You may re-blog my work, but you may not use my work and claim it as your own.
Any and all requests, must be reasonable ( no Minor x Adult requests I will not write it)
About me:
Name: Violet
Age: 19
Hobbies:
Crochet
Writing
Long walks
Baking
Reading
Violently gooning to Giyuu Tomioka Favorite Color: Pink Fandoms I write for:
in chapter 6 it’s mentioned Giyuu and y/n live in nyc so what part exactly do they live in?
They live in Astoria, Queens.
I never mentioned it outright because it wasn’t important to the plot, (unless we get into logistics which fuck with my brain) but that’s where they live. It was the most realistic option for them financially, and it fit the kind of lifestyle they have.
(I chose a specific setting because otherwise time zones and stuff would rack my brain)
Hey I have had this story idea that I really have tried to look for but I just haven’t been able to find one but anyways the requests is boss giyu tomioka x employee reader and the job is basically just idk what to really call it but they work in the same building at a office idk or she’s even his secretary or something I don’t really care but he ends up falling for her and it turns into smut I don’t know if it would be like a series or a one shot and I get writing takes time so no pressure if you can’t do it just an idea that I feel you could write really well since I haven’t been able to find one that’s what I’m thinking of any way hope you have a great day :)
I’ve actually seen a few One-shot’s not many with a similar setting, but I could totally write that for you!
I have a couple Ideas in mind, not sure when it’d get done but I’ll certainly put it on my list of things to do.
Plot: Giyuu is your childhood friend; however, one night in your apartment completely blurs the lines, leaving unspoken feelings that eventually boil over.
Author's Note: THIS.TOOK.HOURS!!! I should really go to bed. (Damn I haven’t written anything happy about Giyuu in a minute, I probably should.)
cw: Nsfw, Friendship loss
The first time you met Giyuu Tomioka, you were six years old.
He was sitting sadly on a swing, scrawny and short, with dirt on his knees and messy hair.
You thought he looked lonely, so you approached him.
He didn't pay you any mind, but you stayed anyway.
And that was how it all started.
It wasn't anything dramatic. Nothing with him ever had been.
Just a stubborn little girl and a lonely little boy both deciding they didn't want to be lonely anymore.
For as long as anyone could remember, there had always been a you and a Giyuu.
In elementary school, you shared snacks at lunch.
In middle school, you shared answers when one of you forgot the homework.
In high school, you shared everything else.
Secrets you'd never dare tell your parents.
Your hopes. Your dreams.
Your fears.
He knew all of it.
You knew how he liked his coffee.
You knew how he got when he was upset or embarrassed.
You knew when he was having a bad day because you'd learned what every expression on his face meant.
People always seemed to assume the two of you would eventually end up together, but to you, he was always just Giyuu.
Your Giyuu.
You were best friends.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
At seventeen, he sat beside you at family dinners while your relatives cracked jokes.
At eighteen, he sat beside you at graduation and took ridiculous pictures with you.
At nineteen, he helped you move into your first apartment. The poor guy spent all day carrying every item in your room.
At twenty-one, he spent six hours helping you assemble a stupid piece of furniture you'd bought from IKEA.
At twenty-three, he drove out to pick you up at two in the morning when your car broke down.
And even now, at twenty-four, he was always there for you.
Because Giyuu would always be there for you, no matter what, and that was something you could count on.
You never had to ask.
He was just there.
Always.
Like the moon.
Like breathing.
Like something so constant you never imagined a life without it.
Which was probably why, when your boyfriend broke up with you, the first person you called wasn't your parents.
Or any of your other friends.
It was Giyuu.
The call lasted no more than three seconds, just long enough for him to hear you crying.
And fifteen minutes later, he was standing at your door with ice cream and a fluffy blanket.
You didn't know it then, but that call was about to change everything you thought you knew.
His hair was damp from the rain, a convenience store bag slung over his shoulder. Just the familiar sight of him made you feel a little better.
And he wasted no time pulling you into his embrace.
The second your head hit his chest, you started crying again.
Ugly crying.
The kind of crying that made your chest ache.
And he simply held you.
He didn't say anything. He never really knew how to in moments like these.
But his arms around you were enough.
They were always enough.
And he stood there through all of it.
Patient.
Steady.
Unmoving.
Like he was afraid you'd fall apart if he let go.
Eventually, the tears slowed.
Then stopped.
The apartment fell quiet.
Giyuu glanced down at the convenience store bag.
"I bought food."
Despite everything, a weak laugh escaped you.
"You always bring food."
"You forget to eat when you're sad."
You hated that he was right.
He was always right about things like that.
A few minutes later, the two of you were sitting on the floor eating convenience store ramen straight from the cups.
The television played quietly in the background.
Neither of you were watching it.
"You know what the worst part is?" you asked suddenly.
Giyuu looked over.
You stared down at your noodles.
"I kept thinking if I tried harder, maybe things would've worked."
The words tasted bitter.
"Maybe if I was different."
The silence stretched.
Then—
"No."
You blinked.
"No?"
Giyuu shook his head.
"No."
His answer was immediate.
Certain.
Like there wasn't a single doubt in his mind.
"You shouldn't have to become someone else for someone to stay."
Your chest tightened.
It wasn't some grand speech.
It wasn't poetic.
It was just Giyuu.
Simple.
Honest.
And somehow, that made it hurt more.
You looked away before he could see your eyes watering again.
"Since when did you get good at this?"
"I'm not."
"You kind of are."
He frowned.
"I'm really not."
You laughed despite yourself.
A small smile appeared on his face.
Tiny.
Barely noticeable.
But it was there.
And for a moment, things felt normal again.
Like they had when you were kids.
Like they had before heartbreak entered the picture.
You didn't realize Giyuu was watching you.
Didn't notice the way his shoulders relaxed when you laughed.
Didn't see the quiet relief in his eyes.
Because to you, he was simply your best friend.
The person who had always been there.
The person who always would be.
And Giyuu?
Well.
Giyuu had started to realize that was no longer enough.
Because somewhere between childhood and adulthood, something had changed.
The rain never stopped, and the hours passed without either of you noticing.
You curled up on the couch and watched a movie while eating strawberry ice cream, the leftover ramen forgotten on the table.
At some point, you'd moved closer together, invading each other's space.
Not intentionally.
It just happened.
Comfortable.
Natural.
The way things always felt with him.
He leaned in.
Slow.
Giving you every chance to turn your head.
You didn't.
His lips met yours.
A dam breaking.
It started gentle.
A soft exploration.
But the passion behind it was immediate.
His hands moved to the sides of your waist.
Fingers digging in slightly through your shirt.
Pulling you flush against him.
The familiar couch suddenly felt too small.
You shifted to face him fully.
Straddling his lap.
You felt the solid, firm muscle of his thighs beneath you.
The heat radiating off his chest.
Giyuu let out a low, shaky breath against your mouth.
His hands slid up your back.
Mapping the curve of your spine.
Pulling you so close there wasn't an inch of space left between your bodies.
He pulled back just a fraction.
Forehead resting against yours.
His chest rising and falling heavily against your own.
His eyes were wide.
Dark.
Completely unguarded.
"I don't want to go back," he whispered.
His voice was rough.
Stripped of his usual stoicism.
“I can't." he whispered softly against your lips “I need you Y/n”
You caught your breath.
His honesty hung in the air.
Heavy.
Terrifying.
You placed your hands flat against his chest.
Feeling the rapid, hard thud of his heartbeat.
You needed to anchor yourself.
You needed to anchor him.
"Giyuu," you said softly.
Your voice was steady, but gentle.
"Tonight. Just tonight. Let’s not overthink it."
We’re here right now," you whispered, your thumb brushing his cheek.
"It doesn't have to mean everything has to change tomorrow. Let's just... let it be simple."
You called it simple.
You called it casual.
But the way he looked at you proved it was anything but casual.
He didn't argue.
He just closed the distance again.
His hands moved to the hem of your shirt.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Pulling the fabric up and over your head, tossing it onto the floor.
The cool air of the room hit your bare skin.
Then came his hands.
Warm.
Calloused.
Resting against your bare waist.
You reached for the buttons of his shirt.
Your fingers were slightly clumsy, unfastening them one by one.
Parting the fabric.
Revealing the broad, pale expanse of his chest.
The hard alignment of his collarbone.
You pressed your palms against his bare chest.
He was so warm.
A solid, living weight beneath you.
Giyuu shifted, lifting you slightly to slide your sweatpants down your legs.
There was no modesty left between you.
Just the raw, feeling of skin against skin.
He guided you back onto the cushions of the couch.
Hovering over you.
The muscles in his arms tensing as he held his weight up.
Looking down at you like you were the only thing left in the world.
His thighs braced on either side of your hips.
Heavy.
Solid.
"Simple," he murmured back to you.
His voice was a low vibration.
He reached down to the waistband of his boxers, sliding them off and pushing them aside.
Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him.
He was fully erect, thick and heavy, the pale skin of cock pulsing with a deep, dark heat. A single drop of pre-cum glistened at his tip, and the sheer length of him made your stomach do a somersault.
He looked completely different like this, raw, compared to his usual quiet demeanor.
Giyuu didn't move to close the distance right away.
Instead, his calloused hand slid down your stomach.
Past your hip.
Finding the soft crease of your thigh.
You shivered, your knees parting instinctively under his touch.
His fingers moved closer, brushing against the outer lips of your heat.
You were already wet, the heat radiating from your center making the skin wet and receptive.
He let out a low, ragged breath at the feel of your wetness, his thumb finding your clit and tracing a slow, heavy circle against it.
A sharp gasp left your mouth.
Your hips twitched upward against his hand.
"Y/n” he murmured, his voice thick.
He slid his middle finger inside you.
The tight, burning heat of your cunt gripped him instantly, your walls coating his finger with your slick.
He pushed deeper as if experimenting before adding a second finger.
The smooth, slow stretching made you moan aloud, your fingers tangling in the fabric of the couch cushions as he began to curl his fingers inside you, mimicking the rhythm his hips wanted to take.
He pumped his fingers into your heat, his thumb keeping up a steady, agonizing pressure on your clit until you were writhing beneath him, completely undone by the friction.
You reached down, your hand trembling as your fingers wrapped around the base of his hard cock.
The skin was smooth, tight, and incredibly hot.
You slid your hand up and down his length, feeling the solid muscle beneath and the twitch of him against your palm.
Giyuu growled, a sharp, uncharacteristic sound that vibrated against your chest.
He pulled his fingers from your soaking wetness, leaving you aching and completely open.
He leaned down, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
His lips pressed a warm, lingering kiss right against your pulse point.
You gasped, your hands flying to his shoulders.
Gripping the firm muscle there as a wave of heat rushed through you.
He moved over you with a slow, agonizing patience.
His hips nudging against yours.
He aligned his cock at your entrance, sliding it between your wet folds
Testing the boundaries
When he finally pushed forward, entering you, it was a smooth, deep ache.
The tip of his cock parted your slick folds, sliding deep into the tight, burning expanse of your cunt.
A slow sliding of heat that made your eyes squeeze shut.
A soft cry left your throat, muffled against his shoulder.
Giyuu froze.
His breathing stopped.
"Are you okay?" he whispered, his voice laced with sudden anxiety.
You opened your eyes, looking into his.
He was trying so hard to keep it casual.
To keep it light.
But he was trembling slightly.
"Yeah," you breathed, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. "Yeah, Giyuu. Please."
He let out a ragged exhale.
And then he moved.
It wasn't fast.
It wasn't a frantic, aggressive rush.
It was steady.
A slow, rolling rhythm that filled you completely.
Every slide of his skin against yours felt magnified.
The friction of his thighs against yours.
The weight of his chest pressing down onto your breasts.
You tangled your fingers in his dark hair.
Pulling him down for a kiss.
It was slick, deep, and quiet.
The only sounds in the room were the steady rhythm of the rain outside and the soft, wet friction of your bodies moving together.
The casual lie you had told yourself was completely unraveling.
There was nothing casual about the way he held your hand, pinning it to the cushion next to your head, his fingers tightly interlocking with yours.
There was nothing casual about the way his eyes never left your face, watching every tilt of your head, every parted breath.
The tension in your lower stomach began to tighten.
A coil drawing smaller and smaller.
Your movements became more urgent, your hips lifting instinctively to meet his downstrokes.
Giyuu felt the shift.
His pace quickened just a fraction.
His breathing turning into shallow, heavy gasps against your ear.
The muscles in his back flexed beneath your fingertips, slick with a light sweat.
"Y/n, I’m close” he choked out.
your name.
it sounded like a confession.
The coil snapped.
A sudden, blinding rush of warmth spilled through your veins, making your muscles contract around him.
Your head fell back against the cushion, a loud moan breaking from your lips.
Seeing you break made him lose his hold.
With two more deep, heavy thrusts, Giyuu buried himself completely inside you.
His body went rigid.
A low, guttural groan tore from his throat as he spent himself, his forehead dropping heavily against your shoulder.
The room settled back into silence.
Just the rain.
Just the sound of two people catching their breath.
He didn't pull away immediately.
He stayed inside you, his heavy frame relaxing over yours, letting you carry his weight.
His hand was still tangled in yours.
Slowly, his thumb began to trace lazy circles on the back of your knuckles.
It was supposed to be casual.
You both knew it.
But as you lay there in the dark, listening to the rain, neither of you wanted to move.
The next morning was awkward.
Not because either of you regretted it.
But because neither of you knew what came next.
You found Giyuu standing in your kitchen making coffee.
Like he had done a hundred times before.
Like nothing had changed.
"Morning."
"Morning."
He handed you a mug without looking up.
You accepted it automatically.
"Did you sleep okay?" he asked.
"Yeah."
A pause.
"You?"
"Yeah."
Another pause.
Neither of you knew what to do with yourselves.
"So..." you started.
"So..." he echoed.
Then both of you fell silent.
That was it.
No conversation.
No discussion.
No labels.
No questions.
Just two people pretending they weren't standing in the aftermath of something that had changed everything.
And somehow that was worse.
Because if neither of you acknowledged it, then neither of you had to risk losing what you already had.
So you didn't.
Days became weeks.
Weeks became months.
And somehow the line between friendship and something else disappeared completely.
Movie nights turned into spending the night.
Spending the night became staying the weekend.
His toothbrush appeared beside yours.
A drawer in your apartment slowly filled with his clothes.
Friends started giving each other looks whenever the two of you walked into a room together.
Neither of you corrected them.
Neither of you confirmed it either.
One afternoon, Mitsuri took one look at the two of you sharing a booth at lunch and groaned dramatically.
"Oh, come on."
You looked up.
"What?"
"You two are impossible."
Giyuu blinked.
"What did we do?"
Mitsuri stared at him.
Then at you.
Then back at him.
"You know what? Never mind."
Neither of you understood what she was talking about.
Or maybe you didn’t understand, and assumed he didn’t as well.
You were stuck somewhere in between.
And for a while, that felt okay.
Maybe even perfect.
Because you got all the good parts.
The comfort.
The affection.
The companionship.
The certainty that if you called him at three in the morning, he'd answer.
And Giyuu got something too.
Hope.
Every time you reached for his hand.
Every time you rested your head on his shoulder.
Every time you fell asleep beside him.
He thought maybe you were getting there.
Maybe you just needed time.
Maybe one day you'd look at him and realize what he already knew.
That you were it for him.
That there had never been anyone else.
So he waited.
Patiently.
Quietly.
The way he'd always waited for you.
The problem was that while Giyuu was waiting for the future—
You were still trying to recover from the past.
It happened on a Tuesday.
Not during a fight.
Not after some dramatic argument.
Just a normal Tuesday.
The kind that changes your life forever.
You were curled up on the couch scrolling through your phone while Giyuu cooked dinner.
The apartment smelled like curry.
Music played quietly from a speaker somewhere.
Everything felt comfortable.
Familiar.
Safe.
Which was probably why you didn't notice how quiet he'd been all evening.
"Giyuu?"
"Hm?"
"Are you almost done?"
"Five minutes."
You smiled.
"That's what you said ten minutes ago."
"I was estimating."
"You were wrong."
"I know."
A small smile tugged at his lips as he stirred the pot.
And then he went quiet again.
You didn't think much of it.
After all, Giyuu had always been quiet.
You just didn't realize this silence was different.
"Giyuu?"
"Hm?" he responded absentmindedly from the kitchen.
You finally looked up from your phone.
"Can you grab me a drink?" you asked casually.
"Yeah," he replied with a small nod.
He set the spoon down and moved toward the refrigerator.
You smiled faintly.
"Thanks."
He glanced back briefly and gave another small nod.
A few moments later, he handed you the can.
You took it without looking up.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome," he said quietly.
The silence stretched.
Longer than usual.
Heavy.
Then—
"What are we?" he asked suddenly, his voice low and careful.
Your thumb froze over your screen.
The words were so unexpected that for a second you wondered if you'd imagined them.
"What?" you asked, blinking up at him.
Giyuu stood across from you near the kitchen island.
His hands were shoved deep into his pockets.
His shoulders were tense.
His eyes fixed firmly on the floor.
"What are we?" he repeated, his tone steadier this time, though there was something strained beneath it.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
You let out a nervous laugh.
"What kind of question is that?" you asked with an awkward smile.
His expression didn't change.
The smile slipped from your face.
And for the first time all evening, he looked at you.
Really looked at you.
The answer should have been easy.
That was the problem.
You'd known each other almost your entire lives.
You spent more time together than anyone else.
You slept in the same bed.
You celebrated holidays together.
You knew each other's coffee orders.
You knew each other's fears.
If someone asked what Giyuu meant to you, you could have talked for hours.
So why couldn't you answer one simple question?
"What are we?" he asked again, softer this time.
Almost hesitant.
Almost afraid.
Like he already knew the answer but needed to hear it anyway.
Your stomach twisted.
"Giyuu..." you started weakly.
His jaw tightened.
"I just want to know," he said quietly, finally lifting his eyes to yours. There was no anger in them. Just uncertainty.
You opened your mouth.
Then closed it again.
Because the truth was complicated.
You loved him.
Of course you loved him.
But every time you thought about relationships, your chest tightened.
Every time things started feeling too serious, you remembered being left behind.
Being hurt.
Being abandoned.
You weren't ready.
You didn't know if you'd ever be ready.
And the longer you stayed silent, the more Giyuu seemed to understand.
His shoulders sank.
Just slightly.
But you noticed.
Because you'd spent twenty years learning every expression he made.
Every tiny shift in posture.
Every sign he was hurting.
"Say something," he whispered.
The words came out smaller than before.
His voice almost sounded fragile.
You hated the look in his eyes.
The hope.
Because suddenly you realized how long he'd been carrying it.
How long he'd been waiting.
How long he'd believed this was heading somewhere.
"I don't know," you admitted quietly.
The second the words left your mouth, you wished you could take them back.
For a moment, Giyuu simply stared at you.
Not angry.
Not surprised.
Just hurt.
The kind of hurt that sat quietly inside a person and hollowed them out from the inside.
Then his gaze dropped.
"Oh."
A single word.
Barely audible.
Yet somehow it felt like a knife.
Your chest tightened.
"Giyuu—"
He shook his head quickly before you could continue.
"It's okay," he said automatically, forcing a small smile that didn't reach his eyes.
It wasn't.
You could hear that.
See it.
The strain in his voice.
The way his fingers curled tightly inside his pockets.
"It's not okay," you said softly.
A hollow laugh escaped him.
Quiet.
Humorless.
"No," he admitted, looking away.
He swallowed hard.
"I guess it isn't."
Silence settled between you.
The music continued playing softly in the background.
The smell of curry still filled the apartment.
Everything looked exactly the same.
And yet suddenly nothing felt familiar anymore.
"When did you know?" he asked after a long pause, his voice distant.
The question caught you off guard.
"What?"
His eyes remained fixed on the floor.
"When did you know it wasn't me?" he asked, his expression unreadable.
Your breath caught.
"Giyuu..."
"Was it recently?" he asked calmly.
Too calmly.
"Or have you known for a while?"
You couldn't answer.
Because every answer felt cruel.
And judging by the sad smile that briefly crossed his face, he already knew that.
"I think part of me always knew," he admitted quietly.
He rubbed the back of his neck.
A nervous habit he hadn't had since high school.
"I just didn't want to believe it."
The tears were already building behind your eyes.
"Giyuu, please," you whispered.
His gaze finally lifted.
And for the first time, you realized how tired he looked.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Like he'd been carrying something heavy for so long he'd forgotten what it felt like to put it down.
"So many people thought we were together," he said with a faint, bittersweet smile.
His voice softened.
"Mitsuri."
A weak laugh escaped him.
"Tanjiro."
Another.
"Your mother."
Despite everything, your chest tightened painfully.
Because he was right.
Everyone had thought it.
Everyone except you.
"And every single time..." he continued, his smile slowly fading.
His eyes dropped again.
"...I hoped the next time someone asked, I'd finally be able to say yes."
The room fell silent.
Then he looked back at you.
And smiled.
A sad one.
The saddest smile you'd ever seen.
"I don't want to be someone's temporary person anymore," he said with a sad, defeated smile.
The words knocked the air from your lungs.
Because suddenly you understood.
Every late-night call.
Every holiday.
Every morning.
Every promise.
Every piece of himself he'd given you.
He'd been giving them with the expectation that one day you'd choose him.
And you hadn't.
Not because you didn't care.
But because you couldn't.
And in the end, that distinction didn't matter.
Giyuu swallowed hard.
His eyes drifted around the apartment.
The couch where you'd spent countless movie nights.
The blanket draped over the armrest.
The coffee mug you'd bought him years ago sitting beside the sink.
His gaze lingered on each thing for a moment.
Like he was saying goodbye.
Then he looked back at you.
"I love you," he confessed quietly, his expression painfully sincere.
The confession was quiet.
Simple.
No grand speech.
No dramatic declaration.
Just the truth.
The truth he'd probably been carrying for years.
Your eyes filled immediately.
"Giyuu..." you whispered shakily, tears already gathering in your eyes.
His expression faltered.
Just for a second.
Then he shook his head.
As if he already knew what you were about to say.
And didn't want to hear it.
Because if you loved him back, you would've answered the question.
And if you didn't—
There was nothing left to discuss.
"You don't have to say it back," he said softly, looking away with a pained smile.
The words sounded rehearsed.
Like he'd prepared himself for this outcome long before tonight.
You felt something inside your chest crack.
So he nodded once.
A final goodbye disguised as understanding.
Then he turned and started toward the door.
Leaving you sitting on the couch.
Leaving behind the apartment.
The dinners.
The movie nights.
The years.
Leaving behind the future he'd imagined.
And neither of you realized it then.
But that would be the last time Giyuu Tomioka was ever truly yours.
"Giyuu, please say something," you pleaded desperately, your voice trembling with panic.
Because suddenly it felt like something was slipping through your fingers.
Something important.
Something irreplaceable.
He stopped.
Not turning around.
Just stopping.
His shoulders rose with a slow breath.
Then fell.
For a long moment, he didn't answer.
You watched him close his eyes.
Watched his jaw tighten.
Like he was trying to gather the strength to say something he'd been holding in for a very long time.
When he finally turned back toward you, his eyes were tired.
Not angry.
Not resentful.
Just tired.
And somehow that hurt more than if he'd yelled.
"You know what's funny?" he asked quietly, letting out a hollow laugh.
You shook your head.
"I kept telling myself you just needed time," he admitted bitterly, his gaze distant.
Your chest tightened.
"I thought if I waited long enough..." he continued softly.
His gaze dropped to the floor.
"If I was patient enough..." he murmured.
His fingers curled tightly against his palms.
"...eventually you'd get there," he finished with a sad smile that didn't reach his eyes.
The tears were already building behind your eyes.
"Giyuu—" you started helplessly.
"That eventually you'd choose me," he whispered, heartbreak evident in every word.
And for the first time, you heard how much that hope had cost him.
"Giyuu—" you tried again, your voice cracking.
"I don't blame you," he interrupted gently, offering a small shake of his head.
The way someone might stop another person from apologizing for a wound they never meant to cause.
"I really don't," he said quietly, meeting your eyes.
His eyes met yours.
And somehow that made everything worse.
Because he meant it.
He wasn't angry.
He wasn't trying to make you feel guilty.
He was simply heartbroken.
"But I'm tired," he confessed
The confession was barely above a whisper.
And yet it hit harder than anything else he'd said.
Because Giyuu Tomioka was the most patient person you'd ever known.
The kind of person who would suffer in silence for years.
The kind of person who never asked for anything.
The kind of person who gave and gave and gave until there was nothing left.
And he was telling you he was tired.
"I can't keep doing this," he admitted, his voice trembling slightly.
A tear slid down your cheek.
"Giyuu, please..." you begged softly, tears spilling over.
He laughed softly.
Not because anything was funny.
Because he was trying not to cry.
"I know your coffee order by memory," he said with a shaky smile.
You froze.
"I know you hate thunderstorms even though you pretend you don't," he continued quietly, his eyes glistening.
Another shaky breath.
"I know you always leave cabinet doors open," he said, letting out a weak, broken laugh.
Your vision blurred.
"I know exactly what kind of food you crave when you've had a bad day," he whispered fondly.
His eyes glistened.
"And I know when you're lying and saying you're fine," he finished softly, his voice thick with emotion.
Your chest hurt.
Badly.
Because those weren't romantic things.
Those were the things that came from loving someone for twenty years.
"I know everything about you," he said, his voice finally cracking.
Just once.
The smallest crack.
But it was there.
"And somehow I still don't know if you ever saw a future with me," he admitted with a broken smile.
The apartment fell silent.
You couldn't breathe.
Couldn't think.
Couldn't stop crying.
"I love you," he repeated quietly, his eyes locked onto yours.
His eyes met yours.
Red-rimmed.
Exhausted.
"I've loved you for so long that I don't even remember what it feels like not to," he said with a sad, exhausted laugh.
Your breath caught.
"But loving you like this..." he whispered.
He swallowed.
Hard.
His gaze dropped to the floor.
Then back to you.
"It's killing me," he admitted painfully, tears threatening to fall.
The words hung in the air between you.
Raw.
Honest.
Final.
You wanted to say something.
Anything.
Wanted to tell him you cared.
Wanted to tell him he mattered.
Wanted to tell him not to leave.
But none of those things were the answer he needed.
And he knew it.
The moment stretched between you.
Heavy.
Painful.
Final.
Then Giyuu nodded to himself.
As if he'd finally accepted something.
"I think I've been holding on to who I wanted you to be," he said quietly, forcing himself to smile.
Another tear rolled down your face.
"And that's not fair to either of us," he added gently.
He reached for his jacket hanging over the back of a chair.
Your heart immediately started racing.
"Giyuu..." you whispered desperately.
His hand froze.
For just a second.
You hated that pause.
Because some part of you knew he was waiting.
Waiting for the words that would make him stay.
Waiting for you to finally choose him.
Waiting for you to tell him he was worth the risk.
But they never came.
Not because you didn't care.
Not because you didn't love him.
But because you weren't ready.
And Giyuu deserved more than waiting for someone who might never be ready.
The realization shattered something inside both of you.
His shoulders sagged.
Just slightly.
Like the last bit of hope had finally left him.
Then he gave you a small smile.
The kind people wear when they're trying not to cry.
"I'm sorry," he said softly, his voice barely holding together.
The words nearly broke you.
Why was he apologizing?
He was the one leaving.
He was the one hurting.
Yet somehow he was still apologizing.
Then he walked toward the door.
Each step felt unreal.
Like a nightmare.
Like something that couldn't possibly be happening.
Your best friend.
The boy who'd been beside you since childhood.
The person who knew you better than anyone.
The person you'd always assumed would be there.
Reaching the door, he stopped.
His hand resting on the handle.
For a brief moment, neither of you moved.
Neither of you breathed.
Then, without turning around, he spoke.
"I wish you the best, take care, Y/n," he said quietly, his voice breaking on your name.
The tears spilled over completely.
His voice broke on the last word.
Only slightly.
But enough.
Enough for you to hear it.
Enough for you to know.
And before you could answer
Before you could tell him to stay
Before you could stop him
The door opened.
Then closed.
And for the first time in nearly twenty years...
Giyuu was gone.
December arrived quietly.
Just like the rest of the year had.
One day became one week.
One week became one month.
And somehow twelve months had passed.
Twelve months without Giyuu.
No messages.
No missed calls.
No accidental run-ins.
Nothing.
At first, you'd expected to hear from him.
Not because of what happened between you.
Because of everything that came before it.
Years of friendship don't just disappear.
At least, that was what you'd told yourself.
You convinced yourself he just needed space.
A few weeks.
Maybe a month.
Then things would settle.
Eventually he'd text you something completely ordinary.
A photo of a stray cat.
A complaint about work.
A random question he'd normally ask without thinking.
Something.
Anything.
But your phone remained silent.
And slowly, painfully, you began to understand that it wasn't going to happen.
The realization didn't arrive all at once.
It crept in gradually.
Like winter spreading across a windowpane.
Until one day you looked around and realized everything had changed.
By December, the city had already transformed for the holidays.
Storefronts glowed with colorful lights.
Garlands hung from streetlamps.
Fresh snow covered the edges of sidewalks.
People rushed past carrying shopping bags and wrapped gifts.
Life continued moving forward.
Yours included.
At least from the outside.
You still went to work.
Still met friends for coffee.
Still paid bills.
Still smiled when people expected you to.
But some days it felt like you were living beside your life rather than inside it.
You were heading home from work when you saw him.
At first, you dismissed it immediately.
You'd done this before.
Caught sight of dark hair in a crowd.
A familiar coat.
A familiar posture.
And every single time your heart had embarrassed itself.
So you looked away.
Then looked back.
And froze.
Giyuu.
Your breath caught sharply in your throat.
A year.
It had been an entire year.
He stood on the opposite side of the subway platform.
Hands tucked inside the pockets of a dark coat.
Headphones hanging loosely around his neck
Head slightly lowered.
Waiting for his train.
For a moment, everything around you faded.
The overhead announcements echoing through the station.
The conversations of commuters.
The screech of metal against rails.
The rush of footsteps across the platform.
None of it registered.
Because after an entire year...
There he was.
Real.
Your stomach dropped.
Your eyes widened.
Before you could stop yourself, you took a step forward.
Then another.
Relief flooded through you so quickly it almost hurt.
Finally.
Finally.
Maybe this didn't have to be the end.
Maybe enough time had passed.
Maybe the distance between you could be crossed.
Maybe…
Then Giyuu looked up.
And saw you.
You stopped walking.
The hopeful smile beginning to form on your lips faltered.
His expression didn't change.
No surprise.
No shock.
No visible happiness.
Just recognition.
Like spotting someone from another chapter of his life.
Someone familiar.
Someone he used to know.
Your heart sank.
For a second, neither of you moved.
The space between the two platforms suddenly felt impossibly wide.
Then Giyuu offered a small nod.
Polite.
Courteous.
Distant.
The kind of greeting exchanged between two people with history but no present.
You stared at him.
Because everything about him looked familiar.
The dark hair.
The blue eyes.
The calm posture.
And yet somehow he felt completely different.
Not because he'd changed.
Because he no longer belonged to your life.
The approaching train announced itself with a distant rumble.
Wind rushed through the station as headlights appeared down the tunnel.
Your pulse spiked.
"Giyuu."
The name escaped before you could stop it.
Soft.
Breathless.
Almost pleading.
His eyes met yours again.
And for a brief moment, something flickered there.
A faint softness.
A memory.
Not longing.
Not regret.
Just acknowledgement.
A quiet understanding of who you had once been to each other.
Then he smiled.
Small.
Gentle.
Kind.
And devastatingly distant.
The smile of someone wishing another person well.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
The train slowed beside the platform.
Its doors slid open with a mechanical chime.
Passengers stepped off.
Others stepped on.
And Giyuu turned toward the train.
He didn't hesitate.
Didn't linger.
Didn't look like he was fighting himself to leave.
He simply stepped inside.
Like it was the easiest choice in the world.
The doors began to close.
For one final second, your eyes met through the glass.
Your chest tightened painfully.
But Giyuu only offered one last small smile.
Then the doors shut.
The train pulled away.
And you remained where you were.
Frozen.
Watching the cars disappear into the tunnel.
Watching the space he'd occupied only moments ago.
Your expression crumpled.
The ache in your chest spreading until it felt impossible to breathe.
It was strange.
You'd spent an entire year missing him.
But standing there on that crowded subway platform, the pain felt different.
Clearer.
Sharper.
Because for the first time, you understood what had happened.
You hadn't lost him that night.
You hadn't even lost him when he walked away.
You'd lost him little by little.
With every unanswered feeling.
Every moment he waited for something you couldn't give him.
Every time he chose you while you couldn't choose him.
Until eventually there was nothing left for him to hold onto.
The realization hit harder than you expected.
Harder than the silence.
Harder than the loneliness.
Harder than watching him leave.
Because a year ago, some part of you had still believed he'd come back.
Not as your boyfriend.
Not even as the man who loved you.
Just as your best friend.
Because that was what Giyuu always did.
No matter how far apart you drifted.
No matter how much time passed.
He always found his way back to you.
Except this time he didn't.
And now you finally understood why.
He wasn't coming back.
Not because he hated you.
Not because he'd forgotten you.
But because he'd learned how to live without you.
The station remained busy around you.
Announcements echoed overhead.
Commuters hurried past.
Another train arrived.
Another departed.
Life continued.
Just as it always had.
And standing there among thousands of strangers, you realized something devastating.
The boy who had spent nearly his entire life beside you
I saw the ask someone sent about your fic which put a question in my head that I’ve been thinking about due to some personal reasons.
And would it be ok to never forgive my parents for the hurt the caused me?
Yes. I think it would be perfectly ok not to.
I’ll elaborate further…
Only you know what you’ve been through, and only you can determine what feels right for you. Regardless of what anyone else may say about your choice, nobody truly knows what happened except you, and nobody truly knows how it made you feel.
So yes, it’s perfectly okay to feel like they don’t deserve your forgiveness, and it’s also perfectly okay to forgive them, because forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting the pain they caused.
Both are perfectly valid.
I have personally chosen to forgive my parents for all the pain they caused me growing up, but I’ve also chosen not to keep them as part of my life because anytime I’ve tried to, they remind me exactly why I cut them off in the first place.
I mention this because I want you to understand that whatever choice you make, it should be for your own peace, not anyone else’s.
what inspires your writing and storylines? I’ve been trying to write something for so long but I can’t seem to get any inspiration
Outside of my own personal life experiences, I would definitely have to say music is one of my biggest inspirations.
Even when I'm not writing, I'm constantly listening to music, thinking about the lyrics and how certain songs make me feel, and I apply that to my writing.
I’ve been thinking about adding the songs I listen to while writing each post so you guys can see where certain ideas came from.
Since Giyuu has a descendent means he had a kid or two soooo that means reader and giyuu did boombyeya and had a son (since giyuu having a descendent would be based on his son carrying his last name)
*If it was a girl she would get married further on and last name be changed to her husbands*
So I'm not worried by the end of the chapters Giyuu and me get to together and have a baby yes brother will die but I believe he's filthy rich so no finance trouble 🤷♀️
I can’t confirm or deny his death!!
I might decide they live happily ever after and grow old together, or I may decide I want to make you all cry and kill him.
The baby theory certainly is interesting, I’ll tell you that if he were to knock y/n up it wouldn’t be purposefully. It would be purely accidental.
as a writer, it’s very important that you know this: whenever you tell yourself “this will only be one-chapter-long” that is a lie. your brain is lying to you. it won’t, in fact, be just a short one-shot
