Who fell first and who fell harder in love? You or them?
Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Gyomei, Giyuu x gn!hashira!reader
Genre: Fluff
Note: Demons version over here
Sanemi Shinazugawa // Wind Hashira.
He fell first and harder.
It was a little crush at first. He admired you from the side, denying and saying to himself that you are not interested in him anyways, so Sanemi doesn’t allow himself the pleasure of even fantasising about taking you out or you liking him back. Firstly, you could never and don’t deserve a man like him, secondly, Sanemi doesn’t deserve you either.
Bottling up his feelings for you ended up being much worse for him. The overwhelming need to be near you all the time, jealousy bubbling up inside his stomach when someone’s being a little too touchy with you. Every thought began to circle around you and it began to drive him mad, really.
You still tease him about it every now and then about how Sanemi used to stutter and be all shy around you until you finally took the first step to ask him out. He doesn’t appreciate the teasing and always denies it— you definitely fell for him first, not the other way around. Totally.
—
Kyojuro Rengoku // Flame Hashira.
You fell first, he fell harder.
How can someone fall for him? He is compassionate, bright, caring, strong, a family man and so much more— Kyojuro didn’t make it exactly hard to let your heart choose him as your next crush. You were hesitant to make a move though, content with admiring him from afar and kicking your legs in the air when you think about the way you caught how his sweaty muscle flexed during training today.
Although you began liking him first, the realisation that he liked you too hit him harder than being tossed across the forest by a demon. It felt a little scary at first how he kept getting distracted by you and his thoughts kept revolving around you, so much to the point he had to confess or else he felt like he is about to explode from keeping all his feelings to himself.
Kyojuro never realised you actually loved him first, but is incredibly thankful nonetheless that you do anyway. After you randomly mentioned to him once, he was actually really flabbergasted and incredibly honoured.
—
Gyomei Himejima // Stone Hashira.
He fell first, you fell harder.
Gyomei felt guilty for developing feelings for you. He was sure you had no interest in being with someone that is doing the same work you do and all the heavy baggage that comes with it: going out during odd hours, the pain and injuries, the worrying about if the other is going to come back alive or the death announcement being delivered over a crow— he was sure you wanted a little bit of normalcy in your life, so he avoided the thoughts that seemed to circle you lately.
You fell much harder than he did. You couldn’t stop blushing around him to the point that even Gyomei could feel the heat radiating off your body and checking if you have a fever by touching your forehead, making you heat up even more. You can’t help but really begin to love the hunk of a man that is a walking green flag. You couldn’t help but confess to him one day and hope for the best.
Gyomei can’t help but smile every time you mention your early feelings for him. He feels silly for being hesitant about his feelings for you whenever you talk about how your feelings were gnawing at your brain until you finally confessed. It’s adorable, he thinks.
—
Giyuu Tomioka // Water hashira.
He fell first, he fell harder, he almost died while confessing.
Giyuu melted everytime he saw you. On the inside, that is. On the outside, Giyuu only eyed you occasionally and tried to keep his, what he thought to be a small crush at first, at bay and as secretive as possible. This is only temporary and his feelings will pass soon. But for now, he will mentally berate you for your choice in unhealthy foods and stare at the ceiling at night, wondering if you are safe and sound right now.
This “little crush” of his began to get a little out of hand. Giyuu could tell that his feelings were getting a little out of hand as he kept loosing focus and getting beat and kicked to the ground by the other hashira, mostly Sanemi for some reason, during training and rolling over in bed over and over while loosing sleep over if you are still alive. He began to fantasise about being in a relationship with you every now and then, only to become depressed afterwards about how impossible and unreachable that fantasy is.
Giyuu knows confessing to you was one of the best things he ever did, you falling in love with him as well was so surprising to him, he almost thought he was being manipulated by a demon or you were a skinwalker of sorts. But now that he has you secure in his arms as he admires your sleeping face, he realises that yes, this is real and that you’re not going anywhere.
—
💠
Author’s note. Thank you for reading!
I finally know what colour to paint my nails in my Douma cosplay after the trailer dropped— AND I can finally colour in my fans the way he had it in the trailer too UGHHH the trailer took me outtttt
Also why is the first pic in Kyo’s banner so delicious
Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!
kyojuro rengoku comes back after the mugen train incident to his very angry and very intimidating wife. ˚.✦
You hear the front gate creak open just after midnight.
The sound is so soft it could’ve been the wind, but your body knows better. Your chopsticks freeze halfway to your mouth. The miso soup you’ve been forcing down for the third night in a row suddenly tastes like ash.
You drop the bowl. It clatters loudly on the low table.
Heavy footsteps come up the engawa. You’re already on your feet, haori half-slipping off one shoulder, sleeves shoved up like you’re about to start a brawl instead of greeting your supposedly-dead husband.
The shoji door slides open.
And there he is.
Kyojuro Rengoku.
Alive.
Missing an eye. Bandages wrapped around half his face like some half-assed pirate cosplay. Uniform torn and bloodstained in places they didn’t even bother to wash properly. Hair still stupidly perfect despite everything. Smile still stupidly bright despite everything.
You stare.
He stares back.
Then he opens his mouth and the first thing out of it is:
“I’M HOME!!”
Like he just came back from buying tofu.
Your eye twitches.
You cross the room in three furious strides, grab the front of his haori with both fists, yank him down to your level (he lets you, because of course he does), and scream directly into his remaining eye:
“YOU. UTTER. IDIOT.”
Kyojuro blinks (well, winks now, technically) and has the absolute gall to look fond.
“My gorgeous flame—”
“SHUT UP!” You shake him by the collar like a misbehaving puppy. “Do you have ANY idea how many funeral offerings I’ve had to politely refuse? How many times I’ve had to smile and nod while people told me what a ‘heroic death’ you had? I almost set the damn Ubuyashiki estate on fire just so they’d stop sending condolence fruit baskets!”
He tries to speak again. You don’t let him.
“And now you just waltz in here at,” you glance at the moon, “stupid-o’clock in the morning looking like you lost a fight with a lawnmower and half your FACE?!”
You finally let go of his collar, only to poke him hard in the chest with one finger.
“You lost an eye, Kyojuro! An entire eye! What am I supposed to do with a one-eyed husband? Start calling you ‘Captain’ and make you wear an eyepatch with a little heart on it?”
His shoulders start shaking.
You narrow your eyes dangerously. “Are you… laughing?”
“No!” he says immediately, voice cracking with the effort of holding it in. “No, my love, I would never!”
“You’re literally crying with laughter right now.”
“I’m crying because I missed you so much,” he tries, but the grin is splitting his face in half and ruining the solemn effect.
You make an outraged noise and turn away, arms crossed so tight it hurts.
“Unbelievable. I mourned you. I cried. I yelled at crows. I threatened Muichiro with a broom because he kept looking at me with those big sad eyes like I was made of glass. And you’re giggling.”
Kyojuro steps closer, slowly, like he’s approaching a very angry wildcat. Which, to be fair, he is.
“I’m sorry,” he says, softer this time. All the bravado drains out of him. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted you to think I was gone. I fought with everything I had to come back to you.”
You refuse to look at him. Your bottom lip is trembling and you hate it.
He reaches out, hesitant, and lays his big warm hand over your shoulder.
“I should have been more careful,” he continues quietly. “I should have come back whole. I hate that I made you worry. I hate that I made you grieve even for a moment. You’re allowed to be furious. You’re allowed to hit me with that broom you mentioned. Just… please don’t turn away from me.”
You whip around so fast he flinches.
“You think I’m turning away because I’m mad you’re injured?” Your voice cracks. “I’m mad because you almost didn’t come back at all, you flaming moron! You almost left me here alone without your stupid loud laugh and your stupid loud eating and your stupid habit of setting things on fire when you get excited about breakfast!”
Tears are running down your face now and you’re too angry to wipe them away.
Kyojuro’s eye widens. Then softens. Then gets suspiciously shiny.
He drops to his knees in front of you and bows his head so deeply his forehead nearly touches the floor.
“What are you—”
“I was wrong,” he says, voice thick. “I was reckless. I failed to protect myself for you. I failed to keep my promise to always come home. Please… forgive me.”
You stare down at the back of his golden head, at the way his shoulders tremble just a little.
Your temper is still roaring, but something else is roaring louder.
You drop down too, knees hitting the floor hard enough to bruise, and throw your arms around his neck so violently he almost topples backward.
“Don’t you ever,” you hiss into his hair, “do that again.”
He wraps both arms around you immediately, crushing you to his chest like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go even a little.
“I swear,” he whispers, over and over. “I swear. Never again. Never again.”
You pull back just enough to glare at his bandaged face.
“And this?” You gesture at the bandages. “This is ridiculous. You look like you tried to fight a tornado and lost.”
He huffs a watery laugh. “It’s not so bad. The eyepatch they gave me has a little flame pattern. Very stylish.”
You snort despite yourself. “You’re going to look like the world’s most enthusiastic arsonist.”
“Exactly!” He beams. “Perfect for intimidating demons.”
You flick his forehead.
“Ow!”
“Stop being proud of it!”
“I can’t help it!” he laughs, grabbing your wrist gently and kissing the inside of it. “I’m alive. I’m home. And you’re still yelling at me. Everything is right with the world.”
You try to stay mad. You really do.
But he’s looking at you with that big dumb golden eye, smiling like the sun itself, and the relief is so overwhelming it hurts more than the anger ever did.
You lean forward and kiss him angry, messy, tasting salt and smoke and him. He kisses you back like a man who’s been starving for weeks.
When you finally break apart, both breathing hard, you mutter against his mouth:
“If you ever scare me like that again, I’m divorcing you and keeping the custody of your brother.”
Kyojuro throws his head back and laughs as loud as always.
“Understood, my fierce wife.” He presses his forehead to yours, eye shining. “But you’d miss my cooking.”
“Shut up,” you grumble, burying your face in his neck so he can’t see you smiling. “I hate you.”
“I love you too,” he says cheerfully, arms tightening around you like he’ll never let go again.
Pairings: Rengoku x fem!reader; Gyomei x fem!reader; Sanemi x fem!reader (bonus: all hashira men x fem!reader)
Word Count: 3,2k
Warnings: this might be a little shitty so be nice pls, this is actually the first time I ever wrote for Gyomei so please please please let me know what you think! not 100% proofread 🥹🤍
Rengoku Kyojuro
“Have you seen Rengoku-san? There’s something I want to ask him about our upcoming mission.”
Tengen tilts his head to the side ever so slightly, lips unable to keep that dirty grin off his face. Yeah, surely you’re asking for a mission and not because you’re having a crush on the flame hashira since joining the pillars.
“He went outside in the gardens to view the blooming roses”, he lies oh so innocently.
A bright smile creeps up your face, heart already skipping a beat in excitement. If you were only brave enough to finally ask Kyojuro out, how easier your life would be if you’d just keep your distance to him. But the prospect of seeing him alone is enough for your mind to go blank. Hopefully, the others don’t notice.
“Thank you so much, Tengen”, you blurt out with a hasty bow before yanking out of the room.
“Didn’t he say he wanted to change since he sweated so much during training?”, Shinobu thinks out loud.
“Yeah, that’s going to be a lot of fun”, Tengen replies with a smirk plastered onto his face.
Your mind races back and forth as you make your way to the gardens. What will you even ask him? Maybe what he has planned, if he already knows something? What if you mess up? This is actually the first time you and Kyojuro got assigned a mission together. You have to make a good impression or otherwise, he won’t take you with him again.
“Rengoku-san, I don’t mean to disturb you, but I have a few questions regarding the ne-“
Your breath gets stuck in your throat immediately, feet coming to a rapid stand.
There he is, the flame hashira.
Shirtless, his upper body soaking wet while he empties a bucket of water over his head.
“Oh, (y/n)! I didn’t expect you here!”, he announces with his eyes widened.
You can’t even blink, mind going dull. You always secretly imagined what Kyojuro might look like underneath that uniform, if his muscles look as buff as they feel underneath your touch while training.
And they do.
Oh god, they definitely do.
“I-I…Tengen told me that…You’re here to see…the roses”, you blurt out, still unable to look away.
“Indeed! But before that, I really needed to change my uniform since I sweated a lot during training.”
“Yeah, I can see that”, you mumble.
“(y/n), are you not feeling well? You look quite red from afar. Allow me to check on you.”
When he suddenly starts walking towards you with his chest muscles tensing with each and every step, you feel like fainting. Of course you never doubted that this man looks good underneath that uniform, but this?
“Your cheeks are really hot”, he comments while running his wet hand up and down your cheek.
“I…I…”
Your mind is a mess, not a single thought is making sense right now. Are you dreaming? Is that really Rengoku Kyojuro standing in front of you with his abs glittering in the heat of the sun, so close that you’d be able to touch him.
“Maybe you should go and see Shinobu-“
“I’m flustered!”, you finally cry out like an idiot.
Only to regret your words immediately.
His hand stops right in its tracks, the piercing presence of his orbs forcing you to look up at him.
“Why would you be flustered, (y/n)?”, he questions innocently.
May the ground swallow you whole in hope you’ll never return. God, why does this have to be so embarrassing? You’ll definitely have a word with Tengen when this is over.
“Because I…I have a crush on you, Kyojuro.”
The words you never dared to say out loud, that lingered through your mind each and every time you saw him. Like a rock, they fall off your chest while a wave of pure panic starts rushing over you.
You just confessed your feelings to him.
Him, Rengoku Kyojuro.
“I think I need to go now”, you blurt out, already starting to turn away when Kyojuro grabs your wrist gently.
“Please don’t go, (y/n). Actually, I feel the same way about you.”
He sweeps you around so rapidly that you are forced against something as hard as a wall. Did he accidentally throw you against a wall, the nearby tree?
The second you open your eyes again, you stare at his bare chest, only millimetres away from your face.
That wasn’t a wall.
“I had an eye on you since the first time I saw you. You are just…so amazing!”, he confesses with a passion that is even unusual for him.
“Kyojuro, I…”
Your bare face touched his naked chest.
“I…”
And don’t get started on his sight, his broad chest, the muscles that flex when he grabs your shoulders passionately.
“I…I can’t…”
“What’s wrong, (y/n)? A cat got your tongue?”, Tengen jeers from behind.
All your senses seem to come back to you in the split of a second when a wave of anger washes over you.
“You little…Why did you do that!?”, you cry out while storming towards the much taller man.
“Because your face looks very flashy when it’s this red.”
Gyomei Himejima
To say that you are exhausted would be the understatement of a century. Being out in the scorching sun all day really took its toll on your already bruised body.
Not to mention the training methods of none other than the stone hashira himself.
Gyomei is not a stranger to you. You’ve known each other for quite some time by now, joining the demon slayer corps almost simultaneously. And that force of a man never failed to impress you.
You wrench your sweat-soaked clothes in the river while staring at your own reflection. Why are you even here, though? You might not be a hashira yet, but you trained with Gyomei countless times before. Over and over, you shoved rocks around and almost drowning in that exact river. At this point, the basic training of the corps members isn’t even enough for you to break a sweat. You find yourself shoving that rock 10 cho by now while carrying tree trunks on your back.
You furrow your eyebrows. Now that you think of it, you didn’t even catch a glimpse at Gyomei himself since being here. Apparently, the hashira training does keep him busy.
That sting of agony that pierces through your heart can’t be stopped, though. Over the span of those last years, you got to know the stone hashira better. Despite his tall and threatening appearance, he is the softest man you’ve ever known. So kind that he brought tears to your eyes more than once, so considerate that it’s hard to believe that this man lives alone.
It was inescapable for you to fall from him head over heels. And now you find yourself longing for his presence even though you know all too well that he is busy training the corps members.
“I didn’t expect to greet you here at this late hour.”
You almost trip over head-first into the water, caught by a strong hand last-minute before you take another dive into the river.
“I’m beyond sorry for scaring you like this, (y/n)”, an all too familiar voice continues while pushing you back on your feet.
Normally, the first thing you see is his demon slayer uniform and cloak draped around him in a somehow elegant way.
But not today.
You swallow hard, widened eyes blankly staring at his naked chest. This man standing in front of you…Gyomei wears nothing but his uniform pants.
“I…uh…don’t w-worry”, you stutter like an idiot, his arms still holding you in place gently.
“Did I interrupt you? I didn’t know that you were taking a bath.”
His soft voice paired with that sight in front of you. You’ve never seen him shirtless, never witnessed the way his veins pop out of his arms and how well formed he is underneath that uniform. It would be so easy to allow your fingertips a taste and let yourself discover his muscles even better, to just stretch out your hand and-
“Does it bother you that I am shirtless? I came here to take a bath myself.”
“Bother?”, you press out.
“I…I’m not bothered at all!”
“I guess I’m just a little…flustered…”
“Flustered?”, he repeats in confusion.
“If I make you feel uncomfortable, I’ll cover myself of course. I just noticed you were here and we haven’t seen each other for a long time by now.”
“I missed you”, he adds, forcing your world upside down for a minute.
Since you’ve got to know him, there was never more than friendly words between Gyomei and you. Not more than a shoulder rub, not more than motivating words from time to time. You never allowed yourself to compliment him or talk about anything apart from missions.
Until now. Until Gyomei confessed out of nowhere that he missed you.
While being shirtless
“I…missed you too”, you finally give in.
You allow your eyes a little glimpse at him. Just a little taste of his broad shoulders and how his veins stand out. Just a little something of his rock-hard abs, his enormous upper body that is usually covered by his uniform. Just one look at-
“I thought about you all the time, to be exact”, you breathe out before you even realize what you’re talking about.
“I’m feeling the same way, (y/n). Let me assure you that my heart beats just as fast as yours at the moment.”
Gently, he cups your hand with his and presses your palm against his bare chest, straight against his racing heart that pulsates against your skin.
Oh god. You feel like fainting any given minute, your very own heart pounding so hard that you might get a heart attack.
“Now, allow me to put on my uniform again so that we can have a proper-“
“Wait!”, you blurt out.
“Let’s just stay like this for uh…a little longer…”
Sanemi Shinazugawa
It’s hard to keep your palms from sweating when you know exactly where you’re going. To him, the wind hashira. The man who swept you off your feet without even trying, the man you haven’t seen in such a long time by now.
While Sanemi always kept himself busy with missions, you were assigned to a mission far away from home. It took you over a month to finally find the demon who was responsible for this mess. And eventually, Sanemi just stopped writing you letters or replying to your messages. Even though you were so sure that he might feel the same way about you, he proved you wrong.
In the most painful way.
“I can’t go any further, that’s exactly where he is”, you complain while following your crow around.
You know this path uncomfortably well, the way it leads you next to a river, through a field of strawberries. Straight into the wind hashira estate.
“Direct orders from Kagaya-sama! You need to undergo the hashira training!”
“I just returned from an exhausting mission, did you tell him that?”, you bark back only to get attacked by your stinky crow.
“So cheeky! Watch how you talk to me!”, it cries out, literally dragging you along with it while its beak bursts the skin of your cheek.
Your heart almost stops beating, pounding rougher and rougher against your ribcage with every step you take towards the wind hashira estate.
What if the man you still love rejects you? What if he breaks your heart in front of everyone else, if he speaks out those words you imagined when you waited another day for his reply?
You want to escape, want to get as far away from here as possible. But your unforgiving crow drags you with it until you find yourself at the front doors of his estate.
“Get yourself together, dumbass! Go inside and talk to him! GO!”
With one last bite it finally leaves you alone, right at the opened front door.
There’s nothing you’d like more than vanishing from this earth, to get swallowed whole. Why on earth does it have to be him first? Why aren’t you allowed to train with Tengen, Giyu, basically everyone else? Your heart races so hard inside your ribcage that it takes your breath away, eyes staring into the dark estate.
Is he even home?
You allow yourself to take a few steps into the building, to look around. No cries, no voices? Maybe he isn’t even home. Are they training somewhere else, in the nearby woods, maybe?
“Fuck!”
His voice almost sends you over the edge, forces your eyes to dart around in sheer horror. That was Sanemi, without any doubt. But is he alone?
What if he’s not?
What if he’s with a girl?
You swallow hard, the ugliest thoughts taking over your head when you hear water splashing from a room nearby.
You can’t help it. As quiet as possible, you make your way towards the room the sounds originate from, ready to find literally everything. What if that’s the reason he didn’t write you back? What if he fell in love with another woman and simply forgot about you?
Your eyes peek through the ever so slightly opened door.
And your jaw drops to the floor in an instant.
There he stands, nothing but a towel covering his private parts while droplets of water run down his naked back. Sanemi just washed himself.
But oh…
You can feel your mouth watering just by looking at the scars that cover his back, how delicious the water than runs down his neck seems. You’re only a few steps away from that force of a man, only a few steps in order to touch him. You always wondered what his skin feels like, if his outside is as rough as his inside. And what does he smell like straight out of the shower? Does he still smell like himself? And what about his abs-
All air drains from your compressed lungs as you suddenly find yourself pinned against the wall straight in Sanemi’s bathroom.
“Why the hell are you spying on me like some little freak?”, he hisses through gritted teeth.
“I…wasn’t spying”, you press out, his distressed orbs meeting yours.
Fuck, you’re screwed.
“Oh yeah? Why were you standing outside my bathroom then? I didn’t even know you were back!”
“Because you never fucking asked”, you finally bark back.
He draws even closer, lingers over you like an unpromising shadow with his naked upper body still dripping. No, you have to concentrate on the fact that you’re mad as hell right now, there’s no room for inspecting his upper body.
But his abs definitely look as good as they feel.
“You were out on a mission, how the hell was I supposed to ask? I thought you’d just let me know when you’re back”, he bites back.
“Oh, could have tried answering my damn messages, maybe? Did you ever think about that!?”
“Me answering your messages? You never replied to me!”
You furrow your eyebrows.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“What I’m talking about? I sent you countless messages and you never answered. I even asked Kagaya-sama if you died or something! I…I was so fucking worried…”
His heavy breath mixes with yours, caresses your oversensitive skin.
“But Sanemi…I did the same”, you finally mutter.
Sanemi’s chest rises and falls rapidly, a few water drops escaping the force of his skin. His oh so glowy skin. Of course you knew that this man would look good shirtless. But this? How are you supposed to stay focused when his skin turns pink ever so slightly, when his muscular chest moves like that?
“Can you stop staring at my abs and focus on me for one minute?”, he barks while flicking in front of your way too focused eyes.
You feel your cheeks heat up in an instant, glossy eyes staring at him like a caught deer. If there’s one thing that’s worse than checking Sanemi out, it’s definitely getting caught.
“Sorry, I have to go”, you mumble while pulling yourself away from him.
Only to find yourself wrapped in his naked arms even tighter.
“You’re not going anywhere. I just asked you something”, he warns you.
“Let go of me!”
“Did you…miss me?”
Your arms stop right in their tracks, widened eyes staring at his flustered face in sheer disbelief. There he stands, Sanemi Shinazugawa, straight out of the shower while asking you if you missed him?
“Yeah, always”, you reply out of instinct.
“Good. Because same.”
He doesn’t even give you the chance to second-guess your answer. In the split of a second, you get devoured by his muscular arms, your very own kimono soaking wet in an instant.
Are you dreaming?
“Wait, what?”, you breathe out.
“And you totally checked me out”, he adds proudly.
“I didn’t check you out-“
“Oh yeah?”
He lets go of you just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his delicious upper body again.
“Maybe a little bit…”
-Bonus-
You huff out in exhaustion. What the actual fuck were you thinking when you agreed on training with all hashira? Well, apparently not that you’d literally vomit all over yourself after getting hit without any mercy by all of them.
“That little fucker Shinazugawa”, you curse under your breath while stomping towards the wind hashira estate.
“I’ll kick your puny ass next time.”
Your feet drag you back to them with last strength. Rengoku, Tengen, Obanai, Shinazugawa, Tomioka…why on earth are all of them so damn strong? Super unfair.
“Have you seen how I beat the shit out of her?”, you hear Sanemi jeer from afar as well as the constant mumbling of the others.
“It wasn’t necessary to hit her this hard”, Giyu comments.
“Hell yes it was. Now that brat knows what she’s dealing with!”
All you see is red. Even though your body begs you to stop, you storm towards their voices.
“Listen up, you little shit-“
Your breath gets stuck in your throat, eyes darting around without a real aim.
There they stand. Shirtless. Every single one of them.
Oh.
“Don’t worry, it’s not your fault that you’re a loser-“
Just this once, you’re actually able to ignore Sanemi’s shitty words. That toned abs Rengoku has, Tengen’s veiny arms, Obanai’s athletic build, the scars that compliment Sanemi’s muscles so well-
Why is it suddenly so hot?
“Are you okay, (y/n)?”, Giyu questions while rubbing the back of his head with a towel.
How is it possible that he looks this good underneath that loose uniform? You always expected Giyu to be rather athletic that muscular given his fast movements. But that mountain of a biceps definitely doesn’t lie.
“I…”
Not a single logical thought is left in your blank mind, eyes roaming back and forth between them.
“I need to go.”
In the matter of seconds, you disappear inside the wind hashira estate without a trace.
“Is (y/n) alright? She looked rather pale”, Rengoku thinks out loud, still staring at where you last stood.
“She was definitely checking me out”, Tengen announces proudly.
“You? Bet she was looking at me”, Sanemi jeers at the tall man.
“How are they so hot?”, you mumble to yourself while inspecting them through the window.
Have you ever wondered how certain Hashira would react if you just… idk… crawled into their clothes and fell asleep there?
Sanemi:
"Honey, have you seen my-" and there you are in his haori he was searching for, sleeping peacefully in it. He folds his arms and breathes out, "damn brat", but there's only fondness in his expression. He pulls the covers up over you and kisses your forehead.
Giyu:
At first Giyu would be awkward about it because normally he doesn't like his personal things touched by others. He isn't sure if he should wake you up and ask for his haori or not. In the end, he couldn't bring himself to do it because he did like the way you looked in it. Like you were meant to wear it. He actually would carefully lay next to you without disturbing your sleep and wrap his arm around your waist.
Rengoku:
His heart would melt and yes, be set ablazed! He would think it's the cutest thing and quietly laugh to himself to not wake you. The one who would secretly take a picture of you like this as a keepsake.
Tengen:
He would be amazed you managed to do so without making the wives jealous, grinning wide. He would turn his head a couple of times to make sure the three of them are occupied enough before he lays down next to you from behind. He would hold you as to shield you from the world, softly kiss the top of your head, and murmur something soft that's only meant for your ears even in sleep.
First time Ive done one of these through ask. Hope you like.
You’re not even part of the Demon Slayer corps. You live in the outskirts of the city in a humble little home with vegetables in the front garden and sunlight hitting the kitchen window just right in the morning. You don’t fight demons. You don’t swing swords.
But Kyojuro looks at you like you built the sun.
He visits often. More often than you expect a man of his position to. When you open the door and see him there—uniform slightly burnt at the edges, sandals muddy from a long trek, hair wild and eyes bright like twin infernos—he greets you with the same breathless smile every time.
Like you’re the first thing that’s ever made him stop running.
“Good morning!” he says, even if it’s already late afternoon. “May I sit with you for a moment?”
Of course he can. He always can.
He brings you persimmons sometimes, or wagashi he stole from the Butterfly estate’s kitchens when Shinobu wasn’t looking. He once carved you a pair of wooden hair sticks and shyly handed them over with flushed cheeks.
You’d worn them the next morning.
Now, he comes almost weekly, always with something to share: a story, a meal, a hand-carved comb, a bundle of flowers so chaotically arranged it looks like a bush exploded. You feed him. You listen. You walk him back to the end of the path before the fields begin. He turns three times before finally leaving, like he doesn’t want to lose the sight of you.
Kyojuro doesn’t just say he loves you—he announces it.
To you. To his sword. To small birds flying by.
When you're past that stage, he stays over nights sometimes.
He wakes you with forehead kisses, then immediately asks if you slept well, if you’re warm, if you liked it, if you dreamed of him. When you mumble a groggy yes, he beams so hard it could melt snow.
Breakfast is always an enthusiastic event. He holds your bowl like it's sacred when he passes it to you, says “Please enjoy!” like you're dining in a five-star inn, and watches every bite with an eager little smile.
“I love feeding you” he says. “I’ll cook one day too—once I learn! We will cook together like an unstoppable flame duo!”
You raise a brow. “You do realize you burned rice in a pot of water, right?”
He places a dramatic hand on his chest. “My love! The flames got excited!”
He shows off a lot.
Lifting things he has no business lifting. Catching fruit midair with his katana. Flexing after training and acting like he’s not waiting for praise.
You catch him once posing topless in the garden when he knows you’re nearby. Arms crossed behind his head, sun hitting his abs, chest glistening from the well water he just splashed over himself.
“Kyojuro,” you say. “You’re glowing like a festival lantern.”
He grins. “Do you find me handsome?”
“I find you obvious.”
“And yet your cheeks are all red,” he replies, voice lowering just enough to make your stomach flutter.
He crosses the garden, hair still wet from the well. He stops just before you, leaning down, his forehead brushing yours.
“You do like what you see,” he says warmly. “I do all this for you, you know.”
You laugh, flustered, shoving his chest—uselessly, because he’s solid as a wall. “Show-off.”
He leans in further, voice dropping to a near whisper. “You’re the only one I want to impress.”
He’s very sure about you. That certainty is the softest, warmest thing you’ve ever known. There’s no hesitation in him—not a flicker.
“I will marry you,” he says one night, holding your hand in bed, eyes glowing in the candlelight. “It is not a question. It is a promise. You are my future.”
You kiss his knuckles. “You’re not even asking?”
“I’m declaring!” he beams. “If you say yes, I will start building our future tomorrow. If you say no, I will simply ask again the next day, and the next.”
You roll your eyes, but your heart is all but melting.
He’s warm at night. Not just in temperature, but in presence. You never have to reach far—his arms are always there, around you. His voice is a lullaby at your neck. He loves touching you: your back, your waist, your stomach—wherever he rests his hand, it feels like he’s saying, mine.
You curl into him, tucked under his chin.
“Sometimes I wonder how I ended up here,” you murmur. “With you.”
Kyojuro tightens his hold. “Fate. And very good taste on your part.”
You snort. “So humble, kyo.”
“I am humble,” he replies seriously. “I only boast when it comes to things I love. Like you. And swordsmanship.”
He’s addicted to you.
In small moments, in quiet gardens or on the porch steps, he’ll pull you close just to press kisses to your temple. His hand will find yours unconsciously. He'll talk about the future easily, casually, like it's already written.
“We’ll have a house with wide windows and two futons pushed together. Maybe three.”
“Three futons?”
“Or five. I sleep like a lion. I need space to sprawl, and I want you nearby.”
When you kiss him, he melts. His whole body relaxes like you’ve extinguished something wild in him. But when he kisses you—it’s a promise. Every time.
He trails kisses down your shoulder, down your arm, over your pulse like he’s worshiping it. Like he’s grateful for your very heartbeat.
Sometimes—when the house is still, and the lanterns are low, and your breath stutters under his touch—he murmurs things between kisses.
“I will love you until I draw my final breath.”
It’s poetic. It’s dramatic. It’s Kyojuro.
And you love him so much you don’t know what to do with all the warmth.
...
He knocked twice.
No answer.
Then again, with slightly more force—though never too loud. He didn’t want to scare you, just in case you were napping, or out back picking herbs from your garden. You always forgot to close the gate when you wandered behind the house. He waited. The silence pressed into his chest.
“Beloved?” he called gently. “It’s me.”
Still, no reply.
Kyojuro tilted his head, golden eyes narrowing. That was… strange. You usually called out before he even made it up the path, waving from the kitchen or sliding the door open early to hug him before he could announce himself.
Today, the curtains were drawn. The wind tugged at the corner of the door’s cloth panel, but there was no familiar sound of your slippers padding on wood. No scent of soup. No soft, flustered laughter or that cute little “Kyoooo...I just came from the bath!!” . Just quiet.
Kyojuro glanced down at the small package in his hands—a neatly folded haori wrapped in linen and tied with a red cord. The sleeves were designed just the way you liked, and the inner lining was your favorite shade of plum. He’d asked three tailors for fabric advice and nearly thought of using the first sample as a cleaning cloth after it didn’t feel soft enough against his own cheek. Only the best for you.
You’d said once, only once, that you wished you had something warm to wear when you walked out in the evenings. He remembered. Of course he did.
He stood there a moment longer. Waited. Listened.
Then quietly, he turned away.
He’d come back later.
...
Evening came.
And with it, his worry.
He wasn’t the type to fret. Not in battle. Not when bleeding. Not when standing before something monstrous. But love made fools of even the brave—and tonight, he felt it in the pit of his stomach, gnawing quietly.
you’re just out, he told himself. Perhaps visiting your neighbor. Or helping in the village. Or maybe you simply didn’t hear him—
But the curtains were still drawn.
He approached again with steady, slower steps this time, the new haori now folded carefully under one arm. The lantern at the front had not been lit. There were no footsteps inside. The silence felt… deliberate.
He knocked once.
No answer.
Then again. Firmer. Nothing.
Then—click. The door opened—but not to you.
A young woman stood in your place. One of your close friends. She looked a bit nervous, clutching a dish towel in her hands. “Oh, Rengoku-san. Um. Hello.”
He blinked. “Ah—good evening. Forgive me, I didn’t realize someone else was here.” He glanced behind her shoulder instinctively, searching the house for a familiar silhouette. “Is she alright? I was hoping to speak with her…”
The friend hesitated. “She’s not home.”
Kyojuro stilled.
“She… left for a few days,” she added quickly. “Said she needed some air. Some time. She’ll be back soon.”
“Did something happen?” he asked, concern thick in his tone. You didn't tell him anything.
“I don’t think so,” the friend said softly. “She didn’t really say.”
He nodded, though slowly. “I see.”
He didn’t.
“Would you like to leave a message?”
Kyojuro looked down at the haori. The fabric shone faintly in the dying sun.
He shook his head. “No message. Just… tell her I stopped by. And that I hope she’s well.” He paused, then added more quietly, “Tell her I’ll be back soon.”
The friend nodded.
He bowed politely and turned to leave.
The walk back was slower. He didn’t even notice that the wind was colder tonight. That the haori in his hands felt heavier now. That the stars were beginning to blink awake above him and for once—he had no words to greet them with.
He wasn’t hurt. Not quite.
Just confused.
You’d never avoided him before.
You never hid from him before.
He trusted you. That didn’t waver. Not for a moment. He didn’t assume the worst. That wasn’t his way. But something inside him—just a small, tender flame—felt like it flickered in the wind.
Did I overstep?
Was I too much?
He had been dreaming lately. Of building things with you. Of a life. Of lazy mornings where you stole his robe and kissed his shoulder and teased him about how loudly he snored or how his hands wander even when he's asleep. He’d been thinking of names. He’d carved a butter knife for you and etched both your names in the handle. He loved you with a certainty that lit his entire body like fire.
But love was more than certainty. It was understanding. And right now, he understood that maybe… you needed space.
Still, as he entered his own quiet home and placed the wrapped haori on the low table beside his futon, he couldn’t help but press a kiss to the fabric, just once, like a prayer.
“Iam yours,” he whispered into the quiet. “And I’ll wait as long as it takes for you to come back home to me.”
