a/n: I've been sick so enjoy this, I love this damn character so much. Well not so much as sick but mainly in the process of weeping over a loss of a friend group.
𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦
He’s got that natural “leader instinct,” so when you’re with him, he’s always scanning the environment without even realizing it. Not in a paranoid way, but he just can’t switch off caring about your safety.
𝘔𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴, 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴
Cobra’s not the type to shower you with constant sweet talk. Instead, he shows his affection by small but meaningful actions—walking you home, fixing something broken in your place, or making sure you eat when you’re stressed.
𝘚𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺
To everyone else he’s the calm, intimidating leader of Sannoh, but when it’s just the two of you, he lets that softness come out. He’ll relax his posture, let his guard down, and even joke around. You’re the one who gets to see his rare, genuine smile.
𝘘𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘺
Dates with Cobra don’t have to be fancy. He’s happiest just sitting on the bike with you, riding out of town, or hanging out in the diner after hours with the Sannoh crew. As long as you’re by his side, he’s content.
He’ll pretend he doesn’t know how to be romantic, but then surprise you with things like remembering your favorite drink, or showing up at your work when he knows you’re having a rough day.
𝘖𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬
If someone so much as raises their voice at you, Cobra’s calm tone turns sharp. He doesn’t need to throw a punch—his presence alone is enough to shut people down. But if they really push it, you better believe he’ll step in.
𝘘𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘳
When you’re upset, he doesn’t flood you with words. Instead, he’ll sit with you, hold your hand, and let you talk when you’re ready. Sometimes his steady presence alone is enough to calm you.
𝘓𝘰𝘸-𝘬𝘦𝘺 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘵
Cobra trusts you, but he does not like when other guys hover too close. He won’t make a scene, but he’ll wrap his arm around you casually or stand a little closer to make it obvious you’re his.
𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘺
He tends to fuss over you in small ways, like asking if you’ve eaten, telling you to bring a jacket, or worrying if you’re out late. He probably nags you more than he nags himself.
𝘜𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴
When Cobra says “I’ll protect you” or “I’ll always be here,” he means it. He’s not one to break his word, especially to someone he loves.
I don't write: Anything to do with bodily fluids other than spit, blood, and cum. Underaged characters or fully blood related characters. Have fun requesting!
Kazutora as a boyfriend - ★ - Kazutora x Reader
Don't Tell 'Em - ♡/★ - Chifuyu x Fem!Reader
Silence Is Too Loud - ♡ - Mikey
Snagged Threads - ♡ - CollegeAU!Baji x Fem!Reader
You're So Dark - ♡/★ - Chifuyu x Goth!Reader
Day 1 - Silence Is Too Loud - ♡ - Manjiro Sano - Masturbation
Day 2 - Snagged Threads - ♡ - College!Baji - Pantyhose
Day 3 - Clever Little Fox - ♡ - Chishiya Shuntaro - Praise kink
Day 4 - Smell of War - ♡ - Aguni Morizono - Olfactophilia
Day 5 - Crimson Tempo - ♡ - Ginji Kyuma - Sadism
Day 6 - Red War Paint - ♡ - Norihisa Hyuga - Degradation
Day 7 - Velvet Triggers - ♡ - Vi x Caitlyn - Formalwear
HII OH MY GAWD it is so nice to see someone who is willing to write for high and low- imo a very underrated show but - I was wondering would it be possible for you to write about Sarah x fem!reader can be anything maybe a little bit of hurt to comfort and thank you! 😚
𝚂𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚎
Summary: Sarah rarely spoke about her childhood. Conversations that drifted toward memories or early years were where she quietly disappeared—skipping timelines, changing subjects, or falling silent. But one night, she chose to let you in, afraid that keeping it buried any longer might cost her the one person who made her feel safe.
w/c: 1,042
warnings: Mentions of child abuse and alcohol consumption (briefly)
a/n: I absolutely love Sarah! I agree that high and low is a very underrated show & movie series and deserves more love. I got into it last year and have been loving it. A bit sad I don't see works for Sarah or many of the other Mighty Warriors. I hope you enjoy this!
The sound that woke you wasn’t sharp, but it wasn’t soft either. Something clinked in the kitchen, not loud enough to be alarming, but just enough to pull you from the edges of sleep. You blinked in the dark, heart steady but curious. Normally, someone being up this late wasn’t strange in this house. Nine was often awake well into the early morning hours, headphones in, editing lyrics or playing something soft through his speakers. But something about this moment felt different—like your body knew something your mind hadn’t caught up to yet.
So you pushed the blankets aside and stood, your bare feet silent against the wooden floor as you padded down the hallway. The house was dim, touched only by the faint glow of the stove light leaking from the kitchen.
When you rounded the corner, you stopped.
Sarah was sitting on the floor.
Not standing at the counter. Not pacing like she usually did when her thoughts were loud. Just... sitting. Cross-legged on the cold tile, back against the cabinets, with a mug nestled between her palms. She didn’t notice you at first. Her eyes were fixed on the cup, steam curling up from its surface. Tea, probably. She didn’t like coffee unless it was drowning in sugar.
Sarah.
She was the kind of woman who never gave too much away. The kind who skipped over childhood anecdotes like they never existed, who laughed a little too dryly when people talked about family traditions, who could go drink for drink with the toughest guys in the room and still walk out on her own two feet. Most people underestimated her. Thought she was all bark and bravado.
But you knew better. She was fire. Fierce. And yet right now, in the quiet glow of the kitchen light, she looked like someone else entirely.
Small.
You shifted slightly, and the soft creak of the floor caught her attention. Her head snapped toward you, eyes wide for a split second before they softened.
“Sorry,” you murmured, voice thick with sleep. You rubbed your arm, suddenly uncertain. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you. Why are you awake, dear?”
Sarah looked down at her tea, swirling it slowly. “Couldn’t sleep,” she said, her voice low. “Too much in my head. Tea helps sometimes.”
You nodded and crossed the kitchen without another word, easing down beside her until your thigh brushed hers. The tile was cool beneath you, grounding. You leaned your head on her shoulder, feeling her body tense just slightly at the contact. Her breath hitched. But she didn’t pull away.
“Want to talk about it?” you asked quietly, reaching over to trace your thumb gently along the back of her hand.
She didn’t answer at first. Her body was still, her thumb twitching slightly against the mug. You could feel the faint tremble in her fingers, subtle but steady. Her pulse was fast, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if it was your closeness that caused it or the thoughts storming behind her eyes.
Then, she placed her hand over yours, stopping your motion. Her grip was firm. Grounding.
“I never told you about my dad, did I?”
You turned your head slightly but didn’t move away. “No. You didn’t.”
She let out a breath. It sounded like she’d been holding it for years.
“He was a drunk,” she said. Her voice was calm, but it wasn’t steady. “Not the kind who slurred and stumbled. The kind who got mean. Controlled everything. He’d drink until the bottle emptied and the shouting started. Sometimes it was yelling. Sometimes it was worse.”
You didn’t say anything. Just let her keep going.
“He had this rule,” she continued. “No talking during dinner. No laughing unless he laughed first. No asking questions. I learned fast. Learned how to disappear even when I was in the room.”
She stared into her tea like she was watching old memories rise with the steam.
“My mom never left him. Said it was better to stay. Said we’d be homeless if we did. I hated her for a long time. Thought she chose him over me.”
You gently squeezed her hand.
“But when I turned eighteen,” she said, “I packed a bag, took the emergency cash I’d hidden for years, and left. Didn’t even say goodbye.”
The silence that followed was heavier now. Not uncomfortable—just full. Her words hung between you like something sacred.
“Sarah,” you said softly, turning your head to look at her. She didn’t meet your eyes.
“I don’t know how to be with you,” she said suddenly, quietly.
You blinked. “What do you mean?”
She hesitated, then finally looked at you. Her eyes were raw and open in a way you rarely saw.
“I mean I don’t know how to do this.” She gestured vaguely between the two of you. “Be soft. Let someone in. Trust that you won’t turn into him. That I won’t become her. That it’s safe.”
You sat up a little straighter, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
“It is safe,” you said. “I’m not him. And you’re not her. This is different. This is us.”
She looked away again, chewing the inside of her cheek. You could see the battle in her expression—the part of her that wanted to believe, and the part that was still protecting old wounds.
You leaned in slowly and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. She froze, just for a moment, then let out a shaky breath.
“It’ll take time,” you said gently. “And that’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. When you’re ready, I’ll be ready too.”
Sarah stared at you then. Really stared. Like she was trying to memorize every inch of your face.
“You mean that?” she asked.
“With everything I have.”
For the first time in a while, she smiled. Not her smirk, not the playful grin she gave in group settings. A real smile. Small, tired, but real.
She set her tea aside and leaned her head against your shoulder this time. No flinch. No hesitation. Just quiet trust.
You sat there together on the floor, wrapped in the hush of the late night, her hand in yours, her heartbeat slowly returning to a calm rhythm.
