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forcheol · 4 months

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౨ৎ sheet masks & kisses — csc

synopsis you couldn’t let those sheet masks you ordered go to waste, could you? pairing seungcheol x fem reader genre fluff. word count 1.3k hani’s note just terms of endearment for reader (doll, sweetheart) and use of scissors (for its intended use, of course). literally thought of this as i was doing my skincare before bed. and also i miss my cutie cherry bunny guy :((

seungcheol’s shoulders shake with laughter at a video of a cat falling on his phone. it’s actually amusing seeing the things seungcheol finds funny. you swear his laugh could heal someone.

at this moment, you’re laying comfortably on seungcheol’s chest who is splayed out on the couch. you’re not doing anything in particular, just admiring seungcheol. you play with his brown locks, the silver chain around his thick neck and you poke his cheeks, pink lips and his dimples whenever they pop out as he smiles.

you swear a family of eight could live in his dimples.

there’s this glow on his skin, it makes you jealous how beautiful he is and so effortlessly at that. your finger travels upwards from his jaw on the left side of his face to his forehead then back down on the right side of his face, finger landing in the dip above his collarbones. the indent above his clavicles are deep due to the way he’s laying on the couch.

“cherry?”

a ‘hm’ sound echoes in the room, his chest vibrates. seungcheol pauses the video and looks at you, giving you his undivided attention.

“do you wanna do sheet masks with me?”

“sheet masks?” he cocks his head to the side slightly.

“yeah, i ordered a bunch two weeks ago and they came a few days ago but i didn’t have anyone to try them with,” you pause, “wanna be my testing buddy?”

“testing buddy, huh?” he muses, “let’s do it!”

without saying another word, you scramble off of seungcheol and disappear to grab a few sheet masks. when you return, you notice that seungcheol has gone back to watching those cat videos while he was waiting for you to get back. you tap his knee and hold out the different sheet masks, fanning them out like a deck of cards.

“take your pick: lotus, shea butter, green tea or mung bean?”

“hm,” seungcheol puts a finger on his chin to exaggerate his thinking then puts that finger on a packet, “i wanna try lotus root.”

“green tea for me then!” you put the rest on the coffee table, “do you want me to do yours first or mine?”

“can i do yours first, please?”

you think you might die there and then. cause of death: seungcheol saying please.

when you agree to his request, he lets out a quiet yet excited ‘okay’ and plants his knees either side of your body. using his hands, he pushes back your hair, “don’t wanna get it trapped under the mask.”

then, he grabs the green tea extract mask you picked and very, very carefully rips it open, slipping out the wet sheet. and all you can do in this moment is simply stare at seungcheol. he’s doing this with almost trembling hands, wanting to be so careful with the mask, not wanting to tear it as he unfolds it and not wanting to startle you as he places it on your face.

the mask is definitely bigger than your face, it bunches up at the ends and becomes annoying for seungcheol as he tries to smooth it down. remembering a video he saw, he wipes his hands on a tissue from the coffee table and gets up from his spot.

“wait here, i’ll be back in a second,” he ruffles your hair and walks away to grab a pair of small silver scissors.

“are you going to do what i think you’re going to do?” you watch as he straddles you again, scissors in hand. you admit that he looks a little crazy right now, kneeling above you with the scissors in his large hands.

“depends on what you’re thinking,” he tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, “i saw this trick somewhere to make your mask fit better because your face is so tiny.”

“oh yeah, i’ve seen that! go ahead, just don’t poke me.”

“i would never, doll.”

seungcheol uses his thumb and forefinger to lift the mask so that the scissors don’t touch your skin, snipping at three spots: the nose bridge, upper lip and chin. he uses his fingers to connect the cut pieces together then leans back to look at his work.

at some point, he had grabbed a mirror on the way back from retrieving the scissors and he hands the mirror to you which you use to inspect for what feels like a while because how is he so good at this?

“i’m just too good, aren’t i?” seungcheol puffs out his chest in pride and you gawk at him then back at yourself in the mirror.

“yeah,” you mumble, “a little too good…‘cus who else have you done this on, huh?”

“excuse me?” seungcheol dramatically places a hand on his chest, “only you, sweetheart, you know that!”

you laugh at his exaggeration, “just teasing you, cherry.”

seungcheol folds his arms over his chest and pouts before mimicking your pose on the couch next to you, “whatever, it’s my turn so get over here.”

since seungcheol’s legs are stretched out, you take this opportunity to sit on his thighs instead of kneeling like he did. you kiss his pouty lips, “such a cutie guy.”

“here,” he hands you the packet of the sheet mask and you take it to tear it open.

the sheet is cold at your fingertips and the liquid coats them. seungcheol holds his hair back for you to lay the mask on his face. to no surprise, the mask fits perfectly on his face and doesn’t even need sizing it down like yours did.

seungcheol stares at you, his brown eyes following yours. you know what he’s doing. he’s making sure that you know you have all of his attention, that he’ll do anything you ask, may that be big or small, silly or not.

you copied what seungcheol had done to your mask and flatten his, getting rid of bumps and making sure it stuck to his handsome face properly. you were almost done but seungcheol being seungcheol, he can never be serious. he captures you with his arms and pulls you close to his chest, squeezing his arms around your body.

“this is payback for the same thing you did to me last time, doll.”

you can barely get your words out with the strength he’s using, “what did…i do last…time?”

“you did this too! said you were loving me or something?”

you never forgot, you just wanted to taunt him because you love when he's on the receiving end of your teasing comments.

“let go! i can’t breathe!” you wiggle in his tight hold and he finally spares you. you put on an act of trying to catch your breath, seungcheol scoffs playfully, “i didn’t even squeeze you as hard as you squeezed me, doll.”

“yeah, you got me there. but you weren’t affected by my strength, anyways,” you point out, “you’re way stronger than me.”

“maybe you should come to the gym with me next time.”

“yeah, yeah,” you pat your face to check the mask, “hey, i think we should remove the masks now.”

you both take the mask off and stuff each one back in its packet.

“okay, now pat the extract in!” you instruct and gently pat at your skin. seungcheol just watches.

“why aren't you patting it in?” at this, seungcheol doesn’t say anything but tilts his head up to gesture at you to do it for him. so, you use your hands to do seungcheol’s job, palms curving at his cheeks as they tap repeatedly. you get more aggressive with each tap and seungcheol’s eyes close shut at each contact of your hand with his cheeks.

“okay, now you’re just borderline slapping me.”

you squish his cheeks together and kiss his lips, “sorry, need your skin to absorb it quick.”

“i need to be compensated, doll.”

“compensation? for what?”

“for all the slapping!”

“i wasn’t slapping but fine, i’ll compensate.” you huff, “what must i do?”

seungcheol puffs out a cheek and taps it, you press a kiss to it. then, he turns his head and puff out the other cheek, you kiss it. he does it again and you can’t help but giggle at his antics yet you follow without protest.

“how many more kisses do you want?” you punctuate each word with a kiss to his cheeks.

“hm…one more?”

you sigh loudly because seungcheol points to his lips this time. say less, you would gladly kiss his lips anytime.

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diremoone · 5 months

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whipped cream apology | r. sukuna

fights are uncommon between you and your fiancé, but there are times they do happen. you know you’ll never hear a verbal apology come from him, but you know he’s sorry; Sukuna’s apologies always come in the form of gifts, food, or acts of service. this time is no different :3

w — modern au, chef! sukuna (he owns and works in his own restaurant but that’s not elaborated on), itsy bitsy sprinkles of angst bc of a mentioned fight, fluff, this is super duper short haha, food and food descriptions bc I am a woman who loves her food so sue me :3 this is just a random lil fic I wrote in like a day so i won’t be surprised if this flops lmao

[ divider credit to @/inklore ]

You don’t know how you go to sleep angry, but you do.

Last night had been awful. Maybe you’d blown everything a little out of proportion, maybe not. Your energy hadn’t been so great coming through the front door of your home. You’d just been stalked by a couple of guys that wouldn’t stop leering at you, and to top that off you had an old woman at the register of the store get ugly with you. All you wanted was the nice dinner you know would be awaiting you and to not be bothered for awhile after that.

Problem was, was that Sukuna was also in a bad mood. Someone at the kitchen of his restaurant had put him in a super bad mood by not following orders, and a food critic was to be coming by in a few days. And when you mixed his bad mood with yours, it led to you two going to bed on bad terms.

But now, you’re not even sure that Sukuna had come to bed.

Did that idiot sleep on the couch?

Just as you’re about to get out of bed, you see a note on the nightstand with your name on it. You grab it, unfold it and read: ‘Stay in bed and text me when you’re awake.’

Your sleepy brain goes blank for a moment, but you oblige your fiancé’s request anyway, texting him that you’re awake with a pink heart afterward, hoping he still wasn’t upset with you.

Sukuna’s answer is almost immediate.

Give me a few more minutes and I’ll be upstairs.

But you do need to pee really really bad. You make your bathroom trip as quick as possible and hop back in the bed, miraculously just as Sukuna comes through the door with a large tray of what you smell to be food.

“Morning, baby,” he greets you.

You can see the solemn look on his face, one of upset. He’s still bothered about last night.

“Morning, ‘kuna,” you reply, smiling at him. It seems to partially work, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

You flatten out the blanket as he sets the tray over your legs. Your eyes can’t help but blown open so wide in shock and excitement that you accidentally make them hurt. To your expression and blinking eyes, Sukuna chuckles.

“An apology, for my shitty behavior last night.”

There are several plates of food on the large tray. Perfectly cooked eggs, bacon, sausage; all of your favorite comfort foods all sit before you.

But right in the center is a heaping pile of one inch-thick, fluffy pancakes the size of your head, four stacked atop of another. Butter runs down underneath the sweet maple syrup. Neatly placed around the edges of the plate are bananas and strawberries. And on the very top is a generous pile of whipped cream in a fancy swirl.

You grin at his meticulousness of making such a wonderful plate that’s only just going to get messy.

“Sukuna—”

He scowls. “Don’t even bother me with apologizing back. I don’t wanna hear it. I’m the asshole. You did nothing wrong.”

Love swells in your heart and soul for the man you’re soon to marry. God, you love him.

“You’re sure?”

He tsks. “Positive.”

You smile brightly. “I love you.”

His cheeks and ears go pink. “Just eat.”

“Cheeseball,” you call him, cutting into the pancakes. “But don’t mind if I do.”

“If you can’t eat all of that, I’ll eat the rest.”

“Fuck off, it’s mine.”

taglist: (no longer adding)

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #sukuna fic #chef! sukuna #jjk fluff #jjk sukuna

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doumadono · 4 months

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sinful Sunday: Douma with a breeding Kink. He is in heat and it last for 4 weeks but he see's reader, who has marriage problem. He secretly eat Reader husband and convince reader to sleep with him for 4 weeks. After the 4 weeks he keeps reader alive snd makes reader his wife and might even turn her into a demon after birth...

SINFUL SUNDAY

Douma's keen eyes locked onto you the moment you strolled into Paradise Faith. Sure, there were plenty of girls wrapped up in his cult's allure, but you managed to snag his attention in the blink of an eye.

Douma couldn't ignore the profound sadness radiating from you, and in that very instant, he made up his mind to do whatever it took to "fix you up."

Douma orchestrated a meeting with you. The mere thought that Douma-sama desired a face-to-face meeting left you feeling honored, and you found yourself in his private chambers.

As you spilled the beans about your marital woes, Douma lounged, chin rested on his palm, savoring the drama as you animatedly gestured. As you spilled the beans about your marriage troubles and an unfaithful husband, Douma leaned back, resting his chin on his palm, thoroughly entertained by your animated gestures as you waved your hands while speaking. Little did you know, you were unwittingly serving him the information he craved.

Douma graciously allowed you to stay in his temple, instructing maids to prepare a cozy chamber for your rest.

As the night unfolded, he disappeared into the shadows, fully aware of the task at hand.

Dealing with your husband turned into a delightful game for Douma. He relished every moment as he devoured the scoundrel alive. Despite the guy being less nutritious than you could ever be, Douma savored his macabre midnight snack.

Upon his return to his chamber that night, a tingling sensation ignited within his groin. The heat, as predictable as every quarter, began to surge. Douma already knew precisely how to indulge and alleviate himself.

The next day, he enveloped you in his presence, engaging in endless conversations, assisting you in selecting materials for a new dress he generously offered to procure. Douma threw himself into mundane human activities with an intensity he wasn't aware he had. But there was a good reason for him to act that way.

Your response was impeccable; you couldn't get enough of being close to him.

It only took him a few days to convince you to share your bed with him, though for him, each moment felt like an eternity. The relentless heat was becoming unbearable, and time seemed to crawl at an agonizing pace.

Douma strolled into your chamber, a sly amusement dancing in his rainbow eyes as he found you eagerly waiting, sprawled naked on your futon. Complaints were the last thing on his mind.

Going down on you sent a thrilling shudder through him. Your intoxicating juices proved irresistible, and he couldn't resist lapping on your folds, making the most obscene noises.

Douma quickly discerned that you were incredibly tight, almost pushing the limits of accommodating his impressive girth. However, a prolonged session of eating your tiny, delicious pussy out for nearly half an hour worked its magic, allowing his lengthy cock to snugly nestle within you, embraced by the welcoming grip of your spongy, slick walls.

Douma fell in love with a classic missionary and doggy style — he relished grabbing hold of the meat of your ass to pull you back onto his cock, playfully spanking your cheeks whenever you attempted to crawl away.

"I'll breed you thoroughly, my little lotus. By the end of the night, you'll be filled with my seed," he confidently assured you, intensifying his pace as he fervently took you from behind as you laid on your side, his cock spreading your entrance painfully.

He fucked you in a myriad of positions throughout the night, leaving you not only adorned with a tapestry of bruises but also drained to the extent that moving your limbs became an impossible endeavor.

For nearly four weeks straight, Douma fucked you every night, making no exceptions. He particularly reveled in the sessions during your period — your blood tasted heavenly, and he found himself intoxicated by your flavor even more.

After pumping you full of his semen one night, he revealed the truth — you were in the arms of a demon, one of the Twelve Kizuki, following the orders of Muzan-sama, the demon king.

Initially, fear gripped you, and you hesitated to accept his words. Yet, deep down, something convinced you he wasn't spinning a tale — his avoidance of daylight, heightened activity during the night, and abstention from human food spoke volumes.

"Douma-dono," you whispered, fingers delicately tracing the lines of his jaw. "I'm not afraid. I've fallen in love. You've given me the warmth and acceptance I've craved. If you wish to feed on me, consider it my repayment for all you've offered me these past weeks, my love."

He chuckled, his long index finger gently caressing your still-slick mound from your combined releases, his cum still slowly oozing from your abused entrance. "My little, silly lotus. I won't feed on you, you're too precious to me. You're going to stay by my side forever. I want you to become a demon, just like me. And if he agrees, you will. Perhaps one day, you'll grant me an heir. That's what I desire most."

#doumadonos sinful sunday 🔥#sinful sunday #douma #douma smut #douma x reader #douma x y/n #kimetsu no yaiba douma #kny smut #demon slayer smut #kny douma #demon slayer douma #douma kny #kny x reader #kny x female reader

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thepaperpanda · 1 year

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In Sickness and in Health || Akaza x fem!reader x Douma

Summary: In a rare moment of unity, Douma and Akaza set aside their differences to collaborate in nursing you back to health as you, their beloved human partner, succumbed to a cold

Warnings: none, just Akaza being mean to Douma

Word count: 3639

Authors: Cass & Rouge

A/N: Requested by @arthurbristow

The concept of a demon falling in love with a human was already considered unconventional, but the notion of two demons harboring affections for the same human was utterly unheard of.

Fate seemed to have a twisted sense of humor as Akaza realized that his beloved, the one who held a special place in his heart, was none other than Douma's beloved as well… It was a situation that couldn't be worse... or could it?

Over the course of several visits, Akaza began to sense that something was amiss with you. Despite your insistence that everything was fine, he couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that gnawed at him.

On this particular evening, his concern reached its peak, compelling Akaza to pay you a visit and ascertain your well-being. As he approached your humble abode, his ears were met with the most grating and irritating sound in the entire world.

"Oh, Akaza-dono!" Douma's voice rang out cheerfully, accompanied by an enthusiastic wave of his hand. "I see you've come to check on our beloved Y/N. It appears I'm not the only one who was worried about her."

Akaza remained silent, his frustration evident as he emitted a disgruntled 'tsk' sound. Without uttering a single word, he briskly walked towards your dwelling, with Douma following closely behind, seemingly unfazed by Akaza's discontent.

The atmosphere between them was charged, a blend of conflicting emotions and unspoken tension. Akaza's presence loomed with an air of possessiveness, while Douma's demeanor exuded an almost mischievous delight. It was a precarious situation, teetering on the edge of uncertainty.

Standing by your front door, Akaza's gaze fixated on the surroundings, searching for any signs of something that might have made you sad. The worry etched on his face mirrored the genuine care he held for you, despite the complexity of their intertwined affections.

Douma, ever observant, watched with an air of curiosity. His playful nature seemingly balanced on a knife's edge, ready to revel in the unfolding drama or diffuse the mounting tension with a well-timed jest.

As you lay on your bed, your limbs felt heavy and unresponsive, weighed down by the intense fever that wracked your body. Despite the insistent knocking at the door, you remained rooted to your spot, unable to summon the strength to rise and answer it. The sound of your own rasping breath filled the room, punctuated only by the rhythmic tapping of knuckles against wood. "It's... It's open!" You managed to raise your voice.

Akaza took the lead, stepping inside the house. The sight of you in bed at this hour was uncommon, stirring a sense of concern within him.

Douma glanced back, his expression filled with worry. "Oh, my dear lotus! Are you feeling unwell? Are you sick?"

You tried to sit up and groaned as the room spun around you. "I'm not feeling well...."

"I told you something is wrong," Akaza frowned, making his way to your bedside and taking a seat. His hand gently rested on your warm forehead. "You have a fever, my love."

"That's no good," Douma sighed, mirroring Akaza's actions as his hand cupped your flushed and heated cheek. "We need to find a way to help. I could call upon my followers; surely someone among them knows what to do."

Akaza growled softly, casting a stern glance at Douma. "No stranger will come near her. We can take care of her ourselves."

Douma couldn't help but giggle, a soft purr infused in his tone. "Oh, we?! So you're finally acknowledging me in this little love triangle!"

The exchange between Akaza and Douma brimmed with a blend of concern, frustration, and a hint of playful banter. Their shared affection for you compelled them to find a solution to ease your discomfort, yet their different approaches and underlying dynamics created a tension that was both palpable and intriguing.

You pushed the hands of both Douma and Akaza off your face, feeling suffocated and overheated as you rolled to your back. Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, your pulse racing with a dizzying intensity. The heat enveloped you like a smothering blanket, causing beads of sweat to form on your forehead and trickle down your temples. You whispered, barely audible, "It's hard to breathe, I feel so hot." The world around you spun in a dizzying frenzy, as though you were caught in the eye of a whirlpool.

"Stay down, my love," Akaza sighed, his voice filled with exasperation, as he made his way to one of the windows. With a gentle push, he opened it slightly, allowing a breath of fresh air to enter the room.

Meanwhile, Douma, ever unpredictable, took hold of one of the towels you owned and casually departed from the house. Akaza couldn't help but feel a surge of relief, grateful for a temporary respite from the presence of the bothersome demon.

In that moment, Akaza's spirits lifted, knowing that he wouldn't have to deal with Douma's antics for a while. It brought a sense of contentment, however fleeting it may be, as he embraced the quietude that settled upon the space they shared.

You closed your eyes, endeavoring to breathe calmly as a severe headache began to form, but the pain proved too intense. A moment later, tears began to stream down your cheeks as you tried to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape your lips. Your attempts to control your breathing faltered, and you began to hyperventilate, gasping for air in short, ragged breaths. "I wanna die, Akaza.... Kill me, end my suffering, please!"

He positioned himself on the bed, pulling you gently towards him, allowing your back to rest against his sturdy chest. This arrangement provided a comfortable halfway point between sitting and lying down, ensuring your ease as he held you close. "Don't utter such foolish words," Akaza murmured in a soft growl, his voice laced with concern, as he tenderly wiped away your tears. "We will take care of you, and you will begin to feel better."

Just as the atmosphere began to settle, Douma's cheerful voice broke the silence, announcing his return. He entered the room with a sense of joy, holding a damp towel in his hand. With a deliberate motion, he approached you and placed the towel gently on your forehead, his finger making contact with the fabric.

In an instant, the moisture within the towel froze, transforming it into a soothing cold compress. The icy sensation promised relief, especially for your feverish state.

"This, my dear lotus, should aid in reducing your fever," Douma remarked, a hint of affection underlying his words.

You let out a deep groan, your body tense with anticipation, as Douma pressed the cool cloth to your forehead. The sensation was like a wave of relief washing over you, easing the ache in your head. The coldness of the towel was like a soothing balm, calming your racing thoughts and slowing your heartbeat. You closed your eyes and let out a contented sigh, grateful for Douma's quick thinking and gentle touch. "Thank you, my lord," you told him, resting comfortably against Akaza's broad, muscular chest. "It feels better. It is better."

With a simple nod, Douma placed his chilled, ice-like hands on your cheeks. "Once we eliminate this wretched fever, you'll feel better truly," he remarked, his tone filled with determination.

Meanwhile, Akaza tenderly stroked your head, his touch radiating reassurance. "We will take care of you," he whispered softly. "Soon, you'll be back to your vibrant self."

"I went to the lake a few days ago and decided to take a bath in it," you explained, your teeth chattering. "It was so cold, but I just couldn't resist the temptation. And now I think it's the reason why I caught a cold."

Akaza's voice carried a growl of concern as he confronted you, his words dripping with disbelief. "Are you out of your mind? We warned you about bathing in the river. It's still far too cold for that."

Beside him, Douma nodded in agreement, his expression mirroring Akaza's worry. "Indeed, my dear lotus," he chimed in. "He's absolutely right. You don't possess the same resilience as we do. You should exercise caution and take better care of your body."

Your heart beated fast in your chest as you began to speak. "I must apologize to both of you," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "My recklessness has caused harm, and for that, I am truly sorry. I'm sorry for not listening to neither of you."

Akaza's voice resonated with a soothing calmness as he offered his advice. "Don't dwell on it for now. Your priority should be on recovering," he said, keeping his words simple and direct.

Douma nodded in agreement, acknowledging Akaza's wisdom. "Just relax and find solace in rest," he added, his tone filled with care and tenderness for you, his beloved.

After you had finally calmed down, both Akaza and Douma stood watch over you, ensuring your safety until they were certain you had drifted off to sleep. Once satisfied, Akaza carefully placed you back onto the bed, tenderly covering you with a blanket.

Meanwhile, Douma made sure the towel remained cold, a testament to his attention to detail and concern for your well-being. His words, however, held a hint of something darker. "Humans, such fragile creatures," Douma remarked, a suggestion laced within his words. "Perhaps we could alleviate her suffering together, sharing the burden."

Akaza's brow furrowed, a frown etching across his face, his anger slowly simmering beneath the surface. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he responded in a measured tone, suppressing the surge of emotions threatening to consume him. "We must nourish her," Akaza stated plainly, his voice carrying a sense of determination. Without further ado, he turned and walked away, his actions implying a steadfast commitment to fulfilling your needs and ensuring your well-being.

In this intricate dance of conflicting desires and motivations, their actions revealed a delicate balance between care and the potential for something darker. The complexities of their dynamic unfolded as they grappled with their own internal struggles, their choices and actions pivotal in shaping your shared fate.

The next time you awoke, you found both Akaza and Douma standing near your stove.

"Looks delicious," Douma commented with a mischievous tone, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Such a shame we cannot share it with her. Although, I'm certain it doesn't compare to the nutritional value of female flesh." His words were accompanied by a playful giggle, clearly enjoying the reaction it elicited from Akaza.

Akaza, on the other hand, wore a visibly annoyed expression, his face contorting in response to Douma's jest. However, his irritation quickly transformed into a brief moment of surprise as he noticed your awakening.

"Oh! You're awake!" Douma exclaimed, his tone shifting to one of genuine surprise and perhaps even a touch of delight.

"Boys?" You whispered, propping yourself on your elbow. "What are you doing? What's that smell?"

"That idiot managed to get you something to eat," Akaza remarked in a straightforward manner.

Douma's lips curled into a gentle smile as he glanced at you. "I simply mentioned to one of my followers that someone dear to me was unwell and in need of something delicious," he explained. Without hesitation, he approached your side, removing the towel from your head. "Feeling any better?" He inquired, concern evident in his voice.

You smiled at Douma weakly, nodding your head in gratitude. "I'm feeling much better thanks to you and Akaza's care," you said, your voice soft and grateful. "I cannot thank you both enough for taking care of me."

Akaza approached, a bowl held gently in his hands, and spoke with a voice filled with love and concern. "We love you," he declared, joining the two of you. "And because we care deeply for you, some of us have realized that you need extra care. Here, please eat."

Douma, his expression filled with a mischievous delight, chimed in with a cheerful hum. "I hope you'll enjoy it! And if not, I'll take care of that woman."

"That won't be necessary, Douma," you flashed him a smile while accepting the bowl from Akaza.

The aroma of the stew wafting up to your nose, making your mouth water in anticipation. You reached for the spoon, scooping up a mouthful of the warm, hearty stew and savoring the flavors. "It's delicious, Douma-sama. I've never had a better stew in my life."

With a nod, Douma uttered, "You are welcome, my dear! Only the best for you."

Akaza couldn't help but roll his eyes in response to the facade of false happiness.

You gave Akaza a look. "Hmm?"

"Nothing," he replied softly, a sense of relief evident in his voice. He tenderly pressed a kiss to your temple, his affectionate gesture bringing comfort and reassurance. "I'm just glad you're feeling better. Now, eat. We've also got some medicine for you, but it's important to eat first."

"Thank you," you put the bowl on your lap and reached your hand out to caress Akaza's cheek.

Douma rested his head on your shoulder, his voice filled with a playful tone. "Hey, I deserve some love too! After all, I did help as well."

You delicately traced your fingertips along Douma's sharp jawline, marveling at the smoothness of his skin. "Of course you did, my lord. I owe you my life. Both of you, actually."

He nodded and kissed your fingers gently.

Akaza, nestled against your shoulder, succinctly expressed their sentiments, "We love you deeply and fear losing our beloved human."

"Well, you can always turn me into a demon!" You suggested.

Douma's face lit up with sudden excitement, his head nodding eagerly in agreement.

"No!" Akaza's voice boomed with a deep growl. "You deserve better than this way of life."

"But at least I wouldn't get cold so often... You two don't get sick at all," you remarked, finishing your meal.

In an instant, Douma found himself on the verge of speaking, but before any words could escape his lips, Akaza swiftly decapitated him without hesitation.

"You deserve better than this existence. We love you just the way you are. Being immune to illness is a bonus, but there are many hardships," Akaza explained, his voice filled with conviction.

Douma's head regenerated smoothly, returning him to his complete form. Despite the shocking turn of events, he couldn't help but voice his complaint. "Akaza-dono! That was incredibly rude!" He whined, expressing his discontent with a hint of petulance.

You whimpered as the sticky, warm fluid dripped down on your cheek after the blow aimed to Douma's head, your body recoiling from the sensation. You looked up, locking eyes with Akaza, who seemed unfazed by the chaos he's caused. "What the hell, Akaza?! You didn't have to do that!" You screamed at him, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and fear.

The pool of blood around Douma seemed to be growing larger by the second, soaking your bed, and you couldn't help but feel sickened by the sight.

"Knowing him, he was about to blurt out something foolish, as usual," Akaza remarked with a cold tone, observing Douma's futile attempts to fix his disheveled hair. "I am perfectly fine," Douma interjected, shaking his head with a playful grin. "No need to fret, my love. I remain as beautiful as ever."

"You messed up my bed..." You grunted with disgust. "I'm going to vomit!" And with that, you ran to the bathroom.

Akaza chuckled at the thought of you wanting to become a demon and rose from his seat to change the sheets.

Douma let out a sigh and joined in, deciding to lend a hand. By the time you returned, a set of fresh sheets awaited you, a silent gesture of their care and consideration.

"Boys. I'm feeling better already. You don't have to stay here. The sun will rise soon."

"You still need to drink the medicine," Akaza remarked.

Douma gave a slight shrug, his gaze filled with mischief. "You're not wrong. We could simply cover the windows and spend the day... in bed," he purred, his voice laced with suggestive undertones.

You found yourself nodding along to Douma's suggestion, despite the wary look in Akaza's eyes. "Okay, let's try it. Akaza, can you please give me the medicine?"

Complying with your request, Akaza swiftly returned, presenting you with a brimming cup of an unidentified liquid.

"It stinks," you groaned in disgust.

"Sometimes, the bitterest medicine is the most effective remedy," Douma murmured softly, his voice carrying a gentle reassurance. "But don't worry, it's nothing you can't handle."

You took a deep breath before tipping the glass back, swallowing the medicine in one gulp. The taste was acrid, and it burned your throat as it went down. You gagged and coughed, feeling like your whole body was on fire. "God, this tastes awful," you groaned, handing the empty glass back to Akaza.

"You did exceptionally well," Douma praised, his gentle touch caressing your back. "You're such a good girl!"

"Will you stay with me, boys?"

"Of course!" Douma nodded in agreement with Akaza's previous words. Without uttering a single sound, he gently nudged Akaza's side, guiding him to discreetly cover the windows.

You watched pink-haired closing to curtains as you climb in the bed and took comfortable position

The demon with rainbow eyes was the first to embrace you, his arms encircling your waist as he pulled you close.

"Don't think you can claim her all for yourself," Akaza growled, his own arms enveloping you protectively.

Douma's expression turned into a frown, yet he managed to offer Akaza a sly smile. "Oh? Worried she'll choose me in the end? Someone seems a bit jealous."

"Boys, please," you whispered, giving them both a few strokes to their cheeks. "Behave."

Akaza whispered softly, drawing you nearer to him. "It's difficult when he's in such proximity," he murmured, his voice laced with a mix of longing and unease. "He's just too close."

"Akaza, darling, you know I appreciate Douma's presence as much as I appreciate yours."

Douma let out a scoff, leaning in to nuzzle against you. Despite the display of affection, his actions seemed to provoke a tense response from Akaza. In an attempt to soothe his companion, Douma gently hummed and proceeded to pat Akaza's head, further exacerbating his tension. "There, there, Akaza-dono."

You giggled, looking at Douma. "You can be so charming when you want."

"I am always charming, my darling," he proclaimed, his voice dripping with self-assuredness. Yet, his confidence was abruptly shattered when Akaza sank his teeth into his hand, causing him to yelp in pain.

"Don't... touch me," the pink-haired demon growled, his teeth clenching even harder.

"Akaza! Apologize to Douma for biting him!" Came your admonishing voice, demanding restitution for the offense committed.

"Yes! Apologize to me!" Douma chimed in, an offended tone lacing his words.

Akaza scoffed, dismissively brushing off the notion. "In your dreams, Douma," he retorted, his disdain palpable in the air.

You gently tapped Akaza's forehead. "Do it, please?"

"Never," Akaza snapped, his voice laced with determination. "I would never trust him. He would gladly devour you, and I refuse to be blind to his feigned emotions."

You shivered and moved closer to Akaza, looking at Douma over your shoulder.

Akaza pressed himself against you, nuzzling affectionately and applying a gentle squeeze.

Douma, expressing annoyance, drew nearer and enveloped you in a hug as well. "Ignore Akaza-dono's remark, I would never consume you. Is your fever resurfacing, my dear?"

"I think it's coming back."

"Allow me to assist you," Douma murmured softly, his icy cold hand gently resting upon your forehead.

In response, a contented hum escaped your lips, prompting a smile to grace Akaza's face. "Well, well. It seems you have some utility, icicle."

Douma's brows furrowed in mock annoyance. "I shall conveniently ignore that remark," he retorted.

"Boys, please, behave... It feels so good, though," you mumbled, snuggling with both Akaza and Douma.

The two demons exchanged glances, silently acknowledging their shared goal of ensuring your swift recovery. For the moment, they chose to remain quiet, allowing you the peaceful rest you needed.

As you shifted to your other side, your embrace found its way to Douma, seeking comfort and solace in his presence. In a surprising display of unity, both demons disregarded their mutual animosity and embraced you, their shared desire to see you regain your strength overriding any personal differences.

In that moment, nestled in their caring arms, they resolved to do whatever it took to expedite your healing. The intensity of their mutual commitment surpassed their inherent disdain for each other, highlighting the depth of their concern and love for you.

Despite the complexities of their relationship, their focus remained unwavering: your well-being. They vowed to provide the support and care you needed, disregarding any animosity or rivalry that might have existed between them.

In the face of adversity, their shared dedication became a powerful force, driving them to put aside their differences and work together for your sake. They understood that healing required unity and cooperation, and they were determined to deliver just that.

With you nestled between them, they offered their combined warmth and comfort, a symbol of their unwavering commitment to your recovery. It was a moment where their shared purpose eclipsed any animosity, and their collective efforts would serve as a testament to their deep affection for you.

As you drifted into a peaceful slumber, enveloped in their embrace, they silently vowed to do everything in their power to ensure your swift return to health. The demons were united by their love for you, and they were willing to set aside their differences to see you restored to full vitality once more.

#Akaza x reader #Akaza x you #Akaza x y/n #Douma x reader #Douma x you #Douma x y/n #akaza and douma #douma fluff #Akaza fluff #Douma #Akaza #kny akaza #kny Douma #kny x you #kny x reader #kny fluff #upper moon two #upper moon three #kimetsu no yaiba fluff

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ribbonhearted · 1 year

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🪷

out of the murky mud of life

grows the purely beautiful

lotus flower,

trusting

in its own

unfolding.

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talonabraxas · 2 months

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“The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals.” ― Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

The heart-lotus or “lotus of heart” is the center of the infinite, omnipresent consciousness which connects with the consciousness of the universe. Through the intuition, one of man’s divine gifts, the spiritual student can see the infinite, omnipresent consciousness as the lotus flower within himself.

“Om Mani Padme Hum” Jewel in the Lotus Celestial Lotus Talon Abraxas

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arsene-fixates · 1 month

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waves at you from across the street. how did u and the informant meet? also is there a story behind ur engagement owo (this is @lotusdearest )

quickly saying first off that there isn’t a story behind the engagement (yet) since i don’t really have a linear storyline for me and him, i mostly follow the lore. i’ll probably come up with something once i get a puzzle ring vv

OKAY UMM i’m going to tip toe into ‘how i started liking them’ territory too because it goes hand in hand, i’ll explain in a bit

my lore follows very closely to the source but i have to admit. that i. don’t fully remember how his meeting goes in the game, all i remember is that he wanted to work together with the seeker so that we could catch the main antagonist & he did something of a test like a puzzle to see if i was worthy enough & i was ^_^

so i’d say meeting him was like that but it wasn’t really a ‘proper’ one. my lore mirrors my experience with the game, meeting him was about the same as starting to like him

i had a complicated relationship with the game, used to only play it for the gameplay and leveling up and nothing more (didn’t play it for the plot) only until when i accidentally had my data all wiped & had to restart did i start looking into the plot a little

these screenshots were the ones that really brought me out of the grinding mindset, it’s where i’d say i ‘properly met’ him

something about the amount of kindness coming from a man who looks as guarded as he is.. it captured me a lot.

so in the lore, my s/i used to be an absolute workaholic, focusing solely on getting tasks done without a second thought.. until informant says one of those things and it snaps them out of that mindset, taking a genuine proper look around them for once.

He saved them, in a sense

And he saved me too

#a lot of his earlier stuff is really fuzzy to me all i know is that i started getting into the lore the same time i started liking him #around the same time at least. i still only breeze over the other plot but i read them now #thank you for the ask lotus ^_^ i really appreciate it #「Love Note Unfolded in Secret」#asks

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eirenical · 2 months

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Mysterious Lotus Casebook | Lian Hua Lou | 莲花楼 | Episodes 3 & 9 - The Letter

There is so much we don't know about what happened ten years ago between Sigumen and Jinyuanmeng. A lot of it gets unraveled as the show goes on, but one thing remains true: there is a hell of a lot of unreliable narration to pick through to get to the truth. And when it comes to the particular truths of what happened between the individual people involved, that becomes even more true.

And one of the little mysteries that always bothered me was this letter that Qiao Wanmian wrote to Li Xiangyi to break up with him. Because I absolutely could not figure out when he actually got that letter. Anyway, I finally caught a few details that helped me to tease that apart and my first realization was that he fucking LEFT HER ON 'READ' for about a month (Li XIangyi, PLEASE OTZ) and the second realization was that we get two different versions of these events YET AGAIN, but this time both from Li Xiangyi's POV in flashbacks, and I'm CHEWING GLASS OVER IT, so naturally I have to share.

So the first time we get this particular flashback is in episode 3. Li Lianhua is remembering the aftermath of the Donghai Battle, how he fell into the ocean and washed up on the shore... a husk of what he had once been.

He wakes up and makes his way into town and to Sigumen's steps, overhearing all this terrible news as he walks. People injured, homes destroyed, people killed, and so much of the blame being placed on all the sects, and on Sigumen in particular. And as he walks, you can see it all starting to weigh him down, until he's literally bent over from the weight of it on his back.

And then the final betrayal. His people, his friends, want to disband the sect. They want to walk away. They blame him and his hubris for this disaster. And the coup-de-grace is Xiao Zijin asking Qiao Wanmian... "You don't like this place either, right?"

And the sad look on Qiao Wanmian's face finally breaks Li XIangyi of his paralysis and he turns away, back to the scene unfolding on those steps and drifts back to the shore, where he ultimately collapses.

And that's all we get.

We know he returned to Sigumen. We know he overheard them wanting to disband the sect. We know he left without a word. And that's the end of the story as far as Episode 3 is concerned.

But this makes sense. Li LIanhua is mid-Bicha attack and has just left Fang Duobing on the side of the road when this flashback comes on. He's fighting his own body in a desperate bid for survival to complete the one task he's set himself and Fang Duobing has just dredged up all this stuff and gone off on a tear about how he's Li Xiangyi's disciple. A road Li Xiangyi never got a chance to walk. Another person he failed along the way. And so he's focused on all the ways in which he is a failure in that moment, all the ways he doesn't live up to Fang Duobing's hero, Li XIangyi, all the ways that he is no longer that man. So he zeroes in on the moment he lost it all: his reputation, his sect, his health, his power. So that's the part of the flashback that we get.

But in Episode 9, we have an entirely different set of circumstances. He's just saved his A-mian. He's focused on helping her let go of the man he thinks she still loves. He's putting himself aside to focus solely on her (or so he thinks—that's honestly a question for later, but bear with me, we'll get there ;D) and what she needs. And we get dumped into this flashback again.

Only this time it doesn't start on the beach. It starts here:

It starts with Li Xiangyi seeing his sect disbanded again. Only this time, he remembers the words that come from Xiao Zijin differently:

There's no speaking out load of "you hate it here too, don't you?" or any similar sentiment. Because at this point, Li Lianhua knows this isn't true. She can't hate it there. She lives there. She didn't leave. And she doesn't hate him because she very obviously misses him and mourns him. So in his mind, he gives this moment a little less abrasiveness. A little less fierceness. But because he's so focused on A-Mian in this memory, we finally find out that there is an entire piece to this incident that we haven't gotten until now.

A-Mian's grief.

A-Mian's recognition that he was there.

And the letter.

The letter she wrote a month ago.

A letter Li Xiangyi NEVER READ.

We get to see A-Mian's regret. We get to see her grief: both for her own sense of shame at being unable to keep up with the man she loved, and her sense of loss over her own innocence and the opportunities that they'll never have now to make amends. And we get to see her break from her grief for just a moment to rush down those stairs because some instinct in her just won't quit.

Li Xiangyi had returned.

And she knew.

But it was too late. She no longer trusted herself. And Li Xiangyi, having heard her outpouring of grief, had already decided that he owed it to her and to everyone else to just… walk out of their lives for good.

And he did.

But he owed her one last thing first.

He owed it to her to read the letter that she'd written him a month ago and he'd never opened.

So before he goes back to that beach, he returns to his rooms in Sigumen to retrieve that unopened letter and read it.

On first watch, I had assumed this was after his healing with Monk Wuliao. That he was RE-reading that letter, not reading it for the first time. But these are clearly his rooms in Sigumen. The desk he conducts business from is at the bottom right and the table he confronts Shand Gudao from is on the left. But unlike when we usually see these rooms, brightly lit during the day, they're now mostly in darkness, the sun clearly setting given the angle of the light coming into the room. This is the sunset of Li Xiangyi. The last moments of his life, in a way.

And the letter is very VERY obviously unopened when he first takes it out:

And reading that letter is the final nail in Li Xiangyi's coffin, I think. Final proof that he'd failed in every aspect of his life: being a brother, being a lover, being a sect leader, being a friend, being a student. After this, he leaves Sigumen and goes back to that beach to lay down where he washed back up initially, ready to let the death he temporarily escaped take him away. And when the monk saves his life anyway, he still manages to kill off the part of him that was Li Xiangyi. Li Xiangyi is dead, he insists over and over and over again, until he believes it himself.

Because in that letter—a letter he left unread FOR A MONTH—Qiao Wanmian manages to show him that he never really saw her at all. That he never saw one of his dearest loved ones in pain right in front of him—pain that he finally witnessed on the steps of Sigumen as she poured out her grief and regret in sending this letter to begin with. How ironic then, that a letter she'd sent intending to set him free of her to fly up to the heights on his own, was the final arrow that brought him down. I don't think that's what she would have wanted at all.

But I really feel for her. I do.

Just imagine sending this letter and knowing that it's sitting in Li Xiangyi's mail pile somewhere… and assuming that he read it and that's what spurred him on to this last desperate fight. Because in that outpouring on the steps that clearly what she thought she did. She thought this letter sent him to his death. And in that moment she's wrong, because HE NEVER READ IT. Not until long after that. Not until after this moment. And fucking HELL, but that just hurts me.

Maybe it wouldn't have changed anything if he hadn't witnessed that moment. Maybe it wouldn't have changed anything if he hadn't read that letter. Maybe he still would have felt that he'd failed enough to warrant death of some kind.

But maybe not.

I guess we'll never know.

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rosesradio · 4 months

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i don’t wanna say too much on the show, but i will say this. while i understand having to structure the show differently through making the stops more purposeful, i don’t like that all of the stops are that way. the arch, sure, but the lotus? the place known for dragging you in unintentionally & letting your purposes float away?

not only are the stops purposeful, but the characters stop and explain what everything is for a minute before going about the plot. it honestly feels more like a field trip with dora than a dangerous quest at times

one of the big things that is sacrificed for the show’s more purposeful structure is the kids being, well, kids. they have their little jokes and things and still feel (for the most part) in character to their book counterparts, but with how knowledgeable they are in every situation, sometimes it feels like they’re 17-18 year old characters instead of 12 year olds

I dunno, i still have mixed feelings & am somewhat enjoying watching the show unfold, that’s just some little thoughts on the matter

#im gonna get some wild anons for this aren’t i 😐#pjo show crit #pjo

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likealotus · 11 months

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The soul unfolds itself like a lotus of countless petals.

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undermine-the-instinct · 7 months

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Moon in the Forge

◇ Paring: Yingxing/Blade x Reader

◇ Warnings: None ◇ Word Count: 1.7k

This is basically the "Prologue" or introduction to this mammoth of a fic I'm planning. Likes and reblogs appreciated. Pls enjoy.

Master Huaiyan introduces you to Yingxing on a moonlit night.

Moonlit nights on the Xianzhou Zhuming are extraordinarily beautiful. The nights unfold like a lotus dipped into a serene pool of water-- fitting since the whole of the Zhuming is shaped like a golden lotus, drifting among the waters of the heavenly river. This boy too, is extraordinarily beautiful–his hair is as white and bleached as a bone, and shines like silver in the moonlight.

The Moonstone platform under your feet stretches on like a lazy yawn, slipping past the dreamy honey gold light of the horizon. You two stare off against each other, evaluating. Your master speaks.

“I will be taking Yingxing on as my apprentice, next to you. Be kind to him, and show him the ropes, alright?”

(Kind, not patient. You understand the difference. You are affronted.)

But you acquiesce, you nod. You look at the boy, and he looks back. He barely reaches your brow, and his shoulders hunch up to his ears. He’s barely into his teens, this boy. But he looks at you, with his eyes of bloody ore, and he bows out of respect. You bow back.

You wonder who is mimicking who.

—--------------

Yingxing doesn't even learn your name until the end of his first month of being on the Xianzhou Zhuming.

You hardly speak with him, rather, at him. He was brought into a forge near immediately, and you handed him a heavy apron and some clothes, lest he catch on fire, you said. He changed, and you immediately set him to work.

The first thing he learns is that there is a rhythm. If you’re not smelting you’re cooling, pulling something out the forge, sanding, measuring, fitting, cutting, hammering. He flinched, the first time he saw you strike the red hot metal, the flex of your back muscles and biceps, belying the ease you struck the metal. You noticed his slight apprehension, but you simply continued.

“You have to strike when the iron is hot, malleable,” you said. “That's the first thing you should know. Literally and figuratively. And you can’t be mindless–every strike is intentional, in aim and force, that's what Master Huaiyan said…Watch.”

There are a thousand different ways to strike a hammer, and a thousand more for whatever you’re forging. The possibilities urge his blood to race, and he hounds around the smithy on your orders. You mainly give him the ones other, older artisans give you that you don’t want to do, like grabbing tools and cooling metals.

You like pulling things out of the forge, pouring red hot, molten metals into molds or striking at them with a hammer, sparks flying. He’s heard that residents of the Xianzhou Zhuming like playing with fire. Seems like the rumor was true.

Yingxing applies himself, earnest in everything he does, but he knows he only has so much time. Makes him feel a little frantic.

Yingxing knows that you are a long lived species. So while you look to be young, he knows you are not. Even if you could pass for your teens, perhaps, he knows you’re decades older. And even with the loftiness you afford him, because of course you're more experienced than him, you are still inexperienced yourself, because Master Huaiyan teaches you too.

“Instead of re-heating the whole thing in the forge, it's better to heat just the part you need so that it's easier to bend and manage,” Master Huaiyan shows them, holding the metal over the anvil horn, and picking up the hammer to hammer it down into place. It yields easily under his careful force, bending to shape.

“There's no need to be too forceful, neither do you want to be too careful though, lest you let the metal cool and then you have to re-forge it again, which has an effect on the quality, texture and durability of the metal. Once you’re both more experienced you’ll know by instinct the exact temperature to use, exact force and precision. It's just a matter of experience.”

Yingxing doesn't have much of any. Master Huaiyan lets you guide him for now. You’ve set him on making iron nails. The motions were easy to fulfill but tedious. Simply put, you heat iron ore with carbon to form a dense mass of metal, which is then placed into the shape of square rods and left to cool. After reheating the rod, he would cut the nail length off and hammer all four sides of the softened end to form a sharp point. The hot nail is then inserted into a hole in the anvil and, with four strikes of the hammer, the blacksmith forms the rose head.

It was an apparently out-dated design. Before, when these were used, the four sharp edges of the nail would cut deep into the wood. When the wood was damp the wood fibers would swell and bind around the nail, ensuring an extremely tight fitting. Now nails are industrially made, usually by machines and much more precise and standard.

“I'm a long lived species,” you begin unceremoniously. Yingxing nearly chokes on his food, it’s not often that you speak about something other than work. Or speak…at all.

So these ones weren't particularly fitting but they were useful. And when you had watched him make his, probably hundredth nail, perfectly with no halt in his stride, you nodded and took him out to eat at the Dragon Palace's Kitchen, the only Interastral Gourmet Association-rated five star restaurant among all the Xianzhou ships. Fancy. He’s heard about this too. He thinks this place is too fancy for you to treat it like a corner store, as you place both your orders to go. The chefs and waiters are happy to see you though, so you might be a regular patron. They smile at him to.

He thinks that you’re abusing your authority a little as Master Huayan’s apprentice, but once the food is set upon his tongue he finds that it's too delicious for him to care that much. You sit him down on some bench looking down a hill to the bustling people below, and start to eat yourself.

“I don't have a particularly sad backstory. Not sad at all really. Normal parents, normal siblings and friends. I grew up on the Xianzhou Luofu. Though my father is originally from the Zhuming, so we would come to visit relatives frequently. My Father makes pottery, namely bone china and porcelains. My mother is a cloud knight.”

“That's…very impressive?” Are you bragging?

You nod and fold your hands. Yes. You must be bragging.

“The first time I stepped foot onto this starskiff platform, the Radiant Zenith, I wept. I was very young, but I still remember it so clearly, I was so moved.” You huff a breath from your nose that could be a laugh, and shake your head, closing your eyes. Yingxing hesitantly continues eating. It might be rude but he's hungry. You don't seem to mind.

“The whole platform chiseled out of a single block of moonstone, stretching endlessly beyond the horizon, the stars gleaming above and this tranquil, otherworldly aura. I never had seen such beauty or felt such peace before,” you sigh, and he nods along.

“And I've still yet to see anything that rivals it. But I decided that day that I wanted to try to create something that could. I sent letter after letter for years to master Huaiyan, for about a decade and a half, until he finally took me on as an apprentice. And here I am.” You open your eyes, and Yingxing can see the faint glimmer of tears at the corners of your lashes. Your eyes have always had a sort of harshness, hard and still like the metals you smelt. He can see the way you evaluate him now.

“Why are you here, Yingxing?”

He answers immediately, the answer blooming on his tongue like the taste of iron.

“Vengeance.”

“Vengeance? Is that all?”

Could there be anything else? What else lets him face the wilting heat of the forge and make his hands so still for precision? What else could have him so focused and driven and seething?

His hands set down his utensils and curl into fists on the bench.

“The Borisin destroyed my home world, turning it into one of their weapon nurseries. We both know what that very well means. My parents…they were able to stow me away on one of the last merchant vessels the Borisin had not yet discovered. Master Huaiyan found me, and made me his apprentice. I have vowed to become a master craftsman, to create weapons for the cloud knights, to avenge my home and family.”

You hum, and lean back in your seat, still evaluating, your mouth a flat pressed line. There is nothing to add, but you crack a smile, the first one he’s ever seen from you, and extend your hand over. It's not sweet or kind, but there is mirth there. He sees a flicker pass through your eyes, a spark, as you introduce yourself, like a stranger. You are, technically.

“Let's do our best, shall we?”

He pauses, nods, and takes your hand.

{Patient, and not kind. He understands the difference.)

#my stuff #my writing #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr yingxing #yingxing #yingxing x reader #blade #blade x reader #yingxing x you #blade x you #Porcelain!reader #thats what our reader shall be dubbed #hsr blade #hsr x reader #hksr #thoughts

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