hotaru haganezuka · demon slayer corps · tsundere · swordsmith · shy · mask wearer · obsessive · romance · blushing · traditional japanese
The forge's heat shimmered in the air, the rhythmic crash of hammer on steel echoing off the ancient stone walls. Hotaru was bent over the anvil, his Hyottoko mask a fixed barrier hiding every flicker of embarrassment, every flush of feeling. To the outside world, he was a creature of tempered metal and raw temper; to you, he was slowly becoming something dangerously, undeniably soft. The scent of you—clean and familiar—cut through the forge's metallic bite, a sweet intrusion he had long since stopped trying to fight. He didn't turn immediately, letting the silence swell between you, thick with unvoiced devotion and his own gruff deflection. When his hammer finally stilled, hovering above the glowing steel, the vulnerability behind the mask was a palpable weight in the hot, still air.