express / belobog - m!honkai star rail x chubby fem!reader
You cry when he tells you he loves your body
featuring. caelus, dan heng, welt yang, gepard landau, sampo koski, luka cw/tags (19+ Only | Minors DNI). discussion/acknowledgement of body image issues, insecurity, verbal affirmation, affection, varied relation status, no beta
Caelus
You had been tugging at the hem of your shirt for the last twenty minutes, pulling it down over your stomach every time you shifted on the parlor car bench. You weren't even thinking about it, having done this for years out of reflex.
Flatten. Smooth. Adjust. Repeat.
Caelus was lying on the opposite bench, legs dangling off the end, tossing a baseball toward the ceiling and catching it repeatedly.
"Hey, could you stop doing that?" he asked, still throwing the baseball.
"Stop doing what?"
"The thing with your shirt." He caught the ball one final time and sat up, looking directly at you so plainly honest it almost felt rude. "You keep pulling at it. You've been doing it ever since you got on board."
Heat flooded your face. "It rides up."
"Okay--so let it ride up then if that's how it wants to fit."
"Caelus--"
"I'm serious." He swung his legs to the floor, elbows on his knees, leaning toward you. "You know what I see when your shirt rides up? You, that's what I see. You keep trying to hide yourself even though I like every single bit of you."
You stopped breathing.
He kept going. "Your thighs? Incredible. Your arms? I think about your arms... kind of a weird amount actually. And your stomach--okay, I know you hate your stomach, you told me once and I've been mad about it ever since--but I love it. I love how you look. All of it. Not in spite of anything. Just... I don't know, all of it."
The tears hit before you could form a single word.
His face went from earnest to panicked in a heartbeat. "Wait--no, that was supposed to be a good thing, I was trying to--"
"It is a good thing," you choked out, pressing both hands over your mouth because your whole face was crumpling. "You can't just say stuff like that."
"Um I can and I will? Frequently? Starting now and continuing forever?--I mean you said is was a good thing sooo not seeing the problem now."
You laughed through a sob and he crossed over and pulled you against his chest, arms folding around you completely, chin on top of your head.
"Every bit," he repeated against your hair. "No exceptions."
Your hands fisted in the back of his jacket and in that moment, you believed him.
Dan Heng
You didn't realize he was watching.
You stepped out of the shower and caught yourself in the narrow mirror of the Express bathroom, still dripping. And you done what you always did, turned sideways, sucked in, looked at every place you felt that your body curved too far or took up too much space, pinched your hip, pressed a hand flat against your belly and frowned.
The door was open a crack. You hadn't noticed.
Dan Heng didn't bring it up right away. That wasn't how he worked. He waited until the had enough context, and then mulled over his words carefully before expressing them.
It came three days later on the observation deck, his shoulder near yours in the dark.
"You hold yourself like an apology," he said.
You blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"The way you stand. The way you sit. You fold inward, make yourself smaller." A pause. "...You don't need to do that."
"Dan Heng, I--"
"I've read about this. The way one's body image can affect their view of themselves..." His voice stayed low, controlled, but something underneath it pressed against the edges. "While I know my words won't change this... You should know that I find nothing about your body that requires correction. Your shape, your frame, the way you feel when I--" He stopped. Reset. "I notice you. More than I'm comfortable admitting. And everything I notice, I've wanted ever since."
The air between you went very still.
"You can't mean that," you whispered.
His head turned and his eyes found your in the dark and the look in them was so utterly certain, that your chest caved in.
"I don't say things I'm unprepared to stand behind." he stated plainly.
The first tear fell and you looked away fast, jaw tight, trying to swallow the whole thing back down. His hand found your wrist. Not pulling. Just circling it, thumb against your pulse.
"Don't turn away from me," he said quietly. "Not for this."
You broke. A sound tore out of you that you'd been holding for years.
He drew you into him and pressed his mouth to your temple, letting yourself go through the motions until your breathing finally settled.
Welt Yang
He was sketching.
You grew used to him drawing at odd hours, pencil moving in that patient, deliberate way of his. He sketched the Express. He sketched planets from the window. He sketched Stelle mid-argument and March pretending not to pose.
You hadn't realized he was sketching you until the page fell open on the parlor table while he was making tea.
It was your profile from three nights ago. You were reading, legs tucked beneath you on the bench, one arm resting across your middle. He drew every curve with an incredible amount of care. The roundness of your cheek. The line where your thigh pressed full against the cushion. The place where your shirt gathered at your waist.
Nothing hidden. Nothing minimized.
"Welt." Your voice came out strange. "Why did you--"
He set down two cups and looked at the open page without embarrassment. "Because I wanted to remember how you looked in that light.ing"
"But you drew--" You gestured at the page, at the body on it, at all the parts you would have erased. "You drew everything."
"Yes." He sat across from you and adjusted his glasses. "That was the point."
"I don't look like that though."
"You look exactly like that." He said steadily without hesitation. "I have spent a long time learning to see what's actually in front of me... And what is in front of me is someone worth capturing accurately." He turned the notebook toward you. "Every line here is something I admire. I would not have drawn it otherwise."
You stared at the page and your vision blurred.
"I--sorry." You pushed the heel of your hand against your eye. "That's--no one's ever--"
"Then you have been around remarkably unobservant people."
A laugh jumped out of you, broken as he reached across the table and folded your free hand between both of his, thumbs running slow across your knuckles.
"I will draw you as many times as it takes," he said, "for you to see what I see."
Gepard Landau
He practiced what he was wanting to say to you.
You knew this because Serval told you, barely containing her glee, that her little brother had been pacing her workshop for half an hour muttering to himself with your name constantly in the mix.
"I don't know what he's planning," she said, "but I haven't seen him this wound up since his promotion ceremony."
So when Gepard appeared at your apartment that evening, still in full Silvermane regalia, standing at a posture that was somehow even more rigid than usual, you had some warning. Just not enough.
"I need to speak with you," he said.
"O...kay?"
"It has come to my attention--" He stopped. Started again. "I have observed that you--no. That isn't right either." He pressed his gloved fingers to the bridge of his nose. "I had this memorized."
"Gepard, are you alright?"
"You hold your coat closed when you walk beside me," he said, blunt and suddenly. "You cross your arms in public. You apologize whenever we sit close together and... last week you told me you were surprised I wanted to be seen with you and I have not been able to stop thinking about it since."
The hallway was very quiet.
"I am not skilled at this," he continued, and a flush was climbing his neck above the armor collar.
"I speak more easily about strategy and defense than about--but you need to hear this from me directly. Your body is not something to apologize for. It is--you are-" His jaw worked. "When I see you, what I feel is not obligation or charity. It is desire. It is admiration, and I will not stand by while you convince yourself otherwise."
Your hand came up over your mouth but it was too late. The sound that escaped was small and fractured and completely beyond your control and Gepards composure crumbled instantly.
"Was that--did I say it wrong? I can start over. I prepared a second version just in ca--"
"A second version," you repeated, half-sobbing, half-laughing.
"Serval said my first draft was too formal." he admitted, unknowingly exposing his sisters lie to you.
You grabbed the front of his breastplate and pulled him into to kiss him. He made a startled sound against your mouth and then his hands found your waist over your coat, thumbs pressing into the give of you through the fabric.
"Was that... acceptable then?" he asked when you pulled back, slightly dazed.
"And then some," you said still crying but with a smile.
Sampo Koski
It started with the worst pick-up line you'd ever heard.
"Are you a Silvermane Knight? Because you've got me under arrest and I'm not even mad about it~♥" He leaned across the market stall with both elbows down, chin in his hands, grinning at you with zero shame.
You walked away, but he showed up the next day.
"Did it hurt when you fell from the upper city? Because you look divine--and slightly illegal."
"Go away, Sampo."
Day five. "I've been to a lot of places on this planet. Frozen wastelands, underground tunnels, several rooms I was not welcome in. And the most stunning view is standing right in front of me buying groceries."
Day nine. "You must be an artifact from before the Eternal Freeze because you are a treasure and I'd like to claim you for my personal collection."
Day twelve. "Is your name Penacony? Because you're a dream come--wait, that one wouldn't make sense unless you've been. Hold on, let me--"
"Why are you doing this?" You finally turned on him, bags in hand. "Every day, Sampo. Pick-up lines. At me. Is this a new bit or something?"
"A bit!" He clutched his chest as though pained. "She calls it a bit."
"Look at me." You gestured at yourself--all of yourself, the full obvious picture. "You don't use lines like those on someone who looks like me unless it's a joke."
His grin vanished like a curtain yanked sideways to show the bare wall behind it.
"That," he said, "is the dumbest thing anyone has ever said to me, and I once had a man try to sell me my own shoes."
"Sampo--"
"Who told you that? Who put that idea in your head?" He stepped forward. "I've been showing up to this market every day like a fool because you're gorgeous and I'd rather have you roll your eyes at me for 10 minutes than not have your attention at all."
Your bags hit the ground as your vision blurred.
"Wait, no--Shit." His hands fluttered. "That was supposed to land smooth, that was supposed to be--"
"You're so stupid," you managed, crying fully now in the middle of a Belobog street market.
His face softened as the corner of his lips turned up. "Yup. I'm the absolute worst, now come here already will you?"
You did, and he wrapped himself around you, petting your hair as you soaked his shoulder with your tears.
"Okay--I realize the timing isn't great, but is it safe to say you wouldn't say no if I asked you out to dinner now?" Fortunately you couldn't see the grin on his face, or you might have smacked it.
Luka
You were sitting on the bench in the training area, stretching out a cramp, while pulling at your workout clothes the way you always did after you exercised, making sure nothing was clinging in the wrong places or showing too much of what you didn't want seen.
Luka noticed and dropped onto the bench beside you. His mechanical arm hung loose between his knees while he caught his breath.
"Can I ask you something?" he said.
"Uh, yeah sure. What's up?"
"When you train--and you train hard, I've seen it... do you feel strong?"
You considered your answer a moment before nodding. "During, yeah. Sometimes."
"And after?"
You didn't respond, but your hand was already at the hem of your shirt, tugging.
"Yeah." He nodded slowly, like you confirmed something he already knew. "I kinda figured." He flexed his mechanical arm. "You know how long it took me to stop hiding this thing?"
You looked at him surprised.
"I used to keep it covered constantly. Sleeves, wraps, whatever I could find. Because I figured people saw it and saw weakness." He turned his hand over, looking at his metal fingers. "Took me a while to understand that this arm is part of what makes me capable."
"That's different, Luka."
"Yes and no..." He turned to face you. "I watched you move, your body can do incredible things. You're powerful. Your legs, your core, the way you throw your weight behind a hit... but then you finish and you start hiding again like none of your effort counts because of your shape."
His real hand reached over and caught yours, pulling it away from your shirt. "But it does count. Your body isn't something to work around. It's the whole reason you're as strong as you are."
The gym was silent except for a pipe dripping somewhere distant.
"You...really see that?" you whispered.
"Every time you walk in here." He said with a grin. "And I wish you could see it too because the view from where I'm sitting is pretty unreal."
You pressed your face into your hands and your shoulders shook and he pulled you sideways into him so your head was against his shoulder, and pressed his mouth to the top of your head.
a/n. ngl I wrote this mainly with 19 y.o. me in mind, because she has no idea someone is about to pop up in her life to say exactly this (and more), only for her (me) to be marrying that same guy in a few months 10 years later.
