holy shit youre writing is so good. i loooove how youve written sanemi, obanai, and aki especially. not only is the characterization great but i also love the way you write your reader. theyre funny and relatable in a way that feels real
i was wondering, if you could, would you be able to write something with gyomei in a relationship with an atheist reader who loves him deeply despite their obvious difference. and could you do a scene where the reader makes a beaded necklace for themself that resembles the prayer beads he wears, not because of any religious ties, but because the look, feel, and weight of it remind them so much of him? maybe they made it secretly so the scene is the first time hes seeing it with them wearing it?
thank you so much if you do decide to write this, and thank you in general for sharing your writing
thank you so, so much. this means so much to me that you genuinely enjoy my writing. thank you for this req, i think itās beautiful:) im not the most confident in writing for gyomei, but i hope this is what you imagined <33
made with love įƽ
the beads roll away from you and clack softly against the floor.
you curse under your breath as you reach for them, fingertips brushing stone as you pull them back into your palm. theyāre colder than you expect, heavier too.
you sit cross legged on the floor, back against the wall, sunlight across your hands in stripes. thereās thread stretched between your fingers, already looped through half the beads.
youāve restarted three times.
the first version was too light. the second felt wrong, uneven, like it wouldnāt sit still. this oneā¦ this one feels closer.
youāre not religious at all, never have been. god, spirits, afterlifeānone of that clicks for you. but gyomei? heās all about his faith. those prayer beads he wears are like an extension of him, always wrapped around his hands as he murmurs his chants.
you love him anyway. deeply, stupidly. his kindness pulls you in, the way heās so strong but so gentle. he never pushes his beliefs on you, just lives them quietly. and you respect that, even if you donāt share it.
you thread another bead, sliding it down carefully, then pause. you lift the strand slightly, letting it hang.
it reminds you of him instantly.
thatās why you started this in the first place.
you tie the final knot, fingers lingering as you double it, then triple it. you tug gently, testing it.
it holds.
you slip it on over your head, letting it settle against your chest. it feels right, comforting. you glance in the mirror, adjusting it a bit. yeah, itāll be a surprise.
padding into the kitchen, you see him there, his massive frame hunched slightly over the counter. heās blind, but he always knows when youāre near. he turns his head toward you, a soft smile breaking through his usual serious expression.
āgood morning,ā he says, his voice deep and warm. he sets down the teapot and reaches out a hand, pulling you into a hug. you melt into it, your face pressing against his chest.
āmorning,ā you mumble back, inhaling his scent. ātea smells good.ā
he chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through you. āi made enough for both of us. sit, iāll pour.ā
you hop onto the stool, watching him move around. as you sip, you fiddle with the necklace absentmindedly, the beads clicking softly. you wonder if heāll notice. part of you is nervous
his head tilts slightly. āyour hands are busy.ā
you huff a small laugh. āyou always know.ā
he smiles faintly. you can hear it in his voice. āitās hard not to notice when your breathing changes.ā
you nod, then remember he canāt see it. āyeah, justā¦ happy to be here with you.ā itās true, but your heart picks up a bit. the necklace feels heavier now, like itās drawing attention to itself.
he reaches across the table, his fingers brushing yours. āiām grateful for you every day.ā his voice is sincere, always is. then, his hand pauses, like heās sensing something. he tilts his head again, listening. the beads on his own prayer beads shift as he moves.
āwhatās that sound?ā he asks quietly, curious. his fingers trail up your arm, gentle as a feather, until they reach your neck. he touches the necklace, feeling the beads one by one. his brow furrows slightly.
you hold your breath. āitāsā¦ a necklace. i made it.ā
he doesnāt pull away. instead, he explores it slowly, his calloused fingers tracing the wood. āit feels likeā¦ā he trails off, realization dawning. ālike my prayer beads.ā
āyeah,ā you admit, your voice soft. āi know i donāt pray. i know i donāt share that part of you. but i share you. this isā¦ my way of holding onto that. when youāre not here, i can touch it and think of how your hands feel, or how you sit there praying so peacefully. i wanted something that makes me feel close to you, even when youāre away.ā
he goes still for a moment, his face unreadable. tears stream down his cheeks now. he cries from emotion, from compassion. itās one of the things you love about him, how open he is with his feelings.
āyou made these because they remind you of me?ā he whispers, his voice thick.
you nod, squeezing his hand gently. āyeah. i did it in secret. wanted to surprise you. do youā¦ like it?ā
he lets out a shaky breath, pulling you across the table into another hug. his arms envelop you completely, strong but never crushing. āitās beautiful,ā he murmurs into your hair. ānot because of what it represents to me but because itās from your heart. you see me, truly see me even without faith.ā
āi donāt have to believe in it to respect how much it means to you.ā
he pulls back just enough to cup your face, his thumbs brushing away tears you didnāt know were there. āthank you,ā he whispers over and over. āthank you. thank you.ā he says directed at the universe for bringing you to him.
you close your eyes, breathing him in. the necklace sits against your heart.
