#AU: ‘‘Land of Confusion’’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peachdues · 6 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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jaylver · 2 months

Text

BREAK THE ICE — S.JY

SYNOPSIS: Punching a guy in the club then kissing him not long after at a hockey game wasn't exactly a fairytale, but for you, it was your reality. The worst part of all it wasn't even the incidents that happened, but the fact that you didn't know him or his name. That was until another stir of events that happened which caused you and him to actually meet, so what was the best way to break the ice after a disastrous punch and a shocking kiss together? A date. It could be love at first sight, or more accurately, it was love at first punch, or … kiss?

PAIRINGS: ice hockey player!jake x afab!reader

GENRE: strangers to lovers, college sports au, romance, angst

WARNING(S): profanities, violence (fight), mentions of drinking, alcohol and partying, slight miscommunications, lots of overthinking

WC: 25k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: coming back w another cheesy hockey romance hehehe, here's a spin-off of jake's part in no competition that has a little bit of elements from each part! please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx

part 3.5 of 'no competition' series | series masterlist | masterlist

You weren't expecting your first landed punch to happen on a random Friday night.

The club was packed with people, overly stuffed to the brim that it eventually became sauna level hot. It didn't help that you had to squeeze past the crowd either, trying to keep your balance and not topple over your own two feet was a hard challenge. Which one of your friends said that it would be a fun idea having a birthday party in a popular club? Now, you've got to face the repercussions of their impulsive planning.

It was also common knowledge that the club was one of the unsafest places to be, so when you felt someone grab your hand from behind in the midst of you squeezing through the crowd, tugging you and causing you to stumble, your first reaction wasn't exactly friendly.

Maybe it was both a rash decision and reaction, but you turned around, the hand no longer on you to even determine who had held onto you, then proceeded to throw a quick punch at the guy you're facing. You didn't even know if he was the actual one that did so, the amount of anger and rage that coursed through your veins had spurred you on to thrust your fist forward before a second thought. Judging from the guy's reaction, he was not the one, and it only clicked once he held his nose in pain.

"What the hell?" His yell above the music was audible to distinguish the confusion and annoyance in his voice. "Are you crazy?"

In the dimness of the club and the hat on his head, you couldn't fully tell who he was, or if he was bleeding from the punch to his nose, but you do know for sure that he was angry. The hat that he wore had the letter 'J' on it, and it was tilted upwards from the impact. He fixed it as immediately as you had noticed it.

"I'm so sorry," you were panicking, trying to meet his eyes that were basically impossible to make out in the darkness and the cover of his hat. How were you going to pull your infamous puppy pleading eyes to get yourself out of trouble? "Look, I felt someone grabbing me from behind, and you were … behind me, so I turned around and punched you thinking you were the one who pulled me,"

He could tell you were panicking, though your reason was quite reasonable, he was also rightfully mad at you. The guy before you took a minute before responding, most likely figuring out what to say next. "It wasn't me who grabbed you, it was probably some guy in between us that fled away once you turned around. I can understand your reaction but please don't punch people as your first instinct,"

You winced, mostly in embarrassment. "I know, I'm sorry, really. You're not hurt, right?"

"It's just a punch, I'm not bleeding. I've gotten worse, don't worry," he waved you off, the tension in the stuffy club air was lifted. You couldn't tell if he was actually being serious or just trying to make it situation less serious, either way he was convincing to say the least. However, it was hard not to feel the aftermath of guilt for punching someone accidentally.

"I can get you drinks—"

"Nah, it's fine, really. Go buy a drink for yourself instead," he cut you off, waving his hand once again in dismissal. "I'm just glad you're safe. Even though I got a punch out of it,"

He might've laughed, but you could only let out a small chuckle, still embarrassed. It was amazing how the man was able to recover himself this quickly. "Thanks for not pressing charges or anything. Have a good night,"

"You too, sweets."

Him leaving right after calling you that was not nice at all. You found yourself stunned and replaying the moment. You just punched a guy, he was actually nice to you instead of being mad, and he called you 'sweets'? You might have just fallen in love.

Breathing out a sigh of mixed astonishment and relief, you regained your composure and continued your way out of the crowd. You've never been so glad to find the booth your friends were at, the panic did take a toll on you and all you needed was a shot.

Wonyoung was the first to approach you, her arms outstretched to pull you into a brief hug. "Hey! What took you so long?"

"Punched a guy. Don't ask."

She made a face at what you said, but decided not to question it either. "Okay? Was he cute though?"

"He was…I think?"

This wasn't how you imagined your first hockey game to turn out.

Thanks to your best friend, Anton's constant convincing and overly exaggerated praises for the school's hockey team, you were eventually dragged to one of their games against a big rival of another college. With the way he was explaining the rules and the rivalry, you were surprised at how the swimmer was an actual big fan of the sport. Even as you sat in the stands, successfully turning up to the game, he could, however, still sense your doubt.

"You're going to enjoy this one," he nudged your side, sounding confident till the point where it had you convinced for a second.

You raised an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms. "Would I?"

"Come on! Don't be a hater. I'm trying to welcome you to the world of sports,"

"I just don't get the hype of watching a bunch of men skating around with sticks and chasing after a puck," you huffed, standing your ground. Anton should be lucky you tolerated swimming enough to watch all his tournaments. "It's like football but on ice,"

"Either way, at least you'll still get to see some hot guys," he gave a small shrug, seeing your face morphing into that 'you have a point' type of look. Maybe that part had you convinced, even if it was the slightest.

You didn't need Anton to specifically point out which player was cute either, your eyes were already straying to them warming up on the ice. Although you were seated far up, you were able to tell from the glimpses on the jumbotron that number seven, 'JAEHYUN MYUNG', was a total cutie.

"Time to turn up to every game for number seven," you murmured quietly to Anton, watching him roll his eyes in response. But apparently, it wasn't whispered with enough silence.

A cough coming from beside you immediately made your smile drop, an awkward smile made its way to your face to try to diffuse the momentary embarrassment. You turned to glance at the stranger slightly. The hat he had on shielded most of his face, especially when he was staring down on his phone, it only made it harder to make out his identity. Has he been listening all along?

Wait. That hat.

The same hat with the letter 'J' sat on the stranger's head. The one that was on the man you encountered (punched) the night before. Could it be …?

You didn't think much of the guy next to you, not when he was busy with his phone and hiding his face away from you to figure out anyway. Once the game started, your attention had been averted to the ice and all of the moving figures on it. The roaring crowd left you in awe, it seemed the players, too, were basking in the limelight and trying their very best in scoring.

The first two periods had raised the tension in the arena. You, and everyone, including Anton and the guy next to you, had jumped out of your seats too many times. The stranger was the most passionate amongst the bunch in your area. Shouting tactics and cursing at every missed chance, he might as well be the coach.

The nearly scored goals were too much to handle. You got the adrenaline of watching the team play against their rivals with such ferocity, joining the crowd in every 'ooo' or 'ahhh'. Soon enough, you finally understood the passionate love Anton had for the sport.

"See? Hockey is fun," Anton sat back down after the second period was over and the short break commenced, the scoreboard displaying the current leading scores of the home team.

"Yeah, yeah, I take it back," you waved him off dismissively, hating his shit-eating grin that screamed 'told you so'. You turned away from him to avoid that exact expression, gaze drifted up towards the jumbotron instead, spotting an interesting sight. "Hockey games have this?" You pointed up at the screen.

'KISS CAM'

Written in bold pink, cursive font, it was almost like a slap to your face. Look, you've seen this everywhere online, those clips of people being on kiss cams, but to think you're going to be witnessing it in flesh, that's new. You weren't going to be the victim of it … right?

"Oh, the kiss cam? It's a frequent thing they have here. It started off as some charity thing but people loved it so they made it permanent,"

"I can see why they love it," you mumbled, watching the screen panning to a pair that was caught off guard, the rest of the crowds cheering for them once they shared a kiss.

One thing about paranoia was that it's either just a bugging anxiety or a premonition that your gut had. For you in that present situation, it was the latter. Your paranoia foreshadowed your biggest nightmare.

Your conversation with Anton in that moment had distracted you completely from whatever that was happening. That was until you heard the crowd cheering and saw Anton's widening pupils, you soon realised something was up, something not good.

The camera of that kiss cam had its focus on you, but unlike what you predicted, it wasn't you and your best friend that occupied the screen, it was you and the stranger next to you. Speaking of him, he was staring directly at you, the hat was tilted back a little more to reveal his face. The shock of the kiss cam couldn't amount to the shock you had when the man's identity was revealed. It was him. The guy you punched.

The darkness of the club had hid the beauty of his face, the hat itself was shielding you away from the entirety of it. No matter what, you could still tell he was attractive, very attractive. That alone caused your anxiety to increase ten fold. The minor bruise beside his eye was questionable, but the bruise on his nose was easily recognised.

The matching shock in his eyes slipped away, an amused smirk replaced that initial surprise. "It's you again. Not punching me again, eh?"

"Stop staring and kiss already!" A voice yelled out from the crowd before you could respond, followed by a chorus of agreements.

You hate people.

"Are you okay with me kissing you?" The smooth, yet unexpected accent that rolled off his tongue caught you off guard, it was something you just registered despite the multiple times he spoke to you, but you nodded nonetheless. As he leaned in closer, the features on his face magnified, becoming clearer. His eyes were a shade of muddy brown, plump lips pulled into a slight frown and thick eyebrows furrowed. The last thing you expected from him was his hand making contact with your face, the smoothness of his palm cupping your cheek, everything was happening in slow motion. "I need your words, sweets,"

"Kiss me,"

That was all the stranger needed to hear to pull you into the kiss. The softness of his lips melted on yours, moulding it to fit against yours. It was just like a scene brought alive from the movies. The cheers from the crowd was deafening, but the sound of it soon tuned out.

It lasted almost a few more seconds longer before the stranger pulled away, the look of bewilderment evident in his eyes. You were stunned, and so was he. Thankfully, the kiss cam was no longer on you two, instead finding another pair to target. By then, you were still trying to compose yourself. He broke into a smile, one that was so sweet it actually made your heart skip.

"Wow," he breathed out, scratching the back of his neck out of embarrassment.

"Wow," you echoed, falling back onto your seat, feeling a set of watchful eyes from your best friend, who you knew was probably holding in a laugh on your right.

The last period of the game concluded a win for the home team. Everyone was left in high spirits. You, in particular, were feeling the same way but due to different reasons. Before you could utter another word to the guy you kissed, he was already making his way out of the stand and left no traces behind for you to follow. Was he cinderella? Well, there goes your potential soulmate. No, you were being delusional.

It was rather embarrassing to admit that you were actually disappointed. Not mildly, but by a lot. Considering the past encounter you had, you expected the guy to initiate some sort of conversation, yet he fled without trying. He didn't owe you anything, but the small hope you had internally was, undoubtedly, crushed.

"You're telling me now you're sad because of some guy?" Anton snorted loudly into the night as he walked you back to the dorms. Obviously, he started off by laughing at you, then asking for everything as if he wasn't making fun of you in the first place.

"He's not just some guy," you grumbled. "He's cute and a good kisser,"

"So you just want to kiss him again?"

"Hey!" You landed a firm slap on Anton's shoulder, earning a loud yelp from him. "I mean, a little but I just wanted to know who he was. He's that guy I met at the club,"

"Oh really?" That piqued Anton's interest, his eyebrows flying high, lips then turning into a flat line. "I guess that's the beauty of kiss cams. Kiss a stranger, or in your case, kiss and punch a stranger and live with that memory forever," he shrugged, pursing his lips thoughtfully.

"You're horrible,"

Your grumble only pulled a snort from him. "Plus, I thought I could help identify him but the way he wore his hat basically hid his face, how am I supposed to tell who he was?"

"I can," you pulled a doubtful frown, wondering if you even remembered his face entirely, speaking of which seemed a little hazy in your memory. It was the shock that made everything a mush, you blamed it on the anxiety and panic. "I think,"

"You think?" Anton practically snickered at your poor choice of words and the lack of conviction in your tone. You, yourself, were equally unconvinced. "Good luck finding your prince charming, princess."

His shout of laughter was quickly drowned out by your string of thoughts. You genuinely needed that luck, because how were you going to find him again in the sea of students that roamed the campus? You could almost feel the ghost of his lips on you, and you swear you're not just ovulating.

Good luck in finding him, indeed.

Turning up to the next game wasn't because of player number seven that initially caught your eyes, nope, not at all. Pathetically so, you were actually hoping to bump into the guy you kissed. Call it fate or something your delusional mind would end up concluding.

Anton managed to bag you and him front row seats, meaning a closer look at the players and a nearer distance to the rink. How did your best friend successfully pull tickets out of his ass? You had no idea but you're not complaining either.

"Don't tell me you're looking around for the guy," Anton caught you in the midst glancing around the area, a rather desperate glint in your pupils giving it away.

"I'm … not," you said unconvincingly, flashing an innocent smile at a doubtful looking Anton.

"Sure you're not," he mumbled, crossing his arms. "How can you even recognise him? Okay, what if he doesn't have his hat on and he's bald, then what?"

"I know for a fact that he's not bald, thank you, there were hair strands peeking out under his hat,"

"Hair cap, it's on Amazon,"

"Please shut up."

The topic of your mystery man eventually dissolved into debates of the oncoming hockey game that was about to start in a while. If you told your past self that you'd be turning into a hockey fan, you'd probably laugh out loud. But, there you were, character development going great.

There was still a handful of time before the warm up, so you took the opportunity to slip away and out of the stands to locate the restroom. You passed some familiar faces, course mates or mutual friends, but none of which were the guy you were searching for.

Being a new fan came with a disadvantage: not knowing the place well enough to tell which way led to the restrooms. You walked down the corridor, passing the food stalls and countless students, looking like an absolute fool.

By the time you finally located one from a distance, you were stopped by a voice coming from behind. All it took was a tap on the shoulder for you to turn your head, quick enough for a momentary whiplash upon meeting the person's eyes.

"Hey,"

It was a man dressed in a formal suit, a backpack hung on his shoulders. He was tall and lean, but muscular enough to have an athlete's build. He could almost fit the hockey players there. But there was something about him to you that seemed familiar, yet you couldn't put an identity to the face.

"Hi. Do I … know you?" You said, uncertain, though you knew you shouldn't be.

The man before you cracked a small smile, tongue poking at the insides of his cheek. He shook his head, probably in disbelief, but there was also a mix of amusement. "No, not quite … yet, but you do know how I kiss, and I know how you punch, so that makes us something, right?"

Pause. It clicked. The hat wasn't there on his head, and he was not bald. That proved Anton something, but he had made a point that you had to admit was right. You forgot how the man that kissed you looked like.

Hat guy. Kiss cam guy? Wait, first punch guy—

"Wait, you're—"

"See you," he let out a laugh, shooting you a wink, purposefully not giving you the chance to fully realise his true identity. Annoying asshole. Just as fast as he had appeared, he was gone with the wind. The initial shock only bloomed bigger, going through several stages of it. The times you prayed for his appearance led up to this moment just for it to pass by quicker than expected, rather underwhelmingly you must add. You didn't even manage to get his name!

Begrudgingly, you made your way back to your seat after the long journey to the restroom. Luckily, the warm up hasn't started and you got to mull in your own disappointment for the time being. The smell of fresh popcorn and corn dogs only made you sink into your seat further.

"Got something flushed down the toilet? Why do you look so sad?" Anton caught onto the frown you had displayed absentmindedly. You narrowed your eyes at him.

"The one that got away,"

"Katy Perry?"

"No. The guy, my guy, I saw him just now and he said 'hi' but left after saying that, what's he in a rush for?" Your questions didn't have a concrete answer to them, but Anton sure knew how to provide some bullshit answers.

"To get away from you, maybe,"

"I'm giving everything in me to not stand up and strangle you right now."

The players of both teams were soon filing out onto the rink for warm ups. The players of the home team were easily recognisable to you after that first memorable game. There was number seven, the captain, the ace, all of which were standing out to you amongst the rest. However, an additional number five that you didn't see prior was standing with the team. His back was facing towards you, the number five sitting comfortably on his back under 'JAEYUN SIM', presumably his name.

"Who's that? Number five. Didn't see him last game," you pointed out to the frequent game goer, Anton, who pursed his lips, nodding slightly.

"That's Jake Sim. Defender. He got suspended for the last game since he committed a foul during the game before the last one. It was quite a scene,"

The players were skating around the rink, moving the puck as they went, shooting goals into the nets as practice. Given the clear view of everything before you, you got the chance to put your focus on player number five, Jake. The speed he was going kept you away from seeing his face, the headgear was only an additional deterrent.

Your curiosity only heightened everytime he passed, the urge to stand and knock against the glass, but that would just get you into the blacklist without doubt. The focus you kept on him was insanely intense, you wondered if he could feel you staring considering the next time he passed your section, turned his head, making a second worth of eye contact with you before skating off.

That split second had the gears in your head running. His eyes were familiar, not to mention, that face … It was him. The one that got away. And he was on the ice? As a player?

Everything made sense now. He was suspended last game which totally explained why he was sitting next to you, and that led him to kiss you and you realised he was also the same person you punched. All in one go.

By the time warm ups ended and the match was about to begin, you were able to finally swallow everything you just processed. The look on your face paired with your anxious finger taps against your lap caught Anton's attention.

"You're finally getting the pre match hockey fan anxiety, huh?" He nudged your side, startling you a little from your train of thoughts.

"No," you breathed out, eyes still trained on the rink that players were currently filing out on. Anton raised his eyebrows at you. "I found out who my guy is,"

"What?" Anton snapped his head to fully look at you now, widened eyes scanning your shock ridden features. "Who is he? Is he some guy that shares the same class as you?"

"He's the one skating on the ice right now—over there," you nodded towards the rink where players were taking their positions. Anton's eyebrows only furrowed at your lack of sufficient information.

"You're fucking kidding. Which one?"

"Jake Sim, it seems," your eyes strayed to the defender that wore the number five, upon the whistle blow, he skated off and you were left wondering. "See? He's not bald,"

"Not the point," Anton snorted, sounding nearly amused and astonished. "You punched him and kissed him all in two days? That's genuinely a meet cute,"

"You're insane. If anything, I'm just hoping he's not filing a restraining order against me,"

"Dude, he willingly kissed you and went up to you just now. I don't think that man wants a restraining order, maybe something more," he started wiggling his eyebrows, smirking playfully at you. You wanted to wipe that look off of his face.

"Dream big, Anton, dream big."

Dreaming big was definitely what the team did in order to secure another win. Jake Sim had thankfully kept his fouling records free so far, and from what Anton mentioned, it seemed Jake has a knick for getting into fights on ice while being the opposite off ice. A man with a stark duality does sound interesting.

The team lingered on the ice after the win, making rounds to bask in the victory and greet the crowds in exchange for their endless support. You watched as the captain approached your side, calling out for Anton and waving at him.

"You know him?"

"How'd you think I got my front row tickets? We're literally party bros," he shrugged nonchalantly while your mouth dropped at the fact that he left you such crucial information. "Which means, I can set you up more easily with your man and we're also getting free booze at the after party,"

"There's an after party?"

"There's always an after party,"

The unexpected part of the night after several surprises along the way was Jake skating towards your side of the crowd, just as Heeseung did. You thought he was doing the same as his captain by greeting everyone, but you knew it wasn't exactly that when he pointed at you, eyes trained on you specifically. It was one of those moments where you looked around and went 'me?' rather embarrassingly. Your genuine confusion made him laugh and he beckoned you to come close to the glass that separated you from him.

You obeyed, casting Anton a reluctant glance, but upon seeing his excited expression, you knew he was egging you on. It was weird, seeing Jake up close this time knowing who he was, unlike the previous encounters, this was definitely a lesser odd one.

'Catch' he mouthed multiple times until it clicked for you, the puck in his hand telling you to watch out. He threw it over the glass and lucky you, your catch was as good as his throw. Jake didn't say much, all he did was point at the puck that was in your possession, smiling sweetly before waving you goodbye and skating away to join the team.

You glanced down at the puck, pupils blown at the sight before you. It wasn't just a puck, it was one that had his number written on it in white marker ink, writings all messy but still readable. 'Text me -Jake :)' was what he signed off with, the lopsided smiley face got a snicker out of you.

"Look who's a true fan now, getting a puck and all," Anton got up to join your side as the crowd started dispersing now that the game was over.

"I didn't just get a puck alone, I also got one step closer to him," you waved the puck in front of Anton's face, grinning pridefully.

"I guess Cinderella's about to accomplish her search for her lost lover prince charming."

Anton truly had a way with his words by convincing you to go to the after party with him, claiming you'd reconnect with Jake and somehow a spark would happen between you two, whatever rant his delusional self came up with. To your dismay, you actually believed him. Not that it wasn't completely untrue since the hockey team would always turn up, but to approach him with everyone around when he's literally a known figure? You might need a couple of shots beforehand first.

You eventually saw Jake and the bunch of hockey players file into the room as the hollers and cheers got louder for them. Pressing yourself closer to the wall, suddenly intimidated by the strong concentration of testosterone filling the room. The constant thoughts of finding the guy you kissed and punched didn't prepare you to legitimately talk to him instead of just daydreaming about him.

As if on command, you attracted the player's attention like a moth to the flame. Anton had disappeared off to somewhere, you were left alone in a corner minding your business and playing tetris on your phone when you felt a presence behind you.

"Boo," The presence confirmed itself and you turned around, too fast till the point where you gave yourself a whiplash, in complete disbelief at the thought of him being there.

"Hey," you breathed out, resisting the urge to back into the wall behind you. This was not the time to start being nervous around a man.

"You didn't forget me this time, right?" Amusement flashed across his face at the mention of your blunder from earlier. You knew it was something he wasn't going to let go easily.

"Of course not,"

"Well good. I'm Jake, Jake Sim. Engineering major and a part time hockey player," he extended his hand out, waiting for you to accept, which you did, casting him a small smile.

"Impressive. What are you? Spiderman? Living with two identities?" You joked, his confidence absolutely taking you aback. "I'm Y/N L/N, nursing major,"

"Let me guess, you minor in punching?"

You scoffed, but laughed. "How did know? I suppose yours is kissing strangers that punch you!"

He snorted, shaking his head, the banter between you and him flowing ever so naturally. It was almost as if you two had been friends since the beginning. "I'm just playing. I'm glad to see you again, I'm sorry I didn't stay back after the game that night. I guess adrenaline got to me and I raced away to find the boys only to realised what a dumbass I was to not ask for your number,"

It was hard trying to hide your shock that he was apologizing. You didn't even expect an apology from it, let alone prepare for it. Yet, the explanation from him set your worries and overthinking to rest. "It's alright, you didn't owe me anything. I'm glad to see you again too. Congrats on the win," you were more than just glad.

A smile made its way to his lips at your words, to him it was hard resisting against a smile when it came to you. He barely knew you, yet you had a charm to you that he was not immune to. "I hope that puck was a good move,"

"It was smooth, definitely caught me off guard but it worked on me,"

Relief was evident on Jake's face, but he played it off coolly. "It didn't strike me that you're a hockey fan,"

"Well, I'm not exactly one, but my friend is and he's the reason why I'm there,"

"Who's your friend?"

"Anton,"

"Anton?" Jake repeated his name, visibly surprised. "He's your friend?"

"You know him?"

"More than just that. How come we've never met?"

"I'm just as confused as you are. He was literally next to me that day where we—you know—appeared on the kiss cam,"

"Really? I didn't see him!"

"Well, that's because your hat practically covered half your face, I couldn't fully recognise you too. He didn't know it was you either," you snickered at the mention of his famous hat that was burnt into your memory by now. "I only found out today that he was friends with Heeseung,"

"He's friends with all of us," Jake chuckled, mostly in disbelief. What was Anton doing hiding all his hot, attractive hockey friends? He wasn't just a fan, he was friends with them. "He loves hockey, so when he found out we played for the school team at this random party, he started coming to cheer for us. Sometimes we would watch his swim tournaments too,"

"What?" You gasped, finding it surprising that you had done the same, except never once had an encounter with the group. "I went to a lot of his swim tournaments too!"

It had rendered both you and Jake speechless, the two of you staring at each other with a look of starstruck filled gazes. All this time, had there been an invisible string that tied you two together? The thought was pushed to the back of your mind as you and him laughed after a pause of silence.

"No way!" Jake exclaimed, laughing in between.

"I'm serious! I don't know how we've never come across one another before,"

"Maybe it wasn't the right time, so fate set us up in a more … unconventional way," Jake said with a hint of playfulness that you caught on. You snorted at the realisation, knowing the incidents were something he was going to hold over your head for a long time.

"It's better than not at all,"

"You're right," he said softly, gaze dropping down to sweep over your body just to come back to meet your eyes once more. "I want to see you more actually, not just at my hockey games or some one time thing. Can I bring you out on a date? What do you say?"

"A date?" You didn't expect Jake to immediately whip out the date card, expecting him to take it slow and build up to a date that you would eventually expect. There was something in you then that invoked a sudden confidence to say such things. "I'm not just some girl you can easily score dates with,"

Jake's lips curled into a small smirk. It was his turn to be surprised and rather amused by you pulling out a surprise attack card, purposely playing hard to get which he caught onto instantly. "What can I do to score a date with you?" He wanted a challenge.

"Show me that you mean it. Earn me," you were gladly setting up something testing for him. "One week. Then I'll decide,"

"You know how to play, L/N," Jake shook his head, but didn't shy away from it either, brazenly taking it on with his head held high. "Just wait, I'll prove it to you. By the end of the week, we're going to be on a date,"

"I'll be waiting for you to swoon me over, Sim."

Jake bit back a smile, ideas already churning in the back of his mind as the both of you moved onto other topics. He was going to win you over, he was sure of it. The first step of breaking the ice had been done, now it was onto getting you, the girl he had unknowingly fallen for after unfortunate encounters that he believed to be fated.

Despite the many difficult games Jake played in or the countless troubles he faced on and off ice, for the first time in ages, he was actually challenged, and he was going to overcome it to make you his.

"You scored yourself a man?"

Telling both Wonyoung and Anton about Jake at lunch was equally comical and confusing. Anton was the one who knew the whole timeline while Wonyoung needed a lot of catching up, resulting in many back-and-forths in the conversation. In the end, you finally reached the conclusion with both fully caught up.

"Well, yes but not officially?" You didn't even know how to put it.

"Y/N wants a yearning man, that's what," Anton snickered, earning a firm slap on the shoulder from you, though you didn't deny.

"You never told me you were friends with Jake too! Or with the whole hockey team," it was your turn to point fingers at Anton, staring accusingly at him.

"Last time I checked you weren't interested in hockey and jocks," he shrugged, which you couldn't deny wasn't entirely wrong. "Plus, I didn't think it was necessary,"

"They're his party friends," Wonyoung added, earning a guilty eye roll from Anton.

"Okay, pause, they're more than that. They even came to my tournaments, but that's not the point. Look, honestly, they're the last people I'd set you up with," Anton threw his hands up.

"Are they really that bad?"

"They're not bad, they're good people, just … the single ones tend to have more fuck boy tendencies as cliche as it sounds," Anton clicked his tongue, leaning back into his seat. "You know, when you're hot, single, and a quite known collegiate athlete, girls are going to be chasing after you,"

"Great, now I have to think about him being perceived by other girls," you muttered, supporting your chin on your palm.

"But he only has his eyes on you now," Wonyoung interjected immediately, trying to salvage the originally sweet and romantic scenarios of Jake. "He wants a date with you and he's going to go out of his way to prove that he deserves it. It shows enough that he's serious about you,"

"Yeah, don't let my words get to you. That's just a general idea people have on them and their romantic lives, but you have a chance to find out the truth," Anton tried his best in mending the cracks of your perception, realising he probably said too much for your own good. "Worst case scenario the date flops, you can just ghost him,"

Wonyoung narrowed her gaze at him. "Shut up, Anton."

The rest of the day consisted of classes that got you away from your friends' constant bickers and distracted you from the thought of Jake. Not to be that overthinking person that you were, but to know how Jake was perceived probably crushed the small idea you created of him. You shouldn't have even created the idea in the first place, but a crush was a crush no matter what, wasn't it?

"What's got you so deep in thought?"

The owner of that voice which startled you appeared before you as you walked out of the lecture hall, completely in a daze until the man you couldn't keep out of your mind somehow read your ongoing thoughts. You stopped in your tracks, finding yourself standing face-to-face to a smile that radiated the sun's energy.

"Hello to you, stranger,"

"Stranger? You wound me," he joined your side almost immediately as you picked up your steps again.

"Hello, Jake," you corrected lightheartedly, resisting a smile once his laughter reached your ears. Is it normal for someone you barely knew to have such an effect on you?

"Hello, Y/N," he greeted back, going along with whatever that's happening. "You're really pretty today,"

You raised an eyebrow at him, though the tightening grip of your hand on your bag strap betrayed your nonchalance. "You say this to other girls?"

"Only to the ones that punch and kiss me, which is none, other than you obviously,"

"Real charming, Sim," you chuckled, nudging his shoulder with yours, eliciting a playful giggle from him. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I'm walking you back to the dorms," he said nonchalantly in a matter-of-fact manner.

"Don't you have classes? Wait—how did you even know I was here?" You turned to stare at him, both puzzled and shocked.

"I had classes, but that doesn't mean I can't free up my time to come find you, no? And don't worry, I've got an insider," he winked, and by that, you knew it could only be Anton that served as his insider.

"You didn't need to, you know?"

"I do want to though," Jake slid his one hand into his pocket, glancing at you briefly. "You might think I'm just doing this for the sake of earning a date but I honestly just want to see you,"

You blinked, eyes softening at his words. Looking at him was the only reaction you could get out of yourself, not knowing what to do or say. You failed to even realise your heart had skipped a beat.

He smiled at your reaction, shaking his head slightly. "Don't take me so lightly, sweets," he said rather lightheartedly, but genuinity lied in every letter. You still needed to wrap your mind around the fact that Jake was actively chasing you.

"You're doing that thing again,"

You snapped out of your thoughts, curiosity flooded your features. "What 'thing'?"

"The thing where you seem to be caught up with your thoughts," Jake had completely read you like a book, way faster than any of your friends had. How? "You know what, let's stop by that bakery first for some sweet treat to clear your mind. How does that sound?"

A sincere, sweet smile spread onto your face, the slightest of nods as a response as you tried to compute a sentence without malfunctioning. "I'd love that." I love you. Too soon, but God, you just had to put that out there somewhere even if it's in your head.

You let Jake whisk you away to the bakery, then back to the dorms where you held onto him until it was ultimately a few seconds too long to be just a casual hug. The momentary silence after was filled with your quiet smiles, followed by hushed goodbyes that trailed past your door, leaving you in a lump of mush whose heart was beating too quick for your own good.

Was this how liking someone felt? Well, it was something to be discovered as you failed to come to terms with it just yet.

Somehow, Jake knowing your class schedule and coming to your lecture hall at the end of each day became something you didn't question eventually. The shyness from both sides melted with every encounter, soon the space between you and him seemed to become smaller, and your bag would be on his shoulder instead. It was unimaginable how quick you and him got along in a short period of time as if you had been friends since the start.

"You didn't come to the game yesterday," Jake pointed out rather sulkily, flashing you those signature puppy eyes that you learned in a span of three days was actually just a trick to milk some pity.

"Jake, it's a school night. Why is the team even playing twice this week?" you deadpanned.

"Who says you can't have some fun on school nights?" He raised his eyebrows expectantly at you just to be shot down by your blank stare. "What I'm trying to say is, I'm convinced your appearance is pure luck for our team,"

"Now, what BS are you trying to use to convince me to go?"

"It's not bullshit! The last game we played that you didn't come to resulted in a near loss. We were lowkey shit. The times you were there, we were somehow the next contending NHL team,"

"I think that's just a coincidence," you poked his arm, shaking your head in pure disbelief.

"To me it isn't. Come to the next game, and to the pregame party with me on Friday,"

"Pregame party?"

"It's this party we have once in a while—you know what—it's actually almost before every game, but as I was saying, a party,"

"Full of jocks?"

Jake opened his mouth, then closed it. "Not only jocks, Anton will be there too,"

"Wow, like that's any better," you said sarcastically, knowing your best friend was the worst party goer to be with. Despite his shy personality and persona, all it took was one cup of alcohol to get him absolutely buzzed and become the opposite of his usual demeanour. That explained why he would usually ditch you though it was unintended. Wonyoung then became your party partner in crime, you suppose Jake was now trying to make a spot for himself now.

"I won't get drunk, I promise, I won't even touch a single drop of alcohol. I'll be by your side the whole time. It'll be a good opportunity to meet the guys too," he raised his eyebrows expectantly at you, the smile on his face persisting. He could tell you were conflicted. "You do the drinking, I'll do the driving, how about that?"

"Modern day romance, cute," you snickered, gradually letting the feeling of FOMO get to you but you also wanted to actually hang out with Jake. "I'll go,"

"Great—"

"No funny business," you pointed an accusatory finger at him, to which he reacted with a mock salute, flashing a satisfied grin.

"Absolutely no funny business." He reaffirmed, the sparks in his eyes increasing by tenfold. "I'll be by your doorstep at 8 sharp."

Jake was a man who stuck to his words. He was, in fact, on your doorstep at 8 PM that night, ringing the doorbell a minute earlier until you swung the door open to reveal yourself, already ready to leave.

"Hey,"

"Hi," you greeted back after a second's pause, stepping out to close the door behind you. "You're on time,"

Jake pulled a face, following your pace as you two started making your way to wherever Jake's car was parked. "Why wouldn't I be?"

You shrugged, pursing your lips. "My past dates never came on time,"

"Well, they suck and I'm glad it didn't get serious because you deserve better,"

You took a glance at him, smiling at the way he had his eyebrows furrowed, looking as if he was mad on your behalf. "I have you now,"

It took a couple of seconds for it to dawn on Jake's face. Watching his features twist and morph upon realisation had you giggling deviously. "I'm your date? Are you calling this a date? What—"

"Come on, let's walk faster." You looped your arm around his, pulling him along and giving him zero chances to collect himself as he tried to dissect everything happening. He didn't question it further once you two got into his car, only a faint smile remained on his lips all the way there.

You practically clung onto Jake almost like a koala bear upon entering the threshold of the frat house, reminding you of why you barely go to parties in the first place. "How about you do all the socialising too?"

Jake threw his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. It was an odd feeling when you noticed people having their eyes set on you and him, the hockey star player with just some girl. "Come on, the guys will love you,"

"I have social anxiety,"

"That's too late to confess now," he gave your shoulder a small, reassuring squeeze. "We can leave anytime you want,"

"Really?"

"Really. It's not about me tonight, it's you. Plus, coach will kill us if he knows we're at another one of these parties, so I'm saving my ass while we're at it,"

"You're an idiot," you snorted, but all he did was mirror your smile without your knowledge.

Out of all the things you've witnessed at this party, you found the most fascinating thing was Jake knowing practically everyone there. Every person he's passed by would greet him or he would be the first to greet them, the popularity of his was evident.

Never in a million years would you be able to predict the fact that you would meet the school's hockey team, let alone Jake himself. You were too used to seeing their tiny figures skating around on ice that when Jake brought you up to his friends, you had to blink a couple of times.

"Hey! Oh—you're the one that gave little Jakey a kiss," Heeseung's attention immediately turned to you after Jake introduced you to his small circle of friends.

"Dude!" Jake swatted Heeseung's shoulder, the reddening tips of his ears gave himself away.

"I'm Y/N," you casted a pointed look over at Jake while you introduced yourself to his friends, shaking some of their hands and letting them give you a half hug. Anton was amongst the bunch, occasionally nodded over at Jake to purposely tease you.

The amount of drinking games the circle of hockey players pulled you in was admirable even for a person with high tolerance like you. There were wins and losses, by the end of the night, you could barely stand on your two feet. Thankfully, your personal chauffeur and date was there for you to lean on.

"I want to see you around more often," Sunghoon drunkenly pointed over at you. "Jakey, don't hide her, okay? She's lots of fun,"

The rest hummed in agreement and Jake reassured them he'd do so before saying his last goodbyes of the night. His attention was now fully on you as he tried his best to get you into his car, somehow managing to also safely drive back to your place and guide you into your dorm.

"I'll go in myself," you protested against him as you crossed the threshold, his hands holding onto you firmly.

"You can barely walk properly, Y/N,"

"I'm just a little drunk," you defended, earning an amused snort from Jake who was entirely unconvinced by you. He eventually set you down onto the couch, wandering into the kitchen area and you didn't bother questioning, not when he came back with a glass of water.

"Here, drink," he handed you the glass of water that you downed in one go. You expected him to leave right after, but he didn't seem to be going anytime soon from the way he stayed glued to his spot next to you. "You alright?"

"I'll manage," you reassured, knowing how your roommate was going to have to put up with your hungover state the next morning. "You should go and get some sleep, you're playing tomorrow,"

"You're right," he stood up, though seemingly reluctant as he stared at your tipsy state. "Are you going to be okay alone?"

"Yes, I'll be! Now stop nagging," you followed suit to stand up, holding onto his arms for slight support. "I'm back home safely thanks to you and that's all that matters. Now, you, home, sleep, okay?"

Jake threw his head back, biting back a smile that was threatening to make its way to his face. "Okay. Who's the one nagging now?"

You pulled a look, punching his shoulder softly in a lighthearted manner. "Whatever," you murmured, excusing the rate of your heartbeat picking up. "You need to rest to score goals,"

"Goals? Why are you suddenly talking about goals?"

"I want to see you score,"

His lips curled into a knowing smirk, an imaginary light bulb flashed bright as an idea did in his head. "And if I score … will I get anything out of it?"

You caught on immediately, rolling your eyes with an incredulous smile. "Maybe an answer to a certain question,"

"Are you raising a bet with me, L/N?"

"Am I? It depends if you're up for it, Sim,"

"I'm always up for a challenge. A goal, a date,"

"You have my word."

Jake was soon out the door, your figure leaning on the doorframe for support as you bid him goodbye. "Good luck for tomorrow,"

"My heart will be at peace knowing you're going to be there. Come find me after the game … which I will score in,"

You stifled a laugh at his response. "I will,"

"Great, I'll see you then," Jake couldn't even hide his excitement from the way his face beamed. He acted nonchalant by shoving his hands into his pockets. "Goodnight,"

You smiled, "Goodnight." It was a daring move, but you took the chance of him being completely caught off guard to swiftly press a kiss on one side of his cheek. You didn't allow him to process this before closing the door, hiding the shade of burning scarlet on your cheeks.

Were you crazy? Yes. Were you starting to feel something more for Jake? Definitely.

"So … you and him are officially in the talking stage?"

It was the first time Wonyoung accompanied you and Anton to a hockey game. Her lack of interest in the sport didn't fathom neither of you, all you two needed was extra emotional support. So, now you were stuck gossiping instead.

"Something like that," you shrugged, eyes automatically landing on said talking stage who was warming up on the ice. This time around, Anton managed to score some good seats, though it wasn't front row, it was still considerably close.

"'Something like that'? Dude, you gave him a kiss on the cheek and you guys wouldn't stop texting, you're literally advancing at this point," Anton crossed his arm, shifting in his seat.

"You did what? Since when did you get so bold?"

"Since I got drunk. I swear I wasn't in my right mind,"

"Drunk words are sober thoughts, or in your case, drunk actions, that was probably what you've always wanted to do," Anton chipped in, earning a nudge from you.

"And you still haven't given an answer to that date yet? It's been almost a week and it's the weekend already," It was Wonyoung's turn to cross her arm and stare accusingly at you. Guilty. If only they knew the secret bet you had with Jake too.

"Don't worry, I've made up my mind," you, in fact, officially did make up your mind the night you went to bed screaming into your pillows at your action. It was a blessing he hadn't intruded on your dreams or else you'd be doomed.

"Well, what is it?" Wonyoung egged on, but all you did was smile deviously at her.

"I'll tell you after I give him my answer, but I think you'd already know it."

There was no mistake that Jake had spotted you in the crowd multiple times. The first time he glanced over, you thought it was a mere coincidence, but when there was a second, third and fourth time, you knew it wasn't. You didn't miss that lingering smile on his lips each time he spared a glance in your direction. If he kept going on, you felt your heart was about to burst.

The first period started with a bang. It was barely a few seconds in when the home team already got possession of the puck, Jake playing a big role in it. As if on cue, Jake was the one leading the possession, swerving past the opposition's defence line. Before you knew it, the puck was at the back of the net, a goal by Jake was scored under a minute.

Naturally, you and your friends jumped out of your seats in celebration. You, however, were hiding a bark of laughter once you remembered the bet you made with Jake. He really had something to prove to you, didn't he? To rub it into your face much more, Jake just had to skate past your section and purposely blow a kiss at your direction.

It wouldn't be Jake if he didn't have more tricks hidden under his sleeves, which explained why in another minute, a second goal from him was scored. At that point, you were both shocked and amused, realising how you should probably not second question his determination and dedication to securing a date with you. Two goals in two minutes, there was no denying his utmost desperation was apparent.

The first and second period soon ended with the home team leading. It was a pretty laid back game all thanks to Jake's contributions, so once the third period came around, everyone wasn't on the edge of their seats as much as before. It didn't excuse the surprises that continued to ensue time after time, the next one included Jake.

The clock was ticking and the atmosphere was gradually getting intense. The sounds of hockey sticks clashing into one another to win over the puck was loud, the home team succeeded in taking possession. That possession was soon passed onto Jake who quickly speeded past the oppositions. In a blink of an eye and a swift movement of his hockey stick, the puck was in the back of the opposition's net.

The crowd in the stands erupted into shouts of joy, pieces of popcorn flew into the air, drinks were flying everywhere, but nobody cared. You and your two best friends jumped out of your seats at once, shouting and hollering madly. The team on the ice was equally high on energy too, every player was jumping on Jake, but there was no mistaking his eyes being trained on you even if you were a distance away.

You expected him to turn away right after, but he never averted his attention on you. In a place full of people, you felt as though the lights were focused on you and him only. The camera zoomed in on him which was displayed on the jumbotron screen showing his smiling face, only then he turned his gaze onto the camera, blowing a kiss. This action managed to get many screams, but what came next was unexpected. He held up a gesture with his hand and it was clearly the first letter of your name.

Jake turned to look back at your direction, showing the letter of your name gestured by his hand proudly. Just from seeing his beaming expression, you found yourself smiling too, unable to resist his charms till the point where your friends were staring at you dumbfounded at the side. Frankly, no man has ever made you smile this way, ever.

"Did he—" Anton glanced at Wonyoung who looked back at him with a rather nonchalant expression compared to his confused one.

"Dedicate a goal to her? Yeah," it was something everyone could see, even if they didn't know you personally, they'd know Jake was dedicating it to a specific someone. "I wish a talking stage of mine would do this too,"

Anton shook his head. "Dream on, Wony."

Once the game was over, you sent him a text to meet you at the same location you bumped into him, aka somewhere along the food stalls. You took your time hanging around with your friends until you got a response back saying he's on the move, until then your friends decided to leave first and you were left with multiple 'good luck's from them.

Thankfully, by the time you got there it was mostly empty and there wasn't any crowd, because the last thing you needed was someone overhearing. It didn't take long for Jake to arrive after you did. His hair was still wet from the shower, a backpack slung over his shoulder.

"Hey," he said casually, stopping right before you. "I didn't keep you waiting, right?"

"Nope, you didn't," you shook your head, pursing your lips. "Great game, by the way,"

"Thanks," Jake's hand travelled to the back of his neck, a small tinge of red making its way to his cheeks. He was shy, especially since you were inadvertently hinting at the celebration that came after the goal.

You smiled, but the nervous habit of fidgeting your ring betrayed your rather nonchalant expression. It wasn’t supposed to be something so scary, yet it’s a much needed step in your talking stage with him. “Yes,” That wasn’t exactly how you wanted to execute it, here you were making a fool out of yourself instead.

Jake tilted his head to the side in confusion, almost looking like those golden retriever puppies you’d seen online. “What?” If it wasn’t for your shamelessness and determination in that moment, you’d have already ran away from the embarrassment.

“Yes, I’d like to go on a date with you. That’s my answer and also a part of our bet,”

Jake’s lips parted, the initial confusion morphed into surprise which he soon fully digested and that realisation resulted in the biggest smile that crept its way onto his face. You couldn’t help but find his reaction endearing, laughing softly. "Nice goals,"

"Thanks. Does that mean I get three dates now?"

It was easy to laugh around Jake, there was something freeing and warm about his presence. There was a feeling you experienced only with him, you didn't know what it was, but you wished to be able to have it all the time. "Take me out on one date first then we'll decide,"

Jake laughed quietly, looking away to avoid your eyes, because to him, one more glance at you was about to make his heart burst in nervousness. It took a few seconds for Jake to gather his composure back. He was the complete opposite compared to the person he was making that bet with you, shy and cheeky, unlike the confident and suave person he was from that night, the stark difference was what warmed your heart.

The obvious giddiness of his was eventually masked by an attempt in casualness. "I–tomorrow, seven, I'll pick you up,"

"Sounds good,"

"Great. Amazing," Jake mindlessly said, unable to take his starry eyes away from you. It looked as if Jake was completely enamoured by you from the way he stared at you with fascination. Whatever was going on between you and him then, it was some kind of love that was undeniably innocent.

Almost in a single blink, Jake snapped out of it, somehow being self aware as a shade of pink painted his cheeks at the realisation of his own thoughts. "It's getting late, how about I take you back to your dorms?"

"That'd be great, thank you." you suddenly felt shy under his gaze, the thoughts in your mind were yelling at your heart to stop beating so quickly.

Under the bleak night sky, you and Jake made your way back to your dorms with the stars as an additional companion. For the first time in forever, you found yourself wishing the night would never end and the road stretched further just so you could listen to his laughter for another minute. Falling in love was scary, but realising it was another story.

"It's been three hours and you still haven't made up your mind yet?"

Calling Wonyoung over and having her help you in getting ready was actually just her seeing you entering your demise as you overthink every little single detail. The outfit you chose had been changed over and over again till the point where Wonyoung was exhausted just by watching you do so.

"I haven't been on a date in ages, cut me some slack," you groaned, sitting down on the edge of your bed in defeat. "Plus, I think what's different about this date compared to the others is that I actually like him,"

"You—what?" Wonyoung practically scooted over in a hurry to join your side, purposely looking at you in shock.

"What?"

"You admitted it. You never do, amd it's only been a week,"

"Didn't need you to call out my emotional avoidant issues but yeah, I do like him. Well, not like 'like' him, confession kinda level yet. It's getting there but I think there's probably a chance," you sighed in defeat, basically raising your hands up in surrender, liking someone could be ever so thrilling but also an emotion filled rollercoaster. "He's sweet, genuine, funny, cute, everything a girl could ever dream of, it's no surprise how he's so easy to love. But I just hope I'm not another one of the girls in his roster,"

"Hey!" Wonyoung nudged you hard in the ribs, you sat up straight, head snapping to see her disapproving frown. "You're not, okay? I doubt he even has one from what I heard,"

"What?"

"I did some digging and from what my sources claimed, he hasn't been seeing anyone since his last break up, which was over a year ago. Not like the ones on his team, okay? They're fucking everywhere and he's been practising celibacy, alright?" Wonyoung's reassurance might've been slightly lighthearted, but it still held a certain weight to it. "Don't think too much. Are Anton's words getting to your head?"

"Well, no, but you already know my traumatic experiences with guys like him," by that you meant your exes and past dates, who were coincidentally friends of Anton's and the reason how you got to know them in the first place, also explaining why you doubt your best friends' judgement at times. Dating in the 21st century was tough. "I'm just saying. It feels too good to be true,"

"Or maybe it's because he likes you for who you are. You're you. Don't care about him being some hot shot hockey player, in the end, he's the one who wants a date with you."

You replayed Wonyoung's words as you waited for Jake to turn up at your doorstep, the clock ticking close to seven. As much as you had a great time getting to know him throughout the week, you couldn't help but have doubtful thoughts. He was Jake, the star player of the hockey team, there were probably many girls on campus dying to be in your spot right now.

Maybe Wonyoung was right, Anton's words were getting to you. You shook the badgering thoughts from your mind once you heard the doorbell ringing, all of the doubts disappeared the moment you opened your door to see a nicely dressed Jake Sim, who had a small bouquet of flowers in his hands.

Jake stared at you, his eyes sweeping over your body, lips parting in what you think was awe. The black dress Wonyoung picked really was the best choice it seemed. "Wow," he breathed out, pressing one hand on his chest. "You look like a dream,"

If what people described as having butterflies fluttering in your abdomen was exactly how you felt when he said that, they were probably right. You could feel the heat rushing up to your cheeks, painting them a light shade of pink. It was cliche, something typical a man would say, but somehow when it came to him, it had an effect on you.

"Thank you. You look handsome too," you smiled at him, momentarily getting distracted by the first few buttons of his button down shirt that was undone. It was most likely on purpose, wasn't it?

"Thank you," he bit back his smile from becoming wider, then raised his arm which held onto the flowers. "I got you flowers,"

You raised an eyebrow at him, both pleased and surprised. It might've been a simple act, but it was certainly a way to your heart. "You really know how to charm me, don't you?" You accepted them and quickly ran to place them on the counter, mentally noting to store them away later.

"I have my secret ways to get to your heart," he slipped his hands into his pockets, watching you make your way out and offered you his hand, which you gladly took. "And today, there's going to be another one that will lead me there,"

"I'm intrigued."

The car ride was quite longer than you had expected. It was a good thing that the whole journey wasn't filled with complete silence. Here and there, either Jake or you would tell the other about something going on in your lives, sometimes even the most random things too. The occasional silence wasn't awkward at all. With him, you realised the silences were always comfortable, as if his presence was what made everything reassuring.

The car eventually came to a stop at a building. You prayed it wasn't some shady building you were about to get abducted in, but knowing Jake, it should be the complete opposite of so. He held the door open for you at all times, even the car door, such small gestures made you smile secretly and your heart skipping. It was quite a torture, however, for his hand to brush against yours but never once intertwining. Maybe it was because he didn't wish to go against your boundaries and you were also too shy to suggest it, so either of you were left being stuck in agony hoping the distance between would disappear.

The elevator reached the top in no time. You were rather relieved, the tension in the whole journey up was palpable. It was obvious the both of you were aware of it, the only problem was no one dared to act on it. From Jake's frequent glances and his intense gaze, you knew his hand was itching to reach out for yours.

You were surprised at what Jake had planned once you stepped out of the elevator and into a restaurant with open air. It was a rooftop dining restaurant. Jake didn't bother to hide his knowing smile even as the server led you both to a reserved table.

"Dinner and sunsets," Jake smiled cheekily at you, seemingly looking proud of himself and the idea behind this location.

You narrowed your eyes at him lightheartedly. How could he have known that this was an ideal date of yours? "How did you know?"

Jake paused, then he shrugged, feigning casualness that you knew was the opposite of his true feelings currently. "I have my sources," Anton. Again.

You snorted at the common phrase you've grown to understand, shaking your head at the thought of Jake constantly pestering your best friend for information. Yet, it wasn't exactly a bad thing. Knowing Jake would frequently ask your friends about you and your likings showed his efforts. Plus points.

"I've never had someone put this much thought into a date with me before,"

Jake's gaze softened following your words, the littlest of the edges of his lips curled upwards. He let out a small endearing laugh and looked down a second to hide it. "I just hope you'll get to enjoy this date to the max. It's all about you after all,"

"Of course I will! The restaurant's amazing, the view over the city is too perfect. The fact that we'll get to watch the sunset in a while too? Ten out of ten,"

"I'm glad. You have no idea how much panic and anxiety I had planning this out,"

It was your turn to smile, the image of Jake being all panicked asking Anton to try and plan a perfect date was absolutely fitting to what you expected. "I wouldn't mind even if you took me to a seven eleven to eat cup noodles together if it meant we got to spend time together,"

You didn't know what it was exactly hidden behind Jake's expressions. He was resisting the urge to smile wider, the look of appreciation and adoration flashed across his eyes expressed otherwise. "I guess that's going to be our next date. I still have another two, don't I?"

"I don't remember that being in our deal exactly," you tilted your head and felt your heart beating with an increased tempo, accepting the effect he has on you by now. "But I don't mind seeing you more actually. Maybe I can promise you more than two dates,"

A look of relief was evident on Jake's face, he smirked in disbelief at you almost causing his heart to stop thinking you didn't want more than this one date. He was wrong, so wrong to doubt you. "Scared me for a second, thought you wanted this to be your one and very last date with me,"

"How could I? The restaurant's not the only reason I'll enjoy this date, you know? It's because of you," you averted your eyes away for a moment, suddenly scared to meet his gaze and the intensity of it. "You're the main reason, Jake,"

Once your confession had escaped your lips after holding it in for a suffocating amount of time, you realised you were not only professing something that was blossoming, but also gradually opening up to him, being completely honest and vulnerable while speaking your mind. It was odd. You've only known him for a week, but it was the most you've ever felt for a man you were romantically involved with. Maybe the part where he kissed you before you even knew one another played a role in the speed of your feelings' development, but you rather not come to terms with that.

There was another side of you which bugged you negatively. You had a feeling falling so fast for somewhere could eventually lead to a dismay. Some of your friends were evidence you could attest to, the amount of tears shed onto your sleeve was enough of a memory for you to recall. It was also a lesson on not moving too fast that you learnt. Were you going to get your heart broken?

But, the heart does want what it wants. You were a victim of listening to your heart over your head, and so were your friends who would tell you the same continuously. Seeing the man opposite you being completely stunned at what you said made the thoughts in your head panic. Oh God, did he not feel the same? Were you the one moving too fast and misreading the room instead? You turned away to look at the view of the city as a way to avoid his gaze, your heart feeling as if it was about to explode at any minute.

The view before you was exactly what you were feeling at that moment. The golden orange mixed with a pale pink painted your emotions of a complicated longing and attraction towards Jake, the softness of the colours were exactly how you felt for him, adoration and affection. "Pretty," you said mindlessly as you watched the sunset.

Jake followed your sight to take in the beauty of the sunset over the city, smiling to himself before turning back to look at you, taking the chance while you were paying him no mind. If only you could see the amount of pure fondness in his eyes which travelled to the corners of your face under the reflection of the orangey pink sunset. "Pretty,"

In that exact moment, it was a scene out of a movie and you weren't even aware of it. The hidden intimacy of it all was something you couldn't find reciprocating with someone else. That was mainly because Jake wasn't just someone to you.

You pushed the whole load of thoughts going around in your mind to play a little game of twenty questions with Jake. It was probably not the best idea, but it was also a convenient way to get to know someone. You soon learned that Jake had a dog back in Australia and he played football before getting into hockey, which explained why he held onto the jersey number five for a long time. His favourite colour was black, spring was his favourite season and that grape was his favourite flavour. There were many occurrences in which you and Jake yelled 'me too' in between the things you two revealed about yourselves. There was one out of many you two shared a belief in: love at first sight.

You were surprised at how compatible you and him were. There were slight differences but also a lot of similarities between you both. Maybe it was fate for you to find someone that fits you like a puzzle. Throughout the dinner, everything was going smoothly with nothing but laughter and interesting conversations to go with your food. That was until a foreign voice came towards your table.

"Jakey!" The familiar voice you've encountered once during the party came from behind you. You could tell by the smile faltering from Jake's face that he was not happy with the appearance of this person. Actually, it wasn't just one, there were multiple.

"Jaeyun!" There came another and soon the three stars of the hockey team appeared by your table. At first, their attention was all on Jake, their precious best friend and teammate. But judging from Jake's death glare, they only got the gist once they noticed your presence there, taking them a second to process everything.

"Hey guys," you greeted with a pinch of uncertainty, but you wanted to be nice and it would be rude not to greet them.

"Y/N," they acknowledged you in unison, their glances going back and forth between you and Jake. "Looking good," Heeseung added, followed by a hum of agreement from the other two. This only earned a sharp jap on the side from Jake.

"Thank you," you covered your smile with your hand, the urge to burst into full blown laughter was getting strong.

Looking at the knowing smirks appearing on every one of their faces, you knew all of them were sharing the same amount of brain cells which had identical thoughts. "Are you guys on a … date?" Sunghoon, the rather cheeky one, was the first to ask.

"Yes, we are, and you guys are crashing it," Jake narrowed his venomous eyes at his best friends, his gaze were enough to convey a message: he was going to strangle them to death after the date. "Why are you guys even here?"

"Well, Heeseung kinda overheard you asking Anton about a good restaurant or something like that, then he told Jay and Jay told me, so we thought it'd be nice to check it out on the same day you're going," Sunghoon scratched the back of his neck, realising how awkward this whole situation was.

At that point, Jake was rubbing his temples as if his head was about to burst at any second. The three hockey players turned to look at you for help, to you, they were almost like three helpless puppies who were about to be scolded. "We're sorry," Jay immediately gripped the other two by their shoulders, "and we're going to get out of your hair now. Enjoy your date, bye!" He rushed his words out then instantly dragged Sunghoon and Heeseung away, their hushed whispers audible until they eventually disappeared as a whole.

You turned over your shoulder to see their retreating figures until they were completely out of sight. You had to stifle your laugh as you turned back, seeing Jake shake his head before he met your eyes, cracking a small and rather embarrassed smile. "Sorry about that. I didn't know they were going to appear,"

"You don't need to be sorry. I think it's funny they made a sudden appearance and it definitely took me by surprise—in a good way. Plus, it's cute they came here wanting to join you thinking you were alone,"

The initial annoyance and embarrassment melted from Jake's expressions, he smiled with full genuinity, chuckling lightly. "Yeah, it was,"

You leaned your front against the table, placing your head onto your palm for support. "So, you asked Anton about me, your 'source'," you began carefully, "how long has it been going on?"

Jake flushed a light shade of pink that matched the hues of the sunset from earlier. He let out a cough then masked it with a lopsided smile in embarrassment that you had caught him straight on. "Ever since I found out you were friends,"

You couldn't stop yourself from grinning at his truthful confession. "I figured,"

"You did?" He tilted his head in curiosity and surprise. You supposed it was normal for some men to be oblivious.

"It's not hard to catch on, Jake. I only have two close friends," you poked light fun, though in reality it was pretty much the truth and you were not going to talk about that.

"Two close friends? What about me?"

You shrugged, surpressing the laughter that was on the edge of escaping your lips. "Well, yes, but you're more than just a friend to me,"

Jake's eyes lit up, a twinkling sparkle decorated his pupils. However, his playful grin said otherwise. "Best friend?"

"Get out."

Other than the cameo of Jake's friends, the rest of the date has been relaxing and calm, going smoothly as you continued on with more jokes and throwing fun facts about yourselves. The person you saw on ice was a contrary compared to the one sittinf opposite you. Although he was much rougher and aggressive on ice, even till the point where it landed him several suspensions, you knew he wasn't like that. He showed you his true, softer side with nothing but honesty and trust. There was only mutual respect and truth between you two, that was how easy it was to be with him.

By the time you got back to your dorm room, it was already past midnight. Time was no longer a concept when it came to being with Jake. Neither you nor him realised how late it was until the servers told you they were closing soon, being completely immersed in each others' presence and conversation to even pay attention to your surroundings. Jake had walked you to the door of your dorm room, the exact spot where he probably stood knocking your door earlier.

"Thanks for tonight. I don't think I'd ever forget about … everything. The sunset, your friends—" you smiled at that moment when Jake snorted when his friends were mentioned, "and you,"

The grin he had on his face faltered a little, his eyebrows raising and head tilting slightly. "Me?"

You couldn't tell him the truth. The sight of him with the sunset was when you realised your heart was feeling for him more than you could control. It was as if your heart was speaking for you. The hues of the evening sunset painted his face with a slow glow when he was watching it unfold before you, it was then you looked over at him and felt your heart stop. He was beautiful, his smile was something you wished was embedded in your mind even when you closed your eyes.

Instead, you hid the truth. "You put so much effort into planning this whole date till the point where you asked Anton about me. I'm grateful that you cared this much, it's something I'll never forget,"

The smile on his delicate features only grew wider, the light tinge of pink was making its way to his cheeks. "I'll never forget about this too, our first date. I never knew I could feel this way,"

"What way?"

"In a way where I feel too much, and I feel like my heart is about to burst at any moment just watching you," Jake bit his tongue, stopping himself from letting all his inner thoughts pour out and overwhelm you, the last thing he needed was you running into your dorm and never see him again. Little did he know you would do the opposite of that.

"I feel the same too," it was your turn to confess your truth. From the looks of Jake's reaction, that was probably the last thing he expected as a response which reciprocated his thoughts. You couldn't help chuckling softly at his expressions, he was definitely someone who had a rich set of reactions for each situation.

"Do you want to know what I think we should do next time?" There was an edge of humour in his tone, you didn't know what he was going to say next. You narrowed your gaze at him, particularly at the way he said it. "Are you sure you want to hear it?"

"Yeah, why? Is it something dirty?" You scrunch your face up, shooting daggers at him.

"It's disgusting," he punctuated, pausing for a few seconds after. "I think we should go on another date sometime, go bowling or whatever, get some ice cream,"

The glint in his seemingly mischievous looking stare met the roll of your eyes. He snickered at your reaction and you almost punched his shoulder out of spite. "You idiot," there was no chance of you hiding the growing smile, "I'd love to. It's a no brainer,"

Jake smiled in relief, breathing out a sigh. "I'll hold you to it," he snapped his fingers. There was a short pause, realising something shifted in the air ever since the moment you and him both confessed each of your inner thoughts.

You took the chance to divert the conversation away in an attempt to make everything less awkward. "You should head back already, it's late. Thanks for driving me back. I'll text you, okay?"

"Right," Jake said rather mindlessly, the gears in his head seemingly turning and still stuck on the conversation a few steps back.

"Goodnight, Jake," your hand was on the doorknob, giving it a twist to open your door, but you didn't walk in just yet.

"No goodnight kiss?" Jake said teasingly before you could even take a step past the threshold. The slight raise in his eyebrows and the smirk on his face was what made you recalled Anton's words of them having fuckbiy tendencies. Well, there was that side of him.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. "Nice try, I'm not intoxicated this time, Jake. Maybe I'll give you one on our next date—just maybe," you sent him a blowing kiss, which he caught as you closed your door shut, the sound of his sweet laughter was audible enough for you to feel a smile mindlessly making its way to your lips.

You hoped this would never end. The feeling of overwhelming joy, the giddiness as if you were a teenage girl all over again, the pure emotions of liking someone. All of this, you wished it would have a fortunate outcome.

Days turned into weeks where weeks turned into months. The time you've known Jake was no longer just a week, but months now. During those months you've spent together, there were countless of dates he brought you out on. Amusement park, cinema, ice skating rink, roller skate rink, the list of location went on and on. At that point, there was nothing but transparency between you two given the amount of time spent with each other. He wasn't just becoming your best friend, but also someone your heart was yearning for. By then, all your negative overthinking thoughts from the first date had completely vanished. Wonyoung was right, you thought too much.

Over the months, he has been proving to you that he was just a loser in disguise, you were saying this with full affection, of course. The initial fuckboy reputation that everyone claimed him to be just because he was part of the hockey team proved the complete opposite. He was probably a victim of rumours, stereotypes and generalisation.

"Aim better!"

It was one of those weekends reserved for date nights between you and Jake. It was a little something special that you and him shared. This had become a tradition before you even realised. The bowling alley nearby became the talk of the conversation about your next date not long before and here you were now, beating him while he continued to sigh in defeat.

"I am! You can't just say that while you're here winning. How are you so good at this?" He was gripping onto the bowling ball tightly, his eyes trained on the pins ahead of him. "I didn't know there was this side of you. You should consider a career in bowling," his aim definitely didn't land right when all he managed to do was knock two pins down. "I give up,"

"Don't be a sore loser here," one throw of the bowling ball from you showed Jake your true talents when every one of the pins came knocking down.

He turned to face you while still standing in his own lane, hands on his hips with a look of disbelief and admiration. "You know what, that's probably one of the hottest things I've seen,"

You screwed your face up, letting out a snort. "Your switch up is crazy,"

Jake threw his hands up in mock defence, shrugging. "Hey, I might've not win in bowling but I did win here with you by my side,"

Him and his words. He sure knew how to work them to his advantage and make you flustered. You turned away from him to hide your grin, the bowling ball in your hold suddenly feeling ten times heavier. "You're such a tease, Sim,"

He picked up a bowling ball too, contrary to his claims of giving up earlier. At your response, he laughed lightheartedly, giving it a few seconds before speaking again, as if to let everything soak in. "Just speaking the truth, sweets."

The next and last location to end the night of competitive bowling was the ice cream shop down the street. In classic Jake style, he got the flavour with the most complicated and weirdest name out there just for it to be chocolate, whereas you got a simple strawberry flavour. Strawberry and chocolate, a match made in heaven which represented you and him coincidentally. How cliche.

Amidst the silent exchange of reactions to each of your ice creams, Jake placed down his cup after taking one small scoop. "I have something to propose,"

You paused, glanced at him with suspicion before halting your actions completely. "What is it?"

"Be my plus one for Sunghoon's birthday party,"

You displayed some apprehension. "Is it some crazy frat party like the one you brought me to last time?"

Jake let out an amused sounding snort, then shook his head. "The opposite—"

"Thank God," you breathed out a sigh of relief.

Jake, however, looked rather offended. Maybe because the party was his hockey team's pre-game party. "Hey! The party I brought you to wasn't that bad,"

"It's the most beer and shots I've consumed in a night. I would say I'm lucky for having a solid tolerance but I'd also rather not think about the morning after,"

Jake smiled at that. You didn't know if it was simply because you brought up a past memory or that memory reminded him of your certain actions that night. Either way, you didn't miss his sly smile. "Okay, okay. There's no frat parties at all for Sunghoon's birthday, don't worry. We're going to throw a dinner party at our place and that's all. Pretty simple,"

Your face lit up at the idea of a birthday party, contrasting the look you had minutes ago thinking it was going to be another party with sweaty frat boys. "Wait, that's actually so cute. Count me in,"

"Really?"

"Really. When is it?"

"Next Saturday,"

"You know exactly when to pick me up."

It wasn't even Saturday yet when Jake turned up on your doorstep unannounced in the middle of the week. He had an unapologetic smile, a bouquet of fresh flowers in one hand and a box of donuts in the other. The confusion on your face to the unamused stance you had while staring at him was enough of a response on your part. Look, you liked Jake, but whoever ruins your sleep at nine in the morning was not an exception when it came to you cursing them out.

"Is this a courtship or a bribe?" You leaned your side against the doorframe, doing anything but inviting him at that moment.

"Both?" He shrugged, the awkward twist of his smile told you he had an explanation ready,

"Come in," you moved your body away to let the starry eyed Jake in, a certain plan he had concocted was soon to be revealed. "Had breakfast yet?"

"I did. But I know you haven't had breakfast, so I got you donuts," he nodded at the box in his hand, then raised his other hand that held onto the bouquet. "And flowers. I know the last one I got you is wilting," he pointed over at the vase sitting on the counter, the previous bouquet he got you on your date was indeed slowly wilting. How did he know? You didn't ask that.

You watched Jake's movements as he set the box and bouquet down onto the table, standing in a stance which reminded you of your mother when you were in trouble. "What brings you here at nine in the morning on a Thursday, Jake? I thought you had practice and I thought I would have extra sleep,"

Jake flashed you a sheepish smile, rubbing his forearm out of habit. "That got cancelled, so I wanted to take the chance to run an errand I've been holding off. This errand, however, requires your help,"

You raised a questioning eyebrow at him. "My help? What could it possibly be?"

The question you asked was answered when Jake drove you to a mall nearby. Turns out, he didn't know what he should get for Sunghoon's birthday, which was just in a few days. Not to mention, they were anything but prepared for the party. So, a trip to the mall with your guidance was a way to lessen Jake's bundle of worries.

"You said Sunghoon needed what?"

"A new bottle of aftershave," Jake trailed off with a hint of uncertainty, but also some embarrassment.

"Right," you nodded slowly, scrunching your nose up at the choice of gift Jake wanted to pick out, but alas, he knew Sunghoon better than you did so who were you to judge? "What else?"

"I already ordered him a Mitch Marner jersey, so I think that's all? Oh—I need to get him this thing,"

You were puzzled, but at that point, you didn't wish to question his interesting choices of a gift. "Which is?"

"A penguin plushie."

It seemed this gift was something Jake had in mind for ages as he found his way with no fault to a toy store and knowing exactly which aisle to go to in search for the penguin plushie. With a bottle of aftershave, a penguin plushie and a soon to be delivered hockey jersey, that was Sunghoon's gift from Jake. Next on the list was party decorations.

"Do you know what party decorations we're supposed to get?" Jake said with uncertainty as you walked past aisles of colourful decorations, only getting overstimulated by the bright colours and overwhelming amount of choices to choose from.

"I've done many things but a birthday party? This is a first," you sighed, grabbing some tinsels that got approval by Jake with a nod of his head.

"I blame them for putting me in charge of decoration. I want to get the cake instead," Jake sulked rather pitifully next to you, and instead, you snicker silently, which was received by a huff from him.

The trip to the mall ended with a bag of gifts and another bag full of decorations. Maybe you and him went a little overboard on the decorations, but Jake justified that it's reusable—well, except for the letter balloons which spelled Sunghoon's name.

Jake and you stopped by the small apartment he shared with his friends before dropping you off back home. It was probably your fourth time entering the apartment he lived in and it was also the fourth version of the house you last remembered. There was a new painting, several pieces of furniture shifted, and a whole lot of laundry stacked on the couch.

Not that you were intimidated by the ever changing interior till the point where you didn't drop by his place compared to the times he came over to yours, it's just the last time you were here, the memory wasn't quite a favourable one. Let's just say, it was another recreation of your first date where the three of his friends joined your supposed movie date, but there was something they lacked that time around: self awareness. That only resulted in you and Jake cuddling rather stiffly listening to three of them rambling about the movie's theories.

"Thanks for coming along with me today," Jake held onto a chair once everything was set aside, the two of you standing close to the door and being the sole presence there at that hour.

"It's no problem. I'm glad I could be of help even though I'm pretty sure you already had everything in plan, didn't you?"

"I'll look stupid if I admit that this was a plan to just get some time with you, won't I?" Jake slipped his hands into his pockets, glancing at the floor for a second with a small smile. "I genuinely needed your input, though. I'm sure the party will go well with your opinions,"

"It better go well, or else me getting woken up early and also getting bribed will all be in vain," you said in a lighthearted manner, eliciting a quiet laugh from Jake, and because of that, you were unable to resist a smile creeping onto your lips. "Trust me, I look more stupid for willingly sacrificing my sleep so that I can let you pull me into whatever scheme you have,"

There was a mutual spark that lighted in between. The weight of both yours and Jake's words carried something more than you had anticipated. It was evident that there was a change of atmosphere in that room, in that split second. Realisation clicked at the end of your sentence, both by you and Jake.

The momentary silence was broken by Jake. "I can't seem to find my words, but I know what my heart wants,"

You inhaled a small, sharp breath, eyes flickering. "What is it?"

"To kiss you,"

You shouldn't feel nervous, right? That was what you thought then but whatever you were feeling was betraying your thoughts. Was he going to kiss you? No, he was holding back, and that was obviously torturous not only to him but you. You wanted him to kiss you. "Then do it. Kiss me,"

You've never been braver until this moment. Never in a lifetime would you have expected those words to leave your lips. Congratulations to Jake for being the first man to get you to do so, but God, you were going insane and you were lucky your knees hadn't given out.

Jake took a step closer to you, his hands were by his side now. The steps were daring, testing the waters. You gave a green light by staying unmoving, the quiver of your lips were a sign of anticipation and anxiety. It was happening. Your official first kiss with him. An actual kiss after months.

At that point, he was standing so close to you, you could almost feel his breath on your face. The cologne he wore daily filled your senses, his warmth you got used to was giving you a quiet assurance like a hug. He could just kiss you now if he wanted to, but why couldn't he? Maybe he was taking his time. He was staring all over your face, as if memorising every little detail of it.

The moment his palm made its way to your cheek was when you knew you were far too deep to escape. You ignored the quickening pace of your heart and the wobble in your knees, then closed your eyes and waited with hope.

It never came. The feeling of his lips never touched yours. Instead, the sound of the front door bursting open and the shouts of several familiar voices came crashing into your reality.

"We're home!" The voice belonged to Heeseung, seemingly still unaware of everything. "We saw shoes out front—oh," realisation.

It was then you snapped your eyes wide open, pushing yourself away from Jake before you could form any coherent thought. Jake's expressions matched the one you had on your face: panic and shock. You stayed staring at each other for a few solid seconds until you figured you were, in fact, not dreaming of the voices and that his friends were actually standing there.

"I—were we—did we—interrupt—" Jay stuttered out, the horrors on both his and Heeseung's faces would've been comical if only you weren't stuck in this situation yourself.

"No!" The word escaped both yours and Jake's lips at the same time, in the same tone and manner. You turned to look at him and he did the same, then you faced his friends again.

Jake heaved a sharp breath, pupils shaking visibly. "Well, I was just about to grab my keys to drop Y/N home," he snatched his car keys from the table without thinking twice, the awkward tension in the room was suffocating.

"Yeah, we were about to leave …" you trailed off at the lie you made up. Nope, you weren't about to leave, you were about to kiss Jake. Oh, Anton and Wonyoung were going to love this story.

"Should we…?" Jake glanced at you, the red lights practically blaring in those pairs of brown eyes. You got his cry for help and nodded, because you, too, were calling out for help internally.

"We should, yeah, we definitely should. I'll see you guys at the party." you waved a quick and stiff goodbye then grabbed your stuff, following Jake out the door. Only when you were outside wearing your shoes, you got the chance to breathe out a breath of relief. You didn't know what was about to happen in that house or after Jake returned, but all you could guess was them being as panicked as you were.

On the drive home, it was rather quiet. Whether it was the lasting awkwardness from earlier or the avoidance of the topic, you didn't know. You could feel his occasional glances at you, yet he didn't dare to act on it and somehow, you felt disappointed after every one of them.

You thought by the end of the drive, you'd be silently leaving his car with no words exchanged. However, Jake wasn't one to leave it at that, nor was he someone to let you go that easily. He grabbed onto your hand before you could reach for the handle, halting you in the midst of your actions.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he let go of your hand from his hold as you sat back into the cushioned seat of his car, the flickering of his eyes gave his nervousness away. "I can't believe it happened again,"

You cracked a small, humorous smile at the mention of you and him getting interrupted for a second time by his friends. At that point, you believed it was just fate that intervened. "It's okay, Jake, really. The timing wasn't perfect, I suppose, and I get it,"

"Maybe," he hummed, unable to take his eyes away from you, which only made you want to sink into the seat further. He couldn't just do that after almost kissing you! It's not fair. "I'm frustrated,"

"At your friends?"

"At my friends, and at the fact that I couldn't kiss you,"

He was bold. It was something you never got used to, having no prediction of what he would say next. This was one of them.

"Yet," you added quite daringly, looking away to hide the shyness you were suddenly feeling.

"What?"

"You couldn't kiss me yet," you repeated, this time a little more confident than a minute ago. "There's always a next time, isn't there?"

Jake let out a small chuckle, throwing his head back slightly, the reddening tips of his ears betraying his current calm demeanour. The simplicity of your optimistic words made his heart jump at the unrelenting chances of another try. Second time could go right, can it? "Yeah, and I'll make sure there's no interruption during then, just the two of us."

You were thankful you declined Jake's offer of walking you up to your dorm room. Having him beside you in his car when he uttered those words so nonchalantly almost made you lose your mind. Even after you entered your room, you still felt the lingering feeling of his lips just like a ghost. Closing your eyes, you could almost feel his warmth around you swallowing you whole, the touch of his hand on your cheek burning.

Lying in bed, you thought of him the whole night as if he had infected your mind. It was then you realised what you felt months ago was different compared to now. Your feelings for Jake was no longer some simple crush, attraction or liking, it was something deeper. You liked him, but it was a kind of feeling where you felt yourself giving your heart to him with no doubts, the stars in your eyes only shining brightly for him. He was your universe.

God, how did you end up here? You had fallen deeply and helplessly.

On the evening of Sunghoon's birthday, you, Jake, and the rest of his friends along with some of their partners spent the last bit of time finalising all of the decorations before the birthday boy's arrival.

The near kissing incident with Jake was eventually swept under the rug. Maybe it did for you and him, but you could tell from Heeseung and Jay's faces that they were still suffering from the embarrassment when seeing you. You had a feeling Jake told them off after getting back that day.

Other than that, you were more relieved nothing was awkward or stiff between the two of you. Everything was well and the preparations for Sunghoon's birthday busied him enough to get his mind off the embarrassing yet intimate moment. The time you spent with him throughout the whole fiasco of planning did some salvaging.

"Do you think he'll like this colour?" Jake was anxiously looking at the time on his watch, noting Sunghoon's imminent arrival. Jay was out with Sunghoon to get him away from the house as long as he could.

"Jake, it's just yellow," you patted his shoulder in reassurance, unable to blame the guy for being a tad bit nervous for the first party he planned for his best friend.

"You're right—I hear his car in the driveway. Guys! Off the lights now!" Jake couldn't even get a single breath of peace when speaking of the devil, Sunghoon was home. He grabbed onto your arm, pulling you with him to hide behind the counter. The others were scurrying for the cake and you were thankful you weren't tasked to handle that.

Even though it wasn't your first time rehearsing this, the feeling of Jake holding tightly onto your wrist, his body pressing close to yours as you squatted behind the counters, all of them were the factors your heart was beating extremely fast. Not because of Sunghoon and the entirety of his surprise party, but Jake.

The heat emitting from his body shouldn't be making you flush red, should it? The scent of his woody cologne was concentrated, the closeness of his face and his obliviousness to it all was the cherry on top.

"I'm nervous," he whispered, the voices outside becoming louder as footsteps approached closer to the front door.

You flashed him an assuring smile, squeezing his hand lightly. "It's going to be fine. You have me,"

The undying spark in his eyes shined even in the darkness of the room. He gave your hand a squeeze back, tugging it closer to him. "I have you."

Jake's hand never left yours even when you and him jumped at the entrance of Sunghoon. Shouts echoed around the room as Sunghoon remained shocked whilst his friends wished him happy birthday. The cake was immediately carried towards him and everyone started singing the tune of the birthday song. All while everything was happening, the hand intertwined with yours was the only thing occupying your mind.

At the end of the night with Sunghoon drunk out of his mind and everyone else too tipsy to function properly, you were one of the few left sober. Surprisingly, Jake was among the few you mentioned. There on the sidewalk of his driveway you sat under the starlit sky, catching a moment of fresh air after the whole day's worth of running around.

"Can I join?" The voice you would anticipate hearing interrupted your daze, glancing up from the sidewalk to see Jake's smiling face.

"Always,"

He didn't say anything more but instinctively sat himself next to you, his shoulders brushing against yours created a spark that neither of you could ignore. There was a short pause of silence where you and him said nothing but just basked in each other's presence. It was one of those times where you communicated through your every microexpressions, barely saying anything audibly but also expressing everything needed.

"I have a question,"

You were the first to break the silence, taking a daring step.

"Shoot,"

"This is going to sound cliche, and a little stupid, but bear with me," you let your curiosity wander this time, maybe it was a spur of a moment feeling which gave you a sense of sudden vulnerability, you didn't know. "Why me?"

Jake turned to look at you. "What?"

"Why—out of many other girls on campus—you somehow ended up liking me and asking me out on a date?" Gosh, you knew how cliche it already sounded in your head, but to say it aloud was probably worse. You were thankful Jake wasn't walking away at the question. Instead, a smile twitched at the corners of his lips.

"It's a long story,"

"Oh God, it's not one of those movie scenes where you tell me it's all a bet and try to win me over after I get heartbroken, right?"

Jake let out an amused sounding chuckle, throwing his head back, a habit you noticed whenever he laughs at something humorous. "What is this? '10 Things I hate about you'? Thankfully no," he gave your shoulder a small bump with his, eliciting a quiet laugh from you this time.

"You might not remember this since it's been a while," he continued on with his story and you grew more curious. "But we actually met before that night you punched me,"

"What?"

Jake knew you wouldn't remember the memory he's bringing up currently, only smiling in response as he gave you a few seconds to process. "It's a little crazy, but we actually met on a Saturday evening. I can still remember it clearly. You were the person who offered me your umbrella on that rainy day when I was stranded outside the library building. I almost didn't make it to practice if it wasn't for you,"

He turned away from you, glancing up at the sky instead, the slight smile he had on his face maintained, never once faltering. "If I have to be fully honest with you, at that time when it happened, I was still quite heartbroken from my last break up even though months had passed since then, but seeing you … I felt something. The biggest regret was not talking to you when you already left, then somehow I found my way back to you,"

Your head was a mess scrambling to piece together Jake's story. Searching in every corner of your mind, you thought back to a rainy day, from there you looked further. The blurry memory of a guy appeared, the vague recollection of a face matched the one sitting next to you. It happened, it actually happened.

"You did," you whispered, your voice audible in the quiet night air. "Maybe there was an invisible string tying us together all along,"

"I usually don't believe in things like that, but for once, when it comes to you, I do believe it," Jake's gaze held a twinkle that resembled the stars on the night sky, his features was soft as he stared at you with a touch of gentleness you've never once seen.

"Can I be honest?" You held onto your breath, the speed of your heartbeat increasing. He was anticipating your words, looking at you expectantly. But you found yourself frozen for a moment. He was pretty, so pretty. Staring at him was enough to get you stumbling over your words. "No one has ever made me feel this much except for you,"

The unbreaking eye contact was intense. Once your confession left your lips, there was a shift in the atmosphere, the air was thick and laced with an electric spark. He was digesting every letter you uttered, the slight surprise morphed into a smile. The corners of your lips automatically followed along with his, stretching into a smile that you didn't know was Jake's favourite.

"I feel the same too," he edged his body a little closer, facing towards you more, all of which went unnoticed by you. "I want to be the only person who makes you feel this much, to make you smile, to make you laugh," he leant in closer, his face being barely illuminated by the street lamp, yet, you could see make out every little feature of his that you memorised. At that point, you knew it was happening, and there wasn't going to be any interruptions. You were determined for it to be that way.

One of Jake's hands reached for yours that rested on the pavement ground, taking it into his and intertwining his fingers with yours. You could read his emotions through his eyes, every detail of his expression told an emotion he was feeling currently. Anxious, but also thrilled. There were the two of you who felt the same at least. Then, he said it, the thought you two were simultaneously sharing.

"Can I kiss you?"

Finally.

You bit back a laugh and proceeded to do something you would've never dared to do until now. Without letting a second pass, you grabbed onto his shoulder clumsily and pressed your lips onto his, shutting your eyes with the feeling of your heart almost escaping your chest.

Would it be cliche to describe the entirety as a breath of fresh air? It took a split second for Jake to actually process your lips on him then only proceeded to kiss you back with the equal amount of gentleness, want and desire. Although this wasn't your first time kissing him given that moment in the hockey arena, it was the total opposite.

The initial shock and confusion disappeared immediately. Jake's hand travelled from the expanse of your cheek and disappeared into your hair. You tilted your head to deepen the kiss and Jake took that as a welcoming invitation. Safe to say you were about to think about this the whole night instead of falling asleep.

If there was a memory you wished to experience once more, it'd be this exact moment. The intoxicating touch of his and his familiar cologne scent that ingrained into your mind itself. You felt Jake smiling into the kiss seconds before pulling apart, the feeling of it made you experience overwhelming emotions that choked you, it was as if his smile was imprinted on your lips even after and you were unable to forget about it, instead, you craved it.

No one told you how it'd go down after a kiss. You and him both were there staring at one another in a daze, seemingly thinking 'did this happen?'. Well, it did, and you were reeling from it.

You were sure your lipstick was smudged, not to mention, the red marks left on Jake's lips gave it away clearly. Neither of you dared to move away from each other, keeping the close proximity in between. The loud music playing from the inside of the house eventually became more apparent once you gained full consciousness from the disassociation post kissing.

"I'm glad there's no cameras this time," Jake broke the silence, lighthearted and gentle with his words just as much as his kiss was.

You snorted, nudging him a little with your elbow. "And I'm glad no one walked in on us,"

There wasn't a word exchanged, a knowing look in one another's eyes which you read, and from that, you and him burst out laughing. If it wasn't for the fits of laughter which distracted you, you would've already been exploding from the realisation of Jake keeping your hands interlocked.

"If I have to be really honest with you right now, my heart is beating way too fast for it to be healthy. You're quite literally about the death of me," Jake said, completely stunned as he pressed a hand on his chest. He surely had a way with his words. "I could kiss you forever," there he's done it again, erupting butterflies in your abdomen.

"I'm not entirely objecting to that, so …" you shrugged playfully, meeting Jake's watchful gaze that was filled with nothing but softness and love.

He let out an amused chuckle, squeezing your interlocked hand with his. "I'll hold you to that."

The night eventually ended a little over midnight. It was entertaining to watch the three of Jake's best friends slurring their goodbyes to you, stumbling around trying to keep their balance but giving up and crashing onto the couch. Jake decided to leave them be and drive you back, taking the extra mile to walk you up to your doorstep.

"It was really fun tonight. Thanks for inviting me," you fidgeted with the sleeves of Jake's jacket that was draped around you, the quietness of the night only amplified your voices in the corridor.

"I'm glad you agreed to come and also helped me out on setting this up. I don't think I would've survived," Jake offered a lopsided smile, glancing down at the floor for a moment to hide his embarrassment.

"I'm happy to be of help," you were trying your best to contain your giddiness that was bubbling in your abdomen ever since your lips made contact with his. "I think Sunghoon will love his gifts … well, after he's sober,"

"He better likes it. I spent a shit ton amount of money on that jersey," Jake snorted, shaking his head, seemingly split between regret and indifference. "It's getting late, you should head on in,"

"Right, I should. Thanks for dropping me off, like always,"

"It's alright, I want to make sure you get home safe anyway," his heartwarming words definitely made your cheeks flush a tinge of pink, but you hid it away from him by fumbling with the lock of your door. Just before you could bid him the last goodbye of the night, he stopped you. "You forgot something,"

You tilted your head, eyebrows scrunched into a look of confusion. There was nothing you could think of that you've possibly forgotten. Wait, did he mean exactly what you were thinking of? You narrowed your eyes at him, a sly smirk on your face greeting him. "You're so annoying,"

It was his turn to be confused, but unfortunately for him, you didn't take note of that in time and he was left dumbfounded. In a blink of an eye, you pressed a haste kiss on his cheek. Jake thought he was dreaming. Even until then, you were unaware that he was surprised and frozen in shock, or just the plain fact that you and him both had a small misunderstanding.

"Goodnight, text me when you're home!" With that, the door slammed shut on his face before he had a chance to regain his composure and open his mouth to say something. He let out a breath of disbelief, his hand instinctively shot up to the spot where you placed a kiss on, grazing his finger faintly there.

"I mean the jacket." He murmured to himself, still in a daze as he turned around to make his way back.

He meant the jacket.

Sunghoon's birthday party had definitely become a turning point for you and Jake's relationship. Ever since that night, the both of you were inseparable. To your friends, however, it was insufferable instead. But, there was something very big and blaring in front of your face: he hasn't made anything official … yet? You tried reassuring yourself.

"You guys kissed, twice. He's not going to miss the chance of asking you to be his girlfriend officially. It's been almost a year," Wonyoung was pouring a drink that you needed from the amount of thoughts bugging you. Maybe going to a frat party was the least sane option of trying to take your mind off of it. "Think about it, for someone like him, he's surely thought about it before and he's probably planning something,"

Your lips were pressed into a thin line, considering. Wonyoung wasn't completely wrong, neither was Jake entirely dumb. "You're right, I'm probably thinking too much,"

Wonyoung threw her arm around your shoulders, leading you to somewhere less crowded. "It's completely valid, Y/N. I'd think the same. But don't worry, knowing Jake and how he's absolutely whipped for you, you'll be fine."

Will you? Given the past failed situationships you had that led you on to thinking you'd have a boyfriend to bring home for Christmas absolutely tainted your view on talking stages. Not that Jake was just a talking stage, he was more than that, more than the ones that did you wrong. But a scar was permanent nonetheless, it's just something you had to live with.

You eventually left Wonyoung's side to search for any bathrooms that were unoccupied, which ended up being a harder challenge than expected. A big frat house with many rooms, yet most of the bathrooms were either hidden away or occupied, just amazing. The narrow corridors were also another nightmare for you having to squeeze past drunk college kids or people making out, you didn't know which was worse. You wondered if your luck had somehow ran out when you accidentally bumped into someone tall, knocking his drink over in the middle of the corridor.

"I'm so sorry!" You reached down to pick his cup up in panic, not knowing who the person even was until you stood up straight, the fog in your brain clearing up for you to realise the person was actually someone you knew. Speaking of past failed situationships, one was unfortunately standing before you there and then. The universe must be toying with you.

"Y/N?"

Nevermind the cup, either of you were too stunned at the sight of one another to really care about it anymore. Song Eunseok. Anton's best friend from the rival school's hockey team, but also your past situationship and talking stage. How did Anton even acquire that many jock friends, you didn't know, neither did you want to.

Anton was the one who set you and his friend up, thinking it'd be a good idea to get you back into the dating scene. Wrong. Turns out, his best friend ended up being a total asshole that reminded you to never trust Anton and his wingman abilities, particularly him and his jock friends. That was also the reason why you doubted Jake at the start, and you hoped you'd continue being wrong about him.

"Hey," you murmured, unknowingly tightening your grip on the plastic cup. What was there to speak about anyway? The thing that happened between you and him ended sourly and it wasn't entirely the best memory for you to sit and talk about. "I'll get going now,"

"Wait," the sound of his voice after years of not hearing it in flesh made you stop in your steps, your eyes flickering up to stare at his face.

"What?"

"You're not going to ask me why I'm here?"

You should be confused, he wasn't around here, neither did he go to your school to mix around with people that did. "I don't care," you answered bluntly, but truthfully, it was already predictable that he's only in town for a game against the school's team, that's all.

He wasn't impressed by your indifference, clicking his tongue as he glanced away for a second. "I heard you're going out with Jake,"

"And?"

He threw his hands up in mock defence, that gloating look on his face was only making it more punchable as minutes ticked by. "I'm just trying to warn you,"

"Whatever it is, I don't care,"

"Really? You really don't care about him being known to switch between girls all the time? How he breaks hearts and plays with girls like you, really?" Eunseok practically sneered, watching the brave front you put on faltering.

"What?"

"Oh, you know, he's got a reputation for himself. A good boy facade with fuckboy tendencies, many girls fall for it, I can't believe you did too," he shrugged, the maliciousness evident in his gaze. "He's probably fucking with you for a while then he'll throw you to the side after, just like every other girls,"

You knew he was lying and trying to get into your head by spewing some bullshit, so why were you letting him do so? A part of you was aware that what he said wasn't true, but the other part of you let his words get the worst of you. It was as if all the horrid thoughts you had pushed into the back of your mind resurfaced and manifested into words that were thrown into your face, more ironic that they were uttered by the same man who was the blueprint of your problems with relationships.

"Look, whatever hockey rivalry you have, I don't care, but don't bring his and my personal matters into this," you backed away from him, wishing the ground would just swallow you whole instead of having to face him. "God, you're still such an asshole after a long time."

The last sentence from you was seethed out of your teeth before you whipped around to speed walk away. The adrenaline and anxiety redirected your attention away from the need to find the toilet, instead, you were searching for the front door in order to leave.

"I need to leave," you gripped onto Wonyoung's shoulder, her smile formed into a frown once her eyes landed on your face, instantly sensing the red flags. "It's okay if you want to stay, I can go on my own,"

"But we took my car, I can't just leave you—"

"I'll find a way, I'll call a cab, whatever it is. It's fine, I'll be fine," you rubbed her shoulder assuringly, though you knew in reality, you were far from fine.

"Are you okay? Y/N, I can leave with you, it's fine—"

Wonyoung realised you were no longer keeping your eyes on her, but you were staring over her shoulder, dread evident in your features. Before she could open her mouth to question you, you were already inching away from her. "I'll text you when I'm home. Be safe!"

Wonyoung was having a hard time keeping her gaze on you and grasping everything in general, she ended up following your line of sight, her frown deepened once it landed on what happened to be the root cause of your panic. Eunseok. By the time it clicked in her head, it was probably too late. You were out the door.

A gush of the cold night air hit your face just as much as Eunseok's words did. They were circling around your mind endlessly, fighting the thoughts of you convincing yourself he was just a liar. But to a certain extent, some lies do have truths hidden in them. Could this be one of the cases?

It didn't help that the memory of what Anton said came flooding in, rubbing salt to the wound. Neither was it the perfect timing for Jake to come walking up towards you, looking ready to start his night of partying.

"You're here!"

His voice broke you out of your trance, your feet halting just in time for his hands to hold onto your shoulders, the biggest smile greeting you. However, this time around, you couldn't bring yourself to reciprocate it, not when he reminded you of all the things you told yourself to not worry about.

"You okay? Where's your friend?" Jake's smile faltered, the look of worry flashed across his face, his grip on your shoulders didn't budge.

You couldn't meet his eyes, releasing a shaky breath. "Tell me it isn't true," your voice came out quiet, the sound of your blood thumping in your system filled your ears. "He's lying, isn't he?"

Jake's face was leveled with yours, shaking your shoulders, forcing you to look him in the eyes. "What? Who?"

"You're not going to break my heart too, right?"

"What—Y/N, you're not making any sense. Did someone tell you that? Who was it?"

"It isn't true, right? Those stories of you playing with girls' hearts just like any other asshole would, I … never believed them, so they're lying, aren't they?"

Jake's mouth fell agape, the words that were expected to spill never came, a dawning fall in his expression spoke more than it should've. "It is. It is true," you breathed out, letting it sink in, after all those times of not listening to the rumours of him, it ended up being real. A serial heartbreaker, Jake Sim, how cliche could it be? And how unfortunate for you to attract these types of guys over again. "I'm not one of them, am I?

"You're not, Y/N, never," his hold on you was relentlessly, you only felt smaller as seconds ticked by. "Those rumours were from ages ago, back before I knew you, before I had my break up. It's been years. I realised how much of an asshole I was and I changed my ways. You have to believe me,"

You did, you believed him. His actions over the months told you enough, giving you a chance to build a trust towards him. But after hearing basically a confirmation to those rumours from him and Eunseok, you were split in half, mind in a mess. Eunseok wasn't completely wrong, but you believed he was just trying to get to you with his scathing words, and Jake admitting to it wasn't exactly the ideal cherry on top. It was supposedly the past, wasn't it? Plus, Wonyoung's survey of information about Jake was something much more worth believing than your ex situationship.

"I believe you," you whispered out, choosing to tell the truth rather than making it into a bigger mess. You ran a hand through your hair, releasing a sharp exhale. "I think Eunseok was trying to stir a reaction from me,"

"Eunseok? Song Eunseok? He's playing against us tomorrow," Jake breathed out incredulously, swallowing a string of cusses. "Y/N, forget about him or whatever he said. I admit it, I was like that in the past, back when I didn't know any better. But I promise you, I'll never, ever break your heart,"

You felt guilty, guilty for letting the worst get to you, for putting the blame on the wrong person based on assumptions you made. Jake had always been an accepting person, and you were grateful for that. "I'm sorry for acting this way. I let my fears get to me after hearing things about you from Eunseok and you admitting to them. I was scared you'd turn out to be the type of guys I hated," you paused, taking a chance to breathe in deeply. "I just didn't want to be someone else's second choice again,"

You gave yourself a chance to be completely vulnerable with him, laying all your ugly truths for him. Embarrassed and distressed, those were what describes you at that moment. You hated the way you got heated up over nothing, letting your fears and emotions overwhelm you till the point where you couldn't think straight or rationally. Your mess of a mind was distracted once Jake pulled into his chest, engulfing you into a hug.

"You'd never be a second choice to me, in fact, you're the only one in my life," His hand stroked your head, the side of his face resting on it. "I'm sorry for letting you feel that way, or not being there to punch that asshole square in the jaw. You're not just anybody to me, you're my best friend, my partner in crime, my everything. You don't understand how much and complete you make me feel. I wouldn't replace you for anything,"

The initial shock of the hug melted into relief, his warmth provided a sense of security along with his reassuring words. Your arms wrapped around his body, reciprocating the hug. "Thank you," you swallowed, letting yourself melt into his hold. Minutes passed with no words exchanged, just the two of you holding each other, yet, it expressed much more than words were required. You trusted him, you do, and you knew he wasn't the type of man Eunseok described, maybe in the past, but the present was where you're at currently, you knew he wouldn't try hurting you. You knew him.

The drive back to your dorm was sullen and weird. 'Weird' was definitely a way to put the whole aftermath into words. You had already settled whatever rift there was before getting into the car, but why didn't it feel right at all? You were scared you hurt him, and unbeknownst to you, he was thinking the same. This only caused a slight tension, neither of you daring to reach out first at that given moment.

That was when Jake reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours and settling the interlocked hands on his thigh. As always, he was the first to mend the cracks. "I'm sorry for making you doubt yourself in the first place. I never knew,"

"I don't blame you. It was my fault for not speaking out on it either. I bottled it up until it got to me. People did warn me about your past, about your old ways, but I trusted you, I knew you wouldn't hurt me," you gave his hand a squeeze, more to reassure yourself. "I just can't believe I let Eunseok get the worst of me,"

"He's just a total asshole. It's okay, I understand, I would've felt the same if I was in your shoes," there was a sigh that followed after. "Actually, what's the relationship between you and him? I never knew you two knew each other. Are you guys … friends?"

"Friends? God no. We're anything but friends at this point," your face twisted into a sour expression, the thought of being friends with a guy like him made your stomach churn in the worst way. "Long story, but Eunseok is Anton's friend, they go way back. Anton being the wingman that he claims to be, he set me up with Eunseok. We were never official, but we were more than just friends at one point. I thought he'd ask me to be his girlfriend officially since everything was going good, but he ghosted me and got with another girl after,"

Explaining your past with Eunseok was another type of reliving the bad memories. The time you spent on that man was not worth it. "Which explained why I became wary of Anton's friends. All the ones he's introduced me to ended up being the same variant as Eunseok, and that also instilled a paranoia when I agreed to try things out with you,"

Jake kept his eyes focused on the road ahead, but his raised eyebrows that were almost touching his hairline was enough to show his surprise. "Wow," he breathed out, seemingly digesting it in. "Are all Anton's friends assholes? Am I an asshole?"

You rolled your eyes at him even if he didn't catch onto it. "Luckily for you, you changed and they didn't. I'm pretty sure most of them stayed the same, Eunseok is basically a living proof of that theory. You and your friends, however, aren't like that from the beginning, which is why I like you guys,"

"I thought you only liked me?" Jake finally glanced at you, among the hint of playfulness in his gaze, there was also a warmth of understanding.

You stifled a cackle, choosing to let out a laugh out of impressed disbelief. "Don't need to be so full of yourself, hot shot."

It was his turn to laugh. The sweetest melody of his laughter had you smiling unknowingly. It was always the simplest things about him that made you happy. You wished for it to stay as such for a long time.

By then, it became a normal habit for Jake to walk you up to your doorstep, neither of you questioned it anymore. This time, however, things didn't leave at the doorstep.

"My roommate's at her boyfriend's place for the weekend," you started, the question which came next was unexpected. "Do you … want to stay over?

A single question to change the whole trajectory of your relationship to develop into something deeper. Jake couldn't bring himself to say 'no' to your offer, his hands were still in yours, most importantly, those pairs of eyes staring back at him made it hard to reject.

There you were, making your way over to your room carefully through the darkness of your living room, passing by the flowers he gave that sat in the vase. There were little parts of him in your shared dorm that consistently reminded you of him and his presence.

Never in a million years would you have predicted Jake being next to you in bed. The stillness of the night air engulfed the two of you, not a word shared, but the intertwined hands between you and him was reassuring. There was nothing else that would have replaced this moment of your back against his chest, feeling the palpitations of his heart as you drifted off to sleep, unaware of Jake's fluttering eyes, sneaking occasional glances at you.

"I'm undeniably in love with you." He muttered against the top of your head as he pressed a haste kiss.

Jake couldn't see you, and he didn't know you were still half awake, listening in on his whisper. There was a smile that settled on your lips, the intertwined hand felt heavier than usual, just as your heart did, filled with an immeasurable amount of love for the first time in your life. What has he done to you?

One bed, two idiots in love, helplessly pining onto each other with an overwhelming amount of love that the other didn't know. Only an imminent happening would be the catalyst for one of you to break.

Having to explain to Wonyoung at nine in the morning that you and Jake didn't do anything weird the night before was a pain in the ass. It wasn't the right timing for Jake to leave just as Wonyoung showed up at your doorstep, an arm outstretched ready to press the doorbell but stopping in motion from the shock of seeing you and him alone in the apartment.

"You didn't leave early yesterday to fuck Jake, right?"

"I didn't fuck him at all," you seethed, glaring at Wonyoung for sayinh that the hundredth time. "I coincidentally ran into him and he brought me home,"

"And … he stayed over?"

"He stayed over," you confirmed, a little more timidly. "But we didn't do anything, okay?"

"Okay," she said as she took a sip out of her cup, an edge of doubt in her voice that you didn't miss, but chose to ignore. "Enough of Jake. What happened yesterday? Everything wasn't right,"

A sigh left your lips unconsciously, the thought of having to relive the whole nightmare of a fiasco by summarising it to Wonyoung was a dread. If only she could peek into your mind and memories. Nevertheless, you gave her a brief summary of what happened, from A to Z until the part where Jake ended up in your bed (that wasn't exactly how it meant to sound).

"Eunseok said that to you? He had the nerve to say that when he's literally what he's accusing Jake of? The audacity," Wonyoung was visibly fuming, pinching the tip of her nose bridge. "I hope Jake beats his ass today," she frowned, then added, "figuratively, can't have him suspended again."

For the rest of the day, you stayed home with Wonyoung by your side, waiting for the time of the game to arrive. You never knew they streamed the games online until Anton came over to set up the stream, bringing along a huge box of pizza while he's at it. On the couch in the living room, the laptop sat next to the flower vase, the commentator's voice filling the silence of the space.

"Remind me to never set you up again," Anton mumbled through his mouth full of pizza, looking thoroughly guilty and apologetic once you and Wonyoung ran through the whole incident that he missed. "I'll cut him off … and probably a lot of them. But hey, at least Jake's a success, eh?"

Wonyoung reached over to deliver a slap on the back of his head, earning a grunt of annoyance from him. "Don't jinx it, failed cupid."

Seeing Jake on the mini laptop screen was much different compared to actually being there in person. The game was starting soon, you hoped your good luck would manifest into reality too. Each glimpse of Jake only made you both anxious and relieved, how contradicting. It was as if the cameraman knew the tension between Jake and Eunseok, occasionally panning to Jake then Eunseok.

The start of the game was relatively civil. However, there was no denying the ongoing hostility Jake had towards Eunseok. The 'accidental' slams into Eunseok, they were obviously on purpose. There was nothing out of hand just yet, but it was apparent that something would soon stir.

"He needs to calm down," Anton murmured mostly to himself at the end of the second period, the home team drawing with the opposition. You silently agreed with him, watching as Jake's teammates hit his shoulders with some knowing looks.

Third period was when things started getting rough. It wasn't a tense rivalry without the occasional fouls, especially when both teams were stuck on a draw, trying their best to crawl out of the game with a win. Jake stood out the most. His assists were helpful to the team, but given his continuous hostility towards the oppositions, particularly Eunseok was going to cost him something.

The worst and unimaginable that everybody was expecting eventually came to life. The frustration in the atmosphere was felt even through the screen. Eunseok slammed his side onto Jake, but it didn't stop just there. Jake retaliated by grabbing onto Eunseok's collar, ripping his helmet off and throwing a punch across the latter's face. Both men's helmets were on the ground, gloves off and sticks flung to one side.

The whole thing was a mess. Players stopped in their tracks to pull the two off of one another, there was a circle surrounding the fight, doing whatever they could to stop it. Even after they were pulled away from each other, the aftermath wasn't a good sight. Both players were bleeding and injured, to top it all off, a suspension was immediately issued to Jake.

"Is this the time to switch the stream off?" Anton broke the silence in the room, the three of you meeting each others' gazes with an obvious 'oh no' on your faces. Oh no indeed.

You actually didn't know what happened after. Anton did, in fact, switch the stream off while you raced to text Jake with full worry. He wasn't responsive, so you gave him his space to let his anger cool off. In the meantime, you paced around despite your friends' reassurance that didn't help much. You weren't feeling much better even after they left, glancing at your phone way too often while praying your screen would lit up with a notification from Jake.

The evening sunset pierced through your curtains, dawn eventually made its appearance. It had been a long hour of waiting for Jake, no matter how you tried to shake the dreadful feeling, it was hard to fully ignore it. It almost felt like forever until your doorbell rang. The sinking feeling was back.

Your footsteps thud loudly against the floor, ripping the door open by its handle, meeting Jake's injured face that carried a lopsided smile, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. "Are you disappointed in me?"

He was about to be the death of you, in the worst possible way. You said nothing at first, walking closer, and caught him by surprise when you threw a punch at his shoulder, then again. "You asshole! You disappeared on me and ignored my texts. I thought something went wrong,"

He got a hold of your wrist, stopping you mid punch. "I forgot how painful your punches were," he tried to lessen the tension, offering a reassuring smile at you, but you only reciprocated with a frown that caused his smile to falter. "I'm sorry. I really am. I should've called you immediately after, but … I needed to cool down. I was too stuck in my head,"

"I figured, I understand," you pressed your lips into a thin line, releasing a deep sigh, you couldn't blame him either. "Why did you do it?"

"He was a jerk," Jake said plainly, although it was already a full explanation on its own, you couldn't help but shake your head at it.

"You shouldn't've used violence to get back at him,"

"I know,"

"You're suspended for the next game,"

"I know,"

You let the words sink in for a short moment, pursing your lips, then breathed a deep sigh through your nostrils. "Does that mean you'll be free to be my partner that day? I need someone to watch the game with,"

The initial disappointment in his face disappeared, turning into a much more hopeful expression. His eyes visibly lit up, face beaming. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"I am,"

"Then I have something to ask too," Jake's voice slightly trembled at that, it was something that didn't go unnoticed by you. He extended the hand that held onto the bouquet, the most nervous smile you've seen on Jake was plastered on his face. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

There was something electrical that coursed through your veins, it could be pure shock or adrenaline. Your mind was currently short circuiting, a mix of relief, happiness and disbelief eere clogging your head to form a coherent thought. But your answer was forced through in the end, you had to push it out no matter what.

"Yes,"

"Yes?"

"Yes, Jake. I'd love to be your girlfriend. In every lifetime if that matters," your lips twisted into the biggest smile, it was hard to resist laughing at the shock in Jake's reaction. He must've expected the answer already, but he still couldn't hide the surprise from hearing the word 'yes'. "I think this is the part where you're supposed to kiss me,"

A rush of relief flooded his prior expressions, the littlest grin adorned his face. It was as if everything happened on cue. You grabbed the bouquet from him and next thing you knew, he used his other hand to pull your forearm, causing you to stumble into him, then there it was, his lips on yours. Out of everything, this was unexpected.

"Ouch," he winced, the small yet fresh wound on the edge of his lips being a deterrent for a second, but he was not going down like that.

Jake tilted his head to angle his lips better, deepening the kiss and avoiding the cut at the same time. Kissing him this time was much different from the rest. This time after his long awaited question, it seemed the built up of emotions were poured into this single kiss alone. Unimaginable, that was the only way you could describe how you felt. The rollercoaster of emotions and the twist in your gut, it was your first time feeling this way. In love, that was it.

Pulling away from each other was something neither of you wanted. His forehead was resting against yours, his minty breath fanning on your lips, the dorkiest grin displayed. The two of you kept your hold onto one another, not daring to make a single move.

You met his eyes, reading the secret love messages hidden in his brown irises that he held onto tightly. "So, do you accept my date?"

Jake leaned his head back, unimpressed. "What do you think? I already gave you my answer," there it was, his typical smirk that told you he had another idea in mind. "Want me to give you a more concrete answer?"

He didn't allow you a chance to answer when he leaned in to kiss you again, a much shorter and brief kiss. But, you got your answer, and an endearing smile that you couldn't wipe off no matter what.

"Stop being cheesy and get your ass inside to get your wounds treated. An infection will hurt," you pushed his chest lightly, visibly flustered from his actions that he took pride in. He only threw his hands up in defence before obediently crossing the threshold.

"Don't cry when I apply the ointment,"

"This isn't my first day at the job."

On the contrary, he actually whined a lot. You learned to put up with it despite the several attempts to force him in place. Did that confident man just turn into a whole baby? Absolutely. The bruises on his knuckles, an ugly cut on both his lips and cheek didn't phase Jake at all, he stayed proud at the fact that he got the chance to land a punch on Eunseok' face. Even though you shook your head in disapprovement, secretly, you were satisfied.

At the end of the night, you didn't think Jake would end up staying over again, but it happened inevitably. He took the advantage of your absent roommate to spend as much time there with the freedom to lounge around. Was he there for you or your bed?

Either way, being in his presence and having his arms wrapped around you in your sleep was something you wouldn't complain about. If this was a privilege you got to enjoy every night, you would count it as a blessing you were never letting go. In his arms, you found a home you would go back to without a doubt.

Unbeknownst to you, Jake was grinning like the biggest fool every now and then when he stole glances at you. To him, you were the brightest star in his dark sky. After all, you had been the person who stayed in the back of his mind from years ago till then.

It might've been fate, or it might've been plain coincidence when it came to the two of you meeting. Whatever it was, all roads led you to each other. That was inevitable.

There you were, sitting in the stands of the hockey arena, seemingly back to square one all over again.

Everything around you was giving you deja vu but in the best way. Jake was sitting next to you, also suspended like the last time you were in this arena with him beside you. This time around, it was much different than before. He was no longer a stranger that you had one too many encounters with, instead, he was your boyfriend and best friend that you wouldn't dare trade anything for.

"You know what?" Jake turned to look at you with a questioning glance, to which you raised your eyebrow at.

"What?"

"I don't regret getting suspended. I got to punch that jerk and spend time with you here, I think it's pretty romantic," he had a prideful smile as he placed your interlocked hands on his lap.

"I can't tell if I should be charmed or not," you held back a laugh, squeezing his hand while shaking your head. "Modern day romance, how cute,"

"Isn't it?" He replied shortly, averting his attention to the jumbotron, the unmistakable 'KISS CAM' was displayed on the screen as it searched for its next pair of victims once more. 'Look, it's the kiss cam again,"

You followed his line of sight, recalling the time you were once on it with Jake. That felt almost just yesterday. "I doubt it'll land on us again,"

A faint smirk on Jake's telling looks showed that he thought otherwise. "Why? Scared to kiss me?"

"So scared," you responded dryly, a tone laced with sarcasm that had him smiling as well.

"Is it bad to say I want a cameo on the kiss cam with you again?" He pursed his lips, staring back at you with a tinge of guilt at his own confession. "I just want an excuse to kiss you,"

"You don't need any excuse to kiss me, idiot," you rolled your eyes, bumping his shoulder with yours. "Admit it, you're just an attention freak, aren't you?"

"Maybe," he choked out a laugh that got you doing the same.

As if on cue, the jumbotron screen had moved on from the previous pair, choosing the next one: you and Jake. Must the universe listen to Jake? Unlike last time, Jake didn't have a hat to hide his identity, so once people noticed it was the team's star player, the roar of the crowd only grew tenfold.

"You see," you wished to wipe off the cheeky smirk on Jake's face, the one that he always had whenever he was right about something. "Come on, sweets,"

Despite receiving an eye roll out of annoyance from you, your smile proved something else. Without a word from you, you grabbed onto his face, pulling him in to place a quick kiss, definitely not having a full makeout session in front of the cameras. From the sound of the crowds' cheers and Jake's satisfactory smile, you could tell everyone had eaten this moment up, even Jake himself whose reddening ears were giving him away.

"Look who's blushing!" You pointed at the clear evidence of his reddening skin, but he could only respond with an embarrassed cough.

"No, I'm not,"

"Don't lie, Jakey. You're shy," you looped your arm around his, then rested your head on his shoulder. "There's nothing wrong with that anyway,"

"I know," he whispered, pressing the side of his face on the top of your head. "I love you, sweets,"

You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze just in time for him to see the shock evident in the twist of your facial expressions. "What's with the sudden three words?"

He shook his head, pursing his lips a little. "Nothing, just telling you how I feel. I love you," he repeated once more, the effect of the eight letter word piercing through your heart, especially when it came straight from him.

A soft, affectionate smile settled on your lips, your eyes still glued to his face. "I love you too, Jake."

A kiss on your forehead was his reply, a simple action spoke much more than a million words could. An overwhelming wave of emotions gripped onto you just then, just as you tightened your hold on his arm at the feeling of those emotions. It was love, a special kind of love that you built to have with him and him only.

There in that arena, you shared your first unofficial kiss with Jake, leading to a blossom of events that eventually led you to this exact moment, where you had your second kiss in the stands, this time being something more than strangers or even best friends. Lovers, eternal companions, that was what you were. All it took was to break the ice with a punch, then a kiss to fall in love.

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vivalabunbun · 9 months

Text

An Encore of Betrayal

Summary: The devil with no sin nor memory and he who has held them all for centuries.

Word Count: 21.8k (get cozy)

Tags: Neuvillette x Fem!Reader, Slow burn, Slow fic, SMUT, NSFW, Historical AU, Fantasy AU?, Reincarnation AU, cursed!neuvillette, dragon!neuvillette, reincarnated!Reader, human!reader, Fluff, a lot of fluff, Melusines doing their best to play cupid, ex-lovers to lovers, slight enemies to lovers? ANGST, he's trying his best, dragon x human dynamics, Monsterfucking (two... I have no defense), cunnilingus(long tongue), marking, size kink? breeding kink, heat, overstimulation, hate sex? kinda?, slightly unhealthy dynamics (past life), dubcon, trust issues, immortal x mortal, slightly possessive!neuvillette, slightly yandere!neuvillette, TW: mild mention of blood, TW: descriptions of drowning, sin, and sacrifice. TW: Trauma from betrayal, themes of resentment, Infertility.

Author's Note: Wanted to try out a historical fantasy from Neuvillette's pov. I struggle with fantastical settings, so overlook any world-building confusion. Mihoyo won't give me his real name, and it's eating away at my sanity. Enjoy!

Somewhere deep beneath the waves, away from the omnipotent watch of false divinity, lies a village. A bustling home carved into an outcast cove nestled under the cover of suppressive tides.

One littered with tiny houses surrounding an impressive estate modeled much like the ones seen in those novels abandoned from capsized ships.

Would you believe that such a place exists?

Decorated with curious trinkets which sunk beneath the surface which had forsaken them, kept in this cove for so long that it was challenging to remember the azure hues.

Ornaments decorating the expanse of this once lonesome cave, almost enough to conceal its true origin: A prison.

A fool sentenced to this penitentiary masquerading as a home, now affectionately named ‘Merusea Village’.

Within that attentively built estate, a looming figure stood in front of a wall lined with neatly organized novels, lilac eyes running along the titles printed along each spine.

A collection saved from watery abandonment after falling overboard by the curious hands of Melusines. Amassed throughout the years until the shelves of this humble library were without vacancy.

Stopping a finger on a spine, he decided on the novel to pass the ever-plenty time bestowed upon him. He’s aware that each book amongst these shelves has been thumbed through by him.

But with enough years, the recollection of the contents contained within each one tends to become foggy.

It's fate that the novel selected in his hands just so happens to be a collection of tales.

Humans have many strange behaviors, one might even call them traditions. One particular tradition mortals seem to indulge in often is that of storytelling.

Lilac eyes browse through the pages, refreshing himself on the tale held within its faded covers.

----------

There once was a lovely kingdom amidst lush pastures and fertile lands where the townspeople sang and danced under the bright sunlight.

But one day the sun disappeared, concealed behind ashen clouds that cried a lonesome hymn, plaguing the unfortunate kingdom with rain.

The origin of the rain stemmed from the lonesomeness of a great dragon of water.

Thus, to stop the rain, the king sent out a princess to the dragon, declaring that the kingdom gates wouldn’t welcome her back if rain fell from the sky. She was sent off in a white gown.

Down below a flooded loch, the princess was offered to the weeping dragon. Looking up the princess saw the sorrowful pools in the beast’s eyes.

‘Hydro Dragon, oh Hydro Dragon, why do you cry?’ She asked.

Intrigued by the bravery of the young princess, the dragon answered: ‘Because I am lonely, I have no brethren left.’

Feeling pity the princess responded: ‘Hydro Dragon, oh Hydro Dragon, don’t cry. I will be lonely with you.’

So the princess befriended a lonesome dragon under the hymn of softening rain, with his loneliness soothed, the sun peeked back out from ashen clouds. But one day, pitiful tears fell from her eyes and the princess wept so bitterly.

The dragon could not bear seeing those tears stain her cheeks. He offered her pearls, jewels, and gold. Yet those bitter tears still fell, tainting the pristine water.

‘Beloved princess, why do you cry so bitterly?’ He implored.

‘I long to go home, I miss my kingdom,’ she revealed.

But she could not go home, for if she stepped foot away from the riverside the lonesome rain would start again. The colossal dragon could not leave the loch, but he could not bear seeing those bitter tears.

So he relented, telling the princess a secret. A secret all dragons buried deep within: His true name.

‘If you speak my name, my true name, then I can grant you one wish. But be careful, for there can only be one wish.’ The dragon whispered.

‘Do you wish to return to your kingdom, beloved princess?’ He asked.

The princess was silent for a long while, weighing the choices in her hand. She longed to return home, but she also longed to be by the side of her kind dragon.

Confident in her decision, she beckons the great dragon closer, until her lips could reach the side of his large head where his ear lay. After whispering his name, she tells the beast her wish.

‘I wish for you to become my prince, so we can return to the kingdom together, that way you won’t ever be lonely again.’

A clever wish he grants with a nod. Scales and claws shedding away until a handsome prince stood in front of her. Thus, hand in hand they returned from the loch to the warm welcome of the kingdom.

And they lived happily ever after.

----------

Ah, so it was that tale.

Judging from the age of the novel, he guesses it must be a rendition of a rendition.

Words and events twisted, embellished, and simplified. Until it became nothing more than a mere fable told to entertain the wandering minds of children.

A beloved tale of a maiden who got a dragon to give up his grand authority, stopping the flood of vengeance from drowning Fontaine.

This is what the origin of his damnation has turned into. The tales of the heroine’s feats sung and written throughout the narrative of time, passing from one generation’s lips to another’s ears.

However, he supposes this is expected of humans. It’s their tradition of storytelling, after all, mending a fallacy into a tale palatable to their conscious.

Or perhaps, these embellishments were added to compensate for the hollows caused by the frailty of mortal memory.

Patching over the holes with flowery words to distract readers from inaccuracies that were only compounded upon from the last.

Fontainians who came to believe in it, must not have known the dragon all that well, considering that they thought the proud dragon would bow to the whims of a meek human.

Placing a secret so simply in her hands at the mere sight of tears.

Did Fontainians not realize that the land they reside on once belonged solely to dragons? How preposterous it is that a sovereign couldn’t set foot upon his own land. Or did they forget why he couldn’t?

What a naive ending, did mortals truly believe that blood and water could dwell together without consequences? That simply wishing the dragon to become a human could resolve all troubles?

To overwrite everything with a ‘happily ever after’ which never happened?

Regardless of his reservations toward such fables, the Melusines always seem eager to gather around for such stories. The towering figure lacked the conviction to deny such requests.

From down the hall approaching closer came the pitter-patter of steps, he turned his tall frame toward the direction of the sound just as a few familiar faces revealed themselves from the library entrance.

“Monsieur Neuvillette! Come quickly! A human! A human appeared!” A group of Melusines tugs on the fabric of his slacks while pointing toward the phenomenon.

A mortal in this domain? A cavern hidden deep under the land and waters where the warmth of the sun couldn’t grace. How did such a being find their way into this sanctum? It’d be best that he alleviates their worries.

“Please lead the way.” Neuvillette closes the novel, returning it to the confines of its shelf.

His swift movements in time with the melusines’ frantic patter as they made their way out from his estate.

Soon the tops of the Melusines’ cozy homes of Merusea Village came into view, as did the murmuring of a distraught crowd.

“Excuse me.” His steps made their presence known, their heads perked up to look at him before parting a path for Neuvillette.

Upon the maroon pasture of Merusea Village was a blanket of silk and woven lace, snowy fabric surrounding the still figure of a human.

Treading closer Neuvillette kneels down while reaching out a hand, weaving his fingers under the fabric which obscures the mortal’s face.

“We found her while gathering offerings from the waters … Is she…” The anxious murmuring quiets to await his verdict.

“She has a pulse,” he reveals, fingertips detecting wisps of warmth along cold skin.

It was faint, but his attentive eyes caught onto the slow movement of her chest. The snowy fabric had greedily drunk up the essence of the sea. Cursing her to sink deeper below the tides.

To leave a mortal in such a state would be too cruel of a fate.

Neuvillette moves his hand to support her covered head as his other arm gathers the damp fabric under her legs.

Carefully, he stands back to his full height, cradling her limp body in his hold. An audience of fretful gazes follow his motions.

“Do not fret, she only requires some rest and a change of clothing, I’ll take her to my abode. Could you gather some cloth to dry down her body?” Neuvillette’s melodic voice just barely above a whisper, so as not to stir the figure in his arms.

His expression softens to offer the compassionate creatures some reassurance. With firm nods the Melusines scatter, determination alight in their bright irises as they sought the necessary items to care for their newfound guest.

The dampness of the heavy fabric seeps into his own attire as Neuvillette turns the knob to grant him entry into his abode.

Quietly ambling through the spacious halls, the master bedroom came into view. Neuvillette lays the limp form upon his sheets, ensuring that her head rests slowly upon the soft pillows.

Just as her figure sinks into the mattress, a chorus of metallic clinks catches his attention. Glancing down her body his lilac eyes discover the origin.

A pair of silver shackles encased around her ankles, the unforgiving metal digging into defenseless flesh.

Gingerly, he takes one ankle into his grasp to better observe the shackles.

This time he couldn’t fight against the deep frown as it debuted upon his lips. His eyes hone on how tightly those heavy chains were bound along the flesh.

Soon the unforgiving metal crashes down to the floor, he soothes the freed skin with his thumb while checking for any other possible wounds.

Lilac eyes travel up to her face for any sign of discomfort, only to be reminded that her face was concealed behind a shroud of lace.

How uncomfortable it must be to have a cold piece of fabric to cover one’s face. Neuvillette places her ankle back onto the bed.

His large hands took hold of the damp veil to lift it from her resting frame, revealing to his draconic eyes for the first time their face.

The veil stays suspended in the air as his hands cease all motion. Hardened gaze tracing over her features, the curve of her cheeks, the slope of her nose, and the structure of her face.

Repeated details he had long seared into his consciousness.

Within those mortal tales, there’s a wide variety of beasts and fearsome creatures. Dragons were depicted as such omnipotent beasts. But there’s a monster all other beast falls secondary to, the devil.

They didn’t possess the sharpest talons nor the largest fangs. No, what made them so horrifying is that they dawned the most enchanting faces.

He’s staring at it right now. The face of the devil who deceived him.

Those gods must be laughing at him right now. Those false idols, with their capricious fate and whims, who once must’ve shook hands with you to carry out their schemes all those years ago.

The scheme which imprisons him here in this humiliating form of the mortal creatures those false idols loved so much.

Yes, a devil, that must be what you are. For how did a meek mortal trick a dragon who once held the full authority of the tides?

His chest expands with a deep breath before a long exhale leaves him. Ah, yes that must be why this white gown has appeared before him again. He removes the senseless scrap of lace, checking once more for signs of discomfort before he turns his body away.

Finding himself outside the threshold of his bedroom as he closes the door behind him. He should wait here for the Melusines to arrive with a change of clothes and towels.

It’d buy him enough time to steadily return the tempestuous loch to a subdued ripple in a pond. His chest expands once more with a deep inhale.

A second cruel rendition unfolding once more in the narrative of time.

The crisp turn of a page resounds through the room. Lilac eyes glanced up from the text every so often to watch the steady rises and falls of your chest from his vantage point of a wooden chair pulled up to the bedside.

Heavy lashes still shut just as they were the day your drenched figure was pulled from the tides by merciful hands.

The journey to wisdom is lined with mistakes, mistakes providing teachings one must ingrain into their very being if they don’t wish to repeat such blunders again.

Just as how a burn seared into skin is a forever reminder that fire indeed burns indiscriminately.

A scar ingrained deep within him cries out for Neuvillette to withdraw from the fire which scorned him so long ago.

Alas, it’s duty which has sat him down beside your sleeping form. You’re the first guest this cove has seen in a long time, thus bringing you under the responsibility of the host, Neuvillette himself.

A stir brings his stoic gaze back away from his thoughts. Your chest rises with a long inhale as leaden lashes flutter open.

The cadence of your breaths begins to rise as more of your senses return to you. Fatigue evident in each slow drag of breath.

“Ah, I see you’ve awoken.” Neuvillette observes.

Your muscles momentarily forget their fatigue as your head snaps toward the owner of the deep voice. Eyes now wide and alert.

“My apologies, it wasn’t my intention to startle you.” He casts a glance toward the steaming bowl on the nightstand.

He could feel the weight of your stare travels up his figure. Do you perhaps remember him? Can you recall his lush snowy locks streaked with azure? Irises that held an all too familiar hue, a multitude of lilac shades much like a field of lavenders.

Does this ‘you’ remember the dragon you fooled?

“W-who are you?...” Your gaze was too cowardly to meet his.

Ah, have the cycle of death and rebirth washed those sins and memories?

The tonality of your trembling voice filled with puzzlement instead of recognition. He should’ve expected this much.

This you is nothing more than a stranger who shares the face of a devil.

“Where am I?” Another question leaves those lips in the absence of a response.

Just give him a moment, allow him to pacify the surging torrent within so their bitterness doesn’t seep into his words.

“You’re in our village!” A cheery voice joins the conversation.

Two pairs of eyes land upon a short figure with a pair of pastel horns. You blink once, then twice, then slowly thrice. Inquisitive eyes stared right back at you.

“W-what… are you?” Instinct commanding your body to retract deeper into the sheets.

A sharp cough halts your actions, drawing your attention back to the man as he lowers his hand down from his lips.

“She’s a Melusine, they prefer to be addressed using she/her pronouns,” he elucidates, an ever so subtle chastise in his tone.

“Oh…” You advert your gaze again, shame creeping onto your cheeks from your unintentional discourtesy.

A few breaths of silence follow, he observes you studying everything but the two figures just beside the bed.

Your fingers soothing over the soft cotton nightgown against your skin, a change from that restrictive and ornate dress.

“We, Melusines, helped you change out of that wet dress. Big sister Sedene said you’d get sick if we left you in that.”

It looks like your diverted gaze wasn’t as subtle as you originally thought. Sheepishly you extend your gratitude.

“Thank you…” Your words draw out, a brow quirked as your stare remained on her short form.

“Kiara!” She points to herself with a mitten hand.

“Thank you, Kiara.” You finish.

Her mittened hand then gestures to the towering man beside her.

“This is Monsieur Neuvillette! He’s the one who carried you here,” she announces.

“T-thank you, Monsieur Neuvillette.” You could only gather the courage to glance at the wall behind him.

“Just Neuvillette is fine,” his tone melodic and calm. “Are you able to sit up?”

Nodding your head, you attempt to fight through the fatigue of your muscles. Neuvillette and Kirara offer their assistance, his firm hands guiding your body up as Kirara adjusts the pillows to support your back.

Once you were situated, he reached for the bowl placed down earlier. A light clink sounds out from a spoon clattering about the porcelain dish. You glance at the contents, noting the clear amber broth.

“This should be kind on your stomach while providing you with some much-needed hydration and nutrients.” He holds out the soup.

A quivering hand attempts to reach up for the bowl, only for muscles to lose to fatigue as your arm limply falls back down to your side. Your strength has yet to return.

Another clink from the spoon resounds in the room as it gets taken into the grasp of an attentive hand. He holds out a spoonful of the warm soup, but your lips remain shut as a skeptical gaze meets his.

“Please forgive this inconvenience, but it’s best that you eat something to regain your strength.” The spoon remains unmoving in his hand.

There’s a rumbling stir within him. A voice snarls into his ear, interrogating him as to why his hand is feeding the very devil who once bit it.

“If you don’t eat you won’t get better.” Kiara’s eyes are riddled with concern as she observes your sealed lips.

That was his rebuttal to that snarl.

The Melusines simply don’t wish to see a human in such a pitiful state. Blissful in their ignorance of events that conspired long before their birth.

Dignity overpowered by the guilt of seeing such pure eyes marred with worry.

Soon your lips part, accepting the spoonful of broth delicately offered by him. After he observes you swallowing the first sip, Neuvillette holds out another spoonful. You part your lips again.

Neuvillette overrides the clamorous warnings of his instincts with the duty of being a ‘good host’, bringing another sip to your delicate lips.

With a regular diet of warm broth with servings of Bulle Fruit on the side, you were soon able to pick up the spoon yourself. The fatigue that plagued your bones finally leaves, allowing you to support your body off the mattress which had your shape imprinted into it.

The Melusines, seemingly born infatuated with humanity, would often gather about your bed.

They were curious about you just as you were about them. To them, you’re the creature from those fairytales he’s read them.

In exchange for your recollections of warm Summer days and descriptions of lush lilac fields swaying in a gentle breeze, they reveal more about this village.

About how the estate you were currently residing in was refurbished by their own-mittened hands, taking inspiration from the various books depicting what human abodes looked like.

The beds, drapes, and even rugs are all arranged by them to create a lovely abode. A drastic change to the worn and rampaged shell it once was before their meddling.

Perhaps if he never filled their naive minds with those tales, they wouldn’t be enamored with you and humanity.

Or maybe it’s the vibrance of your smile that drew their naive souls closer. A warmth like a flickering candlelight beckoning a moth closer.

What are the odds that the hands of fate stayed so faithful to the details of a heroine from so long ago?

From your image to your bewitching mannerisms, and alluring voice, they’re all identical replicas. You and the ‘devil’ from that tale.

Wisdom from a lesson learned long ago, he must not repeat the same mistake. He must not be enchanted by the same flame which scorned him. He must ensure a breadth between you and him, just as those tiresome voices call for.

However, Neuvillette understands he has a responsibility as a host. Thus, he regularly checked on your condition, then when you were well enough to stretch your legs he accompanied you on strolls. Maintaining a respectable distance away.

He guided you through the marble halls of the estate, showing the library and bath which were yours to access whenever you wanted.

Rooms illuminated with the muted glow of luminescence gems and pearls. Water sourced from a hidden freshwater spring.

Impassive eyes observe yours as you look in awe at the facilities and commendations hidden deep under the tides. Were they comparable to the ones you’ve encountered back on the surface?

This estate, these wide stone halls, those pearls and jewels once scattered about, were all made just to please the bitter tears of a mortal. Perhaps his first attempt was too subpar to quell the longing to return to the sunlight.

But gauging from the glimmer reflecting off your eyes, it seems the Melusines attempt was satisfactory at least.

Today’s stroll took you outside of the estate, Neuvillette accompanying you about a routine walk, watching from behind as your eyes scan the dim realm.

The lanterns lining the path of Melusine's home grace the maroon pastures and rocky walls in place of the faint wisps of sunlight offered by the depths of the sea.

Very much expected for a village beneath the waves and earth. Were you reminiscing about the warm grace of the sun you felt up there?

It’s not fair to compare the vast sky of the surface to their cavern hidden away from the eyes of the mortals, perhaps even the divine themselves.

“Monsieur Neuvillette?” You began today’s attempt at a conversation.

“Yes?” He hums in acknowledgment.

He keeps sentences brief, but informative. Counters to your attempts at conversation.

“I’m aware this might sound strange, but is there a dragon down here?” Turning back to face him.

His strides stop as a lull of silence falls over the both of you. The weight of his unshaken gaze upon your shoulders caused them to tense up.

Your hands find each other for comfort under his oppressive stare as he awaits the reason behind this odd inquiry.

“W-well you see, Fontaine has been having awful weather for years now. Saltwater ruining crops and persistent heavy rain, it’s because the Hydro Dragon is crying from his loneliness. I was selected and offered as his bride, to stop the rain, that’s what The Oratrice instructed,” you babble out.

“So…do you know where he is?” Sheepishly you glance up.

The lilac hues of his eyes connect with yours as his lips remain unmoving. Staring into your eyes as he contemplates what you have just revealed to him. Your hands fumble together as you await his response.

“So humans are still telling that local legend…” He sighs.

He has to rein it back. The torrent which threatens to brew within him. Deep breaths to remind himself about the nature of mortals.

Humans are fickle and meek creatures who constantly yearn for something divine to worship, a figurehead to guide them in the turbulence of life.

When faced with hardship and destitution, they believe such concepts to be punishment from above.

Thus, they invent traditions to appease those false idols. Going to great lengths in attempts to pacify those unseen forces, even if it meant sacrificing one of their own.

Perhaps this was the trait of mortals that made them so favored by the usurpers, their naive devotion feeding into the greed of selfish gods.

Maybe that’s why those false idols uprooted the land that belonged to dragons.

“I wonder just how far that fable has spread by now,” he sighs again.

His lashes flutter shut in exasperation as a huff leaves him. It was a moment before they flutter back open to hone in on you. There’s no use in keeping his identity from you any longer.

“Do I seem lonely in your eyes?” Baritone voice steady and low.

No sounds fall from your agape lips as your eyes reexamine his features, this time shamelessly ogling the peculiar details you’ve brushed off previously.

Do you notice it now? How his ears were a bit too pointed, or those two particular cerulean strands of ‘hair’ poking out from his snowy locks.

As you study the specifics of his eyes, do you now comprehend the sharp dark pupils that cut through the multitude of lilac shades? Much like a shadow cutting through a field of lavenders.

“You’re the Hydro Dragon,” you deduce.

He nods in confirmation. Only causing your eyes to scan over him again as your mind reels back from this revelation.

In those stories you’ve read back on the surface, how did they depict him? As a towering scaled beast with fangs and claws? Are you wondering why he’s not matching that description?

“I’m aware that my current shape might not convey such a presence, ” he answers your unspoken question.

He fights for his lips to remain stoic, not allowing the weight of a frown to pull them down. You don’t know, you don’t need to know, he reminds himself.

A detail excluded from the pages of that tale, the ‘princess’ would only ever look at him, would only ever smile at him when a dragon took on this shape. A form which mirrors humans.

In fact, she was so fond of this human shell of his that she cursed him to dwell within it for the rest of eternity.

Neuvillette takes another deep breath, quelling the stir once more. You look like you had more questions.

“So… does that mean the need for a bride is fictitious?” You clutch your hands tighter.

Some years ago, the Melusines were born from spilled blood. A new generation of successors of the brethren he once forsaken. Making this prison much less lonesome, voiding the accuracy of the sentence in that tale.

If that was the case, then why did the waters still rage? Why did the pittering of rain drown out all bird songs and tumults of perplexed citizens? Is there a way he could simplify the details missed by storytellers for generations?

After that ‘happily ever after’, a dragon cursed his devil just as she cursed him.

No, such expositions would be an unfair burden upon your shoulders.

“It’s not fictitious.” Turning to gaze out at the depths of the underground realm, he takes a breath before continuing.

“The land which your nation, Fontaine, resides on is stolen land,” he reveals. “More accurately all of what you know as ‘Teyvat’ was stolen from the dragons, my fellow brethren.”

The furrow in your brows deepens as you listen on.

“My brethren were banished to the depths for the sake of humanity. A dragon’s rage isn’t something that can be easily quelled.” He glances back at you.

“A union between a dragon and a human, a show of peace between the two species. Even if the origins of this ritual have been embellished heavily, it serves the same purpose to pacify the ancient dragon’s rage,” he concludes.

Neuvillette wonders if this tale was enough to satisfy your inquiry, if his attempt at the human practice was enough to simplify the events muddled and twisted by time.

Impassive eyes scan over your expression, not missing the glimmer ever so bright within.

“So… has the rain stopped?” Your hands almost clasped together in prayer.

He nods, the shine growing ever so luminous in those blameless irises, one he couldn’t resist the enchantment of. That all too familiar look in your eyes.

“That’s good.” A slow smile made its appearance upon plush lips.

Ah. He remembers what that look was called, voices of recollection pulling him away from the edge. Just before he fell into bewitchment once more.

That look wasn’t relief, nor was it salvation. It's duty. He takes a slow and deep inhale.

Just as it was all those years ago, the narrative of this tale did not stray away from the plot. He must be more careful.

There’s been a still lull engulfing the atmosphere down in a hidden cavern. So still in fact that walks amongst maroon patches of grass have stopped. Your body was well enough to explore the corners of the state without assistance.

No reason for him to remain by your side throughout the day, and no reason for you to shadow him.

Neuvillette and you keeping mostly to one’s self. It was just the natural progression of things. After all, the ritual had been completed and the tides had receded. You’ve served your duty once more.

A foreign aroma was wafting through the estate, strange enough for Neuvillette to leave the library to investigate the origins of this aroma.

Steps slowing as the clacker of pots and pans becomes more distinct. The entrance of the estate kitchen comes into view, and he peers in to see a few familiar faces.

“Oh? Monsieur!” Rhemia notices his presence.

An assortment of vegetables, spices, and even some meats from fresh catches were spread about the table as a pan sizzling over a crackling fire.

Ingredients gathered from offering dropped down below the tides. The recent influx could be attributed to how the hymn of the rain has ceased.

“Hello, Monsieur Neuvillette.” Your smile greets him.

Ah, he’s found the explanation behind the foreign aroma and why the variety spread of ingredients was being utilized in a kitchen that was once mainly created just to match those diagrams drawn in novels.

“I hope you don’t mind my use of the kitchen, I wanted something other than…Consomme Purete.” Wiping your hands with a rag.

Yes, Consomme Purete.

It was the dish served when you had first woken up, a light but nutritious soup that was kind on your stomach. It had the right amount of hydration balanced with nutrients to sustain oneself, a perfect dish.

The only dish cooked in this kitchen, that was until today.

Removing a pan from the heat, you carefully transfer the contents onto a plate then place the pan back on the wood stove.

The rich aroma caused an audience of bright-eyed stares from the Melusines to center upon the steaming plate. Their tails make their excitement clear as they gaze upon a dish they’ve never seen before.

Was this a new passion of this life?... Or was it just one he never got the chance to witness?

Was this the devil before the role of a bride was forced upon her? A devil he’s never known, for all he saw was her performance to stop the deafening rain all those years ago.

His attention was brought back as the chime of cutlery against porcelain was heard, cooked veggies stabbed between the teeth of a fork.

Cupping a hand under the fork, your body leans down to the Melusine’s height, feeding them a bite of the fragrant dish. The wags of their tails increase in cadence as they chew.

“This is Tasses Ragout, tasty isn’t it?” The corners of your lips curl as you watch their little heads nod eagerly.

The suspicion melts from his gaze as he observes to the delight in their expressions, a few mitten hands tugging at the skirt of your gown for a bite. A giggle bubbles from your throat.

A scene mirroring that of a mother trying to appease the appetites of her ravenous young.

Soon your eyes connect and he straightens his posture. Brushing away the nonsensical musing, lilac hue advert away momentarily to recompose themselves before returning.

“Would you like a taste?” A fork offered in his direction, beckoning closer to take a bite.

There’s a myth he’s read about, of a forbidden apple held out by the tempter of all tempters, an apple so red and lustrous it made any mouth salivate.

“Thank you for the offer, however, I’ve already had my lunch.” He refrains.

A bite from that forbidden fruit was the genesis of disgrace and banishment. A betrayal of commandments once promised. Neuvillette won’t be deceived again.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Monsieur! Monsieur! Come look!”

Mittened hands grasping upon his coat and gloved hands as a circle of Melusines guides him through the winding halls, anticipation amping their voices.

There’s a chorus of giggles resounding through the halls, a joyous clamor of pattering steps against the marble floors.

The estate has been lively ever since your arrival in that white dress, a liveness which reaches his pointed ears even from behind closed doors.

Regardless, he allows himself to be towed by their skipping steps. Leading him to a room he recognizes as a space where many fabrics and gowns were collected and stored.

Garments made with the intent to be sold to Fontainians, but their crates were capsized over by the ravenous tides. Saved from watery abandonment by curious hands.

While this form of his could wear a few of those garments, the Melusines had statures much too short for pools of fabric to not drag along the ground. Thus, that collection of fabrics found themselves collecting dust.

Their steps abruptly stop just at the threshold of the door, mittened hands pressed up against their lips signaling for him to remain silent.

Soon their sights glance into the room as he follows, lilac eyes opening ever so slightly wider as they process the scene in front of him.

Evening gowns crafted by skilled tailors to be sold to Fontanian ladies, you had the right frame for those garments as well.

A trail of lustrous sapphire silk gathered behind your figure. The artistic stitching and pleating draping the silk around each curve of your body as if you were the only person meant to wear it.

A few Melusines fussing about the silk train, ever so curious of humanity, they must’ve requested for you to dawn the gown.

Just as they often had requested for him to dawn those fickle suits and coats for their enjoyment.

It seems you bent to their childish whims just as he does.

“How do you like it?” You ask your audience, twirling about in front of a mirror.

It’s different from those hardier dresses for when you wandered about the village and estate, in comparison this dress was much less practical.

“It’s beautiful, Madame!” Their round eyes were enamored.

“I’m glad, who knew you had such an aesthetic eye.” Your expression softens.

Bending down to Carole’s height, you scooped her up. Cradling her as your forehead touches her horns gently.

“Thank you for such a lovely dress.” Placing tender pats along her head, careful to not disturb her horns and hair.

Carole leans into your touch as your smile widens. Twirling once more with her in your arms, giggles ringing throughout the room.

Until your head peeked up, finally aware of the silent spectator just behind the door frame.

“Oh, hello Neuvillette,” you greet him with a smile he doesn’t return.

A tense lull creeps in, and a chill begins to mix with the quiet atmosphere. Lilac eyes pass over your form as Carole remains sat in your arms.

“Monsieur! Isn’t Madame pretty? Look!” Cheery and oblivious voices chime returning the warmth to the air.

Mitten hands release your skirt as they skitter toward his towering figure. Pride shines in their beaming smiles, awaiting validation of their handy work.

Steadfast eyes lowering themselves to the level of their short statures until the sharp edges gradually dissipate.

“A fine effort indeed.” A gloved hand extends to rest atop their heads.

Patting their heads tenderly as they closed their eyes in contentment

A warmth in those lilac hues, endearment no word could ever encapsulate fully.

“Are they your daughters?” Your head slants to the side.

His body stills, strictness reinstated in those violet irises just as they met yours. Studying that look within your polite smile, one which didn’t seem to reach your eyes.

Gloved hand ceasing all movement, his concentration now elsewhere. That expression ghosting your face, what does it mean?

“My apologies, was it too impudent of a question?” Your gaze adverts away, searching for reprieve in this heavy hush.

A deep breath as he formulates his response.

“I don’t share blood with them if that’s what you’re inquiring. However, they are the successors of my brethren.”

“Oh, I see,” you hum.

Neuvillette returns to patting their heads, while you readjust your hold on Carole. Subtly bouncing her, while turning back to face the standing mirror.

Casting a glance, he could discern the softness returning to that polite smile. Yet, the dragon has yet to unravel that luster in your irises.

An audience of bright eyes switches between the Monsieur and Madame.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Bring these to her, you should greet the Madame!” Tiny hands push against Neuvillette’s back.

The traitorous clicks of his shoes against marble expose his approach.

Your head peers up from the book resting upon your lap, in the midst of reading a tale aloud to an audience.

Just in time to catch the tall figure of Neuvillette emerging into the library at the behest of the Melusines.

Lilac eyes meet yours ever so briefly before his gaze averts elsewhere. Gloved hand adjusting a bundle hidden a broad back, brings the other hand up to clear his throat.

“The Melusines found these when retrieving some offerings from the water, I believe you’ll enjoy them.” He presents their trinket.

A simple collection of dainty petals clustered together, pastel hues contrast against vivid virescent leaves. A quaint ribbon tied around the stems holding the bunch together held out in front of your face.

The recipient stares in round-eyed astonishment at the fragrant blooms before a smile melts into your lips.

“Thank you.” You accept the bouquet from his hand.

Admiring the rustic arrangement and the saccharine aroma as the Melusines sat around you leaned in closer to catch a whiff too.

“These are called Pluie Lotus up on the surface, they smell nice right?” Giggling lightly as you held the bouquet closer to their noses.

Grin ever present upon your lips as your soft eyes watch their marvel of such simple weeds. A bloom foreign to this realm abandoned by the sunlight.

There’s subtle slack in his posture, a budding smile just about to unfold just as your head peers back up. Every fiber in Neuvillette’s being tenses, goosebumps slithering up his nape.

Frozen there only able to witness your eyes study back and forth the hues of his irises and the periwinkle color tinting the fragile petals.

He watches an epiphany light up in your widened eyes as the bouquet was lifted higher, turning back to face him.

Don’t. Don’t say the words he knows are hanging off the tip of that honeyed tongue.

“They are the same lovely color as your eyes, Neuvillette.” You beam at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling from the stretch of your lips.

His posture returns to its rigid and upright state, a hand hidden from view balls up into a fist.

A sharpness threatening to break through leather confines and into his palm, as if they were attempting to grapple the surging torrent stirred up within himself.

Why? Why was this line from a script being recited word for every damn word? All said with that saccharine smile plastered over those wicked lips?

Indecipherable eyes narrow ever so slightly before he catches himself. Reining in the torrent just before it seethed out.

He clears his throat again to swallow back the bitterness.

“Do excuse me, please return to your reading session,” he utters his parting.

Promptly turning to return to his secludedness, stepping past the Melusines gathered by his side.

Swift strides through the empty halls leaving you to your peace and him to his peace, just as it should’ve been. Much to the pouts of a disappointed audience.

However, he didn’t have the mind to contemplate their discontent. Not when these rabid bellows drown out every other thought in their rancor.

Like a sea starved for vengeance, ravenous to settle a debt against those vile gods and their beloved creations.

A brass knob was abruptly twisted, hinges squealing in surprise as at the force as Neuvillette shuts it behind himself.

Ragged breathes resounding through the reprieve of his bedroom. Away from innocent bystanders and the devil who showed her face again after all these centuries for an encore.

Has he not been humiliated enough? He tugs at his cravat, freeing himself from the fickle decoration constricted about his neck in this already imprisoning body.

A form which binded him no matter how violently talons and fangs clawed and chewed, unable to leave a singular dent upon this damn curse.

This was humiliating enough, bound to this cove that separated him from the sea which cries for their sovereign.

He once believed this penitentiary was obscured away from the peeking eyes of capricious gods. Perhaps, he’s wrong.

Why is this fantasy being played out right in front of his eyes now after all these years?

To have you by his side, to have you reside in the home he craved out and inlaid pearls into, to see you smile and cradle young against your bodice. It’s insulting.

Because this was all he ever wanted. This was all he had ever wanted.

The lonesome dragon only ever yearned for a maiden’s endearment. He once believed she adored him back just the same.

Because while she lay within his arms under silken covers, her bare skin pressed against his mortal shape, her enchanting eyes always regarded him with such tenderness as her delicate hand stroked his cheek.

A glimmer he once believed was love.

The tale written along the parchment implied that the ‘princess’ loved the dragon. However, that was inaccurate. She never did.

For if she loved him, then she wouldn’t have deceived him.

She wouldn’t have ever whispered his secret to the town’s folk. Those foul creatures who then used his secret, which was once reserved solely for ‘you’.

Why? That simple question taunted him for decades as he rotted in this mocking solitude.

Why did ‘you’ yearn for the sun more than him? Was his love not enough to replace the warmth of a star? Was the home he made not enough when compared to the extravagance of humanity?

Or was it because blood and water, no matter how much they intertwine and mix, could never produce wine?

If… if the Melusines had been born just a few centuries earlier, then would you have been satisfied by his side? An answer he could already discern.

Because after his decades of solitude within these deridingly hushed walls, he finally accepted the truth.

She loved her people, they took up all the space of her heart, leaving no room for a prideful leviathan.

What a clever plan it all was, to distract a sovereign from his duty, cleansing stolen land with a flood of vengeance, by sending a maiden.

A woman so bewitching, so enchanting, and so lovely, that a proud dragon couldn’t resist bending to her whims. Spilling the secret hidden deep within him into her ear.

Abandoning his true form to be confined in the shape she favored the most. Then lured up to the surface, suspicions obstructed by the dazzlement of a false welcome from the nation of Fontaine.

Unaware until the scorching knife was already lodged in his back. Using the secret he had only ever told you, those meek creatures of the usurpers wished:

‘For the rest of one’s life, one shall never leave this cave deep beneath the tides’.

What a clever ploy, a masterly crafted master plan. Did that Oratrice bestow it upon mortals? Or was it your own little scheme? A devil in human skin who must’ve been enlisted by the god themselves.

That day when he was chained by that loch, you didn’t even bother to grace him with your presence.

You cruel, cruel devil whose heart only had room for her fellow citizens of Fontaine, whose eyes only ever glimmered with duty.

Neuvillette had finally comprehended the truth, he had made peace with the disgrace he brought upon himself.

So why did those vile false gods dangle you back in his face? They had already taken fragments of his authority.

Was his torment entertaining to them?

Lungs shaking with unsteady breaths, he could feel the pricks of scales dotted along his skin only for this body to swiftly reject it. A turmoil of draconic influence constrained by a mortal curse.

Like a beast kept in a cage much too small for it. If Neuvillette wishes for this agitation to cease, he must cease the stirred emotions.

Emotions don’t settle quickly once agitated like sand attempting to settle at the bottom of violent tides. He paces his shuddery inhales, biding in the solitude of his room until the storm dissipates.

To avoid the placid lake within him from thrashing violently to the woes from the throb of a wound which has yet to scar over, Neuvillette found it best to avoid your presence.

The lanterns outside the Melusine’s homes had long gone out as they followed their routine bedtime.

The expanse of the cavern dimmed to near blackness, the small creatures all tucked away soundly in their beds. A hushed ambiance provides a suitable environment for reflection.

His steps flatten the grass underneath as they accompany his strides with their rustling.

The absence of light had never bothered him, it’s within his nature to detest it. Any beast would withdraw away from the mere image of fire.

The rustle of the grass halts, a wispy aroma of smoke wafts towards him. It doesn’t take long to identify the origin. Only a small flicker broke through the shadows, candlewick fostering only a weak flame.

But it was enough to fend the shadows away from your frame.

The flame’s light caught on each subtle ripple of the pond you were kneeling over.

The seemingly unremarkable pool served as the sole entrance and exit to Merusea Village. Where the Melusines traveled through to gather food, fresh water, and trinkets swallowed up by the waves.

Cold waters catch the bitter droplets of your pained eyes in the reflection of the ripples upon the surface, the distorted silhouette of a weeping devil.

An unspoken gospel revealed to draconic pupils.

Under the rich aromas wafting from the kitchen, behind the diligently tailored gowns, and hidden in the cadence of your voice as you read tales aloud, laid the yearning for the rays of a bright star.

You’re human, a creature fleeting and meek by nature. Blood yearns to be with blood just as every drop of rain yearns to return to a cloud.

A sharp rustle of grass under a heavy step jolts your hunched-over posture straight, head whipping around to face the uninvited audience.

Once those weeping eyes recognize the brooding figure in front of them, your face adverts away from his direction. Shame evident upon your expression.

A concerned hand reaches out only to retract away, contrition marring his shut lips as Neuvillette diverts his eyes too.

Fire burns indiscriminately, even the dancing flame of a candle can sear its mark upon skin. Neuvillette knows this all too well, for the lesion he received from embracing that flame once still festers even after all these years.

However, lilac eyes pan back towards the orange glow illuminating your melancholic face. Warm hues contrast against the wet trails down your cheeks. There’s an ache more agonizing than a festering wound.

His steps advanced closer until he was knelt down by your slump frame. A benevolent touch lands upon your shoulder. Guiding you away from the taunting waters and into his arms, hiding your face in his broad shoulder.

Offering you a semblance of warmth in a coven shunned from the grace of gentle sunlight.

With your face away from his gaze, the cacophony of your sobs returns, digging your fingers into the folds of his dress shirt.

Echoed back mockingly by the cold cavern walls.

Perhaps a foolish dragon has yet to learn his lesson, still lured in that the brilliant light of a flame.

A gentle hand traces up along your back, softly brushing your hair away to reveal the skin of your nape to his sharp pupils.

Honed in upon untainted skin, the courts of rebirth may have removed the proof of your damnation, but not the hex itself.

Or maybe, a foolish dragon feels some responsibility for being the one to curse you to this fate.

A mark once imprinted upon your nape by a lonesome dragon, a heavy oath sworn to you engrained into the very fabric of your soul amidst the first rendition.

One which then became the cursed chains that sunk you under the unforgiving waters.

It’s said that love is heavy, a weight greater than the density of water. A heaviness which could sink anything and everyone under salty tides.

A heaviness originating from this accursed prison where a disgraced being resided.

Even as the earth above welcomed new generations as they said goodbye to bygone times.

The solitude of a fool turning into ravenous waves which seeped into soil until its appetite was satiated by the return of its beloved treasure.

It’s his fault that the tides stole you from the sunlight.

The courts of rebirth had already forgiven you of this burden, not a single memory remaining of that tale.

What right does he have to place it back upon you? There’s no point in punishing one for a sin that had been cleansed by the tides of time.

You didn’t deserve to be held away from the warmth of a benevolent sun.

To have been dragged down below to these depths. To have been stolen away from the warmth of the sun by the command of fickles gods and ancient grudges.

It’s much too severe of a sentence for you, someone who didn’t deserve to repent for a sin that wasn’t truly yours.

Is it okay for his hands to wipe away your tears when this cursed dragon was the cause of your agony?

Even if it’s wrong, Neuvillette holds you closer. Even if he didn’t have the right, he pressed your face in his shoulder. Allowing the vehemence of your tears to scorch his skin as you buried your cries into him.

Glancing at the pool you had been leaning over, he watches as the ripples of the surface taunt you and him the same.

Two beings whose bodies couldn’t embrace the tides. Two cursed beings who’ve been trapped in repeated play.

“It seems you’re bound to this prison as well.” He scorns those gods and ancient grudges, but he scorns himself the most.

Confined behind a human face and a human body, a traitor who’s lost his birthright over the waters who couldn’t welcome him.

How can a cursed dragon quell those choking sobs of yours? How can he atone for his selfish sin?

Neuvillette takes a deep breath just your tears continue to soak his skin. Steeling his resolve, he meditates on the one resolution he can offer you.

“Fontainians still tell a tale about a princess who wished a dragon to become a prince, yes?” He begins.

After a pause filled with hiccups and shaky breaths, you nod your head as an answer.

“It was when she spoke the dragon’s true name that he granted her one wish,” he recounts the tale, feeling the trembles of your shoulders.

“That part of the story isn’t fictitious,” he reveals.

Voices from the depths of his rationality whisper for him to stop, to expand no more upon this secret of his brethren. Clamorous warnings to a traitor to not repeat his past transgressions.

However, he obeys no edict from the heavens or origins. Not when an unjust punishment caused such heart-wrenching sobs.

“Names hold great significance to dragons. So much so, to whoever learns their true name, a wish can be granted.”

Slowly, your tear-stained face pulls away from his crinkled dress shirt. Finally meeting his lilac gaze. He notes the bewilderment which surrounds his reflection in your eyes.

“Is… your name not ‘Neuvillette’?” You inquire.

“It’s a surname bestowed upon me by the mortals of the land.”

“Then… What is your name?” A glimmer of optimism ever so subtly debuts in your eyes.

He could not tell you. No matter how beautifully that light shines, this was one ordinance he couldn’t ignore. All he could do was glance away as he shakes his head. Unable to bear the sight of that light extinguishing.

“That is what you must find for yourself.”

Perhaps this is his defiance of the plot which has been unraveling for so long. His attempt to step off that circular path, searching for a different end.

The silent audience of fate watching on with bemusement to where this rendition will lead.

“Oh?”

What a peculiar occurrence, Neuvillette was just about to exit his study when he found himself just a breath’s width away from you. Instinctively, he takes a step back behind the threshold of the doorway.

Passive eyes studying your form, you must’ve been standing there for a while. A hand held up intending to knock on the oak door returns to your side as you stare at the floor.

“Is there something you need assistance with?” He continues to study you.

Lilac eyes observe as your fingers clasp together, a common habit of mortals when nervous, if he recalls the contents of a book correctly. Another minute passes before you take a deep breath.

“Is your name Guillaume?” You peer up.

Ah, so this is what you wished to inquire about.

The secret revealed to you that day beside an exit neither he nor you could cross. Guillaume, a name befitting of nobility. But unfortunately, not for a dragon.

He responds with a shake of his head, expression stiffening as he watches the corners of your lips drop ever so slightly.

“Oh…”

It seems his existence brings nothing but a frown upon those soft lips, Neuvillette felt it’s best to retreat from your sight.

This attempt was evidence of your determination to return to the embrace of a warm star.

It wouldn’t be right for him to interfere, despite those vile voice whispers murmuring from the depth of his mind. It wouldn’t be fair to you.

It’s best to maintain this distance between his hand and yours, for your sake and his.

Which begs the question, why were you still standing here in front of him?

“Is that all you wished to inquire?” Neuvillette hopes the Melusines will lift your spirits after he withdraws.

“Actually…” You began. “I made some soup and if you haven’t had lunch yet, would you like to try some?”

Although his stoic face might not reflect it, he’s positively baffled. Were ‘you’ always this enthusiastic about food?

The devil he knew before would view the freshest catches and clearest waters offered by a dragon with blasé reactions.

You used to recoil away from the fishes and meats he held out to you, they were only ever touched once he charred them over a fire.

Then again the kitchen back then was much more barren than the present, cabinets now decorated with bottles of fragrant spices and herbs.

Was it just a difference in palate? To reject such an invitation would be to squander a precious opportunity for investigation.

“The pleasure would be all mine.” He matches your strides as the two of you traverse toward the kitchen.

Settling down in a chair at a wooden table, Neuvillette watches as you ladle some soup into a bowl. Following your form as you set the bowl down in front of him. A pleasant aroma accompanies the steam emitting from the bowl.

“It’s Fontainian Onion Soup.” You hand a spoon over.

“Thank you.” He takes the utensil and scoops a hearty serving of the rich soup.

A distinct flavor of caramelized onions and the creaminess of cheese. The broth had been thickened with a bit of flour and the cheese added to the heavy mouth feel.

This dish certainly expresses the flavor preferences of humans… but could such a thick broth really be considered soup?

“Do you like it?” Your head tilts to the side as he feels your inquisitiveness.

Dabbing a napkin over his lips, he clears his throat.

“A fine dish indeed. Although increasing the liquid content and reducing the amount of fat could improve it,” he advises.

A hush falls over the kitchen, nothing but the occasional crackle of a fire filling the space.

“Oh… I’ll keep that in mind.” Your voice was restraining something.

As you turn away, Neuvillette catches the subtle shakes of your shoulders.

Ah, has he caused offense? He recalls how cooking and food preferences amongst humans tend to be a sore spot for most, some books going as far as to claim critics as attacks on one’s pride.

You had taken time out of your day to prepare a bowl for him, and he gave senseless comments in return.

“Ah, but it’s delicious regardless, thank you.” He has to remedy this situation.

The shakes of your shoulders increase, as a hand covers your lips.

“Thank you, Monsieur.” Your lips seem to be trying to stifle something.

After finishing your sentence, your lips pressed tighter together. He could see the corners twitching as they tried their best to remain neutral.

Before he could get another word in, you excused yourself. Leaving him in front of the warm soup.

In that moment, Neuvillette vows to himself that even if you were to hand him a piece of charcoal he’ll swallow it without a single complaint.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Is your name Édouard?”

Your voice causes him to turn his attention away from the pages of a book this quiet evening.

You stood just off to the side of the bookshelf where he was browsing, a candle illuminating the curiosity held in your eyes. Presenting a name likely discovered from those very same shelves.

Dirges ring from the corners of his mind, warning him not to allow the light to approach so close.

However, where is a shadow supposed to withdraw to when the light seeks him?

Just as how the tide couldn’t run away from the shore for long. Steadfast and constant attempts to unravel the secrets held by the ebbs and flows.

Alas, he shakes his head again today, steeling his nerves as he catches the slight drop in your shoulders. Louis, Étienne, Théodore, and all those previous guesses, are names of heroes in Fontainian tales and epics.

Popularized to the point many boys were named after them, but no parent would ever want to name their child after a dragon, a beast.

He doubts the pages of history have ever recorded his name.

Your disheartened gaze couldn’t meet his, choosing to stare into the space beside him. He couldn’t fault you for that.

All your efforts of combing through old novels to search for obscured monikers just to be undone by a shake of a head.

He’s not sure how much longer he can endure being the origin of your melancholy.

“There’s a tear in your coat…”

Your voice brings him out of his thoughts, he glances at the spot your eyes were honed on and spots the aforementioned tear.

“Ah, I see. My apologies for being in such an unsightly state, ” he sighs. Lilac eyes ran along the jagged seams.

He should go find a replacement from his wardrobe, but you still looked like you had something to say.

“I can fix it if you’d like,” you offer.

It’s just a garment, a piece of cloth that fell off some merchant’s ship and found itself in the walls of a cove. There were plenty of other garments that suffered the same fate, picked up by pairs of curious mittened hands.

To replace this robe would be simple, but he notes the concealed eagerness in the fidget of your fingers. It must be rather dull for you down here for the past year, to the point you resorted to repairing old fabrics for enrichment.

Regrettably, Neuvillette admits he’s not the best host. He’s got no talent for small talk nor does he know how to entertain you, thus he left it up to the Melusines. However, he could at least do this much as a host.

“Thank you, I’d be grateful if you do.”

His steps in time with yours through the halls as an old storage room comes into view. Still filled with collections of folded gowns and coats.

As he observes the room, you guide him to a pair of wooden chairs, a box filled with needles and threads beside one. You place the candle down on a nearby table.

“I’ll take your coat.” Holding out your hands.

Following your request, he slips the robe off his shoulders, leaving him in a dress shirt and slacks.

Attentively you take the garment, settling down in a seat as your hand searches through the box. After your rummaging stopped, you glance back at him.

“It won’t take long, please have a seat.” Gesturing toward the other chair.

Lilac eyes scanned the aged seat, the door was just beyond it, it wouldn’t take much of an excuse for him to walk past the wooden threshold.

However, he pans back to your anticipatory gaze still awaiting. It wouldn’t be polite to deny such a simple gesture.

Thus, he heeds your request, ambling toward the empty seat, he begins to settle down just as a rip resonates through the air.

His body halts all movement just as yours did, toward pairs of eyes trained on the sleeve that had been caught on the edge of a wooden table.

The fibers of his shirt entangled with the jagged edges causing his sleeve to rip. Neuvillette truly has yet to acclimate to such fickle inconveniences.

“Pfft!-” Quickly your hand covers your mouth.

Lips pressed together as they tried their best to stifle the sounds threatening to leak out. Your shoulders shaking from the effort, just as they did that day in the kitchen.

Although his expression remains the same, he’s quite dumbfounded.

Unable to contain the sounds any longer, you erupt into a fit of giggles as he continues to stare. The bright chimes of your laughter fill the room, a melodic tune he had longed to hear for so long.

“S-sorry, I just didn’t expect you to… be so clumsy.” Giggles fragment your sentence along with a brief pause to collect yourself.

Clumsy. Yes, he remembers that word, an adjective you used to describe a dragon whenever he took on the shape you favored so much.

Of course, even a great beast like a dragon would totter and stumble when in such a foreign body.

Although he has been in this body for many, many years now, yet, Neuvillette hasn’t acclimated to these fickle mortal attires.

If these garments weren’t pushed into his hands by the Melusines and their bright-eyed stares, he’d prefer to not dawn them.

Neuvillette shuts his eyes. His lungs intake a deep breath, stifling the sway of these trivial inconveniences before they cause any ripples.

Once he’s certain there was no jagged edge to his stare, lilac hues peek back upon your figure.

By now those fits of giggles had faded into a tranquil lull, your content face focused on the stitches. Body relaxed against the back of the chair, weaving the needle through the sides of the tear.

Subconsciously, his frame begins to mimic yours, rigid muscles melting against the wooden support.

Lavender hues follow the disappearance of a sliver point, then catch its emergence from the fabric.

The torn and frayed edges draw closer and closer together by the coaxes of the thread, each stitch attentively placed by your graceful hands.

“Neuvillette?” Your serene voice interlaces with the placid interlude.

He hums an answer.

“That night by the entrance… you said ‘You're bound to this cove as well’.” The pace of the needle slows.

“Why did you say that?” You finish your question.

Observant, a characteristic of yours he’s always deemed quite commendable. Ever so keen on the nuances of his sentences.

The piercing stare of draconic eyes weighs on your shoulders, despite that the cadence of the needle didn’t falter. A ripple makes its appearance within a placid pool.

“Do you really wish to know?” He warns.

You hum resolutely. A bitter taste creeps its way up his tongue, the recollection of the string of words which damned him here.

Instinct advises him to swallow them back, to conceal his shame from your awaiting ears. However, answering the call of your curiosity should be enough of a repayment for repairing a coat.

“For the rest of one’s life, one shall never leave this cave deep beneath the tides. That is the curse set upon this body,” he reveals.

The needle stops.

“A curse?…” you stammer out.

Under your breath, Neuvillette hears you recount the disclosed secret. Repeating it to yourself as if to decipher the syntax, to find some answers to his condemnation.

The answer was sitting just in front of him.

“…For the rest of one’s life… well, how long do dragons live?”

To mortals, it’s time who is the reaper of their existence. From the moment a newborn sounds their first cry to the final draw of air on their deathbeds, it was the hands of a clock who ruled over them.

But such hands could not touch a being such as him.

“The life of a dragon begins and ends in the Fontemer Sea, born from it, made from it, and shall return to it to be born again.” He wonders if mortals could grasp such a concept.

“Oh…” Your tone grew more somber.

Judging from your tonality, you must’ve pieced the allusions together.

To be contained within these stone walls with only a pool of seawater he could not touch as the opening, is to bestow upon him immortality he never asked for.

For the Hydro Dragon could not return to the Fontemer Sea.

Even if dragons had long lives, it didn’t mean the humiliation of immortality. The true cruelty of this seemingly kind curse.

“Why?” Your voice just barely above a whisper.

Why was he cursed? Why is he in this sham of a mortal body? Why did he reveal the secrets of his brethren? All of this at the trifling sight of bitter tears.

“Because the people of Fontaine found my name and they wished for it.”

Why did he give you his name? And why did you then give it away? There are many questions left unanswered by that tale.

Why did a proud dragon bow to the whims of a mere mortal in that fairytale?

A creature as potent as a dragon should never bow, not to the ordinances of false gods, not to the turbulence of fate, and not to a mere mortal.

Why did a maiden wish for a dragon to become a human like them? Water is an adaptable element, able to take on any shape it pleases. However, it yearns to always return to its natural shape.

Perhaps, his ‘natural’ form appalled the devil too much. So much so, she used that one wish to confine him in the form she favored most.

More confoundingly, why did Neuvillette allow such a request? A creature favored by the usurpers dared to wish a dragon to abandon his heritage, to cross over the threshold of humanity just for their sake.

Why would a dragon ever bow to a mortal’s request?

The commandments of a false god and the howling thrashes of wind can’t make a proud dragon bow, but the weight of love might be enough for a prideful beast to lower his head towards a mortal.

A traitor to his own fallen brethren is much too dignified of a title for Neuvillette. No, it’d be better to call him for what he is: A Fool.

What a spectacle it was that day, even those fickle gods peered down just to watch. A fool who lost his form and authority was imprisoned beneath the tides.

A stir shakes that pool, whirling and writhing, the billows of bitterness mounting.

“… could it be wished away?” Your voice beckons his thoughts to return to the present.

Unlike how it was written in those tales, a curse can’t be ‘broken’. Not by a kiss, and not by clasping one’s hands together in prayer.

“Not even a miracle could make a curse vanish, a curse only ever goes away once its clauses have been fulfilled.”

Until the stars burn out, until the sky caves in on itself, or until the oceans of this uprooted world dry up, he shall remain here. The retribution a traitor deserves.

He shall remain in this sham of a body, unable to become the form he desired the most in the next life he’ll never reach.

Not a human, not a dragon, just an atrocity somewhere in-between. This must be what humans call ‘purgatory’.

“I see…” Your attention never leaves the half-stitched garment sprawled upon your lap.

A heavy silence fills the space between you and him once more. To conclude a conversation on such a doleful note would be a disgrace.

However, what is he to say? What words can salvage this situation? Neuvillette has no talent for small talk, he doesn’t have the same mortal heart as yours to provide you with any solstice.

Amidst his contemplation, a soft hum resounds through the quietude, and the melodic rhythm of a lullaby begins. It seems that you took matters into your own hands, ending the doleful silence at your own discretion.

Once more his back reclines into the wooden chair, pointed ears indulge themselves in a nostalgic tune.

It’s strange, that rippling pool is swaying back to equilibrium. The surface returns to its placid rest as tension melts from his muscles.

Unaware of the hushed pitter-patter of a curious audience, drawn in by the gentle song as their bright eyes peer ever from the cover of the door frame.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Madame! Look I got more Pluie Lotuses!” Kiara’s little steps rush across the marble floor.

Getting up on the tips of her feet to show the bundle of fresh blooms, salty water still dripping from their petals, as her bangs stick flush to her face still damp from the sea. Her pink tail swaying behind her.

Your body turns in her direction just in time with Neuvillette.

“Kiara…” A subtle layer of disapproval emerges from lilac hues.

“Remember to dry off before entering the estate, the floors can become quite dangerous when wet.”

“But…” the flowers lower. “I wanted to show Madame the lotuses…”

There’s a drop in her tail and horns and a sharp sting to his chest. Her sisters were gathered around in a circle, a story having just concluded, he could feel their stares upon him. Adding to the sharpness of guilt.

“My apologies, Kiara, I only meant to warn you.”

She nods her head silently, tail still dragging on the floor. Ah, just what should he do? A frown begins to weigh down his face.

“Thank you, they’re wonderful, Kiara.” Your gentle chime breaks through the stalemate.

You take the bouquet from her mittened hands, placing them atop a counter, in exchange you offer her a towel.

“But Neuvillette is right, it’s not good to run through the halls right after you returned from the waters. It’s dangerous, okay?” Your voice as gentle as the towel rubbed over her hair and horns.

A content smile returns to her round cheeks as she diligently nods, promising that she’ll be more careful next time. Tail lifting up from the floor as the fluffy towel wipes away the ocean droplets.

Once fully dried, she joins her sisters. The Melusines cast shifting glances toward one another until one finally steps out from the crowd.

“Madame…” Carole calls out softly, tugging a few times the hem of your long dress.

“Hm?” Giving her your full attention, a towel set aside.

“I overheard you inquiring about names with Monsieur in the library once, could you be…” Her eyes downcasted.

Oh. This time it was Neuvillette and you who exchanged glances, eyes both reflecting the same dread.

They weren’t supposed to know. They weren’t supposed to hear those slapdash guesses.

He never meant for them to find out. Always careful to never discuss such matters in their earshot.

For how could he bear to tell them that their cozy village was actually a prison?

His mind was unable to conjure up an excuse, tongue unwilling to speak it. They weren’t supposed to find out. Oh, what shall he do now?

“Could you be expecting?”

Huh?

Two pairs of eyes widened with bewilderment, mind stunned into silence and lips just as confused.

Somehow they’ve huddled even closer than before, encircling you and him with their bright eyes and tails swaying with anticipation.

“Will there be a new addition to the village?”

“How long do we have to wait?”

“Are we getting a brother or sister?”

Their chatter and probes homogenized into a jumbled symphony his flustered conscious just couldn’t distinguish. Trying to reel his senses back from this unexpected turn of events. Neuvillette clears his throat.

“No,” he coughs out.

A collective ‘aw’ resounds through the air, their tails and horns drooping down at the announcement. Guilt pierced its nail through his chest once more. However, he couldn’t lie to their bright eyes.

“N-not, yet.” You add to his statement.

A wave of inquisitive‘oh’ ripples through the crowd. Tails picked up from the ground as the glimmer in their eyes returned.

A sweet lie sprinkled over the truth neither of you dare tell, that blood and water can’t make wine.

“Then, do you want a little prince or little princess?” Carole chirps.

You remain silent, only gazing down at their faces as they stare back.

A lilac stare was also focused upon you, his curiosity awakening at this question as well. He watches you take a slow breath before leaning down.

“I’d like to have a daughter, sweet and kind like all of you.” Your hand strokes her soft trestles.

Her head nuzzles into your palm as giggles fill the air. Only draconic eyes study the small smile upon your lips, dipped in bittersweetness.

Did you have a lover back on the surface in this life? Perhaps someone who was promised to you. A real prince this time.

Did you have dreams of basking in the grace of the sun, cradling a bundle as a pair of tiny fingers encase around your own?

Was this the hard-earned happy ending you yearned for?

“Monsieur…” Mamaere tugs on his slacks.

Neuvillette reigns his thoughts back from their escapade, he angles his head down.

“Where does a baby come from?”

The smile on your lips stiffen just as Neuvillette’s body does.

If there’s a god who’s peering into this cavern deep below the land and sea, must they send such dilemmas his way?

How does one navigate through this treacherous domain?

“Oh dear! I just remembered.” Your hands clap together.

“There’s a few ribbons and clips in the fabric room, do you girls mind getting them? So we can braid Monsieur’s hair?”

At once the Melusines stand at attention, focus diverted over their excitement at the prospect of decorating snowy locks.

The patters of their little steps trample down the hall, allowing you and Neuvillette a well-deserved moment of reprieve.

“Thank you.” His posture drops slightly as a hefty sigh leaves him, lids shut for a moment of rest.

“Of course, Sébastien.”

His eyes crack open, casting you a glance with a raised brow. The ghost of a grin barely contained by delicate lips. By this time, Neuvillette couldn’t recall all the past attempts.

“Regrettably, that is not my name.”

“Was it at least a decent attempt?”

He could hear the pout in your voice, one that didn’t last long before a light-hearted laugh follows it.

Closing his eyes once more as he indulges in those chimes, he nods ever so slightly. It was a good attempt, for it brought out those sounds he enjoyed.

His lashes flutter open at the sensation of his hair getting gathered in your tender hold. Passing the carved wooden teeth of a comb through his snowy locks.

Careful to not pull or tug on them as you coaxed the tangles out of their knots. The heaviness upon his shoulders leaves with a deep exhale which left his body, indulging in your attentive touches.

Subconsciously, his gaze trails up at the bundle of flowers resting along the wooden table. It wasn’t the periwinkle blush of the delicate petals that commanded his attention.

No, it was that salty, oceanic wisp mingled with the flora aroma. A fleeting essence of the sea.

“Do you miss the sea?”

Ah, it seems that his stare wasn’t as subtle as he had hoped. Neuvillette turns away from the flowers as if he had been caught amidst a scheme.

Facing in front of him, your paused hands signal your wait for his response.

“I suppose it’s only natural for me to long for it.”

After all these years, Neuvillette believes he has finally grasped it, an answer to that void filled with ‘whys’. As if he had seized the reflection of a star from the bottom of a deep lake.

Neuvillette thinks he understands why you and the devil yearned for the sunlight.

Perhaps the one similarity between proud dragons and arrogant humans. They both ache to return to where they came from.

One yearns for the sea. One yearns for land.

For there and only there, could their sins and grudges be purged. To gain the most restful sleep before the hands of fate shape them anew from the element.

“Hmm,” you hum in acknowledgment.

Fingers gentle and slow as they brushed through his hair. You hum a lullaby to accompany each pass of the comb. Melodies that made his ears yearn for more, craving for more sounds to leave your plush lips.

His hair had always been an inconvenience, capricious strands that were seemly curious of everything in his environment.

Snowy tresses find themselves gravitating towards door hinges, door knobs, and even the minuscule gaps in ornate furniture.

However, your patience hands untangled those unruly stands.

When a knot proves to be particularly stubborn, you tend to lend closer to hone in on the troublesome tangle.

It just so happens that a stubborn knot appeared, causing you to decrease the proximity between your bodies.

The heat radiating from your frame sends delightful pickles along his skin, a delicate warmth making his flesh grow feverish.

A hunger deep within begins to grumble and wallow, a greed that wishes to dig past those frivolous fragrances to get to the true taste he craves.

An ugly gluttony pleading to delve into your soft flesh. Ah, he recognizes the cause of this turbulence now…

Neuvillette clears his throat.

“I believe I’m beginning to feel unwell, so please refrain from venturing into the cellar for the next few weeks. I should quarantine myself.” Too ashamed to turn back and face you.

“Oh?...” The comb stops.

At this distance, he was well aware of your scent. A fine fragrance no water or bloom could hope to imitate. Concealed under a layer of lavish soaps and oils dropped from the surface was an aroma that was wholly yours and yours alone.

A gloved hand reaches up to cover his nostrils, seeking some barrier between that tantalizing whiff.

“Please, excuse me…” He pulls away swiftly.

The sudden action must’ve jostled his hair too much, for the sultry sensation of your fingertips was felt along azure ‘strands’.

Just a minor touch against his horns, yet shudders rack up his nape. His teeth sink into the flesh of his bottom lip, sharper than they’re supposed to be, anchoring those ravenous voices at bay momentarily.

He needs to leave now. For your sake.

Rushed strides stow a distance between his body and that delectable warmth of yours. His back turned to you as he couldn’t bear to see the expression upon that saccharine face.

Just what expression were you making as a dragon retreated?

The cellar of this estate was always cold, its stones never having once touched the sunlight before, thus they only brood in their frigidity. A somberness fitting to quell a heat which yearned to burn.

The fever has consumed his body wholly, each pant leaving trails of foggy wisps. Neuvillette burrows deeper into the hoard of sheets, pillows, and blankets. The brush of the soft fabrics prickles his skin.

How strange it is that despite the fever of heat igniting each corner of his flesh, despite the numerous thick covers twisting and burying his bare form, he’s still shivering.

A chill ingrained so deep it’s in his very bones, skin alight but bones frozen over, just what is this purgatory?

Annually it happens, a period where primal instincts exude past the rigid confines of a mortal form. Making its influence in the resurgence of draconic features over the mortal flesh that traps him.

No matter how raw his true form claws to be released, the mortal prison doesn’t relent. A curse he’s brought upon himself.

Laceratations of gluttony and cardinal sin sink deeper with each provocation. The creeks of the floorboards above and the sweet voice which leaked through the woods, the morsels of you that stirred the waters of instinct.

From the depths of the torrent, he’s so desperately suppressing came the unquenchable thirst to lure you in. Beckon you down to this shadowy cellar so that the ugly and primal waters could swallow you wholly.

But he mustn’t. Those soft touches and smiles had just been bestowed upon him, the twine of trust still delicate. How could he ever squander such privileges? For those lovely eyes of yours to look at him filled with nothing but fear and disgust, he’d rather be chained down here for the rest of eternity.

He must endure it for a bit longer, he knows it’ll be over soon. The gale which sweeps through him is slowly lessening its blows.

Even if the waters of primitive instincts howled and stormed, Neuvillette refused to leave this tangle of blankets and pillows. An unwavering grip refusing to submit to those demands. Thus nature had to find its own way to subsist off a drought.

The heat hazed over his mind, conjuring up fantasies to appease the ever-unsettled water from its vapid reality.

“Neuvillette?” A soft voice calls out.

Just like now. Desire fogs up his senses to create a delusion, mimicking the way your warm voice beckons him. It’s nothing but a figment of his depraved lust.

“Neuvillette?”

He buries his ears further into the down covers to block the alluring mirages. Tickling him to submit to the temptation. But he mustn’t. Nothing more than a manifestation of lust.

The phantom donning your sweet voice calls out for him, and gentle touches send shivers through his nerves. Ah, he must vanquish this mirage before the fraying line of his self-restraint splinters apart.

Nothing but smoke and mirrors conjured by desire, a rigid arm expels out from the covers to dissipate the siren’s lure.

However, it wraps around something warm, a heat which his fever wails for. Intrinsically his shivering body covets that warmth, to be buried flush against the source so that this chill may finally stop its torment.

So like any greedy dragon, his claws enclose around temptation and drag it into his decrepit cave of blankets and sheets.

A satisfied purr judders through his stalwart body, a warmth which could finally reach his very bones. Thus, he burrows his face deeper into the shoulder of this phantom, a lovely aroma beckoning him to pull their soft body closer.

“Neuvillette?…”

His eyes snap open, realization flooding through him just as the chill that had been ingrained into his bones. This wasn’t an illusion. You weren’t an illusion.

He tears himself away, just as a moth does once they realize a hypnotic flame had set their wings alight. Trembly arms firmly planted on either side of your body, snowy locks falling onto your face.

“Are you alright?...” The sapphire luminance of his elongated horns shines across those sinless eyes.

The strap of a nightgown halfway down your shoulder from when he snatched you beneath his savage form.

“You… you shouldn’t be here,” he breathes, voice unsteady and taut.

“You’ve been away for an awfully long time… I-” Your eyes were blown wide and lips pressed together, aghast gaze not daring to glance down at the raging rigidness pressed against the silk of your nightgown.

Frenzied shivers of pleasure jostles through his veins, tremors racking his body all the way to the tips of his horns. In desperation his rigidnesses pleaded to feel you, throbbing so painfully a hiss leaves his lips.

“You need to leave, quickly please.” Leave before he traps you again.

Before this pathetic excuse of a sovereign loses against himself, before he makes a fool of himself. Neuvillette tries to pull away, against the weeping wishes of his erections. Face too ashamed to even look at you, but a pair of tender hands guides his cheeks back.

“...But I missed you…” You whisper.

Why are your hands embracing his face in this unsightly state? Are they not appalled by the patches of scales littered across them? Like a flame reaching out towards a moth.

“Leave, please.” Don’t tempt him like this.

“... Don’t you miss me?...” Your hold doesn’t budge.

Why do you look at him like that? Irises filled with warmth as his image is reflected in the flickering candlelight. Gazing wholly up at him. A cerulean glow tinting your hair and supple body.

“Don’t…” He reasons, the last of his sensibility crying a warning of a sinful fruit.

“Please, Neuvillette… won’t you hold me for just a bit? I missed you so much….” The shift of your shoulder causes the nightgown to slip further off your shoulder.

Don’t call out to him like that. No, not as your bewitching body was so close to his. The glow of a candle illuminating the curve of your cheeks, disheveled hair framing your wide eyes.

Don’t show him such a sight, for he’ll salivate to devour you until his teeth rot.

“Please?...” Coaxing his head down so that his forehead rests against yours.

Your warmth, your soft touches, and your delectable aroma, they parch his throat so much it pained him. Just as painful as attempting to swallow down sand from a hellish desert, it aches and lacerates his throat.

And here you were offering a lustrous fruit, so juicy and filled of sin, in front of his famished eyes. A cruel, cruel mercy.

“... May…May I?” It’s unbearable, this parchedness in his throat, would you be so kind to quench it?

Your sweet hum grants him permission. Eyes closed just as you turn a blind eye to his ravenousness, still stroking his tender cheeks. Neuvillette couldn’t deny himself any more of the warmth he’s coveted for oh so long.

Thus, he delves head-first into the glimmer of that enchanting flame. Burying his nose into the crook of your neck, so vulnerable and complacent, to hoard your bewitching fragrance all for himself. His skin flushed against yours as his bones delight in your heat.

The reigns of self-respect slip out from his hands as they let go in favor of running along your curves and edges. Each feature, your shoulders, and hips, aligns with details he’s long ingrained into his memory.

His fervor touches pushing down the silk fabric which dare disturb his worship. Nevuillette cants his head up momentarily, puffs of smothering breaths clouding the frosty air.

Lilac eyes drink up how the chilly air made your delectable breast perky, trailing down the goosebumps lining your torso, and landing on your exposed thighs.

A dryness itches in his throat as callused hands bite into the tender skin and he parts those placid legs away.

Oh, how could one ever take their eyes off that shiny, succulent fruit held out so openly in the hands of the tempter of all tempters?

They reveal to him the oasis he’d been hallucinating these grueling weeks. The tip of a serpentine tongue slips across his parched lips.

Since you so brazenly offered your body up to him, you wouldn’t have any objects against him finally getting a taste, right?

His foreboding figure traverses downwards until his delirious face is right between the cusp of his salvation and demise.

Dilated pupils peering up at you for approval, an invocation for clemency from this drought. A merciful hand graces his cheeks once more, granting him his salvation and demise.

His tongue escapes past his parched lips, as lengthy as it was insatiable, it licks a slow and passionate strip up your slit. A taste he once would only recount in the depths of his recollections.

Does this new body of yours still have the same weaknesses? Will you still writhe in madness if he sucks on that delectable little nub? Or how about those hidden points concealed deep within?

Could this tongue of his bring you past the brink of insanity in this life as well?

There was only one way for Neuvillette to grasp the answers he sought. A long tongue slips past the entrance of your satin walls, welcomed with a lewd squelch.

Grip parting your legs from his path further. Those quivering calls of ‘Neuvillette’and the pawing of your small hands against his head beckon him deeper.

Ah, redemption, it’s far too late for him now. For Nevillette has taken a bite out from that forbidden fruit, the evidence of it was dripping down his chin.

Ah, these slick velvety walls, he missed them. They clamp down with such ferocity along this beastly tongue, extensive enough to reach the deepest cavern of you.

A divine nectar begins to pool, Neuvillette retracts his tongue just enough for the heavenly taste to slide down his throat. Your sweet musk sends his olfactory system into chaos, rampant tongue returning to ravish you.

Not one drop of restraint left within him. It’s beastly how he’s devouring you. His tongue craves more of the delicacy he’s denied himself these past years, a thirst no water could quench. Wet muscles sliding up the whole length of your slit in a meticulous long lap, his nose bumping into your clit.

Your mewls and sobs echo off the walls when he flicks his tongue over that sensitive nub. Your body jolts violently as the length of his tongue ventures into the honeypot, toes curling in the air, but his iron-clad grip doesn’t allow any room for escape.

Delicate fingers now entangled into his tussled locks, grasping onto illuminated horns. You were likely trying to find something to ground your dissipating sanity, how unfortunate that your actions only flamed the fires.

A guttural growl echoed. Tongue now plunging further, slithering back and forth along your walls. For being such a sweet sacrifice for him, he’ll give a reward. Slithering tongue making sure to drag against that spot he’s memorized.

Judging from how your feet were arching off the sheets, it seems this sinful detail of yours was repeated as well.

Your body writhes, no longer docile under the white searing pleasure frying the ends of every nerve within your being. Unrelenting rhythm slipping in and out of your convulsing walls, your body twitching and flailing in reaction.

Trying to find some way to handle this surcharge of sensations. Legs instinctively wanting to shut together as if to cease this turbulent sensation, unfortunately, your pitiful strength gave no resistance against his rigid hold.

He could feel your muscles begin to seize up, slick walls clamping harder on his writhing tongue. Was this foreign sensation too much for you already?

His long tongue explores every last crevice, tastebuds lapping against those weak spots deep within as his nose bumps and grinds against that lewd clit. This unsightly side of you.

There’s more fervor in the lashes of his tongue, slurping up the nectar trickling out your greed, mixing with his spit dripping down his chin.

Your legs trashing but unable to go anywhere in his unrelenting hold, only able to pull on his silky locks for dear life as sobs tumble out. A flood of arousal adds to the mess on his chin. One he gladly laps up.

Oh’s and ah’s were the only choked sounds your lips could make as your eyes rolled to the back of your scrambled mind.

Neuvillette still relishing in the elixir he’s denied himself for too long, not even the purest water could compare. Reveling in the taste until every last drip ran down his parched throat.

Pulling away, a trail connects his lips with your quivering folds. Callous hands dig further into your legs, making room for his body. Watching as the movements of your chest slowed, his brute figure engulfed your frame.

The ache was unbearable now, each impatient throb reprimanding him for delaying their greed. Neuvillette couldn’t deny their request any longer.

Back sitting up straight, his cocks thrumming against his abdomen, precum exuding out from their swollen heads.

The cool air did little to calm the throbs of his fervors, the girthy shaft standing tall as its engorged tip weeped precum, its twin weeping just the same.

They hover over the softness of your belly, sharp pupils trail up the shadow they cast, heralding to where they crave to be buried.

The heat of his body was suffocating, the burn in his throat greater than ever before. But why? He had drank from that forbidden oasis, it’s dripping down his chin, yet why has his thirst grown greater than before?

Neuvillette was so… so close. If he had only endured it for another day or two, the gale within him would’ve relented and retreated away in defeat. But oh how viciously it’s gloating in its victory. Getting a dragon to bow his head to its cardinal blows.

“Do you… feel better now, Neuvillette?” Slow pants leave your curled lips as your hands reach up to caress his taut face.

This brazenness, this shamelessness, this insolence. Ah, these characteristics have followed you through the grave and into this life as well. You weren’t skilled enough this time around to hide your desire glazed across your pupils.

Did you do this in hopes of making him indebted to you? Offer your sweet body in return for stealing his name from his locked lips? Was this why you traversed down to this dark cellar so late in such flimsy silks?

That gleam in those deceptive eyes, the audacity to believe you could tame the sea with just a flick of your finger. You devious temptress.

“Better?… you’ve only fanned the flames, you devious woman.” A snarl from the depths of him.

Before another word could leave your lips one torrid hand pins your wrist to the sheets. Nails much too sharp to be human dig into those fickle and troublesome fabrics hiding your skin from his touch.

An all too satisfying rip resounding through the air along with your yelp. Scraps join the tangle of sheets.

Did his mortal prison deceive you too much? Did his mild mannerisms trick you into believing that he’s a merciful soul? Or did you always ignore the warnings?

A monster with a human face is still a monster. To believe that one’s patience is endless, only a human could be this impertinent.

His other vascular hand slides down the curves of your body, settling on your hip as your legs hook behind his firm thighs. The ridges of his lower cock drag against your slick folds, wetting his girth from its leaking tip sliding down against your swollen clit.

Precum mixes with the concoction as the glossiness spreads about his length. A pair of shaky breaths mingle as Neuvillette positions his engorged tip at your dripping entrance.

The sensation must’ve cleared the daze from your mind, your head cants downwards to stare at the two oddities.

“A-are both of them going to…” Your grip tightens on the sheets, a subconscious search for comfort.

Ah, now you remember danger. Now you realize your insolence to believe that a mere human could ever tame a proud dragon.

“There won’t be any point in breaking you so quickly,” he snarls. Not missing the flutter of your hole as the weeping head dragged over it. It wouldn’t be good to break you so quickly. His sweet little sacrifice.

Taking the erection which hung lower, he rubs its flushed tip along your slit. Each flinch and tremble sparked gratification through his veins.

The lashes of his tongue had aided in the preparation of these sinful walls, but the girth of his beastly tongue could not compare to the thickness pressed against these leaking folds.

The ghost of his breath flutters over your prickling skin. Neuvillette takes deeper breaths as the weight pressed against your core grew, the bulbous tip inching past the puckering entrance.

The stretch was maddening despite the restrained pace. Your walls fluctuate in a surging dance between clamping down and trying to remain relaxed.

As Neuvillette sinks his girth in bit by bit, its envious twin slithers against your aching clit. The sensitive bundle of nerves drags against each ridge and vein, sending jolts of searing pleasure through him and causing your satin walls to flutter.

A velvety sack kisses against your slick folds, signaling that his length has reached its end. The fat tip of its twin resting just above your naval indicated just how deeply he was buried, trapped between your soft flesh and his sculpted body.

It’s crowded inside you, girth parting and stretching these satin walls while the length is pressed against the deepest most intimate part of you.

Forcing delectable little whimpers and gasps from your haughty lips. Quivering legs now locking ankles behind his back, like a pitiable attempt to hamper him.

That arrogance disgraced to nothing but obscenity upon a wanton face. To see the devil so helpless and lewd under the manipulation of a dragon. What a wonderful sight.

Surely your body remembers his. If not, then he’ll ensure it does now, he’ll engrain it into you for the next life.

One cock slid against the satin ridges of your walls, the other indulging along your searing skin and grinding against your clit. He can’t deny how addictive your body always has been.

Dragging as far back as your locked legs would allow him, the flushed head of one dick kisses your twitching clit, and he sinks back in.

Grunts and purrs reverberate through his throat, teeth clenching as your heat engulfs him again. Reaching deeper into your welcoming core as your lips fall open.

His pace is methodical and controlled to his liking. Drawing out his cock inch by thick inch, sloppy trails of arousal caught on each ridge.

Each time making your core empty and yearning to clench around his girth. Just as a whine would leave your drooling lips, his hips would return to you what your core longed for.

Pushing each tantalizing inch to stroke your starved walls until his skin claps against yours with a wet kiss. Back and forth, back and forth the resounding slaps echoed. Mingling with his low groans and your pitched gasps, creating a sacrilegious yet divine hymn.

Your hand rakes deeper into his toned back possessed by desperation.

A few snowy strands are trapped between your writhing fingers. Pulling him closer to your smoldering skin, causing your clit to grind intensely against his swollen cock, as its twin twitches within your velvety folds.

Those babbles falling from your fed lips, were they pleas for him to bestow upon you leniency or begging him to speed up?

“Do you wish to climax?” A polite façade purrs into your ear.

Lilac eyes were not ignorant to how a devil keens under his body, her gaze drunk off a feverish potion of lust and desire. He could feel it, these velvet walls aching for more, for his girth to jostle your core more, to extinguish this all-consuming ache within you.

“That’s too bad.”

His hips remain steady contrasting against the unevenness of your own pants, unaffected by your desperate mewls. You’ve been selfish enough, you’ve been greedy enough. If he were to grant you a taste of ecstasy, then it’ll be on his terms.

He hasn’t gotten his fill yet, no, he wants to pound his shape forever into these lewd walls. The way they contract and squeeze around his girth with each drive of his hips, they’re practically begging him to.

Thus, he accelerates just a bit more, then a bit more, then a bit more again. Nearly folding you with how flushed he was against you.

The heavy scent of lust, the smothering heat, his unrelenting and unshakable thrusts amalgamating into a spark. One which set the both of you ablaze. Your nails digging into his skin and eyes reaching the back of your head. Sobs and incoherent prattles resound through the room.

Your devious walls clamped around his length with maddening convulsions, gummy muscles suckling to guide his throbbing head to your deepest greed. It was too much.

Neuvillette was powerless as his body pressed yours deeper into the damp sheets, trying to grasp onto any fleeting wisps of control as euphoria overtook him.

Sinking his ravenous teeth into the tangle of the sheets beside your neck, he stifles the admission of his defeat.

A heftiness is spilled within your walls and paints the expanse of your skin in an all-consuming wave. Thick release coating every corner of your core, to finally quell that ravaging heat.

Each subsequent twitch pours more into your crowded cavity and stains your skin. The filthiness of it all seemingly prolongs your sinful depravity.

Chest expanding with pants, pressing your erected nipples against his taut chest. Neuvillette remains buried against you, brutish arms holding your body flush against his.

As if to anchor you, to not allow the turbulent waves of madness to sweep you far from him, or him from you. Keeping your quiver body safe against his.

In the darkness behind his shut lashes, he felt it. Your soft caresses his silky tresses and heaving body. Even as your body heaves and quivers in exhaustion, why must you touch him so tenderly?

Why must you be so cruel? If your hands keep caressing his clammy skin, stroking his peeking scales, he’ll misunderstand.

He’ll believe the delusion that you love him.

Him and not the swaying flower fields of the sunkissed surface.

Whispers cut through the haze of lust and passion, warnings crying for Neuvillette to escape. So he pulls his face from the tangle of sheets, lungs huffing as his eyes find yours.

Exhaustion muddles the hues of your gaze, but not enough to completely smother that glimmer still present. Ah, he knows that that glimmer was.

Even in his heat-induced daze, he’s not naive enough to believe the sincerity presented in your eyes was anything other than duty.

He doesn’t want to be reminded that those hands, which cup his face with such tenderness, are bound by a sense of duty.

A reminder that he’s merely just a stepping stone on the path of your true desire.

He doesn’t want to see it.

The head of his cock parting with a deafening squelch. A darkened gaze follows the pool forming between your splayed legs. Disgruntlement muddles lilac hues.

But such discontent couldn’t last long when the twitch of a neglected length protests. Its bulbous tip longed for its turn within those sticky walls. A primal ordinance he couldn’t resist.

What to call this sensation, to scorn yet desire you just as much.

It wasn’t long before your hips were maneuvered up, your plush ass now up in the air as your quivering arms and face pressed into the sullied sheets.

As one hand supports your unsteady hips. Sharp eyes surveying the puffiness of your cunt, glistening with temptation and dripping with sin.

Hooked fingers slides up the weeping slit, collecting the sacrilegious mixture. Earning an addictive whimper from you when his digits pulled away. Spreading them in front of his gaze, tracing over the stringy nectar stretched between them.

How strange, those lying lips of yours whimper for ‘rest’ and a ‘moment to catch your breath’. Yet your body is still so eagerly exposing itself to his eyes, agape cunt so eagerly twitching and slick.

You don’t even try to writhe yourself away from his hold, not even a single attempt to hide yourself from his hunger.

How skilled you are at fanning the flames, perhaps it's a talent inherent to devils like you. The tempter of all tempters.

You’ve always been like this since the very first rendition.

If only you weren’t so strong-willed. If only you weren’t so clever to trick him. If only you weren’t so enchanting.

Then he wouldn’t have bent to your whims, the sea would’ve cleansed out the mortal filth from stolen land. Then he wouldn’t be trapped in this disgrace of a body. Then he wouldn’t be in love with you.

The betrayal, the disgrace, and this punishment would’ve never happened if only a fool didn’t surrender everything for a mere, fleeting creature.

Why must you make him repeat the same mistake again?

There it was again, that surging torrent within him making its voice known in the echoes of his mind. Whispering the hint on how a dragon would defeat the flame that had scorched him those years ago.

Smother the flame with the tides of depravity and vulgarity. Taint your arrogance with shame.

There wasn’t an ounce of gentleness remaining within his eyes, a beastly hunger taking its place.

Yes, you must pay the debt of reducing him to such a humiliating state.

His neglected cock prods against that greedy cunt of yours. Unmerciful hands bruising the plushness of your hips.

The sinful concoction from the previous sessions allowed his tormented length into your walls without resistance.

The neglected cock finally indulging in the spasms of your abused walls, it’s its turn to bully those weak spots with its thick head.

Sobs sung in broken chokes leave your drooling lips. Trembling fingers enmeshed into the fabric as if to find some ground for your senses to land after their fall from euphoria.

He won’t allow you reprieve. No, not even for a moment. He’ll shatter your sanity and arrogance once and for all.

Nothing interrupted the pistoning of his hips as he fucked you through overstimulation, heavy balls slamming against your swollen lips.

The previous twin cock was now experiencing the hard nub of your engorged clit running along its veins and ridges.

There’s no room for an exchange of words. No, the two of you have long been pasted that point.

No sandy ground beneath as the two of you sank under the ravenous tides of primal instincts and pleasure.

Cacophonous growls, whimpers, and sobs filling the absence along with the thwacks of skin against skin echoed back from the cellar walls.

You keen under the ram of his hips, jostled head writhing against the soiled sheets. The motion allows your hair to fall over your shoulders.

Exposing an untainted patch of skin. Sharp pupils watching how beads of sweat trailing down your nape reflect the azure glow of his body.

An itch assailing his fangs even has his hips continue their barrage against your soft ass. Those lovely vulgar moans wane out from his hearing as his senses could only obsess over the untarnished expanse.

Ah, what if there’s a way for him to pin you here until the stars themselves burn out? You were given to him as his bride.

An offering made to him.

So why can’t he forever confine you within his clutches? Just as you were the original sin which damned him to this cove.

Long tongue dragging along the fresh skin, feeling the jolts of your body.

He’s done it once before, he’s cursed you before. Imprinting a curse upon your very soul, one which followed you through the hands of death and even when the hands of life reformed your body from the earth.

Why not renew it?

Neuvillette pins your upper body further into the tangled bedding, one hand abandoning your hips in favor of raveling in the mess of fabric.

Your heated skin felt against his exhilarated fangs, hungry to sink into your nape.

‘Till death do us part’, that’s not enough.

Such fleeting mortal oaths are much too meek for dragons.

No, those atrocious murmurs in his thoughts command him to curse you in the next life. And the next one, and the one after that as well.

It’s not like your muddled head would understand, nothing but mindless prattles and mewls from the suffocating pleasure only he could ever give you.

But that’s fine, just drown nicely in lust and desire. He’ll always be waiting there at the bottom to drag you down deeper.

Just as the tips of his pointed teeth broke through quivering skin, delicate fingers grasp upon a burly hand.

Intertwining their grasp together upon rumpled linen, a subconscious search for comfort.

An action that remits an iota of reason back to his foggy mind, hazy eyes moving toward the sight of your hand clutched around his.

Even as he’s ravishing your weeping walls, flooding your body with his filthy essence which trickles down your thighs and ass, and chasing his own carnal needs… you still reach for him.

Shamelessly pulling his touch closer, even when the throes of rapture banished all thought from your jostled mind.

A whisper resurfaces amidst the fog and clamor of instinct and rage.

However, it’s a whisper which made his incisors dare not budge another inch. The inkling of truth which he thought he had silenced within the depths of his heart.

The accuracy that this wasn’t love. No, what his instincts craved was not love, it was obsession.

For love was not this sadistic possession, not to curse you just to ease his own damnation.

No, love is supposed to be much like the warmth of your palm flushed against his knuckles.

He remembers now, the lesson you taught him all those years ago. A demonstration witnessed with his own eyes.

Love was sacrifice, just as how you offered yourself to the tides, quelling the rage of a vengeful dragon. Because you loved your village too much to allow them to drown.

Retreating away from the transgression almost committed, fangs repressed behind closed lips. Neuvillette presses a sweet kiss against the shallow wound.

To love you isn’t to steal you away from the embrace of the star who’s forsaken him. It’s to hoist you up to that beloved sunlight. Just where you belonged.

Oh, how could he not love you?

The bride offered to a dragon in a white dress who once dared to command the great beast to stand still as she braided flowers into his hair.

A brazenness contrasted with the gentleness of her smile.

The voices of heart and cruelty rang out in vociferous battle in his mind, Neuvillette buries his face into your shoulder. Pursuing the savor of your skin, pinning you deeper into the tangle of bedding.

Providing more simulation for the pulsing cock wedged against your swollen clit and messy sheets. The neediness of his movements exposed just how close his undoing was.

The hand on your abdomen pulled you impossibly close, adding pressure to the bulging outline of his cock.

Amplifying the ecstasy coursing through your veins, abused walls clamping down on each ridge and each vein of his heft girth. The shape engrained into your wanton core, marvelous sobs and mewls echoing off the empty walls.

Soon those moans become shattered in your throat, eyes rolling back further with each heavy thrust and slap of his balls. Lungs cease all function as rapture unravels you wholly and exhilaration becomes your undoing.

Sloppy contractions mix the repercussions of multitudinous ruination, dripping out your convulsing cunt. Just before a hot surge replenishes the brood that oozed out on the sullied sheets.

Grunts vibrate against your back reminding your body to breathe.

Thick ropes paint your belly and sheets, making an absolute mess. Contracting walls trying but failing to contain the aftershocks from his cock buried deep within, already stretched to their limits, capacity long exceeded. Shudders rack your body and his the same.

With hands still entangled, he coaxes your body around. Granting him a mesmerizing view of your debauched face.

The face he’s so enamored with that he bows his down closer, bodies still connected as he wishes to echt every last detail of you into his being. So that eternity may remember you.

Softness resurfaces in his bones, a tender kiss pressed upon your fingers. Soothing those tremors as he guides your consciousness back to reality.

He holds you, remaining inside as to contain his greed spilled deep inside. The heftiness of his cock prods against your shuddering walls. Every last fiber of your being overstimulated with pulsing pleasure.

Yet, your hand refused to let go. Still holding him toward your exhausted figure in the dying light of the candle.

Whimpers and coos exchanging in a duet of devotion, a hymn so placate it quells the vapid torrents ever so slightly.

Placid fingers drawing circles into your sore back. A gentle lilac gaze keeping watch as your teary eyes retire behind heavy lashes.

Blood and water no matter how much they’re mixed, won’t produce wine.

However, just for tonight in a realm heavy with lust, passion, and phantasm, they’ll craft a wine of delusion. One filled with nothing but wishful fantasy.

However, this wine of delusion shall be enough to quench the thirst of lascivious compulsions and vengeance.

The gentle caresses of steam ghost past your leaden lashes, lukewarm ripples lap against your skin. Your sore body propped up against the porcelain, as Neuvillette drags a dampened towel along your skin.

A pang of guilt stung him each time the cloth passed over a discolored imprint. No amount of diligent rubs would purify your skin of those bruises in the shape of his fingers.

A stir from muscle gradually awakening from slumber reflected in the wavelets of the bath. The sensation of a damp towel must’ve further jolted your senses back to alertness.

A cerulean glow glistens off the polished surface as your vision finally centers on the figure rising warm water over your limp body.

Attentive eyes immediately connect with yours as he scans your expression for discomfort.

“Are you hurting anywhere?” Neuvillette halts the towel.

You respond with a slow shake, your throat must be too sore to answer. Despite how he tries to conceal them behind a robe, blotches of azure painted along his fair skin.

Proof that draconic influence was still in rebellion of his body. All the while he’s very much aware of your eye’s every move. What an appalling sight it must be for you.

“If I make you uncomfortable I’ll leave promptly, this was just the only solution I could find to bathe-”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” Voice hoarse as your frame melts closer to his, delicate fingers intertwining with between the spaces of his own scaly fingers.

Allowing your breaths to minge in tandem in the steam-damped tiles of the tranquil bathroom.

“Does it hurt?” A warm thumb traces soft circles along the rough scales along his hand.

Did you catch the subtle twitches and jolts of his muscles? A mortal body rejecting draconic influences, draconic influences revolting against a mortal cage. Still, he shakes his head. Lilac gaze watching your eyes trail between the scales and his eyes with skepticism.

“I’m not quite sure as to why I’m still in this… state.” Neuvillette gives a preemptive answer to the question he assumes to be hanging off your tongue.

“Do you… miss the sea?” However, it seems you had another inquiry hidden in your ever perplexing mind.

A deep sigh resonates through the tranquil air. He stares at the tips of his fingers dipped into the warm water, a taunting substitute for the sea that called for him.

“I suppose it’s natural that I yearn for it…”

A hum was your only response, eyes hidden behind closed lashes. Neuvillette just couldn’t decipher that smile of yours, curled lips reflected over the rippling surface of the steaming water.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Your body is still delicate, please let us return back to the estate-”

“I might actually grow roots into that bed if I’m to rest there any longer.” A pout was evident in your voice.

Taking a few greater strides, your body pulls in front of Neuvillette’s pace. It was only momentary of course, for he swiftly rejoins your side.

Observant eyes not missing the subtle wobble in your steps along the pastures of the village.

“Please just don’t stray too far.” He relents, offering up his arm for support.

With a gracious smile, your arm curls around his, interlocking your fingers with his as two pairs of steps ambled along the grass.

Soon a familiar pool of water came into view, enticing two pairs of eyes with its glimmering ripples.

What it strange sight those waters showed, a cursed dragon who yearned for his place and a cursed mortal who longed for the sun, two cursed beings holding hands in the reflection along the pristine surface.

“I believe this is far enough. ” His arm pulls your frame closer, a subtle hesitance tainting his tone.

However, your body didn’t budge. Resolute stance not moving even one bit watching your reflection warp and contort in the water. A deep breath echoes off the wall.

“Neuvillette… do you miss the sea?” Your stare parts with the water, now peering straight into his lilac hues.

‘Do you miss the sea?’ You’ve asked him this question many times. He's always given a composite response, but maybe his flowery words diluted the meaning too much to your ears.

“Yes, I do miss the sea.” His candid yearning.

There was a question his lips didn’t dare ask, ‘Do you miss the sun?’, Neuvillette wanted to riposte your questions with this question of his.

But he knew it would be pointless, for he already knew the answer. Wordlessly written all over your melancholic stare into the pond, the longing to return to the sun, to be with blood and not water.

To love you, would be to hoist you up to where you longed to be, in the embrace of the warm sun. Neuvillette had thought he made up his resolve long ago.

However, would it be too selfish of him to wish to turn back?

To convince you to back into the tranquil estate where the Melusines await your return with those dishes you taught them how to cook.

Or maybe would at least try on those gowns still untouched? Could you wait until all those books in the library were read through by your sweet voice?

Would you be oh so kind enough to hold his hand just for a moment longer? At the very least, would you allow him to memorize your warmth?

His grip on your hands tightens ever so briefly, a shaky breath trembles in his chest before he releases it along with the tension in his fingers.

No, it wouldn’t be fair to stall any longer, you deserve your happy ending.

Calmly, the dragon bows his head closer to yours. Ignoring the aggrieved voices that cried for him to swallow back to secret just about to spill from his tongue.

The ending of this tale won’t ever change, for a dragon is just as foolish as he was before.

“My true name is-!” His voice was stunned as a pair of soft lips silenced him.

Your lips pressed against his own, forcing back the secret. His bewildered eyes hone in upon your face, but your lashes were shut as your hands pull his face closer. The resolve wanes from his bones as he sinks into your embrace.

As your lips pull away, gasping for breath. He places his hands atop yours, searching your face for an answer. All he got was that indecipherable smile.

Pulling his face down closer to yours again, your lips find themselves right next to his pointed ears. Under a faint breath which left your parted lips came the secret he kept locked away.

Since when? When did you find his name? Or… did you know this whole time?

Neuvillette reels back in the embrace of your cruel hands. Lilac eyes stare deep into yours, peering through the cracks in that enchanting façade of yours.

Ah, this whole time, did he not discover the false innocence in the irises of the deceptor of all deceptors?

A foolish moth fell for the deception of a devil once again, flying to the flicker of a candle until his wings were charred off into ash.

Those sentences written upon parchment weren’t lies, all other monsters fall secondary to the devil. Even a dragon.

“Why?” Was all he could muster, oh cruel devil why did you play him a fool once more?

“Because I wanted to see you again… but I knew you wouldn’t quite share the same sentiment since the moment I heard your voice… so I lied,” Those audacious eyes of yours never looked away.

Ah, how could he forget how crafty and observant a devil is with her schemes? The charming enchantment as she performs her deceptions. Speaking shameless lies with those bewitching lips.

“If you wanted to see me… then that day at the loch… why weren’t you there?” The stir of the torrent within put a snarl into his throat.

Why must you keep lying to him?

Ah, from the start, Neuvillette should’ve listened to the clamorous cries of his instincts. To withdraw away from the flame, to extinguish the hell fires before they left another lesson learned upon his skin.

Yet, he’s still within the embrace of your cruel hands. His body just wouldn’t pull away.

Just what is this level of stupidity called? For a moth to still crave the warmth of the flame which charred its wings into ash. Just what is this lunacy called?

“The nobles locked me away after those tyrants stole your name from my tongue, they locked me away.” Torment brewing in those irises which reflected him.

A chill staggers the surge of the torrent, an icy sting which stupefied the rampaging currents.

For generations upon generations of scribes and poets never penned this detail down in any rendition of a classically beloved tale.

“I begged them, I banged against the bars of the cell, even clawed at the stone walls until my fingers were raw, but they left me there to rot in the cold… I just wanted to see you one last time, just once more.” Those bitter pools formed in your penitent eyes spill over.

This wasn’t how the tale was supposed to end. The maiden, who deceived a dragon for her people, was supposed to be hailed a hero. You were supposed to have a happy ending, so why didn't you get that?

“All I ever wanted was for you and me to walk amongst humanity… look where that got us…” Tears descend from your cheeks and onto the grass below, a humorless chuckle.

Was this another lie falling from those saccharine lips of yours? Sugar dusted on the shell of a vile trick? Neuvillette wasn’t sure anymore.

“That foolish wish of mine… it must’ve been so painful. I’m so sorry.” Your thumb traces over the scales dotted over his cheek, evidence of a draconic rebellion against a mortal condemnation.

Does your touch scorn or soothe him? Neuvillette wasn’t sure anymore.

“I’m sorry. I’ll say sorry one thousand times if you wish.” A tremor in your voice.

The surge within him couldn’t sustain itself, faltering and receding back to a placid, pathetic ripple. Perhaps… It's tired.

Tired of holding onto this futile grudge. Not when the bitter answers its tides were ravenous for had finally sunk in.

He takes a deep breath, collecting his resolve.

“...what… what do you wish for?” Just how will this rendition end? Neuvillette doesn’t know.

But he knows his hands should hold onto yours, desperately etching the details of your tender touch into its memory. Rations to sustain him for the rest of a solitary eternity.

He hears your slow inhale, preparing your throat to speak your selfish desires.

“I wish for your curses to become mine alone to bear.” You reveal your selfish wish, pressing the voucher of freedom into his hands.

He had that look on his face again. Disbelief stupefied each muscle of his dashing face, wide eyes peering into yours trying to find the hint of a jest. Your gaze doesn’t waiver as your finger tightens around his.

“Grant me my wish… please.” Lips stretching with a reassuring smile.

His lips press into a thin line, face returning to its place between your warm hands, he takes a deep breath. Perhaps it’s just his sense of responsibility and fairness that compelled him to fulfill this wish.

Or maybe, the dragon just couldn’t help but submit to the whims of his beloved, a statement that remained no matter what rendition of the tale it was.

Releasing the breath he held, the shift in the air was palpable, a lightness in his chest. The pond off to the side billows momentarily, drawing focus toward its excited ripples.

Releasing his hold, feet leading him to the side of the saltwater before his mind could process his own actions.

He could hear it again, the hymns of the water singing the end of his exile. Reaching out a hand, it sinks past the cool surface, the tides welcoming back their prince with mellow kisses.

The ocean calls for him, so why is he still staring back at you? The one who’ll never embrace the sea again for the rest of her life, nor ever feel the sway of Summer days in a field full of Pluie Lotus. His eyes conveyed a question his lips couldn’t bear to ask. Thus, you give the answer he seeks.

“Think of it as my reparations to you, an overdue apology for my mistake, for making you to suffer so much.” That glimmer in your eyes, one he understands now.

Moving the hex to a body whose true master was the mistress of time, a body blessed with mortality. If a miracle isn’t enough to make a curse break, then perhaps the tides of time could.

Taking a piece of the curse with each tick of a clock, just like how the waves take with it grains of sand from warm beaches.

Once a withered mortal body is called back to the earth, the clauses will be fulfilled after many centuries. Unsettled grudges eroded away like those sandy banks.

Until the pull of the ground makes its visible influence on your skin. Until your locks come to resemble the snowy shade you’ve lovingly run your fingers through. Until the sweet earth hums for you to embrace it once more, you shall remain here.

What a clever scheme it all is, a masterful plan which could only ever be conjured by you. You devil, oh so devious, devil.

“You can hate me, I won't hold it against you,” you whisper. “May this tale end in your happiness, let me do this much for you.”

A bitter bile festers at those lies of yours. How could such lies fall from your lips so easily when they always left such a vile taste upon his tongue?

Gaze honed in upon your frame, watching the gentle smile hold back the slight quiver of your shoulders. He stands back up, slow strides returning him to your side. Taking your hands into his larger ones, placing your soft touch back along his cheeks.

“Silence… I won’t hear such deceit.” Snowy locks brushing against your fingertips.

“But I wasn’t lying…” Confusion furrows your brow, but your hands remain cupping his face.

Moving away, he studies the rivulets of regret and anguish that leave bitter trails down your cheeks. He swallows back the objections clawing up his throat, such vile words don’t belong on your tongue.

“How could I hate you?” he confesses.

Neuvillette has finally come to a realization. All those renditions, all those differing retellings of a classic tale. He had read them all wrong, basis clouding his interpretation.

For the princess did love her dragon. Just as he loved her, all this time.

Together in the depths of a cave away from the prying eyes of the divine. Breaths in time with one another as they stand in the embrace of one another, until the dragon bows his head back down.

Touching his forehead to hers, so that maybe Neuvillette could get a glimpse into that ever mystical mind of yours.

“How can I ever hate what I’ve coveted for so long?” He asks.

That ever-stirring torrent, that spiteful surge, where did it go? Those clamorous voices with their vengeful snarls and cynical bellows, why weren’t they intrepid enough to direct those foul words toward you?

Not you, never you. How could they ever hate you, the heroine of a Fontainian fairytale they’ve pitifully yearned for so long?

“Am… am I loved then?” Your lashes were squeezed shut as if death was rapping upon them. Too cowardly to face the verdict.

“Yes… yes, you devious devil…” Neuvillette couldn’t help but chuckle at such an endearing sight.

He feels your fingers tense around his skin, astonishment in the features of your face. It soon melts away into those welling pools as a smile pushes against the corners of your eyes.

Pressing your forehead to his, a warm droplet rolls down your cheek and over the curve of your lips. He simply rests his head against yours.

Only now in the last sentence of this retelling of a tale which has been twisted, distorted, and embellished away from the initial narrative did an unwritten truth emerge.

A clever maiden was just as foolish as a proud dragon. The weight of their foolishness was so great it dragged them beneath the waves and kept them in a cove deep away from the prying eyes of gods.

However, if this idiotic dragon could intertwine his fingers with yours. If he could be by your side until the hands of time call you back to the earth in this final rendition.

If he could be the happy ending you deserved, then he wouldn’t mind in the slightest.

Fin~

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yuujispinkhair · 29 days

Text

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 01

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 3k Warnings: 18+, smut in later chapters. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Sukuna smokes a cigarette in this chapter. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 10 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

The first time you meet Sukuna, you literally run into him.

It's a Thursday morning. You are running down the hallway while rummaging through your bag, searching for the printed copy of the short story that you have to hand in today. The irony isn't lost on you. The story contains a scene quite similar to this. But unfortunately, you aren't a rebel princess running out of a ballroom with her cloak dramatically billowing behind her. You are just a creative writing student in a mismatched pair of sneakers who is late for her class. The second time this week. To a class taught by a professor who sees it as a personal affront if someone shows up late.

You grit your teeth, trying to run even faster, when you finally see the printed copy you were looking for. You cheer inwardly. But your relief is short-lived. Because a second later, you crash into a solid wall.

You screech in shock, the force of the impact making you flat-out keel over without any warning. This will hurt, is the only thought that flashes through your mind. But a millisecond before you hit the hard floor tiles, your fall gets stopped, and you get pulled up again and set back on your feet. Everything happens so fast that you can only blink in confusion.

A pair of well-defined, tattooed arms comes into view. You stare perplexed at them, realizing that they are what stopped your fall. And what you also realize at that moment is that the "solid wall" you slammed into is the tall and muscular owner of those strong arms.

Your face is currently only inches away from his chest. A broad and buff chest in a soft-looking white hoodie with a very familiar crest embroidered on the front. Two crossed hockey sticks and a tiger with glowing red eyes and his mouth opening in a feral-looking growl.

Your head snaps up to look at the face of your savior (and the cause of your fall), and what already began to dawn on you gets confirmed the moment you see the tattoos on his handsome face: You just ran full speed into Itadori Sukuna, the star player of the ice hockey team. The Red Tiger himself, The King of the Ice, and whatever other titles he gets called.

Even though you are hardly a hockey fan, you know Sukuna. Everyone knows him.

Sukuna gets treated like royalty on this campus. He's a living legend. The star player of The Red Tigers, the most successful ice hockey team this college has brought out in over five decades. And Sukuna is the reason for that success.

You gulp hard and take a hurried step back.

Out of anyone you could have crashed into, why did it have to be him? Sukuna is feared on and off the ice. You have never spoken to him personally, only saw him from afar while heading to class or when you were at the same party as him, but his reputation as a bad boy precedes him. And the way he looks with his face tattoos and his strong and tall build only adds to those assumptions. Sukuna is definitely a very intimidating guy.

Your automatic response is to try to make yourself look as harmless and cute as possible, smiling a sheepish, apologetic smile at him.

"I'm so sorry! I was late for class, so I ran, and I didn't see you. Sorry!"

You look up at him with big eyes and a nervous smile, steeling yourself for a scolding.

But Sukuna just eyes you with an amused expression on his tattooed face. His eyes travel lazily over your face and body, making you more nervous with each passing second. You feel your cheeks become hot when Sukuna's gaze finally lands on your mismatched shoes, and the corners of his lips twitch.

You silently curse yourself for snoozing your alarm one too many times and ending up like this in front of the hot boy hockey star of all people!

Sukuna is looking directly into your eyes now, his lips lifted in a lopsided smirk.

"I don't mind getting bodychecked by a pretty girl like you. It would be different if it were an opponent on the ice, but you will get away with it, princess."

You are dumbfounded for a moment, mouth opening and closing several times. Is he mocking you? You eye Sukuna wearily as you mutter,

"Um, well... Thank you for catching me before I landed on the floor."

Sukuna just looks at you a moment longer with that lazy grin, and then he bends down to pick up the bag you dropped. He pushes it into your arms, and you grab it instinctively and hug it tightly to your chest as if it is your lifeline.

"And thank you for the bag."

You add while once again smiling sheepishly at him. Sukuna laughs softly, cocking his head and looking at you with an infuriatingly smug grin,

"Don't thank me so much. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have fallen in the first place."

"Yeah, I guess that's true. But still, thank you."

You cringe at your own words, sure that you sound like a total idiot, but you force yourself to smile broadly at Sukuna and wish him a nice day before you turn around and walk toward the creative writing classroom on rather wobbly legs. At least you don't have to hurry anymore, you think grimly. By now, you are definitely too late.

There's a prickling feeling on your neck as if you are being watched, and you are pretty sure that if you looked over your shoulder, you would see Sukuna still standing there and looking at you with that amused glint in his eyes.

You refuse to give in to the urge to check if you are right and instead keep walking. But your pulse is still racing. From the almost fall or from Sukuna's presence, you aren't sure.

You slip into the classroom, and your professor sends a death glare your way, snapping at you for not taking her course seriously and all thoughts of a certain pink-haired, tattooed hockey player are wiped off your mind as you mutter an apology, and you hurry to the nearest free seat.

You encounter Sukuna again a few days later.

You stand outside the Gojo Hall waiting for your dormmate Nobara when you catch a flash of pastel pink in the corner of your eyes. You lift your head and spot not only one pink head but two. The Itadori twins exit the building side by side, Sukuna, and Yuuji, both wearing their white team hoodies, making you wonder if there is some rule that the players must wear their team apparel 24/7.

You are still contemplating the secret rules of the hockey team when the brothers give each other a high five, and Yuuji leaves with a big smile on his face while Sukuna turns his head, and his gaze instantly lands on you.

Your eyes widen, feeling like the deer in the headlights. You curse yourself inwardly. Why did you let him catch you staring at him?

A smirk appears on Sukuna's tattooed face, and to your horror, he strolls towards you.

You try to act cool, nodding lightly at him, a short greeting in passing. Only to feel your heart jump to your throat when you realize that Sukuna won't just walk by. The resident hockey star stops beside you and casually leans against the brick wall right next to where you stand.

He lets his head fall back and tilts his face to the side, smirking down at you.

"No mismatched shoes today?"

You can't help it, a laugh bubbles out of your chest even as you feel your face get hot. You shake your head,

"Wasn't really my style."

"And here I thought you were some fashion icon or something. Did you make it to class in time after our little accident?"

You scrunch your nose as you remember the angry look and the mean comment your professor sent your way and shake your head,

"No. And now my professor hates me even more."

Sukuna laughs softly. He is so tall that you have to tilt your head back to look at his face. He looks good. Too good. Dangerously so. His pink hair is a pretty contrast to the dark red brick stones behind him. His angular face with the sharp jawline is accentuated attractively by the black lines inked into his skin. A second pair of eyes is tattooed right under his real ones, sitting high on his cheekbones, giving the impression that he is always watching you.

Sukuna is beautiful in a classic way, but at the same time, his tattoos and the way he carries himself make that beauty darker. Beautiful, like a fallen angel, maybe. His looks and his personality give him a dangerous aura. He is undeniably very intimidating. But the way he jokes around with you and looks at you in that playful manner makes you feel surprisingly at ease. Maybe that's why you grin at him and ask,

"What about you? Did your professor get mad, too?"

Sukuna shakes his head.

"Nah. I wasn't on my way to class. I had a team meeting."

You raise a skeptical eyebrow, remembering the empty hallway.

"But I didn't see any of your teammates."

Sukuna's smirk grows bigger, and he raises an eyebrow, too, as if it is a challenge.

"Because I work out all the tactics and do the analytics and shit, so I have to be there before anyone else. Setting up everything, you know?"

You nod slowly, not saying it, but you are surprised and even a bit impressed by his statement. Judging by his looks and reputation, you wouldn't have taken Sukuna for the type of guy who bothers with tactics and stuff. You always assumed he solved everything with pure strength and brutal fouls. Apparently, you were wrong.

Sukuna hums and shoves his large hands casually into the pockets of his grey sweatpants, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He wears black nail polish, you realize, and somehow that fact is so fascinating that you find yourself unable to look away from his long, tattooed fingers as he gracefully lights a cigarette and takes a deep drag that makes his eyelashes flutter.

Sukuna then holds the still-open cigarette pack out to you, wordlessly offering you one. You decline with a shake of your head and a:

"I didn't know hockey players smoke."

You are met with another of Sukuna's boyish smirks that makes him look way too charming. He cocks his head, eyes sparkling with amusement, low voice dropping to an almost seductive purr,

"And why not?"

You shrug, making an indecisive gesture with your hands,

"Isn't it making you slower or something?"

Sukuna huffs softly, looking smug when he says,

"Well, even if I smoked two packs a day, I would still be the fastest one on the ice, so I guess I will risk it."

You laugh. And as you do it, you realize, to your astonishment, that you feel surprisingly relaxed around the star player and resident bad boy.

You watch him nod towards a group of guys passing by, who congratulate him on the latest win. Followed by two girls who giggle and twirl their hair as they look at him and coo his name as if he is some pop star.

But Sukuna doesn't seem to see anything out of the ordinary. He just lazily blows out his cigarette smoke, not blessing them with more attention than a bored smirk.

Yes, he is a bit of an arrogant asshole and the way people treat him like he is a King or something is super irritating. But you can't deny that Sukuna has a certain charm. Lots of charm! All in all, the resident starboy doesn't seem so bad.

He is looking at you again. A deep gaze that makes your pulse accelerate with how inquiring and intense it is. As if he sees right into your very core.

"Why are you standing in the smoking area when you don't smoke?"

That catches you off guard. You blink and look around, searching for a smoking sign or something similar, but you don't see anything like it.

"Um... I didn't know this was the smoking area. I am just waiting for my dormmate."

After a moment, you add,

"I'm a secondhand smoker, though. Does that qualify, too, or are you gonna make me leave?"

You have no idea why you talk that way. Almost like you are flirting with Sukuna! He grins at you like a devil, attractive and playful and a little bit dangerous as he leans closer to you.

"You don't have to leave, princess. I'll make sure to blow my smoke your way if you are so into passive smoking."

You can hear the amusement in his low voice as he teases you. And he said it again, that name. Princess.

You are pretty sure that Sukuna calls a lot of girls that way, and it's pretty cliché, and coming from any other guy, you would probably find it cringe. But the way Sukuna says it, in his low, velvety voice, while he has that teasing smirk on his handsome face, makes you feel a strange fluttering in your stomach.

But you don't give him the satisfaction of letting him see the effect that stupid word has on you and instead roll your eyes playfully, looking challengingly at him, grinning just like he does,

"Go on then. I don't mind the smoke."

And Sukuna's eyes glint in amusement, never looking away as he leans down to you and takes a deep drag from his cigarette. He pulls it away from his lips and slowly blows the smoke into your face while watching you with half-lidded, cat-like eyes, smirking when he sees that you really don't turn away.

You shake your head and chuckle, feeling like you are sixteen again, and try to infiltrate the cool kids' clique by hanging around near their usual smoking spot. It's a bit stupid, maybe, but also fun.

Sukuna looks pleased, the tip of his tongue gliding over his front teeth as he grins at you.

"Good girl."

You bite your lip, looking up at him with big eyes, finding it hard to breathe suddenly, but not because of the cigarette smoke. You are relieved when Sukuna pulls away and announces,

"Well, it was nice sharing my smoke with you, but I have to go to the gym now. See you around, princess."

He winks at you and flicks the half-smoked cigarette gracefully to the floor, crushing it under the soles of his red and black Nikes.

"Have fun at the gym!"

Your voice sounds too chipper in your sorry attempt to act as if nothing happened, and Sukuna's eyes glitter with that seemingly ever-present teasing expression as he lets them trail over your face once again. He lets out a low chuckle and then jerks his tattooed chin at you in a casual goodbye gesture before he walks away with large, confident steps.

You watch him leave, laughing under your breath.

Sukuna definitely has a strong effect on people. He is confident and sexy, and a bit dangerous. But he also has a boyish charm that makes it easy to talk to him somehow. And it also makes it very hard not to stare after him.

Your gaze is still glued to Sukuna's tall figure and his broad shoulders when Nobara suddenly pops up beside you, making you jump when her elbow connects sharply with your side.

"What is going on between you and our hockey star?"

"What?"

"What were you talking about with Sukuna? And why are you staring after him like that?"

"Nothing. And I am not staring! I just... I ran into him a few days ago when I was late to class. Literally ran into him. That guy is like a wall. I bounced off him and fell. But he caught me. And yeah, that's all."

Nobara is staring at you with comically big eyes and a shocked, open-mouthed expression on her face,

"Why didn't you tell me about that? And now you're chit-chatting with him? Are you friends or what? Or are the two of you fucking?"

"Excuse me? No! Why would you even think that? I just exchanged a little small talk with him, Nobara! That is all!"

She huffs dramatically and pushes her ginger hair behind her ears,

"Good. Because he is an asshole. On the other hand, he is hot, but I think the asshole thing outweighs the sexiness. Maybe you could fuck him once just to get a taste. I mean, he is probably good in bed. And then you can avoid him and..."

"Hello? I don't plan on fucking Sukuna!"

You roll your eyes exasperatedly and push yourself off the wall you were leaning against, quickly walking away so Nobara won't see how flustered her words make you.

It's stupid, though! You really don't plan on getting involved with Sukuna! You barely know him, and just because he has a pretty face, a good body, and a bunch of sexy tattoos doesn't mean you want him!

Oh, are you sure about that, my dear Reader? Because I personally already want him ;)

Thank you so much for reading the first chapter!! I am so excited to finally share this story with you! I wrote some HockeyPlayer!Sukuna headcanons last year, and I couldn't get that version of him out of my mind again, so I knew I HAD to give him a new multi-chapter story. I am already deeply in love with this man, and I am so happy that I can indulge in him for several chapters now ;)

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet ❤️❤️

In Chapter 2, Reader will see our sexy hockey star actually play.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #sukuna smut #sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk smut #sukuna x y/n #jjk x y/n #{🏒❤️} hockey au

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lovegasmic · 12 days

Note

What about curseless modern au JJK, Gojo, Geto, Toji, Nanami and Sukuna proposing to you?

𝜗𝜚 HOW THEY PROPOSE

─── . all jjk ( adult ) men x gn!reader

꒰ fluff : curseless au but Satoru is still Yuuji, Megumi and Nobara's teacher , mamaguro canon : you're Toji's second spouse , added choso bc why not ꒱ ★ taglist

࣪ ִֶָ☾. SATORU

A nice candlelit dinner under the soft glow of moonlight is the least you can expect from a man like Satoru Gojo, who has never been a stingy guy in his life, much less with you, his beloved.

it was a little strange to have his students decide to accompany you that day, with suspicious faces except for Megumi, but you ignore it, almost used to the teenager’s antics, going along with the young people who obviously want to keep you nice and distracted.

“oh, look, why don’t we go over there?” Yuuji suspiciously speaks, followed by Nobara’s agreement in the same forced tone, almost dragging you towards the secluded spot where you first met Satoru, quite near jujutsu tech and a few steps into a forest that now had light strings all around a small clearing, the grass covered in a bunch of flower petals and of course, your boyfriend standing in the middle with a wide grin and a slight nervous fidgeting of his fingers behind his back.

“you look perfect” his words are quite rough with held back emotions, coming to hold onto your hand and scanning your outfit with loving eyes, you knew it was suspicious that Nobara decided to go shopping and demanded you wear something new that day.

the guys are no longer behind you, but you feel their eyes hidden behind some trunks as Satoru kneels with a glowing diamond ring, reciting what you believed was a speech he has been preparing for multiple days. and even though you kind of expected, the tears are also quick to come as you now fiance slides the ring on your finger and gives you a deep kiss, just the rustling of leaves and a camera click on the background.

࣪ ִֶָ☾. SUGURU

the cozy apartment you shared with your boyfriend was pitch black as soon as you opened the door, strange, since you often got home to find him lounging on the sofa with a loose shirt and pants, but “Sugu, why is everything so...” your words get cut at the faint glow coming from the living room, deciding to just follow it instead of wasting breath since your boyfriend was utterly quiet.

scattered candles greet you here and there, almost as in a trail to guide you to where Suguru stands with... a suit, “what are you—” once again, you trail off as your eyes land on the beautifully decorated table for two Suguru has set, with a few of your favorite pastries and a home cooked dinner.

“welcome home” his smile is soft like always, although his eyes sparkle even more, or was it just adoration? none of that matters when Suguru approaches, helping you leave your belongings aside next to your jacket he gently takes off your shoulders.

you’re a bit speechless at this point, staring at Suguru with confusion, yet he never acknowledges the elephant in the room, simply giving you smiles and not a single word, not until you’re both finished with dinner and is now helping you up from your seat, barely giving you time to part your lips before he is already kneeling, eyeing you at you with those soft eyes of his.

“i love you” is what he murmurs first, leaving a kiss on your hand before caressing the skin, almost mindlessly, trying to take every detail of you, “i knew you were the one for me ever since we met, and I can’t imagine my life without anyone else but you” the raw honesty and love makes your breath hitch, a few tears blocking your eyes before Suguru is grinning at your eager nod once he finishes speaking, the elegant but minimalist band now laying on your finger, a prove of his undying love.

࣪ ִֶָ☾. TOJI

after his wife died, Toji never even considered getting married again, until he met you. and to be honest, at the beginning of your relationship he was not even sure it would last long, not because of you, you are like a ray of sunshine filtering through the cracks of his soul, managing to wiggle a way in, making yourself at home; but because of him, of his unsteady and troubled life style alongside an almost 12 year old Megumi.

the idea bugged him for a while now, staying awake while you peacefully slept next to him, blissfully unaware of Toji’s inner worries.

mentally cursing himself as he gently starts to rock you to consciousness, “wake up, doll, I need to ask you something” his voice is gruff, waiting until you’re fully awake before talking with a hand on your shoulder and a thumb on your neck, “do you want to get married?”

and you have to blink a few times before muttering a “...what?” if that was a proposal, it was truly unexpected, “now?”

“... why not?”

“toji?!”

"answer” his thumb is a bit rougher now, sliding up and down the side of your throat, eyes locked on your skin, “i want to know”

“of course I want to” you say without hesitation, nuzzling onto the man’s rough and big palm, “i’d love to marry you”

one, two breathings and Toji nods, pulling you against his chest, “okay”

“...okay? that’s it?” you grumble muffled by his chest.

a deep chuckle coming from Toji makes your face vibrate “we’re going to the city hall tomorrow”

“with Megumi”

“with Megumi, of course”

࣪ ִֶָ☾. KENTO

you were eternally grateful that Kento finally decided to take some vacations with you, knowing how overworked your boyfriend was and how much he adored the beach, you booked a nice and cozy beach hut for the week. you considered it to be a wonderful surprise to help you him destress, not really expecting the one getting surprised were you as well.

the first few days were like a dream come true, Kento was finally loose and those eye bags were gone, giving the blonde a younger look and a never falthering smile on his face.

two days left of vacation and Kento came back from the reception with a grin, “the guide told me about a nice private path along the beach, do you want to go?” and how could you refuse. hand in hand and footless walking along the shore, the warm sand feeling nice under your feet before coming onto a particular spot secluded from the rest.

the sun was starting to set, creating a beautiful glow on your skin that made Kento stare in awe, coming to wrap his arms around your waist from behind, pressing a gentle kiss on your neck, “i need to ask you something”

his words are slow and soft, almost as if caressing your ears, gently caressing the skin of your arms and stomach, not getting enough of your touch while reciting his undying love towards you, giving you merely a second to process his words before you’re greeted by the sight of his kneeling form, shorts slightly dirty with sand and his blue shirt half open and flowing with the wind. you really, really have to be out of your mind if you even considered refusing your perfect lover’s proposal.

࣪ ִֶָ☾. CHOSO

picnics with Choso were a tradition, having found an apartment to share next to a park was just as if sent for the both of you.

so you’re now lounging on a blanket, laying on your back while Choso rummages through the picnic basket, casually hearing a choked cough coming from him.

“baby, are you okay?” you ask with concern, shielding your eyes from the sun to stare at the man with slightly pink cheeks.

“yeah, fine don’t worry, love” Choso smiles, pushing the ring box deep into the basket, both thanking and cursing Yuuji for reminding him about the detail, but also not happy by his little brother’s lack of subtleness.

it takes him a few minutes to calm down his erratic heartbeat before laying down next to you, propped up in an elbow before holding your hand and pressing a kiss on the palm, successfully catching your attention, “you look beautiful”

“you look really handsome too” your smile is comforting and all Choso needs to continue, allowing your hand to cup his cheek before using his own to hold it tight against the heated skin, eyes fluttering closed slightly with a soft sigh.

“i was thinking about something...” he starts, gently nuzzling onto your palm, “you know I love you... i love you so much and I’ve never been so sure about anything in my entire life...” his eyes finally meet yours, giving you a tiny yet nervous smile, “i want you to marry me... if you want, of course, what I mean is... would you marry me?”

some people say grand proposals are better, but for you, nothing could ever beat the gentle private tone in your boyfriend’s voice, the way his eyes lit up at your yes, and how his hands trembled subtly while sliding the finger him he got you.

࣪ ִֶָ☾. SUKUNA

your boyfriend’s power was slightly scary sometimes, like, how did he even manage to book a whole restaurant?!

“welcome, Mr. Sukuna” your ears are used to those words coming from every single worker at the restaurant, starting from the valet, the receptionist and now the waiters and waitress lining up to allow you to make your way, with an arm looped around your boyfriend’s larger one.

“what’s all this?” you ask the man once you’re both comfortably sitting down, a violinist playing in a corner, “is something important happening?”

Sukuna just shrugs, leaning back against his own chair like he owned the place, with a smirk on his face, but deep down you knew he was hiding something, he was not being his usual self, “can’t I spoil you for once?”

“you spoil me every day”

he clears his throat, pretending not to hear that one last sentence before focusing on the menu, so you let it slip, for now, or at least until after dinner.

but he is still nervous, still fidgeting with the cutlery and glass of wine.

“Sukuna?” he, surprisingly jolts slightly as you catch his attention, “is there anything you need to tell me?”

fully expecting for him to refuse everything, not to watch him stand up and walk right next to your chair, there’s another clear of his throat, a change of weight onto the other feet, now he’s fixing his tie and sliding a hand through his hair, “Sukuna...”

“fuck” he grumbles, finally landing on his knee in front of you and placing both of your hands on his, a bit too solemn, “i...” he mutters your name, swallowing thickly, “through my whole life...”

“don’t force it” you help with a smirk.

“the brat said I need to impress you” Sukuna finally sighs, resting his forehead against your thigh, “or else you wouldn’t want me” so it was that, and you can’t help and chuckle.

“Kuna... i do, I want to marry you”

there it was, you being the sweet mind reader you were, helping your man with poor communication skills. that’s exactly why he fell for you, and now, almost proposing too.

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undressrehearsal · 8 months

Text

dare to be stupid

summary: a drunken game of truth or dare overtakes your study session

tags: NSFW, tlou au, college!ellie/reader, mentions of drugs, alcohol, drunk sex, oral (r receiving)

a/n: listen idk how this turned into 7.5k. idk what happened. also this is my first time writing smut. idk if the sex is good but it was already so long. if y'all like this one i'll write a sequel or something idk

part 2

“Truth or dare?”

It had become a tradition for the two of you shortly after moving in together. It was common for the air in your tiny apartment to grow heavy, the stress and anxiety tangible in the air - often around midterms or finals, or if your roommate had a particularly infuriating project. During these times when the bags under your eyes grew too heavy to carry or the lines around your roommate's mouth deepened into canyons, one of you would barge into the other's bedroom - frequently in disarray with notes and textbooks strewn across every surface - slam a bottle of vodka down on the desk, and utter those stupid, little three words, and the game would begin.

And so you didn't even jump when you heard your bedroom door slam against the wall, heavy boots against the carpet. You had been bent over your desk for so long that your neck ached, your eyes swimming with letters that didn't quite make sense and didn't fit into any of the medical terms laid out on your flashcards. When Ellie slammed the bottle of vodka on your desk, you blinked your eyes clear and looked up to meet her eyes.

She smirked when she said, “Truth or dare?”

You didn't waste time in clearing off your desk, shoving your books and cards aside into a toppling pile. Ellie, without waiting for permission, set a shot glass down in front of you, kicked off her boots, and plopped back onto your bed.

Scooting your chair closer, you propped your feet up against the mattress, pursed your lips, and said, “Truth.”

Ellie groaned, flopping over onto her side and propping her chin in her hand. She had stripped off her jacket, leaving her in a dark t-shirt that almost made her skin look pale in the low light from your desk lamp. “You're such a fucking pussy.”

You rolled your eyes even as a grin pulled at your lips. “I've known you for too long, Els, and I know that I need a few shots before I'm willing to shove anything anywhere for your amusement. So, respectfully, eat my ass.”

“You'll have to dare me to,” she quipped back immediately. She wrinkled her nose as you choked back a laugh, tapping a finger against her lips. You tried to ignore how endlessly cute it was as she said, “Where's the weirdest place you've pissed?”

Another sound burst from your lips, some mixture of a laugh and a shout. You gaped at her, watching as a laugh crept up, a smile tugging at her lips.

Shaking your head, you said, “Weird, but that's a pretty tame one. Not gonna ask me about my favorite sex position or if I ever snuck drugs into our dorm room last year?”

Ellie only shrugged. “Gotta warm you up a bit first, babe.” You ignored the way your heart jumped at such an innocent word. After a moment's pause, she added, “But have you?”

“You'll just have to ask me. One truth per round, bitch.” You pretended to think about it for a moment, though you already had your answer. “Okay, so you remember when we first signed the lease here and we were a bit short on rent?”

Ellie nodded, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“Like, a week before it was due, some girl on Tinder hit me up. She was passing through town and only staying for the night, and she was bored. So, she paid me.”

Ellie's frown deepened. “To, what, have sex with her?”

Laughter bubbled up your chest as you said, “No, she paid me to piss in her mouth.”

There was silence for several long moments. Ellie’s jaw hung loose, her eyes wide as she simply stared at you. Several emotions flashed across her face like a movie reel - confusion, shock, disbelief - before finally landing on pure, unfiltered amusement. The corners of her lips quirked up, her open mouth turning up at the corners until a loud, sharp laugh burst from her throat. When Ellie laughed - really, truly laughed - she did it with her chest, a sound so fathomless and full it filled up whatever room she was in.

In your small bedroom, her laughter bounced off the walls, echoing in the alley outside of your open window. You couldn’t contain your own giggles, muffling your laughter with a hand over your mouth, snorting as Ellie buried her face in your mattress.

When she finally looked up, her eyes filled with tears, she only said, around her subdued giggles, “How much?”

You grinned. “$200.”

Ellie’s mouth fell open again - you’d have to pick it up from the floor at this rate. “Dude, you’re fucking with me.”

“I swear,” you said, holding up your hand like a scout. “I’ll show you the Venmo if you don’t believe me.”

Ellie fell back against the bed, throwing her head back. “You have to go find this chick on Missed Connections, she can help with the rent.”

You threw one of your pens at her. Catching it in midair, she stuck the end in her mouth to chew on it. You wrinkled your nose at her, but she only grinned, the pen hanging from the corner of her lips.

“You're so gross,” you said, though you were still giggling.

“Bold words from you, Piss Girl. That's, like, the worst superhero name in existence.”

You threw your hands up, trying your hardest to glare at her and failing miserably. “Hey, $200 is $200. I'm not one to kinkshame.” Ellie threw the pen back at you. You grimaced when it hit your arm, leaving a small spot of spit on your sleeve before clattering to the floor. “God, it's your turn. Truth or dare, bitch?”

Propping herself up on her elbows, Ellie said, “Dare.” A grin pulled at her lips, her voice low as she added, “Because I'm not a fucking pussy.” You stuck your tongue out at her, ignoring her when she mockingly said, “Mature.”

Your desk was pressed up next to the only window in the room, cracked open to let the cool autumn air in. Your curtains fluttered in the breeze, the dying sunlight creeping in, casting light like liquid gold over Ellie’s skin. As you thought, scrambling to think of a suitable dare, you could not control how your eyes grazed over her exposed skin, the sunlight dipping in her collarbones like pools of ichor.

Blinking, you met her eyes once more, your throat tight. Your words came out almost choked when you said, “Okay, I dare you to make a spicy two-sentence story about something in this room.”

Ellie scoffed, sitting up and kicking her legs over the side of your bed. “I’m gonna take a wild guess that your drawer of sex toys is off limits?”

You sputtered, stammering over your own tongue as you felt heat rush to your ears. “Yes, that’s off limits. You don’t even know what’s in there!”

Ellie hummed, standing up from the bed and taking a few steps around the room. She didn’t look at you, but you could hear that fucking smirk when she said, “That’s what you think, babe.”

You watched her, tracking her movements as she slowly stepped around your room, scanning for inspiration. Your bedroom was about what you’d expect from a broke, overworked college student - aside from the furniture that came with the place, it was pretty barren. Ellie scanned the little touches you did have - her finger traced over the Funko Pop of Zuko on your bedside table, her eyes lingering on the pile of fantasy books you kept atop your dresser. She smiled at the posters hung crookedly on your walls, depictions of your favorite video games. She hummed again, looking back at you over her shoulder.

“So many options to choose from,” she murmured, running her finger along your jewelry box. She had her face turned away, so you could only see the corner of her smirk as she lifted the lid, pulling one of your necklaces from its home. You watched her warily as she approached you, the chain dangling from her slim fingers. She stepped behind you, out of your line of sight, and slipped the necklace over your head, the cold metal resting against your collarbone.

“She looped the chain around her lover’s neck like a collar,” Ellie said. You felt her cool fingers against the back of your neck, hooking around the chain and pulling it gently against your throat. You coughed against the awkward silence; your roommate had always been a little handsy, but this was something else entirely. What the fuck is she doing? you thought. “She pulled it taut against her throat and leaned in to whisper,” you felt Ellie’s lips against your ear, her rough voice sending a chill up your spine when she murmured, “good girl.”

Reaching back, you shoved Ellie’s head away; her laughter echoed through the room as she rounded in front of you, sitting back against your bed and grinning.

“Oh, you’re so fucking proud of yourself aren’t you?” you teased, trying - and failing - to keep your cheeks from turning red. Your skin felt aflame, a tingle lingering right where Ellie’s lips had pressed to your ear. You rubbed at the spot under the pretense of scratching your head, willing the feeling to go away.

Your heart was pounding so hard you could hardly hear her when she said, “Hell yeah, I am. I should’ve been an English major. I could write a whole fucking slutty novel and get famous. I'm an expert - I've done enough research.”

You rolled your eyes at her cocky smile, but Ellie only winked at you.

This is how your truth or dare games went - with Ellie being far too cocky, prancing around doing whatever dares you could think of and asking any outrageous questions that popped into her pretty little head; and you, simply trying your damnedest to keep up with her. You flailed, flustered, when she asked you about your toy collection, and begrudgingly relented when she dared you to bring out your favorite. Ellie took a shot before you had even finished daring her to text her last hookup (“I’m not reopening that bag of crazy,” she said, scrunching her nose at the taste.) You took a shot when she dared you to go mix all of the liquids in the fridge (which included pickle juice, old broths, and orange juice) into one amalgamation and chug it (“I’d rather chug the rest of the vodka, Els.”)

“Truth,” you said before Ellie could even ask the question. You were three shots in and could feel that lightness pressing against your temples, just at the threshold of tipsy. You had moved to join Ellie on your bed, where you sat with your back against the headboard and Ellie’s head on your thigh. The vodka bottle was balanced precariously between you.

Ellie rolled her eyes, but looked up at you and asked, “Out of our friend group, who have you fantasized about the most?”

She had not even finished her sentence before you served yourself a shot, a few drops splattering on your shirt. Wincing at the taste, you looked back down at Ellie; her eyes were lit up like a Christmas tree, her jaw slack.

“Don’t-”

“You have to,” she interrupted you, pinching your thigh and grinning when you squirmed away. “You have to tell me. You can’t leave me hanging here - you didn’t even let me finish the question!”

“Why did you even assume I’ve fantasized about any of our friends-”

“Because I know you.” She was scrambling up now, unsteady in her movements as she came to her knees in front of you, leaning back against her heels. She planted a firm hand on your thigh - your skin was still warm where her head had been - leaning into it, her eyes drawing so close you could almost see every speck within the hazel. “And I know that bitches like us always have somebody in the group they fantasize about. So, who is it?”

“Bitches like us?” you repeated, raising your brow. You were sure each line of her palm was going to be branded into your thigh. “So, there’s somebody you think about too?”

Ellie’s smile was on the very edge of teasing, a small quirk at the corner of her lips that screamed at you just how wrapped around her finger you were - and, somehow, she didn’t even know it. Her voice was low, nothing more than a murmur that you could practically feel in your own chest when she said, “You really wanna know?” You didn’t answer - couldn’t, really, not when her fingers dug into your thigh and you could count each freckle across her nose. You couldn’t answer when she leaned in closer, her warm breath brushing against your cheeks, smelling of the weed you knew she had smoked that afternoon. You could hardly hear her over the rush of your own heart when she whispered, “You’ll just have to ask me.”

Maybe it was the vodka warming your chest, tingling in your fingers - or maybe it was the way the light from your lamp cast sharp shadows across Ellie’s face, turning her skin into liquid gold - but you did not push her away. Your grip tightened around the neck of the bottle, but you held her gaze when you said, “Truth or dare, Els?”

Her voice was soft, her half-lidded eyes holding yours as she said, “Truth.”

“Who have you fantasized about?” The words rushed out of you before you could hesitate.

And for a moment, you believed she would answer. You let yourself believe that she would give you the answer you craved. It prickled at your skin, raising goosebumps along your arm, spreading warmth through your stomach. But your roommate had never been so straight-foward - had never given you an easy answer. She wet her lips, drawing your eyes to her mouth involuntarily, but she only pried the vodka bottle from your fingers. She held your gaze as she raised it to her lips, drinking straight from the bottle without even wincing.

“I can play that game too, baby.” She backed away, finally giving you a moment to breathe. She settled back against the wall, laying her arms over her knees, the bottle dangling from her fingers. The skin of your thigh still burned, branded with her fingerprints.

You looked away, huffing out a laugh that you prayed sounded sincere. You could feel her eyes on you when you leaned your head back against the wall, counting the cracks in your ceiling like they were the most interesting thing in the whole world. “It’s getting late, Els,” you said, even as your phone flashed that it wasn’t even nine yet and here you were, too many shots in, your roommate’s presence like a fire blazing in your room. “I should get back to studying.”

“Do you want to, though?” There was an edge to Ellie’s voice, as though that question was a dare itself. You lifted your head to look at her and found that she was already watching you, her eyes soft in the dim light.

You took a deep breath - and the vodka must have reached your brain, because before she could ask, you said, “Dare.”

You could see the vodka in the lazy tilt of her smile, in the way her head lolled against the wall. Her eyes were half-lidded, and yet there was something hidden behind her slow, sleepy gaze, something you were too afraid to name - something you were sure was only the imagination of your tipsy fantasies.

“Close your eyes,” Ellie said, words lazily falling from her lips, as deep and rich as the strings of a guitar.

It took you several moments longer than usual to process what she had said. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, as if the two of you were underwater. You shouldn't have felt like this after a few shots - you'd usually only be tipsy at this point. But something about the way the shadows dipped into Ellie's collarbones and the way her shirt rode up, exposing her boxers and the sharp cut of her hips, was intoxicating on its own.

So it took you several long, heavy moments to say, “What?”

She chuckled, but there was no malice behind it. There was something soft in the tilt of her head, the way she tilted her chin down to look at you through her lashes. Her hair fell in her face, brushing against her nose; you fought the urge to brush it away, knowing that if you did you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from running your fingers through her hair. You wouldn't be able to stop yourself from grabbing a fistful of the auburn strands-

“Close your eyes,” she repeated in that same honey-thick voice, breaking you from your thoughts. “For thirty seconds. And don't open them no matter what.” When you only stared at her for several silent moments, she added, “How long have we been friends? Don't you trust me?”

And the thing was, you did. You trusted her with your entire heart, and so you closed your eyes, and you waited.

You felt the bed shift next to you but you did not open your eyes. You did not open them when you felt her long fingers grip your shoulder as she struggled to steady herself. You felt her hair first, fine strands brushing against your cheek, smelling of sweat and her shampoo. You did not open your eyes, even when you felt the gentle press of a warm mouth against the side of your neck. You hardly dared to even breathe, your hands tangling in your sheets, afraid that you would not be able to control yourself otherwise. You counted the long, torturous seconds, biting down on your lip when you felt Ellie’s mouth part, the warmth of her tongue pressing against your pulse.

You had counted to twenty-six when she pulled away, a chill settling over your skin where that warmth had been only seconds ago. When you got to thirty, you opened your eyes to find that Ellie had settled back into her spot, leaning back against the wall. The only sign that she had even moved was the thin sheen over her lips, wet with her own saliva, and a small, pleased smirk.

You did not allow yourself to think about it, ignoring the way your skin burned where she had touched you as though she were a wildfire. You sounded breathless even to your own ears when you said, in barely more than a whisper, “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“What are we doing here, Ellie?” The words were out before you could stop them, slipping from between your teeth and hanging in the air like helium. The words felt almost tangible, and yet you couldn't grasp them, couldn't draw them back into your throat.

For a moment, you thought Ellie would grace you with an answer. She opened her mouth, and you thought maybe she would finally stop playing this game and let you breathe. Instead, just like before, she brought the bottle to her lips and held your gaze. You tried not to watch the way her throat moved as she swallowed.

She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and recapped the bottle, settling it between you. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” You felt you could no longer trust yourself with any dare she gave you. Your hands were already shaking from clenching the sheets.

“How would you rate your last kiss?”

You squinted at her, confused by the innocence of the question after everything that had happened in the past hour (had it only been an hour?). “My last kiss was with that one girl I met at the bar a few weeks ago. She was drunk and way too sloppy, but she was hot. I guess I'd give it,” you paused, trying to remember the moment past the haze; you couldn't even remember the girl's name, “a six.”

Ellie raised her eyebrows, her eyes widening. “A six?” She shook her head, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “You’ve got to be fucking with me. A girl like you deserves more than a six.”

“A girl like me?” Your voice sounded deafening in the quiet. You thought it had started to rain; you could hear the pitter patter on your window, could see the way it broke up the streetlamps outside like a mosaic.

Ellie was nodding almost absently, watching the rain. Her lips parted, and you didn’t expect her to hesitate before she said, “Yeah. A girl like you… deserves to be kissed like it’s the last gasp of air to someone drowning.” You watched her mouth as she spoke, even as your mind screamed at you to look away. You scolded yourself, screaming to end this now, but your body refused; it ached to draw her near, a tangible pain in your chest. “A girl like you should get one of those movie kisses - you know, like when the hero saves the day and shit and he kisses his girl and it’s like the world didn’t matter as long as he saved her. The kind that has the whole fucking theater holding their breath. A girl like you…. Fuck….” She trailed off her rambling. Ellie ran a rough hand through her hair, making the strands stick up at odd angles, and finally looked at you. There was a fire in her eyes, blazing in the dim light. “You deserve to be kissed like they’ll die if they can’t have you.”

Something had stopped in your chest - maybe it was your breath, maybe it was your heart. Your blood rushed in your ears, and you feared the thrum of your heartbeat was so loud it filled your entire bedroom. Your traitorous heart pressed at your bedroom walls, filling up the space and leaving room for little else.

Your voice was only a whisper, and you wanted to kick yourself when you said, “We should really go to bed. I have an exam tomorrow.”

Your roommate pressed her lips together, and she did not break eye contact as she said, “Dare.”

You shook your head, looking away from her to try, desperately, to break whatever spell had taken hold of you; but your eyes were drawn back to her as if she were the only fucking light in the dark. You had to get a hold of yourself before you did something you’d regret, but you felt intoxicated with something far stronger than the cheap vodka you had bought from Walmart.

“You’re drunk, Els,” you said, and you sounded so breathless you may as well have given up then and there.

Ellie leaned closer, holding your gaze, and you could see the exact shade of desire in her eyes. She was so fucking warm - your head spun from it, heat radiating from her skin when she planted a hand on the bed right next to your hip. Her wrist brushed against the bare skin under your shorts, and you felt her voice vibrating in your chest when she said, “Dare.”

And it was like she had finally pulled the last fucking thread that made you unravel, because you couldn’t stop yourself - didn’t even think to - before you said, “Kiss me.”

You only had a second to register the smile pulling at the edges of Ellie’s lips before she grabbed your face and pulled you in to smother it. You had never imagined what kissing Ellie would be like - had never allowed your imagination to wander so far over the edge - but she did not kiss like she was drowning. She kissed with the same slow gentleness as when she played the guitar, her long fingers plucking at the strings with the careful deliberation of a lover.

And she felt so fucking warm. You were high with it; high with the heat radiating from her fingers pressed to your cheeks; high from the way her breath snaked past your parted lips, gentle huffs of warmth against your skin. Your head swam as you pressed into her, your hands tangling into the fabric of her shirt, fingers unsure even as you ached to pull her closer.

Ellie pulled back for a moment - for only a moment, but each second her lips weren't on yours caused an ache in your chest. Her eyes hovered inches from yours, so fucking green it was dizzying - though you couldn't see much of the color passed the eclipse of her pupils. Her cheeks were flushed - from the vodka, from something else entirely - her freckles popping against the color. You could only imagine how you looked, could feel the desire written across every inch of your face.

Your fists tightened in her shirt, and you used the leverage to pull her back into you; and suddenly, it felt like you were the one drowning. You couldn’t breathe as Ellie devoured you, the gentleness replaced with a hunger you hadn’t known lived inside her. She pressed her tongue against the seam of your mouth until you relented, opening up to her, a soft sound escaping your throat when her tongue ran along the roof of your mouth.

That sound - nothing more than a breathy sigh - ignited something in Ellie. Suddenly, she was all teeth and tongue and hot, hot breath in your mouth, sucking your bottom lip between her teeth. She bit down when a shaky sigh forced its way from your throat, soothing it with her tongue and swallowing the moan it elicited. Her hands were in your hair, the strands twisted between her fingers, and when you bit down on her lip, she pulled - you gasped at the sharp pain on your scalp.

“Fuck,” she cursed against your lips, and you could feel that single syllable, hot breath in your mouth that you wanted to swallow. She didn’t continue for a long time, couldn’t form any other words past the way her lips made you unravel. Her hands trailed down your shoulders, fingers grazing lightly over the bare skin of your arms, before finding your hips, gripping them in a vice and tugging you closer. “Fuck, come here,” she said, her voice nothing more than a low growl that you felt in your chest.

And you were drunk - from the cheap vodka and sleep deprivation and Ellie. You were drunk on the way her eyes were eclipsed, her lips red and bitten and swollen, parted so you could feel each exhale against your cheeks. Her eyes were dark, hooded. Her fingers dug into your hips, and you were drunk, but shit, how the hell could you say no to her? How could you possibly say no when she was looking at you like she was starving?

Her hands guided you closer so you swung a leg over her hips and settled in her lap, your hands braced on her shoulders. She leaned her head back against the wall and just looked at you for several long moments, biting down on her lip. You couldn’t stop watching her mouth, mesmerized as she said, “Fuck, look at you.”

And then she was kissing you again, her hands gripping your hips like it was a lifeline. Your hands found their way to her hair, curling your fingers in the short locks, using it as leverage to pull her closer. You could feel how each point of your body fit into hers; your thighs against her legs, her hands curling perfectly over the swell of your hips. You could feel the swell of her breasts against your chest, and you so badly wanted to feel her skin against yours. You felt like you’d go crazy from the raw want radiating from your body.

Ellie’s lips traced a map across your cheek, down your jawline. You tilted your head so she could kiss the hinge of your jaw, the spot right below your ear. She paused there, planting hot, open-mouth kisses across your neck, before her teeth bit down on that sensitive spot, pulling the skin into her mouth, and you practically melted into her. You couldn’t control the sounds falling from your lips like honey, gripping at her hair as she soothed the bruise with her tongue.

“Ellie….” Your voice was nothing more than a whimper; you swallowed hard and tried again, pressing a hand firmly at her shoulder. “Ellie.”

She only hummed against your skin, and you could feel the vibration against your pulse. The sound went straight to your stomach and dipped even lower when she bit at your collarbone.

The next time you said her name, it came out as a moan; you cleared your throat. “We can’t do this - you’re drunk, Els.”

Your roommate hummed again, but she relented, leaning her head back against the wall to look up at you. And - fuck. Her lips were red and swollen, still wet from the kiss. Her cheeks were flushed, and - God, her eyes. You had never understood the term bedroom eyes, but Ellie looked at you as though she wanted to devour you. Like any second her hands weren’t on you was torture. Like she wanted to bite and kiss and taste every inch of your skin.

“Truth or dare,” she said, her voice so hoarse you had to clench your thighs around her hips.

“What?”

“Truth or dare,” she repeated, her eyes never leaving yours. And this wasn’t part of the game, but you played along anyway, unable and unwilling to tell her no.

“Truth,” you sighed.

One of Ellie’s hands traced up your side. She ran her fingers across your collarbone, up your throat, before stopping to cup your jaw, her skin rough against yours. “Do you want this?”

You nodded, the vodka making it impossible to feel shy.

“How long have you wanted this?” Ellie’s thumb pressed at the seam of your lips, and you let your mouth fall open. She watched, hypnotized, dipping just the tip of her thumb between your lips before withdrawing.

It was against the rules - two questions for one truth - but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. “A long fucking time.” Your voice was weak and breathy, and you couldn’t bother to be embarrassed about that either. Your attention had narrowed in on Ellie, and the way her fingers skirted across your chest, the way her other hand gripped your hip - how you could feel the warmth of her thighs between your legs.

Taking your chin in her hand, she drew you closer, and you could feel her lips moving against yours: “So what the hell is stopping us?”

This time, when she kissed you, you did melt into her. You gripped her hair in your fists and swallowed the moan it drew from her, shivering when her teeth caught on your lip. She had both hands on your hips again, and she gripped them so hard you were sure you’d find bruises there in the morning in the shape of her fingers. She pulled you closer, pulling your hips down into her; the friction through your pajama shorts made you moan against her lips.

And you decided to play her game.

“Truth or dare?” you said, drawing away just enough to see the eclipse of her eyes.

Ellie, always stubborn, murmured, “Dare.”

You tugged at the hem of her shirt, your fingers brushing the warm skin beneath; you marveled at the shiver that ran through her body. You ducked your head to kiss along her jaw, pressing the words into her skin. “Take this off.”

She didn’t waste any time tugging the shirt over her head, tossing it to the floor before skidding her fingers over the bare skin above your shorts. You lifted your arms and let her pull your shirt over your head before realizing you weren’t wearing anything beneath. Who wears a bra to study in their own apartment?

But you didn’t have a moment to cover your body in embarrassment before Ellie’s lips were on you again, as if it pained her to not taste you for even a moment. Her hands spread across your back, pulling you into her as she peppered hot, open-mouthed kisses across your collar; you hissed when her teeth bit down over your collarbone, soothing the pain with her tongue.

“Tell me to stop and I'll stop,” Ellie said, her voice muffled as she kissed down over your chest; you shivered when her teeth sank into the skin of your boob, sucking another bruise there. She certainly loved leaving her signature on any inch of your skin that her mouth could reach.

You groaned low in your chest, your fingers tugging at her hair, pulling a gasp from her lips. You almost didn’t recognize your own voice - breathy and thick with desire - when you said, “Please don’t stop.”

The next thing you knew, Ellie was shoving you off of her lap; your back hit the mattress, your head just barely missing the headboard, but you couldn’t even think about that. Your roommate was crawling over you, and you were hypnotized by the way her muscles tensed, her arms caging you against the bed. Her skin was fucking obscene, smooth plains stretching for miles, cast in liquid gold in the lamplight.

“God, look at you,” she said again, pressing a kiss to your clavicle. Her hand was like worn clay when it traced a teasing line over your hip. Her voice was muffled against your skin, but you caught the end of her sentence: “- so fucking pretty.”

Your only response was a choked gasp when Ellie pressed the flat of her tongue to your nipple. You gripped her shoulder, feeling her lips close around you as she sucked your skin into her mouth; you winced when she released it, feeling her teeth graze maddeningly over your nipple.

“Truth or dare?” she said into your skin, her voice vibrating in your bones.

You groaned, gripping her shoulder when she licked a line over your other nipple. If you had thought about this (which, if anybody asked, you didn’t), you never would have imagined your roommate being such a fucking tease.

She hummed, and you could feel the vibration in every nerve. For a moment, you couldn’t find your tongue, your voice caught in your chest until she released your skin with a pop of her lips. She looked up at you, batting her eyes, and dammit if your body didn’t arch, searching for her mouth again.

Propping herself up on her elbows, she watched you through her lashes, an intoxicating smirk across her lips; they were still shining wetly. She broke you from your thoughts when she murmured, “Use your words, angel.”

Your thighs clenched around her words, automatically and unconsciously. You were sure you could get drunk on the way her voice filled the room, rough and rich as the chords she played. It was through clenched teeth that you said, setting your pride aside, “Dare.” Your cheeks burned when it came out as a moan.

You could feel her smile against your skin as she kissed down your stomach, silent for several long, torturous moments. You felt her teeth sink into your hip bone briefly, your hips jerking at the sensation. It earned you a chuckle before you felt Ellie’s hands pressing your hips into the mattress, holding you still. You groaned low in your throat when you felt her tongue against the skin over the band of your shorts, licking a stripe right above the fabric before taking the elastic between her teeth and tugging. You jumped when she released it, the band snapping back against your skin. You didn’t have to look at her to see the sparkle in her eye.

You swore your heart stopped completely when she murmured, “I wanna go down on you.”

Despite this game she was insistent on playing, it wasn’t said like a dare; it was said like a question, or a request. There was no expectation behind it. Ellie was asking, you realized with dizzying satisfation, for permission.

“Fuck.” It came out as only a breath, a whisper against your tongue. Your fingers ached from gripping the sheets and she hadn’t even touched you yet. “Fuck,” you tried again, and it was a groan this time but at least it was louder. “Yeah. Yeah, please, fuck.” Words were just falling from your lips because when you looked down, Ellie - your roommate, your friend - was watching you, propped between your legs with that fucking smirk, and how could you possibly string together a complete sentence?

And Ellie… didn’t. She didn’t follow up on her dare. Not immediately, at least. No, she took her sweet fucking time - always so damn precise, taking her time in hooking her fingers over the band of your shorts. She pulled them down so slowly you could feel every inch down your legs. And then you were lying beneath your roommate in nothing but your underwear - and dammit, if you had known this would be happening, you would have opted for something a little sexier than a cotton pair with constellations on them.

Ellie smiled. “Cute,” she said, before sinking her teeth into the flesh of your thigh. You were thankful it was cold out - you’d have to wear layers to hide all the places her mouth had been.

Your roommate ducked her head, and you gasped when you felt her press a featherlight kiss against the fabric of your underwear, right where warmth pooled between your legs.

You huffed, twisting the sheets between your fingers. “God, you’re such an asshole - fuck-” You were cut off when Ellie licked a stripe up your panties, warm tongue pressing against your throbbing clit. You moaned at the relief, feeling the wetness of her mouth through the fabric. It wasn’t enough - you needed to feel her against you, needed her tongue to unravel you piece by piece. You pressed your hips down against her lips but her hands held you in place.

You huffed out a breath, her name slipping from your lips when you moaned. “Ellie….”

And then she was yanking your underwear down your hips; you gasped, lifting your ass to help her shove them down. She had only gotten them just below your knees before she was pressing back in, too impatient to finish the job.

And - fuck, her mouth. Ellie’s mouth was fucking magic. You moaned into the quiet room when she pressed the flat of her tongue against your pussy, licking a stripe between your lips. You couldn’t control the curses slipping between your teeth when her tongue made teasing circles around your clit until you were whimpering, aching for her. She had released your hips to dig her fingers into your thighs, nails digging in, and you’d surely have crescent-shaped bruises there tomorrow - even more to cover up. You pressed your hips down against her, groaning, her name only a whisper: “Fuck, Els-”

And then she finally, finally, gave you what you wanted.

Ellie ate pussy like it was her fucking job, like she was clocking into a shift and working her ass off for those tips. She lapped at your clit like she was starving, pressing her lips against you until you were dizzy, your entire body tuned in to the warmth of her tongue and the gentle graze of her teeth. You shuddered when you felt that tongue press into your core, a brief pressure that pulled curses from your lips, words tripping over each other: “Ah - fuck - fuck, Ellie - oh my God, fuck-”

It didn’t take long for tension to build in your stomach. You were intoxicated; you were tipsy, yes, but something about the way Ellie moved her tongue - long, slow circles around your clit, using the flat of her tongue to draw you closer to the edge - was like a damn drug. You got what you wanted: She unraveled you with her tongue, tugging curses from your lips. You could hear your own moans echoing against your quiet bedroom and you couldn’t even feel embarrassed about it.

Ellie took your clit between her lips and sucked, pulling you into her mouth and-

A long, low moan pulled at your throat when you came. Your hand came up to grip at her hair, fingers twisting in the soft strands. She moaned when you pulled, and the vibration against every nerve pushed you further; you could feel your orgasm in your chest, could feel it trembling in your thighs.

Ellie worked you through it, her tongue dancing against you as you rode out your high. She didn’t stop, pressing her lips against you, dipping her tongue into your core again, until you were shoving against her head, your hips bucking at the sensitivity.

When she raised her head, she was grinning, that wicked, infuriating grin she always had when she was pleased with herself. She rested her head against your thigh for a moment, watching you as you blinked the stars from your eyes. You relaxed your fingers in her hair, smoothing your thumb across her temple.

The only thing you could say, breathless and dizzy, was, “Fuck, Els. What the fuck?”

Ellie laughed, the sound unarming the silence around you, the anxiety of what this meant. She pressed a kiss to your thigh, right over the little indentations where her nails had dug into the flesh, and just said, “Yeah?”

You giggled, tugging at her hair gently. You looked down at your roommate - and you didn’t know what this meant for the two of you, but that could be a problem for tomorrow, when you weren’t drunk and sleep-deprived and naked beneath your friend. For now, you only said, “Truth or dare?”

Ellie blinked, raising an eyebrow, and said, “Truth.”

You considered not asking for a moment, unsure if you wanted to know, but curiosity pressed at you until you asked, “What do I taste like?”

The grin spread wider, Ellie’s eyes sparkling as she pushed herself up. She crawled up your body, taking a moment to press a kiss to your stomach, to the bruises she had left littered across your chest - you moaned when she took a nipple briefly into her mouth. She kissed her way up your neck, across your jaw, sucking at the skin beneath your ear - another fucking bruise to worry about. God, it was like she wanted her signature on you, branded in every inch of your skin.

Her face hovered an inch above yours, propping herself up on her elbows, smirking. She leaned in close, leaving room for you to turn away if you wanted. Instead, you tilted your chin up and kissed her again.

You wrinkled your nose at the metallic taste of yourself against her lips. You didn’t like it, the way your own scent wafted over you. But fuck if you didn’t open your mouth when you felt Ellie’s tongue pressing at the seam of your lips. She moaned when your tongue ran along the roof of her mouth, pressing into the taste of you.

When she pulled back, her eyes were soft, her cheeks flushed. “Like that.”

You rolled your eyes, turning your face away; you had to admit, even if you hated how you tasted - tasting yourself against her tongue sent a wave of heat between your legs all over again. You only said, “Gross.”

Ellie leaned in again, and you felt her lips ghosting against your jaw. You felt her breath against your skin when she whispered, “Truth or dare?”

You lifted your chin to give her access to your neck, sighing when she pressed a kiss against your pulse. “Truth.”

Her breath huffed against you when she chuckled before raising her head to meet your eyes again, that same cocky smile spread across her lips. “Was that better than a six?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You shoved against her until she rolled off of you.

She flopped back against the mattress, still laughing, but she was holding her arm out for you. You only hesitated for a moment - but even if she was your roommate, she just made you see stars, so it’s not like cuddling would push against the boundary you had already broken. You curled into her, laying your head on her chest, the sports bra she was still wearing soft against your cheek.

You sighed, skimming your fingertips against the warm skin of her stomach. “Yeah,” you whispered before you could stop yourself. “Definitely better than a six.”

You were starting to fall asleep, your eyes growing heavy, your study notes effectively forgotten. You burrowed into her further, wrapping your arm around her and pressing your fingers against her hip. You briefly wondered where the vodka bottle had ended up in the mess, but Ellie didn’t seem in any particular hurry to untangle herself from you, so you figured it could wait - surely it would be okay if she slept in your room for one night.

Just before you dozed off, you heard Ellie murmur, “You left the window open.”

#listen i'm writing a novel rn so i forgot how to write short things #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #lesbian smut #ellie x you #ellie the last of us #ellie williams tlou #tlou smut #idk man #tlou 2 x reader #i might change the title idk i couldn't think of anything #i haven't written fanfiction in. like 8 or 9 years i think lol

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