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"Zenitsu-kun."
Zenitsu jumps about a foot in the air, his back smacking violently into a blessedly well endowed chest that he intimately knows the feeling of. He whirls around, and the amusement swirling in those vibrant pink eyes makes him blush all the way to his ears.
"N-Nezuko-chan! You scared me!" He whines, because that's all he does, but it's also a good cover up for masking his stuttering breath, the blood rushing in his ears from the brief brush of her chest pressed against him.
"That much is evident." She murmurs, lips quirking into a half smile that immediately makes him weak in the knees.
It's been 7 months since he's started courting her– a dream come true – but he's still not used to it, still getting to know her beyond her demonic self. He'd thought she'd change, talk more, louder, having been muzzled and unable to talk for so long. She'd always been so quiet–
Well, it wasn't like she was always quiet.
She'd bicker with her brother, scold Inosuke, laugh at his try-hard jokes even when he was so awkward with it. He cherished the sound of her musical laugh, quiet and fond, and the sound rang in his ears at night when sleep evaded him– when the demons inside his mind were too loud.
But when they were alone, and the golden light of the candle cast shadows of her eyelashes on her cheeks, she was so quiet and he was so, so loud.
His heart would beat faster than when he saw a demon, when her glowing pink eyes stared at him and saw God knows what. When she lay down beside him and just stared at him, not saying a word. His blood would rush through his veins like lava, when she raked her gaze all over his body, as if she wanted to rip him open and look into his very soul.
Like she's doing right now.
It takes him a moment to realise that he's zoned out– another to realise that she's smirking at him because of it– and he blushes all over again, all the way to his ears like how Nezuko-chan likes it.
He knows, because she's the one who told him that.
"God, you have such a gorgeous blush."
–Ringing in his ears when his hair was bunched up in her fingers and her nails raking down his back, when he was too incoherent to do anything but plead her name as if he wanted all her attention on him. As if she wasn't already looking at him.
(But she was always looking at him, shyly through her eyelashes when she was a demon, curiously as they slowly got to know each other–
Hungrily then, like she wanted to feast and leave nothing for anyone else.)
It wasn't like he'd offer himself up for anyone else. She'd claimed that right, claimed the right to have him just like she claimed his heart all those years ago.
They lived on a mountain now, but even though they had enough food that no one went hungry, she was always the one who ate last. Who ate the least portions despite having not eaten human food for years.
"We used to be a family of eight, and we were poor, so food was a little scarce. So, well... onii-chan and I had to go hungry sometimes– but it filled our stomachs when our siblings ate, so it's fine! It's just a habit carried over– no need to worry your pretty little dandelion head over that, Zenitsu-kun."
She was always reassuring him as he fretted over her, and not once had she ever expressed annoyance over it. Not like Sayuri who smacked him when he worried over her skipping meals to stay slim and beautiful.
The least he could do was give himself up for her– the girl that had so little, who still never asked for anything.
(Anything but him. He was the only one she'd ever been selfish about.)
So different from his dear old ex-fiance (had she ever truly been his fiance?) who demanded the world of him and watched coldly from the sidelines as he tripped over himself trying to get her everything she wanted, trying to satisfy her enough for her to reward him with scraps of affection– like a pitiful little stray dog.
She wanted so many things. Jewelry and kimono and hairpins and flowers, but not him. He was the one thing she could do without, the one thing she had that held no value to her, not with his creepy enhanced hearing or his numerous attempts at holding her hand–
–please stop avoiding me, stop treating me like a disease, I just wanted to hold your hand once, if it was the last thing I could have before I died a miserable death–
The hurt in his heart disappears when cold fingers cup his cheek.
He's zoned out again, but he can't really bring himself to care, not this time. Not when her fingers brush across his cheekbones and– oh, he's crying.
He swallows and his throat is so tight that it hurts, but something in his heart loosens when Nezuko stands on her tiptoes to kiss his red, swollen nose and rests her forehead against his.
No trace of that earlier amusement remains as she stares into his eyes, her own pink ones filled with pain, and he'd almost feel guilty for making her upset, but–
She's sad about him. For him. Because he's hurting.
(Because his tears meant something to her, even when she was always the one tenderly brushing them away.)
And the Zenitsu that grew up unloved still finds it so surreal.
Then again, everything about her is surreal as well.
How could someone like her exist? Not just kind and sweet and honest, perfect in every way and more, but someone who loved Zenitsu?
"A kiss for your thoughts?" She whispers against his lips, and he shivers despite himself. She chuckles lowly at that, the sound almost hypnotic, but he can't get distracted– she'll drag him back and make him spill his guts.
She's stubborn like that. He finds it rather attractive.
And then, to cool his suddenly too-hot cheeks, he fumbles and does what he does best.
"Today's the day my ex-fiance took all my money and left me to run off with another guy."
He fucks up.
Immediately, her eyes darken and her blood rushes to her head– he can hear how fast it does because she's absolutely furious and she does nothing to hide it. Her lips pull back into a sneer so unladylike that he wants to burn that expression into his brain. Her fists clench hard enough for her knuckles to crack and if he were a sane man, he'd feel afraid.
He doesn't feel afraid, though. Not when he knows she isn't angry at him, but angry for him.
No one but her has ever been angry for him.
"Ah," she says tersely, "so it's that anniversary today, huh?"
Her voice, usually so smooth and fluid, dips low with pure disdain, as if the very idea of Zenitsu entertaining a single thought of that traitorous wretch leaves her murderous with rage.
"I still say you tell me where she lives, but I doubt you'd do that no matter how much I pester you." She lets out an exhausted sigh.
"You seem to not want to fuck her up for all the good that she did you." She practically spits the "good".
"I do–" and he does, the cold, tiny little vengeful part of him does want her to suffer, even a fraction of what he went through–
"–but I don't want you to do it. I mean, it's not like I'm doubting your self-control or something, yknow, but it's more like I know that you're really angry and I don't want you to do anything reckless and– and get in trouble for my sake."
His lips press together uneasily at the thought of his Nezuko-chan getting targeted for hurting the Daimyo's son's wife.
"What does it matter?" She raises an eyebrow, "it's not like I'm defenseless. I still have remnants of my demonic strength."
"T-that's not– I'm not– I'm not saying you're weak or anything," he hastily attempts to explain himself, Nezuko immediately laying a hand on his shoulder to soothe his nerves, "but I just.... don't want you to have to face problems."
For my sake goes unsaid.
She stares at him long enough that he begins to tremble, but her grounding hand serves as a reminder that she's not mad at him. She's mad for him, not at him, and that's a difference, a significant one– right?
The brief moment of trepidation must show on his face, because she softens, huffing in tired amusement as she cups his cheeks and shakes her head. "I'm not. Not mad at you, I mean. And I know that no matter how many times I tell you that, you'll still find it difficult to believe it."
He hangs his head low in shame, opening his mouth to apologise, but she presses her index finger against his lips, effectively shutting him up.
"But it's fine. It's fine, because I'm going to tell you this as many times as you need to hear it. And I'll say it again, because I want you to know how much I love you."
Zenitsu's brain promptly shuts down.
"I'd happily get in trouble for your sake, Zenitsu-kun."
And there it is.
Those times when she looks him dead in the eye just to drive home how much she means it, the intensity of her gaze nearly consuming him– forcing him to believe in her.
Because no matter what, he just can't believe that it isn't wishful thinking or a selfish dream when she declares her love so openly, so strongly, as if telling him to believe her without question when she says I'd do anything for you.
And he can't help but believe, because she makes him believe in her love– the love that isn't so fickle, that he won't just lose in a single moment if she somehow thought him unworthy of her.
Most men would be put off by the near aggressive demeanor– girls were supposed to be soft and mild, after all– but he welcomes it. He loves it. He doesn't want the girls that are soft and mild, the ones that he could never tell if they truly loved him or not.
He wants straightforward confessions and intensely spoken statements, insistent words and meaningful actions.
She goes out of her way to make him feel loved, and it overwhelms him in the best way possible.
"So that's why you've been so gloomy and broody all day." He jerks at her remark, and then gives her an embarrassed smile at having been seen through. He can't hold back the way his heart flutters at the realisation that she'd been paying careful attention to him the entire day.
"I honestly think you should still let me have a cute little meet up with her–"
"–cute little meet up? Nezuko-chan, beating people up within an inch of their life is hardly cute–"
"–but if ignoring her is what makes you happy, then go for it, I guess." She shrugs off handedly, but there's annoyance curling in her voice at having been denied a chance at retribution.
(And satisfaction. Because there is nothing in the world that would satisfy her more than stomping on the entitled little face of that bitch who made Zenitsu-kun's eyes well up with tears. As if he didn't cry enough already.)
Zenitsu can't help it, can't help the way his eyes well up and his lip trembles and his breath hitches when she puts his happiness above her wants. And it's wrong, because she's always been selfless, always putting others before herself, but–
He's never had that, either. The feeling of being so precious to someone that they'd prioritize him over anything else.
And because he's a greedy little bastard, he'll take what he can get, until Nezuko-chan realises how much better she is and leaves him just like–
"Just like who, Zenitsu-kun?"
Zenitsu's stomach drops at the frankly murderous look on Nezuko's face. She looks like he just insulted her brother– or God forbid, finished the last batch of sakura mochi that Kanao had sent them– and why wouldn't she, when Zenitsu had compared her to his ex-fiance, someone who Nezuko would like to do unspeakably brutal things to (in her own words), who was almost equivalent to Kibutsuji Muzan in her eyes.
Why did he speak out loud?
It was like someone comparing him to Kaigaku. Zenitsu considered himself quite a reasonable person, but he'd rip into anyone, no questions asked, if they ever dared to imply that Kaigaku and him even belonged on the same plane of existence.
He wants to tell Nezuko, tell her that it was a mistake and he didn't actually compare them, that he wouldn't even begrudge Nezuko if she left him (like jii-chan and Kaigaku and everyone else) because that was exactly what he deserved.
But the words are stuck in his throat, and then, to his horror, his eyes start watering because surely if Nezuko-chan didn't hate him then, she surely hates him now and she's finally going to leave him–
He bursts into sobs, and distantly, his ears register the mess of rage and hate in Nezuko's sound.
(It's not directed at him but it still makes him tremble.)
"I-I'm– I'm sorry," he sobs harder, because he always ruins everything.
"Hey, none of that now," her voice is soft and gentle and he feels her arms curl around him, wrapping him up in an embrace that feels so safe and comforting, but he still can't stop crying, because she's angry and hateful but she's trying to hold herself back for his sake.
He feels disoriented, his ears ringing with the raging tsunami that was Nezuko's sound. He loves her song, usually like a smooth waterfall, quiet but intense, gentle in spite of the rushing water that slipped past rocks in a neverending descent.
He loves it even now, shaking and frightened because the intensity of her hatred is hard to ignore, but he clings onto that tune that surges up to combat that hatred– that tells the hatred to step aside and make way for itself, because hate is not what is needed now.
It's love.
Like her hatred, her love is equally as loud, and equally as important, and maybe he's never really believed in the flowery words of his old romance novels that said love always triumphs–
But he certainly believes it now.
(How could he not believe when it was right in front of him? When Nezuko-chan took all her hatred and didn't ask it to vanish, but put it aside and let her love for him flow through? So that he could never deny it, not this undeniable evidence of her true emotions that he couldn't truly believe when she spoke aloud?)
No matter how many times they were spoken, words were always words. Some words rang true with sincerity, some of them reeked of false assurances and faked emotions.
But you couldn't fake sound. No matter what, the song of a person's soul reflected their true nature, and nothing could ever hide that.
It wasn't uncommon for Nezuko to tell him that she loved him. She said it every single day, relished in the hitched breath and teary eyes that told her how much her words meant him.
But try as she might, her words couldn't erase years of deceit and trickery. Years of hearing empty words filled with affection even as their sounds told him that their hearts held anything but affection for him.
Nezuko manuevers him until the side of his head is pressed against her heart, thumping loud and steady and undeniably with love.
His head reels, his hands clutching at Nezuko for dear life because he's too fragile to hold himself up.
He cries for a while, feeling Nezuko soothingly rub his back in circles, until his sobs slow down to tired sniffles, until the rhythmic motions and her comforting warmth have calmed him down enough for him to open his eyes and look at her.
She looks back at him, bright pink eyes almost red with the reflecting golden flames of the lantern.
"Can you tell me why you cried just now? You don't have to, of course, but I'd like to know if I can help you."
Her voice is calming enough that the last of the tension bleeds out of his shoulders, and he nods slowly, not trusting himself to speak yet, lest he burst into tears again from how sweet she was.
He doesn't think he has any tears left, though. Now that he thinks about it, he feels strangely light.
"I just– it's just that– I was scared," he confesses quietly, shamefully, because fear is all he has ever known, but Nezuko-chan simply smiles and presses a kiss on his jawline.
"Tell me why you were scared, then," she urges, "Nobody is scared without reason, after all. And maybe I could fight off whatever that is scaring you, so that Zenitsu-kun doesn't have to be scared anymore."
The last part draws an unexpected giggle out of him, and his heart soars at the gentle thrum of adoration in Nezuko's sound.
Amidst all the simmering rage, of course.
"I was scared, because... well... I don't want you to leave me." His voice lowers to a whisper at the end, as if saying it out loud would somehow make it come true.
"Then I won't leave you." She says it so casually, in such a matter-of-fact tone, that he believes her. Believes her even through the doubt and uncertainty coiled around his heart like a snake, because her sound echoes nothing but honesty and sincerity.
"Zenitsu-kun." Her voice is serious now, "I know you're not dumb. Actually, you're much smarter than my idiot brother and the caveman that we live with," and that elicits another delighted giggle out of him, "so I want you to be rational about this. I want you to think for yourself and make yourself understand why I wouldn't leave you."
"But... I don't understand. I can't understand..." His brows furrow in genuine confusion, as if the very idea of Nezuko actually wanting to stay with him is incomprehensible to him.
"Why won't you leave me?"
She looks at him like he just said that Shinazugawa-san was a nice person.
"Why on earth would I leave you? What for?" She sounds exasperated, and he doesn't really understand, now. Why wouldn't she leave him? Why would someone voluntarily stick around with someone like him?
"You know, I'm all for telling you how precious and loveable you are, but I don't think simply spouting words would make you believe, so–"
His eyes widen fearfully, face scrunching up with distress as he opens his mouth to tell her that he really does appreciate her, he does, it's just that he's an ungrateful idiot undeserving of anything– who doesn't even have faith in the only person that loves him.
Nezuko does not take well to being almost interrupted.
Her hand shoots out and grabs his jaw, and then she squishes his cheeks so hard that he lets out a muffled shriek of pain. She pays it no mind.
"No, shut up. Shut the fuck up." She practically hisses in his face and he squawks indignantly as he flails his limbs to get her to relax her punishing grip on his mouth.
"You are not allowed to spew that self deprecating bullshit. Not until you listen to what I have to say."
He nods frantically, and she sighs as she releases him.
"Before I continue what I was saying, Zenitsu-kun..." She leans in close and stares him in the eyes with that look, the look that says look at me and see for yourself, see how much I mean what I say.
"You are not an ungrateful idiot, or whatever you think you are." She paused, and he immediately took the opportunity to refute what she said.
"But I–"
"What did I say, Zenitsu-kun?" She growls as she slaps a hand over his mouth, muffling the rest of his sentence, "No self-deprecation allowed here. Also, you didn't even let me finish. How rude of y– DID YOU JUST LICK MY HAND?!"
"THAT'S NOT MY FAULT!" He wails, trying to slip away from the hands attempting to muffle him again, "I THOUGHT YOU WERE DONE SPEAKING! I'M NOT THE ONE WHO DRAMATICALLY PAUSES IN BETWEEN SENTENCES!"
"WELL, I NEED TO BREATHE UNLIKE YOU– GODDAMIT STOP DEFLECTING! Zenitsu-kun, we are talking about this no matter what. I am NOT letting you off the hook until I get it through your thick head."
He sighs, the desolate sound quieting the previously noisy atmosphere.
"Does it really matter though, Nezuko-chan?" His voice is unusually hopeless.
He doesn't elaborate any further, but Nezuko understands anyway.
Does it really matter if you keep repeating the same thing even if I can't bring myself to believe it?
Nezuko's heart aches.
"It does," she says quietly, taking his hands in hers, staring down at their intertwined hands, "It matters to me because I want you to live without fearing that I'll leave you. I want you to be happy, Zenitsu-kun, and not think about whether you're worthy of that happiness or not."
Liquid drips down onto their clasped hands, and Nezuko doesn't need to look up to know that Zenitsu is crying.
Again.
It's fine, though, because she'd rather that he cry out of happiness rather than grief.
"Zenitsu-kun," she looks up at last, sees him staring at her with that combination of disbelief and awe and gratefulness that he does everytime she so much as compliments him, "Even if you've given up on yourself, I'll never give up on you."
And because she knows he's a second away from breaking down into sobs, she tangles her hand through his soft, choppy hair and pulls his head down to meet his lips with hers.
It's a chaste kiss, gentle but passionate, and she delights in the way he melts in her arms, the trembles that she can feel slowing down somewhat as he focuses on the warm press of her lips.
She tilts his head back, the grip she has on his hair making his lips fall open in slight pleasure, and she ceases that opportunity to catch his lower lip between her teeth. She pulls on it slightly, almost nibbling, and the low whine that Zenitsu lets out sends a shiver down her spine.
Zenitsu's eyes slip close in bliss, his shaking hands wrapping themselves around Nezuko's shoulders, cheeks burning as he realises that the kiss is now far past the territory of chaste.
Nezuko responds by pressing herself harder against him, making sure that no inch of themselves is left disconnected from each other.
Zenitsu feels his back arching, the swell of her breasts making it difficult for him to control himself as he whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut tightly to not look at her, because he knows that whatever ravenous expression she has on her face would do him in for good.
Instead, he focuses on the slick slide of their lips together, now wet and messy, their mingled breaths and the sound of Nezuko-chan panting almost making him lose his mind.
He tries not to listen to her sound, tries to push it out of his mind for his own sanity, but–
He's just a man, at the end. A very, very weak man who can't help but be drawn to her song like a moth being drawn towards the light.
The desire in her sound (desire for him) is what makes the tears in his eyes well over and fall.
She sounds insatiable, like she couldn't possibly have enough of him, and that's when it hits him that oh, she really does want me.
He understands what she was trying to say, what he hadn't let her speak but heard anyway.
He separates from her, gasping for breath, but the relief is short-lived, because–
I can't live without you, she says –not with her mouth– as she lunges for him like a feral animal, dragging him back into her arms as she slams their lips forward frantically, I can't have enough of you.
I want you, Zenitsu-kun.
She's gentle in the way she brushes his tears away, even when she's trying to devour him like he's the best thing she's ever tasted. Even when he's falling apart, she holds him together, wrapping herself around him, invading his senses until the only one he registers is her.
Not echoes of people before her, who professed their love for him only when he could be of use and threw him away when they were done draining him, when he no longer had anything to give.
Like a toy which had served its purpose, which was not useful anymore, so the only thing left to do was to watch it break with detached amusement–
And then forget all about it and move on.
Nezuko was not someone who held grudges easily. She was much like her brother in that regard– open and accepting only to those who wished to redeem themselves, firm and strict with those who didn't understand what they'd done wrong.
But people like that little leech of a woman who deceived Zenitsu-kun just because she could?
Who latched onto him like a parasite, taking every bit of his hard earned money and leaving him empty handed and broken?
Who left him to rot, abandoned his feelings like they were worthless, just for a shallow, meaningless little life of prestige and luxury?
Who shattered his heart like it was nothing but a cheap vase of no value?
There was a special place in hell for people like her and Kibutsuji Muzan.
Because she was nothing but a monster in human flesh, toying with her Zenitsu-kun's feelings like Muzan toyed with his prey, manipulated the desperate humans to take his hand as they had no other choice.
And when they were done pleasing him, when they could no longer serve any purpose– he'd squash them like bugs under his feet like they hadn't discarded their humanity for him.
(Like Zenitsu-kun hadn't gotten into fights, gone hungry night after night, almost died for her. For that leech.)
She briefly thinks back to what Yushirou had told her about Nakime, how Muzan had killed her as soon as she'd proven to be an obstacle.
Rage wells up like an ocean inside her.
Not the time, now, she consoles herself as she notes Zenitsu-kun's whimper, you'll have plenty of chances to exact your revenge.
Not today, not when Zenitsu-kun needs all her attention, all her love to heal his freshly reopened wounds.
She can wait, after all. She's been nothing but patient her entire life. But this is a new kind of patience, unfamiliar but wholly welcome.
She's patient in the way Inosuke had taught her to be.
You can't let the prey know that you're onto them. They'll get skittish and run away. Take your time, be patient. Approach them slowly, and when they have their guard lowered...
Bare your fangs and bite down.
"Hunting takes patience, Nezuko," She whispers to herself, almost in a trance, Zenitsu's panicked gaze jerking up to meet hers.
"H-H-HUNTING?!" He squeaks, and really, she can't have him being afraid now. Even though he's so adorable when he's fretting, almost like a little mouse.
Restraint, Nezuko.
"Nothing you need to worry about, love." She murmurs, patting his head to soothe his worries. She manuevers him until she's hovering on top of him, and he's laying beneath her with his beautiful sunflower hair spread around him like a halo.
Restraint is all Nezuko has ever known.
But maybe she can afford to let go tonight.
Maybe if it were someone else, Nezuko would subdue herself, but–
This was the boy who knew her as a demon and risked his life to protect her anyway.
He'd seen her at her lowest and still loved her.
So she had no qualms about him seeing the side of her that she always kept hidden.
There would be plenty of time later, to hunt down poor, poor Sayuri-chan. To make sure she was properly punished like she deserved to be.
If Muzan couldn't escape his punishment, she wasn't allowed to do so either.
Nezuko would make sure of it.
But for now....
For now, she has a lover to attend to, her Zenitsu-kun who's so strong but so fragile, who deserves every bit of her affection.
(Somewhere down the line, when Nezuko gently but not so subtly asks Zenitsu about his firsthand experience of taking revenge on his trashbag of a senior, he doesn't get scared like she thought he'd be.
He throws his head back and laughs, the sound carefree and light and unburdened. And Nezuko laughs along with him, cherishing in her victory.
Because even though she's yet to even meet Sayuri, she knows she's already won.
Zenitsu-kun's sweet laugh is her hard won reward, and she hopes he'll laugh just like that when she turns Sayuri's life upside down, throwing the scattered remains of her crumbling life at her feet.)