🌘Eclipse🌒

It survived exactly until auscultation.

The metal diaphragm met the bare skin of your back, its familiar chill drawing an involuntary shiver you bit back before he could comment on it. He worked methodically, the way he always did: upper lobes first, then down through the mid-zones, then the bases. Each placement deliberate, each breath timed to his instruction.

"In."

You inhaled.

"Out."

You exhaled.

"Again."

Another slow breath, and this time the stethoscope didn't move on.

It stayed.

It lingered a beat too long over one spot before sliding back, retracing the exact same path with precision.

Then again.

And once more, shifted an inch lower, as if triangulating something.

A small, cold knot of unease settled somewhere under your ribs, and vanished the instant the stethoscope lifted away.

You opened your mouth, some half-formed joke about finally being diagnosed as terminally dramatic already queued up on your tongue...

...Only for another instrument to take the stethoscope's place. Smaller. Colder. A pleximeter, tapped once against your back with two knuckles, mapping the dull thud of solid tissue against the hollow ring of healthy lung.

"...Veritas?" Your voice came out lighter than you meant it, threaded with the first real edge of concern.

He didn't answer. Percussed again, a hand's width to the left.

"Veritas?" Quieter this time.

"Silence." His voice came, clipped enough to stop the rest of your words from ever forming.

You obeyed.

You turned your head just enough to catch him from the corner of your eye. Ratio's attention remained fixed entirely on his examination. His brows were drawn together in a slight furrow, far from the familiar expression of exasperation you had grown accustomed to over the years, his expression one of deep concentration. His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, thoughtful as he listened, then repositioned the instrument with meticulous care and whatever he was hearing — or not hearing — had clearly captured all of his attention.

For the first time since you'd known him, Dr. Veritas Ratio looked troubled.

"What other symptoms have you experienced?" He asked, finally, withdrawing the instrument and setting it down on the tray with care. Only then did he meet your eyes properly.

Usually you could read him without effort; the dry irritation worn like a second coat, the long-suffering patience, the faint permanent disappointment in a universe that so rarely met his standards.

This time...

You couldn't read him at all.

"What?" You ask, because for a second your brain seems to have forgotten how to arrange itself into a coherent thought, a nervous laugh escaping you because how else were you supposed to respond?

His gaze moved over you once, and then again, slower, as if the answer were written somewhere in the lines of your face and he were simply confirming what he already suspected.

"Dry cough," He stated, not a question. "Wheezing on exertion."

"Pain: sharp, stabbing, localized," His hand came back to your back, two fingers pressing briefly against a specific point along the lower right ribs, precise down to the intercostal space. "Here."

You went very still.

Because he was right.

Whatever showed on your face in that moment must have confirmed it for him, because something in his expression shifted by the smallest possible degree.

"I—" You started, and stopped, because there was nothing useful to put after it. He hadn't guessed. Guessing implied uncertainty, and there had been none in his voice at all. He had known, or narrowed the field so precisely that knowing was the only word left for it.

The cough had started weeks ago... a minor irritation, easy to ignore until it became frequent enough that you simply absorbed it into the shape of your day. The wheezing had followed soon after, subtle enough to blame on exhaustion. The pain, you'd decided, was a pulled muscle.

Ratio didn't wait for you to speak up. He stepped back from the exam table with the brisk efficiency of a man who has already moved three stages ahead of the conversation, pressed your shirt back into your hands without looking at you while he did it, and pulled out his phone. His thumb moved across the screen fast enough to suggest irritation, though you had the distinct, uneasy feeling the irritation wasn't aimed at you.

"Get dressed," he said, without looking up. "You're getting a chest radiograph."

"...You're joking."

"I have yet to make one." Still no glance spared. "Auscultation and percussion are suggestive, not diagnostic. I have a suspicion I am not willing to speak aloud until it can be confirmed or excluded on imaging. Speculation without evidence is intellectually irresponsible."

There was no room in his tone for negotiation, and you found you had none of your usual arguments to offer against it. His phone chimed; he silenced it and pocketed it in the same motion, already halfway through composing whatever came next in his head.

"If I'm wrong," he said, quieter now, "I'll say so plainly. But if I'm not..."

His eyes dropped, briefly, to your mouth, and then away again, as though he'd caught himself lingering on something he shouldn't.

"Then wasting even a minute would be unacceptable."

-

Three days later, you were back in his office, and the air in the room felt entirely different.

Ratio stood behind his desk holding your imaging results like the datapad itself had personally wronged him. None of his usual dry impatience remained. No sharp remark waited at the edge of his tongue. There was something careful and grave in the set of his shoulders, the posture of a man delivering news he genuinely wished he didn't have to.

"...Hanahaki?" You echoed, the word didn't feel real in your mouth.

He'd said more than that, you knew he had. A measured explanation, clinical and sequential, meant to walk you toward the conclusion rather than drop it on you. Medical terminologies. Differential diagnoses. But the moment the name of the disease registered, everything else seemed to blur at the edges, your mind refusing to hold onto anything past it.

"Hanahaki," He confirmed, his voice remaining steady as though he's speaking about the weather rather than a potentially fatal disease — a stark contrast to the tension in his shoulders. "Fortunately, you're in the early stages. The radiographer's initial read found no significant abnormality, which is not uncommon at this stage. Organic plant tissue in the early phase has a radiographic density close enough to soft tissue that it can be missed on a first pass."

He tapped the datapad, enlarging a portion of the image.

You looked at where he pointed. You had no idea what you were looking at.

Hanahaki.

Hanahaki.

Hanahaki.

"On closer review," He continued, "we identified faint branching opacities extending outward from the hilar structures bilaterally, more pronounced on the right."

He traced the shape with one finger, not quite touching the screen.

"Here. Root-stage growth, following the bronchovascular bundles rather than invading independently; Consistent with early presentation."

You tried to listen. You did.

"The overall burden remains limited. No evidence of significant airway obstruction so far, and flow measurements from your spirometry this morning were within an acceptable range given your symptoms."

Hanahaki.

"Several mediastinal lymph nodes have reacted to the foreign tissue and are mildly enlarged; An immune response, not a sign of malignant spread. I want to be precise about that distinction."

Your head swam.

None of it made sense laid next to the word itself. Hanahaki didn't happen to people who weren't in love. And you weren't. Not like that.

You'd never had some doomed, aching romance. Never pined after anyone from a careful distance. Never stared at a holo-message at two in the morning wondering if you should send it. So who—

You looked up.

"—given the anatomical location, the exertional dyspnea and localized pain are both expected findings, not incidental ones—"

You stopped hearing the rest of it.

Because you were looking at him. Really looking, in the way you apparently hadn't let yourself in longer than you wanted to admit.

The sharp, deliberate lines of his face. The furrow between his brows that appeared only when he was thinking past the edge of what he already knew. The way his hands moved when he explained something complicated, like every idea needed to be physically arranged in the air in order to be understood correctly. The way his voice picked up, almost imperceptibly, whenever the subject was something he actually cared about.

Your friend.

Your brilliant, insufferable, infuriatingly handsome friend.

But just a friend......... You'd have said, with total confidence, right up until about four minutes ago.

The one you told first when something good happened.

The one whose opinion mattered more than it had any right to.

The one whose messages you reread before answering, editing your own replies more carefully than you'd ever admit to him.

The one whose approval left you embarrassingly pleased with yourself, and whose disappointment — however mild, however quickly hidden behind irritation — stung far more than it should have.

The realization hit with enough force to nearly take the breath you didn't have to spare.

His voice kept going somewhere behind the rush of your own pulse, words about staging and prognosis and intervention windows arriving distorted, as if from another room. The office seemed to tilt very slightly around the fixed point of him standing there, results in hand, wearing that terrible, careful composure of a man who had already done the difficult part of the work and now had to hand the rest of it back to you.

Then the cough came.

Dry, catching low in your throat, and then harder, wheezing as your body reacted faster than your mind could keep up with. You doubled forward, one hand rising to your mouth, horror rising in you in a slow, merciless wave that had nothing to do with the diagnosis and everything to do with what you'd just understood underneath it.

He crossed the room before the second cough finished. Concern broke across his face for exactly one unguarded second before professional composure closed back over it, and his hand settled at your shoulder, steadying.

Warm.

The contact only made it worse, because now every strange, discarded feeling of the past several months was clicking into place with horrible clarity.

Every lingering glance you'd told yourself was nothing, every small flicker of anticipation before seeing him, every unreasonable rush of happiness whenever he chose to spend time with you over someone more deserving of it, every fluttering thing you'd filed under admiration because the real word had never once occurred to you as a possibility.

Oh.

Oh, no.

The realization crashes into you with all the subtlety of a collapsing star, no matter how hard some small, panicking part of you clawed for an alternate explanation.

You were in love. Hopelessly. Catastrophically.

You were in love with Veritas Ratio.

And the cruelest part of the entire, humiliating picture was this: the man currently holding you upright through a coughing fit, one hand steady on your shoulder and his brilliant, furious brain already three steps into solving a problem he didn't yet know he is the cause of.

...

Veritas Ratio had long embraced the noble task of dispelling ignorance from the minds of his students. In his unwavering commitment to 'curing his patients' and as someone privileged enough to be knowledgable, he viewed it as his sacred duty to share his wealth of knowledge with those who sought it.

As such, the moment you approached him, requesting help with a subject that had proven challenging for you, he found it to be his responsibility to impart to you his wisdom...

...deliberately ignoring the way his heart may or may not have skipped a beat at the prospect of spending time with you.

Definitely not. It was his job as an instructor to help others. He's merely doing as he should.

"With all that being said—" Ratio finishes writing on the board, turning to look at you.

And with great disappointment, his words die down in his throat, replaced by a heavy sigh as his eyes settle on you. This sight was all too familiar to him, a scene he had witnessed far too often. Even when students attempted to conceal their drowsiness with a facade of attentiveness, he could always discern the truth. In your case, however, there isn't even an attempt at subtlety...

It's glaringly evident that you had fallen asleep.

He looks at his phone to check the time before he begins to approach you, his footsteps light and measured, swiping his codex from his desk. Standing before where you sat, he crouches down to get a look at your sleeping features, and his breath gets caught in his throat.

Ratio's gaze lingered on you, tracing the delicate curve of your cheeks, the line of your nose, and the softness of your lips seemingly paler than usual, he couldn't help but feel the heat rising in his cheeks, his heart humming a tune in his chest.

You always have been easy on the eyes, that much Ratio always knew. He had always noticed the captivating allure of your features, the unique symmetry—or lack thereof—of your features creating a striking combination that never failed to catch his attention. Your presence had always held a magnetic pull on him, drawing his gaze towards you effortlessly, stirring a subtle admiration within his analytical mind.

Once more, like clockwork, he feels his heart racing in his chest.

Despite his composed demeanor, such a familiar sensation had become a regular, always accompanying his interactions with you. At first, he had been in denial, unwilling to admit the truth to himself.

Feelings aren't something Veritas Ratio specializes in, his own emotions were a territory he seldom ventured into, preferring to view the world through the lens of reason rather than emotion. He was a man of logic, of reason, and this... affection... he once believed that such sentiments contradicted his principles. It's messy. It's complex. Unpredictable. Uncontrolled.

And yet, it is there.

It's real. Just as real as the stars in the sky, as constant and unchanging as the moon that hung in the night sky.

Admitting his feelings felt like stepping into a realm of uncertainty, like starting a thesis without a clear conclusion in sight. But the way you laughed, smiled, and spoke with such passion and conviction—stirred something within him that he couldn't quite define. It was as if the stars had aligned, casting a light on a truth he could no longer ignore.

With a small huff under his breath, he pushes himself to rise to his feet once more. With measured steps, he returned to his desk, settling into his seat, setting the alarm on his phone for an hour; he redirected his focus to his codex, immersing himself in study whilst he allowed you your moment of rest.

Rest is a crucial component of the learning process, just as significant as studying itself, and Ratio recognizes that. He acknowledges that forcing you to engage with his teachings while fatigued would be counterproductive, serving as a futile exercise that would benefit neither of you.

Unfortunately, the hour passes by swiftly, his phone vibrating on his lap as his eyes dart from the pages of his codex and towards your sleeping form, his hand reaching out to turn off the alarm he set, his codex being snapped shut in his hand.

He stood then, approaching your still sleeping form on your own desk. His hand holding his codex raises, landing firmly on your head, enough to wake you up and startle you but not enough to hurt.

"You have some nerve falling asleep on me after I graciously lent you my help." He spoke, his voice as leveled as usual.

He initially planned on continuing his lesson after letting you sleep for a while, but seeing the drowsy look in your gaze despite your surprise, the poorly hidden circles beneath your eyes, he decided against it.

"Go back home and rest." He declares, and he sees the way your eyes widened in panic, as if afraid you may have offended him and he'd no longer give you the help that you desperately need.

"And I'll see you tomorrow."

His strides were swift and long as he left the room, not waiting long enough to hear your response as he exited the classroom. Placing a hand on his chest above his rapidly beating heart, he could only let out a sigh.

As long as you weren't swallowing bathwater again.

Although Veritas would've preferred for you to stay awake, somewhere down the line, he had become quite accustomed to your small interruptions. Huffs, chuckles, sighs, questions, corrections. Your curious mind was something to be treasured, some of your commentary insightful in ways that had Veritas questioning the value of all his titles and diplomas.

The foam had all but dissipated and your scented candles almost fully burned down, the intermingling fragrances heavy and comforting in the air. A trip past the artisan who made both would be due soon. He set the book down onto the small bench beside the tub, finding himself no longer in the right frame of mind to read.

Veritas had long since had to accept that between savoring how perfectly your curves slotted against him and enjoying a book by himself, the first would always come out on top. It was an entirely different matter when you were listening as well, of course.

If the old theories of a cosmic mind and the nature of all material had been true, then Veritas had no doubt he was made of the same as you, his being constantly drawn in by yours. Just as how both of his hands had unconsciously sought the softness of your stomach, thumbs tracing the wet skin with the reverence of an artist touching a masterpiece.

Not his masterpiece. No, you did not belong to anyone but yourself, and Veritas considered himself blessed to have you so close. Blessed in far more important ways than an Aeon's gaze could ever grant.

Vanilla invaded his senses after pressing a tender kiss to your wet hair, unfortunately, the taste of soap that followed had him tensing with effort to suppress a cough.

"Mmm… I'm listening…" Your words were a little slurred, your sleepy mind probably thinking he'd cleared his throat to get your attention.

A small smile tugged at his lips, arms fully encircling your waist to maneuver you properly onto his lap, "Of course, so what do you think?"

"What I think?" Veritas couldn't help but smile at the uncertainty in your sleepy voice. He guided your head back, carefully bringing a handful of water up to rinse the remaining soap from your wet strands. "I think someone is trying poke fun at me."

"Do you now?" Warmth bloomed in his chest at the sight of your hand reaching behind your head, the familiar playful tug of his hair making it impossible to keep from smiling into your hair, "by preemptively assuming the intentions of others, we become less inclined to recognize non-verbal cues, subsequently hindering genuine interactions."

Barely had Veritas processed your unimpressed hum before a splash of lukewarm water doused him. "And childish attempts at deception are rewarded with equally immature retaliations, plaster-head."

After wiping his eyes, Veritas could no longer resist the urge to curl around you, letting his lips trail gently along the curvature of your shoulder and licking up a few droplets of water. Only when your breath came out shaky did he pull away, taking a moment to appreciate how perfectly his palms cupped your chest.

There were numerous reasons to despise how easily blood pooled in his lower half, the simple pressure of your thighs enough to have his skin burning and mind buzzing. Countless unfortunate situations had arisen and been narrowly avoided due to how easily you affected him. A fleeting kiss, a teasing whisper, a light brush of hands. All of which had caused him to throb with desire in the past, just as he did now, burying his head back into the crook of your neck.

But no inconvenience mattered in the face of your content hums, not even the knowledge that continuing to rut against your thighs while submerged in water would leave his skin irritated for at least a day. Under normal circumstances, Veritas would be the one holding his desires back until both your comfort was guaranteed, even as need seared every nerve in his body.

Which was exactly why feeling you pull away had his eyes widening. Water sloshed against the sides as you stood, leaving Veritas to frown despite the tantalizing view of shadows dancing across your backside as you stretched. "Better get out before I fall properly asleep, or you turn into a raisin, whichever comes first."

A raisin. He huffed in (mostly) faux indignation, running pruney fingers through his hair before hoisting himself up as well, "Some would argue the heavy snoring earlier was indicative of already being 'properly asleep' as you say," he carefully stepped onto the fuzzy bathmat - acquired to combat your complaints about cold feet despite being a breeding ground for microorganisms - reaching for a pair of towels and pressing one into your outstretched arms.

He went rigid with anticipation at the light press of your body against his back, mind readily abandoning the jars lined up on the counter and letting the years of practiced movements take over. If there had been awards given out for restraint alone, Veritas deserved it for getting through the deep breaths it took to have his half hard member not jump at the first sign of attention. "Hurry," your breath danced along his skin, "or I truly will be asleep before you can join me."

Had he been a simpler creature, Veritas would not have hesitated to abandon rime and reason to follow at your heel. The vision reflected in the mirror was not one of myth, not an elven girl dancing and laughing in a marsh, shrouded by mist just waiting for someone to ensnare in their madness. Your back was turned, no gaping hollow anywhere to be seen.

Still, based on ability alone, the accusation wasn't entirely without merit - you had at least captured and ensnared him without any trouble. Three of four applied, cleanse, toner, serum, moisturizer. The eye cream wouldn't be necessary today. Hadn't been for a few weeks.

Veritas couldn't help but snort quietly to himself at the sight meeting his eye upon stepping out from the bathroom. Fae creature his foot. There was nothing graceful or even remotely elegant about your current predicament. Face down on the bed and spread out like a sea star. And somehow, it was all the more appealing to him. What need was there to drape your body in silks and jewels when nothing could be as beautiful as the story told by every mark life had left.

If sayings were to be taken literally, Veritas' heart would have collapsed in on itself long ago with how tightly it squeezed. Knowing exactly what was needed to resuscitate him, little time was wasted lingering further. Observation constitutes a sound first step in most investigations, but Veritas had already taken six with determination to cross the room, knees swiftly making contact and sinking into the mattress.

"So slow…." You whined, the sound regrettably going directly to Veritas' groin.

He couldn't help but smile at the string of content sighs that followed his lips' featherlight path along the back of your thigh. So delicate beneath him, Veritas kissed the raised lines adorning your legs, the ones that always had you fretting, before moving further up the bed. It was all he could do to not immediately cage you in as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, "Memento vivere."

Despite your proclaimed exhaustion, your hips raised with both speed and precision, drawing a soft gasp from Veritas' lips at the teasing press. "Mm, yes well.. To the late are left the bones.."

Oh Aeons above, your sleepy voice was driving him mad.

As soon as his hands had found their home on your hips, it was impossible not to give a tentative thrust forward, just enough to have him shuddering at your inviting heat. It treaded the narrow path of his desire, not the scalding heat of coffee nor the faint whisp from a candle. Before you had time to complain, for he knew you would at his withdrawal, Veritas had moved to kneel behind you, inhaling the heady scent of your arousal.

No matter the choice of fragrance you chose to rub into your skin, honey, almond, roses, berries, vanilla, you'd gone through a plethora of variants over the years, nothing could rival what met him upon gingerly parting your slick folds. One arm had already wrapped securely around your thighs, knowing how you always squirmed at first.

Veritas couldn't help but groan at the first languid pass of his tongue, gathering up your essence to taste. It always stroked his ego how you shivered, even more so when your hole clenched to eagerly ask for more. So much practice and observation had gone into knowing precisely the pressure and angle at which to nose your clit to keep those exquisite sounds from pouring forth.

Clearly, your exhaustion had been quite honest, not even bothering to put up a display of embarrassment as you usually did.

Instead, he felt an amused grin tug at his lips when your hips rocked back to chase the tip of his tongue. The only thing to lament as Veritas continued to work you open on his tongue was how the position wouldn't allow for observing your expressions.

"Veri-," your whine barely pierced his concentration, fingers moving to properly grasp your thighs, peeling back one work of art to better perceive another. "…more"

Usually, a 'please' should have found its way into your request (which would at this time have been denied regardless, for Veritas was far from satiated) but the picturesque arch of your body had him keen on heeding your desires. Just for today.

❥ Aventurine stills for a moment before his signature smile graces his face. You can already feel his mischievousness radiating off of him in waves as he steps closer to you, to stand directly in front of you. He acts as if he's in deep contemplation at your words. "Dinner does sound nice, I'm absolutely famished! Though, a nice hot bath does sound equally as enticing." He says with a playful mirth, trying to gauge your reaction. He's quick to notice the slight down pull of your lips - as expected of you, his smile grows wider. "Ah, the third option?" He asks like an afterthought but you know it's intentional. His face inching closer to yours while his gloved hand teasingly trails up your arm. His eyes lock you into a hypnotic trance that you can't possibly look away from. 

"Hmm and what might you be able to offer me...?"

❥ Dr. Ratio's face is serious as he digests your question. "Dinner followed by a bath would sound like the most logical option." He tells you as if he's stating a basic fact which causes you to deflate. "However..." You perk up at his words. "Exercising before eating has been known to lead to improved insulin responses and a higher fat burning rate." He speaks to you as he walks past you towards the hallway of your shared home. You feel your face grow how at his implication and use of the word 'exercising'. Then he suddenly stops to look back at you, his reddish eyes locking onto you. "Why don't we do a little exercising before dinner?" The atmosphere in the room shifting with the implication of his words. His face remains serious as he motions you to follow him.

"I simply chose the option with the most merits, that would be beneficial for the both of us."

❥ Sunday blanks out as he tries to process your words and the possible meaning behind them. As he eliminates all possible answers and lands on the one you’re most likely insinuating. His face starts to flush - his wings twitching from the urge to hide his face. "By ‘me’, are you possibly implying...?" Sunday manages to stutter out as he shyly looks towards you - awaiting your confirmation. You can't help but laugh softly at his question before nodding. Sunday matches your nod with his own letting the words sink in. The halovian hesitantly steps closer to you, taking your hands in his. "Then, may I h-have you...?" He asks you a slight nervousness laced within his voice as he brings your hands for his lips brush against your knuckles. A smile blossoms on his face as you accept. 

"T-Thank you, I promise to take good care of you..."

❥ Dan Heng freezes as you ask him this question. Keeping his face as neutral as possible. Your words immediately reminding him of a certain grey haired friend. He wonders if it was their idea to make you pose this kind of question to him. His eyes nervously shift around the room to make sure they’re really not hiding, watching his reaction. Once Dan Heng confirms the coast is clear, he clears his throat awkwardly looking away from you in embarrassment. The full weight of your words and intentions hitting him at once. “Sorry, I-I must have heard you wrong. Did you say ‘me’..?” You eagerly confirm, a smile beaming on your face. He pauses as he considers his next words, trying to come up with possible answers to your question. Your prolonged silence as you await his answer makes his cheeks grow redder by the second.

“I s-suppose one of those options does sound appealing to me…”

❥ Phainon couldn't contain the excited smile that breaks out on his face at your words. He immediately walks up to you, but before you could react to his sudden closeness. His hands hook underneath your thighs, lifting you to his press against his chest. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself. Feeling pleased, Phainon chuckles at your reaction. “Why, my dear. I believe the answer should be obvious.” He answers you with a bright smile as he walks over to the dining table, then carefully placing you upon it. He then places his hands on your cheeks, cradling your face as if you're his most prized possession. Your body tensing as the pad of his thumb brushes against your button lip - his previous smile turning into a smirk. 

“You don’t even need to ask, the answer will always be you.”

❥ Mydei smirks, a deep resounding chuckle rumbling from his chest. “How bold of you to ask me such a thing.” He proclaims as he slowly walks towards you like a lion stalking his prey. His crimson eyes rooting you to the spot, daring you to even try to move away from him. “I don’t think dinner can satisfy the hunger I have right now.” He almost growls to you, as if he's trying his best to hold himself back from pouncing on you right now. As you momentarily look away from him in embarrassment, he uses his fingers to tilt your chin up. "Eyes on me." He orders, his eyes swirling with want while his other hand holds your waist to pull you until you're pressed against him. You feel your breath stolen away with how quickly his lips descend upon yours.

“I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

You're just not sure if he would like to see you again after this.

The doctor was famed for being a blabbermouth, always had something to refute, always had something to say.

But your words shot through his brain like a bullet, lodged so deep he feared it wouldn't disappear even if he picked it out.

You must have taken his silence as rejection because fresh tears wet your lashes until it cascaded down your cheeks.

Everything was a blur from then on, the doctor approached your heaving body and placed his trembling hands over your cheeks.

Your shock from his touch amplified his confidence into kissing your tears away. He felt your body relax, pulling him in like a wave receding from the sand.

His lips left you questioning if this was a dream, or a nightmare that wanted to haunt you for life. But as you circled your arms over his neck - this solidified the fact that yes, you are kissing your best friend.

And it felt so fucking good.

When you pulled away, Veritas tried following your lips as if wanting more - he had that hidden shine in his eyes, a desire that screamed you.

Seeing that manifest made you want to pinch yourself and ask again, were you dreaming? Surely you had dunked your head onto one of those dream pools in Penacony because there was no way that this was happening.

But it was, and you were transported back at the same time that Veritas Ratio was placing feather kisses on your neck.

“Distracted?”

Oh God, you couldn't even think straight now, the implications of his words made you forget the current predicament.

The morning after, you shot up from where you laid comfortably on the mattress. Glancing beside you, your best friend was sound asleep - looking ethereal as ever.

Your current state of undress made you panic, the soreness of your legs made you shiver and the numerous love bites on your body revealed just exactly what transpired last night.

Though this occasion called for celebration, your thoughts wandered to the taste of wine on his lips. It lingered on your tongue and you had breathed in it when whining his name yesterday.

Knowing that it might have been the reason why Ratio was so…forward last night made you worry. Maybe the feelings that were uttered between you and the kisses you shared under the moonlight were led by his intoxicated fantasies.

Maybe he was just using you?

It was stupid really, you knew your best friend would never act upon impulses. He was logical, straight-laced and factual - everything he did was well thought out and never done without purpose.

He was worried about you for God's sake, why would he fake that?

But the way he responded to your confession jammed through your head like a raging bull. It was intense, instinctual and so out of character for someone like the famed Veritas Ratio.

You surmised it was the wine taking the gears yesterday and it wasn't really him. When the man wakes up beside you and catches how your bodies are tangled together - he'd come to regret drinking and going over to your place.

He'd scold himself for getting carried away and apologize to you, for leading you on - he'd tell the truth on how he didn't plan on sleeping with you. He just wanted to see if you were okay because you were friends.

These thoughts are what ultimately led to your quick escape, once again abandoning the man you loved. It was a coping mechanism, you assumed - it was better that you don't see his face when he wakes up and probably remember what happened.

The embarrassment followed you out the door and once more out of Veritas Ratio's life.

When he awoke, Ratio expected you were cuddled beside him. But he was proven wrong when he felt the cold bed sheets greeting him.

Honestly, he couldn't be mad at you. What he did the past few hours was rather impulsive and so not like the friend you knew.

Friend. He furrowed his brow when he thought of mentioning you as a friend, what you did yesterday was not meant for platonic companions and you said it yourself did you not?

You liked him. Not as a friend, but as someone more.

That's the reason why he made out with you in the living room then led you to bed. It was one of the ways that he showed you how much he wanted you too.

Well, maybe his intentions were misinterpreted because of the alcohol he consumed an hour before his arrival, Ratio only needed a bit of liquid courage before confronting you - he longed to know why you suddenly avoided his presence. And when he was presented with the why, he couldn't control himself.

Maybe not vocalizing his true feelings right away wasn't a smart move but oh well.

Being friends with him for long enough guaranteed a space into his heart, you understood him and he appreciated the brightness you brought into his life. You were there on his crucial moments and never ridiculed him despite the dismissive attitude he displayed most times.

His messages were once again left unanswered and he sighed. Of course you weren't going to respond - his actions would have caused more confusion. He wanted to knock some sense into past Veritas because who the hell just escalates a situation like that?

When he exits the bedroom after a quick freshening up, he's surprised when he catches you by the door having just come home. Your eyes widened in surprise seeing him still there, and yet you offered him a small smile - so you weren't mad at him, that's good.

“I'm sorry…if I left you earlier.” You spoke up suddenly and Veritas only stared, causing your gaze to waver.

“I shouldn't be a coward. And I need to tell you what I feel…properly.” If Ratio was surprised, he didn't show it. Breathing out deeply, you stood in front of him like you did yesterday.

“I like you. A lot.” The words were spoken with confidence, unlike the constant state of disarray that was happening inside your head.

His eyebrows shot up, but he didn't speak. He lets you continue.

“I know you might reject me, but that’s okay. If you do, I would like it if we don't talk for a while for me to process my emotions.” Your nervousness was at an all time high, it was similar to the scenario the day before minus the tears, and fear of rejection.

“Thank you though, for hearing me out.” The whole walk back to your apartment proved to be productive as you were able to form a coherent plan on how to tackle your feelings for Veritas.

You already confessed yesterday yet you wanted a redo, to solidify that yes - what you felt was real. And if he declined or not didn't matter to you. At least he would know, and you won't spend your nights stirring in contemplation.

You needed him to know that loving him was never a regret for you. Yet that word was too strong so you opted for the lighter one.

He might not look at you the same. Ratio might never want to interact with you ever again. But at least, you could let go of the heaviness of wanting something more.

And like you, Veritas Ratio mimics his actions from before.

He stalks forward and places sure hands over your face. He caressed it with so much care and adoration that you feel your heartbeat against your chest.

“Do you know how rude it is to assume someone’s emotions?” He asked, and you tilt your head to the side - perceiving the onslaught of fresh tears against your eyelids.

“What?”

“You spew all of this nonsense, narrating your assumptions that you fail to question the person who can directly tell you what they feel.” The implications of his words makes you feel warm, and before you know it - the tears come out again, splashing against his fingers.

“I like you too, okay?” Veritas Ratio murmured, wiping away the wetness on your cheeks.

The day before, you were so afraid of what would happen when you opened up and told him the truth about your feelings.

But you were glad you did.

caelus

✧ caelus is feeling a mix of patience and confusion. mostly confusion.

✧ you’d stress them out by acting overly distant or cryptic with your words. of course, this would be a bit too mean but.... you needed to know whether or not he truly liked you or not!!!

✧  now caelus always has this quiet confidence about him, a grounded presence that somehow keeps you both intrigued and comforted. you’ve been walking the line between friendship and something more for weeks now—soft smiles, lingering touches, and late-night conversations that stretch into the early morning. but neither of you has made the leap to define it, and the uncertainty starts to gnaw at you.

✧ so, you decide to test him. not out of malice, but out of curiosity—does he care as much as you think he does? or are you misreading everything?

✧ it starts small. you "accidentally" forget your jacket during a particularly chilly day on the xianzhou luofu. "it's fine," you say, feigning nonchalance as you rub your arms. "i’ll survive."

✧ caelus, who notices everything, doesn’t hesitate. without a word, he shrugs off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders. it’s warm and smells faintly like him—clean and earthy.

✧ "you’ll catch a cold," he says simply, his expression unreadable. but the way his fingers linger at your shoulder for a moment longer than necessary sends a shiver down your spine.

✧ okay, you think. that’s a point for him.

✧ but you don’t stop there. later, as the two of you work together to sort some scattered archives, you sigh dramatically. "i’m so bad at this," you say, even though you’ve already figured out the system. "caelus, can you help me? i think i’m doing it all wrong."

✧ he glances at you, eyebrows raised slightly. he knows you’re capable—you’ve proven it plenty of times.

✧ "really?" he asks, his tone soft but teasing. "you seem like you’ve got it handled."

✧ but he still moves to your side, explaining the process again with patience and care. you can’t help but notice how close he stands, the way his arm brushes against yours.

✧ another point, you mentally tally, biting back a smile.

✧ the final "test" happens that evening. the two of you are sitting on a bench overlooking the bustling streets below. you lean your head back, sighing loudly.

✧ "caelus," you start, your tone heavy with faux melancholy, "do you ever think... maybe we’re wasting our time? like, maybe this—whatever this is—isn’t worth it?"

✧ his head snaps toward you so fast you almost laugh. his usual calm demeanor falters for a moment, and there’s a flicker of something raw in his amber eyes.

✧ "what are you trying to say?" he asks, his voice lower than usual.

✧ suddenly, the air feels heavier. you weren’t expecting such a serious reaction, and it makes your chest tighten.

✧ "i mean..." you hesitate, suddenly feeling a little guilty for pushing him. "i don’t know. it just feels like maybe we’re stuck in this limbo, you know?"

✧ he stares at you for a moment, his gaze searching. then, he exhales softly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "if you think this isn’t worth it," he says, his voice steady but quiet, "then tell me. but don’t assume i feel the same."

✧ your heart stutters at his words.

✧ "you don’t?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. he turns to look at you again, his expression soft but serious.

✧ "no," he says firmly. "you mean a lot to me. more than you realize. i’m just... waiting for you to figure out how much you mean to me too."

✧ and just like that, the test is over. you realize you didn’t need to test him at all—he’s always been steady, always been sure. it was you who needed the reassurance, and he gave it to you without hesitation.

✧ as the silence stretches between you, you feel the weight of his coat still draped over your shoulders. you finally let yourself smile, leaning closer to him.

✧ "okay," you murmur. "i get it now."

✧ he doesn’t say anything, but the small, satisfied smile that tugs at his lips says enough.

gepard

✧ poor gepard takes your “test” far too seriously.

✧ (his face falls immediately, and he starts overthinking everything he’s ever done. he’d even try to change his habits, stumbling through awkward attempts to “loosen up.” “i—i can be fun! watch this!” (proceeds to try something clumsy.))

✧ testing gepard’s feelings feels almost unfair. he’s so earnest, so genuine, that you almost feel bad for trying to push his limits. but a little part of you—it’s that gnawing insecurity, that need for reassurance—wants to see how much he’s willing to handle for you.

✧ it starts during a routine patrol around belobog. you walk beside him, pretending to be engrossed in your surroundings, but you’re really watching him out of the corner of your eye. his posture is as perfect as always, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, eyes scanning for any sign of trouble.

✧ "gepard," you say suddenly, interrupting the calm. he turns to you immediately, his expression softening. "yes?"

✧ you fake a dramatic sigh. "do you ever think you work too hard? like... maybe you’re so busy being a model captain that you don’t have time for other things?"

✧ his brows furrow slightly, clearly not expecting this question. "what do you mean?"

✧ "i mean, what if someone in your life needed more of your attention? would you even notice?"

✧ he stops walking, turning to face you fully. there’s a flash of concern in his blue eyes, and you almost feel guilty for how well this is working.

✧ "if someone needed me," he says, his voice steady but laced with worry, "i’d do everything in my power to be there for them. are you... trying to tell me something?"

✧ you wave your hand dismissively, laughing lightly. "oh, no, just a hypothetical. don’t worry about it." he doesn’t look convinced, but he nods and resumes walking, though you notice he stays closer to your side after that.

✧ later, you decide to push a little harder. when the two of you are back at the overworld base, you feign exhaustion, slumping dramatically onto a nearby bench.

✧ "i’m so tired," you complain, rubbing your temples. "today was so stressful. i don’t think i can even move."

✧ before you can say anything else, gepard is already at your side. he crouches slightly, his hands hovering awkwardly as if he’s not sure whether he should offer to help you up or just sit beside you.

✧ "you should have said something earlier," he says, his voice full of concern. "if you’re overworked, you need to take a break. here, let me—"

✧ you cut him off with a teasing smile. "what are you going to do, carry me around belobog like some kind of knight in shining armor?" he freezes for a moment, his cheeks flushing pink. "i mean... if you needed me to, i would."

✧ you weren’t expecting such a sincere answer, and it throws you off balance. your heart flutters, but you’re determined to keep the act going.

✧ "you’re too sweet, gepard," you say with a grin. "but don’t worry, i’m fine. just testing you a little." his blush deepens, and he shifts nervously. "testing me?"

✧ "yeah," you admit, leaning back against the bench. "just wanted to see how far you’d go for me."

✧ he frowns, clearly conflicted. "you don’t need to test me," he says quietly. "if something’s bothering you, you can just tell me. i’d rather you be honest than try to figure things out on your own."

✧ his words hit you harder than you expected, and you suddenly feel a little guilty.

✧ "you’re right," you mumble, looking down at your hands. "sorry, i didn’t mean to make you worry."

✧ he sighs softly, then sits beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. "it’s okay," he says after a moment. "i just... care about you. a lot. and i want you to know that you never have to doubt it."

✧ you glance at him, his expression as open and honest as ever, and your heart aches in the best way.

✧ "thanks, gepard," you say softly.

✧ he smiles, and it’s so warm and genuine that you know you didn’t need to test him in the first place. he’s always been exactly who he says he is—steadfast, caring, and utterly devoted.

✧ “please, don’t do that again. my heart can’t take it. but... i do care about you more than anything.”

dr. ratio

✧ dr. ratio sees through your “stress test” almost immediately, being as perceptive as he is.

✧ testing dr. ratio feels like trying to rattle an unshakable pillar—he’s sharp, meticulous, and composed to the point where you’re almost certain he’ll see through you immediately. but your curiosity gets the better of you. you want to see if the normally calm and collected doctor could ever crack, even slightly, under your antics.

✧ you decide to start small, choosing to "stress" him out during one of his intense research sessions.

✧ "dr. ratio," you call out from across the lab, your tone light and teasing.

✧ he doesn’t look up from his holopad. "yes?"

✧ "can you explain this to me again? i swear i just don’t get it."

✧ you hold up a tablet displaying a simple analysis you’re perfectly capable of interpreting. it’s the third time you’ve asked him about something today, and you’re sure he’s starting to notice.

✧ he sighs, finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. "are you sure you’re not just overthinking it?"

✧ "maybe," you say, shrugging. "or maybe you’re just bad at explaining things."

✧ that earns you a sharp look, and for a split second, you think you’ve actually pushed too far. but then his lips twitch, a flicker of amusement breaking through his usual stoicism.

✧ "bad at explaining things?" he repeats, setting his holopad down. "are you testing my patience, or are you testing my intelligence?"

✧ "both," you reply with a cheeky grin. he chuckles softly, shaking his head. "if you wanted my attention, you could’ve just asked."

✧ despite his calm exterior, you notice the subtle way he shifts closer to you, his focus entirely on you now. you can’t help but feel a small thrill of triumph, though you know you’re playing with fire.

✧ later, you decide to up the stakes. while he’s meticulously organizing data, you lean against the desk, deliberately placing your hand over one of his charts.

✧ "do you ever think about taking a break?" you ask, tilting your head at him. "you work so much, it’s like you’re married to your lab."

✧ he arches an eyebrow, his gaze flicking to your hand covering his work. "and if i am? does that bother you?"

✧ "a little," you admit, your tone teasing. "what if you end up ignoring more important things?"

✧ he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he studies you. "and what would those ‘important things’ be?"

✧ his voice is calm, but there’s a glint in his eyes that makes you feel like you’ve walked right into his trap. "me, obviously," you say, trying to maintain your confidence.

✧ he hums thoughtfully, as if considering your words. then, without warning, he reaches out and gently flicks your forehead.

✧ "you’re not very subtle," he says, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

✧ "ouch," you say, rubbing your forehead with a pout. "was that necessary?"

✧ "completely," he replies smoothly. "if you’re going to test me, at least make it challenging."

✧ his words leave you flustered, and you quickly retreat from his desk, muttering something about needing fresh air. but later, when he finds you in the lounge, he sets a cup of tea in front of you without a word.

✧ "what’s this for?" you ask, looking up at him.

✧ "you seemed tense earlier," he says simply. "and since you’re so concerned about me ignoring important things, I thought I’d remind you that you’re one of them."

✧ your heart skips a beat at his casual declaration, and for once, you’re at a loss for words. he smirks at your reaction, clearly pleased with himself, before walking away, leaving you to process his unexpected yet reassuring gesture.

✧ turns out, dr. ratio isn’t so easy to test—but he makes it clear that he’s always paying attention.

✧ however, he sits you down for a serious talk afterward. “you don’t need to test me. i like you—that much should be obvious by now.”

aventurine

✧ aventurine takes your antics in stride but is clearly not one to tolerate nonsense for long.

✧ but in all seriousness it feels like you're trying to move a mountain. his steadfastness and confidence make it seem impossible to throw him off balance, but you’re determined to see how deep his patience and affection run. you tell yourself it’s just curiosity, but deep down, you crave the reassurance that this larger-than-life man truly feels the same way you do.

✧ it begins subtly, during one of his routine mineral inspections. he’s meticulously cataloging a haul of rare crystals when you decide to “help.”

✧ “aventurine, what’s this one called?” you ask, holding up a dazzling gem you already know the name of.

✧ he barely glances up, his deep voice calm and measured. “that’s a starshard geode. its structure is—”

✧ “wait, wait,” you interrupt, turning it over in your hands. “are you sure? it kinda looks like... a moonstone?”

✧ his head finally lifts, and he looks at you with a mixture of amusement and mild disbelief. “a moonstone? not even close. are you trying to challenge my expertise?”

✧ “maybe,” you tease, placing the gem back in the wrong compartment.

✧ he sighs, but there’s no frustration in his expression, only a patient shake of his head as he moves the gem back to its proper place. “you’re impossible,” he mutters, though there’s a small smile tugging at his lips.

✧ later, you decide to turn up the heat. as he’s polishing a massive chunk of raw celestium, you sit nearby, swinging your legs off the edge of the table.

✧ “aventurine,” you say sweetly.

✧ “mm?” he responds without looking up.

✧ “do you ever get tired of being around me?”

✧ that gets his attention. he pauses mid-polish, his golden eyes narrowing slightly as he turns to face you fully. “what kind of question is that?”

✧ you shrug, feigning nonchalance. “i mean, i can be annoying sometimes. don’t you ever just... wish for some peace and quiet?”

✧ he sets the celestium down with deliberate care and crosses his arms, his imposing figure suddenly feeling even larger.

✧ “you’re trying to get a reaction out of me,” he says plainly, his voice as steady as the ground beneath your feet.

✧ “what? me? no way,” you reply, trying to sound innocent.

✧ he steps closer, leaning down so his face is level with yours. his expression is serious, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his gaze.

✧ “if i wanted peace and quiet, i wouldn’t be here,” he says firmly. “do you really think i’d waste my time with someone i don’t care about?”

✧ his straightforwardness leaves you momentarily stunned, and he chuckles softly at your silence. “you don’t need to test me, you know,” he adds, his tone softening. “if you have doubts, just ask. i don’t like games, but i’ll always give you the truth.”

✧ you feel a pang of guilt for pushing him, but his reassurance warms your heart. “sorry,” you mumble, looking down. “i just wanted to be sure...”

✧ he reaches out, gently lifting your chin so you’re forced to meet his gaze.

✧ “then let me make it clear,” he says, his golden eyes unwavering. “you matter to me. and that’s not going to change, no matter how many gems you mislabel.”

✧ you laugh softly, the tension melting away as his words sink in. it was clear that his affection for you is as solid and enduring as the earth itself.

boothill

✧ boothill is rough around the edges but has a soft spot for you, so your little test catches him off guard.

✧ boothill's unmovable, stone-faced, and never shows signs of cracking, no matter what you throw his way. but that’s exactly why you’re so curious. you’ve seen his stoic side, his professionalism, and his dedication, but does that mean there’s any space for you in that heart of his? you decide to try and test the waters.

✧ it begins in a quiet moment, after a long mission. you’re both back at the base, sitting side by side on a bench. boothill is cleaning his weapon, his focus so intense that it feels like nothing in the world could distract him. you watch him for a moment, then decide to start.

✧ “boothill,” you call out softly.

✧ he doesn’t look up, but you see his fingers pause for a fraction of a second before he resumes cleaning his weapon.

✧ “yeah?”

✧ “do you ever wonder if you’re too... distant? i mean, you’re always so focused, so serious. don’t you ever need to relax a bit?”

✧ he glances at you now, his piercing gaze meeting yours for just a second. but he doesn’t answer right away, instead just continuing with his task.

✧ “relaxing isn’t exactly something i prioritize,” he replies with his usual calm. “there’s work to be done.”

✧ you scoff lightly, pushing your luck a little. “work, work, work. what about you, huh? when’s it your turn to... i don’t know, enjoy life? have some fun?”

✧ he looks at you then, and there’s something almost unreadable in his expression. his eyes soften just a fraction, and he lets out a small sigh.

✧ “if you think i don’t enjoy life, you’re wrong,” he says, voice low but surprisingly tender. “i just don’t need distractions.”

✧ you press a little more, feeling a mischievous spark inside you. “so, you’re saying you don’t need me to distract you?”

✧ boothill stops what he’s doing for a moment, and this time, he stares at you, really staring. for a split second, you think you’ve gone too far. but then he leans back, folding his arms across his chest, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

✧ “testing me, huh?” he says, his voice laced with dry amusement. “you’re a little more persistent than i expected.”

✧ you shrug nonchalantly, hoping your nonchalance hides the fact that your heart is pounding. “i just want to know if you care, boothill. i mean, you’re so... detached sometimes. how do i know it’s not all just professional to you?”

✧ his gaze softens, and for a brief moment, there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that catches you off guard. then, without warning, he reaches out and gently grabs your hand, pulling it into his lap.

✧ “care?” he murmurs, his thumb stroking the back of your hand in slow, deliberate movements. “i care more than you know.”

✧ your breath catches in your throat, and you feel the weight of his words settle over you like a blanket. the walls he’s built around himself are still there, but now, you realize that inside, there’s room for you.

✧ “you don’t need to test me for that,” he adds, his voice low and reassuring. “just... don’t expect me to show it the same way as everyone else.”

✧ you can feel the sincerity in his touch, in his gaze, and something inside you finally clicks. boothill’s love is subtle, understated, and a little rough around the edges, but it’s real.

✧ “i get it,” you whisper, squeezing his hand gently. “sorry for making you doubt me.”

✧ he chuckles quietly, a rare sound that makes your heart flutter. “you’re relentless. but that’s why i like you.”

✧ and there it is—he may not always wear his heart on his sleeve, but boothill’s love for you is unwavering, and that’s something you can rely on, even if it’s not always obvious.

gallagher

✧ gallagher is as easygoing as they come, but even he has limits.

✧ it starts innocently enough—just a playful attempt to poke at his carefully maintained composure. he’s in the middle of preparing a meal, the scent of fresh herbs and sizzling meat filling the air as he moves about the kitchen with his usual precision. you, however, are seated at the table, tapping your fingers lightly against the wood, watching him with a raised eyebrow.

✧ “gallagher,” you start, your voice casual but laced with curiosity.

✧ “hm?” he replies, glancing at you briefly before returning to his task.

✧ “how do you always manage to keep your cool? i mean, don’t you ever get tired of being so... well, perfect?”

✧ he doesn’t look up this time, but there’s a subtle shift in the air, like he’s sensing you’re trying to test him. his movements are smooth and measured, and he doesn’t skip a beat as he finishes plating the food.

✧ “there’s no point in losing composure over things that don’t matter,” he says matter-of-factly, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “chaos doesn’t make for a good meal.”

✧ you bite your lip, leaning back in your chair. “so, you’re saying everything has to be ‘in its place’ with you? even with people?”

✧ his hands freeze for just a moment, and you catch a flicker of something in his expression—maybe amusement, maybe something else. but it’s gone as quickly as it came. he finishes plating the meal with a soft sigh, setting the plate in front of you.

✧ “i’m not a machine, if that’s what you’re implying,” he says, finally meeting your gaze. “i’m not perfect. i just prefer things to be organized—helps with focus.”

✧ you raise an eyebrow, pushing a bit more. “oh? and does that mean you like it when people don’t mess with your focus? or is that just a ‘you’ thing?”

✧ gallagher pauses, studying you carefully. for a moment, the air is thick with tension, but then he smirks slightly, a glimmer of teasing in his eyes.

✧ “messing with my focus?” he repeats, his voice playful now. “is that what you’re doing? because, if i’m being honest, it’s working. you’ve got my attention now.”

✧ you blink, taken aback by his response. you expected him to brush it off, but instead, he steps closer, his presence a little more imposing now.

✧ “you know,” he continues, his tone lower, “you’re not as subtle as you think you are. but i’ll give you points for persistence.”

✧ you try to recover, but there’s something about the way he looks at you that leaves you speechless for a moment.

✧ “persistence?” you murmur, a little breathless.

✧ he nods, his smile softening just enough to show you that it’s genuine. “you’ve got a lot of questions, but i don’t need to play games with you. if you want answers, just ask. you don’t have to test me to find out if i’m interested.”

✧ his words hit you harder than you expected, and you realize that gallagher isn’t someone to hide his feelings. it’s not that he’s cold—he’s just direct. he’ll never say it in the way you might expect, but his actions speak louder than anything else.

✧ “i guess i’m just used to waiting for things to fall into place,” you admit, trying to play it cool.

✧ he leans in slightly, the faintest hint of humor in his eyes. “you don’t have to wait with me. i’m already here.”

✧ his tone is simple, but it carries a weight of meaning that makes your heart skip a beat. gallagher doesn’t do drama, but when he gives you his attention, it’s clear that he’s all in, no matter how much he might downplay it.

moze

✧ moze is a man of few words, and your antics genuinely confuse him. 😰😰

✧  he's calm, composed, and always so serious, which makes you determined to break through that cold, unreadable exterior. you’ve decided to test his limits, just to see if you can get a real reaction out of him.

✧ it starts on a typical day after a mission. you’re sitting across from him in the common room, watching as he pores over some data logs. your usual routine involves making things just a little more interesting for him, because let’s face it—moze needs to lighten up.

✧ “moze,” you say, a grin tugging at your lips.

✧ he doesn’t look up, but you can see the slight twitch of his eyebrow. “what is it?”

✧ you make a show of examining the ceiling, tapping your chin dramatically. “have you ever wondered if the world is actually upside down? like, maybe gravity's all wrong, and we’re just... stuck to the floor by pure luck?”

✧ moze pauses for a split second, probably wondering how you can turn a perfectly normal moment into this. then, without missing a beat, he glances at you, deadpan.

✧ “if the world was upside down, i assume you'd be the one stuck on the ceiling by pure luck,” he says flatly, already returning to his work.

✧ you burst into laughter, but moze doesn’t even flinch, just continues typing, his expression still as composed as ever. he’s like a stone statue, and it’s honestly a little impressive.

✧ “okay, okay,” you say, wiping a tear from your eye. “let’s try something different.” you lean forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “do you ever get bored? you know, just sitting there all serious, pretending like you’re too busy to talk?”

✧ this time, he doesn’t even look up from his work. “bored? No. Are you trying to see how far you can push me before i snap?”

✧ you nod, trying not to smile too widely. “yep! How’s it going so far?”

✧ moze lets out a soft sigh, clearly unamused but still managing to hold his ground. “i’m doing great. You, on the other hand... are a handful.”

✧ “a handful? me?” you gasp dramatically, clutching your chest. “I’m hurt, moze. I’m just trying to keep things interesting around here!”

✧ his lips twitch ever so slightly, but it’s almost imperceptible. “you’re making it interesting... in the same way that throwing a tantrum in a library is interesting.”

✧ you tilt your head, pretending to consider this for a moment. “so, you’re saying you don’t like chaos?”

✧ “i like order,” he says, never looking away from the screen. “but if you’re asking if you can test my patience, then yes, you’re doing a very good job of that.”

✧ you giggle, thoroughly entertained by the way he’s handling you. "oh, come on, just admit it. you love the chaos! You secretly think it's hilarious when I mess with you."

✧ moze looks up at you for the first time in a while, his expression still all business but with the tiniest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “if by hilarious, you mean mildly irritating, then yes.”

✧ “mildly?!” you gasp in faux offense. “I’m doing my best here, moze! how could you rate my efforts so low?”

✧ he leans back slightly in his chair, finally breaking his stoic routine. “honestly, i’m impressed you’re still going. most people would’ve given up by now.”

✧ “well, i'm not ‘most people,’ am I?” you reply with a cheeky smile.

✧ he smirks ever so slightly, though it’s mostly to himself. “no. clearly.”

✧ you can’t help but giggle, because while moze definitely isn’t as easily rattled as others, it’s clear he’s starting to find the humor in your antics.

✧ “admit it, moze,” you tease. “i’m the most fun you’ve had all week.”

✧ he raises an eyebrow, finally closing the data pad and turning his full attention to you. “if by ‘fun’ you mean ‘annoying distraction,’ then yes.”

✧ you stick your tongue out at him playfully. “you love me, admit it.”

✧ moze chuckles dryly, though it’s far from his usual serious tone. “you’re impossible. But for some reason, i don’t mind.”

✧ “there it is!” you exclaim, pointing dramatically. “the confession! finally!”

✧ he sighs, but there’s a hint of fondness in his eyes now. “don’t push your luck. i’m still not letting you off the hook for the chaos you’ve caused.”

✧ you grin, leaning back in your seat, satisfied. “you can’t get rid of me that easily, moze. get used to it.”

✧ “i’m already used to it,” he mutters under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.

jiaoqiu

✧ jiaoqiu is calm and composed, but your “test” slowly chips away at his patience.

✧ his idea of "testing" his patience feels almost like trying to mess with a finely tuned recipe—you know that if you push too far, something could spoil, but you can't resist seeing how he’ll react. the thing about jiaoqiu is that he’s blind, but that doesn’t stop him from being as sharp as a knife when it comes to his senses. especially when it comes to cooking—his true passion.

✧ you’ve noticed something about him, though. the more you “stress” him, the more attentive he gets, in his own way. it’s kind of like the game’s in his favor, and you’re slowly realizing he might be playing right along with you.

✧ one evening, you’re hanging out in the kitchen with jiaoqiu, and you’ve already decided to take your "testing" to the next level. as he prepares some of his signature dishes—no surprise, they're the most complex meals imaginable, even though he can't see a thing—you're doing your best to throw him off.

✧ “jiaoqiu, are you sure you don’t want me to help with that? it looks... dangerous,” you tease, noticing the steam rising from the pot in front of him.

✧ “dangerous?” he repeats, clearly amused but not thrown off. he moves deftly around the kitchen, the sound of his chopping board in the background. “my dear, cooking isn’t dangerous unless you’re trying to make something impossible.”

✧ you laugh softly, leaning against the counter. “so, you’re saying if I started pulling the wrong spices out, you wouldn’t even notice?”

✧ he pauses, then lets out a small chuckle of his own. “i might not see it, but i can certainly smell it. and don’t think i don’t know when you’re reaching for something you shouldn’t be.”

✧ you feign shock, dramatically holding your hands up as if caught in the act. “i would never! i have complete respect for your culinary expertise!”

✧ jiaoqiu hums, as if pondering your words, but then he continues his cooking with that quiet confidence he always carries. “you’d be more convincing if you didn’t have that mischievous glint in your eye.”

✧ your grin widens. it’s clear he’s onto you now, but you still try to push. “well, how would you know? You can't see, after all.”

✧ “true,” he replies calmly, “but i know the sounds of the kitchen well enough. if you were to drop something, or mess with the ingredients... i’d hear it. the rhythm of it all gives me a good idea of what’s happening.”

✧ you blink, stunned. you had been testing him, but jiaoqiu seems to always be one step ahead. how does he know? how can he be so confident?

✧ “and,” he adds, his voice still soft but with a hint of playfulness, “i know you, [your name].”

✧ you laugh, finally admitting defeat. “okay, okay! you got me. but seriously, how do you do it? how do you know where everything is?”

✧ he pauses his cooking and turns toward you, his voice warm yet full of humor. “let’s say i’ve had a lot of practice. and when you love something as much as i love cooking, you learn to rely on all your senses, not just sight. even when you can’t see, your other senses fill in the gaps.”

✧ you watch him work for a moment, and despite his lack of eyesight, he’s a master in the kitchen. it’s clear that his expertise comes from much more than just the act of cooking; it’s a connection to the ingredients, the textures, the sounds of each step.

✧ “okay, but what if i really messed something up? what if i did something totally wrong, just to mess with you?”

✧ he raises an eyebrow—something that’s only visible through his voice, but you get the feeling he’s smirking. “well, if you did that, i’d probably just end up fixing it before you even noticed. and then i’d make you do the dishes.”

✧ you groan, defeated but also thoroughly entertained. “you’re way too good at this.”

✧ “you’re the one testing me, not the other way around,” jiaoqiu reminds you, returning his focus to his cooking. but this time, you can hear the faint warmth in his tone, a reassurance that’s just for you. “but don’t worry, i’m not going to let you ruin dinner. even if you try to be a little mischievous.”

✧ there’s something comforting in the way he handles it all—the teasing, the games you play, even the mess-ups you deliberately throw his way. he may not be able to see you, but you know he can feel your presence, your energy, and you can’t help but feel safe in it. despite his teasing, despite the quiet confidence, jiaoqiu has a way of making everything feel just... right.

✧ “next time,” you say, grinning, “i’m going to really throw you off.”

✧ jiaoqiu just laughs softly, shaking his head as he finishes up his dish. “i’ll be waiting, [your name]. i’ll be waiting.”

✧  “but uh, next time, just ask me. there’s no need for this kind of... drama.”

sunday

✧ sunday is all sunshine and joy, but even he can get flustered when you start testing him.

✧ sunday is a halovian, with those distinct small fluffy wings nestled around his neck—adorably soft and always twitching with his every mood. you’ve learned that while he might seem all chill and sunny on the surface, he’s got his own quirks, and if you push him far enough, he’s more likely to play along than snap at you.

✧ one day, you’re lounging in the living area, and sunday’s sitting across from you, lazily flipping through a book. you can’t resist; it’s time for some mischief.

✧ “hey, sunday,” you call, trying to hide your grin.

✧ “yeah?” he replies, looking off guard. "have you ever been nervous before? like, nervous nervous?"

✧ “nervous? me? c’mon, i’m practically impossible to ruffle.” he gives you a lighthearted shrug, but you can see the playful challenge in his eyes. he’s used to keeping things breezy, but you’ve caught his attention now.

✧ you press on, deciding to have a little more fun with this. “oh really? well, let’s see... I’ve got a whole list of ways I could mess with you.”

✧ sunday doesn’t seem fazed at first, but you notice the way his fluffy wings twitch a little more with each word you say. it’s like a radar for his mood—you know he’s still calm, but there’s something in the way his feathers ruffle when he’s listening to you.

✧ “well, you’ll have to be a lot sneakier than that if you want to get under my skin,” he says, flashing you that signature grin of his, but now you can see a little spark of competitiveness in his eyes.

✧ you, of course, aren’t backing down. “let’s see if i can. hey, sunday, do you ever get tired of being all... perfect?” you ask, making air quotes around "perfect" with your hands.

✧ sunday’s wings flutter again, and this time, you catch the faintest shift in his posture. “perfect?” he asks, trying to play it off, but there’s a subtle twitch in the fluff near his neck. “you’re really gonna call me perfect? what’s wrong with that?”

✧ oh, he’s biting now. perfect. you lean in, voice teasing. “well, it just seems a little... too easy, don’t you think? i mean, you’re always so relaxed, always in control. how do you even do it?”

✧ you can see sunday’s lips twitch in amusement, and his wings give an exaggerated little flutter, like they’re bristling. he’s definitely aware now, but the best part is how he's trying to play it cool, still acting like he’s the one in control.

✧ “you really think i’ve got it all under control, huh?” he responds, a bit of a challenge creeping into his tone. “well, i guess i am pretty awesome. i mean, who could resist all this charm?” he gestures to himself dramatically, his wings fluffing out like he’s proud of the effect they have.

✧ you laugh, but don’t let up. “oh, i’m sure the charm works, but... do you ever get tired of being this smooth?” you tease, pretending to think it over. “i mean, surely you get a little flustered once in a while, right? just a little bit?”

✧ that’s when you see it—a small, barely perceptible shift. sunday’s wings twitch against his neck, brushing lightly as he tries to keep his expression neutral, but you catch it. there’s a softening in his demeanor, a slight heat creeping into his tone.

✧ “huh. so now i’m too smooth?” he teases, but it’s a little less confident now. “maybe you’re just getting good at finding my weak spots.”

✧ you smile, leaning back triumphantly. “maybe. or maybe you’re just too easy to read, sunday.”

✧ he narrows his eyes playfully, but you catch the small, almost imperceptible shift in his posture as his wings flutter just a little more. it's like they’re signaling his internal shift—he’s starting to realize you’re not just playing around.

✧ “okay, okay,” sunday says with a dramatic sigh, his wings now fully unfurled behind him like a soft, fluffy halo. he rubs the back of his neck and gives you a teasing look. “you wanna stress me out, huh? well, guess i’ll have to turn the tables a little.”

✧ with that, sunday leans closer, grinning mischievously. his wings brush against his neck again, this time on purpose, causing a soft, tickling sensation that makes you jump a little.

✧ “how’s this?” he asks, and now, you realize—he’s playing his own game. “i think we’re gonna see how you handle me.”

✧ sunday’s easygoing nature mixed with his unexpected turn in this little game makes it all the more fun. as he continues to toy with you, you can’t help but laugh at how well he’s handled your antics.

✧ “alright, alright,” you admit, finally letting the game end, “you win. i’ll stop testing your patience... for now.”

✧ his wings flutter triumphantly behind him as he gives you a mock salute, his grin still wide and playful. “you’re welcome to try again any time, [name]. but you should know—I don’t get flustered that easily. unless...” he pauses, giving you a teasing look, “...you do something even crazier next time.”

✧ you can’t help but smile back. sunday’s laid-back nature might be hard to crack, but it’s clear—he does enjoy the game, and in the end, he’s always up for a little bit of fun at your expense.

jing yuan

✧ jing yuan usually keeps his composure, but when you start “testing” his patience, he begins to crack ever so slightly.

✧ jing yuan is the epitome of calm, controlled elegance. he carries himself like a well-balanced scale, measured in his actions and words, always composed, always unfazed. but when you start testing him that balance teeters, just a little, though he’s careful to maintain his outward serenity.

✧ you know he's a man of patience, but every person has their breaking point—and you're curious to see how far you can push his.

✧ it all starts innocently enough, a bit of teasing and mild mischief on your part. you might "accidentally" misplace his paperwork, or maybe ask him endless trivial questions when you know he’s buried in his work. you’re not being cruel, of course—just playful, testing the waters to see if he’ll falter.

✧ he humors you at first, a chuckle escaping his lips when you ask something particularly silly. “what is it, my dear?” he asks, a gentle smile tugging at his lips, his golden eyes never leaving his work. “another question for me?”

✧ but as the questions come one after another, you start to notice a shift. his pen slows, and for a moment, his fingers still. he leans back in his chair, gaze lifting to meet yours.

“you’re playing a dangerous game, my dear,” he says, his voice low, but laced with amusement. “are you testing me to see if i’ll lose interest? because i can assure you, i won’t.”

✧ there’s a sharpness to his tone now, the calm facade slipping just slightly. it's subtle, but you catch it—a flicker of something deeper behind his eyes. his gaze darkens with an unreadable emotion, and for the first time, you wonder if you've pushed him too far.

✧ but you’re not one to back down easily, so you keep going, shifting the game into a new gear. you become a little more persistent, trying to get under his skin without being too obvious. you ask more ridiculous questions, throw in more distractions, all in the name of seeing how he reacts. surely, a man like jing yuan, so steady and composed, would get annoyed eventually, right?

✧ you watch him for a long moment, his gaze steady and unwavering. His fingers tap lightly on the edge of the desk, his lips curling into a knowing smile.

✧ "is that what you're after?" he asks, his voice softer, but with a certain challenge in it. "you wish to see how far i'll bend? to see if i can be swayed by such... antics?"

✧ your breath catches in your throat, and you wonder if you’ve finally crossed the line. but instead of growing irritated, jing yuan does something entirely unexpected. he sets his pen down with a deliberate motion and stands up, walking around to your side of the desk. his presence looms over you in the most comforting, yet commanding way.

✧ before you can even react, he reaches for your hand, his touch warm and steady. “i can’t help but wonder…” he begins, his voice dipping into something more intimate, more affectionate than you were prepared for. “did you think you could test me without consequences?”

✧ you blink up at him, the playful tension suddenly replaced by a sense of vulnerability. there’s something in his eyes now, a deep knowing.

✧ without waiting for an answer, he leans down, his lips brushing lightly against your ear. “you’re not the only one who can play games, [name],” he murmurs, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine.

✧ you’re thrown off balance. the tables have turned, and now it’s you who’s feeling slightly flustered. where you were once testing him, now he’s testing you. he’s suddenly more attentive, more affectionate, drawing you in with every word, every touch.

✧ he chuckles softly when he sees your reaction, his golden eyes glinting with amusement. “you didn’t think i’d let you have all the fun, did you?” he teases. “i must admit, i’m rather enjoying this.”

✧ you open your mouth to respond, but all you manage is a soft laugh, caught between trying to keep your composure and wanting to give in to the sudden wave of warmth he’s throwing your way.

✧ “alright, jing yuan,” you say, trying to maintain your cool, but failing miserably. “i’ll admit defeat... for now.”

✧ his smile widens, a gentle but confident grin. “defeat? no, my dear. this isn’t about defeat. this is about knowing where we stand. and now that i’ve shown you, i expect no more games.”

✧ his words hang in the air like a promise, and you realize he’s not just testing you—he’s reassuring you, in his own way. with him, you never had to worry about being lost in his affection, because it’s clear: he’s always there, steady as ever.

✧ and just like that, the game you started has ended—only now, it’s more than you ever expected.

dan heng

✧ dan heng is the embodiment of calm and collected. his reserved nature and stoic expression almost never crack, even under the most trying of circumstances. it takes a lot to throw him off balance, which is why you’ve made it your mission to see if you can break that calm demeanor of his—just a little.

✧ at first, you start small. maybe you ask him to help you with something you’re perfectly capable of doing yourself, like reaching for a book you’re clearly just a bit too lazy to grab. you catch him off guard, but as expected, he’s kind enough to help without comment.

✧ “thank you, dan heng,” you say with an exaggerated sigh of relief.

✧ he gives you a short, quiet nod, his expression unchanged. “it’s no trouble,” he mutters, though there’s a faint suspicion in his voice.

✧ you smile innocently, but it’s not lost on you how quickly he’s growing aware of your game. so, you keep at it, asking for more and more “help” with things you’re fully capable of doing on your own. every time he obliges, you see his eyes narrow ever so slightly, and you can almost feel the gears turning in his head as he processes what's going on.

✧ “dan heng,” you ask one day, leaning into the playful tension between you two, “could you pass me the salt?” the shaker’s right in front of you, of course.

✧ there’s a long pause. his gaze flicks over to the salt shaker, then back to you, his brow furrowing just the tiniest bit. “you’re not really that helpless, are you?” he asks, his voice quiet but sharp.

✧ you feign surprise. “i’m not? you sure?”

✧ he doesn’t respond right away, his fingers tapping lightly on the surface of the table. you can practically see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

✧ “i know you’re not,” he says finally, voice even but tinged with a little irritation now. “so, what are you trying to prove?”

✧ you chuckle softly, realizing you’ve definitely gotten under his skin now. but it’s more out of curiosity than malice—you want to see how far you can go before he snaps, how long he’ll let you test him before he turns the tables.

✧ “oh, nothing,” you say innocently. “just wanted to see if you’d do it without asking questions.”

✧ dan heng’s eyes narrow, and for the first time in this little game, he seems to truly study you, as if trying to gauge your intentions.

✧ “you’re not as subtle as you think,” he finally says, his tone firm but not unkind. “you’re trying to get a reaction out of me, aren’t you?”

✧ you grin, leaning back with a satisfied look. “maybe... what’s the harm?”

✧ dan heng stands up from his seat, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he slowly gathers his things. you know you’ve pushed him a little, but you’re unsure if he’s genuinely upset or just playing along.

✧ “fine,” he mutters. “you want a reaction? here it is.”

✧ you blink as he steps closer, his usual reserved demeanor slipping as he looks down at you with a slight, almost imperceptible frown. “if i didn’t care about you, i wouldn’t even be here, helping you with these ridiculous requests. so, stop trying to push my patience.”

✧ you freeze for a moment, surprised at how direct and blunt he’s being. there’s no anger in his words—just a quiet frustration, the kind that comes from realizing how much you’ve been testing him.

✧ he lets out a short laugh, shaking his head as if he can’t quite believe what he’s dealing with. “honestly, i’m not sure if you’re trying to get me to lose my patience or just see how far you can push me.”

✧ you smile sheepishly, knowing you’ve been a little relentless with your “tests.” “i guess a bit of both,” you admit, but there’s a softness in your voice now. “i just wanted to see if you’d care enough to call me out on it.”

✧ dan heng sighs deeply, but now there’s a warmth to his expression that wasn’t there before. he steps closer and places a hand gently on your shoulder, the touch more tender than you expected. “i care enough to call you out, even if it means putting up with your nonsense.”

✧ it’s quiet for a moment, but you can feel the sincerity in his words. you’ve definitely ruffled his calm, but in a way that shows just how much he’s paying attention, how much he truly cares for you.

✧ you laugh lightly, not expecting him to be so honest about it, but secretly glad to know you’ve gotten through to him. “i’ll try not to test you so much, okay?”

✧ dan heng shakes his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “i’ll believe it when i see it.”

welt yang

✧ welt, being the mature and experienced gentleman he is, notices your little “test” immediately.

✧ the man is used to dealing with delicate matters, whether in his long history of research, his time as a historian, or the countless responsibilities that come with leading in times of crisis. so, when you start testing his patience, you know it’s going to take a lot more than a small inconvenience to shake him. that being said, you enjoy challenging him, just a little, to see how far you can push him.

✧ you start off small, of course. asking him the most trivial questions when he’s in the middle of reading one of his ancient books. “hey, welt,” you say sweetly, “do you think this book is boring?” the book’s not even in your hands, and he knows that you’re probably more interested in him than in the actual content of the text.

✧ at first, he doesn’t mind. he chuckles softly and lowers the book, humoring you with a small smile. “if i’m being honest, i would say it depends on your taste in reading. but you do know i can’t really afford distractions right now, right?”

✧ you smile, but this isn’t nearly enough to throw him off. you push again, dropping little hints like the fact that he’s been at his desk for hours on end and could probably use a break. you make a comment about how he’s always so serious, so focused, and maybe you should help him lighten up.

✧ “you know,” you tease, “you work too hard. you should take a break. come on, just for a minute?”

✧ welt sets the book down and looks at you, raising an eyebrow. “i’m not sure if i would call it ‘work’ if i’m doing something i enjoy, but i do appreciate the concern. perhaps you have something else in mind to keep me occupied?”

✧ his tone is light, playful even, but there’s something in his eyes that suggests he’s well aware of your intentions. he’s not the type to get easily upset, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t picked up on your little game.

✧ “you really know how to throw me off track, don’t you?” he says with a smile, clearly amused by your antics. “is this your way of seeing how far i’ll go before i lose my cool?”

✧ you grin, not backing down. “maybe. you seem so calm all the time. i wanted to know if i could make you flinch, just a little.”

✧ welt lets out a soft laugh, leaning back in his chair. “you’re testing me now, aren’t you? i suppose i should’ve expected as much from you.”

✧ you notice his hands move to the side of his glasses, adjusting them ever so slightly, and that’s when you realize: he’s fully aware of what’s going on.

✧ “you know, it’s cute that you think i’m impervious to distractions,” he continues, clearly enjoying your playful attempts. “but perhaps you underestimate how well i’ve learned to focus in the midst of chaos.”

✧ you can’t help but laugh at that, realizing that no matter how hard you try, you’re not going to make him flinch. he’s too smooth, too used to handling these kinds of things.

✧ “maybe i should stop testing you,” you say, a bit sheepishly. “you’re just too good at staying calm.”

✧ welt smiles knowingly. “i’ve had plenty of practice, but if you really want to test me further, i’m sure there are other ways to do so.” he leans forward, raising an eyebrow, his voice turning just a bit teasing. “but i’m not so easily caught off guard, dear. if you want to see me lose my composure, you’ll have to be a little more creative.”

✧ you blink in surprise at how easily he flipped the situation on its head, and then it dawns on you: you’ve just been outplayed.

✧ he notices the realization in your expression and gives you an amused glance. “now, if you’re really interested, i can give you some advice on how to keep your distractions less obvious in the future. but don’t expect me to fall for it again so easily.”

✧ you can’t help but laugh. “alright, alright, you win this round.”

✧ welt chuckles softly, picking up his book again. “it’s not about winning or losing, but about knowing how to handle what comes your way. and if you ever need a distraction, you know where to find me.”

✧ “but do you know, if you want reassurance, you only need to ask. i don’t play games when it comes to my feelings for you.” my man does NOT play when it comes to you!! 🙅‍♀️ 🙅‍♀️

blade

✧ he is stoic, so basically this feels like poking a sleeping tiger. you’d try to stress him out by being overly affectionate in public or daringly teasing him in front of the stellaron hunters.

✧ blade is a man of few words, and even fewer smiles. so when you start poking at him, trying to get a rise out of him, you know you’re walking a fine line. but that’s exactly what you want, isn’t it? to see just how much you can push before he cracks.

✧ it starts with small, playful jabs. teasing him about his stoic nature, of course. you know he’s not the type to express himself easily, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to bring out something more from him.

✧ “blade, do you ever smile? i think i’d faint if i saw it.”

✧ you say it with a mischievous grin, watching for any sign of a reaction. his first response is the usual – a glare that could melt steel. but there’s something else in his eyes, a flicker of something that tells you he’s holding back a smirk. deep down, you know he secretly enjoys your antics.

✧ “you’re really trying to get me to laugh, aren’t you?” he says, his voice low and steady, though it has a hint of something playful beneath it.

✧ you push further, though, not willing to let up so easily. “come on, blade. you can’t possibly be that serious all the time. it’s like you’re stuck in permanent brooding mode.”

✧ and that’s when the situation takes a turn. before you can even process it, he grabs your wrist with surprising speed, pulling you close, his voice dropping even lower, sending a shiver down your spine.

✧ “you think i’d waste my time with someone i didn’t care about? don’t test me.”

✧ his words come with an intensity that you didn’t expect, his presence so overpowering that it almost takes the air out of your lungs. you blink, momentarily taken aback, but you don’t back down. the playful teasing lingers in the air, even though you can tell that you’ve crossed the line.

✧ but blade, in his own way, seems to realize that. after a moment, he releases his grip on your wrist, letting out a quiet sigh. the edge of his tone softens, just slightly.

✧ “you’re important to me,” he mutters, his voice low but genuine. “stop doubting that.”

✧ there’s no grand declaration, no flowery words. just the blunt honesty of a man who’s difficult to read, yet in his own way, he’s showing you something far deeper than what words could ever convey.

✧ you watch him for a moment, realizing that, despite all his coldness, there’s a warmth buried deep beneath the surface – one that he’s not so quick to reveal, but it’s there, unmistakable in its own quiet way.

✧ “i guess i’ll just have to take your word for it, huh?” you say with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood once more.

✧ blade doesn’t respond with a smile, but the slightest hint of amusement flickers in his eyes. and maybe, just maybe, that’s his version of a win.

sampo koski

✧ sampo loves games, so he immediately plays along with your little “test.”

✧ sampo has always been the life of the party, the one with a smile on his face and a witty comeback ready for anything. so when you start throwing him off with your uncharacteristic seriousness, it’s like throwing a wrench in his well-oiled machine of flirtations.

✧ you don’t laugh at his jokes, you don’t play along with his flirtations, and you certainly don’t give him the usual banter he’s used to. instead, you respond with an almost eerie level of calm.

✧ “oh? no witty comeback today? you’re scaring me, sweetheart,” he teases, leaning back, watching you with an exaggerated frown as though he’s genuinely concerned. you can see the twinkle in his eyes, but he’s trying to hold it together.

✧ at first, you don’t budge. you just stare at him, deadpan, giving nothing away.

✧ he blinks a few times, clearly thrown off. then, he lets out a dramatic sigh. “oh no, what’s happening? is this… a breakup? did i mess up somehow? what did i do wrong? i can change! i swear, i’ll stop with the flirtations—i’ll even stop trying to steal your snacks!" he says, eyes widening as though he's on the verge of a crisis.

✧ the way he overacts is so ridiculous that it’s hard to keep a straight face. but you’re committed, your expression still unreadable as you let him stew in the nonsense he’s coming up with.

✧ when you finally can’t hold it in anymore and let out a soft laugh, his entire demeanor shifts. in an instant, his playful grin is back, and he pulls you into a sudden hug.

✧ “sweetheart, if i didn’t like you, i wouldn’t stick around this long. but nice try!” he says between chuckles, his voice playful and warm.

✧ you can’t help but smile at his antics. he may act like he’s been genuinely stressed out, but deep down, you know he’s been enjoying every minute of your teasing.

✧ he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes sparkling mischievously. “you really had me going there for a second. but hey, now i know you care enough to test me. i’ll take it as a compliment.”

✧ you shake your head, still amused by his dramatic performance. “don’t ever change, sampo.”

✧ he winks at you, his usual grin returning in full force. “don’t worry, sweetheart, i’m never going to change… unless it’s to make you laugh more.”

luocha

✧ luocha is patient and gentle, but even he has his limits. you’d try to test him by asking endless hypothetical questions about relationships or intentionally making vague statements about your feelings.

✧ when you start throwing questions his way, testing his patience with doubts about his feelings, you know he’ll handle it with the same serenity he always exudes. but the longer it goes on, the more you start to wonder if you’re pushing him too far.

✧ “what if someone better came along?” you ask casually, watching his expression for a hint of reaction. it’s a harmless question in your mind, but you can tell he takes it seriously.

✧ he pauses, his hand resting gently on his chin, thinking it through before answering with his usual calmness. “if someone better came along, then you’d deserve to find happiness with them, just as I would wish for your happiness no matter the circumstances.”

✧ his response isn’t what you expected. it’s thoughtful, selfless, and it makes you question your own intentions. but you can’t help yourself – you press on, seeking reassurance in the form of his steady words.

✧ “but what if you don’t feel the same as you did before? what if you find someone who catches your eye more than me?”

✧ luocha’s gaze softens as he listens to your words. there’s no anger in his eyes, no irritation. only concern, as if he’s trying to understand why you would even think such a thing. his voice remains calm, but now there’s a slight edge to it, as if the question weighs on him more than you realize.

✧ “are you trying to test me?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, his brow furrowing just enough to show he’s genuinely curious. “i hope you know i mean every word i’ve said to you. my feelings are not something i take lightly.”

✧ you’re taken aback, your mind racing as you realize just how much this is affecting him. you weren’t trying to hurt him; you just wanted to see if he truly cared. but now, the weight of your questions hangs heavy in the air.

✧ seeing the uncertainty in your eyes, he lets out a small, almost imperceptible sigh. he reaches out, taking your hand in his, offering you a reassuring smile that radiates warmth.

✧ “there’s no need for doubt,” he says softly, his voice gentle yet firm. “my feelings for you are genuine, and they won’t change based on fleeting insecurities. you are the only one i see, the only one i care for.”

✧ his words carry a weight that resonates deep within you, his sincerity undeniable. you feel a warmth spread through your chest, a sense of relief washing over you.

✧ “i’m sorry,” you say, a little embarrassed by how far you’ve pushed him. “i didn’t mean to make you doubt how much i care.”

✧ luocha chuckles softly, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. “it’s alright,” he says, his voice filled with understanding. “i know you’re just seeking reassurance. but i hope this is enough to put your mind at ease.”

✧ you nod, grateful for his patience and the depth of his affection. his unwavering calmness and the way he handles your doubts only make you feel even more certain that, with him, you never need to worry about someone else coming along.

note: if you would like to be added to the honkai star rail taglist pls just ask me!! dont be shy

taglist 🏷️:  @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @yuri-is-silly @khoiyyu @daydreaming-paradies if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..