A LIFETIME IN REPEAT / Kamisato Ayato ( Genshin Impact ) ( WHAT WILL SURVIVE OF US IS LOVE ) A/n: Reincarnation

A LIFETIME IN REPEAT / kamisato ayato ( genshin impact ) ( WHAT WILL SURVIVE OF US IS LOVE ) a/n: reincarnation au. quote by philip larkin. title from eden - circles. for @yelans spring serenades event w/ the theme being rebirth. thank you for arranging this !!

i. under the cherry blossoms lies love eternal, wistful and tranquil in existence. under the cherry blossoms there is the blooming of flowers in spring reborn, the sun brilliant in her ways as she blesses the earth with warmth once more.

under the cherry blossoms is a promise of tomorrow in the way ayato holds you, bodies pressed closely together, his hands resting on your hips. you sway together, side to side, in temporary respite ; the quickening and slowing of time blurs -- and it doesn't make sense, but it does : the way you could find sanctuary in his arms forever, the way it’s over in the blink of an eye and you find yourselves missing each other all the more.

“relax, love.”

ayato whispers the words softly into your ear and laughs when you tense in response. your cheeks heat up, but you tell yourself it’s from the weather and leave it at that. you’ve never gotten used to his endearing terms and you’re sure he plays it to his advantage.

“i don’t slow dance-- and when were you so romantic, anyway?”

“i’ve always been a romantic at heart,” comes the matter-of-fact answer, though you sense underlying amusement in it, “now, relax. you can always lean on me.”

your lips part with the intention of a ( hopefully ) composed reply, but his smile is all too gentle, so the words fade into oblivion. instead, there is a feeling of happiness that dwells deep within the heart. you let out a sigh of defeat, pretend you didn’t hear him chuckle, wrap your arms around his neck, and lean your head against his chest.

“the flowers are beautiful this season.” you half-heartedly murmur, face still ablaze as you seek distraction elsewhere. ayato knows this, kisses you on the head in quiet comfort. you feel him smile against your skin and you do not think you will ever get tired of the sensation.

“yes, they are.” he says, and somewhere in the tidal waves of the soul, there is a bittersweetness that invokes itself in the thought of a future known. “they are beautiful.”

( under the cherry blossoms is serenity and devotion and everything birthed from love. under the cherry blossoms there are lovers who will grow old and gray together, hand in hand.

under the cherry blossoms, in yet another spring, will lie love eternal after days long passed. in the roots of tomorrow, it will be found again. always again. )

ii. the colors blur, window to window, view by view. the subway hums, floods itself with life as passengers travel to and from, and here you are, gaze distant, vacant. waiting. you live this life now and it’s all you know. it feels weird, empty-- but you think that’s kinda how it goes nowadays : learn what it means to be an adult, or rather, function as one, have a crisis, think you’re taking all the wrong twists & turns, and learn to fake it like everyone else.

it is exhausting. you are exhausted.

you sigh, discontentment transparent on your visage. the subway buzzes again, but all the sounds twist into background noise, automatically blocked out from your senses. you fail to notice the stranger that appears before you until he gets a little too close for comfort-- and that’s when you’re suddenly all too aware of how crowded it is. you try to step back, take maybe half a step, really, and that hardly does much, but he senses your discomfort and offers a wry, apologetic smile.

you know that smile, is your immediate thought, but you don’t get to reflect on it too much before someone shoves him into you. he wraps an arm around you, staggers for a moment before finding stability, and here you are, one hand on his shoulder and the other desperately hanging onto the overhead handle.

“i deeply apologize.” are the first words you hear, and there is something about his voice that soothes the anxiety that brews in your chest. “are you hurt?”

your breath hitches in your throat. your eyes sting suddenly and your vision goes unclear, and that stupid, stupid, lump in your throat is too noticeable and bothersome. this is ridiculous and dramatic, you joke to yourself, and you want to find rationale, reason-- something -- to explain this whirlwind of emotions that sweeps you off your feet.

you nod because that’s all you really can do; you want to say sorry when you see concern adorn his features, but he smiles, he smiles and you’ve seen it before, somehow, and you think you are crying now.

“‘m okay.” you whisper. “i’m okay. thank you.”

“you’re welcome.”

the subway hums again. longing fills your heart. you want to know why.

the stranger clears his throat, lets go of you, and you stand before each other in silence.

“my name is ayato.” he tells you. he offers you a handkerchief. “i believe we’ve met before.”

tears trail down your face. it is three in the afternoon. you are on the subway with a stranger. you do not remember something you should.

“i don’t remember you.”

ayato’s smile almost falters, but he is used to masking such emotions, so he maintains it ever so perfectly, hoping that you will not feel guilt for something that is not in your control.

( you don’t remember him. that’s okay, he thinks. he will wait for you until the end of time. it’s okay, even if it hurts. )

iii. with an aching heart made of uncertainty, you fall asleep to peaceful dreams that night. it takes place in a regal estate, splendid and grand in its decor. you wonder how you find yourself in such a setting. it’s busy-- chaotic and calm at the same time, moving constantly at a steady pace as voices and faces flood the halls. you recognize these voices, hear yourself among them.

the faces are blurred. all of them.

this is where you belong. these are days you’ve experienced before ; nostalgia lines itself in the hollows of your ribs, wraps its knowing around your lungs. you have lived and breathed this life.

you can’t remember.

you wake up. the ache grows deeper, burrows itself in fragile heartstrings. you fall back asleep, vision engulfed in pink hues of cherry blossoms and ayato’s name lingering on your tongue.

iv. you don’t remember anything, not really. you know you dreamt of something strange and significant and it bothers you, horribly so-- but these things will come in time, you suppose. so you move on with your day, hope you can find solace in falling back to your daily routine.

you enter the cafe, inhaling deeply when the aroma of coffee overloads your senses. there’s comfort to be found in the little things, you remind yourself, ordering your regular drink. it’s not long before you’ve settled into the corner of the cafe, set up your laptop and stationary. your focus goes into your work for an hour or two-- maybe longer-- until you see a familiar face before you again.

“what a coincidence.” ayato muses, curiosity in purple eyes. “i did not expect to see you here.”

you stare at each other in silence for a moment-- you, more so out of shock, ayato, truthfully, in amusement at such a reaction to his presence.

“you must have missed me, finding me already.” comes your response, a forced lightheartedness in your voice meant to disperse the tension in your body.

“i did, in fact. may i sit with you?”

you almost want to think he’s joking with you, but the way he looks at you is too tender, too knowing, and somehow, it breaks your heart.

( ayato spends hours with you at that cafe. it feels like home, feels right. feels like something is missing and it shouldn’t be. )

v. you don’t ask ayato what he meant back then, where he recognized you or how he recognized you. you didn’t ask when you first met on the subway, didn’t ask at the coffee shop, didn’t ask during any single encounter you’ve had in these past few months.

you are frightened of the unknown, and perhaps you are a coward for that.

( because you want to know, but there’s something in the nagging feeling you carry that makes you want to run away from all of this. but you don’t because you know you shouldn’t. because in all the time you have spent with him since that fated meeting, maybe there is a place in your heart for him that grows larger and larger and maybe that scares you. )

you walk along the quiet streets, side by side with ayato. the storm has long passed, puddles of water reflecting gloomy skies. it is nearing the end of fall but the weather does not let up, always unpredictable in its path.

“i enjoy the rain when i am aware of its incoming presence.” ayato mumbles, gaze cast upwards at the clouds.

“you don’t like getting caught up in it and getting your beautiful hair ruined?”

“i don’t.” he laughs at your teasing tone. “you find my hair beautiful?”

“i do.”

“how generous of you.” he hums, and there’s an extra little skip in his step now. “i find you beautiful, as well.”

your face gets hot. how embarrassing.

“so romantic.” you mumble, clearing your throat. you can’t help but feel familiarity in such exchanges. “what’s your favorite season, anyway?”

ayato’s gait comes to a standstill. you pause, watch as a sorrowful and hopeful smile rests on the curve of his lips. he glances up at the sky once more before he looks at you, his hand brushing against the back of yours.

“i have always been fond of spring.”

“why’s that?”

you don’t move your hand away. he notices this, remains cautious, gentle, and laces his fingers with yours. it’s warm, comforting.

“it reminds me of someone i love.”

you freeze, see the way ayato looks at you-- like there’s something more, like he has known you in a life past-- and you want to speak, but nothing can register or come to mind.

the rain pours again, but neither of you move.

“you told me that we’ve met before.” your voice quivers. “so why don’t i remember you? i know you. i dreamt about you once, i think. i don’t know. why don’t i know? where have we met? what do you know?”

panic arises with each word spoken. you’re crying again, just like you did the first time you met. you feel like an idiot, your chest tightening with anxiety. ayato squeezes your hand. it would be so easy to tell you everything, to bring the memories back all at once. but such things take time, he kindly reminds himself, so he will wait until it all comes back.

“you’re not going to tell me.” you whisper. he shakes his head, places an umbrella over your heads. “then tell me this: the person you love-- is it me? and did i love you once, before?”

ayato smiles, just as he always does, and the tears run rampant.

( you both know the answer already. you know this, don’t you? )

vi. you dream again that night. it’s a different dream, but almost the same-- the hustle and bustle surrounds you, overwhelms you. you’re not entirely familiar with this environment yet. you only know some of the voices-- a bright, cheerful one that always seems to bring a smile to your face. a soothing one that always brings reassurance. you hear a bark and playful laughter, and in your heart there is relief.

you’ve done this before.

“daydreaming again?”

you recognize that voice. you are quick to turn on your heel, though reluctance fills the corners of your mind. you are afraid the faces will be hidden again, obscure just like last time, but they are not.

ayato stands before you, almost entirely the same with exception of attire. maybe you are daydreaming-- this is a dream, after all, and the boundaries between what is real and what is not are too chaotic to distinguish. but that doesn’t stop you from hoping, from thinking this could be what you were trying to remember after all. in the realization of such, you cry again. you cry again and again because you hope that this is it, that it’s not just a dream, that you’ve finally come to understand ayato’s words and what that emptiness meant.

“what is it? what’s wrong?” ayato asks, dabbing the tears away with a handkerchief. you know that one, recall it from the subway.

“nothing’s wrong.” you laugh in disbelief, shake your head as his thumb grazes over your cheek. “i’m okay. we’re okay.”

( you wake up the next morning. you remember it all. )

vii. it is spring now. you have not seen him in a long while-- perhaps out of avoidance or a clash in schedules, neither of you are sure. you weren’t ready to tell him once you awoke from that dream, more so because you couldn’t comprehend it all-- thoma, ayaka, ayato--

you spent a lifetime with him before. you were married to him and you loved him. you danced under the cherry blossoms on the first day of spring and you told him you didn’t slow dance, that you weren’t good at it, but he didn’t care, as long as he could hold you close.

you sit on the park bench with him now, quiet. children play in the distance, their laughter filling the silence that rests heavily in the air. your hands wring nervously in your lap, words unspoken lodged in your throat. you want to tell him, but you don’t know how. you want to tell him that you know, and you’re almost sure he knows this, too.

“have you been well? it’s been awhile.”

he starts off slowly, treads carefully on thin ice.

“i’ve been...thinking. i dreamt about you again.”

“oh?”

“i cried a lot in the dream.”

“you do that often in reality, too.”

you laugh for the first time that day, feeling your body relax against the bench. your hand rests at your side now, brushes against ayato’s. wanting. waiting. hoping.

the cherry blossoms are in bloom now, the wind casting the petals along the sky. they fall gently, gracefully, and it reminds you both of that day.

they’re beautiful, aren’t they?” ayato asks, taking note of the closed distance between you two. he swallows hard, curious as to why he hesitates now- because maybe you truly do remember now, and maybe this is the moment he’s been waiting for all this time-- the reunion of two lovers. his hand finds yours. you do not pull away.

“they always have been.” you smile faintly, intertwining your fingers. you ignore the way your voice trembles and you hope he does, too. you inhale deeply, close your eyes. “can i lean on you, ayato?”

you know. you have to, he thinks, and he cannot help the surprise that appears in purple hues. you look at him, countenance riddled with apprehension, and there’s that familiar curl of the lips you have seen many times before. he nods in confirmation, so you rest your head on his shoulder.

pink petals fall onto your laps-- delicate, loved, and seen.

“i remember you.” you whisper. the wind almost drowns out the words, but his grip on your hand tightens. “i remember our life back then-- being married, spending time in the garden when it was the beginning of spring. i-- i took so long ayato. i took so long to remember you.”

in your voice there is regret, but in his eyes there is understanding. you want to apologize, but you know he would tell you there is no need for such things.

“i knew you would, in time. i would have waited for you, nonetheless.”

ah. you’re going to start crying again. you laugh when he pulls out that handkerchief again, but when the tears come, he kisses them away ever so gently before murmuring words of comfort. his arms wrap around you, hold reassuring and filled with ardor.

“i missed you.” you whisper against his lips, and how lovely it is to feel him smile against them once more. “i love you.”

“i love you, too.” he tells you, once, twice, a million times-- as many as he needs to until it is known. “i will love and find you in every lifetime, my love.”

( under the cherry blossoms is rebirth and reinvigoration of life. under the cherry blossoms, there is love lost and love found.

under the cherry blossoms, there is you and the one you love, reunited at last. )

More Posts from Xevrq and Others

xevrq

3 years ago

FFFUCCKK I ACCIDEJTALLY POSTED YHE CHILDE DRAFT.

Now how do i return it to the draft:/

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xevrq

2 years ago

My exact reaction

PROTECC AT ALL COSTS!!!!!! 😭😭😭

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xevrq

2 years ago

Warnings: Profanity, angst.

“Again, does anybody have a lighter?” Price asked a little louder this time.

Soap gently elbowed Ghost on the side. Ghost only turned to look at him, tilting his head a little to show his annoyance.

They were almost in the middle of nowhere. At least they had electricity and water. What they did not have was a lighter, thus Price’s moaning. He was going to light up a cigar.

Ghost knew why Soap was elbowing him. Soap was referring to that lighter in Ghost’s pocket. The one he held personally for himself and himself only.

So, Ghost ignored the sergeant. Price had arrived in front of them by then.

“Simon, you smoke,” Price brought up.

“I don’t have a lighter,” Ghost said.

“You pray with it every night,” Soap muttered.

Price and Ghost looked at him. Ghost was practically glaring at Soap. Soap looked like he wished he had not said a word.

“Am I missing something?” Price asked.

Ghost said nothing and now Price was also looking at Soap rather intimidatingly.

“I… Ghost has a lighter,” Soap said.

“I don’t,” Ghost insisted.

Price now turned his expecting glare at Ghost. That got Soap a little confident to proceed.

“As I said, he basically prayed with it every night before he sleeps,” Soap continued.

“Just this once, Simon, I will lose my shit if I can’t get this cigar lit up,” Price said.

Ghost did not react at first, but seeing that the two of them were not going to let this go, he shot a final murderous glare at Soap before putting his hand into his pocket. He held the lighter in his palm and pulled it out of his pocket.

Looking at the captain, Ghost almost did not want to hand out the lighter. However, he ended up opening his palm and revealed the lighter that sat on his palm.

It was as if the whole area turned frozen. Gaz had just walked in and saw the reveal. Even he stopped at his track.

The lighter was yours. It used to be yours. It did belong to you. It did not belong to you anymore. It belonged to Ghost now. You gave it to him before your last mission. The mission that got you killed.

Every thing was fine before that—no, every thing was perfect.

Ghost and you were basically a nightmare couple. A nightmare as in badass motherfuckers who got shit done effectively. Sure, there were flaws such as the constant passive-agressive flirting, recklessness, and tense eye contacts, but, damn… the two of you were great at your job together.

That last mission was indeed going to be your last mission because you decided to not renew your military contract and you both were about to get married. Without telling anyone. However, the others just knew. They always knew that the two of you would end up together one way or another.

Then, shit happened. The worst happened. The irony.

You ended up buried under the ground and became a memory. Ghost ended up here, with these three, more bitter than he ever was.

You always had his heart and it was buried with you. Whatever sentimental left in him, it was out of respect of the memory of you. Of the memory you both were about to make and never did.

Price, Gaz, and Soap never brought you up. Not since the funeral. Price tried and Ghost ended up walking out of the room without saying anything, slamming the door on his way out.

This would be the first time anything about you ever came up ever since that incident. Soap had no idea it was the lighter. Ever. So, his heart did not only stop when he saw it, it would blow up if it could. Gaz used to borrow the lighter to do tricks, so he would recognise it from afar. Price had his cigars lit up by the lighter a few times before.

The four of them were frozen there for quite some time.

“So, we don’t have a lighter,” Price concluded before anyone of them started bursting into either anger or tears.

“Yeah, we don’t,” Soap nodded. “Steamin’ Jesus.”

“You know, there’s a stove in the kitchen. You can light your cigar up with it,” Gaz brought up. “I’m about to cook something, too.”

“Right, right,” Price nodded before walking away.

“I’ll help make sure no one’s burning anything down and get us compromised,” Soap stated before leaving the area.

Ghost stayed where he stood a while after they left. He stared at the lighter for some time, thinking about what you might say if you were still here. None of them would be this messy. The four of them would likely be laughing right now of some stupid joke you made.

Maybe you were still here. He might be the Ghost, but you were the ghost now. Maybe you were laughing at them right now.

“Would’ve been nice if you’re here,” Ghost said under his breath before pocketing the lighter back.

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xevrq

2 years ago

Istg im seriously trying to finish this childe fic

Tags

sorry lol

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xevrq

2 years ago

Somebody asked for part two, and yes i shall deliver it to you. Idk how long it'll take so stay tuned lmao

The street performer i met today.

Ft. Akito x Gn!reader.

Cw : usage of the word pretty? Reader Pronoun : They/Them A/N : basically this was the brainrot i had 2 days ago.

—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–

I was supposedly rushing to meet the other since i was 15 minutes late, ena sure takes her time when she's shopping eh? If i diddn't ran away when she wasn't looking i'm gonna be even more later than this.

The street is bustling with people today, i wonder why.

when I almost walked towards the crossing something caught my attention—

"Is this a sound of a guitar?" I tried to listen carefully, trying to figure out where the noise was coming. Hm?

Electric? No... i don't think so. Should i go take a look? Wouldn't i be even more later than now? I peered over to the crowds who seems to be listening to the music.

"Heh listening for a while wouldn't hurt right?" As i walked towards the crowds i could see— oh a solo street performer? Interesting.

I tried to squezze in through the crowd, and does it work? Yes. From here the front i could see the performer.

There they Sat, their finger flicking thru the guitar string gracefully, making a soft melody. I thought i was never a big fan of a song with soft melody like this, but... maybe it could change?..

Their eyes were half lidded making them look sleepy but yet they put on a gentle smile whilst their finger continued on making a melody. So graceful...

Wait... what was i thinking?! Graceful?! Huh?. My mind were telling me to leave, but something or somewhere in my heart was telling me to stay and listen to their performance.

My feet were glued, and my eyes are stuck admiring them and their little melody. I crossed my arms perhaps i were giving up on leaving, if its possible maybe my ears could be smiling while hearing their song right now.

I stood here alongside the crowd for... how long? I was too busy listening to their performance that i missed some phone calls from my friend, i did noticed that my phone was buzzing inside my pocket, but i was just too busy to care.

Times do went on, i realized that their performance was coming to an end.

They hop off slowly from the stool they were sitting and then bowing to the audience politely. "This is it for today, thank you for listening to my performance. I hope i could see everyone again"

Before i know, all the people beside and front of me was clapping, Signaling that the performance was over, and.. snapping me back to reality. "Aw..." I let out a whine alongside a "i should've come earlier."

Just before i left, i took a notice that they were staring at me or... maybe examining? Their eyes do look serious though.

"Ah... aren't you Shinonome Akito from BAD DOGS?, its unusual to see you here, Glad you enjoyed my performance." While they giggle softly and packing their guitar in.

Huh?.. me enjoying their performance?

"I hope i can see you somewhere akito." They said taking off their leave while smiling at me.

I tried to speak and ask for their name, but they were already too far away.

Their smile were so— oh my phone is buzzing again, i should hurry really...

But in honesty their performance was amazing, and their features, how do they make such an amazing music while keeping their composure like that? I said as i too, took my leave.

They were.... Pretty

i wish i could talk to them.

—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–

Bonus lol :

"Evening." I said while entering the weekend garage, i could see kohane, An, And toya also looks like they were waiting for a bit too long eh?

"Where were you?! We were supposed to discuss about our performance by the end of this week! You were the one who suggest it and yet you were late!" An said crossing her arms and sighing.

"I tried to call you akito, but you weren't answering" add toya.

"Even toya got worried" said kohane giggling.

"Yea yea! I know im sorry, its ena! I were stuck shopping with her" i said as i pulled one of the chair wanting to sit down.

"And shinonome why do your face looks a bit flushed? Are you okay?" Kohane said her face plastered with worry.

"I was about to ask that too" An said

My mind recalled to the time where they smiled at me, their smile were so genuine... and pretty.

"Huh?! Wh...– what do you mean im flushed?!" I said not realizing that im trying to cover my... flushed face?

"Ooh~ does the tough guy akito got a crush?" An teases.

"N..– No im not! Just get on with the discussion already!"

"Oh! He do~ Aha!" Said An laughing and so is kohane, even toya is giggling.

Sigh... i guess i need to get used to her teasing again eh?

But, did An just said a.. crush?

Well cough im not that kind of person who falls inlove with someone just met right? Right?!

—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–

HAAA i swear it isn't supposed to be this long, and it was supposed to be finished yesterday. But headache says no.

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xevrq

3 years ago

[ 𝟏:𝟓𝟕 𝐀𝐌 ] — 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐓𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐀

it’s cold.

that’s the first thing kisaki thinks when he wakes up, eyebrows furrowing when the bed is empty and devoid of you and your usual warmth beside him. sitting up, he groans as he stretches his muscles out, hastily climbing out to find you. he tries to convince himself not to panic.

the bathroom lights are off—he notes all your things are thankfully still there—and so are the hallway lights, and so are the living room lights, but the kitchen seems to be lit. sighing, he walks in, watching from the entrance as you sit at the table, swirling a cup of tea around in your mug glumly.

“you should be in bed,” he says dryly. you don’t even blink, staring off ahead.

“what’s it to you?” you scowl. he grits his teeth, eyes narrowing as they stare down at you. it’s scrutinizing—everything seems to be when it comes to kisaki. he’s always got something to say, and it’s grown tiring for you.

“watch it,” he warns, making you roll your eyes. staring up at him, there’s a small pool of tears at the corner of your eyes, and his anger slowly ebbs away. for the first time, he takes in how hallow your eyes seem and how disappointed you are. and he feels himself fearing your withdrawal from him—the rejection seems unbearable if it comes from you.

“you go back to bed,” you wave off. “i’ll come in a bit.” you try to hide the shakiness of your voice, but he catches it immediately. and as scrutinizing as kisaki can be, as nit-picky to every detail as he can seem, as hard to please and even harder to decipher as he is, he’s always known exactly what you needed and exactly what to do.

“won’t be able to fall asleep,” he mutters quietly, sitting beside you at the table. he snatches your mug from your hand, taking a long sip of your tea.

“tetta, seriously?” you groan. his lips curl into a smirk, the mug meeting his lips again as he finishes the contents in one large gulp. you should kill him, you think, he’s gotten away with enough anyway.

but his smile is pretty, and the messy bed hair that frames his face is prettier. it makes you smile despite yourself.

“i see you grinning, dumbass,” he says cooly. “you’re not mad.” reaching over, you take the mug from him, giving his shoulder a good shove in the process. it’s halfhearted and it wouldn’t do anything, but he leans his body to the side anyway, his theatrics giving you the satisfaction of seeing him lose his balance slightly.

“i won’t forget the things you said to me,” you whisper. the words underneath are clear. they’ve left a scar. his heart cracks a little, and he wonders if you’ve realized you have the power to batter it until it’s weak. it wouldn’t be hard—one foot out the door and kisaki’s lost all that makes him a man, but he hopes it doesn’t come to that.

“they weren’t true,” he mumbles. “nothing i said was true.” his hair falls onto his eyes, and even though you’re mad, and hurt, and incredibly tired, you find it second nature to reach forward and brush the strands out of his face.

he immediately presses his own palm to the back of your hand, holding it in place and leaning his face into it. and it’s rare to see a small bit of vulnerability from kisaki, to see him so openly hint that he wants—that he needs an ounce of affection, but you know he craves it, and he’s lost without it on most days.

so, with a sigh, you brush your thumb over his cheek, shaking your head at how soft you are for him. loving him’s not easy, but perhaps that’s why you do it. the difficult tasks are always the most rewarding ones in the end.

“tetta—”

“baby,” he corrects. a small grin etches across your lips.

“how about gumdrop?”

“don’t push it,” he purses his lips, and you laugh. and it’s beautiful, he thinks, the soft glow of your face as the dimly lit kitchen illuminates your skin. your head thrown back in your laughing fit sends waves that crash over his heart. he’s casted away from everything else for a moment, all he can focus on being you. and he’s not mad, couldn’t ever be.

“okay, fine,” you agree. the smile on your face slowly falters, but his grip on your hand doesn’t. “baby, i’m just…i can’t deal with the things you say sometimes,” you whisper. “i’m not cut out for this,” you admit.

“you don’t have to be,” he soothes. “i’m working on it. i won’t say things like that anymore,” he promises. and it’s hard to tell if it’s the truth or not, but he sounds determined. and kisaki’s never given a reason not to believe him, he’s always gone great lengths to give you what he promises. so, with a shaky sigh, you lean into his embrace, hearing the beating of his heart in his chest. it’s the same heartbeat that soothes you to sleep each night and matches the rhythm of yours. he kisses the crown of your head, and nothing has ever made him feel as whole and seen and complete as the feel of your skin against his.

“promise?” you whisper.

“yeah, whatever. i promise,” he mumbles. pulling away, you cup his cheeks, taking in the sleep that’s still laced in his eyes, smiling gently at the sight. kissing his nose, then his cheeks, then finally, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips, you stroke your fingers through his hair as he leans into your palm.

“okay,” you nod. he glances at you expectantly. “what?”

“and…?”

“and…?” you tease.

“say it,” he glares. rolling your eyes, you hug his waist, feeling his hand rub over the small of your back.

“i love you,” you murmur. and with an equally as demanding tone, you add, “say it back.”

and it’s his turn to roll his eyes as he mumbles “i love you too.”

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xevrq

3 years ago

Going to pride with them

since today is the last day of pride month, here’s some headcanons over how these characters would act at pride

Itadori

-Itadori is super excited to go to pride because he genuinely wants to show his support and learn new things about the community.

-He is legit decked out in a rainbow shirt along with a ton of colorful necklace beads and vibrant face paint drawn across his face.

-Itadori just has the biggest smile on his face as his eyes take in all the lively surroundings around him. He’s waving a tiny flag around in his hands while cheering loudly when he notices that everyone else is as well.

-People would start to sense Itadori’s enthusiasm to be here right now, so Itadori has a lot of people who come up to him and give him things such as flower crowns, glasses, and pins. There are also people who would call him over and start dancing with him to the music playing loudly on the speakers.

-He’s complimenting everyone’s fashion as he walks by them and somehow finds himself taking pictures with a lot of random strangers.

-He’s listening intently to the stories and experiences of others when they’re giving speeches and he slowly starts to become educated of the history and significance of this festival. By the end of the day, Itadori appreciates and acknowledges how important pride month is to many people and will now have such an happy memory forever ingrained in his head.

Keep reading

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xevrq

2 years ago

The way your writing is so fucking good?? It’s such a joy to read and you have such a distinct style that has me straight up kicking my feet :’)

I saw in your bio that requests are open, have you ever considered… reader getting hurt somewhere far from civilisation and Leon running himself absolutely ragged trying to get them help? Just holding them so tightly, running until his heart feels like it’s about to burst because he just needs them to be okay, I feel like he would stop at nothing to keep from losing the people he loves, ya know?

Anyway, hope you have a great day! <3

thank u so much aaaa <3333!!!! im feelin sad and devious so have fun with this one!!!

warning: angst, blood mention, death

The Way Your Writing Is So Fucking Good?? It’s Such A Joy To Read And You Have Such A Distinct Style

Leon can’t remember the last time he cried.

He’s lived through suffering and destruction and death, and pieces of those memories still reside within him as little fragments of glass that puncture and tear and burrow. He’s tried to move on, to grit his teeth and bear the pain, but it always comes back. Always worse than last time.

You bleed a dark pool into the patch of grass you had collapsed upon. Touching your chest leaves his hands slick and sticky. The knees of his pants stain.

He radios in to HQ, calls for evacuation, medevac, help. The line statics. The BSAA soldiers are miles away by now.

It was supposed to be a cleanup, a simple job, and now you’re dying.

He doesn’t think straight. He can’t now. He loves you, and you’re dying, and he’s failed everyone he’s ever cared about.

As he strips off your gear, he thinks of Raccoon City. As he cuts away your shirt, he thinks of his parents.

Who does he have left? Who, besides you?

He whispers things (I love you, stay with me, it’s alright, I love you, don’t leave me, I love you), and you’re choking. Trying to speak. The light drains from your eyes and still, you cup a chilled, wet hand over his jaw.

“‘m okay,” you say, hoarse and choked-out. So weak. Weak and pallid and he’s never felt so helpless in his entire fucking life.

The blood won’t stop. He recalls his training and second-natures the first-aid steps, but the smell of iron makes him nauseous and your weakening grip on his shirt rips away his reason.

He picks you up, and he runs.

If he remembers right—please let him remember right—Delta team heads west. He can reach them. He can reach them and the medic they travel with. They’ll patch you up and call for medevac and you’ll survive.

He can’t fail you. Not again. Not like the others.

The path is uneven, and stray branches catch his clothes, and his lungs heave to the point of bursting, and he might collapse soon. You might die.

But he’s stubborn and strong-willed, and he has to see things through to the end.

That’s what I love most about you. He remembers the way you had smiled, all toothy and jesting. Smeared head-to-toe with dirt after following him to the ends of the earth, after crawling into a collapsed bunker owned by some retired Umbrella scientist to save him. Maybe you could be a little more careful about it, though.

The moment he realized he loved you.

It terrified him at first. Becoming soft again, tender-hearted, lovesick.

Later, when you said you loved him, when he admitted his own secret, when he kissed you in the quiet shadows of that warehouse, he knew he was done for.

His knees buckle, and he collapses. Mud seeps through his pants, chills down to bone, but he never lets you go.

The comms still ring with static.

Delta team is nowhere to be found.

Your body rests limp against his chest. The blood has stopped, now thick and half-dried on his skin. On yours.

He stares down at you. At the ash of your complexion. At the glassy eyes, void of light, wide-open, fixed to a point just over his shoulder. When he tilts your chin, skin cold against his fingers, your unbroken gaze follows.

Already, he misses their color. The starshine when you looked at him. The wrinkle of your brow when you grew angry. The scrunch of your face when you smiled.

Already, he speaks of you in past tense.

Your chest never expands again. Your heart never thumps beneath his palm. There’s no pulse—he checks three places three different times.

The comms spark to life with a message from HQ. Bird on standby, Delta team half a mile due west. Respond… respond… Respond.

He looks down at you—you, who believed in him, who taught him what love felt like, who followed him to the ends of the earth—now a corpse, another failing, another memory of jagged edges and broken glass.

And he cries.

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xevrq

2 years ago

I wanna smooch him pls omg

PGR Kareshi (3) -- Wanshi [Sleep]

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xevrq

3 years ago

AA HELLO it's finally open !! first off i really like ur writing! i was wondering can u make another scenario w the same sex relationships but with baji and kazutora?

❀ SAME-SEX RELATIONSHIP (3) | TOKYO REVENGERS

— when they fall for someone with the same gender

; w i t h baji keisuke | hanemiya kazutora

; w a r n i n g male reader, second pov (you/your), cursing, homophobia, homosexuality, headcanons

; a / n it’s been a while since i wrote something like this. the fact that i’m answering this when my requests are closed once more says a lot about lolol

; l i n k s [ 1 | 2 | 3 ]

; BAJI KEISUKE

↠ Baji will probably get clued in by someone else. He may be extremely perceptive and analytical at times but the dude is clueless to his own feelings.

↠ Like it would probably be offhandedly mentioned by Mikey as a tease then Baji would completely stop and realize:

“Oh shit, Mikey, you ain’t lying, I do like Y/n.”

“Wait, what? You didn’t know??”

↠ Here comes the existential crisis.

↠ Moves on pretty quickly and decides to face his mother first before going to you.

↠ Baji, honestly, does not give a shit about what other people says.

↠ Other people except his mother. His mother who raised him the best she could despite the adversaries and his knack of getting into trouble and causing them as well. His mother who loved him. And his mother who will support him no matter what.

↠ Once he finished almost breaking down and getting things straight with his mom that no, it’s never going to change and yes, he’s sure about this, he finds himself knocking at your door.

↠ Baji isn’t one to wait, why should he? There’s no use just mulling over everything when he can just tell you how he feels and sees if you feel the same or if you’re homophobic.

↠ His breath is caught in his throat when you open the door and even invites him inside, falling in love with you even more now that you’re in front of him.

↠ Doesn’t even go in your apartment and just says his feelings right then and there.

↠ Blushes and realizes what he just did, trying to explain himself even if there was nothing else to say.

↠ It doesn’t even process in his mind when you told him that you liked him back. Might take him a few more seconds before he actually realizes that he’s not getting kicked out and you’re not cutting ties with him.

↠ If it’s alright with you, he wants to show you off. PDA is fine for him and he’ll shamelessly kiss you if you aren’t uncomfortable.

↠ He doesn’t quite mind people’s looks on him but if it’s directed at you and you get uncomfortable, he’s going to face them.

“I’m gay, you got a problem with that buddy?”

; HANEMIYA KAZUTORA

↠ This boi already has a lot of issues ╯︿╰

↠ I think that he would repressed it for a long time, from the very moment that the thought of even liking you passed his mind.

↠ Kazutora isn’t emotionally ready to love someone and cherish them, even more if this love is considered as something unusual, not after Shinichiro.

↠ Tries to convince himself that this isn’t love. That he doesn’t know love.

↠ How could he know love when the only love his parents ever showed him was punching and throwing objects at each other until glass shards dig deep into their skins, drawing out blood? How could he know love when for him, it was nothing but a beast, always getting asked which one, mommy or daddy?.

↠ Kazutora doesn’t even trust himself, he doesn’t want to fall for you. He doesn’t want to drag you into this mess, to hurt himself, to hurt you.

“Stop fooling yourself. You don’t like him. Of course you don’t. How could you?”

↠ I think that if you really want to have a relationship with him, you’ll be the one to initiate it.

↠ Kazutora will also avoid you to shut his feelings out so you’ll be the one chasing him.

↠ Might actually emotionally hurt you by saying something about homosexuality.

↠ But when he sees you break down from his words, being so foolish, so willingly vulnerable, Kazutora would feel himself shattering as well.

↠ Then, that was it. The end of the line. Kazutora can’t stop himself from falling, from dragging you down with him, anymore.

“I’m so sorry that I like you.”

↠ Is actually really sensitive so I guess it’s up to you to face homophobic slurs and looks from the public.

↠ This relationship includes a tonshit of breaks, bickers, hesitant touches, and lingering glances, reassurance and insecurities, trust and love, so fragile.

↠ It’s a long process but it will all be worth it in the end.

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