#anghoul [himura ayame] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yurureri-yurari · 3 years ago

Text

crimson deliverance

✬ NSFW ✩ Psycho-Pass AU

Premise: Years of perseverance are finally rewarding them. Not before an unforeseen trial of their making, however.

— ✾ —

When Itori said they would have a new member to the team, no one expected it to be the fugitive ex-inspector last sighted a few years ago. Apparently, the sudden vacation she had taken some time ago was to track her down, managing to find her in Tibet and convincing her to return to the country.

“... Is there anything you have to say to me, Yasushi-san?” were Ayame’s first words to him, once they had been left alone together in the meeting room by their teammates. Before that, she had formally apologized to him for any grievances she caused him in the past years.

There were a lot of things he had to say to her. Most of them being things he already knew the answer to.

What happened to you after the Shambala Float incident?

Have you met with Arima yet?

Are you still going to pretend to be who you’re not anymore?

Instead, all he could manage to say was, “Welcome back, Ayame,” and promptly left after she responded with a nod:

“I’m back.”

The days that followed this were almost as usual, slowly providing him answers to his unspoken questions.

Following the Shambala Float incident, Ayame had continued to wander in the Southeast Asian Union. As mentioned, Itori brought her back from Tibet, after dealing with a mercenary group. Since her return to Japan to the present, she hadn’t paid a visit to Arima, who undoubtedly didn’t know she was back.

As coworkers in the same team, they saw each other at work daily. It was reminiscent of the old days when she was a rookie officer, if excluding that Ayame was more honest with her emotions. There was difficulty interacting with each other—the air between them always seemed to dampen with awkwardness. It was subtle when around others, but when it was only the two of them, anyone could tell that there was clearly something that happened between them that needed a conclusion to.

— ✾ —

“You think they did it?” Itori asked Seishi while they were on break.

“Maybe,” he responded, taking a drink of his canned coffee. “I don’t think they’d be awkward like this though.”

They were watching Ayame and Mamoru doing work together in the office from Itori’s own.

Itori, likewise, drank from her own can. “Hmm. Yeah, it has been, uh... how many years again?”

“Eight,” Seishi reminded her.

“Eight years... They’re definitely a keeper for each other,” she nodded to herself. “If it were me, I would have moved on already.”

“Even if that person was Uta?” he challenged her.

In reply, she briefly shot him a glare before he diverted her attention.

“Hey, he’s leaning in.”

“And then their eyes are going to meet and on noticing how close they are...”

“He pulls away.”

“Awkward silence.” Itori imitated Ayame’s voice. “Thank you for the help.”

Seishi, in turn, did the same, but with Mamoru: “It’s no problem.”

“And finally, the awkward departure.”

The boss relaxed back into her chair as her subordinate sighed, her index finger tapping on the armrest as she was in thought. She looked at the case file on her desk.

There had been reports of immigrant children going missing and as the proactive branch of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, it was their case to solve instead of the Ministry of Welfare’s. Two victims had been recovered, both found dead with various injuries. The suspect was a painter named Sakuragi Haruto, who was name-dropped by an accomplice before going mad and being eliminated. Ominous rumors surrounded Sakuragi, a particular one being that his inspiration for each of his paintings came from models in unethical conditions made by him.

The main objective at hand currently, was to find out where Sakuragi’s studio was. The address listed on his website was but a location used for meetings rather than creating his art pieces. Normally, such a thing would have already been acquired through methods of tracking, but their target was suspiciously evasive. Therefore, a different approach would be taken: the date of a banquet held between the wealthy was drawing close and Sakuragi was on the guest list.

Itori planned to send in two of her subordinates to undercover there and make contact with him. Apparently, Sakuragi had quite the connections when it came to the rich, which was odd in that these connections didn’t seem to be used for gaining influence. When they interviewed one of these connections, they mentioned that Sakuragi provided them a place to “unwind,” but where that was, they would not say. Finding out what this place was, was the goal of the mission.

Itori’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Maybe I should give them some time outside of the office together.”

— ✾ —

Silence filled the car as Mamoru drove to the hotel they were staying at for the night for their mission. Ayame was looking through their intel on a tablet at his side. As he watched the road, he thought of how their assignment happened.

“Me and... Ayame?” Mamoru looked at Itori, perplexed.

Ayame appeared as usual in comparison.

“Is there a problem with that, Mamoru-kun?” their boss questioned. “I thought it would be best for you to be Ayame-chan’s partner for this mission since I heard you were one of her closest relationships back in her MWPSB days.”

“No... there isn’t,” he refuted with uncertainty.

Itori hummed curiously at him before looking at Ayame. “What about you, Ayame-chan?”

“I have no qualms,” she answered flatly.

“Then all is well,” the redhead smiled with content.

Being reminded of that smile was bothering him. Clearly, something was up and he already knew what.

“Can you truly do this?” Ayame’s voice snapped Mamoru out of his thoughts.

“Of course; why do you ask?” he returned a question.

She turned the tablet off. “... There are some...” her hands rested in her lap together, “... unresolved matters between us that could hinder your performance, after all.”

He was nearly caught off-guard by this. It would be apparent they had the same idea of clearing up said matters with this chance of being alone with one another.

“Then should we resolve those before the party?” he asked.

She oddly paused before answering, turning her gaze to the passenger window. “... Maybe another time.”

Mamoru wondered what she paused for when two things hit him. The first was that his choice of words could imply continuing where they had been interrupted that night, which he internally face-palmed himself for. The second was that Ayame was embarrassed in some amount. He wished he could have caught the slightest glimpse of that.

“In conversation, I mean,” he clarified quickly in a fluster.

“If we have the time,” Ayame responded. “If not, then after the party. I’ll trust that you’ll do well in that case.”

“Agreed,” he stated.

Conversation promptly disappeared with that as she let him focus on driving.

Though they hoped their time for resolution would be before the party, it ended up having to be after as they busied themselves with their prep work.

— ✾ —

Ayame came out of the bathroom earlier than he thought she would. “Yasushi-san?” she called. “Can I ask you to help with my zipper?”

He looked up from the tablet, seeing her in a black dress that left everything above her chest and biceps exposed. Her hand was over her chest to keep the top from protruding outward. Mamoru stared at her for a moment before giving a response, realizing he was holding his breath. “Sure.”

She turned around as he walked over to her. He took the zipper of her dress and slowly drew it upwards. This was dangerous, he thought; standing close to her with her skin exposed was causing him to have unwanted thoughts.

When he was done, she turned back to him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied.

They stared at each other for a moment in the almost-suffocating close proximity they were in, as though waiting for the other to say something.

“... You look great,” Mamoru nearly coughed that out.

Ayame nodded. “Itori-san chose it for me.”

He would keep that in mind as more evidence to point toward their boss’ personal motive in this mission.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes; and you?” she returned the question, slipping on one of the ring bands they were provided for their mission on her left ring finger.

He already had his on after a moment of thought while she was getting ready in the washroom. “Yeah,” he answered.

They headed out of their room together for the banquet hall. When arriving at the entrance, they positioned themselves as the other couples did; the lady’s hand around the gentleman’s held-out arm.

For the first few conversations, they were together, making mention of their target Sakuragi Haruto here and there to gather more information. The way that Ayame acted was starkly different from her real persona, reminding Mamoru of their days together as inspector and enforcer. Seeing this difference side-by-side only showed him how much work she had put into attempting to be “normal.”

Eventually, they split up, keeping in contact with each other through their earpieces. Not much side-progress was being made with collecting more information and a chance of approaching Sakuragi, who they had spotted while they were together, didn’t seem to be anytime soon. That is, until...

“Excuse me, Miss?” Mamoru heard their target’s voice in his earpiece as he walked around the hall.

... he approached one of them himself.

“Yes?” Ayame replied.

Mamoru scanned the crowds for her figure.

“I’m Sakuragi Haruto, a painter. I wanted to ask if you were interested in modeling for me.”

“I’m honored, but why me?”

“You’ve caught my interest, is all.”

The pace he walked quickened.

She made a small laugh. “My husband might not be pleased to hear that.”

“I can promise it won’t be anything for him to be worried about; I only paint the true desire of an individual.”

“’True desire...’ Are you implying you learned what my ‘true desire’ is with one look?”

“No, but I have intuition that yours will be worth painting.”

Finally, he spotted Ayame, swiftly entering their conversation at her side. His arm was around her, resting on her bare shoulder.

Making a convincing, but forced, friendly smile, he asked Sakuragi, “Do you have business with my wife?” There was something subtle that could be described as threatening in his smile, which he didn’t seem to notice himself.

“Speak of the devil.” Their target was either unfazed by this or didn’t notice as he held a polite smile on his face. “What a lucky man to have such a lovely wife.”

Ayame made a small bow. “Yes; thank you.” She turned to Mamoru. “Sakuragi-san and I were just discussing his work.”

“Is that so?” he replied.

“He asked me if I could model for him. Would you mind that, dear?” she questioned.

“I would very much,” is what he would have said without any restraints, but instead his words were, “As long as it’s a private work and we’re given a copy of the finished product.”

“I suppose you were right, Sakuragi-san,” she turned her smile back to said person.

“I’m pleased,” Sakuragi expressed. He reached into his inner pocket and handed Ayame his business card. “You can set up an appointment with me at any time...?”

“Washuu Sayuri,” she answered.

The painter looked at Mamoru next, prompting him to follow with, “Washuu Aru.”

“Sayuri-san. Aru-san. It was nice meeting the two of you.” Sakuragi bowed politely. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Once he had disappeared within the crowd, Mamoru almost awkwardly removed his hand from her shoulder. “Sorry.”

She shook her head, her demeanor returning to its usual as though swiftly switching masks. “It’s fine.”

They headed for a quiet spot to discuss their next moves. As he thought about the current state of things, his actions while undercover poked at him while they walked. On the other hand, Ayame was examining Sakuragi’s business card before looking in front of her.

“This isn’t the way I’d think this was going to go down,” he remarked quietly so bystanders wouldn’t hear.

“It’s a dangerous method, but there’s no other choice,” she replied. “It was the least we could accomplish.”

“I don’t like the idea of putting you in danger, but that unfortunately doesn’t change that you’re right,” he begrudgingly said. “We should stay here for a little longer before leaving.”

She nodded in agreement.

The two remained where they were in silence, appearing more as two bystanders now rather than a couple. If they could, they would have left the hall as soon as they finished their mission. The chatter of the people they masked themselves as were unintelligible from their spot, but they had no need to hear any of it anymore.

— ✾ —

After their leave from the banquet, they returned to their hotel room. They were to report back the morning after, the lenient Itori having told them to enjoy the luxury of pretending to be wealthy before they departed for their mission as a bonus. Both discussed who was sleeping where before one was off to wash up first, which ended with one round of rock-paper-scissors. Ayame had won, therefore, she was taking the bed and Mamoru, the sofa.

Mamoru walked out of the bathroom, dressed for bed and fresh out of the shower. The first thing he looked to was Ayame, who was sitting on the end of the bed with the laptop he had used earlier to type up their mission report while it was her turn in the shower. She seemed to be reading the report, checking if he had omitted any details.

He sat down next to her, leaving a gap of space between them. She briefly looked up at him, closing the laptop and setting it on the dresser across from them before returning to her spot.

“Where shall we start?” Ayame opened the conversation.

Mamoru decided to begin from the last time he saw her prior to her addition to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. “What happened to you after Shambala Float? Arima said you got away after you two took care of the leader of those mercenaries.”

“I went back to the guerrilla base.”

“I suppose you left there at some point and traveled around, since Itori found you in Tibet rather than Cambodia.”

She nodded.

“Have you met Arima at all since you came back?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have anything to say to him and... I don’t know if he wants to see me. He didn’t say anything to me after we fought together in Shambala.”

They shared a small silence at that before Mamoru spoke up.

“Well... I’m not Arima, but if Seishi was on the run for almost ten years and came back, I’d hope he’d come to see me no matter how mad I might be at what he did,” he said. “... It’s better to see him than not at all.”

Ayame nodded again, understanding what he meant. “I’ll think it through again sometime.”

Another silence approached them, this time lasting longer than the first. This was undoubtedly because only the source of their awkwardness outside of work was what remained to be spoken of. It was one of those events where they thought it’d be the last time they’d see each other, but their unexpected reunion a few months ago as fellow agents of Itori’s team would say otherwise, turning what was an interrupted tender moment into something to be flustered about.

Ayame was the one to initiate it in the end.

“That night in Shambala... if the base hadn’t been attacked...” she trailed off.

“I would have kissed you,” Mamoru finished her sentence rather blatantly, although with a trace of a blush. “Would you have let me?”

He already knew the answer to his question—or more, he thought it was most likely. While his confidence in this was firm, there was still that small part of him that hoped he was right.

She was quiet, and almost painstakingly so before responding.

“After I killed Nimura and fled the country,” she began, “I thought I would be fine in never seeing anyone again. Everyone appeared in my thoughts as I traveled at least once. Eto-san, Tenshi-san, Kirishima-san, Hirako-san... I thought the ones who I would most think of was Kishou-oniisan and my parents, but... it was you.” For second, her tone sounded childishly annoyed in the slightest. “You were persistent. There almost wasn’t a day I thought of you. My chest sometimes hurt even though I wasn’t injured as well.

“I didn’t understand why for a long time.” Her eyes softened in sorrow. “... I didn’t want to. It would have broken the lie I began living in when I left.”

“And you’ve left that lie behind,” Mamoru said.

Ayame nodded. “That’s why I can say this without restraint.”

She paused for a moment before giving him her words.

“... I like you, Yasushi-san.”

Mamoru was stunned at her confession, perhaps even more so at the sight of the shyness visible on her face.

“... I like you too,” he responded to her.

“And... I missed you,” she added.

His voice softened. “I missed you too.”

They stared at each other for a moment. They didn’t know who was first, but they both leaned into each other, their fingers that were only inches away making contact as they pressed into the bed.

He pulled away after long enough, staring into her similar crimson eyes again when she opened them. They exchanged another moment of silent gazes before eight years worth of restraint by interruptions, hindrances, and themselves accumulated into another kiss that was deeper than the first. Their breaths mingled with one another, growing shorter the longer their tongues intertwined.

Pulling away, they panted as they caught their breaths.

“Are we...?” Ayame asked.

“If you want to,” Mamoru answered. Though, he honestly wasn’t sure how much self-control he would have if she postponed this for another time. Not that he even knows how much he has right now.

She was quiet for a moment, averting her eyes from him. The room was dimly lit, but he could sense that she was flustered. “... I don’t mind, but... I don’t know how to do this.”

“I think I have a decent grasp of it, but... we’ll both figure things out along the way,” he admitted with embarrassed honesty.

“I’m your first?” she inquired, meeting his eyes again.

He gave her a shy response. “... Yeah. Surprised?”

“A little,” Ayame said. The corners of her lips seemed to curl subtly at this new intel.

As though in retaliation for her unintended teasing, he took her by surprise by pushing her down on the bed without too much force and hovered over her.

Mamoru stared into her crimson eyes. “I... don’t know if I can make any promises tonight.”

She nodded and reached for his cheeks with both hands, her fingers brushing his skin. “I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t regret this later,” he told her, his voice lowering into a murmur as he drew down to her.

Her fingers slid into his damp white hair and she gave a small smile of assurance before their lips met and parted for a third kiss.

It was less clumsier than the previous, but the sensuality from it that stoked the heated emotions in them that had been dormant until now was all the same. Before they could be sent into a state of breathlessness again, Mamoru broke away from Ayame, planting kisses from her jawline to the curvature of her neck. Her breaths were slightly strained from both their kiss and the sensation of his lips brushing her skin.

The stimulation must be foreign to her, he thought, which prompted him to wonder what was going on in her own mind in the moment.

While his mouth nipped and sucked at her neck, his hand ran up her curled leg and positioned at the spot between both. He didn’t take his time—slipping under her undergarment to directly feel her warm slickness.

Thinking about how they were interrupted back then gave him a sense of rush that he did his best to restrain.

Her legs twitched inward at his touch, her breath hitching. He stopped marking her skin temporarily to study her red face for reactions while catching his breath as he experimented where to touch her best before going any further.

“W-What is it?” Ayame questioned, her embarrassment increasing at the notice of his observation.

His self-restraint possibly loosened just then. “It’s nothing.”

This was the most expressive he had ever seen of her, and knowing he was the first to do so brought him a sense of pride.

“Please don’t look—” She was momentarily interrupted with suppressing a voice as he touched a spot. He found it. “—at me.”

“But you’re too cute,” he mumbled, mostly to himself, as he returned to marking his territory on her, continuing where he left off, but retracing his path to behind her ear.

Before she could give a reply, his finger made their entrance in her and another one followed soon enough. They were in and out at a soft pace, particularly teasing a spot from within that would certainly test her limit here and there after finding it in another search. Her hands clenched his shoulders as she seemed to be having an increasingly difficult time keeping hold of her noises. He slowed his motions eventually, allowing her breathing to steady.

Mamoru removed his soaked fingers from her. He stripped her of her pants and underwear. When he began unbuttoning her top, she stopped him, rising up.

“I can do the rest,” Ayame told him, cheeks still tinted. “You… probably don’t know how to undo this part.” Her fingers pointed to her bra.

“Y-Yeah,” he stuttered. “You should.”

While she did so, he took off his own clothing, feeling less heated without them. He briefly left the bed to grab the small packages that were in a pocket of the bag carrying their equipment for the mission, begrudgingly thanking his boss in his mind. Thankfully, he was the one who did the check with their equipment while preparing for their mission earlier.

Returning to her, he found himself in mesmerization at her timid beauty in the dim lighting that only accentuated her figure.

“… You’re looking,” she called him out.

He gave her an amused, small smirk taking her lips once more. “How can I not?”

He guided her back down on the bed, deciding to move on to the next step when he drew away.

“Are you ready?” he asked for consent after his preparation.

Ayame nodded.

After her confirmation, he pressed his member against her folds, lubricating himself with her fluids slowly out of anxiousness. When he entered her, he found himself almost holding his breath, feeling her contract around him as he reached further and further until there was no more depth to cover.

“Sorry; does it hurt?” Mamoru worriedly asked upon noticing how hard she was clenching the bedsheet and the slight scrunch of her face. He caressed her cheek in comfort, moving strands of her hair away from her face.

“A bit,” she managed to say in an almost-strangled voice.

“We can stop if you want.” Even if he wanted to settle this now, it was more important to him that she was comfortable.

Ayame shook her head. “No... I’ll be fine... I... want this, so...”

His eyes briefly widened in surprise at her bold statement before he ducked his burning face into the crook of her neck. “... Really, you...” Once he regained what little composure he had, he told her, “Tell me when you’re good for me to move,” before sealing her lips with his own.

After creating more blemishes on her skin where he hadn’t, he drew down to her breasts, taking one nub into his mouth and easing her tenseness. He could tell her pain was progressively subsiding as he felt her relax around him.

“Y-You can move now...” Ayame gave her approval soon enough.

Mamoru gave a hum of confirmation.

Though he started off slow for her, even having been stagnant for those few minutes earlier with her tensing had worked him up well enough that he was already feeling on edge with his release. Meanwhile, she was at her ends with the constraint of her voice, actively restraining it by pressing her knuckles against her lips. The current pace was only prolonging him torturously and eventually, he lost his grip on himself. Along with the little self-restraint he had left.

He quietly cursed, removing himself from her to change condoms.

“Ayame,” Mamoru called for her when he was done.

She looked up at him, still catching her breath. “?—”

In that moment, he re-entered her without warning. Her voice came out as he pinned the wrist of the hand she was going to clamp over her mouth to the bed at the same time.

“Sorry,” he apologized, half-heartedly. “I wanted to hear you just once.” And naturally, he wanted to hear more now as he kept hold of her wrist.

“Liar…” she took notice of his lie as he began moving for the second cour after also restraining her other hand.

Like before, Mamoru started off slow, but he was less inclined to keep that pace for any longer than a few minutes before gradually picking it up. The sound of Ayame’s voice mixed with her panting fueled him, as did her eagerness to welcome his progressively deep thrusts.

The closer she seemed to draw to her limit, the more her legs closed on him and shortly, she made a choked cry. She tensed up for a few moments, her lower half twitching a few times before relaxing. Her chest rose and fell as she attempted to catch her breath. Though he hadn’t had his own release, he removed himself from her.

“… Sorry...” she managed to say in her panting.

“Eh?” Mamoru blurted out in response.

Ayame covered her burning face with a hand. “I couldn’t… hold back…”

His surprise relaxed into a reassuring smile, having thought she was apologizing for something else. “It’s fine.”

“Are you stopping?” she asked.

“If you want me to,” he answered.

“I don’t mind…” she followed.

“Then…” Mamoru’s face lowered between her legs.

“What are you…?”

“I’m just a little curious is all.”

His lips brushed against her thigh, adding more traces of him to her skin. He hadn’t been counting how much he was leaving behind nor was he thinking about the potential repercussions in the morning—the only thing his thoughts were filled with, was that Ayame had returned to his daily life and that he wouldn’t let her leave again.

Her legs closed on his head as his tongue found her folds. She clamped a hand over her mouth, her expression contorted as she restrained her voice. Though he preferred to hear her in full, her muffled sounds that leaked out at times were still pleasing to his ears.

When she came undone with her back arching, he didn’t stop in his musings, drinking everything she released and teasing out more of it from her until she was breathing in slowly and heavily again.

There was no talking this time as Mamoru took Ayame’s lips with need, the bud of his arousal pressed against her entrance. She made a gasp into his mouth as he pushed into her, her nails dragging across the back of his shoulders. He hooked his arms under her legs to keep them spread, mercilessly starting right off the bat in a rough and fast pace that wouldn’t allow her to think.

“Yasu… shi… san…” she panted.

“That’s wrong… isn’t it?” he asked in-between his own breaths.

It took her a moment to correct herself, as though she was still in unnecessary gripe. “Ma… Mamoru…”

“Until you’re used to it… keep saying it…”

He leaned into where her neck curved, hearing his name in her voice directly in his ear in repeat. His thrusts grew deeper as she spoke, crashing into her deepest regions. And until their knots unravelled, he didn’t stop.

— ✾ —

After their intimate time together, they had taken another shower, albeit together shyly. It was only in the bright light of the bathroom did Mamoru see just how much he marked and bit her. Ayame didn’t seem to notice how odd it was that most of it was above her chest and biceps, which he was thankful for. In comparison, he only had several red lines across his shoulder blades. Both apologized for their thoughtless actions.

The morning after and the ride back to the office was without a hitch. At least, until they had to report to Itori and Mamoru was left alone with their boss.

“Did you like it?” innocently smiled Itori, fiddling with a pen.

“Like what?” Mamoru questioned, knowing exactly what she was referring to.

“You know what,” she continued to smile.

“That has nothing to do with the mission.” He rose from his seat and started toward the door. “If that’s all you wanted me for, then I’m leaving.”

“You also used them all.”

His hand froze on the doorknob and he felt blood rush to his face at that.

Seeing he wasn’t going to amuse her more, she pouted. “Boo; you’re not enough fun. Well, tell Ayame-chan I said congratulations.”

Mamoru still didn’t utter a word, exiting Itori’s office as casually as he could.

He let out an exasperated sigh, heading for the balcony for a smoke break. There, he found Ayame. The sight of her overlooking the city was incredibly nostalgic. He remembered how after she became a fugitive, a small part of him would hopelessly think she would still be there on the MWPSB balcony whenever he came up there before he was scouted out for his current position.

Ayame turned to him at the sound of the door closing.

“Are you done with your report to Itori-san?” she asked.

“Yeah; it wasn’t anything important,” he answered.

“I see,” she said.

“What are you doing here?”

“I had something to ask you and thought you’d be here.”

“What is it, Ayame?”

“Why didn’t you forget about me? I’m asking out of curiosity.”

He paused as he was taking out a cigarette from its box, putting it back in and the box in his pocket. “It’s not easy to forget a coworker you work closely with. Especially one who treated you kindly, even if it might have been an act at first. I’ll be honest that I thought about it once or twice. It bothered me too much that someone who was supposedly emotionless as you let me live despite getting in your way during the confrontation with Nimura at the factory though.”

“You would have been better off if you did.” She turned her back on him to look at the ground far below them and the far away people and objects.

Ignoring his hesitance and valuing its proof, Mamoru embraced her from behind.

“No,” he quietly denied. “You came back after all, so it was worth it. Even if it took more years, as long as you did, I’d still think the same.”

He felt her cling onto his sleeve.

“I see,” Ayame said. “Thank you, Mamoru.”

He hummed in confirmation. “Let’s make up for all those years we lost.”

She faced him, tears of happiness in her eyes. “Yes.”

Mamoru kissed the corner of Ayame’s eyes before her lips, the soft gesture as though a vow made to his proposal.

#anghoul [himura ayame]#history’s eyes [original characters]#swaying and being swayed [stories]

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