Honkai: Star Rail oneshots

[aventurine/sunday] "you have surprisingly comfortable pajamas."

written for ficwip's all ships ship week 2024! day 3: everything is fine and nothing hurts

heavily inspired by this lovely art https://bsky.app/profile/mikazeliscious.bsky.social/post/3l73e7z7mrg2t ! 🩵

cw: Aventurine/Sunday, sharing clothes, established relationship, Sunday is down bad, flirting/teasing, physical touch, kissing, cuddling, crying, (domestic) fluff, Sunday is self-conscious/an overthinker/has anxiety (maybe... implied...), Sunday is an Astral Express member

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When Sunday emerges from the shower, the pajamas Aventurine promised him are indeed lying in a neat pile on the sink countertop.

He walks over to them—on his toes and heels at first, then with his feet flat on the ceramic tiles once he realizes they aren't cold, because of course Aventurine would have floor heating. The pajamas are the same ones he always sees Aventurine wear: dark brown with gold detailing and buttons, the sleek material and slightly loose fit perfect for sleeping in. Delightfully soft to the touch, and infused with a scent that is instantly reminiscent of Aventurine, though it lacks body warmth, Sunday notes when he presses his face into the material. Then he catches himself doing that in the mirror, and immediately puts the pajamas down, heat already flooding to his cheeks.

It's not like that, it's not like that, he repeats over and over again to himself while he towels himself off. He's not infatuated. He's just... happy, that's all, that he gets to come over to his boyfriend's and use the bathroom he uses every day, with the products he uses every day, wear the clothes that have probably been worn by him many times... fuck. Sunday buries his face into his hands, feels his heart beat so fast it may very well blow a hole through his chest. He's so in love, it's disgusting, and no amount of self-deception can save him from it.

Aventurine looks up from his tablet when Sunday re-enters the bedroom. "Took you long enough," he teases—chuckles at the way Sunday makes a face, unaware of how the sound makes Sunday's stomach do flips. "Did you find everything okay?"

"Yeah." Sunday sits down on the edge of the bed. "... You have surprisingly comfortable pajamas," he deigns to admit, then immediately busies himself with combing through his hair and smoothing out the feathers of his wings, fully knowing that he wouldn't have left the bathroom in the first place if he didn't think they were perfect.

"Mm-hm..." Aventurine hums, before he tosses his tablet aside and pounces toward Sunday, crawling right up to him on his hands and knees. Sunday startles backward, but there's nowhere to go—he did place himself on the very edge of the bed.

"Touch okay?" Aventurine asks. Sunday nods. Aventurine's hand sneaks behind him, finds the openings on the back of the shirt where Sunday's wings are coming out of. "I had it modified. You like it?" Fingers trace the slit in the fabric, before they slip inside, feeling around the base of a wing where skin melds with feathers. "It feels like it fits you."

"It does," Sunday manages, breathier than he'd like. Aventurine's palm slides across his lower back, to the other wing. His touch is cool, which only makes it all the more perceivable on Sunday's flushed skin.

"You're so hot," Aventurine purrs—as if that would help when he phrases it that way, says it in such a voice, when his face is up so close to Sunday's. "You didn't crank the water temperature too high, did you? Your crew is already wary of me; it'd probably be their last straw if you come back sick."

"Please—" Sunday's eyes snap shut when Aventurine's hand trails up his back, fingertips tracing the curve of his spine. He knows he isn't sick, but he might as well be with how lightheaded he feels. "Don't tease me." His voice comes out as a whine, and the horror that strikes him reflects as fascination on Aventurine's face.

Aventurine laughs, not at all meanly. "There's no need to be shy, my heart." He quiets down, the hand on Sunday's back becoming still. "Kiss me?"

"Yes."

"Because I told you to, or because you want to?" Ah, there's the catch.

"Because... I...." Sunday feels the hand on his back lightly coaxing, and he leans forward, finally placing his arms on either side of Aventurine. His boyfriend smells even better up close, and the twinkle in his eyes is more beautiful than a thousand stars'. "I want.... Can I kiss you?"

"Yes, of course." Aventurine smiles, and Sunday presses their lips together—recognizes the warmth he has been missing, the way Aventurine's breaths fan his face, the other's favorite lip balm, fragrant and sweet as all the times Sunday has tasted it before. There's no need to be shy. Because you want to. Kiss me. Aventurine is right, Sunday knows he is. He just needs a reminder from time to time, and he hopes Aventurine doesn't mind—though judging by the way he's smiling into their kiss, arm tightening around Sunday's torso, pulling him ever closer... Sunday has a feeling he doesn't at all.

"Is this fun for you?" The thought slips out, a near-invisible break between their lips. Though, Aventurine is perceptive.

"Teasing concession out of you?" He pulls away to reply—smile turning smug when Sunday lurches after him mindlessly—then leans in again to kiss all his embarrassment away. "Always. It makes me happy to see you be yourself, you know? Not scrutinize yourself twice as hard as you do everything else?" He chuckles at the glare Sunday shoots him. "It's okay to just be as you are. I love you as you are."

Hearing that makes Sunday freeze, in a good way. He looks at Aventurine, and Aventurine just holds his gaze, gently, unwaveringly. All of a sudden, Sunday wants to tear up.

"Cuddle?" he asks.

If Aventurine heard the tremble in his voice (Sunday's sure he did), he doesn't comment on it. He just beckons Sunday further onto the bed, where they lie down and he pulls the covers over them both. Sunday lays an arm and a wing over Aventurine's torso and pulls him close; Aventurine tucks himself into the hollow of Sunday's chest, and slides an arm around his waist. Sunday rests his chin upon downy golden hair, closes his eyes, and tries his best to regulate his breathing given the lump in his throat.

After a while, he feels Aventurine's hand move up and down his back soothingly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Sunday sniffs. "I'm okay." Aventurine makes no move to look up at him, simply carries on stroking his back. His touch is warmer than Sunday's tears. "Thank you."

Those are the last things Sunday remembers, before he drifts off to dream.

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i notice that i tend to gravitate toward making aven the more... emotionally stable one in my sunven fics. i think it's so valid to project on ur favs (and even if not, aven is plenty traumatized in canon 💀), but i have been enjoying the idea that aven has, like, made more progress in terms of dealing w his issues, than for example sunday. and i absolutely think it's a lot of hard work that he's had to put into healing (bc that's just the way healing is, it's not easy to love & be good to urself again), but, he's on his way there for sure. idk, sth abt that is quite comforting to me.

anw, i hope u enjoyed! pls go give the artist some love, this wouldn't exist w/o their work 🥹🩷