hi! my name is katze! I would love to write for you! (=｀ω´=)
currently writing for demon slayer: kimetsu no yaiba, honkai star rail, and genshin impact!
⊹ about me ⊹ rules ⊹ masterlists ⊹ characters I write for ⊹
special event: katze’s 500 follower writing cat-baret!
˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ regarding askbox/requests!
my asks are always open for whatever comments, questions, headcanons, or thoughts you want to bring to me!
requests are also always open, but they aren’t first come first serve!! I will pick and choose ones that I enjoy (=^-ω-^=)
⊹ click me to get to the askbox!
˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ recent works!
⊹ mundanities (ft. jing yuan) - how jing yuan acts post-work + on weekends
⊹ old scars die hard (ft. sampo, kafka, jing yuan) - though the wounds of the past do not fade very fast, they’re willing to stand by you
⊹ mr. cold feet (ft. sampo) - sampo has once again taken an alias and a dirty job, but you’re not about to let him get away with it
Tagging @tivosstuff @meefy @wri0thesley and anyone that wants to do it & hasn't been tagged yet because tumblr doesn't want to make names pop up and my brain is fried tonight
aah thank you for the tag!!! born in the wrong universe . . . hmm! tagging: @hazgojo @abbacchiosbelt @nanamimizz @magicalbats and anyone else who also may want to do it, tagging makes me nervous lest everyone secretly hate me!!!
Thanks for tagging me, Nat! I could never secretly hate you btw. lol I would go to war for you any day at any moment if only you’d just ask me to. 🫶
As it turns out though I’m not much better at tagging people, haha. Omg let me see. @meaningofaeons @rabbbitseason @vasiktomis @chickenparm @softyswork uhhhh and anyone else who wants to do it! I always love seeing everyone’s picrews! 🥺❤️
so, my sweet darling baby smartcar has been destroyed by a teenager running a red light and is non-repairable. it's really going to put a strain on the ole wallet considering i need that car to make a living.
i'm not destitute, i won't be kicked out of my home, i can survive off ramen and grilled cheeses for the near future, but if anyone feels like tossing a couple bucks my way just to lighten the load on bills that would be cool. no pressure.
anyway here's my ko-fi and if you'd rather do paypal just dm me for that one.
Okay, my Kinktober pieces are once again being put on hold. Apologies to everyone who’s been waiting for me to (finally) wrap up that project but this takes priority before anything else.
As you may or may not have seen in my last rb, my good friend ChickenParm is going through it right now and while I will be sending her some assistance on my own there’s only so much I can do by myself. I’m one person with a limited amount of money I can spare. But if a few of us can pitch in a little bit here or there I think we can all make a big difference together.
And since some of you have been asking about commissioning me, here’s your chance!
How it will work: 🦇
1. Refer to the pricing list below, decide how much you want to spend and then donate that amount to the link Parm provided in her post
2. DM me with a screenshot of the donation and tell me what you want. Barring the Hard No’s listed on my carrd I’ll write anything at all you want. I will be double checking with her to ensure everything is in order so please don’t try to pull one over on me (I’ll cry 😢)
3. ???
4. Profit! Uh, i mean enjoy your fic!
Pricing: 🦇
The word counts listed below are going to be set minimums for the corresponding price. I’m a natural born yapper so I might go over that a little, or even a lot, but this is how we’ll determine the general range of the fic you want.
$10 or under = 1000 words
$20 = 2000 words
$30 = 3000 words
$40 = 4000 words
$50 = 5000 words
And so on.
Commissions will be handled on a first come first serve basis so if you’re interested please don’t hesitate to act now. I’m not sure how many people will actually want to take me up on this offer but I figured it was worth a shot since I’ve gotten asked about this in the past. Parm is an excellent writer and a very good friend, and I’d like to help her out as much as I possibly can. I’ll write for 48 hours straight if that’s what it takes to fulfill everyone’s commissions so please dont worry about overwhelming me with too much all at once!
so, my sweet darling baby smartcar has been destroyed by a teenager running a red light and is non-repairable. it's really going to put a strain on the ole wallet considering i need that car to make a living.
i'm not destitute, i won't be kicked out of my home, i can survive off ramen and grilled cheeses for the near future, but if anyone feels like tossing a couple bucks my way just to lighten the load on bills that would be cool. no pressure.
anyway here's my ko-fi and if you'd rather do paypal just dm me for that one.
⠀ — your least favourite cyborg is brought back to you a mangled mess.
⠀ OR
⠀ — being boothill’s mechanic when you lowkey can’t stand each other.
⚠︎ sweet sweet tension, a little suggestive towards the end, gn reader (no referring pronouns), can they fuck already, this was ib by his lightcone, wc 1.9k
boothill's eyes flickered to life, emitting a faint glow of red as his systems began to reboot.
a pair of familiar red pupils met yours, two crosshairs fading into sight as boothill regained his sight and— to your dismay— consciousness.
as the cyborg regained his motion he attempted a step forward, only to realise he didn’t have the feet or legs to do so. the only thing keeping him powered on were some metal claws screwed into his back and a few loose cables connecting to your terminals.
“sugar plum,” boothill's scruffy voice cut through the silence. “do y'care to explain where my legs might’a run off to?”
you actually cocked an eyebrow. how the hell were you supposed to know? boothill was brought back to you in a mess of scraps and wiring— the damn hunk of metal was lucky you made him as blast proof as possible and he was left salvageable.
“care to tell me how the hell you got this roughed up?”
you asked in turn, crouching down to look at the detached and ruined internals of boothill's torso where the stand-in wires were connected. you ran a finger carefully along the edge of his shredded metallic stomach.
“guess i didn't make you as smart as i thought. time for a newer model, maybe?”
boothill's eyes flickered down to his missing lower half, then to your hand that was more or less caressing him. it was amazing how much annoyance they could show in all their artificial glory.
“look who’s talkin.” the cowboy grumbled, pointy fangs poking out in an irritated grin.
“how ‘bout, ‘gee, boothill! i’m real glad y’ain’t get blown to smithereens beyond repair!’”
“it would've been less work for me if whoever blew you up finished the job.”
you sighed as you stood up, putting a hand lazily on your hip.
“how’d it happen?”
boothill bit back another argument with a gruff chuckle.
“some real cutie-pies i was huntin’ down had a lil’ more firepower than i expected. guess they didn’t appreciate me spoilin’ their party.”
boothill visibly cringed as his insult was substituted with some cutesy nickname mid explanation.
“and can you fix my beautiful synesthesia beacon already? this thing is drivin’ me up the wall.”
the request fell on deaf ears as your fingers typed something on your laptop, likely another string of code.
“you’re more concerned about your censor than how long it’s gonna take me to put your legs back on…” you sighed to yourself, still leaned over your workbench, eyes focused on your screen.
“i'm not touching it right now. you’re lucky i’m even letting you stay sentient after this.”
boothill snorted at the remark, brows furrowing in a steady grimace.
“well, ‘scuse me for wantin’ to speak freely– i’m a grown man!” his pointy teeth shone as they peeked out again in a grin.
“y’know what? just leave yer lil’ tools and all the pieces there— i’ll get my legs back on myself. don’t need no charity work from the likes’a you.” he laughed. “heck, may even give myself a new pecker while i'm at it!”
the mechanic had half a mind to listen, sit back and watch boothill struggle to reassemble himself just to prove a point and simultaneously bask in his embarrassment when the former realised it wasn’t possible.
(not that he would’ve admitted defeat– you would have begrudgingly stepped in and helped before he inevitably messed up his wiring more.)
you stepped back over to boothill, hands moving to hold his cheeks so you could tilt his face side to side to check for any more damage.
“cool it, cowboy.” your eyes squinted in focus as they looked at boothill's, lightly tugging up on his eyelid to check for scratches or cracks.
“i'll get you back up and running, just lose the attitude already.”
boothill's eyes narrowed as he felt your touch on his face. the temperature difference of warm fingers on his cold, mechanical body stirring an oddity where his gut should have been. though he tried to ignore it, the sensation was there, clear as day against all his artificial nerve endings.
“real easy for you to say,” he huffed, avoiding your eyes as he was examined like a broken toy. “let’s see how peachy you are when yer all strung up and legless, love muffin.”
that censor really was gonna drive him insane.
“just get it over with.'' boothill muttered in annoyance. “and try not t’fuss anythin’ up.”
it took quite some time, as expected, for you to successfully reattach boothill’s legs and fix his mangled midsection. when you were finally finished, you tugged out any leftover wires that connected boothill to your terminals and pushed back in your wheelie chair to beckon the cowboy forward. you pushed your glasses up to your forehead, some hair getting swept out of your eyes with them.
“feel fine?”
boothill rolled his ankles and bent his knees, giving his legs a good stretch to test their mobility.
“mighty fine,” he responded, satisfied to feel they were weighted and moved the same as before. “though i can’t say i’m lovin’ the breeze up my backside.”
boothill glanced down at himself, steel body completely bare and lacking any of his signature clothing.
“got my pants lyin’ around anywhere, sugar plum?”
you pointed to another table in the room, where boothills clothes— (or rather the new ones you had to go and get—) were neatly folded, his hat placed on top of them.
boothill went to get himself dressed, hoisting up his bell bottomed pants and sliding on his jacket. he stole a glance in your direction every so often, resisting the childish urge to roll his eyes at the mere sight of you.
the artificial man hit a small bump in the road as he went to zip his jacket (could you really call it that with how little it covered?) up— his fingers weren’t responding as well as they should have been. he could open and close his fist, but lacked the precision to pinch and hold the zipper.
“hey, honeybun,'' boothill called over to you with a furrowed brow. “didn’t i tell you not to go fudgin’ anythin’ up?”
you, in all your overtired glory groaned, turning around in your chair and waving boothill back over.
boothill's footsteps were clunky and loud as he stomped his way back over to his mechanic.
you reached for his hand, an uncharacteristic gentleness in your touch as you examined five mechanical fingers.
“make a fist,”
boothill obeyed, curling his fingers into his palm.
“open it,”
he obeyed again, letting them open and relax.
“hold up two fingers,”
boothill tried, but his fingers got stuck halfway into the motion, locking at the joints.
“son of a bitch.” you sighed, turning for one of your tools. “sit back down.”
boothill grumbled and went to hoist himself back onto the workbench.
“least one o’us can say it…”
“do you want me to fix you or not?”
“i'm sittin’ ain’t i??”
you pulled boothill's shirt off his left shoulder and popped open a tiny panel on the curve of his neck, sliding your glasses back on to the bridge of your nose. with a lean forward you began carefully looking at a few thin wires that filled the space.
boothill tapped his fingers against the tabletop while you worked, that same oddity as before settling in his now repaired gut. he rarely got messed up enough for you and him to spend this much time together, or for you to have to really be in such close proximity.
it’s not uncomfortable, but the feeling is by no means familiar. it’s actually a little embarrassing– a galaxy ranger, a space cyborg and expert hunter, feeling almost flustered at some close contact like some kind of shy little girl.
“something the matter?”
boothill nearly jumped as you spoke up quietly to check on him, voice quiet and so close to his ear he had to refrain from leaning both closer and away.
“nah, everything’s just dandy.” boothill’s voice followed yours– quieter and a little softer as a result of the closeness.
“you’re sure?” you looked up from the small mess of wires, eyes glancing up at your cyborg over the rim of your glasses. “might as well fix anything else that’s bugging you while i’m here.”
boothill would have swallowed if he had the need to lubricate his throat. he shook his head, turning to look somewhere— anywhere else.
yours lingered on him, albeit briefly, observing the clench of his jaw and the way he tried to shift in his seat without being disruptive to your work. he didn’t see the little smirk tug at your lips as you refocused on the task at hand.
boothill’s cybernetic limbs felt almost human in their sensitivity, sending faux shivers up a spine he didn’t even have. the mechanics fingers running down his forearm are doing him no favours as they move to hold his hand again.
“close your fist…open it…two fingers up…”
each command was obeyed, ten gunmetal fingers finally holding up a little peace sign.
“that should be it, come see me if they start acting up again.”
you stood up, tentatively reaching out to fix boothill’s jacket and begin to zip it for him.
boothill didn’t protest the act, but it was…confusing, to say the least.
“reckon i’ll just start seein’ those auto bots again,” he leaned back on his palms as your fingers fixed his collar, straightening it out. “much as i love our lil’ visits.”
you only hummed, smoothing out a few wrinkles and neatly tucking his scarf into it’s neckline, as he liked. “you could,” you mused, hooking your finger lightly into his collar and giving a gentle tug forward. “they don’t take as good care of you as i do, though.”
this time boothill caught the little smirk on your lips, clear as day and enough to make him question if short circuiting was possible.
you’re doing it on purpose, he knows. the careful touches to his hands and body against the sensors you put there, quiet voice leaving him with a frisson you made it possible for him to have.
boothill returned the smirk, albeit a little wobbly.
“you tryin’a rile me up, sugar plum?”
he entertained you with a lean forward, two white crosshairs looking right at you while he considered if a hand on your waist was too forward or the perfect cornering move.
“just like watching you squirm.”
you were gone as quickly as you’d arrived, finger unhooked and going to pick up his hat.
“but say i was,” you didn’t bother with a glance over as you made sure the brim was straight and unharmed. “i hardly have to try.”
boothill hopped down from the table, following your path and offering a scruffy chuckle when you reached up to place it on his head.
“yeah? and what makes y’say that?” his hand found a place on his hip.
you didn’t respond— not verbally, anyway. a quick flick of your eyes downwards was all he received.
so he followed, looking down as well, to the very appendage he had insisted you give him over and over again pushing against his trousers.
his own dream, now his downfall.
boothill pushed passed you, pushing his hat further down onto his head while he stomped away. the profanities that left his lips filled the air— or rather their replacements. something something i love you blah blah peach cobbler something cutie-pie or meow!
“remind me t’settle for them lovely auto bots next time!”
he opened the door with a firm kick of his boot, stomping out with a scowl.
as if he wouldn’t be back. you took better care of him, after all.
@radi0activelob1ani made the art for this and you can see the full piece here!
---
Aventurine/f!Reader - Reader's gender isn't mentioned until smut scenes.
2,871 Words - SFW (Future NSFW)
No current chapter warnings.
---
FULL CHAPTER CAN BE READ ON AO3.
What a ridiculous concept, he thinks as his heel taps against the floor and his knee bounces. Platonic cuddling - how silly. The only people who would solicit such connections would be those who are incredibly lonely and desperate. On the screen, his score changes, showing he has a neat twenty. His thumb hovers over the button as he contemplates the risk of taking it further.
Aventurine’s turn ticks down, and the player to his right at the virtual table hits twenty-one. The jingle of the advertisement echoes faintly in his ears as he loses.
why is trying to make a new friend so embarrassing. hi. me again. asking for your attention once more even though i am literally just some random person to you. it's because i want to be not just a random person to you. please understand
