note: these were supposed to be a part of my previous post but tumblr said i already reached the limit :( nonetheless, here are the rest of my favorites and my recent reads <3
note: don’t forget to support (reblog/comment) the blogs who write them ^^ i do not own any of the following recommendations.
cw: some fics contain themes that might trigger you read at your own risk
genre: contains angst, smut, fluff, yandere, and mafia themes.
Hongjoong
just a phone call away by @makeitmingi
drive to survive by @bvidzsoo
love, tailored by @arafilez
only look at me by @pyramid-of-starrs
our destiny by @mi-rae07
the captain’s favourite by @edenesth
Seonghwa
from the cradle to the grave by @prodsh00ky
fire and water by @wooyoungiewritings
yandere seonghwa by @mymoodwriting
dancing with the devil by @bro-atz
your desire by @bvidzsoo
the thing about pretty boys by @wonusite
blinding pavlov by @seohwang
we know by @baek-at-it-again95
like crazy by @gyupinkys
extraterrestrial rated by @latte-fairytaekwoon
idol seonghwa x actress reader trope by @skyechild (idrk why the username isn’t popping out 😭)
Yunho
four seasons of love by @starillusion13
let’s get physical, physical by @bro-atz
who? by @todomochi-uwu
the duke’s weakness by @edenesth
Yeosang
bf yeosang by @darkphoenix07
secret relationship au by @ateezmakemeweep
mafia au by @mingsolo
winter blossom by @atzfilm
angst/fluff reaction by @ateez-writings
moonlight by @miaatiny
San
sex after argument by @darkphoenix07
time’s the charm by @jaehunnyy
morning sex by @destiny-fics
let’s get physical, physical by @bro-atz
jealousy sex by @k-hotchoisan
limitless by @sorryimananti-romantic
the jealousy game by @emeraldelysian
underneath the moon by @hee0soo
blue bird by @seonghwaddict
Mingi
who? by @todomochi-uwu
burning desire by @mi-rae07
fight or flight by @mint-yooxgi
Wooyoung
heavy is the head that wears the crown by @bvidzsoo
he's destroying a rivalry villain base when he finds you there, a prisoner. known to the world as a villain - dabi becomes your hero.
Dabi could be very cruel sometimes.
It was instances like this where he knew he was born to cremate. To reduce the world to ashes and nothing more as he kills every low life he comes across. Each one more pathetic than the last, Dabi erases them all within seconds.
The Meta Liberation Army had given the League resources and access to facilities they could have only dreamed of before. The base they were on currently belonged to a rivalry villain group - one which the League despised. They were a pathetic group of people really, power hungry in all the wrong ways.
Dabi hears the sound of what seems like rattling chains from across the hall, and he pauses his movements in confusion, the man in front of him withering on the ground and pleading for mercy-
Dabi finishes him off before carefully making his way towards the source of the sound, his boots maneuvering through the bodies on the ground stealthily as he narrows his brows. Dabi thought he had cleared this floor.
He hears it again - it was unmistakable now, he had mistakingly left someone alive.
Dabi slams the door open with a single kick - it was reinforced with welded hinges, but it was no match for his flames - which melted the metal easily. He steps inside the dark room, hands raised and ready to end whatever unfortunate soul roamed inside.
He sees someone moving in the corner of his eye - the dim light concealing their figure. He moves his flames closer, attempting to shine some sort of a light on the stranger who so stupidly made no attempt to escape while Dabi was distracted with the other villains.
His flames glow in the dark, and he finally sees you, shackled to the ground with wide eyes trapped in a trance - like a deer caught in the headlights.
Your lip trembles as you tug on your restraints once again, a pitiful whimper leaving you as you glance at Dabi with a sheen of panic glossing your pretty eyes
Slowly, he lowers his hand. Trying to understand just what he'd stumbled upon.
A prisoner.
Dabi had a knack for figuring out what kind of people deserved to die. He liked to think that he's always been able to know who was worthy or living and who wasn't. But...
He makes no move to save or end you as he watches quietly, his hands lowered by his sides as gentle, blue sparks glowed from his large palms. His fingers curl into a fist as he remains utterly still, his gaze burning as hot as his flames as you tug again on the cuffs secured around your wrists. You're crying now - tears gliding down your soft cheeks as you peer up at him
You're so quiet, he notices. Even as you cry, not a sound leaves your throat as you keep tugging on those damned restraints. The sound of metal clinking against metal has Dabi snapping out of whatever trance he was in as he slowly takes a single step forward
Seeing him move closer has you kicking against the ground in a weak attempt to get away, backing yourself up against the wall as your eyes shake - hands fumbling as you tug harder and harder-
"Don't move."
You want to cry just at the sound of his voice. His tone sounded like if you did move, those flames you'd seen earlier would return as death finally takes you - it was so cruel. The whole world - that's all you can think as your squeeze your eyes shut and pray for him to not have some sort of an liking to watching his victims suffer as they burned.
You tuck your knees to your chest and lay your head down, your hands hanging limply as your breathing becomes erratic - you're scared. Absolutely terrified.
He uses one hand to hold both of your wrists in place as his fingers shove between your wrist and the metal around it. Slowly, he focuses his quirk to push through the thin space and melt the bounds around you. You don't look up - make no major movement as Dabi breaks them - the metal clangs noisily against the floor. Your breathing has calmed just the slightest bit by now, and you finally look up as you feel the dead weight lift off.
It's quiet as you wait for his next movements - anything that shows that he has intentions to hurt you, to kill you - but he's still kneeling beside you - palm flat against the wall beside your head as he watches your gaze flutter to his - you catch your lip in between your teeth once you realize what he'd done - an attempt to keep yourself from bursting into grateful tears.
"Can you stand?"
His hot breath tickles your ear, warm and the most soothing thing you've felt in so long. He tucks a single arm under yours when he's met with silence, easily bringing you to your feet as you quickly gain composure - breathing unevenly as you lean against the wall
Dabi's heart stutters in his chest when you turn and look at him like that.
Like he put the stars in the fucking sky.
You're sitting beside him in a very crowded get-away car, his coat draped over your head while you peer around at the cheerful number of people - villains - around you. The Liberation Army talked and bustled around you loudly as Dabi remained completely silent from where he sat beside you, a single, protective arm laying on the railing behind you.
He told anyone who asked about you that your quirk is useful - a healing one that pairs great with him for his burns. And while he's lying his ass off completely knowing no one could reverse the damage, he has an excuse for Re-Destro to get you a room right beside his.
You'll be knocking on his door just about every morning, holding a plate with a shy smile as you hand him the fresh food he missed - 'because you weren't at breakfast, Dabi'
He found out you had a habit for drawing when he saw you sketching him onto a fogged window - your finger dragging carefully through the thin layer of frost as you draw his signature scars and soft, puffy hair. All with a smile on your face as you gaze longingly at it. The sight is too much to bear - and he'll leave before you can catch him standing on the other side of the room.
He'd sneak into one of the offices of the building and steal a notebook and various pens for you - leaving them outside your door, in hopes you'll capture the blueness of his eyes and the soft crook of his rare smile amongst the pages.
He'd let you lay with him on nights you couldn't sleep, never once protesting to your soft pleas or questions. You asked him about all sorts of things - and he indulged in you, because what the fuck? Life had been a bitch to him the moment he entered this world. If there was a mistake in the cosmos that led him to his angel, he would take advantage of it and allow himself this one good thing to keep forever.
"Why do you even stick with me anyways, doll? You got the whole world - I bet they'd love you better than I ever could." He whispers, knowing nobody could hold a candle to his love for you. A love that was bigger than life itself.
"Because. You're my hero."
He stills at your words, before kissing your temple.
"I'll be a villain to the rest of the world, but not for you, baby. I'll be your hero - I'll be your everything."
Synopsis: During a stormy night, (Y/n)’s peaceful flower shop becomes a refuge for Dabi, the infamous villain, who arrives injured and desperate. Despite her fear, she aids him, uncovering a fragile vulnerability beneath his hardened exterior.
The rain drummed incessantly against the windows of Flourish & Frond, a quaint flower shop tucked into a quiet corner of the loud city. Inside, the air was warm and fragrant, filled with the scent of blooming roses and freshly watered soil. Shelves lined the walls, each bursting with vibrant colors—sunflowers, lilies, and delicate baby’s breath carefully arranged in vases and baskets.
(Y/n) worked quietly behind the counter, her hands deftly weaving together a bouquet of peonies and lavender. The steady rhythm of her movements was soothing, a distraction from the storm raging outside
Her life revolved around this little shop. It wasn’t just a job to her—it was her haven, the place where her Quirk found purpose. (Y/n)’s ability, “Verdant Touch,” allowed her to heal and nurture plant life with a mere touch. Wilting petals could bloom anew under her fingers, and dying roots could flourish again. It was a small, gentle Quirk, one she had always cherished despite its limitations.
Growing up, (Y/n) had dreamed of being a hero, like so many others her age. But as the years went on, she realized that her Quirk wasn’t suited for battle or saving lives in the traditional sense. Instead, she found solace in using her gift to bring beauty into the world.
Running the flower shop gave her a sense of peace and purpose. Her customers often left with smiles, their hands full of her lovingly crafted bouquets. It was a simple life, but it was hers—a small sanctuary in a city that often felt chaotic and overwhelming.
The bell above the door jingled softly, signaling a customer had entered the shop. (Y/n) glanced up with a practiced smile, “Sorry, we’re clo—” she began, but her words froze as her eyes landed on the figure who had just entered.
He was tall, his black coat soaked from the rain, his dark hair plastered to his forehead. Smoke curled faintly from the edges of his figure, and his turquoise eyes glowed like eerie embers against the dim light. Patchwork scars stitched across his pale face and neck, a grotesque yet strangely compelling sight. He was unmistakable.
Dabi.
The infamous villain stood in her shop, a figure who had graced countless wanted posters and news broadcasts. Her blood ran cold as her mind scrambled to process the situation. What was he doing here? Why her shop?
Dabi’s grip on the door handle was tight, his knuckles pale against the dark metal. His broad shoulders rose and fell with labored breaths, and his body sagged slightly as he leaned into the shop’s frame for support. The faint sound of dripping caught (Y/n)’s attention, her gaze lowering to the floor. A small, dark puddle began to form at his feet, blood mingling with the rainwater dripping from his coat.
“Lock the door,” he rasped, his voice low and uneven, as though each word cost him effort.
(Y/n) didn’t move. Her practiced smile had vanished, replaced by a wide-eyed stare as her heart thudded painfully in her chest. This couldn’t be real. Villains didn’t just walk into flower shops—certainly not him.
“I said, lock the damn door,” Dabi repeated, more forceful this time. He lifted his head just enough to meet her eyes, the fiery glow of his turquoise gaze sharp and unwavering.
(Y/n) jolted at his harsh tone, her heart hammering in her chest. Without thinking, she moved quickly, her hands trembling as she brushed past him to lock the door. The small bell jingled softly with her movement, and the click of the lock sounded far louder than it should have.
Her fingers fumbled as she turned the shop's "Open" sign to "Closed" and tugged the blinds down over the front windows, her movements hurried but cautious. The thought of being so close to him sent shivers up her spine, and every fiber of her being screamed for her to run.
When she finished, she turned back to him, her wide eyes locking onto his form. She kept her distance, retreating step by careful step until she stood several feet away. “What do you want?” she whispered, her voice trembling as she stared at the infamous villain bleeding on her shop floor.
The sound of rain continued to hammer against the windows, a dull, persistent reminder of the world outside as the tension in the room thickened. Dabi stood at the threshold of the shop, his form towering but clearly weakened. His breath was ragged, each exhale laced with pain. The blood staining his side was an unmistakable sign of how badly he was hurt, and as he took a half-step toward her, he stumbled. A pained hiss escaped his lips as he gripped the counter to steady himself, his legs shaking.
(Y/n) froze. She wanted to move, to do something, but her mind struggled to form coherent thoughts. Villains weren’t supposed to look like this. They weren’t supposed to be hurting. But here he was, and the reality of the situation hit her harder than any force. Dabi, the notorious villain, was standing in front of her—injured, bleeding, and desperately in need of help.
His turquoise eyes, glowing faintly in the dim light, locked onto hers. “I need help,” he rasped, his voice rough, dripping with frustration and pain. “Now.”
(Y/n) blinked, her throat tight. Was he serious? Was he really asking her, of all people, to help him? Her mind raced, fear still holding her body captive. But then, as he staggered another step, she saw it—the strain in his movements, the way he winced with every breath, the weight of the pain that clearly had him on the edge.
"You... you’re asking me?" Her voice cracked, a mix of disbelief and fear coloring her words. "You’re Dabi. Why would you—"
“Don’t make me say it again,” Dabi cut her off, his tone sharper than before, but beneath it, there was something far more vulnerable—almost pleading. He took another shaky step forward, his body trembling with the effort, before he gritted his teeth and collapsed against the counter, the sound of his knees hitting the floor muffled by the quiet of the shop. “I’m not asking you for sympathy. I’m asking you for help. Now.”
The sight of him, vulnerable and grimacing in pain, broke something in (Y/n). Her instincts, still torn by the need to protect herself, warred against the natural compassion she felt. He was a villain, yes—dangerous, feared, and reviled by many. But there was something in the way he looked at her now, something raw and desperate, that shifted her perception.
Her hands were shaking as she slowly took a step toward him. “What happened to you?” she asked, her voice a whisper, soft but filled with concern.
Dabi leaned heavily on the counter, his body bent forward slightly as he let out a pained exhale. “Heroes.” He spat the word out like venom, but his face twisted in something far more human—exhaustion, frustration, and an edge of vulnerability he rarely showed. “One of them got lucky. Blade Quirk. Got me in the side.”
(Y/n) felt a tremor run through her as she absorbed his words. The sight of his blood dripping steadily onto the floor was enough to jolt her into action, her fear momentarily eclipsed by her instincts. Whatever else he was, he was injured—and badly. The humanity of the situation broke through the haze of her panic.
“You need to lie down,” she said, her voice steadier now, though still tinged with apprehension. She gestured toward the small seating area in the corner of the shop, where a cushioned bench was tucked against the wall.
Dabi gave her a sharp look, his lips curling into a faint sneer. “Lie down? You think I’ve got time for that?”
(Y/n) stiffened, the edge of his tone making her nerves spike again. But she forced herself to hold her ground, squaring her shoulders even as her heart raced. “If you don’t, you’ll bleed out,” she replied, her tone firm despite the quiver in her hands. “And you didn’t come here just to die on my floor.”
Dabi’s glare faltered for a moment, his expression hard to read as he studied her. Then, with a low growl of frustration, he pushed himself away from the counter. His legs wobbled under his weight, and he barely managed a few steps before his knees threatened to buckle again.
“Damn it,” he hissed through clenched teeth, his hand clutching his side.
Without thinking, (Y/n) darted forward to steady him, her hands gripping his arm and shoulder. His skin was warm—too warm, like he was radiating heat from an internal fire. She ignored the way her breath caught in her throat at the contact and focused on guiding him toward the bench.
“Careful,” she murmured, her tone softer now, coaxing him like she might soothe a skittish animal.
Dabi didn’t reply, his jaw clenched tight as he leaned on her for support. By the time they reached the bench, his breathing was shallow and labored, his face pale despite the angry scars marring his skin. He collapsed onto the cushions with a heavy exhale, his body slumping forward slightly as he rested his forearms on his knees.
(Y/n) hovered for a moment, unsure of what to do next. The first-aid kit sat on the counter, and she moved quickly to grab it, her mind racing. Her hands worked on autopilot, gathering supplies and preparing for what she needed to do.
When she returned, she knelt in front of him, her eyes flickering to his face before focusing on the wound. “Let me see,” she said softly, reaching for his coat.
Dabi didn’t move at first, his turquoise gaze heavy on her. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he leaned back slightly, allowing her to peel the sodden fabric away from his side.
The sight of the wound made her stomach twist. A deep gash cut across his torso, the edges of the injury raw and angry. Blood soaked his shirt and streaked his pale skin, dripping steadily onto the bench and pooling on the floor.
(Y/n) swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus. “This is bad,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. She grabbed a clean cloth and pressed it against the wound, applying firm pressure to staunch the bleeding.
Dabi hissed, his body tensing under her touch. “You don’t say,” he bit out, his tone sharp with pain.
(Y/n) glanced up at him, her expression softening despite herself. “I need you to stay still,” she said gently. “This is going to hurt.”
Dabi let out a low chuckle, though it lacked any real humor. “Hurts already,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he watched her work.
Y/n) worked methodically, her hands steady despite the tension in the air. The sound of the rain against the windows seemed louder in the thick silence that had settled between them, broken only by Dabi’s occasional grunts of pain and the soft rustling of her movements.
She dipped a cloth in antiseptic and pressed it against the edges of the wound, cleaning away the blood and grime. Her touch was firm but careful, her eyes focused entirely on the task in front of her. The sharp, acrid scent of the antiseptic mingled with the floral aroma of the shop, creating a strange contrast.
Dabi’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding audibly as she worked. “Couldn’t pick a quieter day for this?” he muttered, his voice strained but holding a faint edge of sarcasm.
(Y/n) glanced up briefly, meeting his glowing eyes. “You’re the one who walked into my shop,” she replied, her voice soft but pointed. “If you’re looking for sympathy, you won’t find it here.”
A flicker of amusement crossed his scarred features, though it quickly dissolved as another wave of pain pulled a hiss from his lips. “Fair enough,” he said, leaning back slightly to give her more room to work. His gaze lingered on her, watching the way her brow furrowed in concentration. “You’re not half bad at this,” he added, his tone lighter, though the tension in his body betrayed his discomfort.
(Y/n) didn’t respond immediately, her focus remaining on the gash across his side. She grabbed a fresh bandage and began to wrap it carefully around his torso, the fabric stretching taut over his lean, scarred frame. “This isn’t exactly how I imagined spending my evening,” she murmured eventually, tying the bandage securely in place. “But I guess I’ve always been good with my hands.”
Dabi smirked faintly at her comment, though it quickly faltered as he shifted and a fresh wave of pain rippled through him. He let out a low groan, his hand instinctively moving to his side.
“Don’t touch it,” (Y/n) said firmly, her hand gently pushing his away. Her fingers brushed against his for a brief moment, and she felt the heat radiating off his skin. It wasn’t just the feverish warmth of an injured man—it was something deeper, more dangerous, like a fire simmering just beneath the surface.
“You’re lucky,” she said softly, breaking the silence. “The cut missed anything vital. But you need stitches, and I don’t exactly have a surgical kit lying around.”
Dabi’s gaze flicked to hers, the intensity of his stare making her pause. “It's fine,” he said. “I’ll handle the rest.”
(Y/n) hesitated, her hands stilling for a moment. “You can’t just—”
“I’ve been through worse,” he interrupted, his tone firm despite the exhaustion in his voice. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had to… improvise.”
(Y/n) frowned but didn’t argue. Instead, she focused on securing the bandages as tightly as she could without causing him more pain. “There,” she murmured after a moment, sitting back on her heels to survey her work. “It’s not perfect, but it should hold.”
Dabi leaned back against the wall, his head tilting slightly as he closed his eyes. For a moment, he looked almost peaceful, despite the tension still evident in his body. “Not bad,” he muttered, the faintest hint of approval in his voice.
(Y/n) stood slowly, her knees stiff from kneeling for so long. Her eyes flickered to the trail of blood smeared across the floor, leading from the door to where Dabi now sat. She sighed quietly, shaking her head as she stepped toward the counter, grabbing a fresh cloth and a bucket she kept tucked away for spills.
“Stay put,” she said over her shoulder, her voice steady but firm. “I’ll clean this up.”
Dabi didn’t respond immediately, his head resting against the wall, his eyes closed once again. His breathing was still labored, but it had evened out slightly, no longer the ragged gasps she’d heard when he first arrived. The sight of him like this—quiet, vulnerable—was a jarring contrast to the infamous image of the villain she’d seen in headlines and various posters.
The crimson streaks were stubborn, but (Y/n)’s hands were practiced and efficient. She focused on the task, using it as a way to steady her nerves and distract herself from the surreal situation.
When she finished, she rinsed the cloth in the bucket, the water staining red as the blood washed away. She stood and glanced at Dabi, who hadn’t moved, his head still tilted back against the wall. His eyes were closed, but she could see the subtle tension in his jaw, the faint tremor in his hands where they rested against his thighs.
“Do you want something to drink?” she asked, her voice breaking the quiet.
His eyes opened slowly, the glowing turquoise irises locking onto her with a sharpness that made her heart skip. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared at her with that unreadable expression. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
(Y/n) turned toward the back of the shop, her steps quiet on the wooden floor. The kitchenette she’d installed for long days at work was modest—a kettle, a small fridge, and a few cabinets stocked with tea and instant coffee. She filled the kettle with water, her movements deliberate as she tried to calm the whirlwind of thoughts racing through her mind.
What was she doing? She was helping Dabi, one of the most wanted villains in the country. The logical part of her screamed at the absurdity of the situation, begged her to find a way out. But another part—a quieter, stubborn part—refused to turn him away, refused to let someone bleed out on her floor, no matter who they were.
The kettle whistled softly, pulling her from her thoughts. She poured the hot water into a mug, adding a bag of chamomile tea. It wasn’t much, but it was soothing—something she imagined he could use, though she wasn’t sure if he’d appreciate the gesture.
When she returned, Dabi’s eyes tracked her every move, his gaze heavy and calculating. She set the mug down on the small table beside him, careful to keep her movements slow and unthreatening.
“It’s tea,” she said simply, stepping back to give him space. “Chamomile. It’ll help you relax.”
Dabi’s gaze shifted to the mug, his scarred fingers reaching for it after a moment of hesitation. He lifted it to his lips, taking a small sip. The heat seemed to surprise him, and a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he lowered the mug.
“Didn’t peg you for the tea type of girl,” he muttered, his voice quieter than before, though the faint edge of sarcasm remained.
(Y/n) crossed her arms, leaning against the counter as she watched him. “And I didn’t peg you for the ‘stumble into a flower shop, almost bleeding out’ type of guy,” she replied evenly.
His smirk widened slightly, though it was fleeting. “Touché.”
The room fell into a tentative silence, the rain outside still tapping against the windows. (Y/n) found her gaze drifting back to him, her mind swimming with unasked questions. Why had he come here, of all places? Was it random, or had he chosen her shop for a reason? And what would happen when he left?
Dabi set the mug down on the table, his movements deliberate but slow, as if every action cost him effort. “You didn’t have to help me,” he said suddenly, his voice low but clear. His eyes flicked to hers, their intensity catching her off guard. “You could’ve turned me away. Called someone.”
(Y/n) met his gaze, her expression unreadable. “I know,” she said softly, her voice steady.
His eyes narrowed slightly, as though trying to decipher her intentions. “Why?” he asked, the question sharp and direct.
She hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly against the counter’s edge. “Because,” she began, choosing her words carefully, “I couldn’t just let you like that. No matter who you are.”
Dabi leaned back against the wall, his lips pressing into a thin line as he studied her. For a moment, the tension between them was palpable, the air heavy with unspoken words. Then, he let out a low, almost amused chuckle, shaking his head slightly.
“You’re a strange one, flower girl,” he muttered, his voice carrying a faint hint of admiration despite the weariness in his tone.
(Y/n) let out a soft sigh, her gaze briefly shifting to the window where the rain continued to fall in sheets. The storm outside had only grown worse since Dabi’s arrival, the wind howling against the glass, rattling the panes with an intensity that mirrored the tension still thick in the air between them.
"You can stay the night—just for tonight, though,” she added quickly, almost as if to remind herself. “You need to rest, and the storm isn’t letting up anytime soon. I’m not going to throw you back out into that.”
Dabi’s gaze softened, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing his features. He studied her for a long moment, as if trying to figure out if there was some ulterior motive to her offer. "You’re... letting me stay here? Even though you know who I am?"
Her eyes flickered away from him briefly “You’re hurt. And despite everything—what you’ve done, what you stand for—no one deserves to die alone in the rain. Not like this.”
There was a long pause as Dabi processed her words. His gaze softened ever so slightly, though it was still filled with a certain wariness, a suspicion that he didn’t fully trust her kindness.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he sighed, letting his head fall back against the wall with a slight thud. “You’re making a mistake,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “You don’t know me.”
“I don’t need to,” (Y/n) replied gently, moving to adjust the blankets on the small bench in the corner. “I know you’re hurt. And right now, that’s all that matters.” She turned back to him then, her eyes meeting his with a quiet resolve. “But you’ll have to leave tomorrow. I can’t keep you here any longer than that.”
Dabi’s lips twitched, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And what if I don’t? What if I decide to stick around longer?” His tone was light, teasing almost, but (Y/n) could see the weariness behind it.
“You won’t,” she said simply, her gaze steady as she met his challenge.
Dabi let out a soft chuckle, but it was devoid of the usual venom he carried with him. There was something almost defeated in it. He shifted uncomfortably on the bench, the bandages she’d wrapped around his side still tight, though he winced slightly as he adjusted his position. “You really do have a thing for doing the opposite of what people expect.”
She didn’t respond right away, just moved to place a pillow behind him to support his back as he slouched against the wall, then straightened up to her full height. Her hands lingered on the edge of the bench for a moment, and she gave him a final, pointed look. “Get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll deal with whatever happens after that.”
Dabi didn’t argue. His eyes closed slowly, exhaustion evident in the way his shoulders slumped even further. For a moment, he almost seemed like just a man—a man in pain, who needed rest.
Days turned into weeks, and after that fateful night, Dabi never truly left her thoughts. He kept his word about leaving the morning after the storm passed, but that didn’t mark the end of his presence in her life. Every evening, as the sun began to set and the city buzzed with its evening rush, the doorbell of Flourish & Frond would chime, signaling Dabi’s arrival. He’d walk through the door at precisely the same time every evening, just as (Y/n) was preparing to close up for the day.
At first, the sight of him always made her heart skip a beat—fear mixed with disbelief that he was there, in her shop, again. His visits felt like a shadow hanging over her, his reputation enough to make her worry about being discovered. But despite the lingering fear, she couldn’t deny the subtle shift in their interactions.
Dabi was different. He wasn’t the cold, menacing figure she’d seen on wanted posters. The man who entered her shop now seemed… more human. He no longer dragged himself in, barely able to keep his balance, but instead appeared more composed, more normal like. Still, (Y/n) couldn’t shake the worry every time he came through that door. What if someone saw him? What if he attracted too much attention?
But as the weeks passed, Dabi grew more comfortable in her space, and the tension between them shifted. He no longer just came for brief visits; he’d linger, sitting on the cushioned bench in the corner as she finished closing up the shop. He would ask her about her day, joke about the ridiculous things she had to deal with—customers who insisted on buying flowers for their "exes" or the old woman who tried to convince her that lavender was the cure for all ailments. It was these little moments that made (Y/n) start to see him differently. There was something disarming about his sarcastic humor, his dry wit that reminded her that he, too, once had a life outside of the villainous reputation that followed him.
It was on one of these late evenings, when the shop was quiet and the rain tapped softly against the windows, that Dabi showed up again, his coat dripping with the remnants of the storm outside. He pushed open the door with his usual nonchalance, shaking off the rain before stepping inside. The bell jingled lightly above his head as (Y/n) glanced up from wiping down the counter, her heart giving its usual nervous thud.
“Back again?” she asked with a raised eyebrow, her tone playful but laced with that same apprehension that always came with his arrival.
Dabi grinned, though it was more tired than usual. “What can I say? I’m addicted to your… healing skills. The tea helps too, I guess.”
Her lips quirked at the corners. “Healing skills, huh? I’m not sure I’d call it healing.”
“Oh, trust me,” Dabi shot back, “if you saw the state I was in before you worked your magic, you’d call it a damn miracle.”
(Y/n) rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her chest was undeniable. He had started teasing her more in the past few weeks, and it always made her feel strangely at ease, despite the fact that she knew she was still walking a fine line with him. He was a villain, after all.
The silence between them settled comfortably, the sound of the rain masking any further tension as she finished tidying up. Dabi settled into his usual spot on the bench, his gaze following her as she moved around the shop.
“You really don’t have to stick around here every night, you know,” she said after a pause, her voice quieter now, as she grabbed a cloth to clean up a vase that had tipped over earlier in the day.
Dabi’s eyes narrowed slightly, his smirk softening. “You say that like you don’t like the company. What’s the matter? Scared someone might see me here?”
“I’m always scared someone might see you here.” She shot him a pointed look, and Dabi chuckled darkly.
“I’m not that obvious, am I?” he teased, his gaze flicking toward the street outside.
(Y/n) didn’t respond right away, her fingers gripping the cloth a little tighter. She wasn’t sure what exactly had happened over the past weeks, but there was no denying that a strange bond had formed between them—one that she wasn’t entirely sure how to navigate. On one hand, there was her growing concern for his well-being, and on the other, the reminder that she was harboring an infamous villain in her shop.
But as much as her mind tried to warn her, something about Dabi felt different now. He’d stopped pushing her boundaries, and his visits, while still making her heart race with fear, had become… almost comforting. His teasing remarks, the subtle way he checked in on her—asking if she’d eaten, if she was getting enough sleep, making sure she was staying safe—had grown from a casual interest to something more genuine. There were moments, too, when the walls around him dropped, and she could see the weariness in his eyes—the kind of exhaustion that went deeper than just physical pain. And in those moments, she would offer him a quiet cup of tea, and he would accept it without comment, just a fleeting look of gratitude before he retreated behind that familiar, sarcastic demeanor
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the first droplets started falling, Dabi walked in, his usual grin missing from his lips. (Y/n) caught his eye and couldn’t help herself.
“You’re late tonight,” she teased, her smile playful. But the words faltered when she noticed him.
Dabi stood in the doorway, rain dripping from his hair, darker than the storm itself. His usual teasing grin was absent, replaced by a weariness that weighed heavy on his sharp features. His turquoise eyes—normally alight with mischief—were dim, shadows pooling in their depths.
“I…” His voice was rough, almost hoarse, as he stepped inside and shut the door. For a moment, he seemed unsteady, catching himself on the doorframe before making his way to his usual bench. “I just felt like… I needed to be here.”
(Y/n) blinked, her hands stilling over the vase she was cleaning. The words hung in the air, heavy and raw.
He sank onto the bench with a tired sigh, leaning back as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. His gaze found hers, and for once, there was no sarcasm, no barriers—just an unguarded vulnerability that made her chest tighten.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly, abandoning the vase and stepping closer.
Dabi ran a hand through his damp hair, letting out a mirthless chuckle. “Define ‘okay,’ sunshine.”
The nickname was there, but the usual smirk wasn’t, and that made it all the more disarming.
She hesitated before pulling up a stool to sit across from him, her hands clasped in her lap. “What happened?”
He didn’t answer right away, his gaze dropping to the floor. For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t respond at all. But then he spoke, his voice quieter than she’d ever heard it.
Dabi didn’t answer right away, his gaze dropping to the floor. For a moment, (Y/n) thought he wouldn’t respond at all. But then he sighed, his shoulders sagging even further, and he finally looked up at her.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?” he said, his voice low but steady, carrying an edge of frustration.
(Y/n) blinked, taken aback. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he said, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees as he ran a hand down his face. “You’re an idiot for letting me come here whenever I feel like it. For not throwing me out the first time I walked through that door. For not letting me bleed out”
Her lips parted in surprise, but she couldn’t form a response before he continued, his voice growing sharper.
“You’re an idiot for enjoying my company, my jokes, for looking at me like I’m not a complete mess. Like I’m not some twisted, broken thing that you should stay as far away from as possible.”
He looks up at her intensely "You knew from the beginning who I was, and yet you foolishly helped me".
Her chest tightened, the weight of his words settling over her like a storm she hadn’t seen coming. She opened her mouth to speak, to protest, but before she could find the words, he let out a soft, bitter laugh—a sound so unguarded it made her heart ache.
“But you know what?” he murmured, his voice breaking the quiet like a confession he could no longer hold back. His eyes lifted to meet hers, and in them, she saw something raw—something so achingly human that it stole her breath. “I’m an even bigger idiot. Because I can’t stop thinking about you., even for a second”
The words hung between them, heavy and vulnerable. Her heart raced, each beat echoing louder in her chest as she stared at him, unable to look away.
“I don’t know when it started,” he continued, his voice soft and almost hesitant, as if saying it aloud made him feel exposed. “Maybe it was that first night, the way you looked at me—like I was someone deserving your help. Like I was… more than these scars.”
He swallowed hard, his gaze faltering as his hands clenched into fists. “Even when I said something sharp or stupid. You didn’t flinch, didn’t look at me like I was a monster, you just… saw through it. Through me.”
His voice wavered, the words growing quieter, heavier. “And now, I can’t stop coming back. Even when I know I shouldn't. Even when I know it’s selfish, that I’m selfish. Because being here—with you—it’s the only place where it doesn’t feel like the world is closing in on me. Like I can actually breathe for a little while.”
Her breath hitched, and she reached for him without thinking, her fingers brushing his arm in a gentle gesture that seemed to anchor him. He closed his eyes at the contact, a barely audible sigh escaping him as his fists unclenched.
“I need this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I need you. More than I want to. More than I should.” His head dropped, his damp hair falling into his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to meet her gaze again. “And it terrifies me. Because if I lose this—if I lose you—”
Dabi’s words broke off, a tremor in his voice betraying the storm raging inside him. Before she could fully process what he had said, he moved. His hand shot out, firm but trembling, finding her waist and pulling her closer in a single, desperate motion.
The contact sent a jolt through her, her breath catching as she found herself pressed against him. His other arm wrapped around her back, holding her tightly, as if she might vanish if he let go. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he clung to her like she was the only thing keeping him grounded.
“Dabi…” she whispered, her voice shaking with a mix of surprise and something deeper—something that mirrored the ache in his own heart.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his face buried against her shoulder. His breath was warm against her neck, and she could feel the faint tremor in his chest as he held her. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess. For not being able to stay away. For needing you more than I should.”
Her hands hovered in the air for a moment, unsure of what to do, before finally settling on his shoulders. She held him gently, her fingers brushing against the damp fabric of his coat as she tried to steady her own racing heart.
“You don’t have to apologize,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the chaos of emotions swirling within her. “Not for this.”
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his turquoise eyes meeting hers, filled with a vulnerability she had never seen before. His grip on her waist loosened slightly, but his hands stayed there, as if to reassure himself that she was still within reach.
“I never thought…” she began, her voice faltering as she searched for the right words. “I never thought you felt this way. That you…”
“Felt like you’re the only thing keeping me from falling apart?” he finished for her, a humorless smile tugging at his lips. His thumb brushed against her side absentmindedly, a small, soothing motion that sent shivers down her spine. “Because you are, (Y/n). You’re the only one who sees me—not just the scars, not just the villain. Me. And I don’t know how to stop wanting that. How to stop wanting you.”
Her breath hitched at his words, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it.
“You don’t have to stop,” she whispered, her fingers curling slightly against his coat. “Because I feel it too. I thought I was the only one, but… I feel it too, Dabi.”
For a moment, his expression was unreadable, his eyes searching hers as if trying to make sense of her words. Then, slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased, replaced by something softer—something almost hopeful.
“Say it again,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, his hands tightening ever so slightly around her waist.
She smiled, a soft, nervous laugh escaping her lips. “I feel it too.”
“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “But I’m too selfish to let you go.”
Her hands moved to cup his face, her thumbs brushing against the rough skin of his cheeks. “Then don’t,” she said softly, her voice steady. “Don’t let me go.”
Dabi’s breath caught at her words, the sincerity in her voice unraveling something tightly wound inside him. For a moment, he simply stared at her, as if committing every detail of her face to memory—the softness in her (e/c) eyes, the way her lips curved in a nervous but hopeful smile.
Slowly, he shifted, his hands still steady at her waist as he stood, drawing her up with him. He towered over her now, his presence overwhelming yet oddly comforting. The space between them was almost nonexistent, their breaths mingling as the world outside the shop faded into nothingness.
His gaze flickered to her lips, hesitating for just a second. “Are you sure?” he murmured, his voice low, almost uncertain.
Her heart swelled at the vulnerability in his tone, and she nodded, her hands still cradling his face. “I’m sure.”
That was all the reassurance he needed.
Dabi leaned in slowly, deliberately, his turquoise eyes locked on hers until the very last moment. When his lips met hers, it was gentle, almost cautious, as if he were afraid she might break beneath his touch.
The kiss was soft at first, a delicate brush of lips that sent a wave of warmth through her. But as her fingers tangled in his hair and she leaned into him, his hesitance melted away. The kiss deepened, his hands pulling her closer as if he couldn’t bear to let even an inch of space remain between them.
There was a desperation to the way he held her, a quiet intensity that spoke of how much he’d been holding back. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a confession, a promise, and a plea all at once.
When they finally broke apart, their breaths came in unsteady gasps, their foreheads resting together. Dabi’s hands lingered at her waist, his thumbs brushing against her sides as if reassuring himself that she was still there.
“See?” she whispered, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “That wasn’t so selfish, was it?”
He let out a shaky laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at her. “It’s selfish as hell,” he murmured, his voice rough but laced with a tenderness that made her heart ache. “But I’m not sorry. Not even a little.”
She laughed too, the sound light and free, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Dabi felt a flicker of something he hadn’t dared to hope for—peace.
Synopsis: Y/n, ordered to aid the Wind Hashira Sanemi Shinazugawa, faces his harsh dismissal and emotional distance. Their clash culminates in a painful confrontation, pushing Y/n into danger as Sanemi confronts his own guilt.
The dense forest loomed ominously as Y/n made her way through the tangled undergrowth. Ancient trees, their bark scarred and twisted, seemed to close in around her, their gnarled branches reaching out like skeletal fingers yearning for a touch of the unknown. The canopy above was so thick that only sparse shafts of pale, waning light managed to pierce through, casting eerie patterns on the forest floor. The sunlight that did seep through was filtered into a ghostly green hue, giving the landscape an otherworldly, almost sickly appearance.
The undergrowth was a tangled mess of brambles and vines that seemed to reach out and snare at her clothes and limbs, as if the forest were unwilling to let her pass without a struggle. The whispering breeze through the treetops carried with it an eerie, almost mournful wail, blending with the distant rustle of unseen creatures moving through the underbrush.
Y/n’s senses were on high alert. Every snap of a twig, every rustling leaf, felt magnified, as though the forest was amplifying every sound to heighten her anxiety. The trees, with their twisted roots and dense foliage, formed a labyrinthine maze that seemed to shift and change with every glance, leaving her with an unsettling sense of disorientation.
Despite her purpose, the dense forest pressed in on her, its dark and oppressive presence making each step forward a struggle against the creeping unease that gnawed at her resolve. The mission given to her was clear, to locate the Wind Hashira, Sanemi Shinazugawa, and assist him in his hunt for a powerful demon.
After what felt like an eternity of twisting and turning through the labyrinth of trees, Y/n emerged into a small, secluded clearing. The transition from the oppressive shadows of the forest to the openness of the clearing was striking, like stepping through a veil into another world. The sky above, painted with the hues of the setting sun, cast a warm, golden glow that filtered through the trees, bathing the clearing in a soft, ethereal light.
In this fragile moment of twilight, she saw him. The sight was as sudden as it was unexpected—a figure standing alone in the clearing, framed by the waning light. Sanemi Shinazugawa, the fierce and formidable Hashira known for his unyielding presence, now seemed like a ghostly apparition amid the tall grass that swayed gently in the evening breeze.
The tall grass around him seemed to bow and bend in homage to the tranquility of the moment, the gentle sway of the blades creating a ripple effect that contrasted starkly with his rigid form. As Y/n approached, the last rays of sunlight bathed him in a warm, almost nostalgic glow, highlighting the stark contrast between his battle-hardened exterior and the rare, exposed fragility that now defined him. The forest fell silent, the sounds of the evening fading into the background, leaving only the profound stillness of the clearing and the enigmatic figure it held.
Y/n’s heart raced as she drew closer, her gaze lingering on his powerful form. The broad shoulders of his uniform were outlined against the backdrop of the forest, and the intricate design of his haori added an element of ceremonial grace to his formidable appearance. She could see the faint gleam of his sword at his side, a testament to his readiness and skill.
As she approached, her steps slowed, and she took a deep breath to steady herself. "Sanemi" Her (e/c) eyes lowered respectfully, unable to hold his gaze for long. The weight of his rank and the unspoken expectation of respect seemed to envelop her.
With a practiced grace, she bowed her head deeply, her posture reflecting a blend of reverence and anxiety. Her fingers brushed against her thighs as she maintained the bow, her breath steadying in the brief silence that followed. The bow was not just a gesture of respect but a symbol of the deference she felt for his status and the unspoken bond of their shared responsibilities.
Sanemi spun around, the abrupt motion causing his silver hair to whip through the air like a silver streak. His dark eyes, sharp and intense, widened momentarily in surprise before narrowing into slits of irritation. The girl standing before him was an unexpected sight, her presence clashing with his grim determination. He could see the way her (e/c) eyes darted nervously.
Sanemi’s brow furrowed deeply, the familiar lines of irritation etching themselves across his face. He clenched his jaw, his muscles tensing as he took in her presence. “Why are you here?” he demanded, his voice a harsh growl that seemed to echo the grating annoyance in his eyes. “I didn’t ask for any help.” The words were sharp, each syllable a testament to his frustration and the unspoken acknowledgment of her intrusion into his solitary battle. His gaze flicked over her, assessing her as both an interruption and an unwelcome distraction from his focused resolve.
The dim light of the setting sun filtered through the thick canopy overhead, casting an ethereal, golden glow around him, making him look almost like a figure from a myth. His handsome face, covered by that big scar, was set in a grim expression, the familiar features of the young boy she used to know, now hardened and distant.
Y/n's heart ached at the sight. Memories of their shared laughter and carefree days flitted through her mind like ghosts, a stark contrast to the man who now stood before her, surrounded by an aura of steely determination and solitude. The walls he had built were formidable, both literal and metaphorical, as if he were encased in a fortress of his own making.
"I was ordered to assist you," she said, her voice a soft but unwavering murmur against the backdrop of the forest's stillness. Each word felt like a bridge she was trying to build, one stone at a time, across the chasm that had grown between them. The determination in her voice was laced with an undercurrent of vulnerability, a plea for him to see beyond the walls he had so meticulously fortified.
Sanemi's eyes narrowed, the intensity of his gaze slicing through the dim light forest. His frown deepened, etching stark lines across his forehead and casting shadows that seemed to darken the very air around him. Every muscle in his face was taut, a silent testament to the cold, unyielding resolve that had settled over him since their reconciliation.
The temperature felt suddenly colder, the warmth that had once lingered in moments of tentative peace now replaced by an almost palpable chill. His voice, when it came, was low and edged with a frost that could cut through steel. "Fine. Just stay out of my way." Each word was deliberate, spoken with a precision that only heightened the distance between them.
The space between them felt vast and inhospitable, like the icy expanse of a winter landscape. Sanemi's posture was rigid, his body a coiled spring of suppressed tension. The lingering remnants of their past camaraderie seemed to evaporate in the face of his unrelenting demeanor. It was as if the very air was charged with his unspoken frustrations, a stark contrast to the moments of fragile understanding they had shared before.
The days that followed were fraught with tension. Each morning, the air seemed heavier, laden with the unspoken conflict that crackled between Y/n and Sanemi. The sun would rise over the horizon, casting long shadows over the winding path that led them toward the village where the dangerous demon had been spotted. The thick forest had given way to a rugged landscape, where the trees thinned, replaced by jagged rocks and creeping vines that seemed to mirror the tension between them.
Y/n walked a few paces behind Sanemi, her eyes lingering on his broad back. The silence between them was oppressive, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant call of a bird. She tried to bridge the gap that had grown between them, reaching back to the memories of their shared childhood, hoping to find a way through the hardened exterior he had built around himself.
"Do you remember," she began tentatively, her voice soft in the quiet morning air, "how we used to play in the neighborhood? We’d run around until the sun set, and you’d always win those silly races we had." She offered a small, wistful smile, hoping to coax a reaction from him, to remind him of the bond they once shared.
Sanemi’s stride didn’t falter, but she noticed the slight stiffening of his shoulders, the only sign that he had heard her. For a brief moment, she thought she saw a flicker of something in his eyes, a flash of the boy he used to be—the one who would smile, laugh, and look at her with a warmth that had long since disappeared.
But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. His expression hardened, and when he finally spoke, his voice was gruff, edged with irritation. "That was a long time ago," he said curtly, his tone dismissive. "We're not kids anymore."
Y/n’s heart sank, but she refused to give up. "I know we’ve both changed, but that doesn’t mean everything has to be different. We were close, Sanemi. We can be that way again. We can—"
Sanemi abruptly stopped in his tracks, spinning around to face her. His dark eyes bore into hers, the intensity of his gaze causing her to falter. "This isn’t a game, Y/n," he snapped, his voice sharp as a blade. "You need to stop living in the past. We’re not those kids running around without a care in the world. We’re demon slayers, and this is life or death."
The words hit Y/n like a punch to the gut. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her emotions in check. "I know that, Sanemi," she replied, her voice steady but laced with a hint of hurt. "But that doesn’t mean we have to be strangers. We’re stronger together—"
"Stronger?" Sanemi interrupted, a harsh laugh escaping his lips. "You think being close makes us stronger? It makes you weak. It makes you hesitate, and hesitation in this line of work gets you killed."
Y/n flinched at the coldness in his voice, but she stood her ground. "And what about you, Sanemi? What about how it affects you? Do you think pushing everyone away makes you stronger? It’s not weakness to care about someone."
Sanemi’s eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and something else—something deeper, more conflicted. He took a step closer to her, his presence looming, the air around them thick with tension. "You don’t get it, do you?" he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "The more you care, the more you lose. If you stay close to me, you’ll just end up dead like the others. You’re a liability, Y/n. You should’ve never joined the Demon Slayers."
The words cut deep, sharper than any blade. Y/n’s breath hitched, and she felt the sting of tears welling up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
Sanemi saw the glistening tears welling up in Y/n's eyes, catching the faint light that filtered through the dense canopy above them. For a split second, something akin to regret flashed across his hardened features, but he quickly smothered it beneath a mask of cold indifference. He refused to let emotion sway him; he had a mission, and attachments only served as distractions—a lesson he had learned through pain and loss.
Ignoring the tremble in Y/n's lower lip and the hurt evident in her gaze, Sanemi took a deliberate step forward, closing the distance between them. His presence was imposing, shadows casting sharp angles across his face, accentuating the fierce determination etched into every line.
"Look at you," he scoffed, his voice dripping with contempt as his eyes raked over her form. "You can’t even handle a simple conversation without getting all emotional. How do you expect to face a demon when you’re this weak?"
Y/n's breath caught in her throat, the sting of his words cutting deeper than any physical wound. She squared her shoulders, trying to maintain her composure, but the quiver in her voice betrayed her turmoil. "I'm not weak, Sanemi. I've trained hard, just like you. I can handle myself."
He let out a derisive laugh, the sound echoing eerily through the silent forest. "Is that what you think? That a few training sessions make you capable? You’re delusional." His eyes bore into hers, unrelenting and cold. "You’re just a naive girl. This isn’t some childhood game where you can pretend to be brave. Out here, one mistake means death."
The tears that had threatened to spill now streamed freely down Y/n's cheeks, leaving glistening trails against her flushed skin. She clenched her fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms as she struggled to hold onto her resolve. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. "Why are you trying so hard to push me away?"
Sanemi's expression hardened further, his jaw tightening as he closed the remaining distance between them. He leaned in, his face mere inches from hers, his breath warm against her skin despite the chill in his words. "Because you don't belong here," he snarled, each word deliberate and biting. "You're a liability—a burden I didn't ask for and don't need. The battlefield is no place for someone as soft as you."
The accusation hung heavy in the air, the silence that followed thick with unspoken pain and frustration. Y/n's eyes widened, shock and hurt mingling in their depths. She had expected resistance, even anger, but the cruelty in his words was beyond anything she had anticipated.
Sanemi continued, his voice lowering to a harsh whisper that seemed to seep into the very shadows around them. "Do you think your presence helps me? All you do is distract me, make me worry about keeping your sorry ass alive instead of focusing on the mission. You're nothing but dead weight."
A sharp inhale escaped Y/n's lips as his words struck their intended target, each syllable designed to wound and drive her away. The memories of their shared past, the laughter, and the camaraderie, all seemed to crumble under the assault of his relentless contempt.
She searched his eyes desperately for any hint of the boy she once knew, for any sign that this was just a facade, a shield to protect something more vulnerable beneath. But all she found was a hardened gaze and a coldness that seemed impenetrable.
"Maybe if you spent less time clinging to the past and more time understanding your own limitations, you wouldn't be so pathetic," Sanemi pressed on, his tone merciless. "Go back home, Y/n. Find a safe, quiet life where you won't get yourself killed. Leave the real fighting to those who can handle it."
Something inside Y/n snapped at that moment. The accumulation of hurt, frustration, and unacknowledged pain boiled over, transforming into a surge of defiant anger that coursed through her veins like fire. Her eyes blazed with a newfound intensity as she looked up at him, no longer the picture of vulnerability but of simmering wrath.
Without warning, her hand swung upward in a swift, decisive motion, connecting sharply with Sanemi's cheek. The sound of the slap echoed through the forest, startling birds from their perches and sending them fluttering into the darkening sky.
Sanemi's head snapped to the side from the force of the blow, a reddening imprint already forming on his cheek. For a moment, shock rendered him motionless, his eyes wide with surprise as he slowly turned back to face her. The fiery determination in Y/n's gaze was unmistakable, her chest heaving with the intensity of her emotions.
"How dare you," Y/n hissed, her voice trembling with an emotion so raw it seemed to cut through the thick air around them. "How dare you belittle everything I've worked for. You think pushing me away will protect me? All you're doing is hurting the both of us."
Sanemi's gaze faltered, the sharpness in his eyes dulling as her words struck a chord he hadn’t anticipated. The tears streaming down her cheeks glistened in the fading light, each drop falling with the weight of her broken heart. She had always been strong, had always fought to be seen as more than the fragile girl from their childhood. And now, here she was, standing before him, baring her soul despite the anguish he had caused.
"I looked up to you," she continued, her voice cracking with the intensity of her sorrow. "I trusted you. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe the Sanemi I knew is truly gone."
The finality of her words hit him like a blow to the chest, harder than any physical strike could ever manage. He had driven a wedge between them, and in his attempt to protect her by building walls, he had destroyed the very thing he was trying to preserve.
Before he could react, Y/n turned on her heel and ran, her footsteps quick and frantic as she fled the scene. The green woods swallowed her figure quickly, leaving only the echoes of her departure and the fading scent of her presence behind.
Sanemi’s hand reached out as if to stop her, but it was too late. His voice caught in his throat, a hoarse whisper of her name barely escaping his lips as she disappeared into the forest. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, the overwhelming weight of regret sinking into him as he stood alone in the clearing.
The memories of their childhood flashed through his mind like fragments of a dream—the laughter they shared, the carefree days that seemed so distant now. But those memories were overshadowed by the faces of those he had lost, the people he had cared for who had been torn away by the cruel reality of their world. He had hardened himself, encased his heart in a shell of steel, believing that it was the only way to survive. To keep others safe.
His heart pounded furiously, a visceral reminder of the weight of his own words. He had pushed her away, driven by the belief that distance would keep her safe, but all he had done was wound her deeply. The vision of her tear-streaked face flashed before his eyes, the fire in her gaze as she stood her ground against him. The anger he had seen in her was not just anger—it was pain, the pain he had caused by shattering the bond they once shared.
"Fuck," he muttered, his voice low and filled with self-loathing. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the silver strands as if the physical pain could distract him from the turmoil churning inside him. His eyes darted to the darkening sky, the last traces of sunlight slipping away, leaving the forest bathed in the eerie half-light of dusk.
A cold realization washed over him, chilling him to the bone. The sun was nearly gone, and night was rapidly descending upon the forest. This was when the demons emerged from the shadows, hunting for prey under the cover of darkness. The thought of Y/n alone in the woods, vulnerable and exposed, sent a surge of fear through him.
"Damn it, Y/n!" he swore to himself, this time with urgency as he spun on his heel and took off in the direction she had fled. His feet pounded against the forest floor, each step a frantic attempt to close the distance between them. The underbrush tore at his clothes and skin, but he paid it no mind—his only focus was on finding her before it was too late.
The forest was a labyrinth of shadows and shifting shapes, the familiar terrain now a treacherous maze as night closed in around him. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, set his nerves on edge, his senses heightened as he strained to catch any sign of her. He knew the dangers lurking in the dark—the demons that would be drawn to the scent of fear, to the vulnerability of a lone human.
His breath came in short, sharp bursts as he pushed himself to move faster, his heart racing not just from exertion but from the mounting fear gnawing at his insides. The regret he felt was like a lead weight in his chest, slowing him down, but he couldn’t afford to stop—couldn’t afford to let his guilt paralyze him.
“Y/n!” he called out, his voice echoing through the trees. The sound was swallowed by the dense foliage, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. “Y/n, answer me!”
The minutes stretched into what felt like hours as he searched, the light fading rapidly until only the faint glow of the rising moon provided any illumination. The shadows grew longer, darker, more menacing, and Sanemi’s fear escalated with each passing second.
His pulse quickened as he stumbled upon the entrance to the village, the worn wooden gates standing as a stark contrast to the twisted, dense forest that surrounded it. The air was cooler here, carrying with it the faint, earthy scent of wood smoke from the hearths of the small, isolated settlement. He paused for a moment, trying to steady his breath and push down the gnawing anxiety that threatened to overtake him.
Maybe Y/n had already made it to the village. Perhaps she had sought refuge with the elder, resting after their intense confrontation. The thought brought him a momentary sense of relief, but it was fleeting. His gut twisted with lingering unease as he walked through the gates, his sharp eyes scanning the darkened streets for any sign of her.
The village was quiet, unnervingly so. The usual sounds of evening—chatter from the houses, the occasional bark of a dog—were absent, replaced by an oppressive silence that only deepened his sense of dread. The few villagers he saw were quick to retreat indoors, their expressions drawn with fear as they peered cautiously from behind shuttered windows. Sanemi’s presence was met with a mixture of relief and trepidation, the villagers recognizing the garb of a Hashira but still uneasy in the face of the growing threat that loomed over their homes.
He made his way to the elder’s residence, a modest house at the center of the village, its entrance marked by a lantern whose weak, flickering light barely held back the encroaching darkness. Sanemi’s footsteps were heavy against the cobblestone path, each step a battle against the rising tide of panic that threatened to consume him.
Pushing open the door, he stepped inside, his eyes immediately landing on the village elder. The old man, with his hunched back and a face lined with the passage of many seasons, looked up from where he sat by a low, flickering fire. His eyes, though dim with age, held a wisdom that spoke of countless years spent enduring the hardships of this secluded life.
“Ah, you must be the Wind Hashira,” the elder greeted, his voice a rasp that cracked with the weight of years. He gestured for Sanemi to sit, his gnarled hands trembling slightly as he poured tea into a small, chipped cup. “We’ve been expecting you.”
Sanemi nodded curtly, accepting his offer. “I need to know everything you can tell me about the demon,” he said, his voice still tense but now edged with a steely calm“We need to locate and eliminate it as quickly as possible.”
The elder’s weathered face grew somber as he nodded slowly. “Yes, the demon has been plaguing our village for weeks now. It strikes at night, taking the lives of our people before slipping back into the shadows of the forest. We believe it lairs deep in the woods, in a place where the trees grow so thick that no sunlight can penetrate. The villagers call it the ‘Heart of the Forest.’”
Sanemi’s jaw clenched. The description fit the sort of territory where a demon would thrive, where it could easily evade hunters and strike at will. But there was something else gnawing at him, something the elder had said that didn’t sit right.
“We’ll do whatever it takes to eliminate this threat,” Sanemi replied, his voice hard with resolve. “The sooner we find the demon’s lair, the better.”
The elder nodded again, his eyes narrowing in thought as he took a slow, deliberate sip of his tea. “I appreciate your resolve, young man, but who is this ‘we’ you speak of? I didn’t see anyone else arrive at the village gates with you.”
Sanemi’s heart skipped a beat, the elder’s words hitting him like a sledgehammer to the chest. He had been so focused on the mission, so desperate to believe that Y/n had already made it to safety, that he had pushed aside the gnawing doubt gnawing at him since he entered the village.
“She didn’t come through the gates?” Sanemi asked, his voice low and tinged with a dread he couldn’t suppress.
The elder shook his head slowly, his brow furrowing in concern. “No, you were alone when you arrived. If there was someone else with you, she must still be out there… in the forest.”
Sanemi’s blood ran cold, the weight of the elder’s words crashing down on him like a tidal wave. Y/n was still out there. Alone. In the dark, demon-infested woods.
“Damn it!” Sanemi swore, the curse slipping past his lips before he could stop it. The elder flinched at the harshness of his tone, but Sanemi didn’t care. The only thing that mattered now was finding Y/n before it was too late.
Without another word, Sanemi turned on his heel and bolted out of the elder’s house, his mind racing as he sprinted through the village streets. Panic clawed at his insides, the fear he had kept at bay now surging to the forefront as he retraced his steps to the village gates.
He should have never let her leave his sight. He should have gone after her the moment she ran. But he had been too consumed by his own demons, too blinded by the belief that distancing himself from her would keep her safe. And now, she was out there, in the dark, with the very real possibility that the demon had already found her.
The forest loomed before him, a wall of blackness that seemed to pulse with malevolent intent. Sanemi barely slowed as he reached the tree line, plunging back into the woods with a speed fueled by desperation. The trees closed in around him, their gnarled branches reaching out like claws, but he pushed on, ignoring the sharp sting of leaves and twigs that whipped against his skin.
“Y/n!” he called out, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and fury. “Y/n, where are you?”
The forest swallowed his voice, the dense canopy overhead muting the sound to little more than a whisper. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, sent his heart racing as he strained to hear any sign of her, any indication that she was still alive and fighting.
But the forest was vast, a labyrinth of shadows and twisted paths that seemed to go on forever. He had no idea which direction she had run, no way of knowing how far she had gone or if she had been intercepted by the demon along the way.
The darkness pressed in on him, the trees a blur as he pushed himself harder, faster. The thought of her alone, scared, and vulnerable drove him forward with a reckless abandon that bordered on madness. He couldn’t lose her. Not like this.
“Y/n!” he called again, his voice cracking with desperation. “Please, answer me!”
His breath came in ragged gasps, his lungs burning with the effort, but he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop. Not until he found her.
Just as he was about to call out for her again, he heard it—a sharp, metallic clash, followed by a grunt of pain. The sound sent a jolt of adrenaline through his veins, and he sprinted toward the source, his feet barely touching the ground.
When he broke through the last line of trees into a small clearing, the sight that greeted him stole his breath away.
Y/n was there, locked in fierce combat with the demon that had been terrorizing the village. The creature was massive, with grotesque, elongated limbs and a maw full of razor-sharp teeth. Its eyes glowed with a malevolent hunger as it lashed out at Y/n, who stood her ground, her sword gleaming in the faint moonlight that filtered through the canopy above.
She was bleeding, a deep gash on her arm and another across her cheek, but her (e/c) eyes were blazing with determination. There was no fear in her stance, only the fierce resolve of a girl who had everything to prove. She swung her sword with precision and power, each strike aimed to kill, each movement calculated and controlled.
Sanemi’s heart clenched as he watched her, a mix of pride and fear warring within him. She was strong—stronger than he’d given her credit for—but the demon was relentless, and he could see that she was exhausted.
The demon lunged at Y/n with a feral snarl, its claws slashing through the air. She sidestepped just in time, her sword slicing through the creature’s arm, sending black blood spraying across the clearing. The demon roared in pain, its rage palpable as it swung its other arm at her, aiming to knock her off her feet.
But Y/n was faster. She ducked under the blow and drove her sword upward, burying the blade deep into the demon’s torso. The creature howled, its body convulsing as it tried to shake her off, but she held on, her grip on the hilt unyielding.
“Come on, you bastard,” Y/n gritted out, her voice a mix of pain and fury. “Is that all you’ve got?”
Sanemi’s chest swelled with a fierce pride at her bravery, but he could also see the danger she was in. The demon was wounded, but far from defeated, and it was getting desperate. Its movements became more erratic, more dangerous, as it thrashed in an attempt to dislodge her.
Without wasting another second, Sanemi drew his own sword and rushed forward. The demon didn’t see him coming, too focused on Y/n to notice the Wind Hashira closing in. With a swift, decisive motion, Sanemi slashed through the demon’s neck, severing its head in one clean stroke.
The demon’s body froze, then crumpled to the ground with a heavy thud, its severed head rolling away into the shadows. For a moment, the clearing was silent, the only sound the ragged breaths of Y/n and Sanemi as they stood over the fallen creature.
Y/n staggered back, her strength finally giving out as she dropped to one knee, her sword slipping from her grasp. Sanemi was at her side in an instant, kneeling beside her and catching her before she could fall any further.
“Y/n,” he breathed, his voice rough with emotion as he gently cradled her against him. Her face was pale, her body trembling from exertion and blood loss, but her eyes still burned with the fire of defiance.
“I’m not… weak,” she panted, her voice barely a whisper, but her words were firm, laced with the last remnants of her strength.
Sanemi’s heart twisted painfully at her words. He brushed a strand of (h/c) hair away from her face, his fingers trembling slightly as he took in the sight of her—injured, exhausted, but still fighting. “I know,” he whispered, his voice choked with regret and admiration. “I know you’re not.”
Y/n’s eyelids fluttered, the adrenaline that had kept her going finally ebbing away, leaving her drained. She leaned into Sanemi’s chest, her breathing shallow but steady. “I wanted… to prove you wrong,” she murmured, a faint, weary smile tugging at her lips. “I wanted to show you… that I’m not just some… helpless girl.”
Sanemi's heart ached as he cradled Y/n in his arms, feeling the weight of everything he had put her through. The dim light of the moon filtered through the trees, casting a soft glow over her pale, exhausted face. Her breaths were shallow but steady, her body finally succumbing to the weariness that had been gnawing at her throughout the battle.
As he held her close, Sanemi couldn't help but feel a swell of admiration mixed with deep regret. She had fought with everything she had, proving herself in a way that left no doubt about her strength and determination. But it was also a strength she should have never needed to prove, a battle she shouldn’t have had to face alone. His chest tightened with guilt, knowing that it was his harsh words and stubborn pride that had driven her to this point.
With each step back toward the village, the rhythmic sound of his foosteps crunching over leaves and twigs seemed to echo the thoughts racing through his mind. He glanced down at her face, peaceful in sleep despite the dirt and blood that marred her features. The fire she had shown in battle still lingered in his memory, a testament to her courage and resilience.
A small sigh escaped Y/n's lips as she shifted slightly in his arms, her head resting against his chest. The movement caused Sanemi to slow his pace, his gaze softening as he looked down at her. The fierce determination she had shown in the fight was now replaced by a vulnerability that tugged at his heart.
He tightened his grip on her, holding her just a bit closer as if to shield her from any lingering danger. The warmth of her body against his was a stark contrast to the coldness he had surrounded himself with for so long. For the first time in a long while, Sanemi allowed himself to feel something other than anger, other than fear—he allowed himself to feel the depth of his care for her, the weight of the bond they once shared and could still reclaim.
As they neared the edge of the forest, where the village lights flickered like beacons in the distance, Sanemi paused. His gaze lingered on Y/n’s face, her eyelids fluttering slightly as she slept, and before he could second-guess himself, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. The touch was light, barely more than a brush of his lips against her skin, but it was filled with all the unspoken apologies and promises he carried in his heart.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her brow, his voice barely audible above the rustling leaves. “I’ll never push you away again. I promise.”
Y/n stirred slightly at the touch, a soft hum escaping her as she nestled closer to him, her body relaxing completely in his arms. Sanemi’s breath hitched, a mixture of relief and tenderness flooding through him as he held her closer, carrying her with a renewed sense of purpose.
The village loomed ahead, the warm glow of lanterns and the promise of safety beckoning them forward. But as Sanemi walked, he knew that the real journey was just beginning—the journey to repair what had been broken between them, to build something stronger and more enduring.
With Y/n resting safely in his arms, Sanemi made his way through the village gates, determined to start that journey the moment she awoke. Together, they would face whatever challenges lay ahead, no longer as distant strangers, but as partners, equals, and perhaps, one day, something more.
Thankfully (for Sanemi's sake) you return from Final Selection alive and well. However, you being apart of the Demon Slayer Corps has his nerves going insane. To assure your safety, you often attend missions alongside him.
word count: 15.150
warning: character death, blood, jealousy, cursing, smut, dark themes, aphrodisiac, anxiety, impregnation kink, mentions of abortion
@roaringlion @kiki17483
Part One | Masterlist | Final Part
You felt old next to the other Final Selection survivors and the thought causes your heart to ache. You were an adult, far from the young age of 14 - the youngest apart of the survivors. To think children join the Demon Slayer Corps and put their lives at risk in order to help others - you wonder how old Sanemi was when he joined. Or Genya - all of the slayers you’ve met.
The morning sun shines bright ahead of you and the other five survivors. Your eyes look forward to the mountaintop shrine, a soft smile forming on your lips at the two children standing before the survivors.
“Welcome back.” they say in Unison. “Congratulations on completing Final Selection. We’re pleased to see that you’re all safe..”
There’s a low sniffle beside you. You hum at the sight - a young boy no older than 16. You recall just how terrified he was to encounter a demon coming at him with such speed that he barely managed to dodge its attack. It was raining that night and the boy's burgundy hair was clouding his vision. You intervene, slashing the demon’s neck. The boy, Shinra, never left your side until now.
“First we must issue you all uniforms once we take your correct measurements.” the dark haired child started.
“Then we’ll engrave your rank on the back of your hand.” the white haired child continued.
“You then will be given the chance to select the ore that will be used to forge your weapon - swords. It will be 10-15 days before said weapons are ready to use.”
The black haired child claps their hands twice. Above you hear several crows, flocking their wings. You're excited, nearly ecstatic. You recall the many times you’ve been berated by Muichiro’s crow and how she loved him dearly that you wished to have your own.
A crow flocks onto your shoulders. It flocks its wings several times before stopping, inspecting your face.
“Now that you all are demon slayers, you are each assigned Kasugai Crows.” the white haired child spoke. “They are used to facilitate communication.”
The black haired child turned away to remove the long, blue cloth that laid above a table.”Now the time has come for you to choose an ore for your sword.” he says, revealing several ore’s for each of you to choose.
“Shinra.” you call to the boy beside you, still sniffling. “Let’s go choose our Ore.”
Shinra’s eyes are wide as you speak to him, but he nods nonetheless. He follows you closely as each of the survivors inspect the ore’s. You yourself are none the wiser choosing an ore. You contemplate having laid your eyes upon an ore and just thought it was another random rock.
“Which one should we choose, Shinra?” you smile at the boy. “I sense…that one,” you point to a medium sized ore. “Is a good fit for me.”
Shinra furrows a burgundy brow, “H-How do you know?” he murmurs.
“I can just feel it.” you respond. You go to grab it.
Shinra’s eyes - a beautiful shade of azure, widen and he too grabs an ore - the one directly next to yours. “Okay.” he nods.
Soon you make your journey back to Sanemi’s estate. Your legs are aching for a break, but you do not allow them to stop. Your kasugai crow, who you learned was named Hiyori, now laid upon your shoulder as you walked. She had since grew tired of flying above you once she realized you had no intention of stopping for the night. How could you? You passed Final Selection and now was an actual Demon Slayer.
The sky was now a dark violet color when you arrived back at the estate. You had many people to see - you agreed to visit Aoi, Sumi, Kiyo and Naho once you returned. You grew close with the young girls, often visiting them when you didn’t have to train until you dropped. You would have to thank Uzui, Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma for your combat training; Muichiro (and Ginko because she wouldn’t allow you to not acknowledge her if you met with him). Mitsuri promised you pancakes one you returned and you were craving them with extra honey - her western cooking was the best you’ve ever had.
You opened the shoji doors of Sanemi’s estate. It’s quiet inside and doesn’t appear to have anyone in it. You make your way around the estate and hum, Sanemi was not here.
You didn’t let the fact bother you. Sanemi was a hashira after all and had responsibilities. He could possibly be doing his rounds before he returned home.
You take this time to bathe, allowing all the grime to be released from your skin was refreshing. You’re unsure how long you’ve bathed for, but once your hands begin to wrinkle was when you decided to get out. You were refreshed now, dressed now in a light kimono tied loosely and your hair in a low bun.
You decide to do another round around the estate for Sanemi. You can hear them - faint footsteps.It’s coming from the opposite side of the mansion. Your feet begin to sprint across the cold hardwood floor, a wide smile on your lips.
Sanemi was here, you note, dressed in his usual Hashira attire. He appeared to have just came in from his rounds as you suspected.
“Nemi!” you exclaim, jumping to wrap your arms around the man. He doesn’t move back an inch, even with the impact of you crashing into him.
Sanemi’s nostrils fill with your scent - the familiar scent that he had longed to smell for the last week. His nerves begin to calm themselves at your touch, unaware that since you've been gone that he was unable to focus on anything but your survival.
“I’m back from Final Selection!” your heart is pumping with excitement. “I even have my own crow like you all! Her name’s Hiyori!” you continue to babble on and on about everything that happened during your week, still wrapping him in a tight embrace.
Your face then crashes into his chest and you’re silent. Sanemi doesn’t notice it at first - he assumes you were overwhelmed with emotions to fully focus on one topic at a time. But then his bare chest feels it. Wet - were you crying?
Sanemi gets his answer when your shoulders shake and his chest appears to be even more wet. He gulps, unsure on what to do. Why were you suddenly crying? Sanemi didn’t deal with emotions well. He hated when the lower ranks would cry, it irritated him to no end. It didn’t help either that they were often crying because of him - but that's besides the point.
Sanemi places a hand upon your head. “Y/N…” he trails off. “What’s wrong?”
Your face lifts to look at Sanemi. There it was again - the jolt. He hadn’t felt the jolt in his heart in a week and swears he was cured of whatever sickness he had. Your eyes are teary and wet, lashes sticking to one another.
“I’m so happy!” you sob, lips quivering.
Happy?
You were crying because you were happy?
Sanemi’s shoulders falter and now, he finds himself wanting to laugh.
“I’m happy that I passed Final Selection and you didn’t waste your time training me.” you continue, wiping your tears away with your shoulder so you wouldn’t have to unwrap your arms from Sanemi. “I’m happy I was given the opportunity to make my own decision and not be fated to one.” you’re continuing to ramble on about how happy you truly were - claiming to be happy to be surrounded by such positive people even if they were working in less than positive situations.
You do end up unwrapping your arms around Sanemi to fall to your knees. You’re bowing before him, tears not stopping. “Thank you, Sanemi.”
Sanemi gasps, but he doesn’t stiffen. “Y/N, you don’t-”
“I’m grateful that I’ve gotten to train besides you and the other Hashira and slayers.” you’re sobbing full on now, dramatic tears leaking onto the floor. “I promise to make you proud as your tsuguko! I’ll do my best on all my missions!”
Sanemi inhales. His heart is beating rapidly and he’s unsure how to respond to you. To think that he, a Hashira of many years now and had fought demons upon demons…was going to die now due to heart failure. He hoped that Shinobu and Aoi would be the first two to cry at his funeral for denying him (a fucking Hashira at that) service.
Sanemi’s mind wanders. He’s happy, as well, he supposes. Genya was alive and well, even if he refused to look his brother's way, he often kept tabs on him. Sorai would tell him everything Genya did when he wasn’t on missions. You were alive now, as well. Overly emotional and grateful as ever. Sanemi finds himself silently thanking whatever God there was out there that you wouldn’t be yet another death on his conscience.
Sanemi slams the door of the butterfly mansion open, a feral look upon his face. Naho jumps, her braids swinging around towards the sound. Kiyo’s eyes widen at Sanemi while Sumi quivers. “Where’s Kocho or Kanzaki?” he hisses at the three girls.
“S-Shinobu-san said-”
“I do not care.” Sanemi dismisses them. He doesn’t see either of the two girls he’s looking for and he turns away from them. He stalks down the halls of the butterfly mansion, in coming slayers flinging themselves into the wall just to avoid him and his wrath.
It takes another five minutes to find Shinobu and it only took him slamming open three shoji doors.
“Shinazugawa.” Shinobu’s soft smile doesn’t falter, not even when she’s annoyed with her office being intruded. She leans back in her seat and tilts her head at him.
“It happened again.” Sanemi exclaims.
Shinobu raises a brow.
“My heart jolted again yesterday. Matter of fact,” Sanemi steps inside the office. “it didn’t stop jolting for another 30 minutes.”
Shinobu snickers. “Y/N must be back from Final Selection already.” she notes, more to herself than as a statement to Sanemi. “Please tell her to come visit us at the Butterfly Mansion for any injuries she may have.”
Sanemi’s eyes are glaring at the younger girl. “What the hell does that have to do with my heart?!” he was growing irate by the second. Each time he came to this place he was kicked out by giggling girls.
“I’ve checked your heart countless times, Shinazugawa.” Shinobu states with a shake of her head. “There’s nothing wrong with it or you.”
Sanemi sighs and scoffs.
“Maybe you’re in denial?” Shinobu shrugs her shoulders.
“In denial?” Sanemi hisses. “You and that other little brat are in denial about my health!”
Shinobu wants to laugh right now, but having Sanemi constantly come into the Butterfly Mansion and scaring the nurses (and the slayers) was becoming overwhelming.
“My,” Shinobu manages to giggle. “have you…ever thought that your heart is jolting only when a certain someone is around you?”
Sanemi’s eyes squint. “Where the hell are you getting at?”
“That maybe you’ve failed to realize that your heart is jolting because you happen to…like Y/N?” Shinobu doesn’t want to cause Sanemi to convulse by saying the word “love” just yet. “There’s studies that show that boys are less smarter than girls, so I’m not surprised you cannot tell the difference between pain and feelings.”
Sanemi’s ears and neck darken a crimson color and his hands clenched into fists. Shinobu’s now full on laughing at him. He’s had enough of her and Uzui’s constant teasing.
“Fuck off.” Sanemi hisses and then turns to walk away.
“Shinazugawa!” Shinobu calls before he can storm down the hallway. “I think she likes you, too. So do the rest of the Hashira.”
Sanemi doesn’t say anything and Shinobu doesn’t expect him to, but the blush on his cheeks don’t go unnoticed.
Sanemi makes his way out of the Butterfly Mansion and back towards his estate. He managed to bring his breathing calm, but his mind is going crazy. He thinks of you and how each time he was with you, his heart goes insane and his mind seems to go blink. His anger appears to subside when you speak to him with such a soft smile. Your eyes never show any disgust towards him, instead they’re kind and warm.
“Nemi!”
Your voice echoes through his ears from behind him. He hasn’t seen you the last few hours and when he turns, he’s shocked to see your appearance. He swallows, throat quickly running dry. You’re running towards him, a wide smile on your lips. He notes that he’s rarely seen your skin - such smooth skin that now appears to shine underneath the afternoon sun. You’ve gotten your uniform and appeared to be an exact replica of Mitsuri.
“I got my uniform!” you say excitedly when you reach Sanemi.
Sanemi looks away to not catch himself staring too long at your appearance.
“Is that Y/N-chan?”
“She’s so cute!”
You’re beaming at Sanemi and he feels just how hot his body begins to feel.
“Do you feel comfortable?” Sanemi asks. You never showed this amount of skin before.
You slowly nod your head. “It’ll take some getting used to, I suppose.” you respond.
Sanemi licks his lips. His eyes roam around the area to find several slayers looking their way - your way. His nerves were now kicking in at the eyes on you.
“Do I look nice?” you ask him. “I do think it’ll be a little chilly with the uniform, but I think I’ll be alright.” you giggle to yourself.
“Is Shinazugawa-sama blushing again?”
“Why do all the girls go for guys like him?!” a slayer throws his hands in the air.
“Here.” Sanemi removes his haori and hands it over to you. He isn’t looking at you when he does so. “So you don’t get cold.”
“Shinazugawa-sama is such a nice boyfriend!” a female slayer gushes.
“Who knew he was such a-”
The slayers scurry off when a pair of lilac eyes glare at them.
You take hold of the haori with wide eyes. “But what about you, Nemi?”
“I got more.” Sanemi shrugs nonchalantly.
“Hm,” you hum, feeling the fabric in your hands. “Thank you. I’ll wear it on all my missions!” you place the haori over your shoulders and sigh happily.
Sanemi’s heart clenches and he inaudible sighs.
“Are you going back home?” you ask him. “I can cook us lunch if you don’t have anything to do!”
Sanemi nods and remains quiet.
“Good! Let’s go!” you hook your arm in his and begin walking.
Sanemi doesn’t mind your closeness, even if it does leave him surprised each time by just how willing you are to be entangled with him. While the pair of you stroll back to the estate in a comfortable silence, he’s thinking about just how nice you did look in your uniform - and how he didn’t like if anyone else thought the same.
When you suggested eating, Sanemi didn’t think you would invite others. You’ve just finished cooking when a knock sounds on his shoji doors. Sanemi doesn’t answer and you’re scurrying off to answer it yourself. The door opens and you’re beaming widely.
Sanemi wants to scoff when his brother is behind the door - him, for some odd reason Tokito and an unknown slayer with burgundy hair.
“I hope we are not intruding.” he murmurs to you, eyes only glancing at his brother for a moment. He hadn’t spoken to Sanemi in two weeks - not since the incident.
You are, Sanemi wants to say, but he only snickers to himself instead.
“Of course not!” you usher for them to enter. “I hope you all are hungry.”
Tokito remains silent when he sits upon the cushioned floor. He’s seated beside Genya and beside him, the unknown burgundy haired boy.
You go to serve the food for them, Sanemi grumbling to himself. He wanted to be with you - alone - not in his own home surrounded by brats.
You take your seat beside Sanemi and smile at the group of boys. “Please, eat.”
Muichiro wastes no time in doing as he’s told. Genya can feel eyes upon him, the glaring lilac eyes of his elder brother. He tries to think of your words two weeks prior - that Sanemi did love and care for him. It was hard believing you. He never made any attempt to speak with him after the fact and he grew slightly afraid that he would attempt to hurt him again if he tried.
“I met Shinra during Final Selection.” you tell Sanemi after a few bites of the pork cutlet. “He’s so cute.” you gush.
Shinra’s cheeks flushed crimson at the sound of his name and the compliment. He feels two sets of eyes on him - one from the white haired man who he learned quickly was a Hashira and then the boy with dark hair and a mohawk. They’re glaring, he notes, with such dark eyes and hatred.
“Look’s weak.” Sanemi retorts, sinking his teeth in the broccoli you steamed.
“Very.” Genya snorts.
Muichiro turns his eyes to look at Shinra and hums in agreement.
“That’s not nice.” you frown at the three of them. “Shinra’s is a very capable swordsman.”
Genya had no issue with the burgundy haired boy. He appeared to be close in age with him and Tokito. However, if he had your affection then that meant it was taken away from his brother (and him) and he didn’t like it.
“Shinra even helped me defeat a demon, right, Shinra-kun?”
Shinra feels his throat clog up at the amount of eyes on him. He finds himself nodding - even if it wasn’t the truth. You were lying to save him the embarrassment and that caused even more self-pity in him.
“Is that so?” Sanemi snickers. He leans forward. “He doesn’t even look like he knows how to hold a sword. I’m to believe someone like him helped you?”
You nod your head. You weren’t going to let them bring down Shinra’s self esteem about himself.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t go on missions yourself.” Sanemi states. “If you need help from a weakling.”
Genya watches the way his brother glares at Shinra and now he understands where this was going.
Sanemi was jealous - for no reason. Shinra was (for now) a weakling Mizunoto, yet you shared the rank with him. You were just lucky enough to have trained alongside several Hashira. Shinra was also only a child while you were an adult and only had eyes for Sanemi - but he knew his brother well enough to know that anyone was competition.
“Y/L-san is an amazing swordsman…woman…” Shinra’s voice is low and barely audible. He’s scared to even look the white haired man in the face but he’s grown great respect for you. “She killed the most demons during Final Selection…”
“How many did you kill?” Sanemi questions.
“I-I…” Shinra gulps. He hasn’t killed nearly as much as you or the other survivors. He only managed to cut the heads of three - and even that took a lot out of him.
“How about this,” Sanemi takes a bite of the pork and stands. “you show me just how good of a swordsman you are.”
“We’re eating.” you sigh, watching as Sanemi rounds the table to put (more like snatch) Shinra’s shoulder.
“It’ll only be a moment.” Sanemi yanks Shinra from his cushioned seat and pulls him to his feet. “I have an extra sword.”
Shinra is visibly shaking in Sanemi’s tight hold. He’s pushed out the door and it causes Muichiro to snort. “Y/N.”
“Huh, yes, Tokito?” you say to him, smiling apologetically. “Is the food alright?
Muichiro nods. He licks his lips before his eyes turn to you. “Please tell Shinazugawa that no one is planning on stealing you from him.” he says nonchalantly. “All the slayers that do voice their attractions are scared of being castrated.”
You laugh nervously, eyes going wide. You feel yourself grow hot with embarrassment.
“Genya even threatens a few that talk about you suggestively.”
Genya whips his head to glare at Muichiro, cheeks flushed. “I do not!” he hisses, denying rather quickly.
“Yes you do.” Muichiro takes a sip of his drink. “You talk down to anyone that thinks they could speak to Y/N.” Muichiro scoffs. And he was supposed to be the one with memory issues.
You get up from your cushioned seat and nod your head at the two (now bickering, more on Genya’s side than Muichiro) boys. You place a hand on both of their heads and it silences them. “You two are so cute.” you tell them. “Makes me wish I had younger siblings.” your eyes glance outside. You were going to have to save Shinra from Sanemi’s torture right about now.
You bow and excuse yourself and make your way out the shoji doors just as Sanemi swings a wooden sword Shinra’s way. “Sanemi!” you call, eyes glaring at the man. “Leave Shinra alone! We’ve come here for lunch not to train!”
Shinra’s able to dodge Sanemi’s attack by the grace of God, sweat pooling down his forehead and whimpering for whoever to save him.
Sanemi stops his attack and turns to you. You appeared to be upset, eyebrows knitted to a scowl. Your arms are crossed and for a split second his eyes flicker to your breast pressed together.
“Shinra, let’s finish up your lunch, yeah?” you tell the boy who nods his head, far too excited to be away from the white haired maniac.
As Shinra enters the house once more, your eyes turn to Sanemi. “What’s that about?”
Sanemi drops his wooden swords and goes to make his way back into his home. You step in front of the man. “You can’t keep harassing the slayers. They’re terrified of you!”
Sanemi scoffs. “If they’re terrified of me then a demon would have their fucking heads.”
You roll your eyes. “You’re a scary man.”
Sanemi tilts his head and crosses his own arms. “You aren’t afraid of me.”
“Of course not.” you give him a teasing smile. “You’re nice when I’m around.”
Sanemi grumbles; maybe that’s why others would rather you be present if they had to approach him.
“Promise me,” you begin, coming closer to him. You take his large, calloused hands in your soft ones. “That you won’t keep harassing the slayers. Especially Shinra and Genya.”
Sanemi groans. He likes the soft and gentleness of your hands on his own.
“I can’t promise that.” Sanemi says. “They all enjoy pissing me off.”
You giggle. “But they avoid you!” you exclaim. “Just try.”
Sanemi nods his head with a roll of his eyes. “Whatever.” he mumbles.
You wrap your pinky around his longer one, a tint of mischief in your eyes. “Swear.”
“Swear.” Sanemi murmurs. “Whoever lies will be made to swallow a thousand needles.” the two of you say in unison, a wide smile on your lips and a low one on his.
“CAW! Y/L Y/N is to report to Chiyoda City! A demon has been sighted in the Shrine!” Hiyori soars above you, her wings flapping.
Your eyes widen and you stand to your feet excitedly. “We’re going on a mission? Our first mission!” you were ready for a mission the same day you were given your nichirin sword.- a long sword with a black handguard that wraps right above your hand, offering an amazing grip. The blade is long and shiny against the bright sun - an emerald color shining down the sharpest part of the blade.
“Sanemi’s doing his rounds. I’m sad he wasn’t home to hear.” you feel saddened, but this was your moment to make him proud and assure that you’d come back safe.
You make your journey out of the estate with Hiyori flying above you, leading the way. You’re pumping with excitement that it’s ridiculous. You were going head first to a demon - but you were bouncing with joy as if you were meeting your husband. You were just ecstatic to kill as many demons as you could and work your way up the ranks. You heard the amount of people wishing to become Hashira, but you’re content not being one. The 9 Hashira you’ve met were more than amazing at their jobs.
You reach the area in the middle of the night, the moon shining brightly and the area quietly. The air appears to be murky and foggy, a low fog that’s nearly blinding. You slow your walk, drawing your blade while your eyes scan the area.
A sound to your left heightens your senses. More sounds from your right, above and even forward you. Small figures appear, no taller than toddler sizes. They’re demons - eyes black and soulless. There’s scars oozing blood beneath both of their eyes and there's a shadowy smoke that surrounds them as they push closer to you. As they come closer, you note that they appear to be floating rather than walking.
You raise your sword and swing when one shadowy figure lungs at you. You slice at their head, cutting off each one with swift movements - but they appear to never stop coming. It’s as though as soon as you kill one, five more come sprinting after you. Each shadowy figure has their own weapon - a knife, sword, cutlass.
“That man despises you.” a gravelly voice hisses behind you. The shadowy figures disappear and you’re left in complete silence.
You turn around, eyes glaring into the darkness. “Show yourself!” you call into said darkness.
Your feet walk stealthy behind the shrine where what appears to be a large pond is located. The water is still; unnerved.
“You’re nothing to him!” the same voice hisses, this time besides you and now you sense it. A hand slams against your cheek and you’re sent flying towards the pond. It wasn’t deep, luckily, and you managed to keep your sword clenched into your hands.
You leep from the pond just as the demon lunges at you. It appears to be a woman. She’s tall, appearing just a few inches smaller than Uzui. Her eye sockets are wide but they’re soulless, no pupils in sight. Her hair is long and flowy behind her, but appears to be wet and stringy. Her skin is a dull gray color and she’s snarling at you.
“Look at you,” the demon snarls, her fingernails gnawing at her skin. “So young and beautiful. No man will ever respect such a whore!”
The demon lunges at you once more and you manage to cut her hand off, long claws falling onto the ground below you.
A loud, blood curdling scream echoes off the trees, coming from the demon. The sound is unbearable and you’re sure the demon is causing your ears to bleed.
You got to your knees.
“What would your father think seeing you now?” a voice says.
“What about your mother? Your brother?”
The atmosphere appears colder now, the screams of the demon growing louder and louder.
“What do you think Sanemi would think of you once you die here?” the screams appear louder and you’re certain your ears are bleeding. “When you die here tonight, you will be forgotten - just like your father forgot about you.”
You can feel the anger inside of you bubbling at the taunting words of the demon. “Come with me, I’ll put you out of your miserable misery.”
You lift your sword, trying your hardest to ignore the ringing in your ear. The demon flings itself at you and in one quick movement, you’re dodging its attack and slicing off her other hand. You get to your feet, sprinting towards the Demon. It wails loudly once more, but you ignore the painful ringing in your ears. “Wind Breathing: Second Form!” you lift the sword upwards towards the right and above your head. You release four vertical slashes resembling claws towards the demon. “Claws-Purifying Wind!”
You dash towards the Demon as your attack slashes them, black blood oozing out from their wounds. You make it your mission to get rid of this demon once and for all, raising your sword and bringing it down on the demon's neck.
You drop to your feet, eyes on the demon's head a few feet away.The screaming releasing from its throat grows silent by the second as the head begins to disintegrate.
It takes you a moment to move, your mind racing at the words the demon said.
That man despises you.
No man will ever respect a whore.
When you die here, you’ll be forgotten.
You sheathe your sword and begin to walk. Your ears are ringing as you make your way back towards your destination, Hiyori flying above you. By the time you’d return, the sun will be present and you’d hope to come face to face with Sanemi once more. You’ve grown close to the man and it causes you great shame to know that the words of the demon got to you; causing your heart to ache. You no longer cared about your fathers thoughts about you; you dealt with the man for years and his harsh ways. But the thought of Sanemi - someone you considered to be a great friend, even someone you loved dearly - forgetting about you; despising you.
You exhale, deciding to pick up your pace to get back to the estate - and Sanemi - faster.
Sanemi’s sword slices against the tatami mat, slicing with ease. His mind is on you and when you are due to return. He’s upset that you were set on a mission - your first one at that - while he was out on his own. He’s positive that you were ecstatic and jumping with joy - it causes his heart to beat harder. He regrets not being there to send you off, even when his nerves screams at him to find you.
You’re an adult, he tells himself.
You’re now a slayer, fully capable of fighting low-level demons.
But still, you were someone he cared about.
Sanemi cannot keep his mind at ease when Genya is away on missions, now that he has you and his brother on his mind, he’s sure he’ll never find peace.
Sorai, Sanemi’s crow, flocks his wings and places himself on a sliced tatami mat. The words released from the crows mouth has Sanemi’s eyes widening and his blood going cold.
Rengoku.
Dead.
Kyojuro is dead.
Sanemi’s right hand clenches his sword in his palm.
“I will annihilate all unsightly demons.” he hisses, turning away to make his way out of his home. His heart is pumping out his chest now and his nerves are screaming.
Kyojuro was a Hashira - a skilled one. What did that mean for you and Genya? You were out on a mission as we speak, too far away to know of Kyojuro’s death but that doesn’t ease his nerves one bit. He feels jittery. His mind is wandering to you fighting whatever demon you were sent out to and returning with serious injuries. His heart clenches when his mind flashes with you covered in blood, body lifeless.
“Sorai!” Sanemi hisses and his crow squawks. “Go find Y/N.”
Sorai flocks his wings and begins his journey. Lilac eyes follow him until he’s nothing but a mere figure in the sky.
Sanemi inhales deeply and exhales. He runs a calloused hand through his hair and down his face. He notices that his hand is trembling lightly with nerves.
You release a low sigh when you notice the familiar sight of the Butterfly Mansion. Your body aches and your ears are still ringing, but you manage to make it in one piece.
“CAW!”
Sharp feet landed upon your head.You hiss at the impact, wailing your hands around. “Sorai?” you murmur. “Where’s Sanemi?” you ask the crow.
“Shinazugawa-sama has sent me to assure your safety!” the crow squawks.
You find yourself grinning. You pet the crows head lightly. “Yes, I’ve arrived safely.” you tell him. “I’m going to the Butterfly Mansion to assure my injuries aren’t severe.”
Sorai squawks again, wings flapping to fly and give the news to Sanemi.
You enter the mansion to find it surprisingly quiet.
“Y/N-chan!”
It’s Naho. She’s crying at the sight of you - did you look that bad?
“I’ll go get Aoi! Shinobu-san is busy.”
You follow behind her to the infirmary. You’re glad you can finally lay down and relax.
You enter the room and groan. You fell onto the nearest bed and sighed.
“You must be in such pain.” Aoi murmurs, eyeing the way your ears hold dried blood.
“Little bit.” you mumble a response. “Just feel a little…tired.” you close your eyes, lids feeling heavy.
“Okay. You can sleep,Y/N-chan. I’ll give you some medicine for your wounds.”
You’re into a deep sleep by the time you hear Aoi’s words. It felt nice to be able to relax for now and not worry about anything.
Sanemi slams the shoji doors open, causing several nurses to yelp in surprise.
“Shinazugawa!” Aoi growls, eyebrows knitting into a scowl. “How many times-”
“What happened to her?”
Aoi watches with angered eyes as Sanemi stalks towards your sleeping figure.
Sanemi lowers himself to inspect you. There’s a few scratches on your skin and blood (dried) on the sides of your ears.
“She passed out around 10 minutes ago.” Aoi responds. “Now leave, she needs-”
Sanemi sits on the bed beside yours, deciding to ignore Aoi altogether.
Aoi scoffs. She turns her head to the other nurses and nods. They continue to scurry off out of the room.
“I’ll be back with some medicine for her.” Aoi grumbles and makes her way out of the room.
Sanemi allows himself to breathe now. When Sorai had come back to him and stated that you had returned safely but at the Butterfly Mansion, he had to be sure you were safe.
It was three hours later when you finally stirred awake. You feel groggily and your eyes are heavy. You yawned, pushing yourself up in the bed.
“You’re awake.”
You yelp at the sudden voice. “Nemi.”
Sanemi’s arms are crossed over his chest, eyes studying you.
“How long have you been here?”
Sanemi shrugs. “Not too long.” Sanemi responds. He hasn’t left since you were emitted.
“Ah,” you lean against the metal frame. “I’ve returned from my mission.”
You’re smiling tiredly at him.
“My heart feels so full and heavy. My mind cannot focus on anything.” you explain. “It’s all so overwhelming to return alive and well.”
“Your ears are bleeding. Are you sure you’re well?”
“Yes.” you nod. “The demon was a very loud screamer.” you giggle to yourself.
Sanemi swallows. He’s unsure how he was going to tell you about Kyojuro. You’ve grown close to the man and learning of his death would cause you great sorrow, and he didn’t like to see you upset or sad.
“Nemi?”
“Kyojuro…” Sanemi begins. “...went on a mission before you had. He didn’t make it.”
You tilt your head, ears registering his words.
“Kyojuro…is dead?” you swallow, throat dry.
It feels foolish to cry for someone knowing that this life was never guaranteed. You’ve grown close to him, sometimes speaking with him whenever you were free.
“Nemi…” you trail off, feeling your eyes become wet. You feel for Kyojuro and his family and it even feels selfish of you to be scared for Sanemi’s life now. Kyojuro was a Hashira just like Sanemi and if he was ultimately brought to death…
Your legs ache, but you do not hesitate to jump from your bed to where Sanemi sat. You wrapped him in a tight embrace, wet eyes crushing into his neck.
Sanemi’s shocked by your actions. He didn’t know Kyojuro’s death would impact you this much.
You sniffled in his neck. “I don’t want you to ever be in harm's way.” you murmur. Sanemi, Genya, Shinra…you didn’t want to see death for anyone apart from the Corps.
Sanemi gulps. He places an arm around you to bring you closer. He doesn’t usually touch you - sober, that was - but you were always clingy. He wants to comfort you, to tell you that everything would be alright. He wants to tell you that he wasn’t going to die - but he doesn’t wish to disappoint you with false promises he couldn’t guarantee.
Sanemi doesn’t speak as he holds onto you, but he’s positive that he too does not wish you to ever be in harm's way - he’s unsure if he would be able to live with himself if you or Genya didn’t come back from a mission alive.
The next few months consist of you and Sanemi attending missions alongside one another, sometimes with other slayers. You want to question why you haven’t been on a solo mission, but you don’t. You assume after Kyojuro’s death, that the Corps would rather keep lower ranks with higher ones, but you cannot be 100% sure.
However, you wouldn’t complain about being sent out with Sanemi. He was more of a guide, making sure nothing got too hectic for you - and it never did. He allowed you to behead any demons that you saw and the mission was complete. Then the two of you would return back to the estate until the next mission.
Weekly, you would have lunch that you’d cook with Sanemi, Genya, Shinra and Muichiro (whenever they weren’t sent on missions). Sanemi managed to bite his tongue and instead would grumble to himself, but it was progress. You enjoyed cooking for them and saw the three younger boys as little brothers.
Sanemi drew the line when you invited more - Tanjiro was such a lovely boy that you couldn’t help but want to feed him. With Tanjiro came Zenitsu and Inosuke - a brawl ensued when Inosuke insulted Sanemi and Genya retorted, both teenagers throwing insults and punches. But you enjoyed the lunch, nonetheless.
“We have another mission.” Sanemi says during breakfast. “Hiyori delivered it while you were bathing.”
“Ah, is that so?” you bring the sweet potato in your mouth and bite.
Sanemi nods. “A Hashira is to be present. Me.” he says. “More slayers are attending, as well. We were told to pack a bag - it might take longer than we expect.”
You nod and when the two of you are done with breakfast, you go to pack your bag. It can be classified as an undercover mission, so casual wear is expected.
It’s not long that you, Sanemi and a group of slayers are making your journey to Shinjuku, expected to arrive right in the evening. Sanemi wasn’t one to make stops, so you managed to pack a few snacks for the long way.
Once you arrive to Shinjuku you’re relieved. The sun was barely shining and you just wanted to find whatever demon was here and kill it. Seeing as the lot of you were expected to be undercover, you’re sure it wouldn’t work out that way.
“You,” Sanemi points to a group of 5 slayers. “find an inn and see what you can gather about our mission.”
The five slayers bow and head on their way. Sanemi’s turns his eyes to another four. “You do the same in the opposite direction.”
There's only you, him and two slayers left - one girl named Sumire and a boy by the name of Roshi. “There’s an inn on the outskirts of Shinjuku. We’ll head there, find a room and change. The sun will fall soon and we’ll have to investigate whatever demon lurks here.”
The inn wasn’t far and a ten minute walk has you four arriving there. It appears to be the nicest Inn in the city for it to be such a long distance from it.
“Welcome in!” a woman behind the counter eyes the four of you, her eyes recognizing the uniform displayed. “Two rooms?”
“Four.” Sanemi corrects.
“Ah…” the woman leans forward, eyes staring at Sanemi’s chest, a grin formed onto her lips. “I apologize, sir, but we only do couples in Shinjuku.”
Sanemi scoffs. “What type of shit is that?” he hisses. He’s never heard of an entire city only catering to couples.
“We’re known as a honeymoon retreat here.” the lady shrugs. “I do apologize for any inconvenience.”
“It’s fine.” you sigh. “I can room with Sumire-”
“Please don’t.” Roshi whimpers, shaking his head. He wanted to be nowhere near Sanemi - especially not when his annoyance was rising. “I’ll take the floor so Sumire can have the bed - really!”
“Then it’s settled. Two rooms for two couples.” the lady turns to grasp a set of keys in both manicured hands and she dangles them out for you all to grasp.
Sanemi snatches the key and scurries down the hall while Sumire takes the other.
“We’ll get settled, changed and make our way out for the night.” you tell Sumire and Roshi.
“Yes.” Sumire and Roshi reply in unison.
Sanemi slams the door shut as the two of you enter, dropping his bag onto the large bed.
“The sun will be setting soon.” you note aloud. “Do we have a set plan?”
“There’s obviously something going on here.” Sanemi says. He removes a yukata from his belongings. “Shinjuku was not known to be a couples retreat - not until now.”
“Do you think whatever demons here are targeting couples?” you tilt your head to think. Eating two people would be smarter than one, but still, a demon was stronger than a regular civilian. “It seems to be a lot of effort on the demon's part.”
Sanemi shrugs. Whatever the demon was doing, he’d be sure to put an end to it.
Sanemi and you roamed Shinjuku. It appeared bright even when the sun was down. You noticed that it indeed was a couples affair - you noticed no one walking alone. What also caught your attention was the lack of children present - or those who were older.
“You two look new here.”
Sanemi’s eyes flicker to the voice.
“We are.” you smile at them, inching closer to Sanemi.
“Oh! How long have you two been married?” the woman asks and now you’re unsure what to say.
“Honeymoon.” Sanemi responds. “Was recommended by a friend.”
The woman nods her head. “It’s amazing here! We’ve been here twice already. Have you two been to…”
You await for her to continue, but her eyes look as if waiting for you to catch on.
“...Uh…?” you turn to Sanemi who doesn’t even look interested.
“The couples…brothel?” the woman flushes bright red as she speaks, her husband laughing nervously.
“Couples brothel?”
Sanemi was intrigued now.
“Yes. You have to be approved first - we haven’t.”
“What do you do there?” you ask, unsure of what in the world this mission was going to put you through.
“If approved, you get to be doted on…” the woman is far too embarrassed to continue but you’re sure you get where she’s going.
“Ah.” you nod your head. “I never knew that was something.”
“Yes. It happens every day at a different inn.” the husband says.
“Today should be…”
Sanemi sighs. He has a guess of what inn it would be happening at.
“We have to go.” Sanemi says, stomping off.
“Sorai.” Your eyes look into the sky at the flying bird. “Inform the other slayers of the demon. Tell them to patrol the streets and make sure no civilians are harmed.”
“Where are we-”
“Back to the Inn.” Sanemi answers your question before you can respond. “That woman insisted on couples because that’s how the demon feeds without getting caught.”
“She chooses her victims strategically.” you murmur. “Not everyone gets accepted.”
“She must know we’re slayers - or at least senses that there’s something off about us.” Sanemi picks up the pace. “Only way to find out…”
Sanemi wraps you in a tight embrace as you both enter the inn. It catches you by surprise - his sudden closeness.
“Hello!” a lady claps her hands at your arrival. “Are you guests here already?” it’s not the same woman as yesterday, you note.
Sanemi nods his head, arms wrapped tightly around you. “Yes. We’re hoping we can join.”
The woman is nodding, quite aware of what Sanemi is asking of her. “You’re in luck. Our mistress had not yet chosen a couple.” she eyes the way you and Sanemi appear. “I’m positive we found a good choice in the two of you.”
Sanemi swallows. He’s unsure how, but she knows there’s something off about the two of you - you aren’t an ordinary couple. She’s no demon, he would know if she was.
“Follow me,” the woman motions with her hand for the two of you to come.
You walk, as does Sanemi. He won’t admit it, but having your body against his makes him feel at ease; just knowing you’re close and away from harm.
The hallway is long and seemingly away from the other rooms of the inn. The lights grow dim the closer the three of you step. You were sure it had to do with the demon.
“Go right into the room. The mistress will be in shortly. There are refreshments inside, as well.” The woman slides open the doors and bows as you enter. “Do have some fun while you wait.” She shuts them and you hear her footsteps pat down the hall until they’re inaudible.
“Room’s nice.” your eyes scan around the room, appearing quite large in size and lights just as dim as the hallway.
Sanemi grunts but doesn’t say a response. He sits upon the mat, eyes scanning for any sign of the demon.
You take a seat besides him and inhale. The room was humid.
“Have your sword ready.” Sanemi murmurs. You’re seated besides him, far too close. His noses appear to be heightened, your aroma nearly intoxicating him. He swallows thickly.
“It’s fucking hot.” Sanemi hisses. “Where’s that bitch?”
You were beginning to feel the same way. Your kimono wasn’t tight, but it felt as if it was sticking to you. The air felt so heavy, humid and…you shiver, goosebumps erupting onto your skin.
“I feel weird.” you tell Sanemi after a long moment.
Sanemi’s eyes turn to you besides him. He notes there’s sweat lining your forehead and you’re panting lightly. Your legs are shuffling together, hands clenching in your lap. He notes that in the midst of your anxious state, you loosened your kimono and beneath it shows your uniform - the same uniform you wore when he gifted you his haori. He’d scream and berate the perverted kakushi for a new uniform just for you to wear both, stating that you didn’t want to be a bother. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the way you looked in it, not at all. He enjoyed it too much, often finding his eyes and mind wandering to places they shouldn’t.
“You should drink something.” Sanemi tears his eyes away from you to eye the refreshments besides them. There isn’t any water, just wine, but it’ll have to do. “Just enough so you won’t feel parched.”
You nod your head. You wouldn’t be off your game after a sip of wine. You reach for the wine besides Sanemi, a low apology when your arm touches his. It sends a jolt throughout him, this time reaching lower than his heart.
Sanemi’s eyes are shameless now. He doesn’t hide the fact that he’s watching you. Your hands are shaking as you take the bottle of wine in your hands. You unscrew it and begin to pour. “W-Would you like some?”
Sanemi blinks at the sound of your voice, but he nods. He takes the small, silver goblet from your trembling hands and nods his thanks. He drinks the wine in one swift movement, downing it while his eyes watch yours. He was sure he could have another, and another as long as you served him.
You aren’t as fast as Sanemi. You smell the wine first before going in to take a sip. It’s good - expensive too. You find yourself drinking the wine keen, enjoying the refreshing taste it gives.
Sanemi’s eyes watch as the wine, a crimson red color, drips from the corner of your mouth and down your jaw, to your chin and drips onto your collarbone. It teases him, he thinks, as it slowly drips onto your exposed breasts.
Sanemi licks his lips and groans. He yanks the wine bottle and pours himself another and downs it. He goes to pour himself another one, but he feels a hand on his wrist.
“You’re going to drink it all.” you say, voice laced with mischief.
Sanemi inhales. The room was growing hotter.
Sanemi pours the wine, but this time he doesn’t drink it. He lifts it to your own lips, tapping them so you’d open them. You do, gently drinking the wine from his hands. You couldn’t contain the laughter coming from your throat as you do so, the wine splashing onto your kimono.
Sanemi feels hot all over again, his uniform beneath his yukata growing tighter.
“Nemi?”
Sanemi gulps. “Hm?”
“Do you think I’m hot?”
Sanemi coughs at your question, flushing.
Why was the room growing hotter?
Why does his clothes feel like they’re sticking to him?
Sanemi was growing confused by the second - why were the two of you even in this room?
“Why do you ask?” Sanemi drops the goblet.
“Because you never say it.” Were you intoxicated now? You didn’t appear to be, your words weren’t slurring and your vision didn’t appear hazy. “Are you attracted to me?”
Sanemi feels you come closer. He’s stiff - you had to be drunk. You’re pushing off your kimono, now just only in the revealing corp uniform. He gasps when you climb into his lap, both legs trapping him beneath you.
“You look scared.” You were teasing him. You sit directly onto him, the bulge of his cock twitching when he feels the heartbeat that’s your pussy. “You’re supposed to be the fearless Wind Hashira.”
Sanemi places his hands against your exposed thighs and groans at the smoothness of your skin. He’d often wake from dreams of you and him being in this very position - he’d either have to shower with the coldest water or pump himself until he was cumming. The last option was the most embarrassing.
“Are you afraid of me?” you’re teasing him again, repeating the same words he said to you in Asakusa. Though he wasn’t pressing himself against you like this, he wouldn’t complain either.
Sanemi groans once more at the feeling of you slightly grinding against him.
Yes, Sanemi was afraid of you. You made him feel different - the jolting in his heart that dives all the way down to his cock. He often finds himself staring at you, so long that his eyes grow dry and he has to blink just to regain moisture. He often has to hear Uzui’s and Shinobu’s teasing of his feelings for you, no matter how much he attempts to deny it himself.
“No.” Sanemi murmurs, even if it was a lie.
“Then kiss me.” you lean forward, inches away from Sanemi’s lips. He gulps, licking his lips. Your lavender aroma fills his nostrils and he finds all the sanity he had left gone.
Sanemi presses his lips against yours, his fingernails digging into the skin of your thigh. He doesn’t want to let you go - whatever this was he doesn’t want it to end. All that clouds his thoughts now were you - your scent, your touch, the sound of you. It intoxicates him that whatever the two of you were initially supposed to be doing in this room has since been forgotten.
You feel your throat tighten and you’re being lifted. Your eyes shoot open and you’re gasping for air, eyes watching someone - you? It wasn’t you.
The demon had taken the form of you now, leaning against a panting Sanemi. He’s in a trance, you note, not noticing that he was now in the hands of the demon. Her eyes look up at you once for a second and now, your blood is running cold. ‘Lower Rank Six’ engraved into her eyes.
You struggle to get yourself loose. It’s obvious that the demon has Sanemi in a trance and you were the one that needed to behead the bitch.
“Thank you for bringing me a Hashira.” the demon cackles. “I can show my lord that I am capable of killing a Hashira and then I’ll work my way up. He has given me a second chance just for this moment!”
You struggle against a hooked tail, but manage to get one arm loose to unsheathe your sword. You swipe at it, slashing it so you can release yourself. “Get away from him!”
The demon’s eyes widen but she then laughs. “I’m sorry I have to consume your lover.” she taunts. “Virgins don’t know what to do with a man.” the demon taunts. The air appears to be foggy and once again you feel hot with desire.
“You’re nothing but a demon that’s going to die here.” you spit at her.
The demon shrieks at your words. “Such a disgusting human! You don’t deserve to be in my presence!”
You swipe your sword to dodge her attack. You needed to get this over with now before you wasted any more time. Your mind was fogging with whatever she’s done, an obvious demon blood art.
“You’re nothing but a weak lower moon.” you spat back at her with the same venom.
The demon hisses and sends an array of attacks with her hooked tail. “Wind Breathing: Third Form:” you proceed to release a whirlwind of slashes around you to defend yourself from her attack.”Clean Storm Wind Tree!” Your eyes focus on her neck - you had to finish her off now. You raise your sword and slash it across her neck, a clean swipe that cuts the demon’s head right off.
The demon screams at her sudden defeat, but another gush of fog surrounds the entirety of the room just as her head and body harshly crash onto the ground.
You drop your sword beside you, making your way to Sanemi. His eyes are closed and he appears to be asleep.
“Nemi?” you call, falling to your knees. You place a hand upon his cheek and flinch when his eyes dart open. “Nemi…”
Your words trailed off and neither of you talked, only stared at the other. The room was boiling now, sweat pooling off of your body. You were sure you’d hear a pin drop with how silent the room remained.
“We should…go…” you managed to speak, but it was difficult. Your throat is dry and your ears are beginning to ring. Your clothing is uncomfortable and tight, sticking to your skin like glue. “Nemi…I-I don’t feel good.” you admit to him after another few moments of tortured silence. Your legs are beginning to clench together, the friction feeling good, an electric shock between your legs.
You knew this feeling, you were no prude. You were sexually frustrated. There was no doubt a wet spot between your legs and the friction of your thighs clenching together brought a temporary satisfaction. You would admit that you touched yourself often when you needed to just to let loose and unwind, but that frustration wasn’t anywhere near how you felt now.
You scoff bitterly to yourself. To think you endured hellish training to become a slayer just for sexual frustration to be your downfall.
“Let’s go.” Sanemi nods, head heavy. “We need to get our stuff from the room.”
Standing is difficult for Sanemi. His clothing is tight and there’s an obvious bulge in his uniform pants. He allows you to lead the way, his sane mind screaming to not stare at the way your ass moves, but he doesn’t care. He was a man, after all, a man drugged by a demon. He wants to laugh at the circumstances.
The woman is nowhere to be found when you pass the front end of the inn. You assumed she was nothing but a pawn for the demon and was left alive as long as she offered her humans to consume.
Entering the bedroom, you close the shoji doors behind you and Sanemi.
“I hope everyone else is alright.” you murmur to yourself, leaning against the door. “We should probably be heading out-”
You stop speaking once you realize Sanemi’s hands are clenching his hair tightly. His chest is rising and falling and he appears to be in pain.
“Nemi-” you reach out to touch him, but Sanmi harshly pushes you away. Your eyes widen at the sudden action. “I-I…are you in pain? I-”
“Leave, Y/N.” Sanemi’s gruff voice startles you. “Go to Kocho and take the slayers with you.”
“I can’t leave you here.” you say. You’re ashamed that his voice turns you on. You hold the edge of your uniform skirt. “You’re in pain-”
“You know I’m not in pain!” Sanemi hisses. His tone would have anyone else cowering, but here you stood with wide (heart) eyes and clenching thighs. “You know what you’re doing to me, Y/N.”
You gulp at his words.
“I’m trying my hardest not to fuck you against the wall.” Sanemi stares at your face. “Leave. Now.”
Sanemi turns away from you and you’re shocked by his choice of words. You’re certain the demon art is affecting him just as much as it’s affecting you.
But…there it was. The sensation pooling between your legs - the heartbeat taunting you. His words made you wet, you note. It was a warning - don’t come closer, don’t keep trying to help; run away before he’d do something that he wouldn’t do normally. It’s a sort of adrenaline rush to be playing with fire.
“I can help you.” you gulp. You decide to step closer to him and wrap your hands onto his bicep. “I want-”
Sanemi’s fast in his action, gripping your jaw to press a firm kiss upon your lips. He’s holding back, you know, not wishing to hurt you. He knows you haven’t done this before and the sane part of him wants to stop - to not take you while he cannot control himself. “You need to leave, Y/N.” Sanemi’s pleading with you now. He didn’t want to have your first time like this. He’s trembling, all ounce of strength fighting animalistic urges. He almost feels nauseous, mind flashing in all the ways he could take you right now - how vulnerable you’d be beneath him and how good you’d look stuffed with his seed.
Sanemi shakes his head aggressively, wanting to get rid of the perverted thoughts of you, but he cannot. It’s humiliating to think that these thoughts were there before, but with the demon art, it’s completely unbearable.
You were always the stubborn one, never heeding warning. You raise a hand to place it upon his yukuta. You clench it to pull him forward to press your lips upon his once more. Sanemi’s breathing intensifies in the kiss and still, there’s a little part in him that’s holding back the urges to completely demolish you like the demon art (and him, as well) desired.
“Let me help you, Nemi. It doesn’t matter how long it takes!” you’re pleading with him now, heavily panting when you release his lips for oxygen. You’re also affected by the demon art, even if your own desires were buried deep. “You’d help me so much. I can do the same.” The sound of your begs drive Sanemi wild, his mind refusing to stop sending the illusions of you in different, perverted positions until he acts upon them.
Sanemi’s hands reach out to touch you, bringing you closer to him. You’re against his chest and when his hands sneak out to touch the curves of your body, he knows he won’t be able to stop.
Stop - Sanemi tells himself.
You'll regret this.
He’d regret this.
He’s taking advantage of your vulnerable state - this isn’t you, this is the demon art.
You want this - another part of his brain denies the sane part of him. There’s an internal dialogue happening right in his mind.
He wanted this. He’d always wanted this.
He wanted to be deep inside of you - so deep that there wasn’t a way you couldn’t not be impregnated.
You’d be his and his alone - you’d give him the family he desired.
“Nemi, please…”
Sanemi doesn’t hold back any longer, fully succumbing to the demon art that’s blinding his best judgment. Your back slams against the futon, sending shocks all over your body, but you aren’t upset at Sanemi’s sudden change in demeanor. His hands are ripping at your uniform, not caring about any damage it causes. He shudders when his hands finally manage to touch you. The countless times he would touch himself to any little amount of skin you showed him - and now you were nearly nude before him.
Sanemi never wanted to thank a demon before in his life.
You’re moaning when Sanemi’s lips kiss along your neck, tongue trailing along as he does so. His hands are groping your breast, the bandages binding them are ripped apart in seconds and they spring free.
Sanemi’s face is between your breasts in seconds, kissing sloppily. You’re so beautiful. He wanted to admire your beauty as much as he could - there was no going back now and who knows what would happen when the demon art wore off. But Sanemi couldn’t slow his pace now, you made him delirious.
Your body jerks when you feel a warm, wet sensation on your nipples. Sanemi’s tongue suckles on your left while his thumb tugs on the right. It causes you to moan louder, the feeling foreign and you never wanted it to end.
It wasn’t soon until Sanemi had you fully naked before him. He’s in awe, truly, eyes completely blown out. It’s unclear to him how he could still manage to hold back completely being barbaric when it comes to the sight of you, but maybe it’s the respect he held dear to his heart for you.
Sanemi’s lips kiss down your breast, to your stomach down to your abdomen. He pushes your legs apart and swallows when he catches sight just how wet you were.
You squirm under Sanemi’s gaze, unsure what he was doing. You go to close your legs but Sanemi only pushes them apart further.
“N-Nemi!” you gasp once you feel his tongue flat against your clit. It’s a weird feeling of euphoria that has your eyes rolling. “S-stop!” you’re struggling against Sanemi’s tongue, doing everything in your power to get him to stop. “I can’t take anymore, Nemi…”
Sanemi doesn’t care about your babblings. Your taste intoxicates him just like your scent does. Your moans are so sweet, like his favorite tune playing again and again in his ears. His fingernails dig into the skin of your thigh and he’s bobbing his head back and forth over and over again until you’re sobbing.
Sanemi lifts his head from your swollen clit and licks his lips. He’s hovering above your twitching form and even now as you’re overstimulated with pleasure and sobbing, he cannot bring himself to stop.
“Nemi…”
Sanemi presses three fingers against your clit, rubbing tauntingly. “You can take it.” he encourages. After all, if you cannot handle his tongue and fingers, how’d you ever handle his cock?
Sanemi rubs a few more times before his fingers inch inside of you. His lips are kissing along your face, kissing along at the tears of pleasure.
You’re tight and it excites Sanemi. Knowing that he would be the one to deflower you - be the first (and preferably only) man you’d been with. It causes goosebumps to litter his skin.
The feeling of Sanemi’s fingers inside of you hurts - you’ve never done so before. He isn’t going slow either to allow you to adjust, he’s pumping with such force that it compels you into pleasure.
“I feel weird, Nemi…” you’re panting, feeling the bubbling feeling deep in your stomach. “Stop, I-I don’t wanna cum like this.” your hand wraps around his wrist to stop him - even if Sanemi refuses. “I wanna feel you around me when I do.”
Sanemi’s cock twitches at your words, but he wastes no time.
With hooded eyes, you watch as Sanemi undresses. You hadn’t realized just how clothed he was while you laid completely bare.
Sanemi’s body was beautiful, chiseled muscles sculpting his entire body. You flush at the sight of his completely nude body - cock erect. Your legs twitch with nervousness..
Sanemi hovers above you. There’s a flash in his eyes - you notice. His forehead is pressed against yours and for a moment his eyes are soft, no longer harboring the feral reaction.
“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.” he murmurs to you. It’s the voice that belonged to Sanemi - not the one under the demon art, but the man that you trained alongside for a year.
You didn’t have the chance to respond. Sanemi is entering you now and your hands go to clench his biceps harshly. It doesn’t hurt him, of course, but the pressure for you is nearly unbearable. Your legs wrap around him tight, hoping he wouldn’t move too soon.
You inhale deeply, trembling with the newfound pain. Sanemi is big - but any cock would be for you. You just hoped Sanemi wasn’t far too gone in the demon’s spell and wouldn’t hurt you too much.
Sanemi’s patience was slowly breaking. He found himself grinding into her for any sort of friction or pleasure. There’s only so much a man like him could take, his mind kept replaying the countless ways he could take you right now and he was truly fighting an internal battle.
Sanemi thrusted out of you fully to thrust back in. You released a surprised wail, eyes shutting tight. Your fingernails would be another scar left upon his skin.
“I can’t take it.” you cry out, walls completely sore by taking his cock in you fully. The pressure was unbearable and by the looks of the man, he appeared utterly insatiable.
“You can.” Sanemi’s voice is so raspy and deep that you were positive he was far gone. He continues to thrust deep inside of you that your back hits the futon with each thrust. He’s strong - far stronger than you’d ever hope to be - and getting him to stop was going to be difficult.
You felt the hot tears pool down your cheeks. You were being stretched out far too much for you to keep your composure. You were clenching around him so heavenly that he never wanted to stop - never wanted to be out of you; without you.
“Nemi, please…”
Sanemi’s hips buckled and he halts his movements.
Keep going - the voice in his mind tells him.
But it’s your sadden pleas that has his sanity coming back - just for a moment. He witnesses your tears falling and his heart aches - was he the one making you cry?
Sanemi goes to pull himself out, but you stop him. You wrap your arms around him and bring him closer to you. His chest is against yours while your lips lined up against his ears. You’re panting, attempting to catch your breath and adjust to his size.
Sanemi’s arms wrap around your body, the intimate moment was one he wished he could remain in forever; never wishing to let you go.
“Nemi?”
You clench around him and Sanemi hums a response. You loosen your hold onto him, a signal that you wanted him to continue.
Sanemi grinds inside of you, his hold on you only growing tighter. He’s deep, never wishing to be anywhere else but inside of you. He picks up his pace, noticing how your cries were becoming moans.
This is what sex felt like. The pain was slowly subsiding and the pleasure was taking over. You can hear the way your pussy sounds against his pumping cock - wet and inviting, satiating his hunger for you.
Sanemi releases his hold on you to lean back. His eyes are hooded as he watches the way your breast bounces. He picks up the pace, cock sliding in and out of you - rougher, deeper, faster.
So beautiful, Sanemi thinks. So beautiful and his - all his. The dark thoughts were coming back with each passing second and his sanity was losing to the demonic spell.
You yourself felt whatever sanity you had left was now leaving. You no longer cared if Sanemi was hurting you or not - what you did know was that now you felt good; so good. His cock pumps inside of you at an alarming pace that would even be considered pleasurable if you weren’t receiving it.
Sanemi’s hands grip your breast so tightly that he's sure they would leave marks. His eyes fixated on the bulge of your stomach, mind racing with the thought of you round and pregnant with his child. He allows one hand to leave your breast to cup your stomach, rubbing lightly as he fucks you.
“I can’t wait to fuck a baby in you.”
Sanemi’s words would cause you to gasp if you weren’t caught in the moment. Your mind was fucked out with how good he’s fucking you that a baby didn’t seem bad - how the two of you forgotten about the world full of demons and the mission you were currently on.
“Get you nice and pregnant. I’ll take care of you.” He’s now hitting your g-spot as he speaks, eyes completely blown out with pleasure. Your knees are touching your shoulders and you’re positive you’ve never been this flexible before. “I’ll take care of all of our kids.”
You’re crying beneath him, pleasure overwhelming. Your sobs don’t go unnoticed, but he doesn’t care. He’ll fuck you until he was done - fuck you until he was sure you were pregnat with the child he was promising you.
“I want them to look just like you. So perfect.” Sanemi moans at the thought of you full of cum, round with his child.
You’re cumming, writhing beneath him. You’re soaking the futon beneath the two of you, but neither of you care. Sanemi was on a mission - a rampage. Nothing was going to stop him from achieving his perverted dreams.
Sanemi cums deep inside of you, twitching as he does so. He’s panting while sweat pools off of his skin and onto yours.
Sanemi wants more.
He flips you over, face burning into the futon. He enters you like an animal, continuing the brutal pace. He’s fucking into you deeper, your screams echoing off the room walls. If anyone was inside the inn, neither of you cared. He almost wished someone was listening so they could hear how good he was fucking you.
You’re drooling. You could no longer focus on anything but the cock inside of you - and even then you wanted more. Was this what heaven felt like? Paradise? To be stuff so good but the man you adored that you never wanted it to end?
How could you go back to pleasuring yourself when Sanemi knew how to do it so wonderfully?
Sanemi filled you again - three more times before he changed the position. He brought you on top of him and fucked into you, not allowing you any control. The stamina of a Hashira was amazing. He fucked you like a ragdoll, but you had no complaints.
His fucking dragged on majority of the night - against the wall, in his arms, on your back, on your side - every position he deemed fuckable, he had you in.He would hiss such dirty worlds in your ears that you’d convulse into a cumming mess for him.
One things for certain - neither of you wanted this night to end.
Your legs ached, as did the entirety of your body.
You stirred away, the sun from the open window blinding your eyes.
You push yourself up from the futon, the blanket you were wrapped in falling to expose your naked figure.
You were sore and one look at your appearance has your mind fluttering with memories.
“Nemi…?” you call out to nothing. You were alone in the room the two of you shared the night prior. You scanned the area to find no trace of him - not even his belongings.
Your legs tremble as you stand to your feet. You take nearly 10 minutes to get dressed, but you cannot be blamed. Your body is covered with bruises and marks that hiding it with Sanemi’s gifted haori was difficult, but manageable.
You make your way out of the room, belongings in hand. You walk past the innkeeper who doesn’t say a word - a different woman from the first two you met the day prior.
“CAW!”
Hiyori flies above you just as you exit the inn. If you had to guess, it was an hour before noon.
“Y/L Y/N is to report to the Butterfly Mansion for treatment! Y/L Y/N and others to the Butterfly Mansion!”
“Hiyori.” you call the crow, holding out your arm. “Where’s Sanemi?”
“Shinazugawa-sama has left on his own in the morning!”
Left.
Sanemi had left you here?
Alone?
“Y/N!”
It’s Sumire and Roshi, returning back to you appearing slightly disheveled.
“W-What-”
“Don’t ask.” Sumire’s flushing bright red.
“Please.” Rochi murmurs and you notice none of them can look the other in the eye.
Your mind connects the dots.
You and Sanemi were not the only two subjected to the demon’s spell.
“Did you see Sanemi leave?” you ask the two slayers.
“Yes. Shinazugawa-sama took the others and left. We were told to wait for you.” Sumire exclaims. “Didn’t say much but to wait until you were up to head to the Butterfly Mansion.”
You nod your head. You swallow, heart aching with the realization that Sanemi had left you.
Had Sanemi regretted the night with you? Had he woke up disgusted with your actions that he didn’t even wish to look at you?
No.
Sanemi wasn’t like this. He didn’t run from his issues. He had to go to the Butterfly Mansion with the other slayers. You wouldn’t think too much into it.
But it was hard not to think too much into it, you think. The entire journey to the Butterfly Mansion had left you completely distracted by memories of the previous night and the nervousness of having to face the Wind Hashira once more.
The Butterfly Mansion was hectic, nurses scurrying around to help while Kakushi lined up to do the same. You almost felt out of place coming here. You didn’t even have any scars from the attack with the demon and it appears Sumire and Roshi were alright, as well, only a bit awkward.
“Are you two alright?” you turn to the two slayers who nod, avoiding contact with the other. “The mission wasn’t as deadly as we expected. The Lower Moon-”
“Lower Moon?!” Roshi and Sumire gasp in unison with wide eyes. “There was a lower moon there?” Sumire questions.
“We fought off a few demons but they weren’t strong. They might have been only a few years turned.”
You nod your head. “Yes.” you look between the two of them. “Her demon art was…powerful. Are you sure the two of you are alright?”
You see flashes in your mind of you and Sanemi together the entirety of the night.
“Yes.” Roshi’s cheeks are dusty red.
“Yea.” Sumire responds, as well.
You nod your head and offer the two of them a soft smile. “Okay. Good job on the mission.” you tell them. “Please rest.”
Your eyes watch Sumire and Hoshi scurry away and you release an exhausted sigh.
“Y/N?”
Your head snaps to the sound of your name. You bow to Shinobu who does the same.
“Are you alright? I heard your mission was successful by Shinazugawa.”
You nod your head. “Yes. I returned just now.” you wondered what else Sanemi had told her. “It’s hectic here.”
“Indeed it is. Uzui has returned with Tanjiro, Inosuke and Zenitsu. An Upper Moon was defeated.”
Your eyes widen. “An Upper Moon? Are they safe?” you returned seemingly fine after your battle - if you can even call it that, the demon appeared far too weak to be considered a part of the 12 Kizuki. You couldn’t imagine fighting an Upper Moon.
“Recovering. They’re all fallen into coma’s but we’re positive they will recover.”
A sigh of relief comes from your lips. “Uzui-san? Is he here?”
“Was. He left hours before you returned. He has retired as a Hashira.”
You were sure your eyes were going to pop out their socket one of these days. The sudden information was hitting you at each possible angle.
“I know you’ve grown attached to the younger slayers. Maybe you can come visit them once everything settles down.” Shinobu offers a smile. “Uzui is at his estate with his wives as if he didn’t lose an eye or hand. I’m sure he’d be happy to see you.”
“Huh?!” your hands clench at - yet again - another sudden information. Uzui was a Hashira, so tall and muscular and extremely skilled.
“Uzui is fine, truly. Rambling on about appearing even more flashy with an eyepatch.” Shinobu giggles slightly. “How are you, Y/N? Shinazugawa was here earlier but nothing appeared to be wrong with him or the others. I assume the same goes for you?”
You swallow and nod.
“Good.” Shinobu scans your appearance. You had the white haori that once belonged to Sanemi wrapped tightly around your frame. You showed no skin - which wasn’t exactly alarming, but you also never appeared so awkwardly nervous.
Shinobu’s eyes are beautiful, so large and deep purple. Now, however, they seemed to be looking into your soul, searching for your deepest and darkest secrets.
“I should be going now, Shinobu-san.” you bow.
“Don’t be a stranger, Y/N.” she offers a curt wave. “I love the new glow you have to you.” that tone in her voice - you feel hot with embarrassment. She was teasing you.
“CAW!”
You haven’t been outside for more than five minutes before Hiyori returns.
“Oyakata-sama has sent for you!”
“Ah.” you sigh deeply. “I suppose I can see what Oyakata-sama needs.”
You made your journey towards the Ubuyashiki Estate, Hiyori soaring above you. It doesn’t take long and upon entering you note that Oyakata has already been waiting for your appearance.
You bow in front of him. “Oyakata-sama. I have arrived.”
Kagaya offers a curt smile. “Y/L Y/N. It is nice to be in your presence once more.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Oyakata-sama.”
You lift your head, knees remaining on the ground.
“Congratulations on returning from your mission safely. You have defeated a Lower Moon.” Kagaya praises.
Your heart feels full to be praised.
“Thank you, Oyakata-sama. But please, it was nothing. Uzui-san and the others are the true remarkable ones.” You still cannot fathom coming in the presence of such a remarkably strong demon.
“You also deserve praise, Y/N.” Kagaya says. “You managed to defeat a Lower Moon. There’s many slayers who did not have the same fate.”
You nod to yourself. You suppose he was right.
“You would make an exceptional Wind Hashira if the title was not already occupied.” Kagaya compliments once more. “I am content that you, my child, are a part of the Corps.”
“Thank you, Oyakata-sama.” you say, standing to your feet.
“Thank you, Y/N.” Kagaya said, but before you could speak, he continued. “Sanemi has transformed for the better. I assume that it is your doing.”
You swallow at the sound of Sanemi’s name. You had yet to see him and speak about what has happened during the mission.
“I cannot take responsibility for Shinazugawa-san’s credibility. He was always an amazing Hashira before me!”
Kagaya chuckles to himself lowly. “Indeed he was, my child. But behind every great man, there’s a partner. A woman like yourself.” Kagaya lightly pets the crow that sits beside him. His head remains straight forward, body unmoving. “Give yourself more grace, Y/N. You are free to go as you please. Thank you for speaking with me.”
“Y-Yes.” you inhale a response, bowing before turning away. “Thank you, Oyakata-sama.”
The master's words replay in your head as you make your way to Sanemi’s estate. You deserve praise, he said. You changed Sanemi for the better. Did you, though? Sanemi always appeared amazing to you - at any and everything he did. Sure he had a temper but it was never towards you. Maybe Sanemi had taken the swear the two of you made seriously.
Entering the mansion, you note just how quiet it was inside. Where was Sanemi? You knew he returned earlier in the day.
You decided to not dwell on it and bathe. You hadn’t had the chance to upon waking up, only a light wash up. Witnessing the bruises and bites littering your skin causes you to flush at the memory of you and Sanemi together.
Hours had passed since you bathed and since then you had managed to cook dinner for the two of you - Sanemi’s dish had sat cold. You pondered where he could possibly be - surely Oyakata-sama didn’t send him on another mission.
You began to feel as if Sanemi was purposely avoiding you. As days dragged on, you had yet to see him. You continued your training alone, not witnessing any sight of him. You would eat alone without him, always setting a plate down for him that he would eat whenever he did return while you were gone.
It was only when the second week dragged on did Sanemi return, though barely. You caught a glimpse of him entering the bathroom just as you finished dinner. You waited for him to enter, and when he finally had you were left disappointed. He didn’t spare you a glance, entering his bedroom and not exiting.
Weeksn dragged on and you noticed that you and Sanemi no longer attended missions together. Hiyori would come and deliver your own solo missions and you’d go - not having someone besides you had your heart yearning for company.
While Sanemi obviously ignored you, you would often visit Uzui and his wives. You’d relax at the onsen with them while not on missions, often eating dinner. Uzui was not a fool to notice the look in your eyes - you were attempting to get your mind off of a certain white haired bastard.
You visited Inosuke and Zenitsu, offering them sweets while they trained and waited for Tanjiro to wake. You remained cooking for Shinra, Genya and Muichiro when the three were free, Sanemi’s place at the table untouched.
There was a shift that everyone noticed. Sanemi’s attitude was going back to what it once was - abrasive and rash. The slayers had to tiptoe around him once more, not having you around as their savior.
The Hashira has since taken note that there was something wrong with you and Sanemi. Shinobu had seen more of the Wind hashira at the Butterfly Estate to heal petty wounds that he'd usually got to you for - when she asked why he was there, he had snapped at her and stated that it was “her job” to do so.
Obanai and Sanemi train together often, now more than ever. He would visit the Serpent estate to train just so he didn’t have to be home - Iguro never questioned him.
Muichiro is air headed and often stuck in his own mind when he wasn’t out on missions. But he recognizes a shift in your behavior. Your eyes are sadder than he remembers them and all he can think to do is do the things he liked to do - with you. He’d watch the clouds with you, not speaking unless you did. He would make origami with you, claiming that yours were trash - it caused you to laugh at his insensitive truth - and would end up gifting you one of his origami pieces.
Mitsuri’s would often feed you, claiming that whenever she was down, she desired to eat delicious foods. She didn’t want to ask anything of you and Sanemi’s relationship, but she just hoped that whatever did happen that it would end soon.
You were grateful for everyone's attempts in changing your mood and it would be selfish to say that it didn’t work. However, as the second month kicks, you realize just how foolish you feel. Your head has been far too into Sanemi and why he was ignoring you (and your own separate missions) that you ignored your own overall health.
“Y/N.”
Shinobu tilts her head at you, curiosity in her eyes. Her face turns to a look of concern.
“Pregnant.” you repeat her words.
Could you even be surprised? You were in the second month since the mission in Shinjuku. The last thing on your mind upon returning was a contraceptive and even when you woke up feeling less than yourself, you still couldn’t accept that you were with child.
“You must think I’m so stupid.” you laugh humorlessly at Shinobu, insect-like eyes watching your every move.
“Of course not!” Shinobu denies. “Why would you think such a thing?”
You inhale deeply. You thought as much because it was what you were feeling. Stupid - pregnant by Sanemi and it appeared now that he wanted nothing to do with you. Stupid for getting pregnant when your occupation was killing demons.
“Y/N. Are things with you and Shinazugawa…good?” Shinobu doesn’t want to pry, but now you were with child and appeared disgusted, concerned and frightened all at once.
You swallow, throat tightening. “Yes.” you murmur, an obvious lie. Everyone has noticed the shift in the relationship between the two of you and now Shinobu has an idea as to why.
“I assume Shinazugawa doesn’t know.” Shinobu states. “Y/N…there’s ways we can go about this now. If you aren’t ready I can assure you it will be painless.”
You blink at Shinobu’s words. You haven’t thought about a moment like this happening - not even the moment between you and Sanemi. When you arrived from the mission, you desired to see him and talk about whatever relationship the two of you had. But Sanemi turned cold, ignoring your presence all together and waving you off whenever you attempted to.
“If you do wish to keep the child, I will inform Oyakata-sama of the predicament and get you off from your missions. Since you’re early in the pregnancy, I’m sure you won’t have to-”
“I want to terminate.” you interrupt Shinobu. The Insect Hashira tries not to appear shocked by your words. She would never judge you for whatever decision you chose.
You watch Shinobu nod her head. You couldn’t imagine bringing a child into the world now - not while you were a part of the Corps. It also wouldn’t be fair to Sanemi. You lived in his house, after all. He had made his decision when it came to whatever relationship you had and you were now making yours.
It’s nightfall when you return back to Sanemi’s estate and you’re surprised to see him at the table eating and Sanemi appears to be just as surprised to see you. Upon returning home from his rounds, he assumed you were in bed for the night - but he was proven wrong when you strolled through the shoji doors.
Lilac eyes meet yours and Sanemi notes that there’s something wrong with you. He remains silent, as do you. His heart continues to jolt in your presence, hands yearning to touch your soft skin again.
“Shinazugawa.” you murmur your acknowledgment to him.
Shinazugawa.
You never called him that, Sanemi things. But he doesn’t have the right to feel away about it.
“Thank you for allowing me to stay here.” you begin. Sanemi drops his chopsticks, attention fully on you. “I’m grateful to have been trained by you.”
Where were you going with this?
“I’ll be taking my leave.”
You turn away from him, Sanemi watching your figure saunter down the hall. He hears your shoji doors open but not close. There’s shuffling in your room and now he decides to get up to see what you were doing.
“Where are you going?” Sanemi’s heart is pounding now at the sight of you holding a bag with your belongings. It’s the first time he spoke to you directly.
“I’ve…decided to leave.”
Sanemi glances away. “Where are you going?”
You shift in your stance. “I’ve spoken to Oyakata-sama. I have a few missions lined up before I leave the Corps.”
Sanemi’s head snaps to you. He’s checking your face for any sign of deceit. He doesn’t find any - instead your eyes are lined with moisture. Your throat is bobbing as if attempting to not cry at the words you’re speaking.
“I’m sorry that I’ve become a burden.”
Reach out to her - Sanemi things.
Hold her.
Tell her she was never a burden.
Sanemi remains silent.
You stroll past him, your familiar scent passing him.
“You don’t have to leave.” Sanemi calls just as you’re a foot out the door.
You don’t want to leave.
Sanemi doesn’t want you to leave.
Apologize to her.
Tell her how you feel.
Tell her you love her.
Sanemi’s mind races with his own thoughts that he doesn’t realize you’re already leaving.
“Y/N-” Sanemi follows behind you, pace picking up to reach you. “Where are you going now? After you leave the Corps?”
You feel Sanemi’s hand around your wrist to stop you from walking.
“Back home.” you respond, unable to look at him. You made your decision to leave and going against that wouldn’t be the correct decision for you.
Sanemi gulps. He releases his hand from your wrist.
“I hope you don’t feel as if it was a waste of time training me. I wasn’t a part of the Corps for long.”
You were never a waste of his time, Sanemi wants to say, but his mind is racing and his heart is longing for you.
Why were you going back home to your father? The same man that sold you to someone - that abused you for years on end?
“Thank you, Sanemi. For everything. I must be going.”
Tell her to stay.
Tell her she doesn’t have to leave here - leave you.
Tell her you love her- that you pushed her away because you were disgusted with yourself.
Tell her how horrible you felt that you took advantage of her innocence.
Sanemi doesn’t say anything and instead watches until your figure disappears. For the first time in years, he feels like he could shed tears at the loss of someone he loved.
katsuki's whole body goes rigid when you fall asleep on him for the first time in the u.a commons.
Your head rested on his chest, his arms around your waist. (finally after two weeks of warming up to even have your head resting on his shoulder) His warmth alone making your shoulders droop and your brain melt as your eyes began to flicker, the movie popping in and out before you finally gave in and fell asleep.
It took katuski about seven minutes before he actually heard your soft snores, and when he did, it was like his entire nervous system short-circuited.
He didn't even breathe for a second—just gazed down at you, wide-eyed and stiff as a board, like moving even a fraction might wake you. His heartbeat, previously steady, now pounded so loud in his ears he was certain it’d rattle your skull through sheer proximity.
His arms, slowly tightened around your waist as he let his head tilt back against the couch cushion. Sighing to himself, barely more than a breath, he stared at the crown of your head resting on his chest. One of his thumbs rubbing an absentminded, slow circle against your waist. Red eyes softening as they grew entranced on your sleeping face.
That’s when he heard the quiet, stifled snort of laughter.
He didn’t even have to look.
“…I swear to fuckin god,” he gritted under his breath.
Sure enough, Kirishima and Denki peeked around the corner like two middle schoolers spying on a crush—grinning ear to ear, wide-eyed, and absolutely eating this moment alive. “Awwww,” Denki mouthed exaggeratedly, hands pressed to his heart.
Kirishima bit his lip to keep from cackling, mouthing, ‘Someones gone soft!’ with eyes practically sparkling.
Bakugou's jaw flexed. Didn’t want to risk disturbing you. But those two were pushing it. “The fuck are you two doin’?” he hissed, whisper-shouting. “Get outta here before I kick both your asses.”
“Dude, you’re cradling her like a kitten,” Denki whispered, eyes watering from holding back laughter. Katsuki inhaled sharply through his nose, seething. But then, your body stirred gently against him, a faint sigh leaving your lips as you shifted slightly, brows knitting like you were about to wake. Katsuki’s attention snapped down to you, his expression softening in half a heartbeat.
“Shhh…” he cooed lowly—soothing, rough but tender, his palm splaying wider across your back as he whispered, “S’fine, go back to sleep sweets.” You relaxed again almost immediately, breath evening out as you snuggled further into his chest.
Glancing back up at the duo, the blonde shot them a murderous glare. Both Kirishima and Denki quickly ducked away with flurried thumbs-ups and silent wheezing. Finally leaving katsuki alone, who rolled his eyes with a scoff, muttering under his breath again as he tucked his chin back over your head.
You’re not entirely sure how it happened. One moment, Endeavor was barking orders through the comms, smoke was rising in thick, tar-black ribbons, and the villain was cornered—palms sparking, eyes crazed, screaming something about “rewinding heroes to innocence.” The next, Katsuki Bakugo had thrown himself between you and a blast of shimmering violet light.
You remember his snarl. His teeth bared. “I said—watch your damn blind spot!”
And then the light swallowed him.
He's... gone.
Or, at least, that version of him is.
What’s left is a boy no older than five, blinking up at you with wide ruby-red eyes, fists clenched like he’s still ready for a fight.
You had blinked—and where the fury of Dynamight once stood, there was now a pint-sized version of him. Blonde, wild, and very, very small. His hair’s even more chaotic now, if that’s possible—fluffier, softer, sticking up like fire reaching for the sky. His voice, when it comes, is tinier. Sharper. Confused.
“Who are you?! Where’s my mom?! Where—where am I?!”
You freeze. So does everyone else.
His hero suit now slumped comically around a child-sized body, red eyes wide, blinking up at you with confusion and a wild streak of terror that turned into immediate rage.
Shoto drops the villain to the ground in shock. Izuku’s jaw falls open.
“Oh no,” Midoriya whispers. “That was a regression quirk. He’s been reverted… completely. Physically and mentally.”
“Oh, for the love of—” Endeavor growls. “I told you to stay put.”
And there was nothing else to say. Because the damage was done, and you were now holding a toddler-sized Bakugo back from lunging at a vending machine that apparently “looked at him funny.”
Back at Endeavor’s agency, the chaos truly bloomed.
The doctors said the quirk’s effects would last twenty-four hours. No longer. Which was, in theory, comforting.
In practice? Not so much.
Because Little Bakugo—who couldn’t have been more than five years old in this form—was an unholy combination of too much energy, zero filter, and a quirk that still sparked from his palms. Shoto tried reasoning with him. He got singed. Izuku tried logic. He got a plushie to the face. Endeavor? Bakugo bit his hand.
You?
He climbed onto your lap and refused to leave.
“Only she can touch me!” he screamed when Shoto tried to lift him. “She’s mine! You ugly fire popsicle! Back off!”
“Fire popsicle…” Shoto blinked. “That's new.”
“Deku, I swear if you try to hug me, I’ll explode your nose off!”
“But Kacchan, I’m just trying to—”
“BOOM!”
Sparks flared. Screams echoed.
You were the only one he didn’t try to incinerate.
When you brushed his hair back from his forehead, he calmed like lightning stilled by soft rain. When you tucked a blanket around him, he called you “the prettiest damn hero” and clung tighter.
He tried on sunglasses three sizes too big. Demanded a cape. Challenged Endeavor to a duel. Fell asleep on your chest mid-rant.
Shoto quietly took a photo.
Izuku followed.
Neither of them spoke. They just shared a look.
Blackmail material.
It was nearing dawn when the curse—or gift—began to lift.
You were curled on the agency’s couch, one arm around a snoring Little Bakugo, his tiny fingers knotted in your sleeve. The heat of him was familiar, even if the size was wrong. A quiet weight. A softer fire.
And then—
His body shifted.
Muscle. Mass. Full height.
You startled slightly as his adult form slumped against you, head pillowed right over your heart. His eyelashes fluttered. The boy was gone. King Explosion Murder had returned.
“…the hell?” he rasped.
You froze.
Katsuki Bakugo blinked up at you—chest to chest, cheek pressed to the curve of your collarbone, a confused warmth spreading across his face. A flush bloomed at his ears as he tried, and failed, to sit up gracefully.
“What… what the hell happened?!” he sputtered, flinging himself off the couch.
You blinked back a laugh. “Long story.”
Shoto, in the doorway, held up his phone. “You were very clingy.”
Izuku grinned beside him, scrolling through the gallery. “You called her ‘the prettiest damn hero.’”
Bakugo’s eye twitched. “Delete. Those. Now.”
“I already sent them to Kirishima,” Shoto said flatly.
You expected him to explode—literally—but instead, he turned slowly to you, mortification in every line of his face. “Did I… seriously say all that crap?”
You smirked. “You also bit Endeavor.”
“Worth it.”
He groaned, dragging his hand over his face. “Remind me never to save your life again.”
You stood, stretching, and walked past him—but not before whispering, “You also said I was yours.”
He froze.
You didn’t wait for his reply.
But as you glanced back at him—red-faced, shoulders tense, glaring at the ground like it just insulted his pride—you couldn’t help but think...
Maybe some quirks were blessings in disguise.
Especially the kind that turned a boy back into a child, just long enough to say the things his adult heart was too proud to admit.
☆— fem reader, ANGST, fluff, swearing, descriptions of blood and medical procedures.
☆— a/n; i wrote this a while ago, and i apologize beforehand for any mistakes. i'm not a doctor.🙃
☆—context; reader and bakugou have an arranged marriage. reader is quirkless, but her parents aren't. a business made by his parents and hers made them end up married. bakugou and reader have hated each other since they met; however, lately they had improved their relationship a lot by this moment.
☆—context2; let's pretend for the sake of this fic that morphine and nitroglycerin don't work well together, and it's deadly when combined. you'll understand why in a bit. *wink wink*
"Miss Y/L/N, you are needed in the ER urgently. Please, direct yourself here. I repeat, Miss Y/L/N…"
You looked up from the wound you were checking on one of your patients in the ICU to the speakers of the hospital. The voice even sounded urgent, which was kind of unsettling and strange; however your movements didn't hurry. You realized the severity of the call when one of your colleagues entered the room and urged you to hurry and go while she would take your place in caring for the patient you were currently with.
And it felt like a bucket of cold water when you saw Uraraka standing at the door of that room, looking all beaten and tears streaming down her face.
Oh, no.
The only reason she would be here looking like that was because of a fight that ended badly with some villain, like any other hero would likely be there, at the hospital for. However, the fact that she was there, looking for you specifically…
It only meant one thing.
Bakugou.
The next thing you knew is that you're running. The voice of your boss in the very back of your mind nagging at you, "do not run in the hospital!"; but you couldn't care less. Especially not now. You could also hear Uraraka running behind you too with some difficulty; and you felt a bit bad about that. She was also hurt and you should have attended to her wounds, yet he was the only thing you had a mind to care for at the moment.
When you entered the ER, it was chaos. Pro heroes, injured all around the place; even Izuku was sitting on a gurney, a nurse stitching a new open wound in his right arm, face bloody and bruised, dirt all over him. Kaminari was laying on the one next to him, also bruised and passed out.
As your eyes traveled throughout the whole place, you realized every Pro Hero you knew was there, everyone who had belonged to Class A especially. But you couldn't find Bakugou.
All the air in the room felt scarce when you saw Kirishima move around and discuss something with a doctor in one of the private rooms.
Oh, fucking no…
Everything seemed to move in slow motion as you directed yourself there, the beatings of your heart deafening you almost completely, your attention solely in that room where you knew for sure Bakugou was in.
When Kirishima saw you entering the room, he immediately stood close to you, his face also bruised and bloody and dirty, eyes full of tears that fell through his cheeks. He grabbed you by your shoulders and begged you to do something. But your eyes didn't leave the man, your man, laying there, unconscious, blood that slided from his head towards his face; one of his eyes was bloody and swollen and his left shoulder was dislocated. You could hear the bone going back to its place when another specialist put it back.
But your attention was on the monitor, where it showed his vitals getting lower and lower. Another doctor was doing CPR on him, which meant his heart was giving up.
"Y/N, please…"
Kiri's voice sounded very far away, when you could still feel him right in front of you, his hands starting to shake your whole body.
"Please, Y/N, do something!"
The movement of a doctor that suddenly held a syringe close to Bakugou and Kirishima's yell brought you back to your senses.
"DO NOT FUCKING MOVE!" You exclaimed, realizing what all of that scenario was about.
They were about to put Bakugou in a medical coma; and Kirishima and you knew what that meant. Morphine. They were about to inject morphine on a body that mostly had nitroglycerin inside. They were about to kill Pro Hero Dynamight, a.k.a. Bakugou Katsuki, a.k.a. your husband.
Kirishima sighed deeply, relief kicking inside his body as he cried, while everyone froze looking at you surprised. You immediately moved next to Bakugou as you checked on his vitals, your doctor skills possessing your body as you tended to him fast and meticulously and scolded at the same time at the other doctors for not realizing sooner their mistake that almost took your husband's life.
"But, if we can't put morphine on him, how do we take care of him?" You want to swear from there to hell at that doctor. He was obviously new, but he was asking what probably everyone was wondering. And you couldn't blame him for that.
Your mind started to run at two hundred miles per hour, trying, begging for it to find a solution.
Nothing.
"Y/N…" Kirishima called, still crying.
Nothing.
Your eyes filled with tears, so you closed them.
"Y/N," he called you again.
Nothing.
The air that went inside your lungs started to burn, and the exhale hurt your chest heavily.
"Y/N!"
"Shut up!" You yelled back.
All the blood in your body rushed to your chest and head, a pounding pain annoying your process of thinking. You hated-...
You opened your eyes suddenly.
The blood.
"Blood," you whispered. "He needs a blood transfusion, NOW!"
"Y/N, we don't have his blood type available…"
"What?!" It's both yours and Kirishima's yell, at the same time.
"Fuck," you finally cursed.
And then it enlightened you.
"Connect me," you said as you moved, putting tubes and cables around you and Katsuki. Another doctor asked what you are talking about, "I have the same blood type. Connect me to him, that way his blood renews constantly as you heal him. It will help him stay."
Your relationship with Bakugou was complicated; hell, complicated didn't even hold the entirety of what it was. Having had an arranged marriage, hating each other's guts since the very first day you met, really didn't help you two get along well.
But he kept his promise to protect you, to provide for you. To be there for you, always.
Every day, he woke up first and always left you breakfast ready for when you finally got up, sometimes lunch too; he would always send a text message during the day reminding you to eat, to take a break here and there–in his own way, of course, full of swears and contemptuously.
You never backed away though, you always answered something annoying back that surely started another fight, another discussion between you too.
However, it didn't matter the fight, or what was said in that fight, Bakugou would always stay.
He would always lay in bed next to you at night; if the fight heated up too much, he would go on a run to cool himself down, but he would always come back home.
He would always stay next to you.
Kirishima was asked to leave the room as everyone started moving around you and his best friend, he saw as a cable connected directly your blood with his. He didn't really know what that meant, but he knew something. No matter how much you two fought, or how different you two were…
You loved him.
And he knew Katsuki loved you.
Even when none of you had admitted it yet.
But everything was confirmed to him when he heard you whisper at Bakugou, "Stay, please stay."
.
Bakugou Katsuki felt as if a brick wall fell onto him. And that was a new experience. He had been thrown at walls and through walls, but never one fell over him.
And it fucking sucked.
The white hospital lights hurt his eyes when he tried to open them, and there came all the other feelings. His left shoulder burned and felt tight–it didn't take him much to understand that it probably had been dislocated and the tightness probably came from bands that held it so any kind of movement wouldn't interrupt the process of healing. His legs felt like gum, like even if he tried to move them, the heaviness wouldn't allow it; but they were there, he could feel them, so that was good. His chest though…
It felt so heavy, probably if he paid enough attention he would be able to see the beatings of his heart through the scarred skin. He wanted to grunt annoyed at everything.
He then realized that among all the cables and tubes that were connected to him, there was one that made him feel a bit tingly, because he could feel whatever was that they were injecting him.
He fought against his eyelids until he could open them, and he wasn't expecting what his eyes found–well, one of them, because the other one was so swollen he could barely open it.
You were resting on a big reclining chair next to his bed with a hospital duvet over your body as you slept, a frown in your eyebrows showing how stressed you actually were. He had seen that frown before, sometimes at night when you went to sleep, when you both were laying on your sides but in front of each other, in the bed you shared. He would never fucking admit it out loud, but he sometimes would massage lightly in between your eyebrows until the muscles finally relaxed while you slept. Your face was laying uncomfortably to a side that made Bakugou think that position would probably make your neck hurt once you woke up.
And then he saw it.
The duvet was covering all your body, in exception to one arm that was over it, showing a small tube that clearly connected your blood with his. That's where the tingly came from.
Oh, fuck.
"Oh, you're awake, man," Kirishima's voice distracted him for a moment. He turned his head towards his best friend, who looked as shitty as himself.
Kirishima smiled at him, a whole bunch of emotion written all over his face.
"Fuck," was Bakugou's first word, with a raspy voice that didn't sound like his own, "Was it that bad?"
"You almost died," his best friend's voice cracked a bit, trying to hold back his emotion. "If it hadn't been for Y/N's quick thinking, you would have died. Doctors were about to put morphine on you…"
"Shit," Bakugou let his head fall back, realizing how badly everything could have gone.
"You had internal bleeding, a lung filled with liquid, and several broken bones, you were even bleeding from your head," Kirishima started as Bakugou kept swearing out loud, "When they said they needed to put morphine, I tried to warn them, but they kept dismissing me. Damn, I'm no doctor, but I know stuff!" The red head protested, which made Bakugou smile a bit. "I tried to gain some time as Uraraka ran for Y/N. When she came, obviously they did pay attention to her. She's… really good at this."
They both looked at you as you slept. Your eyebrows were still frowning, but Bakugou could listen to your deep breathing even in that distance. That eased him a bit.
Then his eyes went to the tube again and the anger started to fill his body.
"Why is she connected to me?" He asked, trying to make his raspy voice sound firm.
Kirishima sighed. "There was no other way. They needed to operate, and they didn't have your blood type available at the moment," Bakugou scoffed, hating everything and all you had to do for him. Kirishima laid closer to his face, ready to scold him for his stubbornness, "Your heart was slowing down, you fucking idiot."
That did surprise Bakugou; Kirishima never cursed at anyone. And when the blond found his friend's eyes, they were filled with tears.
"I-I'm fine…" Bakugou reassured him, clearly not knowing what else to do or say at his best friend's deep emotion.
Fuck, he had nearly fucking died.
"Yeah, and that's thanks to her," Kirishima pointed at you, "So be nice," he warned before backing away and taking a deep breath.
Bakugou looked back at you. This couldn't be real. You had to know, right?
"Does she know?"
"Know what?" Kirishima asked as he stretched his big and long arms over his head.
Bakugou looked back at him, "What this fucking means, Eijirou."
Kirishima frowned, now a bit worried, "I don't know, she didn't mention anything. Is it something bad?"
The blond closed his eyes, his right hand closing in a fist, jaw tight. When he was about to answer, a sweet and delicate voice coming out of a sleep state made him open his eyes and look directly in your direction.
"It simply means we are sharing blood," you said, stirring a bit in your chair, opening your eyes and finding deep red ones almost killing you with their gaze.
"Simply?" Bakugou mocked, shaking his head.
"That's what you said," Kiri looked suspicious at you, arms crossing over his chest.
"And I'm not lying or doing anything illegal," you defended yourself as two Pro Heroes looked at you with their Pro Hero scolding eyes.
"We know, but you're hiding information, I can see it clearly now," Kirishima protested, his voice still as gentle as always.
Your fingers started fidgeting with each other, obviously nervous. For some reason, Kiri's gentle tone was more effective than Bakugou's murdering glare.
Your husband suddenly realized something and snorted, "You didn't tell anyone?"
"There's nothing to tell."
"Yes, there fucking is!"
"No, there isn't!"
"Y/N! For fucks sake-..."
"Shut up, Bakugou!"
"I won't fucking shut up! You are telling them now-..."
"There's nothing to tell, Katsuki!"
"OKAY, ENOUGH!" Eijirou's scream startled both of you. "You both clear this up and tell me right now what you are talking about."
"Eijirou, we are sharing blood!" Bakugou looked like he was about to tear the hair out of his head.
The red head looked at his friends for a moment, back and forth, trying to connect what that meant. And then it clicked.
You two were sharing blood. You were receiving Bakugou's blood as much as he was receiving yours. Which meant…
Your body was currently receiving high doses of pure nitroglycerin through the blood.
"Oh, shit, Y/N!" Kirishima was instantly by your side, "You have to take that off, now!"
"No!" You said pushing him away as he tried to move the tube.
"Fucking yes, you are!" Bakugou protested, trying to sit a bit straighter.
"No, don't move, Bakugou! And stop touching me, Eijirou!" Everyone stopped when you stood up and they looked at your small but firm form standing with authority, "I have been doing this for the past three days you were unconscious, and I'll do it until the doctor says it is enough." You said, tone firm and final as you looked at Bakugou.
"Y/N, you don't fucking have a Quirk," he spat, yet you could see a tiny bit of light in his eyes that begged you to stop doing it.
"And I don't fucking need one to know when enough is enough."
"That's why you have been taking breaks," Kirishima suddenly realized.
"Yes," you admitted, eyes still locked in a fight with Bakugou's. "I take breaks of thirty minutes in between two and three hours," your tone, Kirishima could only describe it as trying to reassure Bakugou that you were fine. But his friend was stubborn.
"It's not enough, and you fucking know it, Y/N!" He protested again.
"I can do this, I'm not weak, Katsuki!"
Kirishima took several steps back as he saw his friend's eye twitch when you called him by his name. It was a clear intimate discussion between a husband and a wife now. He really tried to avoid smiling, but he couldn't, so he simply left the room, leaving this complicated couple to resolve this on their own.
"You. Do. Not. Have. A. Quirk." He repeated, his hand grabbing your wrist, gently, despite the heated discussion you were having.
"And I don't need one for this!" If he was stubborn, you doubled it.
"Y/N! You are not feeling it now, but you will later! And I can't-..."
"You can't what, Bakugou?!"
"LOOK AT ME! I can barely move, and I won't be able to take care of you when the nitroglycerin kicks in!"
"I don't need you to take care of me! I am taking care of you! Besides, a bit of vomiting didn't kill anyone…"
"FUCK, Y/N! You know shit! You don't know how badly this fucking Quirk hurt when I was a kid!" He admitted in a yell, his only eye open now clearly begging you, as the thumb of the hand that was holding your wrist caressed the back of your hand. He always did that, even though his voice and words were rough, his touch was always gentle, careful.
"Katsuki," your hand went to his cheek, holding it with all the gentleness you had. He couldn't avoid the sigh, the relief he felt when your touch finally made any contact with him. He didn't know how desperate he actually was for you to touch him. You saw it, as clear as day, how scared he actually was, so you gently laid your forehead against his without putting any kind of pressure, "I can do this. Please, please, let me help you…" Your throat suddenly felt tight as your eyes filled with tears, "You almost died…"
Your whisper made his insides curl, as his gaze went down to your connected arms, which was the same he was holding your wrist.
You could feel the hold he had on your wrist tighten a little bit by your words, and you sniffed, trying to hold back your emotions.
And that simple action crumbled evey wall Katsuki could have put in between you two.
He was taking deep intakes of breath, your breath that was so close to his face and it felt like it was already healing him.
"You'll take breaks each hour."
"No, that's barely enough time to help it travel your whole body, and you know it."
Bakugou huffed, "Fine, two hours."
You pulled away and rolled your eyes, a traitorous tear rolling down on your cheek, "That's what I've been doing."
"Fucking brat…" He muttered, trying to hide a smirk, and you smiled in satisfaction.
"A simple thank you would be enough," you winked at him, which made him roll his eye.
You saw the little flutter of the other eye that was barely open at its movement, so you immediately went doctor mode and prepared everything to clean his eye, again.
Bakugou simply looked at you and let you work. And as he watched you, he couldn't avoid thinking how good all of you felt close to him, how stupid he was for all this time had you at arms length just because he thought you weren't strong enough, when in reality he was afraid of you getting involved in his world. For having treated you all this time like feather easy to break, when here you were, being the strongest person in the room while taking care of him and his wounds and also sharing blood with him to keep him alive like it was nothing.
He had underestimated you, and now he felt like a jerk.
synopsis: you don't know when it started or why, but katsuki is distant, and your relationship is growing cold.
notes: hurt and comfort im not a monster. ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP ?!?! IN A JISU FIC ?!?!?! crazy. "jisu youve written a million bajillion things that are the EXACT same." god forbid a girl has a preference?? n e wayss why is he distant? why didn't y/n communicate? "i never would've-" well that sucks it's my fic. #mywayorthehighway
it starts small.
a slower reply here, a stiff shoulder there. your arms around his waist met with silence instead of that soft, familiar sigh.
you tell yourself he's just tired. exams, training, pressure and stress. but weeks pass and it only gets worse. you start to count the number of times he’s pulled away when you reached for him. it’s higher than you want to admit.
he used to let you curl into him after a long day, used to press absent kisses to your hair, fingers tracing lazy shapes on your back. now? he shuts his door early, says “go get some rest” like you’re a guest instead of the person who used to fall asleep in his arms every night.
and he still says “love you” sometimes, at the end of a conversation. but it’s distant. flat. it feels like it's just a habit.
your heart feels like it's holding its breath.
you sit in your room one night, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, phone clutched in your lap as you stare at a half-typed message you can’t bring yourself to send. your chest aches, deep and quiet and constant. you can’t remember the last time he looked at you the way he used to. like he was so lucky to have you. like he couldn’t believe you were real. like you were precious. like he loved you.
so when you knock on his door, when you ask if he has a second, when you step inside and he doesn’t even glance up from his desk, it all hits you all at once.
you don’t even know when it started.
but it mightve been that day, when you reached for katsuki and he didn’t reach back.
little by little, the things that used to come so naturally between you like soft touches, sleepy cuddles, forehead kisses, and lingering glances started slipping away.
and you feel it.
god, you feel it in your bones.
you try not to ask too much. you try to be patient. you tell yourself it’s just a phase, that he’ll come back to you soon, that this quiet doesn’t mean anything.
but it gets harder, especially on nights like this. curled up in your own bed, shivering even though you're under the covers, trying to remember what it felt like to be wanted without question. to be held like you were something precious.
your phone lights up with a message.
kats <3: night.
that’s it. no heart. no nickname. no goodnight kiss over the phone like he used to send when you weren’t together. no "where are you?" or "come to my dorm."
you stare at it until the screen goes dark again.
he's literally just in his dorm. he's not away on a mission or an internship. you could walk to him in just a couple minutes.
so why does he feel so far?
you still sleep in his hoodie. it doesn’t smell like him anymore.
you wrap your arms around your own waist and pretend it’s his. it’s not the same.
you try to joke about it, once. say something like, “hey, don’t forget you have a girlfriend, y’know,” with a soft laugh to hide the bruise in your chest.
he just blinks, shrugs, mutters, “don’t be dramatic,” without looking up from his phone.
and you wanted to say,
i’m not. i just miss you. i miss the way you used to love me.
but you swallowed it down. again.
because you’re tired of sounding needy. tired of trying to ask for something he doesn't want to give.
tired of being touch-starved and desperate and so, so lonely in a relationship that used to feel so full.
you lie awake long after midnight. staring at the ceiling. not crying, not really, but your throat’s tight, and your chest won’t loosen. you miss him more than you know how to say.
when did you start sleeping in your own dorms again? when did you stop falling asleep to the lull of his heartbeat?
you just want him to hold you.
you just want to be held.
-
he doesn’t mean to do it.
not really. it just sort of… happens.
your face looks tired when he opens his dorm door and sees you there. hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, your body curled in on itself like you’re bracing for something.
and something about that.. about the way you’re shrinking, holding back like he might tell you to leave, makes his chest twist hard.
so before either of you can say a word, he just pulls you in.
arms around your waist, one hand sliding up your back to curl around your neck, pressing your face into his chest like it’s instinct. like he’s been starving for it. like he missed you.
and you go soft in his arms immediately. melt. cling. fists clutching at the back of his hoodie like if you let go, he’ll disappear again.
but then your shoulders start to tremble.
and he hears it. a tiny sound, barely there, the kind of thing that splits a heart open if you're paying attention.
“are you..” he leans back to look at you, palms cupping your face, and you’re crying.
not loud. not messy. just tears spilling down your cheeks like they’ve been waiting. like they’ve had to wait.
“baby..” he breathes, stunned. “what.. why are you crying?”
you shake your head, lip trembling. “i dunno,” you whisper, voice tight, eyes darting away. “i just… it felt nice. being held. i missed it. and you.”
and katsuki’s heart breaks.
because fuck. fuck, the bar shouldn’t be this low.
you shouldn’t be crying because you’re finally being touched gently again. you shouldn’t look surprised to be wanted.
and it hits him all at once:
how cold he’s been. how much he shut you out. how many nights you went to sleep wondering if he even cared.
“…shit,” he mutters, pulling you in tighter. his voice is thick, shaky at the edges. “i’m sorry. i didn’t.. i didn’t mean to make you feel like this.”
you bury your face in his neck. “i love you so much,” you whisper, like it’s a secret. “and i think.. i dunno.. i know it's stupid, but i started thinking that maybe you didn’t love me back.”
his throat tightens. he breathes in deep, kisses the top of your head, holds you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.
“you’re it for me,” he murmurs into your hair. “i’m so fucking sorry i made you doubt that.”
and this time, when you cry, he holds you through all of it.
masterlist
reblogs + comments super duper appreciated! <3
synopsis: katsuki starts to pull back and you wonder if he's just overwhelmed and tired, or maybe tired of you.
notes: just a short lil drabble <3 apologies ik ive alr written like this exact thing. but this time there's COMMUNICATION? IN A JISU FIC?? well tbf it doesn't happen right away but guys open communication is insane. gn reader!
you don’t know when it started. the shift.
maybe a week ago. maybe more.
but suddenly, katsuki’s kisses were shorter. distracted. his replies came late, if at all. and when you curled into him at night, he didn’t always curl back.
you tried not to overthink. he’s busy. he’s tired. he’s katsuki. always intense, always chasing something, and you knew that when you fell for him.
but sometimes, it’s hard not to wonder.
did i do something wrong?
you think you're the exception for him. you're his lover, after all. but you feel the doubt creep in during the smaller moments.
when you rest your head on his chest and he doesn't automatically put his arm around your waist in return. when you say "i love you" as an easy given and he grunts out a response you can't really make out. when you act sweet and lovey-dovey and he just sort of sits there, looking a little annoyed.
you start pulling back a little. just in case.
you don’t want to be annoying.
you hesitate before texting him first now. you wait for him to initiate touch, which he barely does. and when you finally say "goodnight, love you," he just grunts in response, already turned away in bed.
you stare at the ceiling long after, heart aching in that quiet, sharp way.
you used to fall asleep tangled in him. breathing him in and feeling so utterly loved. now you lie perfectly still, like your presence might be too much. thinking thoughts you'd never thought before, like: "maybe he doesn't like cuddling" and "should i sleep in my own room tonight?"
you shake your head. you're being stupid. insecure.
..but then again, he hasn’t kissed your forehead in days.
he hasn’t called you baby or sweetheart in that uncharacteristically soft voice.
he hasn’t looked at you with that soft gaze he used to save just for you.
you still bring him his water when he forgets it. still fix his uniform when it's out of place. still buy that cinnamon gum you don't even like that much but get because katsuki likes it.
and still, you wonder:
is he just tired?
or is he tired of me?
-
he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.
that might be the worst part.
he doesn’t notice how he’s been pulling away. how the warmth in his touches has faded, how he’s stopped saying the soft things that used to slip out when he was too tired to keep his walls up. how you, who used to fit into him like something natural, now hover a few inches away.
he’s just been tired lately.
not the kind of tired a good nap can fix, but the kind that builds and builds and builds until even breathing feels like a task. training’s been brutal. pressure mounting. grades to maintain. responsibilities stacking one after the other until his brain buzzes like static.
and when katsuki gets overwhelmed, it overwhelms his entire being.
it doesn't happen super often. katsuki is determined and driven and he's got a heart of steel. he's not usually one to get swept up like this.
or at least, not anymore. not since you.
but when it does happen, he is overwhelmed in all senses of the word. he gets terrible tunnel vision and forgets to pay attention to his surroundings. all he can think of is hero work, and even that's a stretch. his brain is on constant low-functioning mode and he feels foggy all the time.
so, being so absorbed in himself, he didn’t see the way your smile faltered.
didn’t catch how you flinched. barely, but enough, when he brushed off your hands with a muttered, “not right now.”
didn't catch how you didn't automatically curl up into his side like usual when you'd sit down together, and so pulling you close and dispelling your doubt didn't even cross his mind.
didn't catch how you were slowly pulling back, physically and emotionally. didn't catch how you were starting to doubt yourself.
until he finally looked up.
until he goes to your dorm late, bags under his eyes, heart hammering from some training that went sideways, a little confused why you weren't in his dorm, and sees you in bed. on your side of it, even though he's not there, hugging your own pillow like it’s some kind of stand-in.
you wake at the sound of the door. you turn your head when he enters, give him that same soft smile you always do, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.
“hey,” you say. “you okay?”
he nods, robotic. “yeah. just tired.”
and you nod back. not pushing. not getting up. not offering a hug or kiss or teasing nudge like you always would.
and it hits him then. the quiet. the distance. the way your affection hasn’t smothered him lately. no, the way it hasn’t even touched him.
and he realizes:
you’ve stopped trying.
and he thinks, suddenly panicked, how did i let it get this bad?
he moves before he can talk himself out of it. just crawls into bed and pulls you into his chest, tight. arms locked around you like you might disappear if he hesitates.
you tense for half a second.
“…katsuki?”
he exhales, shuddering. like he’s been holding it in.
“i’ve been a shithead,” he mutters against your shoulder.
you blink.
“what?”
“i didn’t mean to make you feel like… like i didn’t want you. i do. i just…” he groans, frustrated with himself. “there’s been so much going on. and when things get loud in my head, i forget how to… be. i get overwhelmed and i shut down and i didn’t mean to take that out on you.”
your fingers curl into his hoodie slowly.
he doesn’t stop.
“you didn’t do anything wrong. i was so stupid and up in my own head that i didn't realize you were hurtin' and i think i fucked it up.”
you’re quiet for a beat.
then, softly, “you didn’t fuck it up.”
his arms tighten around you.
you turn in his embrace, nose bumping his, eyes searching.
“…i thought i was annoying you,” you admit. “like maybe i was too clingy. too much. so i started holding back. well, you already said that, so i guess you noticed.”
he closes his eyes like it hurts.
“don’t,” he breathes, feeling so guilty that it's gotten to this point. “please don’t hold back. not with me.”
“then don’t shut me out.”
“i’ won't. i promise. just.. fuck, 'm sorry. for real.”
you press your forehead to his.
“thank you. i love you.”
and this time, he says it back. and he rubs soothing circles on your back the way he knows you like. and he kisses your forehead. slow. deliberate. like he’s making up for every time he didn’t.
like he knows now.
and won’t forget again.
masterlist
reblogs + comments super duper appreciated! <3
number one crashout || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, pure fluff, mha drabbles, no quirk au, 356 word count (◡̀_◡́)ᕤ
Imagining how Katsuki Bakugo would react to someone shoving his girlfriend.
He's immediately frozen stiff in the hallways, eyes widening by the second, crimson gaze locked onto the altercation, a male student—whom he doesn't recognize—shamelessly nudging you against the lockers for apparent unknown reasons.
Though frankly, the blonde couldn't give two shits about this asshole's frustration, because who the fuck gave that extra permission to even look at you?
Katsuki is a walking force of nature, already storming over with danger written all over his face, a deadly expression that leaves people running away with their tails between their legs. The surrounding students are quickly stepping aside, whispering among themselves at the energy radiating from each fierce foot step; wild, aggressive and itching for a fight.
Your gaze locks with the blonde—as if sensing his approaching presence—and it takes one sight of your glossy orbs and trembling lips for him to swing. Everyone gasps, your eyebrows raise up with shock, teachers are already running out of their classrooms to see the commotion — and Katsuki just keeps throwing punches.
Typically school fights came with chaotic chants or even onlookers placing stupid bets, but anybody watching could tell this was just a one sided massacre. No student dared to intervene— well— expect you that is. Despite being pulled away by the teachers, his death stare remained unwavering, completely focused on beating that jerk to a pulp.
Though the sight of you worriedly rushing over has Katsuki pausing for a moment, especially when you wrap your handkerchief around his bruised fist, trying to soothe his aching skin.
He scoffs, reluctantly grumbling curses under his breath as takes your hand in his, pulling you along to the principal's office like it's an everyday thing, which honestly, it might be... given he's visited way too many times for it to be considered normal.
The boy already knows the drill, already rolling his eyes at the idea of getting suspended—yet again—for his aggressive behavior. But he didn't give a damn.
Not when he can get payback for those pretty tears of yours, after all... no one can hurt you on his watch.
you don’t even get a chance to put your bag down before bakugo is yanking you into his arms, grumbling something about how damn long you kept him waiting.
“katsuki—”
“shut up,” he mumbles, already burying his face into your shoulder. “just lemme have this.”
you sigh, but it’s hard to be exasperated when he’s clinging to you like this—arms tight around your waist, fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt like you might disappear if he lets go.
“you’re so needy,” you tease, running your fingers through his hair.
he grunts. “so what?”
you laugh softly. “so nothing. it’s cute.”
his grip tightens. “ain’t cute.”
you can feel how warm his face gets, even if he’s trying to hide it against your neck. his breath is warm, sending a little shiver down your spine when he mutters, “kiss me.”
you smile, pressing a kiss to his temple.
he tenses. then pulls back just enough to glare at you. “babe. a real one.”
before you can even think about teasing him again, he’s already moving—cupping your face, leaning in, kissing you slow and deep like he’s making up for lost time.
when he finally pulls away, he stays close, forehead resting against yours. “missed you,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper.
your heart melts. “i was only gone for a few hours.”
“too long.” he huffs, dragging you toward the couch. “now shut up and cuddle me.”
I had rlly bad brain rot sorry had to let it out, hope u like this short little thing!
You knew how dangerous pro hero work was, it was something you came to terms with in highschool. It was considered a constant fight of survival.
Deep down, it was never about surviving for you, it was about saving. At the end of the day you knew you were going to die in this feild, and as long as you saved those in need, you’d be okay with that. At least, that was the mentality you had before you married Katsuki.
Your morals had never really been talked about, not until one specific day in your early hero days.
The city was rumbling, three seperate villains all attacking at the same time. The pros were overwhelmed, and things were getting messy. You stood still for a few minutes on ground level, evaluating your surroundings and trying to think of what move you should make next.
When all the sudden, in the corner of your eye, you saw a villain swooping down from atop a building. The civilians at the bottom screamed in terror as one of them got shoved harshly into a cement wall.
There was maybe a millisecond between you catching on and you throwing your body towards the villain. It wasn’t your smartest move, but you knew you could take him down. Obviously he put up more of a fight than you intended.
Hand to hand combat wasn’t one of your strong suits, but that didn’t mean you didn’t know how to fight, you were still a hero after all. You forcefully pushed the villain farther and farther away from the group of people he’d been harming. Suddenly he landed a detrimental hit to your side, the force of which flung you into the side of a building. You heard the wall crunch behind your back before you felt the damage he did to you. You sat in the cloud of rubble for as long as it took to regain your breath before forcing yourself back into action. You weren’t stupid, you waited long enough so that the villain believed you were taken out—his focus now solely on the innocent individuals making the crowd.
You were stealthy enough to sneak up behind him and attack once more, this time with more determination and intention. He fought relentlessly, never letting you get a hard hit on him. But he was getting tired, you could tell. You then looked over his shoulder to see more pro heros headed your way.
In the split second you unfocused from him, he landed yet another blow. This one substantially increased in power. You felt the sickening crack in your side as you laid on the ground. You expected another hit soon after, but you peaked through your blood soaked eyelashes to see more pro heros dealing with the man.
You let out a sigh you didn’t realize you were holding in, the sudden rise of your chest causing a sharp pain. Definitely some broken ribs, you thought.
A few heros on the scene helped you steady yourself. You definitely needed to stop by the hospital before hopping back on patrol. You winced at the pain that flowed continuously throughout your limbs.
With the help of some support heros, you made it safely to the hospital. You got tended to rather quickly, the nurse at your side offering you a quick lecture on being reckless. You laughed it off and assured her of your professionalism.
Your phone buzzed, oh shit.
Kats: what hospital are u at.
(
-Y/n has dropped pin-
You hesitated to give your husband your location. Yes, while you knew he was worried and wanted to make sure you were okay, you also knew that he was most definitely pissed. You two were rarely assigned missions together, since you were both combat heavy, and Katsuki constantly complained about how he wished he could fight next to you. You knew his true intentions were to protect you, but he’d never say that to your face.
It took him a whopping three minutes to get across the city and to your hospital room.
You heard the nurses spewing soft ‘sir you can’t be back here—‘ and ‘it’s pro hero dynamite!’ But his heavy footsteps only continued to get louder. And then before you knew it, you were face to face with a grime covered—and very angry looking— Katsuki bakugo.
“Explain.” He gritted his teeth, the words coming out as a sharp snarl. You knew he wasn’t truly mad, or atleast you hoped he wasn’t.
“Explain what, kats? I’m a hero. I’m gonna get my ass handed to me here and there.” Even with his seething anger in front of you, you tried your best to keep yourself calm. A tactic you usually used when trying to convince him you were okay. It didn’t seem to be working.
“Explain why I was watching the news and saw my fuckin’ wife throw herself in front of a villain instead of calling for backup.” His eyebrows never relaxed as he stared daggers at your bed ridden form.
You squinted at him, unsure of his sudden overbearing worry. You’d been in hospitals before, so had he, but he’d never reacted so rashly before.
“Katsuki, he was going to hurt those civilians, I couldn’t just stand and watch.” You tried to reason with him but he shook his head almsot as soon as you let the words fall form your lips.
“You had no idea what his quirk was—he coulda’ fuckin’ killed you. What if he was some freak with some crazy strong quirk and you did that shit, huh?” He growled out.
“Yeah—what if, But he wasn’t. I’m a top ranked hero, I should be able to handle myself on patrol.” You stated with a tone you could only describe as unshakable. You knew that the both of you were dead set on your point of views.
“A top ranked hero who gives no fucks about her own safety apparently.” His words were fueled with something deeper, and you knew not to take them too harshly. Yet even with that knowledge you still couldn’t help but be taken aback by it.
“I don’t know why you’re so upset right now, Katsuki. This is part of the job—we signed up for this.” His eyes were no longer on you, this time facing the hospital floor.
“I’m upset because I was sitting in my office watching the news, and all the sudden they—they panned to my wife’s body on the fucking ground in a pool of her own blood.” His voice nearly cracked as he paused for a second. “Do you know how scared I was for those few seconds when you wouldn’t get up? I nearly blew up my whole fuckin’ agency.” You could see the tears welling up in his eyes. Throughout your marriage, Katsuki didn’t cry much. Maybe once or twice,but never so openly in public.
“Kats, I’m sorry—“ you tried to get out but he was already speaking again.
“For a few seconds I thought lost you— I thought I lost everything,” he clenched his fists as he stepped closer to your bed. “And it was the worst few seconds of my whole damn life.”
You let the silence envelop the room. You looked down at your hands, unable to look your husband in his eyes. He was partially right—you didn’t think. And you were reckless, not thinking for your own safety. Not thinking about how it would affect him. In the medias eyes you’d probably be portrayed as selfless, but in that hospital room? You realized just how selfish you’d been.
“I should’ve ve been more careful, I’m sorry.” You finally looked up at him to see his soft red eyes.
“You gotta promise me you won’t do that shit again; no more throwing yourself into shit you don’t know you can take.” He demanded.
You smiled softly at the familiar tone of his voice, no longer filled with anger and worry.
“I promise, Katsuki.” You reached out to grab his hand from his side.
He leaned down and let his other hand cradle your face as he placed a soft kiss on your head.
“Not jokin’ either—if I find out you pulled some shit like that again, I’m gonna beat your ass myself.” He let a smile flood his features.
“I fear that would solve literally nothing—and also you need to promise too! The amount of times I’ve had news articles calling about my ‘presumed dead’ husband is proof of that!” You swatted at his side, suddenly remembering his own mistakes.
“Shit—don’t hit me woman!” He slightly raised his voice as he backed away from the bed. “Yeah yeah, I promise or whatever.” You let out a loud laugh at the familiar saying ‘or whatever.’ He used to put it after every serious proclamation in your highschool dating years.
“You sounded just like first year Katsuki right there, babe.” You let out through pained laughter.
He shot you a shocked look, his eyes squinted at you.
“Shut the hell up.” He responded sharply.
Being a hero wasn’t easy, it never would be. But from that day forward you realized you weren’t just fighting for those in need. You were fighting for yourself—more importantly, him.
