Dan Heng with a creative and crafty Reader (drawing, painting, embroidery, ceramics, etc) and one day Reader makes for him a scented nudibranch/sea bunny plush that smells like lotuses, water lilies and rain. Something cute and huggable whenever he isn’t sleeping well or just wants something to hold onto. 😊
A Whisper of Lotus and Rain
Summary: Dan Heng struggles with sleepless nights haunted by the past. Noticing his restlessness, you—an introverted and creative individual—decide to make him a special, handmade plush of a sea bunny that smells like lotus flowers, water lilies, and rain. The plush is meant to offer comfort when Dan Heng is unable to sleep. While he is hesitant at first, Dan Heng quietly acknowledges the gesture, finding solace in the softness of the plush and the thoughtfulness behind it.
Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Scented Plush, Quiet Moments, Thoughtful Gifts.
The Astral Express was quiet, the usual hum of the engine and the occasional creak of the train’s frame settling in the background. The crew had gathered in their usual spaces for rest after a long journey, but tonight was different. Dan Heng sat by a window, staring out at the passing stars, his spear leaning against the seat beside him. His quiet contemplation was his usual refuge, but lately, he’d been struggling with more than just his responsibilities.
There had been nights where sleep seemed impossible. Thoughts from his past would creep in—unwanted, unsettling—and he couldn’t push them away, no matter how much he tried. He would wake in cold sweats, the weight of his past and the darkness that trailed him pulling him into restlessness. But no one knew. No one but you.
You had seen him struggle, though he never openly confessed to it. His demeanor was always calm, but the subtle exhaustion in his eyes didn’t escape your notice. You’d always been the creative sort, your hands busy with things that brought you peace—drawing, painting, and lately, embroidery. Your talent for crafting was something you took pride in, and it was your way of expressing everything you felt but couldn’t put into words.
One evening, as the train rolled into a new, unfamiliar station, you decided to create something just for him. It was your way of offering comfort in a way you knew best: with your hands.
You spent the next few days working in your small corner of the train, sketching designs, picking out fabric, and weaving threads into a creation that would be small enough to fit in his hand but meaningful enough to offer the comfort you thought he needed. Your creation would be a plush—a soft, cute, and huggable sea bunny, a nudibranch, with the colors of ocean blues and the pale whites of lotus petals.
You wanted it to smell like peace—like the serene beauty of a quiet lake after the rain. You found the perfect scented oils—lotuses, water lilies, and rain itself. With each stitch, each step of the process, you poured your thoughts into it. You imagined him holding it in the night, something to comfort him, to hold onto when his thoughts wouldn’t let him rest.
When you finally finished, you carefully placed the small plush on the seat near his usual resting spot. It sat there, soft and delicate, its hues offering a subtle warmth. You hesitated before calling out to him.
“Dan Heng?” you said softly, standing near the door of the cabin, your heart racing a little at the thought of his reaction.
Dan Heng looked up from his seat, his usual calm gaze shifting to you. His eyes narrowed slightly, perhaps noticing the uncertainty in your voice, but he didn’t say anything.
You gestured toward the plush. “I made this for you. It’s... just something to hold onto when you need it.”
His gaze shifted to the plush, then back to you. For a long moment, he didn’t speak, his expression unreadable. But then, slowly, his gaze softened—just the slightest shift, a flicker of emotion he didn’t often allow others to see. He reached out, picking up the plush in his hands, his fingers tracing the soft fabric.
“It smells like rain...” he murmured quietly, his voice quieter than usual. “Lotuses... water lilies.”
You nodded. “I thought it might bring you some peace when things get... heavy.” You shifted a little, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You don’t have to say anything. Just... if you need it.”
For a brief moment, he said nothing, simply holding the plush in his hands. His fingers gently pressed into it, as though testing its softness, as though deciding whether or not he could allow himself to find comfort in it.
Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice soft but sincere. “Thank you.”
His words were simple, yet the weight behind them was something you hadn’t expected. He wasn’t one for overt displays of emotion, and this quiet acknowledgment felt like a rare gift.
“I’ll keep it close,” he added quietly, his gaze softening as he stood up. “It’s... nice.”
And with that, he walked to his sleeping quarters, the small sea bunny plush clutched in his hand. You stood there for a moment, feeling a warmth spread through your chest.
Later that night, you could hear the gentle sound of Dan Heng’s door opening and closing, but there was something different about the way he walked past. He no longer seemed as weighed down by the usual tension that hung around him. You smiled softly to yourself, knowing that somehow, you had managed to give him something to hold onto—something that could help ease the weight of the past, if only for a little while.
The next morning, when you checked on him again, the plush was placed on his pillow, the scent of lotus and rain still faintly lingering in the air. And for once, Dan Heng had managed to sleep soundly.
