Honkai Star Rail Headcanons - Tumblr Posts

𐙚 wipe your tears.

— or in which you receive some comfort when you cry.

— warnings: angst if you squint

— author's notes: self-indulgent, once again credits to @.cafekitsune for the banners.

𐙚  AVENTURINE 

aventurine is familiar with tears. he knows the stinging feeling at the corner of your eyes as you roughly wipe them away. aventurine might not want to admit it, but he's a sensitive man at heart; just the sight of you desperately trying to shy away from him rekindled that vulnerable piece of him he's tucked under his refined mask.

it's a fruitless attempt because with just one gentle touch of his fingertips on your cheek shattered all the walls you've been building up over the years.

the way his arms came to envelop you in a warm hug, his shoulder slowly dampening with your tears, it truly broke his heart to see you in such a state.

aventurine’s gambler like persona crumbles away as he whispers soft comforts in your ears while his hand rubs continuous circles on his back. shushing your cries but never once trying to dismiss the feelings that wrack your body.

aventurine never had a shoulder to cry on after he escaped his cruel fate, he understands what it feels like to bottle up every and any emotion that shakes his very being. he doesn't want you to turn out that way, so he’ll be the shoulder you can cry on.

𐙚  VERTIAS RATIO

dr. ratio isn't the brightest when it comes to tears. the way his brows knit together and the way he bites his lip in frustration when his hands ghost over your curled body.

but despite his inexperience in comforting, he wrapped his steady arms around your body, grounding you; reminding you that he's here by your side.

dr. ratio doesn't whisper soft nothing's into your ears — he isn't sure what to say to lift your spirits. he just stays quiet and hopes that it'll suffice.

and it does. despite what many would believe, veritas ratio is kind. kinder than anyone could ever imagine. 

no one will ever come to understand him the way you do, that's why in this very moment, with your most vulnerable self, veritas ratio repays your patience and commitment to him with quiet solace as you continue to cry on his chest. free from all the judgment the world has given you.

𐙚  WELT YANG

compared to anyone else, welt has seen more tears than he'd like to admit. tears from himself, the people that took him in, and the girl he'd trained under his wings until she herself could fly on her own. welt never fails to offer a comforting shoulder to those who cry, and you are no exception.

you try to curl yourself away from him, arms tightly gripping the sides of your legs as you refuse to raise your head. welt kneels in front of you as he strokes your head, voice soft and just above whisper. careful to not upset you further.

he doesn't question you on why you're crying, he's just that understanding. you often wonder what you did to deserve such a person in your life. 

he doesn't urge you to get up, instead he sits beside you quietly. keeping you in his silent company. you don't know how long the two of you stayed like that, but it wasn't long when welt felt a weight land on his shoulder and instinctively, he wrapped his arm around you. smiling softly as he asks if you're okay now.

𐙚  ARGENTI

the room was cold and you felt very, very lonely without your lover by your side. you knew of the consequences of taking a knight of beauty as a lover, he is always on the move to spread the word of his aeon. he himself has warned you about this but you shrugged your shoulders and told him you'll be fine.

however, tonight, as you let the winds caress your cheek at your front porch, you wish for nothing but argenti’s embrace to distract your mind from your insecurities.

“what's the matter, my love?” an armored hand came to wipe away the stray tears that escaped your eyes. the way your vision blurred as you threw yourself in his arms was brief, it didn't take long for argenti to wrap his arms around your waist and bury his head in your hair.

the knight alternated with whispering apologies and reassurances in your ear as you both stood on your porch. the two of you sway as if you were about to start a waltz. in the end your tears began to dry and a light giggle bubbled from your throat.

that's right. argenti might always leave to spread the word of his aeon to the vast galaxies, but he'll come back to you and your little house by the hill.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

— losing dog. ft. gallagher

— warnings: angst (still LMAOO), mentions of using cigarettes

— author's note: little miss loves to write angst lol enjoy :3

siobhan’s bar is as lively as ever. her mixing drinks as the flashing lights never ceased. she made conversation with customers like how a fallen leaf would cascade down a stream – graceful and effortless.

you’re snapped out of your stupor when the strange combination of tobacco and sweet candy invaded your senses. you could sense him just by the way his feet struck the ground. like how lightning would strike down a poor tree in its rage; you would recognize even in his ugliest form and still call him beautiful.

“fancy seeing you here, [name].” his voice was as suave as ever. a cheeky and teasing smile as he took the seat beside you. “you haven’t been drinking without me, have you?” you only shook your head in amusement. siobhan had noticed his presence and quickly excused herself to attend to him.

“what drink will you order tonight boss?” she pressed a firm hand on her hip as gallagher stroked his chin in contemplation. he snapped his finger and leaned over the counter, “i’ll have a rouge era for tonight.” siobhan nodded and went straight to work leaving the two of you behind.

from the corner of your eye, you see gallagher take out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. noticing your stare, he gazed at you with a lazy smile and offered you a smoke. you gingerly took one from the freshly opened box and waited for him to hand over his lighter, but he never did.

“are you not going to let me light it?” you ask him but he only chuckled, tucking away the lighter back in his pocket. 

your eyes widened when his arm snaked behind your head and pushed it towards his. you let out a noise that was a mixture between a protest and squeak that made gallagher chuckle. he held his cigar steady his hands as he lit up yours with his own. a stream of smoke rises into the air and when yours has been lit, he casually let go of his hold on you and leaned back on his chair.

“there,” he said without a care in the world. “now it's lit.”

you take a big inhale of your cigar. the burning feeling of smoke entering your system as you exhaled deeply with a shake of your head. taking your drink that’s been sitting on the counter for too long, you take a ginger sip as you peaked at gallagher who was already looking at you.

after his drink was made, siobhan left the two of you alone. she probably noticed the tense air that sat on your shoulders so she wanted to give you two some space.

gallagher doesn’t like the silence that sat with the two of you so he took it upon himself to chatter away; talking about the sweet dream’s specialty then it was the history of syrups and soulglad. then he spoke of the secret on how to match a drink’s aroma and flavor to its drinker’s personality perfectly. 

you don’t know how long he had chartered away but it must have been a long while because siobhan is now handing him the keys to her bar as the last customers finally got up to leave. the cigar you’ve been smoking has been long finished and has been laying limplessly in your fingers as siobhan bid you two good night.

“for someone who loves to prattle about deep relationships with drinks and its drinker,” you say swishing your drink in its cup, “you don’t really make an effort to keep the relationships you make stay afloat, do you, officer?”

you needn’t explain further on what you meant. if you could recognize gallagher with the way his feet struck the ground, then he could as well. gallagher could recognize you even when blind. the way you only clink the rims of your cups together in cheers, or when you hold a cigarette in between your middle and ring finger. gallagher could recognize you even in death because you bring him to life.

“i already said sorry, didn’t i?” he knew sorry wasn’t enough but he didn’t want the mood to plummet down even further so tried to chuckle it away. “what? should i get on one knee and beg for your forgiveness now?”

maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say so he sighed deeply when you remained strained on your drink. he stood up from his seat and took hold of yours. strong arms caging you in your chair as you finally looked at him behind your bangs.

“i really am sorry, [name].”

you know he meant it. you just didn’t want to accept it.

a bitter chuckle left your lips as you cup his face with the hand that held your already used cigar. like a dog, gallagher nuzzled the side of his face into your palm, his stubble pricking your hand but it didn’t bother you. his hand came to hold yours as he pressed a kiss on your wrist – right where your pulse would be.

“i wish we could stay like this forever.” you say above whisper as you let gallagher kiss up your arm until you could his warm breath on your ear. “the streets are scary when it's night time.” 

you felt your hand slip from his face and lay limp at your side but gallagher’s own gloved hand came to hold yours in a vice grip. despite the cloth being a barrier you felt his coldness spread throughout your palm.

“don’t worry,” you felt something slip in your finger as gallagher pulled away. he gave you another cheeky smile, “i’m your guard dog aren’t i?”

you turned off all the lights and locked siobhan’s bar. double and triple checking to make sure everything was in place. shoving the keys in your coat pocket, you speed walk down the dimly lit streets, trying to keep your paranoia at bay. 

you look up at the sky remembering the story you told a pesky little dog in one of your visits. 

a man blessed by the gods would traverse the depths of hell for the return of his beloved. all he needed to do was to never look back as he held her hand. 

“would you look back?” the dog asks you. “if he didn’t look back, it would mean he loved her less, wouldn’t it?”

you laughed at the dog for his answer. but when the same fateful day comes to you, you can’t help but frown, because the dog was right.

“no one can change the ending of their story,” it never rains in the dreamscapes, it is a perfect paradise after all, but strangely enough you felt the ghost of raindrops fall on your coat and soak through your clothes like tears. “orpheus will always turn to look back at eurydice; to love is to turn around. there is no other version where orpheus doesn’t.”

and so you did. you turned to look back at the dog who lazily leaned at one of the walls as he waved you goodbye. you’ve betted on a losing dog, but you didn’t regret it; not one bit, not when that same dog got on one knee the other day with a ring pop in hand and slipped it on your finger. and that same dog who lazily waved goodbye was the same dog who slipped an actual ring on your finger a couple hours ago.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

𐙚 my love, mine all mine.

— some headcanons about certain things the hsr men would do while in a relationship.

— warnings: none

— author's notes: self-indulgent, once again credits to @.cafekitsune for the banners. this is lowkey dedicated to the stellaronhvnters <3

𐙚  AVENTURINE 

would always accompany you on your spontaneous night drives around pier point. before you can even leave your room to drag aventurine to his car, he’s already leaning on your doorframe, his car keys in hand as he flashes you a smile; not the gambler like smile he shows to his enemies but a child-like one filled with uncontained excitement and wonder. 

its half past midnight and your both in your pajamas (he insisted that you both wear matching ones) as he rolls down the roof of his very expensive car to let the wind flow with your hair. your phone connected to the speakers as you blasted your shared playlist. loud enough to satisfy your needs to have a mini carpool karaoke session but quiet enough you won’t disturb any civilians trying to sleep the night away.

aventurine shakes his head in fondness and amusement when you scold him as he skipped a song he didn’t particularly like. the pout on your lips would soon fade as he reached to pull you by the chin and give you a peck on the lips. your nagging turned into panic as you hit him in the arms for not keeping his eyes on the road.

𐙚 VERITAS RATIO

always comes home exhausted. even in his tired and slightly dazed state, he always comes home at exactly 7 pm and each time his arms wouldn’t fail to snake around your waist and his lips press a soft kiss on your neck in greeting.

when you ask about his day, the doctor just grumbles and complains about his students. but you knew deep down he was proud of them after they finally managed to solve this one particular problem he gave them without his help. they’ve been making fast progress, he once stated, making a smile bloom on your face when he checks their papers.

you chuckle under your breath as ratio continues to chatter away about his students' progress. your back flushed into his sturdy chest while arms kept a steady hold of you – tight enough that you could feel his muscles but still be able to move around the kitchen. a melody starts to fall from your lips as you hummed and swayed, and ratio follows with his own humming as you both start a pseudo dance in the middle of making dinner.

𐙚 BOOTHILL

date nights with boothill usually consisted of going bar hopping and hiding away in a dark alley as the IPC passed by. you’ve grown fond of the excitement as your lover drags you out the bar with officers high on your tails. it never fails to rip out an uncharacteristic laugh from you and cherry grin from him.

tonight was a lot tamer than other nights. sitting in a bar counter, a cup of whiskey boothill had asked you to hold while he gets another bounty for the both of you. he knows you wouldn’t take a single sip of his drink, your alcohol tolerance was nonexistent he says making you roll your eyes. your peaceful night was disturbed when a new face popped out from seemingly nowhere, taking the seat your lover once occupied as the man tried to buy you a drink

boothill always had impeccable timing. just as the man was about to take a hold of your – his – glass, a cold arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back into a firm chest. you try to look up but a familiar hat was instead placed over your eyes as the glass in your hand was taken. the liquid disappeared in a flash as boothill downs it in one go. just to prove his point, he gingerly lifts his hat over your face and press a kiss at the corner of your lips, making it known to the man that you were with him.

𐙚 SUNDAY

not many would believe you if you told them the stories of how easily flustered the head of the oak family. everyone would picture him as a full package gentleman – opening doors for you, pulling back your seat, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, etc. – but what they don’t know is that, in your relationship, the one being worshiped wasn’t you.

without a doubt, you were the one who always opened the door to his office for him, offering to carry his things even if he protested, even going to one knee to tie the laces of his shoes. sunday was always in competition when it came to being a gentleman and he always loses to you every time. and he doesn’t make any effort to make you stop despite his embarrassment; one drag of your knuckles under his eyes when he’s overworked and tired and he’s putty in your hands.

how could he resist your pampering when you always take off his gloves when it's just you two in his office, pressing a delicate kiss to his knuckles and whispering sweet nothings to him. admiring the writing calluses on his right hand as you talk about your day. 

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

𐙚 shelter from storms.

— how is life when you're living with the stellaron hunters.

— warnings: none

— author's notes: sunday is a stellaron hunter just trust me, these can be taken as romantic or platonic except for silver wolf, hers is purely platonic. once again credits to @.cafekitsune for the banners.

𐙚 KAFKA

one day brought a record player back to headquarters after a mission. she happily skipped over to you to inquire about the spare room that hasn’t been used in years. and that’s how you got roped into decorating the said room with kafka, making it her pseudo music room whenever it's her day off. 

she even convinced you to pick up the violin and practice with her. it was hard at first - you had no past experience with playing an instrument - but kafka was patient, taking her time to teach you how to properly hold the violin, how to press on the strings correctly so it doesn’t sound strained when you glide the bow over it. more often than not, you’d call it quits after an hour and a half and simply just listen to kafka play. these were the times where she became more expressive so you cherished it.

after practice she would tell you about the local music from the planet she went to for her mission. retelling in great detail how the musician played the piece, how the crowd gathered and clapped once the person finished. you can’t help but let the growing smile on your face show. kafka doesn’t show that much emotion - a big consequence of being an emanator of the nihility - but you knew deep down that kafka was kind a person, even if the universe said otherwise.

𐙚 BLADE

is the type of person that would eat whatever you offer him without question. you were quite shocked when it first happened – you had dragged him to one of the stalls on the luofu to eat a snack and when you offered him a bite, he took it. you stood frozen in your spot as blade chewed his food, muttering a soft praise for how it was cooked and started to drag you away from the stall. a certain head of white had slowly started to approach the two of you.

when silver wolf and firefly found out, they were certainly amused, the former more so than the latter. and since then, whenever you and silver wolf would practice cooking when kafka wasn’t around, you would drag blade into the kitchen and spoon feed him the food you made. you found it endearing when his voice would grow soft whenever firefly or silver wolf offered him a spoonful of food and he’d take it without hesitation. giving constructive criticism and even assisting the three of you whenever he’s feeling nice.

though you’ve learned how not to push his buttons too much. after silver wolf accidentally (it was on purpose) put sugar instead of salt in his food, you had to pull the man back by the arm so he didn’t kill the poor girl. 

𐙚 SILVER WOLF

kafka laughed under her breath as blade groaned. there you two go again, stopping your actions whenever you pass each other in the halls just to stare, then laugh, and proceed as if nothing had happened. you don’t remember when this started or how it even came to be, it just became a silly little greeting between the two of you that made blade think the two of you were insane. but then again, who wasn’t insane in this organization?

when silver wolf first became a hunter she was quite the pissy baby, sam often left her in your care, maybe that's why you always sought out each other’s presence when it's your day offs. kafka joked how the two of you must be siblings separated by birth and that led to her dragging you into her room, a whiteboard behind her and a marker perched on her ear, trying to explain how you two were actually siblings. 

she’s grown quite attached to you, always the first one to greet you when you come back from a mission and drag you to her room so you can play video games together. time spent with each other is always fun and full of laughter, you can’t help but wish time would move slower so you could spend more time with her. when kafka comes to drag you out of her room because it was 3 am and you’ve lost track of time, you can’t help but miss the girl’s laughter as you yet again, lost your combo on one of her favorite rhythm games.

𐙚 FIREFLY

ever since you joined the stellaron hunters, sam and elio have given you full reign in being their mechanic/inventor. it was a great honor and you took pleasure whenever the hunters trusted your inventions and used them in battle. the biggest downside would probably be is being in charge of cleaning sam’s armor when missions get too rough. before you, kafka would always be the one in charge of this but after your arrival, firefly seems to only want you to clean it, especially when silver wolf tried to doodle on sam’s WHITE ARMOR with pastel markers. 

your station was always filled with easygoing chatter between you and firefly. she would tell you about how her mission went, what happened, what needed to be fixed and if there were any adjustments needed to be made. you always listened with keen eagerness, pausing every once in a while at wiping off the grime and dirt on sam and writing something on the clipboard that’s always on your desk.

aeons bless this girl’s heart because she was a total sweetheart. most of the time you never get the chance to keep up with the trends among the cosmos so she took it upon herself to always keep you updated. even when she was on missions, she never fails to send you a text on the new trending fashion, makeup, and even food. speaking of makeup, you should start wrapping that set you managed to snag online. it was a thank you gift for firefly for always keeping you updated.

𐙚 SUNDAY

hesitation, regret, but quiet determination. that was your first impression of sunday when kafka entered your station with him in tow. a pair of mechanical wings to replace his broken one, kafka said before abruptly leaving. he was hesitant to let you near his wings but eventually caved after lots and lots of reassurances that it would be quick. when you finished, you kept a close eye on him whenever he practiced taking flight with it, always remembering to keep a good distance so you don’t invade his comfort zone.

wincing when sunday stumbled for the seventh time today. sweat dripping from his forehead to chin as he tried and tried again, trying to take flight again after years of chaining himself to the ground. it was painful to watch, but you can’t help but feel proud of his determination to make it work. a smile crept up to your face as you scribbled something down on your clipboard when he nearly made it. you made a mental note to reshape the wings a bit and use a different type of material so it didn’t weigh him down too much.

sunday may not show it, but he knows you’re watching from afar, he's happy you keep him company in his trying times, it makes his failures in taking flight a little more bearable. he couldn’t help but feel thankful to his hereditary genes of being able to sense the emotions of others, he just wished you could do the same. you have no idea how grateful he is that you’re taking so much of his comfort and needs into account when creating his wings. he could only offer you a small smile when he knocks at your door to announce dinner. sunday swore to take you to penacony one day when kafka mentioned you’ve always wanted to travel there.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

— retail therapy. ft sunday

— warnings: slight angst if you squint hard enough

— author's note: self-indulgent stellaron hunter sunday after playing the new tb quest. ~2.4k words.

“is this…” sunday gestures with his hands, “also part of our script?”

you let out a laugh. balancing firefly and kafka’s shopping bags in your hands, you only shook your head at the angel-like man with an amused smile on your lips. 

“no, it is not.” kafka was browsing the dress sections with keen interest, blade was peering over silver wolf’s shoulder watching her as she played yet another video game, and firefly was looking over the rack of new hats. “but it’s a good change of pace. you all deserve to relax after such a hard mission.”

“i don’t think this really fits my criteria of relaxation, [name].” you only laugh at sunday’s sigh. offering him a small pat on the back and dragging him by his sleeve to where kafka was beckoning you over. “you’ll get used to it eventually. next time, we’ll do something that fits your criteria of relaxation.”

the silver haired man only shook his head. but deep down you knew he was enjoying himself – the wings behind his ears often betrayed him by openly showing what he actually felt. every now and then, they would flutter and puff up whenever silver wolf drags him to another section with new games or when he tries to deny kafka’s attempt at getting him a new shirt or coat (after his wings fluttered a bit too hard at this one coat kafka bought it immediately).

“what do you think?” you ask as you put down the bags that've been weighing down on your arms. “about us, i mean, are you adjusting well?”

you notice sunday’s hesitation, you always have when it comes to him – he often wonders how wise and knowledgeable you are to know how he felt. a hum left your lips as you sat down on one of the offered chairs at the shoe section while blade reached to the top shelf to get what firefly was pointing at. 

“i…” he starts, voice just above whisper. “don’t know.”

another hum escapes your lips. scooting over to make space for him and patting the space, urging him to sit besides you. sunday does, though reluctantly, sit beside you as you watch silver wolf giggle at firefly’s struggle to walk in heels. blade’s hands hover over her figure as she stomps her way over to the shorter girl to pinch her cheeks to which she protested.

“they’re nice people.” you say, gaze never leaving them. “the galaxies may say otherwise, but they're truly the kindest people i have ever met.”

“i… apologize.”

you raise a brow at him. “what’s with the apology?” 

“i have only ever thought of the five of you as bad people.” sunday admits with a heavy heart. eyes finding much entertainment on his gloves that you had gifted. “i… do not know how to act around you all, when i’ve only ever heard bad things about you. it feels wrong to suddenly be thrusted into your already tight knit group.”

you only hum in understanding. hand coming to caress the top of his head when you stood up when blade called you over.

“we understand, mr. sunday.” you gave him a small smile as you picked up the many shopping bags you had. “these sorts of things take time, just take it one step at a time.”

he only nods. and like the gentleman that he is, steals away the heavier bags in your hands with an awkward smile.

—

“do you miss the person you were before you joined?”

you wonder if blade has ever mentioned to sunday how you loved thought evoking questions like the one he had just asked. recently, the two have been paired up a lot for missions - you’re still on the fence on whether it's a good or bad thing, but you’re leaning more towards the former. you only gave a thoughtful hum as you spooned another scoop of ice cream into your mouth.

kafka had grown bored of the dresses and shoes and wanted to get something to eat. now here you were, outside a quaint little ice cream shop as blade orders for everyone - silver wolf and firefly hiding behind the man like two kids. 

sunday was sitting in front of you, laughing silently after catching a glimpse of the two tables across from you being filled with your shopping bags. you laughed as well and when your eyes met his, sunday quickly averted his gaze towards his own cold treat.

“do i ever miss the person i was before i joined…” you echo his question. “sometimes, in the middle of the night whenever i’m feeling a bit too sentimental, i do.” a fond expression was probably present on your face as sunday hummed in acknowledgement. “i miss the comfort of my bed as i scrolled endlessly on my phone. or how a certain little creature in red would bring me tea and biscuits when i let time pass in my little workshop. i miss them every chance i get.”

yes, every chance you get, you reminisce over your past life. missing your father’s quick temper, your brother’s indifference, your mother’s absence; you missed them all, despite all their flaws and the bitterness that swam in your heart. and of course, how could you ever forget your little escapades in different planets with a seasoned adventurer and his vast knowledge of animation and travel or the little waddling of a conductor as they scold you nearly not making it back. you missed them all very dearly.

“what about you, mr. sunday? do you miss penacony?”

“would it be wrong of me… if i said no…?”

admittedly, that was the exact opposite of what you thought his answer would be.

the six of you were now in the car with you and blade driving (firefly suggested you all take two cars so you won’t have to be squeezed together in one). silver wolf was fast asleep at the back seat, using the many shopping bags as her makeshift pillows. you and sunday sat at the front, keeping a close eye on blade’s red car in front of you as you pondered what you would say next.

“i don’t think that’s the whole truth, but it’s not an entire lie either.” was your only response. from the corner of your eye, you see sunday take off his gloves and lay them on his lap. “would you like to talk about it, mr. sunday? i’m quite the exceptional listener you know.”

sunday laughed at your jesting and that made the breath you were unconsciously holding escape you. 

“penacony, as beautiful as it was,” he fiddles with his fingers as his wings came to cover half his face - a habit you picked up on whenever he started to open up. “it was simply too much for me.”

staying silent and when sunday looked at you, you simply nod. urging him to continue.

“the flashy city lights, the ever echoing of upbeat music, to many, penacony is a paradise where nothing could go wrong,” sunday sags in his seat, “but i often wonder if it ever gets too much for them. even though i have lived my entire life in the land of festivities, i could not bring myself to enjoy the thrill and joy it offered.”

“no matter how many times i bury these feelings of guilt, they always resurface whenever…”

“whenever?” you slowly try to coax it out of him. like how a parent would to their child.

“they always resurface whenever… i find myself enjoying your company too much.” you try to hide your shock when you take a right turn. “is it truly alright for me to just leave all of penacony behind? as overwhelming it was, it offered a roof over my head. food on my table. a family.”

soft patters of rain as small droplets of water cascaded down the now slightly fogged up windows of your car. “would you like my personal opinion on this matter, mr. sunday?” the car skids to a stop as the traffic light glows red. sunday only nodded solemnly. “you have every right to not miss penacony.”

his gold eyes were furrowed in distraught. gaze boring into the side of your head as the car started moving again. “yes, penacony offered a roof over your head and food on your table, but everyone has that right. even us, stellaron hunters, the most wanted criminals across star systems, have the right to have a home. did penacony ever feel like home to you, mr. sunday?”

“no. not it has not.” sunday replies after a few moments of silence.

“just because a roof is over your head and food is served on your table doesn’t automatically make it a home.” your eyes hardened, grip on the steering wheel tightening ever so slightly. “a home is supposed to make you feel safe, not obligated to repay their so-called “kindness”. you don’t have to feel guilty for not wanting to come back to the place that had caused you pain.”

“and what of my sister, robin?” he suddenly counters. you knew from little snippets from kafka that robin was a bit of a sensitive topic with him. “am i really allowed to enjoy this new life of mine knowing that she’s still in the family’s clutches?” his voice hardened, but at the same time it quivered and broke. “what right do i have to this newfound happiness when she could be struggling? for aeon’s sake,” he messily pushes his hair away from his face. you try not to focus on the stray tears that fell from his eyes, “i’m her older brother, her protector. she should be the one here, spending time with you and enjoying the life she’s always wanted.”

“miss robin is destined for greatness and a happy life,” stopping at another traffic light, you look over to sunday, “but so are you. i do not know the pain and turmoil your adoptive father has made you go through, but you will never be free if you keep holding on to the past.”

“i don’t think being a stellaron hunter and a wanted criminal is what you call greatness.” sunday jokes with a low chuckle making you roll your eyes.

you trained your sight on the road again. “it’s not easy to break out of whatever gopher wood has taught you,” the way you spat his adoptive father’s name with such venom made sunday wonder if you had personally met him. “but if, theoretically, we had offered you to join us earlier and to sneak you out of penacony, miss robin would be the first person to urge you to take that chance. you are her older brother yes, and it's often the oldest’s job to protect the younger,” you pull up your car in the parking lot as blade, kafka, and firefly started taking the shopping bags out of the car. “but she is still your sister that wants what’s best for you, even if it means leaving penacony behind.”

the sight of blade, a man with a harsh exterior and few words, silently carry silver wolf with such care will always stir something inside of sunday. or how kafka would happily chat with firefly over the new clothes they got on today’s shopping list, promising to do a haul tomorrow morning after the older woman cooks everyone breakfast. but if there was something that pulled at his heart the most, it would be you. 

you who kindly respected his space and unwillingness to talk or socialize with the other hunters when he had been first recruited. the same you who had made him the metal wings that was now attached to his lower back - created with so much care and attentiveness sunday felt unworthy of it. you who would always be the first one to look for him whenever you were going out and extending a hand for him to take.

“everyone deserves to be happy,” you say beside him as you drop him off at the door to his room. “and that includes you, mr. sunday.”

sunday had always been treated as someone who was above everything else, that was the first thing he was taught after all. he was destined for greatness, the key to the revival of his dead aeon. so he never truly knew how to act when someone treated him as an equal. someone neither above or below anyone.

“i’m not very good with words,” sunday scoffs, thinking otherwise. “so i often convey my sincerity and comfort through actions.”

sunday feels your hand slither to the back of his neck as you slowly pull him down to your height. forcing his beating heart to still when he looks into your eyes that swam with understanding and fondness when you press both of your foreheads together.

“you can enjoy your time here, with us. you’re allowed to let go of the past and miss your sister.” your thumb rubs soothing circles on his nape, sunday feels the hairs on his arms rise. “and if you still think otherwise, then that’s also fine. breaking free from the shackles of your past isn’t easy, but you shouldn’t give up.” sunday feels the way your words leave a warm ticklish feeling on his lips, he had to fight the urge to lean into your space even more. “we want you to be happy, we want you to be here with us. so we’ll teach you how to let go. until you can do it yourself.”

sunday has seen you do this to others; after you patch up blade after a nasty fight, when you welcome kafka home, when silver wolf comes to you after a nightmare and when firefly bares her heart out to you. he finally understands why the others stuck to you closely, they showed their appreciation for you in forms of physical affections. 

involuntarily, his arms snakes around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer he feels you may decipher the way his heart beats your name. “may we stay like this for a while?” you only hum slowly when he lays his head on your shoulder. letting your comfort wash away all the guilt and frustration, even if it was just for a moment.

you catch a glimpse of kafka leaning at one of the dark walls with a knowing smile on her lips. rolling your eyes at the older woman, you bid sunday a good night with a small smile. knuckles brushing right under his eyes where phantom tears had fallen. in your mind, you can’t help but feel that your little idea of taking him shopping to brighten up his mood was a success.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

— unfinished business.

starring: stellaron hunter!sunday x gn!reader + the other stellaron hunters.

premise: on his first mission with the stellaron hunters, sunday hesitates, unable to push through. frustrated, you step in, taking on the task. when danger strikes, Sunday becomes your unexpected savior. the mission succeeds, but sunday is left wondering about your unfinished business in the capital of passion and your mysterious past before you joined the team.

— warnings: slight angst + arguments.

— author's note: another sunday fic to the collection yippie. pic credits to @helen_zzhao. | ~3.4k words.

the capital of passion always looked magnificent at night. here you were with your fellow hunters and your boss - in his cat form - standing above the capital at its highest peak. flashing lights of neon blues, pinks, and yellows obscured the night sky you preferred to look at when the moon was present. you were sitting on one of the ventilations of the building you were all standing on, silver wolf leaning on the railing playing video games, blade in some corner with his sword close to his chest and eyes strained away from the bright lights, and sunday stood awkwardly standing next to you with elio perched in your lap.

“you already know what to do right, mister?” silver wolf suddenly looks up from her game and drops a silver disc right in front of her. a hologram of the city below you showed up and two glowing yellow dots were running away from the blue dots who you assumed were the public security regulation. “we split up and corner the messengers, interrogate said messengers for more information about the supposed discontinued project, and leave before security catches us. ”

silver wolf looked at sunday with a different glint in her eyes. “you can do a simple task like this right?” 

the man beside you crossed his arms together over his chest and gripped them tightly. brows knitting together in contemplation as his mouth opened just to close again. continuous beeping noises that sounded like alarms from the disc made you suddenly stand up. “they’re changing their course. i thought they mostly traveled in the skies? why are they suddenly using the alleyways?”

“we don’t have time.” blade interrupted with a pointed look to sunday. “can you or can you not do it? the clock is ticking.”

you look at sunday worriedly who has still yet to say another word. “i–”

“mister make up your mind, we’re going to lose them!” silver wolf shouted in worry. taking out her phone and quickly punching a few buttons. red rectangles appeared on a holographic map of the city, closing any passages the messenger could take to escape. “we need to go, like right now!”

you looked towards blade who was already getting ready to jump off the rooftop to chase the messengers. his intense gaze never once left sunday’s figure who continued to shrink more into the shadow. 

“i can’t… i’m sorry.” sunday murmured, hand tightening their hold on his arms. you try not to show how your  eyes widened in disbelief but with the way he avoided looking into your eyes, you couldn’t help the bubbling of frustration that started to fester in your chest.

silver wolf was always calm under pressure so it was strange to see her so shaken. “are you kidding me?!” she stomped towards sunday and pointed an accusing finger to sunday. tapping at his chest multiple times to emphasize her frustration. “you said you were ready! we did not just waste weeks worth of our time to train you for this mission only for you to say that you can’t do it?!”

“silvy come on, give him a break.” you tried to but in, keeping your own frustration hidden behind an understanding smile. “this is his first mission; a complete one-eighty of what he’s used to.”

“you’re being too soft on him, [name]!” a timer of 15 minutes suddenly appeared on the map. “we’re here on a mission. we could get caught!”

“silver wolf is right, [name].” you look at the black cat that sat by sunday’s legs. their head turned to look at sunday but the man only looked away in shame, wings covering his face. “you’ve agreed to become a hunter, mr. sunday. and you’ve also agreed to participate in this mission. need i remind you of the consequences when you don’t follow the script?”

elio never truly intimidated you, not when you first joined, on your first mission, or just in general. but with the way he was sizing up sunday with such judgement made the hairs on your arms and neck raise in realization. elio might have been kind to you, but they weren’t so much with others.

you look back to the map and blade, and then the timer that continues to tick. “i’ll go.”

“what?!” silver wolf’s attention was now on you. and so was everyone else's. “no one knows you’re a stellaron hunter! if anyone were to catch a glimpse of you all your hard work will be for nothing!”

“do you really want to risk that, [name]? ” blade asked, pushing you back to where sunday and elio stood. you felt their gaze on you as you stepped forward and pushed past blade. with a single tap on your earpiece a visor appeared in front of your eyes and showed you the map of the city. the same glowing yellow dots.

“[name].” elio warns.

“i’ll take the one in the west, the rest of you take the north.” you heard a collective shout of your name but you already jumped off. 

the city was more jam-packed than you had imagined. though you were in the alleyways of the capital, bags of trash, old mechanical parts, and even trashed prosthetics laid on the ground making it hard to navigate through the already dimmed path.

you kept a close eye on the yellow dot just a few feet in front of you. furrowing your brows in confusion when it suddenly turned around and started charging in your directions. too focused on the map showing on your visor, you fail to notice the glinting piece of metal that was thrown straight at your head. 

something warm encapsulated your body. you suddenly felt an arm wrap around your waist and your head as the figure in a cloak jumped over your body. a grunt left your savior’s lips making you turn around.

“sunday?!” he only gave you a flustered smile as you sat on his lap. 

“hello…” he replied as you quickly stood up and helped him up. checking over your visor just to see that the yellow dot had taken a different route that you predicted. a curse left your lips as you kicked the trash bags in front of you.

“bladie they're coming your way. be careful, they're armed.” you heard a soft roger from the other end as your visor shut off. you look back to sunday who was dusting off his clothes. your brows knit together in confusion. “what are you doing here?”

he looked shocked by your question but quickly masked it. “i’m here to finish my mission.”

“i thought you said you couldn’t do it?” you wonder what kind of expression you were making to suddenly make the ever so composed sunday squirm.

“blade is right.” he takes a step forward and pushes your hair out of your eyes. wincing when his gloved finger suddenly grazed over the scratch you didn’t even know you had. “you’re too soft on me, [name].”

you raise a brow at him. “would you prefer i be a bit sterner then?”

sunday must have taken your words lightly because he only shook his head in amusement with a small smile on his lips. normally you would smile with him but this time a deep frown tugged at your lips. “i’m being serious, sunday.” 

he ceased his silent laughter and looked at your eyes. “because i will be more strict with you if you’re going to continue acting like this in future missions.”

his shoulders tensed when you turned around, back facing him as you started to walk away back to your meeting point. no doubt silver wolf and blade must have caught one of the messengers and brought them back to the rooftop. 

“let’s go back to our meeting point.” you didn’t wait for his reply when you started scaling up the walls of the alleys. clicking your tongue in disgust when you felt the grime stick to your fingers. 

“are you mad?” 

“excuse me?”

the both of you stopped. just a few feet away from you, you catch a glimpse of elio playing with the holograms. signaling you both to return to continue the interrogation. the night is going to be over soon and you’ve spent enough time running around trying to catch a wild goose.

“of course i’m mad!” you looked at him in disbelief as your voice raised in volume. “sunday, we're in a capital that's being run by a government body who doesn't care about privacy. the fact that we haven't been caught yet is a miracle!” you take a deep inhale and pinch the bridge of your nose. “you said you were ready. that you can finally start taking missions. elio prepared you a script and we helped you train for weeks. so i’m sorry if i’m mad that most of our efforts are going down the drain.”

sunday looked away. he almost looked bashful with one arm brushing up the other. “i apologize. i truly thought i was ready. but with the way you’re treating these people, i couldn’t help but think you’ll–”

“kill them?” he winced at your blunt reply. you continued making your way back to the rooftop, not bothering to slow down your pace as sunday followed you from a good distance. “we’re going to interrogate them. this is your first mission, we aren’t going to make you dirty your hands this early.”

sunday stood incredibly still. as if he's only realizing now what he's really gotten himself into. “so you do plan on making me a murderer.”

you scoffed as you pushed back your hair. taking a deep breath, you steadied your voice. “sunday, we’re wanted criminals.” your eyes narrowing down to glare as sunday tried to challenge you. “why do you think everyone has a bounty in the millions? of course we’ve murdered people. that’s our job.”

“this isn’t right.” he argued. 

“well tough shit.” his eyes went wide, mouth opening slightly but closed just as fast. you weren’t one to curse or even raise your voice but tonight you were losing your cool. “sunday, you agreed to join us. of course you’ll have to get your hands dirty later on. you should be grateful elio gave you such an easy mission that doesn’t require that much force.”

“then what about you?” sunday knew he was pushing his limits, but he still continued. “if you’re all criminals then why have i not seen even a single wanted poster of you?”

sunday quickly regretted asking that when a wave of sadness washed over you. lips pressed together into a thin line as your hands curl into fists, knuckles turning white and slightly shaking. the two of you would’ve stood in silence forever if it weren’t for elio playing with the hologram. you quickly teared your gaze away from him and started to walk away in silence.

“we’re trying to do what’s best for you, sunday.” you say softly. “the consequences of the script getting derailed are catastrophic. trust me,” there was a certain edge to your voice when you turned to look at him. the bright lights of the capital casting a faint glow over your figure making the air sunday tried to inhale get lodged in his throat. “i know what kind of cataclysm might fall if you go off script.”

you reached the meeting point roughly 5 minutes later. elio was licking at his paw and meowed when they saw your figure approaching. squatting down to pet their head, you allow them to rub at your legs before clawing at sunday’s pants and climbing to his shoulders. the halovian let out a sound between a squeak and a groan, normally this would rip out a giggle out of you but your eyes remained focused on the man sitting by the ventilation with his arms tied behind his back. the man cracked one eye open and when his gaze fell over you he started scooting backwards.

“I-its… you…” your brows furrow together as sunday came to stand beside you, the same expression on his face.

“do you know him?”

you shake your head. “no, i don’t.”

taking a step forward, the man cowered and shook like a leaf, leaving you and sunday confused. “how are you alive?!” you were about to question him when he quickly followed it up with something you believed you wouldn’t ever hear again. “you’re that doctor from the train! you were supposed to be dead, i saw the explosion and you were caught in it!”

a lodge appeared in your throat. no sound left your lips when you squatted down to the man’s height to question. suddenly, sunday’s gold eyes felt too heavy and questioning even though you couldn’t see them. you curl your hand into a fist and let out a shaky sigh. closing your eyes to calm the drumming in your ears and heart. this was not the time to look back on the accident that happened amber eras ago.

“oh triple-faced soul,” you hear sunday approach from behind. “please sear his tongue and palms with a hot iron,” the air suddenly turned warm as a gloved hand wrapped around your arm pulling you up and tugging you to his side.“so that he will not be able to fabricate lies and make false vows.”

elio jumped into your arms, tapping a paw at your chin making you look up at sunday with worried eyes. “this will be faster.” he said, waiting for you to ask the question you had prepared beforehand.

taking a deep breath, you take out your phone and give it to sunday. he nodded at you, a hand came to the small of your back to steady you. your mind swam with questions on how this man knew about the explosion, you were very sure that no one was there to see it. “come to my office after the mission.” elio spoke softly, breaking you out of your nightmares.

“question: what do you know of the windborne project?” sunday questions, his golden stare narrowed dangerously at the man’s figure.

“it’s a discontinued project,” the man gulped before continuing. “there were too many errors and too few researchers. the blueprints were leaked by an old messenger and not long after, the others were captured by the public security regulation.”

“do you know who leaked the blueprint? what about the original creator?”

“we don’t know! everyone assumed that a rat had gotten in through some means and leaked it.”

“do you possess the blueprint of the windborne project?”

the man hesitated. he started taking sharp inhales and let out shaky exhales. hands started shaking in his restraints as sunday took a step forward and kneeled to the man’s level. golden eyes not once faltering.

“i will ask you again, do you possess the blueprint of the windborne project?”

“y-yes!” the man cried out. “it’s in my bag, you can have it, so please, spare me..” 

you let go of elio gently and made your way to the stray bag in one of the corners. zipping it open you pull out a gray cylinder and wouldn’t you know, the words “windborne” were written in white marker. taking off the lid and sliding out the paper, you open it and let out a hum.

“continue with the interrogation,” you tell sunday, taking out a pen from your pocket and started writing on the blueprint. circling and crossing out words like the materials needed, the measurements and instructions on how its supposed to be used.

“where can we find the holo-wings?” you felt sunday’s eyes flicker over to you but you pay it no mind.

“the tech labs in arcadia research department. they’ve been manufacturing them in secret and selling them in the underground markets.”

you hum and write more stuff down. “ask him about the nano-actuators.”

“and what about the nano-actuators? where can we get them?”

“cybernetic shops. their found all across the capital.”

“cybernetic shops…” you mutter after circling another portion of the words on the blueprint. after a few more notes, you roll up the blueprint and put it back in its cylinder. “you can let him go now, we’re done here.”

sunday stood up and dusted his pants, letting go of the man from his trance. a shiver went up your spine when he looked at you, the remnants of the order’s power swimming in them before they all vanished when he blinked. you follow his gaze towards the cylinder in your hand but made no move to question it.

“i told you everything i know, so please let me go…!” the man cried out with tears in his eyes.

“not yet,” you reply with a monotone voice. “my other friends still want something from you.”

his eyes widened and continued to thrash in his restraints. you only shake your head and pull out your phone to text silver wolf and blade for any updates. “are you really a nameless?” the man beside asked with so much gentleness. your initial frustration washed away completely you began to wonder if he was using his powers on you. but when you looked at his eyes, you saw nothing but sincere concern.

“was, sunday.” you look away from him and look over to the horizon, the sun is rising. 

“is it connected to the explosion the man said?” he asks, voice laced with concern and curiosity.

you press your lips together, looking down at the cylinder container in your hands. “it’s all in the past now. irrelevant pieces of information.” elio meows at you both and starts walking to where the stairs are. “this is a story better left unfinished, sunday. so please don’t try to see how it ends.”

the trip back home was quiet and awkward. you sat in the passenger seat this time while silver wolf and sunday sat in the back. every so often, sunday’s eyes would flick over to you. silently looking out the window, the cylinder in your lap as you drummed a beat on it to try and distract yourself from the fatigue of last night’s mission.

an elbow to his side made him wince slightly. he turned to glare at the girl beside him who showed her phone. sunday squinted his eyes in confusion when he read the message silver wolf sent to him.

favorite?

“we’re here.” blade’s voice cut through the quiet and still atmosphere. both sunday and silver wolf looked up from their phones just in time to see you leave the car with elio in tow. 

when everyone entered the building, you put the cylinder on one of the couches and greet firefly and kafka in the kitchen. briefly excusing yourself from the two and following elio down a corridor he’s never gone through before. 

sunday’s eyes never once left your figure even after you disappeared into a room with destiny’s slave. mind swimming with more questions about your past and yourself in general. he pondered on what silver wolf meant when you were elio’s favorite. not to mention the sudden info dump on you being an old nameless from the astral express. 

who exactly are you, [name]?

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

– rainswept sins, you're forgiven.

pairing: sunday x gn!reader

premise: in the presence of the harsh downpour of rain, you and sunday let it was away your past sins and learn how to finally forgive.

– warnings: slight angst if you squint.

– author's note: me when i get motivated to write when tiktok shows me random poetry and they remind me of sunday <3. if any of the hunters sees this, yes the title is intentional LMAOO. art credits to @.helen_zzhao. | 2.4k words.

what a dull day today was your first thought. here you were, stranded on the planet of mendasia after a mission, clutching your bag filled with exotic flower. the downpour of the rain was unrelenting as you heaved out a sigh. you’ve already sent a message in your group chat for someone to come pick you up after not heeding kafka’s warnings. even under the rain, the wasteland that was once graced by idrila, looked beautiful. still carrying that paradise people sang about in ballads. 

the sight reminded you of that fateful day of your aeon’s final departure.

you were taken back to the days where everything was simple. how you longed to watch the stars pass you by in a blur while adventuring. the golden ticket hidden in your breast pocket suddenly felt heavier than it should have. it was always like this; remembering was painful but you couldn’t bring yourself to forget.

“you’ll catch a cold, mx. [name].” the rain over your head ceased as the figure of a certain halovian came into view. he still had a soft smile on his face when the raindrops soaked his hair and wings. he looked more like a wet cat than an angel sent from above. speaking of wings, when you look up, a surge of pride washed over your heart when you saw his wings in their full glory.

“they’re beautiful…” you reply in a whisper. hand coming to smooth out the feathers and gliding over the golden exoskeleton you created after your last mission in the capital of passion. you don’t miss the slight shudder that went through him when your hand touched his feathers. “have they been serving you well?”

sunday stands beside you, shielding you away from the rain. his gloved hand tugging at your sleeve, pulling you closer to his side. “they have, thank you for creating them.”

you hum in response. pushing away your drenched hair, you soak in his new clothes. he still wore a black shirt with the same gold engravings of the order that’s layered with a white coat and a black corset hugging his abdomen with matching white pants and his usual shoes. when you peer over his shoulder you take notice of the small cape in dark blue. sunday cleared his throat after noticing your staring.

“miss kafka had them tailored for me,” he said, voice laced with shyness. “do they look strange?”

“you look beautiful in white.”

shocked and unprepared for your straightforwardness, sunday couldn’t help the flush that creeped up his cheeks and ears. wings flapping slightly in secret delight as he looked forward. a curled gloved hand hiding half of his face when he muttered a soft thank you. 

maybe your nostalgia was fueling your bravery. you weren’t this blunt and forward with your compliments to sunday’s beauty, but today you let yourself heave out a sigh in contentment. sunday was always a sight to behold, premium eye candy if you will. you stopped eyeing the man when your conversation with elio replayed in your mind.

“you cannot favor him over the rest, [name].” destiny’s slave said as he sat down behind his desk. 

“i’m not favoring him.” you weakly argued, taking the seat across from him. you had always teased his appearance for looking like a sickly victorian child in a pandemic, but you figured now was not a good time to joke.

the man sighed and leaned back on his chair. “what’s really bothering you, [name]?”

you pause for a moment before replying.

“maybe recruiting sunday was the wrong choice.” you don’t point out how his eyes widened. rarely do you question elio’s intentions of recruiting other hunters, he’s done you a big favor in the past and questioning him would be rather ungrateful. but still, you can’t help but let the monster in your heart claw at your ribs. “he doesn’t belong here.”

“and where do you suppose he will go? the express?”

you opened and closed your mouth, no reply leaving your lips as destiny’s slave sighed.

“you cannot project your wishes to be redeemed onto him.” he stands up with his arms crossed behind back. voice unwavering and so sure it left you looking down on your curled hands. feeling like a child being scolded for speaking out of turn. “you’ve made your choice. let him make his own.”

“mx. [name]?”

you snapped out of your flashback when sunday took hold of your shoulder. grip tight with concern and eyes furrowed with confusion. shaking your head you clutch your bag tighter and sigh for the nth time. “i’m sorry what were you saying?”

he pressed his lips to a thin line, letting his hand retreat to his side. “i said we should wait for the rain to stop before meeting with the others.”

oh, that’s right. sunday must have seen your message and came to pick you up. staring up at the sky, you try to predict how long you’ll be stranded under the rain with only his wing and being shielding you from the cold.

“is your wing tired yet?” you ask and look at him. “it might take a while before the rain stops.”

with a small smile he shook his head no. a chuckle leaving his lips when his hand came to fidget with his gold earring. a small habit you notice he’d do whenever he’s deep in thought. “don’t worry, this is a good form of exercise for me.”

you only hummed. eyes staring at your feet and the nearby puddles of water caused by the rain. 

“this reminds me of the time when you first found me.” sunday spoke, his voice laced with tenderness. 

you smile and chuckle. “i’m surprised you remember.”

he let out a snort and shrugged his shoulders. “well, it was quite memorable. i feel a couple hundred feet from the air and suddenly a black cat and its owner come to save me.”

“i take it this is your way of repaying the favor?” you jest.

“i suppose it is.”

as you both wait for the rain to stop, you take your time to reflect on how far you’ve gotten in your journey. you’ve changed, but you’re still the same person that boarded the train you didn’t even know existed. the same carelessness that landed you a quick scolding session from a higher being. the love for invention and taking pride when others use it. you still liked the conductor’s coffee over tea but drank it whenever kafka offered you a cup. you were still you after everything.

and sunday was the same. he was still a bit awkward with the others, but he didn’t completely avoid everyone anymore. he started joining everyone when eating and he still has that sacrificial mindset of his that lands him a chop to the head. and he still knew how to read everyone like a book.

“do you regret joining destiny’s slave?”

“there’s really no escaping you, is there?”

you reach out your hand to feel the rain under your skin. shoulders tensing when the cold drops felt more like bullets penetrating your skin. you ponder over the question in your head. you wonder what expression you were making for sunday to scoot just a tiny bit closer to you. a distance that far surpasses what he deems professional.

“just a bit.”

“pardon?”

“i regret it. but just a small smidget of it.” you take a deep breath and pull your hand back. taking out the golden ticket from your breast pocket, you stare at it with eyes filled with longing. “i miss akivili; more than i should.”

“akivili,” sunday mutters under his breath. “your aeon?”

you chuckle. “more than that. they were my family.”

turning the small ticket over, you see your name engraved in it with their handwriting. “they were my aeon. i never realized how much i devoted to them until i lost it all.”

this was why elio warned you to keep your head straight whenever it came to sunday. just like him, you were too devoted to a god that’s already long gone. the thought of akivili being dead often sent you spiraling into a hysterical fit of sadness. elio feared you would go out of your way to look into sunday’s methods on how to revive a fallen aeon.

“i never realized.” sunday murmurs, his molten gold eyes stared at the ticket with furrowed brows. “do the other hunters know?”

“just elio and kafka.” you flip the gold bar like a coin in your hands to distract yourself. “they were there when i went haywire and nearly got myself killed.” 

you feel sunday’s gaze bore a hole into the side of your head. “why didn’t you go back?”

that’s a good question, why didn’t you go back? it was obvious from the conductor’s anonymously sent letters and not to mention the missing posters of you plastered on the planets you’ve traveled to. the poor thing wanted nothing more than for you to come back, but you chose to become a slave to destiny instead. all because of your guilt and shame.

“elio often told me, “you love akivili too much” and i suppose he’s right,” you chuckle as you tuck the ticket back in your breast pocket. “i love them to death. and they’d be the only one to bring me back to life. they were my everything. and i killed them.”

“what?”

you turn to sunday, a bitter smile on your lips. “are you surprised?”

“i–” sunday paused, trying to piece his words together. “i don’t believe it.”

you sigh. “well, to say that i killed them wouldn’t be accurate. but still, the fact that i got them killed still remains.”

“surely there must be more to that story.” 

a chuckle left your lips. “i wish that were the case. but if i were to lay down the entire story, it all comes down to one thing.”

“and that is?”

“recklessness.”

you smile at sunday’s efforts at comforting you, but you didn’t like the frazzled look in his eyes. both pairs of his wings tense in an uncomfortable way it has you wincing. if you hadn't grazed your hand over his feathers he would’ve let them be tense the entire way back and you didn’t want that. you didn’t want to compromise his progress.

“do you think your a bad person, mx. [name]?” he asked. eyes trained on the tip of his shoes.

your hands pause their ministrations. caught off guard by his questions, your eyes widened as you looked at sunday. you notice the uncertainty in his eyes, the tension that started to build up on his shoulders, as if he’s bracing for a blow. the question isn’t unfamiliar, you often ask yourself after that particular mission and those conversations with elio. 

before you can respond, sunday lifts his gaze and meets yours. the same pool of gentleness you saw on the roof on your last mission. “i don’t think you are. i’ve seen firsthand on how much you care –about me and the others–how hard you try to keep everyone safe and on the right track.”

“do i now?” you jest with a tilt of your head.

sunday continues, his voice steady and sure. “everyone has their moments of regret. actions they wish to undo. but,” he takes a closer step to you and takes hold of your hand. “those moments don’t define your entirety. you taught me that, didn’t you?”

you think back on when you first met sunday as he rubbed circles on your knuckles. how he didn’t even want to eat the food you offered him in a fit of paranoia. the way he’d pace around the base at night because his past haunted his dreams. and the time when you sat him down after a nasty fall when he tried to take flight, a conversation of vulnerability that had him grimacing and hissing like a stray cat. 

“i did say that didn’t i.” you chuckle and close your eyes. the feeling of his spread wing encircled you in a slight hug, you didn’t even realize that the rain had died down to a soft drizzle.

“you told me that the mistakes i’ve made in the past shouldn’t chain me; that i’m free to move on from them. redemption isn’t a one-time thing; it’s a journey.”

you feel a lump in your throat form, voice cracking slightly. “and what if those moments have piled up to one giant mess that can be deemed unforgivable?”

“but i forgive you.”

his words hung in the air like a lifeline for you to grab. you look at sunday, truly look at him –not just a quick peek or glance. even when his bangs stuck to his forehead in the rain, you felt such a pull to his eyes that reminded you of the morning sun; the dawn you always looked forward to after a tough night. his eyes reflected the faith you’ve tried to show him when he first joined.

“sunday…” you start, but he only shakes his head.

“i forgive you, [name] –everyone has. i know you’re trying, and that means more than the mistakes you’ve made in the past.”

slight tears prick at the corner of your eyes as you lean your head on his chest. “and who gave you the right to forgive me huh? i know you haven’t forgiven yourself for what you’ve done back in penacony.”

“then i’ll repent,” his arm pulled you closer to his chest, his hand supporting the back of your head. “even the devil would kiss your eyes and beg for forgiveness if it meant you’ll be kinder to yourself.”

you feel the warmth of his embrace; the steady beating of his heart that sounded like peace and home. for a brief moment, you rejoice in his comfort. “sunday,” you whisper, voice still shaky. “it isn’t that easy.”

he gently lifts your chin to meet his gaze. “it never is, but it’s necessary, isn’t it? you can’t keep chaining yourself to the past forever.”

you close your eyes, feeling scared to meet his resolve. “i don’t think i can forgive myself for what happened.”

“but akivili would,” he says softly. “they were not my aeon, and i doubt they ever will, but i wholly believe they would forgive you. they would see the good in you, just as i do.”

“you’re one strange bird, sunday.” you playfully say. opening your eyes to peer at him with a smile. “the express would have loved you, just as much as i have.”

“akivili would have forgiven you, too.”

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

sunday as your "summer fling" drabble

imagine you two meet on the coast of a beach, there's little to no people and the only ones present are you and him with the sun setting in the background. you offer to show him around and when you, for the entire day, sunday makes you feel like you're living inside a fairytale. and you hate because he does this to everyone.

opening the doors, pulling back your chair, offering to swap shoes with you when your feet are tired, CARRYING YOU IN HIS ARMS when a crab scares the living daylights out of you; he's everything you could ever want and need in a partner. and you try to delude yourself into thinking that he'll stay. that he isn't a workaholic that would rather die than miss a deadline. how he needs to come back home to his dearest sister that urged him to take a vacation in the first place.

your hit with the sudden realization that for sunday, this was a one time thing. but to you, you envisioned a future with him.

he had nearly kissed you under the stars when you went swimming under the moon; stayed out late at night to watch the lighthouses guide lost sailors; he was so unabashed with the way he showed his affection and you rejoiced in it; how he told you that robin, arguably the most important person in his life, would love to meet you. for a moment you begin to wonder if all that praying for the man of your dreams finally paid off.

only to be left with a hollow chest where sunday would cradle your heart. he had left to go back to penacony and he took your heart with him.

– in between missions.

pairing: sunday x gn!reader

premise: it's been an eventful six months since sunday joined the stellaron hunters. today marked one of their very rare day offs, and what better way to spend the day with the people that's taken care of him.

– warnings: slight angst if you squint, mentions of blood in some parts.

– author's note: updated the lore in this little mini-series (?) LMAOO thank you sunday leaks on sunday for bringing me back to life. so sorry for being a bit ia, tumblr has been such a pain in the ass that it slightly demotivated me to write. new layout for sunday fics too so yippie!! (totally not foreshadowing). art credits to 冒火锅海台 on Weibo for the art. | 4.1k words (LMFAO).

MORNING — 6:00 A.M.

before, sunday would wake up at the crack of dawn; waiting for the sun’s rays as he watered the plants he’d been taking care of. now –he still wakes up earlier than most– he spends his mornings in a big kitchen with the sound of kafka’s humming filling the bubbles of silences that start to form. it was always a pleasure helping the older woman cook everyone’s breakfast without having their loud bickering in the background (though sometimes he would grow paranoid if he never heard it throughout the day; he’s grown used to your voices).

before missions started, all the petty quips, and the laughter, sunday appreciated the quiet moments he gets to share with kafka.

“sunny, can you take over for me? i need to defrost silver wolf’s nuggets.”

sunday only hummed in response. body lazily slipping itself into kafka’s previous position of frying the leftover rice from yesterday. “sunny” was the woman’s name for him; a form of endearment, you said, she does it to everyone. sunday would never admit it himself (kafka often teased how adorable his morning voice was so he tried not to speak until after breakfast), but hearing that little nickname always sent a flurry of little butterflies down to his chest. collecting the pollen from the flowers you’ve carefully placed in between his ribs and spreading it all over his chest. no one has ever given him such a casual nickname before, so sunday had started to cling to it like a lifeline.

when the clock strikes 7:30, it usually means you're about to wake up. after patting his hands dry on a spare kitchen towel, sunday lifts his head and there you are. a small smile spread across his lips when you greeted kafka with a side hug. you still had your bed hair and your eyes were barely open; it was an endearing sight to see.

“good morning,” sunday snaps out of his daze when an arm wraps around his shoulder and pulls him close to your chest. sunday could distinctly smell the chocolate you ate with silver wolf the night before and the soft remnants of your scented candle. he let his head lean more into your touch as he mumbles a soft good morning straight to your heart. ignoring the pair of eyes that crinkle in amusement behind the kitchen counter.

by the time 7:50 rolls around, you’re fully awake. a cup of coffee in your hands as you, him, and kafka go door to door to wake up your little group. from the corner of sunday’s eyes, he sees kafka peer over blade’s door and a grumpy okay go through. on the other end, he sees you greet firefly good morning with a hug before disappearing into another hall to come and get elio. 

before he could even knock on silver wolf’s door, the wooden thing pulled open and he was met with the sight of the silver haired girl looking down at her game console. he chuckled in amusement, patting down the stray hairs that poked up and guided her to the kitchen. he made sure to ask if she’s beaten the boss yet and when she replied with an angry huff, sunday took it as a sign to not bring it up for a while.

it's already 8:10 when everyone is sitting down around the kitchen table. plates of warm fried rice, chicken nuggets, some slices of fruits, pancakes, and multiple cups of teas and coffees were laid down on the table. small chatter started to arise and sunday could feel the energy start to spike as well. as he took bite after bite until he felt your knee bump into his. when he turned to you, he was met with the sight of you pushing more food in his direction.

“you need to eat more,” you said before taking a bite of your pancake. “you’ll need the extra nutrients if you want to fly again.”

sunday just smiled and accepted your offerings without as much as a word.

roughly an hour passes before everyone is cleaning up their spaces. blade was on dishes duty while the rest went back to their rooms to get changed. sunday was in his quarters, buttoning up a spare polo blade had given him when he heard a knock on his door.

“good morning again.” you greet with a smile.

sunday smiled in return and urged you to come in. “good morning to you, too.”

“kafka and firefly are going out for groceries. do you want anything?”

sunday was taken back to the days where he would water the plants in his office back in the penacony. how he would run his finger down each leaf and smile to himself when a flower starts to bloom. if sunday only joined a few weeks ago, he’d declined immediately. but it's been almost half a year since he’s joined, and he’s feeling a bit more comfortable with asking for more personal things.

“plants,” he replies. “the small ones that are easy to take care of.”

you tilt your head curiously like an owl. “why plants?”

“i used to take care of some flowers back in dewlight pavilion every morning. i’d like to get back into that, if you don’t mind.”

sunday recognized that little smirk of yours. with a shake of his head, he accompanies you out his room after fixing up his hair and bid farewell to kafka and firefly.

“let’s get you all the plants you want then.” 

AFTERNOON — 2:38 P.M.

training in the afternoon was something sunday didn’t get quite used to. even now as he’s exchanging blows with blade, he feels quite unsure of his grip around the hilt of the wooden sword; how his footwork felt sloppy and uncoordinated. sunday wasn’t shocked (maybe, just slightly, a bit bitter) when the dark haired man knocked him off his feet for the seventh time in under two hours.

“you’re overthinking things too much,” the man grumbled, offering his hand to him. “it’s written all over your face; stop thinking about the nitty gritty things and start focusing on the task at hand. if you keep focusing on your opponent's footwork, you’ll end up ignoring his swings.”

“right, apologize. let’s go again.”

sunday had never felt such a competitive surge of emotions come over him whenever he trained with blade. the way he swung the charred sword in his hands; his body and how it moved so fluidly like water; and his determination to win despite beating him by more than a mile; it made sunday want to genuinely get better. blade fought like it would be his last battle, and he would go down with a fight.

“mister is getting better,” muttered silver wolf as she collapsed face first by your side, finishing her own training with elio. “he’s keeping up with the old man now.”

you brush away the bangs that stuck to her forehead and offer her a towel. elio, now in their cat form, sat down on your other side and started playing with the orange peels. “sunday has improved a lot huh? it feels like it was just yesterday when he first joined.”

“for reals.” the silver haired girl stretched and tried to reach over for the oranges.

a memory resurfaced in sunday’s mind when he caught sight of you peeling oranges for silver wolf. how you looked particularly at peace in the moment. his mind replayed the image of robin when she came back to penacony after the accident. he had such an intense amount of guilt for not being by her side at such a hard time, he isn't quite sure how to put it into words. 

“brother!” shouted robin as she entered his office, a bright smile on her face and her phone in hand.

before he could utter a word she had shoved her phone to his face, “an orange?” he asked with a confused tilt of his head.

robin nodded and said, “they say when someone close to you peels your oranges, it's a sign of having a strong relationship! is that why you’ve been peeling my oranges for me recently?”

sunday felt the wind be knocked out of him as his world turned upside down. blade had flipped him over to his back and as the cherry on top, whacked him on the head with his wooden sword. 

“for not paying attention,” he grumbled. “let’s call it a day.”

he didn’t get much of a word in when blade was already seated beside silver wolf (the girl shoving an orange slice to his mouth and him accepting it silently). sunday gets up from his lying position, patting down the dust on his (blade’s) clothes and takes a seat next to you. 

“do you mind opening your wings for me?” you ask as you place a small plate of orange slices on his lap.

taking one in his hand and a small bite, he lets the pair of wings by his waist stretch out and lay on your lap. your careful fingers and observant eyes scanning over every feather, smoothing out the ones that stuck out. it wasn’t long before silver wolf put down her console and started poking at his wings too.

“do you feel that, mister?” she asks.

he shakes his head with a small smile, “no, i do not.”

she only hummed and looked up at you. “will he be able to fly soon?”

you take a few seconds to respond.

“soon,” you mutter as your hands re-adjusted the exoskeleton that’s been supporting them. “they look better than when you first arrived. you seem rather curious, what gives?”

silver wolf pouted and shoved at you lightly. your chuckle rang in his ears like music. the same melodies he would play on his record player when the night feels too long. sunday leaned more to your side when the younger girl showed a pixelated character in her game and pointed to its wings. 

“when you fly again, mister, you have to take me with you!” she excitedly exclaimed with stars in her eyes. “i’ve always wanted to know what it feels like to fly.”

sunday felt a tug deep within his heart when he looked into her eyes. silver wolf, surprisingly, was very welcoming of him when he first joined. they got along fine and would even spend their free time in each other’s company. her excited demeanor reminded him of how robin looked when he first took to the skies. the animated expression on her face; her grin reaching her eyes; and the way she’s leaning forward in anticipation.

“when i fly again, i’ll be sure to let you know first.”

his reply was all the more worth it when the girl jumped in delight and landed on blade’s back. your laughter along with silver wolf’s excited blabbering and even blade’s protests made more flowers bloom inside his chest. sunday ceased his chuckling when he realized he had run out of oranges to eat. before he could even ask for more you’re already replacing his empty one with a new plate filled with peeled oranges.

“i can peel them myself, [name].” he says almost in a whisper.

“i know you can,” you dangle the orange peel in front of elio and let them play with it and stack them in a pile. “but let me do it for you.”

EVENING — 6:00 P.M.

“it’s my turn to decide what we get to eat!”

“it’s been your turn for two weeks. if anything, it’s my turn now.”

sunday could only push the two further and further apart, or at least try too. blade was a foot taller than him and obviously more bulked up than him; silver wolf might be the shortest but she knows how to use it to her advantage, zooming from one place to another like a little mouse. he could only plead with a lopsided smile when you enter the kitchen, your towel around your neck to catch the stray waters that dropped from your hair.

you sighed with the shake of your head and pulled silver wolf back into your chest. two arms snugly wrapped around her small shoulders as she kicked and pointed at blade. sunday on the other hand stepped in front of the man with a stretched arm, trying to calm down the silver haired girl as best as he could.

“at this point if you two can’t decide then i’ll just cook whatever i want.” you joked. both heads turned towards you and glared, but you only laughed and let silver wolf stomp her way to sit on the kitchen counter. “how about some sweet and spicy chicken for dinner? that way you both get what you want.”

sunday watched in amusement as silver wolf jutted her lower lip and mumbled on how she wanted cake. blade only slumped his shoulders and grumbled a low fine and started helping you take out all the ingredients from the fridge as well as the pans and bowls.

“i swear you two have worse cravings than a pregnant wom– ow!” you didn’t get to finish when blade purposely knocked your head when he opened a cabinet. your eyes narrowed at him while he only shrugged. a playful smirk on his lips as he shoved your head lower when you went to berate him.

a soft nudge on sunday’s back pushed him a bit forward. elio’s blue eyes in their cat form met his own gold ones and the two stared for a while. the cat motioned his head towards you and blade who chatted over dinner, not long, silver wolf also joined. 

“go join them.” was all they said before jumping down from the table and going to who knows where.

sunday didn’t get a chance to reply when a pair of arms snuck around his waist. he let out a noise between a surprised gasp and a shout that made you snort in amusement. when he turned to glare at you, you only stuck your tongue out and tied the apron around his waist.

“come help us make dinner, sunday.” 

and how could he say no when you’re already dragging him by the apron to the kitchen aisles with all the ingredients laid down.

by 7:15 p.m., kafka and firefly enter through the door and are met with a memorably amusing sight of sunday almost collapsing on their dining table as elio pushes a carton of milk to his direction. you and silver wolf were laughing at him with pointing hands and tears in your eyes. even blade cracked his own chuckle and rolled his eyes playfully as the halovian kicked him in the shin.

the taller woman surmised that sunday had fallen victim to blade’s insane spice addiction. the stray silver spoon on the table with the sauce was evidence. kafka let out a chuckle as firefly came over to his side –still keeping a bit of distance– and asking if he was alright.

“thought you were only getting groceries?” you ask with a raised brow. eyes surveying the amount of bags she and firefly had in their hands.

“there was a sale for clothes,” kafka reasoned. “how could we say no?”

you shake your head in disbelief and give the woman a side hug. “dinner will be ready in ten. help the poor angel soothe his tongue in the meantime.”

kafka laughed as she dropped her bags by the living room couch and guided sunday to sit down. firefly handed him an empty glass and offered to pour the milk in it. he shook his head no and did it himself. the poor boy downed the drink in one go and it didn’t seem enough to soothe his burning tongue so firefly went to get another carton from the fridge.

sunday furrowed his brows and stuck out his tongue. no doubt his taste buds won’t be working for a while.

“why does blade put so much spice in his food?” he questions the older woman who only smiled. her eyes glazed over to where the said man was and sunday followed. 

“bladie can’t taste anything that isn’t spicy,” kafka said, her eyes not once leaving blade’s figure. “a living corpse can’t really taste anything. spice is considered a pain sensation; pain is the only thing he can feel and taste.”

sunday frowns at this new information. he knows little of blade’s past and had made no effort to try and dig it up. he was curious, yes, but it must be an incredibly sensitive topic if every night the man slips away from his bedroom seeking you or kafka out to soothe the mara that’s coursing through his body.

“i… see.” a hand came to ruffle up his hair. he looked up to see kafka smiling down at him and handed him another cup of milk.

“try to ask him about it someday. maybe you’ll be able to help.”

sunday keeps that information at the back of his mind until everyone finishes cooking dinner.

the clock hit 7:25 and everyone decided to eat by the living room to see what kafka and firefly bought in their mini shopping spree. he sat in between you and blade on the floor, using the small coffee table in front of you to hold your food while silver wolf sat on the couch behind him. her legs over your shoulders and slouched on the couch.

time surprisingly passed slowly tonight. only ten minutes had actually passed of kafka showing off her new coat, but to sunday it had felt like eternity. he absentmindedly tossed his food around his plate, pushing away all the spicy pieces of chicken to the edge of his plate.

“not eating the spicy chicken now are we?” sunday whipped his head to blade and glared. warmth rising to his cheeks, wings fluttering in embarrassment when he remembered what had happened not too long ago. 

“your “normal” amount of spice nearly sent me to a coma,” he rebutted with a roll of his eyes. “so pardon me for not wanting to be sent to the hospital.”

you let out a loud laugh and leaned back on the couch. silver wolf was now using his head as support when she agreed wholly with his statement. firefly let out a quiet cough to silence her laugh while kafka chuckled. blade only rolled his eyes and took the pieces of chicken on his plate and placed it on his own.

“you said you wanted to try.” he argued back. a teasing lilt to his voice as he placed a piece of chicken to his mouth to add more salt to the injury.

“a grave mistake that was.”

you cease your laughing and lean on your propped up arm. “well look at you two, getting along so well!”

sunday scowled while blade scoffed. both picking up pieces of food and silently chewing. what started as a small bump of sunday’s elbow turned into a small petty argument about spice tolerance.

“it is quite sweet of you bladie,” kafka started. “for taking all the spicy pieces off of sunny’s plate, i mean.” 

you jumped to the wagon immediately and nodded. “agreed! you’ve never done that for anyone here before. i’m starting to think you’re playing favorites.”

“one more word and i’m dumping the rest of the chili oil on your plates.”

that had shut you up immediately. for extra measures, you scooted away from them both with your plate close to your chest. “shutting up now…”

NIGHT — 11:20 P.M.

sunday let out a long sigh as he tossed and turned in his bed. he had lost count of how many times he’s replayed tonight’s dinner in his mind to at least try and get some sleep and not be plagued by his nightmares. tonight was joyful, and he’d like to keep it that way till the end of the day. but his insomnia had struck him again like always. he’s already drunk two pills from the medication you bought him and it's yet to take effect.

with one last sigh, sunday threw off the sheets over his body and stalked out of his room as quietly as he could. the base was dark in the dead of night. the halls looked more ominous and longer than normal, something he believed was taken out of a horror film. when he first wandered these halls at this hour, sunday would feel the pricks of his paranoia.

but unlike the first time, there were no longer stray feathers of ravens following his wake. his feet weren’t stained by his blood as he dragged his body to the direction of salvation. in these halls, sunday wasn’t carrying a knife he used to plunge into his own chest to try and make the weight of the sins he didn’t commit a little lighter. he was free; free as he could be in the safety of everyone’s presence.

his gaze shifted to the slightly ajar door that led to your workshop. he frowned as he realized you were staying up late again. when he peered into the small crack, sunday was met with the sight of firefly hunched over your desk, sound asleep with stray pieces of fabric by her feet.

the nights at base were usually cold so sunday quickly walked to his room again to get a spare blanket. as quietly as he could, the halovian entered your workshop, silently cursing when the door creaked slightly. making sure he didn’t step on any of the fabrics on the floor, sunday draped the blanket over the girl’s shoulders.

another memory of his resurfaced. on nights like these, robin would sneak into his office with a pillow and blanket in her hands. she would guide his head gently to lay on the pillow and not the harsh wooden table and make sure the blanket over his shoulders didn’t slip until morning came. by instinct, sunday’s hand came to smooth down firefly’s hair and whispered good night.

he started picking up the stray pieces of whites, blues, and blacks from the floor and neatly folded them one by one. placing them in neat piles on your table. with one last look to firefly’s figure, he smiled to himself and quietly shut the door behind him. his next stop was the kitchen to brew himself a cup of tea.

“he’s gone now, firefly.”

even as you called out to her, firefly did not budge and kept her head in between her folded arms. you shook your head and sat down next to her. you had witnessed what happened and you could only guess the conflicted feelings the girl felt.

“do you think he’s a bad person, little knight?” you ask, hands picking up one of the fabrics sunday had graciously folded and laid them on the table. a measuring tape around your shoulders and a pencil snuggly on your ear.

“he’s done bad things, but…” you hum in reply. firefly’s voice was muffled because of her arms but you heard her perfectly fine, much to her dismay. “i don’t think he’s a fully bad person. i just find it… awkward to interact with him.”

“do you want to interact with him?” you wonder. “as friends i mean.”

firefly finally raised her head. hand clutching the blanket draped over her shoulders as the other ghosted over the spot where sunday had patted down and whispered good night.

“i don’t know.”

you only hum. “sunday is rather strange isn’t he? he’s quite the piece of work if you ask me.”

“what about you?” firefly fires back, scooting her chair closer to you. “do you think he’s a bad person.”

“no. no i don’t.” you answer immediately and feel firefly pause. “he’s kindest person i’ve ever met.”

“i see…”

you pat her head gently and fixate your gaze back to your table.

“he’s a lot more like us than anyone expected. sunday has done bad things that hurt those around him, but we’ve also done that haven’t we? take your time. all of us were lonely at some point, so it’s also his first time he’s ever craved someone’s company. we’ve all done that too, didn’t we?”

when a new day started (around 1:56 a.m.) she made her way back to her room. sunday’s blanket was still wrapped around her even when she laid down on her own bed. she never pointed out how you purposefully drafted a space for the ticket you’ve always hidden on sunday’s new uniform.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

– hate is a strong word.

pairing: moze x gn!reader

premise: your relationship with moze could be summarized with three simple words; "i hate you." but you can only deny so much when the word "hate" also means "love" in both of your books.

– warings: mentions of blood and daggers, ooc (?) moze (i have not started the quest at all LMAO)

– author's note: for my dearest @lowkeyren @st6rly @ughscara and @tragedy-of-commons aka my fellow normal moze stans <3333 art credits to @.code_tesseract on twitter!! | ~500 words.

“i hate you.” perfectly surmised your relationship with a fellow assassin. the words are hastily and carelessly uttered with one another at any given moment, one would assume its your way of showing your affection. and they aren’t wrong.

“i hate you.” you mutter under your breath as you lay on the grass. your arm bleeding as moze rolled his eyes and threw a roll of bandages into your stomach. the regret of making a blood oath with the kid who’s been stealing your spot as the greatest assassin prodigy was starting to kick in. the realization that you and he are now forever tethered; past, present, and future lives are now spent trying to one-up each other. you don’t know if you want to laugh or cry. moze always seemed to throw away all your logic out of the window with just a glare.

“i hate you.” he grumbles when the two of you are unfortunately paired up for a mission. with a click of your tongue, you jump from roof to roof to try and lose him. split up, you said, it would be faster, but moze would always tug you back by the collar of your shirt and lay down his plans.

“i hate you.” you mumble as he throws your arm over his shoulders. “good to know you’re still kicking.” you scoff at him and try to pull away but it only makes moze’s grip on your waist and arm tighter.

“do you want to die?” he angrily counters and you click your tongue. “if it isn’t by your hands, no, no i don’t.”

moze hated how you made his ears ring with such simple words. to bystanders –outsiders of your relationship– they would be concerned, but to moze, it was a declaration of the highest affection. 

“then don’t die now,” he mutters. “your life is mine to take.”

“not if i take yours first.”

to everyone, it was clear as day that you two hated each other with a burning passion that would rival the sun.

yes, hate was a strong word, but what else could describe the burning in his chest whenever you pin him to the wall? his dagger in your hand as you press it to the apple of his throat, your eyes narrowed down into a nasty glare while your tone drips venom from the tips of your teeth. moze hated the way your body always gravitated towards him; you were the planet that revolved around him out of necessity and want. 

it was hatred and it always will be.

you will always hate moze for constantly stealing your spotlight; your daggers and cloaks; his blood that stuck to you like glue, forever reminding you of your oath; the hoodie he always used to shield you from the rain; iron clawed fingers that always brushed over your lips; and the eyes that always spelled “i want you” in every and any language known to the universe. 

it was impossible not to hate each other. and even more impossible to say “i love you” before every mission when the words “hate” and “love” are so intertwined they start to bleed into each other. 

“i hate you.” you say as you shove at his chest. moze rolls his eyes and pulls your mask to hide your face. “i hate you more.”

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

hey all !! normally i wouldn't engage in something like this on my blog, but considering that it's happening to a friend of mine, i felt i had an obligation to speak out. sorry for clogging up the tags/interrupting your scrolling 😭

tldr: @/hxveneru has stolen the works of my good friend @lowkeyren not once, but twice and is deleting any comments calling them out.

i know. fun stuff. proof is under the cut.

please note that i'm doing this of my own accord, and the only involvement ren has had in this post is me asking for permission to post it since, well, it's an issue mainly affecting her.

also i should say beforehand but. don't ??? send them death threats please 😭 we are better than that. i'm mainly making this to spread awareness about the issue :)

reblogs are appreciated to spread awareness.

first stolen work is ren's oneshot "drunk words, sober thoughts!" for aventurine here.

as you can see, it was posted on June 15th, a little over two months before hxveneru posted their own oneshot.

for reference. hxveneru is a new blog and all of their posts are in the month of september, proven here via their archive.

and here's the two oneshots side by side, with ren's on the left and the stolen one on the right.

notice how the oneshots are exactly word-for-word except for the title and synopsis? even the author's note is exactly the same. obviously i can't fit the whole thing here, but this should be enough.

honestly it's. i have to laugh at the audacity to just copy and paste like hello???

and here's the second work that was copied, with hxveneru's "diff scenarios w hsr men" taking from drabbles from two of ren's works.

these are the two fics that were stolen from, with their dates attached. both are posted far before september. links are here and here if you want to double check..

now let's look at the drabbles that were - once again, copy and pasted. first is blade's, again with ren on the left and the stolen one on the right (ren's is circled bc they didn't take the hcs part).

and here is the sunday drabble that was stolen.

so far, those are the only works posted on their blog. i was also informed that they had apparently stolen from @/exuvianen's post here but deleted it, but since said post is deleted, we don't have evidence for that so take it with a grain of salt.

but yeah! just wanted to let yall know out there, especially since the plagiarized works have already gained some traction and have 100+ notes on them. i've talked about them vaguely on my blog before, so if this sounds familiar, yeah this is them.

plagiarism is shitty, i shouldn't have to say that. it is not that hard to just write your own stuff. i know validation and publicity make you feel good, but stealing someone else's hard work is not the way to go. writers already have enough to deal with. just don't do it. what's the point of getting validation if it's not even your work?

again, don't send death threats, please. that's a bit far, and they likely won't even do anything since the plagiarizer has already been called out before and this was their response.

not a single ounce of remorse or shame. people have gotten way too comfortable on here.

also "who the hell is ren anyway" bestie you blocked her 😭😭 and ignored her ask to you. that's why ren can't dm her to sort it out privately btw, in case you were wondering.

anyways! that's all i have to say, thanks for sticking around this long and have a great rest of your day. hxveneru if you see this. hi ig ?? id say smth to you but i doubt you'd take it seriously so i won't <3

Hi! I saw that you requests were open and I had a brain rot about an idea, with platonic! Ratio with a student who acts like Bronya Zaychik. Feel free to ignore this if you don't feel like writing this! I love your work sm! Take care🗣🗣🗣

- 🧈 anon

A/N: My first emoji anon >:D Hello! Thank you so much for your request, I do hope I did it justice. I do have to say I did not play HI3 besides a little bit of the start, so I am not that well versed with Bronya's character there, but I did ask a friend to tell me about her, so I hope this is alright <3 Enjoy! You take care too!

Contents: PLATONIC! Dr Ratio x Reader, hcs, fluff?? Fight me

-Dr. Ratio is hard to get close to, both as a professor and an individual outside the Intelligentsia Guild. With that comes great impartiality when dealing with people, no one gets a better or a necessarily worse treatment by him, unless they’re really asking for it

-This does not mean that he is not keen on observation. Seldom few things can go by him without his notice, and that includes the little details about the students he teaches. The things they think escape the view of others

-It took some time, some odd few months before he really began to focus a bit more on you, all past observations accounting up to what he thinks now. His view definitely changed, positively so too.

-He is very appreciative of you, as a bright spark among the sea of dull minds, and he also began to look forward to your essays and exam papers. Although his rather harsh outward demeanor is yet to soften, it is clear he is taking steps to take a bit more care about you, taking steps to nurture your mind and to encourage its further growth

-Dr. Ratio really does want to spread knowledge far and wide, that is his life mission, and his way of teaching can be hard to catch on to, something he is aware of. So whenever he does see someone grasping his talks and being in tune with the material, he will do his best to not let that student stray from this path

-As a professor it is his duty and responsibility to be like that, but he takes that duty on tenfold

-During the days and classes which are spent in practical learning, Dr. Ratio would observe your way of going about the task, the way you look so…deadpan when being seemingly sarcastic with your peers, and how much you just cherish those few people in your closest circle, and how they cherish you in return- it is something that leaves him with an odd sense of pride in his chest.

-Having mentioned that, he finds it oddly peculiar and curious how you seem to refer to yourself as a third person too, and at times he does find it to be a pet peeve of his. In his mind it’s a cruel way to demean yourself like that, and at times when it seems as if you’re being rude to yourself, he will jump in to correct you - not only on the way you refer to yourself, but also the way you talk about yourself. He may be blunt, but he is not unnecessarily rude and there is care interwoven between his sharp words. Dr. Ratio does not take out rage on his students either, unless asked for, obviously - when did he ever mince his words or  actions with idiots? But you are human, so at least treat yourself as one.

-It is an odd feeling Dr. Ratio feels,  a sense of paternal protectiveness when it comes to you after a long while of teaching you and getting to know you through small talks here and there and through the answers you offer. 

-Should you encounter an issue, any issue, rest assured, Dr. Ratio does not mind repeating himself - after he let a small sassy remark fall from his lips about having to repeat himself. He shows you how he does it himself, before letting you take a go under his watchful eye. You may even catch a subtle praise or two slip from him

-He is well aware of the setbacks you can encounter, mainly with the issues of walking and going about. Dr. Ratio would try to accommodate the needs of his students, including you, as practically as he could. Thankfully, you won’t need to walk much at all during his classes. 

-Going back to the protectiveness he feels, he sort of has that demeanor which in a nutshell is just “I can yell at them but no one else can”. The other professors at the Guild can really strike his nerves when they are just rude and cruel to students, and aeons save the person that dares to dig their nasty teeth into either one of his students. They’re not gonna hear the end of it

-Say what you want about him, but one thing that is not true is that Dr. Ratio is emotionless, or that he lacks empathy. He was a student once too, and someone’s child. And now you’re his student, and while you may not be coddled in any way, you will be taken care of.

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

I'm here to make a Dr. Ratio request!!

How do you think Ratio would handle having a short s/O? (Talking about around 4'9/145cm bc I'm that tiny 😭)

Do you think he would 'lose' them when walking together even though they're right next to him? (That happens to me sm you can't even imagine)

- 🦐

A/n: Anon, where did your height go, my friend?... 😭 I'm so sorry- hshsfhghsa please enjoy these silly hcs <3 mwah

Contents: Dr. Ratio x GN!Reader, fluff, crack, a bit short, sorry

-He may not ever admit it, but he finds the height difference between you and him quite endearing. It’s one of those “small things” for him that really does make him break into a barely noticeable smile, it’s amusing

-Sometimes he would taunt you by doing the “oh wait I gotta bend down to hear you” thing if you’re trying to argue with him, but this can either cause more of a flare from you or make you flustered (remember how he leaned in TB’s face in the quest cutscene-). He knows the effect this can have so he uses it to his advantage where he can. 

-It’s so easy to flick your forehead if you’re not listening to what he’s saying, but it’s also so easy to pat your head when you do well or if he sees you could use some wordless comfort

-He is quite tall, so sometimes you’re quite literally not in his sight at all. And in crowds you can get lost quite easily unless he has your hand in his. 

-If he turns around to find you’re no longer there, he gets both alarmed and frustrated, his eyes immediately scanning the surroundings and looking for the familiar head amidst the masses, his sharp gaze may as well shoot lasers if he catches someone looking at him curiously. His aura alone speaks business - he stands on business.

-Even he is stumped on HOW he lost you but he doesn’t have time to ponder it as he walks around in circles until he finds you on the side petting some cats or window shopping

-After he finds you he makes it a point to both keep you in his sights, and to have some hold on you, be it holding your hand or having a hand on your shoulder/upper back to lead you through the crowds. Even if he is not big on PDA, hand holding is a must for the sole reason he doesn’t lose you

-Gets so sassy with you at times, especially if you run off on purpose, you won’t hear the end of it

-But at home he certainly does sass you a lot for a man that welcomes your cuddles as he relaxes with a book in hand, you laying on top of him. You slot yourself so perfectly against his body and tuck your head into his neck. He feels his cheek become warm, dusted with a light blush, but he only clears his throat and focuses on his book.

-One big hand rests on your lower back, keeping you where you are even if you shift in your sleep. And admittedly it gets him to sleep sooner too, your warmth and touch too inviting to  lose to the printed words he probably read before in his classes

-Another thing he thinks of doing is making you his muse, and he probably has sketches of you somewhere, elegant and beautiful, like you <3 

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

Fainted...⚓🛢️⛽🚨🚦

breeding kink with jing yuan or welt please? 👉👈

Hell yes! Perfect! Although I already wrote it for Welt so this will be only Jing Yuan.

Pairing: Jing Yuan x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, breeding kink, pregnancy mention, desk sex, office sex, dirty talk, married couple, creampie

A/N: I have so many thoughts about Jing Yuan, its hard to get them all in order.

Jing Yuan loves seeing you overflowing with his seed, which is why one of his favorite positions is you bent over his desk in his office, panties around your ankles to catch any cum that falls down. He was wild in bed before but ever since you've gotten married he hasn't stopped trying to get you pregnant, might take a few tries but don't worry, he's never one to give up.

"It's okay darling, we'll keep this up for as long as it takes. I have no problem staying in that warm hole of yours all day if needed. Work? No, nothing is more important then giving you the kids that you want. You ready? Here it comes, take it all okay? Fuck... feels like... you're trying to get every drop. Good, good, take it, be my greedy slut."

You get frustrated a lot when you see how much of his cum flows out as opposed to stays inside you so you reach down and start fingering it back inside. Jing Yuan kisses your back while you do so, his hand working his cock up to full hardness once more.

"Don't be sad, I've got lots more for you, I'll make sure you have as much of my seed as possible you hear? Baby, shh, no need for those whimpers. I know, I know you feel empty, I'll give you my cock again soon. I won't leave this office without making sure your womb took my cum. I can't wait to see your belly grow round, can't wait to touch it, to feel the baby kicking."

He doesn't care how many days he has to have you in his office or his bed like this, all he wants is to breed you thoroughly, be balls deep inside you as your pussy tightens and loosens around him for the hundredth time. He starts to not even want to pull out, keeping his soft cock in there until its hardened again by the subtle twitches and spasms of your pussy walls, keeping more cum inside that way too.

"Again. Fuck, lets go again. I'm not stopping, not now, I'll fuck my heir into that pretty belly of yours. Just wait until I get hard again. Hm? More then one? Oh you thought I would stop at one? Sweetheart, if I could breed you all the time I would. Sadly that wouldn't be good for you, so how many do you want? I was thinking three kids at least."

now what the fuck ☺️

𑣲 PREPARED. ft. BLADE

⠀ — he will not be overcome. blade prepared for this day

⠀ OR

⠀ — you’re only human and blade isn’t as ready for your death as he thought.

⚠︎ angst, some gore (?) character death, gn reader, this is kind of old

blade prepared for this day.

he reminded himself of all whom he’d seen fall in his years of existence with every breath he took.

blade prepared for this day.

the stellaron hunter had become well acquainted with his own immortality and the grief that without fail would follow him for all eternity.

blade prepared for this day.

he knew it was best to keep his distance from others, especially from humans. friendships or relationships of any kind were feeble and short-lived for a man like him. if you could even call him a man.

blade prepared for this day.

…so why was he speechless?

why had his breath betrayed him?

why did his legs grow weak, how was he brought to his knees with such ease, skin scraping harshly against the concrete beneath him?

blade prepared for this day… hadn’t he?

well, perhaps he’s slipped up a few times. but he was allowed that much, no?

maybe he shouldn’t have indulged you in so many stories of his travels, or the kinds of people he’d met along the way. but it was only because you were always so eager to hear about them, and the dejected look on your face when he’d say no was irritating.

and sure, he probably could have done without the gentle touches and almost domestic intimacy, but that couldn’t have done too big of a number on him. the emotions blade felt ranged from numb to violent, and had not stretched farther than the between for the last hundred years at least. a kiss to your cheek or your arms wrapped around him from behind couldn’t have really changed that.

no. it couldn’t have.

because blade prepared for this day.

he repeats it in his head like a mantra as he cradles you to his chest, your blood staining his bandaged and scarred hands as it drips to the stone floor. there's a sea of bodies surrounding you, a sign of blade’s inevitable victory alongside your inevitable demise.

all blade could do was watch as the spear pierced through your flesh and bones like they were butter, time almost slowing down as he bolted to your side as fast as he could once he noticed the pointed steel hurling towards you.

he was too late, only arriving in time to catch you as your knees buckled before you could tumble to the ground.

it was clean shot through your heart and left lung, tip of the spear poking out of your chest and staring him menacingly in the eye.

blade prepared for this day.

he knew you would not survive.

humans were fragile. a piercing shot through some vital organs was more than enough to take your life.

he pulled it out as quickly as he realised the tragic truth, hoping to make you more comfortable. he whispers small, rushed apologies into your ear as you cry out from the steel ripping through you again, this time the opposite way.

ren fought to keep his hands steady as he held you tightly against him. he would not panic in your final hours, he would not be an addition to the turmoil of your unfair death.

blade prepared for this day.

he sucks down the urge to scream out and curse the aeons for doing this to him again. he swallows the desire to pierce himself with the very weapon that would take you from him as punishment to himself for thinking this time will be different.

a calloused hand is held to your cheek as your body clings to its life, small choked gasps leaving your lips as if your lungs could even hold the air.

ren rests his forehead against yours, swirls of tangerine and crimson and pale skin shining through your cloudy vision. your efforts to speak are in vain, he just shushes you quietly.

“just look at me.” his voice is quiet, eerily calm and surprisingly comforting.

his thumb rubs small circles on your cheek, he can feel the puddle of blood on his pants growing. you comply, gazing up into his hardened eyes as you swear you see grief shining behind them. perhaps it's just the blood loss.

“you’re okay.” ren’s voice is like silk, despite its natural rasp. he tries to will himself to crack the slightest of smiles for your comfort. he cannot.

blade prepared for this day.

your hand shakily raised up to try and hold his, and all you can do is weakly grab onto his wrist. yet you’re smiling. you turn your head slightly to the left and kiss his palm, and blade does not see fear nor anguish in your eyes. he sees a sea of peace, two lakes of adoration staring back at him.

“you’re okay.” he repeats, lips meeting your forehead softly. “i’ve got you.”

it proves harder and harder to keep his hands steady as your eyes grow heavier, fluttering shut. he pulls you closer to him, squeezing his own eyes shut as if just seeing your face was pushing him over the edge.

blade prepared for this day.

he can feel your breaths shortening, becoming more shallow. he sucks in a breath.

blade prepared for this day.

“i’ll find you.” he wouldn’t. the place your mind and soul would travel to was the only place in the galaxy he traversed across that he could not reach despite his endless and verying attempts. whether the empty pledge is a futile attempt at a comfort to you or him will remain unknown.

blade prepared for this day.

whether the words reached you or not also remains up in the air. ren watches as your chest stops attempting to rise. if you were anyone else, he would be jealous.

blade thought he prepared for this day.

but realistically, nothing could ever truly prepare him again and again for the feeling he knew all too well; loss.

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

➻❥ HONKAI STAR RAIL

➯ multiple. types of yanderes