Reverse Streamer AU

# . . 𝗞𝗔𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗚𝗜 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗝𝗨

blessing your tl with 2 panels of senju today. reblogs are highly appreciated! <3

© hqruchiyo on tumblr. 2021. do not repost / steal.

“they” (1 word) is shorter than “he or she” (3 words)

“they” is more inclusive than “he/she”

“themself” flows more naturally than “him or herself”

“they” is less clunky than “(s)he”

it’s time to replace the awkward “she or he”

This is too good seriously too good holy shit....

put a ring on it.

premise. snippets of daily life between a humble servant and an increasingly clingy master.

word count. 5.2k

note. reader full of snark + dumbass in love ayato = gratuitous amount of banter. i have to say that ayato never goes out of line though, and you're not actually bothered by his advances; you're just a massive tsundere.

“With all due respect, I don't believe being your headrest is part of my duty, my lord.”

“Is that so?”

The noncommittal response pointedly marks the end of his acknowledgement as Ayato makes no effort to sit up, remaining slumped against your frame. His head rests upon your shoulder, a ticklish sensation blooming where the junction between your neck and chin meet. Pale blue hair trail prickling heat where it grazes your skin, an itch you can't quite scratch away.

Even so, the discomfort doesn't reflect on your face, frigid expression carefully layered with blankness. His sinking weight fails to impede your immaculate posture, refined poise a great disparity from his leisurely disposition. It paints an odd picture, the ordinarily faultless heir lacking decorum. Though granted the freedom to do as he wishes in the private confines of his room, it is a mystery why a servant such as you is... graciously permitted to bask in his exclusive company. In the private confines of his room. You feel the need to emphasize that detail.

In his hands lays a scroll concerning governmental affairs, urgent matters that demand his attention, so you can't begin to comprehend why he insists on using this time to harass reward a lowly servant with his valuable presence when there is business to attend to.

He leans more of his weight to your side, and he—you nearly sputter indignantly—mimics an action that can almost be described as nuzzling. “Mhm. This is convenient for me, since I've hardly found the time to rest today. Do you find it intolerable?”

Ignoring the last bit, you advise, “Perhaps it would be more effective if you were to rest in your chambers. I will come call when the Kanjou Commission asks for you.”

He pretends to consider it for a moment, the silence filled with the quiet jingle of wind chimes. Predictably, the corners of his mouth hook up to a smile. “I would prefer to stay, if you don't mind?”

Resigned to your fate, you can only say, “Of course not, my lord.”

For reasons you cannot fathom, the head of the Kamisato household harbors a strong attachment to you.

In normal circumstances, this fact would be taken as great news; presently, you are little more than puzzled and unfeeling. Rather than delight, dread stirs in your stomach whenever he calls your name in a volume louder than necessary—a conscious decision, you presume, since he seems to interact with other servants just fine. Curt and polite, keeping his words concise, preventing further delay from addressing his responsibilities.

Had you not known better, you wouldn't be able to identify him as the same man who indulges in trivialities when he invites you to share snacks, engaging in frivolous chatter over tea and pastries. With increasing frequency nonetheless, and with varying refreshments each time to boot, ranging from an assortment of wagashi. Strawberry daifuku on one tea break, mizu-yokan on the next, sakura mochi on the day after that... You've been serving him for a considerable amount of time, but he's never been much of a sweet tooth until as of late.

Ayato hums thoughtfully, savoring the sweet taste on his tongue. “The mild flavor is pleasant. I believe it might be to your liking.”

He offers you a cup, steam curling above the warm brew. The pink beverage glistens beneath the sunlight, rippling with movement when you take it into your hands. It doesn't require much thinking to conclude the tea leaves must've cost a fortune, but it leaves you plenty of questions just as well. Why would a benefactor give you a taste of luxury?

But you would be a fool not to appreciate it while it lasts, so you lift the cup for a sip.

The flavor of spring bursts in your mouth, fragrant and tasting of sweet nectar. Your frosty guise wavers under the bribery, bliss crossing your face before your lips quirk up to a small, almost imperceptible smile.

Deeming your elated reaction satisfactory, Ayato nudges the plate of confections towards your side of the table. “Eat. They pair well with the tea.”

Who are you to say no to your lord? Therefore, the correct choice must be to gratefully accept his gifts!

(Distracted by desserts, you fail to see his amusement in the way you stuff your cheeks full adorably like a chipmunk.

But he's aware it's not the right time yet, so he suppresses the urge to pinch your face.)

Kamisato Ayato is often praised for his intellect and cunning mind, but sometimes you wonder if he'd finally gone stupid after all that overthinking.

“My hand feels cold,” he laments, as if he hadn't chucked away his gloves ten seconds prior. “Can I hold yours for a moment?”

Ayaka, for her part, looks ashamed on her brother's behalf. With a graceful flick of her wrist, her fan snaps open and obscures the mortified expression on her face. Thoma's bottom lip quivers, valiantly repressing his bubbling laughter though he turns quite ugly in the process.

Sending a prayer to the heavens, you hope your face looks as unreadable as you think it to be. “...I'll fetch you a pair of gloves,” you say, side-stepping the pair he just abandoned on the floor.

“Mhm. That won't be necessary,” he counters, tugging on the edge of your sleeve. “You see, I heard those granted Pyro Visions have warmer body temperature...”

That is undoubtedly a lie he conjures up on the spot.

“...So I was hoping to sate my curiosity today,” he finishes, looking far too pleased with himself. Ayaka avoids your gaze when your eyes sweep past her (she absolutely knows it's an idiotic idea because going by that logic, she should have a colder temperature... but that is obviously not the case), and Thoma is blatantly ignoring your requests for assistance, whistling an awkward tune.

You have half a mind to shift the duty to another retainer similarly bearing a Pyro Vision, who is currently trying his hardest to stifle his pained grunts when you pinch his forearm admonishingly, but there's really no way out of this. Ayato would undoubtedly craft another bullshit reason to coax you anyway. (A part of you thinks it might be fun to keep up the charade just to hear what he'd say next.)

“Right.” You hold up your hand, and Ayato's eyes flicker with mischief. His slender fingers wrap around your wrist, brushing over the jut of your bone. He marvels at the size of it, dwarfed by his large hands, and he curls his fingers tighter.

...He doesn't seem to be assessing your temperature.

But you are mindful of his, a searing heat devouring your senses. His light touches settle heavily on your skin, a prominent warmth amidst the cold gale. Where his fingers rest leave imprints of fire, trails of scorched ash in his wake.

Experimentally, his thumb rubs circles on your palm, tracing over the lines. He rolls the soft flesh, staring at the small cuts and calluses with an attentive eye. Burning the image into his mind. Fiddling with the shape of your fingers. Then, following a brief hitch of his breath, he fits his own in the spaces between yours.

His hand is soft, you think to yourself. Without the presence of leather, it is fully bare, pale and dusted with pink. His knuckles are pronounced, palm surprisingly unscarred in spite of vigorous sword practice, but a writer's callus lay on his ring finger. It is easy to imagine his frame hunched over his desk, pen between his fingers, ink running dry from writing back to missives and signing endless contracts.

(And responding to engagement offers. You would know. They clutter his workspace, scented letters branded by wax seals of a distinguished family's emblem.

He barely throws a cursory glance at them before giving his never changing answer.)

When he gives your hand a squeeze, you finally ask, “Is it warm?”

“Yes.” He sounds somewhat strangled, there, less confident than he was before he took your hand. “Very warm.”

He reluctantly parts with it, stepping back to reduce your close proximity. Ayaka fans herself as she scrutinizes his reddening complexion, and Thoma—partial to the lord, you see, even though he wasn't very eager to lend you a hand before—makes some excuse about a meeting he has to attend to (some beetle fight with Itto, most likely) and if you'd kindly excuse their presence.

“...Please pardon my brother's strange behavior,” Ayaka murmurs when only the both of you remain in the room. “He could be quite straightforward when his curiosity is piqued. He doesn't have weird intentions, really.”

She doesn't appear to believe it herself, but you appreciate her attempts to clean up Ayato's mess.

“It's no trouble, milady.” You flash a placating smile for good measure, reaching down to collect the discarded gloves Thoma nearly tripped on in his way out. “But I'm afraid I'll have to take my leave now as well...”

“Yes, of course! You may go.”

Following her affirmation, you scramble to take a duster and retreat to clean the library.

Mercifully, she doesn't comment on your flushed cheeks and colored ears. (There's only so much composure you can exhaust within one day.)

For all that you (privately) complain about the extensive list of chores to tackle in the Kamisato Estate, you find tending to the garden fairly enjoyable. Alas, you can't exactly spend the whole day pruning the shrubbery; the smile on your face drops immediately when you're sent to go on a shopping trip. Worse still, with no one to assist you in carrying the groceries. Thoma had already promised to accompany Ayaka for a mission, and everyone else is busy preparing for the Kamisato head's upcoming business trip.

Said Kamisato head is apparently “free” and “has the spare time to help” despite being the one who should be busy holing himself up in his office.

Regardless of your protests, Ayato insisted on tagging along to the market. Which brings you to your current situation, your employer dutifully carrying bundles of cloth and a basket of radishes and carrots with an easygoing smile, while your hands remain empty. He is... considerate, if you were to speak in flowery words. He is stubborn, if you were to be blunt.

However, he is relatively obedient, save for the handful of times he rushes off to chase something that caught his eye. As a result, he keeps purchasing cheap trinkets he'll probably have no use for and his pocket is brimming of candy he sometimes stuffs your mouth with when you have something to scold him for. (To be fair, it's very effective for shutting you up.)

“Please don't interrupt me from speaking,” your words are partly muffled, mouth still chewing on the confection. Ayato smiles innocently, pressing another piece of sugar to your lips.

“Where are we headed next?” He questions, looking around the bustling streets as he tucks the jar of konpeito in his sleeve. “Do you still have vegetables you need to buy?”

You shake your head. “No, the cook said he's only missing radishes and carrots in particular. I've also gotten the materials needed to mend clothes Thoma asked for.”

He deflates at that, disappointment painting his expression. “I suppose we're returning, then?”

You purse your lips, considering your options. It wasn't like you were told to come back an appointed time, and you could always blame Ayato for your tardiness... “Does my lord wish to visit anywhere specifically?”

The river of stars in his eyes twinkle ever so slightly, flashing a thinly-veiled childish gleam. “Not anything I could think of at the top of my head. Do you have any recommendations in mind?”

“Recommendations?”

“Places you like to visit.”

During your free time, you usually look around to shop for clothing or accessories... but they're nowhere near the quality befitting of nobles. The yukata isn't tailored to your size, made from cheaper cloth of cotton, and aren't as decorative to what your lord is used to; it's what makes it affordable. Whereas Ayato is often dressed in luxurious silks, embellished with golden thread and customized to his liking.

“It's no harm to bring you there... I guess.” you scratch your cheek. “Though I can't guarantee you'll like it.”

“Nonsense.” He smiles amicably. He reaches for the basket before you can grab it, gesturing for you to start walking. “I'm sure I'll have a good time regardless where it is.”

And... he does. He marvels at the extravagant brocades displayed at boutiques, wondering how one could possibly wear so many heavy layers. Though he doesn't buy clothes for himself, he decides to buy a cute purse he thinks his sister would appreciate.

Ayato expresses interest in ornaments and cosmetics as well, to which the shop owner proceeds to happily introduce her entire catalogue for a man she knows has deep pockets. He doesn't disappoint.

“You don't want anything?” He asks when you only answer his questions pertaining to Ayaka's preferences, two steps behind, never taking the opportunity to roam and search for potential additions in your wardrobe.

It's not that you haven't seen anything you'd like to take home, per se. More like everything is too expensive for your pocket money in this high-end portion of town. “No,” you say instead, because it's easier to explain that way.

He tilts his head inquisitively, but doesn't push the topic. “Help me choose a hair pin then. You know what fits Ayaka best.”

He leads you to the display case housing rows of hair ornaments, each one more remarkable than the next. The last one, undoubtedly the most costly whose price would make you weep, teeters on the edge of gaudy. Adorned with silver butterflies, tear drop sapphires, gems delicately shaped like dewy petals and white pearls sitting atop carved gold, they almost blind your eyes.

“...She'd look beautiful in everything,” is the conclusion you come to, because you speak nothing but the truth. “But please don't buy everything. She will get mad at you.”

“I know,” he sighs. “That's why I needed your help picking one.”

You almost drill holes to the items with how hard you're staring at them, but you eventually point at the pin with pink blossoms. “This would contrast nicely with her hair.”

“Mhm. If you say so,” he hums approvingly, tracing the sculpted leaves.

“Then if that's all, I'll go pay...”

“Ah, which reminds me.” He spins on his heel to face you, lips shaped into an apologetic smile. “I'm nearly running out of parchment paper. Could you stop by the stationery store up front? I'll handle things from here and meet you by the entrance.”

“Of course, my lord.”

On your way outside, you resolutely do not allow your curious gaze to steer towards the tables of sparkling jewelry.

--

The trip back to the estate is uneventful, and the rest of the afternoon passes like any other.

Perhaps the only inconsistency in your repetitive days is the accidental nap you fall into, blanketed in warm rays of sunshine and caressed by the refreshing breeze slipping past ajar doors, your cheek resting on the surface of the table you were supposed to be cleaning. How uncouth of me, you think as you wipe your mouth to check for signs of drool. Your only respite is not having anyone witness you in such a state, otherwise you would've long been rudely awakened and received an earful of chastising.

...Is what you think, until you spot a foreign ring you definitely do not recall putting on.

It curls around your finger, dotted with crystals in a hue of blue you're all too familiar with. You see it everyday, gleaming in mischief, darkening with intrigue. Framed by long, long lashes, crinkling at the corners when filled with mirth. Crashing waves turned to frost at the slighest hint of displeasure, yet inexplicably gentle the moment it meets your eyes.

(You wonder if this is why he insisted on touching your hands so much, just to roughly measure your ring size.)

“I hope you fare well during my absence. Fear not, I will do my best not to prolong my leave.”

The way his words sound so self-assured and full of conviction doesn't sit well with you, and the genuine pity reflected in his irises almost makes your eyebrow twitch. You hadn't even spoken a word before he began his theatrics.

“Take as long as you need,” you reassure him. “My lord mustn't rush his work.”

He wilts, but he perks right back up, “No need to put up a front. I'll come back for you.”

Incorrigible.

“Then I await your safe return.” You bow deeply as you swallow back a sigh of defeat, the other servants lined up on either side of the street moving accordingly.

“Please be careful,” Ayaka bids when she walks in front of him. “I've heard of bandits intercepting carriages to steal... I don't mean to undermine your abilities, but you should still be vigilant of trouble.”

Ayato laughs at that. “You don't have to worry, Ayaka. They'll sooner surrender before they lay a single scratch on me.” Glancing at the luggage being loaded on his carriage, he grimaces. “I better get going. I'll see you all in three weeks.”

He climbs to the interior, giving you a final smile before closing the door. You stare at the carriage until it fully disappears, the trotting of horses out of earshot. When Thoma begins to walk back to the estate, you fall into step with him, matching his strides.

“The lord hasn't left for this long in a while,” he comments, to which you hum in agreement. “Think you'll miss him?”

“Three weeks is hardly a long time,” you retort back, complacent for the rare period of peace to follow the next month. “He'll return in no time, as if he'd never been gone in the first place.”

Thoma eyes you strangely at that, but says no more. “If you say so.”

--

The first day is bliss. No disruptions in your work, no unwanted conversation partner as a distraction, no midnight snacks needed to be prepared for the clan head a weird mix between workaholic and slacker.

The second day proves to be the same. No incessant chatter in your ear as you sweep the floor, no complaints for a stack of paperwork to be done within the day, no sudden requests of a shoulder massage for a job well done deserving of a reward.

The third day, you feel like your schedule is lacking, blank spots of free time sprinkled in between.

Ah, right. The tea breaks.

You tell yourself you only miss the fragrant tea, the selection of treats given to you by the young master's generosity. Not his thoughtful commentary for the taste, the chuckles spilling from his lips when you respond to his quips, the brief moments of eye contact before you resume your respective duties.

The fourth day, you're sent to hang the laundry. You tell yourself you don't miss a certain someone's abrupt appearance, poking a head through the sheets to startle you, huffing bright peals of laughter when he attains his desired reaction.

The fifth day, the cook requests your help to prep dinner. My lord doesn't like this dish, the sentence almost leaves your tongue as your eyes track down the recipe when you remember right, he's not here, and milady likes this dish, so it's one of the few chances she gets to eat it.

The sixth day, you clean his office. You organize the account books, restock his collection of pens and paper, and shuffle through his mail to sort them by category (definitely not noting down the number of letters asking for his hand in marriage). Your face flushes slightly when an unassuming bookmark falls out of a book you pick up from the floor, familiar flowers pressed thinly to fit between the pages. (You had only given those flowers on a whim, plucking fresh blossoms from plants you grew outside the Kamisato's garden. You didn't think he'd keep it around; they're not nearly as fancy as what his family owns.)

By the seventh day, you check the calendar and determine time is a social construct. There is no way it's only been seven days.

--

“How do I look?”

“Positively charming,” you say dryly.

“You're not looking.”

Your eyes flit to Thoma's attire. “I am.”

He shakes his head, taking off the robes he'd been trying on. “You're always daydreaming nowadays. What are you thinking about?”

Reminiscing the last time you visited this clothing store, which is when you brought the young master in your shopping trip. But he doesn't need to know that. “It's nothing. Are you buying it?”

“Since you kindly gave an approving opinion, sure.” His tone drips with sarcasm as he takes out his money pouch, paying for the clothes. “I think I don't need the answer from you, actually. I'm confident I have an accurate guess.”

Your eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean by that?”

“Who else would linger in your mind?” Thoma sighs in dramatic fashion, stepping out of the premises with you not far behind. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder, after all.”

Bristling, you vehemently refute, “I'm not thinking inappropriately of the lord, if that's what you're implying.”

“I didn't mention any names.”

“But you clearly meant him.”

He holds up his hands. “If that's what you want to believe, suit yourself.”

His gaze drops to the ring wrapped around your finger. The ring had been a topic of interest for the gossip mongers within the estate, wondering who you could've received it from; what other implications can wearing a ring have? Your cold exterior is no secret, your heart guarded with thorns, so who was able to sweep you off your feet in the end?

Thoma only needed one look at the shade of blue to make a correct guess.

“...I'm sure at this point, you know of his intentions,” Thoma says slowly. “And I have plenty of reasons to believe his affections aren't entirely unrequited.”

If they were, you would have brushed off Ayato already, just like you always do with the others. He may be persistent, but he knows how to back off. Yet the most you do is sigh and spoil him, albeit in (fond) exasperation.

“Even if they aren't...” you fidget with the hem of your shirt, averting your gaze from his blazing eyes, “...it doesn't mean we'll work. I'm certain he has better prospects for a spouse, anyway.”

“You mean those daughters from noble families?” He snorts. “He'd barely give them the time of day before running back to you. You should know that by now. Don't you remember when he faked being sick in that lunch meeting so you could take care of him?”

Of course you do. He had pretended to be in a dizzy spell, collapsing on your shoulder and making furtive hand signals asking for your help to get the lovesick maiden off his back. There really is no way to reject people like her without offending his business associate, so he tended to evade confrontations in roundabout ways.

You could excuse his clingy behavior out of necessity; it would be disgraceful to collapse on the floor, after all. The problem lies with the aftermath where you had already steered clear of the trouble but he insists on requiring treatment, body calculatively feeble as he gives you woeful pleas.

In another world, perhaps this would've been a heart-rending experience: a cold man who didn't share his burdens with others asking help from you specifically, because you were special and he trusted you the most.

In this world though, the act is only deserving of a derisive snort. He'd pulled off this plot for who knows how many times. How would holding your hand help with his throbbing headache anyway?

(You ignore the fact you indulge him each time regardless.)

“In any case, the lord is returning in a week. Not much time left for you to mope,” he laughs, even as you elbow his side.

A week.

(That is one week too long.)

--

When Ayato returns five days short of three weeks, you aren't there to greet him.

Instead, you are sick in bed, bundled in a pile of blankets, and suffering from a stuffy nose.

Ah, and delirious from fever. Very much so.

So when Ayato miraculously appears in your bedroom earlier than scheduled, you only sniffed in response and brushed him off as a hallucination.

But of course, your dismissive attitude isn't enough to discourage him from pestering you and running his mouth. He hovers by your bedside, noting with glee that you keep his ring on a nightstand closeby. “This is rare. I don't think I've ever seen you ill.”

But you've seen him plenty, frail and weak after days straight of sleepless nights. He doesn't look too pretty in such a mood, quick-tempered and sharp-tongued at the slightest annoyance. He only ever softens when your expression flits to dismay for a fraction of a second before offering him prescribed medicine from the family's physician.

“How are you this annoying even in my dreams...”

As it turns out, you're even more of a worse case than he is.

“Mhm. Your filter is completely shut down when you're sick, huh.” Ayato laughs, amused at the surprising revelation. He doesn't get to be the receiving end of your blunt words very often. “Alright. How bad do you feel right now?”

“Terrible, since it's the ass crack of dawn.”

It is not the ass crack of dawn, but you wouldn't know any better with the curtains drawn. “Do you have an appetite? I'll have a servant bring a meal.” Then, he slyly adds, “I can feed you, if you want me to.”

He doesn't know which part of that statement appeals to you the most but you sit up straight, attentive.

Interesting.

Though Ayato had meant it in jest, he has no complaints scooping spoonfuls of porridge to bring to your lips. He patiently coaxes you into drinking the bitter medicine after, quickly soothing you with bite-sized cut fruit to wash away the acrid taste.

“Good job,” he compliments, chuckling when you glow at the praise. Your lips are shiny with juice, trickling from the corner of your mouth.

Absent-mindedly, his hand lifts to caress your cheek, the pad of his thumb wiping it away. You jolt, a startled sound escaping you, and you hasten to clamp a hand over his mouth.

He blinks at you owlishly, dumbfounded.

“Don't,” you speak, your face decorated with a lovely pink. “You'll... you'll get sick.”

Ayato takes an embarrassing amount of time to process what that means. However, when he does, you can feel him grin beneath your fingers. He takes your hand, his huff of laughter tickling your palm.

“I thought we were in a dream? You don't get sick from kisses in dreams,” he teases, pressing a light kiss to your wrist. Your heart stutters in bewilderment but you make no move to pull away, only twitching when he kisses your fingertips.

“It's better to be careful...” your brows knit together, and he kisses the crease away too.

“Okay. Let's do it next time then, when you're truly awake.” He gently pushes you to your back, fluffing up the pillows for your comfort and tucking you in the blankets. Then, indulgently, he presses a final kiss to the crown of your head. “Rest well so I can get that kiss sooner, hm?”

“That's a stupid reason to recover...” you murmur defiantly, stubbornly blinking your drooping eyes open.

In the end, you fall asleep to the sound of his laughter, the fingers combing through your hair, and the rhythmic beat in his chest.

--

When you wake up, you admonish yourself for having such a shameless subconscious, but you acknowledge that you had a good dream.

Then your eyes land on a pair of discarded gloves on your nightstand, one that you remember Ayato putting away before he began to spoonfeed you your meal.

...Fuck.

“With all due respect, I don't believe being your headrest is part of my duty, my lord.”

A thoughtful hum answers you, preceded by a curious glance at your expression. Your legs are folded underneath you, back straight and eyes overlooking the garden instead of the weight resting on your lap. You can feel him shift, turning over where he faces against the porch, his robes wrinkling where it lay below.

“Are you suddenly becoming shy because a maidservant passed by?” He places down the novel in his hands on the wooden floorboards, watching your face burn in embarrassment. “I doubt this is the first time she's seen us, though.”

“My apologies. I'm not as thick-skinned as you are.”

“I'd prefer the term 'proud,'” he pokes the sash around your waist, smiling cheekily. “Who wouldn't want to show off their lover?”

He feels you stiffen, sees the flush of pink crawling outwards to the tips of your ears. “It's inappropriate. We're in a public setting.”

“That's only because you refuse to enter my chambers,” Ayato sighs and you look positively mortified. “I wouldn't ravage you, if that's what you're worried about?”

“My lord, please be reasonable. Whether you do or not, I will still be seen as your bed warmer. Did milady not advise us to be discreet? Inazuma would be in an uproar if they learned you were... you were...” you purse your lips, unable to spit the last word.

“Wedded.”

“I'm afraid we haven't gone that far, my lord,” you deadpan.

“So will you consider it?”

“My lord.”

“What?”

You give him a look, and he sighs in acquiescence. But he turns to face the opposite direction, expression hidden fron view. You can practically hear the pout in his voice, “I see. [Name] only sees me as a fling. My heart breaks to know this bliss is short-lived, but I will cherish our remaining time together.”

He's begun his theatrics again, you think tiredly, accustomed to his stunts. “In any case, we must be careful. We never know who has loose lips around here...”

He's still not facing you, resolutely looking away.

...Is he sulking for real? Was that a genuine marriage proposal?

“My lord?” You call out softly, in a lover's tender voice. He doesn't respond. Quieter, you whisper to his ear, “Ayato?” yet that doesn't earn a reaction either.

You start to panic, wondering if you were acting too indifferently. The change in your relationship had been a recent one, and you're still settling in a period of adjustment; even if you wanted to properly flirt with him like normal lovers do, bickering came more naturally to you.

You reach for his shoulder, hoping to turn him over and see his face. But then he catches your wrist, and you only have a second to catch a glimpse of his triumphant smirk before he captures your lips in a chaste kiss.

“Mhm, I see. So you're more considerate towards me when we're dating,” he cheerfully notes, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear as if he can't see the way your shocked gaze morphs into a cold glare. “I truly am privileged.”

“Incorrigible.” The word drips with poison, but he laughs and kisses you again, thumbing at the ring around your finger.

“Too bad you're stuck with me forever, huh?”

Ugh can’t wait for most of these guys to show up on pgr global, anyways look at BEAUTY (4/5)

may i request an chifuyu angst, they're in a gang fight and where instead of him being shot, his s/o gets shot instead?

ROSTER . . . chifuyu matsuno

SYNOPSIS . . . you weren’t supposed to be there, but you were ; fluff pt. 2 ; angst pt. 2

CONTAINS . . . blood, death, swearing

NOTE . . . a bitch be struggling out here😭

chifuyu’s foot collides with his opponent’s face, scarlet staining the sole of his sneaker as it crunches through bone and snaps cartilage. his opponent reels back with a gurgled cry, leaving chifuyu to plunge back into the throng in search of a new target. a sea of blue and black surges around him, wild whooping and battle cries piercing the air as the two rival gangs ravage each other in pursuit of absorbing the other. he grits his teeth. the rival gang may not have the best brawlers, but they outnumber toman three to one; and, when it comes to physical altercations, numbers have a shocking way of determining the final outcome. he hasn’t yet met someone strong enough to evenly trade blows with him, which is somewhat reassuring.

as he elbows his way through the crowd, he can’t help but wonder how takemichi is doing. that kid’s so inexperienced, he’s probably--

“chifuyu!”

his ears perk at the sound of a strangely familiar voice. it almost sounds like yours, but that can’t be right. there’s no way you would be here right now. before he can turn his head, he feels something solid slam into his back and unceremoniously shove him forward just as a gunshot rocks the air. chifuyu’s heart skips a beat at the unforeseen sound of a gun being fired, and he stumbles, knees wobbly. what the hell? who brings a gun to a fistfight? almost immediately, the lingering weight on his back increases drastically, and he grunts as he’s consequently dragged to the ground and pinned beneath it.

“hey, get off,” chifuyu snaps. “what are you doing?” he rolls onto his side, causing the object weighing him down to flop to the side with a dull thump. “what’s going--”

his breath catches in his throat.

his eyes widen.

his body freezes.

the pressure on his back belonged to a body… but it wasn’t just anyone’s.

no.

it was yours.

no.

you’re sprawled motionlessly in the dirt, limbs angled awkwardly from having been shoved off by your boyfriend. your eyes are glossy and clouded over, empty and devoid of the resplendent, vivid twinkle of light that chifuyu had admired since the day he first met you. now, they just stare sightlessly at the night sky while the stars above sparkle and wink mockingly with the same luster that was supposed to belong to your soul. but in the unjust exchange for the brilliance of your eyes, they gifted you an ever-growing pool of blood that shone just as radiantly beneath the moonlight... but made chifuyu feel sick. a perfect hole has been etched into your forehead--a hole that’s not supposed to be there. blood dribbles from the wound and arches down your forehead, and it’s with a pang of dread that chifuyu realizes that the majority of the blood is originating from the back of your head. your skin is already beginning to pale, the youthful glow that you always radiated dulling into a muted shade kissed by the cold lips of death.

all around you, the flow of the battle has waned dramatically, almost every combatant falling into a shocked silence at the murder that just unfolded. a heavy silence hangs over the abandoned parking lot. no one moves. no one says a word.

“what…” chifuyu whispers, slowly shuffling toward you. his blood turns to ice in his veins as he tentatively, cautiously stretches out a hand to touch you, only to feel his stomach plummet when his fingertips press into cold flesh. it’s not an illusion. you’re tangible. this… is real? “no,” chifuyu’s voice trembles. his hands shake as they inch forward to caress the sides of your face. he flinches when your blood slithers over his fingers--blood that’s not supposed to fucking be there. “no, no, no, this isn’t--” his voice snags in his throat. his throat is beginning to knot up with quickly approaching tears, but he isn’t sure why. you’re not dead. you can’t be. you’re… you’re not even supposed to be here, goddamnit!

but the more his eyes travel over your lifeless features and his fingertips roam along your face--the same face he’d caressed and kissed goodbye less than an hour ago--the more it’s becoming undeniable. this is real. you’re really here… with a bullet through your brain.

“(reader)..?” panic begins to set in. ignoring the haze of death dimming your eyes, chifuyu seizes your shoulders, jostling you gently as if trying to rouse you from a nightmare… just as he wishes someone would do to him. tears sting his eyes, blurring his vision until all the colors in the scene before him bleed together like a smudged watercolor painting--like this was a mistake. an accident. a twist of fate. chifuyu doesn’t know what he’s feeling. he doesn’t know whether this discomfort and nausea is rage, grief, guilt, or despair. all he knows is that it’s so intense that he wants to scream. tears openly cascade from his eyes and drip onto your skin, diluting the blood and causing it to stream even faster down your skin in watered-down rivulets. in a fit of frustration, chifuyu swipes his sleeves across the blood spatters, desperate to wipe them away because they’re not supposed to be there. not on the love of his life. not on the person he already started secretly setting aside a bit of money in order to purchase a promise ring for. not on you.

“what are you doing here?” chifuyu can’t keep the tremor in his voice at bay. he carefully lifts you up by your shoulders, setting your head on his lap with such gentleness that it almost seems as if he’s afraid to disturb your slumber. he can’t bite back the pathetic whimper that slips from his lips when your head makes a sickening squelching sound and lolls like dead weight against his thighs. “you’re supposed to be at home. you’re not supposed to be here. why are you here?” voice raising, he pulls you up and into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. “why? you... you didn't have to do that! you're supposed to be home! you're supposed to be safe!” his body wracked with sobs and shuddering breaths, he buries his head in the crook of your neck, hating how cold your skin is against the warmth of his hands. “(reader)!”

he doesn’t hear the thundering footsteps as keisuke and takemichi hurtle past him, making a beeline straight for the culprit. he doesn’t hear the crackle of bones splintering or the dull thud of the gun as it hits the ground. with his ear pressed to your chest, all he hears is… nothing. you’re heart is supposed to be beating, but it isn’t. it’s silent. it’s… silent. it’s…

all my fault.

this… is all my fault.

MORE ANGST, MORE SUFFERING

WTF IS WRONG WITH KURO?! I LEGIT FUCKING CRY WHEN WATCHING THIS SHIT. WTF LIV SACRIFICED SO MUCH JUST FOR THE SAKE OF EVERYONE'S HAPPINESSHFJSJSHDHOSJWNF

ALSO THAT PART WHEN LUCIA RUSHED TO SAVE HER? AND THEN SKK CAME TO HELP HER? AND THEN WIPED A TEAR OFF OF LIV'S FACE?! FUCKING GOT ME IN THE HEART

Childe<3

-i know this tiktoker lmao thanks

Shitted myself while reading this, that fuckinf twist

#FFFAFA | GHOST.

genre | angst, fluff, platonic relationship au, grumpy dad x eager child dynamic

word count | 2754

warning | mention of death, mention of pain, mention of human trafficking, mention of kidnapping / i know absolutely nothing about this game and this man. ​

note | i just thought his appearance and the little personality i can tell from tiktok fit the description of this scenario. also i like this trope. i apologize in advance but this thought just had to go somewhere other than my head.

“Where’s the kid.”

A stoic voice matched with an even more intimidating stance—the medic did not need to turn around to know it was Simon Riley (or Ghost, as he liked to be called) talking behind him. He calmly turned around to face the sudden speaker, and his brows raised. Despite barely healing from severe unattended injuries and dehydration, Ghost remained tall and demanding; nobody should expect anything less from him.

Keep reading

Wings Of Freedom

Ft. Venti x Gn!Florist reader

Cw : Hurt/No comfort, some grammar error i think? Ooc venti maybe, I HATE WRITING RAAAGH, english is not my mothertounge so sorry if some of the word are amiss.

Summary : You've always dreamed to be a florist, tending and caring a flower is what you've always liked to do. Even after you opened up your little flower shop it always has an upside downs, Customer comes and go but not until a certain green bard came abruptly to your life.

☆–—–—–—–—☆ ☆–—–—–—–—☆

☆–—–—–—–—☆ ☆–—–—–—–—☆

Having to tend a little flower shop by yourself isn't always the easiest, picking up flower on starsnatch cliff by midnight and feeling the strong wind of mondstadt creeps up to your bone and then planting a seed of mondstadt native flower which grows into a beautiful flower then wilts the next day or either the pot falling from the balcony of a small rented house you're living in, then having to deal with rude customer.

Then again you remembered, this is the life you've always wanted.

Since little, You have always happily helped your parents with their little generational bakery. Either you were running around and delivering the freshly made bread to person that ordered it then getting a lot of compliment about how enthusiastic you are, it has always been the happiest day of your life. You wished that you could stay on that timeline of your life forever.

Sadly, one day. Your parents generational bakery comes to its end, as much as you can remember somebody blacklisted your parents bussines and making the bakery to be put out of business.

The day after it happened, it was a total chaos your parents were running here and there looking for a job vacancy to apply in. Your father said that he himself got a high paying job on snezhnaya and said that the job he applied in is pretty much dangerous and he had to move out of mondstadt to Snezhnaya leaving you and your own mother behind.

That night, he left you and your mother alone and left a letter saying..

"My dear beautiful wife, and my beloved child today is the last night i could see you with my own eyes. Worry not my dear family if the day ever comes that i wasnt in your arms remember that, i'll soar the sky and be with you as the wind of mondstadt. So fret not my dearest family."

You remembered how loud your mother cry were, after all when your father left your mother was very ill, You tried to use every allowances your parents gave you to look if theres a doctor who could treat her illnes, but your mother said...

"(Name) this sickness is uncureable, no matter if you search at the most smartest doctor. They cannot cure this generational illness, my own mother your grandma has this sickness too. Unfortunately she said that this illness has been going on our family tree since the first generation to our own. (Name).. im very scared if you caught this illness too, what if i was not there to tend to you? How would you survive by yourself?..." she holded your hand tightly while a little drop of tears falls down through her cheek.

Her word echoes through your ears frequently, even after her passing you could remember how her tone were laced in fear.

Mother... mother i miss you so much..

You doesn't even realize how your eyes water to the bitter memories when your mother passed away.

You tried to remember correctly about the symptoms your mother had when she was sick, first... she was pale.. and weak and then sometimes she.. coughed up blood wait why were you trying to remember the symptoms?? Perhaps, you were scared.

What if you caught the same illness your grandmother and your mother was? After all if you look at yourself correctly at the mirror you could see that your body were showing the same symptoms your mother had.

You turned your head to the dark sky of mondstadt, right.. its time to pick some cecilia

you got out of your so beloved bed you could feel the cold of the wooden floor hitting your bare feet, Maybe Midnight its a bad time to go pick out some cecilia, but deep down you know that you wanted to feel the mondstadt air and ease your mind for a little while.

You took one of your basket that you usually use to gather neither herb or flower and walked yourself up to the starsnatch cliff.

The midnight air was cold yet comforting, with every step you took you couldn't help but reminsice the old days when your beloved mother would take you to a night stroll on the starsnatch mountain. Often she tells you that sometimes a bard would play his lyre and sing a beautiful melody of a mondstadt poem. Said she that she would often gave up the idea of picking out the flower and admire the bard melody instead.

You wondered, was his melody really that good? So that your mother who has always hated bard fell in love with his melody. She even said that bard shouldn't sang their tune and stops being drunk.

Was he and his melody really that majestic?...

Indeed you were lost in your thought, until something or someone snapped your thought the more closer you walked the clearer the source was, its a... melody?.. was it the bard your mother tells you, From afar you could see a certain green bard sitting on the edge of the cliff and sang a certain melody.

What is he doing? On the middle night like this, does he not know the mondstadt air is too cold these day? And i was trying to enjoy my time picking out flower alone too. –You grumble down to yourself

The more you got closer to the cliff the more you could hear his melody, honestly his melody was beautiful. You were struck admiring him and his melody not caring about how the cold air is hitting you to the bone.

"Hoho~ is someone admiring the bard and his tune?" The green bard stopped playing and turned his head at you, "Was my melody beautiful that it made you stop your track and listen to it?" His feet dangling on the edge of the cliff.

"Ahem! Of course no, i was uhh here to pick out some flower see??" You bend yourself down to pluck some cecilia

"Lying is bad you know? But i'll let you do whatever your doing" said he as he continues to strum his lyre down and sang an old mondstadt song

What a weird bard –You muttered down to yourself

"Anyway Since this is midnight, what kind of a bard would see himself at the cliff while singing some mondstadt song or poem and not singing drunk at the angel share?" Again you said while picking up a batch of fresh flower while occasionally shivering from the cold air.

"Well, singing here made me remember some of the beautiful moments i shared with my late friend ehe, and honestly stranger seeing you here reminds me of a certain person, Hm.. which person was it eh?~" Said the bard with a cheeky tone, "Ah! I remember, it was that woman that would often came here to pick out some flower! Just like you." He got up from the cliff and walked towards you, "Though picking out flower at midnight isnt good is it? You should go home soon."

Damn.. who is he to tell me to do something?...

"Of course stranger, i will go home after i finished, and i diddnt quite catch your name, whats your name?"

"Im Venti the number one bard in the wholee teyvat! And what's your name stranger?" His aqua green eyes met yours

"Im... (Name) its a pleasure to meet you."

"No need to be so formal (Name), I'll be going now. See you somewhere!" He waves his hand at you while walking down the mountain.

Hmm, his name sound quite familiar i wonder –You continued picking out the flower, Today flower is so fresh~

After you finished on picking out the flower for tommorow sell, you descended your way down the mountain, again feeling the cold air of mondstadt hits your bone. Though seeing that bard makes you wonder if he is really the bard that your dearest mother mentioned, his melody were really beautiful.

After a little journey down the starsnatch cliff to your little rented apartement you set down the filled bucket with flower in it down and started to plant them down one by one on a little pot you got from flora.

Today flower is really fresh, im sure flora would like it~ —you muttered down to yourself

Though you wonder how you ended up being a florist, when all you dreamed was to be an adventurer, just like your father.

Your father had an pyro vision that light up brightly just like his own heart, said he when he got it, he felt disappointment arose on his heart. When he wanted an Anemo vision, so why does the god grants him an pyro one instead?

That pyro vision often burned his hand, you remember one time your mother dared him to cook by himself since apparently he made mother mad and ended up (almost) burning the whole kitchen and made your mother even more mad.

But, Again when you rethink of what your father said when he was disappointed of getting an pyro vision instead of anemo, you wanted to be mad you really do. Even after numerous of pray you did to the gods to grant you a vision, you never got one. Imagine how fun is it to have vision with you?

Like maybe cooking is easier when you have a pyro vision with you, or maybe the Anemo one! You could clean the leaves near your home by swooshing the wind.

Tsk, why was that old man so ungrateful. —you grumbled while aggresively patting your hand to get the dirt off.

You plopped yourself down to the bed and made yourself comfortable.

I hope tommorow is better.

The next morning came pretty quick, the ray of sunlight seeping from the curtain stirs you awake. The first thing that came in your mind is.. work.

Flora must been waiting, better hurry..

After you've done your usual morning routine, you picks up 2 pot of cecilia and walks outside your home, as usual you being you still being popular despite the incident that occured on your family.

You walked and walked to the mondstadt gates while occasionally saying hello to the people outside.

"Flora! I brought the flowers from last night, they looked really fresh today." You squatted and puts down the flower pot arranging it under flora's table

"When did you picked this up?" Flora asked

"As usual you know, on midnight. Though the wind was really freezing me up last night!"

"(Name)! I told you to stop picking up flower at midnight, who know a monster might get you or maybe the wind will freeze you!" She kneeled beside you, "Im worried about you (Name), dont push yourself, your sickness Its– " she paused, her eyes showing worries.

"You shouldn't be worrying me too much flora! I can take care of myself, im very strong no monster and wind could make me succumb to my own knees." You got up and offered your hand to her, "Now cmon! The work is waiting."

"Alright alright! Just dont overdo yourself." Said flora as she takes your hand and got up to her foot.

◇—◇

As time went by, the sun has set down. Leaving you and flora alone, Time to pack everything– you muttered to yourself but you noticed that, a certain bard has been watching you from afar. Though you paid no mind since ur eyes is starting to give up on staying awake.

"Aaaa im too tired, why does these weeks seems so tiring to me flora?.." you stretched your back while whining a little, "I gotta go rest.."

"Yea, you definitely should (name). Plus you gotta go check that illness of yours, its been a while since you paid a visit to that doctor." Flora turned her eyes to you whilst organizing the flower pot in front of the stall, "now go home (name), leave the rest to me!"

"Alright.. thanks flora, you too dont go home too late." Said you as you packed your things and walked yourself home.

The walk to your home wasnt that far since the place your staying in is near flora's flower stall, when you arrive at your doorstep again you realize that someone gaze has been eyeing you since you walked yourself home.

Eerie... –was all you could thought

The moment you entered your house you feel that something is wrong, your head was spinning abruptly and your vision was blurry, your palm were sweating.

"Hey! You alright??"

You could hear someone voice? When you turned your heels to see who it was.

Oh.. its that green bard– was all you could mutter before collapsing into the floor and your vision darkened.

◇—◇

You do not remember how long you were gone, but what you remember is that when you woke up you could hear 2 person mumbling about something, what is happening?? –You asked yourself

You started to open your eyes little by little, while sometimes you squinted your eyes trying to adjust to the lights around you, when you started to observe your surrounding. You realized that you were laying in your bed.

You turned your head to see where the mumbling noise was, flora?..

"(Name)! Thanks the archons you're awake, this green bard was running to me saying that hey! Your friend collapsed! –to which i replied WHO?!" She said whilst removing the ice pack on your head.

"Ehe! Glad i've spotted you on time, sorry about breaking into your house though." Said the green bard which if you remember correctly, his name was Venti.

"Must've been whatever this sickness is.. right??" You turned your head to flora.

"Anyway, (Name) ill go get your food from my house alright? You stay put here with venti. Venti dont do anything weird to them, remember what our agreement is." Flora said while she got on her heels and walked herself through your home.

And now what left is just you and the bard whose his position right now is sitting on your bed, "So how do you feel (Name)?" He opened his mouth to speak.

"Do i know you?" You muttered

"Aww cmonn dont pretend we're not close! (Name) its not good that you're starting to forget your savior!" He said crossing his arms

My what?! I diddnt even known him for long!

"Okay okay i–" your own voice was interrupted by a fist of cough coming down from your own throat, that hurted..

"Take it easy (Name), just rest i'll watch you." The bard said, "Should i sing you a tune then, its free dont worry." He said summoning his lyre, as he started to strummed his lyre down you realized how familiar the melody was, it feels as if you were listening it for the second time ever.

When you looked at his face, your mind suddenly went nostalgic. He reminds you of a certain someone? But.. who?

"Do i.. know you?.." for the second time again you muttered to yourself, you tried to recollect any memories that involve this certain green bard but there was none

"Have i ever met you before that time on starsnatch cliff?" You blurted the word out of your mouth, to your surprise the bard choked on his own melody. Seeing how surprised and weird his look was you began to ponder even more.

"Ehh i wonder.. what do you think then (Name)? Was i that weird bard who you met on the starsnatch cliff last time?" His aqua green eyes meets yours.

To which you shrugged your own shoulder as a response, "i dont know... venti.."

"You dont have to remember its fine, anyway flora will be here soon with your medicine, maybe to pass the time should i tell you a story?"

You only nodded your head in response.

"At last there was a story—"

Where a bard met a mondstadter who piques his interest, their hobby of dancing and their hobby of baking intrigue him.

There comes a day when he started talking to them, to which on his own surprises! They share the same hobby as him... Which is Singing. Everyday they would be running around the town singing music, every night they would sat together on the startsnatch cliff and tells eachother funny stories.

The moon is beautiful today isn't it? They blurted out, in which the bard responses, I know.

But sadly there comes a day when the bard partner had accident, their family bussines went out of bussiness. The bard never knew what his partner was dealing with, until one night it all ended.

-☆-☆-

"Alright! Thats it, the another part of story can wait another time (Name), flora is here already." He said standing up from your own bed, "I'll get going if you want to know the continuation meet me at the starsnatch cliff Ehe! See you"

Again he waved his hand at you and left, somehow your heart aches when he left something felt amiss on your heart.

"Flora who is he?." You turned your head to face her.

"Not important (Name) go eat first alright" she said

Who.. is he? Why does he feel so familiar

This time you could only bottle the feeling down to yourself, even flora persist that she's not gonna give you an answer. Should i try asking the bard??..

-☆-☆-☆-

Ironic isnt it? Seeing your own lover started to gradually forgets you? Just because of your little mistake everything started to went downhill.

The only thing that brighten up your life, Gone. Even when you tried so hard to make them remember who you are, you failed.

Because of your own mistake, now you cant do what you used to do with them, holding hands, hugging, laughing with each other, and maybe even being affectionate with each other.

Merely, they were nothing but a stranger to you now, all because of your own mistake.

It was your own mistake Venti, if only at that time you were quick enough they wouldn't forget you.

-☆-☆-☆-

Ty for reading whatever this shitty ahh post, gn im gonna go sleep ty.

keep living

featuring — hanemiya kazutora

genre — fluff

author’s note — yes, i’m totally late for the party and its not even fashionable in any way. but i still want to celebrate it because hanemiya kazutora deserves the world. (@walhalla i’m gonna need a spare brain, mine is still fried)

there are times when you’d notice your boyfriend spacing out. considering how overwhelming his life has been, kazutora cant help but feel lost sometimes, in life and thought. so when he leaves your shared bed in the middle of the night for a long ride, you dont question his action at all. you’d wait for his return, fully aware of his search for a sense of peace you’re unable to provide.

one of the times when his aimless wanders would go further than any others is the night before his birthday. you’ve been together for years, but on every morning of 16th july, you’d find his side of the bed cold, as if he’d never been there at all. he’d then come home with a fake smile plastered on his face, and your heart broke into pieces.

when the next 15th july rolled around, you prepared yourself yet again. except it didnt happen like you’ve expected. that night, kazutora held your hand in his slightly trembling one, eyes dancing with a mixture of emotion, ‘come with me?’. you didnt even bother to change out of your night dress.

and as the memory of the wind howling alongside blinding headlights, roads and sceneries gradually became unfamiliar and fast beating of your boyfriend’s heart underneath your embrace burned to your mind, you felt like you’ve entered a fragment of his world that he had kept hidden away.

'we’re here’, he said as you scanned the unknown land. the 'here’ in front of you presented itself in the form of a vast grassy field on a cliff overlooking the sea. the stars above accompanied your long, silent night of waiting. and if he didnt caress your fingers with his callous ones, you’d thought that he had forgotten that you’re there at all. before long, the world faded away as you drown in the sound of his heartbeat next to your ear.

morning greeted you with feathery kisses by the salty breeze and warmth of your boyfriend’s jacket that had shielded you from the chill of the previous night. 'good morning’, you sat up, expecting nothing in return. only to feel his lips connected to yours in a long, delicate kiss, it left you breathless.

'another year for me to live’, kazutora sighed softly, a familiar emptiness in his eyes. a silent 'another year i dont deserve’ left unuttered. caressing your fingers for a few moments, he continued, 'i’m sorry i made you wait for so long. i-’. you captured his lips in a desperate kiss, wanting him to stop thinking, needed him to.

'i’ll wait for you forever. as long as you need, i’ll be there for you’. your eyes met his in a pool of tears. 'so dont ever apologize!’, your voice broke, and his own tears that he had been holding back spilled down his cheeks in a steady, unstoppable flow.

'is it really okay for me to keep living?’. instantly, he’s in a tight embrace you’ve pulled him into, whispering, 'more than okay’. you kept holding him close as he wailed his heart out until he’s reduced to a delicate, sniffling mess.

on your laps, his eyes were puffy from crying for too long, dried tears on his red cheeks. but there’s a soft smile on his lips as he gazed up at you. 'you can say it now’.

his smile widened to the sound of your sweet laughter that makes his heart flutter every time. leaning down to place a kiss on the tip of his nose, you felt your own heart skipping a beat. 'happy birthday, my love. thank you for being in my life for another year’.

kazutora caressed your chin with his thumb, intertwining your fingers with his in another hand. 'no. thank you for being in my life at all’. connecting your lips with his once again, he’s finally found his peace.