Water Is Thicker Than Blood Chapter 39

game au: voicelines

notes: fluff, paralive game au, no content warnings, kinda brainrot

who else remembers when they lied to us about a paralive game? anyway here's some theoretical lines the characters would have about their significant other

༄ kanata yatonokami:

⁀➷ about their lover:

“ha? the fuck does that have to do with you? 

… did they say something about me?”

⁀➷ fleeting memories:

“nayuta and i didn’t have shit growing up as kids, and they were always annoying about it. dropping by snacks, workin’ extra shifts to help us out - not like i asked for anything. i hate owing people though, so - … oi. get that damn smile off your face. they’re the one that wouldn’t leave me alone.”

⁀➷ quality time:

“mhm, i’ll be by later. love you too.”

[phone clicks]

…

“geez, you ever mind your own business? you can turn in that job yourself. i promised them i’d go by their house today and they won’t quit naggin’ me about it. huh? that’s not what i fucking mean! if i didn’t like em, i wouldn’t even be dating them. they just like sitting at home and talking to me. it’s weird but… makes em’ happy, so whatever.”

⁀➷ the future:

“nayuta won’t get off my case about marriage and all that shit ; says i should hurry up and give them a ring. doesn’t he know how old we are?! ‘sides, i don’t need some asshole with a bible to tell me we’re gonna be together forever. it’s either them or nobody, and they know it.”

༄ iori suiseki:

about their lover: 

“i know it’s tempting, but that one over there ain’t one of my hostesses, so try not to stare so hard. my dearest deserves more respect than that, dont’cha think?”

⁀➷ fleeting memories:

“honestly, i thought everything was over after the suiseki massacre. my family helped out a lot, but they were the one to really drag me out of my slump. it’ll be hard as hell for me to ever repay em’ for that, but ‘m still tryin’ to this day.

speaking of, can ya run out and grab em’ for me? it’s been an hour since i’ve seen em, and i’m goin’ through withdrawals.”

⁀➷ safety:

“i’d like to think we’re pretty guarded these days, but i can never be too sure, yanno? honestly, in an ideal world i could just keep em’ in the house forever to make sure nothing can even come close to harming them. hm? is my face that scary?”

⁀➷ the future:

“oi, c’mere for a sec? i want your opinion. the band on this ring is nice, but the diamond cut on here is much more suited to their taste. ahaha, pick up yer jaw! ‘m not proposing anytime soon. just weighin’ out my options for now. i got too many things goin’ on to give em’ the real life they deserve, but one day i’ll be able to make em’ mine forever.”

༄ shion kaida:

⁀➷ about their lover: 

“hmm? sorry to disappoint, but i’m not really doing stuff like that anymore. my angel might kill me if they catch wind of this, so you can go find someone else to please you, right?”

⁀➷ fleeting memories:

“i can’t blame you for wanting to come back - everyone always does. they were the first time i was the one to go back, though. so cold hearted towards me, i couldn’t help but want to see them crack. ah, but i wouldn’t advise you to try the same with them. i’m not a fan of sharing.”

⁀➷ bad habits:

“it’s hard not to fall into old ways, if i’m being honest. they’re understanding enough, given the… unique circumstances of my situation, but have enough of a backbone to put me in my place. 

though, just between us, i do it on purpose sometimes. seeing their angry face gets me all sorts of riled up. i’m falling in love at quite the unhealthy pace, fufu.”

⁀➷ the future:

“stability isn’t exactly my thing - i’m sure you’re not surprised. the two of us haven’t talked about that sort of thing yet, so i’m avoiding it as long as i can. i’d hate to see their disappointment when i tell them marriage isn’t in the cards for me.

… is what i’d like to believe, but they’re so cute i just might find myself caving into their charms. maybe they’re the manipulator between us after all.”

༄ ryu natsume:

⁀➷ about their lover:

“yaho~! have you seen my alien commander? last i saw they were UP IN SPAAAACCCCEEEE - oh! there they are! WAHAHA, ATTACK TIME!”

⁀➷ fleeting memories:

"hm hm hmmmm - aha! that cloud looks like my rice ball! one time they shot me with a HUUUGGGEEE love beam and GAH! i was their slave for the next ten million years! ryu-kun doesn’t mind though - we can rule the whole world together.”

⁀➷ haunting thoughts:

“ryu-kun doesn’t want to be around anyone right now. they’re the only one who can make the monsters go away - but i don’t want them to see me the way i am. i like them so much… it really hurts.”

⁀➷ the future:

“d’you think they’d get mad if i wear a cat suit to our wedding? of course we’re getting married! everyone in japan is invited! we’ll have lots of cheese and takoyaki, shiki-kun will be the maid of honor, and we’ll be carried down the aisle with pigeons!”

༄ toma hikage:

⁀➷ about their lover:

“hey, hey! which selfie is cuter? i like their hair in this one, oh - their smile is so bright here! but they’re irresistible when they’re annoyed at me! and then this is one where they’re sleeping, but this one’s filter is pretty, and this one -”

⁀➷ fleeting memories:

“long before visty was even a thing, they were always by my side. honestly, i doubt i would’ve become an idol without their encouragement. even with that horrible old face of mine, they always talked about how beautiful i was. haaa, i miss them so much! i need to call them right now!”

⁀➷ overbearing fans:

“maybe saying i’m everyone’s idol was a bad idea, haha. they get kinda jealous sometimes when we’re approached too often, but if i’m being real with you, it’s so hot! the way they call me theirs and grip my hand… totally heart pounding!”

⁀➷ the future:

“i hate to think about the day when visty isn’t a group anymore, but the idea of living a normal life with them is kinda nice, you know? waking up late, going grocery shopping, picking up the kids from school, family vacations. not anytime soon, obvs, but i can’t imagine ever wanting it with anyone else.”

I'M A COWBOY ON MY OWN TRIP

── ♡ BOOTHILL

❝ the road of a galaxy ranger is a lonely one. fortunately, boothill would never leave you be. ❞

Boothill is impossibly hard to get a hold of, and you consider that the next time he shows up for his maintenance, you’ll plant a GPS on him.

The unofficial Galaxy Ranger and ex-robotic scientist that you are, Boothill had become your personal project. His maintenance, upgrading his body and enhancing his current weaponry have been your turf, something you took keen delight in that you’ll never speak to the word, lest Boothill catches wind and stops paying mind to your complaints.

His entrance is always predictable. With a kick to your door, you will scoff, and he’ll stroll in with a damaged component or two that you’ll have to fix. When your door opens with a creak instead, you feel a chill run through your spine and you are already out of your desk chair by the time he stumbles in. Something heavy lodges in your throat when you catch your first sight of him, a mess of stray wires and missing metal, his prosthetics wrapped around his steel torso to try and keep his wiring and sensors from spilling out. His eyes are dull when he looks at you, missing his usual toothy grin. You run and grab him before he can collapse to the ground, ushering him to the medical bed you found in an abandoned hospital, treating it like an exam table.

“What happened to you?” You stress, and you gently move his arm out of the way to assess the damage. You examined the more critical damage first, where some cords were snapped clean. You believe Boothill to be extremely lucky that it wasn’t the one connecting him to his artificial heart. Metal was easy to replace, rewiring was not and if the component keeping him functioning stopped working, there was no way you could revive him again. Your teeth catch the bottom of your lip at the thought.

“Sorry, I got all banged up, Doc,” It’s the first time he’s ever apologised to you for coming to your workshop for fixing. It’s also the first time he’s ever been such a wreck, so you decide to ignore the semantics and shake your head.

“How did it happen?” You interrogate, lifting one of his legs that had a gaping hole in the middle. At your delicate touch, his ankle suddenly detached and you wince instinctively.

“They opened fire suddenly, fudging scum,” He spits out in hatred, and despite his visible exhaustion before, his eyes light up at the memory. “They were blasting away while there were kids there.”

You don’t inquire about the safety of the children. Boothill is one of the most skilled rangers you know, and even if an entire armed military began a shoot-out, he’d find a way to evade it. With the amount of bullet holes in his body, he definitely used himself as a human shield and the thought makes you purse your lips. From the long years since you’ve met him, you were quick to find out that Boothill had very few weaknesses, but one of them was definitely children. You aren’t sure why, and you don’t know if you’ll ever know. Hopes, dreams and history aren’t things discussed between rangers. Even your mutually beneficial relationship with him is a rarity amongst the group. Yet, there is a mutual understanding. Things that went unspoken and what made you guys so in sync in the first place. So, you break off his unrecoverable attachments and continue with what you have to do. Both of you speak nothing as you begin shifting through your cabinets of prosthetic parts, labelled under ‘Boothill’. Usually, he is all chatter when he stops by, either badgering you to finally fix his Synthessia Beacon he utterly despises (and you kept intact out of pettiness), or striking up a conversation about whatever he uncovered during his solo missions. You don’t blame his quiet solemness today, but it doesn’t make it any less unnerving, like the silence isn’t meant to be here. You were the first to break it.

“You’re lucky my shipment for spares arrived in time,” You state, walking over to him. By ‘shipment’ you meant whatever passing rangers happened to drop off at your doorstep after successful thefts at IPC warehouses. It’s laughable for you to think of IPC packages arriving at your doorstep in the middle of nowhere, a mailman ready for you to sign the papers.

“Lucky me,” He drawls out sarcastically, and you take a moment to flick his forehead. “What the fudge, Doc!”

You ignore his annoyed exclamation, hiding your growing smile behind hunched shoulders as you begin screwing on his replacement ankles.

“I can fix, some of the more critical parts,” You gesture vaguely to his legs. “But the rewiring is the real issue here. Luckily, I’ve sanitised the tubes already.”

He stiffens for a moment, his eyes unfocused as he looks up at you with furrowed eyebrows and a frown.

“You’re putting me to sleep?” He asks, void of his usual attitude and you hesitate. You knew Boothill hated being forcibly rebooted and put to sleep. You aren’t sure what he dreams of, but whenever it’s over he’ll keep his gaze away from you, and reels at your every attempt to approach him, even for a checkup. You sympathised with him, and you’ve grown to hate it as much as he did. Unfortunately, right now it’s necessary. With his mainstream wiring damaged beyond repair, you need to replace them and you can’t have him awake during the process and potentially damage the framework.

“I’m sorry,” You mean it but he looks as if he couldn’t hear you, his eyes now fixed on a random oil stain on the floor.

“Be fast with it, ‘kay?” He mumbles and you nod. You reach over and trace the synthetic skin of his neck, where the bumps of his skin reveal his power button. You’ve already memorised just about every inch of his body from all the times you’ve spent with him, working on him. Yet, you take the selfish moment to let your gloved fingers caress the spot, almost in a lover’s embrace. He’s looking at you the entire time and finally your eyes meet his. There is a moment’s breath of a pause before he flashes you a toothy smile and you swiftly press the button. The corners of his lips drop in an instant, his eyelids falling shut and his body going limp. He’ll never know how the sight of him like this made you want to throw up yourself. You aren’t sure what happened to you, ever since the damn bandit came into your life and the path you had planned for yourself suddenly became tainted with sporadic visits and bellied laughter from a scratchy voice. You used to be colder. It’s what being a calculating scientist made you. Yet, Boothill, his justice that he goes on about, they all muddled your senses to the point that the idea of him being taken from you in one irreversible swoop made bile rise to your throat. He’ll never know those, because you need him to maintain his image of you; a cool-headed robotician whose nerves he always manages to get on.

You carry his unmoving figure over your shoulder and you don’t register your body’s complaints of his weight. There were things more painful than this, you think as you zip him into one of the prepared tubes. As preserving liquid fills the metal cylinder, you catch your image in the reflective glass. Have you always been this tired?

Another two months go by when you next see Boothill.

His last visit, which had been a critical one, had finished with little commotion. After reprogramming his hardware and forging the rest of his broken pieces, he was back in prime shape and left with nothing more than a “thanks”. His radio silence almost made you wonder if he resented you for his forced shutdown, and you try not to pay it much thought as you busy yourself with any unfinished project you could get your hands on.

That is, until an uneventful afternoon when your door is kicked open and you sit up with your first instinct to yell your complaints. Boothill strides in and your striking words dispel before they leave your lips.

“Oh,” You can only reply dumbly, and his grin somehow widens.

“Knew you’d be holed up in here, Doc,” He dares to sass, resting a hand on his hip as he surveys the packaged food on your desk, and the bags under your eyes. You click your teeth.

“Broke something again?” You wearily ask him, plopping yourself back into your spinning chair and giving him a quick scan.

“Do I gotta be broken to visit?” He poses it as a question but doesn’t listen to your answer as he drops himself onto your springy couch, feet kicked up like the ill-mannered guest he is.

“I don’t have time to waste on you,” You scoff, rolling your eyes as you turn back to the radio you had been taking apart.

“I got food.”

You asked him if he wanted something to drink.

For a man who couldn’t get drunk, Boothill adored his alcohol. You think he rides off the placebo effect of drinking, but choose not to comment since he’s finally decided to stop being so hot-and-cold with you and instead animatedly reciting his encounter with The Swarm.

“Most annoyin’ fudgin’ shirtbags I’ve had ta’ fight,” He snarls, before downing the rest of the bottle in his hand. It’s his third one. “Kept on multiplying no matter how many holes I put in ‘em.”

Despite your off-record status as a Galaxy Ranger, your areas of expertise stayed within the confines of machinery and weapons, with you never having even touched a gun in your life. From the stories, you couldn’t have been more grateful for the fact.

“How fast do you think they regenerate?” You question, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. He thinks.

“Around every few seconds,” He answers and raises a brow at you. “Why?”

“For next time,” You uncross your legs. “If I can increase the speed of your reloading, you can probably kill them before they have the chance to regenerate back.”

Usually, your new ideas for him would be met with enthusiasm, whereby he’d test his limits by suggesting his own upgrades which you’d either agree to or shut down. Much to your surprise, he tilts his head back and lets out a low groan.

“Seriously, all you got is work in that noggin’ of yours,” He comments, giving you a flat look and you splutter immediately in defence.

“But you are talking about work, too!” You retort and he laughs loudly, leaning on the backrest of the couch as if he knows something you don’t.

“I’m telling ya’ something about myself. Now you gotta too,” He explains and it gives you pause, turning your head to stare at him with incredulity.

“What is this, twenty questions?” You joke but he shrugs nonchalantly.

“Sure.”

“I think I’m a pretty open book,” Your gesture vaguely around your small and unkempt home shrouded in darkness with nothing but the straining blue light of your computer. “This is my whole life, right in front of you.”

“It ain’t,” He refutes immediately and you frown at him, not sure what’s going on with him tonight. “Unless you tellin’ me you’ve lived like this since you were born, then it ain’t your whole darn life.”

It’s the invitation you’ve always secretly prayed for. That someone will look at your dishevelled self and the mess you lie in, and say you were more than that. Boothill, of all people, is giving you the chance. Yet, your hands feel clammy as you press them together and suddenly the cyborg beside you is hard to look at.

“Why would it matter?” You ask him sincerely, missing your usual condescension. There is a brief silence before he continues.

“‘Cause I feel like it does,” He confesses, voice dropping lower as if he’s speaking into the world something only you and he should know of. “‘Cause I’ve been thinkin’ of how ya’ keep savin’ my behind, and how fudgin’ weird it is I don’t know anythin’ about ya’.”

You look at him, really look at him, and he meets you back with a defiant stare of your own. For a second, something crosses his eyes and you lose instantly, sucking in a sharp breath.

“You will think of me less.”

“Not possible,” He instantly hits back.

You fall back onto the uncomfortable scratchy fabric of your sofa, and your stare meets your dull, tilled ceiling. You reminisce about when grey was replaced with expensively painted beige, and the seat underneath you used to be a mahogany brown chair. In front of you had been a projection board, equations scribbled hastily across the screen. Your graded test paper sits in your book bag, perfect mark as usual. You think back to how far you’ve fallen from grace.

“Okay,” You say, “And you’ll tell me about yourself too. No enemies, no battles, just you.”

Something crosses his expression, but he agrees anyway. You will learn of his vendetta, of his anger and grief, of the daughter he never could have seen grow up. He will learn of you as Icarus, the one who reached too close to the sun and condemned themself to the ground. After the drinks have finished pouring, he will leave as if nothing had happened, announcing the next date for his visit. There is a silent agreement in the air that night.

You both were not good at living. And you have officially breached the line of co-workers.

THE MOON WILL SING A SONG

GREY | 9teen | she/her | ♡

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ TAGLIST : #grey speaks (misc posts), #reblog (reblogs), #anon mail (anon asks), #recs (recommended fics)

Not exactly a badge of honor.

Reference and speedpaint:

song: Éric Satie - Gnossienne No.1

reference image Found here

just normal guy behaviour 👍

യ YOU PRETEND YOU DONT WANT TO SLEEP NEXT TO THEM, SFW ﾉ FLUFF

gn reader x sunday, dr ratio, moze, blade + jing yuan ( seperate ) ; fluff ﾉ sfw scenarios. petnames used ; my dear, my angel. it is all lighthearted and a prank. these are quite silly but i enjoyed writing them!

word count. 900 to 1.4k max. ₊ 𓂃 return to masterlist.

౿ SUNDAY

There’s quite a gentle, relaxing atmosphere in the quarters that you reside in now — tucked beneath the expensive, silk sheets as you rest on your side. And were you not feeling particularly menacing, you think you’d be able to knock out fairly quickly given how comfortable you are, though unfortunately for the man to your side, you’re feeling like teasing him.

You make it fairly obvious that you’re uncomfortable at first, though in your own mind it’s in a playful sort of way, you can feel the way Sunday’s giving you a curious sort of look from where he rests in his own space. He’s flicking through the pages of his notebook quietly, though hardly paying attention as he focuses on your figure instead.

“Is the bed not to your liking?” His words hum and they urge you to stop from where you’re now turning away from him, thankfully so as you find yourself smiling— almost grinning. Before you successfully settle it down enough to give him a neutral look over your shoulder.

“No, it’s not that. I just can’t sleep.” Your tone carries as an almost disinterested sort of drawl and you watch the way that alone makes Sunday’s wings stiffen.

“Ah, I see.” He closes his book before he turns around to give you a gentler, affectionate look. “Is there something troubling you then?” And you feel his fingers reach to rest upon your shoulder as he gives you a soothing sort of squeeze.

You have to resist the urge to curl your way against his chest, shuddering beneath the warmth of his palm. So you just shrug instead, shaking your head.

Your lack of response makes Sunday hum— he picks up on the tense feeling in your body despite your words, but he opts not to press out of fear of making you feel worse. So he continues instead, “Nevertheless, if you are having trouble sleeping, would you like me to read something for you?”

You meet your eyes with his question and you feel that familiar pull towards him again. Maybe it’s the tender tone in which he speaks to you, but it takes everything in your body not to really roll into him this time. You can’t believe you’ve wound up cursing yourself for such a playful prank.

Sunday goes on when you don’t answer him, in that same affectionately gentle drawl. “At one point I too found myself in the same predicament. So if I can be of any assistance to you, we could even go for a stroll if you so please.” His words make you swallow loudly, almost guiltily, and you have to break the way his gaze holds yours before you reply.

“No, I just don’t think I want to sleep next to you.” You respond quickly, an almost jumble of words that you had to press out before you backed out.

Though it makes something in your chest hurt when you see the way they change Sunday’s expression anyway. He chuckles, though not as humorous as it normally is — sounding a little more awkward than anything. “Ah, well. If you’d much prefer — I can sleep elsewhere. There is no absence of spare rooms here if you would like to make yourself more comfortable.” He says quite flatly though you can tell he seems a little hurt when you watch the feathers in his wings wilt.

But even despite all of that— his hand doesn’t leave you as it still rests on your shoulder. Instead, you feel him offer you another affectionate, warm squeeze before he’s turning to look away from you, and part of you wants to reach out to pull him back as he pushes himself to the edge of the bed.

Your body feels suddenly cold when his touch finally leaves you.

“Though, I apologise if I have upset you in any way. Should you not desire to be around me anymore, I can see to it that my schedule keeps me preoccupied until you feel better.” Sunday doesn’t look at you when he lets his legs rest over the edge of the bed, he keeps himself turned away. Yet, you can still hear how quiet his voice sounds as you push yourself up on your forearm. You’re watching him as he rests on the mattress, “If you prefer, we can discuss it more after a good night of rest.”

Then he does look at you, only for a glance, but he still has that soft look on his features despite the way you’re kicking him out your shared bedroom. “Though I doubt I will sleep much without you by my side, heh.” And despite the way his words are a low mumble, you realise that you don’t really sleep well without him either.

So you only last as long as the time it takes Sunday to rest his hands on either side of himself to push himself off the mattress before you’re reaching out to stop him. Almost pulling him back down with how quickly you grab onto his wrist. And you’re wearing a pleading look when he turns to ask what’s wrong.

“I was just kidding.. I was joking.” You say quietly, like you’re ashamed of your words — it was only a harmless prank, yet you’re left grabbing onto your lovers sleeve in the hopes he won’t leave you.

You had never expected it to back fire quite like this, but there’s a warm sort of relief that washes over when the next expression Sunday sends you is adorable. He smiles despite how upset he seemed a moment ago, and seeing that in itself makes you slump back down into your pillows as you send him a pout. Like this wasn’t all your own doing.

He sits himself back down on the bed, and this time you do roll yourself a little closer like you’ve been wanting to— until you feel his palm rest back against your shoulder again and he still squeezes. His wings return to their usual relaxed flutter as he offers you a chuckle, and you’re glad he’s atleast being a good sport about it as he taps his fingers on your skin.

“Hm, then might I assume you wouldn’t mind me coming a little closer afterall, my angel?”

౿ DR RATIO

You’re finishing your nightly routine as you reside in the bathroom, though were you to look to your right you’d be able to see where Ratio is waiting for you in bed already. He seems to be quite comfortable, his chiselled physique shirtless and tempting — which in a way makes you want to rush yourself back to him but… there’s a teasing part of you that wants to try out something before you do.

It’s more of a curious affinity than anything else. Though you can only hope it doesn’t backfire, the genius in your bed right now wasn’t particularly one for pranks. So you can only hope that he lets you sleep in bed again with him afterwards,

You try not to think about it too much, trying not to lose your already dwindling courage. But you have to settle your nerves with a swallow as you take your first step into the bedroom, and almost immediately Ratio puts down the book he was reading to give you his full attention.

Except instead of climbing into your side of the bed and up against his chest like he expects, you rest at the bottom of it as you give him a carefully neutral blink.

“I think I’m going to sleep on the couch tonight.” You say suddenly, and you half expect Ratio to laugh at you, maybe snort and call you an idiot for even suggesting as much. But instead — he offers you a gentle response, in a tone that makes it seem like he’s being careful as he watches you.

“Oh? Something troubling you?” His words ask quietly, there’s no hint of annoyance or impatience in his tone, but you hear the way the sheets rustle as he pushes himself to sit up a little straighter.

“No, nothing.” You have to answer quickly before you lose your courage again. It’s hard enough to keep eye contact when Ratio’s before you in this half-nude state, so you end up turning to gaze at something unknown in the corner of the room instead. He mirrors that look as he tries to figure out what’s going on, but when he finds nothing of interest in that direction— he turns his attention back to you.

“Then what ever is the matter?” He asks again, another low question and you have to swallow to respond to this one.

“I don’t want to sleep there tonight. I’ll sleep somewhere else.” You shrug, feigning disinterest but it’s almost immediately that it earns you a sigh. The sheets rustle again as Ratio reaches up a hand to itch at his brow, and it almost appears like he’s trying to smooth out the frown on his features before he looks at you again.

“Don’t be so ridiculous. Come here, won’t you? I’ve made your pillow as you like it.” His hand urges your attention to the pillow on your side and you take note of the way he must’ve fluffed it up. It makes it look particularly comfortable by his side, so you have to tear your gaze away with a tilt of your again before your self control snaps like a flimsy string.

You just opt to shrug instead, and that’s when Ratio really seems to be at his wits end as you watch him pull back the comforter over him from your peripheral vision. It doesn’t take him long to push himself to full height before he’s approaching you, and despite the way you know it’s a bit late for games — he doesn’t raise his voice or yell as he comes to rest opposite you.

Instead, he reaches up to guide your attention back to him, tilting your head forward with one finger and forcing your eyes to meet his as he gives you a neutral, curious look. It’s like he’s trying to examine you hard enough to peek into your mind, though only for a moment before he ultimately gives up and decides to question you instead.

Though Ratio finds himself signing again before he speaks, there’s no hint of irritation to it as he watches your face. “No matter the hour, if something is troubling you — I would much rather we discuss it sooner rather than later, so we may come to a resolution together. Would you not agree that is the most rational course?” He punctuates his sentence with a soft graze of his finger across your cheek before it rests back by his side.

And you decide to hold his gaze this time when you answer, “Nothings wrong, I just don’t want to sleep there.”

“Very well then.” Ratio mutters to you before he turns to make his way back to the bed, and part of you wilts a little at the idea of him giving up so easily, accepting that he’ll be sleeping alone tonight instead of by your side like he normally is.

But before you can find yourself feeling sorry for yourself (which would be a product of your own doing), you watch as the genius instead begins to gather up his belongings. He takes your pillow, a blanket and then his book from the bedside table, and by your next blink — he’s making his way over to you again to give you another hard to read look.

Ratio sighs when you don’t say anything, you only rest infront of him to gape— mouth opening and closing as you try to ask what he’s doing, unable to find your words suddenly. So he speaks instead, “Go on, feel free to show me the way. I do hope to actually get some rest tonight, so if you would be so kind.” And he notions towards the door with his hand as he holds your things, urging you to take a step you never even planned to take in the first place.

“W-what? What’re you doing?” You finally manage, yet it’s far too late for you to back out now. You’re already walking out of the room as he follows behind you.

Ratio scoffs, “What does it look like I’m doing? You didn’t think I was going to actually let you sleep alone, did you?” And then he offers you another sigh when his words are met with silence, as if he’s offended you would even believe he’d ever let you do as such. “How ridiculous. If you wish not to sleep in the bed, then we can sleep elsewhere. Your decision.”

It only takes a few steps before you come to rest in the doorway to the living room, the only place you could think of now that your prank has gotten a little out of hand. But you can’t handle the embarrassment of taking it back now, especially not when your lover is walking over to the couch to begin setting it up.

Ratio fluffs your pillow again before resting it down, followed by his book on the coffee table and then the comforter as he positions it comfortably on top of the cushions. And then he looks at you, beckoning you over with a mere blink before he’s guiding you in first — then following you underneath as you get comfortable. “Well, we’re here now. So I hope you don’t mind a little company.”

It’s quite silly the way it’s played out you think, but you can’t help but still find yourself comfortable as Ratio presses himself up into your side. He even makes sure to rest his arm over the back of the couch behind you, should you opt to snuggle yourself into his side — and it’s an invitation you accept quite eagerly.

He seems quite pleased with that when you press yourself up against his chest, and he lets his lips rest against the top of your head as he murmurs. “Just do tell me next time should you wish to move before I get myself comfortable. Though, I must admit — it has become increasingly more difficult to do so in your absence.” Then he lets his arm fall to rest flat against your back next as he smoothes it across your spine soothingly, like a wordless lullaby as he traces his fingertips against your skin.

“Anyway, do try to get some rest. This was your location of choice afterall, was it not?” You can feel your eyes closing at the movement of Ratio’s hand, so you can only nod at his question before thinking about how you’ll probably keep this little prank to yourself for the rest of your life.

But then he takes another careful breath before he offers you a soft kiss against your head, “I do hope you will rest better for it”

౿ MOZE

You don’t know what urges you to prank Moze like this, maybe it’s knowing his good nature or imagining the adorable, oblivious reaction he would have to your request. But you decide to do it anyway as you rest in your bedroom now — nuzzling yourself deep into the comfortable hug of your comforter as your lover readies himself to get in beside you.

His steps are silent as he approaches the bed, followed by the tilt of the mattress as he pulls back the comforter to slide in beside you. It’s an almost fluid movement, and he offers you a gentle sort of look from where you’re nuzzled into the pillows before he rests on his own.

“You look quite comfortable.” Moze mumbles beneath his breath as he reaches out to cup your cheeks, trailing his thumb along the skin there before you’re leaning into the touch. Sure you’re going to prank him, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy this little moment for a bit longer before you do.

Your next blink is slower than the last and he takes another breath before he speaks again, “Are you falling asleep?” Asking softly as he inches himself a little closer, and it’s almost immediately that you feel his body heat begin to consume you.

It takes everything in your body to mutter out your words before you end up slinking into a very comfortable deep sleep. “No, I don’t think I want to sleep here.” You lie, almost terribly so but Moze doesn’t seem to question it anyway as he offers you a curious look.

“You’re not comfortable?” He doesn’t mean to frown, but he’s looking at you so intently it just seems to naturally rest on his handsome features. Part of you wants to kiss out the crease in his brow but you opt not to, choosing to turn away instead so you can keep some semblance of control on your will power.

His hand retreats from your features as you do, and you press yourself up against your pillow as if to make up for the loss. Though it’s not quite as warm, “No, not really! I just don’t want to sleep next to you.” Your words muffle slightly as you speak and Moze meets them with silence for a moment before you feel him shift again.

“I see..” It’s a quiet sort of response, one that makes you consider turning back round to face him. But then the weight of the mattress leaves again as he mutters out a “That’s fine.” and you turn to check over your shoulder to see him retreating from beneath the comforter again. You can’t even deny the way it makes something in your heart sink, to the point where you almost reach out for him.

But then Moze seems to just perch himself on the edge of the bed instead, and he doesn’t say much else except an accepting. “I’ll just sleep here then.”

That’s what really urges you to turn back around to face him again, more curiously than anything and he’s already watching you when you do. “Hm? Why there?” You ask, resting your hands beneath your head on your pillow as you watch him sit upright with his feet on the floor.

But Moze’s expressions remains neutral, not even a hint of annoyance at his predicament now. Like you haven’t just kicked him out of bed. “So I can keep watch. Don’t worry, I won’t leave you.” Even his words remain comforting and reassuring.

In a way that makes your brows furrow as you pout. “But that won’t be comfortable.”

“As a Shadow Guard I’ve dealt with far worse than this.” His response is quick, and though it was unlikely given who Moze was — part of you hoped he would beg to sleep next to you. So now you’re just left pouting up at him in the hopes he’ll come back.

You sigh, and you feel his hand reach out to smooth along your cheek again “Now sleep.” he pinches at your chin, and the warmth of his touch makes your lashes flutter. “Aren’t you comfortable now?”

“Not really.” You never knew it was possible to regret a prank as much as you do now. But part of you gets your hopes up when Moze leans over you a bit with your response, though he doesn’t climb back underneath the covers unfortunately. Instead, he makes a show of tucking them into your sides, trapping the warmth in as his fingers linger on your silhouette for a moment longer.

You already miss him when pulls away again, “How about now?” He asks again, and it’s so adorable that it almost makes you jump out of bed and on top of him. The expression he’s wearing is enough to have you throwing your self control to the wind with your next breath.

“I changed my mind, can you sleep with me?” You speak softly, like you’re trying to convince him but Moze only looks at you.

“I thought you weren’t comfortable.” He states quite fairly given what you said only a few minutes ago, but he doesn’t seem to argue much when you shrug and mumble out your next response.

“I was when you were here.” That’s when he gets moving, and it’s quite quickly that you find yourself surrounded by Moze’s warmth once more as he pushes himself back beneath the comforter. And this time, you don’t hesitate to press yourself up against his chest — a movement that he welcomes almost instantly as he wraps his arms around you to hug you close.

“It’s easier to keep you safe from up close.” You feel his lips press against your temple as he gives you a gentle kiss, and his hands smooth against your skin as he exhales against you after. You can almost feel the way he relaxes with how closely he holds you, he seems to be quite comfortable himself. “So you can sleep now that I’ve got you.”

౿ BLADE

Blade wasn’t much of a sleeper, he normally teetered on the edge of being asleep and awake, but he still liked the act of resting in bed next to you. Even just your presence alone served as a form of relaxant and having you as close as you are now — makes him actually feel somewhat comfortable as you rest with your cheek against his shoulder, his arm wrapping around your waist to keep you close.

But maybe that’s what makes you feel bad about the sort of prank you’re about to pull. It’s not meant to be bad spirited — but you’re just curious to how he would react were you to say you didn’t want to sleep by his side tonight.

You find even the idea of Blade’s reaction to be quite hard to imagine as you rest facing up at him now, your finger is twirling around a piece of his longer hair and he’s looking down to watch you quite intently as you lose yourself in thought. He can tell you’re considering something — it’s obvious as he reaches his hand up to cover your own.

And he gives it a squeeze as a wordless call for your attention before he’s resting them both on his chest, “Something the matter?” He asks earnestly— in that same ragged, low tone of voice that he always used and you don’t think you’ll ever tire of the sound.

But when Blade is met with silence for the first few moments, he continues. “You’re tense.”

The opportunity for your prank to commence has been presented infront of you, but when you feel a long stroke of his hand along the length of your arm— it makes you shudder. Your self control almost fumbles for a moment before you quickly respond, almost struggling to lift your gaze up to meet his.

“I don’t want to sleep here.” With you— is what you mean to say, it’s the whole point of the prank but there’s something about the tender tone of Blade’s voice that makes your sentence waver at the last second.

Especially when it’s purring along your hairline a moment later as he opts to pull you a little closer, curling his arm around you until you’re almost pulled into the crook of his neck. “And why is that?”

Another low drawl makes you shudder, eyes fluttering as Blade presses you up against him and even despite your response, it’s quite obvious that you’re lying with how relaxed your voice sounds. “I’m just not very comfortable.”

But still he hums like he’s acknowledging you anyway, and he leaves you in your comfortable position for a few moments longer before he’s groaning out a stiff, “I see.” And with his next breath, he’s moving you almost too easily— pushing you up onto his chest with only the strength of the arm that wraps around you.

And as much as the sudden movement makes you shriek as you try to balance yourself on top of Blade’s body, he doesn’t seem too bothered at all when he reaches out to steady you himself.

“Then is this better?” He asks casually as you rest on top of him now, though you’re still there gaping like a fish with how quickly he’s just moved you — it’s like your brain is still trying to catch up to your new found position. But he doesn’t look phased by it at all… clearly unaware about how easily he seems to have foiled your sorry excuse of a prank.

Part of you had already forgotten about it, “Maybe a little bit.” You opt to shrug, a little defeated. But you still rest your chin down on his chest to give him a look that seems like exactly the opposite when you snuggle into him again. You almost relax enough to fall asleep actually, until Blade decides to ultimately respond after a few moments of silence.

“Well then, would you prefer if I leave afterall?” His question makes you splutter,

“I didn’t ask you to leave.” You only thought about it actually— but only as a prank, though you admit that your reaction to him bringing it up makes you look as guilty as ever. Part of you almost considers the idea that maybe Blade could read minds, but before you can fall down that rabbit hole he speaks again.

“Is that so? I must’ve misunderstood then.” His drawl sounds again and by his next breath, both of his hands are on your hips, smoothing beneath the fabric of your t shirt before they’re reaching up to trace the length of your spine. Even if he’d found you out, you can barely find the energy to argue your innocence with how suddenly sleepy you feel now.

You’re really doing nothing to fight your case when you can barely fight sleep.

Though Blade would argue that you do seem more than comfortable now as he watches your eyes flutter and close with every stroke of his fingertips. Until he feels your breathing slow from where your chest is pressed against his and he sighs,

“Then I’ll stay with you afterall.”

౿ JING YUAN

Part of you doesn’t want to prank Jing Yuan, mostly for your own sake — the man had a peculiar way of turning everything back on you and somehow making you feel like you were the one being pranked everytime you tried. But you’re not going to let that stop you from trying anyway, even if only for a slight opportunity at getting back at him.

Afterall, he teases you so much already… it’s only fair that you retaliate.

So you bide your time and you wait, until you watch Jing Yuan groan as he drops down onto the mattress by your side and it’s almost immediately that he presses himself up against you— until you’re chest to chest. He always slept much like this, with you right up against him and as much as your body finds it hard to not just melt into him and relax — you try to keep yourself tense and awake.

So you press both of your hands up against his chest and you push until you’re far away enough to look up at him. But he’s still holding you tight despite that.

“I’m gonna sleep somewhere else tonight, I think.” You watch Jing Yuan’s expression as you tell him but there’s no frown on his features, no look of confusion or curiosity. Instead, he just tilts his head down at you and appears just as handsomely lax as always when he speaks.

“Oh? Is that right, my dear?” His tone is honey-like and you hate the way it makes your fingers almost twitch where they rest against his chest — almost sinking into the plush muscle. He holds your gaze there, “Something troubling you?”

And you have to reply quickly, before your self control wavers— so you try to turn your head away from him to ensure he doesn’t make sure of that. “No, I just don’t feel like sleeping here with you anymore.”

Your lips pout as you sound out your words, and you do your best to put some space between you and the General in bed as you do — but he seems to have no trouble wrapping his arms around you to pull you right back. It’s almost too easy as he deliberately tilts his head down to meet your line of sight, humming like he’s considering your words— you know he’s not.

But then you feel Jing Yuan’s hands rest over your hips, smoothing along the surface and you feel your body almost curl into him as he works at you. It’s like he’s smoothing any discomfort right out of you as he sends you a lazy smile.

“Well, I can’t be expected to sleep without you by my side now, can I?” It’s a teasing purr of his voice and he deliberately closes the space you’d made between you both as he pulls you back in. Until you’re close enough now that you can hear every syllable almost vibrate through your skin. “What a cruel fate that would be.”

The strength that you were using to push him back previously seems to falter, and you hate the way you can hear Jing Yuan chuckle at that. The smooth sound almost motivates you to kick him right off of the bed, if you had the strength to you actually might.

But instead you just give him a particularly cross look, and opt to continue with what you believe seems like a losing battle already.

“You heard me.” You mutter beneath your breath, just as Jing Yuan smears a little kiss along your cheek and you grumble to yourself as you try to push him away again. Except he doesn’t budge this time as his hand smooths up to hold your waist next, and he pushes himself up to lean over you a bit.

His new position urges you to roll over onto your back and you’re aware at how disadvantageous this position is for you. Especially when you’ve got him looking down at you like you’re his dinner. But his grip on your waist is quite tight that you don’t think you’d be able to break away if you even tried, which leaves you completely at Jing Yuan’s mercy when he leans down to pepper you in kisses.

“Would you like me to do something to make you more comfortable, my dear?” He asks slowly, dragging out every letter between long presses of his lips— from your cheeks to your temple, to your chin. And as much as you hate the way your prank has turned out, you can’t say you don’t love it either.

The General seems to pick up on that too when his fingertips tease beneath your shirt to squeeze at your bare skin, “No ask is ever too great when it is for you.” And the touch alongside Jing Yuan’s low tone makes you shudder.

“You are insufferable, do you know that?” You huff, because he truly was — part of you wants to ask if he knew it was a prank and was playing with you all this time. But the other part doesn’t want to accept the possibility that maybe you just bend to his will this easily, so you just allow yourself to be bathed in his kisses and the pets of his palm.

A truly unspeakable punishment.

But you hear Jing Yuan really laugh at your little outburst, in that cruelly-smooth type tone before he’s giving you a quick kiss against your lips next. “And your pranks are far too obvious, my dear.” Before he hugs you close this time and you just let yourself melt into his chest, albeit offering him a stubborn little huff knowing you’ve been found out.

Again.

Though he must admit, he finds your acts of defiance to be quite amusing. “You’ll have to try a lot harder than that next time, you know I rest much more soundly having you beside me. It’s not a luxury I would give up so easily.”

star divider by @saradika-graphics

SOMETHING ABOUT YOU

── ♡ KAFKA OGURO

if there was anything that annoyed kafka more than you, it was nosy scandalmongers. unfortunately, he has to deal with both of you, all at once. you, on the other hand, enjoy having fun when the opportunity lands on your lap. unfortunately, you underestimate kafka's ability to worm his way into people's hearts.

The disbelief laugh that leaves you is wobbly and hoarse, and it’s only upon Kafka Oguro’s unimpressed stare that you dutifully shut your mouth.

“You can’t be serious,” You stammer, dropping your flimsy plastic fork into the box of cheesy fries (paid by Kafka, which you now realise was a means to butter you up). The sigh that escapes his lips is heavy and exhausted, and he drops his chin into the palm of his hand.

“Unfortunately not,” He slides his phone across the table, and you look over at the dimly lit screen, choking at the headlines that read.

“Ward 0 mayor rumoured to be in a relationship.”

“CEO of HAMA Tours spotted leaving with mystery lover.”

“Oguro Kafka in committed romance.”

You suck in your teeth sharply, muttering a “yikes” as he draws back his device. Despite your mild pity, your curiosity takes centre stage and you waste no time in interjecting your thoughts within the lull of awkward silence.

“That sucks but… I’m not sure why you invited me here just to tell me this?” You raised a valid question. While the local fast food joint was no fine dining, you and Kafka weren’t exactly friendly enough for him to unload his concerns onto you in a casual setting. He was your quasi-boss! You’d go as far as to believe he didn’t even like you much, considering his austere disposition whenever you entered a room. You probably would have already been packing up your office if it wasn’t for the fact that it was the Chief who had hired you.

Your suspicions about Kafka’s intent began to arise, and you realised too late what was going on when his observant eyes met yours.

“This nonsense began when the Chief and I had gone out for dinner together. Because of my lack of spatial awareness, I wasn’t aware that the lead editor of the famous gossip magazine ‘Paramour Monthly’ had been close by our table…” He fishes for something in his messenger bag, pulling out a rolled-up paper. Vibrant hues of purple and pink flood the parchment, the iconic colour scheme of the magazine, and a blurry photo of two figures is printed on the front page. However, with Momiji’s standard grey jacket and Kafka’s distinct violet hair, it was unmistakable to you that it was them sitting in a booth together.

While usually this type of idle chatter could have gone easily ignored, a magazine as famous as Paramour Monthly could cause enough stir that HAMA Tours’ operations could be disturbed as scandal-mongering fans will hunt for the mystery babe. No doubt this news would be disturbing Momiji as well…

“I don’t have any intent of making the Chief have to deal with this ridiculousness. If I could, I’d take the burden on myself entirely. However, that’s not possible,” He clears his throat, and when he looks you straight in the eye, you realise you have stuck your foot into a quagmire the minute you accepted his invitation.

“I’d like to ask if you can take on the role of being my… secret significant other.”

You drop your milkshake onto the plush vinyl of the sofa.

After having to repeatedly apologise to the flustered and tired staff of the food court, Kafka takes the awkward walk back to the office as an opportunity to elaborate on his new grand plan.

The gist is that for a long-term bonus in your salary, you will be his mystery lover until the excitement dies down, in which you both will fake an amicable separation and continue business as usual. In his own words, you were also his last option, seeing as you were the only one he knew who had no reputation at stake here. Upon the promise of the bribe, you had cheered up significantly to this ordeal. Kafka, on the other hand, was the one who looked the most reproachful.

“Should I call you something trendy like ‘babe’, or would something more traditional like ‘sweetheart’ work better?” You ask, and the look he sends you is scathing.

“None of them,” He answers curtly, and you sigh, disparaged.

“You don’t get how this whole fake dating thing works, do you?” When he meets your inquisitive gaze with a blank stare, that’s all the answer you need. You feel a tickle in your stomach as you puff out your chest exaggeratedly.

“Allow me to give you a crash course on the inner workings of this timeless troupe called—” Your lurch backwards when Kafka closes the entrance door behind him, barely missing your nose by a breath’s hair. All you see is his disappearing back as you yell behind him about how that was no way for him to treat his pseudo-significant other.

(i)

“They’re right,” Momiji says piteously, and Kafka’s shoulders droop in disappointment. “Nobody would believe it if you guys act like that in public.”

The Chief, upon being filled with both gratitude and shame, had offered to lend a helping hand to see this farce to success. Today was the day to discuss the boundaries and codes of conduct necessary to allow the public to believe you two were a professional but loving couple.

(Kafka’s stomach churns at the notion, despite it being his novelty idea.)

“We’re going to have to hold hands and be corny, so you’re going to have to get used to it, Kafka,” You state squarely, and his childhood friend nods in agreement, much to his growing displeasure.

“We’ll eventually have to use pet names.”

“Yup, that’s right!”

“And we might have to kiss and stuff.”

“Exa–Wait, isn’t that a little too far!?” Momiji gapes at you while you, shameless, sit firmly as if you are manning a fort. Kafka sighs.

“Do you see why I’m reluctant?” He points out and this time her tired gaze sweeps over to him.

“Kafka, you’re the one who asked them.”

Perhaps her growing exhaustion at dealing with the both of you got to her because Momiji made a half-hearted excuse of having to check up on EV3NS before swiftly departing the solemn conference room. This leaves you and Kafka at your lonesome, staring each other down with shared annoyance.

“I don’t get it. I’m trying to make this work,” For my salary.

“We don’t need to go overboard in selling the act. I’ll look ridiculous,” In front of Momiji.

After an intense moment of staring each other down, you’re the first to give in.

“Fine. We’ll keep it as down-low as possible, but you have to start being more of a gentleman to me,” You warn, closing the lid of your laptop and grabbing your warming carbonated drink. You are visibly disquieted, much to his confusion, even as you lift your backpack over your shoulders and make your way to the door.

“I don’t understand why you’re disappointed,” Kafka questions behind you, and you pause with your hand situated around the door handle, rooted in place. If Kafka had been any less observant, he would have missed your lips' slight tremble.

“Because you’d be my first boyfriend, even if a fake one,” You quickly shut the door before he could get a word in, the only sound in the room being the quiet whirring of the air conditioner. For the first time, you’re the one who leaves the purple-haired man flustered.

(ii)

Much to your surprise, Kafka lived up to his end of the agreement.

For the past two months, you’ve grown familiar with the feeling of Kafka’s hand around yours, and the scent of peppermint from his minty cologne. While at first, any type of touching had been reserved solely for passing publicists and fans, eventually, you barely realised that you were in the habit of grabbing onto him whenever you were excited or happy. Likewise, it skips your attention how he doesn’t shove you away, or that his eyes soften at the corners whenever you aren’t looking.

He had even begun doing unnecessary things, like texting you ‘good morning’ and ‘goodnight’ despite his packed itinerary, and bringing you thoughtful gifts and souvenirs whenever he left the comfort of HAMA. He had even booked a lavish dinner at a famous restaurant on your birthday, paired with a large bouquet delivered to your room.

There were no cameras, no nosy editors, and no extra eyes to bear witness to his vocal affection. It came with the unsettling realisation and a pounding heart that you liked Kafka, and it brought along a wave of dread and a permanent lump stuck in your throat.

When you start pulling away, you miss the fact that you’re not the only one who has been gutted by new realisations and uncomfortable feelings.

Kafka Oguro, despite his stinging attitude, never truly disliked you. You had annoyed him, sure, and he knows you were purposeful in the way you push buttons. He’s met people like you before, who are terrified of being veracious, that they’d happily play the role of a fool if it meant people laughed with them rather than at them. Thus, he harmonised with you by being your straight man, armed with biting retorts and lacklustre reactions.

Now that he thinks about it, perhaps he’s given you enough reason to believe he held animosity against you. He regrets it enough when you confessed he’d be your first relationship, even if it were only a guise. He had tried his best to make it up to you by masquerading as the ideal boyfriend, letting you hold onto his arm whenever you walked together, and letting you call him by whatever cheesy name that crossed your mind.

Until he realised that he had long since stopped acting. Kafka can’t pinpoint the exact moment when he had begun carefully picking out gifts for you, excited for your reaction, or when his heart began skipping a few beats whenever he spies you in a crowded room. You had a personalised ringtone on his phone. Momiji started pointing out that he doesn’t sit still until you respond to his texts. He had started requesting Sakujiro to reserve the breakfast muffins you like because, by the time you usually arrive at the cafeteria, they are gone. Thoughts of you completely rule his mind, and he’s not stupid enough not to know what this means for him.

In the safety of your respective covers, you and Kafka lay in bed, equally dreading the expiry date of this relationship.

(iii)

You blink, and it is New Year’s Eve.

HAMA Tours’ office is decorated with festive lights, colourful streamers and the wafting smell of delicious food. The ward mayors and employees alike are in higher spirits, exchanging excitable conversation and rambunctious antics. For once, it is you who stands silently amongst the sea of bodies, smiling wildly whenever anyone’s eyes land on you, but there is an unmistakable tremble in your hands that nurse a cup of juice.

Of course, it’s he who notices first, and you barely realise the tug on your arm until your drink is stolen from your hands and you meet the electric stare of Kafka.

“Can I steal you for a moment?” He asks with a small smile, and you smartly nod as you let yourself be drawn along by Kafka’s hand around your wrist. You don’t realise his destination until you are standing beside him as he unlocks the door to the building’s rooftop.

The chilly breeze hits your face, but you count yourself lucky for wearing extra layers. This doesn’t stop Kafka from unwrapping the scarf around his next, gently fixing it over you despite your frequent protests.

“You’ll get sick!” You counter and he doesn’t respond, plopping himself onto a bench decorating the deserted space. He pats the empty spot next to him and you have no choice but to comply with his demands. He tilts his head back and you apprehensively copy him, eyeing the inky sky glowing with starlight. He doesn’t speak, the silence only occasionally interrupted by the muffled noises inside the building and the usual ambience of nighttime city life. When you glance at him from the corner of your eyes, you hate how you can’t decipher the look on his face, regardless of how utterly beautiful you find him under the moonlight.

“Are you going to tell me something cheesy that the moon looks beautiful tonight?” You attempt to tease but lack the usual vibrance in your voice. You know this when Kafka finally turns to look at you, and he doesn’t look pleased.

“Why are you upset?” You reel back at his question, and unconsciously your hands begin to fiddle with the loose threads of your winter coat.

“Why would you think that?” You divert, shifting to create more distance between you and him. This does little to deter him because he leans closer to you with narrowed eyes. It’s how he gets when he realises he’s caught someone hook, line and sinker.

“You’ve been distant. I know you enough to pick up on that,” He hesitates before his fingertips graze yours. It takes all the strength you can muster to ignore his hurt expression when you yank back your hand.

“How much longer are you going to drag this along? It’s been long enough that nobody cares anymore. So why do you—” You descent into stammers, your chest seizing up as you keep your eyes on anywhere but him. “Why do you keep doing romantic things for me? Buying me stuff, always trying to talk to me, always asking how I’m doing… are you really that cruel that you don’t realise what it’s doing to me?”

You drop your face into your hands, feeling tears well up at the corner of your eyes. You couldn’t bear to see the look on Kafka’s face right now. He’s likely disgusted, or angered by you ruining his carefully thought-out efforts in maintaining this guise. Is he going to walk back inside, or tell you it’s over?

You feel warm hands circle your wrist, and you weakly let him tug your hands away from your face. He looks up at you from where he sits crouched on the tiled floor, and you feel your heart lurch in your throat because has Kafka ever looked at you with so much adoration before?

“I don’t want it to end,” He confesses quietly, enough that his voice could be drowned out by the passing wind. He lifts the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss to your knuckles. He smiles up at you, the affection mixed with a hint of mischief when he catches sight of your bewildered visage. “If you’d want me, I’d like to be your boyfriend. Genuinely, this time.”

He’s given no time to react before you throw your arms around him, leaning into him as he falls back on his tailbone. The position is awkward and uncomfortable, but the both of you could care less as his arms envelop your waist and you litter kisses to his face. Fireworks erupt in the sky, colouring the sky with luminescence as he finally seals the deal with his lips pressed against yours.

Ive drawn so many asl hugs. But not these two before. Because. They make me sad.

HOWEVER ☝️

I am a completionist.

So here we are.

Close up pics 👇

'In this world that's filled with so many unknowns... There's something you can trust in.' That's what a promise proves.

reverse dating tropes w hsr men!

in which — what the title suggests / those classic fanfic tropes but with a twist

featuring — boothill, jing yuan, blade (separately) x gn!reader

✧.* — wc: total 1.5k, used up half my brain for this (the other half is for pt2 w aven sunday geppie!!), lovesick boothill + clingy jy + jealous blade fr, anyway pls enjoy! reblogs r appreciated <3

boothill ꩜ .ᐟ

love at many sights with boothill whose memory card was tinkered with, and every time you meet, he thinks he's seeing you for the first time, so he falls for you over and over again. 

when boothill returned from a dangerous mission, it was evident that he had endured significant damage. his once sleek and polished exterior was now marred by dents and scratches, and his mechanical limbs were either partially missing or severely damaged. the exposed wiring, usually neatly tucked away beneath scraps of metals, now hung in tangled strands, sparking occasionally with residual energy.

he looked barely salvageable. it's safe to say that the mechanics had a hell of a time fixing him.

though they were skilled enough to piece him back together, his memory card wasn’t as lucky. a tinkering in his system left him incapable of recalling or retaining information in his synthetic brain, temporarily —leaving the mechanics scrambling to find a solution.

weeks later, you find yourself walking down the familiar corridors of the laboratory where your favourite cyborg is being held for reparation.

boothill’s eyes immediately land on yours when you enter the lab. “well ain’t this a surprise! haven’t seen ya in a good long while.” boothill drawls, tipping his hat your way, his voice carrying a metallic twang. 

"i heard you took a bit of a tumble, figured someone should come make sure you didn’t lose all your screws." you shrug nonchalantly, a smirk playing on your lips.

boothill's eyes flicker for a moment, taking in the curve forming on your lips. he thinks you’re adorable with that infectious smile of yours. 

“heh, nothin’ bad, just had a r-r-run in with some cuties" he says, failing to hide the glitch that caused his voice to stutter. (and that damn synesthesia beacon! he swears he’ll get it fixed this time around…)

“guess you took more than a tumble huh...” you lean casually against the workbench, the sterile scent of machinery and the hum of various devices filled the air; your gaze sweeps over the freshly repaired parts of boothill's metallic frame, “anyway, glad to see that you’re mostly fine now." 

“aww! do ya care ‘bout me?” he teases, his grin widening, revealing his pointy teeth peeking out mischievously. you don’t reply, your eyes glinting with the faintest hint of amusement dancing in them.

"boothill, we go through this every time, your memory card's still damaged. you forget things sometimes, so for the 5th time this week, yes i do care about you.”

boothill's expression shifts, a mixture of realization and sheepishness crossing his features. "right, right," he murmurs, scratching the back of his head with his metallic hand. "sorry 'bout that, sugar. guess i just keep forgettin'."

you chuckle and shake your head, finding the situation amusing. he feels like he might overheat from the sheer warmth radiating from your smile.

“you’re beautiful, date me.” (he didn’t mean to blurt that outloud)

you raise your eyebrows at the sudden compliment, “why thank you,” a surprised laugh escapes your lips.

“—and we’re already dating, silly.”

a shower of sparks erupts from his circuits, you can particularly hear the fans inside him sputter and whir. you rush to his side, concern etched on your face.

“wh- are you okay?! you’re short circuiting again!”

and this happens every time his memory lapses. you offer an apology to the mechanic on the next shift for the extra work required to fix yet another damaged wire after your visits. perhaps they should ban you from getting too close to boothill, lest he completely breaks down again like that one time where you told him, yes you actually kissed before.

jing yuan ୭ ˚.

"secret relationship" with jing yuan but he is completely unaware of how his public displays of affection towards you keep revealing the supposed secrecy of your relationship.

on the rare case that the general is found in his office, you are there too, beside him.

“pleeeease? just one kiss, really really miss you, darling”

“no jing yuan, not now…”

he wraps his arms around you as he leans in, caging you from the back. he rests his chin on your shoulder, “then how about a kiss on the cheeks?” he murmurs in your ear. you try to push him away, but he just chuckles softly against your neck, his arms still secure around you.

“no, and get off me before someone sees!” you protest, feeling your face flush from the close proximity, and the tightening of his arms suggests that he has no intention of releasing you just yet.

this stubborn man… you swear you’re gonna burst a blood vessel someday.

as if to echo your exasperation; he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, peppering it with nibbles and gentle kisses. jing yuan certainly knows how to test your limits, yet his affectionate gestures never fail to chip away at your resolve.

suddenly, a series of loud knocks come from the door, you freeze, and immediately attempt to wiggle your way out of his grasp. but he remains unfazed, his hold on you firm, and seemingly unbothered by the interruption.

the door bursts open, “general! there’s a situation at starskiff ha—ven...”  yanqing trails off as his eyes widen at your position. the room falls into a momentary silence as yanqing's gaze shifts between you and his general, his expression reflecting a blend of shock and embarrassment.

clearing his throat awkwardly, yanqing stammers, "i-im sorry for interrupting... i’ll t-take my leave now!” with a hurried nod, he practically sprints out of the room.

oh bless that kid’s poor eyes… 

you shoot a glare at jing yuan from the corner of your eyes, you just know that he has a shit eating grin on his face right now. nowadays, it’s probably common knowledge that the general’s most treasured person is you, evidently shown by how he latches himself onto you every time you’re within his vicinity. you wouldn’t be surprised if the entirety of xianzhou knows about your supposed “secret” relationship.

“so… can i have my kiss now?” 

aeons, he’s insufferable. (you love him tho!!!!!)

blade ؛ ଓ

"fake dating" with blade but you are actually dating —somehow everyone is convinced you aren't.

“blink twice if you need help.” march whispers-shout; dan heng leans against the doorway, blocking the way into your room, nods in agreement.

“this is absurd… i’m alright guys, really!” you try to reassure your friends, frustration edging into your voice. though no matter how many times you insist that no blade isn't holding you hostage and that you are indeed in a relationship with him, they seem convinced otherwise, somehow deducing that you're not able to speak freely.

you sigh in resignation, knowing that they aren’t going to relent anytime soon, and with blade idling in your room, you can't afford to keep him waiting any longer. “dan heng please, let me through, he’s been waiting for me for the past 10 minutes now…”

“good, let him wait.” dan heng responds curtly. (what a guy)

march takes hold of your hands, “do you owe the stellaron hunters something, and him out of everyone?! he looks scary…and totally not your type!” 

“not their type?” a low voice rings out from behind dan heng, the three of you turn immediately and see blade looming at your doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“stellaron hunter. stay back.” dan heng furrows his eyebrows, his stance defensive as he pulls out his weapon, positioning himself to block you and march. sensing the growing tension, you step forward, reaching out to gently grasp at dan heng’s shoulder. 

(blade’s expression darkens at your hand resting on him)

“it’s okay dan heng, he means no harm.” dan heng hesitates, his grip on his weapon remains tight, but he doesn't move to strike. so you slowly move between him and blade, “see? i’m fine… he’s not gonna hurt me.” you smile reassuringly at your friends. 

just then, as if to further aggravate dan heng, blade settles his hand on your waist. dan heng’s hand is visibly twitching now. “what? can’t i touch what’s mine?”

dan heng’s eyes narrow, “...we still don’t believe you, leave now. before it’s too late.”

before you can interject, blade grabs your chin, silencing any words of protest with a sudden kiss. caught off guard, your eyes widen as the unexpected gesture leaves you momentarily stunned. but you soon reciprocate his kiss, his intensity drawing you in.

(march quickly covers her eyes with her hands)

“there. now leave us alone.” and with that, he pulls you into your room, slamming the door shut behind, pinning you against it. 

it’s just the both of you now, finally.

“did you really have to touch him.” his voice tinged with possessiveness. “blade, he would’ve hurt you, i didn’t mean—” he shuts you up with another kiss, more desperate this time, welp guess you’re stuck with him for the night.

though your friends might not believe that a person like you would “be in cahoots” with someone as dangerous as him; convincing them otherwise is a task for another time. tonight, he wants your attention focused solely on him, and him only.

ᯓ★

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