Hsr X Reader - Blog Posts

I was talking about moze with a friend and then this spiralled from there - still not quite sure how I managed to write 800 words in less than a few hours but ykw, I'm very happy with how this turned out.

Masterlist

Another late night, that’s all that this was meant to be. Struggling yet again to fall asleep at a rational time, you’d decided to abandon the comfort of a warm bed to return to the medbay. The routine was familiar to the whole express by now, as you’d become accustomed to one of the other members, they’d never given away who it was, or even if it was multiple taking turns, setting down breakfast on your desk in there for when you awoke after unfailingly falling asleep either in the patient bed or desk chair. 

Tonight was shaping up a little differently, or a lot differently in all honesty, because there was a man, bleeding, sitting in front of one of the cabinets, attempting to bandage himself while at the same time trying to clean up some of the blood. You couldn’t recognise whoever it was, considering they were facing the other direction, coated in blood. Getting Himeko or Mr Yang would be the best course of action; however, when you turned to leave, he spun around faster. 

“Moze?” 

He stayed silent, granted it was hard to tell if that was due to his demeanour or the head injury he’s sporting. Thankfully, now that you knew it was someone familiar it was a lot easier to decide what to do rather than continuing to be frozen in panic. 

“You’ve got to stop dropping in unannounced like this.”

The crow-feathered weirdo is silent as you flick on the lights, then move over to his side. A pin drop could be heard between the two of you, but ignoring that to go through the motions is easy enough. Moze had been dropping in with injuries more frequently recently, but his wound is shallower than any prior. First, help him onto the bed; then take off his hood, giving yourself better access to the injury.

It’s not until you step away for a brief second that he speaks. His voice is quiet, something that you have to strain to hear over the tap while scrubbing at your hands. 

“I’ll deal with the mess I left.”

You sigh, and if you wash your hands slightly more aggressively than needed, nobody will have to know. 

“That isn’t any of the things that I’m even thinking about. Why did you even come here?”

Maybe that sounded ruder than intended. 

“I mean, why didn’t you go to Jiaoqiu or the alchemy commission?” 

The silence returns after that, leaving you to gather some basic medical equipment to deal with the wound that’s been continuing to bleed the entire time. He barely flinches when you apply antiseptic and bandage it. The injury itself is nothing, something that looks far worse than it really is, which makes his appearance here even stranger. 

“You could have treated this yourself.” 

Still not a word and it’s almost infuriating this time. At this point, messaging Jiaoqiu is becoming an appealing idea; something you don’t consider much before reaching for your phone. Thankfully, you have the healer’s number; sadly, Moze seems against you doing so.

“Don’t.”

“He deserves to know you’re injured.”

“I came here for a reason.”

“Oh, I’m aware that there’s a reason behind this.”

Of course, as far as you’re aware he came here to hide the fact that he was injured. It was all too easy to see that’s what he was doing, but that doesn’t explain anything else. You know that you won’t get an answer either, so instead of dwelling on it, you return to the original goal you had for coming here so late. 

His eyes are glued to how you’re moving around, keeping yourself busy. Cleaning in a similar manner to his own habit, not stopping even as exhaustion starts to tug at you. There’s a small scoff as you sway on your feet for a moment, looking like you’re about to pass out on the spot. 

“You should sleep.”

“If I were able to, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“You’re more tired than before.”

You send him a small scowl at that, nothing with malice, just mild annoyance. But was that a hint of a blush when you turned to him?

“I suppose as a shadow guard, you know some techniques to help fall asleep fast?”

“Perhaps.”

There’s a hand on yours moments after that, tugging it gently away from the supplies you were mindlessly sorting and resorting over and over. You let him, wanting to question why he’s acting like this, but being painfully certain you won’t get an explanation. Just as he refuses to explain the reason why he keeps coming to you, keeps coming to the express with increasingly minor wounds. 

“Sharing a bed with a partner improves sleep.”

He’s not being overly affectionate. Opting instead to pull you down next to him on the bed, putting his arm over your side before you can even kick off your shoes. 

“Is that supposed to be a confession?” 

No response. 

You can live with that. Because for once, he’s staying to recover rather than disappearing into the shadows again. 

This is a routine you could get used to.