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roseastralis · 9 months

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𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭.

— he never meant to fall so hard for you.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

pairing. Blade x gn! reader content. gender neutral! reader, mute! reader, reader communicates by sign language, established relationship, Blade being angsty and mean because he’s in denial, domestic setting, the use of the simile ‘like a war widow’ is gender neutral, terrible relationship communication (Blade’s fault), POV switching, depictions of injury

word count – 5.3k

note: Blade is SUCH a simp for [y/n] in this but is in such denial!! seriously i can’t imagine him communicating at all in a relationship. i love this emotionally repressed man so damn much, i can totally fix him (praying the algorithm is nice to this post, unlike my last oneshot 😭)

╰┈➤ requested by: @reiji3

In all the years you had been Blade’s companion, he always found himself surprised at finding you in his home whenever he would return from a mission. He still could not understand what incited you to stay with him, or in his home.

It was not a particularly nice place; it was dingy, small, and someone had certainly been murdered in the bathroom, but for the likes of him, such trivial material things did not hold much importance. So long as he had a place to sleep and to heal, he would make do. That was until you came prancing into his life. You had turned his hovel into a home, turned it into a place that he did not dread coming home to, alone.

Blade’s clothes were in tatters, shredded away alongside large chunks of his flesh. Deep scratches had torn away the skin on his back; each movement his powerful muscles made as he walked sent pain ricocheting along his nerves, blossoming into throbbing flowers. He clenched his jaw, locking it in place like a secret.

Blood oozed from his wounds, cascading down his body as if it were a crimson waterfall. His ripped tailcoat was stained a deep red; there was no use in trying to salvage these clothes, no matter how hard he knew you would insist. Some things were just better thrown away. Dark rings circled his eyes, shadowing the contrasted alertness of his piercing red gaze. He trudged into his gloomy home, the prospect of resting his aching limbs calling out to him like sweet nectar.

A strong aroma of stew wafted along from the kitchen, leading Blade towards you like a treasure map. You had drawn open the blinds enabling sunlight to drip through the murky windows, highlighting the dust motes that floated in the air like starlight. The table was set, at its centre you had replaced the wilted carcasses of the spider-lilies with fresh ones – his favourite flower. And to the left of the table, your back turned to him, stood you. Preoccupied with your cooking, you did not notice Blade’s arrival until he snaked his arms around your waist and pulled your body close to his. Your cheeks heated as he dragged his lips along your neck, his hot breath sending shivers in their wake. Being this close to him, you could smell the coppery stench of blood clinging to him like death was his second lover.

Blade’s heart was contained in an impenetrable fortress. But the moment he stepped through the door, he shed those fortified walls like a snakeskin, pulling you into his arms and refusing to let go of you usually until the meal you were cooking burned. He was like a vicious, caged animal, imprisoned inside a body he did not ask for, nor one he wanted to sustain. Only with you did he feel like he was temporarily free from the fetters that bound him to existence. You made him feel free, as if he were in his natural habitat.

Although, whenever Kafka would ask, Blade would always emphasise how he was not in love with you. That this was a temporary arrangement that benefited both parties until Blade could meet his eventual, long awaited end.

“If you say so, Bladie,” Kafka would always say, her honey-sweet voice oozing with amusement at his emotional turmoils. His lips would always curl into a sneer at her words, and Blade would return to sharpening his sword.

You shifted around in his grasp so that your chests were pressed against each other, faces only inches apart as you faced each other. The fatigue on his face was evident, but he wore his expression of endurance and stoicism like a mask. Over the years you had been together, though, it had slowly eroded for you, enabling you to read your secretive boyfriend progressively better. There were many cracks in his visor, failing to conceal an innate fragility that threatened to consume him.

Smiling up at him, you started signing.

“I’ve made you your favourite!” Blade noticed how your eyes wavered towards his highly dishevelled appearance, widening infinitesimally with ill-hidden concern. He nodded slightly, relinquishing you from his vice-like hold. You seemed to not notice the droplets of blood that trailed across your clothes and apron like stars in the sky – to someone looking in on this domestic scene, they would have just thought it was ink. Maybe you did not care.

You looked up at him.

“Shouldn’t you go and wash up?”

“I’ll do so later.” He signed back. For some reason Blade didn’t want to tell you that in the past he had often come home in far worse condition. He didn’t want to see your brow crease with worry for him – you already had enough to worry about, with or without him.

Interlacing your smaller hand with his bandaged one, you led Blade towards his assigned seat and, placing your other hand on his shoulder, gently eased him into his seat. He never failed to marvel at how soft your little hands were by comparison to his scarred, calloused ones.

You then skipped to the stove and carried the steaming pot towards the table. Without even considering his injuries, Blade quickly ascended and strode over to you, taking the pot from your hands and taking it to the table.

He grimaced as one of the gashes in his side twisted from his sudden movement. Your mouth hung open slightly, eyes wide like that of a doe – an undeniably cute expression. Blade chuckled slightly. Quickly, you drew your composure like a curtain and, grabbing two plates, started to dish out the stew you had prepared.

His stomach churned at the mouth watering scent of the stew. When out on missions, Blade did not just disregard his body, but also his appetite. Perhaps, deep down, he knew that you would always make up for his lack of eating whenever he would come home from missions by showering him with your cooking. Blade stared down at the bowl as he waited for it to cool, and then back up at you. His tired heart lurched when your eyes met; you regarded him with such tenderness that you could have moulded stone like putty. Your countenance softened.

“Is everything okay, Blade?”

“I’m fine,” he replied softly.

When you were with him he was more than fine. With you, his penchant for death’s sweet embrace seemed a little less intense – less of an all-consuming obsession and rather an itch that needed to be scratched. But itches could be ignored, with enough will. You were more important–

A deep frown settled onto Blade’s brow, his ruby eyes burning holes into the dented, warped, table. You paused mid-spoonful as you saw your boyfriend bristle, body tensing up as if he had just been struck by some invisible blow. Suddenly Blade stood up, invisible strings of fate pulling him up and dragging him out of the house as he stormed off. He shoved his hands in his pockets, the sweltering vexation wavering from him almost palpable. You rose, trailing after him, but in spite of his injuries hindering his movements, Blade was out of the door before you could reach him. The door slammed shut in your face.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

Blade had no recollection of just how long he had been walking. Aimless and thoughtless, he charged forwards like he was going to battle – although the enemy was unknown. Was it you? You made him feel. Or was it him? For letting himself fall for you. No. He would not think about it. He refused to.

Having retreated to the furthest confines of his mind, the world passed Blade as a blur. By the time he came to, the sun’s authority over the world diminished as its bright rays began to falter and fade, falling victim to the incoming nighttime. Everything was poised in perfect suspension between night and day in the incoming twilight. Clouds swirled across the sky, dusted pink and amber by the sunset. Towards the horizon, the sky bled magenta; Blade knew that you would be marvelling at the sight, and for a moment he wished he were there to see the awe-stricken expression, the beauty of the twilight amplified through its reflection in your eyes.

Blade clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He kept on walking.

His wounds stung, the pain proliferating with each passing minute. Without being addressed, they were more than likely to grow infected. But at this point in time Blade could not care less. He just kept walking, directionless.

Tempestuous thoughts invaded him, probing at his shattered peace of mind. They unlocked the parts of his labyrinthine consciousness that he had held under lock and key for so damn long. The part of him that he had ensured remained imprisoned; for so long, he had succeeded in being his own jailer. Until you. Slowly, he was unravelling. Blade was coming undone because of you.

He didn’t know what to feel, how to feel. It had been so long since his heart had been opened that its hinges were so rusty they were almost arthritic, shrieking with pain from the aperture. The opening had unleashed a torrent of emotion that, for one who had been so emotionally repressed for so long, drowned him in its sweeping currents.

He hated the way he was the centre of your world. The way you looked at him like he was soft instead of all hardened edges, eyes brimming with pure, unconditional affection. Why were you not afraid? You should fear him; he would ruin you, tarnish you. Centuries of adversity and suffering had transformed Blade into a weapon, forged in the infernal furnace of life. Now, his body was no better than steel, dripping with malice. Yet you continued to find the beauty in his cracks, planting flowers between them and watching them bloom in your presence. Instead of finding the ugliness in his scars, you found the beauty in them.

Out of all the mysteries of the cosmos, you were certainly the greatest one.

When did he even fall for you? Blade had been so careful. This was supposed to be provisional, a temporary remedy for his depraved soul. Although Blade had pledged his entire hateful existence to Elio, his body still had certain needs, which he had found you to fulfil. Your cool touch doused the flames that rampaged within him, so fervent that his rage could engulf a city in an inferno. Your tender kisses made him forget the memories that coiled themselves around his scarred limbs like chains, dragging him down to the umbral pits of despair.

Just at the thought of you, his body began to shake – a visceral yearning to find himself in the comfort of your embrace. Blade wanted to be as far away from you as possible, but his heart was now inextricably bound to you. As his true North, you called to him, pulling him in your direction like a magnet. The question: was Blade ready to surrender his heart to you, to openly admit his attachment to you?

He never meant to fall for you. Was this what Elio had meant when he said that unexpected complications would arise in his life? He was already Destiny’s Slave. He didn't want to become a slave to his heart.

Slowly, like the petals of a flower unfurling, Blade grew accustomed to your company. Even liked it, actually. Your smile slowly thawed his frozen heart, your words soothed his tormented soul. You were his anchor during the storms that being mara-struck confronted him with. Even when the skies were completely suffocated by the menacing army of black clouds, when the thunder would roll, trampling anything in its path as the mara induced a rabid frenzy in Blade, you sat beside him, a sentinel watching over him in the darkness. Together you would wait out the storm. You never relinquished his hand as you awaited the clear skies to return. Although you could not speak, your touch spoke volumes.

Blade could not deny that learning how to sign for you was challenging. But, since you had been so accepting of his predicament, he gritted his teeth and learned your language with unfaltering resolve. As a man of few words, there was something innately relieving about not needing to speak in order to communicate. He appreciated, though, that were he unable to speak, he might have thought differently.

He struggled with expressing himself, especially with words, but he knew how much you adored listening to his deep, quiet voice, so would often talk to you into the night, knowing very well that he was speaking for the both of you.

When you would lie down on the roof of your apartment, eyes fixed onto the heavens, Blade could never help but betray his promise of stargazing with you. While you were transfixed on the sprinkling of stars across the velvet night sky, lambent and brilliant like tiny gemstones, Blade’s unwavering gaze would be on you. Beneath the moonlight’s pale strokes of light, you looked positively ethereal. Your skin glimmered like it was coated in layers upon layers of stardust; while you looked up at the stars, Blade found himself looking at his own star, his light during the witching hour: you.

He hated how much he had come to depend on you. These days, Blade could never leave the house without first embracing you, as if you were a good luck charm without which his endeavours would surely fail spectacularly.

While he longed for death, his heart also churned at the thought of leaving you behind, all alone like a war widow. Before you, he would have waltzed into the afterlife with Death as his dance partner; now, he was not so sure. The urge to die persisted of course, but you had planted the seeds of doubt within him that were beginning to take root, the blooming petals suffocating his lungs, his heart. You were truly infectious, ailing his body more so than the mara.

He hated you for what you had made him feel. He loved you so goddamn much it hurt, more so than any wound ever inflicted on him. With you Blade was raw, vulnerable. He was unaccustomed to existing without the armour he had donned for so many centuries, that which protected him from the anguishes of life. Of love. His heart rattled against his chest, unaccustomed to such emotions. He wondered if this was what would finally kill him; feeling again. Blade was a warrior; you were the first battle he wanted to flee from. And yet, being away from you felt like a dagger being driven into his heart

Blade’s walking suddenly ceased as he stopped in his tracks. Beside the canal by which he walked, on the small promenade, stood a tiny flower stall. It housed a jungle of flora, many of which Blade had never seen before. He could not help but be impressed by the sheer amount of the different varieties there were – Blade would have never even stopped to admire the flora if you had not been in his life. Usually, he would not have cared for such ephemeral things as flowers. The spectrum of colour the stall’s flowers provided contrasted the festering shadows, a final defence against the oncoming nightfall.

His aching body urged him towards the stall before he could even think things through. He was spurred forwards only by the knowledge of how much you loved flowers. Perhaps this was the store from which you always brought the flowers you used to brighten up his home? The owner, an aged woman wearing gardening clothes, was just packing up for the day when she heard his approaching footsteps. Fear flickered in her eyes, like a candle flame, when she looked up at him. Clearly someone had seen the IPC’s wanted posters. Her smile was contrived, an emblem of the fear his presence normally imposed on people.

“How may I help you, sir?” The woman cowered beneath his sharp glare, shielding herself behind the immense number of plant pots stacked upon the stall counter.

“I’m just looking,” Blade grumbled, voice cold enough to make hell freeze over. And that was true. He was not entirely sure why he was here. Maybe his heart had pulled him towards the closest vestige of you that was in fact not you. He hated how he wanted to be so close to you, yet so far at the same time.

Blade regarded the flowers, scanning them all intently. None seemed to be a good enough amendment for the way he had just stormed out on you. Perhaps he should buy you some – that was, if he even went home that night. Blade had no money on him, but he was already so morally foregone that he did not mind having to steal the flowers for you. Then again, he could imagine the look on your face if you ever found out.

In the time he had spent looking at the flowers, Blade had not noticed the owner dialling her phone, nor the squadron of IPC officers that arrived shortly after. This was the effect you had on him. His senses, perfectly honed into a deadly point by years’ of fighting, had blurred, encompassed only by thoughts of you. You had reverted him from being a lethal weapon back into a man, with a heart.

It was only when rough hands clasped his shoulders that his fighting instinct ignited within him. His hand found the hilt of his sword, only, Blade found himself wishing that it was your hand he was holding instead. A deep frown penetrated his stony face. He drew his sword, whirling round with vicious precision as he sliced at the officer’s chest. Blood spurted from the wound, and he staggered backwards. He threw himself into the fray, glad for the excuse to not think about you.

Blade was a weapon, and combat followed him like his own bloody shadow.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

Blade did not return home that night. He was probably wandering the world like a lost spirit, while you lay alone in your shared bed. Anxiety clawed at your insides. Not even holding Blade’s pillow close to you, inhaling his familiar scent, could quell the gut-wrenching feeling of trepidation. What if he did not come back? That caused your grip on the pillow to tighten. You thought of the pot of stew that was still on the table, the empty plate you had left out for him – just in case he came home and was hungry.

The clock ticked away, marking the passing hours since Blade’s departure. The steady ticking of the time starkly juxtaposed the hammering of your heart, your shallow breaths. You knew that Blade was more than capable of looking after himself – he had done so for centuries – but your stomach churned at the thought of him out there, roaming the streets like some vicious stray dog. You hoped that Blade was not angry, as destruction would trail behind in his wake. As someone unable to speak, you knew that actions spoke volumes, more than words ever could; and Blade’s actions? They were like a roar of contempt to the world that made him suffer so much… and to you.

When the door was slammed in your face, it was like the swift stroke of a guillotine being brought down upon your heart. You knew you weren’t supposed to feel so deeply for Blade; he had specifically told you at the beginning of your partnership to not catch feelings for him. But the heart wants what the heart wants, and yours wanted Blade, scars and all. His heart was something forbidden, closed off from you. And that made you covet Blade’s even more. But it had escalated too far, your greed.

You had tried so hard to be a homemaker that you had inadvertently backed Blade into a corner, and like a wild animal he bared his teeth and lashed out at you, claws unleashed. Tears pricked your eyes. You couldn’t help the way you felt. How in spite of all his evident flaws, your soul sang whenever you were together. You felt heard by him; with Blade, you had a voice. In a world filled with uncertainty and danger, he made you feel safe – after all, that was one of your main reasons for becoming his partner, before you became unconditionally, irrevocably, in love with him.

Sleep came at you in waves, yet whenever you closed your eyes, it eluded you like some apparition. Not even the pillow would suffice tonight. Yet, you did not relinquish it. For all you knew, this could be the last remnant of Blade in your life. You had seen the way his expression darkened at dinner earlier, how something far worse than a storm brewed behind his feral eyes. You only hoped that it would come to pass with the rising of the sun, and Blade would be back tomorrow morning like nothing had happened.

Were it anybody except Blade, you would inquire as to what bothered him. But Blade… he was less communicative than you were, and he actually had a voice he could use! You had never pushed him to come out of the shell which he had carved for himself, that which had been weathered away by the seas of time – thus he had retreated further and further within. How you longed to pry him out of it, to read his heart, but clearly your actions that evening had clearly hit a vulnerable spot, evoked something that he had hidden away. The display of your love causing him to retreat from you. You knew Blade was untamable like the sea, a beast in the guise of a man, but a part of you had hoped that your presence could have gentled him. Perhaps he was inherently unadaptable to the quiet life of domesticity you led.

You pulled the covers closer to yourself, a fruitless attempt to make up for the embrace Blade would cocoon you in as you slept together. Hopefully, sleep would submerge you in its deep waters soon. As you slowly drifted off to sleep, you found yourself dreaming of Blade.

The sound of the door swinging open snatched you from the peaceful realm of sleep and dreams. You discarded your fatigue, eyes snapping open the second you heard the door shut. Slow, precise, footsteps ascended the stairs, the rhythm indicating that it was none other than Blade. As the door to your room inched open, a slither of light pierced the darkness of the early morning. Through half-closed eyes, you watched Blade’s tall silhouette enter the room, his normally powerful movements silent and feline. You squeezed your eyes shut, feigning sleep. Thankfully, in the darkness, Blade seemed not to notice.

He opened the closet, presumably taking out some fresh clothes to replace his ruined ones. However, his shuffling soon stopped. You were not ready to alert him of your being awake, so you kept your eyes closed, and waited.

Blade watched your dormant form, at the slow rise and fall of your chest. You were the perfect image of serenity, while he was gory and dishevelled. Something felt inherently wrong about intruding on your sanctuary after having killed all those IPC officers. Just his presence cast a shadow over your purity. Blood dripped onto the floor; while most of it was certainly Blade’s, he was sure that some of it was mingled with the innocent blood he had spilled that night.

Dawn was beginning to inch its way across the sky, sending fingers of light through the closed curtains of your bedroom. A new day was being marked, yet Blade felt far from renewed. His eyes were heavy, his body host to a score of different, yet collaborating agonies that made every step towards the bathroom feel like he was walking on a path littered with daggers.

As the bathroom door closed behind him, your eyes opened once more. You had not missed the coppery scent of blood that Blade had dragged inside with him, and you hoped that he had not injured himself further. Blade had looked like he was being held up by the strings of unwanted emotion, a puppet to the heart that he was so tired of hearing beating. You truly hoped that he was okay, that his thoughts were not devouring his state of being to rawness.

Ignoring your heavy limbs, your body yearning to go back to sleep, you climbed out of your bed and got up. You tip-toed with every step, not wanting to alert Blade of your arousal as you descended the stairs. After being out for so long, you reckoned the last thing he had thought of was food, so you went to the kitchen to make him something to eat. Were it not for you, his body would have most certainly decayed from neglect.

From downstairs, you could hear the hot water tank stir into action, and the loud stream of water that followed.

Blade stripped himself of his ruined clothes and, standing before the foggy mirror, was confronted by the extent of his injuries, many of which would join the gallery of scars adorned by his skin. Bruises were scattered across his body like kisses, accompanied by varying scrapes and scratches. Then there were the deeper wounds. Despite having constantly borne witness to his injured state – with many instances having been worse than how he was today – Blade still averted his eyes.

You were never disgusted by the wounds Blade returned home with, nor with his scars that haunted his body like his own personal army of ghosts.

“They’re a testament to your strength” you had told him one time, when you were bandaging a particularly nasty wound on his chest. Sometimes, he felt like you were more of his nurse than a partner. He knew you could do better than him.

With your beauty, alluring charm, you would find no difficulty in finding another partner. One who was more present, one who actually had the courage to embrace their feelings. But the truth was he never wanted to see you with someone else. He was loath to admit it, but you were meant to be by his side. Yes, had his life durated its normal course, the two of you would have never even met – but perhaps in his cruel fate, were you a gift to appease the dire pains of immortality? He gritted his teeth and began to tend to his wounds.

Blade cast aside his thoughts just as he had done with his clothes and stepped into the shower, relishing the cool water against his burning skin. Maybe, if he washed himself enough, he could cleanse himself of all his sins and finally be good enough for you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

In all the years you had been Blade’s companion, he had never seen you up so early before. He had purposefully gone downstairs instead of to your shared bedroom, with the intention of not waking you. It seems his best intentions failed, for you smiled softly at him from the couch on which you sat. His muscles tensed, brain instilling a fight-or-flight response in him. Blade had absolutely no idea what to do or say around you; any thought of action evaded his mind. But from the way you looked at him through long-lashed eyes stirred Blade. He clenched his jaw and walked into the kitchen. Behind him, there was shuffling as you got to your feet and followed him into the kitchen silently.

Hearing your footsteps was like flint to steel, igniting the final ounce of patience Blade had attempted to muster.

“Stop following me,” he snapped, words laced with venom. They struck home, for you recoiled, as if pricked by the poisoned fangs of his words. Your footsteps stopped. Blade pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling loudly. His limbs shook slightly from the pent up frustration that threatened to consume him like a raging inferno. You were so quiet, he was not sure if you had gone or not. Blade glanced over his shoulder.

Your silence perturbed him, as it made your expressions all the more powerful. There was a look of quiet understanding in your eyes – no words were needed, the look you gave him said everything that needed to be said. Your lip quivered, droplets of tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you signed, “I can’t help but love you.”

Blade’s heart broke into a million pieces while also being simultaneously made whole again – a true cycle of death and rebirth. What had remained unsaid for so long by both of you was finally out in the open, no longer lurking in the backstage of your relationship.

The words he so desired to say lodged themselves in his throat. Even if his body had not prevented him from speaking, it would have been impossible to express how he was feeling with words alone. So, he took several strides towards you, took your face in his hands and pressed his lips against yours.

This kiss was different to the way he usually kissed you; usually he was voracious, devouring your lips with an urgent hunger that spoke of his depravity of human contact, of how he had been isolated from another person for oh so long. What usually involved biting, dominance and force melted into something soft, like the sea rounding away the jagged edges of stones. In this kiss, you witnessed something inherently different about Blade. The tension in his chest eased as he relinquished his hold over emotions, allowing all the love and affection he felt towards you to swallow him whole, imbuing him with a new sense of purpose. To be yours.

He kissed you slowly, tenderly, each movement charged with so many things that Blade had left unsaid for far too long. One of his hands found the back of your head, pushing your face closer to his, as if the little distance between you was unbearable as it was. Blade loved you. He loved you so damn much. Your lips moved alongside his, quietly listening to everything they had to say; a profession of love. As you kissed, a new realm of understanding was reached – the final paving of what bridged the chasm between you being laid. You were his true North, and he never wanted to stop kissing you, his lips fixed onto yours with magnetic force.

His lips lingered against yours for one final moment before finally, Blade pulled away from you. You looked up at him through your lashes, eyes wide with surprise. Red creeped up your face like crimson vines, and Blade found himself thinking that was a much better form of red to see, rather than blood. Blade did not relinquish his cupping of your cheek; with his thumb, we wiped away the tears that fell like drops of starlight down your flushed cheeks.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, [y/n],” he murmured, his lowered voice sending shivers through your body, “I love you.” His lips curled into the fragment of a smile as he spoke. Having discarded all of his internal strife that weighed down on him like the earth, a look of utter tranquillity had swept over his face, the rigidity of his posture dissipating – finally, Blade was at ease.

You wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him close and burying your face in his bandaged chest. Blade returned the embrace, placing his head in the crook of your neck, body melting into your touch. Relief’s hands pried away his agitated state, but not his guilt – Blade still had much to work on to make up for the way he had acted. That could wait. A lifetime spread out before you both, a whole universe at your disposal.

With you, Blade could relinquish the spite he had welded into a shield, protecting him from all the years of strife. With you, he could finally be vulnerable. Now, just being in your arms was more than enough for him. An eternity of suffering almost came undone entirely just by your bodies being close together. Finally, Blade had accepted his treacherous heart.

#🥀rose.writing♡︎#this was so.#words cannot describe how i feel right now.#i don't even know why i cried halfway like i literally just felt tears #oh my gosh this is so amazing and well written #simply beautiful #awh i love this i can't wait to reread it everyday🥹🫶🏻#this needs more recognition! go read this now if you see this #blade x reader #honkai star rail #blade

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