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▵▿— Hold Me Close

— Jing Yuan, Boothill, Gepard, Sunday, Phainon, Mydei, Anaxa, Jiaoqiu x gn!reader

Category: Actually tooth rotting fluff

Synopsis: what is it like cuddling them?

CW: none :D

A/N: when u don’t know which one character to write for... also pls let me know if past or present tense would work better for drabbles like these I genuinely don’t know AAAA

JING YUAN —▵▿

Be prepared to not be able to breathe for the next few hours.

The Luofu General would lay on top of you, with all the weight and muscles he had, cling onto you like a massive cat. How could he not? You were just so comfortable, a perfect mattress for his afternoon nap.

“Jing Yuan- darling you’re crushing me…”

The man would only hum in response as he shifted on top of you to get a bit more comfortable, pressing the last puff of air from your lungs as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. His arms looped around your waist as if you’re a pillow. No matter how many times you tried to peel yourself away from him, it was futile.

“Just let me sleep…” He murmured. His voice was deep and gravelly.

You look down to see the man peacefully asleep. His lashes fluttered against his cheek. It was just part of his charm to be able to have you give in to him so easily. You could only sigh in defeat before bringing your hand up to comb through the General’s wild silvery mane, eliciting another content hum from him.

BOOTHILL —▵▿

Despite being 90% metal, the cowboy was oddly comfortable to cuddle with. Boothill enjoyed having you lay on his chest as he gently combed his metal fingers through your hair. One of the best parts about cuddling with you was being about to yap just about anything with you. What he did on the day… how fun it was to gun down IPC guards… how that secret stash of bullets in his pocket always tasted better with you on his mind.

Boothill loved nuzzling his face against you. It was the one way he could feel you, your body heat, and the smoothness of your skin. Somehow, it all made him feel so human.

“Darlin’… yer’s so soft. Wish I could feel ya all over.”

Often times, Boothill would nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck and kiss all the skin he could come in contact with before parting his lips and just gently bite on your skin with his teeth. Nothing sexual, he just wanted to feel and taste you. You were the one who made him feel whole, after all.

GEPARD —▵▿

Great at cuddling, especially after one long, tiring day of work.

The Captain of the Silvermane Guards would just haphazardly remove his armour, not even bothering to change out of his uniform before flopping into bed and cuddling you. With his face buried in your chest and arms wrapped around your waist, the man was finally able to let himself relax in your embrace.

Stroke his hair, pepper him with kisses, whisper sweet nothings to his ear, he’d let you do anything to him while cuddling. No words were needed to be exchanged either. He loved the peaceful silence shared between the two of you. But of course, if you wanted to talk, he would listen. If you asked him how his day went, Gepard would undoubtedly share all the wonderful and not so wonderful things with you.

SUNDAY —▵▿

Although being together for so long, Sunday still couldn’t help but feel flustered and giddy all over whenever receiving attention form you. Cuddling wasn’t an exception.

Sunday would be blushing and everything as you hold him close. His legs were tangled with yours and his face was buried in your chest as you idly groomed his wings. He could feel your fingers gingerly fixing every individual feather. He couldn’t help but let it flinch in your hands, and every time it did, he could hear you snicker softly. It was such a lovely melody, he would listen to your laugh for the rest of his life.

You would sometimes tease him for his adorable blush while you were cuddling, peppering his cheeks and making his cheeks heat up even more until the Oak Family head was all putty in your arms.

“Must you tease me so much? Ah… dear, please, this is so humiliating…”

PHAINON —▵▿

Phainon patiently waited for you on the bed. His armour was already removed. Upon seeing you enter the bedroom, he outstretched his arms, an adorably wide smile hung on his face as he gave you the puppy eyes.

“Cuddle?”

You swore he was going to be the death of your poor heart.

The moment you get into bed, he would cling onto your waist and bury his face in your stomach. You didn’t even get the chance to properly lay down yet and the man would be shamelessly attached to you, molding his body with yours. The feeling of you against him was everything that he could ask for.

The cheeky man would sometimes tease you out of nowhere, pinching your side or tickling you, just to make you flinch and giggle. You weren’t about to let him off the hook so easily. A cuddle session would all of a sudden turn into the two of you rolling around the bed, trying to tickle the living daylights out of one another.

By the time you two laid panting, Phainon would pull you close and bury his face at the crook of your neck before finally letting you fall asleep.

MYDEI—▵▿

Mydei was perfect to lay on top of. His body was broad and warm, your perfect heater. Not to mention, he would let you rest your head against his ‘pillows’ (ahem ahem).

Mydei gently traced random shapes on your back as he felt your chest rise and fall against him with every breath you took. The feeling grounded him. It reminded him of your comforting presence. Mydei let you trace his red markings as you cuddled. Your feather-light touch would send tingles down his spine.

You would sometimes prop you chin in your palm as you silently admire the Kremnoan prince. Your gaze would trace every feature of his handsome face, a smile gracing your lips, until Mydei adverted his gaze to hide his blushing cheeks.

“HKS…” He mumbled.

You could only giggle at his reaction before leaning down to pepper kisses all over his face.

ANAXA —▵▿

Anaxa was never the first to cuddle you, but he would always wait for you.

The moment he felt the mattress dip and your arms wrap around him, he would put away the scroll he had been reading and reciprocate, slipping his arms around your torso, letting you tangle your legs with his, and bury his face in the crook of your neck.

Anaxa lived for the feeling of your hands gingerly combing through his hair. It calmed him from one long day of dealing with his annoying students. The professor would rant on about his new theories, or how his students wouldn’t stop calling him atrociously ridiculous names.

“’Prof ‘Nax?’ Tsk. The sheer audacity of those children.”

Anaxa could feel your chest moving against his as you laughed, and he hugged you closer. The feeling of you by his side grounded him. He let his eyes droop as he relaxed against you. You were his solace, his sanctuary, the only deity he would devote himself to.

JIAOQIU —▵▿

The purpose of a fox’s tail was to keep itself warm. Jiaoqiu’s tail was for letting you hug like a pillow. He didn’t mind as long as he could feel your warmth around him. The two of you would lay side by side, you back against his front and his tail could curl to the front of you for you to hold.

Jiaoqiu wrapped his arms securely around your torso. He tended to slip his hands beneath your clothes to gently trace your skin as you cuddled. He loved how you soft you felt, and he’ll be damned if he wasn’t able to feel you for even a second. He would trace invisible shapes and rub gentle circles on your stomach or waist, or gently massage the muscles of your body.

“Your muscles are too tense… may I help you, my dear?”

The foxian would brush your hair to the side and litter your neck and nape with tender kisses and teasing bites, leaving little red marks over your skin. Every sensation of his lips and fangs on your skin sent shivers down your spine.

“Jiaoqiu… people are gonna see those marks…”

“Hmm…? Was that not the idea?”

OH GOD MY HANDS

۪ ࣪ ۪ ۫ . ℒℴ𝓋ℯ 𝒾𝓈𝓃’𝓉 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓌ℴ𝓇𝒹𝓈, 𝒽ℴ𝓃ℯ𝓎. ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི ' ˖ ᝰ ' . ‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿

꒰ ꪆৎ ┊ 𝒯heme: How does your husband show you love?ˎˊ˗꒱ → 𝒜rgenti ⋮ 𝒜venturine ⋮ ℬoothill ⋮ ℬlade ⋮ 𝒟an ℋeng ⋮ 𝒢epard ⋮ 𝒥ing 𝒴uan ⋮ ℳydeimos ⋮ 𝒫hainon! ၄၃

—If you want, you can listen to “My Love Mine All Mine” by Mitski, to Blade and Mydei’s scene, it’s beautiful ♡

𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓—This content is sfw! —English isn’t my native language, I used a translator -w-

𝑨𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉…

𐔌 Words (mostly) ꒱

Argenti showed you his immense love for you in many ways, but the one he uses the most are words and compliments. He is a Knight Of Beauty, he was already obsessed with beauty, and, since he saw you for the first time, he became obsessed with you.

"...The flashes of your beautiful eyes are similar to the stars and..."—He is always such a poet with you. "Your beautiful voice is like a soft melody that dances around me and sings to calm me down..."—Argenti could hear you sing out of tune and would continue to make him love your voice and want to listen to you. "Your delicate hands are made to hold mine and to receive these beautiful roses that I found and reminded me of the soft pink of your precious lips"—He had simply gotten you a huge bouquet of roses (he got all the flowers with his effort, he loves to give you things made by his hands, according to him, it has more real feeling and value in it).

SLEEPING HABITS W/ HSR MEN🤎

HONKAI STAR RAIL | Dan Heng, Sunday, Welt, Sampo, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Aventurine, Mydei, Phainon, Anaxagoras, Ashveill, Blade

[REQUESTED!♡] [DJINX!♡]

DAN HENG

sleeps lightly, never fully surrendering to rest. Years of exile, danger, and watchfulness left him accustomed to waking at the smallest sound. He prefers cool rooms, dim lighting, and the steady hum of the Express. When you struggle to sleep—whether from nightmares, anxiety, overthinking, or simple restlessness—he doesn't overwhelm with advice. Instead, he quietly stays beside you, reading while you settle down. One hand remains within reach if you want it. In either form he will always wrap his tail around your fingers lightly. He speaks in a low, even voice, recounting harmless observations from his travels until you thoughts slow. Only after you're asleep does he finally close his own eyes.

SUNDAY

sleeps far less than people realize. Years spent listening to the worries of others left him accustomed to late nights and restless thoughts of his own. He prefers quiet rooms, neatly arranged blankets, and the faint sound of music drifting in the background. When you struggle to sleep he never pushes for answers. Instead, he remains beside you, patient and attentive. One hand gently intertwines with yours if you seek comfort. He speaks in a soft, measured voice, sharing stories, memories, or simple observations until your mind begins to settle. Only once your breathing evens and sleep finally claims you does he allow himself to close his eyes as well.

WELT

doesn't sleep very deeply anymore. Not because he expects danger, but because after a lifetime of carrying responsibilities, part of him is always listening for the people he cares about. If you wake in the middle of the night, chances are he's awake too. Quietly reading in the dim light, glasses perched low on his nose as he turns another page. When you can't sleep, he never pushes. He'll simply set his book aside and make room for you against his shoulder. If you want to talk, he'll listen. If you don't, he won't press for answers. Silence has never made him uncomfortable. Sometimes he'll tell you stories about places you've never seen, old films from his home, or memories softened by time. Nothing too heavy. Just enough to pull your thoughts away from whatever is keeping them awake. And somehow, with the steady rhythm of his voice and the quiet certainty he carries, sleep never seems quite so far away.

SAMPO

claims he's excellent at sleeping. According to him, it's one of his many talents. In reality, he's usually the last one asleep and the first to notice when you're still awake. If you can't sleep, he'll start talking. Not about anything important. In fact, the more important the problem is, the less directly he'll address it. He'll tell ridiculous stories, make up outrageous business ventures, complain about people who definitely deserved to be scammed, and somehow have you smiling before you realize what he's doing. The whole time, he's watching you from the corner of his eye. Eventually his voice grows quieter, his jokes less frequent, until you're half asleep against him. Only then does he relax, an arm settling around you as if it ended up there by accident. When morning comes, he'll deny being sweet about any of it. But somehow, he's always there on the nights you need him most.

GEPARD

sleeps like someone who knows the city never truly rests. Even off duty, years of standing watch over Belobog make him a light sleeper, quick to wake at unusual sounds. He prefers quiet, cold rooms and often falls asleep later than he intends after finishing reports or checking that everything is in order. When you can't sleep, he doesn't immediately try to solve the problem. Instead, he stays beside you, patient and steady, letting you talk through whatever is weighing on your mind. If words don't come easily, that's fine too. He'll rest a hand over yours, gently tracing circles across your knuckles while speaking about simple things—flowers he's trying to grow, stories from patrol, songs Serval used to sing at home. His voice is calm and grounding, carrying the certainty that you're safe. If a nightmare wakes you, he'll be awake in seconds, pulling you close without hesitation. He won't leave until your breathing evens out and sleep finally finds you again.

JINGYUAN

sleeps surprisingly well when he finally allows himself to. Years of carrying the weight of the Luofu taught him that exhaustion clouds judgment, so he values rest even if duty constantly tries to steal it away. Still, he often lingers awake, lost in thought, watching the departing starskiffs or quietly playing through old memories. When you have trouble sleeping, he never rushes you toward rest. Instead, he invites you to sit beside him, speaking in that calm, unhurried voice that makes even worries feel less urgent. He'll tell stories from his travels, amusing tales about old friends, or observations that seem pointless until you realize they've distracted you from your spiraling thoughts. If nightmares wake you, he simply draws you closer, one hand resting against your back. No lectures, no questions, no pressure. Just a steady presence, patient as moonlight, remaining awake a little longer so you don't have to face the darkness alone.

AVENTURINE

Sleep doesn't come easily to Aventurine. He spends so much of his life calculating odds, reading people, and preparing for every possible outcome that his mind rarely settles the moment his head touches the pillow. Even when he looks relaxed, there's usually a part of him still awake, still watching. When you can't sleep, he notices long before you say anything. Rather than pressing you for answers, he'll quietly draw your attention elsewhere, spinning stories, making harmless wagers about tomorrow, or asking questions he already knows don't need serious answers. It's easier to carry a burden when you're laughing a little. If anxiety keeps you awake, he'll lace his fingers through yours and remind you that not every uncertainty needs to be solved tonight. Beneath the charm and confidence is someone who understands fear far better than he lets on.

MYDEI

sleeps the way a warrior stands guard—never completely. Even when exhaustion finally drags him under, years of battle, prophecy, and surviving what should have killed him make rest feel more like a temporary ceasefire than true peace. He prefers your warmth close by, often keeping an arm around you without even realizing it. It's instinctive, like protecting something precious. When you struggle to sleep, his first instinct is action. He wants to fight the problem, defeat it, challenge it outright. But over time, he learns that not every battle can be won with strength. Instead, he stays beside you, listening more than speaking. His presence is solid and grounding, like an ancient stone wall weathering a storm. If nightmares wake you, he's immediately alert, pulling you against his chest before you've fully opened your eyes. He doesn't offer polished words or clever reassurances. He simply reminds you that you're here, alive, and safe. Sometimes he'll tell stories of Kremnos, of festivals, warriors, and fields of flowers waiting beyond hardship. His voice carries the certainty of someone who has stared death in the face countless times and kept walking. Sleep may evade him, but if it means standing watch over you through the night, Mydei considers that a battle worth winning.

PHAINON

sleeps as though he is standing watch over a dying flame. Even in rest, there is a quiet tension in him, the habit of someone who has carried hope through too many dark nights to ever set it down completely. He prefers open windows, cool air, and the faint scent of earth after rain. When sleep refuses to come, he doesn't ask what's wrong right away. Instead, he settles beside you with patient ease, speaking of distant wheat fields, old stories, and dreams of worlds yet to be built. His voice is warm and steady, never forcing comfort, only offering it. If nightmares wake you, he'll stay until dawn if needed. To him, no burden is too small when it's carried by someone he cares about.

ANAXAGORAS

sleeps reluctantly, as though rest is an argument he has yet to lose. Even when exhaustion finally catches up to him, books remain piled around his bed, papers covered in half-finished notes scattered across every available surface. More than once, he's fallen asleep while researching a question that refused to leave his mind. He prefers silence, dim lighting, and uninterrupted hours where thought can wander wherever it pleases. When you can't sleep, he doesn't immediately ask what's wrong. Instead, he begins talking—about paradoxes, ancient philosophies, absurd academic disputes, or whatever idea currently occupies his attention. Somehow, while trying to follow his reasoning or argue back, the weight on your mind starts to loosen. If sleep still refuses to come, he'll read aloud from one of his books, occasionally stopping to criticize the author's conclusions or propose a better answer himself. Every so often his gaze flickers toward you, checking whether you're still awake, though he'd deny doing so if asked. Once you finally drift off, he quietly returns to his notes. Hours later, long after everyone else is asleep, the faint scratch of a pen can still be heard as he chases another impossible question into the night.

ASHVEIL

sleeps lightly, the way old hunters do. One ear always tuned to the world around him, one hand never too far from his weapon. Years spent chasing criminals, debts, and ghosts have left him with the habit of waking at the slightest disturbance. He claims it's just part of the job, though the truth runs deeper than that. When sleep won't come, he doesn't pry. He'll simply settle nearby, nursing a cup of coffee gone cold hours ago or lazily flipping through old case files. Sometimes he'll tell you stories—not the glamorous kind about heroes saving the galaxy, but small ones. Lost dogs that found their way home. Missing people reunited with family. Ordinary victories that remind people the world isn't entirely cruel. If your thoughts keep spiraling, he'll listen without interruption, offering the occasional joke so terrible it earns an eye roll. He doesn't try to solve every problem. A detective knows some things just need time. And if nightmares wake you in the dark, you'll find him exactly where he was before, still keeping watch. He might grumble about lost sleep or send you an invoice for emotional support afterward, but neither would be serious. As long as you're awake and hurting, he won't be going anywhere. Not yet.

BLADE

doesn't sleep often. When he does, it comes in brief stretches between old memories and older scars. Most nights he's awake long before you are, sitting somewhere nearby with his sword within reach and his thoughts somewhere far away. Silence never seems to bother him. When sleep refuses to come for you, he notices before you say anything. He isn't good at comfort in the usual sense. He won't offer soft reassurances or tell you everything will be fine. Instead, he'll quietly make room beside him, wordlessly inviting you to stay. Sometimes he sharpens his blade. Sometimes he tends to old equipment. Sometimes he simply sits there in the dark. If nightmares wake you, his hand settles against yours before you can pull away from them completely. He understands what it means to be haunted. On the rare nights you manage to fall asleep against his shoulder, he remains perfectly still, as if afraid movement might disturb the fragile peace you've found. Only when your breathing finally evens out does he allow himself a moment of rest. And even then, one eye never fully closes.

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