|| Demon Slayer x Reader Oneshots ||

| I. Obanai x Reader | Tears for the Wedded [2/5] (AU)

Why so little comments??

Is it just because the kind of story I write don't lend itself well to provoking reactions or are y'all just too confused/uninterested??

Tell me please I genuinely want to know 🤔

• • •

The Kanroji house hold was rather well off if I do say so myself.

They were not exactly a member of high society, instead people just wealthy enough to be able to get a taste of it on occasions. They owned a few pairs of elegant clothes and had nice gifts on Christmas for all the children, the daughters could marry rich and the sons, well I don't really know but surely they could find success easily. It was a family that could spare a whole shop for one of their daughters to run for fun if that is anywhere near informative.

I don't tend to like people with such wealth as jealousy often grants me an ill attitude to them.

But as always, Mitsuri was different.

Yes she was more rich than I could ever be, but I admired how dedicated she was to her work, waking up in the early mornings to get a head start on the day. Counting her money when it's dark and time to retire, saying how she's going to surprise her siblings with something nice on the weekends.

Though there was one problem.

"The plan is for me to meet my future husband here! And when we marry and have kids I'm going to close this place, you can always visit me of course! And I'll still bake for you!"

She has a one track mind for what she wants to do in life, get married, have kids, and live out the rest of her life as the best wife she can be. A fine dream of course, or as society currently deems it, the perfect dream for a women.

But I was always sad to hear that.

She really was my only friend, so what am I to do once she becomes a wife? With a husband she wants to dedicate her very soul to and kids she will love and care for to bits and pieces day and night.

She was all I had.

The men I sleep with are nothing much little stacks of cash to keep my pockets full, and the same could be said about myself from the point of the publishers I bend myself backwards to please.

People don't speak to the prostitute next door.

Nor do they spare a thought for the girl in faded clothes.

Nor the female who can write mediocre stories.

But Mitsuri, she didn't know of the men I've been with, didn't notice the color of my clothes, and if anything she had found my scribbling endearing on occasions.

I disagreed with on her on so, so many things. And the world could very much be unrecognizable to me had I been able to see it through her eyes.

But she was all I have.

After all.

The pages can only keep me so warm at night when I can't bare to burn them.