He hated you.

Ever since you earned your place among the Hashira, since you showed up to the first meeting and went on your first mission with HIM of all people— god he hated you. And the worst part was, he couldn't pin where and why. Your demeanor drove him up a wall, the way you spoke never failed to make his blood boil.

Yet, after that damn night he'd first gotten involved with you, everything changed. Somewhere amongst heated words and his harsh glares. Something. Something managed to grow in from chest like a weed, it's roots burrowing deep into his mind and body.

The progression of his relationship with you was messy, awkward, and confusing. Now he can't pin where that started either. Maybe it was when you'd first pressed your lips to his, or when you first slept in his bed? Oh, but what about when you first uttered 'I love you'?

He can't tell. Even though he swears he could never see eye-to-eye with someone like you, again and again, he finds himself in your arms in the end. You made him weak. He wasn't supposed to feel like this towards you to begin with.

So then why does this man have him in a chokehold?

You were curled up at his side, your clothed muscles pressed against his with little space between you. That's just how he wanted it to be. He hated that he wanted you, that you invaded his thoughts so often. Watching you train for hours with sweat trailing down your lean figure became almost a guilty pleasure.

Why he was so enamored with another man was a mystery to him, one he wanted to shove down so far away it could never rear it's head again. Yet despite himself he stays, pressing a kiss to your neck. You squirmed under the contact, a bit ticklish at the feeling. "..You move too damn much," He grunts, unamused.