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peachdues · 10 months ago

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THE GREAT WAR

PART I ♤ SECRET PREGNANCY AU

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

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

LISTEN TO THE PLAYLIST HERE

January, 1915

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

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

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

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

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

Odd.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And she was glaring at him.

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

A slow blink. “I am Tomioka.”

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

“What the hell is a Tomioka?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you think there are more?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A while.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d rather not.”

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

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

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

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

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

Giyuu resisted the urge to snort. Helped, indeed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———-

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

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

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

“What do you think you’re doing?”

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

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

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

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

“It is nearly dark.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-you! Susumo sputtered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hashira.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the crow remained.

———

Spring, 1915

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

He rolled his eyes. “Protection.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ve made that abundantly apparent.”

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

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

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

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

It wasn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N glanced up at him. “In what way?”

“You’re trying to avoid me.”

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

Giyuu paused. “Why would that matter?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are very odd, Tomioka-sama.”

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

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

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

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

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

—--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Slowly, her cohorts all turned to look at her.

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

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

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

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

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

“Or what? What would you do?”

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

Information; specifically, gossip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She only wanted more.

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded. “Then I require your assistance.”

—-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But — you’ve only just arrived —“

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

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

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

—-

(One week later)

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hence, his irritation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please.”

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

Late Summer, 1915

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A husband.” He said flatly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And in his dreams, her face remained a constant.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I wanted to give you this.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tomioka-san, you do not-“

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

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

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

Y/N turned scarlet.

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

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

“And it wasn’t just salmon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She did not want him to go.

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

“Giyuu.”

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are a dreadful liar.”

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

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

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

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

“You won’t give any further details?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—-

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

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

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

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

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

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

It wasn’t a question.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Especially her.

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

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

————-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Compared to your other obligations? I should think I’m very unimportant.” Y/N turned away from him, fiddling with a gathering basket she carried on her hip to avoid having to look him in the eyes.

But the raven-haired Pillar caught her wrist and turned her back to face him, not willing to be ignored. “If you call for me, I will come to you.”

Y/N’s heart lurched at the Water Pillar’s words, spoken with such conviction and sincerity that it made her falter in her step. “Tomioka-san,” she said breathlessly, her eyes wide as she turned to him. “You have far more important duties to see to than to concern yourself with than mere village drama —“

But the raven-haired Hashira only shook his head as he took another step towards her, his expression severe; calculating. “You have the knife I gave you, yes?” His eyes dropped to her pocket, and Y/N felt compelled to show him that the small blade was indeed tucked safely within the folds of her hakama pants.

“Giyuu,” she pled, and she noted the way that he twitched towards her at the sound of his name falling from her lips. “Please, don’t worry —“

“I do not make promises I cannot keep,” the Water Pillar cut her off, closing the distance between them until the tips of his zori nearly grazed hers, his head bent down towards her as the heat of his stare threatened to consume her. “So I repeat: if you call for me, I will come to you.”

Any thought of arguing faded from her mind as Y/N became keenly aware of the lack of space between their bodies, of the way her hands, clasped in front of her chest brushed against the folds of his haori as it shifted softly with the wind.

“I understand,” she breathed. Y/N held his gaze for a long moment, though it was in part due to the battle waging within her not to allow her eyes to drop to his lips.

She would not let herself acknowledge how close they were; how soft they looked, or how warm they might feel against hers; her skin.

Giyuu lingered as well; after a pregnant pause, he finally stepped back, blinking as though coming out of a trance. “Good,” he nodded, and he glanced furtively over her shoulder. His eyes narrowed and he nodded as though satisfied before he turned crisply on his heel to begin his trek towards his duties and away from her. “Do not forget.” He called one last time over his shoulder, before the shadows of the woods swallowed him whole.

As Y/N dazedly made her way back towards the shrine, a crow following closely behind her, she almost laughed at the suggestion she could.

——-

Autumn, 1915

The weeks passed by without much fuss, and soon, the palpable tension that had settled over the Shrine as a result of Susumo’s lingering threats subsided. Soon, life at the Shrine returned to normal, and Y/N often found her mind wandering to thoughts of raven hair and endless blue eyes.

Until that night.

It had been a normal evening at the Shrine; autumn, blissful autumn had arrived, heralding forth crisp winds and golden skies. Though the days were steadily growing shorter, Y/N found herself rejuvenated by the new chill, especially as she watched the leaves of the trees shift from green to gold to ruby.

The leaves on her hairpin indeed had been a perfect match to those which were steadily drifting from the tall maples dotting the Shrine. Though she couldn’t wear her hair down the way she had the last time the Water Pillar paid the Shrine a visit, Y/N had found new ways to incorporate his gift into her daily life, weaving it through her plait or tucking it behind her ear.

That night had been one like any other; after dinner, the girls of the Shrine had scattered to tend to their evening duties. The shrine maiden had been walking alongside her Master, planning for the upcoming festival in the nearby village, during which the Shrine would seek new patrons to keep it operational. The women mulled over which families might be more inclined to assist them, and settled on a prominent merchant known to frequent other shrines on his travels through the country.

That was when they’d spotted the smoke.

“Fire!” A shrill voice cried, and both the old Priestess and Y/N blanched. “The honden is on fire!”

All at once, chaos broke out across the Shrine grounds as girls darted to and fro, frantic. Granny began barking at her charges, ordering the younger ones to gather in the courtyard while instructing the older girls to assist in putting out the flames.

"The granary!" Someone else cried. "The granary has gone up in flames!"

The elder Priestess snatched Y/N's wrist in her weathered hand. “The scrolls!” Granny's expression of horror was a sure match to her own. “They’re in the storeroom near the granary!”

The scrolls in question had been in the Shrine’s custody for over five hundred years, carrying sacred inscriptions of the gods and prayers essential to its operation and legitimacy.

They were priceless; irreplaceable.

“I’ll go!” And before her Master could protest, the Miko had already turned away and began sprinting toward the fire that was rapidly engulfing the granary near the back of the property.

Thankfully, the storeroom had yet to catch fire, but if the one steadily consuming the granary was not dealt with soon, it wouldn’t be long before it spread to consume the small wooden hut.

And Y/N knew it wouldn’t take much to reduce the storeroom to ash.

Coughing, she pressed her arm to her nose and mouth, using the large bell sleeve of her kosode to block some of the smoke that burned her eyes and nose. She pulled her other sleeve over her hand to protect it as she pushed the storehouse’s door aside.

Inside was dark; quiet. Though the nighttime made it difficult for her to see the scrolls and prints carefully rolled and tucked away into tiny cubbies lining the hut’s walls, Y/N wasn’t stupid enough to waste time searching for a candle to light. So, with only the flames eating away at the granary at her back to light her way, she began pulling handfuls of scrolls free from their storage, tucking them under her arm.

She turned to take her first armload of priceless Shrine artifacts from the storeroom and nearly tripped over a collection of heated coal pans that had been stacked in the corner to keep the scrolls sealed within the room at a stable temperature. She managed to hold onto her scrolls, however, and she quickly moved them away from the hut, placing them safely on a nearby rock that was still far enough away from the storeroom should it catch fire. She returned to the hut to survey what else she needed to salvage, but a familiar, tiny yelp and the flurry of movement in her periphery made the Miko’s stomach twist.

“Komatsu!” Y/N turned and saw the anxious younger girl lingering at the storage hut’s door, her tiny hands trembling. “Get away from here! It’s not safe!”

“B-but Sister,” the girl cried, hopping anxiously from foot to foot. “This is too much to do on your own —“

“You need to go find Granny,” the shrine maiden ordered. “I will join you in a moment.”

The girl’s lower lip wobbled. “But —,”

“Now!”

With a great sniff, the girl turned away, leaving Y/N alone once more. The Miko sighed and resumed her hasty perusal of the hut’s shelves, searching for anything else that could not be replaced.

There was a rustling near the doorway and Y/N bit her lip in an effort not to swear in front of her younger peer. “Komatsu, what did I say —“

She turned to admonish the girl, but her reprimand dried instantly on her tongue. For there, in the entryway to the storeroom, was Komatsu, her eyes wide and her face bone-white with a terror that matched Y/N’s own.

Because the girl was not alone.

Wrapped around her bicep was a hand, as large as a small boulder, and tipped with long, wicked claws that threatened to pierce Komatsu’s bicep. The hand was attached to a forearm, inhumanly thick and muscled. Slowly, Y/N’s eyes dragged up the length of the monstrous arm to behold the sinister face that grinned at her.

It was Susumo — only it wasn’t Susumo. Y/N recognized the vague features of the face that had once belonged to the village drunk and her personal tormentor. His hair was the same as was the general shape of his face, and the cruelty of his smirk, but that was where the resemblance to the Susumo she’d once known ended.

Now, he boasted a row of sharp fangs that distended nearly to his lower lip. And his eyes — no longer were they a cold, soulless black; now they were crimson red, and his pupils were cut into catlike slits.

Demon. A voice whispered in her mind. Demon.

“Enjoy my fires, Priestess?” Even Susumo’s voice had changed, forming a growl that matched his monstrous appearance. “I set them for you — I knew you would not be able to resist seeing such a spectacle.”

“Komatsu,” Y/N ignored him in favor of addressing the young girl, though her voice was unusually high though she fought to keep it as steady as possible. “Please go find Granny and help her with the honden.”

The young trainee trembled but Susumo’s clawed hand only tightened around her arm. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that, sweet Priestess,” the demon crooned. “You have something I want, you see.”

The slick, oily look in his eyes made his desire clear.

Y/N’s eyes darted quickly around the hut, finally falling on a series of coal pans stacked to the side of the room, only a few feet from where she stood, paralyzed. Her quick, cursory glance at the pans revealed iron that was slightly red, and she swore she could see the air around them distorted by the heat.

Hot; they were still hot.

The Miko looked back to where the demon continued to leer at her, ravenous. “Fine,” she said coolly. “I will go with you, Susumo.”

Komatsu looked between her and the demon in horror, but Y/N only kept her eyes locked with the demon’s. She edged closer to where the coal pans were still burning hot, eyes not daring to drop his as she drew closer to the demon and the younger trainee. He grinned, revealing cruelly sharp and bloodstained teeth, and his yellow eyes shone with a triumphant smugness, believing the Miko was surrendering to him at last.

As she brushed past the pans, Y/N furtively reached out a hand and closed her fingers around one of the handles. “Komatsu,” the Miko kept her eyes carefully trained on the demon. “Run.”

Her hand seized around the coal pan and with every ounce of her strength, she swung it toward the demon. The hot iron of the pan slammed into the side of his head, forcing him to drop his hold on the younger girl. There was a struggle between the older shrine maiden and the demon, who fought to wrench the pan free from her fierce grip, but Y/N would not relent.

“Run!” She shrieked at the girl again, and Komatsu darted away. Y/N’s fingers stretched to close around the tiny lever on the handle of the coal pan, and with a snarl of fury, she managed to latch around it, squeezing it with all her might. The lid of the pan opened and red-hot coals spilled forth over the demon’s head. Susumo howled in fury, and Y/N dropped the pan, letting it crack against his head as she shot past him, desperate to escape the tiny storeroom.

The faster she got into open air, the better chance she had of living.

But a claw, sharp and deadly sunk into her bicep, and yanked her back. She could not help the small scream that tore from her throat as she felt his talons rip at her skin and the sleeve of her kosode was shredded into ribbons beneath his nails.

“Sister Y/N!” Komatsu’s tiny, terrified voice cried out from several feet ahead.

The shrine maiden swallowed her building panic. “Go!”

The little girl hesitated again and Y/N knew she could not follow after her, not without risking her safety once again. With a defiant scream of rage, the shrine maiden tore her arm free of the demon’s razor-like claws, fighting back the bile that rose in her throat as she felt blood run down her arm, hot and thick.

The demon grasped wildly at her but found only air. Thinking only of the safety of Komatsu and her fellow trainees, Y/N turned on her heel and ran for the trees, away from the chaos unfolding at the Shrine.

And the demon, still snarling and panting and undoubtedly enraged, followed her into the forest.

Shit, shit, shit!

Y/N hurtled over a snarled root as she ran, her life dependent upon every stride as she fled the newly-demented Susumo.

In the back of her mind, the Miko knew her efforts were in vain; because for every inch she managed to gain, the angry demon at her heels seemed to gain a foot.

“You’ve denied me for far too long!” The monster’s voice growled behind her, far too close for comfort. “I will have you!”

Y/N palmed the small nichirin knife tucked safely within the deep pockets of her hakama pants, and wildly she wondered whether it was possible to decapitate a demon with such a small blade. Perhaps the Water Pillar should have left her a sword. After all, a sword could not really be that different from a broom, and she’d walloped her fair share of handsy drunkards and would-be thieves with the cleaning tool.

If she lived through the night, she would tell him as much the next time she saw him.

Y/N’s musings did nothing to help her avoid the root of an old tree that jutted out from the earth, snarling around her ankle and sending her flailing to the forest floor. Angry tears of frustration clouded her eyes. Although she knew these paths like the back of her hand, that knowledge did her little good in the dark, as she fled for her life.

Scrambling up to her feet, Y/N caught sight of a pair of eyes watching her from the brambles, dark and inky.

A crow. The image of a certain Hashira flashed before her eyes, as Y/N recalled the way that the members of the Demon Slayer Corps used crows to communicate.

Perhaps this crow was so affiliated, and she was desperate enough to try. “Please!” Y/N begged, sobbing as the crow stared down at her with those black eyes. “Giyuu!”

———

The night had been unusually peaceful for the Water Pillar.

His ambling patrol around his territory’s perimeter hadn’t revealed so much as a whisper of demonic activity. But the absence of any conspicuous threat did not mean his guard was down; his eyes remained sharp, his ear finely tuned, listening for any shift in the wind, any sign that something was amiss and required investigation —

A sudden rustle of leaves sounded from his right, and Giyuu’s hand moved reflexively for his blade, bracing against its hilt in preparation. A small shadow burst from the canopy above him, its wings flapping wildly. He recognized it instantly as the crow he’d assigned to watch over the Shrine — to watch over her.

“Demon attack at the Mountain Shrine!” The crow squawked, circling above him frantically. “Demon attack! Go now — quickly!”

He hadn’t hesitated to turn sharply on his heel, furiously making his way toward the Shrine. He broke through the line of trees at its edge in record time, and even he’d been taken aback by the chaos that had broken out.

“The honden is on fire!” the old woman cried out to the Pillar as he swiftly landed among the chaos unfolding across the shrine grounds. “The girls were still doing their evening duties – but then another fire was started near the granary!”

“My crows said a demon had made an appearance,” Giyuu’s eyes carefully scanned the terrified, frantic faces of the Shrine’s residents, his hands braced against the hilt of his sword. “Has anyone been hurt?”

The head Priestess stared at the Water Pillar in muted horror. “I have not seen – but I haven’t taken any headcount of the girls to know –”

A piercing cry from near the south gate of the Shrine cut the old woman off, and both Priestess and Slayer whipped toward the sound. A girl, no more than nine, was half-running, half-stumbling toward them, frightened tears streaking down her face.

“Komatsu!” the old Priestess blanched as she caught sight of the small apprentice’s busted, bloodied lip. With a sob, the young girl flung herself into her elder’s arms and clung tightly to her. “What on earth –?”

“Sister Y/N!” the girl called Komatsu wailed, and Giyuu felt himself go cold. “Granny – th-that man – he’s a monster!”

The head Priestess paled in recognition. “Susumo?” Giyuu’s gut clenched at the name. The old woman knelt before the girl, her hands clutching wildly at her slim shoulders as she shook her lightly to recenter her. “Komatsu, was Susumo the monster?”

The young girl nodded. “He was so – hiccup – fast! I didn’t even see him!” She only cried harder. “And t-then Sister Y/N – she grabbed the coal pan and dumped it on him until he let go.” Komatsu trembled as she lifted a shaking hand to wipe at her cheeks. “A-and then she t-told me to r-run –”

THe old Priestess caught the girl’s quivering chin in her hand and forced her to meet her eyes. “Where is Y/N, Komatsu?”

Komatus’s eyes were wide with fear. “She ran,” she whispered. “Into the woods – b-but Granny – she was bleeding –”

The Shrine’s Priestess turned to the Slayer, ready to beg him to follow after the demon and her apprentice, but the Water Pillar was gone. For a brief moment, she feared all hope was lost; that they’d been abandoned and non one would be able to save the young Miko – her heir – from whatever horrid fate awaited her at the ends of Susumo’s crazed, brutal claws.

She caught a flurry of movement right against the dark line of trees that snagged her attention; a flap of the edge of a mismatched haori, and the glint of a blade being drawn, its wielder already furiously making his way into the shadowy depths of the forest.

The Priestess exhaled and clutched her trembling young trainee to her chest. As she soothed the shaken young girl, the old woman prayed the Water Pillar would not be too late.

–

She was fucked; well and truly fucked.

Y/N had no idea how long she’d spent sprinting furiously through the forest, but she knew she was quickly running out of stamina. Worse, it seemed the demon on her heels knew she was slowing, and was now playing with her. But even his patience seemed to be at its wit’s end; for a sudden sharp blow to her back sent the Miko flying several feet forward until she slammed against the uneven, rough terrain of the forest floor.

Y/N gasped for air that would not come as she tried to push herself up. Crawl! Her mind begged her body. Crawl, damn you!

A dark chuckle from behind sent every hair on her body standing straight on end. A hand locked around her ankle and flipped her over until she was nearly nose to nose with the demon crouched over her. “Got you,” he sang, and the moonlight glinted off the sharp edge of his fangs as he grinned.

Her fingers found the handle of the knife the Water Pillar had gifted her in her pocket. With a determined grunt, she pulled it free and plunged it deep into the meat of his shoulder, praying furiously to any god who would listen that she might have hit an artery so that he would bleed out.

The demon loosed an enraged scream and fell away from her, hands blindly fumbling for the blade.

No longer pinned beneath him, Y/N scrambled back. Her hands scraped against the broken brush and pebbles below her in her desperate attempt to put distance between herself and the demon rising to his feet ahead of her, snarling. As he began advancing toward her, Susumo gripped the knife she’d buried in his shoulder and with a grunt, he wrenched it free and tossed it carelessly to the side, right along with the last shred of any hope she’d had of making it out of the woods alive.

The demon’s mouth curled into a cruel, savage grin, the moonlight glinting off his long, wicked fangs. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he growled, saliva dripping down his chin as his nostrils widened to scent her blood and her fear.

This was it; there was nowhere for her to run, no weapon she could try and protect herself with. There was nothing she could do; she was going to die, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Just as Susumo drew upon her, close enough that she could smell the rancid, pungent odor of rotted meat on his breath, he stumbled back, startled.

One moment the demon was standing mere inches from her, ready to devour her whole; the next, he was sent sailing back, his body smashing into the trunk of a nearby tree with a sickening thump!

A blur of dark matter soared over the Miko’s head toward the monster. Susumo barely had time to stand before the shadow converged on him once more. There was a flash of light — the moon reflecting off metal — followed by a dull thud. The shrine maiden’s heart lodged in her throat as she watched the head of the former village drunkard roll across the forest floor before distingrating, his body following soon after.

She was nearly hyperventilating as the shadow turned to face her, but the pall of the moon finally illuminated the face of her savior — her Water Pillar.

“G-Giyuu,” she stuttered, her eyes stinging with unshed tears of relief that washed over her all at once.

But Giyuu did not respond, his lapis eyes narrowing in on the dark stain spreading across the white of her kosode. Y/N cowered at the cold, unbridled rage that contorted the ordinarily stoic Hashira’s face as he began to shake at the sight of her blood. In a flash, Giyuu had closed the distance between them and knelt down by her side, gripping her wounded arm in his hand as he tried to pull her tattered sleeve down and inspect her wound.

“Tomioka — Giyuu,” she pled, trying to wrench her arm from his iron-like grip. “Please, it’s not that bad —“

“Did it get you anywhere else?” Giyuu demanded harshly, and the authority underlying his tone made Y/N fall silent for the first time since she’d known him. “Did it -“ the Water Pillar hesitated. “Did it touch you anywhere else?”

Y/N was trembling, and the Hashira’s hand around her arm tightened. “Ah!” She winced. “No, I promise, Giyuu, it’s just a flesh wound, I’m fine-,”

“You are bleeding. You are not fine.” Giyuu snapped back. “You could’ve been killed, or turned, or -,” the Water Pillar began to hyperventilate, and it shook the young Miko to her core. The Water Hashira was normally so unflappable, so stoic, that his panicked anger frightened her.

“-So do not tell me you’re fine,” Giyuu’s rant continued. “Not when you could’ve — not when I might’ve failed — not again --”

She was at a loss for what to do as she watched the raven-haired man struggle to form words. Vaguely, she recalled the way the Granny-Priestess had once explained to her that when someone panicked, they needed to regulate their breathing, and there were many ways someone could help force another to breathe properly…

Stomach fluttering, Y/N’s free hand came up to grip the fold of the Water Pillar’s haori. Giyuu’s incessant rambling only ended when her lips urgently pressed against his own, his eyes going wide. A heartbeat or two passed and then the Miko pulled away, her eyes serious as she stared at the stunned Water Hashira.

“You need to give me a sword.” She told him, earnestly, her face blazing.

———

Giyuu helped her back to the Shrine, though the Miko found herself needing to bat off the Water Pillar with a stern reminder that she’d only sustained a small arm wound as he’d tried to scoop her up into his arms.

The Swordsman had been rather subdued the entire journey out of the forest, his eyes curiously wide and dazed right until the pair breached the tree line at the edge of the Shrine’s property. The moment they stepped into open ground, they were swarmed by the tearful, relieved faces of the Shrine’s inhabitants. Words of gratitude to him were woven through worries over the Miko’s arm wound as they made their way across toward the small infirmary which, thankfully, had not been touched by Susumo’s fire.

The honden itself was still standing; though the flames had finally been subdued, smoke still curled up toward the sky, blocking any view of the moon or the stars.

The head Priestess waited for them outside the infirmary. Though her face was grave, Giyuu could spy the relief shining in her eyes. He stood numbly by as the Miko and her master regarded each other warily for a moment, before the elder Priestess reached forward and yanked her charge forward into a fierce embrace.

“Reckless girl,” she chastised gently against the side of Y/N’s head. “Thank every one of the gods that you’re safe.” The old Priestess’s eyes found those of the Water Pillar. “And thank you, Lord Tomioka.”

Y/N was promptly escorted inside to have her wound examined and stitched. Despite the old shrine keeper’s gratitude for his aid in saving the young shrine maiden, that thankfulness apparently did not extend to permitting him inside the infirmary with them, and for good reason. For under the Elder’s withering glare, the Water Pillar realized that Y/N’s treatment would require her to be stripped of her kosode, leaving her exposed and bare.

As unwilling as he’d been to part from her, the thought of witnessing the Miko undressed and vulnerable had been enough to temper his urge to look after her, if nothing else because the mental image of her in such a state flustered him to no end.

Though, he supposed his bewilderment also had something to do with what had transpired between them in the forest.

Kissed him; the shrine maiden had kissed him.

His fingers drifted to his lips. They still felt warm where they’d been graced by hers, and he swore he could still feel the softness of her mouth from where it had brushed against his.

He needed to talk to her; he needed to know what the hell she’d been thinking, kissing him like that.

But as shocking as the Miko’s kiss had been, there was something else, something far heavier, that weighed on his mind.

She’d nearly been killed. By a demon. On his watch.

He should’ve apologized; he should’ve begged for her forgiveness for letting her come that close with death. For letting her get wounded because he hadn’t been fast enough.

I was concerned for you, he wanted to tell her. I thought I would be too late.

No; concern didn’t cover it; did not do near enough justice to his true emotions upon learning the Miko had fled into the dark forest with a hungry, loathsome demon hot on her trail.

He’d been scared; terrified; almost beside himself at the possibility that he’d be too late and find that she’d already been reduced to the beast’s meal,

He’d been scared he’d never again see her smile or hear her laugh, and that had terrified him more than anything. For it was the memory of both that soothed his anxious nerves each time he startled awake from visions of his dead loved ones, demanding to know why they had died in his stead.

He’d feared that he would have to add her face to those he saw when he slept — the faces of those he’d failed to protect, who’d died for his sake. He’d been terrified of seeing her image in painstaking clarity, just as he saw the faces of his sister and Sabito every morning.

He did not know what to do with them, these confusing feelings, so abundant and intense that they’d welled up within him and threatened to spill over. He couldn’t name them, let alone begin to untangle the knot they’d formed within his heart. All he knew was that every one of them were inextricably tied to her.

His shrine maiden.

His.

—

Y/N’s arm ached, but it had been properly sewn and bandaged, and there was work to do before she could settle in for the night; and so, she found herself helping her peers with cleaning up the courtyard from the debris of the night’s events.

Truthfully, she'd been grateful for the distraction. Occupying herself with cleanup meant she did not have to think about what she’d done in the forest. But then Granny Priestess saw her trying to heave away broken wood with her freshly stitched arm and Y/N found herself forced to abandon her fellow trainees as the old bat smacked her upside the head and squawked about how she was going to break her stitching and complicate the healing process.

The Miko tried not to pout as she retreated, opting instead to grumble over the old woman’s dramatics as her arm stung and her ego throbbed. When she finally returned to her sleeping quarters, exhaustion slammed into her, making her limbs heavy and leaden. Unable to quite rally the energy to crawl into her futon, she slumped against the doorway of the room, her head and her heart a tangled mess of emotions she couldn’t quite name.

What she’d felt the moment the Water Pillar had stepped into the moonlight had been more than mere relief that he’d managed to save her life for the second time. She’d felt safe, so unbelievably safe that the forest itself could have been on fire and she wouldn’t have been afraid; not as long as he was there with her.

Something between them had shifted; that much was clear. In truth, things likely had begun to change the moment she repaired his haori, and she’d admitted to him her deep-seated loneliness and lack of belonging.

She only hoped he felt the change, too.

—

Much to Y/N’s chagrin, autumn was quickly giving way to blasted winter.

Though, the Miko hadn’t been able to fully resent the rapid shift in the seasons; repairs at the Shrine had consumed nearly all of her attention, and as Granny’s heir, she was expected to contribute to its reconstruction more than any other trainee.

That expectation meant Granny left the task of figuring out how to finance the necessary repairs entirely to her young protege. Y/N had spent all of two days agonizing over ways to raise the necessary funds when she awoke to find a mysterious sack of money that had been left on the doorstep of the honden. Inside had been an amount more than generous to cover the cost of repairs from the fire, with a hefty remainder that could be put toward other necessary improvements to spruce the Shrine up, and perhaps restore it to its former glory.

No note had been left with the money to indicate the identity of the Shrine’s benefactor. But amid all the excitement of her peers at the thought of being able to afford materials and laborers to assist with the more difficult aspects of the Shrine’s refurbishment, Y/N had spotted a familiar crow perched high in a nearby tree.

That position had afforded the bird with a perfect view of the money sack, allowing it to silently ensure it fell into the proper hands. But repairs had finally slowed, and Y/N now found her days returning to normal. Almost.

What was not normal was how agitated she'd become in waiting for his return.

Another week passed without any communication from the Water Pillar, and the Miko had grown desperate for any sort of distraction. She found herself one late, autumn morning passing the time in the Shrine’s garden hut. She was pretending to be searching for tools that would help her prune the wilting Shrine garden when something grazed against the small of her back. Startled, she turned and was greeted by familiar, unruly raven hair and a pair of deep azure eyes.

“Giyuu,” his name slid easily off her tongue, and suddenly she could not remember why she’d called him anything else.

A ghost of a smile graced his lips. “Hello, Y/N.”

A poignant silence followed, and her cheeks grew hot. "Don't mind me," she said quickly, turning her head away from him as she pretended to organize stray gardening supplies. "I am only just now finishing my tasks for the day."

Though he remained silent, she became acutely aware of the way Giyuu’s eyes followed her as she tried desperately to keep herself busy, to avoid having to meet that piercing, discerning stare.

“I did not get a chance to properly thank you after the turmoil of that night,” she said casually. Nervously, she hoped that his heightened senses did not alert him to the way her heart fluttered in her chest, or how her stomach flipped in her gut. Her nails dug into her palms as she lifted her head to meet that unnerving, fathomless stare.

But the Water Pillar had already closed most of the distance between them, having moved so silently she’d not heard him, despite even the creaky, uneven slatted floor of the garden hut. “How is your wound?” He asked softly, his hand skirting up the outside of the arm Susumo had wounded. “Has it healed?”

It took a great amount of effort for Y/N to remember how to keep her breathing steady. But she forced her lips into an easy smile as she rucked up the flared sleeve of her kosode to reveal her bicep. “It will likely scar,” she admitted, her fingers lightly tracing over the three, angry red marks that remained imprinted on her skin, though they’d fully scabbed over. “I consider myself quite lucky, all things considered.”

“Why did you do it?”

The Miko ducked her head, willing the sheet of her hair to fall and conceal her mounting blush. She did not need to ask him to clarify; she knew after what he was asking.

But she feigned ignorance all the same. “I don’t know what you mean, Tomioka-sama –”

“Don’t call me that,” and even though she refused to meet his eyes, she could sense his irritation at her avoidance. “We’re well past such formalities, Y/N.” Giyuu stepped closer to her, his cerulean eyes melting into something more akin to the midnight blue of the evening sky. “You kissed me. That night.” The Water Pillar’s hand glided up the arm that Susumo had injured, caressing softly over the healed skin beneath the sleeve of her kosode.

“I-I did no such thing!” Y/N sputtered, though her reddening cheeks betrayed her. “I was only attempting to help you calm down — you were panicking, and inconsolable.”

Giyuu’s responding smirk only served to irritate her more. “Should I thank you then, Y/N?” His hand slid from her shoulder to below her chin, his delicate fingers curling to tilt her head up towards his, as he closed the distance between their bodies. “Should I show you how grateful I am that you were able to assuage my worry?”

Y/N tried to focus on anything but the feeling of Giyuu’s breath — warm and enticing — against her face as he leaned in close. “You had no reason to worry; I was completely fine before you showed up.”

“Fine,” the ravenette scoffed, his grip on her chin tightening slightly. “So fine that you were bleeding and about to become that beast’s snack — or worse.”

“But you saved me, did you not?” Y/N whispered, unable to stop her eyes from dropping to the Water Pillar’s sensual, soft-looking mouth before rising once more to meet his punishing gaze. “And then I helped you.”

Giyuu’s second hand brushed against her waist and the shrine maiden thought she might leap out of her skin. “You did,” he conceded, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a small, half-smile. “Though I apologize that you needed to do so — I suppose I become a little over-zealous when things that are precious to me are threatened.”

Even if she could have thought of some witty remark to throw back at him, those words surely would have been blocked by her heart as it lodged in her throat.

Things that were precious to him. She was precious to him.

“So I’ll ask again, Y/N,” Giyuu whispered, and his nose brushed delicately against hers. “Should I thank you for your assistance?” The fingers beneath her chin stroked her jaw. “Should I kiss you?”

She fought to suppress the excited shudder that licked up her spine. “Yes, Lord Hashira,” she breathed, and her stomach turned cartwheels as Giyuu’s gaze dropped to her mouth. “Perhaps you should.”

“Who am I to deny the request of a priestess?” Giyuu murmured, and then his lips were moving against hers, warm and soft. Y/N’s fingers flew to clutch the Water Pillar’s rocky biceps beneath the soft cloth of his haori, anchoring him against her. The hand that had gripped below her chin slid to the side of her face, tilting her head so that the Water Pillar could have better access to her as he pressed his lips harder against hers.

Y/N moaned into his kiss, wanting him closer, impossibly closer to her than he currently was.

Giyuu broke away from her once, though he kept a hand on the back of her neck to keep her in place. “What are your duties today?”

Y/N’s fingers curled around the front of the Water Pillar’s haori, her forehead resting against his. “None of import.” She gave him a sly smile. “No one will miss me if I am gone for a few hours.”

Giyuu returned her smile with a tiny smirk of his own. “In that case,” he tugged her hand and he began to lead her towards the grassy overlook where they’d spent a great deal of time talking and learning one another. “I could use your assistance.”

–

Y/N hadn’t greeted the sunrise with the intent to neglect her shrine duties, but she couldn’t say she regretted how she ended up spending the day.

They spent the day resting on the hillside overlooking the shrine grounds, rolling back and forth upon the browning grass as they kissed each other again and again.

“You weren’t wrong, that day — right after we met,” Giyuu gasped against her lips as they broke apart, the blush on Y/N’s cheeks a sure match to his own. “I do not find you captivating.”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed. Her mouth parted, a protest on her tongue when Giyuu surged forward, his lips brushing against her neck. The Miko’s words choked off with a squeak as the Water Pillar danced his lips to the hollow of her throat, his tongue flicking out once right where her heart pulsed wildly.

“I think you are utterly transfixing; enchanting,” he breathed against her skin. “You have cast a spell over me that I do not want broken.”

“I find it hard to believe anyone could wield that sort of power over a Hashira,” Y/N’s voice was high pitched as Giyuu’s lips made their way back to hers.

In the back of her mind, Y/N wondered if his words were motivated purely by his physical desire for her. It would not have surprised her if he was only so taken with her because he longed to be touched; held. Like him, she’d gone much of her life without intimacy from anyone. She could not blame him for seeking it from someone so willing to give as she.

“But you are not just anyone, not to me.” was all he replied, his lips moving softly against hers once more. “You are…everything.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. The Water Pillars words, dripping like honey from his lips, were only sweetened by the fervent sincerity of his eyes as he pulled back to gaze into hers, so deeply, she felt as though he could see every thought in her head.

She wondered if he lowered that piercing, discerning stare, whether he’d be able to see straight to her heart, too; see how it bore his name.

Even though her breath guttered in her throat at his words, her heart clenched painfully in her chest. The idea that she’d attached more meaning to their relationship than he, that perhaps she’d overestimated her value to him made her tense, made her want to push him away and —

“You’re distracted,” Giyuu murmured against her lips, brushing his nose against hers. “Your thoughts are loud.”

Her fingers caught the front fold of his haori, fiddling idly with it. “There is nothing for you to repay, you know. You do not owe me your time or your attention. I know the Shrine is simply a part of your designated patrol. I understand if its convenience is the only reason —”

A single finger pressed itself against her lips, quieting her. “You think and talk too much.” The ravenette chastised. Her mouth parted, a protest forming on her lips, when he cut her off again. “Ah ah,” Giyuu silenced her with his lips, his tongue flicking out to skim along her bottom lip. Above her, he shifted and allowed his weight to fall against her, pinning her beneath him. Reluctantly, his mouth broke away from hers. “It is my turn to speak.”

“I do not come to the Shrine because it is easy,” Giyuu’s lips brushed hesitantly against her jaw. “Nor do I come here out of any preconceived obligation to repay your kindness.”

He pulled back to study her, panting and flushed beneath him. As his eyes slowly combed over her, Y/N felt a strange knot pull and twist in the depths of her stomach. “There is only one thing that brings me back here, no matter how exhausted I am after weeks of endless missions; no matter how often certain junior Corps members pester me to train them.” His eyes narrowed at the hollow of the Miko’s throat, exposed by the way her kosode had shifted as the pair of them rolled around the grass. Curious, Giyuu leaned down and pressed his lips firmly against it.

And then he did the unthinkable; the Water Pillar moaned, ever so softly, against the fluttering of Y/N’s frantic pulse. The sound, so rich and full of need – of want – washed over her and drowned out all other thoughts, all other higher reasoning from her mind. INstead, the Miko was left with nothing but the sharp urge to press her thighs together, an unknown heat beginning to pool in her most sacred area.

“Do you know what that thing is, Y/N?” He whispered against the soft dip in her throat, his breath hot as it fanned across her skin. “Can you guess what it is I cannot stay away from – could not, even if I desired otherwise?”

His fingers dropped to the collar of her kosode, tracing lightly over its crisp, white fold. “When I close my eyes in the mornings, it is your face I see,” he murmured. “It is your laugh I hear in my dreams; your scent I find myself longing for when I awaken.”

The Miko shivered as his index finger traced from her collar up her throat, over her chin until it came to rest on her bottom lip, gently stroking over its curve. “It is you I seek to turn to remind myself that there is still good in this world – good still worth protecting. Why is that, Y/N?” His eyebrows furrowed and he seemed almost earnest in his question. “Why is it that my mind refuses to be occupied by anything but you?”

“Because I vex you,” she said softly, eyes wide and locked with his. “Because, try as you might, you’ve never been able to fully fit me into a box as you have with others.”

Giyuu shook his head. “Vex me?” He tsked at her. “Perhaps once that was true. But now? I desire you in ways I can hardly understand, and it drives me mad.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. “What are you saying?”

“I think I’ve been rather clear,” and instinctively, Giyuu rolled his hips against hers, desperate to relieve some of the friction mounting in his groin. “And it’s that I want –”

But the Miko did not get to hear what Giyuu wanted; not as he was drowned out by the screeching cry of a bird from high above. Only, this bird was not the dull, graying crow she’d come to associate with her Swordsman.

“I thought your crow was older?”

The Water Pillar frowned as he turned to look up, his eyebrows drawn together. “That’s not Kanzaburo — that’s one of the Master’s —“

“CAW,” the bird circled above their heads in narrow, rapid turns. “Lord Tomioka! Return to headquarters immediately!”

Giyuu’s jaw clenched. “Can it not wait?”

Y/N, however, only gaped up at the bird flying above them. “It talks —?”

But the crow only cried again, “Emergency meeting at headquarters!!

With a short, frustrated exhale, Giyuu rolled to the side of the Miko and rose, but not before he extended a hand and helped lift her to her feet.

He gingerly brushed some loose grass from her hair. “I’m sorry.”��

She only shook her head as she reached to adjust his haori, righting it in his shoulders. “It’s your duty, Giyuu. I understand that.”

He scowled back up at the bird still circling above them, bleating a refrain of “Emergency! Go now!”

“I’m not finished with this conversation,” Giyuu said plainly, a frustrated hand working through his hair. Though his annoyance was plain as day, it fell away as he looked back to the Miko at his side, his gaze softening. “Nor am I finished with you.”

A single finger reached under Y/N’s chin and lifted her head toward him so he could brush another kiss against her lips. “I will come see you – soon.”

With a shy boldness, the Miko rose on her toes and gave him one final kiss, and Giyuu’s hand tightened where it rested against her waist. “I’ll wait for you, Lord Hashira.”

———

December, 1915

Y/N cursed at the ancient priestess who insisted on using only gas-powered lanterns rather than the newer, much safer, electric powered lights that other shrines had begun using.

“We are an esteemed shrine dating back hundreds of years,” the old crone had simpered, “Tradition has kept us going this far!”

Y/N hadn’t helped her cause by asking whether tradition or spite was what kept the hag from dying off and finally leaving her in peace.

And that was how the young Priestess-to-be found herself stomping through the snowy grounds of the Shrine, forced to light each and every lantern by hand using a match and oil, utterly by herself.

She knew better than to levy such an obvious taunt at the old woman, but admittedly, Y/N hadn’t been in the best of moods as of late.

Giyuu had not returned since that day on the hillside, when he’d kissed her silly and told her he could not stop thinking of her. It was as though he no longer existed; even the crows at the Shrine were no more, having all disappeared one morning before she’d awoken.

As the weeks passed, the weight of his absence had grown heavier, threatening to beat her into the ground below.

But Y/N had done her best to hold her tongue over the last weeks as her anxiety mounted, and Granny should’ve known that — so really, it was her own fault if she’d taken offense to the Miko’s barb.

She grumbled and cursed under her breath as she trudged toward the small garden hut standing at the furthest edge of the Shrine’s grounds — her last stop of the night. She shoved past the old, rickety door and braced her merrily flickering, hand-held lantern out before her, bathing the small hut in a warm, orange glow.

All was silent and quiet within the small storeroom. The air was cold, though the slatted walls of the hut offered some protection from the howling, snow-dotted winds outside. Determined to complete her task and return to the comfort of her warm futon, the Miko fumbled around one of the store shelves for a small can of oil.

“It’s you,” a quiet voice startled her from behind, and Y/N nearly dropped the lantern clutched in her hands.

But she did not feel afraid as she recognized the calm, soothing cadence of the voice, that voice that belonged to the one person capable of making her blush.

The one person who held her heart.

“It’s been a while, Giyuu. I was wondering when I’d see you again.” She turned and saw the raven-haired man standing in the doorway of the garden hut, his face characteristically neutral, though he seemed tense, even more so than usual.

Instantly, she moved toward him. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes tightened, and the darkness which swam within them betrayed his aloof facade. “Things have changed quickly in my world,” he began, and she saw his fists clench at his sides. “We believe the demons are preparing for war — and so we have been as well.

“War?” She repeated softly, her step faltering. “I hadn’t realized the demons were so…organized.”

Giyuu nodded. “One creature is responsible for all demons. He is the orchestrator; he is the one we must kill, and we believe the opportunity to do so is drawing nearer.”

The monotonous cadence of his voice fell away as he quietly added, “That is why I haven’t been able to return — we’ve been training. This battle — it may start at any moment.”

He made like he wanted to say more, but he stopped himself, pressing his lips into a tight line.

“And?” She prompted gently, taking a solitary step toward him.

“He hesitated, and she spied how his throat worked to swallow. “And I do not know when I will be able to see you again. After tonight.”

Y/N watched him for a moment, her eyes searching his. “When you say you don’t know ‘when’ we will see each other again,” she began, cautiously. “Do you mean ‘if?’”

Giyuu’s answering silence said more than any words could.

For a moment, the Miko could not remember how to speak, not as she felt the organ in her chest splinter into a thousand, mismatched pieces.

“I just wanted to see you,” the Water Pillar struggled to swallow around the growing lump in his throat. “One last time.”

She could scarcely breathe.

He was leaving and he might never return.

Leaving to go try and put an end to the scourge of demons that plagued their world. It was a noble thing to do; sacrifice in its purest form.

But she hated it.

She was filled with such a deep melancholy that it nearly brought her to her knees. As the Water Pillar turned to leave, Y/N couldn’t stop herself as she reached for him, her arms encircling him as her hands locked over his front, stilling him.

“Giyuu,” she said thickly, her face pressed into the back of his haori as she willed the tears in her eyes not to fall. “Giyuu.”

He turned in her grasp and looked down at her in awe, a finger rising to brush the errant tear that had escaped down her cheek as he held her gaze.

The flame within her lantern flickered as Giyuu softly grazed his lips against her own, Y/N’s arms weaving around his neck to hold him close to her.

His hands were gentle, if not a little uncertain as they found her waist, but once they came to a rest against her, he pulled her close, arms winding around her middle and holding her securely against him as he deepened the kiss. She moaned softly into his mouth, her hands tangling in his hair as she opened up for him, his tongue gliding alongside her own until she was left breathless and wanting.

Vaguely, the Miko was aware that he was walking them deeper into the garden hut, allowing the old door to thud shut behind him, and the thought of not returning to her plush futon suddenly did not seem like such a loss.

Giyuu’s hands returned to her face, thumbs stroking softly along her cheeks as he broke their kiss to brush his lips against her eyes, her nose, and forehead. Y/N’s hands parted the Water Hashira’s haori from his shoulders as Giyuu’s fingers dropped to her collar bone, sliding beneath her kosode, and grazing her bare shoulder.

“You have been my most treasured encounter,” he whispered, and she felt her heart seize in her throat, tears threatening to spill anew from her eyes.

A year’s worth of interactions had all led to this moment, but it was not the satisfying payoff of the tension and longing that had been steadily building between them.

This was a goodbye.

Because it was likely that the Water Pillar would not survive the impending battle; but neither did he want to leave this end untied.

She had known, deep in her heart, that this affair had been doomed before it had ever begun, but that hadn’t stopped her from falling for the kind, brave, selfless man now kissing her like she was his entire world anyways.

She would not get to have him in the morning, so she resolved to give herself to him for the night.

Giyuu’s hands eased her kosode from her shoulders, exposing her to the cool air within the garden hut. His warm hands, however, worked to chase away any chill that spread across her skin as he ran his palms over the curve of her shoulders before sliding down to rest on her bare waist, his long fingers grazing just below the curve of her breasts.

Her own fingers trembled as she fumbled with the buttons on his uniform shirt but in time, she’d worked them open and Giyuu broke their kiss long enough to let his shirt drop to the floor beneath them.

The two stood there for a moment, chests rising and falling rapidly, as they looked at one another, half-nude and vulnerable. The shrine maiden and the slayer knew that they had come upon a precipice, and if they stepped off that ledge, there would be nothing to break their fall.

Y/N made the first move, taking a tentative step towards the Water Pillar as she trailed her fingers lightly up the beautiful, sculpted ridges of his abdomen, relishing how warm he was beneath her touch.

Giyuu shivered beneath her fingertips as the miko’s hand came to a rest against his sternum, marveling the way his heart thundered beneath her hand. “Are you certain?” He breathed, his face was impassive, but his own uncertainty was betrayed by the slight tremor in his voice. His hand rose to gently cup the side of her face, his thumb ghosting over her bottom lip.

She reached to grab the Pillar’s free hand and brought it up to rest against her sternum, mirroring her own hold on him so that he could feel the steady drum of her own heart — and how it thrummed for him. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m yours, Giyuu.”

Once, she had believed the Hashira incapable of expressing anything other than cold aloofness. she’d not been able to comprehend the subtle ways with which his eyes could signal his mood; how they darkened when angry, or how the outer corners turned up, almost imperceptibly, when he was content.

But she had long since learned to read him, and so, her stomach fluttered at the way the raven haired man’s gaze heated with both adoration and desire — for her.

Giyu brushed his nose against hers affectionately before bringing their lips together once more, his kiss growing fervent as her hands slid up to tangle in his ebony hair. Y/N gasped into his mouth as she felt Giyu bend down, his hands gripping firmly under her thighs as he lifted her up, forcing her to lock her legs around his waist. Her lips parted, and Giyuu’s tongue slid seamlessly into her mouth.

Her lover locked one steely arm firmly around her lower back to support her as Y/N felt him lower them to the floor to lay her down, the Water Pillar’s free hand coming to brace against the back of her skull, to protect her head from thudding back against the wooden slats of the hut floor. The Miko steadied herself, prepared for the cold bite of the dirty hut floor to nip at the bare skin of her back, but she was only settled against something warm and soft; something that smelled distinctively of the Slayer panting above her.

Her fingers dropped to her side and grazed against the familiar fabric of Giyuu’s haori; his most prized and cherished possession, spread out beneath her to protect her from the cold ground, a makeshift bed against which she would let him take her and make her his.

He withdrew his lips from hers to sit back, his cerulean eyes tracing over every inch of her, from the way her dark hair spread out in a soft halo around her, to the blush staining her cheeks. His eyes darkened as they lowered to her bare chest, at the way it rose and fell jerkily as Y/N struggled to control her breathing.

Giyuu’s long, slim fingers reached out to trace along the top of her scarlet hakama pants, his finger tips just grazing along her ribs and the underside of her breasts.

“I’d never known such -,” He covered his struggle for words by pressing a sweet kiss against the hollow of her throat, a soft gasp escaping the Miko at the unfamiliar sensation. “Such beauty,” Giyuu’s lips trailed down to skirt across the ridge of her collar bone. “Not until I met you.”

His face was against her sternum, pressing kisses as he trailed his lips down her skin. “I am sorry I could not give you more time.” His voice was soft, softer than even she had ever known. Before she could respond, Giyuu’s mouth hesitantly brushed against the stiffened peak of her breast, and Y/N’s mouth fell open with a soft cry.

Azure eyes flashed up to meet hers. “Is this — is this okay?”

The Miko's eyes fluttered shut as she nodded, unable to trust that she could hold her voice steady if she spoke. Her fingers weaved their way through the Pillar’s thick, raven locks, and she grazed her nails against his scalp in encouragement.

Giyuu grunted softly at her touch, and he leaned forward to suck more of her soft mound into his hot mouth, teeth grazing lightly against her nipple as he explored her.

“Oh,” she moaned, her thighs inadvertently pressing together as Giyuu’s tongue and lips worshipped her bared flesh, licking and sucking and nipping at her in his devotion.

“Beautiful,” he murmured against the soft, sensitive skin of her breast. “So very beautiful.”

He repeated the movement again and again before he traced his mouth across her sternum and began lavishing her other breast with the same fervor. Her hands fisted in his hair as she mewled for him, enamored with the feeling of his hot mouth latched around her. He gave her more and yet it was not enough; every pass of his tongue over her stiffened peak only amplified the ache between her legs, only made the emptiness she felt more pronounced.

A breathy, whining and needy moan blew past her lips in time with a reflexive buck of her hips against his.

The ravenette pulled off her breast with a start, his eyes bright and his cheeks flushed as he gazed down at her in awe. “Do that again.”

“W-what —?” She pushed herself up on her elbows to look down at him, her chest heaving.

“Tell me what to do,” Giyuu’s breath was ragged though his fingers continued trailing down her sides, seeking out the ties securing her bottoms around her waist. “Tell me how I might help you make that sound again.”

“I –” Y/N squirmed beneath the intensity of his gaze, her thighs rubbing together to stifle some of the electricity she felt between her legs. “I want you to – I need you closer.”

Her eyes drifted to the bulge that had formed between the Hashira’s thighs, and she felt her heart skip in her chest.

Giyuu pressed his groin against hers and ground. She gasped at the spark of pleasured friction the movement stoked between her thighs, and her eyes flew to meet his, only to see they were as wide as hers.

And just as hungry.

Her hand gently cupped his face. “Closer. Please.”

He pressed his cheek into her palm and with a soft groan, his fingers quickly loosened the fastenings of her bottoms and then he was pushing them down her hips and over her legs, discarding them carelessly to the side. Giyuu sat back on his knees and let his eyes roam her, now fully bare and laid out beneath him.

When his appraisal of her finally reached the thatch of curls between her thighs, the Water Pillar loosed a shaky breath. She had half a mind to cross her legs, to conceal the most intimate part of her body from the raging fire of his gaze as he studied her, but she forced herself to remain relaxed; open.

One, broad and calloused hand stretched tentatively out to run along the outside of her hip and down her leg, before smoothing back up in the inside of her thigh. His eyes flicked once to hers, and then he leaned forward and brushed delicate kisses down her abdomen, over her hip and along her thigh. He continued his descent as he slowly pushed himself back from her, and once he imparted one last, sweet press of his lips against her ankle, he rose.

The flickering light of the lantern cast shadows along the alabaster of his skin, further accentuating how the muscles of his torso and abdomen flexed and shifted as he worked to free himself of the remainder of his clothes. His eyes did not leave hers, not even as his hands found the buckle of his belt and tugged it loose, and Y/N found herself free falling into their depths.

The ravenette dropped his belt to the floor, and then his fingers were at the waistband of his trousers, pulling and fiddling with their fastening. At last, Giyuu freed his lower half from the confines of his uniform pants and stepped out from the puddle they made at his feet.

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat as her eyes raked over his beautiful form, so lean yet solid and muscular. Her cheeks burned with a renewed blush as her gaze followed the small, dark trail of hair beginning just below his navel, and down between his hips, where the evidence of his desire stood proud.

Her throat went dry. He was large — the flared head of his tip nearly grazed his navel, and his width was a little more than two of her fingers. Her thighs clamped together nervously, as she pondered how on earth she’d be able to accommodate him.

Giyuu noticed her hesitation, and a faint dusting of pink spread across his cheeks. “I have never -“

The shrine maiden shook her head. “Nor I,” she whispered, though the knowledge that this was as new to him as it was to her helped ease the clench in her stomach. For all her nervousness, the Miko could not ignore the heat and longing which burned within her as she lifted her eyes back to his. She found her muscles softening as she saw the same fire within those cyan pools she’d come to love. Y/N laid back against the floor — against the comforting soft of his haori, and let body relax, her legs falling open to him.

She held her hand out to him, beckoning, “Come back to me, Giyuu.”

The ravenette did not hesitate as he returned to her, covering her body with his own as he pulled her in for a heated kiss, the weight of his hardened length resting heavily against her hip as he settled between the cradle of her thighs.

Y/N moaned into his mouth, instinctively rolling her hips against him, desperate to feel closer to the man who had claimed her heart before she’d realized anyone was capable of holding it.

Giyuu groaned, softly, against her as she repeated the movement, breaking their kiss to look down at the flushed Miko threatening to drive him wild with her silken touch. As much as he was desperate to feel her — every part of her — he knew what they were about to do would not be nearly as pleasurable for her as it would be for him.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” the Water Pillar’s eyes were stormy, a tempest of competing desire and pain at the idea of causing her even the slightest discomfort raging within him.

Y/N brushed her lips against his once before trailing along his jaw, pausing only to suck softly as the soft spot beneath his ear. “I am only ever undone by you; never hurt.”

He moaned softly, lowering his head back down to reclaim her mouth firmly with his own, his lips beseeching her to let him consume her.

She was only too happy to do so, parting her mouth so that his tongue could slide in and dance languidly with hers, as he reached between them, gripping hold of his aching length and positioning himself at her entrance.

The first brush of his hot, velvety tip against her folds broke their kiss, both gasping at the new yet intoxicating feel of the other’s most intimate area.

Giyuu braced his free arm by her head, his fingers stretching to run comfortingly through her hair, as he pressed his forehead against hers. “If it becomes too much, just tell me, and we can stop.” His voice shook ever so slightly as he waited for her signal, the ache in his groin becoming nearly painful.

The Miko grazed her lips against his throat. “Don’t stop.” She murmured. She hitched her legs higher up on his hips, angling herself so the trembling man above her would have better access to her.

Slowly, so very slowly, the tip of Giyuu’s length began to push into her, and Y/N felt herself temporarily forget how to breathe. Above her, Giyuu’s eyes squeezed shut in a concerted effort not to sheathe himself within her in one stroke.

“Y/N,” Giyuu panted, unable to stop the shaky moan that fell from his lips as he sunk into her warm heat that wrapped tight, so impossibly tight around him.

The shrine maiden winced at the unfamiliar and slightly uncomfortable sensation of being slowly stretched and filled by the Pillar. She felt as though she was a wave, crashing and breaking and parting around a rocky shore with every inch gained by the press of his hips against hers.

Giyuu hardly had a quarter of himself seated within her when he felt his head brush against a thin barrier. His eyes opened to look down at the Miko, panting beneath him, her eyebrows pinched in slight discomfort. When she noticed he’d stopped, she peered up at him through her thick eyelashes, her cheeks flushed.

The hand Giyuu had held at his base to help guide himself within her lifted to grip her hip, her legs relaxing as his fingers massaging soothing circles into her flesh. Giyuu removed his forehead from its resting place against hers and he buried his face into the side of her neck as he pressed his body flush against hers. The hand he’d used to brace himself found hers, and he lifted to rest above her head, his fingers twining tightly with her own.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, pressing a sweet kiss against the shell of his ear. Giyuu nearly shuddered at her words, and he pressed his hips forward, his cock finally breaching that thin, inner barrier to the rest of her welcoming heat.

Y/N cried out at the bright spark of pain that flared through her as Giyuu claimed her as his own, but the Pillar held her steady, pressing open-mouthed kisses against her neck.

A hitched gasp blew past Giyuu’s lips as he became fully seated within her heat, her core gripping him like a vice. He panted against the sweat-dampened skin of her neck as they both adjusted to the sensation, her nails digging harshly into the skin of his back as she waited for the discomfort to subside.

Giyuu pulled his face back to look down at her, the hand he’d had on her hip rising to cup her face as he brushed his lips across her cheeks and eyes.

“My beloved, are you all right?” His breath came hard and fast as he panted, the growing friction between where they were connected becoming hotter, more demanding the longer he remained still.

Y/N’s eyes slowly opened to meet his, he felt her relax as he kissed her, slow and gentle.

Her lips broke from his and she nodded, shakily. “You can move — just hold me. Please.”

Giyuu let his full weight fall against her as he wound an arm tightly around her waist, his other hand tilting her face up so he could kiss her fiercely, eager to show her what she meant to him when his words otherwise failed to do so. As she opened up to him, tongue flicking out shyly along his lip, Giyuu rolled his hips experimentally against hers.

Both the shrine maiden and the Pillar cried out in unison as Giyuu’s movement stoked an intense pleasure where they were joined.

It was like a spark of flame had ignited between her legs before shooting up to her belly, making her insides clench and pulse.

It was addicting, and, judging by the way the raven haired swordsman above her hissed, he’d felt that jolt of electrifying pleasure, too.

“Oh,” Giyuu moaned as he began to move atop her, his cock sliding in and out of her heat as he worked to set a pace. “You feel – this is –” his stutters broke off into ragged pants that melted into broken moans with every movement as he found his rhythm.

The grip he had on her hand tightened as he pulled back from her neck in favor of watching her body jolt and bounce with each of his thrusts.

His head dropped down to study how his length, now coated in something shiny, appeared with every long draw of his hips out before disappearing back into her warmth.

He threw his head back. “Heaven,” the Water Pillar groaned out, a tendon throbbing in his neck as another cracked moan slipped free from his throat. “You are heaven.”

Shallow thrusts turned deeper, more purposeful, as the Water Pillar settled into his tempo. Each push of his hips opened her up more, bit by bit, until Y/N’s limbs liquified and she was left moaning and whimpering in time with his movements.

One particular thrust made her cry out, caused her legs to reflexively tighten around Giyuu’s hips as something hot flared deep within her stomach.

“M-more,” she managed, her voice tapering off with a squeak. She needed to feel that spark again, wanted to feel that jolt of electricity that made her stomach clench. “P-please — ah!— Giyuu —“

With something between a moan and a growl, Giyuu angled himself to thrust deeper, his weight pushing her hips back from the floor. Her legs were forced to hike higher up his waist, her ankles locking instead against the dip in his spine rather than his backside.

The new angle meant that Giyuu was able to hit at a spot that sent a bolt of lightening between her legs, and she could feel herself tighten around him.

The combination of her walls fluttering and pulsing around him and the strange fullness she felt was both overwhelming and exhilarating. She did not think she could stand to feel empty again; to not feel him consuming every inch of her.

Gradually, the small garden hut was filled by the sounds of their pants and moans, weaving together to form the melody of a song meant only for them.

Giyuu began thrusting harder, and soon, a dull clap of skin began to reverberate off the hut’s slatted wood walls, adding a steady beat to the rhythm of their pleasure. Though the air inside the hut had been nearly as frigid as what lay beyond its door, both the Miko and the Slayer found themselves coated in a thin sheen of sweat that made their skin glisten in the faint, orange glow of her lantern.

Above her, the Water Pillar was as lost in his pleasure as she. Guided purely by instinct, Y/N arched her lower back away from the floor until her breasts were flush against his sternum, desperate to feel that jolting spark between her legs.

She felt the walls her of her core clench tighter around Giyuu’s length with her movement, and he answered her with a deep growl as his arm cinched tighter around her waist.

Deep; he was so deep within her, that she wondered whether he might reach her soul before they had to part.

Giyuu’s thrusts quickened, the base of his groin grinding against that sensitive spot between her thighs that had her wanting more as she moaned, her thighs squeezing the Hashira’s hips.

His head was thrown back, his eyes tightly shut as the most beautiful sounds of pleasure Y/N had ever heard poured from Giyuu’s mouth.

“I — fuck.” He growled as one arm tightened around her waist to the point of pain, the other grabbing her hand to bring it to his lips in a futile attempt to stifle the sounds lilting from him like song.

His name fell from her lips like a hallowed oath and Y/N’s legs fell to the side, allowing Giyuu to chase the crescent of his release, as hips pistoned into her with wild abandon.

“Y-Y/N,” her black-haired beauty of a lover grit through clenched teeth, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. “My treasure, I-I’m gonna-“

The Water Pillar buried his face into the side of her neck, cradling his groans into her throat, and Y/N could feel his length twitch within her.

As Giyuu’s hips slammed into her one final time, so to did the realization that she loved this; she wanted always to be this close to him, wanted always to be unable to tell where she ended and he began.

She loved him.

But the bitter truth was that she’d never again get to hold Giyuu the way she was right then, legs wrapped tightly around his waist as she felt something warm gush through her, a pleasured groan, so beautiful and husky tumbling from the Hashira’s lips as he pressed a sweet kiss against her collarbone.

She would not get to love him past this most sacred rite.

If she were honest, she’d likely never again experience this intimacy with anyone, for as long as she lived — for how could anyone else ever possibly compare?

She supposed she’d been doomed to never hold onto the people who were meant to love her since the day she was born. She should’ve known better.

But as the roll of Giyuu’s hips into her heat slowed, and his labored breaths eased, Y/N could not find it within herself to regret it; to regret him.

Because, fool though she was, she loved him.

Giyuu collapsed against her, his face nuzzling into the crook of her neck as he came down from his high, still buried inside her as the two panted.

Her hands moved of their own accord to card through his raven hair, fingertips massaging his scalp as his breathing slowed, his breath adding further moisture to the already sweat-dampened skin of her neck.

She wished they could remain like that always; that the dawn creeping over the horizon would not herald forth the sun, and they could stay on the floor of the garden hut forever, wrapped in one another’s embrace. She desperately wanted to memorize the tempo of his heart as it beat steadily against his chest, the vibrations of which she felt against her ribs. Such a beautiful melody, it was, and yet it filled her with such despair to know she might never again hear its sweet song; that it might cease playing forever, the moment Giyuu resumed being the Water Pillar once more, and walked through the shrine gates for the last time.

But Y/N had never had anyone she could call her own, and as much as she loved the man nuzzling her neck as he whispered sweet nothings against her skin, he’d never been hers to keep.

“My beautiful, beautiful Y/N,” Giyuu murmured, kissing his way up her throat to her lips. “Are you alright?”

She held his lips for a moment before breaking away, letting her eyes roam his face, and she nodded. “Are you?”

To her utter surprise, the Water Pillar chuckled softly, his laugh breathy and his smile heartbreakingly beautiful. “Yes, my treasure. I am more than alright.”

He brushed a kiss against the tip of her nose. “After all, I am with you.”

———-

He’d brought her against his chest and they’d laid there together, simply staring at one another, trading soft kisses as Giyuu traced a finger over every feature of her face at least twice.

If he was to die, he knew his last thoughts would be of her, and he wanted to be sure he’d committed every last detail of her face to memory.

Soon, far too soon, the deep indigo of the night sky was broken by the first, watery rays of morning light, and both the Miko and the Slayer knew their time was up.

The lovers dressed quickly, their backs to one another as both steeled themselves for the goodbye they could no longer avoid.

And now, that time had come. Though it was Giyuu who walked to his likely doom, Y/N felt as if she was embarking on her own death march as the pair drew near the towering Shrine gate. Perhaps she was; after all, he would be taking her heart with him, and she was unlikely to get it back.

Y/N did not know whether to lean in and kiss him, one last time, or whether such a display of affection would only scratch at the gaping, open wounds they now bore on their chests, where their hearts had been.

Giyuu, apparently, did not know what to do either, so the two only stood there beneath the Torii, eyes swimming with emotions neither could bear to voice.

There was a beat, and then the two moved toward one another, drawn together like magnets as they locked themselves in a tight embrace. Giyuu’s hand cupped the back of her skull as Y/N pressed her face hard into his shoulder. Her fingers dug into the fabric of his haori, desperate to keep him rooted to her — to life, safe and away from demons.

But he couldn’t stay; she knew that. And so, with a deep inhale in a desperate attempt to memorize that mahogany and citrus scent of his she so adored, Y/N pulled away. She made to step back from him entirely, to put distance between them, but those warm fingers caught her under her chin, tilting her head up to face him before his hand slid to cup her cheek.

The emotion swimming in the azure depths of his irises threatened to chisel away at the lock she kept on her own. Tears burned in her eyes, but she would not let them fall; she would not make this harder for herself — for him — than it already was.

“If you do not hear from me, leave the mountain. Go to the city, and do not go out at night. Keep your dagger and wisteria on you at all times, even when you sleep,” Giyuu’s eyes were serious, the hand on her face holding her in place. “Live, Y/N. Grow to be an old woman. Die only from age.”

The shrine maiden closed her eyes as she willed herself not to cry. “And if you win?”

Giyuu hesitated for a moment and Y/N knew better than to ask him to make a promise he could not keep.

“Send a crow, if you can.” She whispered, feigning a small smile. “It would be nice to not be afraid to go and gather night-blooming herbs.”

The Water Pillar nodded, his hand smoothing through her hair one last time as his lips pressed against her forehead. “Thank you, Y/N.”

She didn’t need to ask what for.

She hoped she’d never forget the way he said her name; the longing and the breathless passion that dripped from every syllable, and the way it sent shivers down her spine.

Giyuu broke away from her and set off towards the east. Y/N watched until he was nothing more than a speck on the horizon, before he disappeared entirely.

He did not look back.

————————

He hadn’t trusted himself to look back at her, though every fiber of his being had screamed at him to turn around and behold her beauty one last time. But the Shrine Maiden had become his largest weakness, and Giyuu knew if he’d looked back, he would never make it back to his estate; to the Corps.

And if you win? She’d asked him, and he hadn’t been able to form the words of the answer he’d so desperately wanted to give her.

Because while Giyuu Tomioka never made promises he couldn’t keep, that did not mean he didn’t hope. Right then, more than anything, his greatest desire was to win this war; win it, and come back and tell Y/N that she no longer needed to fear the night.

In any other life — if Giyuu had been any other man — there would be no question as to who he’d choose to spend the rest of his days with.

And so, Giyuu thought as he forced himself to march forward, his eyes burning, if he made it out of this war alive, he would go back to the Shrine and tell Y/N of their victory himself.

And perhaps she’d then allow him to make her his wife.

Keep an eye out for Part II to see if Giyuu comes back and makes good on his promise!

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darkdemeter · 6 months ago

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THE THREAT OF INTIMACY

⚤ Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Angst — insecure reader and depictions of negative thoughts and fear of sexual intimacy — profanity — SMUT 18+ mdni — virgin!reader/loss of virginity — unprotected sex — hurt/comfort — oral (female receiving) — le dasha of body worship —cream pie — mafia bucky being a huge softy for his wife — I think that's it ✎ 7.4k A beautiful bride marrying the man of your dreams. But when faced with what comes after the vows and first dance as Mr. and Mrs Barnes, you suggest that a particular arrangement be made.

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

It’s not so much of a grand show once the curtain falls. There hangs a greed of mischief and ominous silence. He looks at you, blue eyes piercing the exposed skin of your back, the white gown hangs an elegant silhouette on you. Its embroidered sculpts become melded into the fabricated folds as you stop midst the gate of your saunter forwards, each step a reminder drawing nearer as you do to the bed.

Did you really have to do this?

It was an era of change after all. But his seniors were old school, and so you expected him to be as well in the matters of the marriage bed. It is expected of you — the both of you. Your hands fish through the elaborate style of your hair, musing it loose and gaining a comforted scalp as you turn away from the bed and walk over to the large windows that extend from top to bottom, overlooking the twinkling space of stars fallen to earth.

Being far away from it means you are torn from it. Once you step foot back in that place, you are no longer the girl you once were.

You are now Mrs. Barnes. A wolf among sheep. The queen of the Bratva. A cooperation of mobsters who have bought police eyes and silenced officials of the government. But was this status and power worth what is intended to follow?

You didn’t have a real choice in the matter. Well, maybe you did. You fell for him, you won’t deny it, and you fell hard for him. Other pickings were not as savoury, nor did they explode with the chemistry you shared with him. But this wasn’t the only factor.

It’d been clear that your hearts were set on one another. With the subtle whispers into the other’s ear, hugging and kissing, fingers entwined, or the more assuring hand on the low of your back. This intimacy had been a flavour sweet – loving – and you came to embrace these softer textures of your life at his side. His proposal was impossibly expected but even then, you couldn’t contain your surprise and eagerly said yes.

You never gave the thought of what came next exactly. The very intimate aftermath. Until his mother pulled you aside, a smile on her painted ruby lips as she guided you to walk with her through the hedged gardens. That conversation is one you will never forget. Her love is shocking, her devotion to her husband and family, you can hardly stand the thought of not loving her in return.

But that talk shocked you.

Half of it because of the gory details she regaled, but the other half because of your own mind. Your poisoned mind that festers with anxious insecurities.

Of course it’s expected. Your virginity doesn’t exactly wave you as an expert, no matter what talks of womanhood you are subjected to. But by the standard of Mr. Bucky Barnes, his former bachelor days had given him what you lack: experience.

What if I’m so bad that he’s repulsed by me?

He’ll only need to take one look at me and that’ll be enough.

What if I can’t make him cum?

What exactly am I supposed to do— I don’t think I’m ready.

You continue on in your panicked, internal reverie, hand raised to rest your lips against your knuckles, the shine of diamonds catching in the dark reflection, a momentary blindness befalls you that then causes your stomach to writhe with unease.

“Hey,” your husband whispers, breath warm over the shell of your ear and his lips tease the curve of your exposed neck with light kisses. Your body flinches at the suddenness of his appearance right behind you, his chest to your back; you feel tears deep into the corner of your eyes, hot and wet and annoying. The stronghold of air chokes you in the back of your throat.

“Mm, hi…”

Your forced smile is quick to fade, just barely passing back a glance at him before looking away. He catches this falter. His expression is shadowed by a troubled frown. He noticed the way you flinched before him. And that glistening of tears is hard to miss when it comes to you.

“Talk to me,” he presses gently, “you okay?”

His hands are strong and sure as he holds you, turns you to face him directly now, putting the window to your back. Your ring bound hand massages over your face with a breath hollowing out in a deep sigh.

“Yeah. I’m good, I think we should get some rest. It’s been a big day.”

Before you can step around him, his hand circles the entirety around your forearm, holding you in place.

“You don’t want to…” At the trailing end of his words with his blue eyes alluding to his meaning, the sting of tears prick your vision again and a flush paints your cheeks and neck red. He lets you walk away with the train of your dress flowing behind you like a silken shadow.

“I don’t think tonight.”

Or any other night…

Bucky’s throat bobs with a thick swallow, nodding as he watches you. Always a man who knows what to do, how to maintain composure — his power — he feels that confidence wane like the fading moon. Powerless.

The words brewing on your tongue are tart, poisonous and unpleasant. Not the sort you would ever want to say to your husband, no less on your wedding night.

You’d ventured over to the vanity by now, you say beneath a shaken exhale, “I’ll look to hire a mistress.”

“Excuse me?” He gasps sharply.

Your reply, voice short of anything joking or playful. You sit before the vanity and bend forward, unfastening the golden clasps on your heels before you set them aside. “I’ll have a mistress contracted for you. We’ll do everything else together but she will… provide the sexual affairs.”

“And you?” His question makes you pause midway of turning fully towards the mirror, only barely do you see him trail the outskirts of the room, just only in focus of your view. With a sigh, you pluck your earrings out, saying more so to your own reflection than him, “I’ve gone this long without sex, Bucky. I’m sure I can go on the rest of my life without it.”

“No, no, we’re not doing things like that. I married you — I want you.” Why is that just too hard to believe? You can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes in the mirror, so you look away, anywhere that doesn’t meet his gaze. “Honey, where the fuck did this come from?”

You don’t answer. The man is practically brought to his knees before you like a servant ready to obey you like a goddess. Treatment he committed to you, though you don’t feel deserving of. He spins you slowly on your stool until you face him, knelt before you, he tries to find the stunning awe of your eyes only to find you hiding away from him. “Did somebody say something to you? Who was it?”

Quick to spare someone needless bloodshed, you stand abruptly, almost knocking him back and storm away from him by some feet, putting distance between you both, your voice carries over your shoulder, “Nobody said anything. I just think this arrangement will be better for us.”

You’re blinking back a curtain of tears that threaten to unleash. A wave rises high like a tsunami in your soul with these stupid, incessant thoughts.

You’re imperfect.

You’re ugly.

Let another woman – a beautiful woman – please him.

He’ll regret marrying you once he sees you.

Fingers ringing the course of massaging your temples, you are slowly being drowned by many, many thoughts like these. They're endless. They’re relentless and they are loveless. Not once do you give yourself the internal piece of mind that maybe, just maybe, there is hope in this relationship. That they are wrong. That he won’t judge or run from you. But who can say for sure?

It’s best to play it safe and keep what dignity you have left. Despite the spitefulness of seeing him become satisfied by another woman, it would be better than depriving him for the rest of his life. And you care more for his own happiness. It’s all you want for him.

He speaks up again, his voice going stern in his verbal study. “So, let me get this straight: I marry the love of my life, the very essence I love and breath for, only to… fuck another woman. After I swore a vow to you.”

“Bucky, you’re making it sound—”

“I’ll go without sex for the rest of my life than have some whore in our bed.”

You spin on your heel, mouth agape. Finally you look at him long enough as he works to slowly approach you and he sees just how badly you’re hurting on the inside. “Bucky—”

How quick he is to cut you off before you can even utter another heinous thing, now reaching you. “I wouldn’t stand at the altar for just anyone. I gave up that bachelor life to have you. I chose you. I want to have all of you.”

You mutter, mumble off-centred excuses that come out as broken noises on a record, and then you let out a shaken breath, chest feeling like it's being cleaved and ripped apart to the point your body trembles. You try your hardest to suppress your quiet sniffles as the flow of tears begin, fingers hastefully dapping away as to not smear your makeup; your only means of perfection that you’ve felt in a while.

When you saw yourself in the white dress every little girl dreams of for the first time in a bridal shop far too expensive for the average, then again in the dressing room with hair and makeup done to the nines, it all almost made you forget about the gut-wrenching aftermath once the reception concluded. That you were walking down that aisle with a purpose you would never come to regret.

Was it all a foolish fairytale to idolise this facade of beauty?

The hand bearing his ring uses a force so gentle you think it’s the end, that when you look up, he will be gone. That your wedding dress will fade into your everyday jeans and grandmother’s patchy sweater you treasure too much to throw away, her scent still lingering there to inhale on a bad day.

He drives your focus upwards until your eyes meet, your vision hindered behind a blur that wets your lashes as you blink. A vibrant colour of blue that once intimidated you now attends to assure you, to quiet your riled fears, but there is a reluctance to let your guard down this time.

His hands cradle your jaw in his hold with a promise to never let you go. To never let you know this fear again.

“I won’t judge. I won’t run in disgust or whatever you think I’m gonna do. I think my vows can be credited to that, yeah?”

Your bottom lip sinks inward slightly, teeth biting down hard on the plump of flesh, muttering a softly broken, “I-I guess.”

“You’re scared.”

It is shame that brings your eyes to falter, chin wobbling until it crinkles. “Yes…”

It’s like he could read you, knowing that your next move is to shove him off – push him away – he leans down and presses his lips to your own. Warm, a little roughened yet still retaining a softened plush of texture, he breathes some sort of cooling flame that soothes you if not for a short while. A rattled, sharpened gasp teeters on the edge of your voice and he parts from the kiss with a low and silky drawl. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, love. We can take our time with this.”

You’re hoisted into his arms, strength unyielding as he carries you over to the bed and sets you atop the mattress like porcelain. For him, he’s scared how easily it is to break you, no matter how hard you hide this fragility. You use the outside of your hand to wipe at your nose and exhale loudly, mind prattling on with your swirling thoughts.

Pathetic.

He’ll definitely need a mistress after that display.

And all you’re better off getting is a toy.

His family will ridicule you. He’s going to tell everyone that his little wife refused to have sex with him on his wedding night.

Poisonous thoughts. They aren’t going away. With a sniffle, you watch Bucky begin to strip himself down, leaving himself to his boxers. However much you admire the act in itself, it’s far too intimate than anything else. The idea of you doing that for him sickens you. You become repulsed by yourself.

Your mind is a hideous beast.

Like you.

Shut up!

You make this wedding dress look ugly.

“Come on, doll,” Bucky’s voice breaks through the hazardous cloud like a lighthouse awaiting for you ashore, guiding you to safety. He offers you a smile you try to match only to feel your lips twitch, muscles cringing as you keep the well of tears and cries inside. He invites you to join him and you move up the bed. You can’t bear to shed the second skin of your dress to reveal the lavish, risque lace and frilly lingerie you’d picked out at the encouragement of your bridesmaids.

You never really gave it much thought before until it was too late. This culture of intimacy you perceive as a threat.

Your husband doesn’t question you. Instead he lays beside you, arms stretched out to invite you into his embrace. An invite you half-heartedly indulge in, inching yourself awkwardly to his side but remaining to keep some inches from him.

Head laid on the tucked shelf of your arms, hair mused to fall over your features, you intend to wallow in silence until exhaustion overtakes you into sleep.

You’ve ruined his day.

“What are you thinking in that pretty head of yours?” The question is directed to you, you’re sure. But it also sounds like he’s asking himself for the answer to a riddle he cannot begin to understand.

“I’m sorry I ruined your day…”

The contortion of his features almost has your body locking up into a tightly wound position, the form of his dark brows bevelling in the middle, eyes widening until the blackened pupils shrink into tiny dots.

“What?” he sputters, “No– no, honey. This is our day.”

Our day?

There is a storm of emotion battling in his own eyes, however, he is just as quick to hide it from you. He trails again to caress the line of your jaw, his thumb strokes along your bottom lip. “Love, I will never force you into anything. Not your first time, not your hundredth. You hear me, yeah?”

Your eyes only look to stare at him with a stillness, before you absently nod. Then you turn, putting your back to him. You cannot bring yourself to look at him out of sheer guilt that no matter what, he cannot silence the honest and cruel torment of voices in your head. Not forever. They will find something to pick out and gnaw at to send you into this spiral.

If you could do so without the judgement of your husband, you would cry and howl into your pillow for hours until the perfect mirage of your makeup fell apart, you’d spare the dress from being a ridiculed taint by being on you any longer. You’d be on the phone to your sister pleading for her to keep you company and distract you from this pain, you’d cry into her chest as she held you with all the strength she possessed. You’d ask your parents to call you beautiful, even though it’s a lie.

But you keep it all in. And it breaks you so harshly on the inside that it cuts you like thousands of shards shredding you apart.

You’re not sure exactly how much time has passed between the void of silence. You can’t sleep. The tyrannical storm of emotion swarming inside you makes it impossible to even try lest you break and let it all out, letting it show.

“B-Bucky?” you squeak, clearing your throat and you hear him hum immediately in response, the weight of him rolling over until his body is a ghost along your back. “Can I… uhm, can I ask you something?”

Aside from the odd hiccup and sniffle here and there, you hold firm to sounding as you were before, the bubbly and playful girl Bucky couldn’t help but tease until you were a flustering mess, the girl who attempted to flirt back only to fumble over your words and proceed conversation with a shy smile. The girl he fell in love with. The one he gladly stood at the altar for. Before the voices.

“Of course, doll. Anything.”

Nervously your fingers flex and wind together, thumbing the fabric over your breasts, the enclosed circlet of cleavage pressed closely together. You wish you could giggle at the way you caught Bucky gawking numerous times in supposed awe of you throughout the day. He often is like that every time he sees you though, now that you come to think about it.

Supposedly.

Not likely real…

I’m going to regret asking this, aren’t I?

With a heavy swallow coated heavily in your hesitance, you take a breath in hope that proves to fail to settle your nerves. “You’ve been with plenty of girls before me… you know how to please them, what did…” you pause upon a whimper, “were they all the same?”

The amount of strain behind your vocal cords makes you cringe in disgust. You sound like—

“No, they were all different. Unique to each girl.” You can almost sense the way his head props up to look at you. His eyes staring a cool layer of heat into your back. “Just like you.”

“How can you say that?” Your voice betrays the toxins of a heart and mind poisoned together over far too long. Bucky hears the loathe of self in your words, dry and cynical, unbelieving in his words and your own image. “You’ve never even seen what I look like… you don’t know how I’ll be, I’ve never—”

Your hands press over your eyes in hope to suppress the tears glassing over your vision.

“Hey,” Bucky admonishes with a low drawl, tutting you, “hey. I’m not expecting the fucking grandios of perfect sex. I’m expecting you and only you. I want what makes you and your body unique.”

You turn your head to see him, chin wobbling slightly. How he’d crawl through hot coals and glass for you, seeing the beauty of what you see are flaws. He then grins and for a moment, it disturbs you how he could smile when you’re like this.

“I wasn’t the best for my first time. In fact, I’m telling you–”

“Bucky, no, you don’t have to,” you interject with a stifled cough. You shoot to sit up and your husband follows, chuckling.

“No, I will tell you I was shit at sex. Horrible. My first time—”

Your hands paw and pat at his mouth to silence him to no avail, your chorus of hiccups and sniffles turn into shy giggles.

“I–couldn’t–”

You giggle a little louder this time. “Shush, Bucky! No-ho!”

“Couldn’t even– find the cl—”

Your fingers are a heavenly pillar even as they hold his lips prisoner from speaking aloud. He smirks behind them and plants delicate kisses to them, enamoured by the faint smile on your face and the softness of your eyes. Seeing you cry and be tied to these human emotions makes a fire burn in his chest. Like for the longest time, he’s finally found someone who can make him feel whole. If only he could help you feel the same. In the make of those blue, puppy dog eyes, you crack and scoff out a snort. “New York’s infamous Mob Lord…”

He beams from ear to ear at the unfinished implication, taking the time to fall so hard in love with you all over again. He leans his forehead against yours with a rumbled, “Mhm.”

Mascara smudged under the barrage of wet lashes and tears, your lips part with a shaky breath. “Bucky?”

He hums again, so you press on, throat suddenly tight. “Do you think you could make me feel that way?”

His response is instant, deep voice trailing along the bridge of your neck, much like it had done earlier as his arms circle the lower curve of your arse and hoist you until you balance atop his thighs, keeping his weight on his haunches. “Moya zvezda, that and more.”

Your arms drape over the burly muscle of his shoulders, breath mingling with his in hot gusts laboured with anticipation, you hear him groan as you ever so slightly lower your hips against his and he pushes you that little higher on the pedestal he holds you on, it’s height greater than any earthly accomplishments men can dream of.

It’s why you’re his star.

I love this man.

With all my heart.

His front presses fully into you, he works to weave one hand beneath the shower of your gown and feeling along the sheer stocking attached to your garter; he groans again, more feral sounding in his sensational marvel of how perfect you are. How blessed he is to be the one to touch you like this. To hold and have you so intimately.

At his touch, your body erupts with a shudder, momentarily staggered by the electric push and pull and thriving buzz between your legs; though the stir of arousal isn’t foreign to you, it certainly is a stark contrast with his attentive action.

His lips smother the embers of your trembling gasps with a kiss, passion tasting as a fine wine on his tongue. The kiss is paced slowly to attend to your cautious nature, an utter surety that he won’t make any move against you. You take no part in stopping him as he pushes aside the obstructive barrier of your panties.

The way his fingers are gentle to stroke your core has you keening, teetering on a choked whine, his work deliberate in focusing on the pearl of your sensitive clit and the slickened beginnings of your folds. His hands that have sinned many times now amend themselves with the purity of worshipping every inch, exploring you with the intent to please. His thumb rolls in drawn circles, eliciting from you mewls and heated pants of air too heavy to stay in your lungs, cooing at your slow induction.

“Atta girl.”

I’m alright.

“You’re doing amazing.”

I’m safe.

His two fingers run along your entrance, causing your spine to arch slightly and he smirks, pulling from the kiss.

“You like that, doll? Yeah?” he asks smoothly, seeing you nod shakily with eyes half lidded.

Your hands entangle themselves to the bedded roots of his hair, tender as you can to pull with each spark that has your stomach tying knots and your muscles tensing, his thumb begins to roll a little harder and faster. At hearing the apparition of a moan escape you, he applauds you with his encouragement despite the way your hand covers over your mouth to silence these noises.

“Fuck, please again, zvezda. Please.”

“I want to hear you.”

“Please… fuck you sound so beautiful…”

In your stun over his pleas, your hand lowers away and you continue to let your moans lull him, hips moving at a slow crawl against his fingers that press to your core and with a single look you let him know you’re willing. He fights the tantalising grip of your fingers to reach your lips as he pushes two fingers past your folds. Your gasp is a sharp sound to his ears, one of alert that he seeks to comfort you through the kiss.

The trajectory to pull your hips away stabilises and you begin to find that rhythm with each grind and thrust onto his fingers, the waves of pleasure coming from your clit has your stomach tightening.

“B-Bucky…” you whisper and he swallows your words with a deep moan. Your walls clench around the intrusion of his fingers, moreso when he adds a third, curling them as if to beckon your body furthermore to his touch, to yield your fears and let him set alight that bloom inside your core and unto your bliss.

You pant harder, “B–ngh… Bucky… th-there.”

“Right there?” He asks with a sultry grin. Your voice comes out in a strangled response. “M—mhm.”

The voice of your whine is his commandment. He installs a level of dedication at gently fucking you with his fingers right where you needed him – wanted him. That swell inside you grows and grows, furthering into a maelstrom that leaves your body shivering, unexpected of where this sudden burst will implode.

“Good girl, you’re doing so well, doll,” he praises with a low timbre, groaning with a prided grin when you tug a little harder at his hair, your softer nature betraying to act out this darker side of yourself; this almost forbidden wanton.

I feel…

Your hips move to become greedy and much to Bucky’s approval, feeling the swollen bulge of his cock straining against his boxers has you weak and some instinct to move against it drives you, a louder moan slipping past your lips. Bucky’s mouth leaves a heated trail of passionate nips and teasing flutters of kisses against your neck, spoiling you.

You gasp and your hands fly to his shoulders to hold you at bay, the sudden shockwave a prelude to ride as your orgasm ascends upon you, he hears the feverish whimpers you make and he purrs, pumping his fingers, “That’s it, love, let go. C’mon, let me feel you cum for me. I’ve got you.”

The suppression of a scream hides in your chest, leaving only a choked sob to rack through you as you thrust and claim your first release, a hot flush of white behind your eyes blinds you, your muscles convulse in tensing and relaxing as you ride out your high.

Your arms that wound around his shoulders squeeze a little tighter in your recovery, your breath timed to slow down after a few minutes but your body remains to quiver against him. The form of his aroused cock clear and unhidden has your core weeping for more.

“There you go, that’s it,” he coaxes softly with a smile while he eases a kiss to the corner of your lips, “how’re you feeling?”

“G-good… really like… wow.” The words come out jumbled to you, as if you were still influenced by the strong wine at the reception, having made you reserve your consumption to a very limited amount.

Bucky hums and withdraws his fingers, leaving you to mewl at the loss. The sight before you has you in some chokehold, a crimson heat flushes into your cheeks and down your neck, rendering your blood into fiery rivers beneath your skin, a sudden jerk picking up in your heartbeat as Bucky cleans the slick of your release from his fingers, the crystalised shade of blue dimming with a certain darkness as the taste of you rolls over his taste buds.

He’s tasting me…

He moans with a thunderous growl. “Fuck… you taste amazing,” he grins, teeth gleaming with that cute, charming esteem.

I do?

The warmth in your cheeks glows ten fold, bringing a sight for Bucky to admire. That cute girl who’s face becomes rosy with embarrassment. It’s like he could read your mind and the way he says your name has you at a loss of breath, drawing your attention back to the shine of his eyes.

“You are exquisite…”

Following in action as the continuation of his proclamation, his hand finds the spine of your dress and upon reaching the apex between your shoulders. He seeks to pause and his eyes seek out your permission, brows slight to bevel. “May I, Mrs. Barnes?”

The crescents of your palms brush the exterior of his stubble, every inch of your hands covered by the sensational prickling that leaves you like putty. How he stares at you with this amass of love and fondness that feels overwhelming at times.

He’s just so… perfect.

The return of tears glasses over your eyes and you smile, brightly and toothy and nod, cupping his jaw in your hands before you press a softened kiss to his lips. You feel it in unison with him; it steals the breath from you both.

“You may, Mr. Barnes.”

With your approval, he draws the zip undone. Anticipation lines your nerves like a trail of gunpowder ready to be set ablaze. He’s testing the waters, ensuring that this is what you want and when you give no indication of refusal, he glides the dress from your shoulders, revelling in the delicate sculpt of your body; the warm, ambient light hitting the surface creates a heavenly glow upon your skin. With the overhanging light above, it frames a golden halo around you as his sights steer upwards.

Your gown drapes a sultry form over you, accentuating the mounds of your breasts pushed close together and the nakedness of your shoulders and neck. Bucky growls under a vice of hunger. But something lays in the glassy waver of his stare.

“Please be real?”

His voice barely rises above a near shattered whisper. A man who fears losing you just much as you fear losing him. His voice pleads with you. Your lips part, jaw coming to drop slightly as your eyes widen.

Please be real for me?

“I-I am, Bucky. I’m real…”

The man before you exhales loudly, gasping for breath to keep himself drowning. “Good. Because I want this to be real.”

He doesn’t waste another moment. His mouth clashes against yours, hunger succumbing as he ravishes you with the heated intensity of his kiss, tongue running a pleaful line along your bottom lip. You part them and he awakens the stir of arousal flooding through your veins, tongues dancing in an artistic battle for dominance he undeniably wins. You moan a muffled song and he drinks every lyric of it, intoxicated by it.

His hands are wild in their exploration, peeling your dress lower to reveal the laces and frills of your lingerie, not permitting you to shy away and hide from him this time, his hands feel every inch of it, mesmerised by the way it fits to you so beautifully that even the most talented of sculptures would struggle to capture your raw and enticing beauty to its complete and apex design.

Your hands scour to claim the roots of his hair again. This time, you hold no restraint and he loves it. He loves the radiance of confidence you find in every following second. You are claiming what is rightfully yours as his wife. As his one love that he will kill and die for without question. Though time and mortal breath dares to intrude and part you, you find ways around the schemes, momentarily gasping for air within the clash of your lips, too far entranced to pull away.

His hands glide up your sides until his thumbs are able to tease your stiffened nipples through the thin fabric, groaning at the noises you create from it, his touch sending those blissful tingles throughout your body. When time comes to see you both departed from your kiss, you each still remain to linger, tasting one another in the inch spared between you, chests heaving madly and brushing together. Dress pooled to a rolled belt over your waist, Bucky drinks in every detail of your body.

Why does he look at me like that?

His nose buries into you, nestling into the warmth and softness of your body as he utters phrases of praise to your skin, a trail of his devotion painted upon your skin with the invisible ink of his love and adoration for you.

“You feel what you do to me?” he asks, strong hands guiding your hips down to roll in unison with his, the swollen mound of his erect cock still suffering in confinement has you hiccuping in your stun.

Though your voice is light, you nod as you answer. “Yes.”

“That’s how fucking hot you are,” he says with a deep, velvety drawl, his words slightly muffled by the way his mouth caresses you. “You have me so hard right now, fuck, the things I wanna do to you, doll.”

His confession has you blushing.

He can’t possibly mean that…

He can’t help himself. He’s a man enslaved at your whim. Though you try to bring this madman to his senses with an embarrassed huff of his name, he only leans in to claim your lips with his, the melding of hunger brings you both into that feverish haze again. Tongues entangled with one another, Bucky’s hands paw and pluck the garments of your lingerie from your form, peeling away the details of floral patterns and lacy sheer to feel the heat of skin below, the way your muscles twitched under his touch.

You moan between the kiss and allow your hands to feel the soft tresses of his hair between your fingers, carefully weaving through the darkened locks and nails scratching at the roots against his scalp, a rumbling purr escaping him.

The rock of your hips move together, a desiring fire burning in your core to the point it borders on a painful ache between your legs. Your dress is discarded, left aside with your undressed garments to be reclaimed at a later time. He lays you on your back, your head nested atop the plush cushion of the pillows, bodies flush together without leaving so much as a morsel of space apart.

Entrapped by his lustful kiss, you thrust and grind your heated sex against him with shocking eager, a whine is tugged from your throat, unsure.

Bucky is quick to assure you of your arousal, that its intoxication is a vice wanted. He uses one arm to support his weight above, caging you, as his other takes hold of your thigh and gropes at it fervently while somewhere in the mixture haze his boxers are tossed aside. His swollen tip oozes with glistening, droplet streams, his size heavy and long that has a gasp escaping you.

W–will he fit?

Such worrisome thoughts are snuffed out like speckled embers as he deepens the kiss, tongues gliding together and moans and limbs entangle. His tip brushes over the sensitive spot of your clit and your hips take languid actions against his practised thrusts.

“It’s going to hurt at first,” he mutters across the skin of your jaw, “but it won’t for long. I’m right here, moya zvezda, I promise.”

A crystalline glint appears on the waterline of your eyes, a tender smile on your lips as your lips connect with a chaste kiss.

“I’m ready, Bucky…”

His blue eyes take the time to carefully read your expression. For a man so immersed in being so gentle and caring with you, you have come to know that with the very same hands he caresses you with – he has broken jaws, bloodied and bruised noses and strangled the very life of more than one person. He can tell when a man is lying just by looking into his eyes.

He sees you’re telling the truth. That you want this with him. You want him. Cock nudging at your folds, you push your legs a little wider to better accommodate his size after hearing him chuckle at the crimson blush creeping into your face, flustered at the thought of his entire cock sheathing inside you.

“Gonna fit all of me, my sexy little wife?” he’d teased with a wink.

His eyes retain their focus with yours as he pushes the head of his cock into your cunt, meeting the slight of resistance and surged forward, a sigh heavily laced on his breath that has his head bowing to press his forehead to yours, eyes scrunched tightly.

A hitched note on your throat is silenced, cut out with a high pitched whine as he sinks deeper and deeper, breaching past the wall of your hymen. Your nails mark their bite into his shoulders and down his back with angry red scars, tracing over the blackened inks already imprinted there.

Your walls constrict around the intrusion of him with a searing pierce that brings your tears to streak down your temples, chin slightly trembling, you feel Bucky’s lips hover over yours.

“O-ow,” you mewl, “It hurts…”

“I’ve got you, zvezda, I’m here.”

Your chest feels tight, suffocated, but his words comfort you. You cling to him tighter, thighs trembling at his sides and you feel his hand resume its place there, gentle to knead and rub soothing circles as he coaxes you through the blight of your pain.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good,” he whispers to your lips, the crinkle of a smile forming on his features. Just as quickly as it had come, the pain subsides and you feel so full at the point where your bodies meet, you finally nod for him to continue.

He goes slowly.

He sets a rhythm paced to ease you into the forcing motion of his cock gliding through your hot, velvety walls that clamp and shudder with each movement he makes. Your gasps turn to softly sung moans as you begin to grind your hips to meet his and he smiles down at you. “There you go, love. That’s it, you’re taking me so well.”

“This body… so perfect, so beautiful… I love it, I love you.”

Another moan escapes you. He heaves a deep breath with every thrust, still focusing hard to keep this steadiness, until you moan for him,

“Bucky… please, I-I need…”

“What do you need, love? Tell me.”

“I– need more– please.”

He groans, the thought of ruthlessly fucking you with abandon crosses his mind in flashes, the way you’d look spread out while being pummeled by his cock that ruts into your pretty pussy until you’re stuffed full of his cum that it overspills as a creamy ring around his girthy base.

To fuck you the way of a mafia lord.

“You want that, sugar?” he asks, his voice sudden to drop lower into a silken, deepened purr with a darkened smirk. “You want to be fucked the way a mafia queen should be? H–hmph, you want it harder? Faster?”

You choke on the release of your words, sounding breathless, “Y-yes!”

Your walls clench tight around him, a series of moans spilling from your parted lips as he then picks up his pace, the incentive of your permission driving him to thrust harder, his hand fists and squeezes the flesh of your thigh within his grasp, holding you fast to him as he strikes deeply into your pussy. His muscles bend, curve and tense and your hands greedily explore every single portion of him, granting you this chance to be upheld by the prison of your thoughts that may hold you back later.

You howl, whine and cry – all for more, for him to keep going, to not stop. His body arches over yours, hands now ahold of you at the hips he uses the advantage of his strength and position to forcefully piston himself back and forth, back and forth until you’re writhing beneath him Your hands attach themselves to the veiny reins of his wrists, your hips arched up until your lower half is lifted for his leisure to fuck into that spot that has you seeing an galaxy of stars.

“Bucky– Bucky, oh Bucky!” you cry out.

“Fuck— yeah baby, fuck you sound beautiful, shit— baby, keep screaming my name, I want to hear you.” Each word is intensely laced with an exerted breath or guttural groan. “Fucking hell, zvezda, you look fucking amazing like that—”

“You’re taking my cock so well.”

“I’m never getting over the sight of this.”

His eyes burn with lust at the sight of your breasts bouncing without restraint, the shudder of your body with each clash of your thrusts, how your face contorts so beautifully with pleasure and the holstered grip of your legs hooking around his waist repeatedly only to falter each time after several pumps, only kept upright by his hold. A knot coils inside you, a tidal wave of pleasure coursing through your veins that sets your nerves aflame and your vocal cords to strain with every sound you make. The more and more he slams his cock into you, your neck is forced to arch back against the pillows with a pleasured shriek.

You call out to him, “Bucky, I— I’m gonna… ah!”

“Cum for me, doll, I wanna feel how tight your pretty pussy is around me.” Your back arches further as his tip continues to hit that spot and the sensational toying of his thumb rolls on your clit, eliciting a flourish of sparks to ignite until you’re suddenly overcome with a flush of white, that euphoric hit crashing over you while heat pours into every inch of your skin with your eyes rolling back.

You chant his name like a sacred prayer, the meaning of your vows imbued within your slurred, intoxicated mantra. He pants, hot and heavy in your ear,

“Shit, shit— fuuuck, baby— ‘mgonna cum, gonna cum for you. I want my seed in you, I want it in you so bad.”

His thrusts increase, the sound of skin slapping skin is erotically loud. You don’t want it to stop. You don’t want him to stop and so you beg him to keep going.

You continue to whine, low and cooing, walls stretching and clenching around him, milking him of his release that sweeps over him with a long, baritone and throaty moan. His head presses into the crook of your neck to suck at the skin of your collarbone, marking you with dark bruises of his love and possession as he paints your pussy with his seed. The air is faintly filled by the sound of oozing slick of your combined orgasms that leak and drip around his still thrusting cock.

The erratic pace in which his rhythm held eventually wanes, instead he moves to a slow-crawling grind to ease you off your combined highs. His chest rises and falls and you allow your eyes to admire his form above you, A balance of skin and ink layered in a thin coating of sweat, as is your own, the muscles of his body rippling with each motion he makes.

His hands release from your hips after he’s lowered you back down to the bed, allowing your body to succumb to the exhaustion undoubtedly taking hold of you. Your gaze meets his own, the colour of them haloed by the shine of tears and his heart yearns for you.

He fears he’s done something wrong and his hands quickly raise to caress your face, thumbs stroke over your cheeks.

“Moya zvezda, are you—”

“I’m…” you trail off, blinking rapidly to see him through the watery veil and you grin up at him and nod. He’s relieved to see that smile, coming to mirror it himself.

She’s okay. My girl’s okay.

You reach your hand up, the warmth of your palm contrasted by the cool adornment of your ring. Bucky leans his face into your touch. “You stayed… you didn’t—” Though your words fail you, Bucky sees what you mean to say in your eyes.

“Of course. You’re everything I ever wanted…” Your brows furrow, touched by the sincerity in his words. Before you is a man whose heart is held in your very hands. And his heart is one you wish to cherish, hold dear and never break. To think you almost bargained him off to another woman—

“Have me again tonight, zvezda. Have me any other night. I promise, I will be there every time, every moment.”

He doesn’t want a mistress. He wants me.

Those voices are gone, replaced by newer, kinder ones.

You’re perfect.

You’re beautiful.

I’m not scared anymore. Not with him.

You now realise that intimacy was never the threat. The voices in your head were.

THANKS FOR READING!

✎ a note from the author, Did you want some tissues?

on this issue's taglist, we've got: @mostlymarvelgirl @hollyseb @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @identity2212 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic @boobsbeesbongos @mrsnikstan @floralwsloki @mcira @schneeflocky @greatenthusiasttidalwave

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #mafia bucky x reader #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky au #bucky x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader smut

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luxaofhesperides · 6 months ago

Text

the beginning - danny

The Lazarus Pit brings Danny back.

The child who went into them, however, is gone forever.

Danyal al Ghul is the soul who should reside in this body. Danyal has a life still to live and Danny died ages ago, old and surrounded by loved ones, ready to spend the rest of his forever in the Infinite Realms.

Something's gone terrible wrong, he thinks rather wryly, squinting through the cold green water that surrounds him. An ache echoes through his body and he brings a hand—small, a child's hand that shouldn't belong to him— to his stomach, where he can feel a large wound slowly pull itself together.

Did I get stabbed?

He means to continue the thought, but a sharp pain hits his head, making him curl up. He gasps and air bursts from his lungs, water rushing to fill in the empty space. Danny chokes, panicking, as memories slide into place, the lives of Danyal al Ghul and Danny Fenton fighting for dominance in his head. His lungs burn, throat working futilely to push water out, but there's nothing to be done.

Danny is a child again, and just like last time, he dies young.

1. So.

Assassins.

Danny honestly can't tell if this is a step up or a step down from mad scientist parents. On the one hand: he knows they loved him, as clumsy as it was, even though they loved their work more. On the other hand: assassin cult sounds like something out of a fairy tale, and while cool, is definitely not safe for kids.

And Danny, somehow, is a child again.

This really wasn't what he expected when he woke up on the sandy bottom of the pit. He's in ghost form, which is an unpleasant shock, but at least its familiar.

He is also, if his memory as Danyal serves him correctly, nine years old.

Kinda sucks that he died so young this time round. Didn't even make it to the double digits before he was taken out of the running.

He can't remember what it was like being so small in his last life. He can't imagine how anyone would look at a child and run them through with a sword. It's a cruel world he's woken up in. It's made worse by the fact that he's alone.

At least being down here without needing to breathe is giving him valuable time to think.

Danny has lived a full life already. He didn't really need or want another one, content to be a full ghost in the Infinite Realms. But going back isn't really an option, now that he's in a new body. The kid he could have been deserves to live fully, and the least Danny can do is live that life for them.

It'll be hard, but Danny's sure he can manage a decent life for himself.

Being presumed dead will make his escape from the assassins easier, though he'll miss getting the chance to meet his new mother; assassin as she is, Danyal knows her not by her blades but by her soft lullabies and jasmine-scented hair. The loss of her child must be hurting her deeply, but it's necessary. If Danny wants any semblance of a normal life, he has to leave her behind.

Besides, he's seen enough death. He doesn't want to ever be the cause of it.

So, he needs a plan for this new life.

Step one: get out of dodge.

The rest he'll figure out on the way.

Turns out assassins weren't the most shocking thing in this new life.

No, that honor goes to superheroes.

Genuine, honest to God superheroes! With powers and everything!

To think that Danny once called himself a superhero. Ha! As if! He's nothing compared to the likes of Superman or the Flash or even Green Lantern. They're in another league. Literally. They're part of the Justice League, which has a whole slew of other heroes, and Danny is possibly their biggest fan.

Not like that's weird; most people in this world are huge fans of superheroes. Makes sense, since they're the ones who rely on their protection the most.

It does suck to know that his background belongs to that of a villain. Assassins aren't known for saving people, after all.

Part of him contemplates becoming a hero again, taking up the role of Phantom and joining the ranks of Superman. But he's had many years to come to terms with the loss of his teenage years and the bitterness that came with it. That experience, that life once lived, helps him decide each time that being a civilian is the gift this life owes him.

At thirteen, Danny lives in a foster home with six other kids. He's the oldest and has his hands full taking care of everyone else while their foster parents work three jobs between them to keep them all afloat.

When his younger siblings play superheroes, he gladly takes the role of the villain, swooping in with a blanket to kidnap away an innocent bystander that has to be rescued. He falls over dramatically at the end of each fight and praises his siblings' strength and teamwork, making them puff up with pride.

It's all fun and games so long as it only stays fun and games.

Superpowers are cool and all, but his came at the cost of his life, his health, his future. He knows, better than anyone, the price of being a hero. He knows that even Superman carries heavy losses on his shoulders, struggles under burdens no one can see.

He's lucky that the small town he ended up in—Luray, Virginia—has no heroes or villains. Too small a place to be on anyone's radar, apparently.

His classmates often complain about how they wish they could live in a big city where there's more to do, more to see, superheroes flying through the streets to protect them.

Danny is happy where he is. It's quiet, and small, and nothing like what he's used to, but it's safe.

That's all he really wants.

Here's something that stays the same no matter what world he's in: Danny is a magnet for trouble.

If the trouble stopped at bullies, everything would have been fine. Danny could handle Dash, and he could handle Justin just as easily.

But the universe loves to escalate with Danny, specifically, which is why Danny had to reveal his powers when some villain-wannabe school shooter attacked his high school.

And to think he felt bad for Jackson when he didn't make it onto the track team.

Luray does not have a meta population. They're too small to have much of a population at all, and much of it is white which made him, half-Iranian, stand out even before he threw out a barrier of ice to protect his classmates a second before the gunfire began.

"Danny?!" his seatmate, Clarrissa, cries out in alarm.

"Everyone get out the window and run for it!" he orders, "I hold him back as much as I can!"

"You can't stay here!"

"Don't worry," Danny says, offering her a tight smile. "He couldn't kill me even if he tried. Now go!"

His classmates hadn't wasted any more time, sending him shocked looks as they escaped the classroom. A glimpse of his reflection in the window revealed glowing green eyes and blue mist wafting out of his mouth.

Looks like his time in Luray is up. He hopes his foster siblings won't be too mad at him for running away.

The gunfire stops, and Danny takes his chance to leap through his ice, intangible, and tackle Jackson, easily knocking the gun away from him.

"Monster!" Jackson spits at him, and Danny laughs.

"Bold of you to say that. I'm not to one trying to kill people."

He doesn't want to hear anything else that comes out of Jackson's mouth, so he knocks the guy out with a solid hit to a pressure point on his neck. Hopefully that'll keep him down long enough for the cops to get him.

Danny stands and means to leave, but something hits the back of his head hard and he's out before he realizes what's happened.

When he wakes up, he's strapped down to a table in what is undeniably a lab, and sighs.

At least he made it to sixteen before he went into another lab. Maybe in his next life he might even get all the way up to twenty before he's pulled back down here.

4. Though he has all his powers and a ghost form, that doesn't mean he is a ghost in this life.

No, he's fully a meta, which means meta-suppressing cuffs work on him.

It's not exactly a discovery he was hoping to have while locked up in a lab, but it's what he's got, so he has to roll with it. The cuffs are heavy on his wrists and around his throat, keeping him from escaping as a group of people in masks and lab coats bustle around, ignoring him.

His head is still foggy, though likely more from the drugs than the hit he took to his head.

He doesn't bothering talking to any of them; they don't see him as human, and Danny's dealt with enough of that in his past life.

Mad scientists love to talk though, so he still hears the gist of their plans: recreating the meta gene for normal people, making a profit from selling powers, getting rich and famous from their accomplishments. They had been using Jackson to get corpses for human testing, but they got Danny instead — someone they can harvest bio material for, a much better find than a couple dead kids.

If he had the energy to rage, Danny would have killed everyone in the room already. They planned to kill his classmates just for test subjects.

He doesn't want to be an assassin, but he'd gladly lean into those old lessons to make sure they never hurt anyone again.

But the cuffs and drugs do a good job of keeping him docile, barely able to think, as they transport him around to different locations and cut him open.

He's not sure how long it's been when they ease up on the drugs a bit. It still takes time for his body to work through everything, and he comes too with a throat that's dry and a stomach that hasn't had anything in it for quite some time.

The first thing Danny does when they start asking him questions is throw up on them.

If they wanted cooperation, they should have treated him better. This is fully on them.

It makes for a convincing argument for food and water and a bathroom break, at least, so he gets what he demands and takes care of his human body under the cold gazes of three scientists.

"You guys suck," he says conversationally. "Keeping test subjects alive is like basic knowledge. No wonder y'all suck at your jobs."

"Your comments aren't needed," one of the scientists says primly. "Get up. We need to study how using your powers affects your body."

They hook a bunch of different things onto him, then lock him in a glass cage and use the cuff around his throat to send jolts of electricity through him when he doesn't do anything. He throws a chunk of ice at them, watching as it breaks apart into small pieces when it hits the glass. The scientists scribble in their notepads, and when they look at him again, he flips them off.

He gets shocked again, but it's worth it.

The process repeats for another few hours, then he's pulled out of the cage, gets an IV stuck in his arm, and drops off into drugged oblivion before he has time to start throwing hands.

It must have been months. Danny's not sure; it's hard to keep track of time when locked in isolation.

He knows he's fed at least once a day. He's been getting a tray of bland food at random times, but he's counted over 50 trays sliding through the little slot on the bottom of his cell door.

Turns out insulting scientists and their procedures is a bad idea, especially when he has the language to really bruise their egos.

So.

Isolation sucks.

But at least they don't drug him anymore!

The cuffs do their job of keeping him in place, and if he didn't have memories of another life to keep him company, he definitely would have lost his mind long ago.

There's other people in here, other metas. He's heard them screaming and begging for mercy. He's heard them go chillingly quiet. He wonders why there are so many superheroes in this world when not a single one has come to save them.

Surely at least one would notice metas disappearing and would investigate?

But no.

No one ever comes to save them.

So Danny needs to figure out a way past the cuffs, and then he can be Phantom again long enough to free the other metas and make every scientist involve pay for their crimes.

He just needs to wait.

He just needs—

When Danny wakes up, the alarms are ringing. It makes his head pound, throbbing with each piercing sound.

He stumbles up, using the wall to keep his balance, and freezes when he sees that the door to his cell is open.

…Huh.

The hallway is bathed in red light when he steps out. No one's around. He wanders around the facility, searching for answers and only finds more questions.

There are other cells, also empty. Certain rooms have blood splattered across the walls and the floor, but no bodies. Labs are destroyed, broken glass on the floor. But every room is empty.

He wanders until he finds what must be a security room. There's a strange device dangling off a keychain on a rack, and Danny eyes it curiously. He runs his fingers around the cuff on his throat, feels the little depression where the collar comes together, and takes the rounded device. If it doesn't work, then it doesn't work.

But if it does work…

The cuff pops open easily, as if it hasn't been his greatest foe these past few months.

All at once, his strength returns to him. He has forgotten what it was like to breathe easily, to feel his powers come to his call so easily, to be reassured that he can take care of himself.

It's almost like coming back to life.

He transforms, settling back into his ghost form with relief, and flies through the facility in search of any other metas that may need help. He finds no one, but he does catch a glimpse of the outside.

The sky is so blue it almost hurts to look at. Part of the facility has been blown apart; rubble surrounds the place and the surrounding forest has been flattened. It looks as though a fight has moved through the area.

Maybe a superhero did come to save them? Rude of them to leave only Danny, though.

He continues his search, poking his head into different rooms and hallways. He finds a staircase going down and follows it into the basement. More labs greet him, and the glow of computers and strange vials of liquid leave him unsettled.

There's a green glow coming around the corner than reminds him of the Lazarus Pit he flew out of, once upon a time many years ago, and that's what draws him forward.

Tucked away in that familiar glow is a small body, floating in a tube of liquid. There's an oxygen mask attached to her face, but that doesn't stop Danny from recognizing her.

"Ellie?"

Just like in one life, Danny is cloned. The difference is that this time, there's no reason for it, no insane godfather trying to recreate a version of him that will choose him.

No, this time it's from a group of scientists who should have known better, who decided to mess around with his genes, and brought his once little sister now daughter into such a cruel, dangerous world.

Danny barely remembers breaking the glass to get her out of there. He doesn't know where he found the coat to bundle her up in, flying out of the facility as fast as he could. He feels sick, knowing it's his fault that she's here now, forced into a painful, terrifying existence because he wasn't strong enough to save himself.

He's a runaway meta victim of mad science. He can't take care of her.

"I'm sorry, Ellie," he whispers to her, pressing a kiss against her head. "I'm so sorry."

She small in his arms. She barely weighs anything.

Danny blinks back tears and tries to find some place he can stop and rest, somewhere safe he can gather his thoughts and figure out his next steps.

This isn't like when he first woke up in this world, with both sets of memories.

This is Ellie.

She deserves more than just a wish and a half-baked plan for a better life.

She deserves a family that wants her, that can care for her, that can protect her. She deserves to grow up normally and not worry about destabalizing or being a replacement for him or being hunted down.

She deserves one life to be a kid and grow up safe and be whoever she wants to be.

Danny will never be able to give her that.

But maybe he can give her to someone who can.

Danyal grew up with an assassin mother and a cruel grandfather who expected far too much from a child. He was taught to kill and be more weapon than child. He was taught the world was something for him to take, to protect, to water with blood.

Danyal was meant to be the next Demon Head, and the next Bat.

Danny knows he can't go to his mother. If they're both lucky, he will never have to see her again. Knowing his luck, he's already planning explanations for why he never went back to her.

Danny's father, on the other hand…

It didn't take much to put the pieces together. The notorious Bat is Batman, Gotham's vigilante and one of the founders of the Justice League. While a child would have been left confused by the many comments his mother made about his father, it was simple enough for Danny to line them up with what he learned about the heroes of this world and realize, oh, that's my dad.

It takes a few weeks of research, using public libraries with Ellie tucked securely in a wrap to his chest, but he's able to learn more about Batman.

The most important thing being that he has kids.

Of course, none of this is officially acknowledged, but everyone knows that the Robins are his kids. Current Robin, especially, likes to remind people that he's 'the son of Batman'.

Okay. Cool.

Danny has siblings.

Awesome.

He's… not looking forward to those conversations.

At least it means more people to look after Ellie. Assuming they take her in, which Danny's really hoping for.

But it's the best he can do, so Danny sets course for Gotham and hopes that just this once, everything will work out.

Meeting the Bats of Gotham is a lot harder than he expected.

A week in the city and he's barely caught more than a glimpse of them. He can't dedicate a lot of time to tracking them down either, needing to break into grocery stores to get food for him and Ellie.

She's so quiet as a baby, and it terrifies him. She's only cried twice the entire time he's had her, and Danny spends every day begging her to hold on.

Time during the day is spent catching naps and researching common vigilante spotting areas in Gotham. He's got a map of Gotham taken from a library and has been steadily marking it up, putting stars in the best places to find a Bat. There are places all over the city, and Danny has no idea how to know which ones are the best.

The only thing he can do is wait at a different rooftop each night, clinging to Ellie, wondering if this is the last night he has with her.

On the ninth night, someone finally arrives.

"Step away from the edge," a voice demands.

Danny turns to see Robin approaching, hands held out as if to catch him. He's bigger than Danny was expecting. Which makes sense; most of the stories Danny got online are from when Robin was a kid, and it's been a few years since then. He must be a teenager now. Older, but still young.

"Robin," he manages to say, his throat tightening. It feels almost like there's a noose around it. It feels like that meta-suppressing cuff has clicked back into place, leaving him helpless.

"Step away from the edge," Robin repeats. "There is no need for this to be your last resort."

"But it is," Danny whispers.

Robin darts forward and wraps a hand around Danny's wrist, yanking him towards the center of the roof. "Why on Earth would you come up here? Surely you must have known that someone would stop you."

"Batman," he gets out. "I need to speak to Batman."

"What for?"

"I'm… I was told, once, that I'm his son."

10. Robin stares at him for a long moment.

Then he takes off his mask.

Danny knows those eyes: he sees them every time he looks in a mirror.

"Danyal," Robin breathes. "You died before I was born."

"I did. Are you…?"

"Mother told me about you."

So he has a little brother. If only he hadn't left first chance he got, he could have known his little brother, gotten away from that place before it hurt him too. Danny has made many mistakes since he arrived in this world. Missing a little brother is perhaps the worst of them.

"Mother…" Danny repeats. "She put me in the Lazarus Pit. I remember that. She didn't want me to die."

"I was born to replace you."

Just like Ellie.

So many mistakes repeating. He's never felt like more of a failure.

"Batman. Our father. He treats you well? You are safe with him?"

Robins brows furrow, but he nods, which is enough for Danny. "Yes. Of course. Isn't that why you're here now?"

"I'm not asking for me." Danny carefully, gently, unwraps Ellie. "I'm asking for her. Please, take care of her. She deserves more than I can give her. Ellie… she'd be your niece."

Robin's eyes are wide. He's frozen until Danny pushes Ellie against his chest, forcing him to lift his arms to hold her.

"Wait, what about—?"

When Robin looks up, Danny's already gone.

It's for the best.

(masterpost for all parts)

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #demon brothers #dcxdp fic #the harmless series #gonna make that a full series. all posts will be part of that. heres the beginning of it all!!#reincarnation + demon brothers + baby ellie #tw human experimentation #dw there will be more #i'll have a full masterpost to add to the end of each post once i write and post the next part #which will be damian's pov and the aftermath of danny revealing himself and leaving ellie #my writing

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samsno1 · 1 year ago

Text

One Hell Of An Agent

Sam Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: After weird deaths start happening and your friend becomes a victim of it, two men appear at your door for questioning and your day turns into the weirdest you've ever lived.

Warnings: SMUT, size kink (if you squint), oral (f. recieving), big d sam (obviously), dean gets forgotten lmao, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), piv, tit sucking, sam is a sweetheart, pet names (doll, baby, beautiful), a bit of body insecurity but, as i said, sam is a gentleman, reader is shorter and overall smaller then sam, use of y/n, NOT PROOF READ, english isn't my first language (if i forgot anything TELL ME)

Read it on AO3

WC: 6.1k

You can learn how to change the "Y/N" for your actual name here

enjoy your meal babies, mwah mwah

It was supposed to be just another day where you went to work to get pennies in exchange for spending close to 12 hours in front of a computer screen, get back home to drink until you decided you should take a shower and sleep. Then repeat.

You, standing in your living room with a circle of kitchen salt around you and two men who were supposedly FBI agents holding shotguns and the ghost of an old woman trying to kill you, wasn't in your plans.

They both had arrived at your house in suits earlier that day, knocking on your door. You groaned and got up from the couch, leaving your beer bottle settled on the coffee table. Once you opened the door you widened your eyes at the two men standing there.

The taller one greeted himself first. He had a – almost – shoulder length brown hair and beautiful hazel eyes. To say you were shocked at how handsome he looked was an understatement. The shorter one had deep green eyes and short hair, he was pretty too but his partner…

“Hello, I'm Agent Page, this is my partner, Agent Plant” He said, showing you his badge and nodding to Plant, him copying what his partner did.

You furrowed your eyebrows, recognizing the names from the Led Zeppelin band.

“Plant and Page as in…the Led Zeppelin guys?” You questioned and they shared a look. The shorter one stepped foward, giving you a once over, clearly checking you out.

“Just a coincidence Ma'am” He said, smiling at you and you nodded, still a bit skeptical.

You opened the door wider for them both to get in.

“Come in, please. Have a seat” You said, gesturing to the couch and they sat besides each other. Page eyed the beer at the coffee table in front of him and you cringed.

“Sorry, I wasn't expecting the FBI at my door” You chuckled lightly and took the beer bottle to the kitchen in the other room. When you came back, both their eyes were on you and you felt a bit intimidated.

“Well…why are the feds at my house…?” You asked, sitting at the armchair and resting your hands on your lap, fidgeting nervously with your fingers.

Page put his elbows on his knees, his fingers crossing in front of him as he leaned forward to talk closer to you. You took notice of his big frame wondering how someone could be so…wide?

“Miss…”

“Y/N” You filled in the gap.

“Miss Y/N” He said, licking his lower lip with his tongue “We are here to ask about the recent murders around”

“Oh” You said. You knew well about one of the victims, a friend of yours. It had been a little over 2 weeks since her death but you always went with the mantra to keep going no matter what. At the memory of her you felt your throat restrict and you blinked back tears.

Page seemed to notice and put a gentle hand on your knee to comfort you. When you looked up he was smiling slightly and you calmed down.

“We know Beth was your friend and we are sorry for your loss” He said, squeezing your knee “But we'd like to ask you some questions, if you don't mind”

You nodded and looked between the both of them, taking a deep breath.

“Yeah…yeah of course” You said and he nodded, pulling his hand away from you, the warmth still lingering where he had placed it.

“Did you notice any weird behaviors before your friend passed? Like she was distant, cold…?” Plant asked and you made a face trying to remember anything. You recorded a night you two went out

“Five days or so before she died…” You started, turning your head down to stare at your fingers over your lap. “We went to a bar near my house and she kept glancing behind her, nervous, on edge, as if something would jump her at any moment. When I asked her what was wrong she looked at me, terrified, grabbed her things and bolted”

You sighed thinking you should've went with her now that she was gone.

“I tried calling, texting. Nothing. For those five days I didn't hear anything from her then…they called me announcing that she was gone” You started tearing up again and closed your eyes to hold them back.

“She didn't have anyone else, y'know, I should've been there for her, I–” You choked on an inevitable sob and covered your face with your hands. Then you felt the taller man's hand on your knee again, his thumb stroking your leg.

“We are truly sorry, it wasn't your fault” He said, a voice so comforting and calm you felt it in your heart.

You took your hands away from your face and sniffed, letting out a slight chuckle. You felt a bit embarrassed to be crying in front of them both.

“I'm sorry” You said and brushed your hair back with your hand “I think this was it. She was always a very quiet girl but sweet, caring, I couldn't think of anyone that would do this to her”

The men nodded and looked at each other, a silent conversation you weren't a part of. You looked down to see Page's hand still on your knee and you smiled to yourself. What a nice fed.

"Thanks for the information Ma'am" Page said. When they looked back at you, he patted your knee lightly and got up with his partner. You stood up as well to accompany them to the door, them both behind you.

You opened the door and looked at them both going out, your gaze lingering longer on the taller one, looking him up and down.

They turned to you with a tiny card in his hand and gave it to you, your finger brushing against his.

“If you remember anything, give us a call. Thank you for your time” He smiled warmly along with the green eyed Agent.

“Will do, thank you so much” You said, smiling back seeing them walk away to the Impala parked in front of your house.

You kept your gaze locked until they drove away, snapping you out of your daze getting back in your house and locked the door, smiling like an idiot at the image of the handsome guy you just met.

Inside the Impala, Dean kept glancing towards Sam, who had his face buried into the newpaper about the couple murders happening.

“Dude” Dean finally said, a grin on his face. Sam looked up at him and made a questioning face at his side profile.

“What?” He asked

Dean laughed lightly and looked at his brother.

“She was eating you with her eyes” Dean said and at that Sam's full attention was on him, lowering the paper with a confused face.

“Who? Y/N?” He asked and Dean nodded. Sam sighed and rolled his eyes at his brother. “Dean, c'mon” He said.

“I'm serious, the look she gave you when we left, staring you up and down like a feast” Dean laughed mischievously, looking for a couple seconds at Sam's shocked expression. “She's pretty, y'know, if you don't want it, I'll have it”

“Shut up Dean” He said but he couldn't help thinking about your looks towards him and the impulse he felt to comfort you with a hand on your leg when he realized you were upset.

Dean laughed and shook his head at the stubbornness of his brother, driving back to the cheap motel they were staying at.

Your day went by as usual, some couple more beers here, a whiskey there, some movie you had on the TV.

You ended up falling asleep on the couch for a couple hours until about 2AM when you heard a loud thud in your house and your entire body entered fight or flight mode.

You got up and kept your ears trained for any more sounds until you heard your stove, the gas being poured out in your house and the color drained from your face. What the hell?

You went into the kitchen and for sure the smell of the gas hit hard on your nose and you gagged.

Suddenly the door to the kitchen closed behind you and you jumped in shock. Your heart started ringing in your ears and your hands were trembling.

“Hello?! Is anybody there?!” You asked, your voice shaking as you went to the door. Locked. You started to panic, were you crazy? Was this a dream?

There was a noise behind you and you turned, seeing the knife cabinet open and you glued yourself to the door, trying to get the lock open when a kitchen knife started to float up and towards you.

You screamed and banged at the door.

“Help! Someone, please!” You screamed and the knife was plunged in the door, close to your head and your body fell back in the ground, tears rolling down your cheeks when everything stopped.

You slowly got up and tried to open the door. Success. You scrambled out of your kitchen and unlocked the front door, sprinting out of your house terrified.

You remembered the card the Agent gave you. You didn't know if it was okay to call him this late but you just almost died. You thought he could make an exception.

With trembling fingers, you dialed the number on your phone, putting it to your ear. Please pick up, please pick up.

“Hello? Agent Page speaking, who is this?” He said with a gruff voice, he was definitely sleeping and you felt a bit bad for waking him up.

“Agent?” You practically whispered, your voice shaky with fear.

“Y/N?” He recognized your voice and made a confused face, sitting up on the bed. “What's wrong?”

“I– I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have called I–” You spoke fast, nervous. He took notice of that “Something happened” You said simply.

“We are on our way” He said and slipped on his shoes, already on outside clothes. He nudged Dean to wake him up. “Hang in there”

“Okay” You said in a whisper as he turned the call off, biting your thumbnail in order to stay calm in the circumstances.

Dean woke up to see Sam getting his bag ready in a frenze, a worried look in his younger brother's face.

“Y/N called, something happened, she seemed stressed, let's go” He said, throwing Dean his bag, the oldest groaning as he grabbed the keys for the Impala.

As they drove there, Sam couldn't help but get even more stressed the long it took for them to arrive. He wondered if you were okay, if you had gotten hurt, or worse. When they arrived, you were sitting on your porch, legs tucked close to your body as you shivered.

When you heard the noise of the car you got up. The two came out and you were a bit weirded out to see them in normal clothes but relieved nonetheless.

When they got closer you breathed out in relief, the taller of the two coming closer then Plant, grabbing your shoulders and eyeing you up and down, looking for any visible damage.

“Are you hurt? What happened?” He asked and you shook your head at the first question.

“I don't know…If I explain it I'll sound crazy” You said

“Oh, sweetheart, believe me, we know crazy” The green eyed Agent said and you looked at him, the nickname foreign but you brushed it off.

“I was sleeping in my couch when I woke up with a loud bang” You began. “I got up to see that my stove started leaking gas and…when I wnt to the kitchen, the door…It shut behind me, locked” You said, shakily and Page brushed his hand on your shoulder, the same way he had done to your knee earlier “I couldn't get out and a knife started to fucking float, it charged at me, caught the door and then it all just…stopped”

“I was able to leave my house and…call you�� She said and looked into his eyes, the comforting gaze seeping into her. “I'm sorry, I know it's late”

“Don't bother, it's fine. Let's try and see how we can help you, okay?” He said

You looked at him, puzzled, tilting your head at him

“You believe me?” You asked and he let out an aired laugh in amusement.

“What if I tell you we aren't truly FBI agents” He said.

“Oh” You widened your eyes and looked between the both of them, shameful smiles on their faces. “Right”

“Get in, we will explain everything we can to you” He said and you nodded getting inside your house.

After a couple minutes you learned that they were actually brothers, the tall one was named Sam and the shorter was Dean. They told you all about what they did, the family business, how real the supernatural was and tried to explain that you experienced something ghost-like.

You were absolutely dumbfounded as they said all that. It was hard to believe that, how is all of it real if you hadn't seen anything your whole life similar to what they explained to you? Just now?

“Okay so…you both are like…the Ghostbusters?” But hotter. You noted, mentally.

“Basically, yeah” Dean said.

You sat there with your hands over your face. You didn't know if you wanted to laugh or cry at the situation.

The brothers walked around with the so called EMFs, machines you learned could sense the presence of ghosts.

You couldn't help but glance at Sam. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, his hair falling around his face and from time to time he bit his lower lip.

You were entranced at how annoyingly handsome he was until loud beeping from Dean's EMF startled you.

Sam whooped his head towards him and they shared silent looks. Sam turned to his bag and got a shotgun out and you widened your eyes at him. He took notice of that.

“They are loaded with rock salt, don't worry” He said and you made a confused face. He smiled at you and your heart skipped a beat. “Let's say…ghosts don't like salt. Salt and iron are their weaknesses” He said and you hummed in acknowledgement getting up and going to your fireplace to get an iron rod.

Sam stared at you as you walked back to him and you shrugged.

“It's iron, you said it could keep them at bay” You said and he nodded.

A loud noise startled all of you, in the kitchen, where Dean was the closest to and he cooked his gun, Sam doing the same and protecting you with his body.

“Stay behind me” He murmured to you and you nodded, iron rod in your hand prepared for any attack.

“Come on you son of a bitch!” Dean said and, as if on cue, the ghost of an old lady appeared in your kitchen and you gasped, recognizing her immediately.

“Mrs. Greene?” You whispered and apparently she heard you because in a moment she was there and in the other she was behind you.

“Y/N, watch out!” Sam yelled in front of you and you turned around, swinging your weapon and making her vanish for a couple of moments.

You were breathing heavily, your ears ringing until Sam snapped you out of your daze, turning you around by grabbing at your arm.

“Are you okay?” He asked, concern laced in his voice as he gave you a once over.

“Yeah, I think” You replied and Dean appeared as quick as possible making a circle of salt around you and Sam stepped out of it, letting your arm go.

“You need to stay there, she can't get you because of the salt” Dean said.

“You know her?” Sam asked and you looked at him, nodding.

“She was Beth's mother. Died in a car accident that…my father caused. Me and Beth bonded through their deaths but I guess her mom didn't really approve of that” You said, smiling sadly to yourself.

“Where is she buried?” Dean questioned.

“The cemetery near the only church in town. About 5 miles from here” You replied and Dean gave Sam a quick nod as he got his bag and gave his brother extra ammunition.

“I'll go do the dirty job, you, protect her, make sure that bitch doesn't kill her” Dean said as he went out the door, shutting it behind him.

You sat on the ground, in the middle of the salt circle, mindlessly playing with the iron rod in your hand. Sam looked down at you. You looked more than upset, understandably.

“Everything is going to be okay” He reassured you and you looked at him with a gentle smile. Until you weren't smiling anymore and instead was looking behind him.

“Sam, behind you!” You said, getting up again and he turned shooting the ghost and she reappeared behind you, outside of the circle.

You turned around, shaking and lifting your weapon at her. She looked down at the salt circle and the creepiest smile you've ever seen opens up in her face, sending shivers down your spine.

Suddenly the windows broke open and a strong gust of wind came in with full force. You covered your head to protect it from the glass until you looked down and the salt circle was broken around you.

Your heart dropped as she started approaching you and Sam shot her again from behind you.

To your dismay, she was behind him again, and before you could warn him about her she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and threw him against a wall.

“Sam!” You screamed and she turned to you again, slowly walking towards your frame and you backed away, the iron rod propped in front of you protectively.

She knocked the rod out of your hand and you looked desperately at it on the ground.

Your back pressed against the wall and you closed your eyes, preparing for your death when she started screaming and you opened your eyes.

She was quite literally burning right in front of you, with her hands reaching for your throat until she was just gone, no burn marks on your ground, weirdly, and her desperation echoed through the house.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, your heart beating in your ears. You heard a groan and remembered Sam was basically knocked out on the other side of the room.

You rushed to him and kneeled down besides him with a hand on his cheek and the other in one of his knee.

“Sam, are you okay?” You asked as he slowly opened his eyes. When he seemed to retrieve consciousness again he breathed in deeply and scrambled to get up but you held him down by putting a hand on his chest.

“Hey, hey, it's okay, she's…gone, I guess” You said and he focused his eyes on yours when you smiled. You felt your face heat up at the look he was giving you until Dean barged in through the front door, whistling at the mess.

He looked towards both of you on the ground and made a face, holding back a smirk.

“Burned her up…Am I interrupting something?” Dean asked playfully and you felt a tad of embarrassment, helping Sam get up with a grunt.

They started to gather their stuff and you wondered how the hell you were going to clean up your whole house. Glass and salt everywhere, a hole on the wall where Sam was thrown at.

When they were all done you got each a beer. They tried to deny it but you insisted, claiming it was a thank you treat for saving your life.

You finished all your drinks, throwing the bottles away and you walked them to the door, the Impala parked in front of your house. They got out and stood outside as you smiled at them.

“Thank you, again, really, you both saved my life” You said.

“It's nothing, really, we do this everyday” Dean said with a dismissive wave. “I'm going to load the car” Dean said, giving Sam a pat on the back and a look you didn't understand but apparently Sam did, since he gave a deep breath and a practically death glare at his brother, his chest going up and down.

“So…” He started, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

“So?” You nudged, smiling up at him and biting your lower lip. His eyes stared at your mouth and you felt small under his gaze.

“You were amazing back there, you know?” He said, crossing his arms in front of him and smiling. “You knew what to do, few people can do what you did”

He complimented and you looked down, smiling like an idiot. He’s so sweet.

“Oh I just…went by logic I guess, nothing much. You said iron and I reached for iron” You said, fidgeting with your fingers as you looked up again.

“Yeah…” He said, looking from your eyes to your mouth and back up again. You decided to be a bit brave and got into your tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek, holding on his shoulder for support.

When you pulled back he didn't pull away and one of his hands cupped your cheek, looking between your eyes when he leaned into you, his lips against yours in a light kiss.

You responded almost immediately, your hand going to the back of his neck to deepen the kiss and he placed his hands on your waist. You reluctantly pulled away with a hum, dazed by the kiss with your eyes still closed.

When you opened them his eyes were on your face and you felt warm again. He pulled you back in your house and you giggled in surprise when he closed the door, his hand still holding you.

“What about your brother?” You said as he turned his attention back to you, a smirk on his face when he squeezed your waist. He leaned in closer and you held your breath.

“He can wait” He whispered against your lips before kissing you again, this time more intensely then before and you hummed, burying your hand on his hair while the other stroked his chest.

You started taking his jacket off when you stopped and pulled away.

“Is this okay? I mean I'm totally fin–” He cut you off with another mind blowing kiss and you gasped.

He shrugged off his jacket, dropping it to the ground and clasping your face in both his hands.

“Does this answer your question?” He smiled teasingly and you chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to kiss his lips again and his hands grabbed your hips in response.

He brushed his tongue against your lower lip and you opened your mouth to let him explore it, moaning lowly against his mouth.

He lowered his hands to the back of your thighs, not breaking the kiss, and lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and you yelped in his mouth.

You noted he was big, you just didn't know he was this strong, lifting you in his arms as if you weighed nothing.

He walked to the kitchen and placed you on the counter, his hands going under your shirt and experimenting with his touches on your bare skin.

You whimpered, shivers running through your whole body as his big hands roamed through your burning skin.

You pulled away, your forehead touching his, a whispered “Fuck” coming out of your lips. Your hands went to the hem of your shirt and slowly pulled it over your head, leaving your torso bare besides your bra.

Sam drank you in, his adam apple bobbing when he swallowed and you felt embarrassed under his strong gaze, your hands slowly coming to wrap themselves around your stomach.

He held your wrists gently, pulling them away from you and his hands went up and down your arms.

“Don't hide from me, you're beautiful” He whispered and started to leave kisses down your neck, nibbling and biting where he noticed you liked the best with the noises leaving your mouth.

Your hand wrapped in his hair to pull him back to your lips, his kisses addicting like a drug.

He pulled away again to pull his shirt over his head, revealing his defined torso and your jaw physically dropped at the sight. He had some scars, some pale, old, others a pink tone, more recent but it just made him look even better, showing how much he had lived through. He chuckled at your reaction and settled his hands on your hips again, gently squeezing.

“See something you like?” He teased and you closed your mouth, your hands reaching slowly to touch his bare chest. He gasped at your feather-like touch on his tanned skin and you looked at him again, his eyes dark with desire.

“You're…stunning, like– I knew you were…muscular…from the get go but you're…” You trailed off and he chuckled, a bit embarrassed and leaned down to crash his lips against yours again.

His hands went to your back and unclasped your bra, helping you take it off and toss it on the ground along with the rest of your clothes.

His hands came to the front and grabbed at both your breasts, squeezing them and making you moan into his mouth. His fingers teased at your hardened nipples and you arched into his touch.

His mouth started trailing down towards your neck, your collarbone, until he got to the valley of your breasts and looked up at you. Your mouth was open, eyes hazed and deep breaths were making your chest go up and down. What a sight.

He closed his mouth into one of your nipples and you whined, the warmth of his tongue circling around it making you grasp at his locks with a certain strength that made him groan around your skin. His fingers teased the other breast until he switched sides, feasting on your breasts.

“Sam…” You gasped his name and he hummed in acknowledgement of your plea, pulling away from your breast with a smile. “Please”

He gave your lips a peck and went down your body again, leaving open mouthed kisses down your stomach until he got to the waistband of your jeans and looked at you again, asking for permission and you nodded at him.

His fingers popped open the button of your pants and opened the zipper. You lifted your hips to help him pull the clothing off and he dragged it down your legs slowly, drinking you in.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at his hungry gaze on your frame when his eyes noticed your soaked underwear.

He discarded your pants and ran his hands up your legs, his look never leaving your covered pussy. His hands stopped at your thighs as squeezed the flesh and you closed your legs instinctively.

He looked up at you and pried your legs open with his hands.

“What did I say about hiding from me?” He said, his tone deep and dominant making you swallow a whine as you spread your legs wider and he settled between them with a smirk.

He kissed your covered sex and you let out a low moan, his mouth traveled to your inner thighs, biting and kissing at the flesh, driving you insane.

“Please…” You begged, grabbing at his hair and he hummed.

“So desperate” He said against your skin, grasping your panties and pulling them down. You gasped at the cold air hitting your dripping core and he groaned at the sight.

He cupped your whole cunt with his hand, making your hips buck up into his touch and a low moan left your throat.

“Beautiful” He whispered and gave your thigh one last kiss. “Tell me if it's too much, okay?” He said and your heart melted.

“Okay” You breathed out and he smiled up at you. He took his hand away and you almost frowned when his lips wrapped around your clit and you moaned, bucking your hips against his mouth.

He smirked against you and put one hand over your hips to hold you still as he did wonders against your cunt. His tongue eating you out as if you were his last meal, ripping loud moans from your throat.

“Oh, fuck” You moaned, pulling at his hair “Sam– God” He hummed and groaned against your pussy sending jolts of pleasure through you.

He teased your hole with his finger, slowly entering you and stretching you out, hooking up and rubbing right at that spot and you moaned loudly.

“Jesus, fuck, right there– Shit” A string of curses left your mouth and he grinned proudly, adding another finger to your torture, making you cry out, his name slipping out of your lips.

You felt the knot inside of you tighten, your pussy clenching around his fingers and Sam knew you were about to cum.

“Cum for me, doll” He said and quickened his movements against you and your moans got louder.

“Fuck!” You groaned loudly as you finally came against his lips, your orgasm hitting you like a truck, your eyes closing in bliss, your fingers tightening in Sam's hair.

He helped you ride your orgams until the stimulation got almost painful and you started to try and close your legs.

“T'much, Sam–” You moaned and he pulled away, your juices shining against his face as he got up from his knees and grasped your waist tightly, smashing his lips against you, the foreign taste of yourself lingering on his tongue as he attacked your mouth.

“Taste as sweet as you look” He praises and you smirked.

You glance down at his still covered legs and crotch, the tent in his pants looked almost painful and you bit your lip. He noticed that and took you in his arms again, wrapping your legs around his hips, making your sensitive core grind against his jeans and you whined.

“As much as I'd like to bend you over that table and fuck you senseless” He said, getting closer to your ear and whispering: “I want to fuck you on a bed to see your cockdrunk face when I make you cum”

You shivered, not expecting these words coming out of his mouth and you attacked his neck with kisses and bites.

“My bedroom is down the hall, on the right” You mumbled against his skin, breathless, and he carried you to the room, his hands squeezing and digging in your ass as you continued marking his skin.

He gently placed you on the bed, kissing your lips hungrily and you led one of your hands down to his crotch, palming him through his jeans and he pulled away from your lips to groan, his forehead against yours.

“Fuck me, Sam” You breathed out and he kissed you one last time before standing up and unbuckling his belt and opening his zipper, dropping his pants to the ground and taking off his shoes.

You were staring, eating him with your eyes as he took off his boxers teasingly slow, stepping out of them and looking at your face for a reaction.

Your mouth watered and your pussy clenched around nothing. He was big. You expected him to be large, he was tall after all but you still were very shocked and wondered if you'd be able to take it all.

Sam seemed to notice your worries and grasped your chin to give your lips a comforting kiss. He wasn't cocky but he was aware of his size and knew it could be intimidating.

“We'll go slow, baby, if you want to stop, just say” He assured you and you felt all fuzzy and warm on the inside. It was hard to find men that actually cared and it seemed like you hit the jackpot with Sam. You nodded and he crawled over you, smashing your lips against his again.

He rubbed his cock up and down a couple times and lined it up with your entrance making you whine in anticipation. He slowly pushed into you and you pulled away to let your mouth hang open in a soundless moan.

Sam made sure to distract you from the pain, rubbing your thighs up and down and kissing your neck and collarbones. It took everything inside him to not pound into you. You tightened around him deliciously and he pressed his forehead against your shoulder.

“You feel so fucking good Y/N, God” He whisper-moaned against your ear and you hummed, your nails digging into his shoulders, definetly leaving marks to remind him for a couple days of this encounter.

“I feel so full, it feels so good” You moaned breathy as he was almost all the way inside you, his kisses soothing your hot skin, his fingernails marking your hips as he held back to let you adjust to his size once he was all the way inside.

You felt him in your throat and it took you a couple of moments to let the pain turn into pleasure and Sam was willing to wait as long as you needed.

When you finally stopped feeling the pain of the stretch you wiggled your hips against his cock and grabbed his cheek to give him a messy kiss.

“You can move, please” You said and he pulled back and forth, both of you moaning at the feeling, his dick hitting deeper than you thought was possible.

“Y/N” Sam moans against your shoulder, his strokes inside you making his whole body tremble with the tightness. His hand roams down your body until it reaches your lower stomach. He presses his hand down against your skin and you moan loudly. He grins, his breathing heavy as his hair makes a curtain around his face.

“Oh– fucking God!” You practically scream, your eyes rolling back as your nails scratch at his shoulder. He felt impossibly deeper and he quickened his thrusts, your whole body going limp and your mouth letting out incoherent babbles and moans of his name.

He was panting as he held himself up in his elbows to look at your fucked out face, kissing your cheeks and your lower lip.

“You look so pretty like this” He said against your skin as he kept his thrusts steady and deep. "I told you I wanted to look at your pretty face...when you came undone under me."

You felt your skin tingle, your body trembling and that familiar feeling on the pit of your stomach like a fire lighting up.

"The looks you were giving me..." He groaned against your skin, his hips sttutering as his orgasm came closer "I wanted to make those beautiful eyes roll back the moment I saw you" He admitted, giving your neck a harsh bite, definetly leaving a mark.

“Sam!” You moaned out, your hand tangling itself into his hair. “I'm cumming” You warned and he quickened his pace and your head shot back, exposing your throat to him.

“Cum for me beautiful” He said, leaving a hickey just below your jaw.

You unraveled below him with a loud moan of his name, your heels digging into his ass. A few more thrusts and Sam pulled out, stroking his cock one, two, three times until he came over your stomach, groaning and panting your name.

You looked at his face, sweat sticking some hairs on his face, his eyes closed, mouth agape and his hair a mess thanks to your hands.

You smiled in a daze and traced your fingers over his face and he opened his eyes, catching you already looking back at him. He leaned down and kissed you passionately for a couple seconds until he pulled away and stood up to go to your bathroom.

He came back with a wet towel to clean you up, gentle in your sensitive sex then he left the towel on the bathroom sink and layed down on the bed beside you again, pulling you into his chest and kissing the crown of your head.

You hummed as he wrapped his arms around you, massaging your sore muscles.

“That was…” You said, not finishing. No words were able to describe what you felt.

“Yeah, it was” He confirmed, smiling.

You snuggled into his chest, your hand tracing mindless patterns against his skin. Then you started to chuckle and he looked down at you.

“What?” He said with a hint of a laugh behind his tone.

“Your brother must be pissed” You said between laughs and he started to laugh too, feeling his chest vibrating against your cheek as his hand stroked your upper arm.

“I don't care, this, you, was worth it” He said and you looked up at him with a shy smile, not knowing what else to say.

After a while of silence between the two of you you started to think a bit.

“You're leaving town soon, right?” You asked and he hummed an affirmation. You hid your frown from him. “You're welcome back anytime, you know that, right?"

You said but didn't look at his face when you felt him looking down at you and he squeezed your arm as if to say I know.

You started to fall asleep against his steady breathing, your eyes heavy.

As you were almost sleeping you felt him leave a kiss on your forehead.

“I will” He whispered and you smiled to yourself, letting yourself fall asleep in his embrace.

☆

A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing. Feedback makes those writings better. Thank you for reading. Xoxo

#sam winchester smut #sam winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural imagine #supernatural smut #supernatural x reader #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam x reader #sam x you #dean winchester #sam winchester fluff #smut

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thecoochiefairy · 2 months ago

Text

kill bill. toji fushiguro.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 27.5K word count. toji! fushiguro! third person omniscient pov, black woman, vaginal penetration, deflowering, angry sex, rough sex, sweet sex, sweet talkin’, hair pulling, squirting, creaming, oral [f] [m], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, condomless sex, creampie, kissing, spanking, aggressive toji, caring toji, lil bit of sweet toji, violence, grief, loss, family drama, mention of suguru getou, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ now look, you should know when i make a fic, that hoe definitely gon’ be long as fuck. so don’t scream at me, okay? let’s make this a lil early christmas gift to my babies. i think this my favorite fic i’ve written. i’ve chained myself to the bed to finish this. i loved this plot so much. so so much. omg y’all. please enjoy it. please. okay, i’ve said enough.

song while listening ᖭི༏ᖫྀ :: for certain, partynextdoor.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ :: ….small note for name pronunciations within fic— nozomi (NO—ZO—ME) ami (AH—ME) isamu (EE—SAH—MOO).

PARTYNEXTDOOR FILLED THE SPEAKERS OF THE ROOM, R&B CRAWLING AMONGST THE WALLS. This is where she felt most at peace, her focus directly on her regular customer.

“This is a new color for me, are you sure it’ll look nice?”

“Stop worrying, the color suits you beautifully. No black woman should ever turn away from brown hair,” she tells her, lessening the worry upon the customer's face.

“Even at my age?”

“Even at your gorgeous age, Ms. Bernice.”

She adds the finishing touches, removing the curling iron as she sat it down on the table next to her. She spruces out the layered curls as she gives her a grin, “You’ ready to see?”

The woman who sat upon the chair nodded her head vigorously in excitement. She had been trying to convince Ms. Bernice to try a wig since she complained with her age that she was losing her hair. She offered to give her an age-appropriate bob, layered in between its curls.

Her eyes gleamed as she turned in the chair to look in the mirror, a gasp of surprise escaping her lips as she inspected herself in disbelief, running her fingers through the silky soft hair, in complete shock that it was a wig.

Her eyes sparkled in awe before turning back to her stylist, “It’s—It’s amazing! I look better now than I did with my real hair!”

“You looked just as beautiful before. I just enhanced your beauty,” she shakes her head, “It came out perfect.”

The woman laughed as she took out her wallet from her purse, “My husband’s going to flip when he sees this, you’re gonna get me in trouble!”

Ms. Bernice then goes to pull out a fifty-dollar bill, this being her tip after already paying her in full as she says, “Thank you, Nozomi. You’ve really outdone yourself today.”

Nozomi instantly takes the money, reaching around to put it back into her customers purse, “I told you to stop giving me those big ass tips, put some gas in your car or something. You know I’d do this for free if I didn’t have bills.”

The woman chuckled heartily as she pushed the money into Nozomi’s hand, making sure she took it, “Of course I know you’d do it for free, that’s exactly why I’m giving you a big tip! You don’t need the money, but you sure deserve it, you work so hard everyday, it’s the least I could do for you.”

She smiled as she then accepted the money, “Thank you. I really appreciate you.”

Ms. Bernice waves her hand, “Don’t start your sentimental stuff before I start crying. Anyways, can I book you again next week for a touch up? I have an event.”

Nozomi sighs, “I’m sorry, my love. I’ll actually be out of town, my older sister’s getting married. I should be back a week after that.”

“No worries—oh, a wedding, how beautiful. Congratulations to her. Where’s it gonna be?”

“It’s uh… actually a surprise to me. To the entire family, damn near. We won’t know until we get the invitations, but she gave us the dates and bought the tickets, so kinda sorta a free trip,” she briefly explains, “I’d never say no to that.”

“Ooh, a destination wedding, how exciting!” The woman clapped her hands together, “It’s like a mystery vacation,” Suddenly an idea popped into the her mind as she spoke, “Maybe it’s Vegas?”

Nozomi’s neck flung back, “God, I hope not. She might as well have Elvis be her damn officiant.”

Ms. Bernice chuckled as she spoke, “From the way you talk about her, she seems a little bougie. Probably Singapore or something.”

“Now she knows our black ass family ain’t traveling to no damn Singapore,” Nozomi chuckled, “If that’s the case—pray for me. It’ll be a shit show.”

The woman laughed once more before nodding her head and standing up from the chair, grabbing her purse that rested on the counter on the opposite side of the room, “Maybe she’ll surprise you, send everyone off to Paris or something.”

“The girl is bougie—never said she wasn’t a little frugal,” Nozomi replied as she walked her to the door.

“And that’s why you marry a rich man like your sister did,” Ms. Bernice finalizes.

“That we can both agree on,” Nozomi chuckles, “See you next time, take a bunch of pictures for me!”

The woman gave a wave before walking out the door, “I will, I will! Bye bye now!” She shouted behind her.

When she opens the door to let her out, Ms. Bernice stops herself from tripping as she nearly steps over an object along the ground. Nozomi looks down as she notices a pale pink box.

She frowns, looking around the quiet outside before she hesitantly picks up the box, taking it inside her shop. Placing it along the counter, she pulls the silk white ribbon holding it together, opening the top as it looks to be cherry blossom petals within the box, scattering beneath the pink envelope, golden words trimmed atop of it. This was her sister's wedding invitation.

She turns down the music within her shop as she absentmindedly begins to clean, other hand occupied as she reads the invitation. Then, her phone begins to ring.

Ami. Just like clockwork.

She holds the phone to her ear as she answers, continuing to read the invitation. The squeal on the other line was a usual greeting, something she was used to at this point.

“Did you get it?”

Nozomi blinks at the envelope, “I did. Uh…Kyoto, Japan, Ami? Really?”

She could hear Ami giggling on the other line of the phone, her excitement evident, “Yes, really! Isn’t it perfect?”

Nozomi continued to look at the envelope in hand, the pink cherry blossom petals filling out the box, “I…” she sighs, “It’s perfect. I love it.”

“No, no. Say what you need to say before you start holding in your anger and it turns into an even bigger thing.”

“I haven’t been to Japan in two years, Ami. Not since mom’s passing.”

She didn’t want to ruin the mood, knowing her sister wouldn’t let her comment make her upset. She just wanted to remind her. The mention of a place they once called home made something in her stomach turn, their mother being a fully black woman, their father being a full-blooded Japanese man. Their mom met him when traveling for school, and they fell in love immediately, raising their family there up until her sickness. They’d been back and forth between Kyoto and the states, but both of them were home to Nozomi.

They took traits from both parents. Ami looked more like their father, fair skinned, hair more pin-straight then anything, while Nozomi looked exactly like their mom, toffee skin, only having her fathers cheekbones, freckles and eyes. Every time she looked in the mirror, her heart ached.

“I know, I know…but,” Ami began to speak, her tone now more gentle than excited, “I just wanted to have the wedding somewhere special. Somewhere that’s special to us…”

Nozomi sighed once more, setting the invitation back amongst the cherry blossom petals. Her eyes traced over the golden writing, a small smile spreading across her lips, though her heart was still aching.

“I understand. Kyoto is an amazing place to have picked, mommy always loved it there. But it’s your man’s hometown too, huh? Did he have any say in this choice?”

She could hear her sister’s soft chuckle on the other line, her smile more than likely a soft one as she spoke, “Suguru thinks it’s a good idea, his family is already here, that’s less expenses on us. Although we still had to fly out our family, it was a smart choice.”

There was a moment of silence before she could hear Ami speak once again, her tone holding a hint of concern, “Are you upset? I feel like you’re upset.”

Nozomi shakes her head, closing the top of the box as she says, “No, no. Not at all. I’m just…I didn’t think I’d be back there so soon. It’ll feel a little strange,” her smile is weak, trying to be lighthearted. Keyword—tried.

She then asks, “Is uh…Is dad coming?”

Nozomi and her father’s relationship hadn’t been the best since her mother’s passing. After finding out he had been cheating on her while she was sick, Nozomi didn’t have anything to say to him. Ami kept in contact—that was enough for her.

A heavy silence fell on the other end of the line for a few moments, her sister’s voice finally breaking the uncomfortable silence between them.

“He is.”

Nozomi could feel her heart begin to ache again, her smile disappearing. The topic of their father had always been a sore subject, though she knew it was better left alone.

“Great,” she mutters, beginning to place the invitation politely back into the box, placing her other belongings in her purse as she was about to lock up her shop.

Her sister quickly replied on the other end of the line, holding a hint of panic, “Nozomi…don’t be like that. I know you have your feelings towards him, I get it. All I ask is that you at least try to be civil with him? For my wedding? I don’t want any drama.”

“I’d never do that to you, Ami,” she tells her, “Wanna go down your list of invites since you think I’m so barbaric?”

She could feel Ami rolling her eyes, “Don’t start your dramatics. Not when I’m about to tell you that I want you to be my maid of honor.”

Nozomi halts, dropping her wallet into her purse as she glances out the window, “Me? Your maid of honor?”

A soft chuckle escaped her sister's lips, “Well duh, who else would it be? You’re my sissy-pooh. I’ve already got your dress, don’t worry, it’s not ugly. You’re excited, right? Please tell me you’re excited.”

Nozomi nods her head as if her sibling can see her, “Of course I’m excited. I just assumed that you would pick one of your friends.”

“Oh, true. I mean, Kim will be there to help you—“

“Kim?”

The entire conversation halts. It’s not that Nozomi was dramatic, however the name did bring an annoyance to her chest that she couldn’t shake. This was one of her sister's good friends, a friend of hers at one point—up until she slept with her man—the same man she was about to make things official with. It technically wasn’t cheating, but it was a fucked up gesture in her playbook.

“Yes, of course Kim is going to be there. I can’t not invite her to my wedding.”

“I’m aware,” Nozomi mutters more to herself, “But if you expect me to be butt-buddies wit ‘Kim-who-fucks-bitches-niggas’ Kim? Then it’ll be a cold day in hell, bridezilla. I’ll be cordial.”

“Well you better keep that same energy when you see the man she fucked, cause Toji will be Suguru’s best man.”

A pen could’ve dropped.

The name echoed in her mind. She couldn’t lie to herself and say at one point she wasn’t endlessly in love with Toji. She had always been stubborn, not as emotional as her sister or willing to be in love the way Ami allowed herself to. But when the opportunity came with Toji, she made him work for it. He was just like her—stubborn, stern, aggressive—but he knew what he wanted, and that was her. He was the only person that could soften those walls, and just when she was ready to be committed to him, she found out that he hooked up with Kim, knowing that was also her friend, Kim also knowing that was her man. Both of them could go to hell.

Nozomi’s hand tightened around the phone, “Toji is his best man?”

Ami let out a breath as she spoke once more, her voice filled with reluctance, “I…yes. I know you both went through a rough patch—“

Nozomi could hear her sister’s voice soften even more, her voice taking a gentler tone, “I know things didn’t end well with you two, and I didn’t mention it before because I didn’t want you to say some bullshit about not going to my wedding.”

“Girl, bye. I love your ugly ass too much not to show up at your wedding,” she tries to joke away her anxiety, “Just send me pictures of all the bridesmaids dresses so I can know how to do my hair.”

Her sister’s giggles came through the phone as her squeal calmed down, her giddiness evident in her voice, “I’m so excited. Oh my God, everything is falling together! I already picked out the flowers…this is gonna be so much fun! Kyoto! Kyoto!”

Nozomi could hear her sister begin to ramble on about her wedding preparations, it was cute to see her so excited and in love. But the back of her mind filled with the endless possibilities of this being a disaster. Her technical ex was in one room, while her ex-friend was in the other. She didn’t know who to swing on first. But this was her sister's wedding. It would be a perfect day for her.

….Or an extremely hot day in Nozomi’s personal hell.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. 𐦍༘⋆ ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. 𐦍༘⋆

IT SEEMED LIKE THE NEXT COUPLE OF DAYS FLEW BY, and she was now arriving back in a place her parents called home at one point—Kyoto, Japan. The minute her feet landed in Osaka’s international airport, the crisp air made chills come down her spine. Memories of her mom rushed through mind like a collage, her smile, her laugh. Her throat went tight again.

When she brought her focus back to finding her exit, a familiar face held up a sign that read, ‘NOZOMI—OMI.’ The nickname made her smile, pulling her suitcase as she ran up towards her older brother, Isamu, wrapping her arms around his neck as she crushed him into a hug. She wasn’t the affectionate type—but she also hadn't seen him since the funeral. She was the only sibling that now lived within the states, Ami staying in Kyoto with Suguru after the funeral, and Isamu living not too far from them. Nozomi needed the space and time to grieve. But maybe family was something she needed too.

“Woah—hey, Omi’,” he clutched her, Nozomi digging her face into his shirt. Her eyes begin to well with tears, unable to stop herself as she squeezed him harder.

Her older brother wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him as he held her, his arms holding her around the waist as he squeezed her back. She couldn’t see it from having her face buried in his chest, but his face held a soft, sad smile.

When he spoke, his deep voice was soft, “You’re squeezing me pretty hard, Omi’. You’ scared imma’ disappear if you let me go?”

“Maybe,” she muffled softly, squeezing the tightest she possibly could’ve, “Just—a little longer, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He was well aware of the emotions going through her mind. Not seeing any of her family in over two years was hard enough. But returning to their family’s hometown was even harder.

She quickly wiped her eyes before actual tears could come, hearing his voice made her want to break down. Her and her older brother had always been close—she missed his comfort, especially with their sister too busy in her relationship.

“How are you?” She asks, “You’ been okay?”

“I’ve been good…keeping busy with work and everything that’s been happening around here.”

There was a brief moment of silence between the two before he spoke again, his voice a little quieter than before, “And you?“

“I’m…good,” she lies, “I’ve just been working. The hair business is great, I’m just…excited to be back here and spend time with you and Ami. I didn’t expect her to want to do the wedding here, considering how hard she took mom’s passing.”

Isamu could tell she was lying, knowing her as well as he did. But he decided against saying anything about it, not wanting to push the topic. His mouth twisted into a small smile as he spoke, “I think it kind of brings her comfort. Being here and all. She says it makes her feel like a piece of mom is here with us.”

He placed a gentle hand against her shoulder, his eyes holding a sad look as he spoke, “How are you feeling about all this? About being here right now?”

That was the burning question. She could handle being here, but as far as speaking upon her mom—she wasn’t ready for that.

She brushed off the urge to cry again, “It feels nice to be here in Kyoto. I feel at home. However, the rest of our family, Kim, Toji, and our father all in one room? Ami has lost her damn mind to think that would go over well. It’ll be one terrible ass Jerry Springer episode.”

“She’s definitely lost her damn mind,” He agreed, “She’s hellbent on it all being perfect and everyone playing nice.”

“Did you know Toji was the best man? Since when did him and ole’ boy become so close?” She questions, watching as he begins picking up her suitcase, following him out of the airport, “And don’t get to defending your little boyfriend either, I’m aware at how close y’all are,” she threatens, referring to him and Toji’s relationship.

As he loaded her luggage into the trunk of his car, he let out a gentle laugh as he closed the trunk and leaned against the back of it.

His eyes rolled into his skull as he thought about how to reply, “Him and Suguru got cool overtime, I don’t know. They’ve known each other for a while. Ole boy got a name, dickhead. I’m not defending Toji. I could give you reasons to hate him, but I’m not going to feed into that.”

His eyes met hers, a sly look in his gaze as he spoke, “But you’re not exactly the angel that you think you are.”

“Wh—me?! The hell did I do?”

He knew he triggered an extremely long ramble, trying to hold back his laugh as she got in the passengers seat, “I don’t fuck peoples men! That’s Kim’s slimy ass! And I’m not the one with the dick that fucked Kim! Toji’s a slimey-nasty-bitch too!”

A loud bark of laughter came from him as they were on their way to their old home, another place Nozomi wasn’t sure she could handle being at. He snickered quietly as they drove, “It’s called a joke, Omi’. Damn. Chill before you pop a blood vessel.”

He chuckled to himself again, “That was some fucked up shit though, not gon’ lie.”

“Not fucked up enough for you to still be cool with him, and definitely not fucked up enough for him to be Suguru’s best man,” Nozomi grumbled.

“I don’t expect you to play nice with him or Kim.”

“At least your expectations aren’t as high as our sisters. You should lower them to hell, considering I wanna rip Kim’s arm off her body and smack her around with it. Fuck that hoe.”

His voice held a hint of amusement, “You got a whole lot of pent up anger and aggression going on in that frame. You might wanna calm down and get that checked out.”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” she grumbled, leaning herself more into the window.

As they continued to drive, she got a good look of the city. It looked as if it never changed. The trees were still healthily green, buildings still posh, everything was always so put together. This was home for her father as well, it made her wonder where he was, but the thought of speaking to him came back to mind. She didn’t want to talk.

Isamu could see her looking out the window in her silent behavior. Even as a child, she didn’t talk as much.

They soon pulled up to the familiar home, Isamu turning the car off before looking over to her, his voice soft as he spoke, “You ready?”

She didn’t look at him as she sighed, “I have to be.”

When she stepped out of the car, she looked over the childhood home. A shock came to her face as it seemed to be entirely re-modeled, yet still the same. Dark brown wood on the rooftop of the white house, caramel timber holding the walls all together. Lanterns were all around, glowing the building in a beautiful sight. An aura felt carried around it, almost as if she were here.

Nozomi looked back to her brother as her eyes narrowed, “When did y’all uh…remodel the house?”

He walked alongside her towards the front door, pulling a set of keys out of his pocket as he replied, “Ami started getting it done. A wedding gift to herself, I guess.”

She nods her head, still looking up, keeping her eyes along the trees that hunched over the home. She then hears her brother ask, “You don’t like it?”

She shakes her head, “Nah, it’s perfect. Mom always wanted this place remodeled, dad always griped about wanting a traditional home. She would’ve loved it.”

He chuckled under his breath, the sound a little sad, “Yeah…she always wanted all the fancy things. She would’ve loved this home. Dad’s probably somewhere complaining about it as we speak.”

Their father was old school, and wanted to maintain the traditional things that Japan had to offer.

“But who gives a fuck about his opinions,” she adds on beneath her breath.

Her attention was pulled as she heard a squeal coming from the top of the stairs. The house looked small on the outside, but on the inside it held about seven bedrooms, perfectly accompanied for a big family that was always usually within the house. The furniture was still pretty small, most of it low to the ground, similar to the beds within the bedrooms, more large, still being covered by Shoji screens, thankful that each room had space enough to muffle the sound next to the other. She was sorry for the room closest to the newlyweds.

When her attention came back, she was nearly tackled as Ami wrapped her arms around Nozomi’s neck, wrapping her legs around her as well as she locked her into a hug. Nozomi couldn’t help but laugh softly, holding her tightly as she said, “Hey, beautiful. I missed you.”

She could feel her top beginning to dampen, a small laugh falling from her lips again as she said, “Ami, why are you crying?”

Ami’s voice was soft and shaky as she attempted to speak through her tears, “I missed you too. So much, it’s just—“ Her voice broke off into a sob as she buried her face in Nozomi’s neck, her small hands gripping tighter to her sister as she continued to sob in her arms.

“I’m here,” she sighed, pulling her closer, “I missed you more. Please stop crying, this is the shit we’re supposed to be doing on your wedding day.”

“I know. I know, I’m…I’m okay. I swear, I’m just…glad you’re here, Omi’.”

“Is she crying again?”

A voice came down the stairs, appearing to be Ami's fiancè. He was just as handsome as Nozomi remembered him, long dark hair pulled out of his face, black sweatshirt, muscles bulging through the top, a tattoo coursing along his arm.

Nozomi said, “Yes, she is.”

“Babydoll, don’t cry,” he tells her sister, coming from behind and rubbing her shoulder.

Ami turned towards her fiancé, her eyes still watery from crying. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against his body, her face flushed a soft shade of pink as she smiled.

Isamu clarified, “She’s fine. Just emotional.”

“Remember when you cried every-time it rained outside, because you thought God was sad at you for behaving badly at school? Yeah, shut up,” Ami insults their brother, both of them putting their middle fingers up to each other.

Nozomi says to Suguru, “It’s good to see you. Are you happy about the wedding being in your hometown? Is your family excited?”

The soon-to-be husband chuckled quietly as he spoke, his arms still wrapped around Ami as he said, “Everyone’s excited as hell. I can’t wait to make her my wife.”

Nozomi nods her head with a smile. He was sweet. Another question comes to mind as they hear a pair of feet circling the corner from where the office was, a familiar face appearing in the kitchen. Here she was, the infamous Kim.

Her olive toned skin was always perfect, her dark brown hair up in a sleek ponytail. Her outfits were always classy and expensive. She was a beautiful woman, Nozomi could admit that. She just wished that beauty ran deeper than the skin surface.

Kim’s eyes flicked to everyone in the room, before they landed on Nozomi. A sly smile spread across her lips as she crossed the room, her voice sickeningly sweet as she spoke, “Well…if it isn’t little Omi’.”

“Hey, Kim,” Nozomi gives her a wave, wanting to say nothing else after that.

Ami then budges in, “That’s it, ‘Hey, Kim?’ You can do better than that.”

Nozomi raises an eyebrow, “You’ want us to start scissoring or something?”

“Jesus!” Ami smacks her arm, her fiancè and brother laughing at her younger sister's mouth.

Kim then shrugs, “It’s fine. It’s nice to see you. It’s been so long,” Kim gives her a scan of her entire body, “It seems nothing has changed.“

That comment has Nozomi narrow her eyes, and it seems as if the whole room is holding their breath. She could admit, her and Kim were completely different, and that might’ve tied into more of her insecurities when the man she thought was attracted to her, went after her friend behind her back.

….Did Kim seem more calm? Eloquent? Classy? Knew when to shut up? What was it?

Even if Kim was better in some aspects, that didn’t mean she couldn’t get the shit smacked out of her. Before Nozomi could dig into her ass, a pair of footsteps interrupt her foul insults, and when her eyes lock on the dark boots that stomp down each step, her throat nearly goes numb.

Each stomp of the boots was like the ticking of a clock, time slowing as she took in the figure standing on the stairs. A feeling of dread settled in her stomach, her mouth going dry as her lips parted but no words came out. Isamu and Ami both looked at her, noting her reaction.

Toji’s tall frame came down the steps, his expression as cold and apathetic as usual, not that it was abnormal. The man had always been so stoic, to the point that it felt as if there was no life behind his eyes. Or, as Ami had stated a million times before, “That man isn’t a person, he’s a block of ice.”

The more he matured, the finer he got. They weren’t much different in age, him and her siblings being thirty while she was only twenty-seven, but that came with a price. She was always blamed for not being as participant or even being a hot head, and as soon as she crashed out, her age was the first reason for explanation. But Toji never saw her that way. At least, that’s how he made her feel.

The dark shirt he wore clung to his broad frame, contrasting the Japanese words that swirled along his arm, creating an entire sleeve that went up to his shoulder, dancing up to the side of his neck, disappearing behind his ear and clothing. His onyx hair and eyebrows, always low each time he entered a room. He was scary, sexy, tempting. Damn him.

“Took you long enough,” Suguru said to him, “‘Fuck were you doing up there, powdering your nose?”

The tall man huffs in amusement as he responds, his voice deep and smooth, “I had to make an important phone call, you annoying bastard.”

His friend gives him a smirk, as if mocking his words, “Who were you calling?”

Toji rolls his eyes as he replies, “None of your fuckin’ business.”

“Omi’s here!” Ami interrupted, almost as if it was something to panic over.

The entire room locked eyes with her, as if waiting for some type of reaction. They didn’t know what to expect. It annoyed her. When his eyes locked on her, she felt like she wanted to melt into the ground. One thing he could expect from her— she was different from her siblings. She stood in a white baby tee, star shaped nipple piercings poking through the top. Her green cargo pants were slightly baggy, hair in individual braids, poking in between wavy human hair.

They’re bohemian goddess braids, jackass. Look it up, he remembers her telling him.

Her glasses laid upon her freckled face, almost looking similar to an office siren, nose ring shining beneath the lights of the kitchen. Small tattoos roamed her frame, large hips never discreet in any clothing she wore. She was fucking gorgeous.

His eyes took her entire body in, her usual appearance making his eyes narrow faintly. It made the scar on his lip twitch. She looked good, too good. Her brown skin was always just as smooth, her body just as curvy and attractive as always.

“Yeah,” he scans her up and down, “She is.”

Nozomi has the sudden urge to choke him.

Her attitude comes first as she completely bypasses him, looking at her sister as she says, “Show me to my room?”

The air suddenly tensed as she avoided him like the plague, his eyes narrowing further at her behavior. Ami noticed it as well, and she quickly nodded.

“Uh, yeah…follow me.”

She gave her fiancé a kiss on the cheek before she began walking up the stairs, gesturing for Nozomi to follow her.

“Who else is gonna be staying here?” Nozomi asks, yet she gets no response. She felt a mood shift within her sister, and she knew a lecture was about to come. Once they make it in front of her door, Ami turns to her and quietly whispers, “Why did you do that?!”

Nozomi tilts her head, “Do what?”

Ami looks at her as if it’s obvious, her tone laced with confusion as she whispers back, “Ignore Toji!”

She glances down the hall to make sure no one can hear them as she continues to speak in a quiet tone, “You acted like he wasn’t even there!”

“You didn’t tell me he was gonna be here, Ami. Don’t act like you didn’t purposely do that,” Nozomi replies, crossing her arms over her chest.

Ami lets out a long sigh, placing her hands on her hips as she rolls her eyes, “Look, I’m sorry, but you’re both adults. I know you’re mad at him, but you can’t act like he doesn’t exist the entire weekend.”

“I actually can!” She exclaims back in a whisper, “He can fuck Kim in every Kama Sutra position known to man. I wouldn’t give a fuck if he stood there in a clown costume! I still wouldn’t have spoken.”

“Are you done?” Ami blinks.

Nozomi then pulls back with a sigh, realizing how she’s being. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should just get a hotel. I don’t wanna ruin your weekend.”

Ami shakes her head as she replies, “You’re not getting a hotel. Just…can you please try to speak to Toji? Like…be mature about it? You didn’t work out, sure. That’s okay!”

Nozomi blinks, “It’s okay? It’s okay that I was practically in love with the bastard, was gonna let him break me out of my abstinence? Take my virginity? Then to find out he fucked Kim because what— her pussy was free? Fuck him!”

Ami squints, “You’re still a virgin?”

“Ami!”

Ami looks surprised for a moment before her face becomes neutral again, her voice lowering, “Really? You and Toji never…?”

She pauses for a moment, as if realizing something else after asking that question. Her eyes widen as she speaks, her tone now in a low whisper, “How? You literally told me you had sex before? Did you lie? Why would you lie to me?!”

“Because I didn’t want you to think I was a weirdo or something, you were all experienced and shit, sex was scary to me! Still is! And you think imma’ let that gorilla take my banana when he’s giving his for free?”

“You don’t have a banana,” Ami reminds.

“You get my analogy, though. My point still stands, fuck him.”

Ami groans faintly, raising her hands up to rub her temples to calm her growing headache. She sighs as she speaks, “I know, I know…but I need you to be mature about it for one weekend. Please?!”

“I will respectfully ignore him, unless you want me to be so sweet that I slice his throat in his sleep. And that’s being charitable.”

Ami looks horrified for a moment at her response, her eyes wide as she replies, “No! You will not do that! My wedding does not include any cutting of throats!”

Nozomi stands there with her arms crossed, similar to a child before she huffs, “Fine.”

“Good! Now go change and get washed up. Matter of fact, you’ll be in the kitchen. With Toji. Helping him cook. Goodbye!”

Nozomi’s eyes go wide, “Ami!—“

Her sister makes an incredulous noise, silencing her before she walks away. She wants to throw a tantrum. Fuck.

After showering, she was now fully dressed in a gray long sleeve that hugged her upper body, matching sweats and her house slippers that wouldn’t ache her feet like her regular shoes did. Her braids were held up by a claw clip, no makeup residual on her face as she pressed her glasses up along her nose. She’d put in her contacts eventually. She was hoping that she would enter the kitchen first, but as she saw Toji standing there in a black wife beater and sweats, silver jewelry clinking along his wrist, she held her breath. She held back the roll in her eyes as she scanned the countertop to see all the prepped food, not knowing where to start. Maybe this was the time to speak.

Thankfully, she can hear his deep, gruff voice as she seems to be on the phone, speaking in Japanese. She understood most of it, but she didn’t care enough to listen to what he had to say. She took that as her opportunity to scan over the small box in the middle of the island, holding what looked to be the recipe for dinner tonight.

Toji’s eyes were on her the moment she entered the room, watching her movements as she took her time scanning the countertop, analyzing the ingredients and prepped food in front of her. He could admit, she looked as attractive as she did the first day he met her. Her skin was still smooth, hair braided up, tattoos exposed for him to admire beneath the gray clothing she adorned. Her glasses perched on her nose, making her look naturally sexy. Damn her.

She frowns down at the recipes, realizing how familiar they sound. She takes this moment to finally speak to him, never looking up from the counter as she asks, “Did Ami give these to you?”

He was surprised she'd actually spoken, even if it was to acknowledge the recipe, and not him. His eyes scanned her, noting the way her body looked in her current clothing, and how she was still somehow just as attractive in something as simple as sweats.

“Yeah, she did.”

“I’m assuming she has you cooking everything this weekend,” she comments, eyes glancing up at him.

Toji lets out a huff, and his deep voice responds to her question, “Not everything, but I am cooking.”

He returns her stare, gray eyes scanning her face. He could tell she was bothered just by being in the room with him, but she was holding up.

“So what did you need help with, then?” She questions, “It looks like you have everything under control.”

Something in him became immensely irritated at how she was being. He knew that she was still upset with him, but for the sake of her sister's wedding, he hoped she would put her feelings to the side. Clearly not.

“I’m good. You can go,” he tells her, sharpness in his tone.

She turns to leave the kitchen, and when he sees that she’s actually leaving, he becomes pissed off.

“You’re gonna do this bullshit all weekend?”

Nozomi halts, turning towards him with a raised eyebrow. She replies, “Call it what you want, Fushiguro.”

“What, you don’t call me Toji anymore?” He snips, a sharp tongue being one of their similarities when they annoyed each other.

“Is that what you want?”

“I want you to stop acting like a fuckin’ child.”

That makes both her eyebrows raise as she replies with an amused huff, “Huh. A child. Well how about I get back to my playground? Kim can come assist you.”

“Stop acting like a fuckin’ brat. Don’t act like you don’t feel something from seeing me.”

“Do you think you’re a prize? What did you think? That I was gonna be happy to see you? Jump for joy? Fuck you on this countertop? Don’t be fucking stupid. Do you need help in the kitchen or not? Cause that’s really all that needs to be said between us. I was doing my sister a favor by coming in here,” she snaps, anger seeping through her that she hadn’t felt in years.

“Don’t be a smart ass. I know that you’re pissed. I get that. But the weekend has barely started, and it’s already irritating dealing with your childish bullshit.”

“Then leave me the fuck alone, Fushiguro! I was fine before you said anything to me. I’m not gonna ruin my sister's wedding by bringing my own issues with you into that. I was fine before, I will be fine.”

When she goes to turn, she feels him lock his hand around her wrist, her other hand close enough to the kitchen counter as she warns, “My hand is seconds away from a knife. Let go of me.”

For a split moment, he wonders if she’d actually stab him. She might. He decides to test that thought and refuses to listen to her, not letting go of her wrist.

“Maybe that’ll show me that you actually give a fuck to have a conversation,” he sharply replies.

“I don’t,” she promises.

Damn, this woman. When he goes to pull her closer, the door to the kitchen swings open, the familiar ponytail appearing that almost makes Nozomi actually want to go for the knife on the counter. Kim. If she swung forward enough, she’d slice both of them.

The sight of Kim was both a good and bad thing. It was good because the brunette would act as a buffer between the two. It was bad because it would stop him from talking to Nozomi alone, since he was unable to do so outside of the kitchen.

Kim asks, “You guys need help? Ami told me to come assist.”

“Of course she did,” Nozomi replies, her tongue on fire, “You got it. He seems to prefer you anyway.”

She finally snatches herself away from him, making her way out of the kitchen without saying anything else. She barely acknowledges Kim, wanting to spit on her from how pissed she was. Fuck both of them.

Toji is almost tempted to grab her wrist again and snatch her back. His eyes watch her storm out in anger, and he turns his glare to Kim, who has no idea what the hell was going on.

She looks to Toji, blowing out a breath as she mutters, “Drama Queen,” before shaking her head, “C’mon, I’ll help you finish. I’m starving.”

Nozomi was so upset that she was shaking. She didn’t think that she would care that much about seeing him or even speaking to him, but as soon as they went back and forth, all her feelings came erupting like vomit, and she didn’t know how to deal with them. She might’ve actually hurt him had she stayed in the kitchen. When she went back into her room, she kicked her shoes off, laying within the bed as she pressed her face into the sheets. She could feel her hot tears brimming into the comforter, wishing she wouldn’t cry when she was pissed off.

She feels as if she’s laying there for an eternity. But as she hears her door slide open, she knows it’s her older sister.

She mutters, “Not now, Ami. Please.”

She quietly closes the door behind her and makes her way to Nozomi, lowering onto the mattress as she sits down beside her. Ami gently places a hand on her back as she speaks, her tone soft, “You alright?”

It’s like the question had something almost shatter inside of her. She wraps her arms around the pillow in front of her, digging her face into it as she cries softly, “I fucking hate him.”

“You don’t hate him.”

“I know,” she replied, voice trembling. She didn’t hate him. In fact, seeing him again, she missed him so much. Everything hit her, her doubts, her insecurities. It all stood in between him and her sister's friend.

“I feel so stupid. I’m stupid,” she repeats, “Crying over a nigga that dropped me because I wasn’t ready to sleep with him.”

“That’s not what it was about, Omi’,” her sister tries to counter.

Nozomi then sits up, “Then what was it, Ami? I know it’s because she’s prettier, thinner, smarter. More money. I just—“

She takes in a breath, trying to wipe her red face, “I just wish it didn’t hurt that bad. That she didn’t make me feel worse about it.”

Ami’s heart hurt as her sister voiced the thoughts that had been tormenting her. The insecurities and the pain that Toji had caused. Her sister had spent two years tormenting herself as if it was her fault.

Ami gently takes her hand to squeeze, her eyes meeting with hers firmly, “You are so so stupid if you think that’s the only reason he fell for you. You’re beautiful and intelligent and talented. He didn’t break up with you because someone was better than you. And she’s not that.”

“Then what?” Her glossy eyes glance up at her, “How am I supposed to feel when she’s here? Being with him?”

“Toji is a man, and men are idiots. That’s the only explanation for that. Look, Kim is just here as a friend for me. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to make you upset, it was wrong what she did. I can talk to her, make sure she doesn’t make you uncomfortable. But I need you to focus on yourself. Focus on the wedding. This weekend is a celebration, alright? I don’t want you making yourself feel shitty for that idiot.”

Nozomi sighs, finally feeling herself calm down. She was right. This was one weekend and she’d never have to see him again. It was gonna be a struggle, but she was tough. She wipes her eyes as she exhales, “You don’t need to talk to her. I’m fine. Kim is always gonna be Kim. The bitch has artistic intelligence, so I know she’s making your wedding a fairytale. I want that for you. I’ll be fine. As far as Toji, I’ll…I’m okay,” she finalizes, “I’m sorry. I don’t wanna ruin your night.”

Ami shakes her head gently, a kind smile on her face as she replies, “You could never ruin my night. I’d smack you if you did. I’m happy you’re here, it means the world to me.”

She gently reaches out to give Nozomi’s shoulder a light squeeze as she adds, “Just try to enjoy yourself, alright? You don’t have to talk to Toji, but you don’t have to be rude either. I don’t want you two arguing all weekend. I’m gonna go get dinner. I can bring you a plate up?”

Nozomi shakes her head, “I’ll come eat with everyone. Just need to clean my face up. Go enjoy your food.”

She hesitates, wrapping her arms around her sister's neck as she mutters, “Love you.”

Ami’s heart warms when she hugs her. She returns the embrace, smiling gently as she responds, “I love you too. Always.”

When she makes it downstairs, everyone is around the table, seated along the floor as they eat and talk amongst each other. She fell back into her solitude, grateful that no one questioned her silence. She’d give a brief glance at Toji when he wasn’t looking, watching as he spoke to his best friend, laughed, joked, a bit of normalcy that she couldn’t help but miss about him. She might’ve been stubborn, but she refused to get hurt again. She also couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that they used her mother’s recipes to cook the food, an entirely different reason why she felt so down. She wouldn’t have allowed her to cry over Toji. She would’ve called him a bastard and laughed in his face.

Toji feels her eyes on him.

Throughout the night, he finds himself occasionally stealing glances in her direction. He can’t help it, she’s right there and it’s driving him mad. She’s still so damn beautiful.

As everyone makes small talk, and Kim tells a joke to crack some laughs, Toji’s eyes remain fixated on Nozomi. Her expression remains neutral, but he can see that she’s faking a calm composure. He wished she had giggled at his jokes the way she used to, he just wanted to feel something different from her. He missed that normalcy as well.

Nozomi barely touched her food, feeling her stomach growling as she made it back to bed that night. She couldn’t sleep. If it wasn’t her thoughts running amuck, it was definitely the unfortunate muffled sounds of her sister and her fiancè…enjoying their time together.

She stands from the bed as she slides her door open, hoping her ears would fall off as she passes by their room, making her way towards the kitchen. She passes Kim’s room as well, and when she hears that Kim also seems to be enjoying herself, accompanied by a sound of masculine grunting, she can feel her palms shaking.

“That fucking bastard,” she mutters.

That ruins her entire appetite. Instead of her midnight snack, it sends her right back to bed. As she goes back to her door, she notices an object on the ground. She frowns beneath the darkness, leaning down as she sees an orchid laid along the wood. She sighs, knowing her brother had probably placed it there, a habit he had with both of his sisters if he was apologetic, trying to make them feel better. She appreciated it. She took the flower in her room and closed the door, attempting to get some sleep for the rest of the night.

When the next morning came, she was greeted downstairs by everyone. Her sister was wrapped under her fiancè’s arms as she held a coffee mug close to her face, giggling as he talked within her ear.

Kim was in the kitchen making herself tea, talking to Nozomi’s brother, while Toji was engrossed within his phone, silent in an unusual manner.

She rubbed her eyes as she tiredly greeted everyone, “Morning.”

Everyone replied with their own greeting, smiles and kind words exchanged between the group. Well, except for Toji, who was uncharacteristically silent.

He slowly looked up, his eyes locked on her as a pang of irritation spiked through him. She was wearing a tank top paired with tight boy shorts. Toji couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way her skin was on display, or the way her shorts hugged her hips. He was forced to look away, his jaw tense as he silently stared out the window instead.

“How’d you sleep?” Ami asks, “Want me to make you some tea?”

Nozomi shakes her head, “Slept okay. On account of you two love birds, y’all make me absolutely sick.”

“Nah, for real. Imma’ have to bleach my ears,” her brother pipes in, both older siblings once again throwing middle fingers to each other.

“Oh, fuck off. This is my weekend! And this is my man, my man, my man!”

Everyone laughs her off, knowing how in love she was with her fiancè. They couldn’t admit it, but it was adorable.

Ami takes a sip of her tea as she says, “So, what’s on everyone’s agenda before the rehearsal dinner tonight?”

“I’m gonna head to the restaurant that’s catering the wedding, make sure your menus are just the way you wanted them and the food is perfect, beautiful bride,” Kim tells her, nudging her friend's leg with a smile.

Nozomi figured that as the maid of honor these things would be her job, but if Kim wanted to kiss her sister's ass, she wasn’t going to stop her.

“Imma’ go with her, it’ll give me a chance to get out of the house,” Isamu adds.

“Great. We’ll be checking out the venue one more time, making sure they decorated it just how I imagined it—and from all the pictures I framed off Pinterest. If not, I will be going bridezilla on they ass. Anyways, my crew, rolling out!”

As everyone disperses from the seating area, Nozomi notices as Toji is still there, interest deep within his phone. At least, pretending to be. She can’t read him. However, she can stare at him. The way he looks within this onyx wife-beater, she could lick him. The ink on his skin swirls along his arm, broad frame nearly wanting to break the small chair he sits in.

Her attention is pulled away when she hears him ask, “You’ going out today?”

She blinks, “Huh?”

Toji didn’t miss anything. He saw her staring from his peripheral, watching the way her eyes had roamed all along him.

His eyes were locked on her now as he repeated, “I asked if you were going out today.”

“Oh, uh—“ she thinks about it, hearing her stomach deeply grumbling. She realized she hadn't had a full meal since she got on the flight to Japan.

“Yeah—Imma’ head to this little restaurant my mom used to take us to,” she briefly replies, proud of herself for being cordial enough, especially after last night. At this point, she didn’t give a fuck about what he had going on.

“Oishii?” he asks.

She narrows her eyes a bit, “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Isamu mentioned it. I told him that place burnt down a couple months after your mom passed.”

“What?” She exclaims, “What the hell? Fuck, who was gonna tell me? That was the only place I really enjoyed.”

Toji can’t help but smirk at the surprise she expressed. He replies, “Been closed up for a while now,” with a shrug, “Damn shame. It was good.”

He leans back, Nozomi knocking her eyes down as he spreads his knees, seated in a position he usually relaxed in if he wanted her to sit on his lap. It made her throat dry.

“There’s other places to choose from. I know one. I’ll take you there.”

She shakes her head, “That’s not necessary—“

“Get dressed.”

His word was his bond, it always made her clutch her lips together. He was already standing, already walking away. He was never asking. With that, she pressed her lips together, a small groan falling from her mouth as she made her way back to her bedroom to put on some clothes.

He sat within his room for a while as he waited for her, knowing she would be a minute as she did her full routine. It annoyed him that he remembered that.

He eventually stood across the door from her room, knowing she’d be out soon. When she opened it, she flew past him to get a look at herself in the full body mirror down the hall. She adjusted the tightly fitted yellow sundress she wore, a matching headband that pulled her braids out of her face, edges perfectly sculpted. She wore her contacts today, able to see the eyes that she carried from her father. She looked more stunning each time he saw her.

She looked up to him as she pulled her white sandals on her feet, going back into the room for her purse as her soft voice asked, “Ready?”

Toji could have eaten her in this outfit, watching as she walked past him, catching her body in the mirror as she turned. The dress hugged her curves perfectly, showing off each and every bit of her he ached to touch.

He nods in response, his voice low as he replies, “Let’s go.”

It wasn’t as cold as it usually was in Kyoto, the weather perfect for a wedding. She enjoyed being able to walk rather than drive everywhere, needing a car back in the states. Their walk was quiet, Nozomi enjoying the trees, nature, the colorful buildings. She walks beside him for a while, watching as the cars bustle on the street beside her.

“Uh…do you know where we’re going?” She questions him, looking to the side of herself.

Toji’s own gaze was also fixated, watching her from the corner of his eye, studying the small habits he missed, the way she observed her surroundings so intently. The way her ass looked in this dress. His hands remained in his pockets, her question earning a glance as he looked down at her.

“You askin’ if I’m taking you to some secluded area where I’m gonna’ chop you up or something?”

His voice is low in humor, a smirk on his lips as he continues to guide her. “Be patient.”

She sighs, crossing her arms behind herself as she holds her purse in her hand, “I don’t like surprises.”

“I know that, Nozomi.”

“I would hope the food at this place is good, my mom was picky, so it makes me picky. What if it’s nasty? I’m hungry. I’ll be sad if it’s gross,” she banters.

“You’re whining a lot today, I see.”

“I’m just curious,” she shrugs, “Fine. I’ll shut up.”

Toji’s eyes narrow as he notices the way cars fly past as she continues on the sidewalk, something in him annoyed with how quickly they drive by.

“Don’t. Keep talking to me,” he says, his movement swift as he grips her by her hip, gently pulling her on the inside of the sidewalk as he now walks where the cars pass, “You’ still working on your Japanese?”

The movement was so quick that the chill down her spine was even quicker, her entire body tingling at his rough touch.

She nearly loses focus of his question as she swallows, “Um—still pretty shit at it, actually.”

“You’re not trying enough,” his tone low, “‘Can’t speak the language but you’ve lived here. You are Japanese.”

“Half,” she reminds, “My dad always said that I didn’t ‘look the part’ anyways. Ami always fit for him, her Japanese is award worthy.”

“I’m not talking about looks,” he mutters, rolling his eyes, “I’m talking about heritage. You’re still half, that means something. Your father should have been proud to know you speak his language. It’s annoying hearing you struggle.”

“Then how about you teach me, Mr. I know Everything? I understand you perfectly fine! That should count for something,” she begins to walk a little faster, hips twisting as she becomes slightly agitated with him.

Toji follows after her, his own stride matching as he easily keeps up. He scoffs, shaking his head at her words as he replies, “You don’t understand half the shit I tell you. You’ make this face when you’re confused, it’s cute.”

“Whatever,” Nozomi mutters, now actually irritated.

As they continue to walk, she notices a small boutique, the dark purple font on the sign above bringing her instant nostalgia. She gasps, “Oh my god, this is the boutique my mom used to take me and Ami too! I can’t believe it’s still here…”

She can’t help it, but she’s already pulling on the door handle, making her way inside in full curiosity.

Upon entering, she’s met with various traditional kimonos and dresses, a familiar scent filling her senses. Toji is immediately behind her, observing the entire shop as she takes it in. He can already tell that the nostalgia is overwhelming, watching as she walks around the place, her hands gently touching some of the dresses.

She looks along the wall of the shop, seeing all the Sanrio theme plushies and characters, blossoming different colors within her eyes. She felt like a child all over again. She nearly gives herself an asthma attack when she sees a particular plushie—she thought she was gonna faint.

“Holy shit,” she mutters, pointing upwards, “You see that one? This is a Hello Kitty collectible,” she describes. His eyes follow up to what looks to be a toffee complexioned Hello Kitty, wearing a pink and red Kimono, a matching pink flower within its head. It was the biggest one of all, nearly as big as Nozomi’s entire body.

“I literally cried all day because my mom wouldn’t buy it for me. She refused because Ami wanted one that looked like her, and because they didn’t have a collectible in her skin tone, my mom didn’t want her to feel left out. So neither of us got anything. The fact that it’s still here is insane.”

She comes close to it, trying to squint at the price tag on its side as she mutters, “Wonder how much it is…”

“Wanna ask?” Toji questions.

She turns with a frown, “I can ask, thank you.”

She surprises him a bit as her tone changes, inquiring the price of the plushie as she asks within his native tongue. He couldn’t understand what she meant when she said her Japanese was shit, she sounded incredibly normal to him. Sexy, even. He wanted to hear her speak it again.

She blinks as the woman responds, looking to Toji as she repeats back in English, “Thirty-Eight thousand yen? What is that in American dollars?”

“Shit is like three hundred dollars,” Toji replies back to her, watching as her jaw nearly drops.

“Oh hell, I don’t want it that bad,” she sighs, “Ugh. It’s so cute. My pockets will cry. Oh well.”

She says thank you to the woman, “Let me look at these dresses for a second, then we can go,” her shoulders are a bit more slump as she searches the rest of the store, almost feeling defeated.

As she continued to look around, her attention was along a dark brown Kimono, a pair of colors she’d never seen before. She doesn’t hear Toji speak to the woman, pointing towards the wall of plushies. She only ever realizes what he’s doing when the woman pulls down the large collectible she wanted, bringing it to the register.

“What are you doing?” She questions from the other side of the store, nearly tripping as she makes her way back to him.

Toji can tell by her expression that she had completely given up on the possibility of leaving with that stupid doll. It was endearing, seeing the disappointment in her eyes.

“Buying this stupid ass doll.”

He begins reaching for his wallet, pulling the wad of cash out as her eyes widen, placing her hand over his to stop him as she awkwardly speaks towards the woman, telling her not to worry about it, “No, you are not buying me that.”

Toji glances over at her as she speaks, smacking his lips at her. The woman behind the cash register pauses for a moment, looking between the two of them.

“Didn’t you just want this shit two seconds ago?”

Nozomi’s eyebrows furrow, “Yes—“

“So shut up.”

When she goes to protest, the look he gives her makes her hands halt, pressing her lips together as she puts her hands behind her back.

The older lady giggles, Nozomi understanding her as she asks if she wants a gift bag. Toji shakes his head, “She’ll hold it.”

When he looks back to see her still standing with a perplexed expression, still shocked that he even bought it, he snaps her out of her trance as he says, “Take the damn doll from her before I choke you with it.”

She smacks her lips now, politely thanking the woman as she has to wrap both arms around the plushie, it being a little heavy. She doesn’t know how to feel, but as he grumpily waits for the receipt, a small smile comes to her face.

When they make it to the restaurant, the lights on the streets begin to come on, the buildings and billboards bright to her eyes. She missed this feeling, almost like a child feeling Christmas air. Her plushie sits beside her in its own individual chair, Toji sitting across from her as he pulls a cigarette from his pocket, swiftly igniting it as they wait for someone to take their order. Nozomi looks down at the menu, not sure where to take the conversation.

They’d been getting along, it was no harm in that. She couldn’t be a bitch after he spent three-hundred dollars on something she’d always wanted.

She exhales as she looks around the crowded restaurant, looking back to him as she begins, “So…do you still live in the states, or did you move back here?”

Toji’s dark eyes remained on her while she looked around at the restaurant, his gaze always observant. He noticed how her eyes seemed to brighten at the view outside, how her mood completely changed after getting her silly doll.

He takes a puff of his cigarette before replying, “Moved back home. Got sick of it.”

“Sick of it? I thought you liked New York. I thought you enjoyed being a body-guard, kicking people's asses and getting paid for it,” she mentions, giving a polite smile to the man that hands her the drink she ordered.

Toji’s eyes follow her polite smile before watching her take a sip, replying as he rests an arm lazily along the back of the booth.

“I did enjoy it. I just don’t like the people out there. New Yorkers are a pain in the ass,” he scoffs before puffing his cigarette again, continuing, “Why do it there when I can kick people's asses here and still get paid for it?”

That makes a small laugh come from her, something he hadn’t heard in a long time. She crosses her leg, leaning back within the seat as she questions, “When did you and Suguru become so close?”

Toji’s eyes watch her body shift, taking another pull from his cigarette as her question registers in his head.

“I’ve known the bastard since high school, but we got closer once I moved back. I thought it was funny he fell in love with your other half,” he pauses, looking at her with a smirk, “He’s a big ass softie now. Whipped, even.”

That makes her eyebrow raise, “So your perception of someone in love is being whipped, huh? Makes sense.”

Toji narrows his eyes at her snarky response, taking a moment to reply, “You’ still need me to choke you with your friend over there? I hope she isn’t ordering too, I’m good on money, but that’s pushing it.”

She rolls her eyes as he adds with a serious tone, “And I didn’t say that. A man should respect his woman, I’ve just never seen him this way.”

“Well I think it’s adorable. Love should be all mushy and gross, that’s how you know it’s genuine. Makes me wonder what I’m doing wrong,” she admits, swirling her straw around in her cup, “I’m really happy for her.”

Toji’s expression doesn’t change as she responds, his cigarette hanging idly between his lips as his arm is still resting along the booth.

He looks at her, really looks at her, a thought coming to his mind as he suddenly responds, “You’re not doing anything wrong.”

He pauses, taking another pull before he changes the subject, “You spoke to your dad?”

That question almost startles her brain. She thought for a second that she could forget he’d be at the rehearsal dinner. She hadn’t seen him in two years. She kneels into the menu as she tries to deflect, “How do I tell the waiter I want this?”

Toji sees right through her, knowing exactly what she’s trying to do. He’s observant of a lot of her tendencies. He knows she’s avoiding talking about her father, and knows that she’s trying to forget.

He’s not going to let her.

“Show me what you want,” he mutters gruffly, nodding to the menu in her hand.

“Mmm, maybe I’ll just get ramen,” she tries to distract him.

He eyes her as he suggests, “You can try the Sashimi.”

She scrunches up her nose, “I don’t think I’m in the mood for raw fish. No thank you.”

“You eat sushi all the time, baby. The fish is just cut differently,” he explains, ignoring the way she rolls her eyes.

He puffs his cigarette before speaking again, “Stop avoiding the subject and answer my question. Did you call him yet?”

She pulls back, letting him have the menu as she says, “I’ll see him at the rehearsal dinner. No need to call.”

“Bullshit,” he mutters, tossing the menu to the side, “He’s your father, of course you should call him.” Toji puts out his cigarette, now giving her his full attention.

“Oh hell, here you go with your family matters bullshit. I don’t need a therapy session. You don’t talk to your family either, Fushiguro,” she points out.

Toji’s expression drops at her mention of his family, something shifting in his eyes now.

“Not the same thing, you know that.”

“Maybe,” she shrugs, “What am I supposed to say? Hey, thanks for cheating on my mom while she was sick, and then only being there to agree on pulling the plug on her? How’s your new bitch? Oh, did you figure out a tie for the wedding?” She tilts her head, sarcasm laced in her voice.

“Maybe say all that shit, it’s better than nothing. He still loves you.”

“Yeah, because I’m his daughter. Plus—it’s not my wedding, Dr. Phil. It’s Ami’s and he loves her to death. Would do anything for her, she’s always been Daddy’s little girl,” she flatly says, “This isn’t about me.”

He shakes his head as he begins, “You don’t have to take the backseat to everything or be a doormat all the time. This is about you.”

He moves closer, “It doesn’t matter who’s getting married. He’s your family, too. You think he doesn’t notice that you avoid him?”

“The phone is a two way street, if he wanted to speak to me that badly, he would’ve,” she crosses her arms over her chest, becoming uncomfortable with the conversation.

“Yeah, it’s a two way street. So why haven’t you called him in the entire two years? It goes both ways.”

“Because he hasn’t called me.”

“So it’s a competition now?”

“Fushiguro,” she warns.

Toji continues to glare her down, not backing off.

“It’s not a competition. I’m just trying to understand your logic, or lack of,” he explains, “You keep saying the phone is a two way street. You haven’t called him either, but are pissed at him for not calling you, shit is ass-backwards.”

Her leg begins shaking beneath the table, not necessarily upset with him. The overall topic has her frustrated. Her attention is drawn back to him when Toji sees the tension in her movements, knowing that his persistent questions have stressed her. He grips her ankle gently to stop her from moving, his large hand wrapping completely around it as he places her leg on his lap.

“All I’m trying to say is you should talk to him,” he says again, the firmness in his voice fading.

When she realizes that she’s only making herself upset, she stops. She had to face her father, and it would be happening tonight. It didn’t have to be a bad interaction, she just wished he never made the decisions he did.

She looks down at the table as she then admits, “I love my father. But I hate what he did to our family.”

A small silence comes between them, his hand still loosely holding her ankle.

“You don’t have to forgive him,” he finally says, “But don’t forget that he loves you. Even with his shitty decisions.”

She looks up at him, realizing his sincerity. The silence is filled as the waitress comes back, sitting down her bowl of ramen, also sitting down a plate of perfectly placed fish—raw, as she mentioned she didn’t like.

Her arms are still holding onto her chest, realizing that for the sake of this weekend, maybe she needed to make a change. She sits up as she reaches for the chopsticks, dipping a piece of the fish into the soy sauce and popping it into her mouth. She chewed for a moment before tilting her head, “Seems like you don’t always have bad taste.”

He’s glad that she was able to open up a little bit, to talk about her family. As annoying as it was, he was beginning to worry about how she would deal with tonight.

“See? If you weren’t so hard headed, shit would be much easier for you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Stop talking to me.”

“Want me to feed you?—“

“Not too much, Fushiguro. I’m being nice to your ass right now.”

“My bad.”

She was afraid that their time together would be awkward, but it was the complete opposite. It was extremely natural, maybe even a little romantic. It was unfortunately creating that flipping feeling in her stomach. The one she felt if he even spoke to her, catered to her, adorned her—made her feel like she was his again. She pushed down that rush of emotions as they exited the restaurant, seeing the text from Isamu on Toji’s phone to let them know they needed to be on time to the rehearsal dinner.

“Shit,” she mutters, “We might be late. Is there a quicker way to get back to our place from here?”

“Down this hill,” he refers, holding the large plushie in his own arm as she was too tired to carry it.

As they continue walking, she realizes he refers to the road with a large downward path as a “hill,” and it makes her laugh to herself.

As they begin making their way down the lit up street, something within her feels giddy, and she can’t help herself.

“Race you!”

She’s already beelining down the road. Her body zigzags on the street as she takes off. She knew there was a small competitive bone in his body, no words as she heard his footsteps already booming behind her. Nozomi shrieks into giggles as he grips her up by her bottom half, throwing her over his shoulder as he continues running.

She was happy and laughing, a sound he enjoyed hearing. He never wanted it to stop.

When he slowed down and was now walking, she huffed over his shoulder as she strained, “I guess this is better than walking,” gripping for her plushie to hold within the air.

Toji chuckled to himself as he felt her squirm in his hold, holding her tight so she wouldn’t fall, “You’re just upset that I always win,” he muttered with a grin, feeling her arms reaching for the plushie, pulling her up a bit so she could hold it.

Her eyes take sight of the city, another pang to her heart. She missed it here. It brought back so many memories within her childhood. Her eyes halt as she catches sight of a bridge farther down, patting his back as she says, “Hold on,” feeling as he places her down.

She fixes her dress and hair as she catches her breath, looking over the bridge as she sees a rare sight—A cherry blossom tree.

“They’re so pretty at night,” she sighs, “I’d kill for these in the states.”

Toji watches her as she takes in the scenery, now standing beside her.

“I didn’t realize how much you missed Japan.”

He looks out over the river, agreeing with her statement, “Yeah… shit is nice to look at, always has been.”

It was then that Toji seen her shiver, his eyes glancing down as she attempted to cover her arms.

“You cold?”

“I didn’t realize it’d be cold tonight, it was pretty warm earlier,” she says, a shiver exhaling from her mouth, “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, no. You’re not.”

Toji slips off his leather jacket, placing it around her shoulders as he murmurs, “Stubborn ass.”

She huffs out a laugh, seeing her warm breath in the air. She’s now turned towards him as he pulls the jacket to cover her body, her head tilted up to stare in his face, his frame hovering over hers. It was at this moment that she saw him—she hadn’t looked at him this way in a while.

He meets her gaze, his face much closer to hers than just a few seconds prior. The air between them has changed, the shift is palpable. Toji watches as she shudders again, the movement making her body press closer against him. The sight makes him feel protective.

“Toji, I—“

“I’m sorry.”

She frowns, her eyebrows coming over her eyes as she’s confused. Her stomach tumbled at his sudden apology, and she wanted to beg that it wasn’t for their past.

“I fucked up, Nozomi. I should’ve never hurt you the way I did.”

This is the conversation she’d been avoiding. Her throat tightens.

“Toji…”

Toji sees the mix of emotions in her expression, his own heart feeling heavy as he continues to look in her eyes.

“I was a dumbass. I know that. I never should have—“ he pauses, feeling his throat constrict from the emotions now bubbling up, “Never should have done what I did, and I know my actions will never undo the pain I caused.” He sighs, voice lowering, “I just need you to know that you mean a lot to me. That never changed.”

She’s unsure of how to feel. He was always too stoic for his own good, never able to say his feelings, and here he was—completely transparent and vulnerable. She couldn’t keep fighting how she felt. She missed him. She wanted to forgive him.

Toji’s phone then buzzes. Her eyes lowered to see KIM appear on the screen. The message read, ‘Where are you? Hurry back for dinner! It’s boring here without you.’

That was the icing on the cake. It brought back the anger she felt, why she was pissed with him in the first place. All her emotions went sinking into the back of her mind.

She gives a humorless laugh, removing his jacket and handing it to him as she says, “That must’ve meant something to you too,” referring to his text.

She begins walking, regardless of how cold she is, “C’mon. They’re looking for us.”

He frowns as her attitude takes a 180 turn, the moment of vulnerability gone as she hands him back his jacket. Fuck.

“Nozomi—“

But it’s too late, she’s already walking farther into the night. That was the end of the conversation. For now, at least.

When they arrive back at the house, she feels completely empty. The moment she opened up to him, possibly ready to have a conversation and move forward, it was all ruined. She didn’t know who to blame. Her stubbornness, his idiocy, or the bitch her sister called a friend. She was trying to keep it cute, but even this was too cute for her.

Her look for the night was more simple this time, a halter top dress, doing her makeup softer than she usually would, her sister requesting her bridal party wear white. Her golden heels with white orchids along the top, braids swimming down to her lower back—feeling pretty might’ve made her feel better for the night to come.

She came downstairs with everyone else, more to herself this time, especially when she saw Kim talking to Toji in the corner. His black button up was similar to her brothers, silver watch along his wrist and chain matching the jewelry he wore along his neck.

Her attention was caught by her sister who pulled her arm for her attention as she asked, “You were damn near late, where have you been?”

“I was just running errands, I’m sorry.”

Ami looks her up and down, “You missed the fitting for your dress. Kim has been calling you all day!”

“What?” She frowns, “I never got any calls from Kim. Why didn’t you just call me?”

“I didn’t have my phone on me, I was fitting for my dress too. It’s fine, let’s just hope you fit your dress.”

She knew Ami, seeing she was trying not to be upset. But she knew she was. Her eyes flicked over to Kim, and she thought about ripping her dress off and choking her with it.

Everyone made their way into the limousine as they arrived at the rehearsal dinner, and just as they pulled in front did Nozomi realize something— her father was here.

She couldn’t focus. Although the venue was gorgeous and looked like something you’d see in a movie, her palms began to sweat. Most of Suguru’s family had already arrived, her side of the family there as well. She greeted everyone with absentminded hugs and cheek kisses.

The usual conversations, ‘I’m sorry to hear about your mom’, ‘Why aren’t you married yet?’, ‘You and your sister look nothing alike,’ ‘You sure you both have the same father?’. It was unbearable, but she was used to it.

When she got down to the final family member, that’s when she saw…him.

A traditional man, stoic and frightening, the only smile she’d ever seen on his face was if he saw her sister, or her mom, but he was different when it came to her. She follows behind Ami as she hears her sister call him, ‘Otosan’ an affectionate term, bowing respectfully. She then says, “Hi, Pa. I missed you,” pulling him into a hug.

He holds Ami to his chest, giving her a tight squeeze.

“I missed you too, my love.”

He releases her gently, his eyes shifting over to Nozomi as she stands beside her sister. He looks her up and down for a moment, studying her appearance. This was the moment of truth.

“Nozomi,” he says, “You look beautiful as ever.” He holds his arms out, asking for a hug.

She doesn’t expect him to be happy to see her, nor was he an affectionate man. They hadn’t spoken in two years. She bows first as before she greets, “Hi, Pa,” taking in his hug, wrapping herself around him tighter than she thought she would.

He wraps his arms tightly around her shoulders, and it feels… strange.

“My sweet girl…”

He sighs lowly, “Too beautiful for your own good. Still not married? You know the family is getting worried…”

“Pa,” she brushes off, “I’m fine. This is Ami’s day, we can talk about my loneliness later.”

He laughs, feeling the familiarity. It was like nothing had changed.

“You’re still stubborn as ever, I see.”

He pats her back before releasing her, looking her up and down once more.

“You’ve grown more, you look… different,” he says, “Just like your mother.”

The sentence made her heart ache, and she immediately felt tears wanting to brim her eyes. She quickly blinks them away, humming in response. The sweet moment is vastly interrupted as a woman appears. She was smaller in frame between her and her sister, but was definitely older in age.

She bows affectionately to them as she greets, “It’s nice to formally meet you, Nozomi. Your father has told me so much about you.”

Nozomi holds back her frown, “Uh—nice to meet you as well, and you are?”

“This is Yua,” her father says, smiling from ear to ear, “My wife.”

Nozomi blinks, “Oh…wife. You got married two years later…” she stopped herself, it wasn’t the time. Her sister clutched her arm to also shut her up.

She looks at the woman, “It’s nice to meet you, Yua. I’m gonna go find my seat.”

Yua smiles kindly, a sweet tone in her voice, “Oh of course, enjoy yourself tonight.”

One thing about her father—and maybe where she got it from—he wasn’t afraid to talk shit about anybody, including his own daughter.

Her father clears his throat once Nozomi is walking away, sighing out, “That girl still has a mouth on her.”

“You can’t blame her,” Yua says, looking up at him, “She’s probably still hurt.”

“She’s twenty-seven, it’s time for her to stop pouting like a child.”

She hears the small banter between the two, clutching her fist as she sits next to her Isamu at a round table that’s also accompanied by Kim, and Toji. The interaction between her and her father didn’t go entirely bad, but the comments he made still showed who he was, and now sitting close to Kim and Toji, this night still didn’t feel too good.

As soon as Toji notices her at the table, his eyes are glued to her.

He had never realized how stubborn she really was.

That was probably one of the reasons why he liked her so much.

“You okay?” Her brother asks.

She looks up at him, “Yeah, fine.”

“I saw you talked to dad.”

She blinks, “Yeah. I did.”

The night is filled with conversations and laughs, Toji watching as Nozomi becomes more and more irritated.

This rehearsal was becoming a little too much for her as time continued to pass. She felt like this dinner wouldn’t end, her attention coming along Kim who stood at the stage, clinking a small silverware against her champagne glass.

All eyes turned to her, the table quiet as Kim began to speak, “Thank you all for coming out tonight!”

The room responds with applause, everyone anticipating her speech. Kim smiles sweetly— the type that looks fake to Nozomi, but was entirely convincing to everyone else.

She smiles, “I just wanted to give a little speech for the couple. The love they share started the moment they looked at each other, and they’ve been an unbreakable pair ever since.”

The entire room is silent, everyone listening to her every word. Toji could see the anger in Nozomi’s face, her eyes almost burning a hole in Kim’s existence.

“I’m so honored to create the dream that you’ve always wanted, your perfect wedding. And as the woman closest to you,” she looked directly at Nozomi, “I’m so happy to call you my sister.”

Nozomi thrashes her tongue within her cheek, listening as everyone claps, looking over to her sister's table as she gives a smile, which pisses her off even more.

When the speech is over, she stands from the table as she holds her dress up, going over to the open bar they had as she requested, “Got anything brown?”

The bartender nods, “Certainly. What kind?”

He makes her a vanilla crown and Coke as requested. She takes it like a shot. The moment she feels at ease when the drink pours down her throat, it’s like a cloud begins to shadow her sun, and here she is standing in front of her—Kim.

“Are you having fun? You barely talked to anyone tonight,” she feigns a frown, “What’s the matter?”

She leans against the bar, her elbow perched on the counter top.

“I’m fine, Kim,” she brushes off, not ready for her bullshit. But as she takes the last sip of her drink, she has another thought, “Actually, my sister said there was a fitting for everyone’s dress today. Why wasn’t I told about that?”

Kim’s eyes widened faintly, a playful chuckle rolling off her tongue, “Oh, that?”

She taps her manicured nails against the top of the counter, shrugging as she does so.

“I must’ve forgotten to tell you,” she grins, “My bad.”

“Of course you did. You’re good at that little thing you do. Being all cute, acting like you’re not an insolent bitch on the inside. Maybe on the outside,” she tilts her head, giving her the same grin in return, watching as her face fell at her words.

She’s startled a bit at Nozomi’s truth. She thinks quickly on her feet as she takes a step forward, “I think the drink is going to your head, love.”

“Maybe. You should order something for yourself as well! But I suggest you wait until I walk away, cause my hand holding this glass is feeling a little itchy, and you might have a headache further into the night.”

When she expects Kim to simply go back and forth with her, she suddenly shouts, “You’re gonna do what to me?”

The calculated bitch, she was purposely causing a scene.

Ami, Toji and her brother came running over as Ami questioned, “What’s going on?”

“Nozomi just threatened to hit me over the head with a glass! I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you’re scaring me!” Kim presses her hand to her chest, Oscar worthy acting as her hand shakes.

“What?” Ami looks at Nozomi, “Did you say that?”

“No!” Nozomi defends, “Well, yes. But not for no reason!”

“Nozomi, what the hell?” Her brother says, “What is going on? Why are you threatening Kim?”

“This bitch just said that she purposely didn’t call me for our dress fitting today!” She exclaims.

“I would never do that,” Kim defends herself, “I called you a thousand times. You just didn’t answer. I’m sorry, Nozomi.”

“Are you serious?” She blinks, “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you—“ she goes forward, Isamu stepping in front of her.

Ami then cuts off, “Enough, Nozomi. I have been trying to be patient with you since you got here, but this is too much! Doing this at my rehearsal dinner? Making a scene? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What the hell is wrong with me? Ask your fucking friend that! Oh, better yet, your new sister! You’re seriously gonna’ blame me for this? When am I ever gonna be taken seriously, and not some fucking drama Queen?”

Everyone in the area is shocked by the commotion, the guests at the rehearsal dinner turning and whispering from their seats.

Ami’s face contorts with anger, “I always take you seriously, but look at what you’re doing right now! I’m constantly at your defense! But you’re acting like a fucking child!”

That.

It always led back to her being the youngest. Nozomi laughed sharply, “Great. I’m a child. I’m over here pulling myself together on account of your goddamn wedding. Forcing me to be cool with your idiotic ass friend who fucked my man, and is still fucking him to this day! Not only that, forcing me to be here with him! The one who fucked your idiotic ass friend in the first fucking place, because I wouldn’t fuck him! Making me be cordial with my father who I wasn’t ready to forgive, because he fucked his new bitch behind our dying mother’s back—I’m doing all this for you! I’m holding it together for you! And I’m a fucking child? How about you wanting everything your way, but pissed off the minute something goes wrong? That’s a fucking child!”

“What?” Toji then comes in, “‘The fuck are you talking about?”

“Don’t be dense. I heard you fucking her the first night I came!”

Toji blinks, confusion not even the word. His eyes narrow as he says, “I didn’t fuck Kim. This is my first time seeing her since you mom’s funeral, and since I left the states. I left right after you broke shit off with me.”

Nozomi blinks, now equally confused.

“What?”

Isamu then smacks his lips, “Jesus,” chiming in to clear the air, “I was fucking Kim, okay? Toji and her only fucked around that one time.”

That makes everyone’s eyes bulge out—including Kim’s—now realizing that this was all one big misunderstanding.

“You’re fucking Kim? Ew!” Nozomi starts, “Seriously? Jesus Christ. When the fuck did you even have time to leave that orchid at my door?”

“I left that orchid at your door,” Toji then clarifies, “It was supposed to be an apology. I wanted to talk to you, but you stormed back into your room and I didn’t want to piss you off more.”

Nozomi takes all of this in. She doesn’t know what to say.

There wasn’t anything to say at this point, nor did she want to say anything else. With that, Nozomi does everyone a favor as she exits out of the building, finding her way back to the house. This had been a rehearsal dinner like no other.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. 𐦍༘⋆ ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. 𐦍༘⋆

THE NEXT MORNING WAS SILENT, which was unfortunate. It was supposed to be a beautiful day, Ami’s wedding day—everyone was supposed to be excited. But it felt like the complete opposite. The morning was quiet. Nozomi had a lot on her mind, but all of her other bullshit could be figured out later—she needed to make things right with Ami.

The house had been cleared of all the men as they had to get ready at the venue, the bridal party now on their way to the house, Ami within her room as the makeup artist was also on the way.

Nozomi quietly slid the door open to her room as she asked, “Can I come in?”

Ami glanced over at the door, a frown on her face, still upset from the previous night. She sighs before nodding softly, “Yeah, you can come in…”

She slides the door closed, standing along the wall. She tries to collect her thoughts, her words. Instead of jumping into the drama, she asks, “How are you feeling? Ready to be Mrs. Getou?”

Ami smiles, her anger softening as her eyes meet her sisters. She lets out a small yawn before nodding slowly, a tired smile on her face.

“I’m nervous…” Ami admits, “A little too nervous, honestly…”

“It’s no need to be nervous. He loves you, even if you have a crazy ass family,” she tries to poke, “Today’s gonna be an amazing day for you. It already is. It’s filled with love.”

Ami laughs, the comment causing her to snort quietly, “You’re damn right about that. But I’m still a little mad at you…”

Nozomi sighs, “Look, I’m so sorry about last night, Ami. It wasn’t supposed to go like that. I was telling the truth, Kim purposely didn’t call me for the fitting, you know I wouldn’t have missed something as important as that. When she admitted it to me, I just…mushed her being a bitch to her fucking Toji, and I kinda spiraled. You can choose who you want to be friends with, I just don’t like how she treats me,” Nozomi softly admits, looking down to the floor.

Ami sighs, her expression softening. She knew that it hadn’t been entirely her sister's fault, even though she had been the one to cause the scene in the first place.

“Listen, I’m not mad at you, okay? I wasn’t ever mad at you, I just hate how you never think anything through before doing it. You’ve always been that way, and you need to work on it.”

Ami stands from the bed, walking over to Nozomi, wrapping her into a tight hug, “I love you, okay?”

“More than Kim?” She questions, trying to make another joke, “I really don’t like that hoe, seriously.”

A soft laugh tumbles from Ami’s lips, a snort following that, “Yes, more than Kim.”

She pinches her sister's cheek, pulling her head back, “You gotta’ relax, okay? Today is my day, so keep your cool, yeah?”

“Scouts honor,” Nozomi promises, raising her hand up, “I don’t know why you didn’t just make Kim your maid of honor, no shade.”

Ami laughed, “Oh hell no. I want you to be part of the special moment,” She crosses her arms, “She can just stand over there and look pretty like every other bridesmaid.”

Nozomi rolls her eyes, “Yeah. Like a Disney villain.”

“Sidebar—where did you go yesterday?” Her sister then asks.

Dammit. She was hoping she wouldn’t ask this question. She closes her eyes as she admits, “Don’t freak out. I went out with Toji—“

The squeal was already releasing from her lips, “Oh my god! Y’all are in love again! Wedding bells, are those wedding bells I hear?”

“Ami.”

“Oh my goodness, he bought you that big ass plushie in your room! That’s the one you wanted mom to get you! I knew your frugal ass didn’t pay thirty-eight thousand yen for that!”

“Ami.—“

“And he gave you an orchid to apologize, cause you love orchids! Oh my god, I’m gushing. I’m blushing!”

“Jesus Christ, are you done?” Nozomi squints, “It was nothing. He probably thinks I’m crazy now after I accused him of fucking Kim again. But what else was I supposed to think? I probably just fucked everything up.”

Ami rolls her eyes, grabbing Nozomi’s shoulders, her gaze firm as she says, “Listen. You did not mess everything up. If he loved you then, he probably loves you even more now. You just need to apologize to him…after the wedding. Don’t make it about you, okay? Focus on the love we’re all sharing today, alright?”

She nods her head, “Got it.”

Ami smiles, bringing Nozomi into another tight hug, “Good, now go get your hair and makeup done, the artists will be here in an hour, and you’ve gotta’ look the best you can today, alright? You’re my maid of honor, you gotta’ look like the bottom bitch next to the head honcho!”

“You’re a mess.”

“Not as much as you. It’s really my wedding day, eeeeek!”

They were thankful to have gotten up early, giving just enough time to do everything without feeling rushed. Nozomi of course did Ami’s hair, agreeing with her request to style it within a low bun pulled back to frame her face, sculpting her edges perfectly, adding her favorite flowers within the claw clip holding her hair together. The soft makeup along her expression brought her face out more than heavy makeup would’ve. She was gorgeous without it. Nozomi could feel a lump in her throat about to create, not sure why she suddenly felt so emotional, but she refused to cry.

Ami’s heart swells at the sight of her sister in the mirror, her eyes softening as she hears her words. Memories of their mother flood her mind—memories of her sitting on the couch, watching her daughters put their hair in intricate styles for dance competitions, or style their hair for a wedding. She felt a pang of sadness in her chest.

Tears start to trickle down Ami’s cheeks, and she quickly wipes at her eyes. “God, don’t make me cry,” she murmurs, “I’m gonna’ ruin my makeup.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she kisses her forehead, “Don’t cry. Don’t want you choking me cause your makeup is ruined. No more tears!” She tells her, taking deep breaths with her before she continues crying.

Ami laughs through her tears, wiping at her eyes as she nods, “Okay, okay, no more tears. Don’t make me start again.”

The makeup artist began to retouch her face. Everything was silent for a moment before Ami clears her throat, her voice soft as she says, “Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“Do you love him—Toji, I mean?”

Nozomi looks up to the mirror, thinking about the question. She doesn’t lie to herself as she replies, “Yeah, I do. But he’ll never know that.”

Ami’s eyebrows furrow for a moment as she glances back at her sister, “Why not?”

She turns her head, her eyes soft, “Why would you hold that in? After everything he’s done to show you how he feels, why not tell him?”

“Because today isn’t about me, remember? Now, let the makeup artist finish her job, you can’t keep talking while she does your lip liner,” she distracts, “I’m gonna go get ready.”

“I hate when you deflect,” Ami scrunches her nose, “Whatever. You’re dismissed!”

She began to see the bridesmaids' dresses as she exited the room, seeing that they were simple pink gowns, silky and strapless. They were gorgeous regardless, going to search for which one was hers. But as she continued to look, she noticed a dress hanging along the wall, her name attached to it. Her mouth gaped open. It was entirely different from the bridal parties dresses, the only similarity being the color.

It was a gown, corseted all around, diamonds and jewels cascading the material all the way up to the top, fluff swimming along where her breast sat, mirroring along the side of her hip.

“Fucking hell, Ami,” she mutters to herself.

She didn’t have time to freak out about how extravagant this dress was—she had to get ready.

She pulls her braids within a low ponytail to accentuate her dress, artistically sculpting her edges. It fits her entirely too well. Her hips struck out, the corset cinched her frame in a way that made her feel the most gorgeous she’d ever felt. When she looks within the mirror, all she can see is her mom.

She exhales as she goes into the other room to show Ami, her jaw dropping at her older sibling. She’d never looked so… ethereal.

Her dress was a pure white, covered with soft pearls that gave the illusion they dripped off her body, her entire frame equally corseted, material choking her tightly.

“Ami,” Nozomi placed her hands over her mouth, not enough to ruin her own makeup, “Oh my goodness,” she became choked up, “You look…”

Ami smiles at her sibling, gently standing to keep her dress from being ruined. She looked down at herself, gently placing her hands along the dress, the gems and diamonds sparkling underneath the lights.

“Good?” She asks her sister, her voice soft.

“Amazing,” she promises, “Don’t be nervous. I’m so happy for you. Are you ready? We don’t wanna be late.”

“Let’s get going then, yeah?”

It’s now chaos when they arrive at the venue. None of them had yet to see what it looked like besides the bride and groom, the panic of getting into place leaving everything to a surprise once they walked out. The guests had already arrived, sitting within the white chairs that were covered with pink bows and flowers, wearing their own shades of her sister's favorite color. Here were the groomsmen, perfectly dressed in their tuxes, pink flowers within their breast pockets. They were ready, making sure they were perfectly lined up with the bridesmaid they were assigned to walk with. Ami was hidden within a back room, preparing to be the last one to walk out.

Nozomi holds her dress as she speed walks out to where everyone else stands, seeing Suguru and Toji standing together. She hadn’t seen him since the chaos of the night before—she couldn’t help but not be happy to see him. Seeing Toji’s suit perfectly frame his broad physique, his best friend stands next to him, his long hair within a bun, tied out of his face. They looked handsome.

“Ready?” She questions Suguru, “I can’t wait for you to see her. You’re not gonna cry, are you?”

Suguru smiles at the question, an almost embarrassed look on his face. However, he doesn’t deny it, “I’m most definitely going to cry.”

Toji laughs, shaking his head, “Big ass dork.”

Suguru takes another deep breath before he stands by the door, preparing to walk out. Everyone now stands in place, and that meant it was time for Nozomi to get in position too. She turns to Toji whose eyes she can feel along her body as she asks, “What? Something wrong with my hair?”

Toji couldn’t deny that she looked incredible in that dress—more than incredible, breathtaking. Everything about her seemed to be amplified from the dress.

She looked amazing, gorgeous, etc, etc.

“Words can’t describe how good you fuckin’ look right now,” he grunts within her ear, reaching out to grab for her hand, kissing her palm before he wraps it around his arm.

That makes Nozomi‘s face go warm, turning her head back towards the ceremony. She watches as Suguru’s parents walk down the aisle, clicking that it was their turn. She didn’t know why she suddenly felt nervous.

She nods, “Thank you. Um,” she twists the flower within his breast pocket, “Just—don’t let me fall, okay?”

Toji’s chuckle is attractive, still deep in her ear as he lowly promises, “Not a chance in hell.”

When he slides his arm down to clutch her fingers in his own, their skin feels electrifying together. She hadn’t held his hand in so long—it felt so good. When they prepare to walk, she tugs his arm as she mutters, “Seriously, Fushiguro. Don’t let me fall. I’ll hurt you.”

His eyes glance down at hers as he promises, “You won’t fall, pretty.”

They finally walk down the aisle, everyone’s eyes turning to them. The flower petals along the ground are being tread upon as they stroll down the walkway, Nozomi’s heart pounding within her chest.

He squeezes her hand again, gently rubbing his thumb against her knuckles in an attempt to calm her. It works, but not by much, keeping her mind occupied as they walk.

She can now fully see the venue— cherry blossoms, the main event of it all. They all laid along the ground, pink trees floating above the chairs and guests, slumped down as petals swirled in the air each time the wind blew. She doesn’t realize how tightly she’s holding Toji’s hand, feeling a vast amount of emotions come to her, the sentiments of something as simple as a cherry blossom tree meaning so much more to her.

They finally make it to the end, and Toji releases her hand to go stand near Suguru, his nerves settling as he takes his place next to the groom. The music changes, signaling for the rest of the party to begin walking. Each bridesmaid and groom look perfect together—hell, even Kim and Isamu looked nice walking together.

Everyone giggled as one of Suguru’s younger cousins came tumbling down the aisle, throwing more flowers onto the ground, including a smaller baby boy, who followed after her, holding the rings close to his miniature tuxedo.

It was finally the moment, the moment everyone had come for. When she appeared at the end of the aisle—a gasp came from the entire venue. Nozomi had already seen her, but seeing her here, holding her father’s arm as she began to walk, her veil that swam the ground, she hated the emotion that began smacking her around. It didn’t make it better that every bridesmaid was already crying—that was enough for her. The music that played, the way she could tell Ami herself was trying to hold back tears, it was the most special moment she had experienced.

Nozomi gripped the flowers in her hand, trying to stop the tears that poured like nothing. When she looked over to the groomsmen side—even they were crying, Suguru’s eyes were red as he couldn’t hold back his emotion. His best friend was of course behind him, rubbing his shoulder to comfort him. When Toji and Nozomi locked eyes, she gave a weak laugh, patting her own face to not mess up her makeup.

Toji couldn’t help but look at the way she was crying, his own eyes feeling soft as his chest felt heavy with an unknown emotion. His face felt warm, almost warm enough to make him tear up, but he tried his best to keep it down by looking away and trying to focus on the groom himself.

However, every once in a while, his eyes would dart back towards her, admiring the way she looked in the soft lighting, the flower, the corseted dress, even her makeup. It amazed him. Seeing his best friend hold this much emotion towards a woman, it made him realize how much of a fuck up he was with Nozomi—he wanted to make things right.

The ceremony felt quicker than she expected, probably because she spent most of it crying. Everyone cheered and hollered as they kissed, cementing their love. It was now the reception, farther out into the trees, tables, menus, a selection of food, waitresses, anything you thought of at a high-end wedding, it was there. Everyone sat down as it was the bride and grooms first dance, seeing as they held each other tight, ‘SLOW DANCING IN THE DARK,’ by Joji filling the venue, Ami’s smile never leaving her face.

Nozomi watched with a soft smile, kneeling on her arm. Others began joining them on the dance floor shortly after. Her attention was pulled as she heard her father’s voice behind her, “Omi’?”

She hesitantly turns to him, “Yes, Pa?”

Her father had a wide smile on his face, his eyes soft as he placed a firm hand on his daughter’s shoulder, gently squeezing it.

“Can I have this dance?”

She gave him a gracious smile, “Sure.”

She took his arm, following him to the floor as she held one of his hands, the other going on his shoulder, while his hand went on her hip. They swayed slightly to the music.

“I’m…really happy to see you, Pa’,” Nozomi tells him softly, “I’m sorry I haven’t called.I just…needed time, when mom passed. I know you wanted me to stay in Japan. But I couldn’t.”

Her father gently squeezed her hip, his eyes soft as he nodded his head, “I know.” He says, “I know it was hard. I remember how distraught you were when mom passed…it was hard on all of us. I couldn’t force you to stay in Japan. You needed some freedom after all that, and you found it in the states.”

He halts for a moment, trying to find his words as he says, “I miss your mom everyday. Despite my bad decisions. She’s always with me, just like she’s here with you.”

Despite his infidelity while their mom was sick, she knew how much he loved her. It wasn’t an excuse, but it could’ve been a way of coping with knowing she was going to pass, it was a loss for everyone.

“I’ll do better at calling, Pa’. I promise.”

A small chuckle tumbles from her father’s lips, as he shakes his head, “No, you won’t,” he teased, “I’ll just have to keep calling you until you finally answer.”

“You know me so well,” she chuckles, continuing to sway with him.

The moment was something she couldn’t ask for twice. To make up with her father, it brought a weight off her shoulders. She felt at peace. Maybe she needed to come back home.

Her final conflict she had to resolve appeared, Toji stepping in as he politely asked her father, “May I?”

Her father nods gently at the man, patting his daughter on the hip one last time as Toji steps in front of her, holding his hand out. His eyes slowly drift downwards, examining the beautiful maid of honor, his chest feeling almost tight.

“There you are,” she says softly, bringing her arms around his neck, an eyebrow raising as Toji questions, “You were looking for me?”

“Maybe.”

He places his hands on her hips, a smirk forming on his face, “You’ve been avoiding me,” he reminds, “The whole damn time. Barely said shit to me.”

“Wanted to make sure you weren’t mad at me,” she deflects, pulling his neck down, wanting him to be closer to her than he was, “The rehearsal dinner was a shitshow.”

Toji’s hands tightened on her hips as he pulled her a bit closer, their chests nearly touching. His dark gray eyes pierced into hers, almost staring into her soul.

“I’m not mad,” he mutters, “I’m used to your bullshit by now. It’s expected.”

She exhales, “That doesn’t sound like much of a compliment.”

“Cause it isn’t.”

The same song plays, distracting her for a moment. She rolls her eyes, “So what do you like about me then, since I’m such a problem?”

“You’re a smartass,” he stated bluntly, “A smartass that knows how to press my fuckin’ buttons. A smartass that’s stubborn as all hell. A smartass…that also happens to be the prettiest person in the fuckin’ building. The only person I see here.”

Nozomi blinks up at him, her eyes glittering underneath the lights they have within the ceiling.

“You’ really wanna be with me?” She asks softly, knowing the answer, maybe just needing reassurance.

“Don’t ask shit you already know the answer to,” he grunts, mouth lowering closer to her ear.

His forehead pressed against hers, Nozomi giggling as he pulled her heels along his own shoes, holding her close. This might’ve been the moment she needed from him.

They stayed like that for a while.

The reception is in full force, different family members dancing together, Suguru and Ami inseparable, the music and food perfect for the environment. Nozomi had found a small moment to pull her and Toji away from the reception as the newlyweds took pictures, pulling him deeper into the trees, away from all the people—away from an audience.

She leans herself against the bark, fidgeting her hands against his tux as she rambles, “My mom actually wanted her burial to be a cherry blossom tree,” she says softly, keeping her eyes along the material of his tux.

She continues, “We didn’t know until we found her wishes hidden inside the mattress. A weird place to put it,” she laughs, but it’s weak, nothing actually funny, “I think that’s why this whole wedding has been so…emotional for me. Besides seeing my sister be in love and so happy. This entire weekend has brought so many memories for me. Things I’ve realized about myself. Things I wanna fix…”

Toji couldn’t help but watch her closely as she opened up. This was the first time in a while that she’s been so…honest. So vulnerable.

“I don’t think I ever thanked you for the orchid you left at my door,” she says quietly, “Despite the way I treated you, you still tried. And tried, and tried…” she giggles, Toji grunting as he presses his forehead along hers. She then says, “I also haven’t apologized.“

It was as if everything that happened after that was an unfortunate cue.

Their attention is pulled away from each other as Isamu and Kim walk up to them, her brother loud as he calls, “Yo, where y’all at? Sneaking out already?”

She tries not to be irritated with her sibling. But as she notices Kim beside him giving her the nastiest look, her blood pressure spikes.

“Just talking,” Nozomi replies, keeping her hand along Toji’s suit.

“Got him under your claws so I don’t get to him, I see,” Kim sharply replies, and it’s quick, so quick that Nozomi almost doesn’t catch it.

She slightly sits herself up as she raises an eyebrow, “Excuse me?”

Kim shrugs, “You assumed I’ve just been fucking him all weekend, is my comment too far off?”

“No, actually, it isn’t. You fucked’ him before, makes no difference now. A hoe is still a hoe.”

“Who are you calling a hoe?” Kim fires off, coming closer.

But that wasn’t a problem, Nozomi was ready to put her in a headlock as she came around Toji, “ You know what— I can blame a man for his stupidity. But what I can’t handle, is a stupid ass bitch like you that would do anything for the idiocy that is a man’s attention. You knew how I felt about Toji, and yet you fucked him anyways, and you were suppose to be my friend. You’re lucky I didn’t fuckin’ shoot you.”

“Alright, knock it the fuck off,” Toji mutters, bringing his arm around her hip, lightly pulling her back from Kim who was in arms reach of the girl.

Kim then says, “Don’t blame me that you couldn’t keep your supposed man in check. I wouldn’t want you either if you didn’t wanna fuck me, Ms. Holier Than Thou.”

Yup, that was it.

Nozomi laughed humorlessly, taking a step back as she moved Toji’s arm to let him know she was calm, but it was the complete opposite.

Her eyes quickly scanned the scenery, seeing no one else around, locking her eyes back on Kim. She steps forward, plummeting her knuckles clean into Kim’s jaw, the crack heard in the echoes of the trees, Kim immediately dropping to the ground from the impact.

“Yo, Nozomi, what the fuck!” Isamu exclaimed.

Kim holds the side of her face, turning to the side as she spat blood on the ground. Nozomi’s anger had seeped over her. She didn’t mean to hit her, it just happened. Her knuckles stung, but it’s unfortunate that she didn’t feel satisfied. When she lunges forward to finish her off, her feet are suddenly off the ground, Nozomi grunting as she’s being thrown over Toji’s shoulder again, being pulled away from the reception.

“Put me the fuck down!”

She didn’t realize how close they actually were to their family’s house, practically feeling the fire off Toji’s body. He carried her into his room, Nozomi grunting as she hit the bed, breathless as her dress was already tight.

She glares as she sits up, “What?”

Toji was absolutely livid. He could feel the anger radiating off himself as he stepped into the bedroom, his eyes piercing into the woman on the bed. He had never seen her like this before. He didn’t have the time for her bullshit.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He questioned, anger laced in his voice, “You trying to get arrested at your sister's wedding?”

“I wouldn’t have gotten arrested,” she scoffed, “Don’t be dramatic. I been letting that bitch talk crazy to me all weekend. The bitch has literally been flirting with you, all up your fuckin’ ass, and you just—let her,” she spits.

“What part of I didn't reciprocate anything isn't getting through your thick ass skull?” He snapped at her, “I don’t give a fuck if she flirts with me. I wasn't interested. I only give a fuck about you.”

“Oh? So fucking her two years ago showed that you weren’t interested? You know what— let’s talk about it!” She exclaims, “Let’s just put it all out there. We were talking, it was becoming serious. Kim was my friend, a close friend at the time. Just when I was ready to bring my walls down, make things official, be with you, I find out you fucked Kim. And conveniently? It was right after I told you I wouldn’t have sex with you unless we were officially together. You couldn’t commit to me, but you could fuck her. Are we on the same page? Am I missing anything?”

Toji's eyes darkened. The air between them was thick with tension. He never wanted to talk about this part of their relationship again, but if she was going to bring it up—he had to deal with it.

“I could barely commit to you at the time,” he stated angrily, “You told me you wouldn't be intimate with me unless we were together. What the hell was I supposed to do?”

“Wait for me!” She shouted back, feeling her throat becoming tight.

“You were supposed to wait for me! You said that it wasn’t important, that you loved me! If you didn’t, you should’ve never fucking led me on! That's why I hated you. I hated you for it. You sit here now, talking about ‘what was I supposed to do’— you haven’t fucking changed!” She continues to keep her voice raised.

Her anger seeps through so quickly that she can’t help the vast punch she throws into his chest, fist shaking as she turns away from him to control herself. She wanted to be violent.

He reached out and grabbed her wrists, spinning her around to look at him. His eyes locked onto hers with a dangerous glare as he spoke, “I’ve changed. But you’re acting too fuckin’ stupid to see that. It’s like you’re looking for reasons to push me away. To end what we have.”

“Oh? You’ve changed. Typical. Say it a couple more times and maybe you’ll believe yourself. You haven’t fucking changed. You’re a bitch.”

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth, Nozomi.”

“Make me.”

He could set off a bomb with the fear-inducing look he gave her, practically enraged at this point.

“You made your bed. Be a fucking man and lay in that shit. You wanted pussy so bad you had to fuck a bitch that fucks everybody, my friend at the time. Now look at your bitch on a string, onto the next, fucking my brother when I wasn’t even worried about you. Now you wanna come back to me on some change bullshit. Fuck you.”

“I'm not that same man anymore,” he spat, “But I guess that doesn’t matter to you, huh? No matter how much I fuckin’ change. No matter how much I try. Your stubborn ass still thinks I’m the same man I was two years ago. You haven’t changed either.”

“And how the fuck haven’t I changed?”

“You’re still the woman who runs from every single emotion. Pushing everyone away from you. You can’t even stand to deal with your own fuckin’ feelings, so it’s easier for you to push everyone out of your life. You’re weak.”

The words hit her. Actually, hit her. It all mushes together. The loss of her mother, shutting everyone out when she needed support in her time of grief. Toji. Her father. All of it.

The tears finally come up, dropping down her face as there’s nothing but pure malice behind her voice as she lowly spits, “Fuck you.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Nozomi. I would never hurt you the way I did before.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I love you.”

Her heart stopped, hearing those words come from him. He was gruff in his tone, but meant exactly what he said. He wasn’t gonna let her push him away.

“No you don’t,” she says, her voice cracking as she says that, “No you don’t. Stop lying to me!”

He comes forward, gripping her tighter by her wrist and tugging her towards him, causing her to try to yank out of his hold as she panics, “Let go of me!”

“Say it again,” he challenged, his voice a low growl, “Say that I don't love you. Say that shit again. Say that you hate me.”

“I fucking hate you!” She exclaims, her voice trembling, slamming her fist into his chest as he takes hold of her other arm, “I hate you…I hate you…”

The tears won’t stop, and she can’t believe her own words. It gets to a point where her entire body trembles, and she throws her hands over her face, sobbing, “Let me go, Toji…”

Toji's heart tightens in his chest when he sees her crumble before him. This was the first time he’s ever really seen her break like this. He pulled her into his arms, wrapping them around her tightly as he held her against his chest, letting her cry into him.

“Cry, baby. I want you too. Need you too. I’m here to let you.”

She felt extremely overwhelmed, covering her face to mask her embarrassment, but that quickly fades. She reaches up, wrapping her arms around his neck, clutching her fingers in his hair as she cries.

He could feel her pain, her hurt, her anger. It practically radiated off of her. But there was one emotion that he could feel clearly. Fear. She was scared.

She didn’t want to be hurt again like the first time, she didn’t know if she could trust him with her heart again. But there was only one way she could find that out. Her crying eventually subsides, tears still along her face as she breathes into his neck, her hand still clutching within his hair.

She says softly, “I…I love you too…”

Toji felt his breathing stop for a moment as he listened to her words. The three words he’s been wanting to hear for so long.

“Again,” he mumbled against her skin, “Say that shit again.”

The sound of his voice. It’s different. She hadn’t heard him sound like this in a while, and when he did, it intimidated her. Sex didn’t necessarily scare her, it just scared her with him, for him to be her first.

“I love y—“

It’s interrupted, Toji lowering down as he locks his mouth with hers, clutching a grip along her throat as he filthily kisses her. It’s abnormal. He wanted to entice her, he needed her.

He didn’t hold anything back as he slipped his tongue inside of her mouth, his fingers fully wrapping around her neck as a way to keep her still. He was enthralled, and he was going to show her just how badly he was.

When he pulled his mouth back, her skin felt on fire. Her eyes blinked residuals of tears, teeth digging into her lip as he kept yanking her forward for another kiss, his mouth on her throat, her chest, her jaw, tongue dragging up her skin, aching for her.

Her breath hitched as he picked her up, carrying her onto the bed. Her mind is spinning as he hovers over her frame, grasping her by the back of her neck and holding her up, kissing her so fiercely that it made her entire body tremble.

Toji’s mind was reeling. The feeling of her against him, her scent filling his nostrils, the way her skin felt against his lips. He felt like he was in a dream—a hazy, lustful dream.

He pulled back from her mouth, leaving a trail of kisses down her jaw before moving to her neck. His lips left marks along her skin, wanting her to feel them the next morning when she woke up.

She finally lets her mouth drop words out as she nervously exhales, “Fushiguro, wait…”

When her words came out with a breathlessness to them, Toji felt his mind go crazy. He pulled back, his hot breath fanning against her skin as he locked his eyes on hers.

“What?” He questioned in a low tone, his gaze flicking down to her lips as he waited for her to speak.

“You know I haven’t…” she feels embarrassed, “I just…I don’t want to look stupid.”

Toji’s expression softened as he heard her words. He knew her concern, he understood it. But in his eyes, she was anything but stupid. She was perfect.

“You won’t,” he assured her, his hand moving up to grip her chin, “You don’t look stupid. Let me take care of you.”

She blinks. Her hand slowly reaches back for his hair, nodding her head as she asks him quietly, “Can you…kiss my neck again? It…It felt nice.”

A low grunt of approval rolled from his lips as he heard her request. He leaned in, hovering just above her skin, teasing her, watching her reaction as he finally planted his lips along her neck, right under her ear. The feeling makes her breath hitch, her head kneeling back slightly to rush off the burn she gets from his mouth.

He left a trail of kisses down to her collarbone, his tongue slowly dragging along one part of her skin in the most torturous way. She shifts beneath him, her chest rising, trying to appear normal—but her skin is buzzing.

He nips at the skin just below her collarbone, and that’s when he hears a sound that sets him absolutely off.

A gasp. It escapes from her lips as she tries to bite it back. The sound makes his ears go crazy, and he’s instantly driven by one thing now. More.

The dress she wears instantly feels tighter. She’d been around Toji many times, but never fully naked. She kneels her head up, mouth close to his as she murmurs, “Need to um…take my dress off…”

“I know.”

Her throat goes dry as he flips her body over beneath him, effortless as if she weighed nothing. He begins unzipping the dress, sliding his hand inside the material, his mouth now along the back of her neck. He uses his free hand to grip her hair, fisting it into a ponytail beneath his palms as the dress hits the ground with a thud. Her entire body was now bare to him from behind, only being covered by the ballerina pink thong she wore.

Her skin was like fine porcelain, smooth and delicate. He could see some ink that stretched along her skin, and he instantly was curious to see all of it later. For now, he would leave those questions for another time. His mouth trailed up along her neck before he whispered into her ear.

“I wanna hear my name from your mouth.” He demanded lowly. “Need to hear it.”

He still holds her hair within his fist, his mouth along her skin again, now along her spine, causing her eyes to flutter closed, unable to respond just yet, only arching her back to show she enjoyed the feeling. Chills rushed down her body as he locked his fingers around her ankle, twisting her towards being on her back again. His mouth was now crawling on the back of her thigh.

She shivered, a reaction coming from her as she gasped softly, “T—Toji, w—wait—“

Yet he didn’t stop, grunting as he continued making out with her leg, dragging his lips across her skin, running his tongue up to reach the back of her foot, repetitively making her lower body throb in a way she hadn’t felt before, like she needed something from him.

Toji was drunk with the feeling of her beneath him. His lips were famished on her skin, marking her up in places that he knew no one would see. When she was now on her back, Nozomi couldn’t help but press her arm over her breasts, her other hand pressing in between her legs to cover herself. She wasn’t insecure in her body, but this was the first time he’d officially seen her naked. She felt…shy.

“Nah, don’t cover yourself from me,” he grunts, “I wanna see my woman.”

Toji felt her shiver underneath him. He had to taste more of her, to see what else he could make her react to.

His mouth trailed up her leg, lingering near her core. His expression made her entire lower body warm. He leaned forward, darting his tongue out to tease her clit through the fabric of her panties. A low growl came from him in response as he felt her tense underneath him. He lifted his head, looking up at her with a smirk as he tugged her panties to the side, revealing her wet opening to him.

"You're so fuckin’ wet already,” he groaned.

Her legs nearly locked together when he gave her clit the softest kiss, admiring the pink nub. Her pussy was pretty. Just for him. Leaning back down to lick at her folds, his tongue swirled around her clit before he sucked it into his mouth.

Nozomi’s body shuddered, the feeling almost ticklish, like she wanted to push him away. He instantly locked his hands along the back of her thighs, pressing her knees against the bed as he grunted, nudging his mouth farther into her clit, a slurping sound creating at the way his lips moved. Her hand went to grip his hair if she couldn’t escape, a soft gasp leaving her lips as she whimpered, “Toji…”

The moment she called out his name, Toji felt something stir within him. It wasn't just lust anymore, it was desire. A need to claim her, to mark her as his own.

He continued eating at her, his tongue delving deeper into her folds as he tasted every inch. His hands tightened around her thighs as he held her open for himself, letting her feel his hot breath fan across her sensitive flesh.

"Fuck...you taste even better than I imagined," he murmured, his voice muffled as he dragged his entire mouth along her core, Nozomi jumping as he harshly spanked the side of her thigh in approval.

Her legs lightly clasped around his face, twisting his head a bit as it felt overwhelming, gripping his hair harder as her body trembled. She whimpered again, pleading to him, “Baby…”

But that didn’t do anything to stop him, if anything it made him continue. Her breath hitched as one of his hands came up, gripping her breast within his palm as the other kept her legs spread.

Toji felt her squirm beneath him, her pleas only spurring him on further. He loved the way she sounded, begging for him to stop yet unable to pull herself away.

“I’m sorry, baby. Can’t help myself,” he groans to her.

She's trapped beneath his relentlessment as he sticks his tongue out, pushing it inside of her walls, warm and gummy as they fold around his mouth. His eyes nearly rolled as he groaned again, feeling Nozomi’s thighs trembling as she softly cried— He could taste her arousal, thick and potent. It was intoxicating, making him drunk with desire.

“Pussy is so fuckin’ pretty,” he grunts, holding her thighs apart as he circles his head, deepening his tongue inside her, the sight to Nozomi’s eyes completely filthy.

She throws her hands over her face as she softly cries, “Fushiguro….stop…” her face was entirely red.

The more she begged, the more Toji wanted to hear it. He liked hearing her pleads. He had the intention to make it worse.

"Shut the fuck up,” he grunted out, “‘Gonna put your whole pussy on my face,” his tongue delving deeper into her. He could feel her walls clenching around him, her juices coating his face as he ate her out.

His hands gripped tighter onto her thighs, holding her open for himself as he continued to feast on her. He could feel her trembling beneath him, her pleas only serving to fuel his desire.

"Oh fuck...you're so tight," he groaned, his tongue curling as he pushed it further inside of her, “Not gonna be able to handle all this dick. Gonna fuckin’ cry,” he won’t stop talking, she wants to punch him at this point.

Toji couldn't get enough of her—the taste of her. He lapped at her hungrily, his tongue plunging into her depths as his hands held her legs up. He could feel her tightening around him, her juices flowing freely as he devoured her.

"Oh my god, baby, gonna make you cum..." he growled against her pussy, his voice muffled by her folds. "Then I’m gonna fuck you up until you can't walk straight. Can’t think straight.”

His words in her mind— it makes her legs shake even harder, trapping his head within her thighs again. He snatches them open, the sight of his eyes closed, tongue dipping in and out of her, she felt like she was going to faint. He gets a good leverage of her hips, dragging his tongue back up her clit, sucking it between his lips as the sound echoes in the room, sliding back down as he yanks her pussy against his jaw, practically bouncing her against his mouth. Her abdomen shakes as waves of pleasure come crashing down, something like his tongue making her feel a stretch in her walls, how was she gonna survive?

It didn’t help that Toji was beneath her, moaning as if this pleased him entirely, head swiveling around, bottom of his face completely soaked. Toji was lost in the taste of her, the feel of her body writhing beneath him. Her cries filled his ears, her juices coated his tongue, and the way her body shook beneath him drove him wild.

He sucked harder on her clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub as he worked it into his mouth. His hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her in place as he rolled his lips, sucking all at the same time, practically drinking between her legs.

The moment her legs opened a bit wider for him, Nozomi reached up for her ankle that quivered, her hips matching the jitter as she looked down to him, panting, “Agh…Fushiguro…I—baby…”

“About to cum, pretty baby?”

“I—I don’t know…” her throat grasps for the oxygen in the room, “F—Feel like I have to pee…”

That makes him grunt, clutching his palms back around her ankles, hovering his mouth above her hips as he makes contact directly with her clit, sloppily slurping at the sticky and wet flesh, dropping his lower lip against her entire core as he slows his mouth down, head motioning in a circle so effectively that he should’ve been dizzy. The sight, the sound, all of it makes Nozomi’s eyes flutter. She tightly snatches his hair as her abdomen tenses up, a sense of defeat as she gushes along his face, Toji reaching up as he sticks his fingers within her mouth, pulling her up by her teeth to make her watch.

“Cum just like that. Good fuckin’ girl,” his voice is still muffled, entrapping her pussy with his mouth, lapping up her arousal mercilessly, worshipping her body for the pleasure she releases. She jumps as he raises his hand, spanking the side of her ass, gripping the flesh to watch it faint a color of red.

Her eyes are low, body tired—but they’d only just begun.

He comes up as he snatches the side of her face, plunging his lips against her own as he messily makes out with her. Nozomi attempts to keep up with him, but her body feels paralyzed, wondering if this was her time to plead the fifth. This man was trying to kill her.

“Eyes,” he tells her, gripping her chin to look at him, “You’ okay? Need me to stop?”

Despite her own mind in fear of what was to come next, her body was on vibrate, and a bigger part of her wanted more. Needed more. She shook her head, pulling her eyes open as a response.

She gasps softly as spanks her ass, “Nah. Fuck all that no talking shit, tell me everything you feel. Tell me you want me to keep going.”

The thought of being vocal made her nervous, embarrassed even. She said softly, “Keep going…”

He smacks his lips with a grunt of, “You can do better than that,” pulling her into another kiss before he backs up, standing at the edge of the bed to begin removing his own clothes. Nozomi only watches, her face warm and flustered, thinking back to running out of the room each time this man even took his shirt off.

Now here he was, dark eyes intently on her as he aggressively tugged off his tie, never as gentle with himself as he could be with her. Her eyes drop down as he begins removing his pants, trying to hide the way her eyes want to fall out when he pulls down his boxers—he definitely was…gifted, if she could find the word.

“Don’t look at me like that if you don’t wanna come play with it.”

She keeps her eyes to herself.

He almost chuckles, feeling her gaze pull away as he stands before her, now completely naked. His entire frame was beautifully sculpted, abdomen hard, nearly sharp within her sight. He comes back onto the bed, his large arms caging her in by the sides of her head.

“Like what you see, huh?”

His lips are close to hers again, lightly brushing along the baby pink of her mouth. Her face is warm again, looking everywhere but between his legs. She says softly, “Don’t do that,” too nervous for his teasing. It’s the little things he does, brushing his mouth against hers instead of actually kissing her that drives her crazy. Her mouth is parted as she wants him to make out with her, but instead he presses light kisses along her jaw, watching as it makes her chest heave up and down, wrapping her arm around his neck, reaching for his hair from behind.

He chuckles, enjoying just how much he can get her worked up. Her need for his mouth on hers was obvious, it only made him want to tease her even more.

“You want my mouth?”

His fucking voice—the way he slowly begins locking her legs over his shoulders, it makes her clutch tighter for his hair. A small whine comes from her mouth, breathing into his throat as she begs beneath her breath, “Want your mouth, so bad…”

She’s so vulnerable like this, so vulnerable beneath him.

“I know you do.” He mutters against her skin, his mouth now trailing up to her ear, “You’re so fuckin’ pretty like this, you know that? Begging for me, whining to have my mouth on you.”

Her legs being separated by his shoulders make her ache even more, unable to squeeze them together anymore. He still doesn’t give her what he wants. He needed the perfect moment. Her heart beats within her chest, hoping this isn’t as painful as she imagined it to be.

Toji’s face hovers over hers, face stoic as he watches her expression. He locks his palms around her ankles while trapping her along the bed. The moment feels like an eternity. He takes his tip within his hand, rubbing it against her clit, watching as she shudders from that. He then slaps it along her opening, listening to her pussy squelch, needing to be filled. The silence was deafening at this point.

Slowly, dreadfully, achingly, he begins to push inside of her. Nozomi’s eyes twitch, her mouth parts open a little after, and she starts to feel a deep pinch in her lower body, a sweet pain that she’d never experienced before. Toji keeps his eyes up, gently placing his forehead on top of hers as he moves a bit, the hold she had along his hair clutches even tighter, and finally, a whimper comes from her lips.

The sound of her whimper causes him to pause, closing his eyes momentarily to control himself. He was already engulfed in her pleasure, but it was the fact that he knew he was her first that was making him absolutely feral.

Toji felt his breath get caught in his throat the moment he heard that sound come from her. It was a mixture of pain and pleasure, and it sounded so damn good to his ears.

Her legs instantly began trembling. Her arms around his neck tighten as she leans her head back, pulling him forward to press his lips along her neck. The mixture of the two feelings made her legs tremble even more, a shuddering whine coming from her mouth.

She gasped, deeply, her eyes closing as she could feel tears brimming in them, a pleasure she had never experienced before filling her body.

The sight of her so sensitive causes his mind to snap. Her body is like a piece of glass; he has to hold her with care, otherwise she’d break. He had to be gentle with her, and he had never been this gentle with anyone.

She’s gasping along his ear, Toji unable to help himself to talk to her as he grunts, “Shit feels good, doesn’t it? This is my pussy, huh?”

His voice in her ear sends her into panting softly, keeping her grip on his hair. His grip along her ankles doesn’t falter, spreading her legs a little wider, Nozomi pulling his face deeper into her neck as she trembles, “Oh my…ohmygod.”

Her trembling beneath him only makes his heart race that much faster. She’s so reactive, every subtle movement he makes as he’s between her legs brings a new response. He lets her claw into his hair, needing her to mark him in some way as her hands stay there.

Toji’s mind is hazy as he pushes deeper into her, a low groan leaving his mouth near her ear. “You’re doing so good, baby.”

Her inhales are short, but her exhales are long. She pulls his face up to meet hers, lightly pulling their lips together, trying to kiss him, unable to as her head spins, eyes rolling to the back of her head. She whines softly, “B—baby…I…”

He can’t help the grin that comes to his face as she tries desperately to kiss him, but her body is too sensitive to it. She trembles, her hair sticking to her skin, a glow of sweat along her body.

It’s pleasure, and only Toji can give it to her. He’ll give her all of it.

“What, baby?” He muttered against her skin, peppering kisses along her neck as he continued his slow movements. “You’ gonna say my name again?”

He’s barely moving, but the moment he does, she cries softly, dragging her nails into his back, “Toji,” she whimpers his name in the most desperate way, as if wasn’t allowed to.

Each time she says his name, he can’t help but feel heat fill his body. Each cry, each whimper, each breath from her skin as she says his name, it makes him hungry for more.

His grip on her ankles tightens, using them in order to drive himself deeper. When she cries his name, Toji can’t help but groan against her skin, kissing where he can as he whispers, “Say my fuckin’ name just like that.”

His left hand reaches up for the headboard, finding a grip along the wood as his other hand still holds her ankle. Nozomi keeps her nails dug into his back, face within his shoulder as she brokenly moans, feeling that she’d be embarrassed about the sounds she made later.

She gasps softly, “I…I feel…different…”

It’s obvious that she’s still new to the feeling. Her whimpers are filled with a hint of pain, but Toji was determined to make this as good for her as possible.

He wants no thought to be in her mind but him.

“How do you feel?” He asked her between breaths, his chest pressing against hers, his head buried in her neck as he began to pick up rhythm, their flesh creating a clapping sound. He slowly moved her leg, moving it to a spot that would make her feel even more.

Her leg trembles at the movement of her leg, mouth right against his as a genuine, “Ughn—shit,” scatters desperately from her lips, eyes fluttering shut, losing the side of her brain to answer the question.

The sound of her swearing has a dark chuckle fan against her mouth from him. Toji wants to ruin her, and he intends to do just that. He wants to make her so sensitive that she’d be unable to handle just one more touch.

His lips brush hers as whispers to her, his movements deliberate and calculated. “You feel good, baby?” He muttered against her skin, “You’ hear me fucking you? Hear your pussy, baby? She sounds so pretty, doesn’t she? Sucking me in like she can’t let go. Listen.”

The clapping sound of their skin, the way his hips bury into her, sloshing each time he pushes inside. She inhales deeply, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she breathlessly whimpers, “Yeaah,” she drags the word out a bit to her disadvantage, clutching his hair again, sucking her breathing back to silence as she hears herself losing her sense to talk.

Her voice makes Toji groan. She sounds absolutely wrecked.

“It’s too much, huh?” He cooes, the bastard, his hand moving from her ankle to her thigh, “Who’s making you feel like this?”

“You, baby,” she says, eyes rolling back ever so slightly, “You, baby. Fuck, it’s you, baby,” she repeats, as if she didn’t hear herself the first two times.

“That’s fuckin’ right,” He muttered against her skin, his hand rubbing up and down her thigh as he continued his movements, making her feel every each inch of him, “Nobody else is gonna fuck you the way I do.”

She’s the one who’s begging for him. She’s whining for him, and only him. She’s saying his name and only his name.

“You feel so good, baby.” He whispers to her, “Pussy made just for me. Wanna eat her again, miss that shit gushing all on my mouth.”

She’s gripping onto him for dear life. Her reactive moans is the only thing he can hear as he continued, “You’re so sensitive. If I eat you out, I know you’re gonna cream, might even squirt. Fuck, baby…”

“Oooohshit,” her mouth parts, Toji grasping a rough kiss at the opportunity of her mouth opening, “Fuckin’ feel you, baby,” she clutches his hair tighter, “D��Don’t mean to pull your hair like that…m’sorry…”

“Pull harder.” He orders her, his voice low as his lips now give company to her ear.

She tugs a little more in response—soft, making sure she doesn’t hurt him—which causes Toji to chuckle, the deep sound fanning against her lips.

She nearly pouted, “Don’t laugh at me…”

He kisses her shoulder gently before grunts, “You’re so fuckin’ cute like this. Fuckin’ needy ass. So tough, so mouthy—all you needed was some dick.”

“You’re making fun of me…” she whimpers, turning her face down to his shoulder, becoming a bit

more vocal as her body relaxes.

“I am,” he admitted against her skin, “But you’re taking my shit so good, baby. You’re being such a good girl, it’s so fuckin’ sexy.”

It seems that his voice is what triggers her, because when she takes in his tone, a particularly deep gasp comes from her chest, her head kneeling back, hips squirming in response. Her pussy tightens.

Toji grumbles against her neck, “You like my voice, baby?”

She nods her head, “I—agh—like it, baby,” she agrees softly, “Like when you talk to me…” she tries to find her words, feeling her face warm as she also adds, “Like when you’re a little rough with me…”

He chuckles against her skin, her confession only furthering his drive, “Rough, huh?” He muttered against her skin, “I’m trying to be gentle, baby. Don’t do that.”

“I’m okay,” her voice is soft, but it’s a protest, “Feels good, baby. I…” she drags her nails down his back, “Want more of you.”

The sound of her voice is so soft and needy, so desperate for more of him, Toji can’t keep himself from groaning against her skin, her nails digging into his skin just making him all the more greedy.

“You want more of me?” He muttered against her neck, his lips brushing along her pulse, “You can barely take the dick I’m giving you now, whimpering and shit. You don’t need more.”

She pulls him down by his hair, tugging it the way he asked before, her tongue dragging along his skin as she whimpers, “Please, Toji…”

The tug on his hair makes his breath get caught in this throat, and the way her tongue drags along his skin is only adding more gasoline to the fire that’s already burning inside of him.

“Please what, baby?” He asked her against her skin, her whimpering driving him further over the edge, “You gotta tell me what you want, baby. Use your words.”

She thinks for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what she wanted. She then tells him, “‘Wanna get on top.”

The statement takes him by surprise, his movements pausing as he lifts his head to look at her. Being on top would give her a position of control. But one look at her face, her expression, he finds that he’s unable to say no even if he wanted to.

“You wanna ride me, baby?” He grunts to her, Nozomi nodding in response as she persuades, “‘Wanna show you I can handle you…” a desperation to her tone, “Want you to feel good too.”

“I feel good as fuck, baby. Don’t worry about that. Come here.”

He leans himself back along the bed, pulling her above him as he states, “Prove that shit, then.”

Now she was actually nervous. Her legs feel numb, and there’s a very faint cramp in her lower abdomen, but the pleasure she felt—a rush of it came over her body seeing him now laid on his back, dark eyes watching her every move. She wanted more.

She slowly crawls towards him, curiously eyeing the monster that stood at her attention, it jumping when she looks fully at his dick. It was veiny, probably heavy in her hands. She can’t help it. She leans forward as she wraps her lips around his tip, dipping her head down as she drags spit along his entire length, pulling her mouth back with a pop.

As she runs her tongue over her lips, she feels him clutch her jaw, grunting at the sight of her sucking his dick as he growls, “You’re not ready for that. Come bounce on my dick.”

She listens— although something in her prefers to be defiant—coming onto his lap, reaching behind herself as she runs her palm along his tip, guiding it towards her opening as she spreads herself with her other hand.

She sinks herself down, the newfound feeling causing her eyes to drop lower, a soft gasp leaving her lips. It was an aching pinch in her body all over again. She adjusts her hips as she moans, feeling Toji’s hands grip the skin of her ass, balancing her weight.

He groaned at her walls tightening around him, opening his palm as he slammed it against her ass with a gruff, “That’s it, baby…”

She leans herself into him, placing her hands along his chest as she looks behind herself, slowly raising her hips, gently dropping her ass back down. Her entire abdomen felt on fire, her eyes fluttering closed as her legs throbbed, pulling her hair behind her ear as she shuddered, “Like that?”

He groaned the second she began to move, and he was barely able to hold himself back from lifting her hips himself, making her move. He’s letting her set the pace, making sure to give her as much time as she needs to adjust herself.

His hands found her hips again, guiding her gently as he let out a husky, “Just like that, baby…” His voice is a harsh whisper, his eyes unable to leave her. “So fuckin’ sexy…”

The way his voice sounds is different from before, a vulnerability that he didn’t have when she was beneath him. She moved her hips up and down a couple of more times, the final connection sending a wave of pleasure over her body, her breath hitching before a soft moan released. This is where she began to find her rhythm, moving a little faster, her fingers sinking into his chest, digging into the skin as she dug her teeth into her lip, eyebrows furrowing as she attempted to hold back the whimpers that wanted to drop from her lips.

As she found her rhythm, Toji allowed himself to let out a low groan, his eyes closing as he savored the feeling of her body against his. The dig of her nails into his skin only drove him farther over the edge, his hands on her hips only holding her, fighting the demon that wanted to take control. He could feel her slowly gaining more confidence—he was loving it.

“Riding my shit like a fuckin’ pro, baby…”

She wasn’t sure why was so shy at this moment, and in order for her to feel good, she needed to relax. She swirls her hips around, running her fingers over her body in a way that makes her hips tremble, immediately placing her hands back along his chest as she moaned, “Need you to touch me…” as she takes one of his hands, placing it along her throat, face warm as she does so.

He clutches his palm around her throat immediately, still holding onto her hip, spanking her again, “Like that? That’s what you want?”

She nods, “Mhm,” sucking in a breath as she feels him using her throat as leverage to hold onto her, her breathing going back to quick inhales, and slow, heavy exhales, “Yeah, baby…love when you touch me like that.”

He’s becoming impatient—he can’t help himself. He gives her a new way to move, pulling her feet flat along the bed, raising his hands higher under her thighs to have a good leverage on her, before he’s lifting her up, dropping her down, bouncing her on top of him, the harsh movement causing their skin to make a loud noise, the impact making Nozomi fully gasp. It causes her to place her hand behind herself along his leg, the other still in front of his chest.

She understands what he wants, doing just that, moving her entire body as her ass recoils to the slam of his abdomen, something she entirely was too sensitive for, but powered through in order to feel the pleasure that came with it. Her head was down, whining as her lower body shook, dragging up and plopping back down, a heavy groan dropping from her lips as her hair fell around her face and shoulder.

She squeezed the skin she held onto as she messily moaned, “Oh my goddd—baby. baby, yeah—“ she squeaks, connecting their hips in between, “I can’t….” She pants, “Feels so…aghh.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He was supposed to be letting her have her time on top, but he can’t hold back any longer. He growls against her skin, his voice almost a command, “Lean forward. Let me fuck you.”

She leans into him, feeling as he wraps his arms around her lower back, his own hips thrusting upwards, the sound within the room like no other. Nozomi places her hand against his bicep, digging into the skin as she bleats, “Ooooh, shit, Toji—“ she gasps to herself, locking her hand over her mouth, shuddering wildly as she then wraps her arms around his neck as she cries, “Mmmm, wait, baby,” she whimpers out, unable to hold her voice back.

He buries his head into her neck, kissing, licking, biting, leaving a mark as he continues.

“Nuh-uh, thought you could handle it? Thought you were a big girl?” He grunts in her ear, “Take my fuckin’ dick, big girl.”

He takes advantage of his movement, fully locking his arms under her legs, pulling her knees over his shoulders as she’s still on top of him. Her arms are still wrapped around his neck as he sits himself up a bit, holding her fully as he guides her roughly. His palms are hot as he holds the flesh of her ass, lifting her within the air as he yanks harshly, pussy sopping arousal as he slams her down onto his dick, his balls drenched in her cream. Nozomi gasps against his mouth, blabbering cries faltering against his lips. She can only listen to the sounds their bodies create together, mewling in defeat.

She pouts along his mouth as she whimpers, “Fuckin’ love you, babyy.”

He captures her lips with his own, his teeth gently tugging on her bottom lip as he grunts against her mouth, “Stop all that whining shit. Thought you hated me.”

She presses her forehead to his, “Don’t bring that up…” seeing how messy she was against him, her hand back in a deep grip on his hair. She goes silent for a moment, holding him close as she listens to their skin stickily connecting. But that didn’t mean he was done talking to her.

He moves himself slightly, shifting their position just enough for him to get a good angle to give a particularly aggressive thrust, enough to force a cry from her lips, “I know you fuckin’ hear me talking to you.”

Her heavy panting goes into a particularly long and raspy moan, her breath sucking in as she tries to fight it, back to pressing her forehead against his as she whimpers back, “Don’t hate you. Can’t hate you, when you’re fucking me like this…” she groans, eyes wanting to roll back again, “Sorry, baby…was so mean to you…”

He relishes in her groans, her whines, the way she’s unable to speak normally, the way she’s falling apart completely because of him. “You should be sorry. Now look at you.”

He doesn’t halt at all, her small frame being carried effortlessly, lifting her up and down on his dick, his tip damn near reaching her throat. Her breathless pants are embarrassing to hear, but the squeal she makes when he swirls her hips down with a hard drop onto his hips, that's even worse.

Her arms tremble as she tightens them around his neck, another aggressive moan pushing out her body, pleasurable tears triggering from that one. She gasps, “Oh my—“ she holds herself back, looking him in his eyes as she whines messily, “Forgive me, baby. So fuckin’ sorrry. Imsosorry,” cheeks hot as she listens to his arrogant laugh.

“Sorry, huh? You don’t mean it.”

“Mean it, baby. Fuck.”

“It’s cause I’m fuckin’ you stupid,” he grunts, tugging her down, her walls gushing through his thrusts, spurting out suctions of air.

She drags her tongue up his jaw, reaching his mouth as she pleads, “Said sorry already, baby. Know you wanna forgive me…”

He groans at that, keeping his composure as he talks to her, “Say you won’t be mean to me again,” he demanded against her lips, his grip on her hips tightening.

“Always gonna be nice to you, baby,” she whimpers, “Wanna be sweet to you…” she sucks on his lower lip, giggling in a way that makes her feel insane, so full of pleasure, she couldn’t even think.

“Yeah?” He asked breathlessly, his hands grasping a harsh and unforgiving grip on her hips, “You promise?”

“Promiseeee,” she moans back, “Fushigurooo,” she panics, gripping onto him, “I….my body…I feel numb.”

She didn’t understand the feeling. She had experienced a certain amount of pleasure, but this was different. While all of this had been symphonies of pleasure, this was an entire orchestra. She was having her first orgasm.

“Just let it happen, baby.” He muttered against her neck, his lips against her skin, “It’s a good thing, I promise.”

Her entire body jolts, shivering in a defeated pleasure, a short scream releasing from her mouth as she holds onto him, her legs trembling as if she’d been electrocuted. Her knees shake over his shoulders as her eyes drop down to see her squirt against him, nails digging into his chest as she cried out, “Tojiii.”

He presses his forehead to hers, his own body feeling like it’s on fire as she moans, “Ooh, fuck baby. You’re squirting. Keep cumming. Keep cumming. Keep. Fuckin’

Cumming,” he talks in between thrusts, sending her in a state of psychosis.

The tears that drop from her eyes make her sob in pleasure, knowing his skin was welted with the way she clawed him, her face pressing into his neck as a warmth filled her cheeks. His brain is muffled as she whines, “Cum in me, cum in me. Cum in me.”

He tries to knock sense into himself, but with her in his ear, he grips her skin as he bottoms out, moaning as he cums to her voice. She made him insane.

Both of them feel exhausted, but not as much as Nozomi. When she finally felt that her mouth wouldn’t release anymore shouts, her body still trembled as she whimpered, bringing her face deeper into his neck.

“Fuck, baby. You’ okay?”

She brings a hand over her face as she nods, unable to do anything else. All her vulnerability returns, realizing she was bare against him, realizing what’d she just done. What they’d just done.

Her sudden shyness makes him careful. She’s vulnerable like this, and he wants to take the time to handle her, to treat her. He gently guides her body against his, rolling them so she’s against the mattress and he’s laid against her. He gently pries her hand away from her face, his fingers gently tracing over her cheeks.

“Hey, pretty,” his deep voice greets her.

Her face turns away, hiding within his shoulder for a moment. Silence goes between them as she softly says, “Hi.”

He lets out a soft laugh at her shy greeting, his hand gently rubbing the side of her body, his fingers gently tracing over her back.

“You’ okay, baby?” He asked her stain, placing a gentle kiss against her temple, “You with me?”

“Mhm,” she replies gently, “I’m here.”

She whimpers as she feels him spank her attention to him, flicking her eyes as she says, “I’m just thinking.”

He can see the way she twitches from the smack, his voice dropping into a deep chuckle, “Thinking?” His tone is a tease, a playful taunt as he speaks, “I fucked you that good, huh?”

“Fushiguro,” she warns, “Jesus. Fuck off. Is this your way of pillow talk?”

“You’ got an attitude?” he raises an eyebrow.

He hikes her up as he growls into her neck, snatching her skin in a kiss that makes her giggle. She then says quietly, “I just…am curious to know what this means for us. Going forward…”

She traces her finger over his chest, “If this just happened in the moment, or that you really wanted to be with me…”

The questions almost pissed him off. He’s never wanted anyone as much as he wants her.

He suddenly captures her chin in his hand, bringing her face up to meet him as he spoke in a deep and serious tone, “I want you. I want all of you.”

The words are genuine, and her heart swells. She leans closer to his face as she grins, “Say it again.”

She giggles as he raises her leg over his shoulder, spanking her again as he grunts, “I love you, Nozomi.”

His words make her body warm, feeling as he gruffly kisses her neck, trying to prove his point. The way she smiles, the way the grin looks on her face…he’s completely smitten.

“Say it back,” he grunts against her skin, his words like a breathless demand, “Say you love me.”

“I love me,” she says softly, giggling louder as he hovers over her now, growling against her skin as he spanks her a couple more times.

He chuckles against her skin at her sarcastic words, his hand gently digging into the flesh of her thigh as he pressed another possessive bite into the skin on her neck, just hard enough to make her squeal.

“I swear. Say you love me, baby,” he teased her, nipping against her skin, “Please.”

She finally becomes serious, holding up his chin to look directly at her as she says, “I love you, Toji.”

A low groan drops from his lips as he captures her in a deep, hungry kiss, his mouth attacking her own as his hands tug at her body to pull her closer to him, “Again.”

“I love you,” she muffled, giggling against his mouth, “I love you.”

His body is craving her even more after hearing her words, her voice a drug that’s suddenly driving him crazy, suddenly making him desperate and needy. His tongue forces its way into her mouth, desperate to fuck her. Eat her out. Something.

She then pulls him back, “We need to get back to the reception before my sister kills me,” she giggles throughout his kisses, “Seriously, Fushiguro.”

He pauses, pulling back from her neck as he groans into her skin, pulling back to grumble against her skin, “Fine.”

“One more kiss,” he bargained with her, “Just one, before we go.”

“One,” she agrees, accepting the kiss from him. He then leans down, “Or two,” kissing her again, “Or three.”

He can’t help but want to make her giggle. It had been so long since he heard it, he’d never make her stop. She sighs as she says, “Help me with this dress, please?”

“We’re really leaving? For real?”

“Did you think I was joking?”

“A little.”

“Boy. Let's go.”

“Didn’t you say you were gonna be nice to me earlier? You were like ‘aghhh, baby! imma’ be nice!’—“

“Fushiguro!”

“…My bad.”

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