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cold hands, warm heart [dan heng/reader]

Summary: When you joined the Astral Express, Dan Heng thought you were an interesting addition to the crew. The last thing he expected was for that interest to become this distracting.

Notes: wc 4.9k, fluff, confessions, mutual obliviousness, March 7th and Peppy are wingfriends, both Dan Heng and reader like biology, gn pronouns used. Reader is a new trailblazer (and wields a bat).

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Dan Heng looked up from his book, an event typically only incited by an urgent task or the Express arriving at a new destination. But this could potentially be considered an urgent task, if he thought about it long enough - you had fallen asleep against the shelves of the archives, hair slipping over your face.

When you had asked him for any recommendations, he hadn't expected you to immediately look up the treatise and settle yourself in a corner of the room. But you looked rather content, book in hand, and so he re-immersed himself in the text he was reading. It was a blissful peace, filled only with the occasional turning of pages and rustling of fabric when one of you shifted in your seat.

At some point, however, Dan Heng had realized you had stopped moving. Startled, he finally glanced toward you slumped on the floor, a stray cushion beneath you. Your book had fallen from your lap, landing open next to your face. A silent huff of amusement subconsciously escaped him as he set his book down to approach you.

“Hey, you shouldn’t sleep on the floor here. You’ll hurt your neck.” He tapped your shoulder carefully, but you didn’t even twitch. It seemed he’d have to take matters into his own hands - well, you, that is. There wasn’t anywhere to sleep comfortably in the archives, and it was kept at a slightly cooler temperature than the rest of the train for the sake of text preservation and optimal technology function. Dan Heng was adept at falling asleep anywhere, but he wasn’t about to make you test that and end up with a cold.

Moving the abandoned book to the side and sticking a bookmark in it for you, Dan Heng was about to slip his arm under your shoulder when a quick knock came at the door.

“Dan Heng, have you seen - oh! Wait, what did you do?” As usual, March 7th waltzed into the archives without even waiting for a reply. Of course, she had the worst timing. “Dan Heng -”

Sending her a sharp look, he finally got the peppy girl to quiet down as he gestured to the sleeping figure with his head. In response, she quietly giggled, wiggling her eyebrows, and shifted to whispering. “Do you want some help?”

Dan Heng gazed down at your form for a moment. Would you mind if you found out he carried you? You seemed friendly enough with him, but he wasn’t yet sure if your opinion about him extended any farther. March 7th seemed to sense his hesitation, stepping closer to him before speaking again. “Come on, we can’t have them catching a cold sleeping here. How about I hold their legs?”

He snorted, finding the image of March 7th carrying their legs on her shoulder like a bag of potatoes funny - until he imagined her running into a door. Honestly, he wouldn’t put it past her, given her running record of clumsiness. “Don’t worry about it, I can carry them.”

Shrugging, March 7th acquiesced and opened the archives door, gesturing for him to leave. Dan Heng swiftly slipped his arms under your shoulders and knees, carrying you through the doorway with relative ease. His slender frame belied the years of experience he had with his polearm - lifting you was no problem whatsoever.

The quiet hum of the engine filled the train as they walked down the carpeted hallway, footsteps sinking silently into the floor. Finally they arrived at your cabin, and March 7th apologized quietly as she maneuvered your arm to access your wrist pad. A beep, then a click, and the door opened. Dan Heng slowly stepped inside, careful not to hit your head as he entered. The pale ceiling light flickered on overhead, sensing movement.

Your room was still minimally decorated, a few trinkets that seemed to March 7th’s taste lying about. Taking care not to jostle you, Dan Heng carefully placed you on your bed and tucked the blanket over you. The action felt unusually intimate and gave him pause, but you looked so peaceful in your sleep that he thought it was worth it. You probably hadn’t gotten the chance to truly rest in a while; ever since you had boarded the Express, it had been one unexpected situation after the next. He silently wished you a restorative sleep and turned to exit the room, pressing the light switch off as he left.

Once the door closed behind him, Dan Heng was immediately confronted with a smug-looking March 7th. “So, mister, what were you doing in the archives to have them fall asleep in your arms? Did you bore them to sleep with your books on space grass?”

Dan Heng began to walk down the hallway, March 7th trailing behind him like a reporter desperate for a juicy story. “Not everyone is you.”

She blinked owlishly at the short response. “Obviously. I would just leave if I got bored! Do you see me hanging out in the archives? They must have been too nice to leave you there.” March 7th nodded firmly, seemingly satisfied with her own answer. “It’s a good thing I showed up when I did, who knows how long you would have kept them there otherwise!"

Dan Heng glanced at the pink-haired girl, keeping his face as placid as ever. "They were occupied with their own book. I never prevented them from leaving, they just settled in."

"Hmm, is that so?" March 7th nodded sagely, as if that had illuminated something for her, and skipped off towards the parlor car. "Settled into your arms maybe!"

The door at the end of the hallway quickly swung closed after her giggles, leaving Dan Heng standing in what felt like the wake of a blizzard. By this point though, he was no stranger to her chaos. He didn't pay her teasing much heed, as it was obvious when she was trying to rile him up. But this time, it made him ponder a little longer.

Had you really felt like you couldn't leave out of politeness? And then fell asleep reading the treatise he suggested because you found it so boring but didn't want to offend him?

Dan Heng sighed. If March 7th had been the one to fall asleep in the archives, he would have assumed she was looking for a quiet place to sleep where she wouldn't be disturbed. Dan Heng held a personal theory that March 7th subconsciously gravitated towards cold places because they reminded her of her mysterious past.

But this was you, a trailblazer relatively new to the Astral Express and its crew. Dan Heng tried to hold off on drawing conclusions before he got to know someone, but that wasn’t exactly helpful right now.

As he retraced his steps back into the archives, Dan Heng spotted the book you had been reading, resting on the desk where he left it. A strange urge to examine it led him to open the text to where he had placed the bookmark.

"Chapter 6. One for all, and all for one.” This chapter had been an interesting one, from what he remembered. Space oysters lived in tight-knit communities that self-regulated their sex ratio to maintain the population and avoid extinction. How they did that without any external intervention was biologically fascinating - he was curious about your thoughts on the topic. Better that he not bring it up around March 7th though. The last time he talked about biology around her, she just nodded and said, “That’s great. My ears are biologically too tired though,” and left.

Dan Heng fell asleep that night in the archives again, eyes tracing the planetary display on the back wall of the room as his thoughts returned to you. There was a strange gravity about you that pulled people in, but how much of that was you and how much was due to the Stellaron? As usual, his mind filled with thoughts before finally succumbing to slumber.

The next day, Dan Heng entered the parlor car to the usual morning scene - Pom Pom pottering around, March 7th downing another tall glass of juice, Himeko sipping her steaming hot coffee, Mr. Yang flipping through the interstellar news, and you making headway through some fruit. When March 7th spotted him, she perked up and leaned over to whisper something into your ear. Dan Heng recognized that mischievous look in her eyes, so it wasn’t a complete surprise when you sputtered and banged your knee against the table in response to whatever she said.

“If you’re going to gossip about someone, don’t do it right in front of them.” He approached their table, but you looked increasingly distressed the closer he got. Frowning, he came to a standstill, a warm bowl of fried rice in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. “Are you alright? You fell asleep in the archives last night.”

Unfortunately, his words of concern only caused you to wave your hands frantically. “I’m so sorry, I heard that you carried me to my room - ugh this is so embarrassing -” You passed a hand over your face, and he felt something shift in his chest. Perhaps he needed a visit to the medical unit on Herta’s space station after breakfast.

“No need to be embarrassed, you have been busy since you arrived. Your body was due some rest - did you sleep well?” Dan Heng sat down at the round table, pointedly ignoring March 7th’s piercing gaze.

You finally met his eyes and smiled, hands returning to the table. “I haven’t slept that soundly in a while, and now I feel much better. Thanks, Dan Heng.”

Unconsciously, his lips mirrored yours. “You’re welcome.” For some reason, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from you - were your eyes always that color? - until the third person at the table cleared her throat loudly.

“Do you want some juice? Pom Pom always gets them fresh!” March 7th urgently pushed her half-empty glass across the table towards you, waving down the petite conductor with her other hand.

You chuckled, motioning for her to relax. “It’s ok, I have enough fruit as it is. Thanks though, I’ll try some another day. What’s your favorite flavor?”

Dan Heng retreated into his thoughts again as you and March 7th discussed fruits and their juice-ibility, a comfortable hum of words that floated just at the surface of his consciousness. He could get used to this - at the very least, this meant March 7th had someone else who could handle her chatter. Half the time, Dan Heng was at a loss for words when it came to her chosen avenues of conversation.

Breakfast was a quick affair, and the three of you soon left the express to attend to various tasks around the space station for the day. Dan Heng’s first stop of the morning was the medical bay - he didn’t have anything else particularly urgent that couldn’t wait for afterwards. Fortunately, there weren’t too many patients waiting when he arrived. Perhaps March 7th’s dillydallying over the last pastry had made him just in time to arrive after the morning rush.

The staff politely accommodated his request for an examination, asking him a few questions about his symptoms and recent nutritional intake. But after a few measurements and tests, he was informed that he appeared healthy and to follow up if he had recurring symptoms. He walked out strangely discomfited, letting out a sigh without realizing it. Maybe he was overthinking this. A good night’s sleep in his own room this time might fix things.

It wasn’t long before March 7th had caught up to him, Peppy cheerfully leading the way and pouncing on his shoes. “Aww, were you looking for someone new to play with?” She cooed at the tiny white dog, reaching down to pat its head. Peppy just yawned, nudging Dan Heng toward a nearby bench until he sat down. The sleepy furball clambered up and settled into his lap, and both humans knew better than to disturb the little one’s slumber.

“Looks like you’re occupied for the next hour, see ya later!” March 7th giggled and rushed off, quickly shedding the sorrow of being abandoned by the dog for the joy of the cute photograph she took of Peppy sleeping on the stoic data bank enthusiast.

Dan Heng appreciated the moment to take a quiet breather and pet the fluffy dog in his lap, but he was one second from formulating a way out of the situation when you appeared, clearly amused by the scene.

“Did Peppy take you hostage?”

You didn’t even try to hide your laughter as you sat down next to him, but he found that he didn't mind. Instead, his mind suddenly went blank as you leaned in closer with a soft smile. His eyes widened, heart stomping loudly like an unruly child demanding attention, and followed your hand as it sank into Peppy’s soft white fur. You didn’t seem to notice his physiological changes, but he felt like you had just punched the wind out of him.

“Are you doing ok? You’ve been kind of spaced out ever since this morning.” Your concerned gaze made his stomach do loops, and Dan Heng was starting to wonder if someone had deployed an anti-gravity field or broken a window of the space station. Both situations, however, would have been immediately obvious to anyone in the vicinity. He shook his head - he wasn’t spaced out, he was just thinking as usual - but that made you frown. “You’re not well? What’s wrong?”

He couldn’t even answer a simple question correctly, maybe something really was wrong with him. But that would mean he answered the question correctly. … What?

His mental turmoil was finally interrupted by your knee knocking against his as you shifted your position on the bench. It sent a jolt up his spine, startling him. His reaction must have been obvious because you quickly apologized. “Oh, sorry about that. You just seemed… overwhelmed. But you don’t have to talk about it if you’d rather not.” His gaze followed your hands as you wrung them together in your lap. Were you worried about something?

“I’m alright.” Dan Heng turned to you, but the distress on your face made it clear you weren’t buying it. Was he that obvious? After a quiet moment, he shook his head in concession - maybe this was for the better. The idea of leaving you to worry bothered him more than he expected.

Speaking quietly so as to not disturb Peppy, Dan Heng briefly related to you his symptoms over the course of the day. You listened without interrupting until the end, and finally nodded. He felt oddly embarrassed after finishing the story. Usually at this point, March 7th would have interrupted a few times and gone off on a tangent at least once. But you were soaking it all in, quietly processing his words as if he had told you something of vital importance.

“Thanks for telling me,” you finally said, glancing at him. “Dan Heng… do you mind if I ask you something?”

He nodded. "Go ahead."

You bit your lip, and he found his eyes inexorably drawn to the action as your hands fidgeted in your lap.

"Are you… mad at me?"

Stunned at your conclusion, Dan Heng stared at you blankly. You seemed to take that as confirmation, because you immediately began to apologize. Again.

"I'm sorry for upsetting you. Can you tell me what I did? That way I won't do it again."

It was rather inappropriate for the serious atmosphere, but Dan Heng thought the crease in your brow was curiously captivating. He wanted to reach out and unfold it, like smoothing a page down, but it was already deepening along with your anxiety.

"Dan Heng, please tell me what's going on- "

He cleared his throat again, desperately gathering his thoughts together like lost sheep. "I’m not upset with you.” The forlorn look in your eyes gripped him with the sudden urge to reach out and reassure you. But as his arm flexed in his lap, Dan Heng was also stricken with the realization he had no idea what to do next. Should he pat your head? He couldn’t remember the last time he had touched someone with such an intent.

Then your hand entered his field of vision, slowly moving to hover just above his hand on the bench, as if to signal he could brush you off at any moment. Instead, he felt his breath stop, waiting for the ghost of your skin against his, when your eyes met.

“I-is this ok?” The sudden eye contact startled you, hand flinching, but you didn’t withdraw. Dan Heng silently nodded his assent, all the sensory nerves in his body converging as you finally rested your hand on his. He had to remind himself to breathe, inhaling deeply as the warmth seeped into his skin.

“Your hands are so cold,” you murmured, rubbing your thumb along the side of his hand. “Are you sure the medical bay checked everything?”

Dan Heng hummed, distracted by your gentle touch. His fingers were dotted with scars and calluses, the evidence of years of struggling to survive and carve out his own path. But as you flipped his hand over, tracing his palm with careful fingertips, it felt like you were seeing and accepting everything it took for him to get to where he was now. The thought crashed over him like a wave, pulling him under until he couldn’t think of anything else.

“I’m not upset. I promise.” He murmured, trying his best not to startle you again.

Dan Heng didn’t make promises easily, but he felt the need to do so this time, if only to erase the worry from your face. “I’m just… confused.”

You quietly nodded, running your thumb down each of his fingers. The sensation made his mind want to slosh out of its container but he managed to hold it in because you simply waited for him to continue. He appreciated that about you, the way you naturally gave him the space to be the one listened to.

“Being around you makes me nervous. I lose control of my body.”

Your head whipped up at his abrupt confession, and he almost let out a laugh at the look of utter shock on your face. “You what?”

Dan Heng coughed. Did he say something odd? “My stomach starts churning and I keep wondering where you are. Maybe I’m just worried about you.”

He watched curiously as you took a deep breath, in and out. “Ok… so you’re worried about me? Why? I’m pretty good with this bat, you know.” You mimed hitting a homerun, and a chuckle slipped past his lips. He tried not to mourn the loss of your hand on his.

“I know. You’re on first.”

You snickered. “Who’s on second?” Eyes widening, you throw up a hand. “Wait, stop right there. Answer the question!”

Dan Heng couldn’t stifle the traitorous smile sneaking across his face. “I guess it’s because you’re new.”

Your eyes narrowed lightheartedly. “But you just said you know I’m good. Is that all?”

He paused, pondering it for a moment. “What do you think? Am I just worried?”

Blinking, you stared back at him, lost in thought. “I don’t know why you’d feel nervous around me, unless you’re scared that I’ll suddenly trip and hurt myself somehow. Or if I scare you.”

Dan Heng snorted before he could stop it. “No offense, but you don’t strike fear into me. Not like Pom Pom does.”

You burst into startled laughter, and he felt oddly proud at the sight. “None taken. I’m glad, I suppose. But if that’s not it…”

Both of you momentarily lapsed into silence. Then you straightened up in your seat, looking as if you had just seen a ghost.

“What is it? Now you look scared.” He tried to prod you for a response, but it seemed like whatever you had just realized was enough to make you dodge every attempt at eye contact.

Your next words came out haltingly. “Dan Heng, I - no, this is probably just a misunderstanding on my part. Don’t worry about it.”

Subconsciously, he extended a hand towards you, as if to stop you from fleeing. “Do you really think I won’t worry after you say something like that?”

“Um…” Your eyes darted back and forth, and he suddenly realized his stance, quickly withdrawing his hand and feeling his ears burn.

“Sorry, I just -” “No, it’s ok -”

The two of you lapsed into a tense silence, unsure of how to proceed. Then Peppy began to stir in Dan Heng’s lap, yawning quietly with high pitched squeaks.

“Are you sure you want me to explain?” You glanced at him, then down at the half awake Peppy.

He nodded. “Please, I would appreciate it.”

Biting your lip, you covered Peppy’s eyes with your hand. “What color are Peppy’s eyes?”

Dan Heng raised an eyebrow. “Black?”

You moved your hand - he was right. “Ok then… what color are Arlan’s eyes?”

He frowned in recollection. “Gray?”

You shook your head. “Red.” Then you covered your face with your hands. “What color are my eyes?”

He answered without any hesitation - and he was right. You sighed, letting your hands fall to your lap. “Why do you know mine and not Arlan’s?”

Dan Heng looked at you questioningly. “Because I can see you? And I look at your face more often than his - and when I talk with Arlan, I’m usually thinking about work. But when I’m talking with you, I -” He paused, his unusually verbal stream of consciousness screeching to a sudden halt. “I’m thinking about… you.”

He fell silent again, and the sudden implications of what he just said hit both of you like a freight train. “I mean.” Dan Heng froze for a moment, but it was too late. Well, he hadn't said anything untrue. “I do. Think about you.” You coughed, hands flying up to cover your cheeks, and he frowned. “But what does that have to do with my symptoms?”

At his persistence, your eyes looked everywhere but him, as if you would rather be anywhere else than here. He felt a twinge of guilt, but he also really needed to get to the bottom of this. It wouldn’t do to have his stomach tying into knots at random times when he was in charge of guarding the Express.

“Can I ask? What do you think about me?”

Dan Heng didn’t miss the way your neck moved as you swallowed. Reflexively, he did the same when it finally hit him. You were nervous about this too. But he already said that he wasn’t angry at you, so what were you afraid of?

“I think you’re a good addition to the crew.” Dan Heng glanced at you, then at his fingers, which were now fidgeting on the bench. He lightly clenched them into a fist, hoping they would stop moving. “You get along well with everyone and you’re good at making observations for the data bank.” His gaze returned to your face, but you seemed unsatisfied with his answer.

“Did you want to hear something else? Sorry, I’m not good at this sort of thing.” Dan Heng sighed and looked down at Peppy, running his fingers through the sleeping dog’s soft fur.

You straightened up in your seat and shook your head. “No, not at all. I just wanted to hear it from you.” You let out a little breathy laugh, more air than sound. “I guess I was mistaken.”

“Mistaken my ass!”

An indignant cry burst through your quiet bubble, making Peppy jerk awake in Dan Heng’s lap with a series of squeaky yips. All of you swiveled to see March 7th, standing with her hands on her hips, looking surprisingly unamused.

“Are you two seriously still confused? I knew I should have just let him try CPR that time!”

Both you and Dan Heng stared at her blankly, struggling to keep up with the interruption. “March 7th, what are you talking about?”

Dan Heng flung an arm out in front of you, as if to separate you from the girl who was now gripping her head in a theatrical display of agony. “Don’t worry about it, she’s just confused. Peppy needs her for a walk, anyway.”

You watched in quiet amusement as Dan Heng encouraged the fluffy dog to hop down from his lap and bump against March 7th’s leg, finally distracting her from her muttering. No one could refuse Peppy’s longing eyes, so March 7th was soon dispatched for a walk, all the while shooting the two of you glances as she jogged after the energetic dog. You wondered what she was looking for.

“So… what was that all about?”

Dan Heng cleared his throat at your question, mind running through all the possible ways he could explain. But he landed on the most unhelpful answer.

“March 7th saw me carry you back to your room.”

“Ah.”

A beat of silence, then a jolt. “Is that why- oh. No way. That’s - but maybe -”

Dan Heng tried not to laugh at the sight of you clearly having a full on conference inside your head. It would be funnier except for the fact that he knew that you were probably debating how to respond.

“Are you ok?”

You finally turned to meet his eyes, the gears in your brain still seeming to spin wildly. “Dan Heng, I really don’t know what to think anymore!”

He blinked in surprise. “About what?”

“Do you like me or not?”

Eyes wide, you slapped a hand over your mouth as soon as the words escaped, the outburst seeming to surprise you as much as it did him. “Don’t answer that, please, I-”

Dan Heng tilted his head slightly in thought. “I like you. Is there something wrong with that?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “No, that’s not what I mean! Oh aeons, March 7th is never going to let me hear the end of this.”

Something akin to excitement swirled in the pit of his stomach. The good kind of nerves, like when he knew he was about to deal a critical blow. “What do you mean, then?”

You let out a deep sigh and pinned him with a defeated stare. “Dan Heng, I am this close to finding the nearest trash can and throwing myself into it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that an invitation to join you?”

“What?” You balked, and this time he failed to stifle his laughter. He quickly hid it behind his hand at your halfhearted glare.

“Why don’t we just go for a walk? No trash can diving involved.”

Dan Heng stood up from the bench, and you nodded, following suit. Just as you moved next to him, a harried researcher ran past, knocking you off balance. Dan Heng quickly reached out to catch you, hands steady on your arms as the wind settled.

“Are you alright?”

At your nod, the two of you set out again on your walk to avoid trash cans. But this time, as Dan Heng let go of your arms, his hand fell to his side and grasped yours. For a moment, his breath stilled, chest squeezing. Then your fingers linked with his, quiet and warm, and it felt like his whole body was being rebooted. Dan Heng began to mentally run through the map of the space station to find a route without any trash cans - or interruptions.

From her perch on one of the higher floors, March 7th watched the two of you walk deeper into the space station. “Finally, those two will stop staring at each other across the room. Honestly, those two owe me. I’m thinking a deluxe buffet and one week of cleaning duty. Doesn’t that sound right, Peppy?”

Peppy squeaked in cheery agreement, butting his head against March 7th’s hand for more pats as they saw the two figures disappear into a hallway. All’s well that ends well… right?

Epilogue:

When March 7th said you would finally stop staring at each other across the room, she was half right. She was half wrong because the two of you still snuck glances, just out of sight - and hopefully out of earshot.

“I saw you were reading that chapter on space oysters.” Dan Heng murmured, shoulder warm against yours. Reorganizing some pillows to create a makeshift reading nook in the archives was the best idea he'd had in a while, and you had helped make it as cozy as possible.

You chuckled, leaning into his side. "Isn't it fascinating? The way they can communicate such information without any words, and enact them as a whole population. It makes you wonder if they have any impression of self."

Dan Heng hummed, tucking a blanket over your knees. As you continued to muse over the contents of the book, gesticulating excitedly with a hand, he watched you with a soft smile. Today, he was thankful that the archive was cold, but for a different reason than usual. His fingers quietly found yours under the blanket, and the shy smile that bloomed on your face made him feel that at least in this moment, it was going to be alright.

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— Move your body, darling.

Summary: You’ve started working out, and your boyfriend encourages you.

Characters: Scaramouche/Wanderer, Albedo, Xiao, Childe, Kaeya, Arataki Itto x gender neutral reader.

Word count: 3.2k.

Tags: fluff, slight crack, suggestive (allusions at doing the deed in Kaeya’s but nothing ex.plicit), soft and supportive boyfriends.

Author’s note: A little something for my dearest @bunny-rambles <3 I hope you like it, love !

Reblog to support your favorite authors ! It helps more than likes.

SCARAMOUCHE

Pretends he doesn’t care, letting slip some comments about how “foolish humans are to believe they can get stronger like that”.

In reality, he’s probably one of the most (if not the most) supportive of this bunch.

Need anything afterwards? He’ll bring it to you, no matter how much he grumbles. And no, don’t try to stop him, because “you are clearly not in the right conditions to do it yourself”. His words not mine, by the way.

Did you drink enough water? Or fruit juice? Or something cold after your work out? You better, he “threatens”, but honestly, he’s happy to prepare it for you (even if he pouts like a grumpy cat).

The afternoon sun is scorching as you keep count of the times you’ve folded and unfolded your legs.

Up, and down, up and down, and up, and down again. Pause. Repeat.

You can’t pinpoint the exact moment, but the idea of getting into shape and strengthening your body crossed your mind a few days ago.

Was it to be able to beat your boyfriend for once in sparring?

That would be unrealistic, thinking on it, considering how he went to godhood and back, and was reborn from his own fall from grace.

Pehaps it was to actually prove to him, that no, not all humans are so ephemeral and frail as he deems them to be.

Yes, that definitely makes more sense.

And maybe, somewhere inside of you, you just want to be a little stronger, because as attractive as Scaramouche looks obliterating enemies, you know how heavy your hypothetic hurt and loss hang over him.

So, with that thought spurring you on, you get back to your workout, some of the energy you’re expending slightly recovered with this re-discovered motivation.

Unaware to you, a pair of vibrant violet eyes have been watching you for a while. The smile painted on his porcelain-like features speaking the words his eyes conceal behind the curtain of dusk that is his hair.

Leaning against the wall and with arms crossed over his chest, the wanderer decides he can indulge for a little longer in the sight of you.

That is, until a familiar child-like voice interrupts him.

“Oh, so they are the one you cherish!”

His cheeks dye in the color of Zaytun peaches at that statement, his figure leaning off the wall in a flurry.

“Shhh, Lesser Lord Kusanali, please not now!” He whisper-shouts.

Nahida gives him a closed eyed smile, as if she hadn’t completely gotten through his practiced haughty facade.

Then, her inquisitive viridian eyes flit to you and to the ex-harbinger again.

“You know, it’s okay to show them your support. They’ll appreciate it, I’m sure!” She encourages him. “It’s the same as when you cultivate flowers.” She gestures with her small hands. “No colorful petal can truly bloom without love, in the same way no fruit will ripen without sun or water.”

And Scaramouche isn’t sure if it’s because of his mentor’s wise words, or because you look like you’re about to pass out from dehydration; but next thing he knows, he’s walking towards you with a bottle of Harra fruit juice in hand.

“When will you learn to take care?” Your wanderer scolds, at the same time his cheeks mirror the warm rays of the low sun in the horizon.

ALBEDO

Oh, he’s smooth. Like, he doesn’t even have to try to make you flustered.

And the best thing is, sometimes (when he wants to, that is) he looks innocent while at it, because he truly cares and means well.

Rest assured, once you either tell him you want to exercise or he finds out, the chief alchemist is getting his hands on every fitness book he can find.

Albedo will come up with a full training program tailored to your needs and goals in a matter of a few hours.

He’s very supportive and reassuring but please, don’t let him get ideas for his experiments, unless you want to receive (affectionate or not so affectionate) complaints from a certain blond traveler, namely, his frequent test subject.

“Fascinating,” Your lover muses, a huge manual on physiology of the human body held in between his hands. “According to this study, Dragonspine reunites all the ideal conditions to make your training more demanding, which will result in it being all the more effective…”

You can’t help but let out a giggle at how immersed into this Albedo seems to be. Sure, you did mention to him you’d like to do some physical conditioning to perform more efficiently in combat, but you didn’t intend to be subjected to a rigorous training program.

“Bedo, dear.” You begin, sitting across from him. “You don’t need to plan such a complicated schedule.” Your hand finds his over the table.

His skin is cold to the touch, yet it is not an unpleasant sensation. It always reminded you of the morning dew over the Cecilias at Snarsnatch Cliff.

Rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand you continue. “I just want to exercise a little bit more than what my usual commissions require, nothing too harsh.” You finish, softly, a tender smile etched on those lips that have warmed Albedo’s cold nights many a time.

“I know that, dearest.” He says, his fingers slotting in between yours. They always fitted perfectly, as if your hands entwined were the last two puzzles pieces containing the mysteries of this world the Chalk Prince yearns to solve.

“But, the cold climate and altitude here will make your daily commissions feel like a walk in the park.” He continues, his free hand dangerously traveling to your waist and down, and down, until it stops at the small of your back. “Wouldn’t you agree, my love?” Albedo questions, that devious smirk you can’t resist appearing on his face like fresh pink strokes of watercolor.

“Oh?” You return his grin, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, playing with the tips of his icy blond hair. “Is that really it?” You tease, your fingertips grazing the star shaped mark on his neck. “Or is my prince eager to spend more time with me?”

“I won’t lie to you.” The alchemist answers, those cerulean eyes of his gleaming mischievously, akin to late stars in the dawn, before leaning in to close the distance between your lips.

You guess this might as well count as a workout session, with how wildly your heart is beating.

XIAO

Sweet baby Xiao, who is probably going to need more reassurance than you.

Why are you suddenly putting your body through such efforts? Are you going to leave him? Is he no longer useful enough to protect you?

Please, please, let him know it has nothing to do with it. Xiao’s gone through so much both physical and emotional pain, he doesn’t understand why you would willingly exhaust yourself like this.

You’ll probably have to sit him down and patiently explain how some moderate exercise can help you feel more energized and less tired on your day to day activities.

Once he understands, however, he’s very, very supportive!

Will always keep an eye on you, making sure you don’t overexert or stay out too late practicing; carries you back to Wangshuu Inn if you overdid it and is always nearby keeping any monsters at bay.

“Working out?” The adeptus repeats, a frown creasing his forehead, his lips forming an all too adorable pout. “Are you in danger? Is anyone after you?” Xiao asks, his golden orbs widening, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“No, Xiao, it’s nothing like that, my love.” You reassure him, one of your hands reaching out to cup his cheek. “I just want to get stronger, you know? So that I can be better in battle and feel more energized.

Battle. As much as Xiao knows you can hold your own in a fight and trusts your skill, the yaksha doesn’t like the sound of that word, even less coming from your lips.

You shouldn’t have to worry about battles or fights, he vowed to protect you; he deems himself no more than a tool to keep you safe, the weapon that slays any unfortunate who dares harm you.

Do you not need him anymore? Is the question that lingers on his mind and that he can’t bring himself to ask.

Used to your yaksha’s mannerisms, however, you can sense his discomfort.

For someone who claims to deal in bloodbath and death, you’ve come to learn Xiao is about one of the most sensitive and gentle people you could meet.

“Xiao? Does this idea upset you?” You try, taking one of his hands in both of yours, removing his glove to reveal scarred yet tender skin, and sharp claws that hold you with the softness of qingxin and glaze lily petals.

“Maybe…” the conqueror of demons nods, his gaze cast downwards. “Do you…” he hesitates, the prospect of you confirming his deepest fears more painful than the karma he shoulders. “Do you… not need my protection anymore?” He finally manages to ask.

“Oh, Xiao…” With care, you hold his face in both your palms, guiding his sunlit honey eyes back to yours. “Of course I need you. I love you, Xiao.” You whisper, your tone delicate, as if any disturbance or too loud syllable could pop and shatter the little bubble encasing the both of you. “Me exercising and practicing more will not mean I’ll ever stop loving and needing you, baby.” You plant the most tender kiss he’s ever felt on the diamond shaped mark on his temple.

And even though still concerned for your safety and wellbeing, the vigilant yaksha’s heart has been soothed by the floral breeze of your affections tonight.

From that day onwards, it wasn’t rare to see a certain adeptus scanning Guili Plains more exhaustively than usual, especially when a dedicated fighter found themselves mastering the art of their weapon.

CHILDE

Flirty and competitive little shit (affectionate) but he’s actually helpful.

Will take any chance he can get to one up on you. Don’t hold it against him, though, he’s just childish (pun intended), and loves your pouty expressions a little too much.

Finds it so attractive when your breath is labored, yet you still keep going. That sight alone, truly ignites something in him, his usually dull ocean eyes reflecting a myriad of iridescent lights in all the shades that compose you; he feels the need to kiss you and become the cause you’re breathless and… (I’ll stop here before we enter spicy territory, but you get it).

Very caring. Ajax is not new to taking care of people, he has a big family, after all. And as much as he is quite the reckless adrenaline junkie, he doesn’t want you doing anything extreme or pushing yourself to your limits (he pushes you to the limit enough as it is, in all aspects ;).

You think Ajax’s insanity is starting to rub on you.

Sure, you’d like to get more fit and strong, but did you really have to grab your boyfriend’s bow for your first practice?

You sigh, your shoulders already sore from drawing the big bow again and again.

But as they say, no pain, no gain.

At least you are grateful for Polar Star’s soft and supple handle, it keeps your hands (mostly) free from blistering.

You ready yourself, a look of pure concentration on your eyes, set on the target. You aim for the bull’s eye, drawing your elbow backwards, in a way that you hope resembles how Childe does it in battle.

You can picture the arrow’s trajectory, its tip infused in the vibrant hue of your vision, a perfect arch cutting through the skies above in a parable of elemental energy set for a single pinpoint destination.

You take a deep breath.

In, and out.

Then…

An all too familiar (and quite obnoxious, right now) chuckle makes your focus dissipate, akin to ocean waves lapping at the shore, dragging sandy architecture and paintings into lightless depths.

“And just what,” You begin, turning around, deep frown creasing your eyebrows. “Do you find so funny, Tartaglia?” You point the index finger not holding his bow at his chest. “Care to tell me?” You spat, wisps of venomous smoke stoked by your fiery annoyance tainting the edges of your voice.

Childe stands there, looking at you like the idiot in love he is, dumb dopey smile plastered on his unfairly kissable lips.

“Sorry, you’re so cute, sweetheart.” He manages in between chuckles.

You want to smack him over the head with his own bow, but you contain yourself: you really don’t want his weapon to get damaged, after all.

Instead, you settle for punching him on the arm, with less malice than your pout suggests.

“Do you want to see how cute I’ll look after i shoot an arrow through that empty head of yours, Childe?” You retort, arms crossed over your chest.

“Heh, I’d like to see you try, darling. Don’t you think I can’t dodge.”

At his answer, you throw your hands into the air, exasperated.

And, even though Ajax loves teasing you and sparring with you, he doesn’t really like making you angry, especially when you’re trying hard.

“But instead of that,” the harbinger starts, taking the bow from your hands. “How about I help you? You know, weapons are really personal things, what works for me, might not work well for you or another person.”

He likes how your eyes sparkle at his suggestion, your undivided attention prompting the ginger to continue.

“It’s true we can master any kind of weapon, but you need the right one for you, no matter which type you choose.”

The warrior’s calloused fingertips brush a strand of hair away from your face.

“So, how about finding the right bow for you? Sound good?”

“Fine…” You breathe, completely lost in the way the last rays of sunshine catch in the deep lakes of his gaze. It is not a sight you get to witness often, and you treasure it immensely.

“Alright!” Your boyfriend nods, picking you up, bridal style, relishing in your squeals and giggles as you both walk into the sunset.

KAEYA

Flirty little shit number 2, except instead of being helpful, he ends up distracting you more than anything.

He makes up for it in support, though. Granted, he teases you a lot, but he’s also your number one cheerleader.

Very touchy and affectionate, will not pass up any chance to leave a kiss here and there, or hold onto your waist.

Loves joining you in your workout sessions and matching outfits with you.

Very vocal, Kaeya compliments you a lot and always has words of encouragement to offer, no matter how completely exhausted or weak you feel.

You swear this is unfair.

He is being unfair.

He knows all too well what he’s doing and he must have had this planned from the moment he offered to help you with your sit-ups session.

“How about I hold your legs in place, my darling?” The cavalry captain suggested in an all too enticing and sultry tone. “Won’t that way be easier for you?”

And of course, you had to go and agree.

Like the fool for him that you are.

So now, you have to have his tempting lips practically shoved in your face every single time you do a sit-up.

You reap what you sow, as the saying goes, you chide yourself internally.

But oh, he’s so not helping at all. Pouting like that every time he keeps count, icy eyes half lidded, the frozen galaxies in them beckoning you closer to his presence.

“And fifty!” Kaeya finally exclaims, when you do the last one of the planned exercises for today. “You did great, my sweet.” The cavalry captain smiles, innocently, as if he wasn’t the main reason your face feels like it’s on fire right now.

“Why, thanks.” You reply, rather bluntly, uncapping the water bottle he just handed to you. At least you are grateful he had the decency to cool it with his vision beforehand. Throwing your head back, you take a long sip. Then:

“You volunteered to help and yet, you’re aware you didn’t make this easy in the slightest, aren’t you?” You accuse.

“My, whatever could you mean, hm?” Your boyfriend taunts, two slender fingers holding your chin in between them. “Or is my precious partner in need of some affection?”

“Oh you…” You whisper, the warmth in your heart overpowering how unnerved your knight makes you feel sometimes.

“Yes, my love?” That look of feigned innocence again.

You huff, defeated. But the smile tugging at the corner of your lips makes it quite obvious you are, indeed, very much needy for his touches and kisses.

Let’s just say, from the instant Kaeya’s hands found your hips up until the moment you’d find yourself laying down in his idyllic embrace, you got an extra work out session.

ARATAKI ITTO

Very supportive, but for the love of the archons, don’t ever let him join you.

Seriously, Itto is all heart and good intentions, but sometimes he doesn’t realize his own strength.

What to him feels like just some stretches, it might be for you the equivalent of running a marathon with a 10 kilogram heavy backpack on.

Practically worships you and the ground you walk on, though. He’s your biggest hype-man.

The trembling on your arms intensifies as you reach the end of your training session.

You hope Katheryne doesn’t have any too difficult commissions for you in store tomorrow: right now, you doubt you’ll be able to hold your weapon steadily.

You are proud of yourself for reaching your goal today, a gentle, albeit tired, smile making it to your sweaty features as you finish with some meditation and stretches.

The inazuman coast is so serene at this time of day, with the sun dipping behind the horizon, beams of purple and crimson striping the dusk sky.

A sigh escapes your lips, for this peace is always short lived. You wouldn’t have it any other way, however, you love your loud and boisterous oni too much for that.

A few more instants of tranquility pass, the late sunshine fading into luminous constellations riding in the faraway horizon, the crescent moon smiling down at two figures approaching your location.

“Boss! Please! Be quieter, now! It’s late and you can’t disturb the citizens at this hour.”

A knowing smile mimics that of the milky crescent lighting up the indigo infinity above you. You really admire your friend Shinobu’s patience.

“But Shinobu! [Y/n] will be so proud of me when I tell them about how the One and Oni Itto was proclaimed supreme king of the Great All-around Arataki Onikabuto and TCG Championship!”

The girl pinches the bridge of her nose, having had enough of her boss’s antics.

As soon as he spots you, Itto starts waving his big hands energetically, calling your name repeatedly, to Shinobu’s chagrin.

“Itto!” You run to his side, weakly hugging his broad torso. “Why don’t you tell me about today as we walk back home?” You propose, talking in a low voice.

His eyes sparkle excitedly. Sometimes, he reminds you of an adorable puppy; for someone over six feet tall, your oni boyfriend really is sweet.

“But… can I ask you to carry me, please?” You look away, slightly flustered. “Push ups are still a little hard for me.”

That night, the deputy leader of the Arataki Gang had a relaxed night, as she watched the retreating figures of an oni and his lover animatedly recounting the day’s many events.

❝ 𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞. ❞ hsr x reader

synopsis. you couldn't help but feel jealous, he's been spending more time with someone else, and you feel like there's suddenly another person in the picture, you can't help but think if he's.. falling out of love?

warnings. angst to comfort if you squint but more comfort and fluff, jealous reader

author's name. one of the only angst stuff on my old blog hello??!!

pairings. multi hsr men x gn!reader

doesn't realize 'till you tell him ・caelus, gepard, luocha, arlan, yanqing, dan heng, dr ratio

huh? why are you sad? did he do something wrong? are his first thoughts, your little frown and puppy eyes didn't help much either, he helps a lot of people and talks to a lot of people, why are you sad? he just came back home and all he sees is your saddest expression yet, did he forget any events? no.. are you gonna... break up with him..? no no, it's too early for that, right? as he pushes these thoughts aside, he sat down beside you on his bed, your face with your tear-stained cheeks, and like there were still a bit of water swelling up in your eyes, all he could do was hold your hand, and ask what's wrong? did he do something you didn't like? are you hurt? was he not there in time? worried thoughts began to arise as more silence occurred.. "are you falling out of love with me?" the words really hit him like a bullet through his heart, never in a million years would he ever fall out of love with someone as thrilling, heart-throbbing, amazing, beautiful, pretty, or handsome as you, never in ten of thousands of centuries would he find someone as graceful as you were, he'd never find another you, but he'd always try, in every life, to find you. but all those negativity in his mind cut short from his heart speaking, instead of his mind thinking, and he couldn't help but let the words of love pour from throughout. couldn't help but cup your face while saying all those kind poet's choice of words. couldn't help but tear up for not noticing sooner. later pulling you into his warm embrace. a smile painted both your faces at the end of that day, and let the night you spent together be filled with love. (not the sexual way smh)

recognizes your little pout of jealousy ・jing yuan, sampo, welt yang, dr ratio

ohoh~ his honey bunny is jealous over his business partner? as soon as he comes again back to your side, "baby, don't worry about them, they're really just talking to me for business, don't pout at me like that.. you're too cute!" but you continued to do the little pout even on the way home, was it really that bad? his sly arm slowly slides over your shoulders as you both got home, "did i do something wrong, babe? you haven't kissed me a single time today, and i can't help but think you're jealous that i've been talking to someone, is that the case, hmm?~" he says, as he places his fingers on your chin, and forcing your gaze onto his, "tell me, are you jealous? just nod if yes, or no." awaiting your answer, all he did was smirk, 'till you gave in and nodding an answer of yes. as he got his taste of victory, he couldn't help but take your kiss as his award, "you shouldn't worry about someone like them, they're nothing compared to you, no one is on the same value as you are to me, you are mine, and i'm yours, no one else's. got that?" as you nodded, he placed kisses all over you, and a special mark, a hickey from him, and the future marks will always and only be from him. and he'll make sure you never feel like that again.

finds you cute when you're jealous (already knew)・blade, jing yuan, welt yang, luocha, argenti

your little frown was honestly the cutest, especially when you have your arms crossed like that! aww, he can't help but let out a laugh! after getting off a phone call from their co-worker, he looks down to see you, you and your adorable frustrated expression, "my my, seems like someone's mad, did something happen?" opening his arms for a hug, but you backed away, and walked off, wow, this might just be serious! we follows you back, "did i something, my beauty?" his snake-like arms slither around your waist, yet you didn't give a reply. "i like this game, let's see who'll break first, winner gets a kiss from the loser, okay?", your only response would be an angry, yet adorable glance. like a kid who didn't get what they wanted from the toy store. as you both arrived into your shared home, he picks you up and lets you land atop his lap. "why are you mad at me beautiful? oh, you must be jealous, no? you saw me talking to someone else other than you.. didn't you?" he asks, placing his head on your shoulder, his words slide off his tongue like honey, and it looked like to him you were panicking, "just give up now, and let me treat you right, i'm very sorry that talking to someone else made you feel like that, cupcake." and all he really wants in return is what you give him, a kiss and cuddles, and maybe more than just that.

w2e & chase atlantic my faves!!

My lover 😻🌹

Boothill relationship headcanons;

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✰ Characters: Boothill x reader.

✰ Words: ~1k.

✰ SFW+N//SFW ; SFW mentions no pronouns or gender of the reader. N//SFW section was written with fem!reader in mind.

Warnings: THIS HAS A NSFW PART. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS skip this section if possible. some of these hc are based on this post, since i wanted to write a little more about it.

A/N: BRAINROT gRR he truly gives me doctor by Miley Cyrus vibes. idk how to explain it but take it

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Boothill:

SFW

he's such a gentleman! opens doors for you, pulls out a chair, kisses your hand when he sees you first for the day, it doesn't get boring for him at all. if you ignore some of his unhinged behaviors, then he's a perfect man.

like i mentioned in my previous post, he's VERY possessive of you. he does like to go to unknown clubs or bars with you to try out their best drinks in his spare time, though he doesn't have you attached to his hip (even.. if he wouldn't probably mind at all), he does keep a sharp eye on you. if a weird guy approaches you and you're clearly uncomfortable, he tries to intimidate the guy away and clearly let him see that you're his (aka placing his arm around your waist and pushing you into him), if being polite doesn't work, well, they have a rough night. not in a good way.

this man SCREAMS BACK HUGS!! since his body is like 90% metal and machines, he loves to embrace you from behind and wrap his arms around your tummy, while his chin rests on your shoulder. he misses the softness of his own skin, so having you gives him a lot of comfort; the warmth you're radiating makes him reluctant to ever pull away. boothill often finds himself touching his cheeks with his robotic arms, when they get warm enough - the feeling almost long forgotten in his mind.

speaking of back hugs: he's also very big on neck kisses, mostly giving than receiving, depending on how he feels, they're either very innocent and loving - very soft, paired with butterfly kisses, or biting you and then kissing it better, when things get steamy.

boothil finds it funny when his hair tickles you when he hugs you from behind. if he's feeling particularly like a little shit that day, he can annoy you the entire day like that, only to respond with "hmm? what do you mean? I'm not doing anything, baby!" ...don't tell him his smirk gives it away, but honestly, at this point, he probably doesn't try to hide it that well.

he DOES slap your ass when you go past him. EVERY time. it doesn't get boring for him, he likes the sound it makes AND how soft it is, bonus if it jiggles, then he's even more proud. he might offer "an apologetic massage," which you rarely agree to (but he'll try until u say yes).

if someone ever tinkers with his Synesthesia beacon, he cannot swear for his life. you might catch him trying to cook, spilling something, and then hearing loud "YOU LITTLE DAISY FLOWER! CUTIE PIE! CURSED FROG!" it's kinda impressive how colorful they can get...

speaking of his voice, he's probably able to manipulate it so it sounds the best according to your taste. although his flesh heart has been gone for so long, he still feels that familiar, warm feeling and squeeze of his own, mechanical one, when your answer is always the same - to modulate it so it sounds the closest to what it used to be, or that the current one is just as pleasant to hear.

he likes to kiss you. no matter where, or when. if he wants to, he'll get one, pressing you against him, cupping your face with one hand, and kissing your puckered lips. once you give in, he kisses you properly, caressing your cheek ever so slightly to ease any discomfort left, only to hold you tightly on your hips and whimper on purpose just to tease you more (i believe in boothill is a little shit theory).

if we assume his face is the only human part of him left (besides his eyes). In that case, he just truly loves the softness of your lips on his. he kisses you as much as he can, and will get all fussy and whiny if he doesn't get his good morning kiss, we-see-each-other-for-the-first-time-today kiss (note: this is not the same as good morning kiss), goodnight kiss and so on. yes, he could get it by himself, but he wants it from you first. he's just very stubborn.

watch out! he likes to draw blood on your lower lip when his intrusive thoughts win. he licks the blood off later, and gives it a loving kiss.

his hair is genuine, so he loves whenever you play with it, brush it, or take care of it in general. it's probably one of the very few human features of his, so if your boothill lets you carefully pamper it, let alone without flooding his cords, he's not only very impressed, but also very willing to indulge in more sessions.

finds it absolutely adorable when you wear his hat when he isn't looking. or, well, when you think he isn't looking.

N/SFW. minors and ageless blogs shoo!

the council has decided that he has a vibrator in place of his real junk. but if you're into experimenting and want him to feel a bit more, hm, natural - he's more than happy to change his parts. shape, size and pace - everything for his lady.

you can probably guess, but that's an absolute ass man. he sees you in tighter pants that hug you just so nicely and might go feral.

eats pussy like a starved man. he has no shame and licks, sucks, and fucks you with his tongue and THE SOUNDS could put the devil himself to shame. boothill always wants everyone to know that you're his, how you scream and moan for him, so in return - he never lets a drop of your juices go to waste, slurping and moaning into your slit.

he's literally so flexible, that he'll fuck you in every position you want him to. if it means he'll get deeper, he's on board. and probably on top of you too.

likes to grope you through your clothes. sounds very tame, but it really gets him going, and might sometimes cause trouble in public.. unless you WANT that trouble.

adding to the headcanon above - he truly just gets turned on by your skin, especially imperfections. stretch marks? he'll kiss them all, scars? he has them all memorized. when he touches you through your clothes, he already remembers what is where, it's like he's edging himself knowing that soon enough he'll undress you completely and see it clearly; he quite literally worships what truly makes you... you.

he. is. so. SO over when you pull on his hair. when you make out, when he fucks you - doesn't matter. DO IT and he'll go absolutely crazy, hissing in pleasure and grinding into you.

BEUGGHHHHHHH IM UNHEALTHY FOR MY CYBORG HUSBAND

How do we feel about needy kisses w/boothill….

love it! but who is the needy one in this situation?

if u’re needy, boothill is definitely teasing u about it. u have to expect a “did u really miss me that much, darlin’?” or maybe about a comment about ur hands wandering, trying to slip up his shirt. despite the teasing, he’s a hundred percent reciprocating! he even goes as far as encouraging u to take what u want, he’s here to please, after all ;)

needy boothill though. . . i can see him being a face grabber! takes ur cheeks in his hands and kisses u like it might be his last chance to. ooh or a neck holder — holds u in place so he can get his fill without u pulling away too soon. omg and the lip bites, don’t get me started in the lip bites @.@ just little nibbles that almost border on painful as he tugs at ur lower lip before pulling away. . . mm yeah, yeah, all of that

ADORABLEE

Farmhand!boothill on the brain. Haven’t thought about anything else in days

news for u nonnie, he’s forever on my mind as well! here’s a short list of random farmhand boothill facts just to share! :3

- he bathes and grooms missy (their dog) himself! she always get a little bandana tied around her neck once she’s finished

- sometimes he sings to himself while he’s working! definitely a fan of the classics but every now and then poppy songs from the radio get stuck in his head and he’ll sing those haha

- he’s got horrendous bed head but wakes up early enough that no one sees it. spends a lot of time brushing those locks out in the morning

Goofy guy what a loser (will go on a date with him anyways)

h.how do we feel .

“Uh… sorry ‘bout the mess. I’ll make it up to ya.” For good measure, the space cowboy kicks one of the corpses to the side with his boot.

You clutch your chest tighter, heart racing. “You just killed fifteen IPC soldiers in my bar.”

“Yep.”

“You–”

He suddenly looks offended. “Hey. I did the world a favour. I don’t take kindly to rats puttin’ their fudgin’ filthy hands on the merchandise.” He gestures to his torso. Then, he whistles, placing his thumbs on the waistband of his pants. “But, nice place ya got. This your business?”

Dazed, you nod slowly. Your eyes flit to the broken sign and the smashed television hanging over the bar counter.

The bottles are smashed to bits. There’s liquor spilled all over the floor—expensive liquor. This would cost a fortune to fix, let alone to then replace all of the products.

You exhale shakily. You try not to look at the bodies.

The cowboy pities you. You can see it on his face. He says nothing. He awkwardly clears his throat and skims the rim of his hat with his fingers.

This sucks.

“How ‘bout this? I’ll give ya the bounty money so you can fix this place up.”

“Will you pay for my therapy sessions as well?” you chime in, murmuring beneath your breath.

He cracks a smile. “If that’s what you want.”

You lean over the counter and place your head in your hands. Tiredly, you ask, “how much?”

You hear the cowboy click his tongue in thought. “‘Bout… seventy-five? Give or take?”

You look at him from between your fingers. “Huh? Seventy-five hundred?”

The cowboy, yet again, looks offended. “Million, hun. I don’t do my job for cheap. What do I look like to you?”

You squawked. “Seventy-five million?”

“You heard me.” He cocks his head to the side, lips pressed into a thin line. “Why? You like that?”

“You can’t give me seventy-five million credits. Are you serious?” You could feel your face burning in shock. Your hands slam onto the counter, and you point an accusing finger in his face. “You must run some sort of shady business.”

The cowboy looks to the left for a moment.

He blinks at you like you’re stupid.

“You’re serious?” you repeat.

Instead of answering, he pulls out his phone from his pocket. You say nothing about the flimsy orange case, instead watching as he fumbles and squints at the screen before turning it towards you.

He shows you the recent deposit.

As he said. Seventy-five million fat credits sit right there in his account.

Hesitantly, you grab the phone to peer closer. Curiously, you start scrolling. These deposits clearly weren’t new to him. There were so many starting back from about ten years ago. There was a recent one of two-hundred thousand, then another just crossing fifty-seven million–

You were going to pass out. You hand his phone back to him with trembling fingers.

“Seventy-five sound good, or ya want some more?” He was tapping away on the screen again. “Gimme your bank details.”

“No!” You shake your head. “I don’t need your money. It’s fine.”

“How ‘bout eighty?”

“I–”

“Eighty-five.”

“No, I–”

“Round it up.” He turns the phone to you again, this time waiting for you to take it. An empty prompt of a receiver for the credits waits still. “One hundred.”

“Stop. I’m not taking your money.”

“I insist,” was all he said. “Got plenty to dispose of. And was never too responsible wit’ it anyway. Also, don’t really need to spend money on food and stuff, ‘cause, y’know–” He gestures to himself again. “I trashed your place. Lemme help ya fix it up.”

“I’m not taking your money,” you repeat.

The cowboy narrows his eyes at you.

To retaliate, you narrow them back.

Then, grumpily, he states, “you’re stubborn.”

“Yeah.” You bristle defensively. “And?”

“I like it,” he all but purrs. He leans over the counter, fingers drumming over the bench. “If ya don’t want my money, how’z about I take ya out for dinner? To say sorry?”

Huh? You lean back, cowering away from the sharp teeth he displays behind pulled lips. Your heart races in your chest, half out of the anxiety that riddles your veins, but also because he’s practically snapping his teeth in your face like a shark.

Your hands coil into weak fists.

“What do ya think, pretty?”

You look at him.

You suppose he’s handsome—you’re not sure if it’s appropriate to call a cyborg handsome. But he’s got lovely hair, and it falls over his shoulders like water. It covers half his face, but the eye you can see is… trustworthy, to an extent.

He’s definitely not the most insane man you’ve ever met, so that’s a bonus. He also just killed a bunch of soldiers in your territory. You didn’t like the IPC either, and maybe he did do you a favour, but still.

You sigh. You think the pleading flutter of his lashes won you over.

“Fine.”

“That’s the spirit.” He holds out his hand, palm facing upwards. “Phone.”

Your face twists suspiciously. “No funny business.” Hesitantly, you reach into your pocket and hand it to him.

He grins and takes it. “Not at all. I’m a super trustworthy guy.” You find it hard to believe him. Again, he seems to have trouble navigating your phone. He notices you staring. “Sorry. Can’t read very well.”

“Oh.” You straighten up slightly. “Do you want me to add your number instead?”

He makes a face at the phone.

“Nope. I got it.” He hands you back your phone after a moment. The contact is still open on the screen: Boothill. He’s somehow taken a photo of himself without you noticing. “Might’ve added an extra zero. Oops.”

“Oh.” You stare down at the phone number. “There's no zeroes in your number.”

“Sure.” Boothill pulls back from the counter with a tip of his hat. “I gotta run. I’ll set up our lil’ dinner date later.”

You turn your phone off. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“You got it, babe.” He blows you a kiss and waves his hand behind him.

As soon as the door shuts, you get a notification of a successful deposit into your bank account.

Your face immediately drains of blood as you frantically open up the app.

Seven-hundred and fifty million credits sit in your account.

The message attached to it reads, ‘Dont bot her snending it back. Wont work. LOL.’

WAITING FOR MORE SUA!! 🤍🤍🤍

— oh, is little miss city girl coming to stay?

a masterlist of all the fics in my farmhand!boothill au! all pieces are written with a female reader in mind and additional content warnings can be found at the beginning of each individual fic :)

• little miss city girl

you’ve come from the city to get away from the bustling environment and visit your grandpa on his farm. looks like he hired some help since the last time you were here and the new farmhand is nothing but trouble…

• fruits of labor

a trip into town offers you a new perspective when it comes to the insufferable farmhand and those feelings you’ve been pushing down are beginning to bubble.

• under the summer sun

a walk around the property proves that even the ever responsible, always moving farmhand needs the occasional break, too.

• at your beck and call

after a horse riding accident, you see yet another new side of boothill. it's starting to feel like maybe, just maybe, you were wrong when you labeled him "nothing but trouble."

more to be announced!

GRRRR FERALLLL GRRRRRR

ok so we’ve seen reader’s reaction to shirtless farmhand boothill in the summer heat, but how would HE react to seeing reader doing something (whether it’s outdoor or indoor work) with a tank top and her hair up and slightly sweaty and JJSKSJSJKSJSJSK

OMG do not get me started! i can see her coming back from a jog or finishing up pilates or something and just plopping down on the couch to rest for a minute. . . it’s only her luck that boothill is nearby but he’s surprisingly quiet, simply taking the sight in. there’s a smirk playing at his lips as he takes it all in — the beads of sweat that role down her temples, the way her chest rises and falls with deep breaths, how her lips part in hopes is breathing easier. and he’s silent until she feels his eyes on her, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as she questions why he’s staring. and he shamelessly tells her, “hard work looks good on you, sweetheart.”

My love

wayward peregrine

YALL WE COOKED 😭

Hi Sua! Me again teehee. Just place a lil comment here before I go to dream town (sleep) 🤭🤭 Ive been thinking about the fic again obviously and a question kinda stuck with me... we know that Boothill knowd were having "guy problems" but does he know HE'S the guy in question? Did he hear enough to know that... 🫢

Anyways I go to bed now! See you again in the next chat box!

Much love!

- Kichi 🤍

hello hello! to answer ur question, yes, he knew! he caught more of the conversation than he let on but he also kinda got that idea with how reader has been acting around him :3 he just didn’t say so bc he didn’t wanna force reading into confessing her feelings before she was ready! if she’s gonna tell him that she likes him, boothill thinks it should be on her own terms — the advice he offered was simply a friendly push

good night and sweet dreams!

GAH I WANT THIS

Farmhand!boothill having a wet dream about reader🤭

OOOOHH okay this is bad bc i’m thinking about this happening now in the plot, like before they’ve gotten together. . . and i think for once boothill would be the one trying to avoid reader :3 bc deep down he is a gentleman! and having such naughty thoughts about her makes him feel a little embarrassed, a little afraid to look her in the eye bc what if his mind wanders back to the dream???

We will see

Brb gonna cry I love my FH! Boothill husband 😭❤️❤️❤️

Hi Sua 😻 hope u had a gr8 day/ night today!

Just wanna pop this idea here and lowkey (highkey) was inspired by my own misery / tom foolery yesterday 😭

Although both FH! Boothill and Reader are over the age for HS prom, Boothill seems like the type to take the reader out for a dance when he learns that she either:

A. Got rejected

B. Didnt get asked

Or C. The guy she was getting close with ended up breaking it off and a few months after it, he asked another girl out to prom 🫡 (heavily inspired by what I went thru yesterday)

Reader doesnt show it in her face but she was totally devistated by it even if it was years ago, but brushes it off when anyone and ESPECIALLY Boothill asks.

Boothill taking her out at night and told her to wear her best dress. Reader complying and very confused as to why hes wearing a semi formal outfit (could be a suit!) And having no idea where they are going.

The destination in my mind, could be either the hill or some fancy bar quite far from town.

If it's the hill, he totally sets up a speaker and ambiance for the dance all by himself and asks the reader for a dance 😭😭😭

Then we'd know that he did this because of our failed HS prom night. ID MELT RIGHT THEN AND THERE TBHHH 🫡❤️❤️❤️

Anyways! This was just a food for thought, Ive already gotten over that whole thing yesterday and I can just laugh it off. Glad I could turn that into some form of HS / scenario for our Farmhand Boothill xx

Sorry if this seem quite messy I was just pouring my ideas out 😭

Much love!

- kichi 🤍

hello kichi! omg i am so sorry that happened to u! idk if u ended up or are still planning on going but either way i hope it is (or was) still a fun experience for u bc u definitely deserve it 🫶🏽 but! this is very much something he would do! he definitely doesn’t come off as the sentimental type but i think boothill is actually one who holds onto memories and after hearing about this unfavorable one, he’s jumping at the opportunity to give reader a redo. he’s totally going out of his way to make sure that, even if it’s late, reader still has a good memory to look back on when she thinks of prom! and reader would be so touched that he took the time to do that for her 🥺

RIDE A COWBOY

save a horse

MY MANZ 🥸🫡🙏🏼

farmhand boothill core hehe

LETS GOOOOOOO

— 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓉𝒽 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 ౨ৎ

previous part ౨ৎ masterlist ౨ৎ next part

boothill x f!reader. 2.6k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ non-canon compliant ﾉ farmhand!boothill ﾉ pet names ( darlin’ ) ﾉ mentions of alcohol ﾉ confessions ! !

small towns like this one are good for long drives. you know the roads like the back of your hand and there’s no traffic that requires your focus. with your foot on the pedal, the low hum of the radio, and the cool evening breeze blowing in through your window, you can let your mind wander—think about all the things you’ve been forcing yourself to bury and ignore the past few weeks. the circles you make on the same roads give you all the time you need to wrangle your unruly thoughts and attempt to form a coherent confession of your feelings.

today, you’ll tell boothill how you really feel.

it’s been a couple of days since your conversation with meg, since you listened to boothill’s advice. you may have picked to be brave at that moment, but the task is easier said than done. ever since that night, you’ve been struggling to find the perfect moment to tell him. you’ve considered taking him up on his offer to help you with the dishes after lunch, casually coming clean over the mundane chore. you’ve thought about just blurting it out as you pass him in the hallway, chickening out at the last second. you’ve sat in the darkness of the living room, staring at the stairs, hoping he’ll come down them so you can recreate that courage you felt then and there.

you only realize today that there is no such thing as the perfect moment—it’s simply another scapegoat for you to turn to when you’re scared. but you’ve come to the understanding that this uncomfortable, suffocating feeling that has been weighing on you won’t go away unless you step off the edge of the cliff to take that terrifying plunge.

you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve driven past the turn that leads down the road to the ranch but you finally take it this time around. your fingers tap nervously at the steering wheel as the house comes into view. despite its length, the driveway feels shorter than usual as you make your way up it to park at the end.

you take the time to turn the radio off and roll up your window before turning the car off, snatching the key from the ignition, and getting out.

you’re sure you hit the button to shut off the radio, but there’s still music in the air when you walk around the back of the vehicle to approach the porch. you almost frown, thinking you’ve driven yourself to madness finally acknowledging all of your thoughts, but your brow doesn’t furrow and your lips don’t curl down once you find the source of the music.

boothill is sitting on the porch swing, an acoustic guitar resting in her arms. rough fingers pluck at the strings, chords coming together in a familiar song that you’re sure you only know because of your grandpa—save the last dance for me by the drifters. at his feet, missy notices your arrival, tail wagging in excitement before she gets up to greet you.

you scratch the border collie’s head affectionately when she descends the stairs to meet you. the dog’s fur is warm beneath your fingers, likely due to the setting rays of the sun and, somehow, petting her brings you a little bit of determination to face boothill.

your eyes flit up from the dog to boothill and, to your surprise, he’s already looking at you. his lips stretch into a smile, fingers still playing despite his focus on you. though, you do notice that he’s slowed down.

“hey there.” he nods in greeting. the song has come to an end by now but boothill doesn’t abandon the instrument, instead choosing to set it on his lap. “we missed you at dinner.”

“yeah…” you don’t explain your absence, he’ll find out why you were gone soon enough. you pat missy’s head before walking up the few steps that put you on the same level as boothill. the new position gives you a better look at him. he’s wearing a shirt from high school if the name printed on it and its snug fit are any evidence, and a pair of basketball shorts. the style is a far cry from his normal attire but something tells you he’d be able to make a burlap sack look fashionable.

what he’s wearing should be the least of your concerns but you only exchange one distraction for another when trying to divert your attention.

“i didn’t know you could play.” you point at the guitar.

he shrugs, lifting up the instrument and leaning it against the house. you almost take the movement as a sign that he’d rather not talk about it but he’s only making room for you on the swing, keeping the neck of the guitar from taking up any unnecessary space. he jerks his head in the direction of the newly available seat, a silent way of offering you a more comfortable alternative to standing. you hesitate for a short moment before letting your feet carry you to the swing.

“i dabble in it—high school, mostly,” boothill tells you as you sit down. the swing sways with your added weight and neither you nor boothill try to stop it, preferring the subtle breeze the motion brings. your new proximity to him sets your nerves ablaze, makes you think about darting past him and into the house, but you force yourself to stay put.

boothill reaches down for something, something you hadn’t seen earlier. there’s a brown bottle in his hand when he sits back up, a bottle opener in the other. he uses it to crack open the beer and turns to you. “want one?”

a little bit of liquid courage might do you good but you grimace at the thought of it being beer. you shake your head. “no thanks.”

“can take the girl out of the city but never the city out of the girl.” he chuckles to himself before taking a swig. you’re tempted to tell him that your distaste for beer has nothing to do with geography but picking a petty fight with him right now seems counterproductive, so you keep quiet.

the chirp of crickets and the occasional huff from missy at your feet fill the otherwise silent evening air. the sound of your heart thumping against your chest becomes obviously apparent in the quiet and while you hope boothill can’t hear, it’s enough to act as a catalyst, a vital push in the right direction. your mouth moves with the words but even though it’s quiet, they don’t hit your ears. “can i tell you something?”

you're not sure you actually asked him the question until you see his eyebrows raise in curiosity, a smile tugging at his lips. it should be all the invitation you need to continue but you need a little more security. your next sentence comes out rushed, the ends of certain words blending with the beginning of others. “and you can’t laugh or tease me because if you do, i will pack up and drive away so fast—”

“hey, hey,” he stops you, raising his hands and the beer bottle in mock surrender, “i’m not gonna laugh.”

“and no teasing.”

he shakes his head, smile falling upon seeing just how serious you are. “none of that either.”

you nod. there’s understanding in his gray irises and as much as you’d like to keep looking at them, to draw courage from them, you don’t think it’ll be possible for you to get this declaration out if you’re meeting his eye. you’ve always heard that the eyes are the windows to the soul—you won’t be able to take seeing that understanding and compassion morph into rejection and pity.

you face forward, choosing to look at the blend of pink and orange coloring the sky.

“i…” you start, but your breath catches in your throat. it’s tense with fear and if air wasn’t passing through it, you would be sure that it was completely closed. but you can still breathe. you suck in a breath through your nose and slowly exhale a stream through your mouth. it does little to ground you, but it does remind you that you’re alive. you are now and you will be after—even if it does end less than ideal.

be brave.

“i have feelings for you.” an immediate weight is lifted off of your shoulders. the air around you feels light, easier to breathe. the relief that washes over you doesn’t last long, though. his eyes are boring into you, you can feel them urging you to turn and look his way. you don’t. you have something more to say. “you… you make me warm inside and i have no idea how to deal with it. i don’t know what to do with these feelings.”

the silence blankets you once more and you close your eyes. the burden you’ve been carrying is finally gone, you should be happy—you are happy. but there’s an entirely new dilemma that takes its place. the question of what happens after.

silence from boothill is always uncharacteristic, but this time around, it’s nerve-inducing. your mind is in shambles again, racing with all of the negative possibilities. there’s one thought that comes back more frequently than the rest; he’s trying to find a way to let you down easily.

“hey.” his voice startles you and tension tightens in your shoulders. the single word is meant to get your attention and it does but you refuse to open your eyes.

“would you look at me?”

it’s not a demand, it’s a request. the farmhand agreed to your terms, the least you can do is give him this. maybe this is part of being brave, too—facing the unknown in spite of its frightening nature.

you peel your eyelids open. the sky has darkened a bit and fireflies are visible now, their abdomens glowing softly against the sunset, but that’s not what you’re supposed to be looking at. you bite your cheek and turn to the right where boothill is sitting. his gaze is already glued to you.

your heart jumps at the sight. his gray irises haven’t dulled like you expected them to—they glow like the lightning bugs, burn like the warmth of the sunset. his lips curl up in a smile, putting sharp white teeth on display. your lips part in silent surprise.

“y’know,” he starts, smile never leaving his face, “i’ve been waiting for you to say so.”

heat blooms in your cheeks and under your skin, just like in the past when he’s said things like this. what does he mean he’s been waiting? did he already know?

the next words that push past his lips send yet another shockwave through you. “i fancy you myself.”

your answer to the question of what happens after. it’s not rejection, it’s not pity, it’s not indifference—it’s… reciprocation. he feels the same way. your mouth is beginning to dry with how long it has been open. you hinge your jaw shut, poke your tongue out to wet your lips. once it doesn’t feel like your voice will be muffled by cotton, you ask. “why?”

“why?” he repeats after you, disbelief lacing his voice. “are you serious?”

you nod. “very.”

boothill lets out a humorless chuckle. “you’ve gotta be kidding me,” he mumbles under his breath.

“well, you don’t let people talk down on you.” he scratches his chin and the smile that was lost slowly makes its way back to his lips. you’re about to ask what he means by that when he explains. “like when i gave you a hard time over not looking the type of help out—you called me on it and proved me wrong then and there.”

the moment he’s referring to seems like it happened forever ago but you remember the feelings you experienced then like it was yesterday—the initial annoyance, the determination, the shock. you certainly wouldn’t consider how you handled those feelings your finest moment (maybe your most embarrassing) but boothill regards the interaction in a different light, one that paints you as resilient rather than awkward.

“and you put others ahead of yourself,” he goes on. “always making sure i’m present before we start lunch and prioritizing a horse’s wellbeing over your own. you’re real caring.”

to think that he’s been examining you so carefully, reading into all of your little actions and storing them away in his head, makes you flush, warmth spreading over your skin despite the cool evening air brushing against you. it never struck you as possible that he might think about you just as often as you think about him.

“and, y’know, i’ve always said you’re pretty.”

he’s right, he’s told you that a countless number of times, but hearing it now feels different. there’s a new weight behind his words now that you know he truly means them and because you’re ready to accept them. well, partially—it’s still hard to say thank you, especially when boothill is looking at you so attentively. “that you have…”

his half-lidded eyes and the smile tugging at his lips added on to his silence tell you that his list has come to a close. he’s given you all the evidence you asked for with examples, too. you’d have to be painfully oblivious to question his feelings having heard his reasoning. though, there is something else you’re curious about. “so, were you planning on telling me? before now, i mean.”

“i was waiting for you to say somethin’,” he admits with a grin.

“you jerk.” you slap his shoulder playfully but he doesn’t budge an inch. it would have spared you a lot of grief and overthinking if he had made the first move. after all, it seemed like he skipped the whole “coming to terms with his feelings” part of the process and readily accepted them.

“you knew i was talking about you the other night then.” it’s not a question—there’s no way he didn’t know if this was something he’d been anticipating.

he shrugs. “i had an idea.”

you’re tempted to give him another smack but you restrain yourself—he wouldn’t have deserved it anyway. sure, he lied about how much he had heard, but you think you’re better off having waited until now. in your mind, this is as perfect as things could have gone. “well, thanks. for not forcing it back then.”

“no thanks necessary, darlin’.” he flashes his signature smile before taking back another swig of his beer.

the world seems to still for a moment. you like boothill. boothill likes you. you’ve both made your feelings clear but where do you go from here? “so… what do we do now?”

“anything you want,” he tells you, like it’s the most obvious answer.

you haven’t thought this far ahead, considered what might take place if you made it through this encounter on the side where the grass is greener. what do you want to happen?

boothill can practically see the gears turning in your head. it’s apparent in the way your eyebrows crease, in how far away your gaze is. it’s cute to see you think so hard, but he’s willing to share a proposition of his own. “tell you what, how about i take you out on a date?”

“right now?” you ask, your voice a pitch higher than normal. 

he can’t help but snort at the surprise you fail to conceal. “i was thinking tomorrow but if you’re that eager—”

“no, no,” you wave your hands, “tomorrow is good.”

a date with boothill. a few days ago, the thought would have riddled you with fear. but now, your heart buzzes with excitement. you don’t know it when you ask him, but you’re smiling. “where are we going?”

he meets your eye, takes in the enthusiasm sparking in your gaze. he wants to hold onto it forever. the smile you wear is mirrored on boothill. “it’s a surprise.”

thanks for reading! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated ❤︎

Boothill JP voice lines

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Commission info

Hi love your writing!! I havent touched HQ in 3 years but Im starting to love old characters I use to fall in love with like Asahi, Oikawa, Bokuto etc,,, so as my first req, could you pls write fem! Reader x Bokuto fluff in HS?

Like Bokuto trying to court the reader. How would that go? And how did he finally ask us out?

Feel free to ignore this if you dont like the idea! Ty for ur time 🤍❤️🤍

❥ young love at fukurodani | kotaro bokuto

warnings: none that i can think of. this is pure fluff

MDNI | No 18+ content, I just don't want minors interacting with my blog

word count -> 1.6k

okay so aaaa this didn't rlly follow the ask bc all he does is ask reader to tutor him and then cute stuff happens but i can make a hc of it probably tonight or tomorrow?? also i wrote this when i was having tummy issues so im very sorry if its horrible. i love u!

got a request? my asks are open!

Bokuto wasn’t one to get embarrassed that easily. Sure, he did embarrassing things but didn’t know they were embarrassing. They were part of his boyish charm, which people loved about him…right? Of course, they did. He was Kotaro Bokuto. He was Fukurodani’s ace, and the people loved him for it. So why, if he was so confident, did he get awkward and embarrassed around you, his pretty classmate?

Saying you were gorgeous was an understatement. He couldn’t find the right words to describe you to his friends, mainly Akaashi. “She’s just like, y’know? And I’m like, oh damn! She’s cute as fuck!” Boktuo would make various gestures with his hands as he and Akaashi sat on the steps leading to the gym, sipping cola from the vending machine. “What do I do, Akaashi? She’s so pretty, and I’m pretty too! The only problem is that everyone else in our year thinks so, too…do I even have a shot?”

Akaashi would offer him a pitiful smile, rubbing his back in assurance. “Well, isn’t she one of the smartest in our year?”

“Yeah, smart and pretty. She’s so fucking perfect, I wish you could see her.” he pouted.

“Well, the answer is simple,” Akaashi said, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. Ask her for help with homework; god knows you need it.”

“Hey! I got a 41 on my chemistry test!” Bokuto yelled at Akaashi as the setter entered the gym. But he did have a point, like always. Bokuto decided then and there that he would ask you to tutor him tomorrow, no matter how anxious he was. Anxiety was for suckers anyway.

“Hey, wait up!” Bokuto ran after you as you exited your classroom, papers flying out of his messy bookbag that was riddled with stains from only God knows what. “I gotta ask you a question!”

You stopped walking and turned your heel, raising an eyebrow as the Fukurodani captain barreled towards you. “Hey, what’s up, Bokuto? How’s volleyball going? Are we headed to nationals?” you asked, placing a hand on your hip. God, even the way you held yourself was perfect. Were you an actual goddess, or was Bokuto just lovestruck?

Bokuto finally caught up to you, leaning against the hallway walls in an attempt to appear suave and put-together. His messy uniform didn’t help his cause, but he forgot to look neat today. And every day after that. “Uh, I was wondering if you understood what we were assigned in English yesterday? I don’t understand any of it to save my skin, hah,” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his shoes. “Did you get what our teacher was saying?”

“Yeah, it was really simple. Just basic grammar and syntax structures. Was it complicated for you?” you tilted your head to the side.

“I don’t really get it. Wanna tutor me at my house today? I can get you snacks!” he offered you a crooked smile, leaning forward so his golden eyes peered into yours. “C’mon, please? The coach will kick my ass if I don’t get my grades up, and I have a game next week! Pretty please?” he folded his hands in prayer, his bottom lip in a childish pout.

You smiled and nodded, grabbing him off the wall. Bokuto blushed at the sudden contact, noticing how neat you kept your fingernails compared to his own. Yours were neatly polished to perfection while he bit his nails almost constantly, and being a wing spiker didn’t come with having good-looking nails. 

“Where’s your house? Is it walking distance?” you let go of his hand, much to Bokuto’s dismay. 

“Yeah, it’s about five minutes from here. Wanna stop at a convenience store on the way? I’m really hungry.” he rubbed his stomach as you two walked out the nearest exit, your messenger bag dangling over your shoulder. 

“Only if you’re paying,” you joked, rubbing his shoulder. Bokuto could have sworn his heart stopped right then and there. Were you actually flirting with him, or were you just really touchy? Either way, it was a win in his book. 

“Sure, I don’t mind. Anything for a pretty girl like yo-” Bokuto stopped his sentence, smacking his hand over his mouth. “I-I mean, why wouldn’t I mind? I’m a captain, after all. It’s my job to provide for my teammates!”

“But I’m not on any sports teams. I’m not your teammate.” you deadpanned, 

“You know what I mean!” Bokuto whined, wiping his forehead of the sweat that was slowly starting to gather. “Damn, it’s a hot one today. Why won’t they let the guys wear shorts? Do they want us to die of heat stroke or something?”

“I honestly have no idea,” you sighed, walking under the shade of the convenience store roof. “Wait a minute,” you instructed, placing your messenger bag on the hot pavement. You shrugged off your school blazer and wrapped it around your waist tightly in an attempt to cool you off. You also rolled up the sleeves of your white blouse, loosening your collar. “Sorry, I’m just really warm. At least we get to wear skirts, right?” you offered him a lopsided smile.

Bokuto’s heart pounded in his chest. “Uh, yeah, you girls are so lucky. Wearing skirts must feel awesome.”

“It’s awesome until you catch someone trying to look it up,” you mumbled in annoyance, hoisting your bag over your shoulders. 

“What the actual fuck? Who was it? I’ll murder them! I'll text Konoha too; he’ll definitely want in on it,” Bokuto clenched his fists together, walking into the store with you. “I’m sorry that happened to you, honestly.

You shrugged your shoulder and rummaged through the ice cream pin, choosing a passionfruit-flavored ice bar. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I barely know you, anyways.”

“That doesn’t mean that I can’t protect you from jerks like that guy,” Bokuto angrily shoved his hands in his pockets, tapping his foot on the tile. He fished about 400 yen out of his pocket and handed it to the cashier, ushering you out of the shop as quickly as possible. 

“What was that for?” you asked, unwrapping the popsicle. 

“I didn’t like how he looked at you, that’s all.” Bokuto huffed. He made grabby motions for your bookbag, which you handed to him with a confused look on your features. “Let me carry that, please. You’re too pretty to carry heavy stuff around like that all day.”

You paused your walk and stared at Bokuto, blushing softly. “You think I’m pretty?” 

Bokuto slowly nodded and gave you a crooked smile, blushing in turn. “Yeah, I really do. I was afraid to tell you before, but now I’m all fired up. I wanna protect you from creeps, y’know?”

You popped the ice treat out of your mouth and stepped forward, smiling softly. “We barely know each other, and you want to keep me safe? We haven’t even hung out once.”

“We’re heading to my house right now, aren’t we?” Bokuto shrugged, his blush not fading. 

You chuckled and took another step forward, the tips of your noses brushing against each other. “Yeah, I guess we are,” you whispered, your lips dangerously close to his own. “You know, I always thought you were kind of cute. In the athletic kind of way, I suppose.”

Bokuto dropped the bags he held onto the hot concrete beneath you, praying they wouldn’t roll down the hill you were standing on. You two were in a remote location, and the tension was thick. “You think I’m cute?” he tilted his head to the side, his eyelids dropping halfway. 

“Mhm,” you purred, your popsicle dripping from the intense heat. “Super cute.”

“Fuck,” Bokuto’s hands hovered above your waist, unsure of what you wanted him to do. “Uh, is it okay if I kiss you? Please, cutie?” he quietly pleaded, your lips basically touching at this point. 

You smiled and nodded, holding your melting popsicle behind your back. “Mhm, it’s okay.”

Bokuto smiled as his lips interlocked with yours for a minute, savoring the sweet passionfruit flavor that coated them. His hands squeezed your waist childishly, never wanting this moment between the two of you to end. This kiss was exactly how he dreamed it would be, soft and perfect. Just like you.

You pulled away after a bit and giggled, your popsicle having since fallen onto the heated pavement. Your sticky hands cupped his face, the pads of your thumbs running over his defined cheekbones. “You’re a good kisser,” you pecked his forehead bravely. “Like, a really good kisser.”

“Same to you, cutie,” his hands left your waist, choosing to instead secure your wrists. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that. So. Fucking. Long.”

 A chuckle escaped your lips as your hands fell to your waist again, intertwining your fingers with Bokuto’s. You had never notified it before, but he was much bigger than you. It made you feel safe and secure. Protected. “We should probably get to your house to study, shouldn’t we?” 

“Aw, I was having so much fun kissing you on the sidewalk!” Bokuto pretended to whine, kicking a loose pebble that was in his way. He easily picked up the bags with his spare hand and tossed them over his broad shoulder. 

“Tell you what,” you squeezed his hand. “For every question you get right, I’ll give you a kiss. Does that sound like a fair deal?”

“Hell yeah, it does!” Bokuto kissed you on the cheek in excitement. He practically skipped to his house with you in tow, excited for what the rest of the day would have in store.

MY BABYYY MY BABYYYY UR MY BABYYYY

Yall I had a thought

If Boothill's face is the only part of him that he can still feel...

Do you think he'd get overwhelmed if someone touches his face?

I mean, he'd clearly never let anyone close without permission. You're either getting shot or bitten otherwise. But if it's someone he trusts? Or, even worse (or better), someone he likes?

This poor man.

He's probably insanely touchstarved, so the feeling of gentle hands on his face, tracing what little was left of his true self? Throw in a bit of praise for his looks?

Bright blue blush, eyes squeezed shut, and hands gripping whatever he can find. Poor man can not handle it.