Multifandom_rat

You finish covering the pans and dishes to keep the ingredients hot. Taking a step towards the door, the front window is within view but it’s far too into dusk to see past the front yard.

Tearing away from your hesitations to find out, you go open up your front door. Your eyes scanning the yard and beyond, there is an initial sinking feeling in your gut that he had indeed left.

It was already strange enough that he agreed to come here, so why would he actually stay for something as intimate for dinner when he hardly likes to be in the general vicinity of anyone if not demon slayer corp related.

Something catches your eye in the distance and your eyes focus on its form.

He didn’t leave and was walking your way. Something within you, a tension in your neck relieved at the sight. 

“I was starting to think you had up and left me here with this delicious dinner made for two”, you tried laughing off your nerves and trying to keep things light for both your sakes. 

“I…would never leave something…anything that I promised to do or be at…like this”, he steadily paced himself through saying. “I will always respect kindness offered to me. I don’t take it for granted”, he said even softer than the previous statement as he approached you at the door. 

You stepped out of the way for him to enter. He took off his shoes at the door and slowly paced further into your home. You walked around him from behind, brushing his shoulder and causing a small jump of shock from even the smallest of contact. It goes unnoticed by you, as you were focused on setting up the dinner for both of you.

“Are you fine eating at the kotatsu? I don’t have a dinner table. I’ve…never really felt it was necessary if a kotatsu exists. Is that weird?” You laugh, shaking your head as you plate the food. “It probably does, but that’s fine. I hope it’s okay with you”.

You look over to already find him seated at the kotatsu with his sword resting beside him, his eyes quietly wandering around the decor of your living room.

The chilling wind of fall blows through your window, past Giyuu, and into your kitchen.

Both of you shiver at the cold blowing straight through you.

“Yikes. Well, here. I'll close this", the plates clink down into the middle of the kotatsu. You walk over and close your window and pull the curtains shut. You light a candle that sits on your desk. The smoke swirls with smoky blooming lilies and kindling palo santo.

Sliding your legs underneath the kotatsu, you wear a nervous yet soft smile with excited eyes — all of which is noticed by him (of course! since you are always in his peripheral).

“Shall we?”, you slightly push his dish towards him.

Both of us pick up our chopsticks and quietly take the first few bites. You hum contentedly while swallowing your food, “I only make this a few times a year, it’s my favorite dish since I was a kid”. You push some of it around with your chopsticks with your gaze dropped down to the bowl. Speaking a bit softer with a bittersweet memory on the tip of your tongue and smirk to overcompensate for the frown forming, “My family was killed by demons when I was young. Before that though, my mother used to make this everyday. We didn’t have much money but we had a garden, much like the one out back. When we could dress it up a bit more, my mother would add in more tofu or meat if we got really lucky”. A pause hangs between us, you forget that you were even nervous as you get lost in retelling the memory. “I always think of them when I make it. Don’t think I could ever not think of them. But it’s more good memories than anything. The warmth in the spices and in my mother’s laugh as I heard her gathering the dishes to serve. Feeling the steam from the kitchen as she cooked and hearing her hum along to a song she loved…and I swear I can still hear her smiling just from her humming”. 

I don’t notice his softened expression. He watches me move the same pieces of tofu around the bowl for the third time. He understood what I meant about hearing my mother smiling without even seeing her because he watched me as I spoke and didn’t look up once but he heard a difference in my tone. It made him feel bittersweet and something fluttered in his chest, noticing the smallest, fondest smile on my lips as you remembered my mother’s smile.

After a second you realize you went off on a tangent and looked up to apologize but his gaze was down at his bowl noticing you had given him extra tofu in his bowl compared to your own. He wondered if your mother taught you to give more to guests quietly so they are well taken care of—like it's the most natural thing in the world for you to give and think nothing of it.

“...Sensho peppers. My mother would  put ... .sensho peppers in ours…and yuzu from our trees outside”. A soft smile on my lips, “Oh yeah?”. An even lighter flush of blushing crawling up from your neck to your cheeks. You think about how he’s here at all and how you don’t take it for granted. Then he sits down to eat with you and listens as you share a bit more of yourself than you thought and he offers something of warmth in return. With a warm chuckle and attempt to push down a smile yet absolutely audible when you say, “I’ll have to make it like that next time for us then”. He felt a shock to his heart hearing you say “next time” and “us” in the same sentence. He heard the small shy amused smirk in your tone and in having to discern joke from reality, he quietly fought with himself, "Like I'm good at understanding sentiments anyways...but was I wanted to return? could they actually mean that?" On the other side of the table in the brief second yet hours-long silence, you thought, "Was I confused when I said it? Did he not hear me correctly? Was what I meant conveyed? Did it come off different? Oh god..."

Since Sabito died, no one has ever cared to or stayed around longer than obligated to, much less arrange to spend time with him again. Still looking down at his food he curls his fingers into a shaky ball on his thigh under the kotatsu top.  "At my estate...I keep a garden on the east side of the property...it has good sunlight and soil. I—uh—I have sensho peppers. The ones I mentioned. I can bring some...if you'd like?", he stumbles through the sentence with an almost imperceptible shakiness to it. He tries to meet your eyes as he speaks but only manages to match your gaze after he pauses. There is fear, hope, and something unbearably fond that you're not sure he's allowed himself to show. Giyuu Tomioka holding a conversation. Agreeing to train with you. Agreeing to train on your property. Agreeing to have dinner afterwards. Actually showing up for the dinner. Sitting and eating the dinner. Making actual conversation and talking about himself. Offering to bring something to have dinner again. You have to ask yourself if any of this shit is real?

The silence beats for a few seconds and you can't hide the flush of warmth up from your chest, up your neck, and filling the apple of your cheeks as you smile with genuine excitement. "I'd love that. Katemeshi kioku. Me and you. Sensho peppers, Tomioka edition. Let's do it". Neither of you could bare to acknowledge it but it was obvious—whatever was happening here, you needed more, and you can't believe the other has said what they did. Every moment between becomes a brand new sensation unlike anything you could ever imagine. Something exciting. A rush. Your heart beating a million beats per minute. Your skin buzzing with anticipation and electricity. God forbid, training becomes more hands-on. God forbid, sitting next to each other ends up with brushing each others knees together. God forbid, your hands brush as you walk or reach for the same thing. God forbid, either of you admit it could be something more.

a/n: all of this context/lore ugh MY FAVORITE PART IS THE END OF THIS AAAAAAH SO CUTE SO MUCH FLUFF!!!! CH 5 COMING!!!! THANKS FOR BEING PATIENT

ch.3 ｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡ ch.5 (coming soon) — katemeshi kioku ch. masterlist

owned and copyrighted by @konkususwife © 2026. no ai training is authorized.

But Rocky misses it. He can literally remember all the things Grace says, so getting that much info all in one go is super exiting! So he keeps sharing info about Erid and engineering, and keeps asking Grace to keep talking too.

Similarly, Grace learned to mask some traits early on. He adjusts his body language and posture and such to appear more neurotypical. But sometimes he forgets. He slips up, and acts how he naturally would. And Rocky sees the way his friend sometimes just stops for a moment before quickly adjusting the way he is occupying the space.

Everything. 

His fingers flex and he silently counts to three, willing himself not to let his job bleed into his home. It isn’t easy to let go of. It rarely is. 

He needs to give himself grace.

Recovery is a journey, and the steps are heavy some days. 

You practically materialize in front of him and take the keys from his hands. His pulse stutters when he opens his eyes to gaze at his angel in human form. You look at him like you’ve been waiting all day for him to come home. You look at him like he’s still worth something.

He doesn’t realize how much he needs that until now. 

“Hey,” you say softly, stepping close and trailing your fingers down his chest. “Long shift?”

He swallows hard and manages a nod. “You could say that.”

The coiled tension in his body is close to snapping, but it shifts to something more desirable as you keep touching him.

“Poor thing,” you say sympathetically, moving your fingers lower. “Maybe I can make you feel better.”

Your lips meet his before he can form a response, your tongue gently coaxing his mouth open the way only you know how. He quickly takes over, tilting your head just enough for you to feel the shift. The lingering weight from earlier slowly lifts, almost like it was never there at all. 

In a world full of judgement, you always seem to absolve him with a look. A touch. A kiss. It’s enough to make him want to drop to his knees and worship you. 

Later. 

You trail kisses along his jaw and neck, making your way down his body slowly. His heart pounds in anticipation, his breathing heavier once you’re on your knees. He hisses when you kiss his growing bulge through the fabric, his hips thrusting forward. It's tough to be patient when he knows your mouth feels like heaven. He needs to feel something good after putting out fires. 

Many because of his own doing. 

“Frank?” you ask, gazing at him like he isn’t some sort of failure.

Like he’s still someone who makes a difference in the world. 

“Yeah?” he replies, the shadows in his vivid blue eyes fading away as he looks down at you.

He can’t believe how lucky he is. 

And he is lucky. Sticking beside someone battling addiction isn’t easy and he doesn’t know how you do it some days. Rebuilding trust, patience and understanding. You make it look effortless, even when he doubts himself. If you ever make the decision to walk away, he won’t blame you. 

But you choose to stick by him.

You choose him.

“I love you,” you say.

His exhale is slow as the words wash over him. “I love you, too,” he whispers in awe, reaching down to touch your cheek. “You’re my rock, you know that?”

His cock twitches when you kiss it again through the clothing, a contrast to the tender words you’re exchanging. He wonders why he’s still dressed, why he hasn’t dragged you to bed. He needs you. 

Needs to be inside you.

You smile, making his heart race all over again. “I know,” you answer without a hint of bragging. “You’re my rock, too, whether you believe it or not. You’re strong. A fighter.”

Frank’s mouth goes dry, a shiver rolling down to the base of his spine. He doesn’t deserve your praise, but he craves it. It’s amazing what a kind word from the love of his life does. 

It also amazes him that his cock is somehow harder.

“Please,” he says, his voice hoarse with want. “Touch me.”

“I will,” you promise, tilting your head. “Just one more thing?”

“What’s that?”

“I see you, Frank.”

He smiles because he knows you do.

You see the hero of a doctor he is, the mess of a human being who makes mistakes, and the vulnerable man trying to do and be better.

“I know,” he breathes.

You see him and still love him.

Love doesn’t magically fix problems or mend wounds. It doesn’t mean either of you have all the answers. But it does serve as a reminder that he isn’t alone. You’re there with him in the dark. He doesn’t have to carry anything alone.

And that love, your love, is something he will fight for every day.

“Now let me help you feel better,” you say, your eyes full of determination.

And that’s exactly what you do.