#bath ball water filter

[peachdues]

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!

[sa1ntn3k0]

Snow Leopard Gojo (∩˃o˂∩) ♡ nsfw!

The sun perched high in the sky, its golden rays filtering through pillowy clouds that drifted lazily like overstuffed cotton balls. They played a tiny game of peek-a-boo with the light, casting dappled shadows over Tokyo University’s sprawling campus before leaving, bathing the world again in a warm, buttery glow. You tilted your face upward, savoring the breeze that tousled your hair, a gentle, vanilla-scented kiss from spring. This was your favorite kind of day: bright enough to lift your spirits but soft enough to keep the world from feeling too loud. Perfect for the oversized cardigan you’d thrown over your pastel-yellow mini dress, its airy fabric fluttering around your thighs like sunlight given form.  

Your morning lecture, unfortunately, had been anything but luminous. Your Professor’s monotone voice had dragged through the hours like a knife through cold, stiff butter, dissecting a research paper on quantum physics that might as well have been written in ancient Aramaic. You’d doodled bunnies and cartoon cats in the margins of your notebook, your mind wandering to the cafe you loved, the one with the heart-shaped mugs and the barista who always added a sprinkle of cinnamon to your chai. But getting there meant braving Shibuya’s chaos: the screech of trains, the tsunami of suits and school uniforms flooding the crossing, the neon signs that buzzed like angry wasps. Just thinking about it made your shoulders tense.  

No, today calls for compromise. You’d settle for the sleepy little shop near FamilyMart, even if their tea tasted like water with a dash of sugar. Slinging your tote bag higher onto your shoulder, its pastel patches of Miffy and Hello Kitty clinking gently against your thermos, you stepped onto the sidewalk, your strappy sandals tapping a quiet rhythm against the pavement. The dress you wore hugged your curves sweetly, its buttercup hue mirroring the sun, while your lips glimmered with a gloss that smelled like strawberries. You’d dressed up for no one in particular, really, but there was joy in feeling pretty, even if only the breeze noticed, and unfortunately that perv two seats behind you in class.  

The cafe’s bell jingled as you entered, its air thick with the aroma of stale croissants and bitter espresso. You beelined for the refrigerated case, grabbing a bottled milk tea and a pastry swirled with pink strawberry cream, its flaky layers far too enticing to leave without. Back outside, you claimed a bench beneath a cherry blossom tree, its petals drifting around you like confetti. The first sip of tea was cloying and underwhelming, but the pastry? Too good. The cream burst on your tongue, tart and sugary, and you closed your eyes for a blissful second-  

Rustle.  

Your thick lashes fluttered open. The bush beside the bench shivered, leaves trembling gently. No wind stirred the air. You leaned closer, squinting, as the rustling came again, more insistent now. A tiny, pearlescent paw poked out, followed by a puff of fur so impossibly white it seemed spun from moonlight. Your heart squeezed... A kitten!  

“Hi, baby,” you cooed, crouching low, your dress pooling around you like melted sunshine. The creature crept forward, and- oh.  

This was no ordinary kitten.  

Snow-leopard cubs weren’t exactly part of Tokyo’s urban wildlife, but there he was: a miniature king of the mountains, his fur a tapestry of charcoal rosettes and ivory silk. His paws were comically oversized, velvety pads as pink as bubblegum, and his tail, thick and banded with shadow, swished with mischief. But it was his eyes that stole your breath: twin pools of Arctic cerulean, glowing with an almost otherworldly intelligence. They locked onto yours, unblinking, as he toddled closer, his little nose twitching at your pastry.  

“Hungry, huh?” you giggled, breaking off a crumb. He lunged, a blur of fur and enthusiasm, snatching the treat from your fingers with a tiny mrowp! “Hey!” you gasped, but the scolding died in your throat as he flopped onto his back, the stolen prize clutched between his paws. His belly was fluffier than a ball of sugary mochi, and when he purred, it sounded like a tiny motorboat.  

“You’re a little thief,” you murmured, scritching the soft fur beneath his chin. His purrs vibrated, and he nuzzled your hand, his pink tongue rasping against your thumb. That’s when you felt it, a slim ribbon of leather around his throat. A collar? You coaxed him onto your lap, heart hammering as you traced the tiny tag.  

Satoru, it read, in curlicue letters.  

A human name for this definitely not-human creature. Your thumb brushed the tag again, half-expecting it to vanish like a dream. But Satoru merely chirruped, batting a paw at your hair, his claws sheathed. He reeked of wet grass and mischief, but also… loneliness? You glanced around. No frantic owners in sight, no posters pleading for a lost cub. Just you, this mysterious little being, and the sudden, unshakable sense that fate had dropped him into your path.  

Finders keepers, right?

“Alright, Satoru,” you sighed, bundling him against your chest. He curled instinctively into the warmth, his nose tucked into the dip in your collarbone. “You’re coming home with me.”  

The train ride was a blur of whispered coos and stealthy cuddles. Satoru slept the entire way, a living, breathing heat pad, his paws kneading your cardigan into a doughy mess. By the time you reached your apartment, he’d claimed you as his personal pillow, his purrs vibrating through your ribs. You deposited him gently on your bed, a nest of floral quilts and plushies, and watched, smitten, as he stretched, his tiny claws catching the sunlight.  

“Mama’s gonna kill me if she finds you,” you whispered, smoothing a thumb between his ears. He blinked up at you, those galaxy-blue eyes crinkling with what could only be… smugness?  

No, that was silly. 

The Great Bath Incident™ began, as most disasters do, with way too much optimism.  

Two days. Two days of Satoru’s reign of terror had left your apartment smelling like grass and dirt. His fur, once as pristine as freshly fallen snow, now resembled a dust mop dragged through a dusty corner of your living room. He’d rolled in something unspeakable during his 3 a.m. zoomies, something that clung to him like a vengeful ghost and made your nose crinkle every time he trotted past.  

“Okay, baby,” you announced, scooping him off the windowsill where he’d been sunbathing like a tiny, furry emperor. “Spa day.”  

Satoru’s ears flattened. His light azure eyes widened into saucers, pupils dilating with betrayal.  

“Mrrrp?”  

“Yes, mrrow,” you said firmly, marching him to the bathroom. “You reek of dirt and tuna.”  

The bath itself was… a spectacle.  

You’d prepared meticulously: hypoallergenic honey-scented shampoo (the fancy kind for “sensitive babies,” according to the label), a stack of baby pink Hello kitty towels warmed in the dryer, and a rubber ducky you’d impulsively bought because look at his face, how could you not? Satoru took one glance at the filled tub, hissed like a deflating balloon, and attempted a gravity-defying backflip out of your arms.  

“Nuh uh! No escaping!” You wrestled him gently into the water, his paws slapping the surface in protest. Bubbles foamed around him as he yowled pitifully, his tail thrashing like a fluffy whip. “You’re fine-it’s warm, see? Warm!”  

He was not convinced.  

Satoru transformed into a soggy gremlin, all claws and drama, splashing enough water to water a small farm. His squeaky protests echoed off the tiles, a bomb of bratty chirps and growls that somehow still sounded way too adorable. You couldn’t help but giggle as he tried (and failed) to scale your Miffy shower curtain, his soapy paws slipping comically.  

“You’re such a baby,” you cooed, scrubbing between his ears. His fur lathered into a marshmallow fluff, revealing the striking black rosettes beneath the grime. “Look how pretty you are! So handsome! Yes, you!”  

He paused mid-squirm, tilting his head at your praise. His whiskers twitched.  

“…Prrt?”  

“Very handsome,” you confirmed, booping his cute little nose. “The handsomest little snow boy in all of Tokyo- hell, the world.”  

Satoru looked way too full of himself, his tantrum momentarily forgotten. He allowed you to rinse him, though not without a few half-hearted swats at the showerhead. By the time you reached for the heated towel, he’d morphed into a docile little loaf, his fur gleaming like spun sugar.  

“All done!” you chirped, turning to grab the towel-  

Sploosh.  

A sound like a wet mop hitting the floor.  

You froze.  

Then came the drip-drip-drip of water, the creak of the tub, and-  

“Ahem.”  

A voice.  

A human voice.  

Deep. Smug. Somehow familiar.  

Your spine went rigid. Slowly, so slowly, you turned.  

There, lounging in your now half-empty tub like a pampered sultan, was a man.  

A naked man.  

A gloriously, infuriatingly beautiful naked man.  

Your brain paused.  

He was all lean muscle and snow-white skin, his physique carved so sharply, it made your cheeks burn up, heart race fast. Damp white hair clung to his forehead, framing a face that belonged on a Renaissance painting, sharp jawline, pink, plush lips quirked in a smirk, his strong neck held a baby blue leather collar, and eyes… Oh.  

Eyes like glacial lakes, bright and bottomless, flecked with starlight. Satoru’s eyes.  

Your gaze darted higher.  

Oh no.  

White ears twitched atop his head, velvety and tipped with ink-black fur. Behind him, a tail as thick as your thigh swayed lazily, its leopard-like rosettes glistening.  

“Hey,” the man purred, resting his chin on the tub’s edge. His voice dripped with mischief. “What’s up?”  

You screamed.  

Not a dignified scream. A full-throttle, horror-movie-worthy screech that rattled your strawberry mint toothpaste tube off the sink.  

“Wh-WHAT?! WHO-HOW-”  

He blinked innocently, tail swishing. “Aw, c’mon, princess. You’ve been calling me ‘handsome’ and ‘baby’ for days. Don’t act shy now.” His voice was all smooth, like honey, but so mischievous-like, you felt way too many emotions.  

Your face combusted. “THAT WAS FOR A CAT!”  

“And yet here I am.” He stretched, water sloshing as he raised his arms above his head, displaying a torso that could’ve been chiseled by Michelangelo. His underarms bore fluffy white hair, the amount of hair only a grown man could have. “Better than a cat, right?”  

You hurled the pink towel at his face.  

He caught it effortlessly, grinning with a flash of faintly pointed canines. “Feisty! I like it.” Wrapping the towel around his hips (thank God), he rose from the tub, droplets cascading down his- Nope. Don’t look. Don’t you dare look. 

You looked.

His lower half was… Wow. His abs were more defined when he stood, a fluff of white hair ran down his belly button, you could see the outline of his hung dick through Hello Kitty’s bow, and you felt blood rush, fast. You wanted to pass out, wake up to your baby, not some hot dude! 

“S-Satoru?!” you squeaked, scrambling backward until your spine hit the door.  

“The one and only!” He winked, flicking a wet ear. “Thanks for the bath, by the way. And the gourmet lamb chops. And the snuggles.” His tail curled playfully. “You’re a way better pillow than my last owner.”  

Your mind reeled. The all-night zoomies. The picky eating. The smugness. It all clicked into place like a cursed jigsaw puzzle.  

“You-you’ve been a human this whole time?!”  

“Hybrid,” he corrected, leaning against the sink with infuriating casualness. “Snow leopard genes, human charm. Cute, right?” He flashed human jazz hands, claws retracted.  

You gaped. “Cute?! You destroyed my Miffy lamp! You jumped on my boobs!”  

“Hey, you’re the one who kept cuddling me while you slept.” He smirked, stepping closer. His tail brushed your ankle, impossibly soft, annoyingly wet. “Not that I minded. You’re really warm, and man, your tits are soft as-”  

Your face flamed. “OUT. Get out of my bathroom! Put on clothes! Explain yourself!”  

Satoru chuckled, low and rumbling-a sound that vibrated straight through your bones. “Don’t got any, smarty pants.”

You lunged for the door handle. He was faster.  

A big, human hand (warm, genuinely huge) pressed the door shut above your head, caging you in. His scent enveloped you, honey shampoo, snowfall, something wild and electric.  

“Relax,” he murmured, leaning down until his nose nearly brushed yours. “I’m not gonna hurt you. Unless…” His gaze dropped to your pillowy lips. “…you want me to.”  His breath was minty, smelling of the kitty toothpaste you rubbed those fangs clean with a few minutes ago.

Your breath hitched. “Wh-”  

Ding-dong!  

The doorbell rang.  

Satoru’s ears pricked. “Expecting someone?”  

Your blood turned to ice.  

“…Mama.”  

His smirk vanished. “Shit.”

End, for now. Hehe.

Whoop! That was fun, I love snow leopard Gojo, he's so… Ugh, need him. Of course, will be continuing, want to lean this into a smutty fic, so stay with me! I'm super busy with my classes but I’ll try to upload asap! Also, I see reader as 18-21, or higher if you think of grad school or whatever. Satoru’s his 29-year-old self!

[be4chywritez]

sickness and health | quinn hughes

quinn hughes x fem!reader

quinn catches a stomach bug and you take care of him.

request: Pls do prompt 15 with Quinn!

prompt: "Don't touch me I'm sick.” “That's okay."

beachy’s masterlist🐚

part two

The gray light of a rainy afternoon filtered through the windows. The lake house was oddly quiet—Luke was staying with friends, and Jack was at his girlfriend’s place. The reason? The walking bacteria cell that was their brother.

You sighed, hearing Quinn gag for what felt like the hundredth time. You raced upstairs, grabbing a bucket that you and Quinn had splayed out around the house. As you entered Quinn’s room, you found him curled up in bed, looking utterly miserable.

“Hey,” you said softly, placing the bucket beside him. “How are you holding up?”

“Like death,” he muttered, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. “You shouldn’t be here. I don’t want you to get sick.”

You walked over and sat down beside him, ignoring his protests. “I don’t care, we agreed in sickness and in health,” you murmured, placing a kiss on his forehead.

Your brow furrowed. “Q, you’re burning up.” He sat up in bed, watching as you rushed into the bathroom. He could hear the water starting. He groaned slightly, his joints hurting as he padded to the restroom.

“What are you doing?” he asked, crossing his arms and leaning up against the door.

“Running you a bath,” you replied, checking the water temperature. “It’ll help with the fever.”

He sighed but didn’t protest further. Allowing himself to relax in the warm water seemed to soothe his aching body, and he leaned back with a contented sigh. You reached over to brush a strand of hair out of his face, and he caught your hand gently.

“Don’t touch me, I’m sick.”

“That’s okay,” you said softly, your eyes filled with concern. “I’m here to take care of you.” His eyes closed in content with your cool touch.

After his bath, you helped him back to bed, making sure he was comfortable before heading downstairs to start cleaning up. Just as you were getting into the groove of disinfecting everything, the door opened, and Luke and Jack walked in, wearing gloves and masks.

“You guys look like Martians,” you said, eyeing them.

“We’re here to help,” Luke said, looking around the place and taking in the dirty dishes in the sink. His UMich blanket was in a ball on the floor. He crouched down, taking a whiff of it, then groaned, holding it away from him.

“Yeah, you might want to put that down, Lukey.” He obliged, dropping the blanket back on the floor.

“This place is a war zone,” Jack muttered, wrinkling his nose.

Luke nodded in agreement. “Seriously, how are you not grossed out by this?” he asked, watching you pick up the blanket off the floor, folding it, and throwing it into a hamper.

You shrugged, smiling slightly. “I’ve got it under control. Quinn’s the one who needs the care right now.”

You heard a groan from upstairs, followed by Quinn regurgitating his lunch. Jack and Luke both groaned.

“Can you go get that bucket?” you asked, not looking up from the dishes. Both Luke and Jack pinched their noses.

“You were late,” Jack said, making Luke groan as he walked toward the bedroom.

Luke found Quinn, pale and exhausted, slumped against the bed. He steeled himself, trying not to gag as he picked up the vomit bucket.

Quinn managed a weak smile. “Thanks, Luke. I know it’s gross.”

Luke shook his head head, genuinely concerned. “Don’t worry about it. I just… I hope I find someone as amazing as y/n someday. She’s a beast for handling all this.”

Quinn’s eyes softened, a hint of a smile playing on his lips despite his discomfort. “Yeah, she really is. You’ll find someone, Luke. Just wait.”

Luke nodded, feeling a bit more at ease as he carefully carried the bucket out. “Get some rest, okay? We’ve got this.”

Quinn closed his eyes, the reassurance from his brother making him feel just a bit better. “Thanks, Luke.”

Back downstairs, you continued cleaning with ease, handling the buckets and cloths, making sure everything was spotless. Meanwhile, Luke and Jack worked with exaggerated caution, making sure to avoid any potential contamination.

Quinn had woken up feeling way better than he did a few hours ago, he padded downstairs both Luke and Jack jumping away from him.

“Hey Quinner, how you doing bud,” Jack asked from the other side of the kitchen. You rolled your eyes playfully.

“Much better, thanks,” Quinn replied, though he still looked a bit pale.

Luke glanced at Quinn, then back at you. “Y/n’s been great. I don’t know how she does it.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty incredible,” Quinn said, his voice filled with admiration.

Jack nodded, agreeing. “You’d be a mess without her.”

You smiled at their words, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Thanks, guys. But I couldn’t do it without you helping out too.”

Luke grinned. “Just don’t get too close to us until you’re sure you’re not sick.”

Quinn chuckled weakly. “You’re gonna come take care of her when she gets sick.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Alright, I think we’re done here. Y’all are free to go guys.”

Luke and Jack bid their goodbyes both of them not waiting another second to get out of the house.

Let’s go to bed, Quinn.”

As you laid down Quinn leaned on you slightly, his eyes drooping.

He was already half-asleep, but he opened his eyes when talking to you. “Hey,” he whispered. “Thanks for everything.”

“Of course,” you whispered back, brushing a hand through his hair. “In sickness and in health, right?”

He smiled weakly, his eyes filled with love. “Right.”

You leaned down and kissed his forehead gently. “Get some rest, Quinn. I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

He nodded, closing his eyes again as he drifted off to sleep. You watched him for a moment, feeling contentment.

You eventually closed your eyes letting Quinn’s steady breathing lull you to sleep.

[anto-pops]

The Serpent's Paramour CH 15 - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: While some people might say the truth will set you free, you were convinced that those people had never been faced with truths like this. Your long awaited discussion with Sebastian finally transpires, and to say it goes poorly would be putting it... mildly.

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit language, miscommunications, lots of angsty feelings, dialogue heavy

New early update is also live on Ao3

The inn, for all its less desirable qualities, did in fact have running water. It wasn’t particularly hot, but a quick swish of your wand had fixed that problem before you had time to dwell on it. You’d conjured up a rag and a bar of soap, then stepped into the warm, soothing water and got to work without a sound. The tub had been emptied and refilled twice, and you’d scrubbed your skin raw about four separate times, but once the soapy water ran clear, you decided you had stalled for long enough. 

The clothes you had magicked up for yourself weren’t pajamas. The pants were snug, thick, and the interior was lined with wool. You’d slipped a grey shirtwaist on, the top button reaching just below your clavicle, and the long dress coat you had conjured up was lined with fur and pearly buttons. It was currently hung up in the chifforobe for later, along with a pair of laced leather boots. 

Maybe it was overkill, but you weren’t about to be caught dead out in the cold in such thin clothing a second time. If you were lucky, you would go the rest of your life without seeing snow ever again. 

Your hair was slightly damp still, but there wasn’t much you could do about that presently. At the very least, you had been able to detangle it with an ivory comb instead of your fingers. Gathering it off the nape of your neck, you sighed and leaned back against the headboard of the bed. The hot bath had helped with the lingering soreness radiating from your bruises, but what you really wanted was another vial of Wiggenweld. One or two more would do the trick, and then the evidence of what had transpired in the castle would be a distant memory. 

At least, you hoped it would be. 

Soft voices filtered through the crack beneath the door, and you knew Sebastian was likely still waiting for you to call him inside. You needed to talk to him– to get the discussion over with before you lost your nerve and ran off into the sunset. Where you would go, you didn’t know, but you were in self-preservation mode to the nth degree, and sticking around to run into Victor Rookwood was the last thing you wanted. 

Everything was such a fucking mess. 

You stayed on the bed for a few extra minutes, inhaling deeply through your nose and exhaling slowly through your mouth. It was one conversation. You could have one conversation with him, and if you didn’t like what you heard, you could leave. Curing Anne was a valiant goal, but it seemed secondary to keeping yourself safe, especially considering Ominis had been dutifully taking care of the younger twin this entire time. 

The mere thought of going back on your promise to Sebastian made you bristle, though. 

Lifting up your wand, you cast Lumos and stared at the pulsating orb for a couple seconds, then flicked it towards the door. The ball of light broke away from the tip of your wand, rising and falling listlessly as it took itself to where you willed it to go. It plunged down towards the thick gap beneath the entrance, slipping under and disappearing into the lobby of the inn. You knew it had reached Sebastian when the orb zinged back into your room, reattaching itself to your wand before the glow steadily faded, then vanished entirely. 

On cue, there was a soft knock of arrival. Sebastian’s head poked through the doorway, his eyes scanning the dim room in search of you before spying you atop the bed. He flashed you a small smile as he let himself in, but it was tight, stiff, and  obviously forced. 

“Feeling better?” he asked as he strode across the room, his usual swagger absent from his gait. 

You nodded as he sat down on the edge of the bed, your hackles rising against your will at the close proximity. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you, but that didn’t make any of this easier. “I’m surprised this place has any functioning plumbing. It’s decrepit.” 

Sebastian huffed out a dry laugh, turning to look at the missing strips of wallpaper above the bathroom door. “Yeah, it’s not exactly fit for a king. We’re still in France– in some backwater village. Colmar, I think. It was the best place we could wait while Ominis went to get you. It’s been mostly abandoned for a long time since the whole town is still recovering economically from some muggle war.” 

Well. That explained the lack of people, at the very least. 

“And Anne? Is she really here?” Sebastian looked back at you, nodding once as the corners of his lips pulled down into a grimace. “Have the two of you seen one another since you escaped?” 

“Only from afar, and it was always a one sided affair. I never wanted her to know I was around. Hanging out near St. Mungo’s didn’t seem wise, which is why Devlin and I put a few implants at the hospital. They keep an eye on Anne and update me with any news of her.” 

“That must have made for an awkward reunion then,” you muttered, training your gaze down at your hands. Your palm was sweaty where it was curled around your wand, but you refused to put it down. Truthfully speaking, you’d had your fingers coiled around the thin handle from the moment Devlin had handed it to you. 

Sebastian watched you for a moment, his eyes roving over all of you in a nano-second. “You didn’t call me in here to talk about my sister, though. What’s happening in that pretty little head of yours, princess?” 

The way your heart fluttered and your resolve weakened in response to the nickname wasn’t ideal. This was serious, and you couldn’t let yourself be distracted by his suave one-liners or that playful glimmer in his eyes. Sighing, you rolled your shoulders back and lifted your chin to stare at him head on, and when he caught sight of your resolute expression, his half-smile vanished. “Henri made a comment while I was with him. I don’t think he expected for me to hear it since I was– well, I shouldn’t have been able to pick up on it, but I did. He mentioned something about you.” 

“About me?” Sebastian cocked his head to the side, “I suppose I should be flattered that I have fans talking about me all the way out in bumfuck nowhere.” 

You furrowed your brows and frowned, “This is serious, Sebastian.” 

“Obviously. You’re kind of scaring me here. Just tell me what he said.” 

“That’s just it,” you admonished with a groan. “I can tell you what he said, but I don’t think you’ll be able to tell me if there’s any truth to it.” 

Sebastian’s expression turned grave, and he pivoted so he was facing you fully before scooting forward slightly. “You can talk to me about anything, princess. Yes, there are some topics I can’t go into graphic detail about, but I wouldn’t be outright deceitful. You can trust me on that.” 

“I know. But you told me before that you couldn’t say much about your escape from Azkaban because of an Unbreakable Vow. What Henri said… I’m sure it has to do with that.”

It was barely perceivable– just a slight narrowing of his eyes at the same time his lip twitched– but you still caught the movements. He was nervous. “Tell me. If I can’t answer, then you’ll know you’re right.”

Fair enough. You anxiously ran your fingers along the wood of your wand, your eyes boring into Sebastian’s as you gathered the nerve to say what had been eating you alive for days now. “Henri said you’re Victor Rookwood’s protegee. Are you?”

Sebastian visibly paled, and his lips pressed firmly together. His eyes skirted away from yours to widen at the wall, and then there was silence. Loud, deafening silence as his answer, and your chest tightened uncomfortably. 

It was true. 

“Why? What the fuck, Sebastian?” Your voice was tight and cracked when you said his name, which only served to make him close his eyes entirely. “There’s no way. I killed Rookwood– he’s been dead for five years.” 

He shook his head before letting it sag between his shoulders, leaning away from you completely since that was apparently easier than looking at your crestfallen expression. “He’s… well, he’s not exactly at his peak anymore.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“I–” he swore under his breath, sitting up to rake his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know what I can tell you. I’m not able to be as transparent as you might like, but believe me when I say I wish I could tell you everything.” 

“Well that’s reassuring,” you snapped, bitter sarcasm dripping from every word as your hands trembled with anger. “That makes all of this so much better. You want to tell me, but you can’t, but you wish you could. Real sound arguments there, Sebastian.” 

“For Merlin’s sake– what do you want me to say?!” Standing up quickly, Sebastian took to pacing along the length of the bed, his body coiled tighter than a spring. “You know I’m sworn to silence. Everything about my arrangement with Rookwood pretty much falls into the ‘do not mention’ category. The hows and the whys– I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, princess.”

He was right, but that didn’t make you any less resentful. Scowling, you crossed your arms over your chest, watching ruefully as Sebastian threaded his fingers together behind his neck. “Well, is there anyone who can tell me what I want to know? Or are all of your lackeys under the same gag order?” 

He shot you a biting look in response to the petulant way you spat the word, but you saw the gears in his head turning all the while. His hesitation confirmed that there was absolutely someone else you could talk to. Around a heavy sigh, Sebastian finally said, “Devlin can fill you in. I’m the only one stuck with the unique circumstances. But I need to be there for the discussion.” 

The words had barely left his mouth before you were standing, already storming over to the bedroom door with purpose driving your every step. You heard him say something along the lines of ‘hold on’, but you were done waiting. You wanted the truth, and you wanted it now. 

Devlin was still seated at the long table in the middle of the lobby. He had moved so he was closer to the firepit, his head bowed over a strip of parchment, but it snapped up at the sound of your thundering footsteps closing in on him. His brows furrowed when he caught sight of Sebastian jogging to keep up with you, and the question he had aimed at his boss was cut off by your harsh bark of, “You. Talk.” 

“Come again?” Devlin scooted his chair out and braced his hand on the back as though he were about to stand and make himself scarce. Apprehension was visible on his face, and you didn’t doubt you looked to be ten different kinds of pissed off. 

Sebastian sighed behind you as you yanked on the chair across from Devlin, the legs scraping against the floorboards as you aggressively threw yourself into it. The older man’s eyes jumped from Sebastian to you, then back to Sebastian as he hesitantly turned around to settle into his seat once again. “I’m a little worried here, Sallow.” 

“I would be too,” Sebastian muttered, and you didn’t bother looking at him as you made a particularly vulgar gesture at him from over your shoulder. 

“Talk,” you repeated. “Tell me about Rookwood. Tell me everything.” 

Devlin’s eyes widened in shock, his mouth falling open as he turned his full attention to Sebastian. “How did you– what the hell did you tell her?” 

“I didn’t tell her anything,” Sebastian hissed. “Henri and his fat, French mouth did, though.” 

“Well. Shit.” 

You were seconds away from lobbing chairs at both men. “If I have to ask again, I might start breaking things.” 

A long, drawn out groan came from Sebastian, and he moved to sit down in the seat next to you. You tensed uncomfortably but otherwise said nothing. Now wasn’t the time to get pissy about his close proximity to you. Devlin, for all intents and purposes, looked to be on the verge of soiling himself, and it wasn’t until Sebastian gave him a stiff nod of confirmation that the elder Ashwinder looked back at you. “What do you want to know?” 

Thank the gods. “How about you start with how he’s alive? He wasn’t exactly in great shape when I saw him last. I honestly thought I’d killed him.” 

Devlin looked puzzled at your words for a moment before something dawned on him, and then the confusion was swiftly replaced with surprise. “You’re the one who messed him up five years ago?” 

“If by ‘messed him up’ you mean I broke damn near every bone in his body and left him for dead in a field, then yes. How do you know about that?” 

Sitting back in his seat, Devlin chanced a look at Sebastian, who still looked incredibly put off by the circumstances. “Everyone knows about that. Victor was as close to dead as they come after that whole ordeal. Medics tried healing spells and potions, but they could only do so much to help. The damage was too severe– everyone was stumped by the magic that had done it because it ran deep enough to scar his soul or something. I’m no doctor, but I can tell you that no one expected him to live. To this day, he’s what you might call a shell of the man he once was.” 

Perfect. So you hadn’t actually killed Rookwood– you’d just crippled him for life. For some reason, that didn’t make you feel any better. “I should have thrown him around harder, then. How does Sebastian factor into this? Why is he working for Rookwood?” 

The almost casual way you spoke about murder made Devlin gape at you, but he recovered fairly quickly, rubbing his temples as he got to work dredging up the past. “Right… well, the short version of the long story is this: it took a long time for Victor to recover from his fight with you. By the time he was functional– or, uh, somewhat functional– he knew he needed a replacement. Someone to take up the mantle and act on his orders. He might have been weaker physically, but he didn’t want to relinquish control of his position entirely. He had heard about Sebastian ending up in Azkaban and decided that he had potential, so he orchestrated the whole breakout from the sidelines.” 

That made next to no sense to you. Glancing at Sebastian, you saw that his spine was ramrod straight. It looked like he wanted to say something, but it wasn’t like he could insert his own opinions on the matter. At least, not without keeling over and dying at the hands of that damn Vow he’d foolishly made. Idiot. 

“Why Sebastian?” you asked, turning to look back at Devlin. “Why not a dark wizard he was already familiar with? You’re telling me he went out of his way to break a teenager out of Azkaban instead of just passing the reins to someone closer?” 

Shrugging, Devlin began toying with the corners of the parchment in front of him. “I honestly don’t know. Plenty of people objected to the decision, but he was dead set on getting Sebastian for some reason.” 

“Even immobile, old men can’t resist my wit and charm,” Sebastian deadpanned beside you. The joke fell flat, however. 

“Rookwood saw Sebastian with me in Hogsmeade years ago,” you recalled cautiously, the memory of that day vivid and clear as though it had happened yesterday. “In The Three Broomsticks– he cornered both of us with Harlow. He already knew the two of us were friends… could that be why he wanted him?”

Devlin’s puzzled expression told you that he didn’t seem convinced by your logic, which only served to frustrate you further. “Maybe, but I doubt it. You were both totally unassuming kids at that time. It’s more believable that Victor didn’t even recognize Sebastian after getting him out of Azkaban.” 

Your scowl deepened at the same time your nails began to dig into the table. It was too big of a coincidence for you to overlook. Devlin didn’t understand– he hadn’t been there to witness Rookwood’s desperation as he’d stared you both down in the middle of the pub. He had to have known that you and Sebastian had history. Why else would he have gone to such extreme lengths to break a random man out of prison, just to sic him on your trail?

It was too convenient. Too perfect.

“Anyway, Sebastian has been running the show in Victor’s stead ever since. It was agreed that he would take over in exchange for help curing his sister. It was Rookwood who suggested using the relic to do it, and it was his idea to track you down to get it open.” 

Oh. 

Oh.

If you’d been reeling before, now you were spiraling. It was as if a rug had just been yanked out from under your feet. Your heart fell into your stomach, and your head suddenly felt fuzzy. The repository’s magic buzzed to life beneath your skin, reacting to your emotions and making your hair stand on end as it charged the air around you. Sebastian heard your strangled intake of breath and side-eyed you warily, obviously feeling the dark power rolling off of you. Devlin looked like he wanted to be anywhere other than here. 

Sebastian had lied. He had looked you right in the eyes and lied about everything. 

It had never been his idea to come find you. The map you’d found in his office littered with dates and ancient magic sites was a direct result of Rookwood sending him after you, because of course he would. There wasn’t a single doubt in your mind that Victor wanted vengeance for what you’d done to him. Since he knew you and Sebastian had been friends, he must have figured that using him would make it infinitely easier to accomplish that feat. Maybe Sebastian was just a tool for Rookwood to utilize, and maybe he really was none the wiser to his mentor’s true motives, but he had still played you. 

He had fooled you. He’d cozied up to you and gotten you to lower your guard. He had kissed you and wooed you and made you feel things you had never experienced before, all while fibbing through his teeth. His silver tongue had simultaneously crafted the finest of flattery alongside the most convincing of lies, and you’d gone and believed all of it. The betrayal you felt in that moment cut sharper than any blade, and you truly didn’t think you’d ever been so hurt in your entire life.  

Sebastian said your name, pulling you out of the suffocating pit of aggrieved thoughts you found yourself drowning in. Slowly, you twisted your head to the side to stare at him. There was nothing but vast emptiness in your gaze– an impassive coldness that brought a crestfallen expression to Sebastian’s face. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his brows pinching together as he reached out to take your hand in his, but you yanked the limb away before he could touch you. He winced as though he’d been burned, then let his arm fall back to the table. “I would have told you if I could. But none of this changes the fact that I need your help.” 

He couldn’t possibly be serious. You scoffed harshly, curling your hands into tight fists. The power rippling through the room intensified in that moment, and you could have sworn you heard Devlin gag. 

“It changes everything! I’m not nearly as stupid as you think– Rookwood sent you after me because he hates me. He probably wants to kill me himself when the time comes, and he knew that you would be the perfect little delivery boy. Breaking you out of Azkaban, sending you after me, then promising to help you with Anne– it makes no sense! That loathsome cockroach could have probably cured her himself if he really wanted to! But no! This?” You gestured wildly at the room, broadly referring to everything about the situation. “All of this is about him getting revenge. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Devlin sat forward, holding his arms up and fixing you with a stern look that left little room for argument. “I know you’re worried, but Rookwood couldn’t cast a simple charm if you paid him to do it. His magic isn’t what it used to be. He’s more like a squib now than ever before, and he’s definitely not a threat–” 

“What do you mean he could have cured Anne?” Sebastian interrupted. You and Devlin both turned to look at him, and you pursed your lips as you took in the frantic gleam in his dark eyes. The flickering light from the firepit cast a foreboding shadow all across his face, and his voice wavered as he asked, “What makes you think he would have any ability to fix her curse?” 

“…You don’t know? Ominis never told you?” Some of your righteous anger evaporated as you realized what you had thought in your cell was correct; Sebastian wasn’t aware of Victor’s role in Anne’s suffering. 

His jaw hardened, and the paranoid glint in his eyes amplified. “No one has told me a damn thing. What the hell are you on about?” 

“Victor is the one who cursed Anne,” you murmured firmly, taking care not to sound boastful about the whole thing. It wasn't Sebastan’s fault he’d been fooled by his apparent mentor. It was kind of tragic, really. 

It was also incredibly predictable. 

He was up and out of his seat in a heartbeat, his fingers buried in his hair as he planted himself directly in front of the firepit. Between your dark magic filling the lobby and Sebastian’s palpable fury joining it, the inn suddenly seemed five times smaller than before. With his back to you, the tension in his posture was visible, and you and Devlin both cast warning glances at one another. The modicum of disbelief on the older man’s face told you he hadn’t known that tidbit of information either. “When did he tell you?” 

You stammered for a moment, “He didn’t exactly admit it outright, but–” 

“What did he say?” 

Shit. That was the voice of a man on the brink of erupting. Despite your justified anger at him and the situation as a whole, you willed your body to calm down, swallowing thickly as you stared at his back and psyched yourself up to break the gut-wrenching news to him. 

“Before he brought me to that field, he tried convincing me to work with him. When I refused, he got angry and started yelling about how he should have known better than to try reasoning with a child. He…” Your hands shook as you momentarily relived the terror you had felt in that moment. Outside of that wand shop in Hogsmeade was where you’d realized that Victor Rookwood was capable of evil, demented things like cursing a child just for crossing his path, and you had genuinely believed that he would do the same to you. Not your bravest moment, certainly. “He told me, ‘I’ve always said children should be seen and not heard’.” 

The silence that followed your statement was the anxiety-inducing kind. No one moved. Devlin looked confused, but understood enough of what was happening that he kept his mouth shut. Your eyes were glued to Sebastian’s back. He was eerily still– enough so that you couldn’t be sure if he was even breathing. Tiny tremors danced down his arms, which had fallen away from his hair to curl into iron-tight fists at his sides. You’d never been one to invade other people’s privacy, but in that moment, you wanted nothing more than to listen in on his thoughts. What was he thinking? 

“I’m going to kill him.” 

Ah. He was voicing his thoughts. That helped. 

“Hold on,” Devlin chimed in, ignoring the six foot tall mass of vibrating wrath behind him. “You’re telling me that Victor was responsible for this whole mess? The curse he promised to help break was his own doing?” 

“It would appear so,” Sebastian growled. The rough timbre to his voice promised violence, and you weren’t sure if you found it worrisome or reassuring. 

Devlin sighed, sitting back in his seat and pinching the bridge of his nose. You wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up completely gray by the time the conversation was over. “So… what then? He’s been using Sebastian this entire time?” 

“To get to me,” you surmised quickly. 

“No offense, kid, but not everything is about you and your special magic.” 

You were about to send a bolt of said special magic right at Devlin’s exasperated face. “That’s rich, coming from the Metamorphmagus. Do you have any other bright ideas?” 

“Well no, but yours is just insane!” Devlin threw his hands up, “You’re saying that Victor spent the last five years orchestrating this whole plan to get a relic for Sebastian to cure his sister– the very sister he cursed himself– all for the sake of getting you in front of him so he could, what? Kill you? Get one final lick in before he kicks the bucket? I wasn’t kidding when I said the man can barely hold a wand anymore, much less cast with one.” 

“How should I know what that demented loon has planned? You’re the ones working for him. I’m just telling you what I know,” you scowled, the urge to scream and shout leaving you abruptly. This discussion… it hadn’t gone at all like how you’d anticipated. “Rookwood always wanted the repository for himself. He always planned on crossing Ranrok to get it, but obviously I beat them both to the punch. Maybe whatever prompted him to send his people after me has to do with that, or maybe it really is as simple as revenge.” 

“He’s not getting a fucking thing from any of us.” Sebastian turned away from the roaring flames of the firepit, backlit and the very definition of menacing. From where you sat, he looked massive. His stiff, broad shoulders cast a shadow across the table, and his eyes glimmered with deadly rage. “This whole thing is over. I’m done. Three years of my life spent answering to the man who cursed Anne– Victor isn’t getting another fucking second from me.” 

Devlin started to turn in his seat, looking incredibly neurotic in the face of Sebastian’s ominous glowering. “Look, we can still cure your sister–” 

“How? By playing right into Victor’s hands? Who knows if the relic will even do what he said it would. I won’t take that chance, not with Anne, and certainly not with you.” 

Realizing he was speaking to you then, you looked at him anxiously, surprised to find fierce determination etched across his dark features. The stubborn tilt of his chin left you reeling, and you couldn’t help but shift uneasily in your chair. “I don’t need you to protect me. I can take care of myself.” 

“Tell that to the bruises you were wearing earlier,” he snapped, and you audibly gasped at the same time Devlin swore under his breath. The way Sebastian recoiled immediately after told you that he regretted the words as soon as they’d left him. He pinched his eyes shut as he deflated, “I didn’t mean– fuck. I’m sorry.” 

Oh, hell no. He wasn’t going to weasel his way out of a remark like that with a pitiful apology. You braced your hands on the table and stood, the legs of your chair scraping loudly against the floor and nearly toppling over from the force of the movement. “Let me make one thing abundantly clear; if I ever see Henri again, I will kill him. Not you, not Devlin, me. I’ll do to him what I did to Victor, but this time, I’ll swing harder. I will make sure he’s as dead as can be before I set his corpse on fire, and then I will dance on the ashes. Then I’ll find whoever told him I was responsible for freeing his dragons, and I’ll do the same to them.” 

Sebastian held your stare, and you saw Devlin scrub his hands down his cheeks in your peripheral vision. “Gods, kid… that’s…” 

Ignoring the fear in the Ashwinder’s voice, you tsk’d in annoyance. Sebastian, on the other hand, actually smirked. “The princess has made her decree, Dev. You better be glad your daughter is in the clear.” 

That actually made you raise your brows, your surprise showing plainly on your face before you could school it. “Nora didn’t sell me out?” 

“Why the hell do both of you think she’s capable of something like that?” Devlin spat, standing from his seat to better defend his daughter’s innocence. “I get that she’s difficult to be around sometimes, but honestly this is just insulting to hear.” 

“In my defense,” Sebastian cast his second in command a sidelong look, “she did suggest I tell Henri. Numerous times.”

“I kind of buried the hatchet with her before everything happened. I didn’t want to believe she was the reason he knew, but I still wondered,” you admitted softly, and Devlin sighed, his frustration simmering down some. “This is hardly important, though. What are we going to do about Victor?” 

Everyone fell silent at that, and the three of you glanced at each other uncertainly. No one knew what to say. Where did you go from here? Curing Anne had been the only reason you’d stuck around at first, but now knowing that Victor had likely planned all of this for the express purpose of killing you, staying didn’t seem wise. You didn’t even know what Sebastian was going to do since he was acting on Rookwood’s behalf. Even though he had said he was done, something told you that parting from this life he’d created for himself wouldn’t be so simple. 

The triangular huddle in the middle of the lobby persisted for another minute. Sebastian looked at you, you looked at Sebastian, and Devlin just looked at the floor. All of you were at a loss, and you couldn’t believe that the last month and some change had amounted to this. Here you were, standing in an abandoned inn on the outskirts of France, having just been held captive by an insane Poacher for a week straight, only to be rescued by Ominis of all people. Your life was a fucking disaster. 

“Even with all those books you love to read, you can still be so thick sometimes, Sebastian.” 

The soft, lilting, feminine voice came from the back of the inn, and you turned to spot the source at the same time Sebastian and Devlin did. They were obviously less surprised to see her standing there, seeing as they had been aware of her presence for a while. For you, though, it was your first time setting your sights on the owner of the voice in almost five years. Despite being told that she was here, seeing was definitely believing, and your jaw dropped at the same time your eyes widened.

There was an easy smile playing on her lips and a teasing twinkle in her brown eyes, the shade identical to Sebastian’s. 

Anne Sallow stood in the doorway of her bedroom, gazing at her brother with a fondness that confused you and made your head spin.

[cosmic-glow]

anonymous asked: hello !! hope you have a nice day <3 can you please write a soft/fluff Legolas x Reader with the drabble 2 ?

Notes: I swear the ending is cute!! But there's a silly fight first😭 it's my first time writing for Legolas, I hope you like it, good reading!

"I only think about you" - Legolas

Warnings: Legolas x gn!reader; reader is children of Elrond; mention of quarrel and fight; Legolas confused by his own feelings; SFW.

- I still don't understand why this would be my responsibility - the son questioned his father.

- Because I'm ordering! - Thranduil spoke already irritated - They are children of Elrond, and if they don't return safely from this journey, you will regret it.

And it was with this conversation that Legolas stuck with you on this long journey. You were Elrond's youngest heir, the youngest, and most irritating to Legolas. You always got into trouble, it was obvious that you would need protection. The elf prince only regretted that he was chosen for this. It wasn't enough for you to disturb his thoughts from the first time you met at the ball - your beauty able to leave him breathless and your attitude overflowing with confidence - now he was forced to put up with your physical presence too.

- Let's stop here, it's already getting dark, let's take advantage of the remaining light to set up camp - said the blonde.

You agreed, and after everything was ready, you asked for privacy to bathe in the nearby river. Legolas warned that it wasn't a good idea, but you, stubborn as ever, didn't listen and assured him that you'd be fine on your own. It was only a few minutes before the elf heard the sounds of fighting coming from the direction you were. As he approached, he soon recognized the figure that had his back to him trying to approach you in the river, it was a goblin. Without hesitation, Legolas shot an arrow right through the center of the creature's skull, which landed in front of you, revealing your traveling companion close behind.

- I told you it was a bad idea! - he approached, irritated by your carelessness.

- You didn't have to come, I had everything under control! - you shouted back.

- Really? Well, it didn't seem that way, do I always have to watch out for you?!

- If it bothers you so much you didn't have to come, you can leave, then you won't have to think about me anymore!

- I'd love not to think about you all the fucking time!

Legolas shouted from the bottom of his lungs, stressed and tired, not just from the journey, but from the feelings that were growing for you and consuming him more every day. You kept quiet, surprised because you had never seen him like this, sinking a little deeper into the water to hide your naked body more, realizing your shame only now. Legolas, who had only just realized it too, turned around to give you some privacy, but also before you could notice the blush growing on his cheeks.

- I'm sorry... That's not what I meant, I'm just tired... Let's go, if there's a goblin here there must be others nearby.

Silently, you agreed and obeyed, and after getting out of the river and changing, you broke camp and moved on.

The trip followed in silence, now an awkward atmosphere between you two, more distant than ever. Feeling responsible for that, Legolas decided to break the silence when you stopped to eat.

- I shouldn't have screamed, I'm just worried because I'm responsible for you, so if something happened to you...

- No, I understand, it was my stupid idea and... I understand if you don't want to continue the trip, I don't want to be a burden for you.

- You would never be a burden - he spoke automatically, without filtering before how revealing the words could be - Even if I left, I would keep thinking about you - and with that he decided to shut up, realizing how the words accumulated in his mind now just leave without him being able to control it.

- Really? Would you keep thinking about me even after all the stress I've caused you?

- You don't understand, I only think about you. My worry and stress would only increase if I left, because... Because I really like you - the last sentence came out as a whisper.

The blush had returned to his face, his anxious heart beating harder, his eyes unable to face you now. Legolas tried to stand firm, but he was crumbling under your lingering gaze.

- Oh, that's good to know - you smiled - because you have also been tormenting my thoughts, Legolas.

Prompt: "I'd love not to think about you all the fucking time!"

Sorry for any typos;

Masterlist

Buy me a coffee?

[owlespresso]

Cottony Fresh Water. Clive. tags: spice beneath the cut, femdom, riding, soft for the lovely @kianaflame23

There is heaven in this home, which sways above the lake waters like reeds at shoreline. There is heaven in the bedroom. Watery, cloud-filtered light peeks in through a thin gap in the curtains.

The gaps between the planks of the walls were padded with thick insulation months ago, at your behest. It’s dim inside, but it feels nicer, this way. Less exposed. In the shade you find shelter from the prying glare of the midday sun. 

Clive’s cornflower eyes almost glow in the dark, half-lidded. His face has grown lax, caught in hazy half-sleep. He’s been lulled by the warmth of your body, curled next to him, and your hands, which stroke up and down his sides. The air is suffused with his scent, all warm skin and masculinity. Fresh from a bath. The edges of his wet hair fan out on his pillow. 

He had redressed after washing. For nothing, in the end. As soon as he returned to your shared chambers, you’d all but clawed the shirt off of him, wrangling him into bed in a whirlwind of impatience and desperate need to feel your skin pressed against his own. He had obeyed with wry amusement once he overcame the initial surprise, both falling into bed and allowing himself to be arranged to your liking. A simple, easy obedience that goes to your head, the more you think about it. 

Your fingers comb through the dark strands of his hair, idly toying with the ends. 

“Tired?” you ask, smoothing your palm his stomach, savoring the way the bunched muscle tenses. 

“Content,” Clive corrects you, his voice a low rumble. Despite his insistence otherwise, he looks to be hovering between sleep and wakefulness. Moments like these make you endlessly grateful for the Hideaway’s steady, stable existence. Rarely could he get such sound rest on the road.

“Good,” you hum, pressing your lips to the round of his shoulder. A first, innocuous peck followed by another at the crook of his neck, and a third at the base. He sighs and shifts beneath you, all splayed out and loose and relaxed, watching you through half-lidded eyes. He’s somehow sunk further into the sheets, head tilted back to provide you more room. Sweetly obedient as you crawl atop of him, a hand coming to rest right above his heart.

One of your knees sneaks in between his thighs, gentle lips spreading a line of kisses below the sharp line of his jaw. His stubble prickles at your skin. Diverting your path to the plush surface of his chest prompts him into further wakefulness.

“If you want me, all you have to do is ask for me,” Clive informs you. Underneath that surface statement lies the sentiment “Just say the world and I’ll take care of you–I’ll do all the work” which is charming and delightful, but over the course of your relationship you’ve come to crave a rarer taste.

“Oh, I’ll have you. Just be patient and lay back for me,” you say the words into his skin, unable to part from his living warmth for even a moment.

In your silken robe you slither down the length of his body and core him with the sweet succor of your love. Your kisses become love bites. Your tender caresses become adoring squeezes. The delicate cup of your hands around his heavy cock becomes an appraisal. He’s already hard in your barely-there grasp. He makes wispy little sounds, sighs and soft breaths and when you reach the tenderest parts of him–whimpers. His cock is throbbing in your grasp and his balls are heavy beneath your other hand as you steadily work him.

His body follows your ministrations, chasing his own pleasure with each self-indulgent roll of his hips. It doesn’t take him too long to work him to that point–the one that has him writhing and fisting the sheets. His expression is taut with pleasure, eyes shut and lips parted, skin flushed red all the way down to his shoulders.

When he finds he can no longer bear it, he reaches for you and the nightstand at the same time. “Wait–” he gasps, voice gone raspy with his pleasure, “‘M close–come here, let me–” His half-statement is punctuated by the sound of the drawer opening. You don’t need to look to see that he’s taken out the oil, lathering it across his fingers with less finesse than he would perhaps like.

Even with his currently limited vocabulary, you can tell what he wants. You scoot forward, straddling him with your knees. You hum in delight as his broad fingers pet through your wet folds. He spreads your slick across your waiting cunt. His fingers slip inside of you, petting at your velvet walls. He works you open with crooked fingers, calloused thumb rubbing at your clit with each slow pass.

Your toes curl and your head tilts back, eyes fluttering shut. He works you until the pleasure builds and collapses into your first orgasm. It’s not a breath-stealing, whiplash of feeling. It’s a gentle wave of sun-dappled feeling which laps at you from head-to-toe. 

“Good?” he rumbles, unbearably tender.

A few breathless moments pass. His cock throbs, neglected, against your inner thigh. That’s what stirs you back into action–the realization that he’s not yet been fulfilled. 

Your fingers curl around the base of his cock, angling his head towards your folds. The tip kisses your entrance, the beginnings of over-sensitivity playing across your weary nerves. He fills you hot and heavy, cock rutting against every inch of your throbbing insides. It’s not a single, bold push inside. He fucks himself in, inch-by-inch, and steals your weary pants with open-mouthed kisses. A soft, broken little sound leaves you as he reaches home, leaving you so delightfully full.

Your hands find his shoulders and push, sending him back down against the pillows. He looks up at you with fat pupils, a man in the midst of rapture.

“So good, Clive,” you murmur, “You’re so lovely for me.”

You hadn’t thought it possible, but he flushes even more beneath the praise.

You clench around him, hot and wet and tight–and then you start riding. One of your hands braces on his shoulder, the other on his slightly bent knee. Your eyes shut, your brows knitting together in fierce concentration as you grind. No matter how many times you take him, he feels impossibly big. The kind of big that almost makes you panic on the first thrust, the kind you feel in your throat. 

He’s making soft little sounds underneath you. The entirety of him is flushed warm, blessed by both the Phoenix and the mighty Ifrit, but his palms are scalding where they find purchase on your hips. He restrains himself to the best of his ability, devoutly does his best to not to move you and grips hard enough to bruise in the process. An ache you’ll feel later, when you’re fucked out and fill of him.

“Let me move,” he gasps into the crook of your neck, lips scrubbing your skin. Goosebumps roll up your skin at the scratch of his stubble. “Please.” He sucks a smarting hickey onto your throat. hips giving an aborted little jump. 

You coo mockingly at him. “You always do all the work, Clive,” you mumble, thighs flexing. “You must be tired. Just lay back and–oh!” You jolt as his calloused thumb flicks your swollen clit. The throbbing bundle of nerves grinds against his pelvis with each sluggish pass of your hips, sending molten sparks jittering up your spine. 

“Let. Me,” Clive reiterates, but the desperate rasp he makes his demands in belies just how affected he is. You curl your legs back a little, lay your calves over his knees to make it even harder for him to get any purchase. Then, you press your foreheads together. There’s something molten, deadly determined in his iron stare.

“No,” you giggle, and ride him until you’re hitting that precious pleasure point. The tip of his cock strikes your G-spot, crackling your composure. A string of rapid curses and pitchy little noises rattles from your lips as you clench tight around him, tipping over the edge.

Clive, lost in the sweet grip of your spasming cunt, loses his inhibitions and bounces upwards a few times. It only takes a few, good strokes for him to reach his own climax. And then he’s spilling inside you, aimlessly mouthing at your collarbones and breathing in your scent.

It ends just like that. You, slumped bonelessly into the mattress and Clive with his arms braced around your waist, pulling you to his chest. Back to the position you’d started in. You fumble a hand up to his abdomen to stroke the skin there. Like you’re petting a particularly well-behaved hound. 

“You did well.” you hum, and Clive snorts.

“I hardly did anything. I laid there limp as a fish,” Clive sasses, resentful of his perceived lack of participation. He doesn’t quite understand it. He wants to be of service. He wants to draw orgasms from you like water from an abundant spring thaw. His frustration is part of the game. You could tell him, but he might give you a bit of an attitude about that. And you’re not quite in the mood to argue with him.

“And you looked so good while doing it,” you mumble. He huffs, but brokers no further arguments. Instead, his big hand settles between your shoulder blades and rests there, simply content to hold you.

[wildcstwinter]

THE BATH — saaliha finkelstein tw : blood , drowning , medical experimentation , torture , nightmares

steam rolled off the surface of the water , dampening the air of the bathroom. condensation clung to the mirror , to the tile , to the walls — streams of moisture bending to gravity's will as it tugged their beaded heads down towards the earth's center . a heavy exhale through nostrils that just poked above surface tension cause ripples that grew in size as they bloomed . small sloshes against her bent knee , a tiny wave that stretched up the tanned skin of her opposing thigh that was bent on the tubs edge , the ball of her foot pressed to porcelain . amongst the bathroom's fog , there was smoke ; curling up from the lit end of an incense stick that perfumed the room with notes of hickory , amber and spice — dragon's blood . her favorite .

saaliha's hair ebbed in the baths otherwise still body , floating on its surface , circumvolved by her head . her sternum felt hollow , limbs fluid , one with the water .

the temptation to sink her head beneath its surface was almost crippling , her whimsy-struck mind finding a home in the liquid and operating with the assumption that it was , in fact , one with it . she'd breathe in , taste the soap and oil , and pink lungs would filter it through sprouted gills to keep her alive . keep her breathing .

gaze wandered , spotting movement in the far corner of her peripheral ; a crisp , white lab coat leaned against the door frame , whoever wore it nothing more than a shadow . there were no distinct markings , or features , that made who or whatever bore the coat look human — its arms were folded , fabric wrinkled and taught to communicate that flexed muscles laid beneath . the insects in her stomach buzzed uncertainly , and saal blinked through the haze of mist and smoke as if it'd make identifying who loomed in her bathroom a far easier task .

" you've been in the bath far too long , saaliha . "

" not that long , " came her voice , but her lips hadn't moved . the syllables echoed like the chime of a silver bell . the light above flickered .

" long enough , " their voice came again . she could hear the drumming of fingers on polyester and rayon , the song of wavering patience .

" a few more minutes . "

" the water is cold . you'll get sick . i don't have time for you to be sick . "

" just a little longer . "

" saaliha . " stern , voice solid like stone . no room for argument . her name had been wielded like a weapon , the impatience beneath it festering like a sickness that would wipe out a population .

the bulb above blinked again ; once . twice . thrice . marbled eyes lifted to the ceiling , the shifting of tides coming again as the bathwater moved in tandem with her lifting chin. the air around her was warm and sticky ; maybe she shouldn't have closed the door .

" i'm sorry , saal . "

he didn't mean it . he never did . sorry was just a means of getting out of something without having to fully own that you did it . an apology was a bandaid over a bullet hole ; there was no withdrawing the ammunition from its fleshy prison . not without surgery .

and for a man who loved surgery , a man obsessed with her health , he'd miraculously never located the wounds in which he himself inflicted .

her head was then under the surface , fingers wrapped around the tubs edge to hold herself beneath it , hair a vortex of brown and chestnut that spiked and curled like vines . saal opened her mouth , pushed the air from her lungs , her scream muted by the bubbles that rose to the surface like the smoke cloud of an atomic bomb . fingernails broke from the force of her grip , her agony a muffled , one instrument orchestra . the waters curled over the lip of the tub , sloshing onto the floor , and all she could hear was the drill tone of his attempt at redeeming himself .

sorry . sorry . sorry .

organs cramped , the last bit of oxygen scraped from the bottom of pink sacks with a rusted spoon , and before her vision could blacken itself she was flying back up . she sucked in a gasp of air , lungs blooming in her chest , her scars pulsing with electricity like the figure in the doorway had thrown a toaster in with her and its current had only targeted the parts of her that weren't whole . time and time again she had been torn and cut apart , then stitched back together , but the wounds would never fully close . her flesh never as it once had been . the last time her skin was unmarred was when it was forming in utero .

suddenly the water in the bath was blood — her blood — thick like syrup . red wine coagulated around the parts of her that now appeared to have been reopened , oozing like liquid pus , bubbling at the tears in her flesh . limbs were smeared in scarlet , like oil paint on canvas , and she attempted to raise herself from the porcelain cauldron only to feel a weight on her shoulder shove her right back in .

a vial came into view , the hand that held it translucent as if it belonged to a ghost. it sunk into the pool of ruby and scooped . then , with the harrowing sound of cork on glass , it was sealed and put to the side . another vial . then another one . vial after vial , scooping and scooping , and saal felt the panic as it entwined around her ribs — bones turning to rose stems ornamented with thorns , cutting her with each breath to further fill the tub .

" now now , saal , you mustn't get squeamish on me . . . " a playful chide , the tutting of a tongue against teeth .

" but you're hurting me . " words whimpered , hoarse , as if the vials were robbing her of her very essence .

" i just want to run some tests . need to make sure you're all healthy , my darling girl . "

" i am healthy !! i'm . . . i'm very healthy . you make sure of it , daddy , you do . "

" precisely why i need more blood . now sit still , saaliha , you're making it difficult to get a clean sample . "

the steam in the bathroom then turned lethal , poison being sucked in through flaring nostrils . the tub was empty , save for her now white-clothed figure , wrists secured to either side of her with leather cuffs and chains that were embedded into the tub's floor . she wore an oxygen mask , but it didn't make it easier to breathe. . . if anything , it made it harder . her nostrils twitched against it , wrists tugging against their restraints , pitiful sobs sounding from her as she writhed ; fight or flight dancing a waltz in eyes swallowed by swelled pupils .

the lab coat had been replaced by a hazmat suit , the wheeze of the wearer's breaths sounding synthesized and almost mechanical .

" you've got to resist as long as you can , saal , i need to know what you can handle . "

a little girl's sob ripped from her throat , head thrashing back . the click of a button and mist began rising from the drain beneath her , crawling along the walls of the tub , emanating a vile hissing noise that buzzed in her ears . water blurred her vision , and saal sobbed , obedience only displayed in the desperate gulps of air she inhaled between weeps .

" that's my girl , deep breaths . "

it felt like acid was seeping into her skin , infiltrating her air ways , diluting her bloodstream , the cloud engulfing her making her itch . webs of scars almost perked at the attentions of the poison , skin running feverishly hot , lungs wheezing as she thumped her head back against the faucet . a gloved hand came to cradle her skull , followed by the clicking of a displeased tongue .

" you must not resist , saaliha , or it won't work and we'll have to start all over again . nearly done now , my sweet girl , just keep breathing . "

keep breathing

keep breathing

keep

breathing

saal woke with a start , flying up in her mess of sheets and scratchy duvet , hands clawing at her sternum only to feel the hummingbird flutter of her pulse and feel the tackiness of perspiration as it veiled her skin . blinking through the haze of sleep , she turned her head , spotting the red numbers of her alarm clock blinking at her ; 4:38am .

a heaved sigh , the pushing of trembling fingers through her hair , the scraping of bitten nails along her scalp . chin dropped to her chest , head heavy , the swell of anxiety within her making even the marrow in her bones tremble .

saal tasted blood in her mouth , iron and salt , and she swallowed it down like bile . she hiccuped , having held her breath without realizing , the acid in her stomach curdling .

he hadn't found her yet .

yet .

or maybe he wasn't looking . had the results of his endless experiments finally proved themselves to be of satisfaction ??

the only thing more devastating than the knowledge that he was just a few blocks away , and she could find him at anytime , was the visual of him looking at the tub and thinking only of the tests he could no longer perform . his guinea pig freed from its cage , having gnawed through the bars until its gums bled ; the only remnants it had ever been there were the filing cabinets of results and observations that were tended to with more care than the rodent itself ever had been . the fog lifted , her heart stilled , and saal wished the tragedy good riddance as it vacated to the far corners of her memory . the veil was drawn back over her eyes , the hum of the air conditioner the only noise as she cooed at her sanity and waved it back into its enclosure .

a soft whisper of thanks , spoken like a prayer ; to jack , to the strength he had put within her without even knowing it . to his words that rang true even when they were built on the foundation of a lack of knowing .

even his name alone was enough to save her from the ailments of her own memory , as she nestled back into bed — heavy lidded , face drooped by exhaustion .

JACK . the writer of scripture , the poet of freedom ; the giver of peace of mind , the deliverance of rest .

her savior .

[mxdzissleepy]

•Run Far,Swim Hard•

•CHAPTER 11•

Y/n blinked her eyes slowly, as sunlight filtered through the window that was next to her bed, her head was fuzzy, and her eyes were still puffy, she could hear the birds outside singing their lovely melodies, and she couldn’t help but to wish to be one, flowing through the wind, and chirping song’s in a language only birds knew, she felt her nose grow stuffy, and her eyes well with tear for a second time, but she quickly wiped her sore eyes. She lifted her tired body from the bed, and got to her feet, and she felt her back pop as she raised arms above her head.

She suddenly heard a knock coming from her door, and with an irritating, and miserable sigh she spoke “Come in.” almost immediately a pale figure slowly backed into the room with a food tray following her, Y/n tried her hardest not to roll her eyes “Good morning m’lady, you have a VERY busy day ahead of you.” Miriam spoke as she turned around in an unnaturally quick way, somehow not tipping any of the food’s, or the pitcher of water that sat on the aforementioned tray, if Y/n was being honest, she NEVER liked Miriam, something was…off about her, she smiled too much, her blonde hair had an almost doll like shine, and she always had this clouded look in her eyes that only Y/n seemed to pick up on “Hello….” Y/n finally opened her mouth after a stretched moment of silence “….I’m not really that hungry at the moment.” Miriam’s smile faltered just a tenge, and he voice strained slightly “Aaah that’s okay, m’lady, ” , and with that Miriam turned sharply with the tray, but before she closed the doors she peeked over her shoulder, and spoke once more “ I will return once I’ve prepared your bath water.” and left Y/n in a tense silence, as soon as the tall doors closed, Y/n let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

The young woman softly sat on her bed, and let her eyes slip shut as she began to think about her future ‘The king of the Northern Lands will be here within a week, that’s enough time to for me to leave.” Her eyes snapped open ‘What am I thinking?That’ll just cause mishaps between my father’s kingdom, and the north’, but the more she sat there in silence the more the thought plagued her. A sudden sharp knock interrupted her pondering, and Miriam entered the room once again “Your water is ready, m’lady.” Y/n nodded her head, and got to her feet for the second time that morning, she didn’t wait for Miriam to retrieve her clothing before she left out of the room, and headed towards the bathroom. She felt sweat start to collect at her hairline as soon as she entered the sweltering, stuffy room, she quickly undressed, and let out a hiss as she slid into the nearly burning water. The room smelt like rose petals , and lavender infused oils, Y/n relaxed in the water for about 5 minutes before she grab the wash cloth that was set out for her, dipped it in the water, grabbed the bar of soap, and began to scrub her body, while scrubbing she closed her eyes, and got lost in her thoughts again ‘five days….five days is all I have to escape. If I bring anything that’ll just slow me down, what would happen if I got cau-‘ “Here are your clothes, and your towel m’lady. Are you ready to get out?” Y/n’s eyes shot open, and darted over to strange woman “Um yes, just let me rinse off, and thank you” Y/n stood up after she had gotten all the suds off of herself then got out of the tub, and wrapped herself in the plush white towel, for some reason her nerves were on fire, her eyes drifted towards Miriam as her stomach stirred, and churned, and suddenly the silence was filled “Your father requested that I tell you that he will be holding a ball in order to announce your marriage to the Northern king.” Y/n felt her body run cold, and her hands tremble, and she tilted her head slightly to fully look at the maiden before she spoke with a slight shake “When will the ball be held?” The corners of Miriam’s eyes crinkled as she began to smile, and she answered

“Three days, m,lady”

[natureshaventexas]

Welcome to Nature's Haven: Your Trusted Source for Organic Wellness

At Nature's Haven, we are committed to providing you with the highest quality organic wellness products that will enrich your daily life. From our USDA certified organic essential oils, bath ball filters, to our rare bergamot essential oils, we are dedicated to offering natural, sustainable, and effective solutions for your mind, body, and soul.

Why Choose Nature’s Haven?

Nature's Haven stands out because we only offer the purest, most natural products. We believe that wellness starts with nature, which is why all of our products are made using the best organic ingredients and eco-friendly methods. Here's why you can trust us with your well-being:

USDA Certified Organic: Our oils are USDA certified, meaning they meet the highest standards of organic growth, free from harmful chemicals, pesticides, and synthetic fragrances.

Sustainability: We source our ingredients responsibly and follow eco-friendly practices to ensure that our products are as gentle on the planet as they are on you.

Pure & Potent: Our oils are extracted with precision to maintain their purity and potency, delivering the full therapeutic benefits nature intended.

USDA Certified Organic Essential Oils: Pure Wellness in Every Drop

Essential oils are celebrated for their incredible therapeutic benefits. At Nature’s Haven, we offer a range of USDA certified organic essential oils that are safe, effective, and eco-friendly. These oils can be used for aromatherapy, skincare, or even in your cleaning routine to create a natural, toxin-free environment.

Some of our most popular oils include:

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Peppermint: Invigorating and refreshing, perfect for a midday pick-me-up.

Tea Tree: Known for its cleansing and purifying properties.

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Bath Ball Filters: A New Level of Relaxation

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Purify the Water: They eliminate chlorine, fluoride, and other contaminants commonly found in tap water, providing your skin with the nourishment it needs.

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Promote Skin Health: The gentle properties of the filter help maintain your skin’s natural balance, leaving it soft, refreshed, and rejuvenated.

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Bergamot Essential Oils: A Burst of Citrus for Your Wellness

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Bergamot essential oil is famous for:

Mood Enhancement: It has uplifting effects that can help reduce stress, anxiety, and depression. A few drops in a diffuser or applied topically can brighten your day.

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[dropexusa]

BA490 6-Mode High Pressure Handheld Shower Head Set, Consumer Reports Recommended HOPOPRO High Flow Hand Held Showerhead with 59 Inch Hose Bracket Teflon Tape Rubber Washers

-21% $25.99  (Price can be change)

 About this item

Water Saving without Reducing High Pressure Performance: HOPOPRO upgraded high flow handheld showerhead adopts unique water pressure enhancement technology, while enhancing the high-pressure shower experience, it also maintains good water-saving performance, allowing you to enjoy a comfortable shower without worrying about high water bills

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Brand Professionalism and Advantage: HOPOPRO is a brand tested and recommended by The Washington Post,NBC News, Today tv show as its premium product quality, fabulous shower experience and considerate customer service  

[naturesheavens]

Nature’s Heavens: A Gateway to Purity and Wellness

In a world filled with pollutants and artificial additives, Nature’s Heavens stands as a beacon of purity and wellness, providing natural solutions that enhance everyday living. From water purification solutions to organic sandalwood and bath ball filters, Nature’s Heavens ensures that every aspect of self-care is rooted in nature’s best offerings.

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[streamedge12]

Delicious Local Foods You Must Try in Sakleshpur

Sakleshpur, a serene hill station in Karnataka, is not only known for its lush green coffee plantations and scenic landscapes but also for its mouthwatering local cuisine. The flavors here reflect the rich culture and traditions of Karnataka, offering a delightful experience for food lovers. If you’re visiting Sakleshpur, don’t miss out on these delicious local dishes that will tantalize your taste buds. For a memorable stay that combines comfort and authentic flavors, Streamedge Sakleshpur - Best Resort in Sakleshpur is a perfect choice. Let’s dive into the culinary delights of this beautiful town.

Must Try Foods in Sakleshpur

Akki Roti

Akki Roti is a traditional rice-based flatbread that is a staple in Karnataka households. It’s made using rice flour, grated coconut, and finely chopped vegetables like onions, carrots, and green chilies. The dough is patted thin and cooked on a tawa until golden brown.

Best Enjoyed With: Coconut chutney or spicy tomato chutney.

Pro Tip: Try it hot for the best taste and texture.

Bisi Bele Bath

Bisi Bele Bath is a comforting rice dish cooked with lentils, vegetables, tamarind, and a special spice mix. The name literally means "hot lentil rice." This one-pot meal is flavorful, nutritious, and perfect for a hearty lunch.

Best Enjoyed With: A dollop of ghee and crunchy boondi on top.

Pro Tip: Pair it with a side of raita or papad for an enhanced experience.

Ragi Mudde

Ragi Mudde, or finger millet balls, is a nutritious and energy-packed dish that is very popular in Karnataka. The ragi flour is cooked and rolled into balls, which are then served with a flavorful curry, typically made with mutton or chicken.

Best Enjoyed With: Mutton curry or sambar.

Pro Tip: Eat it the traditional way—by dipping the mudde into the curry and swallowing it without chewing.

Neer Dosa

Neer Dosa, a soft and thin rice crepe, is a favorite in coastal Karnataka. The batter is made from rice soaked and ground with water, making the dosa light and fluffy. Neer Dosa is versatile and pairs well with both sweet and savory accompaniments.

Best Enjoyed With: Coconut chutney, chicken curry, or jaggery syrup.

Pro Tip: Keep the batter consistency watery for soft dosas.

Kotte Kadubu

Kotte Kadubu is a unique dish made with idli batter steamed in jackfruit leaves. The leaves infuse a subtle aroma into the idlis, making them more flavorful. This dish is not only delicious but also eco-friendly!

Best Enjoyed With: Sambar and coconut chutney.

Pro Tip: Try it with a drizzle of ghee for an authentic touch.

Chitranna (Lemon Rice)

Chitranna is a simple yet flavorful dish made with rice, lemon juice, turmeric, and tempered spices. It’s light, refreshing, and perfect for a quick meal. The tangy flavor of lemon combined with the aroma of curry leaves makes this dish irresistible.

Best Enjoyed With: Curd or pickle.

Pro Tip: Add roasted peanuts for an extra crunch.

Mangalorean Fish Curry

Seafood lovers must try Mangalorean Fish Curry when in Sakleshpur. This curry is rich, spicy, and made with freshly ground spices and coconut milk. The tanginess from tamarind adds a unique flavor to the dish.

Best Enjoyed With: Steamed rice or neer dosa.

Pro Tip: Opt for fresh, local fish for the best taste.

Kesari Bath

Kesari Bath is a popular dessert made with semolina, sugar, ghee, and saffron. It’s often flavored with cardamom and garnished with cashews and raisins. The vibrant yellow color and rich aroma make it a feast for the senses.

Best Enjoyed With: As a dessert or with coffee.

Pro Tip: Add a few strands of saffron for a richer flavor and aroma.

Filter Coffee

A trip to Sakleshpur is incomplete without sipping on a cup of traditional South Indian filter coffee. Made from freshly ground coffee beans and served with frothy milk, this coffee is strong, aromatic, and perfect for coffee enthusiasts.

Best Enjoyed With: Any South Indian breakfast dish.

Pro Tip: Ask for extra froth for an authentic experience.

Kadubu (Steamed Dumplings)

Kadubu is a steamed rice dumpling stuffed with a mixture of coconut and jaggery or spiced lentils. This dish can be sweet or savory, depending on the filling.

Best Enjoyed With: Coconut chutney or jaggery syrup.

Pro Tip: Try both versions to savor the sweet and savory flavors.

Maddur Vada

Maddur Vada is a crispy and savory snack made with rice flour, semolina, and finely chopped onions. It’s deep-fried until golden brown and has a unique crunchy texture.

Best Enjoyed With: Coconut chutney or a cup of tea.

Pro Tip: Eat it hot and fresh for maximum crunch.

Kayi Holige (Coconut Obbattu)

Kayi Holige, also known as Coconut Obbattu, is a sweet flatbread stuffed with coconut and jaggery mixture. It’s similar to a stuffed paratha but sweeter and more aromatic.

Best Enjoyed With: A dollop of ghee.

Pro Tip: Heat it slightly before serving for a melt-in-the-mouth experience.

Conclusion

Sakleshpur’s local cuisine is a blend of flavors that reflects the region’s rich heritage. From savory snacks to sweet treats, there’s something for everyone to enjoy. Make sure to try these delicious dishes during your visit to truly experience the essence of Sakleshpur. For a comfortable stay and to savor some of these local delights, consider StreamEdge Sakleshpur, one of the luxury resorts in Sakleshpur, where you can enjoy both nature and authentic food.

Experience a peaceful stay in Sakleshpur at StreamEdge Sakleshpur, where nature, comfort, and adventure come together for a perfect retreat. Immerse yourself in scenic landscapes while enjoying a relaxing and memorable getaway.

[cosmic-glow]

hello !! hope you have a nice day <3

can you please write a soft/fluff Legolas x Reader with the drabble 2 ?

Notes: I swear the ending is cute!! But there's a silly fight first😭 it's my first time writing for Legolas, I hope you like it, good reading!

"I only think about you" - Legolas

Warnings: Legolas x gn!reader; reader is children of Elrond; mention of quarrel and fight; Legolas confused by his own feelings; SFW.

- I still don't understand why this would be my responsibility - the son questioned his father.

- Because I'm ordering! - Thranduil spoke already irritated - They are children of Elrond, and if they don't return safely from this journey, you will regret it.

And it was with this conversation that Legolas stuck with you on this long journey. You were Elrond's youngest heir, the youngest, and most irritating to Legolas. You always got into trouble, it was obvious that you would need protection. The elf prince only regretted that he was chosen for this. It wasn't enough for you to disturb his thoughts from the first time you met at the ball - your beauty able to leave him breathless and your attitude overflowing with confidence - now he was forced to put up with your physical presence too.

- Let's stop here, it's already getting dark, let's take advantage of the remaining light to set up camp - said the blonde.

You agreed, and after everything was ready, you asked for privacy to bathe in the nearby river. Legolas warned that it wasn't a good idea, but you, stubborn as ever, didn't listen and assured him that you'd be fine on your own. It was only a few minutes before the elf heard the sounds of fighting coming from the direction you were. As he approached, he soon recognized the figure that had his back to him trying to approach you in the river, it was a goblin. Without hesitation, Legolas shot an arrow right through the center of the creature's skull, which landed in front of you, revealing your traveling companion close behind.

- I told you it was a bad idea! - he approached, irritated by your carelessness.

- You didn't have to come, I had everything under control! - you shouted back.

- Really? Well, it didn't seem that way, do I always have to watch out for you?!

- If it bothers you so much you didn't have to come, you can leave, then you won't have to think about me anymore!

- I'd love not to think about you all the fucking time!

Legolas shouted from the bottom of his lungs, stressed and tired, not just from the journey, but from the feelings that were growing for you and consuming him more every day. You kept quiet, surprised because you had never seen him like this, sinking a little deeper into the water to hide your naked body more, realizing your shame only now. Legolas, who had only just realized it too, turned around to give you some privacy, but also before you could notice the blush growing on his cheeks.

- I'm sorry... That's not what I meant, I'm just tired... Let's go, if there's a goblin here there must be others nearby.

Silently, you agreed and obeyed, and after getting out of the river and changing, you broke camp and moved on.

The trip followed in silence, now an awkward atmosphere between you two, more distant than ever. Feeling responsible for that, Legolas decided to break the silence when you stopped to eat.

- I shouldn't have screamed, I'm just worried because I'm responsible for you, so if something happened to you...

- No, I understand, it was my stupid idea and... I understand if you don't want to continue the trip, I don't want to be a burden for you.

- You would never be a burden - he spoke automatically, without filtering before how revealing the words could be - Even if I left, I would keep thinking about you - and with that he decided to shut up, realizing how the words accumulated in his mind now just leave without him being able to control it.

- Really? Would you keep thinking about me even after all the stress I've caused you?

- You don't understand, I only think about you. My worry and stress would only increase if I left, because... Because I really like you - the last sentence came out as a whisper.

The blush had returned to his face, his anxious heart beating harder, his eyes unable to face you now. Legolas tried to stand firm, but he was crumbling under your lingering gaze.

- Oh, that's good to know - you smiled - because you have also been tormenting my thoughts, Legolas.

Prompt: "I'd love not to think about you all the fucking time!"

Sorry for any typos;

Buy me a coffee?

Masterlist

[the-firebird69]

So John remillard is bringing up the tail end and he had a bunch of sharks and he's hitting them and people yelling at him to pull it in and to stop doing that so he pulls in all the sharks and he sells them for a lot of money some guys are doing that behind the boats okay

It's a metaphor so he's going to begin he gets his balls really big and goes to Greece and gets in a lot of trouble good for Billy Hicks

Haha that was the girl and he knows her knows who she is can't get her name right now she's been around for a long time in his life and she does good stuff and Lily usually does those guys are facing it now this is what they want for us. The radiation level right now is 28 and it will be for 10 more minutes and the girl is trying to find shelter he says even your car and if you turn on recycle it's still going to be like 18 or so she's going to try hopefully otherwise she's going to have to treat it's pretty hefty coming up two more before nightfall there's three big ones open now me too full bloom in two days or less because the salinity is going up to 38 tonight we believe. And it's not good but we have a couple winners Jason and Lily called and apologized and said I hope it wasn't bothered but we're exhausted no but Stan said it for them.

The kind of situation but you made note I'm sick of it I can't stand him you can't intimidate me I'm going to be right out there beating them to death like John remillard and the guy said this he stopped him after he hit me I didn't do anything else and didn't make a lot of it but he made tons on the other side but he's just trying to sleep and get by and it's harder than hell I see him struggling everyday to eat and to get into bed and to shower of those balls exploding and he says it like that and it's terrible cuz he knows that he's going through it they're all getting sick he has about 3.8% left and he's going slow and you can't really do lipo you get really sick no you can you have to know how to do it he knows some of that stuff and he's not bad at it. We have a couple more things to announce but that was an experience for our son she painted probably 50% of it when he was there and took her time modified it a bit and he only got to see a little and she was kind of hiding it a little but not fully and he said it's good work I can't tell which is up and it's kind of the nature of that it means what it says don't know if you're upside down or not and the max are saying it in cuz they rebelled it cost a lot of problems for them and he says the salt air is coming in it's wonderful but the other part of it's not good for the lady and she says you're right and she has to go in and recover and a nice salt bath would be good if you can clean the water and she's smirking a little it doesn't feel good afterwards does it she says no why is that I don't know I think we're absorbing something in the water and people say it I feel gross after showering or inflamed and it's the hot water is a little salt but there's radiation no it's hard water and you're getting nutrients most of the time they make you inflamed a shorter shower is better for you or heavily filtered water

--it's a lot of stuff going on so we're going to print

Thor Freya well the radiation tonight will be 38 tomorrow 39 but come Thursday it will be 42 from those three we think that the caverns will fall that's the five in the Park Saturday morning or Sunday morning it will go up to about 68 42 is around 17 where is 68 is around 25 all day long that's the average and where our sun is and it is about the same only 1 rad lower. He can take it and this week all of the Prilosec will be gone risperdal will be down to about 29% by Monday and it will continue to drop probably 4% a day roughly but a week and a half it's all gone the fat will slowly emulsify over months and the secret is it can be used as emergency energy. And she did not make it inside but a lot of people are out and right now it's about a 12 on average it's only about seven cuz those other ones are small it's not too bad but it's not that great

Her watercolor came out pretty good and you can tell what it is and it has detail on it some of those strange things happening here now there's smoke in the air and you can see it in the painting the details are of a close up and she's far away but as you get closer it's what it looks like and she wanted that particular angle and he says from her seat it's a lot more visible but looks very odd because it's backlit and it really is sunset approaching on the dock to bring fish in and they want to use her and her son to do it but separate seeing a different tables not far apart we know the method and we understand it she gets it too and they're a nightmare so it needs to be verified in closing I would say this is what it should be like before all that happens but it's happening

Thor Freya

Olympus

[gelblasters56]

Bath Ball Water Filter | Bath Ball Replacement Filter

When it comes to creating a luxurious and rejuvenating bathing experience, the quality of the water you use plays a crucial role. Many people focus on their skincare and bath products but overlook the water itself, which can contain various impurities that may affect both your skin and overall health. Enter the Bath Ball Water Filter—a simple yet effective solution to ensure that the water you bathe in is as clean and pure as possible. In this guide, we’ll dive deep into the benefits of using a Bath Ball Water Filter, how to properly use it, and why timely replacement of the Bath Ball Replacement Filter is essential for maintaining its effectiveness.

Understanding the Bath Ball Water Filter

What is a Bath Ball Water Filter?

A Bath Ball Water Filter is a device designed to purify bathwater by removing contaminants such as chlorine, heavy metals, and other impurities. It’s typically made of a filter medium enclosed in a ball-shaped design that easily fits in your bath. This filter works by neutralizing the harmful substances in your water, making it gentler on your skin and hair.

Why Use a Bath Ball Water Filter?

Using a Bath Ball Water Filter offers several benefits. First and foremost, it improves the quality of your bathwater by filtering out chlorine, which can dry out your skin and hair. It also helps reduce the presence of heavy metals and other contaminants that may cause irritation or long-term health issues. Additionally, a cleaner bathwater experience can enhance the effectiveness of your bath products, such as soaps, shampoos, and oils, leading to softer skin and shinier hair.

How Does a Bath Ball Water Filter Work?

The mechanism behind a Bath Ball Water Filter is simple yet effective. Inside the ball, there is a filter cartridge made from various filtration materials like activated carbon, which traps and neutralizes contaminants. As the water flows through the filter, impurities are captured, and cleaner, softer water is released into your bath.

The Importance of Replacing Your Bath Ball Replacement Filter

When to Replace Your Bath Ball Replacement Filter?

Just like any other water filter, the Bath Ball Water Filter’s effectiveness diminishes over time as it accumulates contaminants. Therefore, it’s crucial to replace the Bath Ball Replacement Filter regularly. The general recommendation is to replace the filter every six months or sooner if you notice a decrease in water quality or flow.

Signs That Your Bath Ball Replacement Filter Needs Replacement

There are a few telltale signs that your Bath Ball Replacement Filter needs to be changed. These include a noticeable decrease in water flow, a persistent odor in the water, or if your skin and hair start feeling dry and irritated after bathing. If you observe any of these signs, it’s time to swap out the old filter for a new one.

How to Replace Your Bath Ball Replacement Filter

Replacing the Bath Ball Replacement Filter is a straightforward process. First, open the filter housing by unscrewing it. Remove the old filter and discard it. Insert the new filter into the housing, making sure it’s securely in place. Finally, screw the housing back together and run water through the filter for a few minutes to activate it and flush out any loose particles. Your Bath Ball Water Filter is now ready to use again!

Maximizing the Benefits of Your Bath Ball Water Filter

Pairing with High-Quality Bath Products

To get the most out of your Bath Ball Water Filter, consider using high-quality, natural bath products that are free from harsh chemicals. With cleaner water, your soaps, shampoos, and conditioners will lather better and rinse more thoroughly, leaving your skin and hair feeling fresh and revitalized.

Regular Maintenance for Longevity

In addition to regularly replacing the Bath Ball Replacement Filter, it’s essential to clean the filter housing and the ball itself periodically. This helps prevent the buildup of mold and bacteria, ensuring that your filter remains effective and hygienic.

Cost-Effective and Environmentally Friendly

While the initial investment in a Bath Ball Water Filter and replacement filters might seem significant, it’s a cost-effective solution in the long run. By reducing the need for additional skincare treatments or hair products, you can save money over time. Moreover, using a Bath Ball Water Filter is an environmentally friendly choice, as it reduces the need for plastic bottles and other single-use products.

Choosing the Right Bath Ball Water Filter for Your Needs

Factors to Consider When Buying a Bath Ball Water Filter

When selecting a Bath Ball Water Filter, consider factors such as the size of your bathtub, the water quality in your area, and any specific skin concerns you might have. Some filters are more effective at removing certain contaminants than others, so it’s essential to choose one that suits your needs.

Popular Brands and Models

There are several reputable brands that offer high-quality Bath Ball Water Filters, each with its own set of features. Look for brands that have positive customer reviews and offer replacement filters that are easy to find and purchase. Some of the top brands include Crystal Quest, CuZn, and Sprite, each known for their reliable and effective bath filters.

Comparing Costs and Features

Price is always a consideration when purchasing a Bath Ball Water Filter, but it shouldn’t be the only factor. Compare features such as filter lifespan, ease of installation, and the range of contaminants filtered. Sometimes, paying a bit more upfront can save you money in the long run if the filter lasts longer or requires fewer replacements.

Bath Ball Water Filter and Skin Health

The Impact of Chlorine on Skin and Hair

Chlorine is commonly added to municipal water supplies to kill bacteria, but it can have adverse effects on your skin and hair. Prolonged exposure to chlorine can lead to dryness, irritation, and even exacerbate conditions like eczema. A Bath Ball Water Filter can significantly reduce chlorine levels in your bathwater, helping to protect your skin and hair from these harmful effects.

Reducing Skin Irritation and Allergies

For those with sensitive skin or allergies, a Bath Ball Water Filter can be a game-changer. By removing potential irritants such as chlorine and heavy metals, the filter helps create a more soothing and less reactive bathing environment. This can lead to fewer breakouts, reduced redness, and overall improved skin health.

Enhancing the Effectiveness of Skincare Products

Clean water enhances the absorption of skincare products, allowing them to penetrate deeper into the skin. With fewer contaminants in your bathwater, your moisturizers, serums, and other skincare products can work more effectively, leading to better results and healthier skin.

Environmental Benefits of Using a Bath Ball Water Filter

Reducing Plastic Waste

By using a Bath Ball Water Filter, you’re contributing to the reduction of plastic waste. Many skincare and haircare products come in plastic packaging, which often ends up in landfills or oceans. By improving the quality of your bathwater, you may find that you need fewer products, thereby reducing your reliance on plastic packaging.

Supporting Sustainable Water Use

Water is a precious resource, and filtering your bathwater helps reduce the overall chemical load on the environment. When you use a Bath Ball Water Filter, you’re not just protecting your skin—you’re also supporting more sustainable water practices.

Promoting a Healthier Home Environment

A Bath Ball Water Filter helps create a healthier home environment by reducing the number of chemicals that enter your living space. This is especially important for families with young children or pets, who may be more sensitive to the effects of waterborne contaminants.

What contaminants do Bath Ball Water Filters remove?

Bath Ball Water Filters primarily remove chlorine, heavy metals like lead and mercury, and other common impurities found in tap water. Some advanced filters can also reduce the presence of volatile organic compounds (VOCs) and other harmful substances.

Can I use a Bath Ball Water Filter in a shower?

While Bath Ball Water Filters are specifically designed for bathtubs, some models can be adapted for use in showers. However, for optimal results, it’s recommended to use a filter designed specifically for showerheads if that’s your preferred method of bathing.

How often should I replace the Bath Ball Replacement Filter?

The Bath Ball Replacement Filter should typically be replaced every six months, but this can vary depending on the frequency of use and the quality of your water. Always follow the manufacturer’s guidelines for replacement to ensure optimal performance.

Are Bath Ball Water Filters safe for children and pets?

Yes, Bath Ball Water Filters are safe for children and pets. In fact, they are especially beneficial for individuals with sensitive skin, including young children and pets, as they help reduce exposure to harmful chemicals in bathwater.

Can a Bath Ball Water Filter help with hard water?

While a Bath Ball Water Filter can reduce some of the effects of hard water, it is not specifically designed to soften water. If you have particularly hard water, you may need to use a water softener in conjunction with your Bath Ball Water Filter.

What are the costs associated with using a Bath Ball Water Filter?

The initial cost of a Bath Ball Water Filter can vary depending on the brand and model, typically ranging from $30 to $80. Replacement filters usually cost between $15 and $30 and need to be replaced every six months. Overall, it’s a relatively low-cost investment for the benefits it provides.

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