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gabgabwrites · 3 months

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LOVE ON THE LINE | Art Donaldson [part 2]

summary ⇝ your and Art’s relationship progresses in college where you two find yourself in love with one another, with many promises on the line and a ring on your finger, what is there to lose? One word: everything.

warnings ⇝ swearing, kissing, cheating/affair, children, smut! p in v, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, gagging, blindfold, oral (F), cum eating, marking, clothed sex, allusion to car sex, mentions of Patrick x reader.

read part 1 here

note: this is messy relationship

You and Art Donaldson were finally official. The transition from friends to something more had been surprisingly smooth, marked by a moment of sweet vulnerability on your third date at the cinema.

It was there, amidst the flickering lights and the hushed whispers of other moviegoers, that Art shyly asked you to be his girlfriend. You had smiled warmly, feeling your own heart skip a beat as you agreed, watching the relief and joy wash over Art's face, turning him into a lovesick puppy right before your eyes.

Art couldn't seem to take his eyes off you after that. His blue eyes, speckled with hints of brown, became a constant presence, following your every move. Whether it was during lunch breaks on campus at Stanford or late-night study sessions in the library, his gaze was always on you. It was both thrilling and comforting to be the center of his attention, knowing that you had become someone incredibly special to him.

During those lunch breaks, Art would sit so close to you that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, sending gentle tingles across your skin. His presence was reassuring, anchoring you in a world that sometimes felt chaotic and uncertain. You cherished those quiet moments together, sharing sandwiches and conversations that ranged from silly jokes to deep dreams about the future.

Art wasn't just attentive; he was also surprisingly thoughtful. He remembered the little details about you—your favorite coffee order, the way you liked to organize your notes, and even your secret fondness for cheesy romantic comedies. He would surprise you with small gestures, like leaving a handwritten note in your textbook or bringing you a hot drink on chilly mornings before class. Each gesture made your heart swell with affection for him, knowing that he was investing time and effort into nurturing your relationship.

He'd sneak out from his dorm to go to yours, where you'd often find yourself with your lips locked together. Spit dribbling down your chin while you both pathetically ground your hips together in a feeble attempt to relinquish pleasure. Dark purple marks would litter his skin by the time you were done, and your thighs would stick together from your recent endeavours.

Of course there was Tashi, who had broken up with Patrick after finding out that he was unfaithful to her, the last they spoke was when she injured her knee. You remember being there, in the nurse's ward, fingers intertwined with Tashi's to comfort her after her knee had seriously sprained. Her quiet sniffles filled the room before Patrick Zweig had come barrelling in, pleading for Tashi's attention only to be shown the cold shoulder.

Tashi had changed, not only physically, her hair a little shorter and her face was more mature, but she lost her spark after the injury, one that guaranteed her to never touch a single racket no matter how hard she tried—in her eyes, her future was over.

She had always talked about tennis, but now she hyper fixated on it, she's constantly talk about your form and how you could approve, you always listened and took her advice, but that was it. You'd try to talk about other stuff, like how you were excited to meet Art's parents, or how you hated your physics professor, but alas, the main focus was tennis.

You had a game that afternoon, and of course, both Art and Tashi were there. Before, Art had snuck into the locker room, after making sure it was just you in there, before his arms were around you and his nose nudged yours. "Good luck," He told you, big smile etched on his face.

"I won't need it if you're here," You said back, grabbing the collar of his polo shirt and bringing his lips down onto yours. The kiss had to break when another girl walked in and shrieked, leaving Art flushed from embarrassment while you had to hide your smile.

The match itself was a blur of adrenaline and determination. As you stepped onto the court, you felt the weight of Art and Tashi's encouragement spurring you on. Their presence in the stands, cheering and clapping, fueled your determination to perform your best. You could see Art's animated gestures of support, his eyes never leaving you as you played.

Despite a few tense moments and fierce competition from your opponent, you emerged victorious. The rush of adrenaline was matched only by the pride in Art's eyes as he pulled you into a tight hug after the match. Tashi's smile, though more subdued, conveyed a deep sense of satisfaction and pride in your achievement.

Then one day, everything changed. It was probably one of the moments in your life where you felt the most hurt. There was a dramatic shift between you and Art in your relationship, he became distant and you became quiet. You had both agreed to end things, you remember the night you did, you sat in your room, sobbing. Tashi was put in a different dorm, so you had to drag yourself off your bed, cheeks wet with tears, and walk a few passages until you faced her dorm's door.

You knocked against it once, then twice, but no answer. You looked down to where light shone from the crack underneath the door, you could even see shadows dancing so there had to be someone in there. You knocked again, harder, yet still got ignored. You waded back to your dorm, face buried in your pillow as you cried some more.

Two months since that incident passed, things had improved. Tashi became more talkative to you, you hadn't told her about that night, and if she knew, she didn't bring it up.

Then there was Art, who one day came crawling back, begging for you to let him into your heart again. You knew you had to deny him. You knew it was what was right. You didn't believe in second chances, but for Art, you made an exception.

Things were still patchy between the two of you, you weren't back to square one but you weren't exactly back to how they used to be. You decided to ask him why he went distant and what he did during your time apart.

"School and tennis got the better of me," He said. "I was so so stupid to let that get in the way between us. It won't happen again," And he was right, he somehow managed to get everything sorted and execute his plans accordingly. He also told you that while on your 'break', he had practiced more tennis and studied. He told you he had to ask Tashi for advice.

Fast forward three years later, and life had taken a remarkable turn for both you and Art Donaldson. Graduating from college marked the beginning of a promising journey towards becoming world-renowned tennis players. The countless hours of practice, the sacrifices made, and the unwavering support for each other had culminated in you both achieving your dreams.

Art, with his infectious enthusiasm and competitive spirit, was your perfect match both on and off the court. His sense of humor and spontaneity kept life exciting, whether you were training together or exploring new cities during tournaments. As your careers soared, so did your relationship, growing stronger with each shared victory and overcoming every setback together.

Then, one magical evening at a lakeside restaurant, Art surprised you with a proposal that took your breath away. It was classic Art—cheesy yet endearing, thoughtful yet spontaneous. After a delightful dinner overlooking the serene lake, he suggested a walk and led you to a secluded dock adorned with candles and rose petals. With a heart full of love and nerves, he knelt down, producing the most stunning ring you had ever seen. The words spilled out earnestly, and you couldn't help but say yes, tears of joy glistening in your eyes.

From that moment on, everything seemed even more perfect. You ascended to become the women's champion in tennis, while Art mirrored your success on the men's side. Together, you became the U.S.'s elite power couple, celebrated not only for your athletic prowess but also for your genuine love and support for each other.

However, the pinnacle of your joy came on your wedding day—a day that felt surreal, like a dream wrapped in hues of love and anticipation. The venue was adorned with flowers, the air filled with music that resonated with your hearts. Walking down the aisle, emotions surged through you—a mix of excitement, nerves, and overwhelming happiness.

Art stood at the altar, his trademark grin stretching from ear to ear, his curly hair slightly tousled by the gentle breeze. His eyes, reflecting his deep affection for you, met yours as you approached him, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. The exchange of vows was heartfelt and tender, promising a future filled with love, laughter, and unwavering support. As the ring slid onto your finger, sealing your union as Mr. and Mrs. Donaldson, you felt a rush of emotions—gratitude for finding your soulmate, excitement for the adventures ahead, and a profound sense of belonging in his arms.

The reception was a celebration of your love story, with friends and family cheering as you danced the night away. Each glance exchanged, each touch shared, spoke volumes of the bond you had forged through dedication, trust, and mutual admiration.

And the consummation of your marriage was on a whole new level.

You still wore your wedding dress, sitting on the small foot stool while Art's head ducked under the white skirt of your dress, his tongue trailing up the length of your thigh before meeting your lacy underwear. His tongue soaked your panties more than what they were, sucking on your clit that hardened with want.

His eyes rolled right back when your thighs closed around his skull, suffocating him. He used his strength and pried your legs apart. He worked skilfully to slip your panties off, now face to face with your arousal. Art thought how ethereal the scene in front of him looked. Your dewy pussy, dripping and throbbing, crowned by the one of a kind wedding dress.

You couldn't see Art, except for the mound where his head was. You watched as it dropped when Art connected his lips back to your pussy, making you grab the sides of your dress and bunch it up in your palms with pleasure. "You make me feel so good, Art."

That spurred him on. His fingers dug into the plush of your thighs while his tongue lapped at your folds, spit and arousal coated the whole of his face from the tip of his nose down. He was on his knees, hips thrusting into nothingness, he got high off your pleasure.

Between your moans and grunts, you could hear the wet sounds of his spit and your pussy, and his whimpers and whines. His tongue would go from your needy hole to your throbbing clit. His suckled and lick, spit and slurp you up until his name fell from your lips, cumming on his tongue.

When he came out from under your skirt, his cheeks were flushed, his lips were saturated and bruised, his hair was messy and his face was shiny with slick. "Come here, my baby," You cooed, grabbing him by the tie and kissing his lips. There was nothing short of delicate. It was full of desire, passion and love.

Your makeup was already ruined by the time he started kissing you, so you didn't mind when it got messier. Mouths open, hot kisses and shared saliva. Art used his strength and picked you up, carrying you over to the bed where he placed you down, immediately pushing you backwards onto your back so he could cage you in.

Your fingers worked to undo his tie, placing that to the side of the bed before popping his shirt's buttons open, exposing his pale torso. His blazer had come off, and his belt was loose. Your hands went to his shoulders and pushed him to the side, forcing him to roll onto his back.

You wasted to time to straddle him, leaning forward to connect your lips once again. You gently took ahold of his hands, breaking the kiss, and leaning to the side to retreat his tie. "What are you doing?" He asked, voice rough with arousal. He watched you bring his two wrists together before looping the tie around. He got a sense of an idea, making his throat bob.

"I want to try something new, is that okay?" You asked, he eagerly nodded making you smile. This moment reminded you a lot of when you two first had sex, you reminisced about the moment as you gazed upon your lover. White collared shirt open, showing his muscular body, hands wrapped up in his tie, hair askew and the common blush on his cheeks.

Bending forward at the waist, you kissed him once again, except this time, confusion clouded Art's mind when he felt something material brush his cheek. In a split second, your lips left his before something was shoved into his mouth.

Art had no hands to take it out and struggled with his tongue to spit it out, blonde eyebrows drawn together in confusion while you sat up to look at him. "It's my underwear, Art."

'Oh,' He thought, it surprised him, yet the idea of having your panties that he previously ate you out through in his mouth turned him on even more. His saliva soaked the underwear, his teeth clamped down on the lace.

You moved down slightly, going to properly undo his belt before sliding his pants down, Art raising his hips to help you. You didn't bother with foreplay, freeing his hard cock, pink tip leaking already, twitching once exposed. It took a hot minute to move your dress up your waist, now bunched at your hips, using one hand, you positioned his cock at your entrance before looking up at Art.

"You ready for me to fuck you? For Mrs Donaldson to fuck her husband?" You asked, Art nodded, a muffled plea escaped his lips, turning into a moan when you sunk down on his length. He watched you bite your lip, your hands on his ribs before he felt you slip off, then sink on him again.

Art choked on your panties when he moaned, so he opted to close his mouth around them and suck on the fabric, trying to taste you. Heavy pants and whimpers came from breaths our his nose. Your painted lips, smudged and blotchy fell open.

Art felt a desire, he raised his tied hands and managed to stick out a finger, bringing it to your lips. He watched your lips close around his fingertip before softly sucking away.

You snaked a hand to where you two met, and pressed your finger on your clit. Your wrist jerker from side to side, making you feel like hot lava was boiling in your tummy, this pleasure had you biting down on Art's finger, making him softly whine out in pain.

You don't know why you came as quickly as you did, gushing around Art's cock as you orgasmed for the second time. The feeling of you unravel had Art cumming just as fast, spilling his hot seed deep inside you.

Your hips slowed, taking a minute to lift your hips, his soft cock falling out. With a heavy sigh, you lay next to him, brushing his sweaty curls away, his eyes trained on yours, chest heaving. With a soft chuckle, you brought your fingers to his lips and pulled your panties out, coated in his saliva. "A little help here, please?" He raised his hands to you, allowing for you to undo his tie.

It caught you by surprise when you felt him grip the tie, now hands free, before snatching it out of your grasp. He scraped up some strength, on wobbly legs and got off the bed. He moved to stand at the foot of the bed, his strong hands found your ankles and yanked them, pulling your hips against his.

He climbed on top of the bed again, tie in hand. "You do a lot for me, so I want to do this for you," He told you softly, face hovering over yours. There was a pause, Art staring deep into your eyes, before he swallowed. "I've been think about you, about us, and I want to start a family."

"Yeah?" Your heart swelled in your chest, you felt your cheeks burn at the thought, that Art did not only see you as a wife, but a mother to his future children. "I'd really like that too."

Art smiled down at you. He didn't say anything, instead just maintaining eye contact. You could see the emotions behind his blue eyes, he had a much love and admiration for you, that it was overflowing. "So you trust me, right?"

"More than anything," You watched Art nod, before your vision went black. Art was tying his tie around your eyes, taking away your vision.

You felt him lift your one leg, his lips on your ankle as he placed soft kisses on the skin there before it was placed on his shoulder. Your dress was moved up again, exposing you to him.

Art could feel himself harden again. He took his cock into his hand and pumped it until it was fully erect. His pink tip nudged at your folds before he spoke up. "I love you," he said, holding his breath as he waited for a response.

He watched your lips part, exposing your teeth in a smile. "I love you too, Art."

Art waited for any hesitation before releasing his breath, pushing himself into you. He watched your pussy swallow him again before he began to thrust his hips. The both of you were already so sensitive, Art gripped your leg for support, his eyes caught sight of his ring that reflected the light.

His teeth grazed your calf, goosebumps rose in its path. Having one sense taken away had increased the others. Not being able to see Art made this ever the more arousing. "Mm, you're so good to me," Art moaned.

"You're the one that's...fucking me," You said with a choked chuckle, words being swallowed by your moans. "Oh g-god, you fuck me so good," Art bit his lip, already on the verge of another orgasm. He let his one hand find yours, holding the hand that had your ring on it, diamond shining brightly.

His thumb rubbed the shiny stone, a truckload of unspoken promises guaranteed by the small diamond. Art couldn't wait for you two to move into a luxurious apartment and have a family, have a creation of both your undying love for each other run around and call you 'mommy' and 'daddy'. He couldn't wait to grow old with you, watch your child grow up and start a family of their own.

He'd wait lifetimes for you in the heavens and stars if it meant your souls could spend every waking moment together. You were his, and he was yours.

"Ah, fuck Art! 'm cumming!" You mewled. Cum flooding from you like a broken dam wall. Art wasn't far behind, his arousal mingling with yours for the nth time. Your name fell from his lips.

He slipped out to help clean you up, undoing the tie around your eyes, carrying you to the bathroom—albeit on wobbly legs, and run you a bath.

That was six years ago. Now the two of you lived in a fancy apartment. Your wedding ring sparkled under the bright chandelier as you stirred your cup of coffee. You had four mugs lined together. Once all drinks were made, you set them on the table.

You walked around to your room to find your husband sitting on the bed, book open. "Your coffee's ready," You told him, he looked up from the book and gave you a curt smile and nod.

Art had changed over the years, his youth had faded and how replaced with mature features. His hair was shorter now, not having his luscious curls you loved. Scars littered his body where he had to have stitches from tennis related injuries.

You walked out of Art's room and down the passage, stepping into another bedroom. "Your hot chocolates are ready," you told the two five-year-olds. They both turned to you with happiness before bouncing past you.

"Thank you, Mommy," your little girl, Mila, said, bringing the pink mug to her lips and slurping away. She then slammed the mug down and whipped her head toward her brother, pigtails flying as she did. "Say thank you."

"I was gonna!" Zachary, your son and twin brother to Mila, retorted. His eyes found yours, his heterochromia always catching you off guard: his left eye brown, and his right blue. "Thank you, Momma."

"It's only a pleasure," you smiled at the twins, watching them drink away. You felt a warm arm wrap around your shoulders before a pair of lips were placed on your temple.

"Thank you, my love," Art mumbled against your hair before he too picked up his mug of coffee and took a sip. You picked yours up and brought it to your lips, savoring the warmth and the rare quiet moment in your bustling household.

"I'm going to meet up with Tashi later for lunch, m'kay?" you told your husband, who nodded.

"When can we see Auntie Tashi again?" Mila asked, her eyes wide with curiosity and excitement.

"Maybe on Sunday, remember Daddy has a match on Saturday," you replied, glancing at Art, who smiled back at you.

"We'll make time for a visit soon, sweetheart," Art reassured Mila, ruffling her hair affectionately. "I know you both love spending time with Auntie Tashi," The kids finished their hot chocolates, and you helped them clean up before they dashed off to play with their toys. You and Art stood in the kitchen, enjoying the rare moment of peace and sipping your drinks.

Three days had passed, it was not nearing evening. Art had a fan meet-and-greet to attend, which would only end in an hour and a half's time.

You had just dropped off the twins at your mom's for Friday night like you always did. You stood in the lobby of your apartment, waiting for the lift when a voice called your name.

Your eyes widened in surprise once you turned to see who called you. "Patrick?" You hadn't seen them man in years. Last you saw him was when you were still in school. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for dinner," He smiled sheepishly, pointing to some brunette woman who was staring at the two of you, when making eye contact, she was quick to look the other way. "Uh, congratulations by the way," He pointed towards your wedding band, making you cross your arms.

"Thank you, Zweig. If this is all, goodnight," You spun on your heel, only to have your arm grabbed and yourself pulled back. "Hey!"

"Wait, can we talk. Please?"

"There's nothing to talk about Patrick. Last I heard from you was me telling you to 'fuck off' after breaking Tashi's heart," You snapped.

"I know, I know, and I'm sorry for how things turned out. It's just... there's something you have to know." Patrick's eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes held a sincerity that made your heart pound. You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. "Where's Art?"

"At a fan meet-up," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

"He's not," Patrick said firmly, making you scoff and shake your head. "I promise you, he's not. And I can tell you exactly where he is."

"Oh yeah? Then where is he, Patrick? If you know my husband so well," you challenged, crossing your arms defensively.

Patrick chewed on his bottom lip, choosing his next words very carefully. "He's cheating on you, right now, with Tashi."

“And you expect me to believe you?” You scoffed. “I mean, I knew you were an asshole, but I didn’t think you’d stop this low and—.”

“I swear I’m not lying,” He interjected. “I heard about this fan meet-up and it’s not until Sunday.” He told you, making you shake your head. “Remember that time when the two of you broke up? And he told you he was getting training from Tashi? That was bullshit, Art’s tennis playing is goddamn near perfect, instead be went to her and found his way between her legs.”

“Y-You’re making this all up,” You denied, you didn’t want to believe your fairytale ending was all receipt. “I’ll call him right now even.”

“Fine, but if he doesn’t answer, he’s probably too busy sucking off Tashi’s face. The two haven’t said anything because they felt bad. Things were awkward between the three of you, am I right? Art realised how much he messed up and went back to you, only to do the same thing.”

You rolled your eyes, fishing your phone from your purse before punching in Art’s number. You pressed the metal device to your ear and waited. It rung, and rung, and rung, before a beep was heard. ‘You have reached the voice mail of Art Donaldson, please leave a—.’

You sucked your teeth before slamming the phone shut. “He’s probably busy.”

“Yeah, making out with your best friend.”

“And how do you expect to be actually believe you?”

“I’ve known Art since we were 12, he may seem all cute and cuddly, but trust me, he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” Patrick watched as your bottom lip wobbled a smidge before you took it between your teeth. “You have to believe me.”

“Where’s the evidence?” You asked him. Patrick sighed before shaking his head. You watched as he retrieved a small piece of paper and a broken pencil from his pocket before scribbling on it.

“My number, if you ever want to talk,” He sighed, passing you the paper. “Goodnight,” with that, he turned around and walked back to his date, leaving you alone and confused.

That night, you lay in bed while Art was coming out from the bathroom. You wanted to ask him if he was actually at a fan meet-and-greet, or if he was out, having an affair. You laughed quietly to yourself, imagine how embarrassing it would be if you accused him of cheating and it all being fake, how bad you’d look, how you’d raise suspicion.

Art climbed in the bed next to you, leaning over and pressing a kiss to your cheek, arm pulling you into him. “I love you,” He said, moving back to stare at you with twinkling blue eyes before smiling and leaning back to rest his head on the pillow.

You could not bring yourself to echo his words, heart breaking in your chest as your eyes bore into the purple and red mark on his neck, it looked fresh and raw. It definitely wasn’t you, you and Art hadn’t bad sex in over two months.

You just nodded to yourself, turning your head to blink back tears. “I know.”

Art went silent at your choice of words, letting out a sigh before turning around, switching off his bedside lamp and falling asleep.

You did the same, except you could not fall asleep. There was no way, no fucking way. Where had it gone wrong? Why did it go wrong? Were you not good enough? How long had this been going on for? All these questions swarmed your mind.

You lay restlessly before sighing, sitting up and grabbing your phone. Quietly you got out of bed and out the room where you grabbed a long coat and slippers, putting them on. You found the small piece of paper and dialled the number on there.

So that’s how you found yourself in Patrick’s car by some cheap gas station. Tears staining your cheeks while Patrick watched you solemnly. “Tell me how you found out about all this, and I didn’t?” You asked him.

“Tashi told me, we had met up after the first time they… and she confessed. She told me how bad she felt, but also told me she couldn’t bear to tell you. Um, Tashi and I have been meeting up, if you know what I mean, she told me how she planned to meet Art this evening, when I asked why, she kept quiet.”

You let out a broken sigh. “Okay Patrick, now what?” You turned to him. “I mean, why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I’m sorry, I wanted to, it’s just…you two seemed so happy—.”

“So you didn’t want to ruin it? Thanks, Patrick. No really. But I think I better get going,” You shook your head, going to undo your seatbelt before a hand on yours stopped you.

“I know you’re hurting, and I know how to help,” Suddenly his breath of on your ear. You dare not move to look. “This won’t hurt him as much as he’s hurt you.”

“I’m not a cheater, Patrick,” You whispered out.

“No, but you’re petty,” His words caused you to let out a breathy laugh. “You like to get even, it feels right,” His hand found its way on your thigh, a grin spreading on his lips when you didn’t stop him. “I’ll help you get even.”

Call yourself a monster and a heartless bitch for turning to face Patrick, smashing your lips on his. His hand unbuckling your seat belt, allowing for you to slide onto his lap, hands groping you everywhere. “Help me forget, Patrick,” You moaned against his lips.

“I will, baby. I will,” And he did. Any thoughts of Art and Tashi melted away faster and faster as you lost more items of clothing.

The sun beat down on your shoulders the following day, your head would love to and fro, eyes trained on the green ball that whizzed between Patrick and Art in the final match of the whole tournament. Patrick was winning, some on his own and some penalty points.

Sweat dripped down your husband’s face, he licked his lips to ridden the salty liquid. Patrick was much the same. When he felt you looked, he smirked, making you scoff and look away. You watched the clock tick by before it was half time, Art dipping his shirt off as he sat down, taking out his bottle while Patrick ate on a banana.

When the game resumed, Patrick was first to serve. His racket swung above his head, he adjusted his grip before he stalled.

You watched his brown eyes flicker to you, the corner of his lips rose, before his eyes went back to Art. He dropped his hand, kicking his left leg out a little before holding his racket and waist height, other hand holding the ball, placed the ball by the throat of the racket.

You turned to look at Art, after noticing that’s how he holds a racket. You watched his eyes move to you and his expression fall. A distant look in his eye. Patrick served the ball and it went straight past Art, who didn’t bother to hit it.

You seemed puzzled by this, watching Art’s head drop before he got a ball from the ball-boy. Like a switch, Art was playing ferociously, now winning every serve he had.

You watched with amazement as Art let out a roar, jumping high into the air, foot touching the net as he won an ace before he came tumbling into Patrick’s arms, both males bursting into smiles.

What had just happened?

#gabgabwrites #my works ✎#art donaldson x female reader #challengers art donaldson #art donaldson x fem reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson smut

387 notes · View notes

rotthepoet · 1 month

Note

Wait let me correct myself enz and theo threesome but she's really shy 🫠🫠

POOKIE IM SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER I WANTED TO MAKE SURE IT WAS GOOD! MWAH, LOVE YOU!!!

Notes: I don’t think i’ve ever written a threesome before, and its been a long long time since I’ve written downright smut so bear with me🙏

Content: Hogwarts University AU, All characters are 18+, Drinking, drug use, threesome, porn without plot, piv, oral(both m and f), degradation and praising, leaving bruises, hair pulling, kinda choking?? , FEM READER, lmk if i missed anything my loves<3

It was all a blur really. One minute Slytherin was winning their last Quidditch match of the season, the next you were sitting in the corner of the common room deep below the castle as LED’s casted a layer of green over the clouds of smoke and vapor. You weren’t fond of parties. Not in the slightest. You liked keeping to yourself and your select group of friends. Alas, your select group of friends tended to be extroverts who simply… decided… they liked you, and these extroverts tended to like parties. They like you too. So why not combine the both?

So you sit quietly in the corner, laughing and smiling when one of your friends came to check on you, just so they didn’t worry. It’s not like you were completely bored, maybe a few drinks in you started taking candid pictures of your dancing friends, and as you became comfortable with the noise level and crowd, you joined in with them much to their excitement.

The night was a dream, really. Hands all over you, maybe your friends, maybe some strangers. It didn’t matter anymore. You felt good, distracted enough by the alcohol and second hand smoke in your system to let loose.

Theodore Nott and Lorenzo Berkshire were good acquaintances of yours. Maybe even friends if you squinted hard enough. Regardless, it wasn’t too much of a shock whenever you found their hands on yours.

“Never thought we’d see you at a party,” Enzo would say, his breath hot on your ear as he moved slowly behind you, his hands resting on your hips.

Theo would laugh and run his hands up to your waist, looking into your eyes with his bloodshot ones, “It’s a nice change… and you do look good.”

It’s really a blur after that. A drunken blur of groping and soft kisses along your shoulders. The heat just kept building in your lower stomach, and you didn’t argue whenever Theo asked you if you wanted to go to his room.

The idea didn’t even fully click in your head until you were topless on Theodore’s bed, letting Enzo graze his fingers over your perky tits. Stuck between the two men, feeling that pleasant buzz from the liquor and arousal, how could you ever say no?

They’re so gentle with you at first, letting you set the pace and curiously explore their bodies. Enzo’s between your legs long enough to have you seeing stars. His tongue swirls over your clit, his strong hands pressing your legs to your chest. He’s wet and messy, letting your combined slick and spit soak the sheets below you. He’s holding you so tight that it leaves bruises in the morning, and only grips tighter the more you squirm. During all this, Theo is leaving hickies all over your body. Your shoulders, your chest, your sides, hips, thighs, everywhere. He’s stroking his length slowly, teasingly, letting your watch as you whine and squirm as you’re marked. As he makes his way down your body, his deft fingers find your neglected and overly sensitive hole.

Theo is slow. Agonizingly slow. It feels like forever as he’s rubbing his fingers across your cunt, spreading you out for Enzo, laughing softly as you cry for him to finally fuck you. When he pushes his middle finger in, you let out the most delectable sound, and he barely pushes another into you before you cream all over him and Enzo. He fingers you through your orgasm, grinning at Enzo as your whines and cries quicken from the overstimulation.

Unfortunately for your well loved pussy, they’re not done. They’ve been so generous and helpful, the least you could do is take a little but more. Just for them, right sweetheart? And of course, like the little slut you are, you take it like a good girl.

It’s like a switch really. As soon as you nod your pretty little head, your breathing almost steady when they finally release you, you’re gripped by the hair and pulled up.

Enzo’s lips find yours in a messy, searing hot kiss as Theo manhandles you onto your knees. Whoever is gripping your hair doesn’t let up, even as Enzo finally leaves your bruised lips be.

It’s not for long though, not for long at all. As soon as Enzo pulls away, the tip of his cock kisses your lips, smearing his pre along the already wet skin. It’s daunting really, his size looking too big to fit in your tight cunt let alone your mouth. Your head is lifted, forced by a tug of your hair, and Lorenzo can only grin at the worried expression on your cute, fucked out face.

“Our girls a little worried, hm?”

And Theodore laughs behind you, a condescending sound that sends shivers up your spine. “She’ll be fine. Hasn’t broken yet, has she?”

It’s Theo’s tip pushing into you that makes you finally gasp, leaving Enzo to sheathe himself in your wet mouth. Count the seconds, because you only get a few before they’re using you like a fleshlight.

Theodore is ruthless, gripping your hips as he bucks into you like a man in heat, his heavy balls slapping against your clit in a frenzy while he grunts. Each thrust forces you deeper onto Enzo, his own hands gripping your hair to keep you steady.

“Such a pretty thing, isn’t she?”

“Oh yeah, especially like this. You’re having fun, aren’t you, pet?”

And you are having fun. So much fun as Theo reaches new depths inside of you, and Enzo’s cock hits the back of your throat. Tears stream down your cheeks and drool down your chin, dripping to the already drenched mattress. Their thrusts are synched, filling you up at the same time, making you see stars, or maybe it’s Enzo’s freckles. You aren’t sure at this point.

You finish without warning, your walls clenching and spasming around Theodore whose pace stutters at the sudden wave of pleasure, and his hand grips your bulging throat to steady himself.

You sob tears of pure pleasure as Enzo groans, releasing his seed deep down your throat, holding you down at his base while you choke and whine around him.

Theo doesn’t last much longer after that, his grip tightening as much as he could without hurting you, before he pulled out and let his tip spurt onto your back, coating you in sticky, warm release.

Coated in cum, and throughly fucked, you let the remainder of Enzo spill from your lips when he finally pulls away. Slender fingers collect the remnants from your chin, and push themselves into your sore mouth.

“Deep breath, darling. You can do it again, can’t you?”

Tags: @helendeath @lilyravennablack

#rot says so #theodore nott x reader x lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire #theodore nott #enzo berkshire x reader #theo nott x reader smut #theodore nott x reader smut #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott smut #lorenzo berkshire x reader smut #lorenzo x reader x theo #slytherin smut

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bumblebeesfromvenus · 8 months

Text

Siren!Leon headcannons 🧜🏼‍♂️🐚

A/N: this was so much fun!!! I got a little carried away, but I feel there's still so much I could add here, so let me know if you want to see more! There's not smut in this one sadly, because um... idk.. how that would work?

~Fi 🐝

《Prompt》: lovely request by @maviettt is here!

《Warnings》: brief mentions of gore and Leon eating people, obessesive and possessive Leon, some angst, insecure Leon :(, lots of luv for the fish boy <3

《Word count》: 2.4k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🪼~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~💙

Siren!Leon, who spends his days luring all the pretty sailors to their demise, having himself a tasty meal of naivety and pure unawareness. I mean, what girl wouldn't be enarmoured with this handsome and so kind merman, right? With his blue, ocean eyes and shiny scales.

Siren!Leon, who lurs them in with promises of love and care, only to yank them into the deep sea and tear into them with his pointy teeth. He's not too fond of doing this, but he doesn't really have a choice, and you get hardened over the years.

Siren!Leon, who casually swims through a nearby Lagoon, catching a glimpse of you and your sisters lounging in the sun. You're laughing, and Leon swears that you're the Siren in this scenario. You look so pretty with your colorful, glittery tail. Your damp hair that's drying up from the salty water. The small trinkets braided into your locks and hung from your body.

Siren!Leon, who is always drawn back to this Lagoon, always wanting to see you again. He thinks you're a bright, shining pearl, and the world is your oyster. But he also understands that you're off limits to him. You would be scared of him, wouldn't you? You're such a pretty thing. His treasure.

Siren!Leon, who admires you from afar, always hoping to see you smile once again. He's infatuated with you. He's sighing dreamily when he sees you throw your head back in laughter or hiding your giggles behind your hand.

Siren!Leon, who looks for you after he hasn't seen you at the Lagoon for a while, only to find you washed up on the beach, all tangled up in a net. You look so... dry. The colors of your tail are dulled, and your skin doesn't look like it was kissed by the morning dew anymore.

Siren!Leon, who is so conflicted. He needs to help you, but what if he scares you? He doesn't want to risk that. You're the favorite part of his day! Alas, he relents and carefully swims up to you as close as he can before gently tugging you back into the water by your tail.

Siren!Leon, who holds you until you've gotten some of the ocean's energy into you. He can basically watch you flourish as you're returned to your home. But his heart breaks when you gain back consciousness and immediately try and get away from him.

Siren!Leon, who tries to explain to you that he just wants to help. You're still bound in the net, and you can't swim properly like this. You're obviously skeptical. Acting all kind and luring people in was kind of his deal as a Siren, after all. But there's something so soft about his voice and expressions.

Siren!Leon, who truly has no bad intentions, but he has to restrain himself from pouncing on you the second you give him the go-ahead to free you from the net with his sharp teeth.

Siren!Leon, who doesn't miss your blush, when his lips brush against your skin while he's chewing you out of your bounds. He can't help himself and grins, and accidentally bumps his lips against your scales more just to see you react.

Siren!Leon, who is quite flustered himself when you thank him and tell him that he's not as scary as you thought he would be. And when you tell him you like the color of his scales and his cute little fin ears, he is over the moon!!

Siren!Leon who tries to hide his malicious side from you as best as he can just because he is terrified that you would be scared of him. Maybe even disgusted. He doesn't want that.

Siren!Leon, who sees you wave to him on his usual morning round past the Lagoon, and he almost passes out. Yeah, he had saved you, but for you to so boldly be nice to him in front of your sisters? He's thinking of that for the rest of the day.

Siren!Leon, who gets bolder each day, waving back with a smile, maybe even greeting you and your sisters until he fully swims up to all of you! He's kinda crushed when your sisters scatter like little anchovies. He just wanted to say hi :(

Siren!Leon, who gets comforted and assured by you, saying that "they don't know you like I do." You explain how, although Leon is a Siren, he's so sweet! He saved you from certain death, after all.

Siren!Leon, who eventually gets taken in by your sisters, and he gets to lounge in the Lagoon with you. Some are still a little weary, but as time goes on, they all warm up to that smile and those pretty eyes.

Siren!Leon, who only has eyes for you. You are the sun in his sky, the moon that guides his tides. He's head over heels for you. It started off as forbidden glances, admiring your beauty, and now he is making you laugh and spending as much time with you as he can.

Siren!Leon, who knows you're falling for him too when you start bringing him little treasures and trinkets that you found. It's usually a shiny rock or a seashell, but sometimes you bring him valuable shinies from recent shipwrecks that you're not supposed to be around.

Siren!Leon, whose heart pumps out of his chest when he sees all your sisters nudging you in his direction with your hand behind your back and a red face. He revels in your cuteness when you shyly press the rock into his hand and speed off.

Siren!Leon, who starts calling you his treasure or his pearl. That's exactly what you are to him, and he needs the whole seven seas to know that. Plus, your pretty smile and the kiss to the cheek he gets from you after is a nice bonus.

Siren!Leon, who lets you decorate him and his tail when you run out of space on your own. You tie cloth and braided seaweed around his fin and arms, adding one of your little trinkets at the end. He wears them with pride because everyone knows they're from you.

Siren!Leon, who loves to braid your hair for you. You're always finding more pretty things to put in your hair, and you can't see the back, obviously, but he loves doing it for you. He gets so good to the point that he's doing all of your sisters' hair, too.

Siren!Leon, who rarely goes back to luring humans to their death, simply because he would rather spend time with you. He's acquired a taste for small fish, which unfortunately can't match the salivating taste of humam flesh, but he's willing to give it all up for you. he's still so worried that you'll catch him one day and see the monster he truly is.

Siren!Leon, who sits in the small tide pool close to a bay, soaking up the moonlight with you, and the way it makes you look ethereal. You look even prettier like this than in the sun. The silvery streaks reflect off of your features so beautifully, and he knows that he's doomed.

Siren!Leon, who spends all of his nights with you, not wanting that image of your lovely self dipped in the rays of Mother Moon to go away. He loves talking to you at night. Sharing quiet stories and tales interrupted by soft giggles.

Siren!Leon, who kisses you for the first time on the beach where he saved you. He melts when he finally feels your lips on his, and he's holding you so tight and full of love that you can't imagine being anywhere else.

Siren!Leon, who found a pearl at the bottom of the ocean, your favorite color, and he gives it to you as a gift under one of those moonlit nights. He's confessing his love to you, giving the pearl to you as a sign of always wanting to be with you.

Siren!Leon who doesn't know whether to blush and hide or be giddy like an idiot when he sees you wearing his pearl the next morning, showing it off to all your sisters who are all in awe of its beauty.

Siren!Leon, who loves to spend his days lying in the sand with you, playing with the many small braids and twists that adorn your silky locks. There's not much to do, but you make the days go by so fast.

Siren!Leon, who goes ballistic when your sisters rush to tell him that you've been captured by some filthy pirates while you were out exploring a new shipwreck, trying to find more odds and ends for your collection.

Siren!Leon, who can feel his blood boil in his veins. It's like a switch was flipped, and he falls back into his bloodthirsty and feral ways. It scares your sisters, but they know he's doing it for you.

Siren!Leon, who follows your scent and your soft pleads for mercy as the pirates decide whether to gut you or keep you for themselves. He has never swam this fast in his life. He had a strong tail, no doubt, but he pushed himself to his limit only to get to you.

Siren!Leon who feels so deeply and can feel the storm brewing inside of him. He can't help but feel somewhat reassured when dark, thick clouds rise in the sky and heavy winds, rain, and thundering streaks of lightning descend from the sky. He thanks Mother Moon with all his being for helping him rescue his treasure.

Siren!Leon, who sneaks close to the ship undetected, due to the heavy rain and loud thunder. He is out for blood, and one thing is clear; that ship will sink today, and he will make them pay.

Siren!Leon who punches holes into the body of the ship with his strong tail, making the ship sink slowly into the dark embrace of the ocean.

Siren!Leon, who when he finally gets to the bastard pirates, tears them to shreds without a thought. Thick crimson spills into the rowdy waters, and you can almost see the red reflecting in his eyes.

It's a mess of limbs and guts, the blood clinging to his pale skin like a curse. He doesn't want to admit how refreshing this felt- he was still a siren after all.

Siren!Leon who snaps out of his craze and immediately starts searching for you, calling out your name with desperation and fear. The lightning gets worse as he looks around frantically.

Siren!Leon, who finally spots you clinging to a piece of wood with bloody hands and teary eyes. He rushes over to you, and the relieved cries that rip from your throat make his heart hurt.

Siren!Leon, who scowls at the deep gash on your tail, no doubt courtesy of those pirates. He embraces you so softly, kissing your temple and whispering sweet reassurances to you.

You sniffled and looked up at him, the rain slowly washing away the blood that tarnished his skin. You spotted tears of his own welling up in his blue eyes, pained by the image of your wounded self. He never stopped stroking your hair and wiping away the rain that mixes with your tears as it falls on your face.

"They... they only hurt me because I didn't want to give them... this.." You spoke quietly, opening your bloody hand, revealing the pearl he had gifted you now smeared with blood. Leon felt his heartbeat all the way in his head. The gusting winds, loud thunder and the electrifying strikes of lightning died down and the surface of the water stilled into a soft ripple as he stared at you, not knowing what to do, or to feel.

Only the soft patter of rain on the ocean filled the silence that lingered between you two. Leon swallowed thickly and cupped your face, finding his words.

"My treasure, My pearl... why?"

You'd never heard him this hurt, defeated before.

"Because you gave it to me."

With your simple answer, he pulled you tight against his chest with his lips pressed to your forehead, hoping the rain would cover the tears that ran down his face, soaking into your hair.

Siren!Leon, whose blood freezes in his veins when you catch a glimpse of the massacre he had left and absolute horror washes over your face. He can feel his heart shatter with the way you look at him, with so much fear and- ...gratitude?

Siren!Leon, who gets the words knocked out of his head once again, when you softly touch his cheek and tell him that you're not afraid of him. You're still shaken up, in agony, and dismembered bodies aren't part of your usual routine.

But you tell him that you could never be scared of him. You know he would never hurt you, he loves you, and he only did what he needed to in order to rescue you. You're fully aware of what he is- a Siren, not a monster. He proved that to you many times with his gentle and kind nature. He feels pathetic when he breaks down as you whisper that you love him and press kisses to his hair. You're hurt, and he's crying, utterly overwhelmed by you and your love.

Siren!Leon, who will take care of you and the wound on your tail until it's fully healed. He gently drapes seaweed wraps over the gash and always makes sure you're not in any pain. He will make you hang onto him by his neck when he swims so you can still get around but not put any strain on your tail.

Siren!Leon, who plucks a scale from his tail and gifts it to you as full proof of his love and devotion for you. It hangs around your neck, right next to the pearl he had given you, and he can't help but smile when he sees how his shimmery blue scale looks against your skin.

Siren!Leon, who wears one of your scales on a cloth, tied around his arm, proudly showing it off whenever he can. Because he's as much yours as you are his. <3

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I loved writing this so much!! Lmk your thoughts on Siren!Leon <3

More Leon works are here 🩷

《Tag list》: @dmitriene @k-fallingstar @vampkennedy

Comment to be added!

#bumblebeesfromvenus #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil leon #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #Siren!Leon #Siren!Leon Kennedy #f!mermaid!reader

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whalesforhands · 9 months

Note

Hii! I have an idea ☝️😈

What about teen gojo and geto meeting future reader and they’re all baffled and mesmerized and all this fluffy stuff and reader is just like “🧍‍♀️” confused since she was fighting a curse a few seconds ago- But the adult versions of the two are busy doing whatever else so she has to deal with them until the curse wears off?

Just wanted to ramble 🏃‍♀️ Merry Christmas!

i like ur rambling, anon. guess what timeline i picked, hehe. whether or not it’s canon to main dyf au, is for you to decide. merry christmas hohoho

You practically deflate onto the ground, knees scraping against the soft dirt whilst your poor, beaten up staff was used as your sole support where you had stabbed it into the dirt, your hands sliding down the handle of your weapon as the dust settles around you.

It was rare to have you deployed on-field for an exorcism of a curse, and even rarer for you to have to deal with anything above a Grade 2.

(Mainly due to your husbands who were sorely against you having to do any exorcism at all.)

But, alas, even they can’t slay every single curse in the world; the higher-ups having purposefully kept their most powerful busy as of late.

“And you promise to abandon your mission if you can’t defeat it?” A seriousness in his tone, almost dreadful, almost domineering in nature. Geto Suguru will not take no for an answer, his hands upon your shoulders squeezing lightly, trembling just ever so slightly.

“Do not fight anything you deem above your skill level.” Gojo Satoru is wholly deadpan, your pinkies interlocked in a promise as intense eyes stare you down. You feel his pinky tighten, restless, unlabeled impatience. Absent of any semblance of playfulness. “Okay?”

You’ve taken their words seriously, only taking fights that you know you would win; only running when you know you can’t.

A jujutsu sorcerer does not give their life up so easily.

You hear a rustle from the bushes, eyes darting behind you, and ripping your weapon out and readying for another face off just as you feel a familiar, overwhelming power looming just where you had looked away.

“Now, now, now.” That familiar voice, lacking in all the more mature tones you were used to, all the gentleness that you’ve grown so fond of.

“You’re gonna drop your weapon, put your pretty hands up and slowly turn around to face me.”

(You didn’t even hear his footsteps. Was he flying?)

There’s no hesitation in your compliance, the clatter of your staff to the ground as your hands are held up. The malice in the energy you feel all stoked and ready to explode at any given moment, the tones of his voice an underlying, upset melancholy.

You’re facing the Gojo Satoru, afterall. However, there’s an issue with him, something you’ve realized all too soon after loving him for so long.

There’s a tensed silence between the both of you during the stare-down, your eyes still getting used to his slightly shorter stature, much shorter hair as compared to your highschool days and current adult age. His cheeks a tad bit fuller, but eyes dulled considerably.

He’s still so cute.

“My Six Eyes tell me that you’re (name) (last name).” From your breathing pattern down to every last speck of your cursed energy; it was undeniably you. His eyes shine with quiet grief, and gritted regret as you meet his gaze.

You feel sorry for him.

“…but you’re not my (name).” You’re a little more mature looking, a little far too calm and collected in his presence. You’re the same; yet not the one he knew. His eyes narrow as the red on his glowing hand fizzles out, his stance commanding and broad as his feet finally touch the ground before you, using his looming height as a threat. It contrasts the way his voice cracks just as he ends his words, a beating silence enveloping the both of you as your heart calms, your hands slowly going down.

“And you’re not my Satoru.” It causes a stuttering, reddish plum to his cheeks, a throb to his heart that he hadn’t expected to feel, clenching his fists, a click of realization alongside his fingernails digging into his skin, intrepid gaze holding your calm one.

“So I am in another world.”

——

This wasn’t your Suguru either. His hair is messily bunned up, the bags under his eyes darker than you have ever seen him. His lips are dry, his complexion lacking any of the usual vigor your Suguru had.

He looks far too weary, far too tired as he sits upon a nearby bench, hunched over and just so exhausted that it makes you wonder when was the last time he has had a good night’s sleep.

“Oi, Suguru!” The ‘Satoru’ that you had met is all too keen to greet the boy, his hand around your elbow and pulling you along with him. “I found out where we’re at!” His loud call only heeds the visible slump of the black-haired boy’s tensed shoulders, eyes still cast towards the ground as the cicadas call around him.

“And I found somebody to help us.” He brings the both of yourselves to a stop before the blank boy.

“It’s nice to meet you?” You’re honestly at a loss for words at the situation. For how all powerful and odd Gojo’s powers can be, you hadn’t expected this situation one bit.

It’s at your voice that this ‘Geto Suguru’ nearly whirls his head back at a speed so quick that it nearly scares you. Dry, reddened eyes widening and mouth opening, getting up on shaky legs as he extends a hand towards you.

“You—“

——

“So…” The silence is far too awkward for you to be comfortable. “There was a (name) in your timeline too, I hear?” Your fingers are twiddling with your jujutsu uniform as you sat in between the both of them, their proximity a just inching between the line of too close whilst awaiting for Ijichi’s pickup to the campus.

‘Gojo Satoru’ is the first to speak up. “Yeah.”

A pause.

“Our (name) is… Dead.” You see ‘Geto Suguru’’s hands clench at his uniform pants, bundling the fabric up so tight that his knuckles started to turn white.

Oh. You feel bad now.

“I’m… Sorry about that.”

A breath is sucked in through his teeth. “Don’t be.”

You shouldn’t feel sorry for them at all. It’ll just make it worse than it already is.

Isn’t it funny? Comical? That their (name) had to be ripped away from their hold, had to be clawed away from their reach, only for fate to place another you; living, breathing right in front of them.

So palpable, so alike, so unbearably, painfully you. It makes them want to throw up in disgust, honestly. But they can’t.

Because it’s you.

“I-I’m sure that I-“ No. “Your (name) lived a good life if you were both around, then. Please- Trust me on this.” You know. You know that any version of ‘you’ would be satisfied with their life if they had friends like them; Gojo, Geto and Ieiri.

It’s a life that no version of you would ever regret. You wouldn’t regret becoming a jujutsu sorcerer if you had gotten to meet people like them.

And it brings two broken hearts just a tinge more comfort.

——

“Um, Satoru..”

“Yes?” It was a chorus of two similar voices.

“Ah— No. Uhm— My Satoru.” You’re a bit frazzled as you nod towards your blindfolded husband, a satisfied hum coming from him as he made his way towards you.

“Just call the other one Gojo! Or you can just call for your hubby~” He’s cooing into your ear for the duo to watch on, a hand on your waist to hook you in close as a smile is donned upon his face.

There’s a beat of silence before the more intimidating white-haired sorcerer spoke up.

“No. I want to be called Satoru.” The younger Gojo had had his eyes set upon you, never letting you leave his vicinity. Then, that means that the other ‘Geto Suguru’ would be called as simply ‘Suguru’, then.

“Your blindfold’s pretty lame. Do I actually want to wear that?”

Your Gojo chooses to turn his nose up, and ignore that sneer his younger counterpart gave him. “Man, I was so angry.” You hear a sigh as you see a hand wave off the younger boy. “Do whatever you please, little me. But don’tcha leave yet, please! My Suguru’s gonna be so stoked to see this.”

Oh, speaking of your Suguru.

“Did you tell him to pick up some dashi stock for our dinner tonight? I ran out yesterday.”

“…how about we just order a pizza tonight?”

“Sator— Gojo!” Your hands are immediately upon your hips as you feel him hug you towards him, a hand going up to stroke the back of your head, as your face is pressed to his chest to muffle the incoming scolding.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Don’t be mad at me! A wife’s scorn is a husband’s greatest regret!”

“…you guys live all together?” ‘Suguru’’s voice breaks the moment between the both of you.

You feel a rumbling of your husband’s chest as a laugh is released.

“And we got kids together too. Ya jealous yet?”

——

“Aha, this is certainly a sight.” Suguru is shedding himself of his jacket as he kicks off his shoes by the genkan, the sight of his younger self, and double the Gojo certainly jarring for him as they sat around the dining table.

“Welcome home, honey!” It’s your Gojo that skips along to press an obnoxiously wet kiss to your other husband’s lips first as you gently place the final bowl of zaru soba down.

(Minus the miso soup side dish. You’re still slightly mad, but you have guests over.

“We could’ve just ordered a pizzaaaaaa!” Your husband’s whines are ignored as you strain the noodles out.

“I’m not feeding guests a pizza, dearest idiot husband of mind.” You pat your hands dry upon your apron, turning to flick at his forehead as he whines even more, begetting a giggle before you tiptoe up to press a kiss to the area.)

“Welcome home.” Your voice greeting your husband is lost on ‘Satoru’ and ‘Suguru’’s ears as they stare down at the bowl before them. The significance of the food almost making the cursed spirit user tear up.

This was his favourite food. It— ‘You’ and himself used to eat this frequently until—

“Suguru… Are you okay?” A whispered concern from his Satoru.

“Yeah. I—“ He thinks he’s going to be sick. “I’m fine.”

“It isn’t much, but I hope you enjoy it.” His ears finally tune back in just in time to hear your voice once more. Dreary copper-amethyst gaze flicking up to meet your warm, lovely face.

He’ll eat it. He’ll eat it. He’ll eat it.

“Don’t push yourself if you can’t.” It’s this world’s Suguru that pops in, much longer hair, his older features, his broader stature and more muscled body.

(Does— He know what he’s been through?)

His chopsticks are trembling as he brings the noodles to his lips, mouth opening and slowly chewing— He stops as a realization hits him.

It’s delicious. It’s so delicious. There are tears in his eyes as he begins to gobble it up, a hack in his throat as ‘Suguru’ pushes the urge to vomit away to take in more.

(If— if this was his final time meeting you- Then he has to. He has to. But— This is strange. Even his counterpart didn’t react all that much to his and Satoru’s appearance.

It occurs to him that perhaps, they aren’t in another world. If they’re meeting their older selves, then— Perhaps they are in another timeline.

Which means—)

His gaze returns down to the now empty bowl before him, before flickering up to meet your satisfied, almost prideful face.

“Thank you for the meal.”

“You’re welcome! I’m so happy you loved it that much!”

Perhaps this situation wasn’t so bad at all, giving him the chance to see your smiling face once more.

——

“If you give me a kiss, I’ll tell him~” Is he mocking his younger self…? You just wanted him to help the other ‘Satoru’ to get back to his world. Alas, you relent, leaning over to press a chaste, quick kiss to his cheek as your Geto watched on with upturned eyes and a happy smile.

“Hey, kid me.” A joyful hum, a satisfied gait as your Gojo watches the little boy who he once was.

“You already figured out how to go back already, right? Whatcha waiting for?” Huh…? Your Gojo already knows how to get them back?! Your eyes widen as you nearly choke on your water.

“Now, now Gojo. Don’t tease them.” Your Geto is chuckling, patting your back as you cough. “You’ll make our poor wife worried. I’m sure that they have some sort of unfinished business here.”

What?! Were they both in on this? This is just getting stranger, and stranger…

“Heh. Guess it isn’t a surprise I would know myself best, huh?” Satoru lets a cocky grin overtake his features as his fingers intertwined with his Suguru’s.

“Guess I really am the strongest.”

His gaze finally stops at you. “It was nice— Y’know.” He grows shy, eyes shifty from behind his sunglasses. “Seeing a (name) again.”

‘Suguru’ speaks up. “Thank you for— Allowing us to experience it again.” He’s grateful. The most he’s ever been, the most he’s ever felt ever since your passing.

Thank you. But— It’s only goodbye for now.

“It was nice meeting the both of you!” You’re bowing politely as you wave.

(The younger Suguru is finally smiling. Even if it’s just a little.)

“We’ll see you soon! Wait for us!” A salute and a bright grin. And in a flash, they have disappeared.

…what?

masterlist

Notes:

If you don’t get it, your current Satoru and Suguru have experienced what their younger counterparts have been through.

Younger Gojo and Geto have been watching every move you’ve been making. Keep that in mind if you ever reread this, haha.

During dinner, younger Gojo and Geto decided to share a bowl together since Geto hasn’t been able to eat a full meal without throwing up. It was the first time in a while he’s eaten so much. When Gojo saw how much he was eating, he asked for a separate bowl for himself.

Geto Suguru thinks he’s pretty handsome in this world. Would…you have liked someone like that too? His Satoru certainly does. He’s seen the shifty, almost shy gaze his Gojo threw the older Geto. Maybe he will grow out his hair.

“Aww, I was such an adorable brat!~” His hands are placed upon his cheeks as he cooed, watching as his husband and yourself cleared the plates.

“Hmm. I suppose you must’ve lost all that cuteness in your youth, wouldn’t you agree, darling?.” Suguru’s cooing back at him from the kitchen with a laugh, his body turning to you to ask for your opinion.

“His younger self was certainly so cute… But I suppose my answer depends on whether he helps with the dishes today.” You’re teasing him right back as you slowly wash the plate.

“W-what? Fine, I’m coming! Call me adorable, pleaseee!”

#jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satosugu x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk angst #gojo x reader #geto x reader

537 notes · View notes

senualothbrok · 3 months

Text

Open Hands, Open Hearts

Summary: With the Netherbrain defeated and the companions about to go their separate ways, Gale decides to be honest about his feelings for Tav.

A slow burn one-shot, featuring pining Gale, monk Tav, and agony aunt Shadowheart.

Word count: 5.4k

Non-18+. Gale x Tav (f!monk). Pining. Mild hurt/comfort.

AO3 link

A/N: Big thanks to @inglorionamy-ammy for being my beta-reader extraordinaire. I hope you enjoy some slow-burn pining and reflections on the philosophy of non-attachment. As always, comments and feedback are welcome!

She stands apart.

She cannot see you watching her. She swirls an untasted drink, her gaze drifting over the bustling merriment of the weaving crowd. You are memorising the curves of her face, illuminated in the glow of the bonfire. The gossamer scar on her left cheek, and the lilting arc of her nose. The weather-worn dips of her skin. Amidst the clatter of trenchers and shouts of laughter, she wears a faint smile like a veil. As usual, she is lost in a world of her own.

It had been you who suggested celebrating your victory against the Netherbrain with drinks in your hands and reckless abandon in your hearts. You had been swept up in the elation of the moment, the flurry of embraces from your companions, all grins and clasped shoulders. The dizzying promise of freedom as you clutched the mark of the orb on your chest. Tav had nodded at you, smiling brightly, her dark eyes glimmering before she looked away. She had maintained her customary reserve, as she does now, as she has done at all the parties and gatherings since this journey began.

Tav has always worn her hair in a tight bun, as though any concession to beauty would be a distraction. But tonight, obsidian locks tumble over her shoulders like the feathers of a raven. Against the hard muscles of her frame, her tresses look impossibly soft. You wonder, not for the first time, how they would feel against your lips.

You throw back the wine in your glass.

“Enjoying the view?”

You spin towards Shadowheart’s dulcet drawl. She smirks before taking a sip of wine, then wrinkles her nose in disgust.

“I hope it makes up for this disappointing vintage. I suppose even the heroes of Baldur’s Gate don’t deserve the best wine in the cellars.”

You shift along the bench, making space for her. “Alas, beggars can’t be choosers. We’re remarkably fortunate there are any wine cellars left, all things considered.”

Shadowheart huffs as she sinks down beside you. Her voice is light with affection.

“Ever the optimist, aren’t you?”

You titter, setting your empty glass on the ground. “I auditioned for the role of pragmatist, but you'd scooped that up already.”

Her eyes dance. You can sense the intensity of Shadowheart’s appraisal as she looks from you to Tav. She clears her throat.

“I don’t mean to be blunt, Gale,” she begins.

You arch an eyebrow. “Don’t you?”

“Well.” She sighs. “Maybe I do.”

You are all immeasurably tired, not just from your adventures, but from the lives you have led. The battles you have endured, together and alone. You can forgive any directness on Shadowheart’s part. You have grown accustomed to it, after all - maybe even fond of it.

“You do realise that after tonight, we might never see each other again?”

You baulk at this. You almost make a reflexive joke to dismiss it - that you are looking forward to being spared Astarion’s cutting remarks, or the overpowering evidence of Minsc’s poor hygiene. But sorrow quivers in Shadowheart's brow. You realise that the thought is anguish to her too.

“Of course we will,” you manage. “Bonds forged in blood aren't so easily severed.”

Shadowheart stares at you. There is a heaviness in her eyes that makes you look away.

“If we do, who knows how long it’ll be before our paths cross again.”

You are reminded of your hasty farewells on the docks. You still half expect Wyll to appear beside you with a chuckle. A hearty slap on the back from Karlach. A solemn hum from Lae'zel. Their absence is a living, breathing thing that simmers between you.

You wave your hand weakly, an attempt at dismissal. But the determination in Shadowheart's features arrests you.

“If you have important things to say to her, Gale, you should say them now.”

You frown, backfooted. “What could I possibly have to say to our fearless leader that I haven't already said in the many months we've enjoyed together?”

Shadowheart snorts. “Come now, Gale. You're many things, but you're not subtle.”

You try to feign ignorance, but it does not deter her.

“I’d have to be blind not to catch all those longing looks and stolen glances, or notice the purple wash of your tent on lonely nights.”

You start in your seat. Fire blazes up your neck, burning in your cheeks, smouldering in your ears. You gape, resisting the urge to bury your face in your robes.

Shadowheart chortles, patting you briskly on the shoulder. “Not to worry. We're all mature adults.”

You cough. At a loss, you fumble at your breeches, wringing your hands. You wonder if it would be unconscionably rude to misty step away from this conversation altogether.

Amusement crinkles in Shadowheart's gaze. There is tenderness there. All at once, you are reminded that every moment left with your companions, however mortifying, is precious. And perhaps it was foolish to expect such things to remain hidden, living in close quarters as you have been, forever teetering on the precipice between life and death. You have all been stripped bare with each other.

In the end, it has been an honour. To know and be known, after an eternity of being alone.

You would not usually discuss the matters of the heart so openly. But Shadowheart is right. Who knows how long you have left?

You clear your throat, your gaze returning to Tav like an anchor. She is crouched now, ruffling Scratch’s dusty fur intently as he nestles into her. You steady yourself.

“That ship sailed long ago, Shadowheart. In fact, it didn't just sail. It arrived at its location and returned a few times over.”

It still pains you to admit it. Pathetic, you know. You have tried, in vain, to rid yourself of your feelings. It was easier, with the constant threats to your existence, the relentless fight for survival. There was always some danger to distract you from that gnawing ache. Now, with the joy of victory, you are left with the suffering of wasted love.

What a sad, sorry thing.

Shadowheart grimaces. “Yet you’re still waiting at the docks.”

You stare at her, questioning. Once again, she sighs.

“Tav’s a monk, Gale. An incredibly committed one. She was trained to deny every single desire she has. To sacrifice her every need for the greater good. You know that, right?”

She stresses every word, like it is a secret code. You strain against her meaning.

She grizzles. “You have no idea? None at all? Truly?”

You suddenly sense where this is going. And truthfully, there was a time when you had wondered. You remember standing beside Tav, so close you could smell the tang of her sweat, the Weave flowing between you, making you one. Awe radiated from her, her vision lit up by the miracle of a magic that was not Ki, cocooning her in an altogether different kind of peace. In the purity of that instant, you were overcome by a longing to be closer. You let your eyes soak in every inch of her, the perfect balance of her body, the softness within her hardness. So much strength, always wielded in kindness, never for cruelty. So much power, always wielded for life, never for death.

You wanted to understand, then. The Way of the Open Hand, and all its tenets she held so dear. The mystery of her, in all her quiet glory. The secret behind her unwavering goodness. The resilience of her peace. Such tranquility, such certainty of purpose. Such a far cry from the rot inside you, the crushing burden of your mistakes.

She is beautiful, you thought, knowing she would feel your thinking of it.

When the image first came to you, you struggled to parse it. The fluttering of her cut and calloused fingers over the bristles of your beard. The warmth of her bruised skin against your own. The quiver of her plump and parted lips, searching for and finding yours. A swirling wet desire, raw and piercing.

When you realised what it was, you gasped. You stepped back. She withdrew too, her dark eyes averted, her face shadowed and unreadable. And then the connection had broken, and as you felt the Weave dissolve into the hollow night, a silence descended on you like a flood.

Perhaps you had imagined it. She could not have felt such a thing. The desire had been so intense, so sharp, like the grasping thrust of a blade. It could not have belonged to someone whose hands were always open, whose entire being was steadfast as still waters that had never seen a storm. She was a master of the Way, a seeker of Enlightenment. She lived like she had surpassed the passions of the heart and flesh.

You had planned to forget it. Ignore it. Pretend it never happened. But the image stirred something inside you, hot and red and hungry. It grew with every brush of her fingers as you traded tomes and scrolls, every flicker of her curious eyes when you shared musings great and small. Every evening lounging beside her as she meditated, cloaked in a peace that transcended words.

But when you had confessed to her on that fateful night, beneath the canopy of beauty and wonder you had conjured in her honour, she had turned away. She had whispered a choked apology, her brow twisted like never before. For the first time, shame and guilt trembled in her features as she retreated.

That had been the end of it. For Tav, perhaps, but not for you.

Shadowheart narrows her eyes. “So you didn't find it strange to see the calmest, most courteous woman in all of Faerun lashing out at Elminster Aumar, the most respected wizard in all the realms?”

You frown. It is true. Tav had been unusually animated, maybe even a little brusque, when Elminster had asked you to sacrifice yourself. You had chalked it down to pragmatism, weariness, maybe. An inordinately long day, or a torturously sleepless night. You did not have the presence of mind to reflect on Tav’s reaction, anyway, in the midst of your own devastation.

“Even paragons of virtue aren't immune to the short fuse of fatigue,” you suggest. “And cheese can wreak havoc on one’s digestive system, particularly in the amounts we consumed that evening. In fact, on more than one occasion, troubles in my breadbasket have led me to some rather disgraceful outbursts to Tara-”

Shadowheart groans. “Are you telling me that Tav disrespected the Sage of Shadowdale because she was a bit tired and had too much cheese?”

You swallow. Resolve clenches in her jaw in the awkward pause that follows. She tries again.

“You never wondered whose idea it was for me to make you all those special remedies, to take the edge off your orb pain?”

You scratch your head. “Was this a question I ought to have asked?” You are confused. “Should I have doubted your kindness and generosity?”

“Your faith in me is flattering,” Shadowheart drawls. “But we were practically strangers back then. I would have needed some incentive. Tav didn't. Your existence was incentive enough.”

A memory assails you. The aftermath of your defeat of Ketheric Thorm, when Tav was forced to draw on your ingenious resurrection protocol. Her juddering breaths as she leaned over your bleeding body. The anguished panic in her eyes. The muffled sound she made as you revived, lurching towards you and then flinching away. Her face impenetrable, her chest heaving as she withdrew.

No. It cannot be.

You shake your head. “You've misunderstood, Shadowheart. Tav cares for all of us. Everyone, indiscriminately and in equal measure.”

‘To walk the Path of Enlightenment,’ Tav had said when you asked her what she desired above all else. ‘To defend the weak and defenseless.’ If Tav loved anything, it was that grand purpose. There was no room for anything, anyone, else.

“I certainly don't hold a special place in her heart. Far from it. When I…” You grimace, sweeping your hand through your hair. “Well, she set me straight in no uncertain terms. Whatever feelings you imagine she harbours for me are confined to the bonds of simple friendship, nothing more.”

Shadowheart sucks in a breath. She looks up, as if she is appealing to the heavens for strength.

“I never thought an archwizard could be such a fool.”

You bristle. “An archwizard would have little tolerance for unwarranted displays of discourtesy.”

At your reaction, she softens. For an instant, she looks almost sheepish. Leaning back, she gestures towards Tav. Tav is cross legged now, her head tilted upwards, seeking the stars overhead. She had marvelled, too, at the azure sky you created for her, as though every constellation you crafted carried the wisdom she so craved.

“Do you know how hard it is to make Tav laugh?”

There is a wistfulness in Shadowheart’s tone. A kind of recognition. You remember that she knows the struggle for joy better than most, having spent most of her life cloistered in darkness and loss. You wonder, vaguely, whether that is so different from being cloistered in the confines of virtue.

“Not that polite smile,” she goes on. “Or that little nod she does. A real laugh, like she truly feels it.”

You know. You store each peal of Tav’s laughter within you like a priceless treasure. You have beheld each occasion as a miracle, a fleeting glimpse behind the veil.

“It's a rare and beautiful sight.”

“It is.” Shadowheart holds your gaze. “And she only does it for you. Your awful puns, and what you think passes for witty observations. Your unnecessarily detailed anecdotes.”

Something is unfurling inside you. Fear and courage, swirling into something swollen that throbs with every pulse of your heart. You struggle to keep still.

“Please just talk to her,” Shadowheart says. “Consider it a favour to me, so I don’t have to spend the rest of the night watching you drinking bad wine and pining miserably.”

You recoil. “Excuse me, but I don't pine. Pining is not something I do. In fact, I most certainly-”

“Yes, yes.” She rolls her eyes. “You don't pine, and Tav is an open book. You're both paragons of healthy communication.” She swigs her wine, pursing her pale lips in distaste. “I don't even know why you're still talking to me, at this point.”

You huff. Turning slowly, your eyes seek Tav’s across the expanse. A strand of hair trails over her collarbone, caressing the peak of her breast. She dips her head gently towards you.

Who knows how long you have left?

You slap your knees, take a shaky breath, and rise.

******

“How does it compare?”

Her eyes are burnt almonds framed by butterfly lashes. The firelight draws out the sun-kissed olive of her skin. It has a warmth that burns within you even in her absence. As you approach her, she bows slightly.

You point upwards. “The celestial canvas,” you explain. “The real thing. How does it fare against my earnest imitation?”

You have never spoken of that night, not even to mention it in passing. After her retreat, you were too desperate to salvage whatever remained between you. Any bond with her, any friendship, was worth more than kingdoms, even if you could not win her love.

But tonight, with Shadowheart's words reverberating in your mind, you feel brave. Reckless. Inexpressibly grateful. And now that you have come to the end of the road, what more do you have to lose? You may never see her again. This may be your last chance.

Something flickers on Tav’s face. You cannot quite place it.

“The art reveals the artist, and the creation the creator, as you told me before.”

Her words are so soft, you must dip forward to catch them. The petals of her mouth curve into a smile.

“Nothing could rival the beauty of a night sky wrought by your hands.”

You remember that conversation well, but you did not think she would. It was only one of hundreds you have shared. For a second, you let yourself indulge in the fantasy that she cherishes your words with the same passion and reverence with which you treasure hers. You let yourself imagine that her words carry an affection which mirrors your own.

But Tav speaks in formalities, riddles and proverbs. Her true feelings remain, as always, a mystery.

You listen to the rhythm of her breathing. Though even, there is a laboured focus in her breaths, as though she is forcing her intention. You recall an evening when you had sat beside her for a lesson in meditation. You had been lost in her closeness, her earthy scent, the supple arcs of her relaxed form.

‘In times of turmoil, we return to our breathing,” she had explained. ‘The breath is an anchor. A reminder that all is temporary. Every burden, every struggle, every blessing. All is dust, and all will pass.’

Does she seek relief from turmoil now, you wonder? What burden strains against her breathing? What load does she struggle to lay down?

She shuffles a little. You gesture towards a bench nearby. She drifts towards it, her hand grazing yours as you both sit. She does not shift away.

“So.” You fiddle with the edge of your robe. “Where does your path lead now?”

She looks towards the bonfire. “My duty will be to return to the Order in Neverwinter.”

“Your duty.”

She nods. “It is what is expected for a monk of my position.”

“I see.” You study the stillness of her features in profile, impassive as ever. “And is that your desire?”

She turns towards you briefly, but does not meet your eyes. Her gaze returns to the sparkling canopy above, as if the distant stars steel her soul.

“I have always seen the monastery as my home. I know it does not serve, to cling to the idea of a home. We must be adaptable to change, to move where the Way takes us. And on this journey we have shared, I have seen and learned more than I ever would, had I remained in the monastery. Immeasurably more.”

She draws in a long breath.

“And I would be deceitful if I said that I would not…miss….this.”

Her focus falls on the living tapestry before you, swathed in the music of joy and celebration. Astarion's fanged grin, returned wryly by Shadowheart. Minsc’s booming guffaw as Boo twirls in his palm. Jaheira’s lively gestures to a chuckling Halsin.

It is unmistakable. For an instant, Tav’s mask slips, and you see sorrow, tender and true. You had wondered if she felt the pain of parting, having always kept herself at a distance. Now, you are certain that she does.

Without thinking, you reach for her hand. Then you catch yourself. Your fingers hover above hers.

“It doesn’t have to be goodbye.” Your voice quavers. “It would be…a great loss to me, to lose the honour of your company. A very great loss indeed.”

Her brow steeples as she looks into your eyes. Then her features tremble, her hand jerking into her lap. You retract yours briskly.

There is a long pause. It feels like a misstep, an intrusion. A boundary you have crossed, as you had when you bared your soul to her beneath your northern lights. Mentally, you curse yourself, fretting and fumbling for an escape. And yet, you cannot ignore the tension that hangs in the air between you. The murmur of something you do not recognise, peering out from the depths.

When she speaks, you do not expect it.

“My Masters taught me to eschew attachment. Desire.”

She halts at the word, as though it is an admission that shames her.

“We are to alleviate suffering, wherever we find it. Desire and attachment do not serve…”

Her voice breaks. You have never heard that before. She has always been so sure, her speech always level and calculated, echoing her constancy. You are overwhelmed, not just by a yearning to understand, but to comfort.

“They are a distraction, then,” you say. “From your purpose.”

She averts her eyes. Her sigh is weary - a weariness that has always been subsumed by her stoic exterior.

“Everything is temporary,” she breathes. “Nothing endures.”

She closes her eyes. You watch as she lifts her hands, turning her palms up towards the constellations.

“We are taught to live with open hands. To let all things flow through us, and never to be tethered to the current. So it is with every privilege, every gift, every… person… that comes our way.”

She opens her eyes, staring into the space above her fingers.

“If I do not grasp it tightly, when it goes, there is no pain.”

She balls her hands into fists.

“If I hold fast to it, when I lose it, I mourn.”

Her brow knits.

“It does not serve.”

She looks down, her hands returning to rest on her thighs.

“Attachment only brings loss. Desire only brings pain. Everything is temporary. Nothing endures.”

The realisation is a lightning bolt that pierces you. The answer to the puzzle of her detachment. The reason for her ceaseless distance. Why she has always held back from your merry band of companions, avoiding connections beyond superficial courtesy. You see it now, as clear and certain as her kindness. It is not just a habit, the preference of an introvert more comfortable with solitude than companionship. It is not just a setting aside of distractions for the pursuit of a grand purpose.

It is a fear of loss. Abandonment. Grief.

All this time, she has been protecting herself. The revelation fills you with a desperate urgency.

“Does desire always beget suffering?” There is pleading in your voice. “Can attachment not be a source of wonder, beauty, goodness?”

She is taken aback by your abruptness. In this moment, you wish you still had a tadpole, so you could show her without words. You wish you could reveal how your bond gave you a reason to live when you thought there was none. How she gave you hope when you thought the only meaning to be salvaged from your life was through your death. How she brought the dawn in what you believed was an endless night.

“Your friendship, your kindness - they kept us all alive,” you say instead. “Our attachments were a source of strength. They alleviated our suffering, they never compounded it.”

You know it would be easier not to love her. If you had no attachment to her. You would not yearn for her like a lost part of yourself. There would be no agony of wanting, no suffering within your solitude. But then you would not know the wonder of her nature. The light of her laughter. The balm of her goodness and grace, unwavering as the sunrise. You would not trade them for anything, not even freedom from pain.

She is quiet, her head bowed. An ebony curtain falls around her face. You know the weight of what you are asking her to consider. But you cannot bear to see unnecessary suffering, especially not in the woman you cherish above any other.

“Is it actually possible?” you ask. “To never forge a bond with another? To remain…forever empty-handed?”

Determination hardens in her eyes as she lifts her head.

“It is a path. I strive to reach the destination. It is a great struggle. A journey without end.” She straightens, her frame tensing. “Perhaps I am too weak and wretched to achieve it. But I must make myself worthy. Every day, I try harder.”

You stare at her in disbelief. “You are the kindest, wisest, most patient person that I know. You give of yourself without asking anything in return. You saved the world,” you gesture to your bustling companions within the throng, “each and every one of us.”

When you try to hold her shifting gaze, all you see is doubt.

“You don’t see it, do you?” You resist the urge to clasp her by the shoulders. “You’re extraordinary, just the way you are.”

She shakes her head. “I am like any other soul on the Path to Enlightenment.”

You do not allow her to avert her eyes. “No, Tav. You're much, much more than that.”

“Gale.” Her brow creases. “There are many, many more important things to consider than…my own selfish doubts and desires.”

You can see the mask returning to her features. That impenetrable fortress of sagely Tav, a vessel of virtue without self. You have come too far to return to the facade now.

“What of your own suffering?”

Confusion twists in her face. But the truth is a tide that rushes from you, and you cannot stop it.

“What of the joy you forfeit as you watch from the sidelines? The loneliness you carry as you stand apart, shirking companionship? Denying your own desires, crushing your attachments - surely that begets a suffering of its own?”

She turns away. Anxiety flares within you. Perhaps you have gone too far. It is too much for her. You begin to wrench at yourself. You have pushed her back into her shell, an armour against hurts that you will never know. In your folly and impatience, you have lost her. In the silence, you mourn.

And then, a confession.

“My parents gave me to the Masters when I was a babe,” she whispers. “The Way is all I know. All I have.”

You spin towards her. The torment of memory lingers in every fibre of her frame. You understand her in a way you never have before. She is a woman without a family, forever apart. She is a door cracking open now, allowing you entry. You leap through it.

“Not so.” You lean towards her. “You have me.”

Fear roils in the black sea of her eyes. You know what you are asking. You are asking her to trust in a love that could endure the vicissitudes of life, the foibles of human lack, the everyday tragedies from which no one is spared. You are asking her to lay down every tool she has wielded, every defence she has erected against the loss that trails behind her like a shadow.

You are asking her to trust you.

“I know I speak out of turn.” Your voice swells. “I know you’ve made it clear that there’s no place for me in your heart. But I can’t remain silent, after all we’ve been through, knowing there’s any inkling of a chance that I might not lose you forever. I can’t remain silent, when there’s a chance that I could relieve you of the burdens that you carry alone.”

She is shaking now. You can almost feel the reverberations. But she is still here, still listening. It gives you strength to go on.

“I cherish you, Tav. It's beyond desire. Beyond attachment. More than admiration, infatuation, or lust. I love you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything. To me, you’re perfect. There’s no one like you. There never has been, and never will be.”

You can hear a catch in her breathing. She has frozen still, so still, as if she would crack if you touched her. Your words are broken and tattered, but you do not stop.

“I can’t promise that I won’t age or die. That I won’t change, as everyone and everything in life does. But I promise that I will love you for as long as I draw breath. I promise that my love for you will endure. And I promise to walk the Way with you. I will never abandon you. You need not walk alone.”

Her eyes widen as she clasps her palm to her lips. You hold your heart out like an offering before her open hands. Your chest heaves as you wait, trying desperately to parse her silence.

She turns away, lurching upwards, retreating into the night.

Her withdrawal wounds you like a blade to the gut. A muffled cry escapes you as you watch her receding back.

It is over.

The tears scald your skin as they fall. You wince through the rending of your heart. But amidst the fracturing, waves of gratitude ripple through you. To have beheld the glory of her, to have earnestly loved her in the stolen moments you shared, however fleeting - it was the privilege of a lifetime. An honour which will endure beyond the anguish of love’s passing. You are sure of it.

It takes you a moment to register it. She has stopped in her tracks. Her body, usually as elegant as the wind’s caress, judders as she turns back to face you. Through the mist of your grief, you see that her eyes are glistening with tears. You bound towards her, distressed beyond measure. It is the first time you have seen her cry.

She does not speak. In the waterfall that cascades down her scarred cheek, the throbbing ache in her gaze, you see an emotion that needs no words.

You surge forwards. You are so close that you can smell the jasmine notes of her hair, feel the spasm of her breath against your collarbone. You take her quivering hands and press them against your beard. Her eyelids flutter, but she does not pull away. You whirl with surprise, relief, elation, yearning - a thousand feelings you can name and more that you cannot.

“I have tried,” she chokes. “With everything I have…for so long I have tried. But I could not…”

Her words are torn whispers, panting breaths. Her fingers grasp at your bristles, dancing into your hair. Her touch is dizzying, lithe and earnest, tracing every part of you. You draw your fingers up the dip of her neck, cupping her cheeks as you have longed to so many times before.

“You don’t need to anymore.”

Her skin feels as you have always imagined it - firm, smooth and warm. As you brush her tears away, she falls into you, and you catch her parted lips with your own. Her mouth is wet and hot, and she tastes of spring flowers and salt musk. You gasp at the pulse of her tongue, the hard heat of her body flush against yours. Her desire rips through you as keenly as your own, a whirlpool of love and longing which holds you fast.

She is everything you ever dreamed of and more.

You are not sure how long you remain wrapped up in each other, clutching, tasting, searching and finding. Hoots and hollers begin to reach your ears, familiar voices, teasing and congratulatory. You tear away from each other, foreheads pressed together, swaying breathlessly in a stupor. With her crimson cheeks and half-lidded eyes, her lips swollen from desire, it takes all the resolve within you not to whisk her away to your bedroom.

You must steady yourself. You know that you must tread slowly. Love is a brave new world for her, and there are a thousand nights ahead of you.

“There’s a monastery in Waterdeep,” you say eventually.

Through halting breaths, she struggles for words. It is intoxicating, to see Tav’s unyielding stoicism dissolve into her need for you. You have never felt so powerful. You plant a trail of kisses from her forehead to her chin. She nibbles at your earlobe, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“The Monastery of The Sun,” she murmurs after a while. “Notorious for heresy. I have always wanted to see whether the controversy is well-founded.”

You take her hands in yours. You swallow, the last remnants of apprehension churning within you.

“Would you return with me to…”

She looks at you, wide-eyed and curious as always. A smile breaks on your lips. You know, then, that there is nothing more to fear.

“Would you allow me to take you there?”

In your tumultuous life, you have seen many things. You have beheld the singular beauty of the Outer Plains, the unparalleled majesties of your home city, manifold vistas of nature’s bounty. But nothing compares to what you see before you now.

Joy, plain and pure, beams in every line and curve of Tav’s features. A chord of laughter bursts from her, crisp as birdsong. She radiates with love.

She kisses your hands, then cradles them against her heart.

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure.” *****

Liked this fic? Check out my other work.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #gale x oc #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 gale fanfiction #bg3 gale fic #gale fic #gale fanfiction #gale romance #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 fic #monk tav #gale x monk tav

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kisseobie · 5 months

Note

hi could I request p1harkony when they have a crush on you

p1harmony when they have a crush on you

pairings: ot6 p1harmony x reader

warnings: none i don’t think…

a/n: hiii friend!! yes u can >__< i hope u enjoy!! requests r open btw for anyone wondering :p still working on tumblr girls atm ..

*ੈ✩ keeho

keeho prides himself on the fact that he can make anyone in his vicinity laugh with little to no effort, but with you, he tries just a bit harder than he would with anyone else. his feelings for you develop quite quickly, and he finds himself paying attention to small details about you that many, including yourself, would miss. known for being one of the moodmakers of his squad, everyone notices that he gets abnormally quiet at group hangouts where you are present, something out of character for him. alas, he doesn’t notice his friends’ concerned glances at his unusual demeanor, as he would much rather focus on the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh, the gentle bouncing of your right leg under the diner table, and how you struggle to maintain eye contact with him for more than a few seconds. his attentiveness is what allows him to get closer to you, and his intense observations of every detail about you ends up in him bringing you your favorite snacks without being asked to, or renting an older movie that you mentioned you had been wanting to see, just so the two of you can watch it together. his feelings for you grow tenfold as time passes, but he’s careful not to bombard you with an overwhelming confession of love, so he keeps a good pace and continues to gift you items that remind him of you. once the two of you start hanging out one and one regularly, his flirtatious side is less restrained, and he weasels his way into your heart with the way that he sweetly praises you with that honey voice of his. loves to sneakily touch you and compliment everything about you. his devotion to you, even in the crush stage, is immense and making you feel like the prettiest, most important girl in the world is how he lets that be known to you.

*ੈ✩ theo

is the last one to figure out that he has feelings for you. always would internally pass off his desire to keep you close as just fondness for a friend, but when the boys inquire why he goes through such lengths to make you smile, or basks in your compliments a little more than necessary, he starts to understand that he might not like you as just a “friend”. takes a bit of time to analyze how you two interact the next few times he sees you, and he quickly begins to note that yes, he loves to make you smile more than anyone else and yes, only your compliments, whether towards his hair color or singing voice at a group karaoke session, make him feel fuzzy inside. taeyang is not one to fear rejection, so his way of making you aware of his feelings is cool and collected. simply calls you and gives you instructions to “get dolled up by the evening and wear red.” because he’ll be picking you up and taking you out. when he drives up to your residence, he knocks on your door with flowers in hand, beaming at your beauty. theo is very traditional and a big gentlemen, evident when he opens your passenger door for you, or when he takes your hand to lead you up the flight of a fancy restaurant’s stairs. overall, i believe that he wouldn’t bask in his crush on you for too long. pining is not his ideal method of securing you as his, and he pursues you right when he realizes he sees you in a romantic light. his confidence is a strong quality of his, and that’s no different when it comes to you.

*ੈ✩ jiung

as a perfectionist that values work to a sometimes unhealthy extent, jiung wasn’t fully aware of his blossoming love for you at first. it definitely takes him a little bit of time to accept that his feelings towards you aren’t merely platonic, and as a result of that he might pull away for a bit before ultimately opting to get closer to you. like theo, ji doesn’t really care to pine so when he does make the decision that he wants a chance at a future with you by his side, he makes his feelings very obvious. it starts with physical touch, which you yourself have witnessed jiung gagging at in the past with anyone else, so you already start suspecting that he might view you in a different light than his other friends. starts taking you out on study dates, accompanying you to cat cafes, tying your undone shoelaces for you.. he’s practically your boyfriend before the pair of you even discuss your feelings for each other. isn’t a big gift giver but will pay for your food every time you’re together, not taking “no” from you as an answer. loves when he catches you staring at him from time to time, and blushes at the thought of you liking him back as much as he likes you. i see jiung confessing to you in a pretty nonchalant way, as he’s comfortable enough in his feelings to relay them to you with a certain sweetness that makes your heart warm. in his mind he’s quite nervous, but when you excitedly accept his confession he’s all smiles, grabbing your hand and giving you a quick peck on the cheek. jiung is your prince charming, and the shift between your mutual feelings for each other and officially becoming a couple is a comfortable process, as if it was always meant to be, as if the pair of you were always one, even from the beginning.

*ੈ✩ intak

i see intak as the type of boy to wear his heart on his sleeve, and his security in accepting and understanding his own emotions allows him to be your knight in shining armor whenever you need him to be. he himself knows how comfort can be given in the form of company when life gets difficult, which is precisely the way he shows you his unwavering affection. he doesn’t fully know for sure if he has platonic or romantic feelings for you in the beginning, but he begins to realize that it’s the latter when he finds himself answering a panicked call from you at very late hours of the night, to which he runs to grab his keys and fling on his jacket at he makes his way to your location to comfort you as best as he can. from that night on, he dedicates himself fully to making you feel safe and loved, even if he’s unsure if you reciprocate his feelings. his love language is definitely quality time, and he often ends up inviting you to local concerts, shopping dates, and the movies. wants you to know that he’ll always be there for you, and that he enjoys spending his free time in your presence more than anyone else’s. inflicts corny cliches onto you, like fake yawning and stretching his arm to wrap around your frame, (and his sneaky glance in your direction to make sure he hasn’t made you uncomfortable is not a gesture that goes unnoticed). is your number one hype man, shoulder to cry on, and pillow for when you accidentally fall asleep leaning against his warmth. when he finally knows that you do reciprocate, his confidence shoots up to the roof. one night when you two are watching a movie together at your house, intak turns to face you, tucks a stray hair behind your ear and asks, “can i kiss you?”, waiting for your approval before locking his chapped lips with yours. when you both part from the kiss he can’t stop smiling and going in for more kisses, and eventually you both fall asleep cuddling on the couch. when you wake up he sits you down to make sure he interpreted your eagerness correctly, that you really do want to be his. is all giggles when you call yourself his “girlfriend” for the first time. he is soooo puppy coded ^_^

*ੈ✩ soul

not being the most confident in the group, he’s quite hesitant to express his feelings for you. hides his crush on you from everyone, because he fears it could come between your close friendship. i think shota is the type to know right away if he has romantic feelings for someone, as he’s a great judge of character and knows who he can be comfortable around with a singular interaction. even though he may not want to verbalize his feelings to anyone, especially you, that doesn’t mean that soul doesn’t treat you different. on the contrary, he prioritizes your happiness more than his own, like when he brought you dozens of his favorite snacks from his latest trip to japan, or when he demotes jongseob as his gaming buddy so that he can teach you one on one how to play his usual games. although he might believe he’s not very obvious, all of his friends know that he loves you. after a long time of crushing on you, he starts to open up to you more, which surprises him, especially knowing that he likes to keep his emotions to himself. realizes at a certain point that he can’t continue on like this, that he can’t bare to keep you as just a companion, that he craves more. seeks out his friends’ advice on the matter for the first time, and they all reassure him that there is no way that you don’t feel the same, which is unconvincing to him. despite his doubts, he does eventually muster up enough courage to tell you how he feels, expecting you to kindly reject him and distance yourself afterwards, but to his surprise, you just reply with a kiss on his cheek, and the words, “i like you too”. from that point on, he becomes a more confident version of himself around you, constantly cracking jokes and keeping you attached to him at all times. every part of him that wanted to hide from you disappears once you put a label on your relationship, and he’s grateful that he didn’t let his insecurities get in the way of your shared love for each other.

*ੈ✩ jongseob

i’m a firm believer that seob would fall in love at first sight. his mind is older than his body, and he’s regarded as one of, if not the most mature of his group, despite being the youngest. jongseob knows what he likes, is in touch with his emotions, and most importantly, knows that he loves you more than life itself. doesn’t shy away from pursuing you, makes it his goal in life to receive your unwavering affection!! definitely makes use of his photography hobby by using you as the subject in majority of his photos, always sends you printed copies with little notes written on the back of them, like the date they were taken on, what he was thinking when he photographed them, etc..! asks his older members for advice, and constantly tries to meddle information out of them that could be useful to his mission of asking you out.. he’s attentive just like keeho, and gives you little gifts that incorporate things like your favorite characters, perfume scents, colors, and songs. 100% writes lyrics about you, and shyly shows them to you when you come over one day, passing them off as “general” feelings but when he sees how excited you get to be reading something he wrote himself, your reaction is enough for him to finally ask you out on a proper date. when you leave in the evening, he’s giddy for the rest of the night, and writes down different date ideas just so that he can plan everything perfectly to fit your tastes. he also is on his phone all the time, always preoccupied with texting you, whether it be a simple “good morning :]” or a cute video he saw on instagram. jongseob’s crush on you is deeper than he may let off at first, but he knows that it’s something that consumes his every thought and motivates him in every aspect of his life. once you two actually start dating, he continues to take pictures of you, and makes a scrapbook journal for the pair of you to look at in the future!! just the sweetest boy who values your interests and happiness over everything else!!!

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @t3ssamoodboard @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @vivienne-sim @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @sosaverse @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror @watamotee33 @dreamer1299 @jixnnsie @wonootnoot @yukx-x047

❤︎

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meanbossart · 6 months

Note

to: boss

from: boss

i just think they're neat

TO BOSS FROM BOSS I AGREE WITH THE LITTLE MAN. HE COULD TAKE HIM. JUST HEADBUTT HIM AT GROIN-LEVEL AND TAKE HIM OUT.

I love the way you draw DU drow so much, he looks like SUCH a cryptic. Specially fond of the way you did his hair here where it looks half fried LOL

And Illiam... My god. I was impressed with the monocle and the facial hair but now look at that fur cloak. What an absolute style icon. I'd say I wanna steal it but alas that fits my cat at the most.

#THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR MAKING MY NIGHT...... AGAIN!!!!#gift art #DU drow #other tavs #im sorry i believe he isnt originally a bg3 tav but thats just for my ease of search LOL

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darling-im-wonderstruck · 1 year

Note

hii!! could you write something where peter and reader go grocery shopping, then he gets lost in the store but it’s just super fluffy?? tysm :)

back to you | p.p.

synopsis : no matter what happens, no matter the circumstances, no matter the situation, you knew peter would always find his way back to you.

pairing : bf!peter parker x reader

wc : 589

warnings : flufffffff !! and peter being a chaotic idiot 😭

‎‎ ───── masterlist | request | navigation

a/n : hi ! sorry the fic is a little late this week again 😓, the title and summary is so dramatic given the fic LMAOAOSKSMJSND but anyways !!! this was based on @sacharinee’s grocery shopping headcanons ! please read m’s works, they’re all amazing :) <3 💞

y’know, grocery shopping can be pretty fun if you don’t just sigh and mope around.” you grin. peter on the other hand, had a pout on his face. he was avoiding you whilst making sure he was never further than three feet away.

“you didn’t let me get the chocolate covered wafers,” he mumbles, looking down. you couldn’t help but giggle at your lover’s antics. he’s been like this on the car ride to the grocery store and its only gotten worse once you arrived.

“we’re only here to buy our meals for the week, and you promised, no unnecessary purchases,” you called back to the promise he made before leaving. grocery shopping with peter was almost like babysitting a full grown adult, and you didn’t know if you were up for that today.

but alas, here you were.

“this is necessary! i’m starving,” he groans but he quickly follows it up with, “you’d let me get them if you love me.” a smile was slowly creeping up on his face.

you give him a soft peck on the lips (one gladly accepts), before saying, “i love youuu!” peter grins hopefully after hearing that. “but we are not getting those wafers,” you say, continuing your round throughout the grocery store, peter trailing behind you.

despite peter’s growing hanger, he manages to make himself helpful by grabbing heavy batches of items, placing them into your cart. you send him a smile of approval which makes peter all giddy and proud, suddenly, he’s in a pretty good mood.

his mood only improved once he saw samples, all laid out neatly on a nearby stall. he quickly glances at you to take note of where you are, and he’s off taking multiple samples of the same food so he can share some with you.

but as soon as he comes back to the bread and pastry section, you’re nowhere to be found.

at first, he isn’t too worried about it, he’s certain that you’d come back for him anytime now.

anytime now…

the panic really starts to settle in once thirty minutes have passed, he was starting to get looks, he’d been standing there alone, samples in one hand, phone in the other.

he’d tried calling, unfortunately for him, your phone was on silent.

he couldn’t wait any longer, at some point, he begun showing anyone he could see a photo of you, asking if they’d seen you anywhere. when he realizes no one’s seen you, the panic fully sinks in.

but really, you were lined up by the cashier, you hadn’t noticed when peter had left your side, but you thought it would be safe to assume that he was okay, probably looking for more samples.

unbeknownst to you, he was far from okay.

he paced back and forth in the dairy aisle, mumbling, running his hands through his hair, thinking of every possible outcome of you being separated.

“baby?” and when his head turns towards you, you could’ve sworn you saw tears beginning to form.

next thing you know, his arms are tightly wrapped around your waist and he’s peppering soft kisses on your shoulder.

“what’s wrong?” truthfully, you were starting to worry.

“i turned around and you were just— gone.” that’s when you broke, you couldn’t hold it in anymore, you burst into laughter.

“you, peter parker, are an idiot.” you say, a fond smile on your face, one he couldn’t help but mirror, “and, i hope these will make you feel better.”

you pull something out of your grocery bag, low and behold… “the chocolate covered wafers!”

taglist : (send me an ask/dm to be added !) @live-laugh-lovejoy @tomsholland2412 @parkerpeter24 @herpeanutzombie

a/n : tysm for reading :) pls reblog to support your writers !!! requests are open !

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mysicklove-main · 1 year

Text

Parings: Yandere! Rengoku x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 14.3k (Part 1/3)

Warnings: This chpt is pretty chill so, overprotectiveness, slight possessiveness, vague meanings, rengoku personality does 180s, character injury, minor character death, gore (demon eating human and reader gets impaled)

Summary: Meeting the one you have idolized for years is a once in a lifetime experience. So, you live it up, baking him all the treats in the world. When you finally befriend him, you believe that everything is going great. But he keeps saying strange things, and is acting like he isn't leaving by the end of the week...

𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Growing up, you have always idolized demon slayers. Your father was one, and he told you and your brother everything about them from a young age. Sure, it may have scared the daylights out of you, but at least you were forever prepared for the real world.

He had planned to teach both of you the ways of a slayer, but he passed early into your childhood. With your mom passing at birth, it was only you and your older brother. The two of you made do with the loss.

Instead of following in your father’s footsteps, the two of you lived a simple life. The both of you live in a small cottage, just on the outskirts of a village. You woke up early every morning to sell fresh baked goods to the villagers, while your brother traveled west, aiding the sickly, and making money through donations. He always came back after one week of being gone.

When the two of you are together, you always are reminiscing over the stories your father once told. Most of the time referring back to how he met the Hashiras.

By god, you idolized them. You have always dreamed of meeting them like your father did. He described them as the most skilled people on the planet. The protectors of the human world. His words couldn’t help but draw you in. You wanted to know everything about them. How they trained, how they spoke, how they lived.

You daydream all the time about meeting any of them.

Specifically, the son of the man who once saved your father from death. Who granted him an extra three years with you. You have fond memories of how your father used to mention how strong the boy was from such a young age. The boy who was built to protect.

You dreamed of meeting him. You were a plain girl who lived a normal life, so you couldn’t even fathom the thought of being your age and fighting off demons. The thought of him drew you in and you vowed to someday find him.

You knew what he looked like. Your father went into detail about the child. The boy who looks like the flame. Fiery hair and eyes.

You shiver in glee like you always do when you think of your idol. He has to be your age by now, maybe a little older. You wonder what he is like, of course, he has to be unbelievably strong, but was he arrogant because of it? Or was he kind? You didn't care, you just want to see him. Talk to him. Just one time. That's all you needed.

“Hey, Y/N!” Your brother calls as you begin your journey toward the village. You turn, to see him in front of the house, his travel backpack on, and waving at you.

You frown. “You're not leaving right?” You respond, and the waving arm hesitates. He had just got home yesterday, he usually stays for a week before leaving.

“I have to! I just got word that someone needs my help.”

You sigh but nod. He always was so kind. “You'll come back? In a week?”

He grins at you, that bright smile he inherited from your father. You wish yours was as bright as his. That's part of the reason he was loved by all. “Always. I'll be back in a week’s time. Be good without me!”

You throw up a hand, waving him goodbye. “I will! Be safe!” You call and he smiles in return, before turning his back on you and beginning his journey.

You sigh when he disappears, sensing something amiss, but brush it off. Your worries always got the best of you, and you needed to focus.

Alas, you begin to walk forward and toward the village.

You are greeted by your regulars, and many of the elderly come up to you to complain about how big you are getting. You always have to remind them that you are not a child anymore, but nevertheless, they never seem to get it.

The villagers have always been kind to you, and you were forever grateful. With the lack of parents, it was nice to have someone to turn to for affection.

Currently, you were walking around and greeting the villagers, with your hands completely full of fresh goods. A handful of people approached you and paid their dues, with a warm smile. The business was going well, and you were having a nice time chatting with the villagers.

You see a dark hooded figure in the distance, walking quickly toward you. Politely, you make your way to the other side of the road to avoid the stranger. You slightly nod to yourself and continue forward.

Suddenly, at a couple steps away they switch back into your lane and run completely into you. Their shoulder knocks into yours and you wince. Black gloved hands move quickly and you can see them snatch the money in your pocket. You can’t seem to do anything, because the force of his shoulder has sent you falling backward.

You land on your backside with a groan and watch all of your baked goods tumble across the pavement. Immediately you look up toward the stranger, but he was gone. So, you turn back toward the ground and try to scoop up any of the pastries you can.

They are all ruined. You try not to let it get to you, but it hits you hard. You sit on your knees on the hard pavement and clench your fists, trying not to cry. All that time you spent baking and selling was for nothing. Just for some thief to steal your hard work from you.

A shadow stands in front of you, but you ignore it, too focused on yourself to deal with another kind villager. You don’t want to lash out at them.

A booming male voice says, “Are you alright?”

You jump at the sheer power of the stranger’s call but continue to keep your head down. Tears were now pooling in your eyes and you quickly wipe them away. “I'm okay. It's fine, you can go now,” You mumble, but the shadow doesn't move.

“How could I leave a maiden in need?” He continues, still abnormally loud. You shake your head and sigh, before grabbing the remaining pastries and putting them back in their holder. When you begin to stand up, you feel a strong arm, grab onto yours and help ease your way up.

You finally look up to take in the man’s appearance and your eyes widen. Eyes and hair of a flame. A fire kimono. A sword connected to his side.

This was him. The man you have wanted to meet your entire life. It had to be.

Your mouth hangs open as your mind blanks. He frowns slightly. “Are you alright, ma’am?”

“Its…It’s you,” You say breathlessly, not caring at the moment how strange you may sound.

He frowns even more at your vague statement. “Oh! Do you know me?” His voice causes some heads to turn, but he seems to ignore it, almost used to the stares.

You blink at him. You are at a loss for words. He was here. You didn’t actually think this would happen. It was supposed to be just a dream.

A couple of seconds go by.

He instead changes the subject at your silence. “Well! I see that you dropped these.” He points to the now dirty danishes. “How upsetting! I wanted to buy some. Will you make more?”

This seems to snap you back into reality and you begin to ramble nervously. “Oh…Yeah. A thief knocked me over and took my money. Just my luck, huh? But i'll be back tomorrow with fresh ones.” You're blushing. You didn’t say or do anything embarrassing, but the fact that you are finally in his presence is making you squirm.

He smiles and you tear your eyes away from him, a wobbly smile pulling at your face. “Great! I'll buy the whole bunch in advance!” He hands you a huge stack of money and you gape at him. He just handed you two days worth of cash.

“Sir, this is way too much!” You splutter, beginning to hand him back the money. He just laughs in return. His huge body tilts back with the booming noise.

“Nonsense! It's to compensate for what the thief did to you.”

“Are you sure sir? You don't have to do that.”

“I want to. As long as you promise to make more of those danishes!”

His kindness makes you beam and the words slip out of you before you could stop them. “You are so generous, sir. As expected of such a high-rank demon slayer!”

You knew you sounded like a total fangirl, clutching your fists with sparkles in your eyes, but you didn’t care. The fact that you weren’t freaking out right now was impressive.

He cocks his head to the side, the soft smile never falling. “You know who I am?”

“Of course, I know who you are! The flame harisha. One of the strongest demon slayers out there. I am a huge fan, sir!” You grin up at him, setting the ruined danishes aside, and he lets out another powerful laugh.

He didn't seem as shocked that you knew about demons as you thought he was going to be. Or maybe he was just hiding it pretty well. “I didn't know I had fans!”

You hum with a frantic nod. “If everyone knew what you did for us, you would have millions of fans!”

He places a hand on your shoulder and you buzz with happiness. “You are too kind, ma’am. But please don't give me so much praise! I am only doing my job.”

You shake your head, “You’re being way too humble! You have no idea how great you are.” You pause, coming back to reality. You don't want to annoy the slayer with your useless rambling, he was a busy man.

You sigh and instead, bow. “Thank you for everything. I won’t take up your time.” Your voice is quieter and more controlled but still expresses your immense gratitude.

You grab your stuff and head home with a gleeful look in your eyes before he could even say anything.

A second goes by and you begin to daydream about the types of danishes you are going to make for him. Suddenly, you feel a presence, so you turn to your side to see him walking beside you, a small content smile on his face. You almost jump, his movements were so silent, how did he catch up with you so fast?

When he notices you take in his appearance he turns to you and grins. “You’ll be back tomorrow, right? I must dine on some of your baked goods!”

You match his intensity with a wide smile. “Of course. I wouldn’t lie to you, sir!”

“Please, call me Rengoku.”

“Of course, Mr. Rengoku!” You are buzzing again. Two conversations you have had with him and now you know his name. You couldn’t wait to tell your brother all about this.

“Great! I’ll see you tomorrow…” He pauses, turning toward you, hinting for you to continue.

“Y/N.”

“Tomorrow then, Miss Y/N. Stay safe!” And just like he appeared, he disappeared in a matter of seconds, while you are stuck red in the face from your idol saying your very own name.

You could die happy.

You woke up extra early the next morning. The goods had to be absolutely perfect. You were determined for him to like them. You even used some frosting to draw little orange flames on them. You hoped he didn’t think they were lame. It’s definitely a very good possibility he did.

When the sun rose, you grabbed your iteams and quickly headed down the hill. The quicker you got there, the better. You didn’t want them to get cold.

The town was extra busy that day. More people greeted you on the streets and you had to apologize to many that you weren’t selling today. After all, he bought every single one.

Your head hung high and you were practically skipping around the town, beaming at anyone and everyone.

You don’t seem to notice the small curb in front of you. You run into it, and screech when you begin to fall forward, not knowing what to do. You could drop your danishes and save yourself from pain, or you could move the basket up and brace yourself for a harsh fall straight to the face.

You weren’t about to let Rengoku’s desserts get ruined.

Just as you were about to hit the floor you stop. You feel a hand on your shoulder, as you stare face to face with the ground. You clutch the pastries. “Miss Y/N, its a pleasure seeing you here!” The familiar voice calls and you turn red out of sheer embarrassment at the situation you are in.

He pulls you back with just one hand and you have to physically restrain yourself from fangirling. He held your entire weight with one hand like it was no big deal.

You quickly turn around, trying to ignore the fuming of your face, and hold out the pastries to him. “Here! I hope you like them!” You exclaim while pulling the lid off to show him the decorated buns. You take in a deep breath and wait.

His eyes seem to sparkle when he takes in the frosting and you take this as a good sign. He smiles wide and grabs one of the goods. Without a second thought, he plops the entire thing into his mouth.

He chews in silence, and you could almost hear your heartbeat pound as you wait for his thoughts.

With a swallow, his eyes fall back to you, and he says, “Tasty!”

You beam instantly, matching his wide smile. “You think so?”

“I know so. These are one of the most delicious baked goods I have ever had!” The gleeful buzzing is back, you knew that your baking was good, but to hear it from his mouth was such a gift.

He puts both hands on both of your shoulders and you freeze at the touch, internally freaking out. “Come with me, Miss Y/N. Let us eat them together!” He exclaims, before snatching the goods from your hands with one hand and pulling you behind him with the other. You don’t have room for protest.

He leads you to the edge of the town and plops himself on a curb behind a small restaurant, and faces the hill you live on. You sit next to him, and he doesn’t seem to care about personal space, because almost instantly he is crowding yours.

You’re going to have to get used to this, you can’t freak out anymore than this.

He opens the box again and hands you one of the goods, but you pull away. “Those are for you, Mr. Rengoku. I can’t take something you bought!”

But, to your dismay, he grabs your hands, places a baked good into them, and shuts his fingers over yours. “Eat!”

You weren’t going to ignore his demand, so you pick up the bun and begin to nibble on it. He stares, waiting for a reaction. You smile hesitantly, “It’s good!”

“Right!” He exclaims before placing another danish into his mouth, with another loud, “Tasty!”

You begin to laugh at his antics. The way he yells, the way he dragged you away like it was nothing, and simply how enthusiastic he seemed to be. He was a strange man, but you couldnt help but like him even more.

He looks at you as he chews, while you throw your head back in a laugh. “Is there something funny?” He asks, glancing around the area. It was just the two of you.

“You are just so…so human!”

He mimics your smile, even if he is totally lost at your vague statement. “Well, I'd hope so!” He says before taking another huge bite.

Your smile softens as you stare at the food in your hands. “It’s just, I thought you would be different, you know? A Hashira, shouldn't you be super serious or arrogant?”

He swallows his bite and looks out toward the hill. His voice comes out softer, “You idolize me too much Miss Y/N. I am nothing but a man who must protect the weaker people of this world.”

“But do you want to? You aren’t forcing yourself to do this because of your father, right?” He turns to you with slightly wider eyes and blinks. The two of you remain in silence for a couple of seconds.

But then he grins, with the tilt of his head. He places a massive hand on the top of your head and you freeze. “Not to worry, Miss Y/N. I love what I do. I wouldn't change it for the world,” He says, slightly ruffling up your hair.

Another couple of seconds go by as you think of what to say. But he speaks up before you do. “You knew my father?” The man prompts, turning his attention directly on you. It makes you nervous, his watchful eyes seem to take in your every move.

You press on either way, tearing your eyes away so you can focus. “No, but he saved my father about ten years ago. So, I am forever indebted to the Rengoku family. I cannot thank you enough, Mr. Rengoku. Even if it wasn’t you who saved my father, you and your family have protected so many people. Saved so many. It's incredible, really, you're incredible,” You hum and he continues to stare.

You continue, you have been waiting to tell someone this, specifically him, so you couldn’t stop the rambling. “All of the Hashira are. For years I’ve daydreamed about meeting them. You specifically.” You glance up at him and quickly look back down in embarrassment when you see his small smile. “I've always idolized you all. It’s strange to think, we are the same species, but you are someone who risks their lives daily to kill demons, why I sell pastries to keep food on the table. It’s kinda embarrassing when you think about it…” You trail off, taking another bite of the good to keep yourself distracted.

Seconds go by and you begin to get uncomfortable. You turn toward him to meet his watchful stare. His fiery eyes seem to look through you. “I’m sorry, did I make you uncomfortable? I said way too much, please just enjoy the bun, I'll be quiet, I promise!”

He sets the danish down and your eyes follow it with a slight frown. He forcefully grabs your hands and you quickly look up shocked at the sudden touch. “Thank you for the kind words!” He yells and you cringe slightly at the volume. “But like I said yesterday, we are just fulfilling our duty. You are not indebted to anything. And Miss Y/N please don’t think that way! You don’t have to kill demons to be great, you know. Being this good of a baker is way more important than someone like me!”

The way he says it throws you off. It all sounds so genuine like he truly believes that what you are doing is important. He definitely knows how to make someone feel special. “T-Thank you, Mr. Rengoku!”

He smiles wide. “Please, call me Kyojuro! I think we are going to be friends, Y/N!”

You are taken aback. You didn’t think you would ever be friends with someone like him. It makes you grin. “You really think so?”

“Yes! Besides how else am I going personalized fresh goods from a pretty lady?” He says, gently letting go of your hands so he can point to the wobbly icing drawing of a flame located on the center of the bun.

Your face fumes, both from embarrassment at his compliment and the ridiculous decoration. You wave your hands in front of your face. “It’s nothing! You deserve much more sir—Kyojuro.”

“Nonsense! How could anyone deserve something so magnificent!” He declares, loud and full of pride.

It made another small laugh slip through your lips. It was endearing to see how passionate he was about the smallest things. He was unreasonably kind to you.

He grins with a small hum, when he sees you smile, before shoving another bun into his mouth.

“Tasty!”

And just like that, you made friends with a Hashira.

The two of you were quick to get closer to one another. I mean it was simple really, you interviewed him on his entire life story, while he happily explained. You bring him goods every day, and no matter how much you reassure him it’s fine, he always insists on paying you the full amount.

But nevertheless, you have been avoiding the question that hangs in the air. Why are you here?

You don't want to know. There has to be a demon near or else he would never come to this small town. You fear that when you ask that question it’s going to spur his leave. It’s been four days now. He has to be on his way soon.

You've grown attached even in this short period of time. He has to have that effect on others; you wouldnt believe him if he said otherwise. He was the type of person who people couldn’t help but be drawn to. It made you feel possessively good that he was spending time with you rather than the other villagers.

A shoulder bumps into you while you are lost in your daydream. You flinch back and into Kyojuro. He glances down at you and then snaps his gaze back to the man that knocked into you. In less than a heartbeat, the Hashira steps in front of you and grabs onto the jacket of the stranger. You could barely even process what was happening.

“Sir, I’d ask for you to apologize. You’ve disrespected a lady,” His voice is tight, but the Hashira smiles at the man. It makes you gulp.

You realized quickly that Kyojuro is…overprotective. It made sense though, his whole job is to protect people, but these were humans he was protecting you from. And most of the time they weren’t even doing anything amiss. Simple things like, a salesman having a snarky tone at you, a man trying to flirt with you for your service, a small child almost tripping you, or now, someone who accidentally bumped into you.

He never gets truly upset, the smile is still plastered on his face, but the tone is always sharp, dangerous even. His voice was powerful naturally, so to hear it shift was intimidating.

You grab onto his arm before the man could speak. “It’s fine, Kyojuro. It was my fault, I wasn’t paying attention.” You turn to the man and quickly bow in apologies.

His gaze sharpens, and you see his eyebrows begin to furrow at your actions. He didn’t seem to like this.

The man remains in his grasp. “Hey, you can let him go now,” You say, moving your hands to his fingers to try to coax them open.

His eyes remain locked on the man who was now struggling in his hold. “Apologize, sir.”

“Kyojuro, I said-”

He cuts you off, his loud voice cutting your train of thought short. “He touched you, so he must make up for it.” He smiles at you, but this time it doesn’t feel the same as it usually does. The malice in his voice is unhidden.

“I’m sorry! Can you just let me go you crazy bastard!” The man complains, grabbing at the Hashira’s wrist to pull himself away.

In an instant, Rengoku drops him, and the man scampers away, mumbling curses underneath his breath.

You sigh, your gaze following the man that beginning to disappear into the crowd. When you turn back around, Rengoku is staring at you, the familiar small smile on his face. “Was that really necessary?” You whine.

He huffs a small laugh, before placing a hand on your head. Something he seems to do as a sign of affection. “Of course it was! I can't let you be treated that way!”

His usual smile is back and you find comfort in it. In these moments he was always different, but he always snapped back to usual not long after. So, you tend not to dwell on them.

“Whatever you say, Kyojuro,” You hum, before changing the subject. “C’mon, let's head back to my place, I wanna teach you something!”

He pauses, eyes slightly widening. He has never been to your place before. The two of you tended to stay in the village, spending daylight hours with one other. You have never asked him over, and at this time. It was almost evening.

It made him concerned. Do you invite other men over to your place? He knew you idolized him, but if you had met Tengen or Giyuu first, would you have invited them over as well? It made him feel strange to think about it. You were too accepting, you should be more cautious of inviting people over. The two of you only met a couple of days ago.

“You don’t have to go if you don't want to…” You say, your voice unsure at his original silence.

He snaps back to reality, and blinks at you a couple of times, before grinning wide. “I would love to go!” He bellows, causing heads to turn.

You’re used to it by this point, so you grab his hand and lead him up the mountain.

He looks massive in your small cottage. It wasn't just his height. It was his overall frame that made him look so out of place. It wasnt built for a Hashira to live in.

You decided not to comment on it, you didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Besides, a demon slayer needs a frame like that. It was rather intimidating.

You lead him into the kitchen, pulling him away from the shrine dedicated to your parents. He didn’t comment on it, instead bowing low and letting himself be dragged.

You begin to pull out your baking materials, while he stands and watches, occasionally asking if you need any help, to which you deny with a hum.

Finally, once settled you dramatically slam your first on the table, and look up at him with a smile. His eyes follow your fist in a confused, but delighted stare. “I am going to teach you how to bake!” You exclaim, hands thrusting into the air with excitement.

His eyes light up. “Tasty!”

You in turn roll your eyes, the smile still plastered on your face. “That's the goal. I hope that you can make your own goods when…you know.”

His eyes soften, and his voice drops. “I leave?”

“Yeah.”

He walks over to you, and he uses his hand to lightly trace the area near your temple, bending down slightly to meet your gaze. “Don't worry about that for now. We've got time.”

Your mind travels back to that question.

Why are you here?

You ignore the recurring thought. It never seems to leave you alone. It wasn’t worth thinking about it. You were here with your idol, and that should be enough for you. Just meeting him should have been enough. You found yourself getting greedy.

You nod into the touch, blushing slightly, when he pulls away with a hum. You never got used to how physically affectionate he was.

He seemed to think nothing of it, constantly brushing his hand against your body. You’ve thought it was an accident at first, when his hands lingered on your hips for a second too long, or when his hands seem to twitch when they graze yours. But when he led you through a crowd with a hand on your back, it made you realize how touchy he must be.

You didn’t mind of course. If he was showing any affection toward you, it had to be a blessing. Demon slayers would kill to talk to a Hashira, nevertheless, be friends with one.

“So where do we begin?” Rengoku prompts, rubbing his hands together as to prepare them for heavy work.

You laugh, cutting your thoughts off, and begin the lesson.

It turns out he is horrible at baking. For all of the talents he was gifted with, the kitchen was not one of them.

He tried, truly he did, his face is covered with flour, and whenever you asked if he needed help, he pretended that he was doing completely fine. It was cute, really.

But, after twenty minutes of struggling to follow your commands, you saw him begin to get frustrated. His brows were pinched as he tried to knead the dough, way too hard than usual. His fingers dug into it, and you heard his noises of annoyance under his breath.

You walk over to him and stand next to him, before reaching over to put your hands on his. “Gently, Kyojuro. Like this.” You murmur, before guiding the both of your hands to knead the dough, gently this time.

His hands are much larger than yours, and you struggled to move them, but he went completely lax under your hands. He lets you lead them into the repetitive motion, while you mumble instructions.

His silence becomes deafening. Rengoku isnt one to stop talking, especially in situations like these.

You glance up at him, to see that he is staring at you. His eyes are opened wide, his mouth curled up in a small content smile. “What?” You muse, automatically removing your hands from his. His smile drops when they leave.

“That's the first time you touched me.”

“What? No, it’s not, I feel like the two of us are always somehow touching one way or another.”

He barks a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, but I always initiated them. You touched me, Y/N!”

You turn red. “Am I not allowed to?” You say, trying not to let the embarrassment get to you.

“Of course not! Please, feel free to touch me at any time and anywhere!”

“Don’t say it like that!”

“What? I am merely speaking the truth. I enjoy it immensely when you touch me, Y/N!” Your hand covers his mouth before he could get anything else out. He blinks at you, before closing his eyes with a wide smile. Probably grateful you were touching him again.

What he was saying was true. You tried to keep a little bit of space between the two of you. Even if he enjoys physical contact, you didn’t want to catch him on a bad time and have him snap on you. Honestly, you don't want to do something that may make him upset, because the idea you have of him in your mind would be tarnished. You like how you see him now.

“Are you done now?” He nods frantically under your hand. You pull away and he beams at you. It was rare to see him not smiling honestly.

He turns back to the dough, a determined look on his face. “Alright, I believe I can do this! Gently this time!”

You nod and stand close to him as he begins to try to knead the dough.

Too soft. Way too softly. It looked like he was afraid to touch it. You sigh. “Kyojuro, I don't think this is going to work.”

His body snaps over to you, his eyes wide and looking a little panicked. “What’s not going to work?” He splutters.

It was the first time he didn’t look like a Hashira in your eyes. He looked like a regular man, who also have their fears and worries. But you have no idea what he seems to be worried about.

You place a hand on his lower arm and tilt your head to the side in a soft grin. His eyes flicker to it, and his body seems to jolt at the touch. He focuses his stare on you. “You baking. I think you should stick to demon-slaying, hmm?”

“But how am I supposed to eat these delicious goods?”

You pause, using your other finger to tap your chin. “You could visit me from time to time and I can make them for you.”

He stares at you, a small frown on his face. He seems to do this a lot, you’ve taken notice too. The staring. It’s like he goes into a whole different world when he looks at you. Sometimes he would speak on what he was thinking about, others he would change the subject.

It seemed that he felt like talking today. Even if the results shocked you so. “Or you could live with me!” He exclaims so loud you swear you saw your porcelain cups shiver.

You blink at him. He smiles in return, and grabs both of your hands, cupping them in his own. “What?”

“I said, you could live with me!”

You shake your head, eyes flickering to your hands in his hold. “No, I know what you said, but what are you talking about? I can’t just pick up and move in with a guy I just met, simply because you like my danishes.”

His smile falters. “It will be more than just you baking for me, I promise Y/N. Besides, we met four days ago and we seem to get along perfectly! Do you not trust me?”

“Of course I trust you, you are a Hashira after all. The world has to trust you.” He doesn't seem to like this answer. His smile drops completely now, and his eyebrows slightly furrow. You gulp, not wanting him to be upset at you. “I mean–It's just that I can’t leave my brother alone! I have to stay here and watch the house when he is gone!”

He drops your hands, the smile returning. “Of course! The brother. You are so kind, Y/N, really.” His hand lands back on your head, ruffling the lose strands. His voice seems to be just barely strained, and the grip on your head is a tad bit harsher than usual. Not enough to hurt, but enough to notice the difference.

It’s not that you don’t want to go with him. It would be a dream come true to live with a Hashira. But you weren’t dumb. You knew that underneath the kimono and the blade by his side, he is still a man. A strong one at that.

The thought made the image of him in your head start to blur once more. You are getting too close to him, and although it was nice to be his friend, when he leaves you don’t want to think of him any differently.

You focus on the task at hand. You fix your hair quickly, while he laughs gently. You beam back at him. “Well, lets finish teaching you how to bake!”

“Right!”

Tomorrow your task was to pick up necessities from the village next door. Stuff like flour, cloth, string, baking supplies, and maybe, if you made enough this week, a new pair of shoes. You go on these trips once every three weeks. They took about the whole day, as it was about a five-ish mile walk and you needed to visit many different shops.

So, you couldn’t see Rengoku tomorrow. The thought made you a little sad, but the two of you had seen each other for five days in a row. You didn’t want him to get sick of you anyways.

The two of you sat on the bank of the nearest river. Him filling up the containers for you, even when you tried to stop him, reassuring you that you could do it by yourself. He didn’t listen of course.

It’s silent between the two of you, instead listening to the sounds of the river passing by. His leg is touching yours. You don’t know if it’s purposeful or not. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” You hum, trying to start up a conversation.

Silence. Your eyes flicker to him. He stares at the ground, eyes wide, and darting back and forth along the grass, as if trying to process something. His hand grips his kimono. “Where?” He breathes, after a couple more seconds of thick tension.

You try to laugh it off, confused by the mood shift, and his eyes snap toward you. Recently, he has gotten more…serious. It made you even more afraid that he was beginning to not like you. “Where?” He questions again, his voice louder this time.

“To the next village over. Need some supplies. It will only take a day,” You reason, and you swear you could see his body begin to relax.

And suddenly, as if nothing happened, he turns to you with a grin on his face. “Of course! We shall go together!”

You blink at him, the thoughts of him getting sick of you resurfacing. Besides, he had a mission to do, you know he did, whether he told you or not. “I appreciate that, Kyojuro, but I kinda wanna do this alone.”

His grin falls in a heartbeat, and his eyes become wide again. Similar to how he looked yesterday. Panicked. “Are you sick of me?”

“What? No! Of course not. How could I ever get sick of you?”

He huffs, turning toward you. “Then we go together!”

“But,” You continue, causing his smile to drop. “I think it’s a good idea for us to spend some time apart. We’ve only just recently met, and we have spent every day together.”

“That’s true! But we are enjoying it, are we not?”

“Well yeah, but we may not…soon.”

“Why?” He begins to move closer to you. You can almost feel his breath on your skin. The proximity makes you shiver.

“Because…Because I don’t know! That’s just how it works.”

“I will always enjoy spending time with you, Y/N. I hope the same for you.” He says that now, but you don’t believe him truly. It’s human nature for one to need alone time. It was strange that someone like him who works alone most of the time doesn’t understand it.

Your head is scrambling for something else to say, and without meaning to you tell him what you have been wanting to know for so long. “Kyojuro, what are you even doing here?”

He falters at this and your own eyes widen. You didn’t mean for it to come out like that. “I’m sorry–I meant, It’s just…are you on a mission out here?”

He smiles at you, his gaze soft, like you say anything, and still, he wouldn’t be mad at you. “Yes. There is a group of demons near the woods. I’m here to end them!”

His story sounds plausible, but you weren’t stupid, he was a Hashira. This mission should have ended after at most two days. And not only that, you haven’t heard of any people going missing. Was he saving them and taking his time to kill the demons?

Rengoku wouldn’t do that. The flame Hashira would never leave demons walking on this world willingly. He must be planning a strategy to kill them. He must be.

But you’ve heard stories of how his father took down hundreds with little to no trouble. Was Rengoku weaker than you thought?

You couldn’t stand the thought of the glorified picture in your head being damaged.

So, you nod. “Well, you should probably stay here to protect the villagers in case something goes amiss?”

“Don’t you worry, my Y/N! Demons don’t come out in the day! The villagers will be completely fine with my absence. Please let me come along! I will not be a nuisance!”

He seems adamant about him coming, and you didn’t want to be a bother. So, with one last sigh, you nod and give in. Besides, you wouldn’t ever be sick of him, and you couldn’t help but cling to the idea that maybe he wouldn’t be either.

The Hashira accompanied you on your journey the next day, grinning the entire time while carrying your bags.

Two days have passed by. You’ve been with him for six days in a row now, and honestly, you’ve never been better. You were wrong about the idea of getting sick of him. Nothing about him steered you away.

In fact, you believe that you have started to have a crush on the Hashira.

Not that you would ever admit it. It was a ridiculous idea, but you couldn’t help but fall for him. It wasn’t even him being a Hashira that drew you in now, it was his personality. Sure, he would always make you feel safe and protected from harm, but it was the way he smiled at you that made your heart flutter. The way he was always so polite, and treated you with the utmost respect.

You haven’t experienced many people like him, so like a moth to the flame, you began to fantasize about what it would be like to be with him.

But, it was naive of you. He was bound to leave soon. A group of demons has ought to be killed soon. If not, his master would surely call upon him soon.

You were growing too attached to him. It was weird to think about how you would have to start doing everything alone again. How silent everything is going to be again.

If you went with him, what would life be like for you?

You throw the thought out. You couldn’t leave your brother alone, he’s all you had left. The two of you needed each other to survive.

“I feel jealous of whoever you are thinking about, Y/N,” Rengoku calls from behind his shoulder, as he helps you put away some dishes. He turns to you with a smile on his face.

You laugh lightly, beginning to get used to his teasing. “Aw, too bad you’ll never know.”

He sets the dish down and begins walking over to you, with a small smirk and raised eyebrow. You don’t move. He approaches you, much too closely as usual, and you try to refrain from blushing. “What?”

“And if I make you tell me?” He questions, eyes staring deeply into yours.

“Hmmm, how?”

His smile widens at your tone. “I have some ideas!”

You laugh at this and jab a finger into his chest. “You, my Hashira, wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

He blinks at you. “You know just what to say to make a man blush!” He exclaims, the familiar loudness returning. It was true, his face seemed to have a twinge of pink.

It took you a second to understand. You didn’t mean it like that. The “my Hashira” was only supposed to tease him in turn. It made you fume from embarrassment. You begin to scramble to explain yourself, but he places his large hand on your head again.

His voice goes softer. “But my flame, that isn’t true. Please don’t doubt me. I wouldn’t hesitate to end someone if anyone hurts you. It’s my job to protect you.”

The seriousness in his voice makes you uneasy. “A demon right? Not a human?” You question, sounding way more nervous than you should be. The way he said it made you really think about how strong he truly is. Without a second thought, he could kill you or anyone if he wanted to.

This thought confused you. Rengoku would never hurt you, nor any human, why does the thought seem to leave a chill down your spine? How are you having these thoughts, when not even a minute ago you were thinking about potentially leaving with him?

He stares at you, the smile not leaving his face. “Exactly,” He says, and then removes his hand from your head, to turn back to the dishes. He was always booming with confidence, why did he sound so doubtful?

Why are you questioning a Hashira’s morals?

You have to get your mind off the subject. It was making things complicated and you were allowing paranoia to get the best of you.

You creep up next to him, grabbing the clay cup from his hands, and away. “Kyojuro, do you remember the time I showed you how to bake?”

He turns to you with a wide smile, eyes lighting up. “Of course! They were delicious!” Well, yours were. His didn’t turn out as well. You gave up on teaching him how to bake correctly, and he didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Well, you must pay a price for my knowledge,” You hum, turning your back towards him to hide your smile.

“Not to worry, I will pay for all the ingredients!”

You roll your eyes at the offering. “A different price. I did you a service, now you have to do me one.”

Footsteps approach you rapidly, and suddenly his chest is against your back. You jump at the feeling and crane your head to look up at him.

Two bright eyes stare down at you, blinking owlishly. His hands fall to your shoulder, and his smile is different this time. It seems more like a smirk, rather than a grin. But still, you could tell that the man was practically gleaming. “What type of service, Y/N?”

His low voice startles you, and you flush at the noise. As on instinct you jump away from his hold and turn toward him. “Not that type of service!” You scramble out, trying and failing to keep your cool.

He laughs at this, and you clench your fists in embarrassment. “I apologize, I was teasing you, Y/N!” When you don’t respond, he continues, tone lighter than before. “I am at your beck and call, what do you need from me?”

“I would like for you to teach me some basic self-defense mechanisms.”

His eyes sharpen in an instant, the laugh in his voice gone. “Why? I will protect you.”

You frown at him, not expecting this reaction. “When you leave, Kyo.”

“You don’t need to protect yourself, I said this earlier. I will not let anything touch you. It’s my duty.”

“When you leave,” You repeat when he doesn’t get the memo. He’s acting like he could protect you even when is gone for his next mission.

His eyebrows furrow and his voice comes out flat. “Do you want me to leave?”

It feels like an accusation.

“What? No, but its inevitable.”

He grabs onto your hands and holds them tightly. It feels more than a regular friendship hold, it seemed desperate, but you were too engrossed in the situation to even think about that. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

You try to pull away, but he holds them in place. Your voice goes softer, almost as if you were soothing a small child. “I can’t go with you, Kyojuro and you know that. My brother needs me.”

His smile drops in an instant and his face turns cold. “Fine. I’ll teach you. Let’s go outside.” The swordsman says cooly, dropping your hands and beginning to walk toward the door of your house.

Regret fills your veins. You have never seen him upset at you, and you have no understanding of what you did was wrong. He should know that the two of you living together was strange. Unless he was asking for marriage? But that doesn’t seem right, he hasn’t made any romantic moves on you and he would need your brother’s blessing to even be considered.

Or was it asking him to train you that made him upset? But that also didn’t make any sense. Wouldnt he want you to be more protected? Learning basic self-defense is something that everyone should know, and could possibly save your life.

He was so confusing. In one second he’s smiling at you with stars in his eyes, and in the next, he seems to be a completely different person.

Who was he, really?

You scramble toward the door.

He stands in front of you, back facing you. His figure stands tall, and his hair gently falls on the top of his shoulder. Even from far away, he oozes with power.

You tip-toe your way over to him, gulping when his eyes flash to you the second your feet land on the pathway. You smile awkwardly at him, and he in return nods his head with a huff. He turns around to face you. The two of you stand in front of one another in silence.

You begin to apologize, the strange mood was not something you intended, but he cuts you off. “To begin, take out the knife in your pocket.”

You flinch, staring at him in shock. You never told him about the knife you store in case of emergencies. It’s hidden beneath enough fabric that nobody could feel it on you even if they patted you down.

He watches you begin to scramble for an explanation and laughs. The powerful noise throws his head back, with the return of the smile. Another strange shift in his personality. But you don’t mind it at the moment. The cold shoulder he gave you worried you. The laugh makes you feel more at ease immediately, almost forgetting completely about the knife.

“I saw a glimpse of it when you reached for the top shelf!”

A simple explanation. Obviously, it had to be, you were being dramatic, Rengoku would never do anything weird. So, you just nod at him and reach into the cloth to pull out the steel blade.

It was nothing fancy, but your father gifted it to you when you were younger, so you treasured it deeply.

“Great job, Y/N! Now attack me,” He beams, stepping a couple of feet away to give you running room.

You blink at him, trying to ignore the borderline embarrassing encouragement. He said it like you actually did something great. “What?”

“You heard me! Attack me! Pretend I am the thief from a couple of days back!” You do what he says without much hesitation. You asked to be trained, and he knows exactly how to do it. Besides, he was a trained swordsman it’s not like you were going to actually land a blow on him.

You charge at him and swing the knife up toward his shoulder. As expected, he dodged immediately. He now stands behind you. “Again!”

You shift your feet toward him, clenching your teeth as you take another strike, this time aiming for his neck. Like before, he seems to disappear. An arm grabs onto your wrist. He quickly moves your hand positioning on the blade, huffing when satisfied. “That was great Y/N!”

You nod your head, ready for some pointers or any sort of criticism. But Rengoku just stands a couple feet away, and waits for another attack. You grip the knife, and try a different strategy, instead aiming for his feet. It’s useless, he jumps away. “Creative!”

You huff from the exertion and glare at him. Frustrated at the lack of advice, you speak up. “You are supposed to be teaching me.”

He flashes you a grin. “I am!”

“No, you’re not. Your toying with me. How am I supposed to get any better?”

“I actually think you are great at self-defense! And with me around you will never be in danger. I think its time to head inside for the night!”

When he turns to walk away, you jump in front of him, clutching the base of the knife. “Kyo, this is training for when you are gone.”

His eyes flicker to the blade, and for a moment, his voice is flat. “If you want to continue, keep swinging at me.” You obey his command and try to slam your arm into his shoulder. He continues, voice now expressing more of his emotions, “Why do you keep bringing that up? We will deal with that later!”

You scan the area for where he landed after the dodge. “Your mission is bound to end soon. I know how these things work, my father told me about it. You will leave and it will be soon.”

With a swipe to his collarbone, he jumps back behind you, and you feel his hand caress your neck. You shiver at the soft touch of his calloused fingers. His breath is right next to your ear. “Are you forcing me away?”

You clench your teeth at this and try to turn to him, but he has already moved. “Why do you keep saying these things?”

“Because it sounds like you want me to leave. Is that it, Y/N? You’re sick of me already?”

Another swing, you're so worked up that you don’t even care where to aim at.

“No! My god Kyojuro, you are acting so strange!” In an instant, you feel the blade come in contact with flesh and you freeze. Your heartbeat picks up, eyes wide, as you stare at the Hashira.

Blood drips from his hand and feel yourself pale. Your pulse picks up when the Hashira eyes for the first time during this training leave yours. He hisses out in pain and you watch his eyes widen at the wound.

“Oh. Ow.”

You immediately rush over to him to make sure he was alright. You grip his hand, mind trying to grasp anything your brother has taught you. You half drag him to your cottage, dropping the knife midway. He follows behind you silently, holding his hand up to try to slow the bleeding.

You push him into the nearest chair, and scramble toward the first aid kit your brother left.

When you return, he’s staring at you silently, like he is waiting for some sort of reaction. You pay no mind to it, trying to stay focused on the task at hand.

You kneel down in front of him and he jumps, grabbing onto the chair with the other hand. You glance at him with a raised eyebrow, before grabbing his hand and beginning to clean the wound. “I'm sorry. I should have been paying attention. I didn't mean to.”

“Hmm. It really hurts.” His tone comes out whinier than you have ever heard before and you begin to really panic. He was a demon slayer, he must get hurt all the time, and if this was hurting him, then it must have been a sensitive spot.

When you pour alcohol on the injury, he hisses and you place a hand on his leg to try to comfort him. You feel his gaze on you, as you hold back tears, the guilt tearing ruthlessly at you. “I’m sorry. What can I do to make it up to you?”

A smile begins to resurface and you feel better almost instantly. “No more lessons?!” he says, placing the other hand on your head again.

Why was he so insistent on you not being able to protect yourself? Wouldnt he feel better knowing that you can be safe on your own?

Maybe he has some sort of traumatic past for self-defense that you don’t know about? You don’t know much about him, so that does sound like a reasonable answer.

“Of course! I promise I won't ask again.”

He beams down at you and your heart begins to pound, like it has been the past couple of days. “Great!”

You nod at him, and his eyes flicker to the hand still placed on his leg. You immediately pull away from him, embarrassed, but he grabs it before you can fully remove it. “One more request.”

You try your best not to blush, as he places the hand back on his leg, and begins to rub his thumb over the back of it. His voice softens, and his stare is unwavering. “You have to dote on me. I’m injured, so you can't leave my side until I have healed.”

You blink slowly, but nod your head automatically. It was his dominant hand that was injured, so he may struggle with basic tasks. Plus, you didn't mind not leaving his side. It’s not like the two of you have not been glued to one another since you met. It wouldnt be that big of a change. “Of course! I'll take care of everything. You don’t have to lift a finger. I’m sorry again, Kyojuro.”

He smiles, with a tilt of the head and picks up your hand, giving it a gentle, but affectionate squeeze. “Nonsense! But Y/N, I need you to promise not to leave my side. Do you understand?”

The intensity in his words makes you hesitate. “Until you are healed?”

His words become more frantic, and the grip on your hand tightens. He refuses to look away from you, the bright eyes seeming to peer into you. “Yes. Can you promise me?”

You had no idea why he was so insistent about this right now, but you give in immediately under his stare. “I promise I won't leave your side.”

He stands up, pulling you up effortlessly with him.“Good! Now, don't you think its time for bed!”

You pause for a second, completely forgetting about the fact that he was spending the night. At night he was off slaying demons, or so you assumed, so you never really saw him past sundown. You glance at the hand and sigh, he must have to stop because of you. You ignore the ache in your heart. You already apologized, it was the best you could do.

“Sure. You can sleep on my brother’s cot. He isn’t here.”

He uses your hand to pull your forward, so you had to look directly up at him. You are used to the forwardness, so when you collide with his chest, you don't even question it. “You just promised,” He says with a cocked head.

“But you won’t need any help when you're sleeping!”

He throws his head back in a laugh. “You never know! Besides, I think–” He hisses out and his eyes fall back to the injury. Your own eyes widen and quickly cup the injured hand, worry plastered on your face.

You are quick to reply, not wanting to make it harder for him. “Okay. I'll bring the cot into my room!” You scramble out, before heading into your brother's room and beginning to drag it over.

He starts to walk toward you, as to help you, but he stops midway. He glances at his hand, and then sighs gently, fidgeting as he watches you move the cot by yourself.

Once finished you turn to him with a small smile. “I am going to get ready for bed. I can lend you my brother’s sleep attire?”

“It’s okay! I have clothes under my kimono that I wear to bed.” He says, already peeling himself from the top layer of clothing. You slam the door shut immediately, and you hear the booming laugh from behind the door.

As you head back to wash your face, your mind travels back to the incident. No matter how you think about it, it was strange. He dogged every single one of your attacks without even a hint of a challenge. It was like he wasnt even taking you seriously.

So how did you land a blow? You were just a regular girl and he was a trained Hashira, ready to defend himself at any moment.

Was this on purpose?

But Rengoku wouldn’t do anything sly. He was always kind to you, and a Hashira. Hashira’s don’t trick people, they protect them from people who scheme.

He must have been distracted from the whole self-defense thing. You should really stop doubting his morals.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see a slightly burnt piece of paper on the floor. About the size of a letter.

Immediately, you wander over to it, confused because you haven't received a letter in a while. Plus, you would have read it before and why was it opened?

When you bend down to pick it up, a hand lands on your shoulder. You jump back in shock, to see a shadowed figure.

You know it’s Rengoku, even in the darkness, his figure is very much defined. But the presence still makes you unnerved. Maybe it’s the fact that you can’t see his smiling face in the darkness. “Kyo?”

His voice is flat. “C’mon, Y/N. Let's go to sleep.”

Your eyes flicker toward the paper on the floor. “Sure, one second I just need to–”

“In the morning. Please? I can’t go to sleep if you aren't there.” You feel the brush of the bandages on the back of your neck. It makes you shiver, and remember his injury. You clench your fist for a second, but sigh and turn around.

He was right, it will be there tomorrow, and besides it would be hard to read at this time anyways. “Right.”

As the two of you lay next to one another, his non-wounded hand brushing over your face, you make small talk. The two of you whisper in the dark and laugh over nothing important.

He tells you stories of the demons he slayed, and you unconsciously lean even closer to hear them. He is powerful, and kind, and smart, its overwhelming that someone like him is next to you.

You see a hint of a smile in the darkness. “What are you thinking about?”

“You are so cool Kyojuro.”

His body rumbles with a laugh, quieter than usual since its late and the house is silent. “You praise me too much.”

He leans closer, and the two of you are only a couple of inches apart now. “It’s true. Do you know what I give to be like someone like you?”

The face petting stops for a moment. “I don’t like that idea. It’s too dangerous out there for you. I like the thought of coming home to you, with fresh goods in your hands. Safe and away from any threats”

Your face heats up at the words. He makes it sound so romantic, and to be honest, you don’t mind the idea. But your brother should be home any day now. “I can’t live with you. You know this.”

He hums at you. “What if I told you I have fallen for you?” He murmurs, his voice low and soft. His calloused fingers return to tracing your face.

Your heartbeat picks up, and he must have noticed, because he chuckles lightly. “You like me?” You say, eyes wide, wishing desperately to see his face better in this moment.

“Is that outlandish?”

You look away, instead focusing on the shadows of your fingers. “Well…I don’t know. I’m just surprised.”

“I thought my intentions were clear. Please forgive me, if I confused you.”

It made sense that he was pursuing you. All the stares and the adoring touches. You just didn’t want to think of the possibility of someone as amazing as him liking you. Didn’t want to think of the fact the two of you won’t work out. “No, you didn't, it's fine. I actually like you too…But you are leaving.”

“Come with me. Live with me. I will treat you well. We can be happy together.”

At this point, the two of you were going in circles. You have had this conversation multiple times, and still, he doesn’t seem adamant about giving up. “I won’t leave my brother alone.”

He rolls himself on top of you, most likely annoyed that you weren’t looking at him anymore. He rests his body on his forearm, and his hair brushes your face. His voice is in a hoarse whisper. “You are too kind, Y/N. Think about yourself for once.”

You try your best to ignore the position. His body seems to engulf your own, and it makes you feel unreasonably small, but you’re unwilling to back down. “You know I can't do that. You know what it is like to have a sibling.”

His eyes become wider, and more desperate looking. You can’t meet his stare. “What if he was gone? You would come with me, right?”

Your head snaps back to him, and you look at him in shock. “Why would you say something like that?” You seem to hiss out.

At your tone, he becomes meeker, as if he was hiding into himself. He rubs his forehead against yours, with a hint of a whine in his throat. “Do you even like me?”

You immediately regret what you said, and instead begin to grow concerned. You have never seen him sound so upset before. “I do. I promise I do!”

His head falls into your neck, and his body begins to tremble. “You're causing me so much pain, my flame,” he whines and you begin to internally freak out.

Rengoku was never one to get his emotions involved. He was always upbeat with you, and the fact that he was so hurt over this must mean something big to him.

You place your hand on the back of his head, to try to get him to calm down. He was your idol, and now crush, you didn’t want to see him hurt, but you love your brother.

“If my brother found somewhere to live and be happy with, I would go with you. But he isn’t looking for a wife currently. So, I can't. I would love to, but I can't. I’m sorry, Kyo.”

In a heartbeat, his mood switches. He pulls his head out of your neck and begins grinning from above you. He rubs his nose onto yours, and you on instinct scrunch it up in surprise. “You want to. That's all I need. You want to live with me. Thank you. Thank you, so much!”

He rolls the two of you over so now the both of you are on your cot, with your head on his chest. You smile lightly at him, glad whatever you said finally made him calm down.

His non-dominant hand rests on the back of your head, and you blush, finally taking in a new position. His body expels warmth, and you find comfort in it.

Savorying the last amount of time you have with him to the fullest. It’s getting harder to ignore the ache in your chest whenever you think about him leaving.

Slumber begins to take a hold of you, and you listen to the rhythmic sound of the man’s heartbeat.

A couple of minutes go by, and you hear a whisper near your ear. “My flame?”

You hum and try to hold back a smile. “I like the nickname.”

He chuckles, and your body shakes from the force of it. “Me too. But Y/N, make sure you come back to me. Always. Do you understand?”

You yawn, in your half-sleep state, but mumble out a, “Okay.”

He sighs, and he continues to pet your hair affectionately. “Good. Goodnight. Sleep well, Y/N. Tomorrow is going to be an eventful day.”

But you couldnt hear his warning. You had already fallen asleep the second after you agreed to his strange request.

You are awoken at 2:50 AM the next day by frantic whispers and aggressive shaking to your body. You blink a couple of times and flinch at the harsh light in your face.

Your pupils begin to constrict to the light, and your eyes scan the figure in front of you. Your brother was shaking you awake, with panicked eyes and a lantern in his hands. “What are you doing here? You were supposed to leave!”

He drags you from the cot, and you stumble forward. Your mind finally begins to awake, and you regain consciousness of the situation at hand. “Brother? What’s happening? Are you okay?”

He grabs your hand and pulls you through the small house, scrambling through cupboards looking for something. When he pulls out your father’s sword, you gulp.

He heads back over to you and begins to drag you away. “Didn’t you get the letter? You are supposed to be heading east by now!”

“What’s happening?” You reason again, voice louder and more panicked. He turns to you, and you jump at his appearance, finally able to see him clearly. His hair is a mess, he’s slightly trembling, and he looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

He grabs onto your both shoulders, and his voice coming out frantic. “A demon. Or maybe multiple. I got messages that people have been disappearing from towns, and some of their….remains have been scattered around villages. It’s traveling from village to village, and yesterday it hit the town where we get our goods. Five innocents are gone and our village should be next. Tonight.”

You stare at him, eyes wide in shock. “Why are you here? You shouldn't have come!”

“I was going to grab fathers sword. We need some sort of protection while we wait until the demon slayer’s corpse comes.” He doesn’t know how to use it, he's a healer, and neither do you, but it was better than nothing. Especially if the two of you were without a home until everything clears up.

“Grab your knife. Everything going to be okay. Just trust me. Everything is going to be fine,” He mumbles, seemingly trying to comfort himself more than you. He begins to drag you toward the door and you begin to reach in your pocket for your father’s knife.

It wasnt there. You lost it when you cut Rengoku.

Your eyes widen when you finally realize his disappearance. You turn around and quickly scan the room before your brother pulls you completely outside.

“Kyo-” A hand covers your mouth immediately.

Your brother looks at you in pure fear, and you feel your own bubbling up at his gaze. “Quiet. We have to be as silent as we can. It could be near,” He whispers at you, and you nod from behind his hand.

Your eyes dart around the area for the demon slayer. But he is nowhere to be found. He’s probably out looking for it by now.

But he’s injured. Is it really okay for him to be fighting in his state?

Your brother removes his hand from your mouth and begins to drag you forward, a sword in one hand and your hand in the other. You gulp and follow him in the darkness.

A couple of minutes go by and the two of you haven’t said a word. The both of you had heard eerie noises, and you swear you heard a woman’s scream far off in the distance.

Your mind flashes back to all of the villagers you have gotten close to. It was better not to think about it. Rengoku should be there soon.

The two of you took the path into the woods. It was not the normal path to take when heading eastward, but it was safer. You both knew the woods well, and the chances are the demon is raiding the village. That’s what they have targeted the last couple of days at least.

Suddenly, you hear a growl to the right of you guys. Your brother freezes, and you run into the back of him. Your heartbeat picks up, and the hair on your neck rises. Your brother is trembling in front of you.

You turn to noise to see three bright yellow eyes staring at the two of you. A deathly aura creeps on the two of you, and it’s pin-drop silent.

Your brother grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you forward yelling out, “Run!”

As on instinct, you turn back to him to pull him with you, but he’s gone. As if he vanished into thin air. The eyes disappeared as well.

A mass amount of dread and fear weighs on top of you, as you begin frantically scanning the woods. Your heartbeat is pounding in your chest and you’re shaking out of your wits. “Brother? Brother, where are you!”

Tears begin to form in your waterline, and you begin running, searching desperately for any trace of him. In the back of your mind you know your not going to be able to do anything, but it doesn’t stop you from trying.

You wish Rengoku was here. He would be able to find your brother in a heartbeat, but he was most likely in the village. Where the demon should have been. But it doesn’t stop you from calling his name desperately for help.

Which is exactly how you attracted your very own demon. Your brother told you to be quiet, and you should have listened better. Fear made you naive.

It was standing in front of you, its eyes seemingly pinning you down. It was smiling at you, showing off its razor-sharp teeth, and you take a step back. You were trembling, alone, and defenseless against the demon.

“What’s a young girl like you doing out here alone?” The voice was high in pitch and shrill. A step toward you.

You don't respond, eyes darting around for an exit, while the demon continues to laugh and move forward, closer toward you.

You turn around and run. You dont have many choices in this situation and you rather take a chance than be a sitting duck.

It didn’t work, but you knew it wouldn’t. The demon grabs at your leg and pulls you back toward him. You fall forward onto the ground and hiss at the feeling of rock digging into your skin. You are being pulled backward, and the clawed hand on your ankle makes you shiver.

“I think I will take my time with you,” The being coos, licking a stripe up the back of your leg.

Tears stream down your cheek as try to kick it off, to no avail. It’s going to tear your limps apart and eat you. Your brother is not going to be saved, and your family line is going to end.

With your last plea, you begin to scream. Loud enough to most likely alert every living being in the forest. Even the demon hisses out in annoyance.

Suddenly, there is a flash of orange and red. A flame.

You hear the plop of a sliced head a second later, and the slicing sound of the demon’s arm being physically removed from your leg. You cringe at the sound, but relief immediately floods your veins.

You turn your head to the side to see Rengoku, slightly frowning in concentration while he sheathes his sword. When he catches your eye, he smiles, and the comforting action makes the tears continue to flow.

He's holding you in an instant, crouched on one knee while wrapping his arms around your figure. His eyes are wide with slight panic, and his grip on you is tight. In any other situations, it may have been overbearing, but you craved the warmth.

His voice is hoarse and seemed to have a waver in it. “I was so scared, my flame when I couldn't find you. I thought you really left me. Or something worse had happened to you. The thought makes me feel ill. Tell me, why were you in the woods? You weren't supposed to be in the woods!”

You take a couple of deep breaths to calm yourself down, while he runs his hands up and down your body as if reassuring himself that you are actually there. “We were trying to–” You freeze, eyes widening and immediately squirming in his grasp. “My brother. We have to find my brother! A demon has him!”

His hold on you doesn’t let go, and your movement is futile. He stares into the distance as if almost entranced by something. He doesn’t say anything for a long second, but when he does, his voice seems to be in a whisper. “Does it now?”

You don’t pay attention to the tone, too distracted by the thought of your brother being on the verge of death. “Yes! So we have to go. Kyo, we don't have time!”

He hums, and the grip on you loosens, allowing you to stand up, and away from him. He stands in front of you, calm and composed while staring at you. You, on the other hand, are scanning the woods frantically trying to figure out where the demon is and failing miserably.

“Let’s go this way,” You say with uncertainty, pointing to the direction where you had last seen him. When you take a step forward, a hand grips your wrist, and you make eye contact with his owl-like eyes.

“You will stay. I will find him for you. It’s too dangerous for you.” The statement is unwavering as if it was a command to you, with no room for question.

“But-”

“Don't be afraid, my flame. I will place you in a tree, safe and hidden from harm.” He didn’t understand that you did not care for your own safety, it was your brother that you were concentrated with.

You turn to him with pleading eyes. The idea of you sitting here while your brother could be getting murdered, makes you feel sick. You need to be there for him the second Rengoku saves him. “Please, I won't get in the way! I can help, please just don’t leave me behind.”

His eyes widen at the statement, and he grips onto your shoulders with both hands. “I would never leave you behind. Never in a thousand years. But I am not the type of person to put the one I care about in danger. You will sit on a branch until I grab you. Safe from harm.”

He scoops you up with ease, and you jump with slight surprise. Then, he walks over to the nearest tree. “Please?” You plead for the last time, and he smiles at you.

“Everything will be fine, my love. After tonight, everything will be perfect. Just let me do this.” He murmurs and you sigh, and allow him to do whatever must be done.

He walks up to the nearest tree and eyes it, before making a small huffing sound. Then he holds you in one arm and jumps. Way higher than a normal man would be able to you, and your eyes widen in shock.

He grabs onto a branch and pulls the two of you up, while you continue to stare at the fact that he is doing this effortlessly with one hand. He sets you down onto the branch, with your back leaning on the trunk for support.

You glance down and gulp. It was way higher than you expected, but Rengoku didn’t seem to notice it. He is balanced on the branch with ease and instead is focused solely on you. “You will be okay, do not fret. If anything goes amiss, shout for me and I will come running.”

You nod your head and he smiles softly. He begins to turn around but pauses when you grip his kimono. “You will save him right?”

He blinks at you and sightly frowns. “Everything will be alright.”

You believed him.

You were an idiot. An idiot for believing him. An idiot for jumping out of the tree in the first place.

Not long after Rengoku left you, you heard your brothers scream.

You acted on pure instinct. You moved within a second, trying to climb down the tree. The Hashira made it seem easier than it was to maneuver on the tree. You slipped and fell.

You hissed when you landed on the floor. Very much close to breaking your legs, but you got lucky. You stand up and try to ignore the pain shooting up your spine. Then, you turn toward where you heard the noise.

It was during your sprint you realized you made a mistake. What were you going to do against a demon? How are you going to help your brother? He was the one medically trained, not you. Aren’t you just going to make things worse? You could be killed too.

But you were too deep in it now. Tree trunks turn into a blur as you continue to run, your legs throbbing with every step.

You notice a figure and stop immediately. When you catch your breath and notice who it is, you cover your mouth. Your father’s sword lays next to the curled-up body. There was so much blood, he was barely recognizable.

But you couldn't keep your eyes trained on your loved one. Crouching above him was a demon, chewing.

Nausea hits you like a train and you’re forced to take a step back. You dont have it in you to scream for help. Would Rengoku even get here in time?

Where is he? What was he doing all this time? He told you everything is going to be fine, why is your brother laying in a pool of his own blood?

You continue to stare, the fear making you immobile. You take in the demon. It was strange, nothing like the one you had last saw. It was trembling before the body, as if afraid of something. It’s letting out disgusting wavering whines and cries, between each bite.

Your thoughts are cut short.

A shiver runs up your spine, and you freeze. You see the hair on your arms begin to raise, and your breath catches. Your eyes flicker back to the body, and the demon hasn’t moved.

A nail as sharp as a dagger, trails its way up your arm, and you begin to tremble. You feel the power the demon emits, and it is different from the one before.

You shouldn't have moved. You shouldn't have left the tree.

You hear the horrific noise before you can feel it. Your eyes flicker to the space right above your hip, to see the long fingernail peering out. Through you. And in an instant, you hear the squelching noise, and the finger is gone.

Like a dog lapping a bone, you hear the demon lick its finger clean and shiver.

You hear frantic, nervous mumbles behind you. “Just a taste is fine. It’s alright if I have just a taste. I didn’t kill her, just wanted to try it…” The being that made your skin crawl, sounded absolutely petrified. You didn’t know of what, and you didn’t want to find out.

But, you didn’t have time to ponder. Your kimono is turning a deep red, and you feel the blood beginning to drip down to your legs. You fall to your knees with wide eyes, not knowing what to do. If you don’t wrap it, you are sure to bleed out within minutes.

The demon behind you panics, frantically telling himself that you aren’t going to die and everything is fine. But you’ve tuned it out.

You look up toward your brother again and freeze. Just a couple feet to the right of the two figures was a man leaning against a tree. The fiery hair that you could pinpoint in a crowd makes him recognizable in less than a second.

Rengoku was watching your brother get devoured with a blank stare.

The loss of blood had to make you see things. Or maybe it was the fear. Something had to be wrong with you. He would never do such a thing.

You clutch at your side with your hand. “Kyo?” You mumble, and his head snaps toward you, somehow hearing the call. He removes himself from the tree in an instant, and he stares at you with wide frantic eyes. You’ve never seen him look so petrified.

In a blink of the eyes, and a flash of a flame you hear the demon behind you getting beheaded. “She isn’t dead! You promised! I was–” Another slicing sound and silence.

He’s by your side in the next second. He’s tearing off his kimono in an instant. “What are you doing here? Y/N, you're not supposed to be here! Fuck, the bleeding.” He’s tearing apart the cloth with his teeth, and wrapping it around your torso. You don't notice the shaking of his hands.

You feel dizzy and weak, from the mix of the bleeding out and all the other beatings you sustained. You can’t focus on his words, you are staring at your brother.

You miss the panic of his words. The way he trembles in front of you. “It's going to be okay. Don’t worry, I will take care of everything. It'll be okay.”

The demon has scrambled off, and it was just his mutilated body left behind and the sword. Tears well up in your eyes, and your brother’s now lifeless eyes stare into yours.

You point to him and Rengoku follows your finger. Your words are soft, broken. “Help him. Please.”

But he ignores you. You're being lifted again, the callused hand putting a decent amount of pressure on the wound. He leads you back to your house, while your left staring at the body left in the grass.

You're exhausted, you can't fight him. For the last time, you plead, “Help him.” before closing your eyes and slumping against his body.

“It's going to be alright, my flame. I won't let anything happen to you. I will protect you now.”

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