#Secrete Marriage

[topgunruinedme]

I'M LOSING IT (FOR YOU)

Summery:

Having been giving the chance to move all the way from his hometown out to Miramar, with the chance to work under his idol in his dream position, he hasn’t hesitated. Thomas Kazansky, the Iceman, one of the most respected and most renowned sole weapon maker in the country, having the only known contract with the Navy to date, manufacturing their new age multimillion dollar aircrafts. Sure he was stuck running around the office, grabbing coffees and managing Ice’s calendar to ensure the man got home at a reasonable time, like a desk jockey. But who would want anything more? However, three years later, he hasn’t expected all of that threatened by a pretty face with emerald, green eyes. But once the press caught a whiff of something they became hound dogs, and before they knew it there was a scandal. Iceman was dating Maverick, a green-eyed menace of a man who worked with them as a contractor within the Navy, the Captain who accompanied them at events and kept their funding flowing. The only issue is Iceman being labelled as gay was not good for business, especially not with the bigoted DADT pushing clientele they hold. Issue One: Iceman wanted him to pretend to be in a relationship with the Captain. Issue Two: Mitchell was actually a smooth bastard when he wanted to be, and he might be falling for him. Issue Three: Mitchell was actually Kazansky’s husband.

“Im sorry you want me to do what?” “I want you to date Pete, until this all goes down” “Mitchell. Pete Mitchell. Your husband”  “Yes” “Cool. Cool. Cool, just making sure we’re on the same page. No, my answers No” “I’m your boss” “No you’re insane. I’m your assistant, and I don’t even like Mitchell”

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandom: Top Gun (Movies)

Word count: Aprox. 4K

Relationships: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell/Beau "Cyclone" Simpson, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky & Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky & Beau "Cyclone" Simpson, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell & Beau "Cyclone" Simpson

Characters: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Beau "Cyclone" Simpson, Chester "Hammer" Cain, Darran "Copper" Wendle

Additional Tags:

Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hidden Relationship, Forbidden Love, Throuple, Mention of Don't Ask Don't Tell, Don't Ask Don't Tell, Homophobic Workspace, Old Homophobic Thinking, Inspired by Set It Up, Modern Era, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Developing Relationship, Revealed relationship, Secrete Marriage, Secretary and Boss Action, Ice is a weapon manufacture, Mav is a Navy Contractor, Beau is a Secretary and Designer, POV Beau "Cyclone" Simpson, Beau "Cyclone" Simpson is So Done, Beau "Cyclone" Simpson is a Softie, Dom Beau "Cyclone" Simpson, Bottom Beau "Cyclone" Simpson, Protective Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Married Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell is a Little Shit, Bottom Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky Lives, Protective Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, Gay Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, Soft Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, Top Tom "Iceman" Kazansky

Series: ← Previous Work Part 9 of (Jon Hamm) Beau “Cyclone” Simpson fics

   “Simpson!”

        Beau bit back a sigh at the call, irritation mounting as he gave the carrier an apologetic look as he hastily scribbled the last half of his signature on the e-pad. Snatching the flat package from the man’s offering hand, ignoring its fragile shipping label instruction stamped across the package with red ink once he caught the name of the sender, shoving it between his chest and the crook of his elbow. His own files pressed against it, wrist aching with the weight of the coffee tray, headset slanted forward on his ear, and he cursed lowly aware that there was only a certain amount of time before it dislodged and fell down around his neck. On his other hand his pointer and middle finger began to cramp with the weight on the metal hanger dug into the crease of his finger joint holding the pressed and ironed suit encased in a protective zipped sleeve, shoes safely polished and placed in a fabric protector attached to the hook adding to the weight, swaying behind him just over his shoulder as far as he could place it away from any possible spillage from the cups. He slipped past the crowded office into the left cut hallway that led to his ‘office’; which was realistically just a small cut out section of the hall which he was sure was once used to be for back up storage, which now held his small sad desk that was pressed up against the wall. A small, cluttered area which collected Kazansky’s mail and the endless phone calls and scheduled meetings, an eyesore for all those who passed it, as rare as it was, to enter the big, windowed view of Kazansky’s office.

        Using his hip, he pressed open the glass door to the office mainly due to the lack of available hands, tilting his head to press his headset against his shoulder to click the button on the side of his earpiece as he heard it emit a soft tring.

        “Beau Simpson, Kazansky Office. Please hold” he calmly answered falling into a practiced lull as he stepped further into the office, tolling his eyes and biting back irritation at finding Kazansky leaning over a chaotically overfilling desk of open books, scrolls, and blueprints spread over and under books with no care for risking damaging the prints, his paints, charcoals, and what he was assuming what was some sort of acrylic paint was smeared across the glass top desk. He mentally making a note to apologise to the cleaner before they got into tonight, wondering if that red velvet and truffle place was still open so he could order an apology gift for Darline the shift manager.

        He gently swung the suit around his body to hang it up, hooking it onto the rack by the door, neatly notched onto the old looking pipe that stuck out from the old brick accent wall which took after an industrial design. Once he was sure the suite was smooth and safely notched, he stepped back hand, quickly shifting his headpiece back into a stable position before firmly holding his files now removing the awkward pinch it was giving his elbow from clutching it for so long.

        “Sir” he acknowledged lightly as he stepped further into the office pointedly ignoring the man lounging in the plush lounging chair that sat on the lush, carpeted area. The darked haired man’s legs were spread, uncaring for the way that his uniform formed tightly over his thighs, lips turned downwards, brows furrowed slightly, fist pressed against his chin looking bored. The mans seamed to light up as he entered, head dipping up at the sound of his voice lips curling up in pleasure, forcing him to bit back his retort as he slid the books aside to create space and placed his files onto the desk, careful to not damage anything Ice might be working on but also not allowing the files to be re-swallowed by the mess and lost forever.  

        “Simpson” Kazansky muttered distracted as he tapped the dull side of his pencil against his jaw in thought one palm pressing against the desk, hunched over as he worked. “Did you get my dry cleaning for tonight’s gala?”

        “Steamed and hung sir, shoes are polished as well. The car will be picking you up from the office at 9, and the speaker should greet you upon arrival”. He began to quickly scan the table picking up the books that looked untouched for a while flipping them shut and began to stack them in a pile creating some space that he knew was pointless because it would only be swallowed again once he left. “Don’t forget you have a lunch in Manhattan with Cortell at 12, the car will arrive in the lobby at 11:20. Then you have two hours of sketching time before you have blook meetings with the committee”.

        He had hardly finished his mental recalling of his boss’s calendar when a hand cut through his vision snatching one of the coffee cups, pointedly the one black dot on the lid, from his tray causing him to scowl. He glanced up and glared at Mitchell who calmly grinned at him from his new position leaning back against the table, sipping from the brim staring straight at him, baiting him.

        “Actually” he drawled, “That was mine”.

        “No bed side manors for the guests Cy?” Mitchells lips tipped into fond a fond smile.

        His teeth grated at that horrible nickname; the man hadn’t flattered since he first met him. Giving people callsigns is his thing, Tom had explained to him once when he first joined the company, clearly over trying to argue the calling card of Iceman, once the name flowed through the correct Navy channels it seemed people were much more willing to work with Kazansky, so he had left it at that. Don’t ask what you don’t want to know, his grandmother had told him once. Especially when apple pie was involved.

        “Not to uninvited guest, not particularly no”.

        Kazansky reached out blindly, snapping his fingers insistently causing his eye to twitch in indignation as he silently passed the man the remaining warm coffee, leaving his hand empty other then the tray which he untucked from its folds, flattening it and placed the dismantling tray into the bin, taking a moment to try and regain his composure.

        “And here I thought you loved me Cy” Mitchell chuckled lightly.

        “Only the amount of money you make the company sir,” he bit back, releasing a silent shuttered breath, turning towards them with a customer service smile, patient but deadly.

        Mitchell smirked lazily kicking his leg out his hip pressed against the glass looking lazily at ease in such an awkward position. “Well, you know how sort after and irreplaceable I am”

        He hummed “I didn’t realise the Navy had a special place in their hearts for recruiting garden nomes”.

        Mitchel’s expression tightened, smile turned sharp, “Don’t get cute with me boy”.

        “Cute, you must be mistaken, I’m nothing but polite and efficient” he calmly stepped closer reaching out around the man towards the side table and extending a bowl of butter drops Kazansky liked keeping by his desk for when he was thinking, “Candy drop?”

        The man scoffed roughly rolling his eyes so aggressively he hoped they would fall out of his skull and cause his to drop dead- placing the drink down on the table grumbling as he bitched “Who gets soy milk in their coffee anyway?”

        “People who have an intolerance to lactose. Now if I had known you would be here, if you have scheduled an appointment, I would have gotten you a coffee in your order”.

        Mitchell tisked dismissively, “Isn’t it your job to keep track of Tom’s schedule?”

        “If you actually scheduled, then yes”.

        The man eyes flickered to the documents on the desk eyes catching the red ink, grimacing as he took another sip. “You know when I send mail labeled fragile, I intend you to be fragile with them Cy”.

        “Nothing you ever send is fragile Mitchell, and if it was important, you would have hand delivered it” he informed him well aware of the man’s habits having them drilled into him for the last three years and counting.

        “Don’t be dumb Cy, if it was that important you wouldn’t even know about it” Mav smirk was sharp, taunting him.

        Before he could reply a low thrumming filled the room sounding more like something was dying, calling out in agony.

        “Simpson, the computers beeping again” Kazansky muttered waving his hand in a general direction to his left.

        That…was a computer?

        Frowning he stepped away from Mitchell and addressed the desk before him, flipped over books, carefully closing them and stacking them into tower, rolling up scrolls before finding the said object buried under an avalanche of notes, only to sighs heavily.

       “It’s beeping because it’s overheating again. Sir, you need to close the tabs you’re not using, or you’ll overload the system-” he reminded him for the umpteenth time.

        “They’re all important to my work-” Kazansky glanced up eyes narrowing on him as if threatening to close his…109 tabs… was life threatening. Why the hell does he work for this man again? Ah right, despite the shit hours, endless workdays and wanting to quit at least 27 times an hour, it was great experience on his record, and it came with good pay for someone in his position. Enough to have a decent apartment, care for his cat Phranch, and small French bulldog Pez, his endless succulents and the climbing plants that were taking over his bathroom and fire escape. It allowed him to wear decent business wear to work, his dress shoes, ironed business trousers neatly tucked into his white button up which was rolled up to his elbow with a brown belt to tie it together. Kazansky never specifically said he needed to dress to impress but considering he always walked around in a suit it was heavily implied, and it wasn’t like he could wear his sweater wear around here in his position, he’d get trampled on.

        “I know sir, but the more the computer overheats the quicker it will die”.

        “That’s idiotic,” he heard the man mutter attention stolen by a stray line, that he leaned over the table, bitting the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth in concentration as he gently adjusted the line of the frame to the canopy of the newest F-22’s.

        Deciding that it was a lost cause attempting to argue with the man who clearly didn’t quite grasp technology the same as the other bothersome man in the room, he picked up the laptop rescuing it from its doom sliding it under his arm resisting the urge to flitch as the hot object pressed against his skin just below his rolled sleeve. There was no point trying to fix the problem here, he would need to bring it back to his desk and cross refence the tabs with Kazansky’s open projects before actually deleting anything. Why the man couldn’t simply use the desktop on his desk was beyond him, let alone the tablet he ended up retrieving every so often when the man’s carelessness fried something, no doubt at the bottom of the draw of his neck, he’d have to charge it up, it was just as frustrating to care for but thankfully Kazansky had a better understanding of it, even if it was only the sketching app. Ironically the man had no issues working a phone, he just simply chose to ignore calls.

        Ignoring the way the laptop pinched at the hair on his arm he took the time to order the files he placed on the desk, placing the more time pressing on the top of the pile and the people he personally thought deserved to wait longer just purely from being dicks on him on the phone on the bottom, idly listening to Kazansky quietly mutter to Mitchell about the design for the sleek airframe, as he tugged a pen from his pocket and placed it on top. A 0.5 needle point, sleek but precise, something he knew Kazansky would want, the man was cold and cutting, and he displayed those exact traits in his mannerisms and signatures. He knew that Kazansky would get to them eventually, the man always did a scan of the desk after lunch taking the time to check over the files and [placing aside the work he completed before sinking into his creativity zone. The files where always signed at the end of the day so he didn’t particularly care how long it took or what exactly the man’s process was.

        He twisted, fingers tightening around the laptop as Mitchells eyes jumped up from the table where Kazansky was running his pen over a mechanics of the inner engine and those green eyes softened watching him even with those tugged tight smiles he always got when he knew the man was tired and stressed. He ignored him, even when he waited anxiously with a bated breath, uncomfortableness itching at his chest, as Mitchell let the tense moment drag in silence instead of butting in and trying to get him, to rise for his bait as he usually did in moments like these. Always gleeful to steal a moment or two to send him off out of the office in a foul mood ensuring he wouldn’t bother them for a few hours, always dragging it out as long as he possibly could before forcing himself to face the man again trying to hide the way his fists curled, or the tenseness in his gaze as it scanned over the man as if he wasn’t even there. Much to Mitchell’s endless amusement.  

        He turned his attention to his boss, trying to bite back his irritation when the man didn’t even bother to acknowledge him. Only a few more years. Only a few more years, he reminded himself. Then I can have enough experience under my name to work my own firm, to get a better job where it's my designs that are being followed instead of running coffee orders like I was Kristien fucking Stewart.

        “Do you need anything sir? Or am I to return to my desk?”

        “No”. The blond waved him off dismissively, “Push back my meetings for an hour, I don’t want to be disturbed”.

        His eye twitched, hand shifting ever so slightly behind his back, view obscured, as his fingers curled into a fist. Placing a painfully fake smile on as he nodded empathetically “Of course sir”.

        Did he not just tell the man he had an appointment? An important one. Like hell he was pushing that back, the man could work in his designated sketching time. Did he know how much time he spend negotiating with this firm? How many people he had tried to be calm with as they cursed him out? How many hours of overtime he had put in to just keep up with the work load this meeting created to begin with. NDA’s, contacts, security details.

        Did he know how long this took to set up?

        “That means you too Mitchell” Kazansky’s unimpressed drone cut through his anger with a sharp flash of gratification at the disgruntled and offended look the other man wore. Mitchell immediately moved forward towards Kazansky who didn’t even bother to glance him with a look, a noise of protest already bubbling from his throat when the moment was interrupted by his headset beeping with an withholding call, reminding him that he still had someone on hold.

        Pushing back the urge to groan knowing fully well he was in for a tongue lashing due to the wait, he smiled, clicking the side button reconnecting the call. Moving towards the doorway towards his desk as he put his all, whatever will to live that was left at 9:30 in the morning, into an energetic bubbly voice that was expected of him for his position. “Thank you so much for holding. How may I-” his sentence was cut short, tongue catching behind his teeth in alarm jaw clenching, as his strid stalled in the centre of the room, “Mhh. I understand”.

        To his left, Kazansky finally glanced up brows furrowed half in annoyance and the other in intrigue. “Simpson?”

        “Cy?” Mitchell stepped forward towards him as if it would help the distress flooding through him, those green eyes searching him for some sort of unnamed response.

        His smile felt strained as he silently walked towards the door pausing, releasing the pressure bar holding the doors open and flicking the lock shut. He then stepped back towards them, closing the distance hastily with three long strides placing the computer on the computer on the files, ignoring the way the computer whined in complaint when he opened a new tab. Lips pressed as he hummed in agreement again, along with the man on the phone who ratted off in a confused half panic. “Don’t worry Marty, I'll handle it, yes, goodbye” he reached up numbly clicking the button as the call finished staring up at the two men.

        He clicked on the newest post on the webpage and glanced up at the two men offering them a grim look as he twisted the computer around to reveal the page. “We have a problem”.

        There sitting on the screen, loud and proud, was an image of Kazansky, stone faced in his usual business attire hands folded behind his back. Mitchell beside him, looking slightly more human, one hand in his pocket, the other fiddling with his lapel, although the man’s head was tilted slightly towards Kazansky’s, the angle of the photo making it look deceptively like they were speaking to each other quietly. Secretive. Intimate. And above it all, in capitals with colours flying across the screen labelled:

KAZANSKY Co., OWNER OFFICIALLY LEAVES HIS COCKPIT, ONLY TO ENTER ANOTHER: THE GAY STORY OF A CENTURY!         Thomas Kazansky one of the youngest CEO in Marmari, who had not only managed to double his worth in five years but to successfully secure the one deal that had everyone at war. A naval contract.          Only now it leads to a more interesting story. After all it’s not everyday you hear for the rich falling for the commoner. Thomas Kazansky or affectionately called Iceman by his colleague Captain Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, was recently appointed the soul contract for a classified military intelligence service, important enough that he was given a Captain to work with. A Captain, who’s has been spotted on several occasions leaving his personal building, and office at odd hours. A naval officer who is comfortable enough to stand so close to the Iceman, a man who it turns out, may not simply be a man. But rather, a boyfriend.          It will be a surprise to everyone here when I inform you with utmost glee that Thomas Kazansky is gay! Confirmed face to face by a trusted anonymous source of mine. Not only is he gay, but the suggestion of the image above sealed my suspicion, Iceman is dating Maverick! Well, I guess we all know who’s who in the relationship…Click here to read further… View count: 2,408 Comments: 1,002 Reposts: 456 Posted 8 minutes ago, 27th September, 2022.

        “What the fuck is that”. Mitchell was starting at it, had been staring at it for a good few minutes as if reading it, and rereading it again, as if that would change the words on the page.

        “A scandal” he offered.

        “An anonymous source?” Mitchell sounded scandalised, furious, as if this was his own reputation literally falling to the ground around him. The Man snarled shoving off the desk forcing himself into a pace with a sharp calming breath which seemed to be failing as the pent-up man reached out towards the desk as if to throw something only to stop himself mid motion. “Who’s going to believe this shit?

        He glanced at the scene tiredly in growing temptation, mentally wincing at the views listed there, “Around two, three thousand as of right now” and growing.

        “Three thousand?!” Mitchell stared at him, “How the hell do that many people have spare time to read the news during work hours”

        “You always mange to find time to bother me at work during work hours” Kazansky muttered, he had relocated, numbly moving away from his desk barley missing spilling his dirty paint water onto his work in his haste to collapse into the plush chair Mitchell had abandoned earlier. His elbows on his knees, hands pressed together, fingers pressing against his lips in contemplation, tying to find a way out of…this.

        “You need to do damage control” he said quietly, “We need to put a statement out, debunk it all. The longer we wait the harder it will be to contain. But we don’t want to do it too soon, or they’ll think we’re trying to hide something”.

        “Meaning hell take damage either way” Mitchell sounded deflated, defeated, dropping back into the plush chair across from Kazansky with a weary groan, “Shit Kay-”

        “I know” Kazansky mused, “I know”.

        “What the hell are we going to do?” Mithcell scrubbed his face, “You know Cain and Wendle won’t tolerate colours around your name, even if it’s only a rumour-”

        “They’ll bounce” he offered, “Unless they were convince otherwise, and we offer them something more important than their own pride”.

        “What would possibly be more important?” Mitchell snapped.

        He worried his lip, “Darkstar” he broached carefully.

        Kazansky head snapped to him, “What?” he asked tensely.

        Mitchell had gone pale, still.

        “Where did you hear about that?” Kazansky demanded, “That’s confidential. They require Naval credentials to access”.

        “Cains sends emails, I read emails. It’s not hard to put together sir. He’s been emailing for a few months about it, trying to bring it back into motion, apparently it was shelfed back in 1986 after a pilot died during testing-”

        “Nick Bradshaw” Mitchell bit out sounding far more breathless than he should, “His name was Nick”.

        Shit.

        They knew him.

        He hated when he stepped into unventured land. It was an unmarked minefield waiting to blow. “He’s been trying to push the initiative” he continued quietly, “Apparently with your approval he can override the board of director votes and put it into motion. If we give him that, then…he won’t be thinking about anything the news prints out. Other than how much money he’s going to make”.

        “And Wendle?” Kazansky asked quietly, head bowed somewhat terrifyingly similar to one praying in purgatory, his own time spend on his knees in the small purgatory momentarily flashed behind his eyelids, the total sense of helplessness and weighted lack of navigation.

        “Well sir, let’s just say I have enough collected on him from his drunken loose tongue at the last event to hold him off for a while, until we can pin him with those dirty under the table deals, he’s been doing with Russia”.

        “He’s dealing to Russia?” Mithell muttered, “That’s the worst country to try and blackmail”.

        “No one said he was smart, and no one said he was the one trading. We just need to make it believable”.

        “You can’t get rid of a scandal” Kazansky glanced up with a solemn acceptance, nodding his head slowly in acknowledgment, “You can only make a bigger one”.

[shutupcrime]

Some of you are too afraid to admit this but we all know Star Wars works best when it goes full soap opera

[wasabi-gumdrop]

Kabru has a secret admirer in the castle!

[amirasainz]

So I read a lot of stories similar to my requests. But I just think you are the best author on tumblr, so I wanna ask you😅☺️

Secret marriage with Oscar. They married really young and the drivers reaction. She is always at the races, but just in the shadows. The only one that knows is Charles, because he is Oscars "dad" 😭😍

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💕

Secret marriage

The F1 paddock buzzed with the usual energy and tension. The race weekend was in full swing, and every driver, mechanic, and team member was focused on the task ahead. It was Friday afternoon, and most of the drivers had just finished media sessions and were now lounging around in the driver's hospitality suite, swapping stories and strategies. Oscar was among them, scrolling through his phone with a relaxed expression.

Nearby, Lando noticed a familiar face in the crowd. A woman, sleek and stylish, with a British Vogue ID around her neck, had been lingering around Oscar’s side of the paddock all day, chatting with him occasionally before darting off to interview other drivers. Lando squinted, intrigued.

“Oi, Oscar,” Lando called out, leaning back in his seat. “Who's that Vogue chick? She’s been following you around like a shadow.”

Oscar glanced up from his phone, trying to keep his expression neutral. “Who, Y/N? She’s just here for work. We know each other pretty well.”

George, who overheard the conversation, raised an eyebrow. “Pretty well? Mate, you guys looked like you were practically whispering sweet nothings before she left the garage.”

Oscar shrugged, but his eyes glinted with mischief. “Maybe we were.”

Lando sat up, fully interested now. “Wait… what? Are you and Miss Vogue dating?”

Oscar chuckled, keeping his cool. “Not exactly.”

Pierre, catching onto the conversation, leaned forward. “Come on, spill the beans! There’s definitely something going on.”

Oscar finally sighed, looking up at his friends with an amused smirk. “Well… actually, Y/N and I… we’re married.”

The room fell silent.

George blinked. “You’re what?”

“Married,” Oscar repeated, his tone casual as ever. “Been married since we turned eighteen, actually.”

The explosion was immediate. Lando gasped, practically jumping out of his seat, while Pierre clapped a hand over his mouth in shock.

“No way!” Lando exclaimed. “You’ve been married this whole time?”

Oscar nodded, barely reacting to the chaos unfolding around him. “Yep. Just never made a big deal out of it.”

“You’re telling me,” George said, his voice high-pitched with disbelief, “that you’ve been secretly married for… what? Three years now?”

“Three and a half, actually,” Oscar replied calmly, clearly enjoying their reactions. “We wanted to keep it private. Just worked out that way.”

Pierre looked like he was about to faint. “Mate, do you realize we never even knew you had a girlfriend, let alone a wife?”

Oscar gave a little shrug. “Guess I’m good at keeping secrets.”

George put his hands on his head. “I thought I was the reserved one around here! But this? Oscar, this is next level. How did we never catch on?”

Oscar chuckled, glancing over at Y/N, who was currently chatting with a journalist a few feet away. “She’s at most of the races. Just… behind the scenes.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” Pierre muttered, shaking his head in amazement.

Just then, Charles strolled into the room, looking curious as he caught the tail end of the conversation. “What’s everyone freaking out about?”

Lando grinned, looking ready to explode with excitement. “Charles, you’re not gonna believe this. Oscar’s married! Secretly married, since he was eighteen.”

Charles’s reaction was far more subdued. He simply nodded, a knowing smile spreading across his face. “Ah, yes. I know about Y/N.”

The room went silent again as every driver turned to gape at Charles.

“You knew?” George demanded, wide-eyed.

Charles gave them a smug shrug. “Of course. I’ve known for ages. I’m Oscar’s ‘dad,’ remember?” He winked, referencing the Monaco joke that had become a running gag between them. “It’s my job to know these things.”

Oscar snorted, smirking over at Charles. “Guess you can’t keep secrets from your ‘Monaco dad.’”

Lando threw his hands up in the air. “You’re all insane! Charles knows, Oscar’s been married for years, and we’ve all been left out!”

Pierre shook his head, still processing. “Wait, how did you find out, Charles?”

Charles leaned back, crossing his arms with a grin. “Oscar told me after our Monaco podium. Said he needed someone to know in case he ever needed advice. Before we went partying, I met Y/N and let me tell you, she is a lovely girl. And, you know, as his ‘father’ in the paddock, it was only a matter of time.” He gestured grandly, making everyone laugh.

George narrowed his eyes playfully. “So all this time, we could’ve been calling him ‘married man Oscar’ instead of ‘little Oscar’?”

Oscar rolled his eyes, amused. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t exactly a talking point. We wanted to keep things between us. Y/N’s work with Vogue keeps her busy and traveling too, so it worked out.”

Oscar turned his head towards Y/N, calling out softly with his arm outstretched. " Love, came here for a second, please."

Y/N approached just then, noticing the group staring at her with a mix of shock and admiration. “Is everything okay?”

Pierre looked at her, still in awe. “So… you two are really married?”

She glanced at Oscar with a smile, nodding. “Surprise?”

Lando leaned in, grinning like a kid at Christmas. “How have you kept this a secret all this time? You must have some insane spy-level skills.”

Y/N laughed. “I wouldn’t say that. We just wanted to enjoy it without all the attention.”

“Respect,” George said, tipping an imaginary hat to her. “You two might be the most low-key power couple I’ve ever seen.”

Charles looked proud, wrapping an arm around Oscar’s shoulder. “That’s my boy.”

Oscar rolled his eyes, shoving Charles off. “Alright, alright, let’s not make a big thing out of it.”

Lando looked at Oscar, eyes still gleaming. “Mate, this is a big thing! You’ve been living like some kind of undercover superhero. ‘Married Piastri’ is a whole new level of cool.”

Pierre nodded eagerly. “Right? It’s like finding out Clark Kent was Superman all along.”

Oscar chuckled, clearly enjoying his friends’ reactions. “Well, maybe now that you guys know, I’ll bring her around a bit more.”

Lando lit up. “Please! And maybe you can finally get that double date with George and Carmen going!”

George chuckled. “Right, because that’s exactly what we need. A bunch of drivers swapping marriage advice.”

Pierre smirked, nudging Oscar. “You’re making the rest of us look bad, you know. Now everyone’s gonna ask why we’re not secretly married.”

Oscar smirked back. “Hey, don’t blame me. You all had just as much chance to find out as Charles.”

As the group laughed, Y/N leaned into Oscar’s side, whispering, “Well, I guess the secret’s out.”

Oscar grinned, wrapping an arm around her. “Guess so. But I don’t mind. Not if it means we don’t have to sneak around anymore.”

Charles rolled his eyes playfully. “Alright, alright. Now, can we get back to racing, or are you going to give us a honeymoon slideshow too?”

The group burst into laughter, and Oscar looked around, more comfortable than ever. His secret was out, but he couldn’t be happier to finally share it with his friends.

[gunsatthaphan]

happy marriage equality to my favorite brides and grooms 🏳️‍🌈🥹🫶🏻

[ao3-shenanigans]

Not fake dating or fake married but a secret other thing: otp has been married for years but no one can find out because if HR hears about it….

(Or whatever other reason they don’t think anyone should know)

[milkcioccolato]

LISTEN! Listen!

Daddy-Wan deserves some loving

And Maul will find a few moments to give it to him even during a war!😌

[redbean-nom]

imagine the chaos of a no66 au when anakin discovers the entire shadow lineage is getting married and quinlan has a kid

[ccuniculusmolestus]

Tbh bunny also probably doesn’t know what it means 🤦‍♂️

[sanemi-whore]

Cruel World (1)

You had two choices - allow your father to marry you off to the highest bidder or run away and decide your own fate. What you weren't expecting was to encounter a demon along the way. Sanemi x Reader (afab) warning: arrange (forced) marriage, readers father is abusive (not physically), mentions of death/blood, cursing, alcohol intake, sanemi being in denial of his feelings lol, unsolicited touching/groping/humping, masturbating (m), word count: 12.838 masterlist | Part 2 | Final

“Fix your face.” your fathers words were harsh as he spoke to you. He sits across from you, legs crossed and hands in his lap. “You should be honored that a man has offered so much to marry you.”

Honored.

You wanted to laugh.

There was nothing for you to be honored about. There was nothing honorable about being married off to a man you’ve just met - a man twice your age at that. You never imagined being in a loveless marriage with nothing to live for but to be a trophy wife. 

“Yes, Oto-san.” you murmur, head low. 

It wasn’t long ago when your father was requested by a man - an older man who appears just as old as your father, if not older - for a meeting. They spoke in hushed tones while you were ordered to cook and serve tea for your guest. 

Your hand shook as you served the tea when your ears picked up on the conversation.

You were the topic - your hand in marriage. Your head screamed for your father to deny it - to say that no money in the world could even buy you. However, he hadn’t. He agreed without little resistance and you felt sick to your stomach. You couldn’t hear anymore of the conversation and you sprinted to the bathroom. You fell to your knees and released the sobs you weren’t aware you were holding.

“Sleep.” your father ordered. “He will be here tomorrow morning to speak of the arrangements.”

You nod your head. You stand from the cushion you sat upon and bow your head. Your father’s eyes caught the way your throat tightens, but he chooses to ignore it.

You do not say a word to your father before turning away from him and making your way down the dim lit hall to your bedroom. The hardwood floors were cold against your feet as you made your way to your bedroom. You slide the doors closed behind you and lean against it.

You missed your mother. You were certain she wouldn’t allow your father to do this if she was alive. 

Your father himself wouldn’t have done this if life wasn’t cruel to the both of you. He wasn’t always a harsh man that drowned himself in alcohol to escape reality. He was once a kindhearted man who adored his family - until said family was ripped away from him. From the both of you.

You’re unsure how long you were leaning against the door lost in your thoughts. Your eyes began to burn and you blinked rapidly to retain the moisture in your eyes. Your eyes darted to the window - the moon shined through it, casting a glow through the dark room.

Your feet walk before your mind can register it. Before you know it, you’re outside of your home in general and sprinting through the grassy field. You nearly trip over your kimono, but you manage.

You had nowhere to go. You were out of your mind. But you would rather be nowhere than be sold to that old man.

The area is dark and the only light guiding you is the moon above. Your chest heaves as your legs continue to run and you’re positive they would give out soon. You cursed your lack of stamina.

Your eyes swell with tears when you feel a sharp pain in your side.. Your feet lift from the ground and you’re being flung into the nearest tree. Your breath escapes from you and you’re now groaning in pain.

“Well…”

Your vision is blurry, the tears streaming harshly down your cheeks. Your attempt to regain your composure, but you’re badly wounded. 

“...you shouldn't be out at night.” a sinister voice booms through your ears. “You never know who lurks in the dark.”

You can hear footsteps coming closer to you. Your fingernails dug into the dirt, arms trembling.

You scream when your hair is yanked backwards and you’re lifted to your knees, an excruciating pain running through your veins. Your kimono and hadajuban is pushed down to reveal your bare breast and you feel what you assume are teeth sinking into you.

You were going to die - no doubt by a demon.

To think you survived this long - survived the massacre your mother and brother endured - just to die now on your own.

A gust of wind surrounds you, so rough that you fall forward once more. The demon's teeth are no longer on you and you take note that the demon itself isn’t either. Your hand immediately goes to the wound onto your chest, blood seeping through. 

You blink your eyes hastily to see your surroundings.

The demon was horrendous - eyes dark as the night and skin appearing as if it was burned off. He had horns coming from his forehead and on his lips was your blood. He licks them, eyebrows furrowing to the man in front of you.

You take note that the man is tall with white spiky hair that glows underneath the moonlight. His back is facing you and you cannot see his face, but he holds a large sword in his hands. His haori is white and appears to glow along with his hair.

“A Hashira, huh?” the Demon cackles. 

Your eyes widen at the demon's words. 

“H-Hashira…” you murmur, eyes glued to the tall man before you. You head of the demon slayers and the Hashira, but never would you have imagined being in the presence of one.

“Don’t just fucking stand there!” the Hashira barks, head turning slightly to the side. You follow his gaze to see a group of boys, all sporting black uniforms and holding their own swords. They are frozen behind a bush and all jump at the Hashira’s sudden bark. “Take the girl to Kocho!”

“Y-Yes, Shinazugawa-sama!” the group - 4 - of demon slayers say in unison. You witness them scurry off to you while the Hashira begins his battle with the Demon.

“You’re losing a lot of blood, miss.” one demon slayers moans sadly as he attempts to touch your wound. “C-Can you apply pressure to it while we get you to Shinobu-sama?”

You nod your head, but you feel dizzy suddenly. Maybe you had lost a decent amount of blood.

“Oh no.” another demon slayer quips. “She’s passing out. We have to leave now.”

Your eyes shot open, your shoulder being roughly shoved. You looked around your surroundings.

“Y/N.”

Your head snaps to the side, eyes widening. 

“Onii-san…” your voice is high pitched and childlike. Your eyes drift to your lower appearance and child-like hands. 

You then roam your eyes around the bedroom - the one you shared with your elder brother. It’s bright - the morning sun shining through the windows.

“W-what-”

“You overslept.” your brother flicks your forehead, an act you always hated but you could do nothing savor his touch.

Was this a dream?

Was this heaven? Had you succumbed to your wounds and died?

“Y/N…why are you crying?” your brother's voice is startled, wondering if he had flicked you too hard this time. He yelps when you crush your face into his yukata and continue to cry, tiny hands clutching onto him for dear life. “What’s wrong?”

“I…had a bad dream, Onii-san.” you sniffled after a few moments of your crying. 

Your brother’s eyes soften and he places a hand on the top of your head. “Baby.” he murmurs softly to you. “Go wash up and then meet me outside. I have something I want to show you.”

You do as you’re told, far too excited to see your brother again.

As your feet slap against the cold hardwood floor, your heart is pumping again to be reunited with your family. 

Your hands reach the shoji doors, ready to open it, the shining sun from inside your bedroom suddenly disappears and all that you are left with is the familiar shining moon light.

“Y/N, don’t-” your brother screams - he appears to be far away, so distant that you ponder if he’s in the same room as you.

What’s going on? The door slams open and your eyes widen. The tall monster - you remember now. Tentacles sway around him. His skin was a disgusting green and his claws clenched onto your mother’s kimono. She’s lifeless, covered in blood. 

A tentacle reaches out to swipe at you, but your brother flings himself in front of you - but he’s nothing but a child such as you. He slams into the nearest wall, body just as lifeless as your mothers. Blood pools from his wounds and you can do nothing but scream at the sight.

You release a sudden scream, thrashing at the hands gripping onto you. “No!” you choke out a whimper.

“Calm down.” the voice says - stern but sweet. “You’re alright.”

You’re alright.

Your eyes manage to blink until they focus on where you were at. You’re on a bed foreign to you surrounded by several other beds that are vacant. The room is quiet except for a few people surrounding you, your eyes recognizing a few of the demon slayers you encountered. 

That was not a dream - you being attacked by a demon was indeed real.

Seated beside you was a young girl with blue eyes with black pigtails. She has a stern look in her eyes as she stares at you. 

“My name’s Aoi.” she tells you. “You were having a nightmare.”

You nod your head slowly. That part was also correct. You cannot remember the last time you dreamt of the night your brother and mother had died - until now.

“Where am I?” you whisper out before coughing. Your throat was dry and raspy.

“Here,” Aoi leans beside you to grasp a glass of water from the bedside table. “drink this.”

You do as you’re told, mentally thanking her when the cool water hits your throat. 

“Are you alright?”

You notice it's a demon slayer - a young man who’s eyes appeared to be glossy. “You passed out on the way here.”

You nod your head once more. “Thank you for bringing me.” you tell them and they each nod back, faces red. “If I may ask…where is the Hashira that saved me?”

Aoi sits straighter onto your bed, but the way her eyes roll does not go unnoticed. “Go get Shinazugawa.” she tells the slayers who all freeze at her command. “Now.”

The three slayers scurry off but appeared to be in no rush. Aoi turns back to you. “Just a warning.” she begins. “Shinazugawa isn’t…the nicest.”

You tilt your head. 

“He can be a little…rash.” Aoi shrugs her shoulders. “Are you in any pain? I managed to stitch up your wounds.”

You shake your head. “No. Thank you.” you bow your head. “You are a nurse? You look so young.”

Aoi’s face reddens. 

“I’m sorry. I meant no harm.” you attempted to apologize, unsure if you offended her or not. 

“It’s alright.” Aoi stands. “I do help around the butterfly estate more often while Shinobu-san is busy.” she explains. 

The door slams open and frightens the both of you. Aoi’s eyes darted to the noise and her eyes turned to slits. “You don’t have to be so abrasive, Shinazugawa-san.” she hisses. “I’m going to get you something to eat.” she says without as much of a look your way.

Shinazugawa only scoffs as the young girl pushes past him, closing the door behind her slightly. You noticed by his demeanor as to why the slayers were reluctant in calling for him - you guessed people walked on eggshells around the man.

Your heart flutters when his eyes meet yours.

The man is covered in scars, you note, and the amount is alarming. You assume it was due to him being a Hashira and his time in battle with demons.

“You look scared shitless.” Shinazugawa’s voice startles you.

Your body heats at the fact that you were staring. Your eyes dart away and you bow your head. “I’m sorry!” you quip. “I-I just wanted to thank you. For saving me.”

You note that he doesn’t say anything. Your eyes darted forward to see that he was now directly in front of you. Your heart skips a beat - Hashira’s were stealthy. 

“Why were you outside alone?” Shinazugawa questions. “Surely you know that demons exist.”

You gulp. He was correct. You did know and yet, you still left without a care in the world of your fate. “I…”

The Hashira waits for your response.

“I didn’t want to be home.”

The Hashira doesn’t make a sound for a moment. He studies your face before responding. “You left in the middle of the night in nothing but a kimono…because you didn’t want to be home?” his voice is deep and condescending. “You could have encountered far more harm besides a demon.” he spats. 

Your hands clench onto the bed sheets you were under.

“Why didn’t you want to be home? Your husband refused to buy you something?”

Your eyes widen. He was mocking you, surely. 

“That kimono is expensive no doubt. You must come from money.”The Hashira spats before shaking his head. “Just tell me where I need to bring you-”

“I’m not going back.” 

Shinazugawa’s eyes widened at your interruption.

“I do not come from money, either. The Kimono is a gift from the man my father sold me off to marry.” your tone matches his now. You wanted nothing more than to thank the man, not be judged about your decision to leave your home.

Sanemi is quiet, unsure of what to say. You shut him up, surely. He could only judge you by what you looked like - your hair wasn’t a mess when he found you and you wore a kimono crafted from the best materials. It wasn’t his fault and he wasn’t going to apologize for it, either.

“So your father is broke.” Sanemi states.

“No.” you scoff. “He just doesn’t want me around him anymore. I should be honored to be married off to someone his age.” You say sarcastically. You do not realize you’re clenching the bed sheets until you release them, witnessing how wrinkled they become. “Sometimes I even think he wishes it was me that died by that demon instead of my brother.”

Sanemi’s ears perk, but he doesn’t say anything in response.

“He was sure to tell me each time he was drunk that he only wanted a son. It was my mother that wanted to have another child in hopes of a daughter.” you laugh low to yourself. You’re talking to yourself more than you are to the Hashira. “To think he lost his prized child and wife.”

Now Sanemi was feeling guilty, even if he wasn’t going to show it or apologize. It appears you had a shitty life with your father and he can only think of back many moons ago of his own disappointment of a father. 

“Sorry.” you murmur to the Hashira. “Got carried away.” you straightened yourself to look at him once more. “Thank you again. I know slaying demons is your job, but you could have left me there. I am forever grateful.”

Sanemi doesn’t realize it until it’s too late. His neck is hot and so are his ears. If he would look at his reflection, he’d see that his face is red. “Don’t thank me.” he murmurs with a gulp. “Where are you planning to go?”

You’re unsure of the answer yourself. There was nowhere for you to go. You had no relatives and going back to your father now was possibly the worst decision to do - you’re positive his wrath would be hellish. 

“A few years ago at the age of 15,” you began. “My father said that I could always be a prostitute and maybe work my way up to be an Oiran.” you begin to laugh and Sanemi couldn’t believe his ears. Were you seriously laughing at the harsh words spewed at you by your father? “He was drunk and upset.”

“Sounds like an asshole.” Sanemi states. 

You sigh, smile from your laughter still on your lips. “He was.” you agree. “I cannot hate him for it. To answer your question, Shinazugawa-san-”

“Sanemi.”

You furrow a brow at the Hashira. 

“I’m not one for honorifics.” 

You nod your head. “Sanemi.” you hum. “I’m not sure where I am planning on going. However, I’m sure wherever that is it will be better than my fate chosen by my father.”

Sanemi grunts. You appear to be courageous in a way, not caring what the world dropped at your feet as long as it wasn’t anything worse than your chosen fate.  

“Why not become a demon slayer?”

You giggle. “I don’t even know how to throw a punch, Sanemi.” your eyelashes bash at him and again, he feels hot. “I would be useless.”

“You can always train.” Sanemi suggests. 

You hum. “I suppose you’re correct. But I don’t know anyone willing to train me.”

A knock sounds on the door before it slides open. Aoi walks through with a tray, a plate of soup placed on it. 

“This should be light on your stomach.” Aoi tells you once she places the tray on the bedside table. “Shinazugawa-san, would you like anything?” she says to him through gritted teeth. She was only being polite and didn’t wish to hand him anything.

“No.” is all Sanemi responds with and Aoi only shrugs.

“I’ll be back in a half an hour to check in on you.” Aoi says and retreats once more. 

Your stomach churns at the aroma of the soup. You’re unsure how long it’s been since you ate and you were starving. You grasp the tray and do not hesitate to dig in. 

“I can train you.”

Sanemi only stands and watches the first ten minutes of you eating silently before he does speak. It catches you by surprise.

“Oh?”

“Would you rather be a prostitute?” Sanemi spats harshly. “Having different types of men on top of you at that. For that you could’ve married the man who paid your father.”

You aren’t fazed by his tone nor his words, your father has trained you for this since you were a child - bellowing insults after insults.

Your lips twitch. 

“I wouldn’t mind it if they were as handsome as you.” you tease the Hashira and now he’s taken aback, face fully flushed and his fists clenched. You giggle to yourself. “Just kidding, Sanemi. I wouldn’t be a good prostitute, either. I have no experience.” you take another sip of your soup and all Sanemi could think of was your last words.. “I would be honored to train with you.”

Sanemi gives you one last look before turning away. “I’ll talk to Kocho about you being released.. Until then, rest up.”

Sanemi slides the shoji doors open and walks out, not turning to look back at you. 

“Well,” Sanemi speaks. “come at me.”

You do, hands raising the wooden sword in your hand. You’re trembling as you run towards him and Sanemi wants to laugh at the way you look. He does nothing but step to the side and watch as you fall onto your face.

“That was pathetic.”

You gulp. “I know.”

“Get up.” Sanemi demands. “You’re entirely too slow.”

You were released the following day and like promised, Sanemi had returned. He doesn’t say anything but motions you to follow him to his home - a large estate not far from the one you just came from. You were given a change of clothes - a black uniform-like bodysuit that fit you slightly loose. You were surprised to receive the haori that matched the one Sanemi wore, you even beamed and stated that you fit the aesthetic to be trained under him - he only grunted a response. 

Sanemi wasted no time in jumping into training. He gave you a wooden sword and gave you little instructions on what to do. 

“For fucks sake!” Sanemi hissed after he watched you run - if you can call it that - towards one end of his training compound to the other. “Have you ever run a day in your life?!”

You pout. “Not since my brother died. That was nearly a decade ago.”

Sanemi groans. He wasn’t sure what he expected training you. This is why he never had the desire to train anyone and why he doesn’t have a tsuguko. 

“You’ll need to gain stamina.” Sanemi groans. He was sure you would need that before he even teaches you about total concentration. 

You groan along with Sanemi. 

“I know just the person.”

You follow Sanemi as he leaves his estate, but he doesn’t bother to wait for you. He’s a few feet ahead of you now and you’re trying with all your will to not be left behind. 

You reach another estate, your legs burned with the amount of walking. Sanemi reaches the shoji doors and knocks a few times, impatiently tapping his foot against the wooden floors.

“Shinazugawa!” the door slams open, startling you. A large man makes his way out from behind the door and your eyes widen at the height.

“Uzui.”

Uzui is tall, you note, and beautiful. His eyes are a beautiful color of fuchsia and his hair is just as white as Sanemi’s. He offers a dazzling smile before turning to you. 

“My,” Uzui hums. “Who is this woman with you?” The man's eyes inspect you for a moment. He even goes as far as to walk around to give you a once over. His arm reaches out quickly and before you can react, the palm of his hand - rather large - slaps your butt. “She has child bearing hips. Very breedable.”

You yelp, completely taken aback by his bold statement plus the rough slap upon your ass. All Sanemi could do was hiss at the older man. 

“Stop being a fucking creep!” Sanemi roars, hands clenched into fists.

Uzui only chuckles, painted nails pointing at Sanemi’s angered expression. “Do you want me to slap yours too?”

Sanemi isn’t amused in the slightest with Uzui’s humor and takes a step forward. The tall man erupts in laughter, raising his hands. 

“It’s about time you found yourself a wife, Shinazugawa.” Uzui’s eyes flashes to you for a moment before darting back to Sanemi. “Someone that can calm you down when needed.” Uzui wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, a knowing smirk forming onto his lips.

Sanemi scowls deeper, tips of his ears red. Tengen, being older than him, always had an immature side to him, always joking around at the wrong time - especially with his sexual humor. Surprisingly, it was tame. 

“I’m training her.” Sanemi hisses through gritted teeth. “She needs to work on her stamina.”

Tengen raises a brow. “So this is not your wife?”

Sanemi wants to reply with a snide remark, but refrains. 

“You always said you never wanted a tsuguko. What changed?” Tengen asks. Sanemi is a stubborn person. A few slayers - those who weren’t as cowardly - asked to be his tsuguko and he had rejected them harshly, what made you different?

Sanemi doesn’t respond, but Tengen believes he doesn’t have to. You appeared weak, not an insult in the slightest. A regular civilian and not a fighter at all. You could have dodged his slap onto your ass if you were at least a slayer.

Maybe Sanemi was but a man. You weren’t bad to look at - cute face, nice body and even nicer assets. Your breast could surely feed to satiate  any child Sanemi could put into you no doubt. 

“Stamina assistance, huh?” Tengen hums. “Have you tried sex?”

Your body feels hot once more. Uzui was the obvious joker of the two.

“Uzui-”

“So unflashy.” Tengen rolls his eyes. Sanemi was never any fun. “By the looks of it, she doesn’t run a lot.”

Did he call you fat? Unhealthy?

“I can change that in a week.” Uzui smirks at Sanemi. “Imagine going from a regular civilian to training with Hashira without even passing final selection first? You’ve been blessed by a God - me.”

You find Uzui’s personality funny - when he wasn’t spewing sexual nonsense for shock value.

“You are a Hashira, as well?” you ask Uzui and he nods.

“Sound Hashira, Uzui Tengen.” the smirk that forms onto his lips is one of vain. “Leave her to me, Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi scoffs. “I’ll stay.” he insists. You didn’t know Uzui. Though he had three wives of his own, Uzui was not one to not flirt. He was a touchy person and to the wrong people, it could come off as harassment. 

Uzui pushes past the two of you and back into his home. He slides the shoji door open wider for the two of you to enter. “I'm not going to steal your girl.” he snickers. “Though I’m not opposed to having a fourth wife. You would fit right in-”

Sanemi shoves Tengen who then chuckles at the wind Hashira’s reaction.

There were only a few instances in your life where you’d thought you’d die. When you were a child and witnessed the monster - you soon learned was a demon - was the first. Again when you meet the wind Hashira facing another demon, you were certain you’d die.

Now, as you run until the point of your legs aching, you’re sure that you can see your life flashing before your eyes. Tengen was serious when he stated he’d whip you into shape to improve your stamina. It took everything in you to not cry due to stress - Uzui was a tough one. He’d scream and yell at you to keep going, that it was unflashy for you to be heavily breathing and sweaty only after running around his estate 3 times.

You were utterly defeated when Uzui finally gave you a break. Your knees fall to the ground and you wish nothing more than to curl up and die. Every morning the past 2 weeks you’d wake, have a quick breakfast with Sanemi where both of you are in a comfortable silence and then you'd go out for the hellish stamina training.

“You must be exhausted.”

You’re unsure how long you managed to lay onto the ground, but when your eyes flutter open you note that the sun is beginning to set. 

“Here, have some water.” the voice belongs to Suma, a wife of Tengen. She kneels down beside you with a warm smile and hands you a glass filled with water. “Lord Tengen sure has been determined lately.”

You gulp down the glass of water effortlessly in three large gulps. “Thank you!” you wheeze. 

Suma giggles.

“How determined is Lord Tengen?” you ask her.

Suma tilts her head slightly. “He believes you are done with the first half of your training!”

Your eyes widen and now your energy - though tired - matches Suma’s. You clap your hands together and laugh.

“You can move on to combat now!” Suma exclaims.

Your head tilts. “Combat…?”

“You didn’t think all you’d be doing is running?”

You yelp at the sound of Uzui’s voice. You never got accustomed to his sudden arrivals - but he assured you many times that not only was he a Hashira or a God - but was also a former shinobi. You never questioned him or his over dramatic self-proclamations. 

“No…?”

Uzui doesn’t say anything behind you. You take note that he was dressed down in a nemaki, a bright blue one with black stripes and his hair surrounds his shoulders. Your eyes widen slightly in awe - he was so majestically beautiful. 

Uzui kneels down to where you sat just as Suma rises. His lips form a small grin. 

“You are doing good.” Uzui compliments with a slight pat of your head. “You’ll be done with your training in due time.”

Your eyes widen, face feeling warm. You nod your head curtly. “Thank you, Lord Uzui!” you’re unsure why your cheeks feel wet until you feel a calloused finger wipe at your cheek. You were crying - in joy, of course. You’re unsure why; maybe because you’re not in the same place you were at when you came with Sanemi. You were (slowly) growing into a better person and the feelings are overwhelming.

“Ahh, don’t cry!” Suma sniffles with a shake of her head. “You’re going to make me cry!”

Suma drops and wraps you in a tight hug. “Please join us at the Onsen! You’ve been working so hard you should relax!”

Uzui watches as you and Suma scurry off - you with a slight limp - off towards his home. He shakes his head and ponders just how you managed to get caught up with someone such as Sanemi - yet it wasn’t his place to ask questions.

Your back hits the stone rock at the onsen, head tilted to the side as you sigh deeply. Your body now felt relaxed due to the hot water of the onsen. Suma had brought you into the home for dinner and before the hot springs, you were allowed to shower off the day's work and even borrowed a nemaki from Suma. 

You can hear Uzui’s loud voice followed by the soft ones of Makio and Hinatsuru. You had to admit that once you found out about his three wives, you were shocked. Yet, it made sense. There was no doubt Uzui was an extremely attractive man with an insane sex appeal - not only that but also a Hashira. His wives were kind women who matched Uzui’s attractiveness and sex appeal - flashy, as he would say. They often ask you to stay for dinner once training was done or offer you water while Uzui insisted you run “one more lap” which turned to 10 more laps.

“How does your body feel, Y/N?”

You flinched, eyes snapping open. You were dozing off. 

“Ah,” you smile at Suma. “alright. So much better than before.”

Suma nods her head. “I’m glad. You’ve been working so hard!”

Your face feels hot.

“Y/N!” Uzui’s boisterous voice booms through your ears. “You’re looking as flashy as ever! A different look from the sweat that you’re usually covered in.”

Uzui was teasing you.

“Lord Tengen says you’ll be training with us tomorrow.” Makio says. She’s leaning against Uzui’s right while Hinatsuru occupies his left. 

“Ah, yes.” you nod. “Combat training, right?”

Hinatsuru nods.

“I’m not much of a fighter.” your face grows hot once more. You’re embarrassed to be in the presence of kunoichi and a Hashira - three good fighters and a swordsman. 

“Neither am I!” Suma wraps you into a hug once more, bare breast against your own. You yelp, flushing deeply, but you know Suma means no harm. 

Uzui watches Suma and you closely, both of you giggling amongst one another. Soon Makio and Hinatsuru enter the conversation and leave his side.Uzui finds himself watching fondly on just how welcomed you became with his wives. How in the world did someone like Shinazugawa enter your life - Uzui was unsure. However, whatever the man's intentions were (outside of training you) he hoped they were pure.

A month had passed and Sanemi was beginning to think you lived at Uzui’s home. You’d usually come at the end of each day to bathe, eat dinner with him and then head to bed. Now, he found himself eating alone and your bedroom being empty. 

Of course, Sanemi was not fazed by this. You were doing what you were told, after all. By what Uzui has told him about your progress, you were doing good. His wives enjoyed your company as you did theirs.

However, what Sanemi was not expecting was your change in attire. He accepted the invitation for Uzui to watch you train with low ranking demon slayers. You were dressed similar to his wives, short, sleeveless dress with white bandages wrapping around your thighs. His eyes find themselves  landing on your breast and he coughs.

“She looks different.” Sanemi says aloud besides Tengen, who snorts at the man's observation.

“She looks flashy now.” Tengen declares.”Truly a work of art.”

The necklace you wore around your neck also didn’t go unnoticed. It was large and gold and also covered in shining diamonds and other unnamed stones he couldn’t bother to mesmerize. If Sanemi didn’t know who you were, he would assume you were also a part of Uzui’s haram.

“You were instructed to train her in stamina. Not play dress up.”

Tengen rolls his eyes at the sound of Sanemi’s voice.

“Look at her now.” Tengen points a manicured finger at you, but Sanemi is already watching. 

Sanemi supposed you were better now. You ran without appearing to be seconds away from dying, nor were you as slow as you were nearly two months ago. He had watched slightly impressed that you managed to keep your own up against the low ranks - impressive seeing as you were not yet a slayer. 

“What are your intentions with her?”

Sanemi’s eyes don't leave you as he ponders on Uzui’s question. 

“Surely she’s more than a tsuguko.”

Sanemi makes an annoyed grunt.

“She lives in your home when you wouldn’t even allow others.” Uzui doesn’t want to mention Genya to not upset the younger man. But, it’s obvious that is who he is speaking of. It causes Sanemi’s fist to instantly clench.

“She had nowhere else to go.” Sanemi began.

Uzui furrows a brow. 

“She joked about becoming a prostitute.”

Uzui chuckles. “Virgin’s can be sold for high.”

Sanemi’s head snapped to eye the white haired man. Just how did he know that you were a virgin?

“She speaks of you fondly.” Uzui says after another few moments of silence. “Hina swears she has a crush. How unflashy of her to have one on someone like you.”

“What the fuck is that suppose to mean?!” Sanemi roars.

Your attack at the slayer stops upon hearing the scream. Your body turns behind you, witnessing a laughing Uzui and a fuming Sanemi. Your eyes widen, not expecting to see him. You had focused all of your time on training that you would often stay at Uzui’s estate.

“Shinazugawa-sama is here.” one slayer moans in despair. “I should hide.”

“What for?” asks another slayer.

“I accidentally bumped into him yesterday and he threatened to castrate me!” the slayers voice drops a few octovals. 

“Sanemi!” you begin to wave, dropping your kunai and begin to sprint towards the man. 

“Did she just call Shinazugawa-sama by his name?” one slayer gasps, fearing for your life. 

“Is that his girlfriend?”

“No way, no way no way!” another slayer falls to the ground. “There’s no way someone cute and sweet like Y/N-chan is dating that psycho!” he shakes his head.

You reach Sanemi and Uzui in a matter of seconds - it causes Sanemi to take a step back, but he keeps his face cool and unbothered. Your hands take his calloused ones and you’re excited for him to see the progress you made. Gasps could be heard from the slayers behind you, and besides Sanemi, Uzui is humming with a shit eating grin.

“They do say opposites attract.” a female slayer murmurs.

“Is…Shinazugawa-sama blushing?”

Sanemi’s ear twitched. His head snaps behind you, hands still in your smaller (and softer) hands. “What the fuck are you waste of space doing?!” he barks at the slayers who all cower. The veins on his neck are pulsing as he screams. “Get out of my sight!” the slayers bow, sending Uzui their farewell before running out of the estate, not looking back now fearing their own safety and well-being. 

“How long have you been here?” you ask. “Did you see me sparring with one of the slayers? Do you think I got better? Faster? Stronger?” you’re overly excited, so much so that you’re slightly bouncing with excitement. Sanemi’s eyes couldn’t help but flicker to your breast to the hopeful look of your eyes. 

Uzui watches with a look of amusement. The tips of Sanemi’s ears are red and he wants to tell a perverted joke, but he understands now is not the time.

You reminded him of Suma often. You wanted to be praised - to be told you did a good job and that he was proud of you. But, Sanemi didn’t believe in praise. He was an abrasive person and reveled in such abrasiveness. He’s watched countless times as Sanemi verbally (and physically) abused slayers - even the Hashira wasn’t safe from his wrath.

“Y-Yeah.” is all Sanemi said and now Uzui’s head is spinning. 

Did Shinazugawa Sanemi stutter?

Was the Shinazuawa Sanemi flustered?

A knowing smirk forms on the older man's lips and now he’s pondering on all the ways he could bring up this moment to never let the wind Hashira live this down.

“Don’t say shit to me.” Sanemi hisses to Uzui when you sprint away, declaring that you were going to gather your belongings before leaving Uzui’s estate with him. 

Tengen cackles loudly.

“I haven’t been to Asakusa in years.” you say to Sanemi. “Do you frequent here on your missions?” Sanemi nods, tying his yukata to hide his sword. “Similar to today. A few of us are patrolling the grounds to assure there aren't any demon attacks tonight.”

There was a festival today, after all. Sumidagawa firework festivals were one of your favorites to witness. You recall being on your fathers shoulders as you watch the colorful firework display. That was many moons ago, and now as Sanemi and you stroll through the streets of Asakusa, you are feeling nostalgic. 

“Do you think a demon will attack tonight?” you asked Sanemi. You hoped they didn’t - the sight of innocent families and couples litter the streets of Asakusa and that would ultimately be ruined by such demonic attacks. 

“Possibly not out in the open, no.” Sanemi responds. “But we can’t be off our guard, either. We have slayers to assure no one wanders away from the main road.” Sanemi recalls the story of Tanjiro coming face to face with Muzan right in Asakusa - he’s certain that Muzan would allow himself not to be shown again.

Your head lowers slightly. 

“The fireworks should be starting soon.” Sanemi notes. “I’m going to patrol the south of Asakusa. Stay here, I’ll be back shortly.” he stops walking to face you and you slowly nod your head. “Something on your mind?”

You shake your head, not wanting to bother Sanemi with your useless thoughts.

Sanemi doesn’t say another word before turning away. Your eyes follow his figure until he fades into the crowd and only then did you bother to look up into the dark sky at the fireworks beginning. All you could think about was watching the fireworks with him. 

“Where’s your girl?” asked Uzui as Sanemi strolls past. “I got eyes on the south of Asakusa.”

Sanemi scowls. “I’ll go east.”

“East is taken by Iguro and Kanroji.” Uzui furrows a brow. “I spotted Tomioka and Kocho going west not too long ago.”

Sanemi stops in his tracks. 

“There won’t be any attacks tonight.” Uzui is certain. “Not with this many hashira present.”

Uzui scours the crowd around him. “Don’t tell me you left your girl all alone?”

Sanemi’s eyes glare at Uzui, but the taller man isn’t fazed.

Uzui crosses his arms. “To think she got all dressed up….” he shakes his head. “I wouldn’t have left such a flashy beauty-”

“Shut up!” Sanemi hisses and now he’s heading back north where he told you to remain.

Uzui hums. He enjoys teasing Shinazugawa until his eyes are even more crazed and his cheeks are a dusty crimson color. It only affects him when he mentions you - so much so now that Sanemi would rather flee the scene than to fight him like he’d usually do.

Sanemi slows his pace when he reaches closer to you. He takes in the sight of you - kimono wrapped tightly around your frame.It was black and silk and he notes the stitching of pink sakura leaves.

The light of the fireworks are illuminating upon your skin, casting down a colorful hue. There’s a faint grin upon your lips - covered in gloss, it does not go unnoticed by him. 

You do not notice Sanemi until he’s right next to you. You turn to smile at him but don’t manage to. “Is…everything okay?”

Sanemi doesn’t respond and now you’re worried. “Sanemi-”

“Are you having fun?”

You’re taken aback by his question. “Yes.” you tell him. “It’s so beautiful!”

Your eyes turn back to the firework display in the sky, but Sanemi’s eyes remain on you. Beautiful.

You were beautiful.

Sanemi’s heart jumps at the sight of you - was he sick? He was sure he was starting to feel ill. Maybe he’d have to visit Kocho when they met up later and see if she had any medication on hand. 

The firework display goes on for another half an hour until it’s done. The night sky is filled with smoke and the surrounding people are all chatting amongst themselves. Those with families are scurrying off with their fussy children. You recall when you were once a fussy child begging your parents to stay longer.

Meeting the rest of the Hashira wasn’t something you’d thought you’d do. Meeting two was an honor - but all? Your heart jumps at the sight before you. You had accompanied Sanemi to a dinner the Hashira were having to celebrate a successful night free of demons. 

Mitsuri was the first Hashira you were introduced to. She introduced herself mostly and then the rest of the Hashira to you in order in which they were seated - Iguro, Rengoku, Kocho, Tomioka, Himejima and Tokito. The sight of a young boy catches you off guard, but he doesn’t appear to be bothered with anything around him besides staring off into space.

Since you weren’t much of a drinker, you opted in eating more food with Mitsuri while those who did drink mingled with one another. 

“Why aren’t you drinking?” Uzui asks, lifting his own shot glass and takes a swig.

Sanemi wasn’t a drinker.

“Can’t handle it?” Tengen chuckles mockingly. “Fight all those demons just to be scared of a little alcohol?”

Sanemi’s hands grasp the glass from Uzui’s hand after he fills it with another shot. He down said alcohol effortlessly. 

“Well well,” Uzui cackles aloud. “Look at the big shot.”

As the night dragged further on, you noticed that most of the Hashira were beginning to bid their farewell. Shinobu and Giyu were the first to leave, Giyu suddenly standing and an annoyed Shinobu trailing after him. Gyomei and Muichiro followed soon after, the younger boy not saying a word while Gyomei wished everyone a good night. Obanai stood only when he noticed Mitsuri did so, bidding you a goodbye and claiming that she wished to see you soon. Kyojuro watches with amusement as Tengan and Sanemi appear to be in a fierce drinking battle, both men refusing to back down.

“Excuse me.” you announce lowly, standing from your cushioned spot.

Uzui’s eyes follow you to the restroom before turning back to a fuming Sanemi. A knowing smirk forms onto his lips and Kyojuro is sure that he was going to have to break up whatever fight would break out. 

“Y/N-chan is beautiful.” Tengen says, downing another shot. “Such a flashy kimono she’s wearing. Right, Kyo?”

Kyojuro’s head stirred with the question, but he nodded his head nonetheless. “Yes. Y/N-chan does look beautiful tonight!”

“I-”

“Shut up!” Sanemi doesn’t want to hear anything else Tengen has to say. 

“Such an un-flamboyant response.” Tengen shrugs. “I believe she smells nice, too. Like…lavender. Maybe Jasmine.”

Kyojuro watches the way Sanemi’s hands clench the shot glass as he chugs it down. 

“Why you smellin’ her?!” Sanemi hisses, eyes glaring daggers at the Sound Hashira. “Fucking pervert.” he murmurs to himself. 

Tengan enjoyed being an agent of chaos, so much so that he thought ahead of time. Just as you were returning to the table, Uzui stood. “We have an early start back to headquarters tomorrow,” he announces. “We should be going to bed.”

Kyojuro also stands and wraps an arm around Tengan.

“Oyakata-sama covered the rooms for us tonight.” Kyojuro says back to you and Sanemi. “Tomorrow we’ll be heading out, so please get enough rest!”

Sanemi doesn’t say a word, just stands. His body sways a little and you’re surprised to see him stumbling. “Are you alright, Sanemi?” you asked with caution. “You’re-”

“I’m fine.”

But Sanemi doesn’t appear fine. It takes another 20 minutes to get back to the inn that was provided for the Hashira and yourself. 

“Shinazugawa.” Sanemi grumbles to the owner. 

“That room was taken about 10 minutes ago.” the worker hums. “The only room we have left is for…Uzui Tengen.”

Sanemi’s fist clench and he bangs it against the counter. The owner yelps, eyes widening and he’s flinching away from the man. “That fucker took my room!”

“S-Sanemi!” you place your hands onto his bicep, attempting to stop his assault on the counter. “Let’s just takes Uzui’s room. It can’t be that bad.”

Sanemi’s skin is burning under your touch, but he doesn’t push your hands away.

It was bad, Sanemi knows it. Oyakata-sama knows of you and your situation and before Sanemi heads out for Asakusa with you, Oyakata assured that there will be two beds for you and Sanemi.

However, Tengen had planned this. He left in a hurry so he could get Sanemi’s room where one bed would be free while you and he took Uzui’s room - one king size bed sitting right in the middle of the room. 

“I should bang that door down.” Sanemi grumbles lowly to himself, slamming the door shut behind him. “Drag his ass out of my room…castrate him while I got the chance and-”

“You can have the bed, Sanemi.”

Sanemi’s grumblings halt once he hears your voice. 

“You’re a Hashira, after all.” your voice is soft and sweet, it does something to his heart once more. Sanemi has to see Kocho tomorrow morning for sure now. 

Sanemi shakes his head, but soon regrets it. He was becoming dizzy and now he sits upon said bed. “I…you can take the bed.”

“Hm,” you hum. “We can share the bed. You can take the right and me the left.” you suggest and now Sanemi feels claustrophobic. He’s never shared a bed with a woman - not even the ones he was intimate with. They were nothing but stress relievers, after all. 

But, Sanemi doesn’t deny. He loosens his yukata and falls onto the mountain of pillows. His eyes close and now you’re giggling to yourself. He was asleep already, the drinking fest (or competition) with Uzui took a toll on him.

You dim the lights and make your way around to your side of the bed. You, too, loosen your kimono and allow yourself underneath the covers. You cover Sanemi, who stirs slightly but doesn’t say anything. 

Just as you feel yourself dozing off of consciousness, Sanemi’s voice catches your ear. 

“Y/N.”

“Huh?” you turn your body around to face him. The window sat open across from the bed and the moon shines right through the window and onto Sanemi’s face.

“You smell nice.” Sanemi murmurs, swallowing thickly. His mind is swirling with the amount of alcohol in his system. “Like…lavender…and jasmine…” he inhales, nostrils blaring to catch your scent.

Your cheeks are hot at his compliment. Unknowingly, you scoot closer to him.

Sanemi allows his eyes to close for a mere second before opening them once more.

“Y/N.” he calls you again and now he’s slowly rising.

“Yes, San-”

Sanemi erupts in a fit of coughs. You rise from your position from the bed and come closer to help. “Do you need to throw up?” you asked with wide eyes.

Sanemi shakes his head. His coughing stopped but he can feel your hand upon his back, gently rubbing,

“You’re beautiful.” Sanemi murmurs so low that it’s inaudible to you.

“What, Sanemi?” you come closer attempting to hear his words and Sanemi feels even more intoxicated with your scent.

Sanemi is strong. Within a few seconds you’re beneath him in a tight embrace.His actions catch you off guard, but yet you do not feel frightened by his sudden action. Lilac eyes stared into your wide ones.

“Are you afraid of me?” Sanemi’s words are slurred.

You should be scared of him, he tells himself. He was a man that could hurt you - take advantage of you. How easily it was for him to do so even intoxicated proves that you would be frightened-

“No.”

Sanemi freezes. No?

“I don’t believe you’ll hurt me intentionally.” you continue.

Sanemi is stiff, your words replaying in his mind. You weren’t frightened of him - not of his appearance, not of his personality or demeanor. 

Sanemi again feels the jump in his heart, reaching all the way down to his stomach to his abdomen. If he didn’t find a cure to whatever upcoming sickness he had, he’d surely fall out. 

Sanemi buries his face into your breast - that had slightly spilled out when he embraced you suddenly. You do not move, unsure of what to do. Sanemi slowly rubs his face against your breast and when he’s done, he lays his head against them and releases a sigh.

“You’re beautiful, Y/N.” he murmurs just when his eyes feel heavy. “I think I’m sick.”

Sanemi felt warm all over, but he didn’t appear to be sick. His face is flushed and you’ve already concluded that it was the alcohol taking over. 

“My heart…jumps when I’m with you. I think I’m dying.” he murmurs again. Your breathing hitches. “I can’t die…can’t leave Genya…” Sanemi’s babbling now and he doesn’t stop, not until his words become low gibberish and you note that his breathing evens out.

Your eyes snap open, body jolting awake. The sun was rising, the reddish hue shining through your window. Your body was now feeling as though you were being squeezed to death. 

You were - being squeezed that was - by Sanemi. His eyes are snapped shut but you can hear the faint sounds of whimpering coming from his lips.

“Sanemi…?” you murmur, managing to get your arm out from his embrace. He was still asleep, you took note that he must be having a nightmare. 

Your hand gently touches his hair, the white tresses feeling oddly soft at the touch. You recall the many times your older brother had comforted you from your own nightmares - gently rubbing your head and offering a soft hum.

The sight was truly something else. You would often accompany Sanemi when he was training other slayers (whenever he had the time) and harsh was an understatement. He was verbally abusive towards them, hurling out insults after insults. He’d beat them until they were a sobbing, puking mess - and that was just the light work. 

His job as a Hashira left him oftentimes returning to his estate with new scars that you’d tend to - even if you insisted Aoi or anyone else at the butterfly mansion would be better suited.

A nightmare didn’t appear to be something someone like Sanemi dealt with - but having to risk your life fighting demons on the daily possibly took a toll on him. You never spoke with Sanemi about his own past or family - who was Genya? How and why did he become a part of the Corps? You felt like he knew so much of you and you didn’t know him at all.

You begin to hum softly while stroking Sanemi’s hair. Through time, Sanemi’s whimpering halted and his embrace became looser - yet you couldn’t leave it fully for he would just tighten it again. You remained stroking his hair until you yourself was dozing off, moments from losing consciousness.

Sanemi’s hums, his closed eyes twitching when an annoying light hit him. The sun was rising and the pounding in his head annoyed him to no end. He snuggles himself deeper into the pillows, inhaling the sweet scent…

Of lavender…and jasmine…maybe even vanilla?

Sanemi’s body stirs away before his eyes can open. He feels a movement below him.and only then did his head remove themselves from the soft pillows.

Just for them to not be pillows - but your breast.

The silk kimono you wore is clenched tightly into his hands - that had you locked in a tight embrace.

“Sanemi…” your voice is softer when you’re just waking. “...are you alright?”

Was he alright? How could you be thinking of him when you were being suffocated beneath him.

Sanemi lungs himself away from you as if you burned him. The loss of his warmth causes a shiver to run up your exposed skin.

“Did I hurt you?” Sanemi’s voice is deep and raspy - dry. His eyes are wide with shock.

Your face is warm by his words. “No. You just…passed out.” you giggle, unsure of what the man remembers or not. “...I couldn’t really move you myself.”

Sanemi inhales. “Why didn’t you…pull my hair or punch me?” he questions and now it’s your turn to give him wide eyes. 

“Why would I do that?” you respond. “You were drunk and tired. I don’t mind it.”

Sanemi scratches his hair and swallows. He shakes his head. He didn’t have time for this - not now. He was a normal man with normal needs, but the last thing he needed was his pants to tighten, especially at the sight of your exposed skin.

“You were having a nightmare.” you sit up against the large bed. “I hope you are feeling well now.”

The soft touches of his hair and the sweet humming wasn’t a part of his dreams then.

Sanemi inhales once more. 

“Maybe some tea would be good for you. Does your head hurt?”

Sanemi doesn’t get to respond before you’re getting up from the bed. 

“I’ll go get you some.” you murmur, making your way into the bathroom to freshen up before leaving out of the bedroom all together.

Sanemi makes it his mission to take a cold shower while you’re out - anything to get the release of his swelling cock to go down. The water shocks him, but it doesn’t do anything. He curses at himself for allowing Uzui - that fucking Uzui - to get him drunk. He was even more pissed at himself for falling for the bait - but not only that, but to get so out of his mind that he woke up…

Sanemi decides to grip his cock tightly. His boner was never going to go down unless he did something about it. He closes his eyes, trying to think of anything but you. His arms begin to jerk and now he’s erratically pumping his cock. His closed eyes begin to think of the many women he’s been with in the past, but his mind keeps drifting back to you. He swears he can smell your scent surrounding him at this moment. He thinks of how soft your skin is - especially your breast. It causes his breath to hitch at the thought of his hands being able to-

Sanemi cums hard - so hard he’s twitching. “Fuck.” he hisses to himself. He was utterly fucked.

“We’ll be heading out soon!” Kyojuro says loudly to the surrounding demon slayers. “Please be prepared!”

The demon slayers all agree in unison. 

“Ah, Y/N!” Kyojuro’s boisterous voice echoes off of the wall as you enter the main room of the inn. “Good morning!”

“Ah, good morning, Rengoku-san.” you offer a small smile. “Did you sleep well?”

“I slept great!” Kyojuro chuckles.

“How about you, Y/N? Did you and Shinazugawa sleep well?” Uzui asks, a knowing smirk on his lips. 

“Her and Shinazugawa?” one slayer murmurs.  

“The rumors are true?”

“Wait, what rumors?” “That Shinazugawa-sama has a girlfriend!”

“No way, that’s her?!” one slayer falls to his knees. “She’s so hot!”

“Yes, Uzui-san. We did.” you beam at him. “Your bed was quite large.”

“They slept in the same bed?!”

“How can she not be scared of that maniac?”

“I’m glad.” Uzui beams back. “Where is Shinazugawa?”

“Back in the room. I’ve come to make him some tea.” you respond. The inn provided breakfast, lunch and dinner that was complimentary. In the main room, various tea bags are displayed alongside a large tea kettle set on a low boiling temperature. 

“Did you wake with a headache, Uzui-san? I can get you some tea, as well.”

Uzui follows you to the tea kettle where you make Sanemi’s tea. “I woke up just fine.” Uzui says. “You do look like you got just the right amount of sleep. Your face looks so hydrated.” Tengen was hoping he’d walk into you and Sanemi was sweaty with bed hair and maybe even bruises - but he’s glad nonetheless that you still looked flashy.

“No way Shinazugawa-san deserves her!” a slayer hisses. “That white hair maniac-”

The slayer feels the wind being knocked out of him. He falls to the ground before he can even finish his sentence. 

Sanemi, eyes glaring deadly, pushes past the boy without a care. The room gets quiet and the slayers are far too frightened to even speak in front of the wind Hashira.

“Shinazugawa.” Uzui waves, but Sanemi’s looks can kill. “It looks like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” he jokes.

Sanemi wants to hurl insults - and punches - at the sound Hashira. He’s sporting a knowing smirk, eyes shining with mischief. Tengen knows what he’s done and he wants to rub it in the younger man's face. Sanemi was going to give him the reaction he was looking for. 

“Sanemi!”

Then Sanemi hears your voice from behind Tengan. His eyes lower to you holding a cup of tea in your hands. You inch closer to him with a warm smile that has his shoulder faltering from their once tense state.

Kyojuro furrows his brows and grins. 

Mitsuri watches from around the corner, her eyes widening and low to herself she’s giggling. “How cute!” she squeals and besides her, Obanai is leaning against the wall.

“I made you some tea for your headache.” you say to him, offering the tea to him. 

Sanemi takes it in his hands, nodding. “Thanks.” he murmurs to you, ear tips red. He was going to give Uzui the shit talking he deserved - after he drank the tea you prepared for him. 

You nod your head, content in watching him sip his tea.

“No way, how did she manage to relax him with tea?”

“Where did Shinazugawa-san find such a lovely girlfriend?”

Sanemi’s head slowly turned to the slayers behind him. He doesn’t have to say anything for them to scurry off.

“I hope it tastes good.”

Sanemi’s head snaps back in your direction. “It does.” he murmurs. 

“I’m glad.” you give him a smile and he nearly chokes on his tea.

Tengen snickers.

“First!”

You lift your sword - an extra one given to you by Sanemi - and dash your body forward as fast as you could and slash your sword in a round, cyclone pattern. You do so until Sanemi speaks again. 

“Third!”

Sanemi never did the forms in order. He stated that it was to keep you on your toes.

You swing your sword around just as Sanemi instructed you to once before. He stated this form was to protect yourself from incoming attacks.

“Second!”

You inhale, attempting to keep your breathing intact. You lift your sword upwards to the right and above your head. You release several vertical slashes at once.

“Stand down.”

You fall to your knees, breathing heavily. You were using pure will to keep going and to not disappoint Sanemi.Your head lifts to the sky, finding it to be late into the evening and soon the sun will be setting.

“That’s all for today.”

You’re covered in sweat. You wanted nothing more than a bath to release yourself from all the sweat and grime from training all day. 

“I’ll bathe then begin dinner.” you say to Sanemi and stand on your feet.

“No need.” Sanemi says. “I’ll have the servants-”

“I insist!” you declare. You enjoyed cooking for Sanemi - it was a way for you to show your thanks and gratitude for allowing you to stay with him for a year now. You’d watch what the servants of the corps would make for the two of you and learn from there of his likes and dislikes.

Sanemi doesn’t respond and you take your leave. Your bath isn’t long but it leaves you refreshed. You tie your kimono around you loosely and prepare yourself to cook. You’ve gathered a few vegetables the day prior and left them outside in the basket. You hum to yourself as you go and achieve them towards the back.

You face crashes into something hard and you’re falling backwards just as you open the shoji doors. You fall flat on your ass, your kimono slightly unraveling. “Ow…” you huff, going to tie the kimono back into place.

Your eyes catch dark olive green trousers from where you stand, different from what Sanemi usually wears. Your eyes lift to the person - a tall one at that - until they noticed a purple yukata. It indeed was not Sanemi.

You stand to your feet and huff. You had to lift your head to face the person - a boy with a scar on his face. Your eyes widen slightly - he appeared to look like Sanemi (the scars and eyes gave it away).

“You…” you begin, coming closer to the boy. “...are so cute.” you beam at him - it causes his face to fully turn red. “You look so much like Sanemi. You must be Genya!”

Genya’s face and overall body is hot at your words. He’s embarrassed. He wasn’t expecting to find a woman at his brother's home, yet he recalls the rumors around the corps of his brother having a girlfriend.

“I-I…” Genya takes a step back.

“You must be hungry.” you say and grasp his hands into your own. Genya now stands straighter when he feels your hands. “Come, please!”

Even if Asakusa was nearly a year ago, you recall Sanemi’s drunken words of not wishing to die because of a Genya - you never asked around about such a person. You wished to wait for Sanemi to bring up this person when he was ready, but he never did. 

You instructed Genya to sit at the table while you prepared the meal. He didn’t speak much while you cooked, but it was alright because you did most of the talking.

“Sanemi must still be bathing. He sure does enjoy that.” you ramble off as Genya sits completely still. “You sure are a big boy, Genya! So young and tall.” You ponder how tall your brother would be at his age in an alternate world where he didn’t die. 

Once dinner is done - beef sukiyaki - you place a bowl down for Genya, Sanemi and yourself. You smile at him. “Go on. Eat.”

“T-Thank you.” Genya’s voice is a mere whisper. He does as he’s told, enjoying the wonderful taste. He’s unsure if he should be here without Sanemi knowing first, but he doesn’t want to disrespect you as his girlfriend.

Footsteps could be heard against the wooden floors and Sanemi entered. He’s dressed casually outside of his regular uniform and his hair is wet. His eyes are soft when he enters and smells the food, but they harden once his eyes catch sight of Genya.

“Sanemi, dinner is-”

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You’re taken aback by Sanemi’s tone. You can feel the tension radiating from both males - brothers. 

“Aniki, I-”

“Get out.” 

“Sanemi…” you stand to your feet as does Genya. You’re shocked by his harsh tone towards the younger boy. 

“You are not a brother of mine.” Sanemi spits. 

“Aniki. I only came to apologize-”

“Take your apology and leave.” Sanemi turns away, his appetite ruined. “You should leave the corps all together. You’re a weakling who cannot even use breaths. You’re going to die..”

Sanemi goes to walk away and your heart breaks at the harshness of his tone.

“Aniki-”

Sanemi strikes - you note - but you’re already interfering in his attack. You place yourself in front of Genya and push him away, your body shielding him from whatever attack Sanemi was attempting to do.

You do, however, feel hands on your back which you assume was supposed to be meant for Genya.

“Y/N!”

You fall in front of a stunned Genya. “Are you alright?” you ask the young boy who only nods. He’s convinced you were crazy to get in front of an attack from Sanemi - a Hashira at that.

 Your head turns back to Sanemi. His eyes are wide with shock.

“I can sense your intent was to truly hurt him.” you murmur to Sanemi, voice low and lace with…disappointment? The jump is happening in his heart again, Sanemi notes. It’s different now - it causes his muscles to tighten and his heart to ache. “I won’t allow you to do that.”

Genya gasps at your words.

“What he and I have is none of your concern.” Sanemi mumbles. The look you’re giving him is a look he’s never witnessed from you before. You never looked at him with such disdain - such disgust. 

“It may not be.” you say. You stand to your feet, offering Genya a hand that he hesitantly takes. “But I won’t allow you to attack your brother in my presence.”

You turn back to Genya and give a sad smile. You were at fault for inviting him into Sanemi’s home and later, you would apologize. You do not know what both brothers are dealing with and in due time, you wish to understand. As of now, you need to get Genya away.

“I can walk you back to your home.” you say to Genya.

Sanemi’s eyes follow you and Genya until you’re completely out of sight.

The walk was quiet and peaceful. The sun is setting and the cicadas are buzzing louder.

“I’m sorry for causing trouble.”

Genya is the first to speak.

“No trouble at all.” you smile his way. “I’m the one that should have not interfered.”

Genya gulps. Another ten minutes of silence falls before he stops in his tracks.

“I don’t want you to see Aniki in a different light.”

Your head tilts at Genya. His cheeks are a dusty red as he speaks.

“I know he tried to hurt me and all but it’s not his fault!  He…I’m the one who blamed him for killing our mother. He did it to protect me.”

Your blood runs cold at Genya’s words.

“If I would’ve known she was a demon then I…I wouldn’t have said those things to him…”

Genya falls to his knees, pain erupting through his chest. He hates to appear vulnerable in front of others, but he cannot bear his brother for hating him more if he lost you as a partner.

Genya feels hands in his hair and his body stiffens.

“It’s not your fault.” you say to him, gently rubbing his hair. “Sanemi doesn’t hate you, Genya.”

Genya’s head snaps up to look at you, eyes blurry.

“I sense no hatred from Sanemi.” you say to him, kneeling down to his level. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Genya nods hesitantly.

“He told me he wants to stay alive to protect you.” your voice is so low that it barely registers in Genya’s ear. “I know Sanemi loves you. He just…” your mind flashes to Sanemi’s attempt to attack Genya. “...has a hard time showing it.” you say. Sanemi will still be the same who held you so tight while he was drunk, claiming that you were beautiful and he needed to be alive for Genya.

Genya’s head hung. “Thank you, Y/N.” he says. “I can walk the rest of the way. Please talk to Aniki.”

You watch fondly as Genya stands and bows to you. He looked so much like Sanemi in his own way that it makes you simper at him.

You do as you’re told, following the path back to the Wind Hashira’s mansion. You find it silent, everything where you left it. 

Maybe he doesn’t wish to talk, you say to yourself. You decided to eat alone and head to bed, leaving Sanemi’s food on the table in case he’d want to eat it later.

Sanemi wasn’t a drinker.

Whenever Sanemi drank, it reminded him of his father. The man was nothing but a drunk who’d come home and often beat his children and wife - even if he didn’t need to be drunk to do so.

Sanemi recalls the many times in which he had fought his own father to ensure that his rampage didn’t go too far. He didn’t care what bruises, black eyes or cut lips were left behind as long as his siblings and mother were safe.

But Sanemi failed, he thinks. He couldn’t save his mother from turning into a demon.Hiroshi, Teiko, Sumi, Shuya, Koto…he couldn’t save any of them. Not even Genya, as pathetic as it was. Genya remains a part of the Corps and his life is threatened when he goes on missions - no matter how many times Sanemi tries to get him to leave, he doesn’t.

The sky is dark and starless when Sanemi returns home. His vision is hazy and his head is spinning. He can hear it, the sword hitting against the tatami mats. You were still awake instead of being asleep like you should be.

You slice against the tatami mats roughly and with ease, eyes focusing on them. 

You gave up on trying to sleep. The first hour consisted of you tossing and turning. You got up to check and see if Sanemi had arrived yet, and once finding his food cold and untouched, you decided to wait for him. You gave up on the third hour mark and decided that if you weren’t going to sleep that you’d mind as well be training. 

“Why are you awake?”

You’re startled by the sudden voice joining you. “S-Sanemi.”

Sanemi’s swaying slightly and his eyes are low. “Have you been drinking?” you ask, but you’re aware of the answer.

“Why…are you awake?” 

Sanemi’s words slur slightly. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” you respond. “Are you hungry? I-”

Sanemi unsheathes his sword and points it at you. 

You stop in your tracks. 

“Come at me.” Sanemi commands. 

You gulp. “No.”

“Come…at…me…” Sanemi says through gritted teeth. “I won’t ask you again, tsuguko.”

Your heart is pumping outside your chest. You’re trembling but you do as you’re told. 

Sanemi pushed himself to the side before you had the chance to connect your hit - even if that wasn’t what you wanted. “Weak. Try again.”

You inhale deeply. You swing your sword once more and again and again and again. With each swing of your sword, the Hashira easily dodged or parried your attack. 

“You think you’re going to go to Final Selection with skills like this?” Sanemi spats. His words are harsh and your mind is unsure why he’s like this. Was it the alcohol?

You swing your sword and just when you’re sure it would connect with his own sword, Sanemi dodges and the opposite side of his sword hits your side. It doesn’t slice you, of course, but it sends you tumbling. 

“Stand up.” Sanemi demands, inches away from you.

“I don’t want-”

“Stand up!” Sanemi suddenly roars. It echoes off of the trees of the night. “No demon will allow you grace!”

You drop your sword at his feet. You weren’t sparring with him any longer. He wasn’t in his right mind now. 

“I’m leaving-”

Sanemi’s hand, rough and calloused, cups your jaw tightly. It causes you to yelp and you’re caught off guard. He’s kneeling down in front of you with wild eyes. “No demon is going to allow you to walk away.” he spits. “Do you think that husband of yours would’ve allowed you to run away if you were with him?”

Your hands push at his chest, but he doesn’t move. 

“Do you think he would’ve stopped fucking you because you told him no?”

Sanemi only comes closer. His breath is thick with alcohol and for the first time, you question if he’d cause you any harm.

“Pick up your sword and fight me as if I’m a demon.” Sanemi’s grip on your jaw tightens. The sane part of him screams at him to stop - that he’s hurting you. “Fight me as if I’m the husband your father sold you to.”

You’re now punching at his chest to get him away from you, but Sanemi’s stronger. He’s solid. 

“If I allow you to go to Final Selection, you’re going to die.” Sanemi’s sane mind hates himself now for how he’s speaking to you, but the alcohol in his system is angered; at himself more than anything. 

Sanemi couldn’t save his mother or his siblings.

Sanemi couldn’t save Genya from joining the Demon Slayer Corps.

Sanemi couldn’t even save his friend - Masachika died alongside the demon they slain. 

Sanemi’s certain how his heart would crumble if you didn’t make it through Final Selection - that you would be another person he couldn’t save.

Sanemi’s words hurt to hear. Had he no faith in you? You’ve trained hard everyday. Uzui’s training left you sore for weeks on end, but you never stopped. You even decided to ask Mitsuri for help whenever she was free. How you managed to spar with Muichiro, you were unsure yourself. His crow berated you for even attempting to go near him, but you did so regardless because you wanted to become stronger.

You wanted to make Sanemi proud; that his time in saving you wasn’t a complete waste.

Sane Sanemi is going to hate himself when he regains complete control once more. He doesn’t like to look of disdain in your eyes when both of his hands yank your hair.

You’re beautiful, Sanemi notes, even when there's tears blurring your vision. 

“I won’t fight you…like you’re a demon or that man…” you gritted out, shoulders faltering and now you’re sobbing. “You’re not like them.”

Sanemi’s eyes widened. He pushes you onto your back roughly and his hands grip your kimono stash. 

You don’t question him but your body trembles when he yanks your kimono apart. You’re not naked beneath it, but you were expecting to go to bed before training so what you do have is limited.

“Make me stop.” Sanemi hisses. He leans closer to you, eyes not leaving yours. “A demon is going to kill you as they please. That husband of yours,” Sanemi leans closer so that his body fully traps yours beneath his. “would take you as he pleases.”

“Then take me.”

Then take me.

Then take you?

Sanemi’s head spins. 

“You are no demon nor are you the man I was sold to.” you speak, voice weak and low. “I’m not afraid of you, Sanemi. I sense even now that you won’t hurt me.”

Sanemi pushes himself away from you as if you burned him. He turns his head away as you fix your kimono.

“You…” Sanemi speaks after a moment. You both sat upon the ground and neither of you moved from your spot. “...remind me of my mother.”

You don’t say anything. This was the first time Sanemi was speaking of his past.

“She would protect us from our fathers wrath.” Sanemi scoffs. “When you jumped in front of my attack on Genya…you reminded me of my mother. In that moment, I knew in his eyes that I resembled our father.”

You flinch upon hearing Sanemi crash upon the ground. His eyes are closed and you pondered if he passed out. 

“You’re so kind, Y/N. Kind and beautiful.” Sanemi rambles, repeating the same words over and over again. “I feel it again. The jolt in my heart.” Sanemi holds his chest and sucks his teeth. “Aoi said that there’s nothing wrong with my heart. Little brat was laughing at me when I told her my symptoms.”

You find yourself smiling at the wind Hashira. Were men always this dumb?

“We should get you to bed.” you tell him.

“No.” Sanemi responds far too fast.  

“Why not?” Sanemi doesn’t want to tell you it’s because you won’t be coming with him. Instead he releases a grumble. “Don’t feel like it.”

You decide to lay beside him, back against the hard ground and eyes up at the starless sky. 

“Final selection is in a few weeks.” you say.

“I know.”

You lick your lips. “I’m going to come back alive.”

I hope so, Sanemi thinks, but he says, “I know.”

Your head turns to look at him. His eyes are closed and now his breathing is slowed.

Sanemi’s eyes stirred awake when he felt his face being touched. You’re tracing the scar that stretches from his cheek to his nose. He feels it again, the jolt in his heart.

Part 2 | Final

[spoonmoment119]

[backpackingspace]

Okay yes it's romantic and over the top and completely in character and very very impressive that odysseus made a bed out of living trees. However all I can think about is that every single day Penelope and odysseus would have woken up with olives and leaves covering them.

[spaceinvadeeer]

mobillace deluxe pack

[ghostbsuter]

The mantle of Batman was officially handed over to cassandra, her expression serious and body still as her father put his hands around her shoulder and hugged her.

Cass isn't a stranger to pain and trauma, she knows what this will mean to her, this new future.

She is aware of the kinds of pain the mantles of Robin ans Batgirl bring as well, she wasn't a Robin like her brothers and sister, but she watched them all the same.

So she prepared.

Just like Bruce, like her family, she prepared for the inevitable.

Batman came back in the form of herself. Now, she only needs to wait for her Robin and Batgirl.

—

(This lovely idea actually came from my previous post in the comment section.)

[anubisthe1]

Big fan of obito accidentally marrying kakashi the second he gives him that eye because of some old uchiha tradition and only finding out in the middle of the 4th great ninja war because gai just yells:

"Kakashi, is he your husband?"

[fictionadventurer]

In Which I Write a Sensible Victorian Novel

Once upon a time, a woman made some mistakes in a regrettable romantic entanglement. She married a rich, respectable man and didn't want her past shame to destroy the love they shared. She immediately told her husband about her past, and her husband, being a reasonable man, understood and forgave her. No one blackmailed her, she never needed to construct an elaborate web of deception and intrigue, and she never had to worry about her husband finding out her secret from other sources. And they all lived happily ever after.