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Fic Rec | SaneGiyuu

Shinazugawa Sanemi/Tomioka Giyuu (SaneGiyuu)

note: please mind the tags when you click on the links, some are rated E for explicit.

what human ears cannot do by dazeful

A moment in the Shinazugawa-Tomioka household, from the POV of their cat.

it just might break me by vividlyy

Despite being exes, Sanemi and Giyuu can’t seem to call it quits no matter how hard they try to stay away from each other. No matter how much it hurts, they always end up like this—tangled together on lonely nights fueled by cheap alcohol, cheap desire, and a fractured love that neither of them wants to admit.

the floating world by vividlyy ★

Tomioka Giyuu has spent the last two months undercover in the city of Kyoto to investigate suspected demon activity. When his status updates suddenly stop, Sanemi is sent to the same city to check on him. His own investigating leads him to the city's red light district, where he finally finds Giyuu—only to realize that he has gone undercover not as a customer, but as an oiran.

with the taste of (you) by vividlyy

Five times Sanemi and Giyuu tried to fuck, and one time they finally did.

prettier on you by turbulentmoods, vividly ★

If Sanemi had any of his attention before, it’s all gone now. Giyuu can only think about that stupid piece of clothing hanging off the bench right beside him. He can’t pry his eyes away from it. He’s bored, pent up from watching Sanemi on the ice, breeding more fantasies in his head as he listens to the timber of Sanemi’s voice on repeat. On pure impulse, as Sanemi busies himself undoing his shoulder pads, Giyuu grabs the jersey from beside him and legs it.

will you be my valentine? by vividlyy

Three times Sanemi tries asking Giyuu to be his valentine, two times Giyuu tries asking Sanemi to be his valentine, and on time they finally get it right.

second shot by vividlyy

a glimpse into why Sanemi and Giyuu can never get enough of each other.

3 Times Sanemi And Giyuu Are Mistaken As Muichirou's Parents (& The One Time They Use It To Their Advantage) by sopenation

Muichirou’s resemblance with the two Pillars gets too uncanny to ignore. Sanemi and Giyuu are more protective over the young boy than they let on.

Jealous of the Moon by neoqueenserenity

Giyuu and Sanemi are sent on a mission together to take down a demon who targets brothers, and they pretend to be siblings. It does not go well.

*i love you. i'm glad i exist. by komacinne

Sanemi and Giyuu peel oranges for each other.

crosscurrent by vividlyy

Sanemi doesn’t know how he got here. Actually, no. He does. Logically, Sanemi can retrace all the steps it took for him to arrive at this particular place at this particular time: the Swordsmith’s village, bathing in their famous hot springs, with Tomioka Giyuu as his sole company.

don't be nice, please by crystalcoffin

Giyuu’s suffering from a particularly bad string of one-night stands. Always longing, never satisfied. That is, until he meets a stranger at the bar whose touch is windblown, wild, and a little too famillar… surface tension by vividly what would have happened if Tanjirou didn’t interrupt Sanemi and Giyuu’s fight.

as my limit approaches infinity by vividlyy ✦

As a third year university student, Shinazugawa Sanemi already has enough to worry about: his grades, his fucked up sleep schedule, how he’s going to afford rent next month, and so on. When he’s offered a generous pay to tutor another student he’s never met before, he takes the job without a second thought. Enter Tomioka Giyuu, who brings with him nothing but strife and a bad attitude. He only has one goal—to intimidate Sanemi into quitting his job. All of Giyuu’s plans backfire when he starts to realize he’s more attached to Sanemi than he thought, and Sanemi might even feel the same way about him. After a battle of wills, they reach a compromise that gives them both what they want.

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Actually, I didn't try hard because of laziness, I'm a slacker (btw I didn't have enough strength for the background)

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I love the times during canon when Giyuu will say something and Sanemi looks like he wants Giyuu to explode so bad he’ll make it happen himself

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all my work for sanegiyuu week on twt <3

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⚠️Possibly spoilers?⚠️

Post war is my fav thing ever,

like,

wtf are they doing now?

like yes, they hang out now,

but fuck is they talking about,

what a bunch of traumatised Neurodivergent young Men who doesn't have to worry about finances or people anymore in the era between WW1 and WW2 could be possibly talking about?

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I LOVE the idea of Uzui being casually flirty with Giyuu in a friendly way. Like:

Uzui: Whoops, gotta go. Bye Giyuu (cradles his chin and kisses him on the cheek)

Giyuu, unfazed: Okay, see you later.

Sanemi, Giyuu’s boyfriend of 2 years: (slams book on the table) What the FUCK!!!!

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'hurt' prompt for sanegiyuu week

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I really like the way Giyuu thinks he can make friends with Sanemi is by just hiding red bean mochis in his sleeve and giving it to him whenever. I can just imagine Sanemi having a bad day and it gets 10 times worse when Giyuu comes around because he might think he's making fun of him

Pretty relatable tho I get it Giyuu I get it

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Reiner daily dead inside during final war while Jean yells at him 🤙

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Tongue!

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Rating: Mature (Language, a bit of baby spice)  Themes: Reincarnation, Modern Setting AU, Overlapping Timelines Summary:  Giyu Tomioka has no memory of his previous life as a Demon Slayer. He’s just a guy working his way through school, living with his boyfriend, Sanemi, the love of his life. His life is nearly perfect, and he wouldn’t change a thing. As his 25th birthday approaches, though, the line between his past life and his present starts getting thinner. Dreams of his own death and memories of a life he doesn’t remember slip through the cracks into his current reality. The Demon Slayer Mark that killed him before threatens to do so again.

Excerpt: 

Giyu is cold, and he’s tired. Snow clings to his hair, and settles on his skin. It doesn’t melt.

He can’t remember why he’s on the ground. His chest aches. His eyes drift open and he can see blood in the snow, like scattered flower petals. He knows he needs to get up, but it hurts to breathe and there’s no strength in his legs.  

“Shit, Giyu, what the hell-”

That voice. His voice. There’s fear in it. And that hurts too. He doesn’t want to hurt him, but they both knew this was coming. They knew it was going to hurt.  

“Is he…?”

“No, idiot, he’s not. He’s going to be fine.”

He feels arms, around his back, under his legs, lifting him as easily as a child, cradling him close. His head rests against a shoulder. He takes a strained breath. The one carrying him smells sweet, a little spicy. He smells like home.

“Go get him some blankets, moron.”

“O-okay-”

The anger is a poor mask. Giyu lifts his hand and sets it against skin, feels the heart racing beneath his palm.  

“Sanemi,” he murmurs.

“Shhh, don’t talk. Just hold on.”

Giyu’s eyes opened and the dream evaporated. He couldn’t remember it, not really, but he had a feeling it hadn’t been a good dream. It had been stressful, and cold, and the feeling was lingering. The sun streamed through his window, though, warm on his skin, deceptive given the February chill Giyu knew waited for him outside. It helped to dissipate whatever was leftover from the dream. He blinked sleep from his eyes, then sat up slowly. His chest hurt a little and he put a hand on it, taking a deep experimental breath. It felt okay, just…a little tight, maybe. He hoped he wasn’t getting sick.

“You alright?” a sleepy voice murmured beside him.

Giyu glanced down at his boyfriend, his face mostly buried in his pillow, save for the scarred corner of his cheek and forehead, and one pale violet eye that was watching him, half-lidded. An arm, also crossed with scars, reached across the bed and wound itself around Giyu’s waist.

“Don’t get up yet,” he said.

“Sanemi,” Giyu chided fondly, folding his hands over the arm around him. “I’ve got a job. And you’ve got a job,” he gently reminded him.

Sanemi put his full face in his pillow and he said in a muffled voice, “Let’s quit our jobs.”

Giyu smiled, shaking his head, then curled up next to Sanemi and nuzzled his ear. “Fine,” he said, “Let’s quit our jobs.” Sanemi peeked back out at him, and Giyu continued, “In about two weeks, we can also quit living in an apartment. And quit eating decent food. We’ll start dumpster diving and living out of cardboard boxes under a bridge. Sounds like a dream to me.”

Sanemi lifted his head and grinned, growling, “Okay, smartass, you win,” before he attacked Giyu, pressing him to the mattress, legs straddling him, keeping him pinned. He kissed him hard, his tongue pressing against Giyu’s, then he buried his face against Giyu’s neck, pressing his lips to his throat once, twice, before biting him, teeth sharp on his skin.

“Ouch,” Giyu laughed, “That’s rude.” He dug his fingers into Sanemi’s ribs, making him squirm away. Sanemi made a grab for Giyu’s hands, catching them and collapsing on his side next to Giyu, breathing deeply. He kissed each of Giyu’s hands, then let go and gave Giyu’s shoulder a gentle shove.

“You’re rude for making us be responsible,” Sanemi teased.

Giyu started to respond, but the words were swallowed by a sudden cough. He sat up and covered his mouth, trying to catch his breath. Sanemi sat up as well and pounded him on the back a few times.

“Shit, do you need some water or something?” he chuckled, grabbing a water bottle off their nightstand and passing it to him. Giyu accepted it gratefully and took a long swallow, the cough finally subsiding. The pain in his chest that he’d woken up with was a little worse. “What the hell was that?” Sanemi asked, swinging his legs out of bed and going over to the closet to pick some clothes.

“Just a cough,” Giyu said, standing up and stretching his arms above his head, “A cold maybe. I don’t know, I feel fine.”

“Well, take it easy if you start feeling worse,” Sanemi said, trying to be nonchalant about it, but his voice betrayed a note of concern. Giyu crossed the room to him and hugged him from behind, pressing a kiss (a much nicer kiss than Sanemi had offered) to the back of Sanemi’s neck.

Keep Reading on AO3

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sanemi’s first reason to hate giyuu is that he’s so fucking pretty

like — after sanemi’s outburst in his first meeting, he’s a bit uneasy. he’s already regretting what he’d said to kagaya, and nearly all of the hashira have scolded him already. except one. sanemi’s curiosity gets the better of him and he tunes out tengen’s rant about how unflashy he was being, turning his attention to a single hashira on the far side of the garden. he’d been told beforehand about the hashira and it hadn’t been too hard to place which hashira was which without being told, so he assumes this loner is the water pillar. upon seeing sanemi’s ignorance, tengen stops, following his gaze.

“huh? — oh. tomioka? don’t bother talking to him. all of us have tried,” he says, waving it off, apparently unbothered by the lack of attention he’d been receiving.

tomioka? sanemi’s eyes trail down the pillar’s body. tomioka wears some unattractive haori — something something, a mesh of colors that look terrible with each other — and he has long, dark hair that rests against his back in a ponytail. seemingly sensing the sudden attention, tomioka turns. he catches onto sanemi’s gaze and something like confusion flashes across his expression for a second before its previous impassiveness takes over. but his eyes remain on sanemi. even from here, sanemi catches the piercing blue, somewhat fitting to the water hashira title. but his mind is far from that. in fact, his mind is far from everything, having short-circuited a moment ago. so it takes him a minute to place his stillness. but then five words register in his mind.

tomioka is so fucking pretty.

sanemi jolts from his stupor, jerking his head to turn back to tengen and kanae. one of the two ask him something, but their questions are lost from him. because: what the fuck. what the fuck did he just think.

his gaze flicks back to the isolated hashira, only to find that tomioka is still watching, something like inquiry in his eyes. this proves only to put sanemi in a worse state. in the next second, he’s pivoting away, heading to who knows where as he rushes away from the other hashira. someone — kanae — calls out to him, but he ignores it, allowing his bangs to slip over his face, hiding the red that tinges his cheeks. what the fuck.

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A couple days ago I did a little Sanegiyuu bookshop reincarnation AU meet-cute as a writing exercise (read it on Tumblr or AO3). I had someone on AO3 say they wanted Sanemi's POV and it was fun to explore the other side. So Sanegiyuu Bookshop Meet-Cute Part 2 Sanemi POV:

Read it Here or after the break 😊

 "I didn't call for advice, Shinobu,” Sanemi growled into his phone. He ran his finger over book spines, reading titles, “I just need to know which books she already owns so I don’t buy her something she has.” 

“Fine, fine, let me go look at her shelf,” Shinobu said through the phone with a long-suffering sigh. “You should already know this. I mean, you’ve spent enough time in her bedroom.” She made a kissing sound into the phone. 

Sanemi choked, feeling his face flush. “You are a brat, you know that right?” he snarled. 

Shinobu laughed brightly. “Oh, calm down, Shinazugawa; you know I just have to give you hell about it.” 

Sanemi huffed in annoyance. You kiss your best friend one goddamn time, and suddenly it’s all her bratty little sister can talk about. It had been six fucking months! 

He and Kanae had been friends since high school. Sanemi felt a connection with her from day one, and they quickly became inseparable. After five years of being attached at the hip, they’d both figured they owed it to each other to just see what happened if they took the friendship one step further. Turns out one kiss was all it took for them each to realize that theirs wasn’t that sort of connection. But, strangely, that revelation had sealed their friendship even tighter than before, and Sanemi couldn’t imagine life without Kanae Kocho in it. 

Which, incidentally, was why he was here in the seventh circle of bookstore hell looking through hundreds of volumes that fell under the topic of “botany” from cookbooks to wildflower field guides to Horticulture for Dummies. Why? Because Kanae’s birthday was coming up, and his best friend was like the human version of a butterfly: delicate and gentle and obsessed with flowers. So. A book on flowers, he figured. Perfect gift. If he could find the right one. He hadn’t anticipated the selection would be quite this large, and looking through the shelves upon shelves of books was sort of like a nightmare.  

It wasn’t that Sanemi didn’t like books. He thought that reading was great. He just had little respect for physical books and their paper-consuming waste. What the hell was the point of physical books when you could have virtually the entire catalogue of books ever written in the palm of your hand? Kanae, however, liked to have something solid in her hands. Hence his predicament. 

“Okay,” Shinobu finally said, “I’ve got the list of books. I’m going to text it to you.” 

“Thanks,” Sanemi said, “I’ll bring you a cookie for being such a good helper.” 

“Ha ha ha,” Shinobu said, “Bye ‘Nemi.”  She hung up. He shook his head and sighed, shoving his phone back into his pocket while he waited for her to get around to sending him the list. He already had a handful of books he thought might be good options. Based on what Shinobu sent him, he could narrow it down. 

Sanemi approached the end of the shelf, and realized that the section continued around the corner. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, baffled that there could be THIS many books on fucking plants. 

He adjusted his load of books and made to go around the corner. Unfortunately, at the exact same time as someone was also coming around the corner in his direction. 

They collided. Hard. The person was nearly as tall as Sanemi, but with a slighter build. They rebounded off Sanemi and lost their balance. Sanemi instinctively tried to catch their arm, intending to keep them from keeling over, and forgetting in the process that his arms were entirely occupied with books. So the person still lost their balance, falling back on their ass, and all of his books tumbled to the floor. 

Of course. Of course. His temper flared as he looked at his scattered books, the bulk of it directed (perhaps irrationally) at the clumsy dumbass on the floor who’d clearly not been paying any attention whatsoever.

“Would you fucking watch where you’re going?” Sanemi snapped sharply at the person, glaring down at them and–

Oh.

The man he’d nearly flattened was…was… goddamn. Obsidian hair in choppy layers, hanging just past his shoulders, framing a porcelain face and highlighting shockingly blue eyes. He was almost too pretty to be real, like someone had taken a person and run them through photoshop. Sitting on the floor, he rubbed his elbow where it must have smacked the shelf on the way down, then looked up at Sanemi like he’d never seen another human being before, his expression flat and empty as a sheet of blank paper. 

“Shit,” Sanemi said, dragging himself out of his shameless ogling of a total stranger. He reached a hand out to help the man up. The man looked at him, then stared at his hand. And stared. And stared some more, remaining frozen where he sat. What the hell? Patience wasn’t one of Sanemi’s great strengths. He made an exasperated sound and reached down to the man’s arm, taking it just below his shoulder. He blinked in surprise. Lean, sure, but not slim, Sanemi noted as his fingers gripped around solid muscle, the kind you had to work for. Pretty and strong, then. He dragged the man to his feet, and only when the man was barely more than six inches from him did Sanemi realize how his forcibly pulling the man to his feet had positioned them, standing close together, and the man was still staring, his cheeks flushing lightly, and shit, he was even prettier up close. It would be so damn easy to close those last few inches and–

Woah. Slow the fuck down. 

The man took a step back, and Sanemi let go of his arm. Good. That was good. Because Sanemi had just been hit with the most lunatic impulse out of fucking nowhere and space was a good call. 

Connection, realization dawned on him. 

He’d felt a weird sort of something, a few times in his life now, a thing that he didn’t have any other name for. It usually came as a vague sense of familiarity, the feeling that he knew someone from somewhere despite knowing that they’d never met. Sometimes it was fleeting. Sometimes it lingered. Sometimes he pursued the connection, like he had with Kanae. More often than not, he simply let it pass without acting on it. 

He was getting that feeling with this man. 

Strongly. 

The man had crouched back down and was gathering up Sanemi’s books one by one. Something passed over his features as he read the titles, barely a hint of it, but Sanemi caught it all the same. Skepticism. 

“They’re a gift,” he supplied self-consciously, not sure why he felt compelled to explain himself except that…he could tell that the man knew that these books weren’t something Sanemi would look for for himself. And Sanemi knew that the man knew, as impossible as that should be. “I’ve got a friend,” he said as he crouched down and picked up the last two books, “Her birthday is next week. She’s into flowers and plants, all that green thumb bullshit.” 

In his periphery, Sanemi watched the slight crease of the man’s brow ease, and the skepticism was replaced with what Sanemi knew was satisfaction. Such miniscule expressions, they might as well have not been there at all. But Sanemi could read them, all the same. Of course, he wouldn’t have to do so much guesswork if the asshole would just say something. In fact, he hadn’t said a single word in their entire interaction, all silence and stoicism, and Sanemi really needed him to say something, anything, unconsciously leaning into the connection he felt, needing to know if his voice would feel familiar too. Why was he still not saying anything? 

Sanemi’s temper slipped, and his voice was too harsh as he demanded, “Are you a damn mute or something?” 

The man blinked. His gaze flickered across Sanemi’s features. Face. Arms. Hands. Chest. Back to his eyes. 

“Of course not,” he said. His voice was as smooth as still water, and it struck Sanemi deep in his chest. “Here are your books,” he continued, holding the load out. 

Sanemi looked at the books, meaning to reply, but he felt strangled by own voice, and all that came out was a sort of shapeless, disgruntled sound. He pushed past it and accepted the books, trying not to touch the man, but unable to help it entirely, and God, his skin was soft, and Sanemi’s hands twitched with the entirely uncalled for urge to abandon the books entirely, take the man’s hands and feel the shape of them folded in his own–

STOP.

“Be more careful,” Sanemi said through his teeth, turning away. He had to get the fuck away from this person before he made a complete ass of himself. He took one step, but then hesitated. He’d never felt a connection like this one before. Not even with Kanae. And Kanae had turned out to be his very best friend. If he let himself chase down this connection, what would it turn into? He didn’t know. And it terrified him how badly he wanted to. He shook his head, clearing the stupid fallacies from his brain, and forced himself to walk away. 

Walk. Walk. Walk, he thought furiously, arguing himself off the ledge he’d come dangerously close to jumping from. Just put more space, more distance, more time, between you and him, and whatever this feeling is will go away, just like it always does when you don’t waste your time with these deluded feelings that don’t mean anything. Give it a day. Hell, give it an hour. He’ll just be a memory of a random dude you ran into in the bookshop, and a good story to tell Kanae.

He meant to head to the check-out, but paused when a book caught his eye, the cover scattered with jewel-bright butterflies. Okay. One more book, then he’d decide between the one’s he’d gathered. He walked over to the shelf, pulling the book out and looking over the back cover to get an idea of what it was about.

A moment later, someone (and Sanemi hated that he knew who without turning around) cleared their throat behind him. Why had the man followed him? He felt nerves in his stomach and a zing of anticipation race down his spine and he swallowed hard before he looked over his shoulder. 

“You again?” he asked, grateful that the breathlessness he felt in his lungs didn’t come out in his voice.  

The man– shit, so goddamn pretty –didn’t say anything to Sanemi’s question. He just held out a book. 

“You should give this one to your friend,” he said confidently, “My brother’s girlfriend loved this book. She’s also into all the ‘green thumb bullshit’.”

Sanemi looked at the book. Then back at the man. And Sanemi felt himself wavering in his resolve to not pursue this whatever it was. The man had gone out of his way to find a book and bring it to him, which he definitely didn’t have to do. And he was standing there, watching Sanemi, staring at him again. And it didn’t feel strange that he was staring. It didn’t feel awkward like it, by all logic, should have. It just felt like he was trying to figure Sanemi out, the same way Sanemi was trying to figure him out, each of them dancing around this connection that Sanemi felt, and at this point, he was half-convinced that the man felt it too. 

But he hesitated. He was back on that ledge. And he knew, he just knew, that if he stepped off, he was going to fall hard and fast and there would be no going back, not ever.

And he just wasn’t sure if he was ready for that. 

“Thanks,” he said, taking the book from the man’s hand. And then he looked away from him. Deliberately. 

He could practically feel the disappointment that arced off the man, rippling outward into Sanemi. But to his credit, he didn’t push Sanemi any further. He turned and started walking away. Sanemi closed his eyes. Every step dragged at him, tugging like some invisible tether between them, pulling taut the further away he got. It had to be all in his head, it made no sense at all, and yet he felt it like a physical thing, a need to know this man. 

What was he thinking? Suddenly it struck Sanemi, all at once painfully clear that he couldn’t just let the man go. If he did, refusing to take a chance because he was scared of the outcome, there was not a shred of doubt in his mind that he was going to regret it. 

He turned. “Hey–” he called, and the man froze. Then turned. And Sanemi could see the threads of fragile hope woven across his expression, clear as day. 

“You come here very often?” Sanemi asked in a rush, then promptly cursed himself for what sounded like a cheesy-ass pick up line. 

“Often enough,” the man said with a shrug.

Okay. Okay. Sanemi steeled himself. He was going to do this. 

“Happen to know if the cafe is any good?” he asked. He’d seen the place just off the entrance when he’d arrived, a little coffee shop that sold sandwiches and salads and pastries. 

“It’s good. A little overpriced maybe–” the man said, walking back over to Sanemi slowly. 

Sanemi snorted at that, arguing, “What isn’t these days?” 

There. Sanemi saw it. The traces of the man’s smile as he nodded. God, he wanted to see him smile and that hint of it gave Sanemi the confidence he needed to ask, “You hungry?” 

He was never this forward. He never spontaneously asked people out, let alone asking them to join him for a meal right then and there. He had no idea what he was doing. He felt like he was delirious, high on his own goddamn imagination. But at this point, he’d resigned himself to being carried on the wave. 

“Sure, I could eat.” 

And that was that. Sanemi sighed deeply, relief warring with disbelief, because what the ever-loving fuck was he actually doing here? He felt like he’d opened a door, having no way to know where it led, and stepped into a room, but all the lights were off, and he was just wandering blindly in the dark. Somehow, the thrill made it worth it. 

“Great,” he said and started towards the cafe, trusting that the man would follow him, and sure enough, he felt his quiet presence at his shoulder, saw his dark hair and pale skin and ocean-blue eyes in his periphery. “My treat,” he threw out, just to be clear about his intentions. But would the offer to pay make the man uncomfortable? Sanemi added, “Since I knocked you on your ass – even though it was your own damn fault.” 

The man didn’t answer, just let out a quiet huff of air that might’ve been the start of a laugh. Other than that he stayed silent. Sanemi had never met someone who kept his words so locked up, and he hoped that once they were sitting down, he would open up a little more. Sitting down, he realized, in a bookshop cafe: they were practically on a date now, and he didn’t even know the guy’s name. 

“You got a name?” Sanemi asked, holding his breath as he waited, not sure why it mattered so much. But, then, none of this was anything remotely resembling logical at this point.  

“Giyu,” he answered.  

Giyu. Sanemi repeated the name to himself, savoring it. God, even his name felt right, achingly familiar. It fit the man like it was tailored to him. Giyu, Giyu, Giyu.  

“Sanemi,” Sanemi offered his own name in return.

A pause, like Giyu was taking his time processing the name, feeling it out. Then he said warmly, “Nice to meet you, Sanemi.”

Shit– Sanemi’s name, in Giyu’s still-water voice – he didn’t think he’d ever appreciated the sound of his own name so much. He wanted Giyu to say it again, and the thought made warmth pool in his cheeks and creep down his neck, and he hoped it was less obvious than it felt. Yet, somehow, he didn’t really care so much if Giyu saw him blush. In fact… 

He thought he was sort of looking forward to it.   

[wolvesandfoxes25]

Sanemi & Giyuu 🌪️🌊

[wolvesandfoxes25]

OKAY. So that ONE picture was nice butttt where's a trailer? More photos, something. My excitement is dwindling.