your posture—rigid, almost as if frozen—suggested that you were fighting an unseen force, and that fight was taking all the energy you had left.

“You don’t have to hold it all in,” Welt continued, his tone never harsh, just a calm, steady presence. “You’re not alone in this, you know. We’re all here for you.”

Welt moved a little closer, sitting down beside you, not crowding you, but close enough to let you know he was there. He didn’t rush you. He didn’t expect an answer. He simply waited, letting the quiet space between you become a bridge. Slowly, you exhaled, the tension beginning to ease.

“I don’t know how to stop it,” you admitted, finally, your voice trembling, “I can’t escape it… the memories, the voices, they keep mixing together. It’s too much. It feels like… it feels like I’m breaking apart sometimes.”

The words were barely there, barely above a whisper, but they carried the weight of everything you’d been carrying—everything you didn’t know how to deal with. Welt remained silent, letting you say what you needed to, the gentle hum of the train filling the space between your words. After a moment of silence, Welt reached into his coat and pulled out a small, simple notebook. It was nothing special, just a black hardcover with blank pages inside, but there was a certain gravity in the way he offered it to you.

“I know it’s hard to sort through everything in your mind,” he said, his voice steady, “But sometimes, putting it down on paper can help. Whether you write, draw, or just let your thoughts spill out, it’s a way to process what’s going on inside. It’s yours. Whenever you feel like you need it.”

His gaze is soft and steady as he handed you the notebook, the worn leather cover catching the dim light of the train’s quiet lounge. He didn’t need to say anything more; his gesture spoke louder than words ever could. It was an offer, an invitation to channel the chaos, to make sense of the dissonance swirling in your mind, even if just for a moment. You took the notebook from him with a quiet nod, fingers brushing against the cover. It felt like a small tether, a lifeline to something that might help you regain control. There was a subtle warmth in the action, like an invisible thread connecting you to him, a silent understanding between you both. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze just yet—your eyes still too full of that swirling storm, too fragile to hold his steady, unshakable presence for long. But even so, there was a shift inside you. A tiny, almost imperceptible lightness that you hadn’t felt in a long time. It was like a small weight had been lifted, just enough to let you breathe a little easier. The thought that there might be a way to bring some order to the chaos, even if just for a fleeting moment, was oddly comforting. It wasn’t a cure, and it wasn’t a solution to everything, but it was something. And that was more than enough for now.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, the words carrying far more weight than the simplicity of their sound. They were more than just a polite acknowledgment—they were a recognition of the space he had given you, the quiet support that had anchored you in the midst of your turmoil. The storm inside you hadn’t fully passed, but the gentle pressure of the notebook in your hands and Welt's presence beside you made it feel like there was at least a small way forward. And for the first time in a long time, that felt like enough.

---

Sunday’s gaze lingered on the notebook, the silence between you both stretching out, comfortable yet laden with unspoken thoughts. His eyes, usually so guarded, softened as he watched you trace the edges of the book. It was a small thing, but there was a kind of quiet understanding in the way his attention remained fixed on it—on you. He was listening, more than just hearing, letting your words settle in the space between you, weighing them with care.

"A notebook?" he asked, his voice as calm and neutral as always, but you could feel the subtle shift beneath it, the way he was registering the importance of this new detail. You nodded, a small sigh escaping you as you let your fingers graze the leather cover, feeling its familiar texture beneath your touch. Something was grounding about it, something that allowed you to breathe a little easier, even if just for a moment.

"Mr. Yang said... writing, drawing, anything—just getting it out of our- my...my head could help." The words left your mouth more easily now, a little less guarded than before. You allowed the vulnerability to show, even if only for a brief moment, “It didn’t seem like much at first, but it kind of made sense. Maybe if I put things down on paper, I could start making sense of it all.”

You could feel the weight of his gaze still on you, a steady, almost intangible presence that let you know he was fully engaged with what you were saying. The way he didn’t rush to speak, didn’t offer unsolicited advice, allowed you the space to process your own thoughts aloud. It was rare, and it felt like a small gift. He didn’t respond right away, and you could tell that he wasn’t just hearing your words—he was truly absorbing them. His silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but instead it was thoughtful, almost as if he was searching for the right way to acknowledge what you’d shared without diminishing it. You briefly remember that Sunday used to act as a confessional when he was still in Penacony.

"I see," His voice was quiet, but the way he said it—like the weight of your words had a place in the quiet space between you—felt like an unspoken agreement. He understood, in his own way. There was no need for further explanation, no need to fix it, because he saw what you were trying to do. Finally, you leaned forward, placing the notebook gently into his hands. His eyes widened slightly in surprise at the gesture.

"Take it," you said, your voice steady now, "Welt’s right about one thing—getting it out, even if just on paper, can help. But sometimes, it’s hard to know where to start. Maybe you could use it. I know you’ve been carrying your own things, too, and...I think it might help. If you want."

Sunday's gaze lingered on the notebook in your hands, his fingers drifting over its surface as if weighing its significance without quite touching it. There was a slight furrow in his brow, a quiet contemplation that seemed to speak volumes about the thoughts running through his mind. The air between you was thick with the stillness, the kind that held space for unspoken words, for the things that were never said but felt deeply all the same. The silence stretched, comfortable yet heavy, before his eyes finally lifted to meet yours. His expression, as always, was carefully neutral—an unreadable mask that kept his thoughts hidden from view. Yet in the soft, steady look he gave you, there was something else, something that wasn’t contained in the lines of his face or the calmness of his voice. It was gratitude—subtle but unmistakable. It was a warmth that lingered in his eyes, a quiet acknowledgment that said more than any words could.

“I appreciate it,” he said, his voice low, carrying an uncharacteristic vulnerability. The words were simple, but they felt like a rare offering from him, a small crack in the armor he wore so effortlessly. Sunday, who usually kept his emotions tucked away in the recesses of his mind, was letting a piece of himself be seen. He took a slow breath, as though trying to ground himself in the newfound realization, considering the offer you'd made with a seriousness that reflected just how much it meant to him.

“I’ll think about it,” he added quietly, his voice softer than usual, but carrying an openness that had been absent before. It wasn’t a promise, not yet—but it was a crack in the door, a willingness to entertain something different, something new. And in that moment, you knew that it wasn’t just the notebook that he was considering. It was the space you had offered him, the chance to let something out that he hadn’t known he needed to. You nodded, your heart settling a little. The connection, small as it was, felt like a shared understanding. Neither of you had to carry the weight alone, even if you both still had a long way to go. You bat the sheets, flipping them over to make room as you clumsily slip under the covers. Sparkles of pink diamonds and yellow stars dust your cheeks. You scoot over a bit, patting the empty space beside you.

"So, Sunday, the night is still young. What other stories do you wish to hear?"

---

The soft hum of the Astral Express reverberated through the still morning air, a gentle reminder of the vastness of space surrounding the train. The faint glow of the sun barely peeked over the horizon, casting the world in muted hues of gold and lavender. Himeko, having long since grown accustomed to the quiet rhythms of the morning, made her way to the kitchen with a peacefulness that seemed to come only at this hour. She savored the calm that hung in the air, as though the world outside was still asleep, cocooned in the early hours before the day fully began. No noise, no urgency, just the steady pulse of the train and the promise of a new day. With each step, the familiar scent of brewed coffee and the faint warmth of the kitchen grew stronger, tugging her further into the solace of the moment. The corridors of the Astral Express, usually bustling with the energy of the crew, now felt like a world apart, as if time had slowed in reverence to the serenity of the morning. It was in moments like this, before the demands of the day began to pile up, that Himeko felt the weight of everything that had happened in the quietest way possible. It was as if the train itself whispered secrets to her in these brief, fleeting moments of solitude. She opens the kitchen door manually, not quite ready to disturb the peaceful atmosphere, only to stumble onto an unexpected sight. You were standing alone in the kitchen, a cup of tea cupped between your hands over the sink in case you accidentally spilled it's contents, staring out the window with an air of quiet contemplation. Himeko couldn't help but notice the way the soft light from the window caught your features, highlighting the tired lines under your eyes, and the subtle shift in your posture. Teal squares just on the ends of your heels, small and insignificant. It's probably the calmest your glitches have ever been since you joined the Express.

"Good morning, is it just us today?" Himeko greeted, her voice gentle but warm as she stepped inside. You startled slightly at the sound of her voice, blinking at her with a mix of surprise. You hadn’t noticed her approach, too wrapped up in your own thoughts.

"Morning," you mumbled, your voice soft yet not quite there, "The twins and March are probably going to sleep in since the Express hasn't reached its destination. Mr. Yang mentioned that he'd be cooped up in his room since he'd had a burst of information for his animation. Dan Heng arrived earlier but slinked off like the lizard he is."

Himeko laughs, your not-so-subtly rivalry with Dan Heng is always amusing. One day she hopes that you and him will get along since your personalities are similar, yet she doesn't think that day will arrive anytime soon.

"And Sunday?" she asked, a quiet concern slipping into her tone. Although it's obvious that she's prodding at the fact you've left their newest member out of your count, your expression remains the same. You didn’t immediately respond, your gaze dropping to your hands, fingers tightening around the warm ceramic of the cup you still held.

"Sunday visited us... last night. It was," you tap your fingers lightly against your cup, the words lingering a moment before you continue, "productive."

Himeko’s soft chuckle fills the space between you, her gaze sharp and knowing as she observes the subtle shift in your posture. The way your fingers tap nervously against your cup, the faint tension in your shoulders—every detail betrays the discomfort you're trying to hide. It’s clear that something has unsettled you, and she doesn’t miss a beat. It seems that Sunday had finally decided to take Caelus’s advice, something Himeko had been quietly anticipating. She’d often wondered how many nights she would hear his pacing echo through the quiet halls, his restless steps a soft but constant reminder of his inner turmoil. It wasn’t until now, after all this time, that he had worked up the courage to knock on your door. As she watches you, a quiet satisfaction lingers in her expression. For someone like Sunday—so reserved, so distant—it was a rare and significant step, and she can’t help but wonder what this moment means for both of you.

"I didn’t know you two had gotten so close," she remarks, her voice light with curiosity, "I always thought Sunday preferred his solitude. Guess you’ve managed to break through that shell of his."

"It’s not like that," you mutter, your words a bit awkward as you try to navigate the conversation. You rub the back of your neck, the heat rising to your face as you glance briefly at Sunday, still unsure how to explain the situation, "Just... paying it forward..."

---

The train was quiet in the dead of night, save for the soft hum of the engines that kept it steady through the stars. The glow of the emergency lights created a muted, warm atmosphere in the corridors, but the calm didn’t last long. A muffled cry cut through the silence, followed by the sound of something hitting the floor. Himeko, ever attuned to the sounds of the Astral Express, immediately snapped awake, sitting up from her chair in the lounge. Her instincts told her where to go. Without hesitation, she stood and moved swiftly down the narrow hallway, her footsteps quiet but determined.

When she reached your door, she paused for a moment. The sounds of distress were unmistakable—night terrors, or something close to them. She gently pushed the door open, finding you curled up in a tangle of blankets, breathing erratically, your body still twitching from the remnants of a nightmare. Himeko’s heart softened. She had seen this before, though not in the same form. Everyone aboard the Astral Express carried their own burdens, but sometimes those burdens took the shape of dreams that could tear through the night. Without a word, she stepped inside and softly sat at the edge of your bed. Her presence was calming, like a tether to reality, something solid in the wake of your fear.

"Hey," she said softly, her voice gentle but laced with a quiet concern, waiting for you to stir. The silence stretched between you both, heavy with the unspoken understanding. When your eyes finally fluttered open, still bleary and clouded with unease, she offered a small, reassuring smile—a quiet balm for the storm inside.

"Nightmares, huh?" she asked, her tone light, but there was no mistaking the empathy in her voice. You blinked up at her, listening intently, your pulse beginning to slow as her calming presence wrapped around you. You nodded slowly, the motion almost automatic as you tried to shake off the lingering remnants of the dream that clung to your mind like shadows. Your breath was still ragged, the echoes of the nightmare pulsing in the back of your skull. Himeko didn’t rush you, her gaze soft but unyielding, the kind that could see through the cracks in even the toughest exterior. She gave you a knowing look, one of those rare expressions that only someone who had seen the weight of the universe could wear—a quiet strength that could fill any silence.

"It’s funny," Himeko said, her voice softening as she leaned back slightly, her eyes distant for a moment, as though recalling something personal, "I found that sometimes, the best way to chase away the nightmares wasn’t by fighting them head-on."

She paused, letting the words linger before she continued, her tone quieter now, as if inviting you into a shared secret, "Instead, I focused on objects. Sounds strange, doesn’t it?"

She let out a light, almost melodic chuckle, the sound warm and comforting, before brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The gesture was casual, but there was a quiet elegance in the way she carried herself, a kind of understanding that only someone who had seen the weight of the universe could possess, "But honestly, it works. You begin to connect memories to things—simple things. A chair that reminds you of a calm afternoon, a necklace that brings back the feeling of warmth from someone you care about, or even a map that shows the way to a place that feels safe. Objects like that—they become more than just things. They become anchors in the storm. They bring back something good, something peaceful when everything else feels chaotic."

"I have this feather. Although it doesn’t resemble a traditional bird's feather with its pointed tip and flared edges make it stand out, it is a feather nonetheless. The kind of thing you don't question at first glance, but once you hold it, it seems to carry a weight of its own. It used to belong to someone else, someone who, in the quiet moments, always had it with her. She would carry it everywhere, as if it were an extension of herself. Her constant companion and a token of something deeper. But when she was gone, all that remained was her feather. No explanations, no grand gestures—just this simple, delicate thing, left behind like a piece of her that couldn’t be taken away. It’s strange how something so small can carry such weight, but in its quiet presence, it holds memories, echoes of a time now past," she continued, her voice soft yet unwavering, as if the weight of her words could carry the silence between them. Though her conversation remained one-sided, she spoke as if the act of sharing brought a strange kind of comfort, "Whenever the weight of the past begins to creep up on me, I hold it in my hand. To an outsider, it's just a feather, nothing extraordinary—but when I grip it, it’s as if it anchors me, as if it has the power to guide me through the storm. Somehow, it helps me find the peace I need, even if only for a fleeting moment. There are a lot of ways to fight the darkness, you know. Sometimes, it’s about finding what makes you feel grounded. What pulls you back when it all starts spinning out of control."

You let out a shaky breath, nodding slowly as her words sank in, each one settling in the quiet spaces of your mind. Her presence was a balm, softening the tension that had coiled tight within you. The storm inside, once turbulent and overwhelming, seemed to lose its force in the calm of her company. The stillness of the night, which had felt suffocating moments ago, no longer held the same threat. With her there, her voice a steady and unwavering anchor, everything seemed a little less overwhelming, as if the weight of the world could be borne, even if only for a while.

"You’re not alone in this," Himeko added, her smile soft and kind, "We all carry something heavy with us, but we don’t have to carry it alone. And when the nightmares come, don’t be afraid to reach out. We’ll get through it together."

You nodded again, a quiet sigh escaping as a sense of peace began to unfurl in your chest. The nightmare didn’t vanish entirely, but its grip had loosened, its hold no longer suffocating. Himeko’s words, simple yet profound, were like a balm, soothing the lingering traces of your fear. The storm inside you settled, its chaos quieting in the warmth of her presence. Himeko rose to her feet, her movements fluid and graceful, as if she were part of the very calm she had helped create. The soft rustle of her clothes was the only sound as she stood, poised and serene, her quiet strength radiating through the room.

"Get some rest," she said gently, her voice quiet but full of warmth. "Tomorrow is a new day. And if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to find me, alright?"

With one final smile, Himeko turned and left your room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her. The quiet comfort of her words lingered in the air, and the night didn’t feel so long anymore.

---

"I never properly thanked you for that night," you say, the words leaving your mouth with a quiet weight, as if they’ve been waiting to be said for far longer than you realized. The moment feels suspended, fragile—an acknowledgment that feels both overdue and somehow vital. Your voice falters slightly, but there’s a tenderness in it, an unspoken appreciation that lingers between the lines. Himeko turns toward you, her gaze softening as she takes in your words. You already know what she's trying to say without having to hear it, she's never needed to hear your thanks because that was never the intention.

"I’m proud of you," she says instead, her voice steady and warm, the sincerity in her tone making the space between you feel more intimate, more real. It makes your hand momentarily glitch, your cup spilling momentarily before your fingers phase back into reality to catch it, "It’s not easy to open up, but you’re doing it. That’s what matters."

The simplicity of her words settles into you like sunlight breaking through clouds. You smile faintly, a quiet flicker of gratitude stirring deep inside, the kind that doesn’t need to be said out loud to be understood. The tension that had been coiled tight in your chest begins to ease, like a storm passing on the horizon. Her words, so gentle yet unyielding in their kindness, carry with them a warmth that softens the sharp edges of your past. The heaviness that had once seemed insurmountable becomes a little less oppressive, as if, for just a moment, you’re allowed to let it all go. A burst of orange circles pop from your cheeks that you hurriedly wave off but those circles, shining brighter under the light, only move to dodge your hands.

"I’m going to leave you to your morning," she says, her tone light but you can hear the underlining of laughter in her words. Her smile is a quiet promise, one that lingers even as she begins to step away, "Just remember, if you ever need anything—anything at all—you don’t have to carry it alone."

Her words settle in the air, offering you an unexpected kind of strength, a quiet reminder that you aren’t as isolated as you sometimes believe. She moves toward the door, her movements fluid and graceful, like a gentle breeze passing through a still room. As the door clicks softly behind her, the sound feels like the closing of one chapter and the quiet beginning of another.

You remain where you are for a moment, your mind still. The warmth of her presence lingers in the room like the afterglow of a setting sun, soft and comforting. The steady hum of the train continues around you, its familiar rhythm filling the silence she left behind, a constant reminder of the world that moves on. It wasn’t much, this exchange—just a few quiet words and a gesture of kindness. But in this moment, it feels like the first true step toward something you hadn’t known you needed: a reminder that you’re not as alone as you sometimes think. The weight of your thoughts, once so suffocating, seems a little lighter, and for the first time in a long while, you allow yourself to simply breathe.

---

Hi, thank you for reading! I kind of went crazy and I hope the alternating switch between past and present made sense. I'll reblog this with further writer notes but I wanted to include the research bits in order of appearance. I can't guarantee the full accuracy but I hope I didn't get anything wrong.

Also: I couldn't explore the full lore of this reader, but if you're interested in knowing more, please reach out towards the original creator: @thezboss

Colours and Shapes

Gray: Neutrality and detachment | Crosses: Balance and reflection

Black: Sadness and Fear | Zigzags: Instability and disruption

Yellow: Happiness and optimism | Stars: Aspiration and guidance

Teal: Calm and clarity | Squares: Stability and straightforwardness

Pink: Compassion and playfulness | Diamonds: Confidence and value

Circles: Unity and Harmony | Orange: Warmth and impulsiveness

Trash Can Keychain

Not an actual trash can keychain, but if you bought a full set of HSR chibi figures, you were gifted an extra figure of a trash can.

Pink Plushie

The plushy that March wanted is the pink happy face that sits on her bed inside her room. It's beside the dog plushie.

Himeko's Feather

The feather Himeko is referring to is Fu Hua's feather. Shout out to my Honkai Impact fans (I've never played the game).

[mono-dot-jpeg]

cat in a past life - y. welt

summary; quite literally as cute as a kitten.

genre/extra tags; scenario/drabble, rly rly short scenario, fluff, slight comedy, reader was from an orphanage, reader was a little sibling to the other kids in said orphanage, mute! (????) reader, reader doesn't talk ig but they scream

[platonic] [5-7 year old! reader] [gender neutral! reader]

a/n; don't really have much to say but i'm always a sucker for animal-like readers. i have my own interests towards owls and big cats most of the time. otters too. but mostly big cats and owls. ima be real though, this isn's very kitten like reader, kind of just me thinking thoughts about a clingy child! reader. hope you enjoy!

you were small. smaller than you were supposed to be at least. you needed a lot of attention and care, but your old home never gave you that. and eventually, you found your way into the astral express.

well, actually, welt had found you around as your small lonesome figure roamed the yard of the orphanage you once lived in. he kind of took you in that day. he visited once in a while, every two weeks, he would come in and find you. you took a while to warm up to him, staying away from him until you got used to his presence and then he offered you a home. a real home.

and you loved it. you often found yourself trying to lay on top of welt, pressing your hands on his face for attention or yelling in tiny as you stumble around to look for him.

sometimes trailblazer would yell with you as if making conversation.

["what are they doing?"]

["shhh. they're communicating."]

but most of the time, you clung onto welt for mostly everything. which he didn't really mind unless he was going to help the express trio in another problem they managed to create.

even if you couldn't do as much as the others, welt was more than glad to have you in his life. always watching as you stumble around behind, ready to follow him and trust him with everything.

he holds you in his arms at the end of the day (or maybe even all day if you decided to nap for a while), more than willing to let his arms go numb if it meant you were happy just sleeping.

[s0ulryo]

Lovestruck Welt Yang Headcanons ♡ ⋆·˚

[Welt Yang x Reader] Synopsis: Oddly specific (but also vague) simpy welt yang headcanons.  Tags: Soft, established relationship Notes: Probably ooc, not proofread, happy fathers day 2 the dilf (gilf) luvrs out there, 2 for 1 check out the jing yuan fic

(Reader is always gn unless specified otherwise.)

WELT YANG, who loves to hold your hand when he’s worried because it provides him a sense of security. 

WELT YANG, who always gives you tight hugs because he loves how you smell and he loves holding you close. 

WELT YANG, who commits every little detail about your appearance to memory so he can sketch scenarios of you two together when he has some downtime. 

WELT YANG, who will take the food you hate off your plate even if he isn’t too fond of it himself—he would instead power through eating something he doesn’t like then make you do it. 

WELT YANG, who likes to cook with you because he likes how domestic it feels. 

WELT YANG, who smiles at you whenever he sees you so that he can see you smile back. 

WELT YANG, who uses you as a pillow—you’re just so comfy!

WELT YANG, who tugs on your sleeve when you start to wander too far away from him. 

WELT YANG, who sometimes takes your jackets so you're forced to wear his. 

WELT YANG, who keeps a photo (or two) of you in his wallet—one of just you and one of both of you. 

WELT YANG, who gets teased by Himeko for how infatuated he is with you.  

WELT YANG, who would love to introduce you to his friends and family back home when he gets the chance. 

WELT YANG, who always looks forward to spending the night with you, discussing his thoughts about various topics while looking at the stars. 

WELT YANG, who cannot imagine a life without you.