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heyidkyay · 19 hours

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And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twenty-Five (The End)

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Authors note: The ending! The final chapter of Matty and Mouse's story, my heart is actually breaking. Honestly loved writing these two, as well as baby Teds, and I hope you lot loved them too because all the love this series has gotten means so much, it feels surreal. Hopefully I can write a few blurbs of them or something in the future but this is it for now. So thank you for all the support!

Warnings: EMOTIONS, Matty and Mouse way of thinking, little bit of angst, referencing to past hurts (such as not making it to a certain age), smut, unprotected sex, self-conscious characters?

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

Matty wouldn’t have been able to say what the time must have been if anyone had dared ask. He’d been propped up against the headboard, still in his t-shirt and jeans, his hand never having fallen from the top of her head even after she’d finally worn herself out and drifted to sleep.

His stomach churned pitifully at the reminder, at how hard she had cried. Gasping and sobbing into that fucking pillow she still held onto, all whilst clinging to the skin of his wrist with an unforeseen strength. As though she’d been pleading in her grip of him, asking him not to go just yet.

That hold had diminished a tad during the night, she’d always been a fitful sleeper– had kneed him one too many times between the legs for him to not know that fact– but this time around… She’d been almost deathly still, aside from the frowning expressions that clouded her face whilst she’d dreamt.

He continued to sit there though, watching on as the moon sunk so that the sun could slowly climb its way into the irradiating sky, giving way to that first hint of morning.

He hadn’t slept a wink, not really. Nodded off for a second or two once or twice before he’d found himself jerking awake again. Couldn’t seem to stay down for much longer than that.

And why would he? When he’d all but destroyed the woman laying beside him. This proud, strong and resilient woman that he’d been so idolised by, so enraptured with. The one person in his fucking forsaken life that had appeared so utterly invincible.

She was a survivor. A mother. A friend.

And she was kind. Funny. Resilient.

Then she’d gone and met him, hadn’t she?

And he’d ruined her like he did everything else.

Practically broken her.

Torn the last pieces of her further apart.

The thought alone made him feel sick to his stomach. Aching with this unbound need to grovel and cry at her very feet, to make her see enough sense so that she could understand just how much she didn’t need someone like him. That she was strong enough to do it all alone. That she didn’t need to cling to him as she had, like rust to a buoy long lost at sea.

Guilt.

That was what that sticky feeling growing in his gut was. That overwhelming malady that was eating him up from the inside out, making him feel so utterly sick.

He had come over to see her. So that they might be able to talk things out. He’d come to apologise. To make things right between them. But instead, what had he done?

Pushed.

He’d pushed and fucking pushed, forcing her hand enough so that she had cracked and he’d been able to slip past those high guarded walls of hers.

And now here they were.

He couldn’t bring himself to regret it though– not all of it at least.

To have held her again… It had calmed some sick twisted part of him.

To have just seen her and heard her voice, no matter how pained and angry it had been. It was like the world around him had softened for a split second. Become all grainy.

Matty glanced back over to her sleeping form, to the way she had bundled the duvet high up over her head so that the tip of her nose could bury itself in the slight curve it made, her chin tucked away.

His hand was still lost somewhere in her hair, thumb cascading out over her temple every now and then, but he didn’t dare pull away. Not until he had no other choice in the matter.

So he carried on, staying there and lying awake. Thinking over the night before. Thinking back to her devastated expression, to the wary look her eyes had held. To the way she hadn’t spoken a word. To how she had simply forced her cries into silent sobs.

Suddenly, he was stuck on the very realisation that she hadn’t been reacting to it all, to everything she’d been feeling, to what had happened, but rather retreating. Hiding away whilst, somehow, still allowing him to be near. To stay. To watch over her.

A soft sniff had him blinking, regaining composure quick enough so that he could catch the scene play out before him.

…

I was embarrassed by the previous night's events. By the fact that I had been so determined to keep Matty at arms length and then failed entirely. That he had seen me so weak and well– broken.

But it had all come to a head, I supposed.

I’d been keeping up appearances ever since everything had fallen out, putting on a brave face and a smile for anyone and everyone who could see. It was only ironic, I guessed, for Matty to have been the one to shatter that image completely.

Still, I swallowed at the sight of him still sitting there beside me the next morning, seeming as though he hadn’t moved an inch throughout the whole night, and shoved all that shame back down.

“Thought you’d be gone by now.” I heard myself say as I flipped over onto my back so that I could stare up at the ceiling and at the sun drawn lines that stretched out across it.

I listened to his quiet laugh, to the way he shuffled slightly on the mattress, though I didn’t dare look back at him. It was too early and I already felt as though he’d seen enough of me. “Was just hoping for a chance at one of your brews, is all.”

Something in me shifted at his easy words. At the fact that he’d chosen to try and make me smile, instead of calling me out on all my messy bullshit.

“And if I’ve got no milk?” I replied, just because this was easier than arguing anymore.

I felt him shift, probably shrugging if I knew him as well as I thought I did. “Shops open soon enough.”

The corner of my mouth twitched, although I continued my staring contest with the blank space sat high above us.

“Who says I’ll let you back in?”

He did laugh then, a deep rumble of a chuckle that was rough from disuse and a lack of sleep. Matty sniffed, “Just gonna have to try my luck then, I ‘spose.”

It was only in that next second that I realised something, something that had me inhaling sharply as Matty’s fingers dragged their way through my hair to tuck a frizzy strand behind my ear, before then pulling away entirely.

My eyes slipped closed at the sudden loss and my hands curled into tight fists beneath the duvet at the very thought of him having stayed that way throughout the night. Of having held me in the only way he’d been able to, as though he believed it might have kept some small part of me together. Only pulling away now that he could see that I wasn’t going to crack beneath the weight of everything I still held.

The bed shifted and the sound of his feet hit the floor.

From the corner of my eye, I watched him as he stood.

Matty moved throughout my bedroom with an ease I didn’t even own, picking up the hoodie he’d thrown over my desk chair all those days ago, the same one I hadn’t allowed myself to touch, let alone wear.

I almost told him not to take it, but withheld. Only just managing to bite down on my tongue as I watched him shrug it on. It was his afterall.

“Gonna nick your keys,” He told me whilst he shook the hood out around his neck and dragged it up over his tousled curls, “Only be about ten minutes. You can shower or whatever, not worry about letting me back in.”

I could only nod in return and he smiled, pausing in the doorway to look back at me for a second or two before he nodded, almost fretfully, and turned away.

I waited, lying there still enough that I was surprised I didn’t go stiff from how tightly I was wound, until I heard the familiar rattle of keys and then the squeaking hinges of the front door. It closed behind him so quietly that had I not been holding my breath I might not have even heard it.

I was rubbing at my face not a minute later, hauling back tears leftover from last night's show, before I heaved an anguished scream that was more air than actual sound from my lungs.

Forcing myself to calm– and not dissolve into fucking hysterics– I willed myself up, noting that I was still naked as I kicked the covers away. Another thing I’d gone and bared for him, I supposed. As though it wasn’t enough that I had already cried myself to sleep with him just sitting a hand’s stretch away, but that we’d actually gone and slept together. After everything.

My head was warring with my heart as I dragged myself up out of the dirtied sheets, throwing on an old tee so that I could shove them into the washer before he got back. I forced myself into the shower quickly after, letting the hot water roll off my skin.

I must’ve been stood there for a long while, drowning under the heavy spray, because it was the sound of the door that broke me from the faraway place I’d found myself in whilst staring at the tiled walls.

Blinking, I wiped the water from out of my eyes and forced myself to wash, lathering up my hair and going through the motions, before I finally stepped out.

I didn’t dare peer into the mirror, not all too desperate to see the state I’d worked myself into on my way out. Choosing to head back into the bedroom instead, padding over towards the dresser to pull out some clean clothes and only noticing the fresh sheets that had been pulled onto the bed when I’d finally dressed.

The towel I’d been holding to lightly dry my hair slowly dropped to my side at the sight. I opened my mouth to call out and probably ask– But I stopped myself before I could. Ask what? I wondered. Why? Then shook my head at the very idea.

Doing the smart thing by shutting my mouth, I dumped the towel in the hamper and pulled on a pair of socks, taking a deep breath before deciding to venture further out into the flat.

I found him in the kitchen.

He didn’t peer over his shoulder but he must’ve heard me putter in because he greeted me: “I know I said I’d be quick but I passed by that little bakery on my way back– that hidden gem we liked that one time? Anyway, it just smelt fuckin’ devine.” He accentuated that last bit, making me smile slightly, “And I just couldn’t not, you know? Been a while, but they had those danishes you like in the window. Got a couple to share as well as some other bits.” Matty explained, head still halfway in the bag he’d obviously brought back with him, a pint of milk sat alone on the side, “And a sausage roll for Teds– kid was eating them like he was gonna starve a while ago. So I just thought...”

Matty shrugged, as though that in itself was no big deal, him thinking of my son, and turned around to glance my way with a display case of baked-goods now lining my kitchen counter.

I snorted softly at the sight, jerking my chin out towards the lot of them, “Just thought you’d bring back half the shop?” I teased and was all too pleased when he chuckled around the beginnings of a smirk.

He was quick with his quip, “So I’m guessin’ you don’t want one of these danishes then?”

I narrowed my eyes at the sheer nerve. “I never said that.”

Matty’s nose scrunched with his next shrug before he moved to snap one up for himself. “Sort of sounded like it, sweetheart.”

I shook my head, biting down on my growing grin as I slid across the kitchen to grab at one too.

I hummed around the first bite I took and all but moaned at the flavour of it, blinking my eyes back open only to find Matty wearing the most delighted little grin. I rolled my eyes but didn’t grant him the gift of an actual reply, though it didn’t seem to waver him either way.

We seemed to move seamlessly around one another after that; him filling up the kettle whilst I placed two mugs down on the countertop; the clink of a teaspoon being shot into one cup as I moved to grab the tin of tea bags; Matty switching the radio on like it was second nature and me smiling away to myself as I poured the milk.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek once we’d finally settled, he’d chosen to take up room at the table whilst I carefully stored the remaining pastries away for later.

I wanted to talk, to try and hash things out again, because this felt right to me. Him being here. In my dingy little kitchen, small but still so crowded with all sorts of bits and bobs, as well as a plethora of crayon coloured drawings. And he just, well, Matty just fit here. Or maybe that was just me hoping. Ignoring the bigger warning signs so that I wouldn’t have to feel so alone again.

Was he lying to me?

Had he relapsed?

Did he cheat?

It didn’t seem like he’d done any of those things. There was no guilt in his gaze and yesterday… I’d never seen him like that. Even whilst stressed or overwhelmed, Matty had never cried. He’d never looked at me like that either, as though he was slowly breaking before my eyes.

He’d said his piece, he’d promised, and then he’d apologised.

But.

What if I was just making a bigger mug of myself here?

Letting him back in. Giving him my forgiveness. Having him in my bed.

Was I saying that it was okay? Was that the impression I’d be giving? That he could lie and walk all over me and that everything would still be fine.

It left the world feeling a little more tilted than it had been only moments before. It left me questioning everything, once again.

…

“What are we doing, Matty?”

Matty was slow in looking back over at her, fingers tapping aimlessly away on the kitchen table to some song that had been playing on the radio.

“What do you mean?”

She huffed, a quiet chuckle full of disbelief rippling through the air, “I mean, what are we doing here?”

“The fuck if I know.” Matty replied, just as soft as that laughter she’d given him, shrugging at her from across the kitchen. Because what was he meant to say to that?

She just shook her head in turn though, completely unaware to the way he was now watching her. Taking her all in. The way the outline of her body glowed whilst bathed in the morning light that shone in through the windows. Of how her slowly drying hair curled at parts in the easy breeze that crept by. And how endeared he was by the way she never failed to tuck her joggers, or pyjama bottoms, or whatever else she’d decided to throw on whilst at home into her socks. It made her who she was, all these mindless little tidbits that he’d gathered over the last year, that he had observed.

“We can’t just– move on. Carry on like nothing’s happened.” She sounded frustrated. Sad.

“Why not?” It was almost sarcastic, the way he said it, but his voice held a whole lot of truth to it. He wanted this and he wanted her. And he’d be a fucking fool to deny it.

And what would the world make of the two of them anyway? Cause she’d gone and claimed the very same thing last night, hadn’t she?

The pair of them, fools.

“‘Cause everything’s a mess.” She answered back, staring at him now, almost defeated.

Her shoulders were slumped and she wore that sad smile she often favoured when she was at a loss, slowly being eaten away by a horde of thoughts she couldn’t seem to control.

He watched her fidget with the hem of her sleeve, peering down at it.

“Because after everything, Matty,” She breathed, voice soft even in the quiet of the kitchen, “I know that I love you and I don’t want to lose what we have left here. I don’t want that ruined.”

Matty’s mouth worked itself into a small smile as his eyes dragged between her own, trailing over the short scar that crossed the bridge of her nose, remembering the night she’d teared up when he’d reached out to caress it.

“I’d rather be ruined by you than not have you at all, Mouse.”

She blew air from out of her nose in a soundless chuckle, cheeks rounding around an amused grin for the briefest of seconds before her eyes skittered away from him again. “That meant to be all poetic?”

He gave her a curt nod and then just grinned, legs fanned out before him. “In the job description. Musician, remember?”

“Oh, do I.” She quipped back just as sarkily, leaning against the counter as she continued to watch him from under dark lashes. Matty reckoned he’d let her shove him under a microscope if it got her to let him stick around. If only for a while longer.

A silence passed between them.

“I love you.” Matty murmured, so sure of that fact, “That much I know. But I won’t ask you for anything more than I already have, you make the choice. You can hold the cards. And whatever you decide, I’ll accept.”

Her face hardened a fraction, as though she were steeling herself for an argument or something other. Hiding how underprepared she’d been for his words perhaps. Matty only hoped that she’d heard the truth in them.

“No fight? You’ll just accept it and leave?”

Matty didn’t dare blink but dipped his head in slight acknowledgement. “If that’s what you want.”

The woman before him just continued to stare him down and for once, Matty couldn’t read her face. Had no idea what the hell she might’ve been thinking. Or feeling. Or what plans she was currently devising in that clever head of hers.

“Okay.”

It took all of his sheer effort not to react to that one simple word, even though she had practically just gone and ripped his fucking heart out of his chest.

Actually, he supposed that was another lie he’d told. She’d done that months ago, on the day they’d met and went and ruined him for good.

I’d rather be ruined by you.

It’s what he’d said.

He couldn’t go back on it now.

“Okay.” He answered her, voice just barely above a whisper that he wasn’t sure she heard over the squeaking of his chair legs.

And then he was standing in her kitchen for what he supposed would be the last time. He saw her grip the edge of the counter, knuckles whitening, gaze unstraying, but she didn’t say another word.

They stared at one another for what felt like the longest minute on Earth and Matty could practically feel the ground shifting beneath the soles of his feet as he realised that now everything would really change.

His breath caught, the thought hitting him like a shit ton of bricks and he knew then that he had to leave before he broke down and took it all back. Before he was a fucking mess of a man on her kitchen floor.

He turned on his heel and made for the door.

“Where’re you going?”

Matty froze, entirely rooted to the floor.

He continued to stare resolutely ahead, scared to move in case she had changed her mind. In case she was saying what he thought she was.

“Your tea’s gonna go cold… and I thought you could pick Teds up with me later.” She was going for nonchalant, aiming and almost hitting, but she missed the mark by just a hair. “He was with Ads yesterday, you know, and she dropped him off at nursery this morning for me. Just figured.”

Matty pivoted on his heel, slow going and hardly daring to steal a breath as he did, before he was looking straight at her. At the way her teeth had sunk into her lower lip, the careful sheen her eyes had taken on, and then the singular strand of hair which had fallen from behind her ear. He was across the room and on her in a second.

Firm hands held her face, thumbs guarding either cheek as he bored everything he couldn’t seem to say into the next look he gave to her. Wanting her to see it all. To know, or simply understand.

“You’re gonna kill me.”

She laughed.

“Wanna bet…” Her words trailed off into a heavy breath and Matty could feel the strength of his grin as he leaned in close, nose bumping against hers, his eyes flickering over the entirety of her face, attempting to take her in all at once.

There was buzzing under his skin, he could feel it in the tips of his fingers, all the way down to his toes, and heard the way it hummed throughout his chest.

It was then that he realised he couldn’t see an end without her in it.

He wanted everything with this woman.

Everything.

And that should’ve been the most terrifying thought.

Because once he had believed he would never see the end of sixteen, puking into the bushes outside his bedroom window and not having the strength to make it that extra mile. To let mum know that he was alright.

Then it had been nineteen, that first real stint in hospital. He’d been scared to shit and alone, the darkness hiding all the groans and upset of the other patients with real issues.

But nineteen had come and gone, so then he figured twenty-one. Maybe twenty-two? Definitely twenty-five… Had to be.

Twenty-eight had been both the end and the beginning for him.

But even without everything that had been holding him back after that, the drugs, the people, the money. After he’d gotten clean– proper clean– he’d never really thought far enough ahead.

To a point where he might feel settled or want to start building a place for himself in the world. A real place, one amongst family and friends, not just amongst admiration and music– as much as it had helped shape him.

He’d never once pictured this. A person.

Girlfriends? Yeah. Flings and one night stands? Sure. But a person that would be his. Completely. That he could share half of himself with?

No, he couldn’t say that he’d ever seen that coming, that something like this would have one day been in the cards for him.

And Matty wanted so badly to sink his claws in and cling on for as long as he possibly could, for as long as she’d be willing, and then even more so. Until somebody else came along and inevitably unhooked him. But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t dare. Because this was too perfect to go and destroy like that.

He’d always claimed to be a selfish man, but in this regard, all the love he had worth giving would be spent on her. On the days they’d spend together. On meals and dates. On flowers and apologies for when he eventually messed up again, because he knew himself too well to deny that fact. He’d spend it on giving her security, on rebuilding her trust. He’d spend it on her son. On the little boy he’d become so besotted by.

And if it ruined him, if it killed him? He reckoned he’d be okay with that.

He’d be content. Finally having something to be proud of.

“What are you waiting for?”

Matty eyes tracked the length of her face, fingers tangled in her hair whilst his thumbs pressed into the grooves of her temples. What was he waiting for?

As soon as he thought it, Matty was pressing against her once more, stealing all the breath from her lungs in his haste to answer her.

It was slow, the kiss; soft in the way his lips captured hers for only a few seconds before he was pulling away again, hands shaking where he still cupped her cheeks.

He wanted to make sure that this was what she wanted, but he could see it in her face, that surety, the warmth. And he wouldn’t question that, maybe in some regards he’d be willing to give her anything, but here and now, with this, with wanting her, he would as selfish as he fucking could be. He’d take all that she would give him.

The next kiss was full and deep– urgent.

Matty’s tongue slid into her mouth, hands falling aimlessly away from her face to whatever part of her he could touch, feeling no ounce of remorse over it seeing as she was on the exact same journey, her fingers winding their way up and over every inch of him.

She kissed back with just as much force, colliding with him in a way that almost felt tortured, as though trying to make up for all the time they had wasted. Not just over the past few days, but the weeks and months they’d spent dancing around one another, pushing and pulling. Despairing this game of tug of war they had started.

It ended here.

Matty continued to lean up into her, pressing her into the counter as she clawed at the hoodie he wore. Matty felt her nails catch on the skin of his back, whilst he wrapped his arms around her hips.

“Baby,” He whispered breathlessly and then moaned when her mouth closed around his bottom lip, teeth grazing against the flesh before they then bit down. She rocked into him and Matty swore his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

He reached up a hand to cup the back of her neck so that he could mouth his way across her jaw and down her collar, favouring the skin just beneath her ear. “Need you.”

It was both an admission and a plea.

And then she was grabbing at his face too, forcing his mouth back up to meet hers, breath sweeping over the cut of his jaw. She tangled her fingers in his curls and Matty had the barest second to register that he was actually staying. That she was letting him back in.

His body jolted forward on impulse, arms snaking their way around her waist to splay out over her lower back, pulling her that much closer. Her hold tightened too, hand moving down his neck, thumb pressing lightly against the pulse point there.

Matty stepped nearer and she welcomed him in, legs parting to let him step between them, kiss turning hungrier as she arched her back up and away from the countertop. He wanted all of her.

She let go of his hair to press in harder, pulling back only so that she could lick his mouth back open and drive her tongue inside. She murmured his name against his lips, once, twice. And then Matty’s hand was between the blades of her shoulders and holding fast. He moved, spinning them outwards, over towards the kitchen door.

She let out a sharp sound that was half gasp and half moan, but all love and desire when they knocked into the arm of the sofa in the living-room and fell back against the soft cushions.

When they broke apart it was only out of necessity, the need to catch back the breath that had been forced out of them on their tumble down. They shared an airy chuckle.

Then he watched on as she stretched out further up the settee, fingers caught on his wrist so that she could tug him along with her. Their hips aligned as Matty crowded her again, elbow digging into the chair's arm to hold him up above her. He hovered there, their faces and foreheads pressed together, noses lined up side by side. Matty wished to savour every detail of her.

He kissed her again, slower, softer. His lips moved against hers so gently that it was almost reverent, worship-like, and she matched him toe for toe, pouring her whole soul into it, gifting him all the sweetness that she possibly could.

Matty prayed to whoever might’ve been listening that he could have this.

He supposed someone must’ve heard him because she said, “Stay,” in this careless whisper, in a tone that was more breath than anything else. And his heart stopped.

And then he was nodding. Almost frantically.

He kissed her, the tip of his nose brushing the underneath of hers as he lifted his head to nod one more time. “Long as you’ll let me.”

She whimpered and he groaned, forehead pushing against hers once more as she lifted her hips up to meet his.

Then they were both lunging for clothes in the same instant, nearly laughing at their clumsy eagerness to get undressed, the sofa being of no help.

Matty pushed back to sit up for a moment, luring her up gently with him so that he could slide her shirt off over her head. She returned the favour, letting him trail a finger over the curve of her shoulder and down her arm once they were done before she was on her back once more.

“So beautiful.” He felt the need to whisper, even though there was no one else around to hear it. She glanced away.

Matty wouldn’t have that though, a careful hand coming up to coax her eyes back to him, hoping that she would hear the sincerity in his words. She was the best thing he’d ever seen, no matter the time of day. No matter how horrible she felt. He’d never been so enamoured by another person, or so utterly lost in his desperate need to make it known.

His thumb caught on the corner of her mouth and he smiled. “I meant it.” He assured her and felt her shiver beneath him as his words fanned the skin of her cheek, “Beautiful.”

She swallowed thickly, he saw the bob of her throat before he slid his palms down her sides to unhook her bra, dropping it off to the side so that he could mouth along the length of her torso.

He continued to murmur, tone so full of admiration as he attempted to press the words into her skin, hoping that this way they would somehow sink in.

By the time he reached the hem of her trousers she was writhing beneath him, eyes pleading, so Matty made quick work of ridding them, allowing himself to look her over for just a second. She truly was beautiful.

“Matty,” The sound of his name forced his eyes back up and he was thrown by the dazzling smile she then wore. She took one of his hands in hers, linking their fingers, “I don't have all day, baby.”

He merely shook his head and laughed, figuring that she must’ve seen the many emotions that played out across his face afterwards because she tightened her hold on his hand and motioned him closer so that she could kiss him again.

He took her there on the settee. Worked her over slow and hard, his gaze only ever wavering when they slipped shut or he buried his face alongside the skin of her neck. His hands wandered whilst hers clung tight, leaving him marked and gasping. She murmured the whole while, legs wrapped around his middle to keep him as close as she possibly could, so that he could drive that bit deeper. Matty had never heard her so vocal, just muttering on and on, only ever stopping to cry out or jolt. But even then her words would either come out all warped or in a sharp shout. It only proved to spur him on though, fingers digging in and bruising the soft sides of her hips and thighs.

He could hardly think, listening to her pleads and commands. Such a demanding little thing.

The heels of her feet dug into his flesh as her arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders, holding on, sinking her nails into his skin deep enough to have him hissing. He didn’t dare tell her to let up, just attempted to pick up his pace, hand falling away from the crease of her thigh to drag along her folds, needing her to let go before he could.

“Close?”

He was met with a choked gasp: “Yeah.” Followed by a cascade of assent, breath wetting the cut of his jaw as her hands jumped up to curl themselves along his shoulders.

Matt felt himself nod, but was hardly even aware of it, gaze trained on her face, the watering of her eyes, the pink swell of her lips. “So good for me. Don’t deserve you.”

His words just made her strengthen her already too tight hold and then she was writhing beneath him, tear sliding down the side of her face just as her head tilted far back against the cushions and she moaned.

He wasn’t far behind her, but she continued to work her hips to the best of her ability whilst his thrusts became more and more desperate. He only noticed that he was clenching his teeth when her fingers came up to thread through his hair, slackening the muscles there in his face just as his head fell forward, hovering a centimetre or two above the dip in her collar.

Matty felt lips press against the side of his head, soft but there. “I love you.” She said, and he couldn’t even respond, lost in the sensations that overwhelmed him as he jolted forward, every muscle in his legs tensing as his eyes slammed close.

His breathing was harsh and laboured when he finally managed to pull out, falling into the little space she created for him on the side of the sofa. He draped an arm over her middle, not giving much thought to the damp sheen on their skin or the mess between her thighs. They could have this for a little while longer.

Matty hid a smile, nosing along her shoulder as he better settled into his position before he kissed the sweet skin there. Her back was to him now, him wrapped up around her body, their legs entangled, and he thought back to those few words of hers.

Back to that night she’d first said them.

To when she had last said them.

He started to trail a finger over her side, up and then down before he decided to trace each letter one by one. He heard her huff a laugh when she finally caught on, but he pressed on, writing more.

When she patted his hand and shifted, he frowned, wondering if he’d pushed too far, too quickly, even though she’d been the one to say it first. But she just rolled around to face him and grinned at the face he must’ve worn.

“You’re an idiot.”

His brow pinched but he still felt himself smile, “What?”

She laughed all lovelylike and he blinked at the sweetness of it, wondering when he’d gotten so used to hearing such a pretty fucking sound.

He poked at her side, prodding, “Go on, tell me.”

With a fond roll of her eyes, Matty watched the stretch of her smile soften before he stilled slightly at her slow touch, the drag of her finger which trailed over his stubbled cheek. “Just such a you thing to do.” She teased him quietly, fingertip reaching up to skim over the bridge of his nose and then his eyelids.

Matty shrugged, narrowing his eyes a tad but unable to truly hide the small smirk he was wearing. He moved his hand back to her hip, tracing another word that had her huffing and shaking her head in sudden exasperation. Then another. And another.

Her eyes were wide when he chanced a glance up at her and she swallowed at the earnest expression he gifted her. “I mean it.” He whispered into the tiny slot of space that rested between their heads.

He watched as her stare tracked along his face, flicking from one eye to the other. “How can you be so sure?”

Matty shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t pressed up against the settee, a small smile dancing on his mouth. “Never been sure of much, but I know this.”

She quirked an eyebrow, “This your way of askin’?”

Chuckling lightly, he shook his head in turn. “Nah, gotta think of something good. Big.” He grinned at the snort she gave, but continued on anyway, fingers simply brushing against her hip now, “Figure we need time to get there again, sort through this mess.”

“Again?”

Matty hummed, thinking back to the bout of songs he’d been working on over the last few months, to the days G had smirked and asked about some of the lyrics he’d written down. “Been playing on my mind.”

There was a small curve to her brow now, an almost frown but not, Matty knew her well enough to know that she was just a little thrown by his answer.

“How long?”

Her whispered ask had him thinking, but he couldn’t really give her an exact time span. He’d hardly even realised it himself. “I don’t know, but for a while.”

She breathed out a quiet little laugh, eyes darting between his own once more, “So one day then?”

Matty hummed happily, face breaking into a slow going grin as one of his hands came up to cup her face, thumb soothing her cheek. “One day, Squeaks,” He murmured to her, “I’m gonna marry the shit out of you.”

Her cheek warmed beneath his touch but she laughed, shaking her head ever so slightly whilst her eyes looked down before shooting right back up again. “You’re gonna regret that.”

Wrinkling his nose a tad and curling his upper lip, Matty just shook his head, “Nah, don’t reckon so.”

“You say that,” She all but sang before she was kicking up a storm in his hold, quickly trying to get away from the hand that had come up to run a rhythm down her side, tickling her into shutting that daft mouth of hers.

“Yeah, I do fuckin’ say.” Matty chuckled, grinning madly as he continued to grab at her, teasing her bare skin with his tormenting touch. It was with that in which Mouse went sailing, rolling away from him in an attempt to escape, and dragging Matty with, him still so caught up in her that the pair of them went tumbling to the living-room floor.

Matty felt as though all the air in his lungs had been kicked from his chest once the world had stopped spinning and finally righted itself. He realised all too quickly what had happened, a heap of hair splayed over his face as he spluttered.

“Fuck.” He managed to drag out, forcing a huffy laugh from his chest.

He watched on as she struggled for a second, him having cushioned her fall, and she pushed up onto her palms so that she could glare down at him, not entirely unhappy. Matty snorted and raised his arms in defence.

“Don’t blame me.”

If it was at all possible, her eyes cut sharper. “The fuck I won’t! Why’d you start tickling me?”

“Because you never know when to shut up!” Matty laughed, wheezing a little as he did and bending a knee so that he could plant one foot firmly on the floor, his hand rested on his chest.

She just rolled her eyes though as she battled to sit up, spine curving once she had. Matty reached out to trail the length of it, pulse jumping at the shiver he watched run through her.

“How’d we even go from you being such a sap to us on the floor?” Mouse huffed, reaching up to grab at a throw that had been resting on the nearby armchair. Matty watched through a lazy gaze as she bundled it into an oddly shaped ball of sorts before turning back to him. “Fucking all sticky now too.”

He smiled stupidly, folding his hands behind his head, unashamed as he was, to better protect it from the hardwood floors.

She stood with a roll of her eyes, on unsteady legs mind– something Matty felt all too pleased with– and caught sight of his smirk, and before he could even see it coming the bundled blanket was being thrown at his head. He yelped girlishly and floundered to shield himself from it but it still managed to catch the side of his face with just enough force.

He listened to her hearty laugh as he tossed the thing back at her legs, frowning when it missed and her footsteps began to trail away. “Oi, where do you think you’re goin’?”

“To shower!” She called out from over her shoulder just before she could disappear through the doorway, “Again!”

Matty huffed a small snicker to himself and resorted to simply staring up at the ceiling whilst he waited, but before he could get too comfortable there she was calling out to him again.

“So you coming or what, Healy?”

And fuck if that didn’t have him scrambling up off of the floor to join her. He smiled when she merely laughed at the eager sight of him rounding the hallway and he found himself wondering how the fuck he’d managed this as she turned on the tap and pulled him under the water with her.

He must’ve seemed a little out of it though because she was tilting her head at him when he peered over at her, her hands at his hips. “You good?”

Matty hummed quietly, dipping his head to kiss her once more because he could. “Yeah, just happy.”

And wasn’t that a thought. Him happy.

Mouse grinned at him, eyes lighting up with it as he stepped on closer. Her hold tightened, “Me too.”

Me too.

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saschax · 3 days

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phantasm

(n.) a figment of the imagination; an illusion or apparition:

TRIGGER WARNINGS: panic attack (protagonist's panic attack is described in details), nightmares, child abuse (recalls past), medication (for mental health purposes) and thats all, i think.

she felt comfortable. everything was.

comfort.

the blinds blocked the light, whether it'd be the sun or the moon. its was fine, except.. it wasn't.

she couldn't make out the shape of her hands as they lands on her chest, feeling her pulse quickening by the seconds.

everything is fine.

its fine.

why is she panicking?

why am i panicking?

nothing happened.

why-

images flashes in her mind. it isn't the good kind, not ones filled with butterflies. opposite infact.

then, she realises the cause behind her panicked state.

nightmares, she echos mentally, in her head. a child's nightmare, as embarassing as it sounds.

not being able to scream, to cry for help- no one's there to help. no helping hands, no.. nothing... no daddy or mommy coming for her-

he was just- just looking at you, with- with a wide smile plastered on his-

suddenly, its too overwhelming for her. a shaking wreck she is right now.

she's no strangers to nightmares, she's well acquainted by now. this nightmare, however, was different. it was bolder, it wasn't something related to her past.

no. it wasn't her mother.. her very own mother who beated on her for simple little things.

no. it was a new person entirely. the being - person - on the other end of the knife was the one with the tired, dark brown eyes she comes to love.

but ghost would never harm you. never-

she suddenly sees movement (even though it is hard to see, years of training did made her eyes see a bit better) in the dark, snapping her attention to the thing.

answer: he's watching her.

there she sat, trembling like a leaf. and there he stood, still as a rock, watching her.

seconds, minutes, hell, maybe centuries passed as the two remains where they were. it was too quiet suddenly, apart from her panicked rapid breaths. she's currently trying to convince herself it was all a nightmare.

she'll wake up after this, just a bad dream inside another bad dream-

it wasn't.

it took a moment hesitantace from ghost to move towards her. slow steps towards the bed, to her, and he stops at the end of it.

even though she isn't looking at him, she could feel his gaze on her and she hated it. it made her feel incredibly small, utterly hopeless. and her nightmare comes back to her in flashbacks.

the way ghost stood over her- with his mask (not the skull mask) on his face, a knife clutched in his hands- the way it was going down on her chest- the way she could feel the smile behind his mask- about to kil-

the bed sinks a bit and made her jolts. ghost had took a pause to sit down next to her, albet, at a safe considerable distance.

he stares at her first, what was wrong, what he couldn't fix.

she sees a hand approaching her shoulder and she flinches, immediately turning to him, jerking herself away at the same time.

what the hell?

ghost retracts his hand away like he'd been burnt. without a second glance, ghost abrupty stood to his feet, storms out the door and went to somewhere.

she couldn't hear his footsteps.

He's as fast as he is quiet, she didn't see or hear him before he's there, standing in front of her with the bottle of pills in his hand.

she sees the white title of the pills, clonidine. unfortuantely, she doesn't take pills. she tried before, and nearly choked on one. it was extremely terrifying experience for her, plus, she tried as a child. pills never worked. she needs more than a simple bottle of pills.

"ghost." the name slips from her lips with a sob, the lump in her throat threatening to explode any moments. "please."

she wanted comfort, like how her father did it for her.

she saw the way his hand clenched around the pill bottle, and she feared her words had triggered something in him. something bad. something like what happened in her dream.

a knife going down on her chest.

a hand came to her head and seeing she didn't flinch this time, did he sits closer. almost shoulder touching. she takes a deep breath - inhaling, exhaling - and her shoulders shakes. she is too frustrated with her mind to feel embarrassment, but she knew it would hit her sooner or later. she had never broken down like this, not in front of him.. or anyone else..

she always been a strong woman, physically and emotionally..

against her better judgement, she finds herself leaning against him. hiding her face in the crook of his clothed neck. she feels him tenses, and for a moment she thinks he'll push her way. but he didn't.

one hand comes to rest on her back, awkwardly running circles. He said nothing, hell, she couldn't even feel if he was breathing. his chin came to rest on top of her head and remained there. it was the most ghost had ever done for her.

morning came.

and he's gone. a smile on her face, lasting only for a fleeting second.

she slept dreamlessly, and for once, it felt like her head was above the waters, not drowning. it feels like he was holding her, like some sort of a pillar. in a way, he was.

( she would've think it was a dream, if it wasn't for the fact a bottle of pill was lying on her bed. he forgot about it.

she never mentioned it, infact, she faked confusion why it was there- despite knowing it very well why, to save ghost's the embarassment.

she appreciated him for doing this. and why he was there, she'll never know.

but it makes her feel a little less alone. a little more understood. and that is something she has not felt in a very long time..

this makes her wonder..

did he have nightmares too? she finds it odd he had nightmare pills out of nowhere. )

A.N i had a nightmare and my girlfriend sort of did this towards me, so inspired by her. decided to make it reality, ha ha. short, but im tired.

perfect excuse.

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod #task force 141 #call of duty modern warfare #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #task force 141 x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley cod #ghost simon riley #x reader

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hexados-on-a-string · 8 months

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spectragus dont get enough credit for being a sun and moon ship but like. destructive sun and moon ship. sun and moon ship but they're the forces of nature the sun and moon actually are. the sun is harsh and relentless and unpredictable in its evil but also it's kindness, the moon is sharp and cold and cruel, a harsh light that doesn't allow you peace, but can also guide you, a light in the darkness. even on nights with a new moon, with no light in the sky, the moon is always reflecting the sun, and it'll be that way until they come to their end.

#spectragus give me a dopamine high that any sort of drug couldn't even come close to giving me #its the loyalty. its the seeing each other at their worst and still staying.#its the being the only person still around who knows and understands what youve been through #its the being so important to each other's characters that u cant mention one without recognising the impact the other has on them #i dont rlly do shipping unless its funny but also im a huge gus fan so like. yea. plus my view on romance is a bit all over the place anyway #something something my skrunkles deserve complicated relationships that are more than romantic but something else #its the trust thats the most important thing to me. trust and loyalty and devotion and #im sorry but i would have exploded if i like. didn't write down these thoughts #anyways fucked up gay people who are a package deal and that is a threat thats them #ik the majority of my posts are hee hee funnie and i usually dont take things too seriously #but these two have taken up part of my brain permanently since i was 8. like. they just live there. rent free.#i am like rabid rn. i am feral and i am insane and i am crazy and there are so many things wrong with me #i cant even write down all my fuckin thoughts there's so many my brain is going to Explode pray for me #idk if u understand how important it is to me the times they show kindness even while at their worst #they're not good people but they have people they care about and they care abt each other and that matters SO much #i take 0 criticism on my posts i only take cash. however there is no possible criticism to be made bc i am RIGHT #also this all kinda sparked from me getting obsessed with a certain kh character who has a connection to the moon #who is also one of my favourite characters ever #and if u know who it is and u also like him ur very cool #im not tagging this w character tags. im like. very shy. but #i love gus i love spectra i love spectragus #anyways see u next time where i should hopefully have art maybe potentially #i found the brushes i used to use back when i did lineless art so i am rlly happy

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dent-de-leon · 1 year

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help I once again remembered we are getting animated mighty nein and can't stop thinking of the possibility that we might get to at least have Mollymauk stay alive for a bit longer--

#molly my stars and moon #molly my mauk #even if its just by a bit like i would be over the moon if we got to see more of him #it really did feel like it came out of nowhere watching early c2 live and it was the worst bad luck i could never get over and--#i just #want to see more of the circus man and get the chance to really explore his relationships with the rest of the party and all his past--#all the story beats and background taliesin never got around to in the game #just #please let us see a bit of what could have been and all the cool things taliesin wanted to do with him--#also thinking of this in light of tal saying his favorite thing about animated vm is how they've changed things and surprised fans-- 👀#also molly brings them all together for the circus and its his bond with all of them that ties the whole story together #in the very end??#he's the catalyst. hes the ghost haunting the whole narrative. he's the final villain. he's all the party wants in return for #saving a world that will never thank them--#i want to see molly circus flashbacks and molly bonding with yasha and dreaming of the moonweaver and lucien--#i would do anything for a followup conversation to the forehead kiss or more of yasha and the party comforting molly after the lucien #reveal or molly panicking when he uses another new power of lucien's or something triggers a bad memory--

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moonlight-mellohi · 1 year

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OK Tumblr people who follow for art you can have this from my Instagram too ig

#the moon has spoken #i cropped all the images cuz i was too lazy to go find the watermarked versions #....oh wow all the art above the Dragonceit one would be new to anyone here #n thats only if you were here EARLY when the only reason i used this site was to post fanart n writing for an AU on here (see 2020 drawing)#anyways nothings gonna be posted for a bit (im still in school and got irl stuff pain.)#because i gotta sort through a couple with multiple versions AND watermark them all #but its all art i havent showed the light of day (outside of friend servers)#so ye expect multiple posts. they will be sorted ocs DnD random etc etc. maybe even a bit of au stuff 👀#some are just fun doodles and memes while others are full character design sheets and scenes #ya i.. dont expect this immediately i would fall over crash AND burn #BUT EXPECT IT OTHERWISE ILL FORGET-#oh also its 21-23 art. i found some old ones i was like.. why did i not-#mmmm ok i have done my once a month post of rambles goodbyeeeee

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snaileer · 30 days

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We Didn’t Start The Fire

“See man, the moon!” Kid Flash said as they came outside, standing on the pile of rubble.

“And Superman! Do we fulfill our promises or what…” his voice trails off as a grinding clanking sound echoes behind them.

They turned around, confused to see a tricked out pale yellow Volkswagen bug trucking its way up the rubble and crumbled building blocks. It stopped before it got too steep, a man in a familiar white lab coat stumbling out.

Immediately, they were on guard, the man haphazardly climbing towards them.

Robin drew two batarangs in each hand, standing in front of Superboy as he got closer. It didn’t even matter that the Justice League had just landed behind them, if this CADMUS scientist tried something, Robin would be the first to defend Superboy. Without hesitance.

The man stopped in front of them, huffing for breath.

“You’re-!” He stopped, leaning over his knees with gasping breaths, “Sorry, one sec!” He held up a finger, gasping for another few seconds before stepping forward-

Chains of water surrounded him before they could blink, Robin looking back surprised to see Aqualad standing with extended weapons and a grim face.

“This is odd.” The man looked at the water wrapped around him, wriggling a bit before shrugging. His eyes zeroed in on Superboy, “You’re okay!” He said with a blinding grin.

Superboy recoiled and Robin immediately stepped between them.

“What.”

The man glanced at him briefly before looking back over Robin’s head, “You are okay right? I mean I tried my best but I couldn’t figure out a way to get you out- I mean if I’d known you were there to begin with I’d would have never-but then I wouldn’t have-

“Who are you?” Superman asks, suddenly close from behind them.

The man’s mouth clicks shut, looking between them all before a grimacing smile rises to his face.

He extends his hand at the elbow between the liquid chains, “Dr. Danny Fenton, ex-biochemical engineer of CADMUS labs Mr.Superman,sir.”

Flash zips forward, the eyes of his cowl narrowed, “Ex?”

The grimace turns into a wince. “Oh.. heh, yeah, I’ve found that arson is usually a pretty good kickstart of sudden unemployment,” there’s a thoughtful pause as he looks over the rubble, “It’s usually accidental though.”

Nobody responds.

“What? You didn’t think that lab fire started on its own did you? How else was I supposed to get you here?”

“There’s a Justice League public phone! That’s literally its entire purpose!” Kid Flash shouts, throwing his hands in the air. At this point, Aqualad cautiously lowers his water bearers, releasing Fenton.

“Oh, sure, I call a bunch of superheroes and tell them my boss is doing a Grow-Your-Own-Superman in the boiler room. That’d go over well.” He pauses, “Though the sidekicks was a surprise.”

The comment goes uncorrected, as the rest of the league has snapped to face Superboy the moment he says it.

Superman looks stricken as Superboy reveals the logo on his torn shirt.

Fenton unceremoniously breaks the tension, “Sorry I never asked, do you have a name? I’d feel really bad just calling you-“

“… They called me.. Superboy..” He says, still not looking away from the man of steel in front of him.

“That’s not-“ Fenton rubs his temples and sighs harshly, “Okay, I can fix that later, whatever-“

“You’re not gonna be ‘fixing’ anything, Doctor.” Robin snarls.

Fenton blinks. “Huh?”

Batman steps forward, “Green Lantern.”

Green construct cuffs snap around the Dr.Fenton’s wrists, though he looks at them puzzled.

“Superman, check for survivors in the damage, Flash find some salvageable evidence before it finishes burning. The rest of us, we’ll continue this interrogation at the hall.”

“Wait what?” Dr. Fenton says, perking up like a meerkat even as Batman turns away with swirl of his cape.

“What about me?” Superboy asks, desperation in his hesitant step forward.

Batman looks to Superman. Superman nods, and then shoots off into the rubble and emergency vehicles.

“For now, you come with us.” Batman says, and Superboy’s shoulders loosen just a hint.

The dark knight pauses again before turning completely, “And don’t think we’ve forgotten the rest of you,” he says, cowled eyes narrowed over his shoulder, “Robin.”

Robin shirks back, “Heh.. Right.”

“Wait what’s going on?” The Fenton scientist yelled back over his shoulder as Green Lantern pulls him away.

He starts to say something but the construct fully engulfs him now, shifting from a platform to a soundproof bubble.

It seems to shock him enough, Fenton tapping at the walls and looking like he wants to take it apart and take a sample.

Robin grit his teeth.

He was not gonna let these CADMUS freaks touch Superboy again.

Not Fenton or anybody else.

#batman #danny phantom #batfam #danny fenton #dc #danny phantom crossover #batman and robin #young justice #bruce wayne #tim drake #Superboy #dp x dc #dpxdc #young justice danny phantom crossover #dp #dp crossover #Cadmus

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peachdues · 2 months

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THE GREAT WAR

PART I ♤ SECRET PREGNANCY AU

A/N: After seven months, it's finally here. Part I of Giyuu's Bundle of Joy. This fic involved a ton of research and tears. I hope you all enjoy. Special shout-out to @squishybabei @kentohours @homo-homini-lupus-est-1701 @ghost-1-y and @xxsabitoxx for letting me bombard your DMs with endless snippets from this fic for feedback. Note that this is a multi-part fic, and it will be a non-linear story.

CW: explicit sexual content ☼ MDNI ☼ loss of virginity ☼ unprotected sex ☼ protective/possessive Giyuu ☼ canon-typical violence

LISTEN TO THE PLAYLIST HERE

January, 1915

The moon’s rays filtered through the sparse canopy of the trees from above, bathing that small portion of the forest in its silvery glow. There, about twenty paces ahead, Giyuu locked eyes on his target.

A demon; one he’d been pursuing through the dense forest separating his Manor from the base of a great mountain for the last several miles

The demon had yet to notice him, for it was focused entirely on its own prey — a human woman, who was frantically zigzagging as she ran in a desperate effort to evade its clutches.

She was succeeding rather well in her endeavor, managing to dart out of the beast’s reach right as it snapped its sharp, deadly claws at her back. But the girl then miscalculated her movements and stumbled over something — whether it was a tree root or her own feet, he could not say — and she went airborne. For one, sickening moment, Giyuu feared he would not be fast enough to save her from falling victim to the demon he was readying to kill.

The girl squealed as she fell, just narrowly managing to avoid the swipe of the beast’s claws as they cut uselessly at the air where her back had been only seconds before. Something long and wooden flew from her hand as she sprawled across the forest floor – a broom.

Odd.

Steps quick and even, Giyuu’s thumb flicked his sword free from its scabbard. Within seconds of him drawing his weapon, the Slayer’s blade sliced seamlessly through the demon’s neck, its head thudding pathetically to the forest floor before the beast could comprehend the threat.

He landed swiftly on the balls of his feet, the Water Pillar quickly shaking his blade free of the demon’s blackened, rotted blood before sheathing it at his hip. A quick job – that was how he liked it; free of fuss.

Behind him, he heard the leaves coating the frozen ground of the forest shift and crack as the human girl he’d rescued rose to her feet. He grimaced; while helping rid the world of the blight inflicted upon it by demons was his life’s sole and true purpose, and one he fulfilled without hesitation, he was little more than a fish out of water when it came to talking to those he helped.

The girl had yet to flee; Giyuu suspected she might be in shock, if not a bit simple, and he sought to prod her along. After all, the sooner she left the forest, the less likely she’d end up a demon’s meal and waste his efforts in preserving her life.

“You should be fine now. Please return to your ho-,” The dark-haired Slayer’s words were cut off with a sputter as the head of the woman’s broom whacked him sharply up the side of his skull.

Giyuu stood there for a moment, dazed and slightly confused as he turned towards the woman whose life he’d just preserved.

The Water Pillar had not paid her much mind upon discovering her seconds away from becoming the slain horned demon’s newest meal, his attention having been entirely focused on eliminating his target. But now, without the distracting threat of a man-eating beast, he could see she was clad in the traditional attire worn by Shinto priestesses, though she looked far too young to have achieved such a status. Instead, she appeared to be much closer to himself in age. The front of her red hakama pants were streaked in mud and dirt from her fall, and several strands of hair had fallen loose from where they’d been gathered in a ribbon just below her shoulders.

And she was glaring at him.

“What are you?” She demanded, and the Water Pillar noted the faint tremor in her voice that she worked to conceal behind her defensive stance, her broom braced in front of her like a blade.

A slow blink. “I am Tomioka.”

It baffled him that he let his name slide so freely when he’d never been one particularly keen on sharing it. Yet, he’d thought that perhaps the exchange of names would get the wild woman before him to calm, and perhaps lower the sweeping tool —-

“What the hell is a Tomioka?”

Giyuu wondered whether the — Miko, that was what young priestesses in training were called — had hit her head in the fall. “My name.”

A faint dusting of red spread across the Miko’s cheeks as she realized the absurdity of her mistake, though she still did not lower her weapon. Rather, she jutted it towards him in what Giyuu thought may have been an attempt to be threatening.

“And what was that thing just now, Tomioka? And what are you?” Quickly, her eyes swept behind him, scanning. “Are there more?”

Idly, Giyuu wondered why he was bothering to indulge in such a silly conversation to begin with, chalking it up to the mere fact that they were still in a dark forest, with dawn still several hours away.

The foolish girl would end up a snack for another demon if she did not turn around and go home.

“It was a demon. I’d been tracking it for several miles when it stumbled across you. You can count yourself lucky — do not hit me again.” He cut off with a warning, eyes narrowing as the Miko drew the broom back up over her head.

There was a tense moment as the two regarded one another, Giyuu’s eyes locked on the Miko’s trembling arm as she stared distrustfully back at him.

The girl’s hands twitched as the broom cleaved through the air once more, but Giyuu knocked it easily away, sending the cleaning tool flying uselessly to the side where it rolled under a bush.

“Are you finished?” Giyuu asked, irritation creeping into his tone as he stared coolly at the flustered Miko.

“You’ve stripped me of my only weapon, so I suppose I have no choice,” the young woman sniffed, her tone as frosty as his glare.

Giyuu grimaced. “You would not have lost the privilege had you simply done as I asked.”

The Miko folded her arms stubbornly across her chest and glowered at him. “You would truly leave a woman defenseless in the woods? With nothing to protect herself?”

Giyuu scoffed. “You are not a woman; you are a menace.”

The young woman’s mouth opened and closed several times as her face flushed several shades deeper. “Y-you!”

A crack! somewhere in the woods made the sputtering Miko fall silent with a small squeak, and Giyuu was bemused to find that the woman’s hands shot to him for safety, when only moments before she’d tried to clobber him away from her.

“You said that…that thing earlier was a demon, yes?” She whispered and Giyuu nodded, tense as his eyes swept through the shadowy line of the trees, searching.

“Do you think there are more?”

“So long as we continue sitting here like a pair of lame ducks, more are bound to come sniffing.” The wary Pillar replied. “Which is why I suggest you return home — without bludgeoning me further.”

The young Priestess continued to cling to his arm, her eyes wide and anxious. Giyuu cleared this throat, and when the woman’s attention snapped back to him, he pointedly glanced down at her white-knuckled grip on the sleeve of his haori.

“Apologies,” the Miko blushed, and her hands quickly relinquished their hold on his sleeve. She wrung her hands nervously before her. “Might you escort me back to my Shrine? It’s not far from here – less than two kilometers.”

Still within his territory — albeit at the opposite end of the forest where is own Manor stood. He grimaced, but nodded stiffly. His efforts to save the woman’s life would be in vain if she walked away from him and straight into the waiting, eager claws of another beast that lurked in the shadows.

The Miko smiled brightly at him and offered her name. Giyuu elected not to reply, and the girl settled into step at his side, a small frown pulling at her lips.

“I’m sorry for earlier — for hitting you with my broom.” The girl — Y/N — said a short while later, the faintest trace of shyness in her tone.

Giyuu did not think the apology warranted a response, and so he gave none, but the chatty little devil prodded him once more.

“Did I injure you?” She gestured to the side of his head where her broom had caught him.

Giyuu snorted, raising an eyebrow at her. “The day I am hurt by a mere broom is the day I retire from the Demon Slayer Corps.”

Y/N hummed in contemplation. “And what exactly is the great and mysterious Demon Slayer Corps?”

The Water Pillar’s eyes remained forward. “I should think the name is self-explanatory. There are demons who eat humans. We slay them.”

Inwardly, Giyuu cringed at the harshness of his words. It did not happen often, but there were times when he wished he was better with them, when he wished he did not come off quite as aloof and callous —

“You do not know how to talk to people very well, do you Tomioka-sama?” Y/N’s tone was not judgmental; it rather had a mild curiosity to it, as though she were merely commenting on the weather or the quality of a cup of tea.

But the Water Pillar did not know how to answer her. Kocho once told him that others disliked him, but Giyuu wasn’t sure that was entirely true; after all, no one had ever said so much to his face.

Then again, if the young shrine maiden’s words were anything to go by, then perhaps the Insect Pillar’s scathing assessment hadn’t been too far off the mark.

“What even brought you into the forest so late at night?” Giyuu did not know why the question needled at him, but he found the pressing silence of the trees more disconcerting than the Miko’s voice, and so he was desperate for the distraction. “And why a broom?”

Y/N herself seemed surprised at his sudden interest. “Night-blooming herbs,” she said plainly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “They are critical for certain rites and medications. And I cannot collect them any other time. The broom was for protection, obviously.”

“I wasn’t aware shrines still performed rituals,” Giyuu pushed an errant tree branch out of their way, and ahead, faint lights began to swim into view. The Shrine. “Are you not a mere relic of a time long since-passed?”

“I’ll have you know that we still perform basic cleansing rites for those in the village,” Y/N bristled. “And we provide medical aid, since there is no hospital nearby.”

She shot him a cold look. “Modern medicine would not have developed but for ancient practices such as ours.”

Giyuu frowned. He hadn’t meant to insult the woman. “Be that as it may,” he said flatly. “Demons prowl at night. You wandering into the forest none the wiser is akin to you waltzing into their territory with a giant sign that says ‘Eat me.’”

Y/N grimaced. “Then what would you have me do? Neglect my duties?”

He could sympathize with that. “No, I’m not saying you should forsake your obligations,” he furrowed his eyebrows at the thought. “Perhaps it is simply a risk you must take. But you should at least be aware of your surroundings.”

Y/N looked upon him with a miserable expression. “You’re of little help, you know that?”

Giyuu only frowned, perplexed as to why she couldn’t understand the import of his words.

An awkward silence ensued, punctured only by the faint hoot of an owl. For that, the established swordsman was grateful; noise meant the absence of predators, which meant they were safe – for now.

“You mentioned tracking the demon earlier – how long had you been doing so?”

“A while.”

The girl was relentless. “And you just so happened to track it here? Where it was conveniently chasing me?”

“I patrol this region. Your rescue was nothing more than coincidence and luck on your part.”

“My gratitude is endless,” the shrine maiden said drily. “Forgive me for not falling to the ground in prostration.”

At that, Giyuu fell silent and refused to engage in any further conversation. The shrine maiden, for her part, seemed to take his cue that he had no interest in her or exchanging meaningless pleasantries, and so she too, went quiet.

The forest floor eventually began to slope gradually up, and before long, Giyuu found himself walking along a carved rock path that curved through the trees until it widened at a great set of stone stairs. At the very top of the steep incline, he could spot a great Torii gate.

Y/N turned to him with a beaming smile. “Allow me to introduce you to the Shrine." Tomioka opened his mouth to protest, but she quickly added, “You should at least know who it is you have dedicated your life to protecting.”

“I’d rather not.”

But she was already leading him up the stairs, his wrist pinched delicately between two of her fingers. Realistically, Giyuu knew it would take him no effort to shake the woman’s hold and disappear into the night. But to his own bemusement, he allowed her to tote him behind her as though he were little more than a useless pet.

The pair passed under the Torrii and into a sprawling courtyard. Though night sky was a deep, inky black, the perimeter of the courtyard was dotted with several stone lanterns -- toro -- each of which had been lit with a generous flame. Giyuu's quick perusal of the Shrine, however, was cut short as the Miko led him into the Shrine's main structure -- the honden -- and tugged him down a narrow hallway. Based on his rough appraisal of the building, Giyuu surmised she was taking him to the center of the honden, likely where the girl's master was.

His theory was proven correct when Y/N drew up to a great slat of shoji panneling. The Miko knocked softly on one of the wooden beams before she slid the door aside, revealing a great, open room that was littered with scrolls, half-dried pots of ink, and burned incense sticks. There, in the center of the room, knelt the head Priestess of the Shrine. She was an old, shriveled, wrinkled thing. The white hair that she’d gathered into a knot at her neck was as wispy as the thinnest clouds, and a quick glance over her hands revealed swollen joints covered by skin spotted with age.

But the Priestess did not appear to be a gentle elder by any means; her thin mouth was curled down into a sneer that was directed at the Miko at his side, and her eyes were hard and cold.

"Head Priestess," Y/N bowed to her elder. "This man is called Tomioka, and he helped save me tonight in the forest."

Giyuu resisted the urge to snort. Helped, indeed.

The old woman's eyes shone bright with an emotion he could not name as the Miko continued. "A creature attacked me as I was returning home. Tomioka says he is a swordsman whose occupation --"

“I know what he is, girl,” the Priestess snapped at her student before she turned those beady eyes to him. “A member of the Demon Slayer Corps will always be welcome at this Shrine – particularly one as esteemed as yourself.”

The Water Pillar straightened at the old woman’s casual mention of the Corps. “I was not aware that of any Shrines so affiliated with the Corps.”

“There was a time when the Demon Slayer Corps would partner with shrines such as this to carry out its mission,” the Priestess replied evenly. From his periphery, Giyuu spotted Y/N’s head snap toward her mentor, her jaw slack. “Once, priestesses were akin to shamans who offered a variety of rituals for cleansing and protection. You slayers relied on our connection with our communities to operate more effectively, and we in turn, counted on your protection to fight what we could not.”

Despite the distinct scent of sake that clung to the elderly shrine keeper like a cloud, her eyes remained sharp and fixed upon him, and her wrinkled mouth pulled into a rueful smile. “Now, it seems, our wise and benevolent government has forced us both to retreat to the shadows to operate in secret.”

She bowed her head. “You have nothing but my respect, Lord Hashira. You are always welcome here.”

Giyuu did not respond, but he inclined his head toward the Priestess in polite acknowledgement.

Y/N gaped at her Master. "Lord --?"

The old woman poured another generous serving of sake and brought the choko to her lips. “Though we are honored by your visit, young Lord, I’m afraid your presence is nothing more than a calculated effort by this one,” she nodded pointedly at the young shrine maiden at his side, whose cheeks pinkened. “To keep herself out of trouble. My apprentice was not permitted to leave the grounds, you see.”

“Oh hush you old drunk,” Giyuu’s eyes snapped to the irate Miko in surprise. “I told you earlier I was going to the village market –”

“Telling me while I am in the middle of lessons with the younger girls and sprinting off before I can respond is hardly me giving you permission,” the Priestess’s mouth curled into a sneer. “You’ve defied me for the last time, girl.”

The old Priestess turned away from her apprentice, dismissive. “You will take the rice bundles and hang them in the drying shed – every last one, for the next three days.”

“You hag!” Y/N fumed, her face pinched in outrage. “I was on rice duty all last week without an ounce of assistance –”

“And you apparently have yet to learn your lesson,” the old woman retorted bitterly, shooting the seething Shrine Maiden a withering glare. “Considering you still think it seemly to mouth off at any and every opportunity –”

The Miko spat a curse at the elder Priestess so filthy and colorful that even Giyuu could not mask his surprise, raising his eyebrow. But if Y/N’s outburst shocked the Shrine’s head, the old woman gave no sign. Instead, she only glowered at the young woman as the latter turned and shoved the shoji door harshly to the side. Giyuu, ever the unwilling observer, was left to be pulled by his wrist back into the hall behind the young Miko before she whipped around to face her senior once more.

Giyuu had thought himself stunned by the crassness of the Shrine Miaden’s language before, but nothing prepared him for the sight of the obscene gesture she made at the old woman before she slammed the door firmly shut.

A telling crash on the other side of the wall signaled the Elder Priestess had hurled her empty sake dish at the door with all her might. “And work on your aim!” Y/N snapped before turning sharply on her heel to stomp out of the honden, tugging the Water Pillar helplessly behind her.

“She seems unstable.” said Giyuu once they were a safe distance away from the main Honden.

Y/N brushed aside his concern with a flippant waive of her hand. “Granny is harmless. As her charge, I suppose I instigate her nearly as much as she torments me.”

Granny. It made sense, then, the curious affection the girl held for the rancorous head Priestess, even if he could not bring himself to fully understand it.

“You are more than welcome to stay the night,” the Miko’s mood lightened considerably the more she put distance between herself and the drunken head Priestess. “We serve breakfast at sunrise, but of course, you’re not obligated to attend.”

The ravenette’s mouth quirked down in a faint grimace, the only sign of his discomfort. “I should return to my own home.”

“It’s quite late,” Y/N glanced up at the night sky, now awash with stars that surrounded the fat, glowing moon like thousands of glittering jewels. She turned back to him with a radiant grin. “At least allow me to show you around.”

—

If anyone had asked him, Giyuu Tomioka would not have been able to explain the series of events that had led him here.

He distinctly remembered telling the vexatious young Shrine Maiden no, that he could not stay the night, yet somehow he’d found himself in the Shrine’s old, musty guest house, already prepared for his stay, a lantern flickering merrily in the corner.

He glanced warily at the fresh sleeping kimono folded beside his futon. The possibility of him actually sleeping in such an unfamiliar place was nil and while the Water Pillar certainly had no issue in appearing impolite to others, he thought that perhaps the Shrine was affiliated with the connection of Wisteria Houses dotted throughout the land, and he didn’t want to risk offending the head Priestess and cause her to shut her gates to other slayers in need of lodging.

So, Giyuu paced the floor of the small guest house, restless. Though his eyes remained carefully trained on the window of his room, waiting for the slightest hint of movement that would give him an excuse to leave without offending his hosts, no sign of either his crow or any demonic threat manifested. Though, he supposed with a frown, it shouldn’t surprise him that he’d not heard from Kanzaburo; the ancient bird was likely flitting about the forest, lost.

He continued to pace until finally, the sky in the East began to lighten signaling that dawn was fast approaching. Stealthily, he slipped out of the small hut that had served as his temporary accommodations and made his way toward the Torii under which he and that Miko — Y/N — had passed upon their arrival.

He’d almost cleared the gate when he saw the elder Priestess standing beside the Torii, apparently waiting for him. Giyuu nodded his head at her, the only expression of courtesy he was willing to give, but he was halted as the old woman flung out a single arm in front of him, her hand flat and palm turned up, waiting.

And that was how Giyuu learned the Shrine was not, in fact, a Wisteria House; not as he was forced to fork over a considerable sum of his earnings into the Priestess’s expectant hand.

Wisteria Houses meant Corps Members stayed free of charge; the price the Shrine’s keeper demanded in exchange for his brief stay bordered extortion.

At least he’d had the money; if he’d been of any lower rank, the old woman would have cleaned him out.

He scowled as he departed but his irritation quickly fell away as he finally laid eyes on Kanzaburo, who nearly collided with his Master’s head as he struggled to pant out his orders.

And so, as the Water Pillar trekked through the forest and toward his new assignment, the view of the Shrine faded behind the dense canopy of the mountain forest, and so too, did any final, sparing thoughts of it, or its inhabitants.

———-

Nearly a month passed since Giyuu stumbled across the strange shrine maiden in the forest separating his Estate from the old Shrine, and the Miko had nearly faded from his memory. Not that such a feat was difficult; the raven-haired Pillar’s mind was far more occupied with tasks like patrol and chasing down leads that could potentially lead the Corps to an Upper Rank demon to focus on much else.

He’d intended only to find a decent meal and then depart the village before nightfall to investigate rumors of women disappearing in a small town to the south. Night was rapidly approaching, however, and he’d yet to find any vendor that sold anything he liked, much to his chagrin. He was about to cut his losses and continue on, when he spied a familiar blur of white and red idly perusing one of the stalls, apparently oblivious to the impending sunset.

Without thought, his feet carried him toward her, his annoyance sparking to life.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The Miko’s – Y/N’s – head turned back and her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the Pillar standing behind her.

“Tomioka-sama,” she greeted with a polite bow. “I did not expect to see you so soon.”

He ignored her greeting, choosing instead to take a step closer. “I asked what you were doing.”

If she was taken aback by his terseness, she didn’t show it. “I am returning to my shrine after an afternoon of errands,” she replied smoothly. “As is usual for me.”

“It is nearly dark.”

“An astute observation,” and to his annoyance, he saw an amused twinkle in her eye. “Do you also know that tonight is also a full moon?”

Said moon had already made an appearance above them, growing brighter and brighter as the sky faded from twilight to night.

Giyuu had never been one for rolling his eyes, but the young woman’s knowing smirk grated at something inside him, made him feel as he often did whenever Kocho would make a sly comment with that smile of hers, that for some reason made him feel like he was the butt of some joke only she knew.

He grimaced. Teasing; that’s what the shrine maiden was doing. She was teasing him.

“It is nearly dark,” he repeated. “And I did not think you’d be naive enough to risk traveling after sunset.”

“I believe it was you who insisted I did not have to ignore my duties, so long as I paid attention to my surroundings.” She replied coolly. “So that is exactly what I am doing.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Fine. If the stubborn girl wanted to be bait for whatever awaited her in the forest once the sun finally set, then that was her choice. He’d saved her once, and he’d given her sufficient warning; what she did from then on did not concern him.

He was about to bade her farewell when a slurred, boisterous voice boomed her name from across the market. Several heads turned toward the source, including Giyuu's, until he found a round faced, piggish man stumbling away from a sake stand, his cheeks flushed a bright red.

The man repeated the Miko's name in that grating, sing-song voice of his. "Whe're you goin' all by yourself so late?"

He didn't know what possessed him to ask, but Tomioka turned to the shrine maiden. "A friend?"

“His name is Susumo,” she said airily, though she could not conceal her scowl as the man drew closer. “He’s merely the village drunk who forgets to keep his hands to himself.”

The shrine maiden’s eyes narrowed accusingly at the villager, and the Miko remarked, in a raised voice, “And he is not welcome at the Shrine, though he pretends to forget otherwise.”

Susumo only held his hands up, as though in surrender. “You can’t blame a man for wanting to know what lies under all those layers,” and as if the implication of his lechery wasn’t clear enough, he gave the Miko a leering once-over. “Can’t say I was disappointed.”

“But your friend is right,” he slurred, a smirk forming on his lips. “The dark is too dangerous for a pretty thing like you to risk walking back alone —“

“I shall escort her,” Tomioka said abruptly and she whipped back to him, her mouth falling open. “After all, I’m welcome at the Shrine.”

Susumo, too, gaped at the Swordsman. The Miko recovered quickly however, unwilling to allow the opportunity to pass or for the Slayer to suddenly come to his senses and realize he’d rather leave her to fend for herself in the forest.

“You have my gratitude, Tomioka-sama,” and she gave him a small bow of her head. Relieved, she flipped her braid over her shoulder and smiled warmly up at her raven-haired companion. “Shall we?”

She did not wait for Tomioka to answer, nor did she give any further acknowledgment to Susumo, who only continued to stare at the Hashira, his face bright red. With a feigned indifference, she breezed past him, but a sudden yelp from behind caused her to snap back in alarm.

The first thing she noticed was the proximity of the back of a dual-patterned haori as it stood between her and the village drunkard. The Water Pillar’s shroud nearly brushed the tip of her nose, forcing her to step back. Cautiously, she peered around Tomioka’s rigid form, and her eyes widened at the sight before her.

Susumo, it appeared, had tried to grab her, only to be cut off by the Water Pillar himself, who snatched him by his wrist. Though it did not appear that Tomioka was using a great deal of effort to restrain him, it was clear Susumo was struggling — greatly so — against the ferocity of the Slayer’s hold, given how a vein bulged in his forehead, his face, rapidly turning purple.

Her gaze flicked to the Swordsman’s hand, and she felt herself blanch at the odd angle of Susumo’s wrist.

She was no doctor, but she knew wrists weren’t meant to twist as his did in Tomioka’s crushing grip.

“Leave.” the Water Pillar ordered coldly, and there was a darkness in his eyes that matched the brutality of his hold. “Your presence is unnecessary and unwanted.”

“Y-you! Susumo sputtered.

But Tomioka’s grip only tightened. “Now.”

And then he released him, Susumo half-stumbling back from the Swordsman. His eyes were wide with both fear and loathing, and he muttered incoherently under his breath as he massaged his rapidly-swelling wrist.

The Water Pillar, however, did not pay any more attention to the red-faced villager. He turned only to the shrine maiden, who remained frozen in place, her eyes wide. "Shall we?"

Numbly, Y/N nodded and the two set off down the path that led back to the Shrine. Dimly, the Miko noted that the Slayer kept noticeably close to her as they walked, as though he was unwilling to let her wander too far away. The air between them as they traveled was thick and tense. She was on edge enough thanks to Susumo and his oily words, and she was desperate to do anything to distract herself from the buzzing mounting under her skin.

She cast a sly, sidelong glance at the Swordsman walking at her side. He’d not been receptive to her small-talk the last time he’d escorted her back to her Shrine, but saying something — anything — would be better than this stifling quiet threatening to choke her.

“How old are you?” Before the Swordsman could decide whether to answer, she continued on. “If I had to guess, I would suspect you’re around my age, and I just passed my nineteenth birthday.”

She hummed aloud. “You seem quite young, yet you’ve achieved some level of status as a swordsman, according to Granny.” Her eyes fell to the blade secured at his hip before she lifted them back to his profile. “Yet you’re as withdrawn and taciturn as an old man.”

Her words, thankfully, seemed to irritate him into responding. “Are you always so forthright?”

The Miko grinned. “Perhaps I am like you, Lord – what was it? Hashiba?”

“Hashira.”

“Yes, that. Perhaps I am like you, Lord Hashira – utterly lacking in social ability.” There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she brushed her shoulder against his bicep. “But at least I make up for it by talking.”

“Talking is a distraction,” Tomioka monotoned, his eyes fixed resolutely on the hidden path of the forest before them. “It only serves as an interference to one’s duties.” He looked pointedly at the Miko’s profile, but inexplicably found himself unable to look away. “Or an excuse to ignore them.”

But she was unflappable. “And yet you are the one who decided to escort me all the way back to my Shrine – so who is the one ignoring their duties, Tomioka-sama?”

“I think you enjoy diverting my attention,” the Water Pillar retorted, though Y/N could see the rising annoyance in his eyes.

She felt his gaze bear into her as she flipped her loose hair behind her shoulder. “It’s not possible to distract someone unless they find the diversion in question captivating, Tomioka-sama.”

The Water Pillar almost looked amused. “And you are certainly that, Y/N.”

The Miko ducked her head to avoid that piercing gaze, so that the ravenette would not see the faint rosy blush creeping across her cheeks. “I did not think you had the constitution for teasing, Lord Hashira.”

Tomioka looked at her fully then, a frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I do not jest.” He hesitated for a moment, eyebrows furrowed as he scrutinized her. “Nor do I lie.”

Y/N’s lips parted. There was something about the way the Swordsman beheld her that made her stomach flutter. In her last encounter with the enigmatic Slayer, she’d been so rattled by her close encounter with the demon, that she hadn’t truly noticed much about the man who’d saved her life, apart from his bland detachment and rather unfortunate social skills.

But now, the Miko was struck by how handsome the raven-haired Hashira was; she was mesmerized by the deep azure of his eyes, as vast and deep as the sea. His skin was a delicate alabaster, and, contrasted with the flesh of his hands which were calloused and scarred, his face had not a blemish in sight.

She blinked, clearing away some of the fog that had crept into her mind, put there by the vexatious Slayer. “I must return to my duties,” she said softly.

They spent the remainder of their journey back to the Shrine in silence. She was quick to break away from him the moment they passed under the Torii, though not before she muttered that he was welcome to stay, should he so choose.

She busied herself with her duties, but even the neediest obligations could not fully distract her from feeling the burning heat of his stare as the Water Pillar’s watched her fiercely from across the courtyard. And nothing, nothing at all could have prepared her for how he eventually joined her in carrying out her duties,

The Water Pillar stayed the night once more, departing sharply at daybreak. Later, as Y/N swept the courtyard free of loose brush and clutter long after his departure, she noticed a crow sitting high in a tree, its black eyes watching her every movement. Though its gaze was sharp, the presence of the great, sleek bird did not disturb her, though not as much of a feather twitched from its perch upon the branch as the Miko continued through her day.

As she’d readied for bed later that night, she realized she’d felt oddly comforted by the crow. She imagined it a silent protector, a new guardian of the Shrine, no different than the statues of the gods which dotted its grounds.

She settled into her futon with a great yawn, the image of a certain dark-haired Swordsman flickering in the back of her conscience until she was swept into sleep’s sweet embrace.

Just outside the Shrine’s sleeping quarters, the bird remained, eyes carefully tracking every shift in the shadows, waiting.

And then the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, and the threat of night receded once more.

But the crow remained.

———

Spring, 1915

The crow became a permanent fixture at the Shrine, though it always seemed to keep strictly to a single tree at the edge of the property, one that gave it a full view of the courtyard and structures surrounding the main honden.

Despite the bird's constant presence, more than a month passed before the Water Pillar returned, though he'd seemed even more sullen and withdrawn than he'd been during their previous two encounters. Y/N did not consider herself a friend to Tomioka by any means, but she was the only one brave enough to approach him as he'd lingered by the Torii, apparently unsure whether he should seek out their hospitality or return to the forest.

"You are welcome to come and sit for a hot meal," she called cordially, though she maintained a tentative distance. She frowned when he did not respond. Instead, the Water Pillar continued to stare unseeingly at the cracked stone path leading to the Shrine's courtyard.

"Tomioka-sama?" She pressed gently and the Swordsman's attention finally snapped to her, as though he'd just become aware of her presence.

The haunted look in his eyes sent a chill up her spine. The Miko cast one, cautious glance up at the sky, and her eyes narrowed at the wall of black clouds steadily rolling in from the east. A shift in the wind brought forth the distinct, metallic scent of rain, and if she listened hard enough, she swore she could hear the distant rumbles of thunder. “You know, there will be a storm tonight — please consider waiting it out here, where it’s safe.”

Tomioka only stared at her for a moment before he nodded. His hand twitched into a vague gesture inviting her to lead the way, and Y/N escorted him to the Shrine's elder, in search of her permission.

Granny Priestess agreed to let him stay, but on the condition he paid for his imposition. The Water Pillar had silently agreed, producing one small money bag from his pocket and placing it squarely in the Priestess’s outstretched, waiting hand.

The heft of the bag had made Y/N frown; it seemed a great sum in comparison to their meager lodging offerings, but the Swordsman did not object, so she held her tongue. To comment would only serve to irritate her Master, and the old hag was scornful enough to assign her to duties that would isolate her from the raven-haired Slayer.

Only after the old Priestess sauntered off, leaving behind nothing but the lingering, bitter stench of sake, did the Miko speak again.

“I’m glad to see you in good health, Tomioka-sama,” she bowed, though she thought she spied the corner of his mouth twitch down at her formal greeting. “I trust your patrol went smoothly?”

The Water Pillar’s expression was tight; dark. “It did not. The demon I was tracking managed to get away.” His jaw clenched tight. “But not before it slaughtered an entire family in the mountains.”

All at once, the world around her seemed to slow. It had been easy to assume the dark-haired Swordsman before her always managed to find his target just in time, before it could slaughter its victim. Now, as she beheld the lethal coldness that had settled over his features, Y/N knew her assumptions had been wrong.

Perhaps, she noted with a shudder, her rescue had been the exception and not the rule.

Beneath the icy stoicism limning the Water Pillar’s eyes, the shrine maiden noted a distinct heaviness that weighed down his shoulders; made them curl slightly forward, defeated.

She resisted the urge to reach out to him, in comfort. “I won’t offer you empty platitudes,” she murmured. “But I can invite you to offer your prayers for those who were lost.”

He looked at her, brows drawn, and she knew his instinct was to decline, so she added, “I will do it regardless of whether you join me.”

All at once, any protest he had was snuffed out within him. Instead, he was left with a curious softness as he regarded the shrine maiden, so assured and earnest in her invitation.

He didn’t know why he’d sought out the Shrine.

He’s been angry; angry at himself for not being faster, for allowing innocent people to die on his account of his failure.

He still felt angry. Yet, as he followed Y/N into the Shrine’s haiden to light incense, he also felt a solemn gratitude for the Miko, who’d not let him indulge in his self-loathing but instead requested he act, and act with her.

So he had; and somehow, the weight on his chest, the one that threatened to suffocate him, lightened bit by bit until Giyuu felt like he could breathe once more.

Later that night, Giyuu spotted the shrine maiden from his window as she darted around the courtyard to light the tōrō to illuminate the Shrine grounds. A deep rumble of thunder, however, signaled the spring storm had finally arrived. Y/N, however, only continued with her task, huddling over herself to strike the matches needed to finish lighting the lanterns as rain began to dampen the landscape around her.

He was about to go outside and demand she return to the warm, dry haven that was the girls’ sleeping quarters lest she catch a cold, but then the last of the lanterns were lit and the shrine maiden straightened.

And then she tilted her face up toward the sky, allowing the rain to wash over her.

And she grinned. And Giyuu was mesmerized; so much so, that he had not stopped staring at where she’d stood, laughing in the rain, even long after the Miko retired to bed.

Y/N awoke well before sunrise the following morning and spent hours laboring over the hot stoves in the kitchen. By the time the sky finally lightened, she'd only just finished her task and was in the process of boxing up her creation when she spotted one of her fellow shrine maidens passing by the entryway.

The Miko called out her name. "Has Lord Tomioka awoken yet?"

Her sister trainee lingered in the doorway. "Oh yes, he's been up for a while," and the girl looked back over her shoulder. “But he is already on his way out —“

The Miko swore viciously under her breath as she slammed a lid atop the small bento and hastily wrapped it in the small cloth she’d swiped from the laundry.

“Move,” she barked at a small group of trainees that had gathered in the hallway outside the kitchen. The girls flattened themselves against the wall as Y/N sped by. She hurtled up the stairs, nearly tripping in her haste. Just as she burst into the courtyard from the honden, panting and winded, she spotted him.

“Tomioka-sama!” Y/N called, hurrying after the retreating form of the Water Pillar before he could pass through the shrine gates. “I have something for you!”

The raven-haired slayer turned back to her, his face neutral, though Y/N could tell, by the slightest raise of his brow, that she’d piqued his interest.

“Thank goodness you hadn’t left yet,” the Miko said brightly, holding out a small bundle wrapped in furoshiki cloth. “I was worried this wouldn’t be ready before you did.”

Tomioka’s eyes dropped to the parcel in her hands. “What is it?”

Y/N motioned for him to take it, and to her slight surprise he did, holding it slightly in front of him as though it were liable to burst open. “A meal for the road. Granny and I prepared it this morning — as thanks, for everything you’ve done.”

But the Water Pillar was already shaking his head, trying to press the package back into the shrine maiden’s hands. “I need no thanks; I do my job, and your shrine happens to be part of it.”

If his words disappointed her, Y/N did not show it. “And yet we are grateful all the same,” she said firmly, arms crossing in front of her chest to avoid taking the small bento back. “Besides, it’s salmon; it will only go bad if you don’t eat it.”

Had she not been watching him, Y/N would have missed the slight widening of his eyes, or the way his hand twitched back towards himself, bringing the packed lunch closer to him.

Cerulean eyes watched her for a long moment, before dropping as Tomioka tucked the bento into his pocket.

“Thank you,” was all he said before he turned away and continued through the gates of the shrine, setting off on the path which would lead him through the forest.

If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve sworn the Water Pillar looked happy as he departed.

———

The Slayer returned exactly one week after she’d given him the home-cooked salmon – but he did not return empty-handed. For there, wrapped in the same furoshiki cloth, was a strange, oblong object, sitting in the palm of his hand though if he thought it heavy, Tomioka gave no indication.

“What’s this?” Y/N leaned curiously over the Pillar’s outstretched hand and squinted, trying to discern what the cloth could have been concealing.

Tomioka pushed his hand toward her, beseeching her to take the parcel from him. “A knife.”

The Shrine Maiden looked up at him in alarm, pulling away from the Water Pillar. “Why on earth would I need a knife?”

He rolled his eyes. “Protection.”

“From what?” The Miko wrinkled her nose down at his offering, though there was a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “As I recall, I walloped you just fine with my broom.”

Tomioka shot her a dull look. “Be that as it may, cleaning tools are useless against demons. Without the sun, the only thing that works against them is decapitation with this — its metal is unique.”

He parted the folds of the cloth to reveal a simple blade, though Y/N found it daunting all the same. The hilt was basic, an unembellished metal handle wrapped in plain black leather. The blade itself was an unassuming silver, slightly longer than her hand.

The Slayer motioned for her to take it, though she only shrunk away. “You know how to use one, yes?”

The Miko’s eyes met his, wide and anxious. “For domestic uses, of course, but not –”

Tomioka’s fingers closed around her wrist and lifted, guiding her hand toward the dagger. His hand moved to cover hers, wrapping them both around the hilt of the blade before squeezing. “Grip it like this,” he held their joined hands up for her to inspect. “Keep your hand in a fist; do not lift your fingers away from the grip – that’s the best way to injure yourself instead of your target.”

But the shrine maiden could hardly focus on the Pillar’s instructions. Her attention was directed entirely at the way her hand was swallowed by his, his skin warm and his grasp firm. She studied how his calluses – thick and forged from years of brutal sword training – pressed against hers; how, despite the roughness of his fingers and palms, and his solid hold still remained gentle.

“-- and thrust like this,” he remained oblivious to her distraction as moved her arm in a sharp jab, a second and then a third time, before dropping her hand. “Now do it yourself.”

His command startled her out of her trance, a heat creeping up her neck from beneath the collar of her kosode. She held out the blade awkwardly before her as scrambled to recall the Water Pillar’s words. To her dismay, all she was able to conjure was the memory of his touch, and how cold she suddenly felt without it.

Lamely, she mimed jutting the knife at an invisible enemy, the blade gracelessly wobbling through the air. Though she was by no means a swordsman, even she knew something was off, her movements disjointed and clumsy.

She glanced shyly back to the raven-haired Demon Slayer and deflated as she was met only with bemused resignation.

Tomioka shook his head in disdain. “Perhaps you would fare better with a broom.”

The Miko bristled. “I am not a swordsman —“

“You’ve made that abundantly apparent.”

“— and I do not have the basics you seem to take for granted.” She finished, glaring indignantly at her raven-haired companion. “So teach me.”

The Water Pillar considered her for a moment before he gave her the slightest, almost imperceptible nod of his head.

“Watch me.” He turned his body toward the Miko and mimed getting into a defensive stance — feet ajar, his weight evenly distributed on each leg, and bent.

He looked back to the Shrine Maiden expectantly, and she parroted his movements, crouching into what she imagined was the perfect mirror of his position.

It wasn’t.

“No — you need to—“ Tomioka straightened and huffed, impatient. He moved quickly behind her, and without thinking, his hands shot to grip her hips to guide them into the proper stance, until her weight was evenly distributed on both feet.

“Like that — now bend your knees.” The ravenette pushed down on her hips until her legs bent, apparently oblivious to the way the Miko flushed crimson.

He was close; far, far too close. She’d never been touched the way the Water Pillar touched her. Tomioka’s hands were twin brands, burning her skin even through the layers of her shrine attire, and it sent every nerve beneath her skin buzzing.

She was aware of every inch of him pressed against her; of his arms, caging her in, his hands twin brands against her hips as he turned and pulled her into the proper stance. She was aware of how warm he was, of how formidable his presence felt, even though to her, he posed no threat. Every movement of his was precise and fluid, like the water he’d claimed to style his techniques after.

And if his touch wasn’t distracting enough, his scent threatened to overwhelm every last bit of sense she’d clung onto. Y/N didn’t know how she hadn’t noticed how good he smelled — like mahogany and citrus — so rich and so warm; a stark contrast to his otherwise cold and aloof nature mask.

The swordsman, however, appeared to remain oblivious. “There,” he finally said, having satisfied that she’d achieved proper form. For moment, the two of them lingered there, with Tomioka’s chest against the shrine maiden’s back, his hands remaining steady in place on her hips. It was as though they’d frozen: Y/N, out of a mixture of shock and red-cheeked embarrassment, and Tomioka out of utter cluelessness.

Another beat passed before the Water Pillar finally realized the compromising nature of their position. His hands dropped quickly from her hips, and there was a rush of air at Y/N’s back as he swiftly stepped away, putting distance between them once more.

The raven-haired Slayer gruffly cleared his throat. “You should also keep wisteria on you.” And Y/N gulped down her embarrassment to turn back toward him.

Tomioka kept his face neutral and cool, but the tips of his ears had turned pink. “Check your perfumes for it or ask one of the other shrine girls if you can borrow theirs – oil would be better. More concentrated”

Any residual awkwardness that may have lingered fell quickly away. The Miko only stared blankly at him, her head tilted slightly to the side as her eyebrows pinched together. “Perfume?”

Tomioka blinked. “Yes. As all women have.”

It was an effort to fight off the smile twitching at the corners of her lips. “Exactly how many women do you know, Tomioka-sama? Such that you would know their perfumery habits, that is.”

His mouth thinned into a firm line. “Enough.”

And though Y/N supposed he’d meant to sound self-assured and confident, the Slayer was betrayed by the slight doubt in his voice, as though he’d been questioning his own answer.

The shrine maiden only continued to look at him, her eyebrow slightly raised, amused. The longer the silence stretched between them,the more awkward the ravenette grew, his discomfort plain from the way he shifted under her stare.

“You seem like someone who would use it.” He finally offered, after another moment of quiet.

It was her turn to blink, taken aback. Her smirk quickly slid from her face and with a grimace, she felt her right eye twitch, ever so slightly. “Apologies, then, for disappointing you.”

Tomioka frowned and he made like he was going to respond, but the Miko squared her shoulders and stalked briskly past him.

“I must return to my duties, and I’m sure you need to do the same,” she paused in the doorway of the garden hut and cast one, sidelong glance back to where he stood, clueless. “Until next time, Tomioka-sama. Thank you for the blade.”

With that, the Miko paced briskly away from the garden hut, her spine stiff. The Water Pillar remained in place for a moment, stupefied, before he collected himself once more, before setting off back toward the forest; to his Manor.

And as Giyuu retreated through the rusting Torii gate, he could not quite shake the distinct impression he’d done something wrong, though he knew not what.

–

The Water Pillar returned the following week, though to a decidedly cooler greeting than that which he’d steadily grown accustomed to receiving.

That wasn’t entirely true — the majority of the Shrine’s residents had welcomed him warmly, their kindness always far more than he thought he deserved. Only one hadn’t greeted him as enthusiastically as the others, and to his annoyance, that one was the only person whose opinion of him mattered, even if he couldn’t quite articulate why.

She hardly stopped to acknowledge his arrival, only gracing him with a brisk nod, though she’d refused to meet his eyes. Bemused, Giyuu followed her across the courtyard as she made her way to the Shrine’s small storeroom. He leaned against the doorway and watched as the Miko began pulling jars of dried herbs from the rickety shelves lining the walls and stacked them on a sizeable work counter that cut halfway across the room. All the while, she continued pointedly ignoring him, humming lightly under her breath as though she could not see or hear him as he shifted against the doorframe, waiting.

Her obstinate silence grated at him. “May I assist you?”

“No, no, I am perfectly fine, thank you.” She turned away to browse the shelves once more, before finding what she needed: a stone mortar and pestle.

The grinder settled against the wooden counter with a heavy thud and the shrine maiden snatched up one of the jars she’d stacked and dumped its contents into the bowl, followed by another bottle of herbs. Pestle in hand, she set to work grinding the leaves together, mixing in a vial of fragrant oil she’d kept in her pocket to create a thick paste.

Giyuu watched her quietly as she worked. “You’re…” he frowned. “You’re behaving strangely.”

Y/N glanced up at him. “In what way?”

“You’re trying to avoid me.”

“Am I?” She straightened, rolling her shoulders. “Only because I’ve not yet bathed today. I didn’t want to risk offending you with my stench.”

Giyuu paused. “Why would that matter?”

“You made sure to point out you thought I needed perfume during your last visit.”

He pushed off the doorframe, eyebrows knit together. “For protection.”

The shrine maiden rolled her eyes. “Yes, and apparently, because you believe I am the type to need it.” When Giyuu only continued to stare at her with that same, mildly lost expression, Y/N groaned, exasperated. “You implied I stink.”

The Water Pillar’s jaw slackened as he gaped at her. “That is not –”

“It is what you implied,” she repeated, turning away from him to focus on her task of grinding herbs, though the force with which she ground the pestle was perhaps greater than necessary.

Giyuu rounded the small countertop of the Shrine’s storeroom to face her head-on. “I like how you smell.” He insisted. “It’s nice.”

The Miko’s irritated churning of the stone paused and her eyes finally lifted to his. For a long moment, she watched him, head slightly cocked.

“You are very odd, Tomioka-sama.”

But she said it with a small smile that he almost wanted to return.

Before long, things between them returned to normal once more, with the Miko directing him to collect her gathering basket from where she’d left it in the Shrine’s infirmary and bring it to her. Once he returned, he helped her grind charcoal to make incense sticks as she chatted happily away.

Surprisingly, Giyuu found himself not only engaged in her musings about daily life at the Shrine, but offering her small personal anecdotes of his own, though he was not nearly as proficient as she when it came to story-telling.

Once the sun began setting once more, and he received no new orders from Headquarters, he simply sought out the Shrine’s head Priestess and silently passed her a small money bag.

And then Giyuu retired to the guest’s quarters for the night.

—--

As spring warmed into summer, the Water Pillar began making bi-weekly visits to the Shrine that quickly melted into habit; expectation. Once a fortnight, a thrill would settle over the young maidens in anticipation of the arrival of the stoic yet handsome Slayer, with girls of all ages eagerly looking toward the Shrine gates in hopes of spying him the moment he crossed beneath the Torii. The elder employees of the Shrine had learned to time Tomioka’s arrival by listening for their excited gasps, exhaled as a collective as brooms and rices sacks were dropped where their handlers stood, the girls far too interested in rushing to greet the exalted Slayer than they were in completing their tasks.

“I do not see the reason for such excitement,” she sniffed, though even she wasn’t stupid enough to think her fellow trainees bought her bluff. “He is only a swordsman.”

“A handsome one,” a wispy trainee named Miyoko sighed dreamily. “And no doubt strong and capable.”

The group of maidens dissolved into another fit of giggles, concealing their blushes behind their hands.

“His face is attractive, but his hair is odd,” another commented. “It looks like he’s hacked at it with his own blade.”

“Oh, who cares about his hair? I’m far more interested in what’s beneath that uniform —“

“Enough,” Y/N snapped. While her friendship with the Water Pillar was tenuous at best, the suggestive way her sisters-in-training spoke of him left her feeling decidedly discomforted.

Though, if she were honest with herself, she’d admit that she, too, wondered whether Tomioka’s strength was the product of a finely-hewn tuned physique. But she wasn’t, so she bottled that thought up and tucked it tightly away, where it belonged.

Slowly, her cohorts all turned to look at her.

“You seem to spend a great deal of time with him, Sister,” Miyoko directed at Y/N, who felt her cheeks heat. “Is there anything you’d like to share?”

“Tomioka-sama always asks where Sister Y/N is, the moment he arrives!” A tiny voice chimed, and Y/N’s eyes slid shut in an effort to fight off a wince. “Sometimes they even do chores by themselves!”

Komatsu. At only ten, she was the Shrine’s youngest trainee, and followed Y/N around like a shadow. Not that the shrine maiden minded all that much; she tended to spoil the girl a bit, when she could. But as pure as the girl’s intentions surely were, she’d yet to lose that childlike earnestness that made her prone to revealing information that Y/N rather remained a secret.

“Alone with a man?” Miyoko repeated, her eyes shining with malicious glee. “How scandalous — even for someone without a family to embarass, dear Y/N.”

“Careful, Miyoko,” she warned softly. “Don’t go speaking on matters of which you know nothing.”

“Or what? What would you do?”

As fond as Y/N was of her sisters-in-training, one did not make it through the Shrine’s rigorous education and training without learning how to trade in the kind of currency young women valued most.

Information; specifically, gossip.

So the shrine maiden only leveled Miyoko’s own smug smirk with one of her own. “Or I shall tell Granny how you spend your afternoons kissing the boys from the village, rather than tending to your lessons.”

The other girls gasped, their stares turning back to the gossiping shrine maiden. She savored how quickly the girl’s prideful grin slipped from her face as the weight of the threat settled.

While Y/N, parentless and thus without anyone to truly care about her propriety, was being primed to take over Granny Priestess’s position overseeing the shrine, her position was unique. She was parentless and thus, without anyone to truly care about her propriety or whatever other ridiculous expectations of modesty that were often attached to other young women her age. In being no one, Y/N was relatively free to do as she pleased, and that freedom almost made up for her lack of belonging.

But the other girls residing at the Shrine were different. Families across the region sent their daughters to the Shrine for training, not only in their cultural practices and arts, but also for education; to become well-rounded women who would then serve to be valuable marriage prospects once they returned home.

Scandal would not affect her; but it would affect someone like Miyoko.

“How do you think your parents would feel, to know their heir was behaving so brazenly in public? Risking her reputation on the marriage market before she’s even entered it?”

Truthfully, she liked Miyoko; had gotten along well with her, in fact. But she would not risk those sacred few moments she spent with the Water Pillar in an effort to keep the peace with another trainee. Not when those few instances she spent in his company were the only times she’d felt connection — true, human connection and belonging.

Her sister-in-training ruefully fell silent, and Y/N savored her victory. Later, when she was left with nothing but the company of her own thoughts, however, the exchange played back in her mind.

In all her posturing, she’d managed to avoid having to answer for Miyoko’s lofty observation.

You seem to spend a great deal of time with him, Sister.

She did; and, to her slight horror, she realized that she had no interest in stopping.

She only wanted more.

–

It was past dawn when Giyuu trudged under the great Torii gate of the Shrine, exhausted and aching.

It had been a long while since a demon was last capable of wounding him, but he’d been blown backward by a delayed attack that hit after he’d beheaded the damn thing. As a result, he’d been sent flying back, slamming through a dilapidated wall of the abandoned hut he’d tracked the creature to, resulting in a sizeable gash to his shoulder.

He grit his teeth in mild annoyance. He would need some treatment of his wounds — not that they were deep by any means, but they were substantial enough that he knew infection could spell trouble for him, should it spread.

Some small, irate voice in his head snidely reminded him he could have just as easily gone to the Butterfly Mansion for treatment — that, in fact, the Insect Pillar’s estate had been much closer to the location of his mission than the Shrine had been. He’d rationed that, as much as he admired and respected Kocho, he was still a bit raw from her mocking about how unliked he truly was among his comrades.

Besides, he groused. Kocho was not the one he really wanted to see, anyway.

He found Y/N in the Shrine’s storeroom, seated upon the floor with a detailed ledger spread out before her as she took inventory of various scrolls and texts.

Giyuu did not bother to announce himself. “You have medical training, do you not?”

The Miko startled, the charcoal stick she’d been using to tally the ledger clattering to the floor. She blinked up at him in surprise. “Tomioka-sama — welcome, it’s been a few weeks — forgive me, I did not see you come in.” She quickly rose to her feet, shutting the store ledger and tucking it under her arm.

Her eyes found the blood-stained shoulder of his hair and widened. “I have some; I can stitch and dress wounds —“

He nodded. “Then I require your assistance.”

—-

Y/N led him to a small office inside the honden that served as the Shrine’s unofficial infirmary. “Take a seat,” she nodded at a small stool that sat under the room’s solitary window, right by a modest working table. “Let me see what we have.”

Tomioka sat upon the stool with his back to her as she busied herself sifting through cupboards in search of supplies. “What sort of wound is it?”

She turned back and nearly dropped a tin of medicinal salve she’d located as she beheld the Water Pillar strip himself of his clothing from the waist up.

There, across his right shoulder blade, she saw it — saw his blood. Quickly, she located thread and a needle and she grabbed a roll of cloth that could double as wrappings and she crossed back across the room.

She spread her bounty out across the table, right beside the neatly folded pile of his clothing. Silently, she set to work cleaning the gash, and she breathed a quiet sigh of relief when she saw that it was little more than a shallow flesh wound.

“Lucky you, this won’t need stitching,” she said lightly as she wiped away the last of the dried blood from the Water Pillar’s skin. “But I shall need to wrap it so it won’t become infected.”

Tomioka only gave her a curt nod. She stepped back to work open her tin of medical salve, and as she warmed the substance in her hands, she let herself fully examine the Swordsman sitting before her. Her eyes trailed over the sculpted planes of his back. It surprised her how muscular he was, given his leanness. Yet, without the layers of his uniform shirt and haori, she could see he was well-built, each muscle defined.

She didn’t know why it surprised her that there was a man beneath the mask of the Slayer, but what a man he was. Her mouth went dry at the thought. It was an effort not to allow her eyes to wander lower; to ponder what he might look like under his uniform pants, stripped and fully bare before her —

“What is that scent?” Tomioka’s sudden question startled her away from her increasingly treacherous thoughts.

She’d never been more grateful to be facing away from him. That way, he could not see the blush coloring her cheeks as she hastily slathered the salve across his wound. “Anti-septic; I know it’s rather stringent, but — ”

The Water Pillar shook his head. “I know what antiseptic smells like. I mean you. The scent you wear.”

She pursed her lips for a moment before she recalled the distinctly floral scent of her cleansing oils. “Sakaki blooms, I suppose.”

“What properties does it have — what are its effects on others?” He pressed. She was surprised at how insistent he seemed, and there was almost an urgency in his tone that unsettled her.

“None, to my knowledge — why do you ask?”

The tips of Tomioka’s ears turned pink and he turned away from her, lips pressed into a firm line. “Forget I said anything.” he muttered after a moment, his shoulders and spine stiff.

Neither one of them spoke again as Y/N finished treating the Water Pillar’s injury and wrapped it.

“You're done,” she said after a moment, tapping him lightly on his other shoulder.

“You have my thanks,” Tomioka quickly refastened the buttons of his uniform shirt as the Miko stepped aside, pointedly wiping her hands clean with a small cloth. She only looked at him once he lifted his haori from where he’d carefully laid it atop the small examination table, but her eyes narrowed as he rose from the stool, shrugging the material back over his shoulders. “I am happy to pay you for the resources you used —“

Y/N did not appear to be listening, not as she leaned forward and pinched the sleeve of his haori between her thumb and index finger.

“You have a tear,” she frowned, rubbing the fabric between her fingers. “Right here, see?”

There, on the side bearing his sister’s half of his haori, right where his sleeve met his shoulder, was indeed a small hole, the threads around it broken and shifting slightly in the wind.

The Miko’s hand fell away, and she squared her shoulders, mouth set in a firm but determined line. “If you’ll give me a moment, I assure you I can have it repaired in no time –”

“Not necessary,” the Swordsman said abruptly, twisting back from her. “I can figure it out on my own.” He would not part with it, would not so much as let another put their hands on it and risk ruining his most cherished possession.

Y/N only stepped toward him, ignoring his attempt at distance. “There’s no need to be prideful,” she huffed impatiently. “Truly, it would take no effort at all –”

“No.”

“Why are you being so difficult?” She snapped, but her hands continued reaching for him, for his sleeve –

Tomioka snatched her wrist mid-air and held it there, halting her. “No one touches this. Understand?”

Y/N’s lips parted in faint surprise at the Water Pillar’s severity. Her eyes darted to where his fingers were locked tight – uncomfortably tight – around her wrist. When she glanced back at the stone-faced Slayer, she felt a chill lick down her spine. She’d known he could be intimidating against threats, even without saying a word. It was his eyes – his eyes would harden, with the lapiz hue of his irises darkening to something more akin to indigo, as he stared down an opponent. She’d witnessed it the very first night she’d met him.

She just hadn’t thought she would ever be on the receiving end of such a cold glare.

“I understand,” she said softly, and she began flexing her wrist against his grip in an effort to work herself free from his hold. “Please forgive my indiscretion, Tomioka-sama. I overstepped.”

The raven-haired Slayer blinked and quickly let her go, her wrist falling limply back to her side. Just outside the infirmary’s small window, he heard the familiar, urgent cry of a crow.

He’d never been more grateful for a distraction. “I must be on my way.” His tone was stiff; clipped.

“But — you’ve only just arrived —“

“Farewell, Y/N.” Giyuu gave her a curt nod.

Helplessly, the Miko watched as the Water Pillar stalked out of the small office, his hands curled into fists at his sides. He did not so much as spare a glance back, leaving Y/N to wonder whether she would see that odd patterned haori again.

The thought she might not made something cold and heavy sink into her gut.

—-

(One week later)

It wasn’t often that Giyuu Tomioka found himself annoyed, much less angry. He much preferred channeling his existing emotions into slaying demons, allowing them to taste a fraction of the rage and hatred he felt deep within, a vicious fire he so rarely let bubble up to his service.

Until that evening. After the fiasco that was Mount Natagumo and the subsequent chaos at the Master’s mansion as a result of the Kamado boy and his demon sister, Giyuu had finally noticed that the previous day’s trials had resulted in the tear along the shoulder of his haori that he knew could no longer be ignored.

He grit his teeth; the battle against the Lower Moon spider demon had hardly required him to exert any energy — yet the demon’s last ditch attempt to preserve its life had managed to enlarge the small hole in his most prized possession, and the Water Pillar was utterly without the skill to repair it.

So, he’d been forced to sit through the meeting with the Master, the hole in his haori feeling more like a gaping wound that only festered with every passing moment, until finally, finally they’d been dismissed.

Giyuu hadn’t wasted any time departing swiftly from his Master’s estate, though that hadn’t stopped him from catching the tail end of Shinazugawa’s biting remark of how fuckin’ typical it was for him to leave without so much as a farewell to his comrades. He tried not to let the Wind Pillar’s words get to him; but he was unworthy of their company regardless, so he supposed it really didn’t matter what they thought of him. It shouldn’t.

And so, that was how Giyuu found himself padding silently along the cracked, stone pathway which led to the Shrine at the edge of his designated territory, ready to eat crow and ask for assistance from a particular Miko whom he felt certain would not hesitate to remind him of how he’d coolly rejected her help only days earlier.

Hence, his irritation.

So, his movements stiff and his mouth twisted into a firm grimace, Giyuu stalked under the Torii and into the main courtyard of the old Shrine. It was coming upon midday, though there was a thick cover of clouds overhead that threatened that open up at any moment and shower rain across the region. He ignored the respectful bows of the Shrine’s various inhabitants and staff, eyes sweeping over faces in search of her.

He located her near the storehouse, chatting with one of her fellow trainees as the pair worked to clean vegetables. Giyuu trudged over to her, eyes locked unwaveringly on her serene, easy smile, as he tried to ignore the way it made something in his gut clench and churn.

He drew to a stop right before her and her Shrine-sister, the latter looking up at him with wide eyes, her hands stilling over her work as she looked up to the Slayer in awe.

Giyuu cleared his throat but Y/N only continued wiping the dirt from carrots with her cloth.

The ravenette tried again. “I am in need of your assistance.”

Y/N’s comrade nudged her with her elbow, but the Miko only continued to clean, pointedly ignoring them both.

Giyuu pursed his lips. “With my haori. The tear has grown larger —“

“I am busy.” Y/N’s tone was clipped. “Perhaps there are others who might assist you.”

“Please.”

The Shrine Maiden’s hands finally stilled and she lifted her chin to face him. The moment she beheld the pleading sincerity in his eyes, coupled with the hard set of his jaw that betrayed just how desperate he was, her gaze softened.

She sighed. “Very well then,” she rose, brushing her hands free of any residual dirt. She held her chin high and squared her shoulders, determined not to show him how he’d bruised her ego; how he’d frightened her. “Follow me.”

—

The Shrine sat at the base of a great mountain. But, nearly half a kilometer up the winding, twisting path leading up the mountain and carved into its side, was a grassy hilltop that then plateaued into a small overlook that boasted a phenomenal aerial view of the Shrine below.

The summer grass had turned a vibrant shade of emerald, broken up only by dots of tiny white and blue wildflowers that had gathered in small clusters sprinkled throughout the overlook. At the back of the clearing stood an ancient willow tree, its trunk gnarled and knotted with age, its wisps swaying lazily in the wind.

It was her favorite spot; a little ways away from the hustle and bustle of the Shrine, which meant they would have some privacy as she worked. Y/N settled down against the grass and pulled a needle and a spool of thread from her pocket. She turned her face up toward the Water Pillar where he stood over her. “I’ll take that haori, now, if you’ll please.”

Wordlessly, Tomioka carefully slid the garment from his shoulders and handed it to her, though he hesitated in letting go as she took it gingerly into her hands.

It was clearly very important to the Slayer, and perhaps that was why she felt the need to reassure him. “I promise to take care of it.”

He nodded stiffly and let go of the fabric and the Miko quickly set to work repairing its torn shoulder. The Water Pillar lingered awkwardly beside her for a moment longer before he too, sat in the grass next to her, though his back remained straight, his posture rigid.

She glanced at him as her needle wove the haori’s fabric back together. “I suppose this happened because of your occupation?”

It was faint, but the shrine maiden swore she saw his mouth twitch into something reminiscent of a grimace. “Yes.”

“You should be lucky it wasn’t your flesh.”

At that, Tomioka scoffed. “I would not allow such a weakling to get close enough to try.”

“My, I’d not pegged you as the boastful sort, Tomioka-sama.”

“It’s not boasting; I speak only the truth.” He retorted evenly.

The shrine maiden only hummed as she worked. “And what of your family? Do they support your path as a Slayer?”

The Water Pillar turned his head away, his form stiff. For a moment, the Miko feared she would be left to repair his haori in silence, with nothing but the faint whistling of birds to keep her company.

“I have none,” Tomioka’s voice was soft, nearly swallowed by the wind. “There is no one left to object, even if they wanted to.”

Y/N’s hands paused their work as she thought. “You are alone?”

It would be nice, she supposed, to find another who, like her, belonged to no one; a kindred spirit of sorts.

“I suppose,” Tomioka spoke up after a moment, his eyes squinted in thought. “I have a mentor. But it was he who trained me to join the Corps.”

“I should hope he’s more sober than mine,” Y/N drawled. “And less irritating.”

The Miko’s attention was so fixed on her careful stitching along the hole in his haori, that she didn’t see his faint smile at her words.

——

The Slayer and the shrine maiden continued talking long after she’d finished repairing the tear in his haori. It was only when Tomioka had realized nightfall was a mere hour away that the two reluctantly descended the hillside to return to the Shrine.

“I almost forgot.” The Water Pillar said, halting in front of the honden as Y/N escorted him back to the Shrine’s entrance. He dug into his pockets and pulled something free. “Here. For you.”

The Miko gaped down at the fat red fruit that sat heavily in his palm. “This is -“ she said breathlessly, “A pomegranate!”

He nodded, arm still outstretched towards her as he waited to drop the ruby fruit into her hand.

She shook her head. “No, Tomioka-san, I cannot accept something so expensive-“

“I insist.” The Water Pillar withdrew a small knife and split the fruit in half, staining his hands crimson with the juice that spilled over its soft flesh.

Hesitantly, the young Miko accepted the half he offered her, and thumbed some of the fat, glistening jewels loose. The moment she brought them to her lips, Y/N sighed, contentedly, and for some reason, Giyuu found his cheeks heating as he watched her savor the sweet fruit.

She lazily opened her eyes after swallowing her first mouthful, but she was startled to see the Hashira staring at her, unwaveringly, and she realized he’d moved closer towards her than he had been only seconds earlier.

Tomioka’s azure eyes were fixed hard on her lips, as he leaned in close to her, Y/N flushing as he drew nearer.

Is he going to kiss me? Her traitorous heart thundered at the idea, and it caused her no short amount of grief to know she was uncertain whether she wanted him to do so. As her emotions warred with her logic, the Water Pillar’s gentle fingers cupped under her chin, and his thumb brushed delicately across her lower lip.

“Pomegranate juice,” he said, but Y/N could still feel the warmth of his breath still as his hand lingered under her chin. His eyes were wide as though he, too, could not believe what he’d just done.

“Yes,” she breathed, before she felt her cheeks heat. “I – I mean, thank you.”

The Water Pillar’s gaze dropped to her lips and her stomach twisted violently. All at once, awareness seemed to come crashing down upon him, and he then stepped back, his hand falling from its hold on her face and back to his side.

The shrine maiden remained frozen in place for a heartbeat longer. “Are you certain you’re unable to be our guest tonight?” Her voice was little more than a pitiful squeak.

Her eyes lifted to his and she knew the answer before he spoke it. “I cannot,” and to her surprise, he almost looked as disappointed as she felt, but he added hastily, “But I will be back. Soon.”

“Soon,” she echoed, feeling rather dazed. “Yes. Of course. I — we — look forward to it.”

She was thankful that Tomioka had already turned away from her as he made his way down the long, winding steps that led to the main route out of the forest; that way, he could not see the way her cheeks burned crimson, or how she buried her face in her hands as she cursed her own embarrassment.

—

Giyuu was grateful his back was to the young Miko as he retreated through the Shrine’s gates and back to the path which would lead him home. It meant she could not see as he stared at his thumb – the thumb he’d used to clear away the small bead of pomegranate juice from her lips – or how his eyebrows pinched together. It meant she could not hear his heart as it beat wildly in his chest at the memory of how soft and full her lip had been beneath the pad of his thumb, soft enough that some treacherous part of his brain had urged him to lean in, to see if her lips would feel as good against his –

He shook his head, trying desperately to dispel his wild intrusive thoughts. It was ludicrous; he did not think of the young shrine maiden in that way. Not when she frequently sought to needle him, not when she frustrated him to no end.

His collar suddenly felt tight; his skin, far too hot. His gaze dropped back down to the hand that had touched her, and it clenched.

A pomegranate. It was only a pomegranate; nothing more.

“It was a thank you gift,” Giyuu declared, as though speaking the words out loud gave them more force. “It is nothing more than an expression of gratitude.”

And even his crow, ancient and dull as he was, scoffed at the obviousness of the lie.

——

Late Summer, 1915

Summer blazed hot and humid. But neither the sweltering heat of the sun nor the most arduous missions he took exhausted Giyuu more than the complicated, tangled mess of feelings that had taken root within him. Because with every day that passed, the Miko of the Shrine at the edge of the forest occupied more and more of his mind. And Giyuu did not know what it meant or what he should do about it.

She’d not just repaired his haori or made him salmon; she’d somehow wormed her way into his every waking thought, and to his great confusion, he found himself almost unwilling to think of anything but her.

Admittedly, Giyuu Tomioka did not have the requisite tools in his social arsenal to successfully navigate human interaction. He hadn’t quite known the extent of his ineptitude however, until the Insect Pillar had so cheerfully pointed out that none of his comrades, in fact, liked him. That revelation had made him doubt every interaction he’d had since, made him wonder whether even the lower ranked Slayers viewed him with the same apathy, if not the same outright hostility toward him shared by Shinazugawa and Iguro.

He’d come to doubt them all — except her.

Y/N was different; at the end of each visit to the Shrine, the Water Pillar did not find himself feeling drained or unwanted. He felt lighter; rejuvenated, even. She was a breath of fresh air that Giyuu found more difficult to go without with each passing day.

She still picked at him, but she did so without the malice he’d normally come to expect, even from those he considered friends, like the Kocho. The young Miko had a way of teasing him that did not leave him feeling decidedly othered. Rather, her japes only spurred him to respond with his own, though admittedly, they tended to fall flat.

He’d known, from the moment she’d attempted to bludgeon him with her broom, that there was more to the Miko than met the eye; but he hadn’t imagined he’d find himself as drawn to her as he was, unable to tolerate going more than a handful of weeks without paying her a visit.

And, given the way she’d blushed after he’d thanked her for repairing his haori, perhaps she was drawn to him, too. Perhaps he hoped she was.

But he would have to wait to find out, for his obligations to the Corps had taken him to a village a considerable distance away from his designated territory. He’d been tasked with investigating a series of disappearances of young women in the region, but his orders had come abruptly enough that he’d not been able to spare a visit to the Shrine before he departed.

He was anxious — eager — to return, though not before he took care of the demon likely behind the mystery plaguing the village he now patrolled.

Nightfall was still a little ways off, and so Giyuu found himself wandering the streets to pass the time. He made his way to a sizeable outdoor market, still packed with shoppers oohing and ahhing over vibrant displays of silk, crafted jewelry, and sugary confectioneries.

Idly, he too, joined other patrons in browsing the small vending stands that lined the bustling village streets, though his perusal was disinterested, if not bored. But his eyes snagged on one small bauble displayed on the merchant’s small stand upon a swath of silk. It was small; unassuming. But the carefully crafted decoration was painted in a startling shade of crimson that he found hard to ignore.

The image of a certain Miko flashed through his mind. He couldn’t leave without it. he wouldn’t; not when its paint so perfectly matched the color of Y/N’s hakama trousers.

I spend the year longing for autumn. That was what she’d told him, that day on the hillside after she’d repaired his haori.

He almost smiled to himself. This would be a way for her to enjoy her favorite season even in the scorching heat of summer or the biting cold of winter.

He waited for the merchant to notice his presence, his fingers twisting around the small money sack he kept tucked in his pocket. His eyes flickered back to the small trinket. Idly, Giyuu wondered when he’d begun associating the color red with the shrine maiden and not with the blood he’d always imagined stained his hands.

He continued to stare the merchant down until he finally managed to catch the vendor’s eye, who flinched at the intensity of his unblinking stare.

Giyuu jutted his chin toward the small token. “How much?”

—-

He found the Miko a few mornings later, relaxing on the hillside overlooking the Shrine. She laid amongst the late summer wildflowers that had bloomed, her form framed against the grass with petals of soft blue and bright marigold.

Giyuu wordlessly settled beside her, and he tried to ignore the thunderous beat of his heart against his sternum as she rolled her head toward him to greet him with a sleepy smile. They exchanged pleasantries and settled into a comfortable silence, both content to watch the sun rise higher over the horizon.

Easy; it was so easy for him to sit beside her, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“So, you are to take over the Shrine, one day?”

Y/N’s head turned to the Water Pillar in surprise; though he’d grown steadily more talkative over the months since she’d met him, it wasn’t often that he initiated conversation.

She settled back against the cool grass of the hilltop overlooking the Shrine, enjoying the precious few moments of quiet in the early morning before the chaos of the day called her away. “Yes,” though there was a slight uncertainty in her voice. “I’m sure it’s the expectation, after all. I have to repay Granny for her kindness.”

Giyuu frowned. “But is that what you want?”

“What I want is irrelevant,” the Miko folded her arms behind her head and tilted her face up toward the sky. Her eyes tracked the great, fluffy clouds that drifted lazily by, though the Water Pillar suspected she was attempting to avoid having to meet his eye.

“It’s not irrelevant,” he countered. “If nothing else, you should be allowed to consider other possibilities.”

She did not answer him, and the silence between them stretched enough that he thought to drop the subject, not wanting to press her any further.

“I think,” she said in that faraway voice that Giyuu had come to learn meant she was trying to conceal some deeply felt emotion. “I think should like to belong somewhere.” Her eyes shone. “No, that’s not it — I want someone to belong to me, and I to them.

“A husband.” He said flatly.

The Miko shook her head. “I have never belonged to anywhere or to anyone. I’ve no family to call my own - only an old woman who took pity on me as an infant and raised me. I wonder — what must it be like?” She laid back on the grass and closed her eyes. “That is the one thing I would change. I belong nowhere because I’m no one — nobody’s.”

Giyuu frowned. “I don’t think that’s true—“

“It is true,” she insisted, though she said it with such ease and conviction, like it was the most obvious and natural thing in the world. “I am here for a moment and then I will be gone, and no one will ever know or remember that there once was a shrine maiden named Y/N here. I’ve made peace with that.”

I would, Giyuu wanted to tell her. I would remember and I would tell them all.

“I am nobody as well,” Giyuu admitted quietly after a moment. “And I have no one left to belong to.”

The image of her face, so kind and sad and full of understanding at his words, had stayed with him for the rest of the morning and even as he settled in for a few hours of sleep in the Shrine’s guest wing.

And in his dreams, her face remained a constant.

—

The sky had turned a vivid shade of orange by the time the Water Pillar emerged from his guest lodgings, ready to depart and resume his duties. Y/N had been helping another shrine maiden tote firewood across the courtyard when she heard a quiet call of her name.

She turned and saw the raven-haired Swordsman standing near the great Torii gate.

She looked back to her fellow trainee, who waved her off with a knowing smile, and Y/N brushed her hands clean against her hakama pants before she approached him.

“Leaving so soon?” And she tried to mask her disappointment at the shortness of his visit.

Giyuu nodded. “We’ve been stretched thin, in light of a few…changes to our ranks.”

The Miko nodded grimly. He’d told her that a fellow Hashira had been slain a few months prior, and another had retired following a rather violent battle that had destroyed part of a far off city.

“But I wanted to give you this.”

She glanced down to his outstretched hand, where a small parcel was wrapped in plain furoshiki cloth. Stunned, she took the package from him, her eyes flicking between it and the Water Pillar watching her intently.

Gingerly, she unfolded the bundle and unveiled a long, but fragile metal and wood reed.

A hairpin, she realized with a soft gasp. Y/N could scarcely bring her fingers to run over the exquisitely crafted ridges of the leaves that adorned the top portion of the pin, afraid that even the slightest pressure from her touch would cause the Water Pillar’s precious gift to her to crumble.

I spend the year longing for autumn, she’d told him. She hadn’t thought he’d been particularly interested in listening to her talk; but as Y/N cradled the delicate ornament between her palms, she felt a blush begin to creep across her cheeks.

As her fingers traced across the delicate ridges of a cluster of maple leaves, lacquered in a thick coat of scarlet paint — a perfect match to the hue of her traditional Miko hakama pants — Y/N realized that perhaps Tomioka had been paying more attention to her than she’d realized.

For the Water Pillar had given her a piece of autumn to hold onto year-round.

“Tomioka-san, you do not-“

“Giyuu.” The ravenette interrupted her. “Please, call me by my name; it’s Giyuu.”

Y/N’s mouth closed, but she smiled softly, considering. “Alright. Giyuu — please, you do not need to feel obligated to bring gifts for us — it was only salmon.”

But Giyuu only shook his head. “I don’t bring gifts for everyone; just you.”

Y/N turned scarlet.

“Please, just-“ Giyuu frowned, and Y/N could have sworn she saw the faintest glow of pink coloring the Hashira’s cheeks. “Just take it.”

“Okay,” her voice resembled a mouse’s squeak as she cradled the pin delicately between her hands. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

“And it wasn’t just salmon.”

Y/N looked to him in surprise, her head cocked in curiosity. “Pardon?”

Giyuu exhaled harshly through his nose before stepping closer to her. “This is not only because you made salmon.” Her eyes tracked his hand as it rose to grip the front fold of his haori in his fist. “This – this is all I have left of my family.”

“My sister,” he gestured to the red half of his haori. “She died protecting me.” His hand drifted to the green and orange patterned half of the garment. “And this belonged to a dear friend. He also perished protecting me – and others.”

The Miko’s lips parted, understanding and sorrow flooding her eyes. “Tomioka-san — Giyuu — I had no idea —“

“They both died because of demons – because I could not help them. And now this is all I have left to remember them by.” And then he did the unthinkable; he grabbed her hand and pressed it against the checkered portion of his haori, right over his heart. His hand was warm and firm. Gentle, though she could feel his callouses against her knuckles as he held it in place. “So it wasn’t just salmon.” He repeated, and there was a heat in his eyes Y/N had not seen before, one that stoked a fire in her belly. “And you are not just anyone.”

A soft exhale blew past her lips at the sincerity of his words. For the first time in all her nineteen years, she wondered if this was what it meant to mean something to someone.

“Thank you,” she breathed, eyes wide and sparkling with unshed emotion. “I will treasure it.”

She swore she saw a faint blush creep across the Water Pillar’s cheeks, but she brushed it aside as nothing more than the shadows of the sky as twilight darkened the horizon.

Tomioka nodded. “I must get going now; I will see you soon.”

She did not want him to go.

But the shrine maiden concealed the pang she felt in her chest with a breezy smile. “Farewell, Tomio-“

“Giyuu.”

She blushed. “Yes — Giyuu. Until next time.”

—

“I cannot believe he lets the old woman charge him an arm and a leg to stay a single night,” Miyoko said in awe as the pair watched the retreating form of the Water Pillar through the shrine house gates.

The hairpin clutched tightly in her hands suddenly felt like a stone weight. “I’m sure he stays here only for convenience’s sake,” Y/N replied airily, turning sharply away from the egress to the shrine to hide her warming cheeks.

Miyoko snorted. “Hardly. The Demon Slayer Corps has tons of safehouses throughout the country. Corps members get medical treatment, hot meals, and lodging free of charge.” Y/N’s sister-in-training grunted as she heaved a hefty bag of rice flour from the storeroom to the girls’ side, no doubt hauling it out to prepare the evening meal.

“I’ve heard of at least four such houses in this region alone. As a Hashira, Tomioka-sama could go to any one of them and be treated far more kindly than he is here.”

Y/N frowned. “I wonder why, then, he continues to return here so often? Surely our shrine is some distance from his home, given that he stays the night each time.”

Miyoko shot the young shrine maiden a knowing glance. “Perhaps he tolerates the Granny’s abuse because he is fond of the company.”

Y/N only felt her face grow hotter as she ducked down, though she felt Miyoko’s amused stare burn through her back.

—-

The Water Pillar had returned from his intel assignment and promptly journeyed to the Shrine, its inhabitants abuzz as they prepared for the arrival of autumn and the colder months, now only mere weeks away.

He found the shrine maiden of his interest inside the main wing of the manor, back in the kitchen as she prepared herbs to be incorporated into various salves and medications. Y/N smiled brightly at him as he’d sidled up beside her, taking a handful of dried greenery from the bunch next to her and deftly pulling the leaves from the stem and handing them to her.

“Is it your day off?” The Miko gratefully accepted the leaves he’d stripped and dumped them into the rocky mortar to join the others.

Giyuu felt his stomach clench as his fingers brushed against hers. “I have completed my duties for the time being, yes.”

"You're welcome to help me, as long as you do not mind a bit of busy work."

He didn't; of course he didn't. In fact, as he accepted the heavy stone pestle from the Miko and set to work mashing the leaves she handed them into the mortar, Giyuu rather supposed he would do just about anything to remain in the shrine maiden's company, even if that meant assisting her in a task as banal as grinding medicinal herbs. And though the Slayer and the Miko fell into their well-practiced habit of quietly tending to Y/N's duties side by side, there was a notable absence of the bright chatter he'd grown accustomed to hearing during his visits.

The Water Pillar frowned. “You’re quiet.” It was not a question. “There is something on your mind.”

“Is there?” Y/N hummed loftily, her hands continuing to strip leaves from their stems. “Perhaps I am simply focused.”

Giyuu found his eyes wandering to the side to study the Miko’s face more often than usual. Though she maintained a pleasant smile as they worked, he could see that it did not fully reach her eyes. And even her sage expression could not conceal the way the troubled look in her eyes, hands pausing their work as she stared at something behind the walls of the small shrine kitchen.

“Something is bothering you.” Giyuu took the bundle of herbs clutched in her hands and replaced them with his pestle, allowing her to work her frustrations over the paste forming at the bottom of the stone bowl.

She blushed and refocused her gaze, grinding the pestle hard. “Nothing is wrong!” She chirped.

“You are a dreadful liar.”

The Miko replied with an airy laugh that made his throat tighten. “So I’ve been told — often, in fact.”

“There is…trouble in the village,” Y/N said carefully, though she kept her hands busy as she continued to grind herbs into a thick paste. “It is nothing we can’t handle, but it has put many of us on edge. Particularly Granny.”

Giyuu frowned as he handed the shrine maiden another bunch of leaves from her basket. “What sort of trouble?”

She hesitated. “It is petty village drama, nothing more.”

“You won’t give any further details?”

The Water Pillar could not explain it, but he found himself troubled by the way the Shrine Maiden forced a smile and a far too casual shrug of her shoulders. “There are none worth re-hashing.”

He frowned, but he did not press her further, resolving instead to poke around later. Perhaps he would see whether the Shrine’s head Priestess’s tongue was as loose with information as it was with vulgarity once she’d properly indulged in her sake; he’d make certain she was well-stocked in advance.

Giyuu furtively glanced back at the shrine maiden’s profile, in part to see whether he could deduce anything from her expressions, but he found himself instead studying her, puzzling over a change in her appearance he hadn’t noticed before.

Sensing his stare, the Miko turned to him with a light smile that then faltered. “What –?”

“You changed your hair.” It took everything within him not to reach out, to see if her hair would feel as silky in his fingers as it looked shifting softly in the wind. “I’ve never seen it down.”

“Oh!” Her smile turned bashful, a pretty pink dusting spreading across her cheeks. “I wanted to wear my hairpin – see?”

She turned her head, the long curtain of her hair rippling smoothly with the movement. With her back to him, Giyuu could see the pin he’d given her neatly tucked into the long strands of her hair, pinning half of it back. The red of the pin’s maple leaves posed a lovely contrast with the hue of her hair.

Y/N was already quite beautiful, but with her hair partially down, he thought she looked softer; younger. She peeked over her shoulder at him, fingers nervously combing through her tresses. “It’s not practical for every day, of course, but I thought since you’d likely be arriving soon –”

His eyes widened and Giyuu became acutely aware that his heart now thumped wildly in his throat as Y/N choked off with a squeak, apparently realizing what she’d revealed. Though she hurriedly turned back around, Giyuu could see how the tips of her ears burned bright red.

Despite her efforts, her admission hung like a cloud in the air between them. She’d worn it – the hairpin – for him.

Giyuu swallowed thickly. “I like it.” He cleared his throat and turned, allowing his own unruly hair to obscure his face. “On you, that is.”

For once, the Miko had neither a quick remark nor barb to lob back at him. Instead, she only turned back to her task of grinding her herbs, a thick curtain of her hair concealing her face from his sight.

Once she'd finished bottling up her new medicinal salves, Giyuu helped her carry the tins to the Shrine's storage house, directly across the courtyard from its main wing. The shrine maiden remained curiously quiet, even in spite of his own lame attempts to converse with her. He'd finally given up after his dry comment about the weather went ignored. But every so often, he let his eyes wander to her as they returned to the honden, and that nagging feeling returned as he watched her gnaw incessantly at her bottom lip, a faraway look in her eyes.

Giyuu was not a nosy man, but the Miko's clear distraction unsettled him. He was about to pull her aside, to demand she tell him exactly what it was that had chased away the smile he so longed to see when they were approached by Y/N's haughty Master.

“Lord Tomioka,” the head Priestess nodded curtly at him in greeting. “I am glad to have run into you — I am in need of your assistance.”

The old Priestess turned to her young protégée. “Go assist the younger ones; they need to give their offerings before dinner.”

Y/N’s mouth opened to protest but the head Priestess cut her off. “Now.”

To his surprise, the shrine maiden did not argue with her Master, only turning to him to give him a helpless shrug before she began to make her way toward the Shrine’s honden.

The Water Pillar grimaced. He tried to convince himself the pit in his stomach was only because her odd behavior gnawed at him; that he was only curious to learn what it was that troubled her. But as the Miko cast one last, reluctant look over her shoulder at him, Giyuu found that he was as unwilling to watch her go as she was to leave.

If the Shrine’s head priestess noticed his inner anguish, she paid it no mind. “You will accompany me in the kitchen.”

—-

The first thing he noticed was the conspicuous absence of the scent of sake, which he’d grown accustomed to following the Priestess around like a pungent cloud of perfume. He resisted the urge to scowl; he would have to find another way to get the old woman to talk.

Giyuu followed the woman into the small structure that stood adjacent to the honden that served as the Shrine’s kitchen. He watched silently as she pulled a cleaver, large and deadly sharp, free from where it was stored in a cabinet and laid it atop a butcher’s block. The elder stepped outside of the kitchen and returned a moment later, a recently de-feathered and skinned chicken in hand.

“Things around here seem…tense,” Giyuu observed carefully as the old woman slapped the chicken on the counter for preparation.

“Tense is one word for it, I reckon,” she bit, taking up her cleaver. “The world we live in is dark. I should think you would know that better than most.”

The corner of his mouth dipped down. “But even your girls seem unusually subdued; distracted.”

Her eyes flashed to his, piercing and sharp. “You mean Y/N.”

It wasn’t a question.

“She is always restless this time of year,” the old woman sighed. “Though she loves autumn, she despises winter — or, rather, she despises how it reminds her of what she does not have. And winter is well on its way.”

He nodded, recalling what the shrine maiden had revealed to him that day, on the hillside.

“But your observation is correct — that is not all of the reason she is so distracted,” the old Priestess said darkly, and Giyuu was surprised to see how alert and focused the normally soused elder seemed. “A man from the village — Susumo — has been following her. Demanding her.”

Giyyu straightened. “What do you mean by ‘demand?’”

The haggard woman cursed below her breath as she broke down the chicken’s body. “I mean in the way that men often feel entitled to women — especially angry drunks like him.”

Every hair on Giyuu’s body stood straight as the weight of the Priestess’ warning settled.

“I have forbidden her from venturing out in the dark alone,” the Granny continued, harshly wrenching a joint on the fowl.

“She is a Priestess in training; surely that status affords her some protection?” Giyuu’s knuckles turned white where his fists clenched at his sides.

“I’m not sure the shrine is enough to keep him out for much longer. He’s been lingering — and threatening consequences, if I do not agree to hand her over to him for marriage.” The old Priestess grimaced. “Her status does her no good if he burns this place to the ground.”

The old woman set her cleaver next to her with a heavy thud, her frustration palpable. “The girl is of age, and I am not her blood family; there is no one here who can claim authority over her, not like a parent or an elder sibling.” When her eyes lifted to his, Giyuu could see a hint of fear underlying the hard anger in her gaze. “These days, I half-expect to awaken and find that she’s been stolen in the night.”

The Water Pillar felt his jaw clench. It was rare that he felt the burning flush of anger and it was not directed at a demon, but the idea that Y/N was being harassed and threatened by some village drunkard who felt entitled to her, lit something hot in his stomach. For as vexatious and confounding as he found the young Miko to be, no one deserved to be stalked like prey.

Especially her.

“I’ve had a crow stationed here to alert me of any demon attacks for months,” Giyuu began, and the old woman looked to him in surprise. “But I will assign more to keep watch during the day. If there is anything strange afoot, they will tell you.” He paused a moment before adding, “And they will alert me, too.”

The head Priestess laid down her cleaver to look at him, long and hard. “Then she may have a fighting chance yet, Lord Hashira.”

————-

By the time he found Y/N once more, dinner was over and the moon had risen high in the night sky, casting the shrine grounds in its pale, silvery glow.

He’d told her, rather tersely, that he was unable to stay the night, and he tried to ignore how his chest tightened at the crestfallen look that flashed across her face. Despite her tangible disappointment, she insisted on escorting him out of the Shrine, desperate to cling to every second that might be spared to them.

“You are rather quiet tonight,” the Miko observed, walking him to the grand Torii. “More so than usual.” It was an understatement; the Water Pillar had been downright sullen and withdrawn from the moment he’d returned from whatever takes Granny had insisted she help him with.

Rather than give her any explanation, Giyuu halted his step and reached for her wrist, stilling her. “You did not tell me you were being harassed.”

She looked up to the Water Pillar in surprise. “How did you —?”

He released her from his grip in favor of drawing closer to her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Y/N opened and closed her mouth, struggling to find her words. “I suppose,” she began, but her mouth quirked down in a frown. “I did not think you needed to be burdened by something so insignificant.”

Giyuu stared at her as he mouthed the word insignificant, the look he shot her giving the distinct impression he thought her an idiot. “I do not think your safety is insignificant,” Giyuu’s hand drifted to the hilt of his sword, clenching it tight. “Nor do I think you are insignificant.”

“Compared to your other obligations? I should think I’m very unimportant.” Y/N turned away from him, fiddling with a gathering basket she carried on her hip to avoid having to look him in the eyes.

But the raven-haired Pillar caught her wrist and turned her back to face him, not willing to be ignored. “If you call for me, I will come to you.”

Y/N’s heart lurched at the Water Pillar’s words, spoken with such conviction and sincerity that it made her falter in her step. “Tomioka-san,” she said breathlessly, her eyes wide as she turned to him. “You have far more important duties to see to than to concern yourself with than mere village drama —“

But the raven-haired Hashira only shook his head as he took another step towards her, his expression severe; calculating. “You have the knife I gave you, yes?” His eyes dropped to her pocket, and Y/N felt compelled to show him that the small blade was indeed tucked safely within the folds of her hakama pants.

“Giyuu,” she pled, and she noted the way that he twitched towards her at the sound of his name falling from her lips. “Please, don’t worry —“

“I do not make promises I cannot keep,” the Water Pillar cut her off, closing the distance between them until the tips of his zori nearly grazed hers, his head bent down towards her as the heat of his stare threatened to consume her. “So I repeat: if you call for me, I will come to you.”

Any thought of arguing faded from her mind as Y/N became keenly aware of the lack of space between their bodies, of the way her hands, clasped in front of her chest brushed against the folds of his haori as it shifted softly with the wind.

“I understand,” she breathed. Y/N held his gaze for a long moment, though it was in part due to the battle waging within her not to allow her eyes to drop to his lips.

She would not let herself acknowledge how close they were; how soft they looked, or how warm they might feel against hers; her skin.

Giyuu lingered as well; after a pregnant pause, he finally stepped back, blinking as though coming out of a trance. “Good,” he nodded, and he glanced furtively over her shoulder. His eyes narrowed and he nodded as though satisfied before he turned crisply on his heel to begin his trek towards his duties and away from her. “Do not forget.” He called one last time over his shoulder, before the shadows of the woods swallowed him whole.

As Y/N dazedly made her way back towards the shrine, a crow following closely behind her, she almost laughed at the suggestion she could.

——-

Autumn, 1915

The weeks passed by without much fuss, and soon, the palpable tension that had settled over the Shrine as a result of Susumo’s lingering threats subsided. Soon, life at the Shrine returned to normal, and Y/N often found her mind wandering to thoughts of raven hair and endless blue eyes.

Until that night.

It had been a normal evening at the Shrine; autumn, blissful autumn had arrived, heralding forth crisp winds and golden skies. Though the days were steadily growing shorter, Y/N found herself rejuvenated by the new chill, especially as she watched the leaves of the trees shift from green to gold to ruby.

The leaves on her hairpin indeed had been a perfect match to those which were steadily drifting from the tall maples dotting the Shrine. Though she couldn’t wear her hair down the way she had the last time the Water Pillar paid the Shrine a visit, Y/N had found new ways to incorporate his gift into her daily life, weaving it through her plait or tucking it behind her ear.

That night had been one like any other; after dinner, the girls of the Shrine had scattered to tend to their evening duties. The shrine maiden had been walking alongside her Master, planning for the upcoming festival in the nearby village, during which the Shrine would seek new patrons to keep it operational. The women mulled over which families might be more inclined to assist them, and settled on a prominent merchant known to frequent other shrines on his travels through the country.

That was when they’d spotted the smoke.

“Fire!” A shrill voice cried, and both the old Priestess and Y/N blanched. “The honden is on fire!”

All at once, chaos broke out across the Shrine grounds as girls darted to and fro, frantic. Granny began barking at her charges, ordering the younger ones to gather in the courtyard while instructing the older girls to assist in putting out the flames.

"The granary!" Someone else cried. "The granary has gone up in flames!"

The elder Priestess snatched Y/N's wrist in her weathered hand. “The scrolls!” Granny's expression of horror was a sure match to her own. “They’re in the storeroom near the granary!”

The scrolls in question had been in the Shrine’s custody for over five hundred years, carrying sacred inscriptions of the gods and prayers essential to its operation and legitimacy.

They were priceless; irreplaceable.

“I’ll go!” And before her Master could protest, the Miko had already turned away and began sprinting toward the fire that was rapidly engulfing the granary near the back of the property.

Thankfully, the storeroom had yet to catch fire, but if the one steadily consuming the granary was not dealt with soon, it wouldn’t be long before it spread to consume the small wooden hut.

And Y/N knew it wouldn’t take much to reduce the storeroom to ash.

Coughing, she pressed her arm to her nose and mouth, using the large bell sleeve of her kosode to block some of the smoke that burned her eyes and nose. She pulled her other sleeve over her hand to protect it as she pushed the storehouse’s door aside.

Inside was dark; quiet. Though the nighttime made it difficult for her to see the scrolls and prints carefully rolled and tucked away into tiny cubbies lining the hut’s walls, Y/N wasn’t stupid enough to waste time searching for a candle to light. So, with only the flames eating away at the granary at her back to light her way, she began pulling handfuls of scrolls free from their storage, tucking them under her arm.

She turned to take her first armload of priceless Shrine artifacts from the storeroom and nearly tripped over a collection of heated coal pans that had been stacked in the corner to keep the scrolls sealed within the room at a stable temperature. She managed to hold onto her scrolls, however, and she quickly moved them away from the hut, placing them safely on a nearby rock that was still far enough away from the storeroom should it catch fire. She returned to the hut to survey what else she needed to salvage, but a familiar, tiny yelp and the flurry of movement in her periphery made the Miko’s stomach twist.

“Komatsu!” Y/N turned and saw the anxious younger girl lingering at the storage hut’s door, her tiny hands trembling. “Get away from here! It’s not safe!”

“B-but Sister,” the girl cried, hopping anxiously from foot to foot. “This is too much to do on your own —“

“You need to go find Granny,” the shrine maiden ordered. “I will join you in a moment.”

The girl’s lower lip wobbled. “But —,”

“Now!”

With a great sniff, the girl turned away, leaving Y/N alone once more. The Miko sighed and resumed her hasty perusal of the hut’s shelves, searching for anything else that could not be replaced.

There was a rustling near the doorway and Y/N bit her lip in an effort not to swear in front of her younger peer. “Komatsu, what did I say —“

She turned to admonish the girl, but her reprimand dried instantly on her tongue. For there, in the entryway to the storeroom, was Komatsu, her eyes wide and her face bone-white with a terror that matched Y/N’s own.

Because the girl was not alone.

Wrapped around her bicep was a hand, as large as a small boulder, and tipped with long, wicked claws that threatened to pierce Komatsu’s bicep. The hand was attached to a forearm, inhumanly thick and muscled. Slowly, Y/N’s eyes dragged up the length of the monstrous arm to behold the sinister face that grinned at her.

It was Susumo — only it wasn’t Susumo. Y/N recognized the vague features of the face that had once belonged to the village drunk and her personal tormentor. His hair was the same as was the general shape of his face, and the cruelty of his smirk, but that was where the resemblance to the Susumo she’d once known ended.

Now, he boasted a row of sharp fangs that distended nearly to his lower lip. And his eyes — no longer were they a cold, soulless black; now they were crimson red, and his pupils were cut into catlike slits.

Demon. A voice whispered in her mind. Demon.

“Enjoy my fires, Priestess?” Even Susumo’s voice had changed, forming a growl that matched his monstrous appearance. “I set them for you — I knew you would not be able to resist seeing such a spectacle.”

“Komatsu,” Y/N ignored him in favor of addressing the young girl, though her voice was unusually high though she fought to keep it as steady as possible. “Please go find Granny and help her with the honden.”

The young trainee trembled but Susumo’s clawed hand only tightened around her arm. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that, sweet Priestess,” the demon crooned. “You have something I want, you see.”

The slick, oily look in his eyes made his desire clear.

Y/N’s eyes darted quickly around the hut, finally falling on a series of coal pans stacked to the side of the room, only a few feet from where she stood, paralyzed. Her quick, cursory glance at the pans revealed iron that was slightly red, and she swore she could see the air around them distorted by the heat.

Hot; they were still hot.

The Miko looked back to where the demon continued to leer at her, ravenous. “Fine,” she said coolly. “I will go with you, Susumo.”

Komatsu looked between her and the demon in horror, but Y/N only kept her eyes locked with the demon’s. She edged closer to where the coal pans were still burning hot, eyes not daring to drop his as she drew closer to the demon and the younger trainee. He grinned, revealing cruelly sharp and bloodstained teeth, and his yellow eyes shone with a triumphant smugness, believing the Miko was surrendering to him at last.

As she brushed past the pans, Y/N furtively reached out a hand and closed her fingers around one of the handles. “Komatsu,” the Miko kept her eyes carefully trained on the demon. “Run.”

Her hand seized around the coal pan and with every ounce of her strength, she swung it toward the demon. The hot iron of the pan slammed into the side of his head, forcing him to drop his hold on the younger girl. There was a struggle between the older shrine maiden and the demon, who fought to wrench the pan free from her fierce grip, but Y/N would not relent.

“Run!” She shrieked at the girl again, and Komatsu darted away. Y/N’s fingers stretched to close around the tiny lever on the handle of the coal pan, and with a snarl of fury, she managed to latch around it, squeezing it with all her might. The lid of the pan opened and red-hot coals spilled forth over the demon’s head. Susumo howled in fury, and Y/N dropped the pan, letting it crack against his head as she shot past him, desperate to escape the tiny storeroom.

The faster she got into open air, the better chance she had of living.

But a claw, sharp and deadly sunk into her bicep, and yanked her back. She could not help the small scream that tore from her throat as she felt his talons rip at her skin and the sleeve of her kosode was shredded into ribbons beneath his nails.

“Sister Y/N!” Komatsu’s tiny, terrified voice cried out from several feet ahead.

The shrine maiden swallowed her building panic. “Go!”

The little girl hesitated again and Y/N knew she could not follow after her, not without risking her safety once again. With a defiant scream of rage, the shrine maiden tore her arm free of the demon’s razor-like claws, fighting back the bile that rose in her throat as she felt blood run down her arm, hot and thick.

The demon grasped wildly at her but found only air. Thinking only of the safety of Komatsu and her fellow trainees, Y/N turned on her heel and ran for the trees, away from the chaos unfolding at the Shrine.

And the demon, still snarling and panting and undoubtedly enraged, followed her into the forest.

Shit, shit, shit!

Y/N hurtled over a snarled root as she ran, her life dependent upon every stride as she fled the newly-demented Susumo.

In the back of her mind, the Miko knew her efforts were in vain; because for every inch she managed to gain, the angry demon at her heels seemed to gain a foot.

“You’ve denied me for far too long!” The monster’s voice growled behind her, far too close for comfort. “I will have you!”

Y/N palmed the small nichirin knife tucked safely within the deep pockets of her hakama pants, and wildly she wondered whether it was possible to decapitate a demon with such a small blade. Perhaps the Water Pillar should have left her a sword. After all, a sword could not really be that different from a broom, and she’d walloped her fair share of handsy drunkards and would-be thieves with the cleaning tool.

If she lived through the night, she would tell him as much the next time she saw him.

Y/N’s musings did nothing to help her avoid the root of an old tree that jutted out from the earth, snarling around her ankle and sending her flailing to the forest floor. Angry tears of frustration clouded her eyes. Although she knew these paths like the back of her hand, that knowledge did her little good in the dark, as she fled for her life.

Scrambling up to her feet, Y/N caught sight of a pair of eyes watching her from the brambles, dark and inky.

A crow. The image of a certain Hashira flashed before her eyes, as Y/N recalled the way that the members of the Demon Slayer Corps used crows to communicate.

Perhaps this crow was so affiliated, and she was desperate enough to try. “Please!” Y/N begged, sobbing as the crow stared down at her with those black eyes. “Giyuu!”

———

The night had been unusually peaceful for the Water Pillar.

His ambling patrol around his territory’s perimeter hadn’t revealed so much as a whisper of demonic activity. But the absence of any conspicuous threat did not mean his guard was down; his eyes remained sharp, his ear finely tuned, listening for any shift in the wind, any sign that something was amiss and required investigation —

A sudden rustle of leaves sounded from his right, and Giyuu’s hand moved reflexively for his blade, bracing against its hilt in preparation. A small shadow burst from the canopy above him, its wings flapping wildly. He recognized it instantly as the crow he’d assigned to watch over the Shrine — to watch over her.

“Demon attack at the Mountain Shrine!” The crow squawked, circling above him frantically. “Demon attack! Go now — quickly!”

He hadn’t hesitated to turn sharply on his heel, furiously making his way toward the Shrine. He broke through the line of trees at its edge in record time, and even he’d been taken aback by the chaos that had broken out.

“The honden is on fire!” the old woman cried out to the Pillar as he swiftly landed among the chaos unfolding across the shrine grounds. “The girls were still doing their evening duties – but then another fire was started near the granary!”

“My crows said a demon had made an appearance,” Giyuu’s eyes carefully scanned the terrified, frantic faces of the Shrine��s residents, his hands braced against the hilt of his sword. “Has anyone been hurt?”

The head Priestess stared at the Water Pillar in muted horror. “I have not seen – but I haven’t taken any headcount of the girls to know –”

A piercing cry from near the south gate of the Shrine cut the old woman off, and both Priestess and Slayer whipped toward the sound. A girl, no more than nine, was half-running, half-stumbling toward them, frightened tears streaking down her face.

“Komatsu!” the old Priestess blanched as she caught sight of the small apprentice’s busted, bloodied lip. With a sob, the young girl flung herself into her elder’s arms and clung tightly to her. “What on earth –?”

“Sister Y/N!” the girl called Komatsu wailed, and Giyuu felt himself go cold. “Granny – th-that man – he’s a monster!”

The head Priestess paled in recognition. “Susumo?” Giyuu’s gut clenched at the name. The old woman knelt before the girl, her hands clutching wildly at her slim shoulders as she shook her lightly to recenter her. “Komatsu, was Susumo the monster?”

The young girl nodded. “He was so – hiccup – fast! I didn’t even see him!” She only cried harder. “And t-then Sister Y/N – she grabbed the coal pan and dumped it on him until he let go.” Komatsu trembled as she lifted a shaking hand to wipe at her cheeks. “A-and then she t-told me to r-run –”

THe old Priestess caught the girl’s quivering chin in her hand and forced her to meet her eyes. “Where is Y/N, Komatsu?”

Komatus’s eyes were wide with fear. “She ran,” she whispered. “Into the woods – b-but Granny – she was bleeding –”

The Shrine’s Priestess turned to the Slayer, ready to beg him to follow after the demon and her apprentice, but the Water Pillar was gone. For a brief moment, she feared all hope was lost; that they’d been abandoned and non one would be able to save the young Miko – her heir – from whatever horrid fate awaited her at the ends of Susumo’s crazed, brutal claws.

She caught a flurry of movement right against the dark line of trees that snagged her attention; a flap of the edge of a mismatched haori, and the glint of a blade being drawn, its wielder already furiously making his way into the shadowy depths of the forest.

The Priestess exhaled and clutched her trembling young trainee to her chest. As she soothed the shaken young girl, the old woman prayed the Water Pillar would not be too late.

–

She was fucked; well and truly fucked.

Y/N had no idea how long she’d spent sprinting furiously through the forest, but she knew she was quickly running out of stamina. Worse, it seemed the demon on her heels knew she was slowing, and was now playing with her. But even his patience seemed to be at its wit’s end; for a sudden sharp blow to her back sent the Miko flying several feet forward until she slammed against the uneven, rough terrain of the forest floor.

Y/N gasped for air that would not come as she tried to push herself up. Crawl! Her mind begged her body. Crawl, damn you!

A dark chuckle from behind sent every hair on her body standing straight on end. A hand locked around her ankle and flipped her over until she was nearly nose to nose with the demon crouched over her. “Got you,” he sang, and the moonlight glinted off the sharp edge of his fangs as he grinned.

Her fingers found the handle of the knife the Water Pillar had gifted her in her pocket. With a determined grunt, she pulled it free and plunged it deep into the meat of his shoulder, praying furiously to any god who would listen that she might have hit an artery so that he would bleed out.

The demon loosed an enraged scream and fell away from her, hands blindly fumbling for the blade.

No longer pinned beneath him, Y/N scrambled back. Her hands scraped against the broken brush and pebbles below her in her desperate attempt to put distance between herself and the demon rising to his feet ahead of her, snarling. As he began advancing toward her, Susumo gripped the knife she’d buried in his shoulder and with a grunt, he wrenched it free and tossed it carelessly to the side, right along with the last shred of any hope she’d had of making it out of the woods alive.

The demon’s mouth curled into a cruel, savage grin, the moonlight glinting off his long, wicked fangs. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he growled, saliva dripping down his chin as his nostrils widened to scent her blood and her fear.

This was it; there was nowhere for her to run, no weapon she could try and protect herself with. There was nothing she could do; she was going to die, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Just as Susumo drew upon her, close enough that she could smell the rancid, pungent odor of rotted meat on his breath, he stumbled back, startled.

One moment the demon was standing mere inches from her, ready to devour her whole; the next, he was sent sailing back, his body smashing into the trunk of a nearby tree with a sickening thump!

A blur of dark matter soared over the Miko’s head toward the monster. Susumo barely had time to stand before the shadow converged on him once more. There was a flash of light — the moon reflecting off metal — followed by a dull thud. The shrine maiden’s heart lodged in her throat as she watched the head of the former village drunkard roll across the forest floor before distingrating, his body following soon after.

She was nearly hyperventilating as the shadow turned to face her, but the pall of the moon finally illuminated the face of her savior — her Water Pillar.

“G-Giyuu,” she stuttered, her eyes stinging with unshed tears of relief that washed over her all at once.

But Giyuu did not respond, his lapis eyes narrowing in on the dark stain spreading across the white of her kosode. Y/N cowered at the cold, unbridled rage that contorted the ordinarily stoic Hashira’s face as he began to shake at the sight of her blood. In a flash, Giyuu had closed the distance between them and knelt down by her side, gripping her wounded arm in his hand as he tried to pull her tattered sleeve down and inspect her wound.

“Tomioka — Giyuu,” she pled, trying to wrench her arm from his iron-like grip. “Please, it’s not that bad —“

“Did it get you anywhere else?” Giyuu demanded harshly, and the authority underlying his tone made Y/N fall silent for the first time since she’d known him. “Did it -“ the Water Pillar hesitated. “Did it touch you anywhere else?”

Y/N was trembling, and the Hashira’s hand around her arm tightened. “Ah!” She winced. “No, I promise, Giyuu, it’s just a flesh wound, I’m fine-,”

“You are bleeding. You are not fine.” Giyuu snapped back. “You could’ve been killed, or turned, or -,” the Water Pillar began to hyperventilate, and it shook the young Miko to her core. The Water Hashira was normally so unflappable, so stoic, that his panicked anger frightened her.

“-So do not tell me you’re fine,” Giyuu’s rant continued. “Not when you could’ve — not when I might’ve failed — not again --”

She was at a loss for what to do as she watched the raven-haired man struggle to form words. Vaguely, she recalled the way the Granny-Priestess had once explained to her that when someone panicked, they needed to regulate their breathing, and there were many ways someone could help force another to breathe properly…

Stomach fluttering, Y/N’s free hand came up to grip the fold of the Water Pillar’s haori. Giyuu’s incessant rambling only ended when her lips urgently pressed against his own, his eyes going wide. A heartbeat or two passed and then the Miko pulled away, her eyes serious as she stared at the stunned Water Hashira.

“You need to give me a sword.” She told him, earnestly, her face blazing.

———

Giyuu helped her back to the Shrine, though the Miko found herself needing to bat off the Water Pillar with a stern reminder that she’d only sustained a small arm wound as he’d tried to scoop her up into his arms.

The Swordsman had been rather subdued the entire journey out of the forest, his eyes curiously wide and dazed right until the pair breached the tree line at the edge of the Shrine’s property. The moment they stepped into open ground, they were swarmed by the tearful, relieved faces of the Shrine’s inhabitants. Words of gratitude to him were woven through worries over the Miko’s arm wound as they made their way across toward the small infirmary which, thankfully, had not been touched by Susumo’s fire.

The honden itself was still standing; though the flames had finally been subdued, smoke still curled up toward the sky, blocking any view of the moon or the stars.

The head Priestess waited for them outside the infirmary. Though her face was grave, Giyuu could spy the relief shining in her eyes. He stood numbly by as the Miko and her master regarded each other warily for a moment, before the elder Priestess reached forward and yanked her charge forward into a fierce embrace.

“Reckless girl,” she chastised gently against the side of Y/N’s head. “Thank every one of the gods that you’re safe.” The old Priestess’s eyes found those of the Water Pillar. “And thank you, Lord Tomioka.”

Y/N was promptly escorted inside to have her wound examined and stitched. Despite the old shrine keeper’s gratitude for his aid in saving the young shrine maiden, that thankfulness apparently did not extend to permitting him inside the infirmary with them, and for good reason. For under the Elder’s withering glare, the Water Pillar realized that Y/N’s treatment would require her to be stripped of her kosode, leaving her exposed and bare.

As unwilling as he’d been to part from her, the thought of witnessing the Miko undressed and vulnerable had been enough to temper his urge to look after her, if nothing else because the mental image of her in such a state flustered him to no end.

Though, he supposed his bewilderment also had something to do with what had transpired between them in the forest.

Kissed him; the shrine maiden had kissed him.

His fingers drifted to his lips. They still felt warm where they’d been graced by hers, and he swore he could still feel the softness of her mouth from where it had brushed against his.

He needed to talk to her; he needed to know what the hell she’d been thinking, kissing him like that.

But as shocking as the Miko’s kiss had been, there was something else, something far heavier, that weighed on his mind.

She’d nearly been killed. By a demon. On his watch.

He should’ve apologized; he should’ve begged for her forgiveness for letting her come that close with death. For letting her get wounded because he hadn’t been fast enough.

I was concerned for you, he wanted to tell her. I thought I would be too late.

No; concern didn’t cover it; did not do near enough justice to his true emotions upon learning the Miko had fled into the dark forest with a hungry, loathsome demon hot on her trail.

He’d been scared; terrified; almost beside himself at the possibility that he’d be too late and find that she’d already been reduced to the beast’s meal,

He’d been scared he’d never again see her smile or hear her laugh, and that had terrified him more than anything. For it was the memory of both that soothed his anxious nerves each time he startled awake from visions of his dead loved ones, demanding to know why they had died in his stead.

He’d feared that he would have to add her face to those he saw when he slept — the faces of those he’d failed to protect, who’d died for his sake. He’d been terrified of seeing her image in painstaking clarity, just as he saw the faces of his sister and Sabito every morning.

He did not know what to do with them, these confusing feelings, so abundant and intense that they’d welled up within him and threatened to spill over. He couldn’t name them, let alone begin to untangle the knot they’d formed within his heart. All he knew was that every one of them were inextricably tied to her.

His shrine maiden.

His.

—

Y/N’s arm ached, but it had been properly sewn and bandaged, and there was work to do before she could settle in for the night; and so, she found herself helping her peers with cleaning up the courtyard from the debris of the night’s events.

Truthfully, she'd been grateful for the distraction. Occupying herself with cleanup meant she did not have to think about what she’d done in the forest. But then Granny Priestess saw her trying to heave away broken wood with her freshly stitched arm and Y/N found herself forced to abandon her fellow trainees as the old bat smacked her upside the head and squawked about how she was going to break her stitching and complicate the healing process.

The Miko tried not to pout as she retreated, opting instead to grumble over the old woman’s dramatics as her arm stung and her ego throbbed. When she finally returned to her sleeping quarters, exhaustion slammed into her, making her limbs heavy and leaden. Unable to quite rally the energy to crawl into her futon, she slumped against the doorway of the room, her head and her heart a tangled mess of emotions she couldn’t quite name.

What she’d felt the moment the Water Pillar had stepped into the moonlight had been more than mere relief that he’d managed to save her life for the second time. She’d felt safe, so unbelievably safe that the forest itself could have been on fire and she wouldn’t have been afraid; not as long as he was there with her.

Something between them had shifted; that much was clear. In truth, things likely had begun to change the moment she repaired his haori, and she’d admitted to him her deep-seated loneliness and lack of belonging.

She only hoped he felt the change, too.

—

Much to Y/N’s chagrin, autumn was quickly giving way to blasted winter.

Though, the Miko hadn’t been able to fully resent the rapid shift in the seasons; repairs at the Shrine had consumed nearly all of her attention, and as Granny’s heir, she was expected to contribute to its reconstruction more than any other trainee.

That expectation meant Granny left the task of figuring out how to finance the necessary repairs entirely to her young protege. Y/N had spent all of two days agonizing over ways to raise the necessary funds when she awoke to find a mysterious sack of money that had been left on the doorstep of the honden. Inside had been an amount more than generous to cover the cost of repairs from the fire, with a hefty remainder that could be put toward other necessary improvements to spruce the Shrine up, and perhaps restore it to its former glory.

No note had been left with the money to indicate the identity of the Shrine’s benefactor. But amid all the excitement of her peers at the thought of being able to afford materials and laborers to assist with the more difficult aspects of the Shrine’s refurbishment, Y/N had spotted a familiar crow perched high in a nearby tree.

That position had afforded the bird with a perfect view of the money sack, allowing it to silently ensure it fell into the proper hands. But repairs had finally slowed, and Y/N now found her days returning to normal. Almost.

What was not normal was how agitated she'd become in waiting for his return.

Another week passed without any communication from the Water Pillar, and the Miko had grown desperate for any sort of distraction. She found herself one late, autumn morning passing the time in the Shrine’s garden hut. She was pretending to be searching for tools that would help her prune the wilting Shrine garden when something grazed against the small of her back. Startled, she turned and was greeted by familiar, unruly raven hair and a pair of deep azure eyes.

“Giyuu,” his name slid easily off her tongue, and suddenly she could not remember why she’d called him anything else.

A ghost of a smile graced his lips. “Hello, Y/N.”

A poignant silence followed, and her cheeks grew hot. "Don't mind me," she said quickly, turning her head away from him as she pretended to organize stray gardening supplies. "I am only just now finishing my tasks for the day."

Though he remained silent, she became acutely aware of the way Giyuu’s eyes followed her as she tried desperately to keep herself busy, to avoid having to meet that piercing, discerning stare.

“I did not get a chance to properly thank you after the turmoil of that night,” she said casually. Nervously, she hoped that his heightened senses did not alert him to the way her heart fluttered in her chest, or how her stomach flipped in her gut. Her nails dug into her palms as she lifted her head to meet that unnerving, fathomless stare.

But the Water Pillar had already closed most of the distance between them, having moved so silently she’d not heard him, despite even the creaky, uneven slatted floor of the garden hut. “How is your wound?” He asked softly, his hand skirting up the outside of the arm Susumo had wounded. “Has it healed?”

It took a great amount of effort for Y/N to remember how to keep her breathing steady. But she forced her lips into an easy smile as she rucked up the flared sleeve of her kosode to reveal her bicep. “It will likely scar,” she admitted, her fingers lightly tracing over the three, angry red marks that remained imprinted on her skin, though they’d fully scabbed over. “I consider myself quite lucky, all things considered.”

“Why did you do it?”

The Miko ducked her head, willing the sheet of her hair to fall and conceal her mounting blush. She did not need to ask him to clarify; she knew after what he was asking.

But she feigned ignorance all the same. “I don’t know what you mean, Tomioka-sama –”

“Don’t call me that,” and even though she refused to meet his eyes, she could sense his irritation at her avoidance. “We’re well past such formalities, Y/N.” Giyuu stepped closer to her, his cerulean eyes melting into something more akin to the midnight blue of the evening sky. “You kissed me. That night.” The Water Pillar’s hand glided up the arm that Susumo had injured, caressing softly over the healed skin beneath the sleeve of her kosode.

“I-I did no such thing!” Y/N sputtered, though her reddening cheeks betrayed her. “I was only attempting to help you calm down — you were panicking, and inconsolable.”

Giyuu’s responding smirk only served to irritate her more. “Should I thank you then, Y/N?” His hand slid from her shoulder to below her chin, his delicate fingers curling to tilt her head up towards his, as he closed the distance between their bodies. “Should I show you how grateful I am that you were able to assuage my worry?”

Y/N tried to focus on anything but the feeling of Giyuu’s breath — warm and enticing — against her face as he leaned in close. “You had no reason to worry; I was completely fine before you showed up.”

“Fine,” the ravenette scoffed, his grip on her chin tightening slightly. “So fine that you were bleeding and about to become that beast’s snack — or worse.”

“But you saved me, did you not?” Y/N whispered, unable to stop her eyes from dropping to the Water Pillar’s sensual, soft-looking mouth before rising once more to meet his punishing gaze. “And then I helped you.”

Giyuu’s second hand brushed against her waist and the shrine maiden thought she might leap out of her skin. “You did,” he conceded, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a small, half-smile. “Though I apologize that you needed to do so — I suppose I become a little over-zealous when things that are precious to me are threatened.”

Even if she could have thought of some witty remark to throw back at him, those words surely would have been blocked by her heart as it lodged in her throat.

Things that were precious to him. She was precious to him.

“So I’ll ask again, Y/N,” Giyuu whispered, and his nose brushed delicately against hers. “Should I thank you for your assistance?” The fingers beneath her chin stroked her jaw. “Should I kiss you?”

She fought to suppress the excited shudder that licked up her spine. “Yes, Lord Hashira,” she breathed, and her stomach turned cartwheels as Giyuu’s gaze dropped to her mouth. “Perhaps you should.”

“Who am I to deny the request of a priestess?” Giyuu murmured, and then his lips were moving against hers, warm and soft. Y/N’s fingers flew to clutch the Water Pillar’s rocky biceps beneath the soft cloth of his haori, anchoring him against her. The hand that had gripped below her chin slid to the side of her face, tilting her head so that the Water Pillar could have better access to her as he pressed his lips harder against hers.

Y/N moaned into his kiss, wanting him closer, impossibly closer to her than he currently was.

Giyuu broke away from her once, though he kept a hand on the back of her neck to keep her in place. “What are your duties today?”

Y/N’s fingers curled around the front of the Water Pillar’s haori, her forehead resting against his. “None of import.” She gave him a sly smile. “No one will miss me if I am gone for a few hours.”

Giyuu returned her smile with a tiny smirk of his own. “In that case,” he tugged her hand and he began to lead her towards the grassy overlook where they’d spent a great deal of time talking and learning one another. “I could use your assistance.”

–

Y/N hadn’t greeted the sunrise with the intent to neglect her shrine duties, but she couldn’t say she regretted how she ended up spending the day.

They spent the day resting on the hillside overlooking the shrine grounds, rolling back and forth upon the browning grass as they kissed each other again and again.

“You weren’t wrong, that day — right after we met,” Giyuu gasped against her lips as they broke apart, the blush on Y/N’s cheeks a sure match to his own. “I do not find you captivating.”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed. Her mouth parted, a protest on her tongue when Giyuu surged forward, his lips brushing against her neck. The Miko’s words choked off with a squeak as the Water Pillar danced his lips to the hollow of her throat, his tongue flicking out once right where her heart pulsed wildly.

“I think you are utterly transfixing; enchanting,” he breathed against her skin. “You have cast a spell over me that I do not want broken.”

“I find it hard to believe anyone could wield that sort of power over a Hashira,” Y/N’s voice was high pitched as Giyuu’s lips made their way back to hers.

In the back of her mind, Y/N wondered if his words were motivated purely by his physical desire for her. It would not have surprised her if he was only so taken with her because he longed to be touched; held. Like him, she’d gone much of her life without intimacy from anyone. She could not blame him for seeking it from someone so willing to give as she.

“But you are not just anyone, not to me.” was all he replied, his lips moving softly against hers once more. “You are…everything.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. The Water Pillars words, dripping like honey from his lips, were only sweetened by the fervent sincerity of his eyes as he pulled back to gaze into hers, so deeply, she felt as though he could see every thought in her head.

She wondered if he lowered that piercing, discerning stare, whether he’d be able to see straight to her heart, too; see how it bore his name.

Even though her breath guttered in her throat at his words, her heart clenched painfully in her chest. The idea that she’d attached more meaning to their relationship than he, that perhaps she’d overestimated her value to him made her tense, made her want to push him away and —

“You’re distracted,” Giyuu murmured against her lips, brushing his nose against hers. “Your thoughts are loud.”

Her fingers caught the front fold of his haori, fiddling idly with it. “There is nothing for you to repay, you know. You do not owe me your time or your attention. I know the Shrine is simply a part of your designated patrol. I understand if its convenience is the only reason —”

A single finger pressed itself against her lips, quieting her. “You think and talk too much.” The ravenette chastised. Her mouth parted, a protest forming on her lips, when he cut her off again. “Ah ah,” Giyuu silenced her with his lips, his tongue flicking out to skim along her bottom lip. Above her, he shifted and allowed his weight to fall against her, pinning her beneath him. Reluctantly, his mouth broke away from hers. “It is my turn to speak.”

“I do not come to the Shrine because it is easy,” Giyuu’s lips brushed hesitantly against her jaw. “Nor do I come here out of any preconceived obligation to repay your kindness.”

He pulled back to study her, panting and flushed beneath him. As his eyes slowly combed over her, Y/N felt a strange knot pull and twist in the depths of her stomach. “There is only one thing that brings me back here, no matter how exhausted I am after weeks of endless missions; no matter how often certain junior Corps members pester me to train them.” His eyes narrowed at the hollow of the Miko’s throat, exposed by the way her kosode had shifted as the pair of them rolled around the grass. Curious, Giyuu leaned down and pressed his lips firmly against it.

And then he did the unthinkable; the Water Pillar moaned, ever so softly, against the fluttering of Y/N’s frantic pulse. The sound, so rich and full of need – of want – washed over her and drowned out all other thoughts, all other higher reasoning from her mind. INstead, the Miko was left with nothing but the sharp urge to press her thighs together, an unknown heat beginning to pool in her most sacred area.

“Do you know what that thing is, Y/N?” He whispered against the soft dip in her throat, his breath hot as it fanned across her skin. “Can you guess what it is I cannot stay away from – could not, even if I desired otherwise?”

His fingers dropped to the collar of her kosode, tracing lightly over its crisp, white fold. “When I close my eyes in the mornings, it is your face I see,” he murmured. “It is your laugh I hear in my dreams; your scent I find myself longing for when I awaken.”

The Miko shivered as his index finger traced from her collar up her throat, over her chin until it came to rest on her bottom lip, gently stroking over its curve. “It is you I seek to turn to remind myself that there is still good in this world – good still worth protecting. Why is that, Y/N?” His eyebrows furrowed and he seemed almost earnest in his question. “Why is it that my mind refuses to be occupied by anything but you?”

“Because I vex you,” she said softly, eyes wide and locked with his. “Because, try as you might, you’ve never been able to fully fit me into a box as you have with others.”

Giyuu shook his head. “Vex me?” He tsked at her. “Perhaps once that was true. But now? I desire you in ways I can hardly understand, and it drives me mad.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. “What are you saying?”

“I think I’ve been rather clear,” and instinctively, Giyuu rolled his hips against hers, desperate to relieve some of the friction mounting in his groin. “And it’s that I want –”

But the Miko did not get to hear what Giyuu wanted; not as he was drowned out by the screeching cry of a bird from high above. Only, this bird was not the dull, graying crow she’d come to associate with her Swordsman.

“I thought your crow was older?”

The Water Pillar frowned as he turned to look up, his eyebrows drawn together. “That’s not Kanzaburo — that’s one of the Master’s —“

“CAW,” the bird circled above their heads in narrow, rapid turns. “Lord Tomioka! Return to headquarters immediately!”

Giyuu’s jaw clenched. “Can it not wait?”

Y/N, however, only gaped up at the bird flying above them. “It talks —?”

But the crow only cried again, “Emergency meeting at headquarters!!

With a short, frustrated exhale, Giyuu rolled to the side of the Miko and rose, but not before he extended a hand and helped lift her to her feet.

He gingerly brushed some loose grass from her hair. “I’m sorry.”

She only shook her head as she reached to adjust his haori, righting it in his shoulders. “It’s your duty, Giyuu. I understand that.”

He scowled back up at the bird still circling above them, bleating a refrain of “Emergency! Go now!”

“I’m not finished with this conversation,” Giyuu said plainly, a frustrated hand working through his hair. Though his annoyance was plain as day, it fell away as he looked back to the Miko at his side, his gaze softening. “Nor am I finished with you.”

A single finger reached under Y/N’s chin and lifted her head toward him so he could brush another kiss against her lips. “I will come see you – soon.”

With a shy boldness, the Miko rose on her toes and gave him one final kiss, and Giyuu’s hand tightened where it rested against her waist. “I’ll wait for you, Lord Hashira.”

———

December, 1915

Y/N cursed at the ancient priestess who insisted on using only gas-powered lanterns rather than the newer, much safer, electric powered lights that other shrines had begun using.

“We are an esteemed shrine dating back hundreds of years,” the old crone had simpered, “Tradition has kept us going this far!”

Y/N hadn’t helped her cause by asking whether tradition or spite was what kept the hag from dying off and finally leaving her in peace.

And that was how the young Priestess-to-be found herself stomping through the snowy grounds of the Shrine, forced to light each and every lantern by hand using a match and oil, utterly by herself.

She knew better than to levy such an obvious taunt at the old woman, but admittedly, Y/N hadn’t been in the best of moods as of late.

Giyuu had not returned since that day on the hillside, when he’d kissed her silly and told her he could not stop thinking of her. It was as though he no longer existed; even the crows at the Shrine were no more, having all disappeared one morning before she’d awoken.

As the weeks passed, the weight of his absence had grown heavier, threatening to beat her into the ground below.

But Y/N had done her best to hold her tongue over the last weeks as her anxiety mounted, and Granny should’ve known that — so really, it was her own fault if she’d taken offense to the Miko’s barb.

She grumbled and cursed under her breath as she trudged toward the small garden hut standing at the furthest edge of the Shrine’s grounds — her last stop of the night. She shoved past the old, rickety door and braced her merrily flickering, hand-held lantern out before her, bathing the small hut in a warm, orange glow.

All was silent and quiet within the small storeroom. The air was cold, though the slatted walls of the hut offered some protection from the howling, snow-dotted winds outside. Determined to complete her task and return to the comfort of her warm futon, the Miko fumbled around one of the store shelves for a small can of oil.

“It’s you,” a quiet voice startled her from behind, and Y/N nearly dropped the lantern clutched in her hands.

But she did not feel afraid as she recognized the calm, soothing cadence of the voice, that voice that belonged to the one person capable of making her blush.

The one person who held her heart.

“It’s been a while, Giyuu. I was wondering when I’d see you again.” She turned and saw the raven-haired man standing in the doorway of the garden hut, his face characteristically neutral, though he seemed tense, even more so than usual.

Instantly, she moved toward him. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes tightened, and the darkness which swam within them betrayed his aloof facade. “Things have changed quickly in my world,” he began, and she saw his fists clench at his sides. “We believe the demons are preparing for war — and so we have been as well.

“War?” She repeated softly, her step faltering. “I hadn’t realized the demons were so…organized.”

Giyuu nodded. “One creature is responsible for all demons. He is the orchestrator; he is the one we must kill, and we believe the opportunity to do so is drawing nearer.”

The monotonous cadence of his voice fell away as he quietly added, “That is why I haven’t been able to return — we’ve been training. This battle — it may start at any moment.”

He made like he wanted to say more, but he stopped himself, pressing his lips into a tight line.

“And?” She prompted gently, taking a solitary step toward him.

“He hesitated, and she spied how his throat worked to swallow. “And I do not know when I will be able to see you again. After tonight.”

Y/N watched him for a moment, her eyes searching his. “When you say you don’t know ‘when’ we will see each other again,” she began, cautiously. “Do you mean ‘if?’”

Giyuu’s answering silence said more than any words could.

For a moment, the Miko could not remember how to speak, not as she felt the organ in her chest splinter into a thousand, mismatched pieces.

“I just wanted to see you,” the Water Pillar struggled to swallow around the growing lump in his throat. “One last time.”

She could scarcely breathe.

He was leaving and he might never return.

Leaving to go try and put an end to the scourge of demons that plagued their world. It was a noble thing to do; sacrifice in its purest form.

But she hated it.

She was filled with such a deep melancholy that it nearly brought her to her knees. As the Water Pillar turned to leave, Y/N couldn’t stop herself as she reached for him, her arms encircling him as her hands locked over his front, stilling him.

“Giyuu,” she said thickly, her face pressed into the back of his haori as she willed the tears in her eyes not to fall. “Giyuu.”

He turned in her grasp and looked down at her in awe, a finger rising to brush the errant tear that had escaped down her cheek as he held her gaze.

The flame within her lantern flickered as Giyuu softly grazed his lips against her own, Y/N’s arms weaving around his neck to hold him close to her.

His hands were gentle, if not a little uncertain as they found her waist, but once they came to a rest against her, he pulled her close, arms winding around her middle and holding her securely against him as he deepened the kiss. She moaned softly into his mouth, her hands tangling in his hair as she opened up for him, his tongue gliding alongside her own until she was left breathless and wanting.

Vaguely, the Miko was aware that he was walking them deeper into the garden hut, allowing the old door to thud shut behind him, and the thought of not returning to her plush futon suddenly did not seem like such a loss.

Giyuu’s hands returned to her face, thumbs stroking softly along her cheeks as he broke their kiss to brush his lips against her eyes, her nose, and forehead. Y/N’s hands parted the Water Hashira’s haori from his shoulders as Giyuu’s fingers dropped to her collar bone, sliding beneath her kosode, and grazing her bare shoulder.

“You have been my most treasured encounter,” he whispered, and she felt her heart seize in her throat, tears threatening to spill anew from her eyes.

A year’s worth of interactions had all led to this moment, but it was not the satisfying payoff of the tension and longing that had been steadily building between them.

This was a goodbye.

Because it was likely that the Water Pillar would not survive the impending battle; but neither did he want to leave this end untied.

She had known, deep in her heart, that this affair had been doomed before it had ever begun, but that hadn’t stopped her from falling for the kind, brave, selfless man now kissing her like she was his entire world anyways.

She would not get to have him in the morning, so she resolved to give herself to him for the night.

Giyuu’s hands eased her kosode from her shoulders, exposing her to the cool air within the garden hut. His warm hands, however, worked to chase away any chill that spread across her skin as he ran his palms over the curve of her shoulders before sliding down to rest on her bare waist, his long fingers grazing just below the curve of her breasts.

Her own fingers trembled as she fumbled with the buttons on his uniform shirt but in time, she’d worked them open and Giyuu broke their kiss long enough to let his shirt drop to the floor beneath them.

The two stood there for a moment, chests rising and falling rapidly, as they looked at one another, half-nude and vulnerable. The shrine maiden and the slayer knew that they had come upon a precipice, and if they stepped off that ledge, there would be nothing to break their fall.

Y/N made the first move, taking a tentative step towards the Water Pillar as she trailed her fingers lightly up the beautiful, sculpted ridges of his abdomen, relishing how warm he was beneath her touch.

Giyuu shivered beneath her fingertips as the miko’s hand came to a rest against his sternum, marveling the way his heart thundered beneath her hand. “Are you certain?” He breathed, his face was impassive, but his own uncertainty was betrayed by the slight tremor in his voice. His hand rose to gently cup the side of her face, his thumb ghosting over her bottom lip.

She reached to grab the Pillar’s free hand and brought it up to rest against her sternum, mirroring her own hold on him so that he could feel the steady drum of her own heart — and how it thrummed for him. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m yours, Giyuu.”

Once, she had believed the Hashira incapable of expressing anything other than cold aloofness. she’d not been able to comprehend the subtle ways with which his eyes could signal his mood; how they darkened when angry, or how the outer corners turned up, almost imperceptibly, when he was content.

But she had long since learned to read him, and so, her stomach fluttered at the way the raven haired man’s gaze heated with both adoration and desire — for her.

Giyu brushed his nose against hers affectionately before bringing their lips together once more, his kiss growing fervent as her hands slid up to tangle in his ebony hair. Y/N gasped into his mouth as she felt Giyu bend down, his hands gripping firmly under her thighs as he lifted her up, forcing her to lock her legs around his waist. Her lips parted, and Giyuu’s tongue slid seamlessly into her mouth.

Her lover locked one steely arm firmly around her lower back to support her as Y/N felt him lower them to the floor to lay her down, the Water Pillar’s free hand coming to brace against the back of her skull, to protect her head from thudding back against the wooden slats of the hut floor. The Miko steadied herself, prepared for the cold bite of the dirty hut floor to nip at the bare skin of her back, but she was only settled against something warm and soft; something that smelled distinctively of the Slayer panting above her.

Her fingers dropped to her side and grazed against the familiar fabric of Giyuu’s haori; his most prized and cherished possession, spread out beneath her to protect her from the cold ground, a makeshift bed against which she would let him take her and make her his.

He withdrew his lips from hers to sit back, his cerulean eyes tracing over every inch of her, from the way her dark hair spread out in a soft halo around her, to the blush staining her cheeks. His eyes darkened as they lowered to her bare chest, at the way it rose and fell jerkily as Y/N struggled to control her breathing.

Giyuu’s long, slim fingers reached out to trace along the top of her scarlet hakama pants, his finger tips just grazing along her ribs and the underside of her breasts.

“I’d never known such -,” He covered his struggle for words by pressing a sweet kiss against the hollow of her throat, a soft gasp escaping the Miko at the unfamiliar sensation. “Such beauty,” Giyuu’s lips trailed down to skirt across the ridge of her collar bone. “Not until I met you.”

His face was against her sternum, pressing kisses as he trailed his lips down her skin. “I am sorry I could not give you more time.” His voice was soft, softer than even she had ever known. Before she could respond, Giyuu’s mouth hesitantly brushed against the stiffened peak of her breast, and Y/N’s mouth fell open with a soft cry.

Azure eyes flashed up to meet hers. “Is this — is this okay?”

The Miko's eyes fluttered shut as she nodded, unable to trust that she could hold her voice steady if she spoke. Her fingers weaved their way through the Pillar’s thick, raven locks, and she grazed her nails against his scalp in encouragement.

Giyuu grunted softly at her touch, and he leaned forward to suck more of her soft mound into his hot mouth, teeth grazing lightly against her nipple as he explored her.

“Oh,” she moaned, her thighs inadvertently pressing together as Giyuu’s tongue and lips worshipped her bared flesh, licking and sucking and nipping at her in his devotion.

“Beautiful,” he murmured against the soft, sensitive skin of her breast. “So very beautiful.”

He repeated the movement again and again before he traced his mouth across her sternum and began lavishing her other breast with the same fervor. Her hands fisted in his hair as she mewled for him, enamored with the feeling of his hot mouth latched around her. He gave her more and yet it was not enough; every pass of his tongue over her stiffened peak only amplified the ache between her legs, only made the emptiness she felt more pronounced.

A breathy, whining and needy moan blew past her lips in time with a reflexive buck of her hips against his.

The ravenette pulled off her breast with a start, his eyes bright and his cheeks flushed as he gazed down at her in awe. “Do that again.”

“W-what —?” She pushed herself up on her elbows to look down at him, her chest heaving.

“Tell me what to do,” Giyuu’s breath was ragged though his fingers continued trailing down her sides, seeking out the ties securing her bottoms around her waist. “Tell me how I might help you make that sound again.”

“I –” Y/N squirmed beneath the intensity of his gaze, her thighs rubbing together to stifle some of the electricity she felt between her legs. “I want you to – I need you closer.”

Her eyes drifted to the bulge that had formed between the Hashira’s thighs, and she felt her heart skip in her chest.

Giyuu pressed his groin against hers and ground. She gasped at the spark of pleasured friction the movement stoked between her thighs, and her eyes flew to meet his, only to see they were as wide as hers.

And just as hungry.

Her hand gently cupped his face. “Closer. Please.”

He pressed his cheek into her palm and with a soft groan, his fingers quickly loosened the fastenings of her bottoms and then he was pushing them down her hips and over her legs, discarding them carelessly to the side. Giyuu sat back on his knees and let his eyes roam her, now fully bare and laid out beneath him.

When his appraisal of her finally reached the thatch of curls between her thighs, the Water Pillar loosed a shaky breath. She had half a mind to cross her legs, to conceal the most intimate part of her body from the raging fire of his gaze as he studied her, but she forced herself to remain relaxed; open.

One, broad and calloused hand stretched tentatively out to run along the outside of her hip and down her leg, before smoothing back up in the inside of her thigh. His eyes flicked once to hers, and then he leaned forward and brushed delicate kisses down her abdomen, over her hip and along her thigh. He continued his descent as he slowly pushed himself back from her, and once he imparted one last, sweet press of his lips against her ankle, he rose.

The flickering light of the lantern cast shadows along the alabaster of his skin, further accentuating how the muscles of his torso and abdomen flexed and shifted as he worked to free himself of the remainder of his clothes. His eyes did not leave hers, not even as his hands found the buckle of his belt and tugged it loose, and Y/N found herself free falling into their depths.

The ravenette dropped his belt to the floor, and then his fingers were at the waistband of his trousers, pulling and fiddling with their fastening. At last, Giyuu freed his lower half from the confines of his uniform pants and stepped out from the puddle they made at his feet.

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat as her eyes raked over his beautiful form, so lean yet solid and muscular. Her cheeks burned with a renewed blush as her gaze followed the small, dark trail of hair beginning just below his navel, and down between his hips, where the evidence of his desire stood proud.

Her throat went dry. He was large — the flared head of his tip nearly grazed his navel, and his width was a little more than two of her fingers. Her thighs clamped together nervously, as she pondered how on earth she’d be able to accommodate him.

Giyuu noticed her hesitation, and a faint dusting of pink spread across his cheeks. “I have never -“

The shrine maiden shook her head. “Nor I,” she whispered, though the knowledge that this was as new to him as it was to her helped ease the clench in her stomach. For all her nervousness, the Miko could not ignore the heat and longing which burned within her as she lifted her eyes back to his. She found her muscles softening as she saw the same fire within those cyan pools she’d come to love. Y/N laid back against the floor — against the comforting soft of his haori, and let body relax, her legs falling open to him.

She held her hand out to him, beckoning, “Come back to me, Giyuu.”

The ravenette did not hesitate as he returned to her, covering her body with his own as he pulled her in for a heated kiss, the weight of his hardened length resting heavily against her hip as he settled between the cradle of her thighs.

Y/N moaned into his mouth, instinctively rolling her hips against him, desperate to feel closer to the man who had claimed her heart before she’d realized anyone was capable of holding it.

Giyuu groaned, softly, against her as she repeated the movement, breaking their kiss to look down at the flushed Miko threatening to drive him wild with her silken touch. As much as he was desperate to feel her — every part of her — he knew what they were about to do would not be nearly as pleasurable for her as it would be for him.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” the Water Pillar’s eyes were stormy, a tempest of competing desire and pain at the idea of causing her even the slightest discomfort raging within him.

Y/N brushed her lips against his once before trailing along his jaw, pausing only to suck softly as the soft spot beneath his ear. “I am only ever undone by you; never hurt.”

He moaned softly, lowering his head back down to reclaim her mouth firmly with his own, his lips beseeching her to let him consume her.

She was only too happy to do so, parting her mouth so that his tongue could slide in and dance languidly with hers, as he reached between them, gripping hold of his aching length and positioning himself at her entrance.

The first brush of his hot, velvety tip against her folds broke their kiss, both gasping at the new yet intoxicating feel of the other’s most intimate area.

Giyuu braced his free arm by her head, his fingers stretching to run comfortingly through her hair, as he pressed his forehead against hers. “If it becomes too much, just tell me, and we can stop.” His voice shook ever so slightly as he waited for her signal, the ache in his groin becoming nearly painful.

The Miko grazed her lips against his throat. “Don’t stop.” She murmured. She hitched her legs higher up on his hips, angling herself so the trembling man above her would have better access to her.

Slowly, so very slowly, the tip of Giyuu’s length began to push into her, and Y/N felt herself temporarily forget how to breathe. Above her, Giyuu’s eyes squeezed shut in a concerted effort not to sheathe himself within her in one stroke.

“Y/N,” Giyuu panted, unable to stop the shaky moan that fell from his lips as he sunk into her warm heat that wrapped tight, so impossibly tight around him.

The shrine maiden winced at the unfamiliar and slightly uncomfortable sensation of being slowly stretched and filled by the Pillar. She felt as though she was a wave, crashing and breaking and parting around a rocky shore with every inch gained by the press of his hips against hers.

Giyuu hardly had a quarter of himself seated within her when he felt his head brush against a thin barrier. His eyes opened to look down at the Miko, panting beneath him, her eyebrows pinched in slight discomfort. When she noticed he’d stopped, she peered up at him through her thick eyelashes, her cheeks flushed.

The hand Giyuu had held at his base to help guide himself within her lifted to grip her hip, her legs relaxing as his fingers massaging soothing circles into her flesh. Giyuu removed his forehead from its resting place against hers and he buried his face into the side of her neck as he pressed his body flush against hers. The hand he’d used to brace himself found hers, and he lifted to rest above her head, his fingers twining tightly with her own.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, pressing a sweet kiss against the shell of his ear. Giyuu nearly shuddered at her words, and he pressed his hips forward, his cock finally breaching that thin, inner barrier to the rest of her welcoming heat.

Y/N cried out at the bright spark of pain that flared through her as Giyuu claimed her as his own, but the Pillar held her steady, pressing open-mouthed kisses against her neck.

A hitched gasp blew past Giyuu’s lips as he became fully seated within her heat, her core gripping him like a vice. He panted against the sweat-dampened skin of her neck as they both adjusted to the sensation, her nails digging harshly into the skin of his back as she waited for the discomfort to subside.

Giyuu pulled his face back to look down at her, the hand he’d had on her hip rising to cup her face as he brushed his lips across her cheeks and eyes.

“My beloved, are you all right?” His breath came hard and fast as he panted, the growing friction between where they were connected becoming hotter, more demanding the longer he remained still.

Y/N’s eyes slowly opened to meet his, he felt her relax as he kissed her, slow and gentle.

Her lips broke from his and she nodded, shakily. “You can move — just hold me. Please.”

Giyuu let his full weight fall against her as he wound an arm tightly around her waist, his other hand tilting her face up so he could kiss her fiercely, eager to show her what she meant to him when his words otherwise failed to do so. As she opened up to him, tongue flicking out shyly along his lip, Giyuu rolled his hips experimentally against hers.

Both the shrine maiden and the Pillar cried out in unison as Giyuu’s movement stoked an intense pleasure where they were joined.

It was like a spark of flame had ignited between her legs before shooting up to her belly, making her insides clench and pulse.

It was addicting, and, judging by the way the raven haired swordsman above her hissed, he’d felt that jolt of electrifying pleasure, too.

“Oh,” Giyuu moaned as he began to move atop her, his cock sliding in and out of her heat as he worked to set a pace. “You feel – this is –” his stutters broke off into ragged pants that melted into broken moans with every movement as he found his rhythm.

The grip he had on her hand tightened as he pulled back from her neck in favor of watching her body jolt and bounce with each of his thrusts.

His head dropped down to study how his length, now coated in something shiny, appeared with every long draw of his hips out before disappearing back into her warmth.

He threw his head back. “Heaven,” the Water Pillar groaned out, a tendon throbbing in his neck as another cracked moan slipped free from his throat. “You are heaven.”

Shallow thrusts turned deeper, more purposeful, as the Water Pillar settled into his tempo. Each push of his hips opened her up more, bit by bit, until Y/N’s limbs liquified and she was left moaning and whimpering in time with his movements.

One particular thrust made her cry out, caused her legs to reflexively tighten around Giyuu’s hips as something hot flared deep within her stomach.

“M-more,” she managed, her voice tapering off with a squeak. She needed to feel that spark again, wanted to feel that jolt of electricity that made her stomach clench. “P-please — ah!— Giyuu —“

With something between a moan and a growl, Giyuu angled himself to thrust deeper, his weight pushing her hips back from the floor. Her legs were forced to hike higher up his waist, her ankles locking instead against the dip in his spine rather than his backside.

The new angle meant that Giyuu was able to hit at a spot that sent a bolt of lightening between her legs, and she could feel herself tighten around him.

The combination of her walls fluttering and pulsing around him and the strange fullness she felt was both overwhelming and exhilarating. She did not think she could stand to feel empty again; to not feel him consuming every inch of her.

Gradually, the small garden hut was filled by the sounds of their pants and moans, weaving together to form the melody of a song meant only for them.

Giyuu began thrusting harder, and soon, a dull clap of skin began to reverberate off the hut’s slatted wood walls, adding a steady beat to the rhythm of their pleasure. Though the air inside the hut had been nearly as frigid as what lay beyond its door, both the Miko and the Slayer found themselves coated in a thin sheen of sweat that made their skin glisten in the faint, orange glow of her lantern.

Above her, the Water Pillar was as lost in his pleasure as she. Guided purely by instinct, Y/N arched her lower back away from the floor until her breasts were flush against his sternum, desperate to feel that jolting spark between her legs.

She felt the walls her of her core clench tighter around Giyuu’s length with her movement, and he answered her with a deep growl as his arm cinched tighter around her waist.

Deep; he was so deep within her, that she wondered whether he might reach her soul before they had to part.

Giyuu’s thrusts quickened, the base of his groin grinding against that sensitive spot between her thighs that had her wanting more as she moaned, her thighs squeezing the Hashira’s hips.

His head was thrown back, his eyes tightly shut as the most beautiful sounds of pleasure Y/N had ever heard poured from Giyuu’s mouth.

“I — fuck.” He growled as one arm tightened around her waist to the point of pain, the other grabbing her hand to bring it to his lips in a futile attempt to stifle the sounds lilting from him like song.

His name fell from her lips like a hallowed oath and Y/N’s legs fell to the side, allowing Giyuu to chase the crescent of his release, as hips pistoned into her with wild abandon.

“Y-Y/N,” her black-haired beauty of a lover grit through clenched teeth, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. “My treasure, I-I’m gonna-“

The Water Pillar buried his face into the side of her neck, cradling his groans into her throat, and Y/N could feel his length twitch within her.

As Giyuu’s hips slammed into her one final time, so to did the realization that she loved this; she wanted always to be this close to him, wanted always to be unable to tell where she ended and he began.

She loved him.

But the bitter truth was that she’d never again get to hold Giyuu the way she was right then, legs wrapped tightly around his waist as she felt something warm gush through her, a pleasured groan, so beautiful and husky tumbling from the Hashira’s lips as he pressed a sweet kiss against her collarbone.

She would not get to love him past this most sacred rite.

If she were honest, she’d likely never again experience this intimacy with anyone, for as long as she lived — for how could anyone else ever possibly compare?

She supposed she’d been doomed to never hold onto the people who were meant to love her since the day she was born. She should’ve known better.

But as the roll of Giyuu’s hips into her heat slowed, and his labored breaths eased, Y/N could not find it within herself to regret it; to regret him.

Because, fool though she was, she loved him.

Giyuu collapsed against her, his face nuzzling into the crook of her neck as he came down from his high, still buried inside her as the two panted.

Her hands moved of their own accord to card through his raven hair, fingertips massaging his scalp as his breathing slowed, his breath adding further moisture to the already sweat-dampened skin of her neck.

She wished they could remain like that always; that the dawn creeping over the horizon would not herald forth the sun, and they could stay on the floor of the garden hut forever, wrapped in one another’s embrace. She desperately wanted to memorize the tempo of his heart as it beat steadily against his chest, the vibrations of which she felt against her ribs. Such a beautiful melody, it was, and yet it filled her with such despair to know she might never again hear its sweet song; that it might cease playing forever, the moment Giyuu resumed being the Water Pillar once more, and walked through the shrine gates for the last time.

But Y/N had never had anyone she could call her own, and as much as she loved the man nuzzling her neck as he whispered sweet nothings against her skin, he’d never been hers to keep.

“My beautiful, beautiful Y/N,” Giyuu murmured, kissing his way up her throat to her lips. “Are you alright?”

She held his lips for a moment before breaking away, letting her eyes roam his face, and she nodded. “Are you?”

To her utter surprise, the Water Pillar chuckled softly, his laugh breathy and his smile heartbreakingly beautiful. “Yes, my treasure. I am more than alright.”

He brushed a kiss against the tip of her nose. “After all, I am with you.”

———-

He’d brought her against his chest and they’d laid there together, simply staring at one another, trading soft kisses as Giyuu traced a finger over every feature of her face at least twice.

If he was to die, he knew his last thoughts would be of her, and he wanted to be sure he’d committed every last detail of her face to memory.

Soon, far too soon, the deep indigo of the night sky was broken by the first, watery rays of morning light, and both the Miko and the Slayer knew their time was up.

The lovers dressed quickly, their backs to one another as both steeled themselves for the goodbye they could no longer avoid.

And now, that time had come. Though it was Giyuu who walked to his likely doom, Y/N felt as if she was embarking on her own death march as the pair drew near the towering Shrine gate. Perhaps she was; after all, he would be taking her heart with him, and she was unlikely to get it back.

Y/N did not know whether to lean in and kiss him, one last time, or whether such a display of affection would only scratch at the gaping, open wounds they now bore on their chests, where their hearts had been.

Giyuu, apparently, did not know what to do either, so the two only stood there beneath the Torii, eyes swimming with emotions neither could bear to voice.

There was a beat, and then the two moved toward one another, drawn together like magnets as they locked themselves in a tight embrace. Giyuu’s hand cupped the back of her skull as Y/N pressed her face hard into his shoulder. Her fingers dug into the fabric of his haori, desperate to keep him rooted to her — to life, safe and away from demons.

But he couldn’t stay; she knew that. And so, with a deep inhale in a desperate attempt to memorize that mahogany and citrus scent of his she so adored, Y/N pulled away. She made to step back from him entirely, to put distance between them, but those warm fingers caught her under her chin, tilting her head up to face him before his hand slid to cup her cheek.

The emotion swimming in the azure depths of his irises threatened to chisel away at the lock she kept on her own. Tears burned in her eyes, but she would not let them fall; she would not make this harder for herself — for him — than it already was.

“If you do not hear from me, leave the mountain. Go to the city, and do not go out at night. Keep your dagger and wisteria on you at all times, even when you sleep,” Giyuu’s eyes were serious, the hand on her face holding her in place. “Live, Y/N. Grow to be an old woman. Die only from age.”

The shrine maiden closed her eyes as she willed herself not to cry. “And if you win?”

Giyuu hesitated for a moment and Y/N knew better than to ask him to make a promise he could not keep.

“Send a crow, if you can.” She whispered, feigning a small smile. “It would be nice to not be afraid to go and gather night-blooming herbs.”

The Water Pillar nodded, his hand smoothing through her hair one last time as his lips pressed against her forehead. “Thank you, Y/N.”

She didn’t need to ask what for.

She hoped she’d never forget the way he said her name; the longing and the breathless passion that dripped from every syllable, and the way it sent shivers down her spine.

Giyuu broke away from her and set off towards the east. Y/N watched until he was nothing more than a speck on the horizon, before he disappeared entirely.

He did not look back.

————————

He hadn’t trusted himself to look back at her, though every fiber of his being had screamed at him to turn around and behold her beauty one last time. But the Shrine Maiden had become his largest weakness, and Giyuu knew if he’d looked back, he would never make it back to his estate; to the Corps.

And if you win? She’d asked him, and he hadn’t been able to form the words of the answer he’d so desperately wanted to give her.

Because while Giyuu Tomioka never made promises he couldn’t keep, that did not mean he didn’t hope. Right then, more than anything, his greatest desire was to win this war; win it, and come back and tell Y/N that she no longer needed to fear the night.

In any other life — if Giyuu had been any other man — there would be no question as to who he’d choose to spend the rest of his days with.

And so, Giyuu thought as he forced himself to march forward, his eyes burning, if he made it out of this war alive, he would go back to the Shrine and tell Y/N of their victory himself.

And perhaps she’d then allow him to make her his wife.

Keep an eye out for Part II to see if Giyuu comes back and makes good on his promise!

COMMENTS, REBLOGS, AND LIKES ALWAYS APPRECIATED!

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #giyuu tomioka #kny #kny x reader #giyuu x reader #kny giyuu #kny fanfic #demon slayer fanfic #kny smut #demon slayer smut #demon slayer giyuu #kny tomioka #tomioka giyu x reader #tomioka giyū #hashira #kny hashira #giyu tomioka #giyuu

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sixosix · 9 months

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SLEIGHT OF HAND | LYNEY

summary you will not let lyney get to you. unfortunately, lyney already got to you the moment you met eyes. after all, what is a magician if not an expert in stealing hearts?

or, local sumeru architect goes to fontaine looking for inspiration and comes out of it with three rainbow roses and a crushing magician.

warnings 13+, gn!reader, follows the fontaine archon quest, so there are major spoilers throughout the entire fic! MURDER (lyney trial spoilers) + feminine french pet names ough + bff!Aether loml + sweet talker lyney + KISS SCENE (suggestive)

notes 8K words. thank u to my french bff art @aanobrain who said lyney is a magician he would say mon lapin 🤧❤️ + other various french pet names. thank u to ellie hyomagiri & earthtooz too for hyping this up, my supporters…

“500,000!?”

Sumeru streets are always bustling with its people—from children skipping around the neighborhood to frantic scholars who zip back and forth before returning to their homes when the moon is high. However, the sun is beating down on everyone right now: street vendors are making a profit, dogs are barking as they play fetch with laughing children, and you stand across the blond traveler and his floating companion.

You wince at the volume of Paimon’s shrill voice, inciting bypassers to send miffed glances your way. Embarrassed, you cover the side of your face with a hand, whispering, “Is—is that not enough? I can—”

“No, no, it’s not that!” Paimon’s arms flail around, eyes blown comically wide. “It’s just, you know, more than what we earn from our daily commissions combined!”

“Oh, I see.” you nod, relieved. “Well, I can lower—”

“No, no, no, no,” Paimon interjects hurriedly, and even the traveler shakes his head. “Pleasure to do business with you! Paimon and Aether, at your service!”

“Really?” you can’t believe your luck—the traveler himself agreed to escort you to Fontaine! Or does it count if Paimon agrees on his behalf? “That's a relief. Even Katheryne of the guild had a strange expression when I posted my commission.”

“It’s probably because of the amount of zeroes you might’ve accidentally put,” Paimon murmurs.

Aether tugs on her foot as if warning her. “We'll be leaving soon. Are you prepared?”

“Oh, yes. My stuff’s over there by the bench, you see?”

Aether and Paimon’s faces simultaneously fall. “All of that?” Paimon starts counting it, gaping when she has four little fingers held up.

They sure complain a lot. “You can still back out.”

Aether takes a deep breath, making his way over to your luggage. When he brushes past, you hear him chanting 500,000; 500,000; 500,000 under his breath. He wordlessly carries all of them, his chest puffed and expression grave.

“They’re heavier than I thought,” Aether wheezes out as Paimon flits worriedly around him. “How long are you going to be staying in Fontaine?”

“Oh, just a day or two, maybe,” you say, taking pity and taking one bag from him. “Most of what’s inside are art supplies.”

“Ah,” Aether says.

“500,000,” Paimon reminds him.

“We’re close,” Paimon says, flying back to where you and Aether are still walking behind, him heaving and you offering water now and then. “I saw a huge ravine-looking view! It was like a city on a waterfall!”

“R-Really?” Aether puffs out a breath, sweat rolling off his temple.

You tried prying some of your bags away from him when it seemed like there were monsters up ahead, but he refused instead to fight them with one hand on his sword. He still won. You guessed that he was trying to make traveling easier for you, yet all you felt was immense worry.

“Are you feeling okay, Y/N?” Paimon asks, floating beside you. “You look unwell.” You should ask your companion that, instead.

“I’m a bit nervous. After all, it’s my first time traveling outside of Sumeru.” You smile, patting her head. She doesn’t seem to mind, beaming back. “But I need to get out of my comfort zone to be better, right?”

“That's right! Paimon has a feeling you’ll enjoy Fontaine!” You and Paimon glance at Aether when he heaves a heavy breath, yet he only waves the pair of you off with his free hand. “Before you know it, you’ll be itching to travel again once you’re back in Sumeru.”

“I'm only there for work. I just need to learn a lot, and then I'll enjoy it.”

“Still a student through and through, huh…”

“I can see it,” Aether chimes in, looking all too relieved to rest his arm finally. “I can see Fontaine up ahead.”

You feel the cool breeze brush against your face, a refreshing change from the past hours you and the other two have been trudging through the desert. You could strip off layers and dive if you could. You can make out the harbor even miles away, pouring water out like an endless waterfall stretching for miles.

Arriving in Fontaine is introducing yourself to the rustle of layered skirts, the water-kissed smell, and citizens left and right babbling about tragic endings and thrilling climaxes.

Aether sets your bags on the floor with a heavy exhale. Paimon feeds him with another jug of water.

“I guess we’re here now.” You pull out a heavy pouch you’ve been keeping in one of the bags Aether had been holding over his shoulder. Paimon takes it with greedy, greedy hands. “Thank you for keeping me safe and carrying my luggage, Traveler— are you even listening to me?”

“There’s a girl over there,” Aether says, now staring ahead.

You and Paimon turn to look; sure enough, someone is standing by the edge, looking forlornly over the water. Half of her foot is off the platform, making Paimon fidget.

She gasps. “She isn’t going to jump into the water, is she? Maybe we should go check on her…”

Halfway through Paimon’s sentence, you gathered the courage to speak to the girl with the cat ears.

“Hey, miss.” Her ear twitches. “Is something the matter?”

She turns, looking faintly surprised. If you weren’t so close to her, you wouldn’t have been able to tell there was a change in her expression. “I'm fine. thank you.”

“Oh.” Now things are a little awkward. “Is there something in the water you’re looking at? You might slip if you keep tipping forward.”

She peers below, unworried—silent.

“As long as you’re okay, I guess,” you sigh, awkwardly hovering above her shoulder when realizing it might come off strange if you touch her. “I’ll leave you be.”

Her lips twitch, something close to a smile. You don’t stick long enough to admire it, heading back to Aether and Paimon and shrugging at their inquisitive looks. “She says she’s fine.”

“I think it’s time for me to separate,” you say. “I want to take all of it in as much as possible. Paimon has my payment. Thank you both so much for keeping me safe.” Mostly Aether, though. But Paimon was there, emotionally.

“It’s no problem,” Aether says, his smile warmer than when you first met him. “Stay safe out there. You can look for us if you need anything else.”

“I don’t always pay 500,000 for each of my commissions.”

Paimon wilts. Aether flushes, stammering, “Not what I meant.” You laugh heartily as they wave when you walk off to the aquabus, hopefully, prepared for what Fontaine will give you.

Your sketchbook is a page away from completion when you hear about a magic show at the Opera House. Not that it was hard to miss—everyone and their grandmothers were prattling about nothing else but the entire day.

Fontaine is known for its love for dramatics, but the twins they keep mentioning must be a one-of-a-kind spectacle to have half their region’s population speak about them so reverently.

After wandering for hours, taking in the endless sights of fresh water streaming and grand castle-like modern buildings, you find yourself in the Fountain of Lucine. You’ve heard of Fontaine being somewhat titled the ‘City of Love,’ but seeing couples surrounding each nook and cranny of the tourist spots was still astonishing.

(You console yourself by thinking that there’s something romantic in sketching frantically while the rest of the crowd are sucking faces.)

To your luck, you spot three familiar heads in the fountain plaza.

Aether senses you before you can even say anything, glancing to the side and smiling when you wave at him.

Paimon flutters excitedly. “Y/N! We didn’t think we’d see you again this early. You look like you’re glowing.”

“Was it that obvious?” you laugh sheepishly. “Fontaine is beautiful; I couldn’t even stick too long in one place before I see something else that catches my attention.” You look to the girl you met earlier, who nods politely. “Hello. Are you three acquainted now?”

“Mhm!” Paimon says, hands on her hips. “This is Lynette! She’s inviting us to the show they’re holding here!” She gasps, “Speaking of—”

“Ah,” Lynette says quietly, “I couldn’t get an extra ticket. I’m sorry.”

Lynette is the magician you keep hearing about? With her seemingly reserved personality, you wouldn’t have guessed it. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Paimon,” Aether speaks up. “They gave you your ticket, right? Why don’t you just float next to me or sit on my lap?”

Paimon’s eyes sparkle. “Great idea! That way, I can give my seat to Y/N, right?”

“You guys…” Your chest feels warm as Aether hands you one of the two tickets in his hand. “You really didn’t have to.” Is this what 500,00 gets you? The loyal companionship of Aether and Paimon?

“It’s a good idea,” Lynette says. “My brother wouldn’t want you to miss the show. He’d be devastated.”

“If you insist, then I suppose I can’t refuse.” Aether and Paimon do a cute little cheer. “But I need to return to the hotel; I can’t be watching a magic show carrying all these.” Surely Aether can understand.

Later, with your hands finally empty and charcoal-free, you rush back to the Opera Epiclese, the person standing guard kind enough to open the doors despite being a minute late.

“Welcome, one and all, to the Opera Epiclese!” The audience roars with cheers as the spotlight illuminates a figure on the center of the stage. You hurry to your seats, brushing past Aether and Paimon. “I am the star of today’s show, Lyney.”

Lyney bows, then stands upright with a Cheshire cat grin.

The thunder of the crowd’s applause is deafening. If you weren’t able to see it, you’d think that you hadn’t been clapping at all—senses numbed and your fixed stare all on the boy on the stage.

Your eyes catch on the small braid on the side of his head before the gleam of his eyes hypnotizes you.

He’s handsome, you think dizzily at the back of your head.

“Don’t blink,” he says, his voice lower as if meant to be a whisper, “or else you might miss it.”

The show proceeds. A dove soars away from inside as he flips his hat; you flush at hearing the soft laughter that slips from him after. The cards that materialize out of nowhere descend to the floor. His fingers shuffle the cards while talking to keep the audience satiated; they fly off his hands, yet he doesn’t lose focus, stretching them mid-air with a sleight of hand. They fall apart and come together neatly and precisely.

His stage presence is demanding. It would be as if Lady Furina herself would accuse you of committing a crime if you were to look away for even a second.

Then, when he scans the crowd, busy twirling his cards in his fingers, his gaze catches your awed ones.

Something in the air shifts. Or maybe it’s that it slows.

A card slips from his grasp. A mistake. He blinks and breaks eye contact, laughing heartily to play it off. But you don’t believe it—not when you swore your limbs locked in place as well when lilac drilled into your soul.

You breathe, hands bracing against your chest. What was that?

You would’ve played it off as something you imagined if not for Lyney continuing to glance at you occasionally. His slip-up had been forgotten, as though it was all part of the show.

(Is it also part of the show when it seems he’s unable to tear his eyes off of you?)

Of course, the twins prove their worth. They showed you exactly why the people of Fontaine adore watching them through theatrical magic, cards in their sleeves, and defying logic.

You’ve shuffled to the edge of your seat as Lynette disperses into bubbles and comes back alive. You’ve held your breath as Lyney emerges from the box across he was in a moment earlier.

You’ve also been witness to the murder of Cowell.

CRASH.

The shatter of glass resounded along with the horrified gasps of the audience. Sickeningly enough, you could almost hear the crack of bones if you hadn’t been crying out in alarm. Yet, as they gape and shriek over the sight of a limp arm popping out, you find your gaze tracing back to Lyney, who stands motionless in front of the box.

When Lady Furina points fingers and has everyone siding against him, the guards escort the audience from the Opera House. All evidence presented left Lyney in a spotlight unlike his performance: with a disgusted and unamused crowd. Even you have to agree that it isn’t looking well for his case at all.

Yet all you can think of as you leave the room is that Lyney looked as terrified as everyone else was—much too raw of an expression for someone to accuse him of anything at all. He looked young and scared.

(His hands were shaking.)

The rest of your Fontaine trip is admittedly duller when you’re a little more familiar with its city and don’t have a yapping little fairy and a capable Traveler by your side. It’s hard not to hear chatter about the events that went down: Lyney’s trial, Aether volunteering to be his lawyer, and the truth behind the real murderer.

It solved a case beyond the murder of Cowell. Fontaine sure has its mysteries, and the crowd sure loves them as they would a magic show.

You keep your hands busy. Last night, you found yourself thinking back to the magic show, to deft fingers weaving through cards, to violet eyes that kept on flickering to you. By the time you snap back to reality, you’ve subconsciously drawn shapes and lines that suspiciously look like the magician himself: the curve of a smile, piercing eyes, and you entranced by it all.

Flustered, you crumple his face staring back at you out of sight. Yet you can’t bring yourself to throw it away.

You shove the last bit of garlic baguette in your mouth to furiously bat these unwanted thoughts away.

“Isn’t that Y/N?” Paimon’s voice is unmistakable, a short distance off.

You jump out of your skin, spinning to see Aether and Paimon waving and walking over to you. You thought they'd already left Fontaine after that; you wouldn’t blame them if they did.

“Y/N! We haven’t seen you since the Opera House performance,” Paimon exclaims, twirling around your head like a thrilled fly circling a trash can.

You hold onto her back, hoping she’ll stop making you dizzy. “We were escorted out before I could say goodbye. I couldn’t watch the court trial but heard it all turned out fine.”

“That’s right!” Paimon nods proudly. “Paimon helped a ton during it; you should’ve seen it! What have you been doing?”

“I found a fellow architect while visiting the cafe nearby, and we chatted for hours,” you say, remembering that your voice is hoarse for that reason. You also don’t tell them you couldn’t get a certain magician off your mind. “I learned a lot. I don’t regret coming here one bit.”

Paimon says something else that you’re sure you’ve nodded absentmindedly at while your gaze wanders over to the two familiar people a few feet behind, watching you three with cat-like eyes—and it’s not just because of Lynette’s unique features.

“Those are the magicians, right?” you gesture behind Paimon and Aether as if you haven’t already familiarized yourself with their faces.

Paimon nods. “Uh-huh. You should introduce yourself! They look like they want to talk.”

Something about that feels foreboding. “Um, no, it’s fine. I don’t want to be rude and interrupt your conversation.”

“No,” Aether says firmly. He seldom speaks; you might as well play along if he says so. “Besides, Paimon is right. Lyney wants to talk to you, you know?”

“Oh, yeah! He kept mentioning seeing someone sitting beside us! And it couldn’t have been Neuvillette because he said it was an unfamiliar beauty that bewitched this weak magician’s heart.” Paimon nods, even recalling how he’s enunciated each syllable theatrically.

“I’m sorry?” you blurt. “Lyney recognizes me? What did I do?”

“Paimon thinks it’s because Lyney is curious about who Lynette met! He was like that with us, too.” Paimon changes her pitch to match Lyney’s. “Are these your friends, Lynette?”

Aether’s eyes feel like they know something you don’t. “It won’t hurt to strike up a conversation with Lyney. He’s been shaken up since the trial.”

There’s something unspoken hidden in his words. “What does that mean?”

Paimon doesn’t wait for an answer, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you to where the twins are waiting. Aether chuckles as he jogs behind.

“Paimon, Aether,” Lyney says, almost sly, “You haven’t introduced us to your friend here.”

“Paimon can do it!” She floats on top of your head and does a bit of jazz hands. “This is Y/N, the one who commissioned us to escort them from Sumeru up to Fontaine.”

“Generously,” Aether adds.

It’s a little embarrassing to have the legendary Traveler and Paimon introduce little old you to a famous magician such as himself, but his grin is still excited.

“From Sumeru?” Lyney repeats, smiling wider when you nod—as if that crumb of attention is enough for him. “I see.”

He performs a bow around the same height as where your hands rest; he takes one, kisses the back of your palm, and smiles against your skin. “I’m Lyney, and she is my sister, Lynette.”

“It’s nice to see you again.” You smile at Lynette, who nods in return. Lyney straightens to look at his sister.

“We met when the Traveler and Paimon just arrived at the harbor,” Lynette sighs even without looking at her brother.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say, meeting Lyney’s eyes. The spot where he kissed is still warm—tingling. “Your show was incredible, despite what happened. I’m glad that the truth revealed itself.”

“Thank you.” Lyney’s gaze sharpens. “I saw you at the performance, yes. I was worried for a second you might steal the show if you were to come up on stage.”

You blink. “Are you saying—”

Lyney grins, “I apologize that the night had to end that way; it must’ve been horrifying. Say, what if I give you a little show right now to make it up to you?” Did he make it up to each one of his audience, too?

This is not a man acting “shaken up,” as Aether put it.

“You really don’t have to.” You glance at Aether and Paimon, silently asking for help; however, they’re too far gone, urging you to say yes with gestures and encouraging nods.

Lyney tilts his head, demanding your attention on him once more.

You sigh. “I would love to see it if you don’t mind.”

“Of course!” Lyney looks like he’s the sun bursting personified. “It would be a pleasure, ma chérie. Not to worry, it’s nothing life-threatening. I just need you to focus on me.”

Not that it’s hard. The others have become a dull buzz in your mind as Lyney holds your gaze. “Okay.”

Lyney smiles, much softer, satisfied. “Good. Now,” he tips his hat, “recently, I’ve received a little lesson from someone about the language of flowers. Are you familiar with them?”

“Not in Fontaine, no,” you mumble, watching his hands closely. You were expecting a rabbit to hop out of that hat any second now.

“Shame. But I suppose I wouldn’t want to spoil the fun.” Lyney snaps his finger, then deposits his hand inside his hat. “Hmm… Oh? Something’s not quite right. Would you mind looking into this hat for me to see if the flower is here?”

You hesitate. The hat is so close to him.

Swallowing, you nod, leaning in to inspect his hat at a careful pace. All you can sense is the faint scent of heat Lyney is emanating, the breath you two share, and the pounding of your chest. You swear you could also hear his, matching yours.

“The hat’s empty.”

Lyney smiles wider. “Yes, perhaps because you already have it.”

You jump back in surprise, your hands patting your body to see where he could have snuck the flower in. With your frantic movement, the flower falls off from what seems to have come from your head—Lyney catches it.

His mouth carves into a smirk, leaning to invade your personal space, his free hand coming up to tuck hair behind your ear. “Careful.”

Your face is burning. Plucking the flower out, the delicate and tender pink sears into your palm. “What does this flower mean?”

“What does it, I wonder?” Lyney whispers thoughtfully. “I suppose you’ll have to tell me once you find out.”

And when he inclines backward, it feels like you can breathe again. Time flows normally, and the people passing by seem much louder than before—as though you’ve surfaced from underwater.

Lyney clears his throat. “Shame I haven’t prepared myself a grand show for you, but I suppose that would call for another time, wouldn’t it?”

Lynette is looking at Lyney as if he is stupidly amusing.

“Thank you,” you say, burning, burning. “For the show, I mean.”

“That was a little weird,” Paimon whispers to Aether, but she is terrible with keeping volume and has everyone turning to her with varying expressions. “P-Paimon means that was good! Wow, Lyney! Isn’t that a different flower you gave us? That’s the flower Charlotte was talking about, right?”

“Rainbow rose?” Aether supplies.

“Yes! It means—”

“Ahem.” Lyney is quick to interrupt. “Lynette and I must take our leave now, if you don’t mind. It was fun catching up with you two.” You have to hold your ground and not look away when he hones in on your figure. “And it’s a pleasure meeting you. Don’t be a stranger. Look for me if you want more.”

His smile is a little devilish, you now realize.

“Bye,” Lynette says blankly, following after her brother, who seemed to be hurrying to exit.

His ears were red.

“You’re still staring.”

“I am not,” you rebuke hotly, flailing to cover Aether’s mouth with your hands. Yet all it does is bring your attention back to where Paimon and Aether are staring—the rainbow rose on your person.

Paimon and Aether yelp when you drag them away despite Lyney having already left the scene.

“Hey—! Don’t just go dragging Paimon around like a balloon like that! Did Lyney get to your head that much?”

“He did not.”

Paimon tilts her head, frowning. You shy away from her worried gaze, glaring at the flower instead. You still don’t know how Lyney managed to get it there; you hold it to your chest, where your heart is racing miles per minute because of his stupidly smug smile.

“What does this flower mean, Paimon?”

Paimon seems elated to be of help. “Easy! Charlotte told us that Rainbow Roses mean ‘passion’ and most notably ‘romantic encounters’!”

“Passion,” you curse. The rose seems as if it is staring back innocently, unknowing of the turmoil you’re going through because of it. “Romantic encounters.’ ugh.”

You can still remember how Lyney’s eyes twinkled as you felt his breath against your face.

“Ooh, he thinks he can trick me. He thinks he can affect me just because it pleases him to do so. I’ll show him. I’ll show him! I am not a blushing maiden!”

“You’re already very affected by this,” Paimon says, yet it’s lost by your newfound determination. Two can play at this game.

You’ve definitely been staying in Fontaine longer than what you told Aether and Paimon, but you can’t leave yet. Not when you found yourself walking to a flower shop to purchase a vase, fiercely digging through soil, turning gentle when your fingers reach for the Rainbow Rose. Not when you see it in the corner of your eyes as you try to sleep, and you find yourself daydreaming about a charming violet-eyed virtuoso.

It’s for research, you excused lamely at the hotelkeeper who didn’t ask why you’re extending your stay. In truth, not that you’d tell anyone. It was because you were hoping for another grand show from him. A farewell show for you—closure.

If you were to travel back home and get too drunk to think straight, Kaveh would learn about your crisis (romantic awakening?) and laugh at your face.

In hopes of looking for your Fontaine architect friend, you spot Lyney instead, on the side of the street surrounded by cheering kids. They clap and jump, and Lyney laughs. “One more, one more!”

“Again?” Lyney does an exaggerated sigh. “I’m starting to run out of cards in my sleeves. I’ve guessed my entire deck from your hands by this point!”

“But, Mr. Magician,” one of them whines, pouting up at him and blinking, “we want to see more! We want to know how you do it!”

“Alright, how about this, hm?” And then Lyney peers right at you. Ironically, you’re the one startled when you’ve been watching that entire spiel, and he hasn’t acknowledged your presence beforehand. “Y/N, would you mind giving these children a little show with me?” He gestures for you to come closer.

“What show?” you ask suspiciously, taking slow steps in case he pulls out another flower out of nowhere.

“You don’t have to worry,” Lyney laughs. “Will you be my assistant for this show? You are very familiar with this trick.”

“Please, we want to see!”

You falter at the little kids’ excited grins, especially when paired with Lyney’s pout and round eyes. “Okay, tell me what to do.”

His eyes do the little gleam again. “Stand in front of me, mon lapin.”

Your heart is skipping beat after beat, making itself known as you shuffle until Lyney is directly behind you.

“Relax, chérie, you just need to stand still.” It’s a little hard to relax when you feel his breath against the back of your neck, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting that, so you keep your chin high and relax your shoulders. “Good.”

He begins to speak louder to his awaiting audience. “I know it’s hard to keep your eyes off this beauty before me, but watch the hat for a surprise, alright?”

He flips it for his little audience, one hand resting on your waist and the other extended to hold his top hat. The proximity is almost suffocating. You watch with bated breath, and they complain about it being empty.

“Oh, is it?” Lyney hums, twirling the hat until it’s flipped upside down, presented right before you. “Perhaps I need my assistant’s help.” You snap out of your daze when you realize he’s talking to you. “Y/N, do me a favor and show them the flower inside.”

You reach inside the hat and, much to your surprise, feel a stem. You pull it out; the Rainbow Rose stares back at you, almost mocking you, saying he did pull out a flower out of nowhere. It's this trick again.

The kids gasp in awe and confusion—it’s all the same for Lyney, who snaps his fingers and creates magic like he was made to. Like magic was for him to summon with his hands.

“What? It was empty!”

“Where did that come from? I was watching Mister Magician’s hands the whole time!”

“Are you a magician, too?”

“No,” you say lamely, holding the rose, feeling Lyney still patiently standing behind you. Heat crawls up your neck. “No, I’m not. It’s all Lyney.”

“It’s all me,” Lyney echoes in amusement. “You’re quite magical yourself.” Finally, he spares you, pulling away to stand beside your figure. He doesn’t take the rose back—maybe even give it to one of the children. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “That’s enough for today. The sun is setting, and your parents might get worried.”

They pout and slump their shoulders, but Lyney has this older brother's sternness to him that has the children scurrying back home anyway.

You then realize having to stand in front of Lyney was unnecessary.

The flower is warm. Lyney’s eyes slip to yours.

“I didn’t even have to stand in front of you like that,” you complain, heart inclined to race off your body.

“Yes, but I feared that I would slip up again if I were to catch a glimpse of your face,” Lyney admits smoothly. His lips curl into a smirk when you stare wordlessly. “What? Don’t believe me? I had to improvise when I saw you watching from afar.”

“A great magician such as yourself? Making a mistake? I doubt it.”

“You already have such high expectations placed on me, chérie,” Lyney says, his smile easy, but his ears are a little red, poking out from his hair. “That’s no good. With no audience, I’m just plain ‘Lyney’ to you.”

“No trickery? No cards up your sleeves?” you play along.

Lyney doesn’t miss a beat. “No, though I do have a few more roses begging to be held by your hands.”

“They can keep begging.” Lyney grins wider when you glance down at his hands. “Do you give them off to everyone you meet?”

“Who do you take me for?” Lyney isn’t offended; he laughs, delighted. He is preening under the sunset—or maybe it’s your attention. “Of course not. At least, not like this.”

You stare, unimpressed. “Sure.”

“So cold, chérie,” Lyney sighs, plucking the stem from your fingers to slot it behind your ear. It seems he likes doing that. “Here I am, trying to get you to warm up to me, and you treat me like this.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll be going back home soon anyway.”

Lyney’s expression shifts into something more unrecognizable, his eyes dipping down to somewhere below your nose. “Oh. Avoiding attachment?”

You nod.

He grins, and he’s still so close. He knows how to entrance his audience, pulling you in until you forget to resist. Always watch the hands; yet Lyney could be digging a dagger to your side at this moment, and you wouldn’t even notice.

“I’m flattered you even want to avoid me because you know you’d get attached,” he purrs, tilting his head. Is Lyney just big on personal space?

“Don’t assume,” you retort. “I know how guys like you think. Even a magician as great as yourself can’t trick someone who’s already seen through it.”

“It would be easier if it were just a trick, wouldn’t it?” Lyney sighs, much to your confusion. “I take it that someone has told you what this flower means?”

You’ve nearly forgotten all about it. “Yes.” You find yourself unable to look directly into his eyes. “I know.”

But even with that, you can still feel his heavy gaze, pinning you down and threatening the strength of your knees. You suppose it comes with being a performer—watching his audience carefully, pinpointing each micro expression to say the right words.

“There doesn’t have to be any attachments.”

“What are you trying to say right now?”

Lyney’s reaches for your hip, sharing your gaze like he doesn’t know how to do anything else. “That you enamor me. That I am holding back from wanting you. I know you feel the same—you can never hide anything from a magician. But if you’re concerned,” he mumbles, “then this doesn’t have to mean anything. You may call it infatuation.”

You want to laugh. Or maybe you want to cry. Most of all, you want to nod helplessly, wrap your arms around his neck, and give in. It’s hard not to when he looks at you like that. “You want me that bad?”

“I almost want to disagree.”

“Almost?” Lyney gets closer, and you stop him with a palm on his chest. “We’re outside.”

Lyney grins. “Have you forgotten what Fontaine is also known for? No one would bat an eye. Love is in the air, and all that.”

“Absolutely not.”

“So still you’re letting me?”

You laugh this time. Letting him, as if you aren’t the one itching to pull him close and find out what he’s like behind the curtains. “Are you asking me as plain old ‘Lyney?’”

Lyney brightens, clearly pleased there wasn’t a ‘no’. “Yes.”

“No tricks?”

“No tricks. No strings.”

You let him lead you away into some dark alleyway. He kisses you like he was longing to do so all his life. You have only met him that fateful day, not even a week ago. But you claw at him like you get it—like he’s ruined you for anyone else the moment you shared gazes in the Opera House.

Romantic encounters, you quietly recall as Lyney swipes a thumb over your aching bottom lip.

You don’t see Lyney the day after that. And for some reason, it makes the itch worse. (Perhaps it’s because you’ve gotten a taste and can’t get enough.)

It’s mostly your fault, the sudden disappearance—you’ve cooped yourself up in the hotel room, buried your face in pillows, and screamed. You berate yourself for giving in, but another part of you—one that’s louder than any other thought in your head—wants to do it again. Wants to hold his handsome face in your hands and have him kiss you breathless. That was nothing like you had ever felt before.

You groan. It’s another new day. You might as well make some progress with your portfolio.

There’s a Café you’ve been visiting more often than not. Ordering a drink and spending a good chunk of your day sketching the view. Instead, you find yourself staring at Aether, Paimon, and Lynette seated at one of the tables.

Lynette’s eyes flick up to yours as she sips tea. She murmurs something to the other two, and you watch with amusement as Aether and Paimon’s heads snap to face you.

You let your gaze wander, eventually landing on Lyney, who is reciting his order with his charming-act-on smile, who is present because of course he is. You want to turn and run away, but that’d be letting Lyney win, and you’re nothing if not stubborn and prideful.

“Y/N!” Paimon greets once you’re within earshot, kicking her feet happily. “Good morning! What are you doing here?”

“Breakfast,” you reply, waving at them. Aether pulls a chair from the other table and gestures for you to sit. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Nope!” Paimon swipes a fork from the table and digs in on the Ile Flottante, leaving nothing for Aether. “Lynette and Lyney told us about another show they’re holding to make up for the previous one.”

“Mouth full,” Aether reminds her, a little too late as the Ile Flottante spews from her mouth.

“Really now? Maybe I can pay properly for a ticket this time,” you laugh, nodding at Lynette. She smiles faintly, hiding it behind the rim of her cup. Lynette sure is the polar opposite of her twin brother.

A shadow looms from behind, the silhouette of a figure with an unmistakable top hat. You tilt your chin and see Lyney peering down at you with a sweet smile. You will yourself to keep your gaze focused on his eyes only and nowhere else below the nose.

Speak of the devil…

“Sweetheart,” Lyney says instead of exchanging pleasantries like a normal person.

“Lyney,” you reply in kind. Then you look away upon realizing that Aether, Paimon, and Lynette had been silently watching the exchange with muted, stunned expressions.

Lyney, holding a tray of drinks and food in both hands, scoots the chair next to yours with his ankle. “I wasn’t informed that Y/N would be joining us,” he says, setting the drinks and plates down like a waiter with a flourish. “You can drink mine. Let me order another.”

You hold onto his wrist as he makes his way back. He turns to you, surprised. “Let me at least pay for my own breakfast.”

Lyney grins, delicately withdrawing from your grip. He places a loud kiss on your hand. “Don’t worry about it.” And then leaves, because he can’t take no for an answer.

“Is it just me,” Paimon starts as you resign yourself to finishing Lyney’s drink (It’s your favorite, the one you always order), “or is Lyney acting weird around Y/N?”

Aether laughs. “There's definitely something going on. Don’t end up staying too long in Fontaine, now. What was it you told us? ‘A day or two’.”

You huff, your face turning unbearably warm. “Shut up, you two. I am here to do research, not to find a summer fling.” You’ve already failed, but they don’t need to know about that.

If you were to touch your lips with your fingers, you’d think of no one else but Lyney’s hands on your hips and his mouth swallowing your words.

Lynette clears her throat, a quiet but noticeable thing. “Don’t be fooled by my brother, Y/N.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m still keeping my safe distance.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not what I mean. Don’t be fooled by my brother.” She stares at you from the rim of her cup—something about that has you listening obediently. “No matter what he tells you, he always cares too much. No matter what you may think, he always gets hurt first.”

“That’s not…” You can’t imagine that. From the start, it’s always felt like he was the one who could do what he wanted.

No tricks.

Lynette is his twin, after all. She knows him best.

No strings.

Defeated, you sip on the straw with the same fervor of an aggravated hilichurl, and that’s the end of that.

Conversations during breakfast are much lighter when Lyney returns with a full meal as his treat. Celebration, he says. Celebration for what? Who knows? Lyney winked, but his glance directed to you said enough.

“You say that you don’t want to get attached, but you’re awfully close to the Traveler, of all people,” Lyney says offhandedly once the others have left for their own matters.

You lean against your seat, grinning. “Are you jealous?”

He doesn’t say anything, instead upturning his nose as if scrambling to regain control. You laugh, oddly endeared. Lyney turns his head away, trying to hide the smile that curls his lips upon hearing it.

“Hey,” Lyney says seriously, reaching for your hand. “Where have you been yesterday?”

“Why? Missed me?”

And because he’s Lyney, he takes his time kissing each of your knuckles. It’s more intimate than the whole ‘no strings’ arrangement you agreed on, but you suppose Lyney thinks that any physical attention is free reign. “What would you do if I said yes?”

“You’ll be fine,” you say slyly. “You’ll have to get used to it if you want to risk your heart just to get laid.”

He rolls his eyes, tugging you closer. “I’m not risking anything to get laid. Do you think so lowly of yourself, chérie?”

“Isn’t this all there is to it? Physical attraction,” you ask, genuinely confused.

Lyney blinks. “Of course, but—” His eyes flicker down, and his words trail off.

When you speak, you feel your breath bounce back from his skin—a testament to your proximity. “Lyney,” you whisper. For what? Urging him to continue? Urging him to close this distance? You’re not sure, either.

You have so much to ask. What do you mean? Why can’t you finish your sentence? Why don’t you just kiss me already? But it’s hard to speak; Lyney’s name is all you can think of.

You whisper his name again. His grip on your hands tightens and loosens, a frustrated frown creeping up his brows.

Your hand shoots out to reach for the back of his head and give in. He flinches for a second before relaxing completely.

His lips almost taste sweeter than his words. Almost as sweet as how he finds purchase on your waist and holds your chin during every kiss.

You pull away to breathe, missing how he leans closer to chase after you and pouting when he can’t. “Yeah. That—That didn’t have to mean anything. I just wanted to know what it felt like again.”

“Yeah.” Lyney licks his lips, his gaze unable to tear away from where yours are swollen. “Yeah, I know. You taste like my drink.”

Really, no one’s surprised you gravitate towards each other again, feeling like you’re soaring and melting into a puddle at the same time. Lyney doesn’t touch you where you both know would cross the line, but he grips near possessively to what he can, as if breathing you in and worshipping your skin.

You know after this, he’d go back on stage, fooling his audience with what’s invisible to the average eye, as if this never happened. You know this because this is your deal: satiate the feverish attraction you have with each other and leave once you’re satisfied. (But you also know that you’ll be thinking of his touch and his lips while you stare at the vase beside your bed.)

Lyney is a magician, first and foremost.

He hooks you in, and keeps all your attention to himself like he’d die without it. Then he disappears with a snap of a finger. He’s finished his trick, leaving you befuddled in your seat with more questions than answers.

As you drift off to sleep, all you can think of is that there are two roses now.

“Brother.”

Lyney looks up from where he’d been entertaining Rosseland, seeing Lynette with a stern face. “What? What happened?”

Her tail flicks. “You said you weren’t going to get attached.”

Lyney exhales softly, his eyes slipping shut. “I’m not.”

Lynette finds herself smiling softly. “I may just be your assistant, but you can’t lie to your own twin.”

He buries his face in his hands. With his sight gone, images of your face while whispering his name flash in his mind. His eyes fly open, mortified, his whole face red. “I don’t know how it happened. I didn’t think it’d be deeper than that.”

He was the magician in this, but it felt as if you were the one who tricked him instead.

It’s been two weeks since you first arrived in Fontaine. By this point, you’ve grown more familiar with its views than your own city. Having Aether, Paimon, Lynette, and even Freminet around doesn't make it any easier for you to feel at home.

And then there’s the Lyney Situation. You meet up most nights, more than that when he’s free from shows. He keeps seeking you out, and you keep letting him in. There was one night where Lyney spent the night instead of heading straight to the door—and those nights turned into two, then three, and then he finds any excuse to keep doing it.

It’s not like you could stop. He told you look for me if you want more, and you always want more, because how could you not? Lyney treats you like he’s never had to take care of anything more precious but still manages to render you breathless like you’ve never experienced thrill the way he gives it to you before.

But you still have to go back home. And Lyney still has his own life, has his secrets. He feels untouchable even when your arms are wrapped around his neck.

No strings attached can still work for summer flings, doesn’t it? And what are summer flings, if not just that?

Lyney hovers above with his hands caging your face. He’s grinning so wide—and you’ve seen all kinds of smiles on him with your time spent together, but it was never this genuine.

“You’re bad for me.” He says it like a confession, a prayer.

You raise an eyebrow. “What did I do to you?”

His hand trails down until he’s rubbing shapes on your hips. “Make me feel like I’m myself whenever I’m with you.”

At your silence, Lyney clears his throat. “But it’s not like that, don’t worry. I just mean—”

And how does that even make sense? He pours his heart, then later reveals it’s nothing but a decoy to keep this facade realistic.

“Oh,” you say.

That was the final act you’d been waiting for. The final trick—the farewell show.

And so you pack your bags—shoved your sketchbook back inside, face forward, and promise not to look back. Leaving Sumeru hasn’t even been this hard.

Aether and Paimon shouldn’t be surprised if they find you missing; they’d been the first to know that your stay in Fontaine isn’t meant to last forever. And you’ve warned Lyney about this. Avoiding attachments? It felt more like running away from your problem.

Lyney is a busy man on his own; you’re nothing but some architect from a different region who happened to get caught up with him at the right time.

You sigh and call for the aquabus.

A hand clasps around your wrist, pulling you to collide against a familiar chest. Lyney’s eyes are wide, almost insane. Sweat clings to his forehead, and his breath comes in frantic pants.

“W-What—”

Lyney’s eyes search your face. Or maybe it’s him trying to convince himself that you’re right there, in front of him. “You didn’t even tell me.”

“I—I’m sorry—”

“Were you just going to leave like that? Don’t you think I at least deserve a farewell?”

“Lyney, I’m sorry. I know, that was stupid.” You haven’t seen him with an expression like this before—so raw and broken, begging to be glued together with your hands. “I didn’t want to formally say goodbye because I knew I'd want to stay.”

“That’s stupid,” he repeats in agreement.

You breathe shakily, eyes scanning the stunned crowd. What’s The Great Magician Lyney doing here? Holding some stranger in his arms? That must be what they’re thinking.

“How did you even know I was leaving?”

Lyney’s eyes cut down to his hand, gripping a crushed rose. “I was paying a visit to an empty room.” Embarrassed, he tries to toss it away, but you take it before he can.

You wordlessly place it in its home: the spot behind your ears. You don’t tell him that the two other roses he gave you serve as bookmarks in the sketchbook you’ve used all up in Fontaine. Where you’ve drawn his face more often than not.

Lyney groans in frustration, his hands curling around your waist. “Is staying so bad?”

“It’s not like I’m leaving forever.”

And then you notice Lyney’s hands. They’re shaking uncontrollably, not unlike how it did during that incident—and with it came the frantic exhales, as if natural human breathing alone is already hard enough for him.

“Oh, Lyney,” you say softly. You drop your bags and embrace him fully.

He doesn’t hesitate in pulling you closer, burying his face on your neck. “Don’t—don’t,” he gasps, “don’t just try to leave like that.”

It’s hard seeing Lyney like this. He’s usually so composed and easy-going. He gulps in a deep breath, and his voice cracks as he calls for you. This must be something out of his control—something deeper than the back of his stage.

“Y/N,” he whispers.

“Lyney,” you call back as gently.

He swallows your surprised noise with his mouth, moving against you like you’re his last meal on Teyvat. He’s still shaking, but it has subsided the longer you stay pressed against each other. You’re not sure if it’s his Pyro vision or if it’s your skin burning at the thought of Lyney’s skin against yours. It’s searing.

This is different from the last kisses you shared.

Passion, you think dizzily, breathless from his hunger. This is passion.

“What was that for?” you ask, embarrassingly winded.

Lyney brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. He looks sad. As though he only comes alive when you’re with him. “A kiss to make up for your absence in the following weeks.”

“I can always come back,” you say. “No, I will come back. I promise. I just need to get home for a bit.”

“Okay.” Lyney nods, exhaling heavily. “Yeah. I know, I understand. Once you come back, come straight to me, alright?”

“Of course.” You lean in to kiss his cheek. You’ve never done it before because it always came off too intimate. And judging by the blush that explodes on his face, he thinks the same.

It all doesn’t matter. The line has been crossed days ago; you’ve just been turning away from seeing it.

He kisses you again. Then again. “Have a safe trip,” he says in between kisses. “I almost wish you commissioned me to escort you, regardless of the price.”

“What, you want 500,00?” The aquabus has arrived; Lyney grips you a little tighter, childishly willing himself not to see it.

“500,000 kisses, and more.” Lyney rests his forehead against yours, his captivating eyes keeping you still, the way it always does. “But you can give me that when you come back.”

( Before they were taken away from the stage for an investigation, Lynette comes up to her brother and asks, “What happened back there, Lyney? I thought you were about to twist your own fingers.”

He is unsure how to tell his sister that he saw your awed expression and nearly lost his wits.

“It was nothing,” Lyney admits, his face growing hot at recalling his slip-up.

It wasn’t out of embarrassment, no—not when the memory of your wide-eyed beaming expression and how his mind blanked along with the skip of his heart plagued his mind.

“It was nothing,” he repeats numbly. It’s not. It was the start of something. )

a/n ok just a quick rant this fic BROKE ME. it was like every other day i hated then loved writing this fic. im not used to writing fics this long so pacing is not my forte </3 but i just feel proud of myself for finishing this so HOPE U LIKED IT. if ure still reading until here ily ❤️

more a/n two lyney fics and two kissing scenes. i can’t even lie to myself. everyone can tell.

more more a/n it was halfway through writing this fic that i rewatched the magic show and only noticed lyneys hands were shaking and i GOT SO SAD OMF 😭😭😭😭

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n #lyney fanfiction

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ellecdc · 3 months

Note

Can i request something bit angsty? 🥺 its totally fine if you dont wanna write it tho!

I was thinking, wolfstar x reader got into an argument and reader started to occlude and the boys got scared they might be out of line bcs she only occlude when shes really hurting?

this is my SHIT - love me some hurt/comfort. thanks for requesting, lovie 🫶

poly!wolfstar x fem!readerCW: hurt/comfort, arguing, mention of past family discourse, toxic family memories

“I’m sorry. You did what?” Sirius beseeched, walking into the living room from the kitchen and interrupting the points (arguments) you and Remus were each in the process of making. You gave him an unimpressed look, knowing he wasn’t actually asking you to repeat yourself, he just couldn’t believe what he had heard.

“She gave Mary-Ella over a grand.” Remus muttered bitterly.

“I did not give Mary-Ella money, I loaned her money.” You were quick to correct.

Sirius just scoffed. “Sure you did, dollface.” He sneered, making his usual pet-name burn to the touch. “You are never going to see that money again.”

“What were you thinking?” Remus implored.

“I was thinking that my friend was in a bind and needed help. I hardly think that’s a crime.”

“You didn’t just loan a little bit of money, though. You loaned a lot of money to a friend who is not reliable in the slightest.” Remus asserted.

“We have been working so hard trying to save up to move. To move closer to Diagon Alley so that Remus can be closer to work, and we can finally get out of my uncles flat.” Sirius added.

“I know we’ve been working hard, Sirius. I know this because I too have been working hard. But I’m not going to watch my friend struggle when there’s something I could do to help!”

“This choice impacted all of us. You had no right to make this decision on your own.”

It was your turn to scoff as you turned to glare at Remus incredulously. You had been trying to stay patient, knowing that this close to the moon, Remus was feeling extra sensitive. But him ganging-up on you with Sirius quickly found what little patience you had running thin. “I 'had no right' to make a decision about money that I made on my own?”

“You have no ground to stand on, buttercup. You’re now out more than a grand because of this choice; we’re all out more than a grand because of your choice.” Sirius growled, tone full of derision.

“If the roles were reversed, Mary-Ella would help me out!” You tried to reason, only for Remus to bark a laugh.

“That doesn’t even matter, dove. Because you’d never be in her position and likewise, she’d never be in yours. She’s irresponsible, unreliable, and a mooch.”

You tried to ignore the burning sensation in your sinuses as you spoke to the back of Remus’ head; he apparently had grown so disgusted with you that he couldn’t even look at you anymore.

“I don’t like you talking about my friends like that. I don’t understand why we’re making such a big deal about this, I jus-” but you were cut off as Remus stood abruptly and turned on you.

“We’re making this a big deal because it is a big deal!” he bellowed. “You leave this apartment in the morning and it’s like Sirius and I don’t exist anymore. You conduct yourself like some single woman with no responsibility to anyone else but herself.”

“You’re being selfish. You can’t possibly expect to drop a bomb on us like this and, what, expect us to just reply with ‘yes dear’? You fucked up, Y/N.” Sirius added, arms crossed defensively over his chest and cold silver eyes glared daggers that permeated your entire being. Remus carried on, unperturbed by the effects this conversation was having on you.

You felt like you were seventeen again, like you were eleven, nine, six. You felt like a babe whose hand had been slapped for reasons beyond your comprehension.

Do you ever stop and think about the consequences, Y/N?

You were sitting at the dining room table as your father lashed you with his words, each sentence punctuated with the slamming of his fists on the table. You were standing on the platform having just reunited with your parents after the school year as your mother’s claws dug into your arms, warning you that punishment was to come later if you didn’t smarten up. You were cowering in the backyard as your father screamed at you in front of the entire neighbourhood – a free show for all to enjoy.

You think crying will earn you any sympathy here? You’re a manipulative little witch if you think that will work on me. Keep crying and I’ll give you something to cry about.

You felt naked – like your figurative clothes had been violently ripped from your body – and there you stood, stripped bare for all to leer at. Standing before two people...who were meant to love you unconditionally...as they laced their words with venom and spat vitriol at you.

You couldn’t even hear the point Remus was trying to make anymore. It didn’t matter anyway.

He hated you. You were hated. You were a disappointment, a burden, unwanted.

But you couldn’t cry – could never cry. You’d just be manipulating them. You were deceitful. Emotions were deceitful. The way you felt was wrong. And they were right.

Always right.

So, you did what you always did; you made it quiet.

You began layering rows of stones around your being. Protection. Space. Distance. Safety.

They couldn’t hurt you from all the way in here, not from the other side of your wall. You’d be safe here. Here in the quiet.

It was safe in the quiet.

Sirius felt disgraceful at how long it took him to notice the signs of you pulling away from the conversation. Away from them. Away from him.

Remus – always more sensitive than the two of you when it came to the likes of money, combined with feeling extra flustered with the upcoming full moon – had no reason to expect nor recognize signs of occlusion.

Suddenly, Sirius was fourteen again. Walburga was standing over him with her wand aimed at his chest, but all he could see was Regulus. He had prayed at the time that his brother could hear him begging in his mind:

Turn it off, Reg. Just turn it off. It can’t hurt you if you turn it off.

Sirius himself sat in an almost constant state of occlusion during his fifth year, knowing somewhere deep in his gut that the beginning of the end of his life as the heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black (or the end of his life in general) was near.

Growing up wasn’t a whole lot easier for you, it seemed. And he knew that when things got to be too much, you did what you needed to do to protect yourself.

He suddenly hated himself. You weren’t supposed to need to protect yourself from him and Remus. It was their job to protect you; just like you always protected them.

How you protected Remus from wasting away on the days leading up to and recovering from the full moon. You never let him go hungry or thirsty, you always made sure the space was clean and tidy, and you never let him fall into his typical pre- and post-moon self-loathing.

And you protected Sirius from himself; from saying things that he wouldn’t be able to take back, from being the worst version of himself, from losing you and Remus completely.

He didn’t deserve you.

You didn’t deserve this.

For fuck’s sake all you had been doing was being kind.

Being a good friend, someone that others could rely on, protecting people who meant so much to you.

All you were doing was being your kind, courteous, protective, generous self that Remus and Sirius had fallen in love with from the very start.

“Moony!” Sirius pleaded, causing the lycanthrope to pause in his tangent. You didn’t even flinch at the sudden change in the atmosphere as Remus looked at Sirius bewilderedly.

“We’ve lost her.” Sirius murmured quietly, causing Remus to spin to observe you.

“Well...” Remus began, still struggling to shake off his anger and the need to argue. “But I-”

“It’s enough, Remus.” Sirius hissed quietly, staring at Remus with a look he hoped conveyed no nonsense.

He apparently succeeded as Remus let out whatever breath he’d been holding as he turned again to face you.

“Dove, I’m sorry.” Remus whispered as he tried to move towards you, but you instinctively took a step back to maintain the distance between you; your arms wrapped around your middle protectively as if that was all that was holding you together.

Sirius’ heart felt like it split in two – and based off of the look on Remus’ face, he wasn’t fairing any better.

“Y/N?” Sirius tried. You didn’t turn to look at him, but you hummed in quasi-acknowledgement.

“Can you look at me?” He tried quietly, but you shook your head no.

Remus made a pained sound as he tried to move towards you again, ducking his head down in an attempt to make eye contact with you. You didn’t back away from him this time, but your arms tightened in their hold around your middle.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry I...I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I’m...I was out of line.”

“Come back?” Sirius pleaded. “Please.”

You took a deep breath and turned your face towards your boyfriends, but Sirius could tell your eyes were still foggy – you were still hiding.

“We won’t talk about it anymore. That conversation is done.” Sirius said.

“But-” you started, voice grating from the tightness in your throat, but he cut you off.

“The conversation is done. You did what you thought was right, you were being your kind lovely self, helping your friend when they needed you. We shouldn’t have yelled at you, sweets. I’m sorry.”

Remus made another pained sound and moved closer to you again.

“Dovey, I’m so sorry. Please, can I- would you like a hug?”

Sirius watched as you looked at Remus, seeming to weigh your options before you nodded once at him. Remus needn’t any more invitation and quickly (though gently) made for you, enveloping you in his arms.

The three of you stayed like that – Remus with his arms around you, you with your arms around yourself and your face pushed into his chest, and Sirius standing helplessly at the side – before Sirius started to notice some tension leaving your shoulders.

“Why’d you go?” He asked you quietly, gently placing a hand in the middle of your shoulder blades and rubbing in a way he hoped was soothing.

“I didn’t want to cry.” You admitted into Remus’ chest, neither boy missing how tight your voice seemed to be, even as your voice barely raised above a whisper.

“Oh, dolly. Just cry. Cry, okay? Make us feel like tossers, but don’t leave.” Sirius said.

“I didn’t want you to feel bad.” You muttered wetly, finally turning so Sirius could see your red and wet face.

“But we deserved it. Oh, my love.” Remus cooed as he all but picked you up and locked your legs around his hips, forcing you to move your grip from around yourself to around him.

“I’m not s’posed to make you cry. I’m s’posed to make you smile.” He muttered pitifully, pressing his lips into your hair.

“And cum.” Sirius spoke in the same pitiful tone, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead.

You laughed wetly and the last of your occlusion appeared to slip away which was what Sirius had been aiming for. It didn’t make him feel all that much better though.

“Oh, my girl. I’m so sorry, Pads is right. You were just being your lovely self, and I’m a bastard.”

Sirius watched as your brows furrowed. “You’re not a bastard.”

“No,” Sirius agreed readily, “he was just being a bastard. Both of us were. Do you think you can forgive us?”

You nodded quickly but Remus tsked in response.

“Don’t let us off so easily, dovey. Make us pay for it. What do you need? Do you need a foot rub? You want cake? Ice cream? What about a kitten? You’ve always wanted a kitten.”

You had been shaking your head at everything Remus said until the last one, your curiosity obviously piqued.

Fuckin’ hells, Sirius thought, if she gets a kitten everytime one of us acts like an arse, we’re going to be overrun with cats by next month.

#poly!wolfstar #poly!wolfstar x reader #poly!wolfstar x you #wolfstar x you #wolfstar x reader #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #self insert #reader insert #ask elle #marauders fanfiction #hurt/comfort #ellecdc fics

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chrollohearttags · 3 months

Text

snooze • portgas d. ace

your boyfriend can’t sleep unless you’re by his side..for many reasons.

sleepy/sonmo sex, hints of free use, modern au, black fem reader, early morning quickie, creampie, nipple play, teasing, him whimpering a lot :(, just some domestic, soft smut, pet names used

word count: 2.0K

📝: as you all can see, my brainrot for this man has become so god awful, I fear it will take a shovel to dig me out of these trenches. But I love it here! (also, the title is not based off of the song by any means.)

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2:15AM…

night had long fell cast over the sky..faint inklings of stars littered the black backdrop as tiny white dots. The vibrant moon illuminating the entirety of the sleepless city as the daily bustle of blaring car horns and menial chatter has slowed to the sounds of a few cars either heading home or starting the day early. Through the window of the third story apartment where you resided..shined a single beam of light on two sleeping bodies. Entangled in the warmth of the sheets on the chilly winter night..underneath, limbs intertwined as you enjoyed the bliss of sweet slumber..

“Mmmph..”

faint mumbles arose as they vibrated against the crook of your neck. Your boyfriend’s face was nuzzled between the crevice of your neck as he shuffled around in his sleep. His muscular, inked up forearms coiled around your waist with his hands placed to your abdomen; holding you close to him. Nowhere else in the world that either of you would rather have been..it was paradise, an absolute dream..and for your doting, sweet man..he was enjoying it quite a bit! The friction of his lower half rubbing against your backside; gently rutting his hips into your plump flesh as to not ruffle too much but make you subtly aware of his intentions. Those hands eventually roamed from your waist and tummy to the top of your body, resting idly on your breasts. He seemed restless, for a better lack of terms. Although he probably slept more than the average person due to his narcolepsy, Ace did have his weaknesses. For example, he couldn’t be at peace unless you were plastered to his side. You were his comfort, his peace and he couldn’t function unless you were right there. But alas, it wasn’t the only reason he enjoyed lying next to you every night..it definitely had its other perks. Just like at that moment, where he was toiling with the lace on your short silk teddy. The one that barely even covered your ass as you walked away..the one that had his mind straying to less than savory thoughts when you were awake. It couldn’t be helped..your body was an absolute work of art that he could admire for hours on end and never grow tired. Neither one of your eyes were open; still far too exhausted to do so, but he’d slowly feel you up as you laid there quietly. Running his fingertips along the delicate portions of your skin, still muttering and eventually, leaving gentle pecks on your shoulder blade. “Baby…” the only thing he managed to get out before muttering against your neck once more.

Meanwhile, you could still feel his pelvis bumping against you..naturally, you didn't hesitate to meet him halfway. It was obvious that neither of you were going to truly be able to rest until you achieved your mutual goal. Because truth be told, when you couldn’t doze off the way you wanted or your body wanted craved more than just sleep to replenish it, there was only one way to quell that urge:

“..need you so bad..”

hell, it was all the more fun when you pretended to be fully asleep..giving him full fledged permission to use your body when he saw fit. Taking claim to it when he was ready. Sometimes, you loved it when he woke you up with his cock nestled deeply inside of you or vice versa, when your pretty little lips, wrapped around his shaft, drove him out of slumber. It was easy to surmise that he was going to take advantage of said consent..made things all the more sexier. Still mumbling, you’d begin to whine very faintly as you felt the covering of your top be pulled down and your nipples exposed to the cool air. They were erect and sensitive to the touch. Practically writhing each time he so much as even brushed them. By this time, you were also wiggling your hips and bogging yourself onto his crotch. It was clear that things were about to intensify and neither of you wanted to put a halt to this little charade either.

2:30AM…

“..you’re so wet, baby..this all f’r me?’ His words seem to have fallen on deaf ears but he could tell by your physical reaction, that wasn’t the case..you were clutching the sheets far too tight for someone that couldn’t feel a thing. You were only becoming more and more aroused by the minute..that silky slick coating his fingertips. Meanwhile, you could feel his bulge pressing against your cheeks..so swollen, it were as if he’d burst any minute. “Don’t be shy, you can tell me..” a faint chuckle rising among his deep voice, rattling off whilst he held you close. This man had talked you through many orgasms with that heavy tone of his and he knew how much you loved when he spoke to you all quietly like this. “That’s okay..I know what you need..” he was very much vocal and yet, he was still seemingly asleep. His eyes still shut!..but it wouldn’t remain that way for long because as Ace reached down to tug at his waistband, removing his cock from its confines, (y/n) very subtly hoisted your leg, assuring him that you wanted this just as badly..taking the hint, he’d clutch your waist and pull you towards him, smacking that tip to that warm, juicy slit of yours. Almost as if his senses were incredibly heightened..his mind constructing a roadmap of your beautiful body and no vision was needed. A giant smirk lay plastered across his face. He couldn’t wait to be inside of you.. “Let me have you, please..fuck..” that once deep voice becoming desperate and whimpering in a high pitched wail; that mushroom tip aching and leaking with the absolute need to be fill your hole. To take claim of your special spot only the way he knew how.. “..shit..” “..mmph!” Simultaneously reactions from each of you. It seemed that you could no longer maintain your silent charade and he could no longer fight those insatiable urges..and both of you were ready to fuck until your bodies truly tired out beyond repair. The kind that would undoubtedly put you right back to sleep..

2:40AM

sounds of clashing flesh ricocheted around the room, the clapping noises of his pelvis colliding with your heavy asscheeks as he pounded into you. A cusped hand stationed around your throat to keep you reigned in when you began to pull away from the strokes he was feeding your greedy cunt. Unable to quell his whiny cries because of the sensation. He’d never felt anything like it! So warm and silky..it was a miracle he hadn’t gotten you pregnant yet..constantly finding it hard to pull out once he was inside of you. Rutting into you like a pathetic pup rutting his pillow. A sheath of wetness forming from the constant thrusting..and his earlier teasing. “Oh fuck, you’re so tight, baby..pussy’s so fucking good..” the sweet nothings rattled off into your ear with his dick nestled deep between your folds.. “..shit! Right there..so good..” heavy huffs breathing down your neck whilst he persisted. Pulling you even closer, Ace tilted your head back slightly to lace your jawline and throat with sloppy pecks. It was absolute bliss if you’ve ever felt it. “I love you..love you so fucking much, baby. Thank you for letting me wake you up like this..” a faint chuckle arising from between his moans. It was blatantly clear to see that he was enjoying this little early morning rendezvous more than you could imagine. “I love you—oh fuck!…’s too much..'' crying out with your hand smacking the mattress and clutching the sheets. Your legs shook violently and all you could do was withstand the sensation of that thick, throbbing cock bottoming out inside of you. Sometimes, it was a miracle if you could fit it all..he was so lengthy as well and you’d oftentimes find yourself begging him to take some out around the five inch mark. “Aw, baby..you’re so small. Just makes stretching you out all the more fun..” referencing not your body type, but rather that pretty pussy..regardless of how many times you two had sex, you still managed to wrap around and squeeze him to no end. Cream slathered all down the entrance and he would lean up to examine the mess, along with the ripple of your thick ass via the moonlight..

2:48AM

“F-fuck..gonna come, daddy..please!”

“Ooh, I love when you call me that..are you gonna let go f’r me, sweetheart?”

Still lying on your side with your leg hoisted high, he’d continue going..even teasing your clit to add to the euphoric feeling. Both of your eyes had peeled wide open and there was no halting this passionate round of love making. The name causes a throbbing sensation to rattle off inside of you as his cock twitches yet again.

“So let me see that pretty face when you do, baby. Come on, let it out—“ amid the resuming of his deep strokes, Ace would coddle your face in his palm, sweet talking you through that impending orgasm. Spinning your face around to meet his own. He was always such a kind and attentive lover. Making certain that you got yours long before his own. His true satisfaction lies in seeing you grip the sheets and call out his name. It didn’t take long before he was granted his wish and you were heaving as that orgasm came barreling out of that entrance and splattering his thighs as he fucked it out of you slowly. Emitting gentle streams with each thrust until you couldn’t spill another drop.

“Aww, good girl..good girl..you’re squirting. So fucking wet..I love it.”

you’d find yourself caught in another kiss shortly thereafter; passionately and slowly…but that wasn’t the end of this. He needed to keep going until he had nothing else left to offer..until you were filled to the brim with every last drop of him. “Nnnngh!..” “I know, pretty..I know..but you’re doing such a good job..I don’t wanna stop.” Growling and laughing in your ear as his strokes became a lot rougher and more sporadic. He was nearing his peak. That much was evident by the way his nails dug into the flesh of your hip. Met with the recoil of your thick ass each time. You were squeezing him so tight, he could barely withstand it. So with a couple more sharp, pounding thrusts, you’d find your boyfriend clutching onto your skin and drilling until you felt it all come to an abrupt halt.. “f..fuck!..hold still, baby. I’m so close—“ a mere few seconds later, you’d feel his movements cease but those hot, thick ropes of cum pouring into your womb. Filling you up with every ounce of his seed until he couldn’t go any further. Whimpering and crying out for you in the process. Begging you to let him breed you..and once he finished, Ace would remain inside of that tight cunt, stroking the side of your face and marking your temple with light kisses.

“That was perfect, sweetheart..”

“Yeah..thank you, baby..”

3:00AM

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pellucid-constellations · 4 months

Text

If It All Fell (2)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst!! (poor Az :/)

a/n: I hope you enjoyy!! :) More to come obvi <3 This is gonna be a long one.

Part 1 ♡, Part 3 ☾

Series Masterlist

Did the small wooden box on the top shelf of the closet have meaning?

Was it significant?

From the bed centered in the middle of the room, you let your eyes take you along the delicate carvings in the wood. They looped and curved, dropping off in the pattern of a star, and then a moon, and then a misshapen cloud.

You knocked your head to the side, ignoring the deep pain lingering there, and glanced at the empty spot on the dresser by the door. It was the exact size of the box. And the box—in its new, seemingly hidden location—looked haphazardly placed.

Did they move it for a reason?

Did they think you wouldn’t notice?

Was this even your bedroom?

You figured it must be. Clothes that looked to be your size were hanging in the closet. A vanity sat by the window with products on it that might compliment your complexion. There were paintings you found yourself enjoying hanging on the walls.

So this must be your bedroom… but there was something missing.

And it looked as if nothing was in the right place, but you had no frame of reference for where it was all supposed to be.

You just knew that that wooden box didn’t belong under a knit sweater in the closet.

The creak of the door drew your attention away from the apparent inaccuracy of the room. Two people entered, and it was a small mercy that you found some recognition in their faces. Majda and Mor slinked into the room, the latter with a sheepish, shy smile on her face, and clicked the door shut with a muted click.

“Hi,” Mor greeted, as Majda set an absurdly large bag on the bedside table. The blonde shifted her weight between her feet. “My name is Mor. We met in the forest, do you remember?”

Do you remember?

It was unintentionally cruel.

You nodded your head, not trusting your voice when it was so unfamiliar.

Mor’s smile brightened a touch. “I was hoping you would. Although, with everything that happened I wasn’t going to put too much pressure on you.” She winked, and you were left feeling like an outsider in your own conversation.

Majda bustled around your bed, asking permission before touching your head and your neck. You granted it to her, if only because she was the only person in the room not attempting to drive an uncomfortable conversation. Mor seemed very sweet, but she was hovering over you and glancing your way as if you were going to explode.

Maybe you were going to explode.

It’s not like you would know if that was a common occurrence for you.

“I know you’ve woken up a few times since returning ho—here,” Mor quickly corrected, playing with her fingers and shifting onto her toes. “You were confused for a while before you fell back to sleep. Do you remember that?”

Do you remember that?

You shook your head. Majda’s hands glowed and warmed against your skull.

Mor pursed her lips. “Hm, I suppose that’s to be expected. It was all a bit disorienting.”

There were a few moments of silence. Mor dropped herself into the chair that had been pulled up beside the bed, fidgeting every so often. The old healer continued her assessment of you as you stared blankly out the window and tried to pretend there weren’t a pair of brown eyes burning a hole into the side of your face. You could hear footsteps beyond your door.

They would pace one way, and then the other.

“No change.” Majda’s voice startled you out of your stupor. She gave you kind eyes and a pat on your cheek. “This is above my abilities. I’m sorry. You are in good health, otherwise.”

“My head,” you croaked out. Gods, how long had you been asleep? “It hurts. Hasn’t stopped.”

The healer hummed. “I can give you some tonics, but until the source of this amnesia is sorted out, there will be no definitive fix.”

A few glass vials clinked against the side table as Majda placed them there and slung her bag over her shoulder. She shared a few hushed words with Mor and then went to the door, swinging it wide as she stepped through it. You caught the tip of a wing in the doorframe, saw those same shadows from before curve around the hinges and pull towards you.

They were ushered back just as quickly, and then the door shut as well, hiding the hints of your visitor.

You hadn’t noticed you’d craned your neck to catch a glimpse until you righted it. When you heard more voices in the hall, you looked down at your fingers, blinking back tears you didn’t understand the origins of.

“Sometimes, you like to read,” Mor said, breaking the silence. “You were in the middle of this book.”

She placed the thick novel on the blanket beside your legs. Glancing up at Mor’s encouraging smile, you picked it up, feeling its weight in your hand instead of giving in to the one in your chest. You thumbed along the spine and then at the edges of the pages, stopping when your fingers caught on a sharp edge at the top.

A bookmark—a place where you’d left off. You flipped it open but couldn’t follow a bit of it.

More tears left your throat feeling thick.

“What happens now?” you quietly asked, trying desperately not to cry in front of this woman that you didn’t know.

“Now—” Mor began, clearing her own throat, her voice just as raw as yours. When she sat by your legs, you let some of the glossiness in your eyes show. “—we take things slow. Majda said we shouldn’t rush things until we find a source. Rhys—Rhysand… the one with the pointed ears and a pompous attitude—is in contact with other courts to try and get some help. There are other people in our Inner Circle that might be able to help as well.”

You bit into your bottom lip until it hurt. “I’m part of this circle?”

Mor’s smile was sad. “You are.”

You shifted in front of the mirror, uncomfortable despite being alone. It had been three days since you woke up, and each of those three days had been spent in your bedroom. Your bedroom, you had confirmed with Mor.

The only two people you had been in contact with were Mor and Majda. You could hear other voices in the hall, sometimes see a shadow pass by your balcony at night, but you only ever spoke to Mor. Majda didn’t say much when she came in to check your head and drop off more vials.

“We don’t want to overwhelm you,” Mor had said, but there was something else, too. You weren’t comfortable enough to pry. She looked disappointed that you accepted her reasoning so easily.

The three days were spent mostly alone, which you hadn’t minded, but the time spent with Mor was filled with stories about you. Where you grew up, how long you studied, all of your favorite things; she was in the business of introducing you to yourself, and she was definitely qualified for the job.

You had asked her who she was to you, and you received a simple answer at that.

“I’m your family,” she had said, and then she began talking about you again.

She always got quiet when you spoke of your connection to others.

Which was why you had suggested a lunch.

You spent the better part of the last three days panicking, and then moping, and then aimlessly searching your bedroom for any hints of the life you led before this. All avenues either left you with a headache or emotional exhaustion.

You remembered the three other men from that day—Rhysand, Azriel, and the one with the longer hair—Cassian, Mor had called him. You wanted to meet them properly… introduce yourself? A ridiculous notion; according to Mor, you’d known everyone for the past 300 years.

But you didn’t know them, not really.

And Azriel’s shadows—you wanted to see them the most. You’d been searching for the calm they offered you since the day you woke up, but couldn’t find it in their absence.

“Are you ready?” Mor asked, a soft knock on the other side of the door.

“I think so,” you called back. You’d grown more accustomed to the sound of your voice. It was still strange to hear the sound echo back in your head, but as long as you didn’t scream or yell, it was tolerable.

Mor opened the door, took in your choice of clothes—a purple dress with sleeves that flowed past the wrists—and tried to hide the flutter of her lashes.

Embarrassment immediately found you. “Was I not supposed to wear this? It was in the back of the closet so I thought—”

“You look lovely,” Mor assured, linking your arm with hers. Touch was another thing you were growing accustomed to. It was easy with Mor. “You just haven’t worn that in a while. I was surprised to see it.”

As she walked you down halls you had never seen before, you huffed out a dry laugh. “Well, this is the first time I’m seeing it.”

Your joke fell flat. Mor smiled back at you, but it was the same smile you always saw. Sad, pained, bittersweet.

“Who did you say was attending?” you asked, attempting to steer the conversation away from her sad smiles.

“Just me, Azriel, and Cassian. There are a few more people we typically see on a daily basis, but we wanted to start out small.”

“To not overwhelm me.”

“Precisely.”

Your steps were silent on the marble floor, the silk slippers you chose allowing some of the chill to seep into your toes. “So, why did they choose you?”

Mor blinked and turned a confused expression your way. “What do you mean?”

“Why did they choose you as the one person that speaks to me? Are you the least overwhelming of the bunch?”

“Well that title certainly wouldn’t go to Cassian,” Mor grumbled out. She guided you to a large wooden door and offered you a shrug of her shoulders that looked far too nonchalant. “I was just the best fit for the job. I love you, but… I could handle this.”

“Handle this? Am I really so terrible?” you asked, trying your hand at another joke.

Mor’s smile looked more genuine this time as she shook her head. “No. No, you are absolutely wonderful. And that’s the problem.”

You took a moment to try and decipher her words. Did you mean that much to these people? Did they care so deeply about your memories that only one person could stand to be around you now that they were gone?

It was difficult not to fall into the immense vat of guilt you now found yourself teetering on the edge of. It was difficult to pretend Mor wasn't looking at you as if you had stolen something from her.

That was the truth that was missing before—you would be too overwhelming to everyone else. Not the other way around.

Mor gave your hand a fond squeeze as if she could hear your thoughts, and then opened the door. The hinges squeaked and the sheer size of it caused a rather loud echo in the room, but neither of those sounds drowned out the sharp intake of breath from the dining room table. Your eyes immediately shot to the blue glow and the shadows twisting around wide wings.

Azriel.

He looked back at you, unblinking, mouth parted. His hair was clean cut and cared for, but something about it looked frazzled and untamed. It didn’t suit the stiffness with which he sat, nor the white-knuckled grip on his fork that he maintained.

Black wisps slinked across the floor, stopping at your slippers and twisting around your ankles. You broke your stare from Azriel in favor of watching them swirl up your legs. True to your memory—which wasn’t a testament to much these days—their cool presence eased some of the pain in your head.

A throat cleared.

You snapped your head up.

“Uh, I’m Cassian. I don’t know if you remember me from the other day—”

“I do,” you softly interrupted.

Azriel choked out a shuddering breath. Your eyes lingered on the side of his face before returning to Cassian as he continued with, “Good. That’s good. New memories and all that. Very nice.”

“Cauldron, Cassian,” Mor admonished. “She’s not an invalid.”

He threw his hands up in a placating gesture. “I didn’t say she was! I was being encouraging.”

“Great, I’m sure we all feel very encouraged. Come, y/n.”

You followed Mor blindly until a chair was pressed to your back and a plate was ushered in front of you. There were a few moments of silence, just the clinking of plates and forks, before the panic began to build in your chest. It was a familiar feeling for you, one of the only you could draw memories from.

You should say something.

Azriel and Cassian, they were doing this for you—taking time away from whatever it was they were supposed to be doing to have a silly lunch. In a normal world, you wouldn’t need to have lunch as a way to reintroduce yourself to your family.

Were they still your family?

You knew nothing about them, could reciprocate nothing.

There had been no news about the witch that did this to you and no one told you if Rhysand found anyone to help.

What if you were stuck like this?

What if they grew tired of you wasting away in your room and forcing them into lunches and—

“That dish is your favorite.”

Azriel’s deep voice rasped at the end of his sentence and sent every thought shooting away from your brain. You came back to present, catching yourself taking quick, shallow breaths and staring down at the table with no clear target.

“You eat it every other week. I—We picked it up from a restaurant along the Sidra, a river in town,” Azriel explained.

You brought your gaze up from staring a hole into the wood to find Azriel directly across from you, his posture more relaxed than before. His expression was patient, kind, and you nodded back at him.

“Thank you,” you whispered. But that was odd—whispering during a meal. “Thank you,” you tried again, clearer this time. “I appreciate that—”

“Azriel,” he filled in, not allowing you the possibility of a mistake. “My name is Azriel.”

You knew that. You knew all of their names as well as their faces. There were a few paintings shoved into the back of your closet that you had taken the time to study.

Did they shove them back there on purpose?

“It’s nice to meet you, Azriel.”

Azriel’s jaw quivered, his lashes fluttered.

He took a bite of salad.

“I don’t know if you’d be interested,” Cassian began, clearing his throat again. “But we used to—well, no, we currently have a weekly arrangement where you drag me to the theater and make me watch a show and I pretend I hate it but I actually have a great time.”

The lingering joy on his face made a small smile creep up onto your own.

“Sound fun to you? Might be nice to get out of that room.”

You took a deep breath, biting the inside of your cheek. This was a good sign, him wanting to spend time with you… him wanting to be in your presence and not break down into tears or anger or distaste.

“I would love to,” you said. “Although, I don’t know much about theater.”

Cassian dropped a heavy hand on your shoulder. “Wouldn’t expect you to know much about anything, sweetheart.”

Mor snorted the water she was drinking back into her glass, you let out a surprised, scoff-like laugh, and Cassian grinned from beside you, all teeth and snark and playfulness.

But Azriel.

Azriel stood up, his chair screeching as it pushed out abruptly. His napkin was clenched tightly in his hand and the rigidness from before was back and in full-swing. The shadows that had stayed with you for the duration of lunch zoomed back to their master, displacing the material of your dress as they went.

He had a bleak, hard look in his eye as he stared at no one.

“Azriel?” you asked, and it was the first time you’d started any semblance of a conversation on your own. Even when you spoke to Mor, she was the one prompting you to speak.

At the sound of your voice, Azriel quickly turned his gaze toward you, his eyes softening immediately. But just as quickly, his shoulders slumped, his napkin fell to the floor, and his hand came up to cover his mouth. “I—I’m incredibly sorry. I can’t do this.”

And then he was gone.

Part 3 ☾

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel angst #acotar

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flickering-nightfall · 2 months

Note

could you tell us more about the gift? :D

Oh, sure! I can stick some of my Gift drawing backlog in here while I'm at it~

The Gift is an unruly creature whose presence begets chewed wires and headaches wherever it goes. It's spunky and mischievous with a penchant for violence, and it revels in its job: to kill as much rot as it can without getting eaten by it first.

It exists only in an alternate universe where Pebbles is stopped before Moon collapses. Moon is damaged but alive - and after many long talks, Pebbles begrudgingly allows the other iterators to assist him with his rot.

The Gift's campaign uses the points system with an emphasis on rot kills. The gross cyan mixture on its spears is - via interacting with their stomach, in true slugcat fashion - weird altered barf. On contact with targets, "immunospears" explode like a spore puff and damage everything Five Pebbles related within their radius. This means you can kill even Mother Long Legs with good aim and enough food pips. Unfortunately, this does also kill neurons and inspectors, so the Gift has to be a little bit careful on its path of carnage.

Notably, Gift's goal isn't to eradicate the rot, just to help control it. If there's a way to cure the rot, this one silly creature can't do it for a whole superstructure.

It's been specially made (with love and care) by the other iterators so that Pebbles' inspectors don't target it. This is also why Pebbles won't murder it unless it shows direct violence towards him. His local group worked hard on this wretched being and they'll be very upset with him if he kills it. Plus it is actually good at its intended purpose. He just has to count the days until it keels over on its own.

Gift probably has some scavenger in there somewhere too, and maybe a bit of lizard. They're strong, but outside of fighting, I wouldn't say they're the smartest slugcat...

I've also played with the possibility of Arti and Spearmaster existing in this timeline. It ends as well as you'd expect. (I thought it would be funny if you could team up with Spearmaster and piggyback them around as your living spear generator though.)

There's some other stuff to the idea, such as a repeatable campaign where your strength and food requirement goes up every time you replay it, and a random pool of pearls you spawn with addressed to either Moon or Pebbles. I might go ahead and post that old campaign writeup still, so there'll be more in that!

#I feel like some of this would be a headache to code in an actual campaign #But I would have no way of knowing ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#flickerdoodles #rain world #art #ask #anon #text #long post #the gift #ocs

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hannieehaee · 7 months

Text

NEEDLE IN THE HAY

18+ / mdi

summary: after swearing off dating due to a messy breakup, wonwoo finds himself being forced out of the house by mingyu, joining the 97 squad as an honorary member. what wonwoo didn't realize, however, was that he'd end up swallowing his words after meeting the newest addition to the friend group.

content: idol!wonwoo x idol!reader, pining, friends to lovers, wonwoo's pov, reader is a 97 liner, oral (m receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, angst (with a happy ending), some self-deprecating thoughts from wonu </3

wc: 8.5k

a/n: can u guys tell i love idol aus or what .. anyways, this time i used proper capitalization since this is long as fuck! hope u enjoy even if its a bit of a mess <3

masterlist kofi/patreon

support me through a one-time tip! <3

Wonwoo was going through a slump.

As commonly known by his fans (and probably non fans too, by now), Wonwoo had a girlfriend prior to debuting. He's not entirely sure how the news came about to the public (something about a trainee leaking information ..?), but in reality that didn't really matter. What mattered now was that he now had to relive his messy breakup over and over again as people made it a bit of a 'meme' among the fandom. It wasn't like it made it to the news or anything, but even the reminder was enough to bring back the bad memories surrounding it. All the low self-esteem and doubtfulness that was attached to it. The breakup might've been distant by now, but the news breaking out were fresh, causing Wonwoo's wounds to reopen.

Now, Wonwoo didn't blame carats for this. Under any other circumstance he would've also found it comedic, but after it being a few years since the breakup and not managing to find a long-term relationship ever since, Wonwoo found himself in a slump once more, just like he felt when he was freshly broken up.

She, who shall not be named, was one of his closest friends in grade school. She hung around when he was nothing more than a lanky loser (not his words, but that of a few rowdy kids at school). She'd seen him and respected him before the world even knew his name. And then she'd become more than a friend.

As Wonwoo first made the decision to join Pledis, he was entirely unsure of himself. He wasn't untalented by absolutely any means, that much even he knew. He was growing to be a handsome young man, and was discovering new skills every day. But he didn't feel like he stood out enough to make it all the way to debut. His girlfriend, however, stood by him and gave him the strength to continue, which he did in hopes of making not only his family proud, but what he believed to be the love of his life proud too. Okay, maybe that was a bit too much, but he was a teenager, who could blame him for thinking himself in love?

Soon after came his debut. Things were going great. The sole fact that he had made it to debut with 12 of his friends and fellow trainees had him over the moon. He had fans now; supporters who thought the world of him. He had a happy family waiting for him at home, and a girl he was infatuated with that he could keep all to himself, away from the public eye. Everything was perfect. Until it wasnt.

It was as predictable as you'd imagine. The fame, the limelights, the constantly-changing schedules. It was all too much for someone who could do no more than watch from the sidelines. The issues began a few years into his debut. He felt her begin to pull away. To be fair, he might've unconsciously pulled away first, but his life was getting too hectic for things to be the same as before. Maybe it was his fault for believing that she would evolve along with his life, willing to follow him as he continued his journey with his 12 friends.

If that had been the end, maybe it would've been okay. But the breakup had not happened just yet. We could've stayed friends if we had only ended it there, he'd thought many times. Unfortunately for Wonwoo, a clean break just was not in his cards. He found out about it through his younger brother. The betrayal. The disrespect. The heartbreak. He would've rathered she'd broken his heart face to face, you know? Maybe that way it wouldn't have hurt years into the future as it continued to do.

She had found someone else. It was some guy she met in college (something Wonwoo thought he'd do someday, but had chosen the life of an artist instead). There was nothing wrong with the guy, it just wasn't Wonwoo. He thought that maybe if she'd told him, he would've understood, would've been sad, but would've respected her decision, but no, she made her choice. Had she forgotten to break up with him beforehand? Was he just an afterthought? These were the questions that plagued Wonwoo's mind years after the fact. He had decided to confront her with what his brother had seen. Them together at a cafe, too close for comfort. What was saddest was her lack of denial. She didn't even fight back; fight for him. She had turned it around into his fault. As if he'd forced her hand. What broke Wonwoo more than the betrayal was the look of disdain in her eyes. It made him feel like maybe he was the villain. That maybe even if he tried, he just couldn't be loved in that way.

That's how he found himself in this situation. Two years past the five year long relationship, coming across another post detailing a theory of whether or not Wonwoo was still with his 'pre-debut girlfriend', as people liked to call her. He believed himself to be over the girl, but couldn't find himself to admit whether or not he was over the hurt. Only time would tell, he guessed.

"Come on, hyung. You can't stay here every time you have one of your episodes. It's been years, you have to move on!"

Mingyu was getting ready for another outing with his famous 97 squad; this time the attendees being Eunwoo, Jungkook, and Y/N. He was trying, yet again, to convince his elder of joining him and his friends. Maybe he wasn't a 97-liner, but he was well-liked by all the members of the group, and he figured the outing would do his friend some good, seeing as he was once again down in the dumps over his old girlfriend.

"I told you it's not that, Mingyu," responded Wonwoo, barely facing away from his computer, once again gaming during his very limited free time.

"Okay, if you're truly not sad about that anymore, then come out with us! It's been a while since you've even left the apartment, and you've never actually accepted any of my invites out! If you don't like it, we'll leave. It's all people you've already met anyways," reasoned, a very stubborn Mingyu.

"I don't actually know any of them, Gyu. Saying hello whenever they come visit you doesn't really count as knowing a person."

"Okay! Fine! What do you want? What do I have to give to get my best friend to hang out with me? Money? You're rich! What? You wanna play video games? They like video games, too! Come. On. Just this once."

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, knowing his friend meant well, but not wanting to be around people while he had one of his usual slumps.

He pondered it for a minute. Maybe it'd be nice to be with other people like him. He'd never really made friends within the industry outside of the members and a few people he'd politely nod to as he walked the hallways of Hybe. Maybe it was time he broke out of his shell and befriended other people who would understand the loneliness that came with being an idol.

"Fine," he replied before his friend could hit him with another rebuttal to his denials. "Just this once."

Wonwoo didn't know what he was expecting any time Mingyu would bring up his outings with the 97's. With Mingyu's extroverted and eccentric personality, both in and out of the public eye, he assumed he meant clubbing or at least hitting up a pub. He wasn't sure what you or Jungkook or Eunwoo were into, but he assumed you'd be somewhat like Mingyu. But he couldn't have been more wrong.

He was pleasantly surprised to find that his loud friend's friends all had a very striking contrast to him. The three idols sitting around him in Eunwoo's (whose name was actually Dongmin, apparently) apartment all seemed very quiet and calm. Their personalities also all seemed to match his better than that of Mingyu's, which made him come to the realization that maybe that was how they'd all befriended each other; through the overgrown puppy's incessant need to befriend everyone in every room he walked into.

Wonwoo appreciated Mingyu, truly. His outgoing nature would sometimes make a shy guy like Wonwoo, who liked to keep himself as small as possible, a little uneasy at times, but be appreciated his best friend's constant aid in getting Wonwoo's mood up. Even now. He hated to admit it, but his sudden decrease in mood seemed to be rapidly disappearing thanks to the new change of environment.

He had quickly taken a liking to Mingyu's three friends.

Dongmin was nice and insightful. A pretty face and a very interesting mind. He saw a bit of himself in him.

Jungkook was polite and funny. He was the perfect balance of childhood friend and college heartrob.

You. Well, Wonwoo hadn't quite figured you out yet. Admittedly, this had been the first time you'd ever spoken past a polite greeting or an inquiry for Mingyu's whereabouts, but he had been able to get a read for the other two members of the group. You were the outlier.

What he knew, though, was that he liked you. Okay, not like that, but there was an easiness that you seemed to carry with you. You were simply easy for him to fall into conversation with. It had already been a few hours (and a few drinks) since Wonwoo and Mingyu had arrived to Dongmin's apartment, and you and Wonwoo had been engaged in ongoing conversation shortly after arriving. And the conversation didn't seem to be heading towards its end any time soon. It had begun as a group outing (well, indoors), but to Wonwoo it now felt like a one-on-one, as the three remaining members of the 97's seemed distracted on their own, leaving you and Wonwoo to converse with each other freely.

"Okay, yeah. That can be kind of annoying, but how can you complain about Mingyu?! He's such a sweet guy," you laughed, responding to one of the many lighthearted disses of Mingyu Wonwoo had been feeding you with.

"You don't have to live with him. He's even louder at home," he chuckled.

"Then move out! I live alone now, finally. I love my members, but there's nothing as nice as being alone after coming home from hectic schedules."

"Yeah, I can imagine. Can't do that, though. I don't really like being alone that much," he revealed.

"You? Really? Then how come it's taken Mingyu this long to get you out of the house?," you inquired, leaning towards him with interest.

That was something he liked about you immediately. You listened. You showed visible interest in what he had to say. Granted, none of the things you'd been talking about thus far were groundbreaking (so far you'd managed to speak of predebut stories, hopes for your respective groups, current hobbies, a few movie and book recommendations here and there, and endless other things), but he still appreciated someone outside of his family and members who showed interest in what he had to say. Still, part of him believed he might've been so starved for affection he could've just been reading too much into it.

"Oh," he chuckled. "He told you about that?"

"Fuck. Okay, don't tell him I said this. And I mean it, I trust you, Wonwoo," you paused. "He told us he'd been trying to get you out of the house a bit ... that you'd been feeling down."

Oh. Okay, now he felt a bit awkward. Why would Mingyu give opening for him to receive pity even from strangers?

"Oh. I-"

"So, I insisted he invited you come out with us."

Oh?

"You did? I .. How come?"

"Well. Honestly? I've been there. Having your members is great and all. And if you have a supportive family, that's even better. But our lifestyle's too isolated to not have as many people around us as we can. I don't know how I managed to navigate the industry before meeting Mingyu. He really took me under his wing and made sure I felt welcomed with the other 97's, even with all the shit he got for hanging out with a female idol so publicly."

So, that's how you'd met. Man, he's always known Mingyu as one of the nicest people he's ever met, but this truly made him take the cake. He remembered the articles that came out about both you him (and a few of the other 97-liners) when they'd made you the first female addition to the friend group. He didn't pay them much mind, seeing as dating rumours come by the dozens among idols, but he hadn't really stopped to think about how it might've affected you.

"Did he tell you about .. why I kept saying no?"

"No. And I didn't want to intrude. Your battles are your own, Wonwoo, unless you want to share them."

Well, fuck. He was wrong. Well, right. Both. You did care. You didn't even know him, but you still cared. Or at least it seemed like it. He couldn't really wrap his head around the concept. He hadn't let anyone in (other than his 12 brothers) about what had happened. He had never felt the need to. He felt embarrassed by it. I mean, it was just a break up; an old one no one even knew about. Yes, he got cheated on, but it had been years ago. He should be over it by now. Even though people kept bringing his ex up. But why did he feel like he could confide in you?

He considered it. Telling you, that is. But he quickly realized that was just the alcohol talking. You had just met. He didn't want to scare you away. Hmm. Maybe he should circle back on this thought at some point. He also didn't want to make you privy to the most embarrassing thing about him (the green room shenanigans did not hold a candle to his pathetic heartbreak story if he had anything to say about it). So, he decided to save it for another time. He'd already decided in his head that he'd want to see you again. Maybe he would take up Mingyu on his offer to join the 97's as an honorary member.

The conversation eventually circled back to something more lighthearted, allowing Wonwoo to enjoy your company for a few more hours before Mingyu decided it was time for them to leave, knowing his friends probably had busy days tomorrow, just like any idol would.

Wonwoo couldn't sleep. The effects of the alcohol were fully gone by now; his loose tongue tightened back up and his mood regulated once again. Despite that, his mind was still clouded with thoughts of you. He had originally chalked it up to alcohol, how he felt a strange sense of disappointed upon having to bid his goodbye to you earlier tonight. But, lying in bed many hours later, he realized it was all still in his head. Your long-winded conversation, the drinks you shared together, the genuine care in your eyes, even Mingyu's stupid smirk as they walked back into their apartment, muttering something along the lines of 'I knew you'd have fun'. It was all still running around in his head, depriving him of sleep. He felt an odd sense of anxiousness. Excitement, maybe? He wasn't sure. He was looking forward to finding out though.

The next day was filled with schedules. A quick appearance at a comeback show in the morning, followed by a fitting back at the Hybe building, along with a few hours of practice with the boys. He'd always enjoyed hectic days like this. While tiring, they kept his mind occupied, and allowed him to spend the day with some of the people he treasured the most. Seeing carats early in the morning was also a treat. Even if for only a few minutes, walking past the crowd of people waiting for his arrival at MNET was always nice. It made him put a face (well, multiple) to the people who loved him most.

He was now ending his day, just as soon as it had started, when he heard a voice call to him from across the long hallway. Turning around, he found ... you? you! what were you doing here?

"Wonwoo! Wait up!", you quickly caught up to him as he halted his movements in order to wait for you. You two then began walking together.

"Hey ? What are you doing here?"

You stopped. "Really? Wonwoo! I work here? My group's been here for a few months now, did you never notice? Hybe acquired my company last year," despite your shock at his ignorance, there was no actual anger or annoyance in your voice.

He felt kind of bad. You'd spent grand part of last night letting Wonwoo know how much attention you'd paid to Mingyu's retellings of Wonwoo's problems only for him to not know the most basic of things about you. It really wasn't that big of a deal, but it was with small details like this that his ex began to pull away.

"Oh, wait, Wonwoo. I'm not actually mad, I'm sorry. I just assumed you already knew," his face must've told on him. He had to admit that he was kind of paranoid after what had happened. He'd already ruined a few friendships (along with the relationship) with his lack of attention to the people around him. He didn't want to add you to the list of failed relationships so soon.

"Ah. Sorry. I don't really keep track of those things too often. I'm too distracted sometimes."

"I get you. There's too many new groups at Hybe for you to have noticed anyway. Anyways! Are you done for the day?"

He felt his heart accelerate at the thought of you wanting to know what his future whereabouts would be.

"Uh, yeah. I was heading home actually?"

"What? Nooo! Mingyu's taking Jungkook and I out to a little discreet pub he knows. You should come with. Please. They're so annoying when Dongmin's missing," you pleaded, making eyes at him.

You wanted him to come? You were inviting him? He hadn't really gone out for a few weeks (since he began to see people speak of his 'pre-debut ex-girlfriend' that everyone assumed was still in the picture). He had to admit, he found it kind of funny how carats would whine at the idea of him being taken. That was kind of the silver lining; a slight lift to his bad mood surrounding it. He-

"Wonwoo? It's okay if you don't wanna come. I don't wanna pressure you!"

Oh, shit. He was in his head again. He needed to break these habits if he wanted to work on his people skills.

"Oh, sorry. No, I was thinking of something else, sorry," he chuckled awkwardly, "I .. yeah, I'd love to come," he found himself agreeing.

Wonwoo was not an awkward man by any means. His fans and many others knew him as a charming guy, which he really was. He was just going through a weird period in his life. That and you made him nervous for some reason.

"Great,"you smiled back at him, further increasing the speed of his heart.

Wonwoo was extra exhausted after today's events, not being used to outings with people outside of his members after already tiresome days. For some reason, his social battery always drained almost immediately when around people he wasn't too familiar with, and tonight he'd chosen to spend the night at a pub full of strangers. But, hey, at least you were there.

Once more, you and Wonwoo found yourselves in one-on-one conversation. Although Mingyu had been slightly surprised to see his friend arrive with you at the selected meeting spot at the pub, he gave Wonwoo a knowing smile, glad to have his friend out of the house once again.

The goodbye was, again, dreadful for Wonwoo. He didn't know what was wrong with him. He wasn't usually someone to get attached so easily, but your name just called to his ever since that first time he met you. This time had worsened his condition. You drank together, exchanged numbers, maybe even flirted(?) a little, and then went your own ways, sharing a quick hug as you departed.

He hated to rush things (even if it was only in his head), but he had to admit to himself that he liked you. Yeah, like that. He felt like a teenager again; giddy at the thought of you, crushing on the pretty girl his friend introduced him to. He had unofficially sworn off dating two years ago when he broke up with her, but it wasn't like that was too big of an effort considering his dating market as an idol wasn't very expansive anyways. He also didn't want to assume things. You were just a friend. But you were also so pretty, and nice, and you had so much in common with him, you even shared a career! You were just his type, he realized. He wondered why you hadn't dated any of the 97's before. Wait, maybe you had a boyfriend. One Wonwoo, of course, wouldn't know about since you'd just met. Fuck. There he went again, letting his mind spiral over the smallest of things. He needed to give himself a break and just enjoy your friendship. Enjoy the good things he had instead of thinking of the bad. That had been a struggle lately.

You and Wonwoo continued to meet occasionally like that. Eventually meeting almost daily at the company. You'd stop by his practice room to hang out during work, and vice versa. He also found himself begging Mingyu to let him join in on his outings, wanting to see you even after work. He tried to be casual about it, but as soon as his smug friend realized the reason behind Wonwoo's sudden interest, he teased him endlessly about it, making jokes like 'But you're a 98-liner, why would you wanna hang out with us kids?,' a smirk glued to his face. He hadn't told Mingyu about his crush (nor would he ever admit to it), but Mingyu's correct assumption of his feelings for you led his friend to try and become a bit of a matchmaker. He'd now taken a habit to purposely leaving you and Wonwoo alone, even dragging his other friends away when they'd try and make conversation in order to get the two of you together. He was embarrassed by this, but was even more embarrassed that he was kind of thankful for his friend's actions.

Wonwoo had been enjoying the time he got to spend with you alone. Like now. Mingyu had invited you, Dongmin, Jungkook and Jaehyun over to his (and Wonwoo's place), something that didn't tend to happen before since Mingyu had wanted to respect Wonwoo's privacy. This was your first time here. Your first time in Wonwoo's room (door open, of course) as he showed you some of his recent photography that he'd told you about in your previous meeting. Once more, he felt like a teenager as he showed you his art, giddy at your endless compliments towards his talent.

"Jesus. So many idols pick up photography as a hobby, but I'd never seen any of them be actually good at it. Wonwoo, these are amazing!", he heard compliments like this from fans and staff alike very often, but it just had a different effect when it came from you.

He wanted to deny you; be bashful about it and chuckle a polite disagreement to your compliment, but after getting to know you better these past few weeks, he knew that wouldn't fly with you, instead opting for a shy 'thank you' in response.

"I'm serious, Wonwoo. You should do a showing or something! Your fans would love it. And .. you should teach me also!", he loved how enthusiastic you always were. It reminded him a lot of his best friend. Maybe that's why he liked the both of you so much.

He turned his head to face you as you sat next to him on his bed, lap to lap. He hadn't realized how close you had been sitting to one another in order to look at his laptop screen. Before he could scoot away, you turned your head too, now having only a few inches between your faces.

You looked at each other without saying anything, Wonwoo's breath hitching. Any reasonable man would've pulled you in for a kiss as soon as he noticed your eyes trail down to his lips, clearly inciting him to do so. But Wonwoo wasn't a very reasonable man. He was a mess of unreasonable emotions, which led him to his first mistake.

Seeing as he wasn't doing anything, you seemed to become frustrated at his lack of action, leaning in instead of him. Now, that would've been perfect if Wonwoo were, you know, normal. But the end result was less than favorable. As you leaned in, he panicked, getting up from the bed in a rush and creating a very obvious space between you. Your eyes widened, and he caught a hint of hurt and embarrassment behind them at his actions before you quickly took control of your expression.

"I, uhh. It's getting late. You have an early morning, don't you?", fuck, why the hell was he saying that?! Was he kicking you out? Wonwoo kicked himself in his mind, but his mouth kept running against his will. "I have an early morning, maybe you should, uh .."

He caught that hurt in your eyes once more as you responded. "Oh, I .. Right. Sorry .. Yes, I do, actually. I should go now .. Thanks for showing me your pictures. Have a nice night, Wonwoo," you were being far too cordial with him, seemingly making it a point of using overly formal language when the two of you had agreed before to speak casually; as friends.

He fucked it up. Again.

He watched you leave without stopping you. He had every chance to as you looked back at him one more time before exiting his room. He had another chance as he heard you close the front door to his apartment. He could've ran after you (even speed-walking would've sufficed, really), but he stood there like an idiot.

Wonwoo was right. He was incapable of love. Romantic love, at least. He still had many friends and a loving family back home, but he had been right to believe himself unlovable after his ex had left him. Turns out she was right. It was all his fault.

A few weeks had gone by since he last saw you. The text messages between you now unexistent, and the chance for reconciliation dying further every passing day. You hadn't tried to contact him after what happened, nor did you wait outside his practice room every day as you had taken a habit of doing a few weeks into your friendship. Mingyu's invites to hang out with his friends were now left unattended by Wonwoo, not wanting to sour your free time with your friends with his presence. He'd ruined everything, he admitted to himself. It was obvious to him and everyone else that your friendship had begun to blossom into something more. There had been hints here and there of your reciprocation of his feelings, but they terrified him, so he chose to ignore them.

He thought about his feelings, but not yours, he had come to realize a few days after the fact.

He had wanted to kiss you so badly. He'd dreamt about it, even. He felt silly to admit this, but you'd become such a constant in his life in such a short period of time that he found it easy to imagine you there forever now. He felt the same way he did back in high school when he believed himself to be in love with his ex. He realized now that those feelings for her had dissipated quickly after his debut. They'd only been together for so long due to the familiarity of it. Maybe that's why his ex had such a hard time breaking off things with him. Maybe that's why she chose to cheat on him instead. Maybe that familiarity was what made the situation such a mess in the first place.

He had gotten out of his slump thanks to you (and Mingyu, maybe), but now he had fallen right back into it, even worse this time.

It didn't take long for his roommate to notice his friend's absences in their outings, or the stark difference in his mood as soon as he got home every day from being an idol. Mingyu had the privilege (not really) of seeing how whatever happened between you took effect on the both of you. He saw his best friend fall back into his previous depressive state, while he saw you become a shell of yourself. He didn't know what happened, and he honestly didn't care. No one asked for his help, but he was going to give it anyways.

By some act of god, Mingyu was able to convince Wonwoo to leave their apartment long enough to participate in an upcoming outing once more. He had promised that the only other attendee would be Jungkook, as the plan was to have some drinks at the man's house. Other than you, Wonwoo had taken a special liking to Jungkook, having many things in common with him. Wonwoo had only agreed to attend in order to lessen any suspicion Mingyu may have had about the reason behind his current low mood, but he was also happy to see one of his new friends again.

Unfortunately for Wonwoo, Mingyu was a meddler. He wasn't entirely sure why he was even surprised at seeing you walk across Jungkook's front door as he sat on one of his couches, drink in hand. An unsuspecting Jungkook let you in, not taking notice of your shocked face at spotting Wonwoo just a few meters away. Wonwoo should've known that Mingyu would get involved sooner or later. He wasn't sure if he was thankful or annoyed at his friend's nosy nature.

Despite your initial shock, you were polite with Wonwoo. You interacted as you used to before the two of you had gotten to know one another. Just a few nods and tight smiles. It killed him inside a little bit. He wanted to fix things; to at least get your friendship back even if he couldn't allow himself more. He would sneak glances at you as you joked and drank with your two friends, feeling a smile grace his face at your laughter. At least you were happy, he thought.

The four of you eventually ended up in one of Jungkook's many guest rooms. This one was a viewing room, as he called it. Special for whenever he wished to invite friends over for a movie. You all sat and shared some commentary at what was playing on screen. To any outsider, this would've looked like the perfect outing. And maybe it was to Mingyu and Jungkook. But the air between you and Wonwoo still felt tense, even despite the occasional nod of acknowledgement you'd make to one another whenever your eyes met.

In a very unpredictable turn of events, Mingyu had managed to get you and Wonwoo in a room alone, dragging Jungkook away under the excuse of doing an impromptu live for his fans. He knew Jungkook wouldn't miss the chance. You and Wonwoo sat next to each other in the now empty movie room, neither of you making a move. He saw you looking at your hands from his peripheral, solemn look on your face. You were usually very talkative and lively. He felt terrible at how his presence in your life had caused such a stark difference in your demeanor. So, he did what he usually wouldn't do, and spoke up first.

"I .. How have you been?"

Great way to break the silence, Wonwoo.

You sat in silence for a beat or two, "Wonwoo, it's fine. We don't have to do this. I'm already embarrassed enough as it is."

Embarrassed? Why would you be embarrassed?

"Embarrassed? At what?"

"Do I really have to say it? I thought I read things right. I thought maybe you might've maybe liked me back. I didn't .. I didn't mean to ruin our friendship over some stupid kiss.," you wouldn't look into his eyes as you spoke, even as he uncharacteristically stared at you with all his attention.

"You ... You didn't do anything wrong. I should've talked to you. Fuck. I should've apologized. I wanted to. Kiss you, I mean. I panicked. It was so soon. I didn't want to pressure you," he had gotten up now, now sitting next to you on the couch.

"Pressure me? I kissed you. Well, tried to ..." you finally turned to look at him in his new proximity. Okay, progress, "I'm sorry, I kind of had an idea of what you were going through and still pushed you. It hurt me that you froze me out like that, but if it was what you felt like you needed to do, then I understand," you said with a sad smile that didn't meet your eyes.

God, why were you so understanding? He felt like an asshole. He was an asshole. Freezing you out was not something he wanted to do to you, but the result of his cowardice. He knew he had hurt you, but your admission to it only made him feel worse.

"You didn't do anything wrong! You- you did what I wanted to do that night. What I was going to do before I backed out like a coward. I wish I'd handled things differently. I wish I'd kissed you .. I-" he was beginning to feel shy at his almost-direct admissions of his feelings towards you, but he needed to continue. He was going to continue, but you had different plans.

As per usual, you knew him better than he did himself. You knew exactly how to salvage the situation without making him open up more than he felt comfortable with doing in his current emotional state. You grabbed his face, interrupting his speech, and ..

You kissed him.

"Like that?", you'd softly asked against his lips.

It was nothing like you'd see in movies. Just a small peck accompanied by your soft hands holding onto his cheeks.

You began to pull away almost immediately, too soon for Wonwoo's comfort. But that kiss had been enough for him to finally snap into action like he should've done weeks ago.

He grabbed you this time, pulling your lips against his again, putting much more into the kiss this time.

He'd never kissed someone like this. He'd kissed many people after his breakup. Hell, he'd done far more than kissing. But none of those moments held a candle to this one. Nothing compared to your soft moans against his lips, or the feeling of your pliant back against his palm. Nothing defeated the feeling of your hands restlessly looking for a place in his body to hold on to. He kissed you with every emotion that had been piling up since you two began to really get to know each other. No, since he first began to spiral into his depressive state. There was not a single emotion in Wonwoo's body that didn't go into that kiss.

Then came other stuff.

Wonwoo hadn't really thought about the sexual aspects of his attraction to you. Other than a few of the restless nights spent alone in his room, you in mind. As he kissed you, however, he couldn't help but begin to feel aroused. You were so pretty and so so soft against his arms. You had both begun to lean down, with his body hovering over yours, holding his body weight above you as not to crush you. You kissed mindlessly for a few minutes, at some point beginning to moan messily against each other's mouths.

Your tongue eventually came out to play with his, making him lightheaded at the sudden wetness of the kiss. You both began to feel dizzy, arousal clouding your minds. Wonwoo tried to pull away, wanting to confirm if what was happening was okay with you, but you wouldn't let him. Instead you pulled him even closer, forcing him all the way on top of you, your crotches now face to face. He decided to take the risk and begin a slow grind against you, which proved rewarding as you began to mewl against his lips, allowing his tongue to roam freely inside your mouth.

Then came even more stuff.

"Wo-wonwoo, please."

God, there was no way he would make it if that's how you sounded after just some light dry humping.

He managed to actually unglue himself from you this time; eyes lidded and breath heavy.

"Baby .. let me .. can I?", he questioned, hands approaching your nether area.

You grabbed his wrist, walking him the rest of the way, nodding desperately as you pressed his hand against your clothed cunt.

"Please, yes. I need you."

He undid the drawstring from your sweats, you aiding him in lowering your sweats just below your ass.

He neared you as much as possible as he began to rub your cunt over the thin fabric of your panties, kissing and biting at your neck as you mewled at the friction. He did this for a while until he decided to bury two of his fingers inside your cunt, making sure to rub your clit lightly with his thumb. He calculated his movements, wanting to go for a slow and steady pace that would have you lightheaded.

You moaned and whined at that, your body not knowing what to do at the pleasure Wonwoo was giving you.

He began to speak against your neck, praising your beauty and the way you oh so prettyly cried for him.

"Wonwoo .. oh, fuck Wonwoo please. Please ..." he wasn't sure what you were begging for, but he wanted more of it. So he sped up, wanting nothing more than to hear your cries of pleasure as he fingered you to completion.

Upon meeting your high, you disconnected from one another, still holding a very close proximity as you shyly smiled at each other. He helped you clean up the slight mess you had made on the couch under you, pulling your sweats all the way back up and helping you get on your feet. Neither of you said anything as he guided you out of Jungkook's apartment, not bothering to say goodbye to your friends. You both knew what you wanted with just a few looks at one another.

You then found yourselves in Mingyu's car. How Mingyu was going to get home, Wonwoo didn't know nor care. Payback for meddling, Wonwoo guessed. All he wanted now was to take you home and show you how much you meant to him.

He had his left hand on the wheel while the other held your hand over the console. You both felt giddy at the small displays of affection you'd been showing each other, sharing shy smiles and blushing at catching the other staring. It was kind of funny considering your current destination. It was all mostly wordless until your fast arrival to Mingyu and Wonwoo's shared apartment, where you both finally stopped to speak before entering the door.

"Wonwoo, wait," you stopped him before he was able to put his key in the lock.

"What's wrong?"

You seemed uneasy. Maybe this was too soon? Had he gone too far by what he did in Jungkook's house? Fuck. Okay, maybe fingering you in your friend's house while your friends were in the other room right after confessing to you (did he even confess ??) wasn't the best idea for a reconciliation. Maybe he should'v-

"Are you sure about this? I .. I don't wanna pressure you ..."

You were far too considerate of his feelings for his own good. But he didn't care about his feelings right now. He cared about yours. Because if you were happy, then he was happy. He just wanted you.

He turned his body to face you, grabbed both of your hands and squeezed lovingly. He no longer felt that sense of anxiousness when speaking his feelings to you. He felt at ease, and he wanted you to also.

"I'm sure. I want you. Anything you'll give me. If you want to go past that door and just let me hold your hand, I'll take it. If you want me to drive you back home, I'll do it. If you want to tell me off for making you wait for me to grow the balls to show you how I felt, I'll understand that too. Forget about my pace. It's been enough about me. I want to think about you. It's all about you," he finished his little speech feeling not an ounce of bashfulness, but rather an uncharacteristic sense of relief. He felt more than content at freely telling you how he was feeling.

You smiled up at him. "It's always about you for me, Wonwoo."

It took a bit of convincing from you, really. Repeating over and over again pleas and words of affirmation to ease his mind. He felt bad. He did say this was all about you. Which is why he'd insistently denied you when you first walked across the door, hand in hand, and immediately begged to suck his dick. He was caught off guard at first. He wanted to take care of you for once, not the other way around. You'd argued that he already had, insisting that he'd be doing you a favour by letting you get his cock in your mouth. Now, that .. that had gotten an involuntary reaction out of him. He couldn't help himself. You were a pretty girl - now his pretty girl - practically begging to get his dick wet. Batting your eyelashes at him and running your hands up and down his chest, muttering words such as "you'll let me take care of you, won't you?", or "i just wanna make you feel good," or his favorite "just a little bit, baby, want it so bad. been dreaming about it .."

That's how he now had you on your knees as he stood with his back against his front door, hands holding your hair out of your face as you tortured him with your tongue. You had prepared him by rubbing his dick for a minute or so, then moving onto kitten licking his tip and running your tongue ever so slowly up and down the protruding veins. You were taking your time, clearly enjoying his stuttered breaths above you.

You finally wrapped your mouth around him, sucking and licking at the tip, making all thought in his mind leave him immediately. He threw his head back against the wall at the pressure and warmth of your mouth, groaning out your name.

"Fuck .. just like that. Shit, I-fuck," there was no proper sentence that could leave his mouth as you fully enveloped his cock in your mouth, moaning around it.

Then he made the mistake of looking down, staring directly into your eyes, which were rolled back in pleasure, brows furrowed in concentration as you gave him your best performance. He hadn't known pleasure like this in ages, staring down at your pretty face as you lost yourself in the pleasure of the weight of his cock on your tongue.

You continued like this, doing everything that seemed to get a reaction out of him until drawing him almost to completion.

"Shit, baby, I'm gonna cum. You gotta- fuck. Baby, wait. Wanna fuck you ..." he tried to stop you, not wanting to cut the night short before he could get you as close as physically possible to him, your walls warmly wrapped around him. The thought did not help matters, as he felt his end approach even sooner. You also did not seem to care, as you fastened your movements and moaned even louder against him, vibrations triggering his impending orgasm. You swallowed every bit he gave you, humming at the taste.

You must be evil, he thought, watching you continue to lightly suck and lick at him even past completion, not caring that he half-heartedly tried to push you away from the slight overstimulation. When you finally pulled away, he held your hands in order to get you back up to your full height, eyes glued to your lips. He couldn't help himself. He felt depraved at the thought, but he needed to taste you and the remnants of himself twirling in your tongue. So he did what any sensible man would do, and shoved his tongue in your mouth, intertwining yours and his as he sucked his remaining juices out of your mouth and gave them back to you as he dragged your tongue back and forth. You moaned loudly into his mouth, growing restless at the lack of pleasure where you needed him most.

You pulled away, and wordlessly gave him eyes that could only mean one thing. Your eyes always got to him. One look and he'd give you whatever you wanted, so he promptly held your hand once more and led you to his room, laying you down on his bed and slowly undressing you. He wanted to savour every part of your body he'd been dying to see. Every article of clothing he removed, he caressed the skin behind. He faced you away from him and felt you up from behind, running his hands up and down your body as you pressed yourself even more against him, dizzy at the pleasure of his hands against you. He fondled your breasts and ass, wanting to commit them to memory. You moaned at the way he touched you, enticing him to continue. After a while of worshiping your body, he laid you back down, your body now facing him, and undressed himself.

He felt a strong sense of pride at the moan the sight of his bare chest pulled out of you. Your hands drew themselves towards him as you ran them up and down his chest, forming goosebumps anywhere your fingertips graced. He finally lowered himself down and pressed your chests together, wanting to be as close as possible.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, as if it was a secret no one could ever know, "You're all mine now. Never letting you go again", he began to grind his bare length against you, now hard again against your folds.

You whined at his actions, mind clouded by his words of affection. "Nonu ... please. I need it. Need you, just- Argh! Fuck ..." he swiftly entered you, interrupting your pleas for him.

God, you felt so tight and warm around him. Your body so pliant and soft against his. He had never felt more bliss than when you arched your back and pressed your tits against his chest, harshly digging your nails on his shoulders as you moaned out his name.

Pleasure overtook his mind, making him wax poetic at you endlessly, letting out his deepest of feelings for you.

"Want you always. Can't breathe without you."

"Never wanna be away from you again. You're everything."

"Gonna keep you ... keep you close to me. Just like this ..."

Then came something not even he expected himself to utter.

"L-love you. Fuck. So much. Is it too soon? I love you. Never felt like t-fuck .. like this before."

His words seemed to have an instant effect on you, as you tightened impossibly harder around him, crying his name as your orgasm suddenly hit you. The tightening of your walls, along with knowing the effect he had on you, brought Wonwoo to his end almost immediately after, claiming his orgasm on your stomach as he pulled out with a high whine of your name.

A few minutes of cleaning you up later and Wonwoo found the both of you under his covers, you laying your head on his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around one another, softly running his hands up and down your arm. No words exchanged between the two of you.

As per usual, you broke the silence, turning yourself to face his side while still in his hold. He mirrored your actions, holding you even closer as you stared into each other's eyes, shy smiles on your faces.

"I love you too. It's not too soon. I love you, Wonwoo."

Your words took his breath away once more. What he had confessed in the throes of passion was being reciprocated. He hadn't shared the three words with anyone ever since his break up. His breakup, which had been the furthest thing from his mind ever since he had realized his feelings for you.

You fell asleep like that; holding each other tightly and muttering words of affection at each other every so often until sleep won you over. Wonwoo had never had such peaceful sleep, having never had the pleasure of holding someone he cared so much about in his sleep.

The news broke out quickly. Not to the public, of course, but to Mingyu, who had found you in bed the next morning when he'd noticed your absences last night, rushing home worried that maybe his plan to get you two to talk had backfired. Safe to say that Mingyu smugly took credit over your reconciliation (he might've deserved maybe a 15% of the credit). Then the news broke out to the 97 liners, who happily welcomed Wonwoo back into the group under the name of honorary 97-liner. Then his group mates found out, along with yours. They were all very accepting, having noticed your feelings for one another before you even did. Finally, the news broke out to your shared company. This was the trickiest one, but your insistence in the validity of your love for one another was able to triumph over any obstacles.

It had now been a few months since that fateful night, the words I love you being uttered between the two of you daily. Even as you worked your busy idol schedules and had distance put between you every once in a while, your relationship prospered, giving Wonwoo a new sense of what being loved truly was. He no longer felt like his ex had been right about him being unlovable. You had taught him to know better, while he showed you the same care in return.

Wonwoo no longer winced at the mentions of his 'pre-debut girlfriend', but even laughed along at the memes his fans made about their favorite idol being taken. Now knowing that, yes, he was taken, but had something even better now; you.

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