『 R E Q U E S T S , C L O S E D 』AnimeCharacters x Reader

30. Tomoe x Reader | One, Two, Three, Four / Kiss Me Against the Door

→ character : Tomoe | Kamisama Kiss (Kamisama Hajimemashita)

→ requested by : ClarinetWarrior

→ 05072017

→ wherein tomoe has a new smattering of polaroids to paste above the curls of the flames, and a new string of memories to add to the masterpiece developing still.

xx

Tomoe sits, far enough the flames only join him in a comforting warmth, in the center of the quiet room. The furniture's kept close to the walls, and in the darkness, they only appeared bold protrusions against flat plains- the orient, the duplicated patterns kept hidden. The sun's bowed low enough that the windows can't reflect anymore of its orange and what remains are the replications of illumination from the lamps that hang outside, but they can do no more than shine faintness onto the carpet that can never rattle to its fullest: a bright, velvety rose color.

The door's open by a crack, but Tomoe's wriggled far too deeply into his seat that he can only choose to disregard the slivers of wind that make his toes curl inward.

The only things bold enough to invade the properly-settled dark and cold are the almost vulgar streaks of twisting flames that are splashed against the walls and the floor and the girl, blinking closer and closer to sleep, held so close he could feel her clothes on his.

Tomoe slides an arm around her, maybe to steady her when she finally rocks herself to sleep, maybe to steady himself so he doesn't fall any more unceremoniously than he already has.

xx

Tomoe views his collection with eyes that are falling heavy with sleepiness, but they remain proud and stained with deep violet nonetheless. The Polaroids, held against the wall by thin, glowing strings that cross each other in beautiful display- dipping, arching, from the invisible gravity of their joyous memories and the adventures ribbon-wrapped by laughs released into the brilliance of the sun.

There are new ones, that are scattered and tilting, easily discerned by the gloss of newness not yet eroded by the hot night wind. They were the ones held too fondly in Tomoe's palms only minutes ago, and the ones that were blurry and of pointless objects cast against sand were placed on a heap on a table, because Tomoe had decided were too unrefined to be put with the ones incredible enough to last the ages.

The rejected ones are still within reach, but Tomoe's hands choose to remain idle as he continues his admiration. 

One; of their reserved wooden kayak bobbing gently to the playfulness of the tides. It was wooden, polished, practically gleaming from the sun and the marks of professional hands. The sunlight sparkled against the water, which was an inviting blue, and Tomoe found himself lifting his Polaroid quicker than the gasp of awe that fell from your lips.

Two; an image devoted solely to the waters, dyed the blueness of a pure crystal, owning the brightness that seemed almost identical to the sun's, playful hiccups of waves pushing the boat into a gentle rock. There's a small school of fish, outlined darkly, caught with their tail fins swishing in opposing directions, caught in their passing; Tomoe doesn't know what species they are, but they were dull and small, everything the colorful extravagance of an exotic fish was not.

Three; of your beauty, frozen permanently in a shot of your head turned to the side, trying to venture to the end of the endless waters, lips caught in still seriousness. The shadows of your sun hat dancing against the delicate, ethereal features of your face; the winds carrying the smell of the salty sea weaving through the locks of your hair, sending them alight into a frenzy behind you.

Four; of your head turned to the lens, eyes wide with surprise, lips parted in words yet to be spoken. There are locks of your hair playing against your face, and Tomoe remembers how you quickly brushed the locks away before squawking at him for taking such a hideous photograph. ("Throw it in the sea and feed it to those fish we saw earlier! God, Tomoe, I probably looked horrible!")

(Tomoe thought you looked more beautiful than anything and everything, but he couldn't say it amidst his laughter.)

Tomoe realizes his heart's beating with an incredible love for you, and when he feels you wriggle against him in your sleep, exhaling against his skin, he feels grateful, more than anything, and he'd hold you tighter if you could.

Instead, he allows the sparks and the crackles to pop faintly against his ears, allowing his blinks to grow into something more akin to closed eyes, before he's finally rocked to sleep, head resting against yours.

xx

Tomoe wakes to an emptiness that he's displeased of, and no amount of blind reaching could locate your form. He hears your giggles instead, and his eye cracks open with a begrudging grunt.

"How was your sleep, princess?" you giggle it more than you speak it, and Tomoe's more in love than he is irritated.

"Wonderfully pleasant, I'll have you know," Tomoe responds, a bit disappointed when he doesn't defeat the smug smile on your lips.

"Well since you were too busy wonderfully, pleasantly sleeping your ass over there, I decided to make us dinner," she announces with a complacent raise of her chin, "so, princess, want to wonderfully, pleasantly eat some dinner with me?"

"Only if you drop that ridiculous nickname."

"Alright, alright."

Tomoe rises, and he allows the sway of your hips to guide him into his next meal, he almost grabs your wrist, tanned from the sunlight, and kiss a passionate, truthful "I love you," unto your lips, but he spots the smile half-concealed from behind the curtain of your hair, a smile that restrains his hands to his sides- Tomoe realizes he doesn't need to sing his love for you anymore, because you know, all too well (but he'll do it anyway,) with the way you beam knowingly.

Tomoe leaves the Polaroids in the other room, the utensils washed and drying in another room, before taking you to a third room, where he takes you by the shirt and whispers and kisses his "I love you"s until you're breathless and pink in the cheeks, and he loves it relentless onto every inch of your skin until it becomes an indelible proof.