Yasunari Kwabata

Giyu wasn’t clingy in the dramatic sense. He was clingy in a silent, adorably sincere way. The way that said he couldn’t imagine life without you and had no idea how he made it this far before having met you.

To be honest, his clinginess might just be the worst when he comes home from a mission.

That’s when it reaches an all-time high.

He never really announced when he returned. You’d simply feel it– his presence filling the space behind you, the soft rustle of his haori as he stepped closer. His arms wrap around you from behind, gentle and cautious, like he was asking for permission even after all this time.

His chin rested on top of your shoulder.

He didn’t speak right away. He just breathed.

You learned not to rush him.

“Welcome home,” you’d say softly.

“Thank you…” he’d reply, voice low. Then, after a beat, “I missed you.”

He always admitted it like he was letting out a risky confession.

When you turned in his arms, he’d hesitate– just for a second– before tightening his hold, forehead pressing to yours. His hands were warm.

Sometimes he’d close his eyes like he was committing the moment to memory.

On days when you tried to do chores alone, he followed.

He wasn't necessarily obvious with it.

Well… at least not at first.

You’d be folding laundry, only to realize he had sat beside you without a sound, shoulder pressed firmly against yours. You could be cooking, and suddenly he’d appear behind you again, arms slipping around your waist as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“Giyu,” you teased one afternoon, smiling as you stirred a pot of soup. “Are you supervising me?”

“No..” he said.

Then, after a couple seconds, “I just like being close.”

And that made your heart do something stupidly soft.

Even when he trained, Giyu lingered. If you had decided to sit nearby– as if he’d let you sit anywhere but– he’d finish his sets faster than usual, a towel in hand as he approached you immediately.

“Oh? You’re done already?” you asked him once.

He hummed something close to a response. “I didn’t want to be away for longer than necessary.”

What a greedy little Water Hashira.

You know what, scratch that bit about his clinginess being the worst after a mission.

At night, it was like he was a whole different person.

Giyu slept exactly like he fought– seriously and fully committed. Once he had you in his grasp, that was it. Legs tangled with yours, arms locked around your torso, fingertips dancing along your skin.

If you shifted, he followed.

If you sighed, he tightened his grip.

If you pulled away, even just an inch, his eyes shot open.

“Giyuuuu,” you’d say, voice rough with sleep. “I’m not going anywhere, alright? There's no need to worry so much.”

He believed you, obviously, but some part of him still needed to check.

There was one particular evening, after a dreadfully long mission, that his clinginess had reached new heights.

You barely had time to greet him before he was pulling you into his chest, face buried in your hair. His breathing was uneven. Not necessarily panicked, but heavy, like the weight of the world hadn’t quite left his shoulders yet.

“Giyu? What’s wrong…?” you whispered, hands coming up to rest against his chest.

He didn’t answer right away, a known habit of his.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you the entire time,” he said finally. “It only made me want to come home sooner.”

Your throat tightened.

You guided him to sit, straddling his lap as his hands moved to your waist like a magnet to a fridge.

“Is that why you’re holding me so tight?” you murmured with a soft smile. “I’m not going to fade away, you know.”

“I know.”

Then, “But I like holding you.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. Then your cheek. Then your lips.

The kiss was slow, but so incredibly gentle it was almost impossible to describe in words. It was careful, as all things were with Giyu, but for him, it was his way of expressing the emotions he never really knew how to voice.

When you pulled back, a huge smile gracing your face, you teased, “You’re being very clingy today, Mr. Tomioka.”

He froze.

For a split second, you thought he might pull away from you– but instead, his grip tightened.

“Is that bad? Does it bother you?” he asked quietly.

Your heart shattered.

“No!” you answered immediately, hands raising to cup his face. “No baby, it’s sweet. I like it.”

His shoulders relaxed visibly.

“Oh.”

His hands moved lower on your back. “Good.”

He rested his forehead against yours again, thumb brushing your lower back with a tenderness that felt almost shy.

You let your fingers roam, allowing them to seek refuge in their favorite place, the soft, dark locs of his hair.

“I would never mind you doing this,” you whispered softly. “If it’s what you need, I’m happy to oblige.”

“I don’t need much else,” he admitted after a tiny beat of silence. “Just you like this.”

My gosh, what an adorable man he is.