#dazed and confused au

[spatialwave]

𝐝𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝. 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨.

“𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐒”

pairing: angus tully x fem!reader | benny o’donnell x fem!reader word count: 10.6k summary: school is out, and you’re free of the shackles of education, an entire summer in the horizon. after pickford’s end-of-school party gets busted, boredom and uncertainty strikes. instead of drinking and partying, you find yourself falling deeper and deeper into a love triangle you hadn’t meant to get yourself caught in — what will you do? who will you choose? warnings/tags: underage drinking and drug use, use of homophobic slurs, bullying, verbal assault, jealousy, love triangle. notes: not me writing this and actually getting obsessed with benny (cole hauser). still not beta'd, so apologies for grammatical/pacing errors!

(ao3 vers.) <- chapter one. chapter three. ->

Sharing a joint before coming home was not the smartest decision you’d made in your career as a high school student. The haziness had left your limbs heavy and your mind up in the clouds, your bed so incredibly inviting. In fact, so inviting that the moment you stepped into your room, you had curled up into your bed and nuzzled into the blankets.

Your body was heavy, but floating. All you could think about was Angus Tully, a smile spreading as your fingers pressed against your lips. You were lost in your imagination, mind stuck on wondering what it would feel like with his lips pressed against yours. How his body would feel pressed over yours, hands in his wild curls, legs wrapped around his hips so he’s flush against you. Heavy breaths and the taste of weed on your lips as your tongues brushed together.

Soon, you were far in a dreamless nap until you heard the clanking of pots and pans from the kitchen—your mother cooking dinner. The sleep had left you disoriented, your hair in a mess and arms achy from passing out in an uncomfortable position. You wished to fall asleep again.

With the evening sun moving down into the horizon and the night sky daring to take over, you couldn’t will yourself to get out of bed. All your mind could focus on was the day you’d just had, and you were nearly content with laying back down and imagining it all over again. The afternoon you’d spent with Angus and how you couldn’t wait to see him again, even with the plans of a party falling through. 

You would see him at some point, but when and where? 

Without the effects of weed, you were left with a knot in your stomach, a reminder of how nervous you were about the situation. It was easier to be inebriated and forget about the harsh reality of Angus being a ‘taken’ man, versus you being sober and seeing Elise’s face burned into your head every time you closed your eyes.

Eventually, after a few minutes of fighting off the urge to sleep and reminding yourself you wasted precious time, you forced yourself up in your bed and rubbed away the tiredness in your eyes. It took a forceful push for you to crawl out of bed and placing your feet on your carpeted floor, wiggling your toes as you slowly woke up and came back into your consciousness.

You wobbled over to your dresser and reached to your record player, putting the tonearm down and placing the needle onto the record–Dreamboat Annie by Heart. Your all-time favourite record.

The best decision you made since coming home was a hot shower that nearly burned your skin, ending it off with a quick rinse of cold water to jolt you awake from the grogginess that had consumed you. Music played through the closed door of your adjoined bathroom, lucky enough to score a better bedroom than Mitch, your younger brother. Softly singing along to the muffled sounds of Crazy on You, you dried off your body and let your wet hair cling to your damp skin, eyes looking over your body in the foggy mirror. You often tried not to look at yourself too much in mirrors, a practice that was ingrained into you as a young child from your mother reprimanding you from being ‘too vain’–ah, the joys of living in a catholic household.

Then, before you could act in vain, the pounding of someone knocking on your bedroom door furiously took your attention, and you wondered if your mother found out about you smoking with Angus and Slater. You hurriedly finished drying your body and moved back into your bedroom with the towel wrapped around you, body shivering at the difference in air temperature.

“What?” You snapped at the bothersome knocking, pressing your ear against the door, expecting your mother’s voice and the imminent disapproval of your actions.

“Angus is outside,” your brother’s voice spoke. He sounded tired, but you remembered he’d just gotten home from his baseball game–meaning you hardly had anytime before Kaye would be showing up. 

And here you were, in a towel, and the boy you’d been dreaming about waiting for you outside.

“Fuck,” you whined, hearing the footsteps of your brother move away, “thanks for letting me know!”

You panicked in your room, looking around as you dropped the towel and quickly dug in your dresser for clothes, anything remotely decent for the party. It was hard to slip on with your damp skin, but you’d eventually managed to get into high-waisted denim bell-bottoms and a cropped, flower-print halter top that exposed your belly. It even managed to make you look bustier than normal, you wouldn’t complain about that.

Your hair was still wet as you unlocked your bedroom door and made way for the front, spotting a shadowy figure through the small window on the door. Taking a calming, deep breath, you reached for the door handle and slowly opened it, peaking out of it first before committing to stepping outside.

Immediately, your eyes settled on Angus, the tall, lanky boy leaning against the column that held up the awning over the front door. Those brown eyes flickered up to look at you, a delighted smile adorning his lips as he pushed off the column and shoved his hands into his pockets. With a breathy, nervous laugh, you fully stepped outside and closed the door behind you, pressing your weight back against it as you forced yourself to meet his piercing gaze.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, hands tucked behind your body and fidgeting with them as you kept steady breaths. 

“I brought Mitch back from his ball game and wanted to see what you were up to,” he replied, still grinning shyly, “I know it’s only been a couple of hours, but I was here already. So, yeah… just wanted to pop-in.”

There was that awkward side of him again, a part of him you saw when no one else was around. A shy, awkward kid that you could only imagine was most of his personality when he was younger and far before he’d made it as a popular football player. Though, it was all speculation, you still hadn’t known much about his younger self—you’d love to know.

“Thanks for bringing him back… Did they get him?” You asked, cringing at the mere thought of your younger brother getting caught by the senior boys, exposed to harsh paddling.

“Uh, yeah, unfortunately.” Angus pulled his eyes away, “Kountze is such a prick, I told your brother to ice up for a bit or else he’d be having a hard time sitting for a few weeks.”

“At least he’s home now,” you sighed, arms crossed over your body as you sympathized with your brother’s pain.

Silence rose between you two, and you found yourself unable to look up at Angus. You could see out of your peripheral that it was the same for him, his eyes dropping to look at his feet.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” You asked quietly, an amused expression on your face as you two connected eyes again.

“What? This doesn’t count as something?” He chided in return, stepping closer to you, and you almost wanted to ask if he could reach forward and slip his finger into your belt loop like he did earlier. Tug your hips together and talk some more, shameless flirting. You lived for his attention like it was a drug. 

Craved it.

“It is something, but I’m not sure how productive it is,” you laughed, reaching for the door handle behind you, “do you know if anything is happening tonight?”

Angus crinkled his face, signifying that plans were still a bust, “Not really sure yet. Probably going to drive around and see what’s up I guess, maybe go to the Emporium. I just gotta’ go home and change.”

Silence filled the space between you both again, leaving you dumbfounded and chewing on your lip as you racked your brain with something to say that wouldn’t sound stupid. You were drawing a blank, feeling like a young girl talking to a cute boy for the first time. It was easy for that feeling to come back when you were alone with Angus, a testament to how badly you were crushing on him.

“I should, uh-–” you murmured, clearing your throat as you twisted the knob, “go back in and get ready. Kaye will be here any second, and I haven’t even dried my hair.”

That roused a laugh from Angus, his eyes flicking up to your hair that had started to dry at the roots, a bit all over the place, but he liked the authenticity you displayed. He liked you at your best and at your worst, but this was far from your worst. He found himself wanting to stay put, to ask to go inside and spend the rest of his night hanging out with you instead of out driving around and drinking with the boys. Angus could already imagine what you two could get up to if you were alone—it filled him with excitement.

“I’ll see you later, then?” Angus asked, getting his mind out of the gutter, but not yet moving from his spot. He towered over you with that stupid smile, the one that made you want to wipe it away with your lips.

“Maybe,” you couldn’t help but tease, your hand pressing against his chest and pushing him back playfully, fingers relishing in the brief contact, “go on, I’m sure your boys are missing you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. My boys.” he chuckled, moving down the front steps and walking backward to keep his eyes on you, “Don’t you go missing me too much, alright?”

“I never do!” You called out to him through a big smile, watching as he slipped around the other side of his car and clutched his heart, as though you shot him. So dramatic.

Your feet had stayed firmly planted on the ground, eyes watching as he waved at you through his passenger side window before driving off down your block. You stayed there for a few minutes, watching the setting sun, before realization hit, and you ran back inside to finish getting ready.

Makeup and hair was your focus as you raced the clock, fingers careful as you applied colour to your lips and cheeks, coating your lashes in mascara to brighten the eyes and make you look alive. Those same careful hands moved to your hair, styling it several ways before you settled on something that kept it out of your eyes—nothing fancy. 

As your finger patted on one final layer of colour to your cheeks, after accidentally smudging your face with mascara and needing a fix, you heard the sound of a car honking outside. Quickly, you did one final look over of yourself in your full-length mirror, sucking in a deep breath and smiling. You looked fucking incredible. You were confident. There was nothing that could ruin your night.

“Goodbye, mom! I’ll see you later!” You called you as you slipped out from your bedroom, waltzing down the hallway excitedly. You had hardly seen her today, only at breakfast and a ten minutes earlier when you snuck into the kitchen and grabbed a small plate of food to settle your stomach before the night began.

“Try not to stay out all night, alright?” She called back, you could hear the sound of her doing the dishes, porcelain clinging together as she stacked the drying rack full, “And don’t be loud, you’ll wake up your grandmother.” 

“I promise.” You said, peaking your head into the kitchen to spot your mother, flashing her a smile that simply couldn’t let her be grumpy with you.

“Have fun,” she said to you, rolling her eyes as she put away the last of the dry dishes and watched you slip on your sandals and run out the door, feeling nothing short but free. The two of you always had a great relationship, but as you got older, you could tell that her emotions were starting to get the best of her. Soon, you’d be gone to college and off living your own adult life, she wasn’t ready to let that go yet, and sometimes you had to fight for a night with your friends.

Thankfully, she understood the importance of tonight. She was a senior at Lee High School once.

“Hey! Sabrina!” You cheered, spotting the freshman sitting in the back of Kaye’s Volkswagen Convertible as you jogged out of your front door, eager to get the night started. You slid easily into the passenger seat, settling in and turning on your side to look at the two girls, “how was the car wash?” You asked, a mischievous smile on your lips—thankful you weren’t there to watch the madness.

“Cold,” the freshman chuckled, playing with the ends of her hair as Kaye hit the pedal and the car lurched forward as you made way for a night of driving with the girls, “but I was cleaned off at least. I was starting to feel sick from the smell of mustard. I don’t know if I’ll be able to go to any summer barbecues this year.”

“Hope the other girls weren’t too hard on you,” you hummed in thought, leaning against the seat and watching over the brunette, who seemed much too sweet for her own good. You could already see the heads she’d be turning at school in the fall, you wondered how Darla would make do with it. She reeked of insecurity, the type of girls to get jealous over fresh meat coming in and whisking attention away.

“No, they were good,” she assured, “Then after Kaye dropped me off and invited me along tonight.”

“Wow, she does have a heart,” you spoke in feigned awe, earning a playful shove from Kaye, who glared at you from the driver’s seat.

After the sun fully set beyond the horizon, and you and Kaye had smoked a couple cigarettes and assaulted Sabrina with questions about the upcoming school year, you found yourself watching the scenery that passed by. You’d also mentioned to them how Pickford’s party was busted, unsurprised was that they’d heard about it already. New travelled sickeningly fast.

You smiled to yourself as you enjoyed the cool breeze on your skin from the top of the car being down, relief from the hot sun earlier that afternoon.

“So, you left with Angus early,” Kaye said, looking in the rearview and connecting her gaze with Sabrina, who wasn’t looped into the entirety of the drama, “Right, to get you up to speed, Miss Freshman, your favourite senior here is a conniving, two-timing woman.”

“I am not conniving!” You gasped, swatting at Kaye.

“Kidding! Kidding! I would never accuse you of anything bad. You’re allowed to have options,” She laughed, eyes on the road as you three cruised down random neighbourhood roads, navigating your way downtown to stop at Top Notch. You rolled your eyes, but did not interrupt, allowing Kaye her space to go on. She cleared her throat, “So, to sum it up into one sentence, she’s in a casual, steamy relationship with Benny, but has the hots for Angus, a certified popular quarterback who is already dating Elise… Saying it out loud makes it sound like a cringe-worthy romance movie plot. You are now a walking cliché, I hope you know that.”

Sabrina’s eyes narrowed slightly as she tried to keep up with the information that was being thrown at her, names she’d never heard of and scandals she didn’t quite understand.

“Okay, I would not consider me and Benny to be in a relationship, like, at all. Also, calling Angus a popular quarterback does not do him justice,” you butted in, looking over at Kaye with a quirked brow, “he’s a really sweet guy. He’s kind to me. Not just some popular boy. You know, he doesn’t even like being popular.” Kaye rolled her eyes at your comment, always having another opinion than your own, especially when it came to societal issues.

“That’s the curly haired boy you were talking to, right?” The freshman spoke up, tucking hair behind her ear that was blowing wildly in the wind.

“Yep, that’s him,” you smiled back at Sabrina.

“He likes you,” she smiled, a bit uncertain if her advice was warranted, “I mean, if I were a boy… I’d probably stare at a girl like that if I liked her.”

Redness filled your cheeks at the girl's words of wisdom, which left your stomach in knots.

“But he’s with Elise!” You groaned, letting your head fall back against the seat as you stared up at the night sky, “Love is so complicated. It’s like, does he want me or not? If he does, why won’t he break up with her? I feel so goddamn guilty because of her.”

“Easy, cowgirl,” Kaye chuckled, glancing back at Sabrina and clicking her tongue, “I don’t see why you’ve got your panties in a twist, you don’t even like Elise. I’d go as far as to say you probably hate her.”

“I do not hate her,” you lift a finger, not needing your words to get twisted, “And even if she was the world’s worst person, I would still feel guilty because I’m not a bad person.”

Kaye smirked to herself, fingers gripping the wheel a bit tighter as she listened to your concerns, “So… she does have a heart.” She returned the earlier sentiment.

“You’re an ass,” you groaned, lips twitching into a smile, “What do I do? Sabrina, what would you do?”

You turned in your seat again, eyes locking onto the younger girl and waiting to see what advice she would give. Sure, young teens were inexperienced in all sorts of ways, especially compared to your own, but they always said shit exactly like it was. Wiser than most adults gave them credit for.

The girl thought about it, weighing options in her head, “I would confront him about it,” she advised, “if he does really like you then he’d do something about it… right?”

You kept your eyes on Sabrina, pointing at her with a small smile on your face as you admired her intelligence and common sense, “You’re really smart, kid. You make sure that boys treat you good, okay? And if they don’t, you come and find me.”

“And find a boy that’s not dumb like Benny or Angus.” Kaye jumped in, earning yet another playful swat from you that had Sabrina laughing.

As you all drove down the emptying streets, you felt relief. Sabrina’s words kept repeating in your mind, knowing that the only way through the situation was with confrontation, how was Angus supposed to understand your concerns if he didn’t know what they were? Of course, you hoped that he would break up with her regardless before even attempting to flirt with you, but it’s not like you were the poster child for good morals. In the depths of your mind you kept thinking about Benny—you two were far from dating, having several discussions about keeping it casual, but you feared you two were far closer than what had been said aloud.

It had you thinking of his feelings, knowing that if you wanted to play your cards right and be moral well, you’d have to end things with him. Yet, like the fiend you were, you didn’t want to lose out on your back-up if it all fell through with Angus. 

At least Benny was good in bed.

Could things get any worse?

For distraction, you found yourself singing along to the radio, Black Sabbath, one of Kaye’s favourite bands that you’d grown to like. Hard rock wasn’t your forte, but you’d enjoyed the way you’d grown adept at liking things far out of your comfort zone. So long to the girl who only listened to pop albums, now your mother was concerned you were getting into the wrong crowd when you asked her to buy you an AC/DC record for your seventeenth birthday.

Kaye turned on the road, slowing down as you pulled into the drive-thru, pulling up behind a car full of some soon-to-be junior girls–ordering drinks and snacks for you all to share. That’s when you heard the familiar sound of a truck, your eyes pulling away from the chili cheese fries and toward the rumbling of an engine. None other than Darla and Elise, Shavonne having slipped out of the vehicle and running over to jump into the back beside Sabrina, saying her hellos to you all. She focused on properly introducing herself to the new girl as they indulged in some fries together in the backseat.

You, though, couldn’t pull your gaze away and found yourself in a staring match with Elise. With a clenched jaw, you felt anger course through your veins, a rush of jealousy taking over as your mind swirled with all those ugly thoughts of her and Angus together. Envy. You were morphing into a green-eyed monster.

There was so much pent-up energy in you that you wanted to get out of the car and march on over to confront her. To reveal that even though she appeared so naive and innocent on the outside, she was far from it. Elise was a secret mean girl—at least Darla was a bitch to your face.

“Hey!”

You jumped in your seat and turned to look between the three girls, eyes widening as Kaye took a sip of her Coke and looked between you and the truck that had pulled away from Top Notch. Your short-haired friend was too perceiving for her own good, having witness the entirety of your glaring match with the girls.

“Sorry,” you murmured, looking down at the basket of fries in your hands and deciding to calm yourself with a few bites of the greasy food. You needed to get a grip. You hadn’t even had a sip of alcohol yet, and you were already fearing that tonight you’d be an angry drunk.

“Elise and Darla hate you,” Shavonne said, stealing the large coke from Kaye’s hands, her energy so calm that you wouldn’t have been able to tell that she dropped big news on you two.

“What?” You snapped, spinning in your seat so you were on your knees and facing the two in the back. “What did she say? Shavonne, tell us.”

“I don’t know… you have to promise me you won’t get mad,” Shavonne murmured, blue eyes flickering between everyone, “They said something about both of you,” the blonde shot her gaze over to Kaye, who furrowed her brows in a mix of confusion and semi-offence. Mostly curiosity.

“So, you’re all talking about us behind our backs? I would have never guessed.” Kaye grumbled, though the smile on her lips proved how uncaring she was.

“I’m not saying anything until you promise me that neither of you will get mad,” Shavonne said from her spot, looking between her two best friends.

“I won’t get mad, I don’t care what they think,” you reassured her, eagerly leaning forward to hear the gossip. Kaye agreed quietly, eyes flickering into the rearview mirror.

Shavonne held off on her words for a few moments, slowly sipping from the Coke until she was satisfied and let out a long exhale, “Okay, fine. She said you’re a slut,” she pointed to you, “and she called you a dyke,” ending off her words toward Kaye.

The three of you all stared at each other for a few moments, Sabrina looking rather uncomfortable as she feared that you’d all erupt into anger and this would get worse than it already was. The silence was deafening, the sounds of others at the drive-thru somehow seeming quiet and muffled as the words settled in.

Then, you and Kaye busted into a loud fit of laughter, following shortly by Shavonne and an uncertain Sabrina, who chuckled nervously. She seriously didn’t understand high school drama, and she was already growing afraid at the prospect of it. If someone called her a slut, she’d cry about it for days!

“God, they’re so annoying,” you breathed out through a laugh as you settled back into your seat, only feeling the slightest tinge of anger. Mostly, this relieved you because any ounce of sympathy you had over Elise was gone like the wind. 

Sure, it was far from having good morals, but you certainly hoped that you’d be finding yourself with Angus somewhere tonight. Alone, and not so quiet. It’s what you both deserved.

“Did you see how Jason didn’t even say hi to me in class earlier?” Shavonne’s voice was loud over the wind as you girls drove down main street, the radio lowered, “I mean, he walked up to the door and saw me inside and didn’t even acknowledge my existence. He’s such a prick.”

“And here Kaye is trying to tell me that Benny is the worst in school,” you chuckled, glancing back to look at Shavonne, “Jason is a prick, though, he always tries to play hard to get as if you two haven’t been seeing each other all year, like, what’s his deal?”

“Right!” Shavonne exclaimed, taking another drink of the coke that was nearly gone, “And honestly, I’m doing him a favour by sleeping with him. I’m so out of his league.”

“He’s such a weirdo. He thinks being a football player makes him the most popular boy in the school,” you huffed.

“Well, it kind of does,” Shavonne sighed as she deflated into her seat for a moment, only a few seconds later puffing out her chest and sitting up straighter, “Screw him!” She exclaimed, lifting her hands in the air and shedding all worries as she forced herself to cheer out into the night sky. An easy way to uplift her energy. If there was one thing you admired about Shavonne, it was her ability of keeping herself out of the gutter. There was very little that could hold her down, and if it did, it never lasted.

“You tell him,” Kaye chimed in with a big smile, glancing in her rearview when she heard an engine roaring behind–the smile immediately faltering, “Speak of the fucking devil.”

All of you shifted in your seats to look back, seeing Pickford’s car rev up until they reached the same speed as Kaye’s. Inside sat Pickford, Jason, and some boy you didn’t quite recognize that was passing a bong back and forth with Slater in the back seat. Your eyes stared at Jason, narrowing slightly in solidarity with Shavonne’s disappointment.

Jason, who was sitting in the passenger seat, leaned forward to look past Pickford, “Hey, what’s going on?” He asked your group, a smile spread on his lips and completely unaware of the complaining that was going on between you four.

Your eyes lingered on Jason, a brow quirked—severely unimpressed. 

“What are you up to?” Shavonne called over, leaning against her door and locking eyes with Jason, a small smile on her lips. You caught her behaviour, holding back the urge to roll your eyes at how coy she was being after just talking bad about him—she was only human. 

“Oh, you know, smoking a little weed. Driving around,” he said casually, licking his lips as he focused those eyes on the blonde sitting in the backseat of Kaye’s car, “There might be a beer bust later on, just thought you’d want to know.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool,” Shavonne was trying so hard to hide that smile, but it was impossible. Again, you couldn’t blame her, Jason was a really cute guy. Why stay mad, especially on a night like this?

“Do you know where Angus is?” You called over, eyes flickering between Jason and Slater, figuring they were the last to see him. That was enough to garner everyone’s attention, even Pickford removed his eyes from the road to glance at you.

You hadn’t realized that your affairs were so public. 

“He’s back at the Emporium, man,” Slater said from his spot in the backseat, hardly able to keep his eyes fully opened and a goofy smile tainting his lips, “Hanging with Wooderson… I like that guy, man.”

You felt your cheeks warm up at the mere mention of his whereabouts, feeling the stare of Kaye from behind you. Couldn’t you have any peace? If Shavonne could immediately forgive Jason for being a bad not-so-boyfriend, then you should be able to lust after Angus freely! She did say you’re allowed to have options.

“Elise better watch her boy,” Jason said through a grin, wiggling his eyebrows at you. Just as he turned to look at Shavonne, his mouth opening to say his goodbyes—

“Check you later!” Slater said in a dorky tone as he snapped his fingers into guns, a big, toothy smile on his lips. Kaye sped up and down the street, you girls all laughing together as you barely heard Jason chastising Slater for ruining it.

“They’re such dorks,” Kaye shook her head, lifting a hand to adjust her rearview mirror, catching Sabrina in it, “How are you like it so far, Freshie?” She asked, both you and Shavonne’s attention landing on her.

“It’s fun,” Sabrina smiled, “I’ve uh, never had a night like this before. Do you drive around like this a lot?”

“Pretty much,” you answered, turning ahead in your seat as you looked down at your nails, too dark to properly inspects your cuticles, “There’s not much to do in the evenings unless there’s a party, so this is better than nothing.”

“We know this whole city like this back of our hand,” Shavonne said, grinning, “Do your best to keep an eye on it all, yeah? Someday, I’m sure you’ll be driving around with a cute boy looking for a place to park for some… alone time.” She nudged the younger girl, Sabrina blushing at the insinuation.

“Shavonne, do not inflict your teenage horniness on this poor freshman.” Kaye reprimanded playfully, turning down a quiet street.

“What? I’m allowed!” Shavonne snarked, smirking over at the younger girl, “Have you even had your first kiss yet?”

Those words caught your attention as you snuck a glance over your shoulder, smiling when you saw how Sabrina’s cheeks were bright red. That alone was enough admission of the truth, and you could only hope that her high school career was less dramatic than your own.

“We meant what we said earlier,” you said as you adjusted yourself, “Make sure you find a nice boy.”

“She was chatting with Tony earlier, asked her to propose to him.” Kaye chewed on her bottom lip, pulling the car through the neighbourhoods that were quiet and still. Families tucked away in their homes after dinner, porch lights flicking off and on to silently beckon their children away from their evening playtime and back inside.

“Tony?” You smiled brightly, knowing that the blonde boy was a friend of Angus’. You’d been invited to play poker with them a couple of times before, only having made it there once, “Now he is a nice boy. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a vulgar word coming from his mouth, you know.”

“Yeah, he seems nice,” Sabrina giggled shyly, tucking some of her curly hair behind her ear, “He’s just… older, though. Do seniors even like freshman?”

You and Shavonne laughed together, finding her words too innocent. She knew absolutely nothing of high school culture, and you were almost certain she didn’t have an older sister. To be this clueless was a nightmare and a half—you experienced it firsthand as the eldest sibling in your family.

“You have no fucking idea,” the blonde snickered, “I’m so glad you’re with us, Sabrina, you have so much to learn.”

The freshman was wide-eyed and looking between you all, “So… they do like freshman girls?”

“Yes, and it’s sickening,” Kaye said, “I might complain about Jason and Benny every day of my life, but at least they date girls their age,” she said, slowing down as she pulled back onto main street and pulled over on the side of the road where a garbage can was–shifting the car into park, “But Tony is actually a decent guy, so I’ll let that slide.”

Shavonne silently knew her assigned task, scooping up the garbage you girls collected over the past hour and hopping out of the vehicle to throw it away. Once back, she lit up a cigarette, settling back into the seat beside Sabrina and exhaling the smoke up into the night sky.

“Yeah, he’s not a pig like Teddy Kountze. You watch out for him, he flunked senior year, so he’s eighteen now and will still be trying to get with the freshman girls,” you warned her carefully, “and he’s a douchebag. There’s nothing good about him.”

Shavonne nodded to your words, passing the cigarette to you, “You know, my dad was twenty-two when he started dating my mom at sixteen,” she looked between you all, “Now that I’m seventeen it gives me the creeps. My dad was Wooderson’s age when they met, that’s messed up.”

“Do you think he’ll be still hitting on the girls when Sabrina is a senior?” Kaye piped up through a laugh, taking the cigarette from you and inhaling.

The freshman, again, look wide-eyed and nervous. It was endearing.

“Don’t worry,” you said to her through a chuckle, “trust me when I tell you that you’ll know who he is when you see him, and you’ll be rightly turned off. I don’t trust the girls that get with him.”

“Didn’t you sleep with him?” Shavonne kicked your seat.

“What? No! I said I thought about it when he asked,” you grumbled, “I have morals.”

“Obviously not enough to stay away from dudes that have girlfriends,” Kaye rebuked, an impish look on her face.

“I resent that baseless accusation,” you snorted, reaching down to put your hand on the gear shift, “Start driving.”

“Shit, I almost forgot to tell you!” Shavonne squealed, sitting forward so she could lean herself between you and Kaye, falling back slightly as the car sped back onto the road, “I heard from a little bird that Elise is thinking of breaking up with Angus.”

“Really?” You murmured, looking over your shoulder at Shavonne, “don’t lie.”

“I swear to god, she told me herself. She said that she’s getting bored, and she feels like she could do better for senior year,” your friend continued, delighted to see your interest, “But I don’t know if she’ll go through with it.”

“Why not?” Kaye piped up, brows furrowing as she listened to the gossip.

“Because she knows that miss love triangle over here has been hanging out with him,” Shavonne smiled, “Darla saw you two driving around last weekend and Elise is pissed.”

“What? There’s nothing illegal about driving around. We’re friends,” you complained, offended.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, sweetheart, everyone knows that you and Angus have the hots for each other,” Shavonne grinned, “But just know that your little rendezvous are the reason that Elise has decided to hold off on breaking up with him. If you two waited just a few more weeks before spending all the free time you could muster up with each other, he’d probably be all yours for the taking.”

A heavy breath came from you, feeling regret pool inside your stomach and leaving it in a sour pit.

“What a spiteful bitch,” you mumbled under your breath.

“Well, look at it this way,” Kaye started, “if things were getting so boring between them that Elise was wanting to break up with him, then you could probably confront him about it, and he’d break up with her. The only question is, will you?”

Much like a whiny toddler, you pouted in your seat and forced your gaze away from your friends, “Yeah, whatever. I’ll think about it… we need to find some fucking alcohol.”

Kaye pulled onto a road that led past the Recreation Centre, where the freshman were having their own summer kick-off party. Not much of a party than it was a dance being chaperoned by a few parents and teachers, you could even hear the song “Love Hurts” by Nazareth being played loudly from the open doors—poor kids. 

Your eyes flickered ahead as Kaye started slowing down, further down the street you saw a vehicle pulled over on the side of the road with its headlights on and the sound of yelling. “What the hell,” you murmured, leaning over the side of your door to look past the windshield. It was Teddy Kountze’s car, cringing when you heard the cries of the boy as a paddle smacked against him.

Jason came walking from around the front of the car where the boy was pushed against a chain link fence, a smile on his face when he saw Shavonne sitting up and looking over at him. However, everyone's attention was faced over to Kountze, who was relentless with his paddling.

“Go easy on him, would you?” You called out, feeling your heart skip a beat when you realized it was Benny holding the other paddle. He turned over to look at you from afar, a smirk on his lips as you tugged your eyes away.

Jason only smiled wider as he walked closer, “Ladies,” he mused, opening the trunk of the car to reveal a sea of beer bottles and cans. He grabbed one of the glass bottles and a bottle cap opener, leaning back against the trunk, just about to open it until you spoke.

“Who’s the kid?” You asked, sitting up in your seat until you were nearly standing and looking overtop the windshield, cringing slightly as you saw Kountze paddling him a few more times, relentless in doing so. You could hear the cracks of the wood against the denim echo, pained cries coming from the kid.

“Oh, the kid there?” Jason hummed, smirking, “Some kid we saw walking around the rec centre that shouldn’t have been there,” Jason bit down on his bottom lip as his eyes focused on the blonde.

You were focused on Benny, who was walking around the car and standing next to Jason, grabbing one of the beers for himself. He was far from the hottest guy you’d ever seen, but you had grown attached to him, whether you realized it or not. That’s why you grinned when he looked at you, biting down onto your lip coquettishly as he returned with a smile of his own. Okay, maybe he was one of the hottest guys you’d ever seen.

There was something about these small town Texan boys that had you flustered.

It was easy to forget about your troubles when you had boys at your disposal, boys who could make you feel good for a night. So the looming responsibilities ahead were far from your mind and instead focused on the pleasure they gave you. That’s what you and Benny were good for each other.

And that’s how it started. A bit of flirting here and there within your first few weeks of arriving at Lee High School, until one day before a football game he came crawling to you with so much pent-up stress. You two had spent the entire night together, not falling asleep until the birds started chirping. That’s why you had to fight the urge to saunter toward him and forget about your worries of Angus, to indulge in what was comfortable for you. Ignoring your future, ignoring how the unknowing scared you.

“Can you give us some of those beers?” Shavonne called out to Jason, a smile on her lips.

“Why?” He grinned, teasing.

“Just give me a beer,” she groaned, her and Sabrina now sitting up on the backs of their seat, looking above you and Kaye.

“Get the fuck out of here!” Kountze’s voice was loud, the paddle smacking against the chain link fence loudly as the kid scurried off toward the cars. He was finally done playing with his food.

As Jason toyed with tossing over a beer to Shavonne, playing with her, he instead turned to the freshman walking past, “Here, catch, kid.” He said, tossing the beer bottle to him and smiling contentedly—it wasn’t by much, but Jason was one of the kinder boys. Not as kind as Angus.

“What did you give him a beer for? You’re wasting beers,” Benny grumbled, cracking open one of the white cans and taking a sip of the foam that nearly spilled out of the opening. His eyes flickered over to you again, smirking from behind his drink as both of you silently agreed on the fact that you’d be seeing each other later.

Far from your thoughts was Angus and the idea of breaking things off with Benny.

Was it so bad to see where things went first?

“This fuckin’ sucks,” Kountze whined, dropping his paddle into the open car door before walking over and picking up a bottle, “Last fuckin’ day of school, no fuckin’ party. No nothin’. Fuck,” as he spoke, his words grew angrier as he tried to open the bottle in his hand. When the cap wouldn’t budge, he huffed and tossed the beer, the glass shattering on the gravel road.

“You just wasted another fucking bee-”

“Shut up.”

In his hands, Jason scooped up four cans of beer, one falling out of his grasp, which Benny managed to catch. As Kountze pouted and drank his beer, leaning up against the trunk of his car, Jason and Benny bringing the rest of you each a drink. 

Coming up to the passenger side, Benny leaned against the door and gave you the beer he’d been dangling in his hand, smirking down at you and making you shift in your seat to look at him better. “You’ll be at the Emporium later?” He asked, his hands lifting to adjust the ball cap he wore, fitting it snug over his hair.

“Maybe,” you hummed, cracking the beer open and taking a sip.

“Don’t act like that. Will you be there?” Benny smiled, a low chuckle rumbling from deep in his chest, his hand reaching forward to play with your hair, something he’s never done before. It almost felt… domestic. Like you two were an exclusive item. You were certain he was only acting this way because you’d been distant lately, likely wanting to see more of you, and that treating you this way would make you go crawling right back to him. There was also the thought of jealousy, if others were already talking about you and Angus, you were one hundred percent certain that those rumours would have found their way to Benny.

You wondered if there was a rift in their friendship lately, from what you knew, Angus and Benny were close. They weren’t best friends, but they had spent years growing up together. That alone made you nervous.

“Okay, yeah. Fine. I’ll see you there.” You bit back a smile, setting your beer down into the cupholder between you and Kaye, thankful that the other three were being entertained by Jason the entire time. The last thing you wanted was for your friend to call you out about shamelessly flirting with two boys in one day. Like Shavonne would say—you’re allowed!

“So, who bought you the beer this time?” Your blonde friend asked Jason, only to be rudely interrupted by a car of freshly-graduated boys driving by with music blaring obnoxiously loud.

“Hey, Benny, you idiot!” A voice slurred loudly, one of the boys from the car, “You know I slept with your girl before you did! Sloppy seconds!” They shouted as they tossed a beer can that hit the side of Kaye’s car.

It happened so fast, everyone turning their heads to look at the culprits driving by, eyes wide and in shook.

They were lying, of course, the words spewed only because those boys were drunk and jealous of the football players. Why they were jealous of someone younger, you couldn’t comprehend—boys were weird. You were unfortunately caught in the crossfire, an easy target with Benny’s attention all over you. The words still stung you, though, your cheeks reddening in embarrassment. You felt a hand, Benny’s, press over your shoulder and gently squeeze it. Reassuring and protective.

It was unlike anything you’d experienced with him, and for the first time he’d grounded you. Weirdly, you felt like you could get used to that feeling.

“Bite me!” Kountze yelled out at the boys protectively, earning a ‘fuck you’ as they sped down the road, “Yeah, you wish, asshole!” Kaye chimed in right after, everyone angry and red-faced on yours and Benny’s behalf.

That was something you could check off—Kountze and Kaye standing up for you at the same time. Two sides of very different coins.

Shyly, you reached a hand up to rest over Benny’s, tilting your head back to look at him as you squeezed his fingers, noting the anger that was swirling in his eyes. The anger he tried to control for your sake. This moment was intimate, leaving you a bit breathless and with butterflies swirling around in your stomach.

You were now fully caught in a mess of boys and blossoming love, certain this night wouldn’t end well for one of you. Hell, maybe none.

“Why are guys such pigs?” Shavonne sneered from her seat, looking over her shoulder to where the car had sped off, now only a layer of dust in the air.

“Let’s get out of here.” Kaye murmured, shifting back in her seat and glancing over at you and Benny, motioning for him to move his hand from you, “You okay?” 

You nodded at Kaye, swallowing a lump down your throat and shoving away your bruised pride, “I, uh, I’ll see you later, then,” your words were directed to Benny. The mood deflated as you settled into your seat, feeling the boy’s gaze on you as he stepped back. You already yearned for his touch again, but you didn’t dare look over at him because you were pulled back into reality now, much too sober. Likewise, you grabbed your beer and took a long chug.

“Bye, boys!” Shavonne waved the football players off as Kaye pulled away, a smirk on her face as she gave a wink to Jason. Though, Sabrina and her were quick to ask if you were okay, leaving you to smile and nod, wanting nothing more now than to get wasted and forget about everything.

You left it up to Kaye to head to your next destination, can of beer in hand, as you sipped on it and listened to your friends chat amongst each other. Like usual, you had found yourself staring off into the scenery, your mind far from the present and up in the clouds. 

Closing your eyes and listening to the radio, you tried to keep your mind from wandering. You focused on your breathing, or how the small bit of alcohol in you had started warming your cheeks. Soon you would be at the Emporium, hopefully able to score some more beer and spend the rest of the night actually having a good time.

This was the last time you would ever let words affect you this much, you promised yourself that.

After driving around for another ten minutes and being overcome with a frustrating amount of boredom, Kaye and Shavonne decided that the Emporium would have better luck. You had forgotten all about Angus being there.

The four of you found yourself standing outside the building while Kaye had a cigarette and the rest of you practiced shooting bottle caps with a snap. Trying to show Sabrina how to do it so it would hit your shoulder. There was a shared feeling of ennui in the air, even radiating out from the inside of the Emporium. Nearly the entire student body had been waiting for Pickford’s party the last month, his house the perfect host for a night of wild teens needing to find relief after a brutal school year.

And there was only so much driving you girls could do in a night and so much beer you could get your hands—you were running out of things to do.

You, especially, could use a party. Somewhere to drink up cups of alcohol and shrug off those nasty words that stuck with you, even after Shavonne berated you for letting it bother you. You were stronger than this, but with your heart confused on what it wanted, and your brain stuck on morals, you were vulnerable.

“This is stupid,” you groaned, tossing the bottle cap in your hand onto the concrete sidewalk and leaning back against the exterior of the building, “Should we go for another drive?”

“I’m sick of driving. Let’s go see if we could score a pool table.” Kaye said, dropping her cigarette to the ground and butting it out with the heel of her shoe.

“And maybe a few more beers,” Shavonne said with a bright smile, likely the only girl in your group that was optimistic about what the night would bring.

As you turned to make your way into the Emporium, none other than Angus Tully stepped out, a cigarette fit nicely between his lips. You looked at his clothing, a purple button up triple his size that was tucked nicely into some white bell-bottoms. The familiar fluttering with your stomach made its appearance again, and long gone were those thoughts of Benny—not when the boy you’d been falling in love with was standing right in front of you.

“Hey,” you grinned, walking over to him and pressing a hand against the wall, “Fancy seeing you here.”

You swore you noticed Angus’ eyes brighten when he saw you, smiling as he pulled the cigarette from between his lips and walked right next to you, followed closely by Wooderson, and surprisingly, your younger brother. Obviously, Kaye and Shavonne weren’t the only girls who invited a freshman. You watched with a smile as he ran past you, eager to see a familiar face in Sabrina.

“You nearly convinced me that I wouldn’t see you tonight,” Angus snickered, leaning against the wall and looking you up and down slowly and with intent, “So, you did end up having the time to finish drying your hair. You, uh, look nice.”

“Thanks, you too,” you breathed out through a giggle, your entire spirit lifting now that he was around, “Did you hear anything more about a beer bust? We’re getting bored.” You motioned a hand back to Kaye and Shavonne, who were standing behind you and focused mostly on Wooderson.

“Ask this man right here,” he smiled, pointing his thumb to the older blonde, who was smiling at you with heavy lidded eyes and a permanent lopsided grin. 

“Patience, darlin’, patience.” He hummed, smoking a near-finished joint in his hands, as he took a few steps away and returned the interest in Kaye and Shavonne.

“So, what have you been up to?” Angus asked, looking down at you as he held up the cigarette and a lighter, giving you the first drag if you so pleased. The gesture was small, but it made you so fucking giddy that you had to try to hide your dorky little smile.

“Mostly driving,” you said, putting the cigarette between your lips and lighting in, inhaling the smoke that burned into your lungs, “we ended up running into Kountze, Jason and Benny,” you said, noticing the way he straightened a bit at the mention of the boy you’d been linked with recently, “They were beating on a kid so hard, that one seriously won’t be sitting for weeks.” 

“Christ,” Angus chuckled, taking the cigarette you passed to him and inhaling the nicotine he’d been needing, “I feel bad for the freshman boys, you know? Not saying you girls don’t have it bad, but after today they’re all free. All those boys that went running will be hunted for the rest of summer.”

“Aw, did poor Angus get paddled as a freshman boy?” You teased him, seeing the way he empathized, finding it rather sweet.

“Fuck yeah, and it hurt like hell.” He laughed, “I was an idiot and went running on the last day of school. If I could go back and tell myself to suck it up and get paddled on the first day, I would’ve taken ten lickings like a champ.”

You watched Angus with a big smile, chewing absentmindedly on your bottom lip as you stayed attentive, thinking back and wondering what kind of boy he was like when he was young. 

“Well, thanks for not being the kind of guy to take this so seriously,” you said, “You’re a nice guy, Angus. Far nicer than those stupid pricks that yelled at me today,” you huffed, “Can’t even enjoy a beer in peace.”

“What happened?” Angus questioned, and you could feel his energy change, like he cared about you—like he was worried. 

You found yourself getting shameful about admitting it, though, your cheeks warming up against as you cleared your throat and shrugged, “It wasn’t anything serious.”

“Tell me,” he urged, a serious look on his face, “Who said something? Was it Benny?”

“What? No. It was actually directed at him,” you cleared the confusion, but it didn’t seem to help, Angus’ face contorted in uncertainty, “Jason was giving us some beers after Kountze let the kid go, and Benny and I were chatting then some dudes drove past, drunk as hell, and yelled about how they’d slept with me before Benny did. Or something along those lines, I don’t know, it was really fast, and they were just being douchebags trying to get under his skin. It was a complete lie, I haven’t slept with anyone except Benny–” you were poisoned with rambling, it seemed.

“Are you okay?” Angus interjected, his eyes softening as he noticed your discomfort over the situation. His compassion made you tense up, almost half-expecting him to focus less on the verbal attack that insinuated you were sleeping around, but instead he was worried about how you felt. 

“Yeah… I mean, it was pretty insulting, but I’m okay.” You nodded your head, feeling so incredibly small under Angus’ gaze, but safe.

“Some dudes are total pigs,” he huffed, giving you the cigarette that you obviously needed, “hopefully that’s the last time they bother you like that.”

“Thanks,” you said quietly, taking a few much-needed drags from the cigarette, “I won’t let it get to me next time.”

“Good,” Angus smiled, watching you with a look of awe and love on his face, but you couldn’t quite make that out. You were far too oblivious for your own good, “I bet Benny was happy to see you.”

And there it was. You knew it was too good to be true—a night where Angus would forget all about your own ‘relationship’. You were kind at least, keeping your lips tight about his own situation.

“I wouldn’t say he was necessarily any happier to see me than usual,” you chuckled, awkwardly dropping your gaze, “We just hang out from time to time. It’s nothing serious.”

“Are you being honest?” 

You looked up, meeting those brown eyes, “What do you mean?”

“Is it nothing serious?” He questioned you, making you feel like there was no one else around you as he fixated on those words. You grew tense, the first time being questioned so analytically by him. 

This would have been the perfect time to explain everything, to bring up your feelings for him, and to let him know that you’d call things off with Benny as long as he did the same with Elise. But you could never do things that easily, could you?

“Uh, no. Nothing serious.” Is all you said, shrugging. In the back of your mind, you remembered the way you had grabbed onto Benny’s hand, holding it for reassurance as he was silently there for you. To you, it was nothing serious. To him? Well, you couldn’t be so certain what his intentions were, so technically, you weren’t lying.

“That’s cool,” Angus replied, his eyes dropping as he continued smoking–his mind elsewhere, and you wondered if any of your words actually stuck in his mind. You followed his gaze, looking down at your chest, which was manipulated perfectly by the halter top.

A laugh bubbled up from your throat, “are you staring at my fucking tits?” 

“Huh?” Angus was caught off-guard, looking up at you, cheeks pink, “No, not at all,” he was adamant in his answer, exhaling smoke from deep in his lungs as his expression faltered sheepishly, “…yes.”

“Yeah, some dudes are pigs,” you teased, earning a smile and gentle shove against your shoulder from Angus.

Things were cut short, though, your eyes slowly moving past him when you saw two familiar figures walking up toward the doors of the Emporium, your stomach twisting into knots. Darla smiled at Wooderson, giving him a wink as they walked past, Elise, however, was staring daggers at both you and Angus. Whatever nice girl facade she’d managed to play these past few months had completely vanished, you saw her exactly for what she was.

You swallowed a lump down your throat, pulling your eyes away from Elise as she took a drag from her cigarette and walked inside the Emporium slowly, leaving you and Angus standing outside awkwardly. Neither of you dared to bring up the elephant in the room, you were instead waving goodbyes to Kaye and Shavonne as they went inside, following Elise and Darla.

Soon, you, Wooderson and Angus were standing outside, your brother having went in with Sabrina to mingle with their peers. It wasn’t so awkward anymore, having taken up small conversation with the older man.

“So, you lived in California, right?” Wooderson asked you, putting a joint between his lips and inhaling.

“Yeah, Santa Barbara,” you replied, staying close to Angus’ side. You didn’t know Wooderson all that well, but you’d met him twice before today—all you knew was that he was an older guy who loved younger girls. And, he bought you beer once, so you owed him.

“California dreamin’,” he smiled, “bet you miss it, huh?”

“Every day,” you sighed, closing your eyes for a moment and able to instantly take yourself back to the coastal beaches.

You were rudely interrupted by the sound of squealing tires against pavement, opening your eyes to see Teddy’s car come speeding into the parking lot and stopping right in front. You met Benny’s gaze immediately as he stepped out of the car to let Jason out of the back. Though, you were far more perceptive than usual, catching the way his eyes flickered between you and Angus, unimpressed.

“Hey, Slater, you fuckin’ hippie! Give me some drugs, man!” Kountze called from the driver’s seat, his voice making a shiver run down your spine. Even though he’d kind of stood up for you earlier, he was still your least favourite human on this planet.

Slater had been sitting sideways outside of Pickford’s car, the two of them sharing a joint without a care in the world. Until Teddy showed up.

“Get some from your mother, man,” Slater returned wittily. You could see the irritation on his face, it was hard to get a guy like Slater upset.

“We just bagged your mother,” Kountze laughed loudly as Benny got back in the car. He hadn’t acknowledged you other than the lingering stare, and you knew that you’d be confronted by him sooner or later–you tried to ignore it.

“Okay. Fuck you, dick head,” Slater said, waving his hand at them as Kountze pulled out of the parking lot, the smell of rubber on pavement making you nauseous.

“Man of the woods, what’s going on? I haven’t seen you in so long.” Jason grinned, happy to see Wooderson as he ran up to him, greeting him in a way that made you crinkle your nose at their vulgar behaviour.

As you watched the two men catching up, you almost didn’t notice the way Angus’ hand had moved to the small of your back. You snapped your head to look at him, a knowing smile on his face as he looked past you and over to Wooderson. You chewed on the inside of your cheek and leaned into his touch, letting out a content sigh. This felt much too good, like this was normal. You wanted him to be your normal.

“I think I might head inside,” you murmured to Angus, looking up at him and ignoring Wooderson’s rant about younger women—loving the way he got older, and how they stayed the same age. You wished Kaye was outside to hear this, she would’ve jumped at the opportunity to argue with Wooderson about his predatory behaviour, but he would've taken it with stride.

“You sure?” Angus asked, keeping his voice low as he looked over you. 

Though, just as you were about to nod to his words, Pickford spoke up, “You guys wanna’ go for a spin?”

“Fuck yeah, shotgun!” Jason quickly snapped his fingers, grinning as he pointed at Wooderson and Angus, “Woods?”

“I’m here, man.” Wooderson replied, content with sticking around the Emporium, likely now that the girls were inside and ready to be flirted with. If you weren’t so disgusted in the twenty-year old’s behaviour, you likely would’ve been right with them and hoping he’d give you the light of day.

This was the best opportunity to usher a quick goodbye to Angus before disappearing and finding your friends, but you were looped right into the action.

“You want to come along?” Angus pulled himself from you, stepping toward the car and grinning, trying his best to entice.

You let out another long exhale, trying to act cool, but you were crazy excited. You hadn’t wanted to go inside to get away from Angus, rather, you were getting bored with standing around and doing a whole lot of nothing. Spending time with Angus? Yeah, you’d say yes to that any day.

“Yeah, why not?” You agreed, stepping alongside Angus and walking toward the car.

“Listen, I’m gonna’ give you shotgun,” Slater said to Jason as he got out of the passenger seat and motioned for the blonde boy to take his spot, eyes so small that you could barely see them. You could tell how red they were, though, “But I want you to know it’s only ‘cause I’m goin’ inside. You keep that in mind.”

Jason smirked, “Okay. Got it, Slate.” 

As they spoke, you slipped into the back of the car, sliding into the seat behind Pickford, with Angus settling in right next to you.

You weren’t sure what to expect, this being your first time hanging out with this group of boys, but you were certain that it wouldn’t be short of entertaining. You settled into your seat, sighing quietly as you felt Angus’ hand rest on your thigh, wishing there was no fabric blocking his touch from your bare thigh.

As you felt your heart doing flips in your chest, eyes locked in Angus’ brown ones, you wondered if he felt the same.

[padfootsaphrodite]

Making my friends take "which marauders era character are you" quiz's even though they have no idea who the marauders are is my favorite thing. This is how I get to know them.

[doodles-with-noodles]

I don’t know what this is but it is made of great pain.

[himbopunk]

supervillain mav to match superhero yuvan! they're from the same alt timeline and theres a whole like. drama abt it.

also w/o their big ol coat

[fandomandangstlover]

guilty perfectionist au four, shaking three: ARE YOU FUCKING DUMB. THATS THE AVATAR THAT YOU ARE TRYING TO *MURDER* IF HE DIES WE ALL GO DOWN WITH HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SHAKES GUARDIAN PARTNER WITH BOTH ANGER & HOLY-SHIT-WE-COULD'VE-DIED!!

[tuxedokit]

norma voice "what the fuck. what the fuck. what the f u c k."

"dion???? dion???? DION????"

[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!

[rafecameronssl4t]

arranged marriage au reader where her postpartum depression is so bad. where she barley picks at her plate, and when the doctors check in on her , they scold her for not keeping healthy for the baby to feed off her. and it’s to the point where rafe has to leave a trip early bc it’s so bad

You know I'll come || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: incase you didn't read it before, make sure you read my important notice!!!

Warnings: ppd, angst, mention of fainting

Word count: 2,114

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

“Y/n, you can’t keep doing this to yourself,” James said with a sympathetic sigh, his gaze fixed on the monitor while you sat on the lounge, your eyes glazed over as you stared blankly at the coffee table. The room was eerily quiet, save for the soft hum of the monitor and the occasional rustle of Anita’s movements as she adjusted the blanket draped over your lap.

“This is the third time you’ve passed out this week. You were lucky Anita was there to catch you before you could have seriously injured yourself.” James exchanged a concerned look with Anita, who stood close by with a worried expression. The gentle, almost maternal way Anita fussed over you spoke volumes about her deep concern.

“You must eat. Your body needs proper nourishment, not just for yourself but for Leo as well.” At the mention of your son, your eyes flickered up from the table, the name ‘Leo’ momentarily pulling you from your daze. “Where is he?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper as you attempted to sit up, only to be gently restrained by James.

“Leo is asleep,” Anita said softly, her tone soothing. She moved closer, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder as if to offer reassurance. James continued, his voice gentle but insistent, “Rafe has been informed of your condition and has decided to come home early. He’ll be arriving tomorrow morning.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, the confusion evident on your face. “Rafe isn’t supposed to be here until Friday,” you said, your voice tinged with disbelief as you tried to process the unexpected news. “Rafe is aware of how unwell you are right now. He deemed it necessary to return home early,” James explained, his tone gentle but firm.

Your mouth parted in a silent response, the weight of the news settling heavily on your shoulders. James continued gently, “But for now, you should rest. Take these, they’ll help you sleep.” He extended a small container of medicine towards you. With a grateful nod, you accepted the tablets, feeling their cool, smooth surface against your fingertips.

You placed them in your mouth and swallowed, the slight bitterness leaving a fleeting aftertaste. As the medicine began to take effect, James and Anita exchanged a look of quiet concern. The room felt heavy with the unspoken tension of your fragile state, and the soft rustling of the blanket seemed to amplify the stillness. You leaned back, letting the exhaustion overtake you, the weight of the day’s events and Rafe’s imminent arrival already beginning to blur into the dim haze of impending sleep.

~

"Mr. Cameron, there’s news from Mr. Berkeley concerning your wife," Kate’s voice broke the quiet atmosphere of the plane as she approached Rafe, her iPad in hand. She hesitated for a moment, gauging his mood, knowing that any news related to you could quickly shift his temper. Rafe looked up from his laptop, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly, already bracing for the worst.

"What’s happened now?" His tone was clipped, the edge in his voice betraying the unease that simmered beneath his composed exterior. Kate took a breath, her fingers gripping the iPad a little tighter. "Mrs. Cameron fainted for the third time this week while walking down the stairs—" Before she could finish, Rafe’s expression darkened, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

"Is she injured? Is Leo okay?" His words, though direct, held an unmistakable undertone of worry that he barely managed to suppress. Kate glanced up from her iPad, her eyes meeting his with cautious reassurance. "No, sir. Y/n isn’t injured, and Leo wasn’t with her at the time." A small, almost imperceptible sigh escaped Rafe as he leaned back in his seat, his hand moving to rub his temples.

The initial wave of panic subsided, but the underlying concern remained, gnawing at him. He closed his laptop with a resounding thud, the noise loud in the otherwise still cabin. "And this is because she isn’t eating well?" he asked, his voice flat but laced with frustration. "Yes, sir. Mr. Berkeley mentioned that Y/n has been struggling to finish her meals," Kate explained, her tone professional yet careful, aware of how delicate the situation had become.

Rafe scoffed, shaking his head in exasperation. "Of course she is," he muttered under his breath, his frustration bubbling to the surface. He stood abruptly, the tension in his body clear as his jaw tightened, hands flexing at his sides. The weight of responsibility, of having to constantly manage his wife’s well-being, pressed down on him. The sound of the plane’s engine hummed softly in the background, creating a quiet that felt too heavy, too filled with thoughts he didn’t want to dwell on.

His thoughts raced, caught between his commitments and the deepening worry that had taken root. Rafe’s decision was swift. "Tell Anthony to turn this plane around. We’re going back to Kildare." Kate blinked, momentarily taken aback by the sharpness of his command. "But, sir—" she began, her voice hesitant. "Did you not hear what I said?" Rafe snapped, his tone cold and commanding now. His patience, already thin, was gone. "Tell him to turn this plane around. Now." His blue eyes, usually so controlled, flashed with intensity as he stared her down.

Kate swallowed hard, nodding quickly before turning on her heel and making her way to the cockpit without another word. The weight of his anger, his concern for you, and the complicated web of their marriage hung in the air even after she left. Rafe stood there for a moment, alone in the silence. His fists clenched as he stared out the window at the endless expanse of sky, his mind already filled with thoughts of what awaited him back home.

~

"Where is she?" Rafe's voice echoed sharply through the grand foyer as he shrugged off his blazer, his tone tense but controlled. Anita, always efficient and poised, was quick to take his suitcase from his hand. "She’s currently asleep on the sofa. Mr. Berkeley just left a couple of minutes ago," Anita informed him, her voice soft, trying to keep the atmosphere calm.

Rafe nodded, his expression tight as they walked deeper into the house, the weight of the past week’s events evident in his stride. "How is she?" he asked, his voice dropping to a quieter, almost hesitant tone. His usual composure was cracking, revealing the concern he so rarely let show. Anita glanced up at him, catching the rare flicker of vulnerability in his face.

A small, knowing smile tugged at her lips, sensing the subtle change in his demeanor. "She’s doing better. She ate a full meal last night and this morning," she replied, her words laced with reassurance. Rafe’s shoulders visibly relaxed at the news, though only slightly. "Good," he murmured, more to himself than to her.

As they reached the living room, the soft flicker of the TV caught his attention. The sound of cartoon characters filled the room, a stark contrast to the heavy emotions swirling inside him. Rounding the corner of the sofa, his eyes landed on you—fast asleep, curled up with the blanket tucked around you. Your exhaustion was evident, your face peaceful but pale.

However, Leo was wide awake, his small hands reaching out as he lay nestled beside you. Rafe's heart softened at the sight of his son, so innocent and oblivious to the storm brewing around him. Gently, Rafe scooped Leo up into his arms, cradling him with a tenderness that few ever saw. He pressed a kiss to Leo’s cheek, the gesture instinctive, as if grounding himself in the quiet moment.

Without a word, he turned off the TV, silencing the cartoons as the room fell into a soft hush. For a moment, Rafe stood there, holding Leo, his eyes drifting back to you, wondering how things had reached this point—his life so far from what he’d imagined, and yet, here he was, tethered to this quiet moment with you and Leo, torn between frustration, duty, and something he wasn’t ready to admit.

Rafe gently pulled the blanket further up your body, his fingers brushing the soft fabric as he ensured you were as comfortable as possible. For a moment, he lingered, his gaze softening as he watched you sleep, the rise and fall of your chest steady and peaceful. There was a quiet vulnerability about you now that tugged at something deep inside him—a feeling he didn’t often allow himself to dwell on.

With a quiet sigh, he turned away, careful not to wake you. As he walked toward the door, he called out, “Anita?” Anita appeared almost instantly, her usual calm and attentive presence filling the room. “Yes, Mr. Cameron?” she asked, her voice respectful but warm. “Have the chef prepare Y/n’s favourite meals,” he instructed, his tone firm yet carrying an unspoken urgency. “I want her to be eating properly, no excuses.”

His gaze flicked back to you for a second, as though making sure you were still resting soundly. Anita nodded, understanding the weight behind his words. “Of course, sir. I’ll take care of it immediately.” Satisfied, Rafe adjusted Leo in his arms, holding him close as he glanced back at you one last time before stepping out of the room. “Leo and I will be outside by the pool,” he added, his voice a little quieter now, as if the tension from earlier had begun to ebb slightly.

Anita nodded again, watching as Rafe walked away, his steps quiet and measured, the sound of Leo’s soft babbling accompanying him as they made their way toward the open terrace. There, Rafe hoped the fresh air and the familiar comfort of home might bring him some clarity as he processed everything—his thoughts still tethered to you even as he tried to focus on his son.

~

Feeling a gentle hand on his shoulder, Rafe looked up, surprised to see you standing beside him. The colour had returned to your cheeks, and there was a small but genuine smile on your face. For a brief moment, relief softened his usually guarded expression. “How are you feeling?” he asked quietly, careful not to disturb Leo, who was napping peacefully on his chest.

You offered him another soft smile, walking around to sit on the lounge chair beside him. Your eyes lingered on the still waters of the pool, the calm reflection contrasting with the heaviness in the air. “I’m fine,” you replied, though your gaze remained fixed ahead. Rafe’s eyes stayed on you, his expression stern, not easily convinced by your words. “Did you eat?”

His tone was sharp, but there was an undercurrent of concern that you couldn’t ignore. You nodded slowly, though the hesitation in your movement gave away the effort it took. “I’m sorry you had to cut your trip short—” you began, wanting to apologise for the disruption, but Rafe quickly cut you off. “Don’t.” His voice was firm, leaving no room for further apologies.

He pressed a light kiss to the top of Leo’s head, his eyes briefly softening as he did so. “There’s no excuse for you to not eat,” he continued, his voice hardening again, as though the frustration he’d been holding back was finally spilling out. You looked at him, studying his side profile as he avoided your gaze.

His jaw was clenched, tension radiating from him, but it wasn’t the anger that struck you—it was the concern buried beneath it. You knew this dynamic between you, this mixture of obligation and care, was a complicated dance neither of you had perfected. Your fingers absentmindedly twisted the ring on your finger, a physical reminder of the ties that bound you both. “At least Leo is doing okay,” Rafe muttered, his voice softening as he made eye contact with you.

“That’s all that matters.” But the moment the words left his lips, he saw the shift in your expression. There was something in your eyes—an unspoken sadness, a flicker of something deeper that you kept buried. You swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in your throat. “Of course,” you replied, your voice steady despite the weight in your chest. You stood up slowly, your body feeling heavier than it had a moment ago.

“I’ll head back inside,” you murmured, already turning to leave. Rafe watched you move, the silence between you thick and uncomfortable. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but the words seemed to stick in his throat. Instead, he refocused on Leo’s sleeping form, his hand gently cradling his son’s small body as the feeling of missed opportunity settled heavily around him.

[d-z20]

The Agent Next Door (NSFW)

Pairing: Agent Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You don't really talk to your (extremely attractive) neighbour, Rio Vidal, until one day an accident leads to you staying at her apartment for a couple of days. And an awkward encounter results in having your fantasy come true. -OR- Rio finds you injured after you slipped and fell out the shower and decides to look after you (non-magic AU)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, blood, small injury, fluff, smut, fingering (R receiving), oral (R receiving)

Words: 3.4k

A/N: Just wanted to write a bit of Rio caring for reader and well then it turned into smut and I have no regrets. Also I have their whole relationship arc in my head now lol

AO3 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Master List

The Worst Morning Of Your Life (so far)

Rio Vidal is your neighbour. You've noticed her plenty of times before—a striking woman with a sharp, confident look that's hard to ignore. You live in the same apartment building, just across the hall from one another. Most days, your interactions are limited to polite smiles and brief chats in the elevator, her dark suit and badge often catching your eye. You've heard her phone buzz with work calls that end with her curt, professional voice. It's obvious she's someone important—serious and dedicated. You've pieced together that she's an FBI agent, but beyond that, you don't know much about her.

You can't deny that you're drawn to her, though. There's something about the way she carries herself—all self-assured and enigmatic. You've caught yourself staring a few times, your heart skipping a beat when she looks back and flashes a rare, amused smile. It's not just her looks—it's the way she moves, the air of mystery she carries, like she's seen things you could only imagine. It makes you nervous, but at the same time, you can't help but look forward to those fleeting moments when your paths cross.

One morning, your shower decides to betray you—your hot water cuts out just as you put your head under. You let out a bloodcurdling scream, quickly trying to jump out of the shower. Unfortunately for you, your foot slips on the hard floor, and you come crashing down, hitting your head on the sink, landing with a very loud thud. Dazed and confused, you are unsure if you passed out for a second there or not, but either way your head is killing you. 

"Fucking brilliant," you mutter to yourself, draping an arm across your eyes to shield them from the light.

At that moment, you heard your front door slamming open and hurried footsteps searching your apartment. You had just about enough sense to yank your towel off the hook and cover up your naked body.

"Y/N?" called a voice just outside the bathroom door.

Shit. It was Rio. You wished the ground would just swallow you up.

"Are you okay? I heard you scream, and then I heard something shatter." You could hear the genuine concern in her voice.

Lifting your head slightly, you noticed the shards of glass from what used to be your bathroom shelf, surrounding you. All you could do was let out a groan and close your eyes at this new development of what was turning out to be the worst morning of your life so far.

This was a bad choice, as a split second later, Rio barged into your bathroom.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" Your neighbour teased, but you could hear the relief in her voice. She moved further into the room, assessing the damage. "Not to ruin such a perfect morning for you, but I might have broken your door getting in here." 

You open your eyes, blinking up at her. Taking her in, you noticed she was wearing a cropped baggy tank top and gym shorts. You blink up at her again, and your head throbs with each beat of your pulse, the pain radiating down your neck. You're still dazed, trying to process how you ended up sprawled on the cold bathroom floor with your FBI agent neighbour standing over you. Rio's sharp eyes take in your silence, concern clouding the playful smirk she'd worn just moments before.

"Hey," she says, voice softer now, as she crouches down beside you. She reaches out, fingertips gently brushing your cheek to turn your face towards her. "Y/N, can you hear me? Do you know who I am?"

You swallow, trying to focus. Her touch is surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to her usual no-nonsense demeanour. You nod slightly, the movement making your head spin. "Rio," you manage to croak out. "Neighbour, FBI agent. And, apparently, a door kicker."

She huffs a laugh, a brief flicker of relief crossing her face. "Good. That's a start. I don't usually make a habit of barging into people's bathrooms uninvited, but I heard that scream, and... well, I'm glad I did." Her eyes drop down to your arm, where blood seeps from a jagged cut. She curses under her breath, her grip on your shoulder tightening just slightly. "You're bleeding. We need to get you cleaned up."

You glance down at your arm, wincing at the sight of blood trickling down to your hand. "I really know how to make an impression, huh?"

Rio shakes her head, lips pressed together in a tight line. "Let's save the jokes until you're not covered in glass, yeah?" Without another word, she slips an arm under your shoulders, helping you sit up. The world tilts slightly, but her hold on you is firm, steadying you as you get your bearings.

"You're going to have to trust me for a minute," she tells you softly. "Can you stand?"

"Maybe," you say, though you're not entirely sure. She helps you up, careful not to jostle your injured arm, and you try to ignore the heat of her skin against yours, the way her fingers dig into your side just enough to ground you.

Rio's eyes dart around the room, quickly assessing the mess of broken glass and water pooling on the floor. "Alright," she says decisively. "I'm taking you back to my place. We'll patch you up there. Your shower is out of commission, and I don't trust that you won't take another tumble if I leave you alone here."

You don't have the energy to argue, so you just nod, letting her guide you out of the bathroom. The two of you make it to the hallway, but not before she grabs a spare towel and wraps it around you more securely. Her movements are quick and efficient, but there's a gentleness to them that surprises you. It's a side of Rio you've never seen before—one that's patient and caring, not just the tough, sarcastic woman you've exchanged pleasantries with in passing.

As you step into her apartment, you notice it's much more personal than you'd imagined. There are framed photos on the walls—nothing too sentimental, mostly candid shots of places she's travelled to, city skylines, and sunsets. Her living room is cosy, with a worn leather couch and a small stack of books piled on the coffee table.

"Sit," she instructs, pointing to the couch. You sink down into it, feeling strangely out of place but oddly comfortable. Rio disappears into the bathroom for a moment, returning with a first aid kit. She kneels in front of you, carefully prying your hand away from your arm.

"This is going to sting," she warns, pulling out an antiseptic wipe. You flinch as she cleans the cut, her brows knitting together in concentration. "Sorry," she mutters. "I'm used to dealing with criminals and suspects, not clumsy neighbours."

"Criminals don't trip in the shower much?" you quip, trying for humour despite the pain. It earns you a small smile from Rio, her eyes flicking up to meet yours.

"Not usually, no. Though I'll admit you're far more entertaining." Her voice softens again, the smirk fading as she wraps a bandage around your arm. "You scared me for a second there, you know."

The confession catches you off guard. "I did? you ask, watching her face as she finishes tying off the bandage.

She doesn't look up, her focus still on your arm. "Yeah," she says quietly. "I thought something bad had happened. Guess I care more about my neighbour than I realised."

Your heart skips a beat, the words hanging in the air between you. It's the first real admission of anything beyond casual friendliness, and it leaves you breathless. You're about to say something—anything—but Rio stands up, offering her hand to you.

"Come on," she says. "Let's get you some proper clothes and maybe a coffee. You can stay here until we sort out your door and shower."

Rio's grip on your hand is firm as she helps you up, her expression still hovering somewhere between concern and her usual, dry amusement. You follow her into the kitchen, and she releases you, motioning for you to sit at the table. It feels strange being here, in her space, especially after the chaos of your morning. She pulls out a chair for you with a slight roll of her eyes, as if it's absurd that you'd even try to resist her instruction.

"I don't have any shifts for the next two days," she announces, moving towards the coffee maker without glancing back at you. "And considering you might've blacked out for a second back there, I'm not letting you out of my sight. So, you're staying with me, here, until you're back on your feet properly."

You open your mouth to argue, but the look she throws over her shoulder silences you. It's one part worry and two parts something else—something softer, almost protective.

"I can manage," you say, but your voice lacks conviction, especially as you rub your throbbing arm. The bandage is already starting to bleed through a bit. Rio's eyes narrow at the sight, and she steps closer, prodding your arm gently.

"Yeah, you're doing a great job," she says dryly, then nods to herself. "You're staying here."

"Fine," you sigh, though part of you feels a flutter of something—relief, maybe, or the thrill of being looked after by someone like Rio. "But I can sleep on the couch. I don't want to kick you out of your bed."

Rio's lips twitch into a smirk. "I'm not letting you take the couch. You've already proven that you're a danger to yourself in any situation that involves standing up."

You can't help but laugh, despite everything. "So, what, we share your bed?"

She raises an eyebrow, as if daring you to challenge her. "It's a queen size. I think we can manage. Unless you've suddenly developed a fear of co-sleeping?"

The thought of sharing a bed with her sends a rush of heat through you, but you try to play it off with a shrug. "As long as you don't hog the covers."

"I'll do my best," she says, the smirk widening.

-

The first night is awkward, as expected. You lie stiffly on one side of the bed, while Rio takes the other, the space between you feeling like a chasm despite the closeness. She's warm though, and you can feel the heat radiating from her body and the subtle scent of her shampoo filling your senses. It's both comforting and maddening, making it hard to fall asleep. You’re hyper-aware of every shift she makes, every time her arm brushes against yours. At some point, she turns onto her side, facing you, and you feel her eyes on you in the dark.

"You still awake?" she whispers.

"Yeah," you reply, swallowing hard.

There's a pause, then you feel her hand brush against yours. It's light, almost as if by accident, but when you don't pull away, she leaves it there, her fingers barely touching yours.

"Try to get some sleep," she murmurs. "You need to rest."

"Alright," you say, voice hoarse, and somehow, with her so close, you finally drift off.

Over the next day and a half, the tension between you shifts, It's subtle at first—small, lingering glances from Rio that last a bit too long, the brush of her fingers against your back when she helps you into the kitchen. Her sarcasm returns, but there's a flirtatious edge to it now, like she's testing the waters.

"You're really milking this injury, aren't you?" She teases, handing you your drink to have with the pizza she bought for dinner. "You'd think you broke your entire body, the way you're lounging around."

"Hey," you protest, setting the drink down. "You're the one who insisted I stay. Don't blame me for enjoying the hospitality."

She leans against the counter, arms crossed, a grin tugging at her lips. "Oh, I'm well aware. But don't get too comfortable with me waiting on you hand and foot—I've got to go back to work tomorrow.”

-

That night, the atmosphere between you shifts even more. When you climb into bed besides Rio, there's no hesitation this time. She turns towards you almost immediately, her hand resting lightly on your hip as if it's the most natural thing in the world. You can feel the heat of her body through the thin fabric of your shirt, her breath warm against the back of your neck. It's a small touch, nothing too bold, but it feels significant—an unspoken acknowledgement of everything simmering between you two. You fall asleep like that, closer than before, your fingers unconsciously brushing hers under the covers.

When you wake up, she's already dressed for the day, leaning over you with a mug of coffee in hand. She sets it down on the nightstand with a playful smile. "Morning sweetheart," she says, her voice laced with that familiar teasing tone, but there's a softness to it now. "Try not to do anything risky while I'm gone, yeah? I don't want to come back to find you've taken a tumble without me here to save the day."

You laugh, reaching for the coffee, but there's a flutter in your chest at the pet name, even if she means it jokingly. "I'll do my best," you say. "But no promises."

She smirks, leaning down just enough to press a light kiss to your forehead. "Good. I'll be back later. Make yourself at home."

You do. The rest of the day passes in a strangely pleasant haze, and you find yourself enjoying the small comforts of her apartment. It's quiet without her, but there's a sense of ease you haven't felt in a long time, like you truly belong here. You find yourself smiling for no reason, touching the small trinkets on her shelves, running your fingers over the soft throw blankets she has draped across the couch.

By the time you decide to take a shower, you're feeling entirely too content. You strip down, stepping under the hot spray with a sigh. That's when your thoughts drift back to Rio—how she looked last night, half-asleep and tousled, her arm draped over your waist, her expression unguarded in a way you'd never seen before.

Your thoughts turn to fantasy almost unbidden. You imagine her joining you in the shower, pressing you back against the cold tiles, her hands sliding down your wet skin. You can almost feel it—the heat of her breath on your neck, the firmness of her body against yours. You start to move your hand towards your aching clit, letting out a quiet, shuddering moan, lost in the fantasy of what it would be like to kiss her and have her hands on you.

You don't hear the bathroom door open, but suddenly, you hear her voice—low and amused. "You sure you're okay in here? Didn't have another fall, did you?"

You freeze, eyes snapping open. You can barely see her through the steam, but she's there, standing just outside the shower curtain, and you realise with a jolt that she must have heard you. You heart slams against your ribs as the curtain slides back just a little, and Rio steps inside completely naked, her smirk evident even through the haze.

"I really just can't trust you not to injure yourself while showering, can I?" she says, voice teasing but thick with something else—desire, maybe. Her eyes travel down your body, lingering in a way that sends a shiver through you.

"Rio," you breathe out, half a warning, half a plea.

She steps closer, crowding you against the wall, her hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck. "You know," she murmurs, her lips so close to yours now that you can feel the brush of them with every word. "I think you've been waiting for me to do this."

And then she kisses you, slow and heated, like she's been thinking about this just as much as you have. Her mouth is soft but insistent, coaxing a response from you until you melt into her, hands tangling in her hair as you kiss her back just as eagerly. The steam from the shower mixes with the heat between you, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

When she finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard, her forehead resting against yours. "I knew it," she whispers, her voice laced with satisfaction. "You've been wanting this so badly, haven't you?"

You nod, swallowing thickly. "Yeah," you admit, barely louder than a whisper. "I have."

She grins, tugging you closer until you're pressed against her, chest to chest. "Good," she says, leaning in to kiss you again, deeper this time. "Because I've been wanting it too."

And with that, she shoves you against the wall. Hard. She's kissing you all over, igniting the skin where each one lands. She nips and sucks at your neck, finding where you're most sensitive. A moan escapes your lips, and you buck your hips, trying to get any kind of friction against your core. For a brief moment, you start to get embarrassed, but then one of Rio's hands finds its way between your legs. She dips a finger between your lips and hums at how wet you already are for her.

Looking directly into your eyes, silently telling you to keep her gaze, she lowers herself to suck on one of your tits, tongue swirling around your nipple, making it harden quickly. The hand not on your clit, starts to pinch your other nipple, pulling another loud guttural moan from you. 

Working her mouth down your torso, marking up your body as she goes, Rio sinks to her knees, her face now directly opposite your dripping cunt, eyes still locked on yours.

Her hands deftly grip your hips, steadying you against the wall. "You've got to promise me you're not going to fall again, sweetheart," she all but growls, the arousal evident in her voice.

You nod your head, but it wasn't enough for the woman, who digs her nails into your skin where she's holding you. "Ye-Yes. I promise."

That is all Rio needs before she starts to drag her tongue through your folds. Switching between broad licks along the length between your entrance and your clit, and firmer, more purposeful circles over your bundle of nerves.

You feel dizzy, but you know it has nothing to do with your concussion and everything to do with the woman kneeling between your legs. Despite your head spinning, you manage to bring your hands down to tangle in Rio's hair, pushing her harder into you. You need more.

She moans against you, clearly enjoying how turned on you are. The vibration from the moan goes straight to your core, and you nearly cum just from that. Sensing you're close, Rio pushes two fingers inside you, causing you to curse her name inbetween moans.

You feel her chuckle and then start fucking you more vigorously. "I want to hear you, baby. I want the whole floor to hear you moan my name," she says, momentarily pulling away from your pussy. You can't help but oblige as she starts to curl her fingers, resuming her licking and sucking.

With her fingers curling inside you like that, it isn't long before you climax, legs shaking, cumminng hard over her fingers and tongue. Rio helps you through the end of your orgasm, making sure to hold you up as you come back down. 

"Okay, darling, I think we need to sit you down before you lose another fight with gravity," Rio smirks. You can't help but agree; your knees feel very weak and it's taking all of your concentration to stay upright.

"Oh, by the way, I bumped into the maintenance guys on my way in," Rio says lightly, helping you out of the shower. "And they said that your door isn't getting fixed for at least another week. So, it looks like you'll have me to help you shower for a little while longer." Winking, she drags you to her bed, determined to continue what she had just started.

_

alright folks, I've got a sequel in the works but can't decide on the vibes (there'll be smut regardless): READ PART 2 HERE

[darkstaria]

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal Au.

Chapter 6:

Summary: After being ambushed previously in Gotham's streets, you awake alone and afraid, in a strange building.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 7.

----

A furious pounding beat at your skull, a liquid of some kind dripped down from your head. You blinked your eyes open, greeted by what could only be some kind of warehouse.

You were in a daze, barely recognising what was in front of you. What vision you had was muddled by pain and your hearing was drowned out by a piercing beat in your ears.

What...?

You could hardly think.

The world was a messy tsunami of pain and confusion. That is... Until a flash of green, white and red beamed into your eyes, a sneering smile on its face.

You gasped. Breath caught in your throat, as your chin was caught in his hand.

The Joker.

"HahahahahahaHAHAHAHA!" The laugh echoed throughout the building as your surprise turned into shakes. The hand left go as Joker's chortle turned into a full laugh, but that was hardly a relief.

This was, quite literally, the worst situation you could have ever gotten into. Out of everyone who would have an interest in Batman's soulmate, why must it be him?

You instinctively try to move, but soon realise you've been restrained, ropes tying you down to an iron chair. They don't budge.

The stomping of shoes drew your attention back to him, as the Joker approached you again.

"Well now." He began, a beaming grin stretching his face. "Lookie what we have here. You know, I was having a wonderful night, finally out on the town, able to meet all my old friends again. Then I meet you, and you know what I think?"

He rested a hand on your shoulder. You fought a shiver.

"What a... great new friend?" You try. You go for a smile of your own. You're certain it looks more like a grimace.

A mocking laugh is his response. Then, with a sudden twist, his hands grasp your collar, bringing you to his eye level. The movement forces you against the ropes that constrict your stomach, suffocating you.

"I find... a sniveling little brat, that just so happens, TO HAVE A BAT PROTECTING-"

A screech cuts him off, a flurry of wings diving directly into his face, what you could barely make out as a beak aimed at his eyes. The pain you're under causes you to take a moment to understand what's going on, as Joker swings a crowbar at the flying figure.

It was... Hood. Pecking and clawing at the Joker, doing whatever it could to draw him away. And it was working too.

That is, until Joker pressed down on his flower, causing a spray of gas to surge outward directly into Hood's line of flight. It slowed it down, a pause as Hood squawked in pain. A pause that was swiftly taken advantage of, as Joker swung a brutal arc into Hood, the crowbar sending the bird flying across the room and into a crumpled pile on the ground.

"No!" The scream tore itself out of you, a primal sort of agony you never thought you would ever feel after you had withdrawn from thoughts of your soulmates. It was like losing him all over again. Vigilante or not, Hood was a bird. Birds didn't typically survive a hit from a crowbar. If Hood died here, what would you do? One of the connections that had tormented you all your life, over just like that.

The scream drew Joker's attention back to you, a realisation that sank deeply in your throat. He approached you again, an air of casualness across his figure.

"Birds, what little pests. Good thing I always carry around pest spray." He laughs, adjusting the flower resting on his lapel. "I've always preferred bats." A thunk noise sounded out as he spoke, drawing your attention to a small cage he dropped.

It was a birdcage. Inside that birdcage was...

"Batman?!"

The bat inside was still, its gaze fixed on Joker's movements, but it did shift briefly to watch you for but a second as you spoke its name.

"Hahaha!" Joker's laugh was like nails on a chalkboard. "Turns out all you need to capture a bat is the right bait."

"How..?" You mumbled, the words unconsciously forming on your tongue due to the shock.

"Within a moment of my crowbar's acquaintance with your dear old head, Bats appeared! A bit of a nuisance at first, but a few threats at that neck of yours calmed him right down!" Joker admitted, the biggest smile you had seen yet on his face. He chuckled at the mere memory of it, as you shook in horror.

Two of your soulmates were now down. You couldn't stop shaking, horrified. All your options were dwindling and Joker looked more... murdery by the second.

Your attention was caught by a feeling of feathers brushing against your arms, the shaking making the thing touch you. You paused for a miniscule second, as you tried to think of what it was. Wait.

Was another one of your soulmates here? But rather than fight, this one was untying you? Or maybe gnawing at the ropes, whichever option was more plausible for a bird/bat.

Could you stall long enough to get out? It seemed like the only possibility left.

"Why...why do this? What enjoyment are you finding from this?" Maybe not the best line of questioning, but it was all your pounding head could come up with.

"Why?" Joker echoed, pausing for a moment. "Because I don't take kindly to cheaters. Me and Bats have something special. I dealt with my soul chain long ago, and yet! I find him cheating on me with this lousy excuse for a time waster!" He ends his shout pointing at you, a scowl on his painted face. It's possibly the worst expression you've seen on Joker yet.

"Aren't the other Robins his soulmates too? Why are you only targeting me?"

"I dealt with one of the flying rats long ago, quite a great plan if I may say so, but he just came back! I don't feel like wasting my time with this eternal game of wack-a-mole, so I've decided on a new method."

What's the method...?" You ask, reluctantly.

"You." He smiles.

He steps closer, withdrawing a gun from his pocket. "Thanks for the opportunity to capture Bats, my dear, but I've had enough of his chains getting in the way of our little game. I'll take much better care of little Batsy once you die, well, to an extent anyway! Hahaha!"

He tosses the gun up and down, carelessly as he walks towards you.

Up.

What could you do?

Down.

Hood was still crumpled in the corner, likely unconscious.

Up.

Batman was shaking the cage, unable to do anything else in its rage.

Down.

The unknown soul animal hadn't finished removing the ropes.

Across. The gun meets your temple, a few inches away from your head. You lock eyes with him. He pulls the trigger.

Pop! You flinch, coming face to face with a little Bang! flag that popped out of the gun.

You sigh, a momentary relief. You've been spared. You shift a little, feeling the ropes loosen. Your soul animal was doing its job well. You intake a few breaths, as Joker slaunters away from you, chuckling under his breath.

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to regain yourself amidst all the pain.

BANG!

"Agh-!" You jolt, shooting straight up. There's a pain in your cheek, a metallic liquid dripping down.

Turning your head ever so slightly, you spy the Bang flag lodged into the wall. It was a real gun after all.

But..

Why didn't he shoot you?

"Guns are a little too dry, don't you think?" You turn back around, immediately coming face to face with the Joker, an image that makes you flinch.

There's a crowbar in his hands.

"I don't ever repeat jokes, but, my first attempt with this weapon didn't stick too long. I don't want to lower the bar of my comedy, but maybe it'll work this time? Second time's the charm!"

"It's actually the third time.." You speak, nerves causing your words to tumble out. So that's why he didn't shoot you. He intends to make your final moments as painful as possible.

He smiles in response to your quip, lifting the bar up.

"W-wait!" You cried out, desperation pooling into whatever would give you a chance at survival. "Couldn't you do anything else?! Brainwash me, use me as a hostage, isn't it just a waste if you kill me?!" You practically scream the final words, your panic reaching a crescendo of horror.

The Joker's reply is simple.

"Nope!"

He swings.

BANG!

A bullet flies through his hand, forcing him to drop the crowbar as he pulls back.

You both turn, spotting a bulky man in black at the entrance of the warehouse.

He's wearing a red helmet.

"Joker.." The voice is deep, a threatening timbre you'd only hear replicated in nightmares.

"Let. The civilian. Go.” His gun clicks.

“Urgh. Speak of the devil.” Joker complains, unphased. “My plans are being ruined and it's not even by Bats. What is the world coming to?”

“Wait…” The Joker pauses, noticing a fallacy in the vigilantes’ words. “Civilian? Oh, HAHAHA! OHHhhh you have no idea what’s going on here do you?” The Joker snickers in delight, giving you a conniving glance.

“Oh my, oh my. I didn't realise you were also a jokester.” Joker squishes your cheeks, a little too harsh to be anything but painful. He laughs again at the expression on your face.

There's no response from the figure, but the bullet that Joker barely dodges the next second later is answer enough. It grants you and the Joker some distances, so you're grateful.

A flapping of wings draws your attention, a dark blue blur sailing through the room before landing on your lap. Nightwing.

You blink in realisation, finally understanding why not all your soul animals had appeared to help you. Wing had led one of the bats to you. You glanced over. Judging from the helmet, was this Red Hood.

Uh oh. You hoped he didn't notice Hood in the corner.

Or Batman. Or the soul animal freeing you- oh no you were absolutely screwed weren’t you?

You gulp.

“Wait.. You?” Red Hood’s modulated voice didn’t convey any emotion, but it couldn't disguise the hesitance in which he spoke.

Exposed.

“Uhmmm… no?” You tried.

Wing nuzzled your cheek. Hood’s gaze intensified.

“Okay! Okay yes, but I swear there's a reason why I never came to any of you- it wasn't because of you-” Oh dear that one was a blatant lie.

“I.. I mean, I just didn't want-” What could you do, what could you say? You didn't want to lie, but the truth wasn't good either.

In-between your frantic ramblings however, the Joker had snuck up on Red Hood, taking a lucky swing that missed by about a centimeter.

Red Hood’s retaliation was swift, the two suddenly engaging in a battle of force that was very much leaning in Red Hood’s favour. Although, ever so often Red Hood gave a wince of pain. Did Hood’s soul animal form’s state injure him slightly?

That question would go unanswered, as the ropes around you crumpled, revealing Red to be the soul animal that had been bailing you out all this time.

Well. You weren't going to get a better opportunity than this. Pushing Red and Wing off your lap, you rush out, aiming for one of the broken windows.

Batman makes a slight growling noise as you pass his birdcage. You try not to think about it.

“Hey!” A batarang flies past you, the rope attached to it meeting no target as you trip on some broken glass.

“Ah!” You mumble, surprised at your good (?) forture. There's now a cut on your leg. Great.

Red Hood is subsequently distracted from any more attempts to detain you, as the Joker takes another swing that gets a little too close for comfort in response, laughing all the while.

Clumsily falling out of the window, you thank Lady Gotham that the Joker kidnapped you on the ground floor, so there’s no drop whatsoever.

You sigh, injuries now taking a toll as the constant adrenaline was wearing off. You stumble forward.

Red and Wing land on your shoulders. Of course.

You limp out into Gotham’s alleyways, oblivious to the movement of a lithe figure on the rooftop, watching you.

----

Yeah those who guessed Joker were correct! Enjoy a cookie if you did! It seemed criminal to not have a chapter that explored how a soulmate universe would influence Batman and Joker's relationship, so that's what I did!

Oh and yeah, poor Reader. They are not having too good of a time rn. All these injuries aren't really gonna help them plead their case either.

A bit more of Jason this time too! How funnnn. I definitely feel bad for birdy Hood though. Red Hood may be super skilled but it's a little too unrealistic for him to solo as a bird :(

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[spatialwave]

𝐝𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝. 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞.

“𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋”

pairing: angus tully x fem!reader | benny o’donnell x fem!reader word count: 8.2k summary: with the emporium not being the only form of entertainment for the night, you find yourself nestled in the backseat of a car with a group of boys, all so you could spend a few more minutes with a cute, but troubled football player. you had no idea the chaos that was brewing, but hopefully you'd score a beer or two. warnings/tags: underage drinking and drug use, use of homophobic slurs, bullying, verbal/physical fighting, jealousy, love triangle. notes: this took so long, but i tried my best to make sure i could pace it out well, i hope you enjoy. <3

(ao3 vers.)

<- chapter two. | chapter four. →

When you woke up on May 28th, 1976 you had expected a fun, but well-planned day. Wake up and get ready much earlier than normal so you could spend dedicated time on your hair, makeup and clothes. Once at school, you’d go to each class with a smile on your face and be thankful that it would all be over soon. Finish it all up with some ‘light’ hazing over the incoming freshman’s and make way for Pickford’s party so you could get plastered in celebration of summer.

It was an extremely easy plan that shouldn’t have had any fuck-ups, but that’s not how your life worked. You could plan your day with an itinerary and share it amongst all your closest friends, but they wouldn’t listen–you were a magnet of chaos. Hell, your friends were chaos.

Hazing hadn’t even concluded before you were running off with the boy you’d spent the past few weeks dreaming of, praying for his affection. Then, after the party fell through, you found yourself with Benny, his presence comforting for the first time. A new experience that left more to be desired.

Perhaps Kaye was right, had you become a walking cliché? 

It’s not like you’d meant to get involved with two boys, but you’ve heard this line many times in your life–the heart wants what the heart wants. You just happened to have two people digging into your chest, racing to claim it, and you weren’t sure who to open it for.

Angus Tully was one of the kindest boys you’d ever met, sure, a firecracker at times who despised authority in all forms, but he was kind. The first day you met him, he greeted you with a tiny smile and invited you to a poker night with Mike, Tony and Cynthia. You would never forget the way that invite, as small as it was for him, was huge for you–a light in the darkness for a girl who transferred schools in the middle of the year, fearing that she’d never make friends again.

Benny O’Donnell, well, he was a different story. You’d met him formally at a party at Shavonne’s place, a few beers in and looking for attention that he was more than happy to provide. That was the first night in a string of many where you learned each other’s bodies in ways that no one else had. It evolved into what you could only describe as casual hook-ups, although, there were blossoming feelings you’d tried to ignore.

It only became complicated when Angus came into the picture. When you finally decided to take him up on the offer of poker, a month before school ended. The plans had fallen through when Tony and Cynthia fell sick with a bad cold, and Mike said that he was bored by playing poker with only three people. Before you could withdraw for the night and rely on Benny for backup, Angus convinced you to spend the evening with him.

Unbeknownst to you, you fell for him that night. Hard.

It was easy to pretend like those feelings weren’t there, but you’d started cancelling on Benny more often and instead finding yourself in the passenger seat of Angus’ car. That was telling.

Now, you were in the backseat of Pickford’s car with a familiar hand on your thigh and the smell of weed strong in your nose. You weren’t sure how you let yourself get caught up in this mess, but the lack of willpower to speak your mind was the likely culprit.

Smacking your lips, you looked down at your feet when you feel something hard and cold against your sandal-clad foot. Your eyes dropped, and you blinked a few times in the darkness of the backseat as Pickford backed out of the spot at the Emporium. You furrowed your brows together and reached down, hands gliding over a smooth sphere, save for three holes in the top.

“Who’s bowling ball is this?” You asked curiously, picking up the heavy ball and resting it over your lap which had Angus pulling his hand away from you to make space for it. You quickly wished you left it down at your feet.

“Yours,” Jason said from the passenger seat, a grin on his lips as a flame illuminated his face while lighting the end of a half-assed rolled joint. 

You snorted a laugh as you rubbed your hands over the bowling ball, feeling the surface of it and relishing in the way it felt against your skin. You pulled your gaze up to look between the two boys in the front as you slowly slid closer to the middle seat, the bowling ball snug between your hip and the door. Your eyes then watched as Jason’s hand reached behind his headrest, joint in hand as he passed it to Angus.

Sitting closer to him now, you watched as he held the joint to his lips and inhaled. The embers at the end of it reddened, you were mesmerized by it—by him. By the way he pulled the joint away and parted his lips and inhaled the lingering, thick smoke that dared to escape. Your eyes were fixated on his lips, and you hadn’t realized how intently you were staring until your gaze flickered up, and you saw the smirk on Angus’ face just as he exhaled.

Straightening up slightly, your eyes were pulled away when another hand reached back behind the headrest, Pickford’s—offering you his lit joint.

You took it in your hands eagerly, inspecting how expertly it was rolled, and you imagined the way Michelle likely rolled this one. Carefully and meticulously, yet like it was no trouble at all.

“You a smoker?” Angus chuckled, his hand returning after he passed the roach back to Jason who smoked the rest until he threw it out the window.

“What? A lady can’t indulge?” You quipped in return, smiling as you brought it to your lips and inhaled with ease. The smoke filled your lungs, and you pulled the joint away, holding the smoke for a few seconds before parting your lips and letting it flow out of you and into the air—dissipating instantly from the wind coming in through the windows.

Your chest burned, but you didn’t cough, and you scrunched your face as you stifled it. 

“God,” you groaned before taking another small hit, quickly passing the joint back to Pickford as you exhaled once more, “And you?” You asked, turning to look at the boy sitting next to you, “Thought you weren’t supposed to be smoking or drinking… you know, that little pledge of yours, Mr. Quarterback.”

“Fuck that,” Angus huffed, “that pledge is bullshit.”

“Just sign the damn papers, man,” Jason jumped in the conversation, “It’s the least you can do, it’s not like we’re all going to turn into prudes tomorrow morning, we’ll still be having fun next year.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the issue,” the boy beside you grumbled, “It’s that we’re signing this stupid pledge and letting them have the upper hand over us. It’s so fucked that they think they can control us.”

Jason rolled his eyes, biting his tongue back from continuing the conversation.

You watched Angus as he spoke, the anger palpable. Silently, you reached a hand to rest on his thigh, his attention moving from the back of Jason’s head and to you, gaze softening. You squeezed his thigh, an action of reassurance––a familiar touch, one that he often gave you.

“Hey, hey!” Jason exclaimed, reaching an arm out and hitting the exterior of the car door, “pull over to the trashcan. Pull over!”

This was enough to perk up and gain your interest, leaning a bit forward in your seat as you watched Pickford slow down and pull over to the side of the road, but still moving. You hadn’t realized how high you’d gotten until your body couldn’t hold itself forward anymore and had to rest back into the seat, almost like you were glued to it.

And just like that, Angus’ attention was far from the pledge and instead focused on Jason with a big smile as his friend picked up said trashcan.

As you opened your mouth to ask what the hell his was doing, your eyes widened as he threw the trashcan at a mailbox as Pickford sped back up—destroying it completely. The boys whooped and cheered, but all you could do was sit there with an open mouth as you turned in your seat and looked back at the trash scattered on the person’s lawn, mailbox somewhere in the mix.

“This is what you do for fun?” You quirked an eyebrow at Angus, a permanent smile over your lips as your glossy eyes stared at him.

“Sorry if it isn’t up to your standards, my highness. Maybe you should learn to get off that high horse of yours and loosen up a little,” he grinned, rolling down his window as he watched your face turn into one of offense, “Slow down,” he called out to Pickford, leaning over and out the window carefully, “let me get this one!”

From your position beside him, you watched Angus with half-lidded eyes that glimmered with curiosity and interest. As if you were scared he’d fall out, you reached your hand so you could loop a finger into the belt buckle of his pants as he leaned out and grabbed onto the trashcan. You were able to get a better look this time as he picked up the metal bin, holding it a few inches off the ground as the car sped forward. Soon, he mustered up the strength to toss it at a mailbox that was decorated white, blue and red patriotically, immediately smashed into pieces.

Again, the boys cheered and whooped loudly––the car full of laughter as the sound of the rolling trashcan on pavement became quiet as you sped away from the scene of the crime. 

With a big smile on your face, you leaned back in your seat, now perfectly in the middle and nestled up against Angus like you’d been in this position many times before. It felt normal, his arm dangling over your shoulders and a grin on his lips as he smoked the last joint you’d four had been smoking. You couldn’t help but stare up at him in awe, watching as his curls became nothing but a mess because of the wind rushing in through the open windows. And how his cheeks flushed red when the smoke hit too hard and started coughing.

You could never have a nice, gentle moment, could you?

“The bowling ball––” Jason blurted out as he finished swallowing down half a beer, excitement radiating like it was a Nobel Prize idea. The teen turned around completely in his seat so he could look at you and point at the heavy bowling ball just to your left, a wide smile that made you uneasy. 

Your eyes travelled, settling on the globe. If you were sober, you’d be retorting at the blonde boy for having such a stupid idea, but you couldn’t think straight. You couldn’t think at all.

“The ball?” You questioned with furrowed brows, pulling away from Angus’ touch as you let your hands touch the surface of it again, picking it up and feeling the heaviness as it dropped on your lap, “You want me to throw it?” A laugh bubbled up from your throat at the mere idea.

“Fuck yeah, I do. Throw the goddamn ball.” Jason beamed, eagerly sitting closer and Pickford’s eyes watching from 

“Throw it,” Angus chimed in, leaning so close to you that you felt his words tickle your ear. 

Still, even as you neared a felony offense, you hadn’t had any urge to stop. You were a puppet to the boys right now, willing to do whatever they said to fit in. You were no better than your younger brother, who was likely doing the same thing back at the Emporium––though, your foggy mind kept you from overanalyzing the ‘why’ of it all.

All you could do was keep pushing forward, sliding your body until you were against interior of the car and head peaking out the window. The air was cool against your skin, offering relief that you didn’t know you needed from the heat of the car. Your eyes adjusted to your surroundings, a residential neighbourhood with rows of houses and mailboxes all waiting to be destroyed by a flying bowling ball. 

Knowing that your audience was waiting, you used all the strength that you could muster up in your altered state and pulled the bowling ball up until it was resting between you and the base of the car window. 

You wasted no time.

Within seconds, you took hold of the bowling ball and threw it, intending for it to smack the mailbox that was adorned in colour birds and butterflies, likely home to an elderly woman. Instead, you were greeted with the sounds of glass shattering as it landed right into the rear window of an old Cadillac.

Time slowed for a second, your eyes watching as the now-damaged vehicle passed by. Waiting to ruin an unfortunate soul’s morning when they realize their car has been subjected to high school shenanigans.

Your jaw dropped, and you pulled yourself back into the car, eyes wide and your high threatening to disappear as reality sunk in. Yep, you’d done it. You finally allowed peer pressure consume you to the point of vandalism and criminal offenses. So long to the scholarships you so desperately wanted, and hello to juvenile detention.

Your mother would cry when she found out, your father disowning you. Your younger brother would follow in your footsteps, becoming a menace and fitting in with the wrong crowd. Oh, and your grandmother––how would she react? You didn’t want to think about that.

Body frozen, you thinned your lips as your mind rambled, yet, at the same time, felt quiet. Your eyes flickered around, and you saw that the three boys all looked similar, but there was a hint of amusement. Pickford was fighting back a smile, and Jason was starting to snicker.

Angus was the first to erupt into a loud fit of laughter that the two other boys joined, leaving you speechless… and relieved. A small smile spread onto your face as your body relaxed into the leather seat, their laughter contagious as your emotions went from scared shitless to who-gives-a-flying-fuck!

“You’re nuts. Fucking nuts!” Pickford laughed, leaving you blushing under the attention as he reached his hand back for you to take. He shook your hand proudly, a big smile on his lips, as Jason cheered and looked around for a celebratory beer.

Even as your attention was enraptured by the two rowdy boys sitting up front, you noticed the way that Angus was smirking at you out of the corner of your faded vision. Lips pulled to the side lazily, his hand reaching to rest on the designated spot on your clothed thigh reserved solely for his touch.

Fuck. You squeezed your thighs together––the fluttering in your stomach mixed with the high was making you feel good.

“Hey!” Jason called out, grunting, “We’re outta’ beer, man. We have to make a stop at grab ‘n’ go.”

“I don’t have any money,” Pickford was prompt in his reply, hand tightening over the steering wheel as the car made a sharp turn toward the corner store.

“Who’s got money?” The blond spun in his seat, eyes flickering between you and Angus, leaving you doe-eyed and shrugging.

“I––” you stuttered, hands flying to your jean pockets and fingers digging inside, Angus following in suit.

Jason waved his hand in front of his face, turning around in his seat as, “Doesn’t matter, I’ll get it.”

“What are you going to do, hoist it?” Pickford asked as he slowed the car, shifting into park and twisting the keys in the ignition so the engine lulled.

“It’s all I ever do,” Jason retorted, turning around in his seat and grinning at you, “I just need a certain someone as a lookout.”

“Me?” You questioned quickly, looking over at Angus and feeling your body grow warm. Was throwing a bowling ball into someone’s vehicle not enough? Now you were being wrangled into petty thievery. 

“I don’t know about this, Jay,” Angus shifted in his seat uncomfortably, and you could see the worry on his face for getting you involved. That didn’t stop Pickford from getting out of the car, though, pulling his seat forward and giving you space to crawl out and be a lookout, so the group could score.

You inhaled a sharp breath, pulling your gaze from Angus and deciding that you’d do it. You were already in deep, you might as well get a beer or two out of this. 

“Be careful, darling,” Pickford grinned as you stepped out, smoothing down the halter top you wore that had ridden up your rib cage and exposed most of your stomach.

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes, stepping away from him and heading to the front of the store with Jason, feeling like you could definitely use more weed and beer to get rid of your sobriety. Being caught up in crimes was a sure way to get that hazy feeling out of your head, “I don’t know about this Jason,” you spoke softly, your arms wrapped around your stomach as you slowed down near the door, wide eyes looking up at him and pleading.

“Shh,” Jason shushed you, stopping in his footsteps and peaking around you to look over at Angus and Pickford, eyes settling on you again, “I’m going to pay for it, I’m just messing with them.” He smiled wide, immediate relief washing over you when you realized he was only trying to be ‘cool’ in front of the boys.

A quiet laugh came from you as you slid your hands into your back pockets, nodding at him as he walked inside the convenient store and pulled some bills out of his wallet.

You were given a moment of reprieve as you stood under the fluorescent lights of the store’s awning, tilting your head back and inhaling a deep breath of the late, summer air. It smelled like there was rain in the distance, and you wondered if tomorrow you’d be spending the day inside recovering from a hangover and listening to a thunderstorm. Not a terrible way to kick off the break––cozy and relaxed.

Your eyes closed as you relaxed, breathing slowly and listening to the distant sounds of Pickford and Angus chatting, likely about they’d be doing for the rest of the evening. The buzzing of the lights above you, the crickets that sounded like they were across the street in the grassy park.

The sound of the door opening startled you, having been lost in your thoughts for a few minutes while Jason had ‘stolen’ the goods. 

“Go, go, go!” He said to you, ducking down underneath the building windows and putting on a show for the others like he’d just stolen everything he held in his arms. Quickly, you turned on your feet and scrambled for the car, adrenaline coursing through your veins––even if this was pretend.

You hadn’t noticed the sound of tires screeching behind you as you slid into the backseat as Pickford leaned forward in the driver’s seat, only noticing someone else had arrived when a well-polished revolver was pointed at your face.

People lied when they say they see their life flash before their eyes in those fleeting moments before death because you didn’t see shit. All you saw was a huffy, angered man who was too unhinged for his own good. You didn’t get to witness all of your greatest moments one final time.

This sucked.

“Don’t try anything, or I’ll shoot the shit outta’ ya!” He growled at the group, pointing the gun now at Pickford and Jason.

As your heart leaped up into your throat, you felt arms wrap around your waist and heat press against your back. Angus held you tight, and you could feel how fast his heart was beating, too, as you put your hands over his and squeezed them until you felt like you would nearly break them.

“Jay, give him the money, man.” Pickford said as he lowered in his seat, eyes wide and focused on the blonde boy sitting ahead in the passenger seat.

“I paid for the beer, man.” He replied, staring down the barrel of the gun.

You squeezed at Angus’ hands again, trying your best to keep a steady breath and not spiral. It was difficult, though, because at any moment you feared the sounds of four gunshots and meeting with an untimely death. All because of what? What the hell did he want?

“You busted my mailbox, didn’t you?” He asked, hand shaking as he pointed the gun with fervour and intimidation. It worked––all of you shivering in fear and hoping the barrel wouldn’t point at you. “Look me in the eye, girl!” He snapped, pointing the gun to the back seat and in your face.

That’s when the image flashed through your head, the mailbox painted red, white and blue… scattered and broken on the lawn.

“I-I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you spoke, words shaky and heart racing, Angus’ arms around you providing no comfort when he couldn’t block a shot from going in your head, “I think you might’ve got us confus–”

“Huh?” He goaded loudly, now pointing the gun at Pickford, the silver barrel pushing against the boy’s nose, “Tamperin’ with mailboxes is a felony offense. Now, I done called the police…” The old man grunted, uncocking the gun and taking a step back, slowly. Your eyes flickered to the boy in the driver’s seat, and you noticed how his shoulders relaxed, but eyes still wide as he slowly turned to look at Jason––begging for an answer on what to do.

“I think you boys ought to get out of the car,” the man huffed, holstering the gun in his pants as he took a step back.

That’s when Angus clung to you tight as he leaned forward, whispering between Pickford and Jason, “Just get the fuck out of here,” he hissed, keeping his voice low, “go!”

It felt like everything else happened in the blink of an eye, your eyes flickered to see as the older man had reached forward and opened the driver’s door ajar in an attempt to coax you all out of the car. Then, you heard the sound of the engine roar after Jason shifted the gear into drive and Pickford slammed his food on the accelerator. 

“Go, go, go, go!” You shouted loudly, flying back against Angus as the car shot forward, and all you could hear was the sounds of the man yelling loudly as he tumbled back onto the pavement.

With wide eyes and smiles adorning your faces, both you and Angus turned around in your seats, watching as the man scrambled to his feet. Your lips had parted to shout something at him, some form of a ‘fuck you’, but you were greeted with a gunshot. The bullet missed the car entirely, but all of you still slid down to avoid any strays that could penetrate the windows.

“Holy shit!” You yelled loudly––Jason’s laugh louder––hands over your head as you kept your body sunken below the seat, glancing over to Angus, whose eyes were already on you. Two more shots missed the car, but by now the entire situation felt like a distant memory as you stared into those big brown eyes full of life and wonder, fear long gone now that you’d all escaped with nothing more than adrenaline pumping through your blood vessels.

Both Pickford and Jason were too caught up with each other, sharing a laugh over the old geezer who would be doing nothing but dealing with cops and unknowing who the hell to charge.

You, though, were completely enraptured by the boy next to you, a big smile on your face that matched his. Your heart skipped when he reached a hand forward, using it to tuck back some of your that had blown into your face from the breeze blowing through the open window. 

This was terrible timing, you knew it. You knew that driving away and being shot at by some crazy old man who loved his mailbox more than his wife was likely the worst time to realize how deeply in love you were with someone. But you couldn’t help it. 

Not when his long fingers brushed against your warm cheek, your skin tingling in its wake. Especially not when he leaned forward so slowly and left you completely breathless when his lips grazed against yours in a kiss that made your entire body shiver and ache for more. Your eyes closed, and you inhaled sharply through your nose as you two moved your lips together just barely—just enough to taste each other for a brief moment.

Nearly as quick as he’d done it, he pulled away with reddened cheeks and left you having to swallow down an audible whimper. 

It was a saving grace that Pickford or Jason didn’t notice, instead too fixated on passing the last remnants of the joint between each other––the smell of marijuana pulling you both away from the kiss you shared and back into the present. Feeling nothing short of awkward as Pickford reached forward and turned up the radio, so Low Rider could play loudly through the speakers.

Clearing your throat, you pulled away and sat up in your seat, your thumb brushing against your lip longingly, watching through the corner of your eye as Angus pulled away just as quickly, running a hand through his curls.

The rest of the car ride was silent between you two, sharing nothing more than the smallest of knowing smiles and wondering if this meant you’d be seeing more of each other later. The troubles of Elise and Benny were far from you––until the car pulled back into the Emporium’s lot and your eyes landed on the blond boy standing outside the building, cigarette between his lips and hands on his hips. He wore a long-sleeve striped button down and a blue ball cap snug on his head, an outfit you’d seen him wear on many other party nights. Discernible as his ‘nice’ outfit.

The more you stared at him, the more you had begun to realize that he wasn’t… well––he wasn’t Angus. You felt terrible, staring at him from the darkened backseat, watching the sparkle in his eyes when those blue eyes flickered over and landed on you. 

It wasn’t until you felt the pressure removed from your thigh that you realized Angus had already slid out from the backseat, dipping inside the Emporium with Jason tagging along. Abandoning you, so you could have your time with Benny. 

As you moved out from behind the driver’s seat, your fingers brushed your lips again absentmindedly. Angus’ lips were softer than you imagined and had tasted of cheap beer, a taste that wasn’t new to you, but was heavenly coming from him.

“Hey!” A girl’s voice called to you as you shut the car door behind you, your hand quickly dropping from your lips and instead shoving it deep into the pocket of your jeans, “I heard you got shot at by some old geriatric.” Shavonne laughed, leaning up against the side of Pickford’s car, a cigarette snug between her fingers.

“News travels fast,” you returned, chewing on your bottom lip as you took the cigarette and indulged in a drag, “It was insane. I don’t know why I let myself get caught up with them.”

The blonde took back her cigarette begrudgingly, taking the last drag before stomping it out with her shoe on the ground, “I don’t know why you’re complaining, you’ve got messy hair and red cheeks. You look like you had the best time of your life,” she said to you, narrowing her eyes slightly as she looked deep into yours, “and you’re high as hell.”

“Am not,” you protested, the effects of the weed long gone.

“Don’t lie to me, girl,” she giggled––her teasing sending a shiver down your spine as it reminded you of the old man who had said the same thing moments earlier. She shoved you playfully with her hand before reaching up and fixing some of your misplaced hair, “I suppose a gun in my face would sober me up too.”

“The problem is that I don’t want to be sober anymore,” you huffed, arms crossing over your chest as you let her fix you up, pursing your lips.

“Join the club. Nobody wants to be sober.”

Once inside the Emporium, you managed to score a beer from Teddy. One of the few perks of being linked to Benny––free beer and sexual relief when you needed. You knew better than to complain.

As you stood off to the side, watching Teddy, Mel, Wooderson and Benny indulge in a game of pool, you found yourself growing restless and bored. Stuck here with nothing better to do but watch. You could sense that the others were beginning to feel this way too, the most excitement tonight was coming from Pickford, Angus and Jason who were making their rounds in the Emporium and telling the story of how you’d all been chased by a gun-wielding maniac.  

Your eyes settled on the brunet across the room, watching Angus as he closely stood next to Elise––a big smile on his face as Pickford retold the story again to her and Darla with animated movements. Your jaw clenched when your eyes moved downward, seeing the way his hand had snuck behind the girl’s body, much too low to be resting on her back.

With half a beer reigniting the fire in you, you nearly pushed yourself away from the wall and started a scene… until a certain someone stopped you.

“So, you’re a tough girl now?” Benny said, standing a few feet away from the pool table and in front of you, leaning against the cue stick.

“Huh?” You scrunched your face as you looked up at him, blinking through the confusion.

“A tough girl,” he said, “You know? Running away from an old fuck with a loaded gun?”

“Oh, right,” you smiled, shaking your head slightly, “Sorry… I spend one car ride with Pickford and my mind is fucked from the weed,” you carefully avoided the truth, thankful for the distraction from Angus.

“Don’t turn into a stoner on me now,” Benny grinned, looking you up and down, “you have too much potential for that.”

“Oh, a girl can’t smoke once in a while and get chased by someone with a gun without ruining her potential?” You returned the smile, one hand on your hip and the other tucking the can of beer against your halter-covered chest.

“Now you’re twisting my words around,” he chuckled lowly in his throat, the sound making a chill run up your spin as you watched him turn around and strike a ball perfectly into one of the corner pockets, “fuck yeah!” He cheered, sharing a big smile with Kountze, his pool partner.

“Hey, kid,” you heard Mel start speaking, noticing him whispering over to your younger brother and slipping him a couple dollar bills. You watched as your brother’s eyes widened, a smile on his face as he left.

“You get freshman to do your beer runs?” You asked him, quirking an amused eyebrow as you stepped closer to the pool table, looking down at the game that he was losing at as Teddy took a shot.

“Sure do,” he flashed a smile at you, “Don’t worry about him. One day he’ll be doing the exact same thing.”

“Mhm, sure,” you nodded cheekily, taking another sip of your beer and staying close to Benny’s side.

With an entire beer in your system, and another couple hits of a joint, you’d happily forgotten about Angus and Elise now. The anger that had accumulated inside you and was ready to burst had vanished, and you were left only with a buzz that left a smile on your face. You held a cue stick in your hands as Teddy took another shot, loudly cursing when the cue ball struck nothing, leaving you trying to hide a laugh as Benny helped you make a shot for him.

“Benny, just shoot yourself man, I don’t want to lose.” Teddy grumbled from the side, a frown on his face as he looked at you with what you could only discern as disgust. You had no idea how this man still managed to stay afloat in the social ranks.

“Don’t be a prick,” you said to him, but Benny was quick to pull your attention back to the pool game before you and Teddy could go head-to-head in a screaming match.

“C’mon, lean over,” he whispered, guiding you with a hand on the small of your back as he took in a deep breath, pressing you forward until your chest was nearly pressed against the cue stick parallel to the table. Your face felt hot underneath the lamp that lit up the pool table, lighting you up perfectly as several people watched and waited for you to shoot.

“Like this?” You asked quietly, gliding and balancing the stick along the skin between your pointer finger and thumb.

“Yeah, just like that,” Benny knelt down beside you, just enough to get a levelled look at your play. His hand gently rubbed the skin of your lower back, soothing, “Go for the hit.”

Your nose scrunched as you pulled back on the cue stick and slid it forward with a quick ‘snap’. The cue ball rolled forward and crashed into the eight-ball––the one you were trying to avoid. With a look of horror, you quickly pulled yourself upright as you sunk it perfectly into the middle pocket before you could get rid of all the solids, ending Benny and Teddy’s game against Wooderson and Melvin with a loss.

“God fucking dammit,” Teddy groaned, “You might possibly be the worst pool player I’ve ever seen in my life. Seriously.” 

“Suck a dick,” you retorted angrily at the boy, sneering in his direction as Benny laughed and so casually wrapped an arm around your waist. You noticed the foreign touch quickly, eyes widening slightly, but refusing to look up at him and allowing your surprise to be caught by him. 

What you hadn’t noticed, however, was the glare being shot into the back of your head none other by Angus Tully, who had been standing with Jason a few pool tables down. Those brown eyes were full of jealousy and rage as he clenched his jaw and hands balled into fists, watching too closely at how Benny’s fingers had teasingly dipped into the hem of your halter top along your waist.

You did your best to remain as cool and as casual as you could, thankful that your brother had returned with the score of beer for Melvin so you could focus on something else other than the blond’s large, calloused hand over the exposed skin of your waist. Leaving you shivering at his touch and silently praying for more.

Your head was far in the gutter.

“Benny––” Teddy snapped, “come on, let’s play another, you and me.”

“Weirdo,” you breathed out under your breath, looking over your shoulder as Teddy walked away and started provoking two other boys into playing a game against them. You looked up at Benny and you could see in his eyes how he was trying his hardest to pretend like he wasn’t desperately wanting to go play another round, “go on,” you laughed softly, pulling away from his touch, “I’ll go find Shavonne and Kaye.” 

“I’ll catch you later, right?” He asked you, grinning from ear-to-ear as he took a few steps back.

“Yes,” you smiled, waving him away. As you turned on your heel to find your friends in the sea of teens, your eyes met with Angus’ and you sensed exactly what he felt because you’d been looking at him with those same eyes when he was with Elise earlier. Sharp and narrow.

The energy between you was tense, not hostile… but it was sharp. Electric. Jealous. Desire.

You puffed out your chest proudly and walked yourself out of the Emporium with a swaying in your hips as if to take a stab at him, as if somehow he’d sense exactly what you felt. It was so incredibly childish because you both had taken one small step forward with that kiss, only to jump back three paces the moment you felt an ounce of jealousy.

Teen dramatics were a curse.

The moment you were outside, you were able to take in a deep breath, one that expanded your lungs fully and left you able to think clearly for once. “Fuck.” You murmured shakily to yourself as you closed your eyes tight, feeling the cool night breeze on your hot skin, unaware of what was happening just across the street. 

A plan concocted by your younger brother.

“Move–” you were rudely interrupted by the voice of Teddy Kountze. The bastard practically knocking you aside as he ran to his car and grabbed his paddle.

“Watch where you’re going!” You grumbled as you caught your feet, watching with sharp, angry eyes as he ran over to the other side of the road to the machine shop––you could just barely make out the boy being leaned up against the large shop door. Carl… something. A friend of your brother’s.

You cringed to yourself as you walked forward to the corner of the Emporium, listening to the foul language that Kountze was spitting at the poor boy. It made you wonder what your brother had gone through earlier that evening at the hands of him. Speaking of the devil, with your arms crossed over your chest, you looked over your shoulder to see your brother standing behind you, with Wooderson and Angus lingering a few steps behind. 

“That’s your friend?” You asked him, furrowing your brows together.

“Yeah,” He murmured, doing a good job at pretending like he was worried. 

A crowd had started to form just outside the Emporium, tens of eyes watching the scene unfold as Teddy took his precious time, eating up the situation slowly and savouring every last bit of fear coming from the freshman. You could barely make out what he was saying, but you could see the sinister smile on his lips. That man was pure evil.

Though, just as he was preparing for the first of many paddles, your eyes flickered up, and you saw two kids leaning over the roof of the shop with something large in their hands. You were having a hard time connecting the dots, leaning closer as if you would get a better look at them.

Your eyes widened when you saw the paint, watching the white liquid trickle out of the can and splash onto Teddy’s hair. Only enough to get his attention. 

“Holy shit,” you grinned, your entire expression brightening up as he lifted a hand to touch the paint in his hair.

“Remember me, you pig?” One of the boys asked loudly from the rooftop, only now seeing that they were also friends of your brother. They began imitating the sounds of squealing pigs as Teddy looked up at them, only to be greeted with an entire bucket of white paint which splashed onto him, covering all of his hair, most of his face and shirt. It left him so vulnerable and pathetic. A small, small man.

You burst into laughter, hell, most of the people around had. If there was anything most people could agree on, it was that Teddy Kountze was a fucking asshole and deserved this.

“Fuckin’ freshman, bastards!” He screamed, pushing the white paint out of his eyes and watching as the kids dropped from the side of the roof and ran to a car that quickly sped off. He walked over to the other senior boys in the class who had been firstly trying to paddle Carl, turning the blame to them, “Jesus! You let that little fuck get away! What’s the matter with you? It’s fucking pitiful!” He shouted at them, turning his anger away from the boys and instead looking over in your direction.

Your brother’s direction.

He began walking across the street, eyes scouring over the crowd that watched, eyes landing on your brother as he narrowed in and chose his next target. It was never Teddy Kountze’s fault.

“What are you smiling at? You little freshman faggot? Huh?!” He walked right past you, reaching out and shoving at your brother so hard he nearly tumbled to the ground.

“Don’t fucking touch him, you pig,” you swore at Kountze, your heart pounding hard in your chest. No one was allowed to treat your brother like that. Absolutely fucking no one. 

You reached forward and grabbed at the wet fabric of his shirt, pulling him back hard enough that his attention had gone from your brother and landed right on you. The look in his eyes was wild, crazier than the man who had been pointing a revolver in your face. Teddy Kountze, too, might be more dangerous.

“You step the fuck back,” he warned you through a deep grunt, taking a few taunting steps forward so that you had to back up, “What are you doing to do? Hit me? Stand up for your pathetic little brother?” He teased you, close enough that you could smell the beer radiating from him. Kountze was an angry drunk.

“Don’t take your anger out on the freshman just because you’re an idiot who’s too dumb to graduate.” You quipped, hearing the ‘oohs’ coming from the crowd that gathered around. It was a brave statement coming from you because you knew that it would only take a few seconds for him to blow.

You were almost certain that Teddy Kountze wouldn’t be afraid to hit a woman. 

“You shut your whore mouth. Sluts shouldn’t talk––”

Your fist moved faster than your brain, eyes widening when your knuckles made contact with his jaw and pain shot up through your arm. Immediately, you winced in pain, but before you could continue taking your pent-up anger out at him, you felt someone pull you back, while Wooderson pulled Teddy away.

“Didn’t know you were a fighter,” Angus breathed into your ear, you could feel the smirk on his lips as he tugged you back as you tried to wrestle yourself out of his grip to get back at the paint-covered senior. You gave up very quickly, though, when you saw Kountze pulling away from Wooderson.

“Ah, fuck you! Fuck everyone here!” Kountze yelled as he pulled himself away from everyone and stomped to his car. For his final statement and burst of anger, he took the paddle and smashed it onto the ground until it split it in half––tossing it aside before angrily getting inside his car and speeding away in shame.

The crowd had turned to laughter again, a few people telling you ‘good job’, but you didn’t feel like it was a good job. Your hand felt like it had shattered, and the bruising had already started, and now you were wrapped in Angus’ arms wanting nothing more than to spin around and finish the kiss he’d left you with.

You were a mess. Everything was a mess, and you could hardly think straight.

You were a flurry of emotions now, taking a quick, but longing, glance at Angus before pulling away from his grasp and heading right toward your brother––he was far more important right now.

“Hey, are you okay?” You asked him, reaching up to touch his cheek, but he pushed it away.

“Don’t,” he laughed, “it’s covered in paint!”

“Sorry,” you smiled, crinkling your nose down at your hand that had paint smeared on it from the punch you’d just landed on Teddy.

“I’m fine,” he added, “that was badass… but I think he’ll probably hate me for the rest of my life.”

“Yeah, probably,” you breathed out your nose, feeling apologetic for the complications you’d been getting your brother in, “I guess I’ll just have to punch him if he tries something again. Maybe he’ll learn his lesson.” 

You both shared a laugh––a gentle moment you both needed during this wild night.

Soon, Mitch’s attention had been taken away by a blonde sophomore girl, leaving you with a small smile at the prospect of your younger brother running in the same crowd with you now. You had long disappeared from the chaos of the night, having met up with Kaye and Shavonne in the quiet washroom as you cleaned yourself up and shared a cigarette with your girls. You promised yourself that you’d spend the next while with them, you seemed to get way too caught up in trouble with anyone else… you could use some time to breath and think over everything that had happened.

Everything about Angus.

“The moon tower?” You asked as you finished touching up your lipstick that you borrowed from Shavonne, noticing in the mirror how your knuckles were nicely bruised, “I don’t think I’ve ever been there.” 

“Really?” Kaye questioned, taking a long-needed drag, “I would’ve thought that you and Benny would frequent it a lot… but I guess the floodlight there doesn’t give much privacy for young love, does it?”

“Ha. Ha.” You faked a laugh, “If you must know, we usually have the decency of fucking behind closed doors.” You chided, smacking your lips together a few times before blotting on some paper towel, returning the lipstick to Shavonne.

“So, you and him are still a thing, then?” Your short-haired friend asked, smirking as she passed the cigarette to you.

“Well, I don’t know,” you shrugged with a slight frown, passing it over to Shavonne, not wanting to ruin your lipstick, “What do you want me to say to that?”

“Well, what happened to you and Angus?” She tilted her head, “I don’t think I’ve seen you two interact since you got back from that… joyride.”

“What are you, a stalker?” You prodded at her, “We actually saw each other outside, just before I came in.”

“Really?”

“... Yeah. Kind of.”

“Quit being a prude and fucking tell us! What happened?” Shavonne exclaimed loudly, tired of you beating around the bush, as she took one more drag and tossed the cigarette into the wet sink.

You stood in the middle of the washroom with your arms crossed over your chest, fingers digging into the skin of your forearms as your two closest friends stared daggers into you. Forming the right words in your head was hard because you weren’t exactly sure just how much you should share, or if they would judge you––but the words slipped out so quickly.

“We kissed, okay!” You admitted, your gaze flickering between them, “We kissed in the backseat after that guy pointed his gun in my face. It happened so quick and then… we got awkward about it. I don’t know. Now I feel like we’re just… waiting to see who caves first,” you felt your cheeks warm up, “and I liked it… and I want it to happen again.”

“God. One just isn’t enough for you, is it?” Kaye teased, her voice gentle to show she hadn’t meant anything negative. If anyone was your real best friend, it was her.

“Well, we better get our asses to the moon tower, then.” Shavonne grinned excitedly, licking over her teeth as she pushed herself off of the sink counters, wrapping around your shoulders and tugging you along as Kaye followed, “You, my friend, need a shit ton of beer so you can stop being such a worry wart and finally make the first move.”

A quiet laugh bubbled up from you, knowing that even if she was a bit wild-spirited and acted on impulse, there was truth behind those words. You know that before this night ended, you needed to kiss him again––and preferably on your own terms.

Shortly after, you had settled into the backseat of the car, sitting up on the back of the seat with Sabrina by your side. You were giddy—thankful that there was finally something to do instead of just mayhem after mayhem. An actual party where you could drink, smoke and maybe dance if someone played music loud enough. 

A real graduation party.

Just as Kaye backed out of the parking lot, you looked over at the Emporium’s entrance once last time and your eyes settled on Angus Tully as he stepped out of the doors with Jason close behind, hands tucked into the front of his pockets. Everything felt slow as you drove past, your eyes fixated on his as you two shared a knowing look.

Angus winked and left you with a tiny smile on your lips and butterflies swirling in your stomach.

You both wanted each other, desperately.

[demonic0angel]

Delusion (click for clarity)

Part of this AU where Jazz is Jason’s assistant.

I was legit giggling to myself when I drew this. I think Jason should be so besotted and in love with Jazz that it’s genuinely embarrassing for everyone.

He hasn’t even seen her face yet 😔

Inspired by the Lego Movie scene where Emmett is being completely delusional about Wyldstyle lmaooo

Image description below:

Panel 1 has Jazz covered up in a helmet and leather bodysuit. She’s looking at a piece of paper and reading off of it.

Jazz: So on the agenda today, we have a new shipment coming in tonight…

Panel 2 has Jason looking at her in his Red Hood costume, hand on his chin as he nods. Jazz is still talking off screen.

Jason: Mhm.

Jazz: … and at 1, we have a meeting with…

Panel 3, 4, 5 can be summarized as Jazz, now seen from Jason’s POV, is acting cute and sexy. The background is pink and there are hearts and flowers around her. This is only Jason’s delusions.

Jazz: *as per Jason’s daydreaming* Blah, blah, blah… Proper name. Place name. Logistics stuff…

Panel 6 has Jason, immersed in his fantasies, blushing as he nods even more.

Jason: … mhmm…

Panel 7 has everyone in chibi form, with people surrounding Jazz and Jason at a table, clearly still in a meeting, all staring at each other in various degrees of awkwardness, confusion, and disgust. Jazz looks exasperated while still speaking and Jason is still having fantasies, hearts all around him.

There are two captions: 1) the boss, completely distracted (while pointing to Jason) and 2) The subordinates, aware of his daze, but can’t stop him (while pointing to Jazz and the other people).

Jazz: *sweating* We also have a meeting with…

[himbopunk]

i just realized i never posted bg3 au sid here. his broken horn got switched cuz there was only one mod that worked for me. also he got de-winged. but hes still a psychic asshole, except now hes a little bit less special in that regard on account of the brainworms

here's some in game screenshots :3

[citrustan]

dating girl (jjk)

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: you try to convince yourself that you're really okay with 'casually dating' your crush.

genre: college au, fwb kinda thing but more than friends ygm? angst!

"Are they allowed to cancel an entire day at college? That can't be good for anyone..." Your mother ponders out loud as you walk around the city hand-in-hand.

"There's not much you can do if someone decides to paint over every projector lens on campus." You nod.

"Lucky for me, I get to spend time with my little baby," she nuzzles her nose into your hair, squeezing you in a side-hug, "Still can't believe we have to schedule our hangouts now."

"Yeah, there's that..." You smile half-heartedly.

You stop near a flower stall, taking in the hustle and bustle of the city. It's especially crowded because of your university abruptly cancelling a bunch of classes.

After your day had freed up unexpectedly, you had invited your sorta but not really boyfriend, Jungkook, to go cafe hopping to find where all the good teas are because you knew he'd be available. But he never responded.

So your mood has been a bit damp all day.

You had just stepped out of this store that sold handmade sweaters and yarn balls. Not even a good shopping spree could lift your spirits.

What certainly doesn't help is randomly seeing said sorta but not really boyfriend who didn't respond to your texts out and about with some leggy blonde girl.

You've never seen her around.

Not that you know every single person on campus, but if they've crossed Jungkook's path, you know them.

They're dining together al fresco, at one of the cafes you had literally listed in your text to Jungkook.

Talk about a slap in your face.

For a second, you think she might just be his sister or something.

But that thought bubble is quickly shot at with a razor-sharp arrow when you see him kiss her knuckles.

Your eyes involuntary darken, and your mouth forms a pout. The kind one has when they're trying to hold back a cry or a sob.

All the while, your mother had talked about your grandparents' separation, the local diner having caught fire, and matching mother and daughter shoes she had bought for your birthday.

You were listening passively so you didn't quite catch everything.

When your mother notices the look on your face, she frowns, following the line of your vision.

Upon spotting Jungkook and mystery girl, she gasps angrily, "Oh, no, he sucks." She turns back to you, "Honey, I'm so sorry."

"No, mom, this is normal," you smile weakly, "And it's okay."

"You're still seeing him, aren't you?" She tilted her head in confusion.

"Yes." You nod, "I am."

"But then he's there," she points at the pair with her chin, "seeing her. How's that okay?"

"It just is, mom! Really," you attempt to convince your mother (and yourself) that you were 100% fine with witnessing Jungkook out with other women. "We're keeping things casual. Very... casual."

"And that's a mutual decision?" She confirms.

"We both agreed." You concur.

Your mother's still unsure about your choices. "Well. Okay then."

You glance at Jungkook and mystery girl one last time.

The picture isn't pretty. He's leaning into her ear and has his large hand placed over her bare thigh as she caressed his arm with her much smaller hand, thoroughly enjoying his attention.

Your mother watches your expression go stiff, "So, how does this work again?"

Snapping you out of your daze, she pushes a few strands of hair away from your eyes.

"Oh. Um..." You exhale, "Well, we see each other and we see other people, and that's that. We're cas-" - "Yeah, casual, I heard." Your mother interrupts your blabber.

When you frown at her she sighs, "Sorry..."

"It's ok." You look down at your feet, kicking a few stray pebbles out of the way.

"I just--- I thought you guys were sleeping together." She blurts.

"Mom!" You exclaim, looking around to see if anyone had heard her, "It's not that big of a deal. I want this too. And I need to learn to date too."

Again, you try to ease your mind about your decision.

"So who else are you dating?" She asks pointedly.

This is suddenly getting very exhausting.

You lightly cringe and look around, "Uh... Nobody yet. But this guy from one of my extras--- his name's Hoseok but we call him Hobi, or Hoba, depending on how close you are to him--- anyway, he asked me out to a halloween theme party next week."

Your mother gives you a knowing look, deciding to play along anyway, "Oh! You've never mentioned him before."

"Mhm. Because it's new." You hunch your shoulders nervously.

The party was hosted by the student body to raise funds for, you don't know, collegiate stuff.

You had imagined going with Jungkook, with matching Dentist and Tooth Fairy couple costumes. But he hadn't asked you yet and you definitely weren't going to bring it up first.

It's less than a week away, so you're not expecting anything from him either. He probably already has another date lined up.

You wonder if it's the blonde he's with now.

Maybe you can do the look with Hoseok instead.

"So, are you gonna do it?"

"Do what?" Was she in your head?

"Go with Hobi or Hoba." She makes air quotations for 'Hobi or Hoba.'

"Oh, yeah. Yep. Definitely." Suddenly remembering, you add, "Oh and can you make me my costume? I want to be the Tooth Fairy?" You softly ask her, knowing it's a little last minute, but also knowing she wouldn't deny you.

"Why of course! Does... Hobi need a costume too?" She asks carefully.

"Oh, no. Probably not." Well, you don't know. You don't know if his offer even stands now and you might end up not going at all.

Your mother rubs your shoulder, "Ask him and let me know, 'kay?"

You force out an uncomfortable smile and nod, "Thanks."

Although your mother's not convinced, she decides to drop the topic all together.

"Well, that's good," she smiles down at you warmly, "Do you want to get that sweater exchanged?"

It was vague, but you appreciated her attempt either way.

"Mhm. Back to the store we go." You narrate with an airy laugh.

Your mother was in the lead, already making her way to the store you had just walked out of.

Once again, your gaze falls on Jungkook and his date, and to your surprise he was staring right back at you.

You want to give him a little smile. To show him you're unbothered. But you couldn't seem to force one out this time.

So you settle with giving him a small wave, which he returns, mirroring your expression.

His date follows his line of sight and spots you too, giving you a tight smile. It's not passive aggressive, just... decent. Not polite either. But why should she be?

Jungkook blinks at you as you hurriedly leave trying to keep up with your mother.

Maybe you should focus on Hoseok for now.

note: nobody asked for this but i was feeling a little silly :p needed some angsty ouchie with the possibility of a favourable conclusion so i indulged!

hey bonus points if you can tell what inspired this! and if you read all this lmk what you think regardless :D

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Blood Bag

DC vs. Vampires AU, but The Vampire King won. ~3.2k words

There's no warning, no notice for an apocalypse. There wasn't any preamble, when vampires established a new order to the world.

Jason, your Jason, had only whispered the basics as he held you to his chest. Had only told you he has to try and stop their leader, that if you knew anymore, it would be dangerous.

You knew being Red Hood was risky, but you had hoped, as you watched him leave your apartment, that he would be safe. That his family would protect him where you couldn't.

You waited for him to come back to you. To come back with the world saved and him unharmed.

He doesn't.

The world ends. It was quick, bloody, and ruthless. The world ends, and something new rose from the gore and destruction left in its wake. A new world begins, one led by The Vampire King, who reigns over it with sharpened claws and even sharper fangs.

The lucky ones got to continue with their lives, struggle to adapt to the new normal, their new rulers. The really lucky ones, the ones who were already powerful and godly, got changed into something unkillable.

The unlucky ones, you, got chosen for a far worse fate. Blood Bag. Vampires and humans alike spit it like a slur, like you're something less all because the bite marks that litter your skin. As if any one of you were given a choice.

You hadn't asked to be taken to the castle fortress that the Vampire nobility called home.

You had been in your apartment, watching the world fall apart from the safety of your home. Watching in a dazed horror as Dick Grayson's signature smile, now adorned with pearly fangs, flashed across the news, when he just appeared in front of you.

You'd said his name, jumped to your feet to touch him– to hug him, grateful he was safe and alive.

But he'd stopped you. Said he wasn't Jason anymore. Said he was just Red Hood now. It didn't make sense at the time.

Jason was Red Hood, and Red Hood was Jason. You didn't realize how wrong you were until you ended up kneeling alongside other humans in front of The Vampire King.

He had given a lavish speech about your new place in the world. That the humans staring up at him in fear and awe were special. Chosen to serve in his court. That being a Blood Bag was an honor and a privilege.

You might have believed it if they hadn't dragged you to the dungeons after.

You were left there, cold, confused, and hungry for almost a week. Your cell mates come and go, but the ones that return always come back with their skin covered in deep, telltale puncture wounds.

They whisper stories of the grand parties, the growing crowds of spawns, the brutality of The Vampire King, and his court.

You wait for your turn, and wonder if maybe when you are chosen, you'll be one of the prisoners that don't come back.

You don't get any warning, when it's your time. Two spawns with sunken eyes drag you from your sleep, hauling you from the dungeon and across marble floors.

They taunt you, proclaiming that you're a gift for The General. That you'll make a fine pet, a good blood bag, if he manages not to kill you tonight.

A part of you wants to scream. To cry. To beg. To hope as you have every night since Jason brought you here, that he'd come back for you. But your hope runs out as they force you into a lavish bedroom.

Two new spawns take over from the guards, they wash you, dress you, and soon enough, you almost look like you haven't spent a week in a cell. They leave you sitting on the soft bed and an order to not disappoint.

A part of you wants to use the moment, to seize the opportunity to escape. But you're so tired. So hungry. So thirsty. And the bed is so comfortable. But whatever comes next for you could be worse than that cell.

The door swings open, and you jolt from your thoughts. You're expecting someone fearsome. Someone terrible and evil and threatening. But it's Jason.

You think he's going to free you, save you. You believe it wholeheartedly. Until you see the glint of his fangs.

He steps towards you, eyes focused and dark, and you realize who The General is. You realize what he's going to do.

The first time Red Hood feeds from you, you feel nothing but pain. It's agonizing, to feel your life being dragged out of you and drank down by someone who could so easily kill you.

There's no ceremony. He sinks his fangs into your throat and leaves you exhausted and dazed on the bed while crimson drips haphazardly down his chin.

The second time isn't any easier, he only takes what he needs. His fingers don't brush over your skin to soothe you. He doesn't speak a word of comfort. He only presses gauze to the bite wound before leaving you to recover alone.

The third time is different. He lingers when he's done. You might be crying. You're too tired and dizzy to be sure.

But you're not so far gone that you don't notice the way he presses a kiss to the puncture marks. Like it's a twisted apology.

His hand traces lines over your back. He holds you close, even after he's done draining the blood from your veins.

The way he feeds from you changes after that. He treats you like you're precious. He presses kisses to your skin before he bites.

He licks away the trails of blood and tears. He presses his face to your pulse and doesn't move until your heart finds a steady pace.

He still doesn't speak. He hasn't since he told you he's not Jason anymore, but he hovers when he's done. He brushes his fingers along your jaw, watches you as you fall asleep.

It's not until you're brave enough to leave the room that you learn your status as Red Hood's Blood Bag has privileges.

It turns out the bedroom you've constantly been left alone in is yours. You can wander most of the castle and its gardens freely. No one else tries to feed from you.

But it doesn't stop the taunts and jeers. Doesn't stop the spawns or the high-ranking nobles or human servants alike from spitting curses at you.

But no one touches you. No one seems to want to earn Red Hoods, and in turn, The Kings, ire.

You hadn't realized the protection that his marks had offered you.

Not until you started to hear the whispers that followed you, the murmurs that warned of sinking their teeth into the only Blood Bag Red Hood seems interested in. How any bites or scratches not his would be a death sentence.

The months of faded scars that mark your skin serve as a warning to them. But to you, they're a stark reminder of the new world you're forced to navigate.

They become memories, in a way, of the mistakes you've made.

The bite on your palm marks the day you spoke to another Blood Bag out of turn. You can't forget the panic that sparked in their eyes as a spawn dragged them away. (You haven't seen them since)

The bite on your shoulder marks the night you tried to run. You had barely made it to the garden walls when Red Hood had lazily appeared at your side. It didn't take words to know he'd been aware of the moment you left your room.

Mistake after mistake, bite after bite, create a sick patchwork of art over your skin.

You try to cover the ones you can see, for your own piece of mind, but the extravagant outfit you're wearing now? The one that's been picked out for tonight's ball? Does little to hide exactly what you are.

It's rare for you to make an appearance at any of the Vampire Kings events, and the times you have gone have been incredibly short and spent entirely at Red Hood's side.

But the chatter that floats about you in the ballroom suggests The Vampire King had expected your presence. Each snide smile and quiet laugh sends a chill down your spine.

You'd expected this night at court to be like any other, one or two dances, and then a quick return to your room.

You're proven wrong when Red Hood is pulled from your side at the request of The King.

You're not completely sure how long you've been left waiting at the edge of the grand dance floor, but it's been long enough that your feet ache, and your shoulders feel tight.

Long enough that you don't think twice to slip out of the loud, music filled room and into the darker, quieter halls.

It's another mistake.

A spawn, drunk on blood and his own immortality saunters into your path. "A pest," he drawls, eyes eerily fixed on the juncture of your neck, "a pretty pest, but a pest nonetheless."

You offer a customary nod, safe under the illusion of safety the marks scattered over your body brings.

The spawn shatters the illusion when he snatches your hand with supernatural grace, "Be still, pest, I thirst."

"You can't," You protest quickly, the words spilling before you can think on them.

He pauses, head tilting in a mockery of interest, "and why ever not?"

"I'm–," You start, then pause, saying it aloud feels too real. "I'm Red Hood's," You finish, voice weaker than you mean it to be.

The spawn drags his claw over the palm of your hand, laughing as the drops of blood begin to form in a line of ruby dots, "You? Pretty pest. Not even the lowest of us would want to keep a Blood Bag that's been shared by so many."

"I haven't been–" You breathe out, but his claws only dig deeper into your skin, turning your words into a wince.

You don't tear up, don't cry or beg. It hurts. It always does. Even the idea of being fed on hurts. But your next thought keeps you quiet.

Maybe this spawn will lose control. Maybe, in a way, you can finally be free. The thought makes your heart rate spike, and you're not sure if it's in fear or anticipation. You're not sure if death is something you're ready to face.

He doesn't give you a moment more to think on it. The spawn pulls your palm to his mouth, fangs glinting as he prepares to bite down.

He doesn't get the chance.

A flash of red catches your eyes, and suddenly, your wrist is no longer restrained.

Your mind can't quite keep up with what just happened, and by the time you've even registered his presence, Red Hood has his claws buried in the spawns chest.

If the sight of blood wasn't something so common in The Vampire Kings court, you would be sick. It's messy, loud, when Red Hood rips the spawns unbeating heart from his chest.

You stumble to lean against the wall, when Jason tears the spawns head from his body and crushes it beneath his boot. You don't get a good look at what's left before Jason is in front of you, blocking your view.

He grabs your wrist and presses you flush to the wall. He offers you no warning before his tongue traces the line of blood on your skin.

It's something you should be used to, but you still make a noise of surprise, still instinctively try to pull away.

Jason only shoves a leg between your thighs, trapping you between his body and the wall behind you. His grip on your wrist tightens, and his head bends down again. His gaze doesn't stray from yours, almost like he wants you to watch.

Jason slowly licks at the cut again, then drags his fangs down your hand and to your wrist. He never blinks as he bites into your skin, adding another mark among the many others that cover your skin.

He drops your wrist and steps back once he's had his fill, "You were letting him feed from you. No one else feeds on you. Haven't I made that more than clear?"

"It's not my fault," You protest weakly, "He didn't believe me when I said I was–"

"That you were what," he asks, voice low and almost threatening. You find that entirely unfair, considering you're the only that almost had their life drained.

"That they're yours," a happy voice supplies with a chirp, "Maybe it's time you did something to show that, don't you think, Little Wing?"

You immediately drop your head at the sight of the Vampire King leaning against the wall. You can't help but think, by the cocky grin growing on his face, that he witnessed the entire thing.

Red Hood scoffs, like the idea is ridiculous, "They're covered in my bites. What else could they need? That idiot should have known–"

"But they didn't," The King supplies with a smile and walks over to you to lift your chin with a sigh, "and your little pet could have died for it."

Red Hood stiffens, and you can feel the tension growing in the corridor. He shoots a glance towards the decapitated spawn, as if he's considering removing the rest of their bones piece by bloody piece. "So what do you suggest," he finally asks, voice low and measured.

If you didn't know better, you'd think he was on the verge of ripping you away from the Vampire Kings clutches.

The King only shrugs in return, "You should have shown them off more. Taken them to court. Feed from them during parties."

Red Hood goes to speak, but The King continues to talk as he tilts your chin back and forth, "Blood Bags are symbols, after all. Power. But you've always kept the things you like tucked close to your chest. Haven't you, Little Wing?"

"I don't– I don't like them. I just don't want some spawn watching me eat," Red Hood counters, and neither you nor Dick miss the way his fingers twitch towards you.

The Vampire King nods sagely, "Then I suppose you won't be interested in keeping them."

Red Hoods head snaps up in the same instant the Vampire King spins you around, his fangs catching the skin above your pulse, "And if you're not interested in a Blood Bag," he drawls, voice low and lazily as he trails off, leaving the implications of his threat in the air.

It leaves you wide eyed and frozen. The Vampire King presses closer to your back, drawing you by your hips as his free hand curls around your neck. His fangs don't quite break your skin, but the cold promise of them doesn't waver.

The ball hadn't scared you in this way. The spawn hadn't left you with tears filling your eyes, terror tightening your throat. Not even the dungeons had made dread fill every cell of your body.

Jason drops to his knees, any facade, any lie he had been trying to maintain disappears, "I want them. I want them. Please–"

The Vampire King laughs, and his fangs leave your throat. He shoves you, and you stumble to the ground into Jason's waiting arms. He keeps you caged tightly to his chest, his hand cradling the back of your head.

"I was only teasing, general, truly, you're the only member of my court who's proven time and time again you're deserving of your status," The King drawls.

You can't see him as Jason keeps your face pressed to his shoulder, but you can hear the sick glee building in his voice.

Jason tenses as Dick continues, satisfaction dripping from his tone, "The resistance camp you personally slaughtered? The leader's head left on spikes? I couldn't have done it better myself."

"I'm– I'm honored to have impressed you," Jason says steadily, fingers digging into your skin. You think if he still had a heart, it would be beating just as fast as yours.

The Vampire King hums in response, as if he's suddenly grown bored, "Go enjoy the gala, Little Wing. Remind the raff who you are. And what that makes them."

Jason doesn't argue, just hauls you towards your feet and drags you towards the ball. You keep your gaze lowered, but you can still see him checking over his shoulder, as if he's worried the Vampire King will change his mind.

"What he said– about a resistance–" You begin to ask, desperate for knowledge, but more desperate to finally hear his voice again.

"Don't. They won't win," he answers sharply, not giving you a chance to ask more questions as he pulls you into the ballroom, and drags you to the dance floor.

He doesn't let you find your footing before he's spinning you around the dance floor, arm hooked firmly around your waist.

You try to ignore the remnants of blood, his boots leave on the sparking floor.

Every cell in your body screams at you to talk again, to demand answers. To know how he ended up like this. To know why all he seems to leave you with now are questions and scars.

You open your mouth to ask, throwing whatever decorum you should have in front of The Vampire Kings court to the wind, when Jason drops you into a dip.

Your breath hitches, and his lips find your pulse.

The sounds of the ball seem to fade around you as you stare up at the decorative ceiling lined with mirrors and gold.

He kisses down your throat, curls his hand tighter into your back and all you can think about is how odd it is, to know the room is so full and yet there's nearly no reflections in the mirrors above.

Jason runs the tip of his nose back up your neck, following the veins under your skin.

"You've always smelled so good," he murmurs. It's the only warning he gets before he sinks his teeth into your throat, drinking you down in the center of the ballroom for everyone to see.

It draws a whimper from your lips, and it only seems to encourage him to hold you tighter, to lick every trail of blood that spills from the marks on your neck.

He kisses the punctures his fangs left when he's done. It feels less like an apology this time, and more of a claim.

When he finally lifts you from the dip, when you're finally able to steady your vision even as it threatens to swim, he shows you his teeth, and his lips are dyed in the color of your blood.

"Brava," the distinctive voice of The Vampire King breaks through your hazy mind. Your eyes never leave Jason's, even as clapping begins to sound throughout the ballroom.

You're not sure what it means. You're not sure if The Vampire Kings' interest in you is just some passing folly.

But Jason's eyes are dark, intense, and they flicker with the weight of knowing. But there's more to it than knowing. It's clear in the way his eyes never yours either. There's a desire, a want, a need to keep.

To make it an unshakable truth, that whatever role you're meant to play in The Vampire Kings world, you're going to do it at Jason's side.

His eyes hold a promise, and he seals it with a bloody kiss to your pounding pulse.

[lizziesangel]

TOM RIDDLE - soulmates don’t exist PT. 1

SDE MASTERLIST - x FEM!reader (POC!friendly)

SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

WORD COUNT: 2.2K

GENRE: angst-ish (but not really)

CONTENT WARNING: soulmate & time travel au, english is not my first language

IB: people who used to make this wattpad stories, i used to ate those upppp🫣 & i love the tom hughes, tom riddle smmm

The air was thick; it smelled like blood and burning wood everywhere. The echoes of the battle were ringing faintly in the distance. Hidden away from the chaos, Severus Snape lay crumpled on the cold floor, his body slick with blood, life slipping away from him with each passing second.

Voldemort had left him to die, discarded like a broken tool. Nagini’s venom coursed through his veins, its poison cruelly efficient, and yet Snape’s eyes remained sharp. His gaze was fixated on Harry, standing just a few steps away, his face pale with shock and confusion. Snape’s focus wavered as he turned his eyes weakly, finding you—your form trembling as you knelt beside him, your heart shattering at the sight.

You might not have the best bond with a teacher like him, but never would you wish death upon someone.

“Take it… you both…” Snape rasped, his voice a whisper and urgent. Deep within his cloak, he pulled out one small vial and one small potion-like bottle. His hands shook as he reached for his own tear-streaked face. Slowly he collected the silvery drops that clung there, memories shimmering with an otherworldly glow.

Harry knelt down beside you now, watching in silence, his confusion giving way to a deeper understanding. Snape’s dark eyes locked into yours as he extended the vial towards you.

“You need to.. know the truth.”

Tears of your own spilled down your cheeks as you took the vial from his trembling hand. “You… were meant to change it all,” he whispered hoarsely.

“You can save him… save everyone. But only if you understand what must be done, the sacrifices you’ll have to make.”

The weight of the vial suddenly felt heavier than before, as you sat beside Snape’s lifeless body, his final words echoing in your mind.

Harry’s face was pale and grief-stricken. His eyes met yours and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“We have to go,” Harry said, his voice hoarse, snapping you out of your daze. He looked down at the vial of silvery liquid in your hand. “The Pensieve. We need to see what he left for us.”

“Yeah,” was the only thing you could mutter out, your throat tight with a mixture of fear and urgency. Without another word, both of you scrambled to your feet.

Fires flickered in the distance, casting eerie shadows across the grounds and hallways as the final battle raged on.

Harry led the way, his steps quick, with you right behind him, clutching the vial so tightly in your hand that you thought it might shatter at any given moment.

“We have to hurry,” he urged over his shoulder. “Whatever’s in these memories, it’s important. Snape wouldn’t have—” his voice caught in his throat.

You only nodded, your mind spinning with Snape's last words. “You can save him… but only if you know what must be done.”

Save who? Harry? Voldemort? Was there a part of Tom Riddle still left inside the monster he had become? And how were you connected to him? Why you in the first place?

You reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Harry barely paused to spit out the password.

“Sherbet lemon!”

The gargoyle sprang to life, and the two of you rushed up the spiral staircase, out of breath.

Dumbledore's office had a heavy scent of old parchment and burning candle wax filling the air. You and Harry stood side by side, breathing heavily from the sprint through the castle. The weight of the vial, now emptied, felt almost meaningless in your hands. Your heart pounded in your chest.

Harry held your gaze briefly, his eyes filled with an emotion you couldn't quite place. “Let's do this,” he said, his voice straining slightly. You nodded in return, your throat too tight to speak. Together, you leaned over the Pensieve, letting yourselves be pulled into the swirling memories.

The world around you started shifting, and suddenly, you were in the same office, just a few things placed differently.

Before you could take in your surroundings further, you noticed him—Severus Snape, somewhat younger, his dark hair still hanging around his face. You and Harry exchanged a look. Snape stood rigid before Dumbledore's desk, his expression (as always) unreadable.

“This is madness, Albus,” Snape spat, his voice low and venomous. “You're going to send her back in time, knowing she will not be able to return? She will be trapped there—forever. A time-turner can not help her.”

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, a quill in his hand as he gazed at Snape with a somber, almost mournful expression. “I understand your anger, Severus, but there is no other way.”

You took note of how Snape looked younger but not that much younger. You saw the gash in his leg and guessed this would've taken place during first year.

“She doesn't know, does she?” Snape's voice cut off your train of thought. “No, she does not,” Albus replied softly. “And it is better that way, for now.”

'She'—that was you. This memory was about you. You felt your heart skip a beat.

“You're asking her to do the impossible—to change him. Tom Riddle cannot be saved. He was already lost when you met him in the orphanage.”

“Perhaps,” Dumbledore replied. “But she must try. If there is even the smallest chance to alter the course of his soul, it is through her.”

Snape gave a slight scoff. “If she is to succeed, she must know everything!” You never realized how much he cared for you and your friends.

“But you told her nothing of this?”

Dumbledore's eyes flickered towards the parchment in front of him. “When the time is right, she shall know what to do.” Dumbledore sighed, rising from his chair. “And do not worry, she will know, Severus, but not before the right time.”

Snape's face twisted in frustration. “And if she fails? What then?”

“Her connection to Tom Riddle is delicate, and should she go back into the past with full knowledge, it could endanger everything. The balance between them is fragile,” Dumbledore explained.

Harry's hand clenched beside you, his breath quickening. “Go back in time?” he whispered, echoing the questions that were swirling in your own mind. Snape turned sharply, “You're asking too much of her,” he said through gritted teeth. “Sending her back in time, to Tom Riddle's fifth year... If she doesn't succeed in making him—”

“—experience love,” Dumbledore finished. “Love is the key, Severus.” You felt as though the ground had dropped out from beneath you. Tom Riddle—love? That would be impossible. Is this what Dumbledore had planned for you all along? To go back into the past, to love a young Tom Riddle before he became Lord Voldemort?

“How... how could anyone make Riddle love someone?” you whispered to Harry.

“You are condemning her to live out her days in a time that's not her own! She won't even be able to return! You've bound her to the past,” Snape stressed.

The headmaster's gaze grew sharper, though there was still that calm weight behind it. “She is connected to Tom Riddle in ways we cannot fully understand. If there is hope for him, it lies in her hands—her influence. But no, Severus, she cannot come back. The magic involved in sending her back is... irreversible.”

“You will send her to a monster! To a boy who will grow to become the Dark Lord,” Snape sneered. "What happens if she doesn't succeed in her task?”

Dumbledore's eyes closed for a moment. “If she cannot reach him... if his heart remains as closed as it is now, then yes, Voldemort will rise like he did. And our fate is sealed.”

Snape looked up at him. “You truly believe she can save him?”

Dumbledore's eyes glinted, the faintest trace of hope dancing behind them. “I believe she is the only one who can.” His voice dropped to a whisper, “She will remain in that time. She will live there, bound to the past...”

After the sensation finally stopped, you and Harry found yourselves back in the present. The glow of the Pensieve slowly faded, leaving only the silence of the room.

You stood frozen for a moment, trying to process what you had just witnessed — the conversation between Snape and Dumbledore. The weight of it hung heavy in the air, pressing down on you both.

“If you go, you can't come back,” Harry whispered, almost to himself, as though saying it out loud would make it reality. His face was pale. “Once you go back into Riddle's time... you're stuck there. Forever.”

“And if I fail...” your voice shook as the truth finally settled in. “If I can't change him, you'll have to battle him. Harry, you'll die.”

His eyes snapped to yours, and for a moment, he seemed as lost as you were. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing in front of Dumbledore's desk. “I don't understand, Dumbledore... Snape... they planned all of this—” he stopped, turning to face you. “How are you supposed to change Tom Riddle?”

You shook your head. “I don't know, Harry. I don't know how I'm supposed to make him love or... stop him from becoming Voldemort. What if I can't even do it?”

Harry stepped toward you, his expression softening, though his own fear was palpable. “You've faced worse, right? You've fought Death Eaters. You survived this war with us. If anyone can do it, it's you,” Harry finished saying. “But I hate that it has to be you.”

The weight of his words hung between the two of you.

“I don't—Dumbledore said we were connected somehow, that we're soul-bound, basically... but what if that's not enough?”

Harry's jaw tightened, frustration breaking through his calm. “It's unfair! It's always unfair with him!” Harry raised his arms. “He expects too much. First me, now you! He's always asking us to make these impossible choices.”

You nodded, and your heart ached at Harry's raw emotion. “I can't let you die, Harry,” you stated softly. “I can't stand by and watch that happen.”

He shook his head fiercely, stepping closer so his hands gripped your shoulders. “And I can't let you go back in time, knowing you'll never come home.”

For a moment, the two of you stood like that, caught between the devastating choice laid before you. You could feel the pull of what needed to be done.

“If this is the only way, then we'll find a way to make it work. We'll figure out how to change him, how to make him love. We'll do it together,” Harry nodded, sure of his plan.

You smiled through tears. “Harry, once I go, I'll be alone.”

His grip tightened on your shoulders. “You won't be alone. You've never been alone in this. You'll have everything we've ever fought for — the memories. And more than that... you'll have hope.”

Tears were threatening to leave your eyes, but you swallowed them back. You nodded at Harry.

Harry took the small potion out of his jacket pocket. The liquid inside was an ethereal, shimmering gold, glowing faintly in the dim of the room. The potion, the one that would send you back in time — and trap you there.

Your hands shook as you took the potion from Harry. The glass felt cold in your palm. The moment had come, and it was terrifying. Once you drank it, you knew there would be no turning back, no returning to the world and people you once knew. No more friends, no more future. Only the past, which would become your future.

Harry shifted beside you. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice low. There was a plea in his words, though he wasn't trying to stop you. He couldn’t. He knew as well as you did that this was the only way.

“I don't have a choice,” you whispered back, your voice shaking. You gave him a small nod, though your heart still pounded in your chest. You uncorked the bottle. The faint scent of something sweet filled the air. The liquid seemed almost alive, swirling around.

You took one last look at Harry, locking in the image of his face — strong, determined, your best friend. This might be the last time you'd ever see him.

“I'll miss you,” you whispered, barely able to say the words. Harry's eyes glistened, but he gave a small, resolute nod. “I'll miss you too.”

With a final breath, you raised the vial to your lips. The liquid was warm, surprisingly smooth as it slid down your throat. At first, it didn't feel like anything was happening, but then the warmth began to spread, starting in your chest and slowly moving through your body.

The world around you started to blur, and a dizzying sensation took over. Harry's voice was distant now, “It's happening.”

Your vision blurred, and you could feel time itself shifting, bending, pulling you away from the present and hurling you backward into the past.

It was overwhelming, as though your existence was being unraveled and re-made on a different planet. You feared you might lose yourself entirely.

And then, everything came to a hurtling stop. The warm feeling of the potion faded, replaced by a cool, crisp breeze against your skin. You opened your eyes, heart still pounding, and took in your surroundings.

It felt so familiar, yet completely different. Hogwarts stood tall, the grounds more pristine, untouched by the war, by the battles you had grown so accustomed to. The castle's windows shimmered, and the air smelled fresh.

At last, you found yourself in the past.