#blade x reader

Blade always makes sure to answer your texts as fast as he can. Because he loves you, obviously. But mainly because he’s worried that you might send something suggestive and one of the girls might get their hands on his phone before he can take a look and stow it away privately. (It’s almost happened, once. He managed to save it in a private album immediately.)

You try not to message him too much when he’s on important missions. If you do, he’ll naturally assume it’s something significant.

So of course he immediately reaches for his phone in the middle of one such operation when he hears it ping with the special sound effect he’s kept for you. Unfortunately, the sound alerts his foe—and Blade gets a bullet to the heart before he can dodge the otherwise-avoidable snipe.

…Blade awakens with a jolt a few minutes later, dark red staining his shirt, the bullet having been expelled from his body thanks to his curse. His heart beats relentlessly like it always has for centuries. His fingers had instinctively curled around his phone in protectiveness, so no damage there, luckily.

He wipes the blood away from the screen and hastily taps on your message, ignoring the pounding in his head. Please be safe, please be safe…

Oh, that’s a good idea! I might make a mini series of this but here’s what I can think of on the spot:

Self aware!Blade who appreciates you still using him as your main DPS, even despite all the newer, shinier ones being released every other month…truly, your loyalty to him is unparalleled. How can he not adore you?

Self aware!Blade who patiently waits for you every day. Even just doing dailies with you for two minutes a day is one well spent. He’ll clear alllll the mobs you want just to make sure you get nice relics…but maybe he’ll ensure those relics are still subpar, just so he can prolong this grind with you. The longer you rely on him, the better.

Self aware!Blade who feels like he needs to hit harder, be stronger because you seem to keep replaying this endgame stage…possibly for a 0-cycle? He’ll crit for you, he always makes sure to land a crit no matter what his crit rate looks like—but upping the damage, hm. It’s tricky. He’ll swing harder. Harder. If an attack is miraculously directed away from him, he’ll jump in front of it nonetheless to get a stack so he can unleash his talent faster. All for you.

Oh, you might not be paying attention to his stats, but there’s somehow…an increase in his crit damage? It’s about 25% more than it used to be. You’ll keep using him, right? He’ll hit harder just for you.

Self aware!Blade who realises you’re relying on him to farm materials for other characters you intend to build. What a pain…but he can’t just turn up with zero yields, so he begrudgingly cooperates with you. It’s okay. You’ll see how the latest characters are boring anyway and return to good ol’ Bladie, won’t you?

Self aware!Blade who wonders if you know that the original Blade and Mortenax Blade are two separate entities even if they are fundamentally the same person. And original Blade does not enjoy the smug look on Mortenax Blade’s face when he gets picked for the team over him. The new, shiny toy that’s dominating everything in the game… Self aware!Blade needs to hit harder, then.

Look, look. His crit damage has gone up another 50% all on its own! Will you pay attention to him now? You will keep using him, right?

Self aware!Blade, the original one, who feels like you’re slowly forgetting about him just because his future self seems to shower you with more attention. But the original can’t try and make up for it because the game does not call for two Blades at once. So perhaps he should look to more methods of getting stronger so you can pay attention to him again…

Self aware!Blade who decimates your 50/50s eagerly, because more eidolons equals more power, and more power equals more attention, right? So why…why are you disappointed that you lost your 50/50 to him? You should be smiling, right? Shouldn’t you be relieved?

Oh, if only those people saw his average interactions with you.

“Guess what, Bladie!” You bound over to your dear old Blade, grinning. “I learned something pretty interesting today. Did you know that in an average person’s entire lifespan, they spend about a year’s worth of time on the toilet? Sometimes even a year and a half for those who take longer dumps!”

Blade blinks, looking up from the blueprint he’d been focused on. He frowns, confusion seeping into his handsome face. “That long?”

You nod. “I’m sure you can run the calcs yourself, but it makes sense to me! Which means that…given your lifespan, you’ve probably spent at least eight years and counting on the toilet. With more time to be wasted in the loo the longer you live!”

“I cannot have wasted so much time,” Blade scoffs. “It sounds erroneous.”

You shrug and say, “That’s just what I read, thought it was interesting enough to share,” before skipping away and leaving him to his devices.

Thinking about blade with a reader who draws. Def not me or anything 🥺 especially focusing on how they both create now like.. bro imagine drawing out some design of some weapon or maybe something else idfk.. and blade making blueprints of it with you ouugghh couple activity goals fr

oh gosh yes! allow me to take this a somewhat silly route-

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

In different ways, both you and Blade are artists. You draw brilliant pictures—portraits, landscapes, abstract ideas, really anything that strikes your fancy, and Blade crafts weapons and everyday items for use.

So while your creations are limited to the paper, Blade has the ability to bring them to life on the anvil. It starts simple: you show him your ideas for new swords, and Blade studies the drawings and expands upon them through blueprints of his own.

“Close enough?” he’d ask you, gripping a sleek fencing sword in one arm that he’d just made from one of your sketches.

You’d grin and nod, touched that he’d even bothered to take the time and effort to bring your art to life. It had been a simple drawing, but it means a lot to you. “It’s a perfect copy.”

But of course, you want to push the boundaries further and see just how well your Bladie can rise to the challenge.

You approach him with a new drawing of yours eagerly. “Look here, Blade, it’s a sword that can spew flames for long-range attacks!” You hold up the drawing proudly. “Bet you can’t do that in reality.”

If you were expecting him to concede to that, you would be sorely mistaken, for Blade peers at the drawing, nose slightly scrunched in concentration, calculations evidently running behind his crimson eyes. Then, he leans back and nods.

“It would have to be a longsword or a claymore rather than a slim sword, but I can certainly affix an ignition core into it that generates flames based on the user’s kinetic energy.” He delves some more into the specifics of it, much to your enthusiasm, and so—

It’s no surprise when he does turn up with a flame-spewing longsword only a couple days later, his chin held high in pride.

Now it feels like a competition. You get to work drawing more inane weapons: a lightning-summoning boomerang, a sword that traps its foes in shadowy tendrils, and a bow that can summon snowstorms with a pluck of its string—that in particular should be impossible, right?

anyways I have a request if they're still open!

Bladie with a gn s/o that has wings. Pretty big ones. They're soft and warm.

He helps reader preen and clean their feathers and ends up falling asleep with his face in them because they're warm (..also maybe cuddles and kisses)

I think he'd be gentle with them tbh knowing that they're sensitive as heck

Thank u thank u anon! I try :]

As requested, Bladie with a winged s/o~

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“You always do so much for me, Bladie.”

You tilt your head to gaze affectionately at your lover, who’s clasping an artificial beak-shaped comb he made himself for this very purpose. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from your wings, his brows slightly pinched in concentration. He hums in response.

“It’s nothing.” He continues preening your feathers with the care of a surgeon, one by one, making sure all the dirt is purged. There isn’t much to begin with, because Blade is always oh-so-meticulous when it comes to grooming your wings, but it’s a process he enjoys nonetheless. He’s the one who offers to do it before you even have to ask.

Smiling, you close your eyes and start to hum a tune you’re particularly fond of. It goes well with the delicate rhythm of his fingers softly stroking and cleaning your wings, and Blade, recognising the tune, finds himself humming along quietly as well.

You’ve never counted the feathers your wings are made up of, but there’s certainly so many. Anyone else would do more of a desultory preening, aiming for the feathers that seem visibly dirty, but not Blade. Patience has been his companion for centuries, and it’s evident in moments like these. Using the same meticulous methods for each individual feather, a slow and purposeful brush along the length of each, until he’s certain not a modicum of dust remains.

“A couple of feathers are loose. I’m going to remove them.” A pause as he kneels on one leg behind you. “Let me know if I’m hurting you.”

He says that every time, and every time you don’t feel a thing because he’s just so—so tender with you. So you nod and let him deal with the loosed feathers, fingers slowly, deliberately pulling at the ones slightly jutting out. As always, you don’t feel a thing, but Blade still pauses after each one just to make doubly sure.

“Keep going,” you urge him. “I’m not that fragile, you know!”

As a swordsmith, being meticulous runs in his blood—although where smithing requires precise strikes, this calls for quite the opposite. And he does it so well, you have to wonder if there’s anything he cannot do.

Finally, Blade is done. He sets the comb down and strokes your wings, almost pietistic in his ministrations, wonderment at these glossy appendages of yours. Soft, shiny, warm, and so so comforting. For both you and him.

Wordlessly, he moves round to your front and kisses your forehead, gathering you in his arms, his fingers still idly running through your clean feathers as he does.

“Thank you, Bladie.” You hug him back just as tight, enjoying the moment in such close contact; you barely notice when he shifts you so that you’re both laying down.

“You’re always welcome, flower.” He peppers your face in little kisses, his hands finding your wings once again, unable to resist their softness. You almost purr as he continues to caress them, folding them over yourself so he can have better access.

Blade, pleased, half-clambers over you so his head rests on them, that pillowy bed of feathers just for him, and he begins to kiss them as well, relishing in the occasional giggle he elicits from you.

He stays there, his hands moving slower and more languidly with each passing moment, until he’s gone still, save for the steady beat of his heart against you, palpable.

Your smile widens as you stroke his hair, his face buried there among your shiny, freshly-preened feathers. He’s gone and fallen asleep like this again.

Part 1 is here :V

Still gender neutral yaaay.

------

Jing Yuan and many of the Xianzhou Alliance have their own ways of dealing with their bodies and gender expression. He doesn't find it odd for his partner to decide to transition just sees the differences and similarities their cultures have when it comes to such things.

Their transformation is done in a blink to one as long lived as himself though that doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate it. It's like watching a flower bloom, a butterfly pass by, or a firework in the night sky: awe inspiring and ephemeral. Their "unflattering" weight gain or odd freckles and stripes are wonderful and he finds himself loving how their stance changes as they walk into a room knowing exactly who they are.

"Am I just a pillow to you?." His partner asks while he hums content nuzzling their thighs as they read. "Nonsense you're not just a pillow."

He yawns and he does not have to look up to know they're rolling their eyes already. They yelp with the soft nip at their thigh. "You're my favorite pillow."

------

Blade's life moves either too slow or too fast but he notices his partner's transition and has little to comment about it. They're free to do as they please with themselves though he is always curious when the next time he sees them after long periods apart how much they've changed.

His eyes trail the way they're dressed and how it suits them and where their skin peeks at their chest catch his interest.

"You're staring."

"You've...changed." His partner tilts their head with a raised brow crossing their arms his eyes jumping to the way their altered chest moves with the action. They smile teasingly when they notice his distraction. "I have."

"Like what you see?" He pauses before looking away with a scowl refusing to answer and he doesn't have to the light blush on his cheeks says everything he won't.

------

Welt doesn't mind his partners transition because their body is theirs to do as they please and while he's concerned about medications and medical procedures he trusts his partner knows what they're doing for their own happiness. He's proud that they chose themselves as now the person he loves once hidden behind their nervous habits shines brighter than any star now. Though he's watched their body change for so long now he can't help but feel a bit flushed when he sees them dressing down.

"Something the matter?"

His partner asks over their shoulder as they get ready for bed and his face feels so warm. He clears his throat before pressing a kiss on their temple pulling back with a soft smile.

Blade loathes this.

No, not this. He loves the bonds he’s created with his fellow Stellaron Hunters. They’re irreplaceable, far too significant to compromise on. And he’s gotten used to the precision that’s often called upon by the script, making sure not to tread further than required. Do what needs doing, then wait for further instruction, whenever it comes.

What Blade loathes is that the work he does means his time with you is often fleeting.

Most of his missions are far too dangerous to bring you along. His excursions to other planets take somewhere between days and weeks, occasionally even longer. And when he does find the time to seek a haven in your arms, he cannot afford to be seen, lest a target is drawn on your back.

He worries for you. Every single moment apart from you is like an individual nail being driven into his heart, crushing and consuming.

And despite it all, you never fail to greet him with an eager smile and hands that are always so soft and warm, just for Bladie.

It’s one such moment of respite that he’s with you, dried blood streaked on the side of his face (it’s not his, and he couldn’t wait to wash it off before seeing you). You had wasted no time in getting him cleaned up, and now he sits by you, curled against you so tightly his body might consume yours.

“In another life,” he sighs into your hand cupping his cheek, “I would spend every waking moment of mine with you.”

“That would be the dream,” you hum, smiling as he kisses your hand. “What would you be? A weaponsmith full-time?”

“Yes.” His phone buzzes. A message from Kafka, likely pertaining to his next script. It buzzes again. And again. But he doesn’t pick it up, not immediately. “I would take commissions from clients of all walks of life.”

You giggle. “And work yourself to the bone as always?”

Blade’s eyes narrow, but only just. “…Perhaps. But with you by my side, I doubt I’d feel drained. We would live somewhere—peaceful. Not noisy, but not isolated either. Just sufficient enough for me to work.”

You squeeze his hand lightly. “That sounds nice.” Contentedly, you rest your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes in bliss as Blade reflexively reaches to draw circles on your shoulder. “What kind of house would it be?”

Blade’s phone buzzes once more. But he ignores it in favour of telling you of the kind of abode he would like to live with you in. The colour of the curtains, the fabric of the bedsheets, the kinds of flowers you would care for.

Only after you fall asleep does he quietly pull away, resting your head on a pillow before grabbing his phone and slipping away into the quietude, slated only to return Aeons-know-when.