𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

its the giving season and you havent given back all your loan payments, what else did you expect?

I get that tbh so let me give you this:

Drunk and clingy Chuuya who won't let anyone touch him besides his beloved <3

oh drunk clingy chuuya my roman empire ( while writing this I realised gradually that i was not at all prepared to write this evening. oops. ) (( it's fine the post won't get far I think ))

it's just a port mafia party, some celebratory banquet for completing a rather large tradeoff mission. of course chuuya is the one that cracks open the fanciest bottle. the one with a few too many digits and zeros for any normal person to glance twice at. but he's always been an extravagant guy, and the more expensive it tastes the better quality it is. that's what he thinks, anyway.

he doesn't particularly bother trying to limit the glasses he intakes, why should he? koyo was staying sober, so was hirotsu, enough people that he'd be perfectly fine if anything severe happened. might as well enjoy the night as it lasts.

It's when his vision starts to blur that the first problem arises. his movements are more staggered as he struggles to keep his balance - and he lets out an almost embarassingly high pitched whine of frustration to avoid when koyo reaches out a hand to try and help stabilise him.

chuuyas knees hit the ground, a few heads turn, but its nothing too interesting. the executive had been known for not bring able to handle his alcohol too well, after all. It's when koyo leans down to help him up, and her hand is slapped away - that more people have their eyes on the scene before them.

after all, nobody who'd responded to her with violence was treated kindly in the past.

but she knows different. chuuya wouldn't do that to her - the 15 year old she spent nights trying to teach basic table manners wouldn't hit her with aggression in mind. so it had to be something else.

she let's out a gentle sigh as she calls your cell. if anyone had noticed how chuuya has a painful softspot for you, it was her. if anyone could help with a situation like this, it'd be you.

the conversation doesn't last long. a simple polite request for you to come pick him up, to see if he'll let you pick him up. and when you arrive, he obviously sees you before you spot him, a slurred whiny call of your name cutting through the crowd. one that'd have a sober chuuya breaking brick walls with his skull to forget about it.

you move over to him, listening to his unintelligible blabbers as he clings to your leg. the gentle sobs as he nuzzles into the fabric of the trousers you'd lazily thrown on. the whimpers of "I missed you s'much.." "where were you?.." "my pretty thing.."

it takes a moment to get him onto his feet again, feeling his full weight lean into you as you do so. you call a thanks to koyo, hearing her gentle giggle as you lug your boyfriend out of the party. a response of "good luck with him!" rings past the music on the speakers.

getting him home was an effort. dragging him into bed with his entire damn weight on you should've got you an olympics medal. but seeing his hazy eyes search for you, a blubber of your name as he spots you. and those gloved hands reaching like you're the only thing he'll ever need in life. it's hard to stay mad.

you settle beside him in bed, letting him wrap around you like a koala. chosing to not comment on the smell of his breath as he whispers love to you for the simplest things. he's always been sweet to you like that.

you feel the way his hands still as he drifts to sleep. from idly fiddling with your clothes to completely stone on your side. listening to the way his breathing relaxes. he felt so safe around you. it'd always been you. that's how he liked it.

PHAINON ࣪ ִֶָ ⋆ . call my name

as overly formal and unnecessary as it sounds, the amphoreus' hero has always been lord phainon to you. while it comes with great honour and respect, much like how it applies to your master; lady aglaea, it feels like there's a barrier between you and him, and he doesn't really like that, considering that he'd like to know you better, closer.

so naturally, he revels in making you drop the honourary title, and the best way to make you do so (based on his countless personal experiments of trial-and-error, which he very much enjoyed) is to catch you off guard. shock you enough to make you forget all about the formality, enough to make you see him not as just amphoreus' hero, but as phainon himself.

one of the times that happened was when you found a lost little girl in the wood. so you asked around the village nearby if she's familiar. you were starting to get some leads when you stumbled upon an elderly man who commented, "my, what lovely family you three look".

"no, we're not-".

"well, thank you so much, good sir. unfortunately, they're not family members. we're actually looking for this child's parents. although i'd like to note that i do look forward to starting a family with this woman".

"phainon!".

of course, that's just one method of making you fall into his plan. there's trill in guessing how you'll react. the blush that never fail to paint your face rosy red always manage to make him fall deeper for you. but nothing made him completely weak than you calling his name consciously out of your own choice.

not even mydei's hardest punch to his gut could do as much damage as you do in this situation.

he was looking at the moon one night all alone when you appeared beside him. "someone seems busy with his thought. would he be so generous to share?", a teasing tone laced your words, making him chuckled. you always seem to know how to calm his nerve when it's going wild.

"just.. thinking about the battle to come. do you think we'll make it this time?". from the hill you're standing on, the ruins around the perimeter glowed under the moonlight. the destruction they faced was unmistakable. from the way he sympathetically shifted his gaze upon them, you guessed that perhaps it's from his previous battle, one that you didn't embark together with, one that he failed.

without warning, you took his hand in yours, caressing circles on the scars on it, a gentle smile gracing your lips. "of course we will, because you have me by your side", you announced pridefully, so full of confidence that it felt contagious on him. "and you by mine, phainon".

you voice was so low, as if a whisper of a mother soothing her crying child, or a girl confessing to her lover of her affection. but he heard you loud and clear.

although, he felt like he needed you to repeat that again because his system was in a mess from you saying his name that he didn't get to savour it to its fullest.

"no, that only come once".

safe to say that he spent the rest of the night begging that you call his name like you just did. but where's the fun in a challenge if you just give him what he wants?

⊹₊ author's note ₊⊹

this is kinda silly, but someone implied that phainon isn't as innocent as what we originally thought he would be did something to my brain chemistry. and you know what? good for him. this man needs some fun before he d***

keep you safe

reno ichikawa x gn!reader existing, established relationship. a bit of described gore, but its all kaiju guts word count: 1841

you and reno ichikawa were like night and day. reno had always been a bit reserved, and you’d been his bright counterpart, the extrovert that had adopted him as the two of you became fast friends. he’d opened up to you slowly, bit by bit, and the two of you were usually inseparable.

on your end, at least, friendship turned to admiration, something like adoration. you liked touching his face sometimes, brushing your knuckles across his hand and watching him flush a bit, turn away from you with a mumbled excuse on his lips. eventually, he’d dared to be a bit bolder, intertwine his fingers with yours, lean into touches with a soft, shy smile across his face.

“i want to become a defense force officer,” he’d said shyly, to you. he spun the straw of his drink around, not looking at you.

“oh?” you’d asked, leaning on the railing of the small apartment you lived in. “isn’t that dangerous work?”

“well, yeah,” reno murmured. “but i want to do it. i’ve wanted it for forever. to be out there protecting the people i love.”

he’d smiled at you, then, and you laughed.

“are you confessing to me, reno?”

reno’s violet eyes met yours, and you realized there was largely sincerity behind those eyes—you say largely, because he also seemed nervous—hesitant. almost worried.

“… yeah,” reno said. he fell silent for a moment. “i—i just wanted to, because—well, you know. i could-i could die, out there… and i think i would’ve beaten myself up if i got into a situation and realized that my one regret was not telling you how i feel. because that can so easily be changed if i—just… yeah, since i just told—”

you leaned up close to kiss the words out of his mouth, and he startled a little bit, his hand shifting, not sure where to put it, but you clasped his hand soon after, and you smiled into the kiss, realizing how sweaty his palms were—he must have gotten in his head about the confession, but you were so happy he’d gotten over the hurdle and just—said it, put it out in the open.

“i love you too, silly,” you responded against his lips. “i’m not gonna stop you from becoming a defense force officer if that’s what you want… but…” you raised your arms up, wrapping them around his neck, resting your forehead against his. his breath was shuddering, warm against your lips. “don’t forget me when you make it big, okay?”

reno laughed.

“of course not. how could i forget you?”

you spent days sitting alongside him as he studied for the entrance exams, watched as he applied for the cleanup crew job in preparation for the second phase of the exam.

his face was alight with determination that you couldn’t help but admire—reno had always been quiet, kind of forlorn. you’d tried your best to bring him out of his shell—and he always seemed to, around you, but now there was something different. a burning desire to become stronger? to chase after a tangible, difference-making dream? whatever it was, you wanted it to pull through.

“you’re okay, right? i heard that kaiju no. 8 attacked the hospital you were staying in,” you murmured. you stared out the window, at the faintest eruption of smoke in the distance. “and there was a honju attack, too—one after the other… are you really okay?”

“yea,” reno sounded a little sleepy from his side of the phone. he’d texted you that he’d ended up in the hospital on his first day of work—a yoju had attacked his coworker, and in an adrenaline-infused rush, he’d ran up to protect him, and both of them had barely gotten away with their lives, or so it seemed. “i’m okay. don’t worry about me.”

“but i do,” you replied. “all the time, you know that.”

“i know.” you heard the rustling of sheets. “if you don’t want me to—”

“no. no, you should. i want you to,” you replied. “don’t let my worry stop you from doing this. you helped your coworker, right? i’m sure you were super cool. i’d love to see you in your uniform.”

reno sounded flustered for a moment on his side of the phone, before he shifted again.

“today’s just been crazy,” he said. “but i really want to protect people. it just feels like—like it’s what i’m supposed to do. i guess it sounds kind of—embarrassing, now that i’ve said it, like i believe in fate or something, but—”

“i don’t think it’s embarrassing at all,” you said fiercely, squeezing a pillow on your bed close to your chest. “you’re super cool, reno. i’m happy my boyfriend’s the coolest guy around.” the last sentences are teasing, and you hear reno make another strangled sound.

“come on, you’re flattering me,” reno sounded muffled, as if he’d shoved his head into his sheets. “i’m not that cool. you could’ve done so much better than—someone like me, who got super reckless and thought he-he could take a yoju down with a street sign.”

“that sounds like literally the coolest thing ever, reno,” you replied.

you fell silent for a moment, adjusting your phone.

“i wish you were here,” you admitted after a moment. “i want a hug.”

“you know i’d be there if i could,” reno replied, sounding hesitantly shy. “once i get discharged?”

“sure,” you replied, the smile clear in your voice. “i’m looking forward to it.”

you wonder who’s going to save you now.

a large honju, its bulging eyes fixating on the fact that you’re horribly alone and isolated, the rubble collapsing around you making it impossible to run away and hide—but even if you could hide, there’s too much open space. you’d sprained your leg trying to run away the first time, before you’d underestimated just how fast this damn thing could fucking run.

it had pushed you into this corner, practically—toying with you as you realized far too late that you’d been completely backed into an area you couldn’t escape, about to become this honju’s next meal—though maybe that was inaccurate. you doubted you could even be a meal at all—just a tiny, insignificant snack on this monster’s rampage.

you wished fervently that you were stronger. maybe if you were a defense officer, too—but could you really kid yourself, thinking something like that? you rose up on shaking legs, trying desperately to control your breathing. you weren’t going to die. you couldn’t die. that would break reno’s heart, wouldn’t it? you didn’t want to break reno’s heart, you didn’t. you didn’t want to imagine a future where reno’s face would screw up with pain—a future where he might shed tears over you. he didn’t deserve that.

you remembered, desperately, for a moment, that they’d sent out the third division to deal with the current kaiju threat. surely that meant—no.

it’s not like civilian casualties weren’t common. you shudder to think of the possibility that you’d end up as another statistic—but you shuddered, terrified of the possibility that reno would find your lifeless body. you wanted to be alive to hug him, to press your head into the crook of his neck as he held the back of your head, just desperately glad that you were alive. you wanted some kind of happy ending—not death from some fucking honju.

the honju’s gigantic hand reached out for you, and you braced yourself for the worst, squeezing your eyes shut—

the resounding bang that rang through the air made your ears ring, and you felt something wet hit your face—as you opened your eyes, you touched your face, pulling it away to find your hand stained with blood—but not your own.

the honju shrieks, doubling back—and you realize with belated horror that its hand had been completely blown off, viscera scattering across rubble. the sight of the gore makes you collapse, practically, as your knees gave out.

“i’m sorry i’m late,” a familiar voice says, and you blink hard as—

“reno,” you say, almost dazedly.

he looked—good, in any case, dressed in the defense force suits you’d seen on television once in awhile when you’d watch a bit of the televised kaiju war effort. he pulled down his respirator mask for a second, giving you a small smile.

“you’re okay,” reno says, before turning back to the honju with deadly focus. “cover your ears as best you can, alright?”

you did as he asked, upon which several more loud bangs rang out, each rattling your very core, your ears ringing with the impact. the honju shrieked as each bullet punctured it, until it eventually gave out and collapsed against the ground, its shriek a death knell that almost made you want to curl up into a ball on instinct to hide from it—you were shaking, horrified at the sounds, the sight of the gore—the fact that it even stained your face.

reno lowers his gun.

“command, come in,” he says, his hand tapping his in-ear receiver. “i’ve killed the honju in this sector. recovered a civilian as well. i’ll oversee transport to the nearest medical facility. thank you.” he lowers his hand, kneeling down to wipe the blood from your face.

“reno,” you say weakly. “you saved me.” your shaking breaths turn to sobs as you press your face against his chest, your shoulders shaking. the surface of his suit is hot, almost burning, but you don’t care as your fingers barely dig into its surface. “i’m—i’m so—i was so scared—”

“i know,” reno says, hoisting you up with ease. you remember that he used to struggle to do that—not that he couldn’t lift you up, just that there was always more effort involved. he coaxes your legs to wrap around his waist, his hand coming up to stroke the back of your head, pulling you closer to him. “i know. i—i’m sorry. i should’ve—i could’ve come sooner, i knew we were being dispatched to-to the site, and—”

“it’s okay,” you cling to reno as your lifeline, pressing your cheek to his. “i’m just—i’m just—i’m so happy you came.”

reno looks at you, his violet eyes brimming with tears as he presses his forehead to yours, a shaking breath leaving his lips.

“i’ll always protect you, okay?” he says, his voice choking up. “i’ve got the strength to do it now—to protect the people i love. to protect you.”

you toy with the hair at the nape of his neck, kissing the tip of his nose.

“i know,” you say, quiet fondness creeping into your voice, despite everything. “i love you, reno.”

“i love you too,” reno says, and you’re flustered for a moment by how sure he sounds—he always used to hide away behind his hand when he said it, shy and unsure of himself. but the way he looks at you, with pure dedication and determination—your heart flutters again, and you laugh.

“kiss me, please,” you say, and reno kisses you so softly, and you melt into it, safe in his embrace.

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐒𝐑 𝐌𝐄𝐍 .ᐟ

first meetings are always the spark to a flame.

ᯓ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 .ᐟ argenti, sunday, boothill, blade, aventurine + jing yuan x fem!reader (separate), feat. march, dan heng, himeko, kafka, madam yukong.

ᯓ 𝐜𝐰 .ᐟ alcohol consumption, mentions of blood/violence, SFW, boy did i have some fun with sunday's one, blade's one is ass but moving on, this took me way too long to write, 6.3k words 💀, idk if this has been done before (probably), rbs are appreciated!! <3

ᯓ ARGENTI .ᐟ

𝐎𝐇 𝐁𝐎𝐘. Never in your life had you been so flustered over a mere compliment—but, really, no one could blame you. Having such a man of unparalleled beauty himself flatter you with flowery words and praises? Not only that, but with the most sincere, earnest expression on his face while he said such things? Falling in love had never been so easy.

“This rose, one possessing such quiet, enrapturing beauty itself, falls pathetically short in comparison to you, my lady,” the knight had remarked silkily, all while presenting said ‘pathetic’ rose to you confidently. He was stooped into a gentlemanly bow, one of his gauntleted hands placed over his armoured chest, those sparkling green eyes of his intense and filled with true candour. “It is like starlight follows your every step, so dazzling and captivating—a sight no person in their right mind would be able to banish from their thoughts.”

“I…” You hadn’t the slightest clue what to say. To be bombarded with such ornate compliments (on a normal day, you’d consider them painfully cheesy) and gazed at with two earnest jade eyes—well. It left you utterly speechless. With only a trembling hand responding to him and reaching out to accept the flower, you flicked a frantic glance in Himeko's direction. But she looked on in great amusement, hiding her giggles behind an elegant hand. This knight should be showering her with compliments here! Himeko’s the gorgeous one! Awkward, baffled silence from your fellow Express members suffocated the atmosphere. Your cheeks were burning. “My goodness, I…I’ve never received such high praise from someone as handsome as yourself before.” Or anyone, for that matter. 

“You have not?” Once you had taken the rose, the knight of beauty, named Argenti, straightened and peered down at you with such a genuinely astonished stare, as if the concept of no one ever having complimented you was completely foreign and bizarre to him. “I do believe that is the most outlandish thing I’ve heard for a very long time. Such a lovely young woman such as yourself, one who I quake at even having the honour of being in the presence of, has never received her due praise? What has this universe come to?”

“I, uh, have no idea.” You twirled the rose gently in your fingers, noting its thornless stem. It smelled very nice, and it was evident the man before you took great care of his (seemingly endless) supply of flowers. “But, thank you very much, Sir Argenti. you have made my day.”

In fact, you wanted to cry from embarrassment and joy at the knight’s abrupt onslaught of lauds for you. You didn’t think yourself worthy. 

And then he did something most unexpected. He took your hand in his large, gauntleted one ever so gently, as if it were a soft, fragile petal of a rose, and placed a gentlemanly kiss to the top of it. You could hear March gasp in shock, and the sound of a phone camera going off. Oh, they’re going to tease me about this for a long, long time. Argenti parted his lips from the top of your hand, but he did not straighten, remaining hovered over it while gazing up at you with two intense green eyes. “Truly, I tell you, it makes my heart soar to know I have, but—will you grant me the honour of keeping me company during my stay?”

“I—I’m sorry?”

Argenti finally stood straight again, but he brought your hand up higher so he could place another peck to the top of it, if need be. “I shall, regrettably, remain aboard this extraordinary train only temporarily. However, if you were to allow me the privilege to befriend you throughout my brief visit here, I would be utterly overjoyed.”

Tongue-tied, you sneaked a glance in March’s direction, and she caught your eye, immediately flailing around and frantically gesturing for you to say yes. Dan Heng stood at her side, his usually aloof, blank expression now showing a rare expression of bewilderment at Argenti’s antics and flowery words toward you, and he nodded along with March. 

Pressing your lips together anxiously, you finally managed a nod. “Sir Argenti, I believe it would, in fact, be my honour to keep you company amid your stop here.”

Happiness brightened the Knight of Beauty’s previously tentative expression, and he pressed another soft kiss to the top of your hand, closing his eyes. “Words could never efficiently suffice to convey the bliss I feel at your affirmation. My lady, how eternally honoured I am to have met you throughout the vast, endless cosmos, where such a beautiful soul as yourself is so hard to come by.”

ᯓ SUNDAY .ᐟ

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐑 of a man was one you either got off on the right foot with, or you didn’t. There was simply no in between. In contrast, his angel of a sister was much easier to befriend, considering her naturally sweet temperament, but her brother…well, to say the least, you could not stand the man upon your first introduction to him.

It was at a rather illustrious event, one you could only attend because of your own family’s status. The invitations were sent to your father three months ago, all the way from penacony and into your own homeworld, one lightyears from the planet of festivities. Your father thought this a great opportunity to speak personally about business with the renowned Mr. Sunday—a man with the slyness of a fox and the stillness of a snake.

Yes, his handsome features and suave manner were truly appealing, but that didn’t take away your simmering urge to splash your glass of SoulGlad all over that exorbitant off-white three-piece lapel suit of his. And, oh, yes, he was so polite and charming and refined, but the way he looked at you made your cheeks heat and blood boil.

Golden eyes with the softness of a rock. Utterly unreadable, unpredictable. But you tolerated him, because relations between the head of the Oak Family and your father took priority well over your own inimical sentiments for the man. Also, his sister Robin, the famed and beautiful singer all across the cosmos, had become a quick friend of yours. The vast difference in personality between the sibling duo was baffling.

“Delighted to make your acquaintance,” Sunday had pleasantly greeted, smoothly taking your gloved hand and placing a gentlemanly, polite, and brief kiss to the top of it. “Miss [Name].”

“No, the honour is all mine.” At first, you thought him nice enough, rather taken with the way he so facilely, amiably kissed your hand. You’d always liked the more traditional men, and Mr. Sunday was the embodiment of one—with his tall frame and courteous demeanour. That impression, however, did not last long.

The more the man talked, the more you disliked him. His voice was soothing and silky and full of the right amount of polite detachment fitting for a businessman of his calibre. His lips seemed to be permanently turned up at the corners, into some kind of semblance of a smile you couldn’t quite place. Almost a smirk, not quite. Something about it put you off, and drew you in. Perhaps that was the point.

“…This is not a realm for the infirm,” he was saying to your father, his champagne glass held loosely in long, attractive fingers. Ones sure to not have a single callus on them—for, you sardonically, softly scoffed into your own glass, this man was the very type to spill blood by proxy, never dirtying his own, smooth hands.

Maybe you were jumping to conclusions and making unfair judgements about this man—but, well, you just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was much more to the Head of the Oak Family than what first met the eye. Something off-putting.

“How do you mean?” Your father replied, taking a sip of his SoulGlad.

“I mean, natural selection is one to take precedence and make the choices for us, no?” You acted uninterested in the conversation as you looked away and pretended to watch the performing orchestra with rapt interest. “The law of the jungle puts each person to the test, and that all depends on your own determination, potential and, most of all, aptitude. Life is an obstacle course. It all boils down to one’s capabilities.”

“Survival of the fittest, you mean?” your father clarified, squinting at the Head of the Family, before he nodded in agreement. “Yes, yes, I quite agree. Adaptation, such a morbidly wonderful concept. It is how individuals like you and I clawed our ways to the top, if it meant our loved ones lived the lives they deserve.” And then he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, giving you a fatherly squeeze, smiling down at you. “I’ve no qualms about getting some dirt under my fingernails if it means my beloved daughter is comfortable for the rest of her life.”

“Father, you’re making it sound like you’re secretly an underground crime boss.” You jokingly arched a brow, masking your deep discomfort with the present topic of the conversation. You could feel Mr. Sunday’s golden hues boring into the side of your face intently. “You shouldn’t say such things. I think you’re both talking nonsense.”

“Ah, so you have been listening,” quipped Mr. Sunday, inclining his head toward you, gazing at you through his greyish-blue bangs and long lashes. “You do not agree with the survival of the fittest?”

“Oh, now, I do not consider myself to be a holy person, Mr. Sunday,” you elucidated, straightening your posture. “I hold no lofty ideals. But I do believe in fairness.” Ironic, as all I’ve been doing this evening is judging you. But, somehow, you felt that your judgments were not inaccurate. “I believe that for society to flourish as it should peacefully, this ‘survival of the fittest’ archetype should be discarded. Instead of using the weak as leverage for ‘getting to the top’, the ‘fittest’ should do their best to extend a hand to those clinging to the precipice for dear life, instead of letting them fall—or, even worse—kicking them to their metaphorical death. Do you understand my meaning?” 

“Your words hold merit,” the Oak Family head acknowledged, staring at you from over the rim of his champagne flute. “You seem to cling tightly to your morality.”

“You do not?” You were beginning to enjoy twisting his words and testing him. Let’s see how long it’ll take until he trips up. “The holy and righteous Head of the Family cares not for principles?”

“That is not what I said at all.” Sunday seemed equally amused. “I pride myself in my integrity. That is something…you and I appear to have in common.”

“Hm.” You gazed back, unintimidated. You really did not like this man. Yes, you were attracted to him—but what man or woman wasn’t? His allure was merely one of the many tricks up his sleeve he effortlessly, unhesitatingly utilised to his advantage. 

It was unfortunate that your father jumped to use the chemistry between you both as a great business tactic. “Well, then, I shall leave you both to this conversation. Such a riveting one, yes, but I fear my informant is seeking my attention. Enjoy yourselves!”

And just like that, your own shelter from the beloved Mr. Sunday was gone. Silence befell you both momentarily, before the Family head extended a hand to you, flashing a bewitching smile, so full of knives. “Now, Miss [Name]…shall we dance?”

ᯓ BOOTHILL .ᐟ

“𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 these shady parts are ideal for such a lovely young lady as yerself, darlin’.”

You didn’t look up from your whiskey glass. “Because I’m not safe from vagabonds like you?"

A raspy chuckle followed. “Hoho, a sharp tongue you have. Yeah, I’d say you ain’t far off the mark there, treasure.” The scrape of a stool being drawn out filled the silence, and the man you still hadn’t looked at took a seat next to you. “But, ya haven’t got anything to worry about around me, sugar. I ain’t one of them shirtbags.”

Shirtbags? “That’s what those…shirtbags all say.” Should I just leave? You’d almost finished your drink, anyway. “Can’t a girl have a drink in a rundown bar late at night in peace?”

“Sure she can,” was the answer. “You still ain’t safe, though. Look out for yerself.”

“What’s it to you?” You finally glanced over at the man, and his appearance immediately took you aback. Cowboy hat tipped down low over his eyes, only the slope of a nose and a shapely, smirking mouth visible. Long, grey hair split into two flowing over back with black undersides. And…metal arms. A metal-plated torso. A holster with untold ammo and a gun secured on his right hip. He had cool, dark skin-tight trousers on with spurred roper boots on his feet. You couldn’t see his eyes, but it was easy to tell he was awfully attractive. 

The unknown man tilted his head slightly, revealing his only visible eye to you. His right one was fully covered by his hair. It was curious—that eye had a red pupil, with four white lines rimming it, making it appear like a target lock symbol. You blinked at him, and he grinned. This guy’s full of surprises. His teeth were sharp, jagged, like a shark’s. “Oh, sweetheart, it ain’t nothin’ to me, you’re right. But what’s wrong with extending some friendly concern for a sad-looking young woman on her third glass of whiskey?” “How did you—” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Have you been watching me this entire time? And sad-looking? You wanna start a fight?” You brushed your coat to the side, revealing your own gun. He glanced down at it in immense amusement. “If you’re just here to cause trouble, then you can piss o—”

He held up both hands in surrender, still grinning. “Not here to cause trouble, sugar. Just here to chat. Nothin’ else, I swear. On my honour.”

You snorted. “Didn’t know you had any.”

“Hey.” His tone turned whiny, half-offended. “I’m basically actin’ as your bodyguard right now, honey. Keepin’ all these creeps in here miles away from ya because of my menacin’ energy.”

“Menacing?” You laughed derisively. “Ha! You’re a funny one, cowboy. Anyway, what’re the likes of you doing in these parts? This is a bar, not a saloon. Can’t play poker here, you know—at least, I don’t think so.” “Har har.” The man paused and ordered some…malt juice? You looked at him weirdly. He ignored it. “Hilarious, darlin’. I ain’t your stereotypical cowboy. I go around beatin’ them IPC fudgeheads up, not smackin’ cow rumps on a ranch.”

“An outlaw, are you? Ooh, scary.” You chuckled into your shot glass. “How big’s your bounty?”

“Why? Gonna turn me in?” He leaned his cheek on one metal hand, gazing at you with an intense eye. It felt a bit weird—strangely, that target lock symbol in his eye made you feel like he’d set you in his sights. “Good luck with that one, sweetheart. People’ve been tryin’ for years.”

“Who said I was gonna turn you in?” You arched a brow at him. “I don’t care about you and your so-called bounty. You sound pretty full of yourself, cowboy.”

“When you’re a pro at evading the IPC for years on end, who wouldn’t get a little bit of a big head?”

“Pride always comes before the fall.” You took a sip of whiskey. “Biggest mistake you could possibly make is underestimating your enemy.”

“Heck, sounds like yer givin’ me some advice on how to continue runnin’ away from them IPC hooligans!” he guffawed. “Sounds like you’re already well on your merry way to becomin’ a scummy crim like me, eh, darlin’? Oho, now that’s funny.”

“What’s wrong with extending some friendly concern for a scruffy-looking cyborg?” you echoed his previous words sardonically.

“Alright, you got me there,” he conceded amusedly. There was a moment of silence, and then he held out a hand for you to shake. “Name’s Boothill. What’s yours, sugar?”

You looked at his hand, and then at him. Then you took his hand and shook it firmly. “[Name]. Nice to meet a fellow outlaw.”

ᯓ BLADE .ᐟ

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 sharp edge of a sword was hovering just over your jugular vein, more than ready to slice it open at any given opportunity. It was barely touching your skin, a ghost of a scrape, and you remained completely, absolutely still. 

The blade was of a deep, dark crimson, with golden spider cracks adorning it, giving the sword a serrated, broken appearance. It was visibly well-wielded, and mended many times over.

Just like the man who was holding it to your throat.

Bandages covered his left hand, and one was wrapped around his upper right forearm, on his coat’s sleeve. Strange. Another was wound around his upper right thigh, also on clothing, not on his skin. His hair was shaggy, unkempt, brushing over his eyes so thickly, his left one was barely visible. But his one visible eye…it held an intensity you hadn’t come across before—one so piercing, so penetrating, it became a physical and mental battle to hold it.

The man was handsome, very handsome, and his face was full of youth. But the way his brow was knotted so harshly, lips drawn out into a severe line, and how his uncovered eye speared through you gave you the unshakable sense that this man had seen, done, and lived many things, and many lifetimes.

“I know who you are,” were his first words to you. A deep, gruff, cold voice, so menacing. The man’s whole ambiance screamed menace. He would kill you without a second thought, resolutely, and you’d just become yet another victim he never stopped to understand, to care about.

“You do?” You were nervous; that sword of his was held so steadily, there was not a detectable tremor in his grip at all. The man’s entire form was utterly motionless, like a predator lying in patient, still wait. And the killing blow could come at any time, and you would never have possibly anticipated it. “…I don’t recall meeting you before.” “Then why are you here?” There was the crackle of leather squeezing together, and you watched as his only gloved hand curled around the blade’s hilt just that bit more. That red eye narrowed. It was flecked with searing gold, you noticed. “You do not belong here. I should kill you.”

You slowly lifted a hand, not making any sudden movements, but his eyes did not move from yours for even a fraction of a second. Tapping the back of it against the sword’s edge, you ever so slowly eased it away from your neck. You were amazed he let you. “Sir, I have no idea who you are, but did you think I was going to let a stranger bleed out in some empty alleyway at one in the morning?”

“You should mind your own business,” he spat, but he deemed you harmless enough to stay his sword fully. It dissipated into stardust, and your eyes bugged out at the sight. The man tried to take two steps back, but he stumbled, slumping against the brick wall behind him. You rushed to catch him, but a large, firm hand grabbed your shoulder and held you away from him. “Don’t.”

“Mister, you are bleeding. Severely.” From your observations of his (very obvious) mannerisms and appearance, you could only surmise that this man was some kind of soldier or thug, either or. He knew how to wield a sword masterfully, and this kind of incident evidently wasn’t new to him.

“And I will be fine.” A flash of red in the dark was all that told you he’d flicked a glare in your direction as he slid down the wall, sitting on the cold stone ground. “Leave this place.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You would just be making it more difficult for me. Leave. Before I have to make you leave myself.”

You knelt down in front of him. He was panting heavily, a hand on his middle. Rivulets of blood oozed between his fingers, streaming out and down through the gaps of his knuckles. “What’s your name?” “That is…none of your concern,” he puffed, that permanent frown on his face deepening. Sweat glistened on his brow. “There’s no need for me to tell yo—” “I’m asking so I can call a friend of yours, genius. Or an associate, if you’re involved with underground stuff like that.” You began to reach for his hip, feeling around for a phone. “Because you, clearly, don’t have the energy to—”

His free hand snatched yours away, grip tight and almost bruising. “Leave. Just leave.”

You stared at him, lips pursed. “I need to calm down. Whatever secret it is you’re desperately trying to keep from me is none of my concern. I’m not interested in that. What I am interested in is getting you help. Let me contact whoever your partner in all this is.”

His wide chest heaved, his breathing laboured, before he finally broke gazes with you and released your wrist. “Fine. Make it quick. And then you go, understood?” “Perfectly.” You waited for him to extract his phone from his pocket and unlock it, handing it to you. Then his hand slumped down. Damn, even doing just that took everything in him. You were growing increasingly concerned. This man is dying. I need to hurry.

The first name to pop up in his contacts was someone called ‘Kafka’. Hitting the call button, you put it on speaker and held it out to him. He waved it away, rasping, “you do the talking.”

Four rings went by before the other end clicked and a crooning, sultry female voice filtered through the phone. “Ooh, what a pleasant surprise, Bladie. You never call first~”

You glanced up at the so-called ‘Bladie’, who fixed you with a glare that screamed, I dare you to ask. I dare you. Biting back your laughter, you cleared your throat and carefully began, “Uh, good evening, ma’am. I’m here with your friend…Bladie.”

There was silence on the other end for a beat before the woman broke into chuckles. “Haha! You called him Bladie! Oh, you don’t have much longer to live, missy. If he’s incapacitated right now, you’re very lucky.”

You sneaked a glance at the man before you and saw that she wasn’t exaggerating. His glower was murderous, even more so than before. Your stomach dropped at the sight. “…Haha. Sorry about that. And yes, he is incapacitated right now. Very injured, in fact. He’s losing a lot of blood, ma’am.”

“Oh, don’t be so formal!” This ‘Kafka’ talked as if the present incident was just another Tuesday for her. What do these two get up to? You weren’t sure if you even wanted to know. “Just call me Kafka, sweetie. I’m on my way right now, Bladie. What’s your name, honey?”

You gave her your name. Kafka hummed. “Mm, yes, well, darling, I would advise you to leave, please. You’ve been a great help, and I hate to scare you off, but Bladie here has a few problems only I can attend to. Your leaving is only for your own good.”

“Why?” Curiosity killed the cat.

“Don’t ask questions. Just leave,” the man growled, and he seemed to be getting nastier and nastier by the second. “Do as she says. Go.”

“I’m almost there, Blade,” Kafka said through the phone, and that’s when you knew she’d used his actual name. Blade. It suited him. Very well. The faint sound of heels clicking in the background on the line told you the woman was hurrying over to you and Blade. “Hang in there, alright? Just a little longer.”

“Miss Kafka, I think I should stay here—”

“Honey, Blade here is mara-struck,” she interrupted you, her voice still so lilting and flirtatious, but it held a firmer note. “If he goes wild, you’ll be the first to go.”

“What do I keep telling you?” Blade panted, and that’s when you understood the golden gleam in his eyes. “Go. How long until it gets through your thick skull? When you’re dead? Just lea—”

“Bladie, don’t be so harsh.” Kafka had her previous playful tone again, one this man obviously hated. “She’s probably terribly shocked right now—aren’t you, honey?” “…Yeah…” You were. Utterly shellshocked. I need to get out of here. This man was much more dangerous than you initially anticipated. “I’ll…I’ll go.”

“Good idea,” Kafka purred, and then two sets of heels began to echo behind you. “Here we are.”

The call ended, and the woman emerged from the shadows. Voluptuous, graceful and just exuding danger, the tall lady approached you both with quick, but casual, calculated steps, and Blade looked visibly relieved at her appearance. Kafka smiled down at you, but it wasn’t a real smile. Just an automatic reaction, you guessed. You immediately handed her Blade’s phone. Her smile widened. “Thank you, sweetie. Run along now.”

“Of—of course.” You hurried to your feet. Glancing worriedly down at Blade, he kept his head slumped as Kafka knelt beside him in the place you just were. Her perfume hit you like a truck, and you suddenly thought this woman was very cool. Really cool. But lethal. “I…yeah. Take care.”

“Oh, we will.” Kafka didn’t look up again, and was feeling Blade’s pulse. “Have a lovely rest of your night, honey. You got lucky.”

You’d already guessed as much. “Haha. Goodbye.”

Turning to hurry out of the alleyway, you were stopped by the woman calling out for you one last time. She had a long, elegant finger pressed to her lips, and she winked at you. “Just a little reminder, sweetie, to not say a word of this to anyone, alright?” “…Alright.”

Kafka’s intense gaze wasn’t half as friendly as her smile. “Good girl. Keep quiet, and we’ll be back with a reward for you in no time.” Intimidated, you backed up. “Oh—there’s…really no need, ma’am.”

She clicked her tongue, turning back to the now-unconscious man before her and continuing with whatever she was doing on him, chuckling rather darkly. “Oh, but there is. See you soon, sweetie.”

ᯓ AVENTURINE .ᐟ

“𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐀 few tricks up your sleeve, have you?”

You threw the dice down on the roulette wheel, leaning back in your chair and watching it spin about freely. Taking a sip of your cocktail, you smiled at the golden-haired man to your left over the rim of it. “You’re asking me that question? You’ve got untold ones hidden up in all nooks and crannies of that expensive peacock coat of yours.”

Aventurine leaned his cheek against his fist, elbow propped on his chair’s armrest. A pair of the most striking, beautiful eyes you’d ever seen gazed at you through rose-tinted shades. “Why, aren’t you observant. This little gambling session really has been such a ball. I haven’t come across someone as skilled as yourself in a long time.”

“Thank you kindly,” you sarcastically said, setting your beverage down with a soft clink. You glanced at the mountain of chips gathered neatly right in front of the man. Equal to yours. Now, you were both locked in a one-on-one gambling session where you fought for each other’s chips. Maybe a bit unorthodox—usually there’d be many more players. But the less there were, the more intense it was. “I dare say, this is one intense first meeting, don’t you agree?”

“Most certainly.” He took a sip of his whiskey. “Now, shall we make a small, personal bet of our own?”

“A personal bet?” you repeated, tilting your head at him. “I would never have guessed you made such things.”

“Only when necessary.”

“Oh, I see—you’re doing this because you’re losing. Pitifully.” You twirled a chip around between your fingers. “Alright. What’s this bet you’d like to make?”

“I bet that if you lose the next five chips, you answer a question of mine. If I lose the next five chips, I’ll score you a little rendezvous with the lovely Miss Jade.”

“Only five chips?” you queried warily, lifting a brow. “And how did you know I wish to speak with Jade? Oh, what am I saying. You IPC thugs always have tabs on something.”

“You wound me. Let’s hop to it, shall we?” Aventurine threw in his dice. “I bet on a twenty-three. Five gold chips.”

“Five-thousand credits, hm?” He was going for the kill. You smiled to yourself. “Alright. I bet on twelve. Five black chips.”

“You play cheap,” he mused, intently watching the dice spin around. “Not much of an investor, are you?”

“Knowing you and your tactics, I would be more likely to take a greater loss than you,” you explained, no qualms about handing it to his innate gambling skills and apt intuition. You couldn’t fathom how he did it and where he got his accuracy from. “Five hundred credits isn’t too much of a loss for me.”

“Two selected numbers out of thirty-eight in total.” Aventurine relaxed into his chair. The dice began to slow. “What are the chances?"

“It all depends.” You watched as the dice spun away from the ‘twelve’ notch over and over. You were getting a bit jittery. You had a feeling that this question of his was worth far more to you than the five hundred measly credits you put on the table. “For all we know, it could land in neither of our betted numbers.”

“Oh, so true.” This man was so sly, so conniving. It set off alarms in your head. The corners of his shapely lips turned up, and he grinned devilishly at you. “Let’s see where it lands.”

The dice spun and spun and spun, getting slower and slower—before, finally, it rolled to a gradual stop, tumbling into a notch. 

Your fingers twitched. You wanted to wring the handsome, cunning man’s neck. The dice had landed so excruciatingly calmly into the twenty-third notch.

As expected, I suppose. This man never took any losses. You weren’t too worried about pushing the five black chips his way. You were more worried about what question you would have to answer.

“Five-hundred credits. So worthwhile.” Aventurine gladly accepted them. “Now, let’s see…here is my question. Don’t look so perturbed. It’s nothing, really.” “Is that so?” You crossed your arms over your chest, swinging a leg over your other, lightly kicking your heeled foot in an attempt to remain calm. “Pray tell, what do you ask?”

“I ask that you make a little deal with me.” 

You arched a brow. Another one? “Another bet? I think I’ve had quite enough of those for one day.”

“Oh, no, it’s not a bet, honey. The deal is this: pose as my girlfriend for a while, and I’ll compensate you thoroughly.”

“That’s nice. What’s in it for me?”

“Status. Renown. Wealth. Reputation.” He held up four fingers, then a gold chip suddenly appeared out from between them and he flipped it in the air casually. “And, of course, safety. Maybe a little nice dinner with the elegant Senior Manager of the IPC Strategic Investment Department. You can’t go wrong with this.”

“Truly?” You weren’t buying it. “It will be contractual?”

“Absolutely.” Aventurine’s crooning voice was grating on your nerves. But he was tempting. So tempting. “And it’ll be our little secret. I’ll swear not to pull anything unsavoury.”

You considered it. You needed the money. Reputation and status was also an enticing offer. But you needed time to think.

“Shall we meet up and discuss this elsewhere some other time?” You pulled out your phone, extending it toward him. “Put in your contact details. I’ll text you when I’ve thought it through.” “Wise of you.” Aventurine accepted the gadget and tapped away at it accordingly. “Take your time. I look forward to working with you.”

He got up and left, only the strong scent of his expensive cologne left in his wake. You noticed he never took your five-hundred credits, and left his five-thousand behind.

ᯓ JING YUAN .ᐟ

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍'𝐓 expect the Arbiter General to be the one to rescue you from three mara-struck soldiers.

It’s not like you were helpless. You could fight; you had the Combat Type of Wind and Path of Erudition at hand. You were no weakling—you, ranked a Sergeant Major in the Sky-Faring Commission, had had your fair share of battles in the past.

But you’d never crossed paths with The Divine Foresight. Seeing his tall, powerful frame and flowing hair in passing as he strolled around the Sky-Faring Commission’s headquarters was as much as you knew of him personally. And that was nothing at all.

“Are you alright, miss?” He held a hand out to you to help you up, and you hesitantly accepted it. This is so embarrassing. Me, a Sergeant Major, needing help from the General himself? Can one get any more incompetent? You decided then it would be a good idea to keep your identity and rank private. You didn’t need the Arbiter-General walking away from this thinking you were incapable of even defending yourself from the most common of opponents.

“I’m fine, sir.” You brushed yourself off once you were on your feet again. You covertly tugged your badge signifying your rank out of sight. “Thank you for helping me.”

“Not at all.” General Jing Yuan smiled at you indolently. For someone who just wiped out three mara-crazed former Cloud Knights, he looked pretty sleepy. “Allow me to accompany you back to the Sky-Faring Commission.” “I—I’m sorry?” Surely he hadn’t worked you out that quick. Neither could he have recognised you from the Commission either. You weren’t remarkable like that, and neither of you had ever interacted. “I don’t—I mean, I, uh…”

“Is something wrong?” He tilted his head at you. “Are you not Sergeant Major [Name]? Madame Yukong speaks highly of you.”

“I was not aware you knew of me, General.” That whole hiding of your badge was useless, then. You fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve. “I am ashamed. To think you, of all people, would have had to be the one to save a well-trained soldier as I from three mere mara-struck knights.”

“Ashamed? No, don’t be. You were ambushed, no? Then, it is not your fault.” “Thank you.” You bowed your head respectfully. “But, there is no need for you to escort me back to the Commission. I do believe I will be quite alright on my own.” “Oh, I was heading to the Commission anyway.” General Jing Yuan inclined his head toward you. He’s very tall. His hair was longer than you thought, too. “So, why not keep each other company on our trip to the same place? I’ve been meaning to speak with you for a while now, also.” “You have?” You met his hooded golden gaze in surprise. “About what, may I ask?” “Your skill with the mechanics of a Starskiff is commendable.” He began walking, and you fell into step beside him. The Arbiter-General’s voice was low, silky, and deep. No wonder women went crazy over this man. “It reminds me of an old friend I once had, long ago. I could use your expertise—of course, only if you are willing to agree, that is.”

“What is it you need assistance with?” Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined the famed, formidable General Jing Yuan ever complimenting you for skills most in the Sky-Faring Commission had. 

“Fifteen Starskiffs were crashed in a heated battle northwest of Scalegorge Waterscape,” he explained. “It will keep you awfully busy for a little while, but the compensation for your hard work will be great.”

Pursing your lips, you debated your answer. “…General Jing Yuan, sir, I must remind you that I am a Sergeant Major, not a repairwoman. I am the one who sends out the Starskiffs to be crashed, not the one who fixes them.” “Ah, I see. Of course. It seems I overlooked that one small factor.” It didn’t take both of you long until you arrived at the Sky-Faring Commission’s headquarters. “I am sorry, but I will have to assign this task either way. It’s really quite urgent. And Madam Yukong recommended you.”

“I really don’t—”

“Would a promotion from Sergeant Major to Colonel do?”

It was like he slapped you with the way you reeled back in shock, rendered utterly speechless. “Pro-promotion, sir?” you sputtered, inarticulate. “I—that’s—I don’t think…”

The Arbiter-General tilted his head coyly as if he were just discussing the weather, not your (huge) promotion from Major to Colonel. “But, I do. I think that would suffice. Are you convinced?” “I…” Getting there, that’s for sure. Our first meeting ever, and he’s promoting me? You weren’t quite sure of your impression of the man. Wonder? Astonishment? You were torn between both.

Before you could answer, Jing Yuan pushed open the Commission’s doors and entered. Madam Yukong caught sight of you both and rushed over. “General! Oh, [Name], you’re here too. Jing Yuan, did you tell—” “I certainly did.” His full mouth curled up into a playful smile. He glanced down at you, and you quickly looked away. “However, it is all up to Sergeant Major [Name] here. Yet, I do think the offer I made her is too good to refuse.”

“Too good to be true,” you softly corrected. “General, I fail to see why my fixing of fifteen crashed Starskiffs warrants a promotion of such a degree. It would hardly be anything noteworthy…” “Quite the opposite.” The General outstretched a hand and patted your shoulder. He smiled indolently again, so casual. “Think it over, Sergeant. I look forward to working with you.”

With that, the Arbiter-General turned and headed away, over to attend to something else regarding Qingying, one of Madam Yukong’s colleagues.

You turned to her in bewilderment. “Is he serious?”

The older woman smiled in a way that made you think she was in on some joke you hadn’t a clue about. It was a knowing smile, and she shot a look in the General’s direction. Then she looked at you again, eyes twinkling. “Very serious.”

all rights reserved © kisstrela 2024. do not copy, repost, redistribute, translate, plagiarise or modify my work(s) in any way on any platform. thank you.

— KISSES OR KISSES? : honkai star rail

premise. testing out your new lipstick is no fun (normally), so what better way to make use of it by kissing your lover senseless? not to mention, leaving a little something behind.... (aka, lipstick kisses with them.)

ft. blade, dan heng, boothill, dr. ratio, aventurine !

warnings: feminine reader! reader is ultimately genderless but you may interpret this as fem!reader if you want, reader wears lipstick. nicknames hehe, boothill is his own warning, mid writing tbh, unedited

a/n. the lipstick trend does not escape me at all 😞😞 but this consumed me so now i write about it ijbol

MAIN MASTERLIST || PART 2 (sunday, jing yuan, gallagher, sampo, gepard.)

“what are you doing?”

BLADE ceases all functions. like, immediately.

you'd think he'd even stopped breathing once he'd felt the soft sensation of your lips on his, and the pretty sight of the normally aloof stellaron hunter covered in multiple lipstick kisses all over his face to his neck nearly makes the rest of his other comrades keel over from laughter. his silence is indicative of his rather unusual state of shock, the only indication a menacing furrow of his brows (to an outsider, they'd think he's plotting a murder spree, but you know him too well for that) that twitch and simultaneously react the more you kiss him everywhere on the face.

silverwolf will then relay to you that blade walked around for nearly 5 system hours covered in your... marks of ownership, kafka helpfully supplies, and was only made aware when firefly accidentally bumped into him, face exploding in red when she saw the audacious sight of blade covered in your lipstick. “er, blade.... your face is...”

—

blade has never known mortification quite like today, but the intense feeling of something akin to shame is vivid as he stares at himself in the mirror, glaring.

his face is a mess, to put it simply. trailing a hand on the red stains your lips left on to him leaves him with a smudged countenance, furthering the utter chaos that is his kiss-ridden face.

“...ridiculous girl.” avoiding the uncharacteristic way his fingertips feel hot, blade reckons this is probably why firefly stopped dead in her tracks and gaped, stared, and flustered.

clever as you were, and with your equal penchant for mischief, blade, the ever unsuspecting lover he is (he doesn't normally allow anyone to touch him, but you're not just anyone) had easily become the target of your new tricks.

“pfft, nice get-up, old man. got yourself a good day?”

....so that's what silverwolf meant.

DANHENG immediately scolds you, but not in the serious way he normally does whenever stelle wants to eat an origami bird or dives into trashcans or when march accidentally destroys one of the archive books, but in a way that only dan heng ever shows you. he's red, painfully red, and is struggling to face you because he knows that the smug grin you're holding has to do with the sight he'd glimpsed himself to be in moments prior.

unfortunately for him, for all his ways of trying fervently to remove the lipstick stains plastered all over his face, it only took march one look and a melodramatic gasp before the entire express knew, the conductor included.

—

“dan heng and [name], sitting on a tree-”

“k-i-s-s-i-n-g~”

my friends are all senile, dan heng thinks, rolling his eyes while avoiding himeko's friendly (read: eerie) smile. and he's already given up on trying to meet welt's eyes. (read: concerned but not surprised)

the reason? the rouge tinted matte lipstick generously spread all over dan heng's face, slightly smudged and spanning from his cheeks to his lips, nearing his neck.

he'd never tell, but a part of him—one that was reptilian in nature, a primal need of possessiveness—adored the show of affection you showered upon him. it was only right—he was yours, and you were his.

welt is sheepish, coughing lightly that all five heads of the express members turn to him (pom-pom included) “dan heng, is that your tail wagging?”

“....”

“....”

“....”

(a resounding click! can be heard afrerwards. oh, dan heng is so going to steal march's camera.)

the loud whir of BOOTHILL’s cooling system can't even keep up with how fast he's overheating, because one thing led to another and one look you gave made him weak in the knees and now his body is covered in your kisses, scarlet against the metal gray of his limbs. he no longer has a heart, but the rapid feeling of heat emitted by his body speaks more about his current mental state in more ways than one—he can't even form words because his brain chip is practically glitching itself up into overdrive, because your lips were so warm, soft and gentle and—

“...oothill? boothill? your circuits are—”

a startling sound that sounds just like a mini explosion reverberates somewhere in the tangle of wires near boothill's power source.

oh dear.

( p.s: no warp trotters were harmed, rest assured )

“[name]...” AVENTURINE’s voice falters when you press a soft kiss near his forehead, your lover closing his eyes as he lets out a soft sigh of joy — a bit like a peacock preening... but in any case! he certainly sees no argument being swayed by you, his dignity in shambles, yes, but when you were showering him with affection like this (which, in all honesty, aventurine did not think he deserved) leaves in in a flushed and tattered mess of a man, whose strings are wholly puppeteered by you and you alone.

you are everything; and aventurine certainly can't get enough. (he doubts if enough will even be enough someday) he's the lover who'd proudly want to flaunt such salacious marks everywhere, though his craftily built reputation as a stoneheart—blood sweat and commodity code and all—leaves him to hide your marks on him, as much as he'd like them to stay. (you are a weakness that aventurine keeps like an oath, and an existence that he'd do anything to keep.)

that doesn't, however, stop him from getting you to leave a kiss near his collar, discreet enough to signal his status as irrevocably, undeniably yours.

DR. VERITAS RATIO is actually the most calm and most normal (read: boring) of all the men above when barraged by your kiss attack. letting out a tsk that's more chiding and speeachless than actually annoyed, he casually pulls you away from his face, nevermind his rapidly heating cheeks, which is only made more humorous given his lipstick stained face.

“stop that. you're making too much of a mess of me, fool.” <- is visibly leaning to your face to allow said actions. you're not fooling anyone here, doctor. smh.

however, he does get pretty flustered when a certain blond gambler notes the new addition of a ‘tattoo’ right near his lower lip. “wow, doctor. seems you woke up on the good side of the bed today.”

he spends a whole day scolding you hoarse afterwards, whatever that may entail ;).

(as a way of petty revenge, he will make sure to kiss you senseless right after, until he's sure his own lips are swollen and covered in the warm red of your chosen shade.)

a/n: blog is running on queue as of today, so this post will probably come wayyy overdue lol but hope u enjoy nonetheless!

@ ICEUNHIE: do not repost translate or plagiarize my works.

STOPLIGHTS !

── ♡ BLADE, JING YUAN, AVENTURINE

❝ their red flags, beige flags and green flags in a relationship. but in the form of stoplights. ❞

BLADE !

RED LIGHT:

○ He can’t tell you he loves you. Those three little words are locked away with the key long gone. If you are someone who thrives off verbal affection, the biggest favour you can do for yourself is to turn around while you can.

○ Possessive, but in a hot-and-cold way. He gives no indication he’s enjoying your company when you are there, but when you leave he’s trailing after you and ruining any other social interaction you have with resting scowl. Tying back to the first point, even if you ask him about this, getting an answer from him is like pulling teeth. He’d just turn it back on you and ask what you expect him to do. You can’t tell if he’s purposefully being obtuse or not.

○ He’s surprisingly good at giving insightful advice, just at the cost of terrible delivery. If you’re someone who reads into tone a lot, you’d find your feelings hurt many times, even if he only means well. He doesn’t entertain letting you wallow in self-pity and can come off as apathetic to strong emotions.

YELLOW LIGHT:

○ If you guys go out, and you find something cute and show it to him, he’ll just give you a heavy stare and tell you it's not a necessary purchase. It brings a small blow to your mood, but you get over it quickly. By the end of the day, however, when you are unloading your shopping, you find the item tucked neatly inside a gift bag. He does it all the time. He doesn’t hesitate to criticise something before getting you it anyway.

○ He wants you to be safe, and he doesn’t just mean in combat. He wants to keep you away from the anger that lurks in him. The ghosts, the demons, the vengeance. Hence, he won’t enlighten you in all that troubles him. He will pull a curtain over your eyes, just so you aren’t burdened with the pain he’s inflicted upon himself. Even when you just want him to open up, he wants to preserve your innocence as long as he’s able.

○ He always lets you pick the movie, but he has a blank face no matter what genre you are watching. Comedy? Not a laugh. Horror? Not even a flinch. Drama? Not even a gasp of surprise. It gets super awkward being the only one actively reacting to the movie, but he’ll still wait long after the movie is over just to listen to what praises and criticism you have for it.

GREEN LIGHT:

○ Surprisingly talented at a lot of things. He’s a good cook, a diligent cleaner, and also really good at price gouging at the supermarket, somehow? You aren’t sure where this domestic prowess comes from, but you aren’t complaining. Your shared quarters are clean, and your meals are delicious.

○ He’s protective, but he also trusts you. When it comes to missions, shared or not, he doesn’t utter any complaints about your involvement and treats you with the same level of regard as his co-workers. However, when there is a battle and he knows the fight is a tough one for you, he doesn’t hesitate to keep you away from harm and direct the enemy attacks to himself.

○ He’s weak to your whims. Even when your wants go against his line of logic, he still complies because very little brings a spark to him like your happiness. Do you want to go out on a late-night drive despite it being midnight? He’ll only ask you if you know what the time is, not in a leering way, but just to ask if you are sure. When you nod, you both are already on the road, and you won’t hear a word of complaint from him.

JING YUAN !

RED LIGHT:

○ He loves you, but his duty comes first. Even when he gives off the impression of being laid-back with his work, he’s meticulous and he’ll skip dates you’ve planned for weeks if there are meetings he has to attend to or issues that need his precedence. Even if he does appear apologetic, it’s easy for you to tell where your importance ranks for him. Nobody ever likes being in second place.

○ He is stuck in the past, and you can see it in his eyes. When you both stroll the gardens, he’ll point out things he once did here with others, though he always makes sure to redact their names. It’s not difficult for you to piece together who exactly he’s referring to, but it doesn’t lessen the pain. You sometimes think he’ll only come to appreciate his time with you when he loses you.

○ Avoids confrontation like the plague. He hates arguing with you, and he wants to keep maintaining the peace between the both of you. He fails to realise that sometimes, it takes conflict to achieve peace, so when you both disagree, he is quick to double down and agree with you as soon as it looks like the banter is going to escalate. Unless it’s something unforgivable, he hardly puts his foot down with you and it makes you feel like you’re communicating with a bricked wall with kind eyes.

YELLOW LIGHT:

○ He is nosy, and he’s shameless about it. Your business is his business, and he’ll hear you out on anything, from gossip to more serious things that trouble you. However, when he realises you’re troubled but doesn’t immediately come to him because you want to figure it out on your own, he takes personal offence. He’s a great person to talk to, but sometimes the notion of privacy escapes him.

○ He makes corny jokes. Classical dad jokes to awkward puns that usually make anyone wince. You and Yanqing are usually the victims of it, but it always comes from his attempt to lighten the mood. Even if you are someone who hates those jokes, they rub off on you quickly.

○ He is always thinking, even during moments when he should put his mind at ease. It could range from serious things, like the political situation of the Xianzhou, to more domestic concerns like what he should get you for your upcoming anniversary. It’s flattering you are always floating around in his mind, but sometimes you just want him to lie in your arms and breathe with you.

GREEN LIGHT:

○ Overly generous. You both can pass by a shop window and your eyes linger on something for more than two seconds. Suddenly, he’s disappeared from your side and has already purchased it for you. He was much more zealous with it at the beginning of your relationship, but he calms down when you assure him you don’t need to own everything that enters your field of vision.

○ He monopolises your affections. When he comes back home, he’s quick to unwind in the form of your touch. Whether it’s kisses pressed to every inch of skin, or him simply laying his head on your thighs, you are utterly his when the doors are closed.

○ He’s good with kids. From his years of looking out for Yanqing to his naturally kind and empathetic disposition, he’s so gentle and attentive towards children. Despite his reputation as an esteemed general, lots of Xianzhou kids are quick to clamber for his attention as he passes them by. Even when busy, he takes a sparing few moments to watch them show off their training with wooden swords or new pottery they crafted with their bare hands. He’ll praise them, and happily ignore his advisors nervously urging him to hurry up. Every time you see him like this, even if having a family is not one of your desires, you can feel yourself falling in love all over again with his genuine devotion to protecting their innocence.

AVENTURINE !

RED LIGHT:

○ Even when you both are in an established relationship, he still likes testing you. He knows he cares about you, more than he’s done for anyone in a long time, but he can’t help his instinctive nature to wait with a halted breath for a knife to press against his back. He baits you, passively and you almost don’t recognise it until he gives you that look you’ve seen on him many times at the casino. When he’s analysing. When he’s thinking. When he’s waiting for the moment you will crack. It hurts you, that he’s playing mind games with you as if you were his enemy. There has to be a full-blown fight where he’s confronted with the idea of losing you forever does he apologise and try to change.

○ He’s an instinctive liar, even for things that don’t need to be lied about. You could ask him about his plans for the day, and he’ll instinctively tell you a fib even if it’s just a meeting with IPC members that isn’t even confidential. He feels guilty when you just hum and tell him to have a good day, but it’s too late to take back his lie. He tries to be better, but he’s spent so long concealing his intentions and hiding his cards that he doesn’t know how to be upfront with it.

○ He scares you, not in the way he’d ever hurt you or purposefully cause you pain. He’s just too reckless, betting his life over and over again, and it terrifies you every time you watch him place his bets. You’ve hated accompanying him to casinos and IPC meetings because of it, even when he assures you luck is on his side. Yet, you love him and love will lead you to watch him take these risks, as if it’s the least you owe to him. From the sidelines, you’re the only one who can see the tremble in his hands.

YELLOW LIGHT:

○ He talks during movies, but at least he always has something funny to say. While it kills the suspense of certain scenes, sometimes, it still brings you to laughter to hear his exaggerated criticism or quick-witted remarks.

○ He brings home strays. It’s an unexpected habit of his, but he’ll sometimes come home with abandoned animals or creatures. You wonder if it’s out of pity or empathy, but regardless it’s a look into the kinder and sweeter side of Aventurine. However, it’s not always pleasant waking up to a crushing weight on you from a cat that Aventurine had decided to overfeed.

○ He decorates your space like it's his own. You’ll sometimes come home to things in your study/bedroom that didn’t belong before like a new vase or glass paperweight. Granted, he usually considers your taste before buying anything, but other times it looks so striking and prominent in the room. It can be a little irritating at first, especially when you’ve decorated with a theme in mind, but there is also something oddly touching about how he insists on leaving his presence behind even when he’s not here.

GREEN LIGHT:

○ His money is your money, is a principle he quickly adopted into your relationship. You have your suspicions it’s his way of making up for all the times his line of work has troubled you. While you can’t say you’re happy with the circumstances, you’d also be a liar if you said there isn’t something sweet about the way he’s so happy with spoiling you, watching your reactions to his lavish presents with a genuine smile of his own.

○ He has a strict routine of messaging you good morning and goodnight. If you guys don’t share a living space, or your routines are different, he always makes sure to send you his greetings and wishes to you as soon as you start and end your day. Even when you both are mad at each other, he’ll still message to tell you he loves you and to have a good night, because he can’t stand the idea of you going to bed ever doubting his affection.

○ He stumbles sometimes. While he’s the one who usually doles out the flirting, the suave moves. However, you like to catch him off his guard sometimes and his unfiltered reactions are just so adorable. The tinge of pink in his cheeks and the slight widening of his eyes before he attempts to laugh off his stammer, you can see the part of him that adores your attention. Truly, there is no man like Aventurine.

Hello 👋,

I hope this message finds you well. My name is Aziz, and I’m reaching out with a heartfelt plea to help my family find safety and reunite with our mother. 😞

The ongoing war in Gaza has torn my family apart. My mother and newborn sister are stranded in Egypt, while I, along with the rest of my sex family members, am trapped in the midst of the genocide in Gaza. We have not only been separated but have also lost our home and are enduring unimaginable hardships. 💔

Your support can make a difference. Whether by reading our story, donating, or sharing our campaign with others, you can help us reunite, find safety, and start anew. 🙏🕊

Thank you, from the depths of my heart, for your kindness, compassion, and solidarity during this difficult time. ❤🍉

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