blushing all the way home [ao no exorcist]
Title: blushing all the way home
Author: riouu
Length: 1914 words.
Fandom: Ao no Exorcist.
Pairing: Amaimon/Moriyama Shiemi.
Warnings: A small kiss.
Summary: In the remains of an old sweet store, Shiemi comes face to face for the first time with he who trails in her shadow.
blushing all the way home;
♥
Shiemi is chasing ghosts again and she knows this, but she doesn’t quite want to give in and give up just yet. There’s the hope, that foolish desire of hers, that at any moment she’ll round the next corner and that shadow will have materialised before her, solid and present and there. She wants to know for sure that it really exists - that she isn’t simply deluding herself. She wants to know that someone real, whoever or whatever they might be, is paying attention to her.
There’s something familiar about the wraith she continuously spies from out of the corner of her eye, too. Maybe she’s met him before, she thinks. There’s smatterings of green, and tattered clothes, and bright eyes that would normally unnerve Shiemi if she weren’t so intrigued - all these things she knows, but does not remember where she knows them from.
Ever since Shiemi began to venture outside, her mother has been warning her not to wander into the more derelict areas of the True Cross Academy; those parts of the grounds that were closed off for various reasons and now are falling into various states of disrepair and decay. Lesser demons make their homes in these places but it’s there that the shadow is headed this time and Shiemi has been able to keep up with it thus far. So, steeling herself and taking a deep breath, she steps over the chain that is supposed to prevent entrance into the old building.
She’s not sure what this place once was, and has never been here before. Chancing a brief glance over one shoulder, Shiemi takes in the surrounding landscape and decides that she should be able to find her way back home safely, and then heads into the building itself. Dust cakes the floor. Parts of the roof have fallen in here and there, and the wind whistles through empty window frames. Through the layer of grime and damp that coats everything though, Shiemi begins to see colours. The walls are papered in peeling wallpaper that she thinks was once various shades of pink and purple, striped with white and peppered with yellow polka-dots. An obnoxious sort of old wallpaper, really, but it interests Shiemi. It makes her wonder what this place might once have been in its glory days, what it might have looked like. She assumes it was quite colourful, but was it a lively place or a quiet place? An old atmosphere is difficult to pick out from ruins.
The other rooms are decorated similarly to the first, and Shiemi comes closer to discovering the nature of this building in a room nearby. Shelves line two of the walls and a few empty display stands are placed in the centre of the room - a dusty counter lies opposite Shiemi and the door, behind the stands. It appears this establishment was once a store of some kind, though all of its merchandise appears to have disappeared with time.
Then, Shiemi spots a wrapped sweet lying on the counter.
Somehow it looks as if it does not fit in with the rest of this place, like it’s too new. Was it just put here? Curious and likely far too naïve for her own good, Shiemi makes her way quietly around the display stands, managing not to trip on the fallen shelf lying nearby, and plucks the candy up.
Behind her, a shadow crosses the doorway. It’s fleet-footed enough that it’s barely heard but Shiemi is a little nervous being in such a place and still alert, searching for her secret ‘admirer’, and she catches the sound of the movement. She turns, and comes face to face with a demon.
Actually, it’s probably rude to assume something like that but he really does look like a demon. His appearance sets off all sorts of warning bells in Shiemi’s mind but she ignores them because she realises that she recognises the figure.
“…Are you the one who keeps following me?” she ventures after a moment of silence, glancing quickly down at the candy. The man tilts his head and seems almost confused for a second, his gaze straying off out across the room. Then, he looks back to her.
“Yes. You can have that, by the way, if you’d like.” He motions with a thin finger to the sweet.
“R-Really? Um-- thank you!” Shiemi isn’t too sure what to say but opts for being polite. She has so many questions but words rarely leave her fluidly and everything becomes all the more tangled on her tongue when she’s worked up like this. “Can…can I ask a question?” She wishes she could remember his name. Does he know hers? Did she ever know his?
“Yes.”
“Why do you follow me?”
He’d been staring at his fingernails as if bored until she asks that, when he abruptly meets her gaze again. His stare is piercing and unnatural but…strangely beautiful, in some ethereal way. That’s what he is, she thinks; something not of this world, but still quite real.
“…I don’t know.” It’s not the answer she was hoping for - Shiemi had rather been wishing for an explanation, maybe even a confession though when she takes note of what she’s thinking she feels herself blush deeply. How terrible, to think such a thing. “Do you know what this place is?” the demon continues after a pause, stepping further into the room. Slowly but surely he approaches her, until he’s far closer than a normal person would dare to come.
“I think a shop of some kind…?” Once again Shiemi finds herself looking at the sweet. She doesn’t really notice how close he is now, mere inches away; nor does she notice how she seems to have been backed up against the counter. It’s difficult to concentrate on much when she comes to the realisation that he is paying attention to no one but her. That’s a feeling she isn’t entirely used to. All her classmates are either preoccupied with themselves or each other, but never her.
“It was once a sweet shop. An old man ran it but then he died. He collected sweets,” he murmurs sort of absent-mindedly, as if he’s only half aware of what he’s saying, “from all across the world. He had everything, in one place. It was nice.”
“It sounds lovely…” Shiemi wonders what this place might have looked like in the past - surely far brighter, with glass in the window panes and working lights of course. The display stands and all the shelves would be crammed with all sorts of exotic and foreign sweets and candies and chocolates, gathered up from every country she can think of. Shiemi isn’t exactly obsessed with sweet foods but she does have a thing for chocolate, and licks her lips a bit at the image she’s conjured up. The demon watches her and is silent. “D-Do you like sweets, um…?” Shiemi asks, blinking up at him and hoping her trailing off will prompt him to give his name.
She comes to the realisation then that it’s actually quite cold in this room, but he’s close enough that she can feel the heat of his body and is stealing some without being able to stop herself. He’s real, he’s real, he’s real-- and the thought makes her head spin.
“Amaimon,” the demon tells her, rolling his own name slowly over his tongue as if tasting it. Shiemi is quite sure she knows that name - Yukio told her once, if she recalls correctly, that he’s some kind of ‘big shot’ in the demon world. She really should be afraid because of that but right now it doesn’t seem as if he’s threatening her in any way. That one of the most powerful demons in Gehenna is seemingly interested in her is one hell of a compliment though. “…And I like sweet things,” adds Amaimon as an afterthought, remembering that he had actually been asked a question.
The wind is picking up outside, whispering its way into the building and Shiemi shivers in response, rubbing her bare arms. She would have put a jacket on if she hadn’t feared losing her shadow’s trail again.
Amaimon mimics her movement on his own arms, curious. After a second he reaches to do the same to her. His nails are long and feel terribly sharp as they graze over her flesh, but he’s surprisingly gentle, taking the utmost care not to accidentally carve a wound into her. As he rubs at her upper arms he takes a step closer and then there really is no space between him and her. Once again Shiemi is made quite aware of the fact that Amaimon is real, as he’s pressing his chest to hers.
“Moriyama Shiemi.”
Mist leaks from his mouth. Ghost breath, really, but it’s warm against Shiemi’s skin. It whirls, white smoke, up from his lips and fades into the air. Not wanting him to do the same, she finds her fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his waistcoat.
“Yes…?” She answers the murmur of her name in a soft voice.
“I like sweet things.”
“Then…” She can still feel the sweet in her hand, its wrapper crinkling whenever she flexes her fingers. “Do you want this one? The one you gave me.”
“I don’t want it. I want Moriyama Shiemi.”
Shiemi hates the way she can’t quite hide her red cheeks. Amaimon covers them for her with his hands, tipping her face up a bit in the process. Ghost breath washes over her lips and, very briefly, they share a small kiss. It may last only a second or two at most but it’s the most breathtaking thing she’s ever experienced. Then she feels him flinch and release her, and by the time she dares end the moment and open her eyes, Amaimon has disappeared altogether. The sounds of something being shoved in another room nearby catch Shiemi’s attentions.
“Oh my. Moriyama, what are you doing in here?”
Sir Pheles pops his head around the doorframe, an eyebrow raised; he gives his cloak a rough tug and a heavy bookcase is dragged across the floor, wood scraping sharply against wood. The material comes free and the man then enters the room as Shiemi turns several shades more scarlet and wonders if he was here long enough to catch anything.
“I’m quite sure there’s a chain and a warning sign on the outside of this building,” Pheles continues, waving a hand absently while glancing around, “it’s dangerous in this place. Nails and broken glass and all sorts of nasty things to catch yourself on, you know? Besides…”
His eyes take on a certain gleam of mischief, knowing. A wide grin curves the corners of his mouth up, revealing teeth that are far too sharp and remind her too much of the pair that brushed over her lips just now.
“…there could be demons here.”
And it’s at that point that Shiemi understands that he knows and she gives a small squeak of embarrassment. Quickly she’s excusing herself and apologising all at once and everything comes out rather rushed and nonsensical, and then she’s dashing out of the building, stumbling and tripping and blushing all the way home.
The next day, Shiemi’s shadow returns and her smile is bright, and she wonders if anyone notices her sunny mood. Maybe her classmates don’t but she doesn’t mind so much, for Amaimon later tells her he saw.
♥
end.
Notes: Because I really felt like I needed to update this place. Yes I like het and can and will write it.
This actually came about when I got sick of something else I was working on and opened up a new file to distract myself. I tried to write Bon/Rin and instead I ended up with some rather odd Amaimon/Shiemi. I'm not sure how exactly this happened. Either way, it happened and now I'm not quite sure what to think of it or how to feel about it. Whether or not I like it is questionable, because I like bits and pieces but then I'm not so confident on characterisation or a few aspects of it. The writing, however, I don't mind so much. It's not my best, I think, but it's okay.
For some reason I felt like this fic needed to be written in present tense, as compared to my favoured past tense - sometimes things just work better that way to me, I don't know.
(I actually rather like this pairing, okay. Please don't judge.)
If you happened to read this, please also accept my gratitude for taking the time to do so.
♪ riou
Author: riouu
Length: 1914 words.
Fandom: Ao no Exorcist.
Pairing: Amaimon/Moriyama Shiemi.
Warnings: A small kiss.
Summary: In the remains of an old sweet store, Shiemi comes face to face for the first time with he who trails in her shadow.
blushing all the way home;
♥
Shiemi is chasing ghosts again and she knows this, but she doesn’t quite want to give in and give up just yet. There’s the hope, that foolish desire of hers, that at any moment she’ll round the next corner and that shadow will have materialised before her, solid and present and there. She wants to know for sure that it really exists - that she isn’t simply deluding herself. She wants to know that someone real, whoever or whatever they might be, is paying attention to her.
There’s something familiar about the wraith she continuously spies from out of the corner of her eye, too. Maybe she’s met him before, she thinks. There’s smatterings of green, and tattered clothes, and bright eyes that would normally unnerve Shiemi if she weren’t so intrigued - all these things she knows, but does not remember where she knows them from.
Ever since Shiemi began to venture outside, her mother has been warning her not to wander into the more derelict areas of the True Cross Academy; those parts of the grounds that were closed off for various reasons and now are falling into various states of disrepair and decay. Lesser demons make their homes in these places but it’s there that the shadow is headed this time and Shiemi has been able to keep up with it thus far. So, steeling herself and taking a deep breath, she steps over the chain that is supposed to prevent entrance into the old building.
She’s not sure what this place once was, and has never been here before. Chancing a brief glance over one shoulder, Shiemi takes in the surrounding landscape and decides that she should be able to find her way back home safely, and then heads into the building itself. Dust cakes the floor. Parts of the roof have fallen in here and there, and the wind whistles through empty window frames. Through the layer of grime and damp that coats everything though, Shiemi begins to see colours. The walls are papered in peeling wallpaper that she thinks was once various shades of pink and purple, striped with white and peppered with yellow polka-dots. An obnoxious sort of old wallpaper, really, but it interests Shiemi. It makes her wonder what this place might once have been in its glory days, what it might have looked like. She assumes it was quite colourful, but was it a lively place or a quiet place? An old atmosphere is difficult to pick out from ruins.
The other rooms are decorated similarly to the first, and Shiemi comes closer to discovering the nature of this building in a room nearby. Shelves line two of the walls and a few empty display stands are placed in the centre of the room - a dusty counter lies opposite Shiemi and the door, behind the stands. It appears this establishment was once a store of some kind, though all of its merchandise appears to have disappeared with time.
Then, Shiemi spots a wrapped sweet lying on the counter.
Somehow it looks as if it does not fit in with the rest of this place, like it’s too new. Was it just put here? Curious and likely far too naïve for her own good, Shiemi makes her way quietly around the display stands, managing not to trip on the fallen shelf lying nearby, and plucks the candy up.
Behind her, a shadow crosses the doorway. It’s fleet-footed enough that it’s barely heard but Shiemi is a little nervous being in such a place and still alert, searching for her secret ‘admirer’, and she catches the sound of the movement. She turns, and comes face to face with a demon.
Actually, it’s probably rude to assume something like that but he really does look like a demon. His appearance sets off all sorts of warning bells in Shiemi’s mind but she ignores them because she realises that she recognises the figure.
“…Are you the one who keeps following me?” she ventures after a moment of silence, glancing quickly down at the candy. The man tilts his head and seems almost confused for a second, his gaze straying off out across the room. Then, he looks back to her.
“Yes. You can have that, by the way, if you’d like.” He motions with a thin finger to the sweet.
“R-Really? Um-- thank you!” Shiemi isn’t too sure what to say but opts for being polite. She has so many questions but words rarely leave her fluidly and everything becomes all the more tangled on her tongue when she’s worked up like this. “Can…can I ask a question?” She wishes she could remember his name. Does he know hers? Did she ever know his?
“Yes.”
“Why do you follow me?”
He’d been staring at his fingernails as if bored until she asks that, when he abruptly meets her gaze again. His stare is piercing and unnatural but…strangely beautiful, in some ethereal way. That’s what he is, she thinks; something not of this world, but still quite real.
“…I don’t know.” It’s not the answer she was hoping for - Shiemi had rather been wishing for an explanation, maybe even a confession though when she takes note of what she’s thinking she feels herself blush deeply. How terrible, to think such a thing. “Do you know what this place is?” the demon continues after a pause, stepping further into the room. Slowly but surely he approaches her, until he’s far closer than a normal person would dare to come.
“I think a shop of some kind…?” Once again Shiemi finds herself looking at the sweet. She doesn’t really notice how close he is now, mere inches away; nor does she notice how she seems to have been backed up against the counter. It’s difficult to concentrate on much when she comes to the realisation that he is paying attention to no one but her. That’s a feeling she isn’t entirely used to. All her classmates are either preoccupied with themselves or each other, but never her.
“It was once a sweet shop. An old man ran it but then he died. He collected sweets,” he murmurs sort of absent-mindedly, as if he’s only half aware of what he’s saying, “from all across the world. He had everything, in one place. It was nice.”
“It sounds lovely…” Shiemi wonders what this place might have looked like in the past - surely far brighter, with glass in the window panes and working lights of course. The display stands and all the shelves would be crammed with all sorts of exotic and foreign sweets and candies and chocolates, gathered up from every country she can think of. Shiemi isn’t exactly obsessed with sweet foods but she does have a thing for chocolate, and licks her lips a bit at the image she’s conjured up. The demon watches her and is silent. “D-Do you like sweets, um…?” Shiemi asks, blinking up at him and hoping her trailing off will prompt him to give his name.
She comes to the realisation then that it’s actually quite cold in this room, but he’s close enough that she can feel the heat of his body and is stealing some without being able to stop herself. He’s real, he’s real, he’s real-- and the thought makes her head spin.
“Amaimon,” the demon tells her, rolling his own name slowly over his tongue as if tasting it. Shiemi is quite sure she knows that name - Yukio told her once, if she recalls correctly, that he’s some kind of ‘big shot’ in the demon world. She really should be afraid because of that but right now it doesn’t seem as if he’s threatening her in any way. That one of the most powerful demons in Gehenna is seemingly interested in her is one hell of a compliment though. “…And I like sweet things,” adds Amaimon as an afterthought, remembering that he had actually been asked a question.
The wind is picking up outside, whispering its way into the building and Shiemi shivers in response, rubbing her bare arms. She would have put a jacket on if she hadn’t feared losing her shadow’s trail again.
Amaimon mimics her movement on his own arms, curious. After a second he reaches to do the same to her. His nails are long and feel terribly sharp as they graze over her flesh, but he’s surprisingly gentle, taking the utmost care not to accidentally carve a wound into her. As he rubs at her upper arms he takes a step closer and then there really is no space between him and her. Once again Shiemi is made quite aware of the fact that Amaimon is real, as he’s pressing his chest to hers.
“Moriyama Shiemi.”
Mist leaks from his mouth. Ghost breath, really, but it’s warm against Shiemi’s skin. It whirls, white smoke, up from his lips and fades into the air. Not wanting him to do the same, she finds her fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his waistcoat.
“Yes…?” She answers the murmur of her name in a soft voice.
“I like sweet things.”
“Then…” She can still feel the sweet in her hand, its wrapper crinkling whenever she flexes her fingers. “Do you want this one? The one you gave me.”
“I don’t want it. I want Moriyama Shiemi.”
Shiemi hates the way she can’t quite hide her red cheeks. Amaimon covers them for her with his hands, tipping her face up a bit in the process. Ghost breath washes over her lips and, very briefly, they share a small kiss. It may last only a second or two at most but it’s the most breathtaking thing she’s ever experienced. Then she feels him flinch and release her, and by the time she dares end the moment and open her eyes, Amaimon has disappeared altogether. The sounds of something being shoved in another room nearby catch Shiemi’s attentions.
“Oh my. Moriyama, what are you doing in here?”
Sir Pheles pops his head around the doorframe, an eyebrow raised; he gives his cloak a rough tug and a heavy bookcase is dragged across the floor, wood scraping sharply against wood. The material comes free and the man then enters the room as Shiemi turns several shades more scarlet and wonders if he was here long enough to catch anything.
“I’m quite sure there’s a chain and a warning sign on the outside of this building,” Pheles continues, waving a hand absently while glancing around, “it’s dangerous in this place. Nails and broken glass and all sorts of nasty things to catch yourself on, you know? Besides…”
His eyes take on a certain gleam of mischief, knowing. A wide grin curves the corners of his mouth up, revealing teeth that are far too sharp and remind her too much of the pair that brushed over her lips just now.
“…there could be demons here.”
And it’s at that point that Shiemi understands that he knows and she gives a small squeak of embarrassment. Quickly she’s excusing herself and apologising all at once and everything comes out rather rushed and nonsensical, and then she’s dashing out of the building, stumbling and tripping and blushing all the way home.
The next day, Shiemi’s shadow returns and her smile is bright, and she wonders if anyone notices her sunny mood. Maybe her classmates don’t but she doesn’t mind so much, for Amaimon later tells her he saw.
♥
end.
Notes: Because I really felt like I needed to update this place. Yes I like het and can and will write it.
This actually came about when I got sick of something else I was working on and opened up a new file to distract myself. I tried to write Bon/Rin and instead I ended up with some rather odd Amaimon/Shiemi. I'm not sure how exactly this happened. Either way, it happened and now I'm not quite sure what to think of it or how to feel about it. Whether or not I like it is questionable, because I like bits and pieces but then I'm not so confident on characterisation or a few aspects of it. The writing, however, I don't mind so much. It's not my best, I think, but it's okay.
For some reason I felt like this fic needed to be written in present tense, as compared to my favoured past tense - sometimes things just work better that way to me, I don't know.
(I actually rather like this pairing, okay. Please don't judge.)
If you happened to read this, please also accept my gratitude for taking the time to do so.
♪ riou