mock me again
pairing: sanemi shinazugawa × reader
genre: romance, slice of life, comedy, domestic fluff
warnings: mild language, teasing, light suggestive tone
synopsis: you and mitsuri make the mistake of mocking sanemi, with voice impressions and dramatic gestures — only to realize the man himself has been listening the whole time.
mitsuri had come over earlier in the afternoon, basket of snacks in her hands, her hair bouncing with every step as she chirped your name from the gate. the wind estate was unusually quiet — sanemi had been gone most of the day, something about patrols and paperwork he claimed “takes forever when you’ve got a bunch of idiots in the corps.”
you were sprawled on the porch with mitsuri, the two of you eating sweet buns and gossiping in low voices about anything and everything.
it was comfortable, warm in the fading sunlight, until your conversation drifted to sanemi himself. you didn’t even remember exactly how it started — maybe it was when mitsuri asked how he talks to you at home compared to in public. whatever it was, you were soon sitting cross-legged, leaning forward with a sly grin, mimicking his exact tone.
“oi, what the hell’s this mess?” you growled in a pitch-perfect imitation, making your voice rough and your brows knit like his always did when he was irritated. you waved your hands around dramatically, your face scrunching as you squinted at invisible dishes. “you call this clean? tch. you’re useless.”
mitsuri’s laughter exploded immediately, her hand smacking her thigh, nearly spilling the cup of tea in front of her. you were encouraged, so you kept going, adding the signature scowl and even the way he sometimes rubbed the back of his neck when he was frustrated.
“and another thing — quit starin’ at me like that. what, you think it’s cute? ya think i’m here to entertain you?!” you jabbed a finger at her as if she were him on the receiving end, pacing a bit for dramatic effect.
her shoulders shook with every giggle, and the more she laughed, the more energy you put into the act. you even added the way his hair fell slightly over his forehead when he leaned forward, tossing your own hair for emphasis.
“ugh,” you grunted, imitating the way he huffed through his nose. “damn brats — oh, and don’t get me started on those other hashira —”
you didn’t notice it right away. but mitsuri’s giggles started dying out. slowly. her hand froze halfway to her mouth, eyes darting just past you.
you were mid-sentence, deep into your “sanemi lecture mode” when you realized she wasn’t laughing anymore.
“…what? what’s with your face?” you tilted your head, still holding a perfect scowl.
mitsuri’s pink eyes widened slightly. “uh—” she gave a nervous little chuckle, her shoulders stiffening. her hands fidgeted with the hem of her skirt as she looked like she was deciding whether to warn you or not.
then you heard it. the faintest exhale behind you.
your stomach dropped.
you turned your head slowly, dread settling in your bones. there he was. sanemi shinazugawa. standing in the doorway, arms crossed, looking every bit the part of the man you were just mocking. his white hair was slightly damp from a shower, his shirt clinging to his shoulders, and his pale eyes were narrowed so hard you were surprised the air around him didn’t catch fire.
you swallowed. “…how long have you been standing there?”
“long enough,” he said flatly, his voice low and dangerous, but there was an unmistakable twitch at the corner of his mouth. not a smile — oh no — more like the kind of twitch that meant he was deciding if you were worth yelling at right now or later.
mitsuri’s hands were clasped together now, her smile frozen and a bead of sweat rolling down her temple. “i—i should probably, um—oh! is that the time?” she squeaked, standing up so fast her tea sloshed over the rim. “gotta run! thanks for the snacks!” she practically bolted past sanemi, patting his arm lightly with a nervous laugh. “you two… have fun!”
the door slid shut behind her, leaving you alone with him.
he stepped forward, slow and deliberate, the wooden boards creaking under his weight. “so,” he began, voice calm in a way that was somehow more terrifying than if he were shouting, “that’s what i sound like to you, huh?”
you tried for a smile. “…i was just—uh—joking around. you know. harmless fun.”
“harmless fun?” he echoed, stopping just inches away. you could feel the warmth radiating from him, the tension in his shoulders, the way his gaze drilled into yours.
you lifted a finger, pointing at his chest. “technically, that’s what you sound like when you’re mad—”
his hand shot up, grabbing your wrist mid-gesture. “careful,” he muttered, but the faintest huff of amusement escaped his nose.
you narrowed your eyes, realizing he wasn’t actually mad. “…you’re not even upset, are you?”
he smirked then, barely, and leaned closer. “nah. but keep it up and i’ll make sure you know what i sound like for real.”
and from the look in his eyes, you knew exactly what he meant.
