#kita fic

[narumi-gens]

Traditional Values

yakuza!Kita Shinsuke x f!Reader

summary: You’ve never known a yakuza to be boring. But what else could they mean when they say that Kita Shinsuke, the head of the most powerful yakuza group in Kansai, is traditional? 

warnings: 18+, smut, yakuza au, arranged marriage, inherent sexism and misogyny, smoking, mentioned drug and alcohol use, violence (sorry to the oc in this fic lol), blood, spit, oral (f receiving & mentioned m receiving), mild exhibitionism, orgasm control, possessive!kita, hinted yandere-ish behavior, implied dom!kita, fingers crossed he's not too out of character 🤞🏽, reader is a spoiled little yakuza princess, idk if reader is all that likable but I like her and that's all that matters

notes: I feel like I'm starting to specialize in chaos characters bc while Kita is not one in this fic, the reader certainly is. but a different kind of chaos.

words: 5.9k

minors, ageless, and blank blogs do not interact

The one word you hear over and over again when people talk about Kita Shinsuke, the head of the Inarizaki, the largest and most powerful yakuza group in Kansai, is traditional. 

Despite his current position, he comes from a long line of traditional rice farmers. Once he took power over the Inarizaki, he put in place a stricter, more traditional code of conduct that all members were expected to adhere to. Instead of partying away his nights in Kobe’s clubs and brothels, he spends his evenings in a traditional house in the Hyogo countryside. 

And he has traditional family values, with traditional expectations of what he wants in a wife. 

But you know that traditional really just means boring. 

Unfortunately, a traditional and boring life seems like all you're destined for because your father, the head of Kanto's largest yakuza syndicate, the Fukurodani, has decided to seal an alliance with the Inarizaki through marriage.

Specifically, your marriage to Kita. 

After all, you're a woman and a woman can't lead the yakuza. Your only value comes from how useful you can be as a tool to build alliances and cement power. You had at least just hoped that your father would have chosen someone more exciting for you to spend the rest of your life with.

While he would never stomach seeing you at the head of the organization, he could easily have married you off to his right-hand man and hand-picked heir, the Fukurodani's young and wild wakagashira, Bokuto Koutarou. After all, nothing would ensure an eventual smooth succession better than a marriage to his only child. 

And even if he decided you were more useful as a means of building his power rather than ensuring his legacy, there were still other options. 

There were plenty of crazy yakuza out there who would have kept your interest piqued if only your father had chosen to further consolidate his power in Tokyo or to look for an alliance up north rather than out west. 

But your father has made his choice and Kita has agreed and you have no say in the matter. It's not long before the young yakuza kumicho, along with his most trusted men in the Inarizaki, arrives in Tokyo to negotiate the finer details in person. 

And when you finally meet him at dinner with your parents, you can't say that you're impressed. 

He's polite. He's soft-spoken. He's respectful. He's so. utterly. boring.

As you sit next to him in a private room at one of Tokyo's finest restaurants, listening to him as he genially answers your mother's questions about his own upbringing and tells her about his close relationship with his grandmother, all you can think is, 'what a waste.'

Regardless of how handsome he is and how much his men seem to respect him and how powerful his position is, he's missing that wildness inherent to every true yakuza. 

By the time the plates are cleared and the manager of the restaurant is falling over himself to thank your father for his patronage, you’ve made your assessment of your new fiancé.

Kita is dull. 

It’s all you can think as he cordially thanks your father at the end of the evening. 

‘You’re so boring.’

It’s all you can think as he humbly accepts your mother’s compliments and adoration.

‘You’re so boring.’

It’s all you can think as he politely bids you goodnight with a bow, telling you softly how nice it was to meet you.

‘You’re so boring.’

You have to bite back the urge to say the words aloud, directly to his face, just to see what he would do. Would he drop his courteous smile? Would he clench his fists? Would he slap you?

‘You’re so boring.’

He would probably just look slightly taken aback before doing his best to laugh off any offense. 

“It was nice to meet you too, Kita-san,” you finally reply, your tone suggesting anything but. You feel the disapproval rolling off of your parents in waves and can already hear the lecture that awaits you once you’re alone with them. 

Your father will chastise you for the disrespect that you’ve shown to a new ally, and by extension him. He’ll sternly remind you that this is your duty as his daughter. If he’s really feeling irritable then he’ll light up a cigarette and grumble about how he’s spoiled you for too long and hopes that Kita has a firm hand.

Your mother, however, will almost certainly turn so shrill in her anger that you’ll want to cover your ears. She’ll berate you for insulting your husband-to-be. She’ll scold you for your clear disinterest and boredom through every course of dinner. She’ll then blame your father for being too lenient with you over the years, to which your father will respond by simply taking a long drag of his cigarette.

But in the present, Kita simply gives you a polite smile in return and the chorus continues in your head.

‘You’re so boring.’

Just because you’re now technically engaged doesn’t mean that you need to change how you live your life. If anything, you need to savor all the fun you can before you’re shipped off to Hyogo to spend the rest of your days popping out kids and taking care of some big, empty, country house with a man who’s less interesting than the rice his family grows. 

It’s not even an hour after you get home from dinner before you’re leaving once again. Only this time, you’re wearing something far more revealing and decisively less conservative than the formal kimono that your mother forced you into for your meeting with Kita — something meant to appeal to his traditional taste. 

Your current outfit is one that’s perfectly suited to the high-end clubs of Roppongi. Not that it really matters considering you’re tucked away in a private VIP room, away from the large crowds and deafening music and prying eyes. 

Normally, you would be surrounded by a group of your friends. But after being confronted with the man that you’ve been sentenced to marry and seeing the unending boredom in your near future, you've recognized that it also applies to your sex life. 

You’ve only spent a couple of hours with Kita, but it was more than enough to know that he probably prefers fucking in missionary with the lights off. The only orgasms that you can expect as a married woman will probably come from your vibrator — unless he decides that a vibrator isn’t traditional enough, in which case you’ll have to rely on your fingers exclusively. 

So, instead of the VIP room being filled with your friends, it’s just you and the man whose face is buried between your thighs, Ito Tatsuya. While your feelings towards Tatsuya tend to lie closer to ambivalence than anything else, his skilled tongue is more than enough to make up for it. 

With the way his lips are wrapped around your clit, it’s easy to ignore how he acts tougher than he truly is. He talks a big game but has refrained from acting on all of his talk and joining a yakuza group. Ultimately it works in your favor as no yakuza would dare lay a finger on the beloved daughter of the Fukurodani’s feared kumicho, knowing that doing so would bring the wrath of the entire criminal organization down on their heads. 

Tatsuya is the closest that you’ll get as he’s only tangentially affiliated with one of the few other powerful yakuza groups in Tokyo, the Nekoma organization. Although their power will never come close to the strength of the Fukurodani, your father has a good relationship with their kumicho, Nekomata Yasufumi. The two yakuza groups have had a strong alliance for decades. 

Likewise, Bokuto has his own sense of camaraderie and friendship with Nekomata’s wakagashira, Kuroo Tetsuro, whom you’ve had the pleasure of meeting on multiple occasions as you run in the same circles. Unfortunately, it’s never turned into anything more, despite your best efforts. 

Kuroo Tetsuro. That’s a man. That’s a real yakuza. 

If your luck was better and if relations with the Nekoma group were worse, you probably would have been married off to him rather than the snoozefest that you’ve ended up with. 

It’s easy to slip into the fantasy that it’s Kuroo whose grip feels scorching on your thigh, whose fingers are pumping in and out of your dripping cunt, whose tongue is lapping at your needy clit. The image in your head pushes you closer to the edge as your hips buck in time with his fingers. 

But just as you can see your orgasm within reach, your attention is yanked away from your pleasure when the door to the VIP room opens with a BANG! as it’s kicked in. You protest with a whine as Tatsuya lifts his head from between your thighs, pure murder written across his face at having been disturbed. 

Unaffected by the interruption, you use your grip on his hair to try and tug him back to his original task, but it’s of no use. He’s already removing his arm from around your thigh to reach back and pull out the gun that’s been tucked in the waistband of his pants. 

You're momentarily impressed that he would flaunt the country’s severe firearm restrictions. Although the effect is lost a few moments later when he sits up only to freeze, his features going slack.

When you finally turn your head to see who’s behind the disruption, you frown unhappily.

“Kita-san,” you greet with an irritated sigh. And even you know that you’ll never get Tatsuya’s mouth back on your pussy at this point and you release your hold on his hair with a resigned huff. 

Tatsuya scrambles to remove himself entirely from between your legs, carelessly dropping his gun onto the low table before the couch that you’re sprawled out across. He lifts his hands to show that they’re now empty and he’s not a threat, as if anyone would ever believe he was one.

You wonder if his panic stems from knowing exactly who it is that’s found you both in such a compromising position or if it’s solely due to how intimidating Kita and the two men on either side of him look. 

For as boring as he is, you’ll give him credit. The sight of him standing in the doorway, the black jacket of the same suit he wore to dinner draped across broad shoulders, his arms crossed casually over his chest, his expression giving nothing away, is impressive. Even if he didn’t have two of his underlings with him — one with grey hair and one with dark hair, both of them wearing similar looks of apathy — it would be more than enough to put the average person on edge.

However, you’ve spent your whole life surrounded by dangerous men, with dangerous men at your beck and call. 

So, as Tatsuya begins to babble, making excuses and insisting that he doesn’t want any trouble, you simply roll your eyes and push down your skirt just enough so that your pussy is no longer on display. But even in the low light of the VIP room, the insides of your thighs — and how they shine with the evidence of your rapidly-cooling arousal — are clearly visible. 

“Suna,” Kita says, his gaze fixed on you. The dark-haired man needs no further instruction before he’s moving past his oyabun towards Tatsuya. 

He easily grabs the cowering man from the couch by the front of his shirt and roughly shoves him to his knees on the floor, keeping him in place with one hand fisted tightly in his hair, just as yours had been only a few minutes earlier. 

Kita slips his jacket from his shoulders and in doing so, you catch a glimpse of the blood-red lining on the inside. He passes it to the man still at his side, who carefully folds it over his arm in a way that won’t leave any creases. He then methodically begins to unbutton and roll up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, exposing his forearms and the large swaths of tattooed skin that extend almost to his wrists.

Part of you is surprised. Kita seems too dull to have even the smallest tattoo, let alone full tattooed sleeves. But another part of you knows how much significance tattoos have historically held to the yakuza and he’s nothing if not traditional. Your thighs unconsciously squeeze together as you imagine how far they spread over the rest of his body. 

The action doesn’t seem to escape his notice because he raises an eyebrow at you but makes no further comment before he turns to Tatsuya, who continues to plead for mercy. 

“Enough.” 

Kita doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t put any force behind the single word. Other than ensuring his sleeves are snugly held in place just below his elbows, he doesn’t even move. But there’s a danger to him that Tatsuya is quick to pick up on and his blubbering comes to an immediate halt. 

He fearfully waits for the silver-haired yakuza to go on and when he does, it’s probably not in the way he was expecting. Because rather than explaining who he is or why he’s there — which Tatsuya has probably figured out on his own by this point — Kita places a hand on the back of the kneeling man’s head. The other man, Suna, releases Tatsuya altogether, wordlessly deferring to his oyabun and taking a step back to give his boss space. 

The tension in the room is thick as Kita looks down at the trembling man on his knees, his face still as blank as it’s been since his sudden arrival. It snaps in an instant when he sharply yanks Tatsuya’s head down and his nose meets Kita’s raised knee with a sickening crunch! that would leave a less seasoned group of onlookers feeling queasy. 

As it stands, both Suna and the other Inarizaki man appear to be amused, entertained even. You get the sense that displays of this nature from the yakuza boss aren’t common. 

But as you see the blood pouring from Tatsuya’s nose and hear his howling and watch as your fiancé’s fist repeatedly makes contact with the man’s face, you feel none of that same amusement. You also don’t feel afraid or disgusted or concerned.

You’ve long grown desensitized to the violence associated with the yakuza. If anything, you can feel the boredom setting in once again. 

You reach out to the table in front of you for the ashtray where your cigarette rests, having set it down when Tatsuya buried his face in your pussy. However, as soon as you pick it up, a long column of ash falls from the end and you realize with a pout that it’s already burned down to the filter. 

The little noise of irritation you let out can’t be heard over Tatsuya’s pained cries or the brutal sound of fist meeting flesh again and again. You pull a new cigarette from the open pack on the table and perch it between your lips before grabbing your cheap lighter. 

Once it’s lit, you take a deep, contented inhale of smoke before exhaling a large cloud that sits atop the room before dispersing. You glance back to Kita and Tatsuya to find that the scene looks exactly the same as when you looked away — except for Tatsuya’s face is completely bloodied and already swelling, and he seems on the verge of passing out. 

“Really, Kita-san?” you finally ask with a yawn as you roll onto your side, your head pillowed by your bicep. 

He pauses, his fist raised mid-air, and looks over at you, his eyes roving over your lackadaisical sprawl across the couch. He wordlessly releases the front of Tatsuya’s shirt from his grasp, who then drops to the floor in a bloody mess. 

Suna immediately steps in to harshly kick the man over onto his stomach and places a heavy, threatening foot right on his spine. Not that it matters considering Tatsuya seems to be in and out of consciousness by this point. 

But your attention isn’t on Tatsuya; it’s on Kita as he approaches you, his pace unhurried. You’re slightly impressed that he’s barely out of breath from the beating he just delivered. He picks up the discarded gun from the table and in one smooth motion, pulls back the slide to look at the chamber before releasing the magazine to check it as well. 

“It’s empty,” he notes before tossing it to the man holding his jacket, who easily catches it and claims it for his own. A loud bubble of laughter escapes you at Tatsuya’s expense, finding it hilarious that the only marginally cool thing that you’ve ever seen him do was all for show. 

You slip your cigarette to rest between your smiling lips as your gaze flits between the other Inarizaki men and find that they too appear to think it’s funny. Suna even presses his foot harder into Tatsuya’s back with a smirk that only grows wider when he receives a groan in response. 

However, the yakuza boss doesn’t seem to share the humor that you and his men are feeling. He grabs the edge of the table and lifts it up just enough to tilt it and send everything on top of it to the floor with a dull crash. You frown at the waste of a barely touched bottle of champagne, a top-shelf bottle of whiskey, and Tatsuya’s small, unopened bag of cocaine.

Kita pays none of the mess any mind as he takes a seat on the edge of the table’s now cleared surface, directly in front of you. With you still laid out on the couch, you’re eye level with his knees. 

You look up at him and raise a challenging eyebrow, daring him to make his next move, daring him to keep you interested. You’re sorely disappointed when the first thing that he does is tug down your skirt to protect your modesty, something you find truly pointless considering the three men walked in on you in the middle of having your pussy eaten. 

The sensation of the backs of his fingers running along the skin of your thigh as he pulls on the fabric sends a small shiver down your spine and reminds you that you were interrupted before you could cum. You shift your leg to expose your inner thigh to him in a tempting invitation for him to finish what Tatsuya started, but he simply ignores your provocation and gives your skirt one final tug to ensure it’s in place. 

With a displeased roll of your eyes, you take another deep drag of your cigarette. But before you’ve finished, Kita plucks it from your lips and holds it aloft. He ignores your cry of protest as he waits half a moment for Suna to take it from him. You sit up in an effort to try and grab it back, but Kita’s fingers suddenly grip your chin hard enough that you think you’ll still feel them tomorrow.

He’s grasping you with the same hand that he used to pummel Tatsuya and you can feel how his fingers are warm and sticky with the man’s blood. It only takes a quick glance down to see that his knuckles are drenched in it.

With his hold keeping you in place, you’re unable to see what Suna does with your cigarette. However, you soon hear Tatsuya let out a low moan of pain and you have an idea. 

“That’s a filthy habit,” he says. His tone is rather benign but you’re certain that you’re being scolded. “I won’t have ya keepin’ it up as my wife.”

You let out an unattractive snort and hope your expression conveys just how unimpressed you are.

“They’re my lungs. If I wanna turn them black, that’s my right.” If he didn’t have your chin held so firmly, you would probably have stuck out your tongue and pulled down on your lower eyelid to taunt him.

“Yer rights extend only to the ones that I allow ya to have,” he comments and from any other man, there would be a threatening weight to his words. Kita, however, speaks them so casually that it sounds like he’s making nothing more than an absent observation of an indisputable fact.

You can only pout in return and he releases his grip to give your cheek a gentle, condescending pat. He then lifts his unbloodied hand out at his side with his palm facing up.

“Osamu.” 

The Inarizaki man with the grey hair is quick to come forward, his hand slipping inside the jacket that he’s still carrying to pull out something from the inner pocket and place it into Kita’s patiently waiting palm. He then returns to his previous spot near the door, ensuring that there’s a respectful distance between himself and Kita and you once more. 

The small, carefully polished wooden box that he’s been given piques your interest. When he opens the lid, your eyes widen at the ring sitting inside of it. It’s elegant and beautiful — a traditional round diamond set atop a thin, pavé diamond band. It manages to avoid being ostentatious while still leaving no doubt about its expensive price tag, and therefore the status of the man who gave it to you. 

For such a boring man, he apparently has good taste. 

Your left hand moves on its own as you lift it for him expectantly. There’s the briefest flash of amusement in his eyes — the first real emotion that you’ve seen from him. But he wordlessly takes the ring from the box and slips it onto your third finger. 

The first instinct you have as soon as you feel the cool metal on your skin is to bring it to your face so that you can examine your new engagement ring more closely. But he grabs your hand so suddenly to keep it in place that it startles you. 

You raise your gaze to see that his own is glued to the ring that you’re now wearing. His thumb gently sweeps across the band and the gesture is a sharp contrast to how tightly his fingers are clasped around yours.

“See this?” He nods towards the ring, as if there were anything else that he could be referring to. “It’s not just a beautiful ring on yer pretty finger. It's a symbol of our commitment — yer commitment to me.” 

It’s slight, barely even noticeable, but there’s an edge to his tone that’s been missing all night. You can suddenly imagine how it is this young, unassuming man with his calm and collected temperament worked his way to the top of the most powerful yakuza syndicate in Japan.

He takes a long moment to pause thoughtfully and it seems so natural that you wonder if this is a common occurrence when he speaks. You suppose you’ll have the rest of your life to figure it out.

“I have a lot of respect for yer father,” he breaks the silence, confusing you with the direction that he’s chosen to take your conversation. “He’s built one of the most sophisticated operations in the country. He’s a smart man who’s surrounded himself with people he can trust, who would take a bullet or a prison sentence for him without question. I won’t hesitate to say that he’s earned his reputation.”

He sounds sincere, but you still have no idea where he’s going with this. If this were anyone else, in any other situation, you would ask if he was more interested in marrying your father than interested in marrying you. You have enough self-awareness to know that doing so with Kita wouldn’t go well — but only just.

“He’s a man of honor and I don’t mean to insult him.” He pauses again, this one shorter than the previous one. However, something about it feels heavier and when he finally looks back up at you, his eyes are much colder.

“The Fukurodani may be the most powerful syndicate in Kanto, but when it comes down to it, no one can match the power and numbers of the Inarizaki,” he states. 

Maybe it’s the matter-of-fact way he says it, maybe it’s how composed his expression is despite the events of that evening, but you’re suddenly incredibly aware of how his grip on your fingers has slowly tightened over the last few minutes, almost bordering on painful.

“I already own everythin’ from Kansai to Kyushu. If I wanted Tokyo, I could come and take it.” You believe him. While your father won’t let you in on his operations, you’re far from clueless about the politics of the criminal underworld, including who has power and how much. 

And Kita is right. The Fukurodani are the most powerful group in Kanto, one of the most powerful groups in all of Japan — second only to the Inarizaki. If a war broke out between the two over control of the country’s capital, it would be a hard and bloody conflict but the Inarizaki would undoubtedly be the victors. 

This marriage benefits your father more than it does Kita. 

“Maybe one day I will. The alliance doesn’t really matter,” he tells you. But while he looks slightly pensive as he speaks, the corners of your lips begin to slowly turn upwards. 

“Then what is it you want, Kiiiiitaaa-saaaan?” you ask, playfully stretching out his family name — what will soon be your family name. 

The coldness in his demeanor seems to melt, although not into anything that could ever be considered close to warm. If you had to describe it, you would probably call it patronizing.

“Y’know they call ya Tokyo’s yakuza princess?” he replies and your smirk widens. It takes some effort with how tight his grip is, but you manage to wiggle your fingers just loose enough to intertwine them with his.

“Do they?” you ask innocently, as if you haven’t proudly worn the title over the years. You look at him knowingly through your lashes. “Even in the Hyogo countryside?”

“Even in the Hyogo countryside,” he answers mildly, briefly humoring you and you reward him with a pleased grin. 

“Oh really?” you muse, bringing your joined hands up to your lips to lightly skim them along his bloody and torn knuckles. 

His tolerance seems to have hit its limit because he quickly yanks his hand from yours to grab your jaw, his fingers digging into your cheeks so roughly that you give a small wince. His hand is large enough that it covers your mouth almost entirely. 

If anyone else were in your position, they would most likely be trembling in fear. You can only smile into his palm, the mischief mirrored in your eyes.

Kita doesn’t come across as a man who often — if ever — gives into temptation. But although his patience with you has grown thin, he seems willing to allow himself just one small indulgence.

His hand shifts so that he can slowly run his thumb across your lips, leaving behind a sticky smear of blood in its wake. As his touch reaches your cupid’s bow, you slightly part your lips to press a soft kiss to the pad of his thumb before opening your mouth and catching it between your teeth.

You use just enough pressure so that he can’t simply slip it free. The metallic tang of blood is strong on your tongue as you brush it teasingly against the tip, your gaze meeting his coyly. You close your lips around his thumb and give it a light suck that would have a lesser man on his knees, begging for you to let him between your thighs. 

Kita reacts with a thoughtful hum and nothing else, not even the most minute muscle twitch.

“Tokyo’s spoiled little yakuza princess whose father lets her get away with whatever she wants,” he remarks, entirely unbothered even as you continue to suckle on his thumb while he speaks. “I won’t be anywhere near as lenient with ya. And I won’t have ya makin’ a fool outta me just because we’re not married yet.”

Although the danger is there, completely unmistakable, his voice lacks the menacing tone that should accompany his words. Instead, they’re low and soft, caressing your ears like a lover’s would, luring you in seductively. 

Impulse control has never been something that you’ve practiced; it’s never been something that you’ve needed to practice. In an act of utter shamelessness, you take his free hand, the one casually hanging from his knee, and place it high on your bare thigh. 

When you try to slide it further under the hem of your skirt, which has already begun to ride up since he tugged it down, you find that his hand is immovable. His fingers dig into the fat of your thigh, sinking into your soft skin with the weight of both his grip and his possessiveness. 

“Yer mine now,” he tells you, his voice still gentle and entirely at odds with his burning touch and the taste of blood in your mouth. “I don’t need to wait for paperwork or a ceremony to make it official.”

His heavy gaze drops down to look pointedly at how you’re thighs are squeezing together, even as he keeps one of them firmly in place. He then slowly drags it back up to meet yours, leaving a scorching trail in its wake. 

“I’m not just gonna give ya whatever it is ya ask for.” The words are a threat, even if he speaks them like a promise. “If ya want somethin’ from me, yer gonna have to earn it.”

Right now, there’s only one thing that you want from him and it's at the forefront of your mind.

“But I didn’t get to cum,” you whine around his thumb, your pitiful complaint slightly muffled. 

Osamu and Suna’s matching looks of disbelief go unnoticed by you and Kita, neither man ever having imagined that someone would dare to say something so brazen to their fearsome oyabun. 

There’s a flash in Kita’s eyes and the corner of his mouth twitches upwards for a fraction of a second. Both happen so quickly that you only notice because he has your rapt attention and it slowly dawns on you. 

He likes it. He likes your audacity. He likes your impertinence. He likes how you sound like the spoiled brat that you are. He likes that he has Tokyo’s spoiled little yakuza princess squeezing his hand between her thighs and sucking on his thumb as she pathetically pleads with him to make her cum. 

His thumb is slick with your saliva as he slips it from your mouth despite your efforts to keep it where it is by trying to sink your teeth deeper into it. He leaves a quickly-cooling trail of spit on your skin as he readjusts his hold on your jaw, once again digging his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks. The action only exaggerates the pout that you’re already giving him. 

“And ya won’t again ‘til we’re married. I don’t care if it’s with someone else. I don’t care if it’s with yerself. The next time ya do will be on our wedding night.” He pauses, letting the silence hang over the room so that the impact of his next words is truly felt. “If yer good.”

You let out a displeased noise in protest but it goes ignored as he uses his grasp on your jaw to move your head a bit to the side so that you’re looking over his shoulder and directly at the grey-haired Inarizaki man behind him.

“This is Osamu. He’s gonna be stayin’ in Tokyo for a bit.” He gives you a single wave in acknowledgment from where he stands. “Yer father’s already agreed to it.”

The implication is clear: Osamu is to be Kita’s eyes and ears in Tokyo. If you act in any way that’s unbefitting of your new status as the woman set to marry the Inarizaki’s kumicho, he’ll certainly know. 

“You’ll be seein’ a lot of him,” he tells you as he returns your focus back to him. He then leans forward, closing the gap between you to tenderly press a light kiss to your forehead, his lips moving against your skin with his next words. “So, be good for me.”

He sits back and meets your gaze expectantly and it’s clear that he wants your assurance that you’ll do as told. You give a childish roll of your eyes and his grip tightens in warning.

“I’ll be good,” you reply, the words feeling foreign on your tongue but they seem to appease him. 

However, his eyes soon land on your lips and then narrow. It’s a small movement, but the temperature of the room seems to drop with it. His next question is spoken as softly as everything else he’s said that night, but there’s a new kind of gravity to it, one that promises danger should he receive an answer that he doesn’t like. 

“Did ya use yer mouth on him?” 

It’s clear that Tatsuya’s life depends on your response. Luckily for him, there’s only one answer that you can give. 

“I don’t suck cock,” you say and it’s only because Kita is grasping so tightly onto your jaw that you don’t physically turn your nose up at the suggestion of you getting on your knees. 

But then something unexpected happens. The calm and carefully controlled expression on Kita’s face softens into something finally approaching fondness, a faint smile forming on the straight line of his lips. 

“You will for me,” he promises and you raise a challenging eyebrow, even as your own grin begins to grow.  

“I will?” you ask playfully and he nods.

“You will if ya wanna be good,” he’s kind enough to remind you and there’s a strange fluttering in your stomach that you’ve never experienced before. 

“Yes, Shin-kun,” you smile, and despite barely having had any of the champagne that’s now spilled across the floor, you feel drunk.  

You hardly wait for Kita to order his men to leave with a firm but impassive, “out,” before sliding from the couch and sinking to the floor between his parted legs. Your knees already ache from the unfamiliar sensation of resting against such a hard surface. 

The weight of his hand on the back of your neck burns as you rub your cheek against the expensive fabric of the slacks covering his muscled thigh. As you reach for the buckle of his belt, you look up at him to find him watching you ravenously. 

It absently occurs to you that throughout the entire evening, you never once heard him raise his voice. Even when he was brutally assaulting Tatsuya, he never seemed angry or bothered. No matter the situation, he remained unfazed.

But as you slide a hand inside of his pants to grip his half-hard cock through the soft material of his boxers, you can see it. Underneath his composed visage and mild temperament, burning bright in his shining and hungry eyes, is a dangerous flame — one that threatens to consume you and every inch of Tokyo in a devastating and all-consuming blaze. 

Maybe Kita Shinsuke isn’t as boring as you thought.

#kita shinsuke #kita shinsuke x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kita x reader #kita shinsuke fanfic #kita shinsuke fic #kita fic #kita fanfic #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu fic #mel writes #traditional values

[torhues]

kita shinshuke.

w. bittersweet, yet still sweet, dare i say

kita thinks he has lived enough.

it's december of twenty-twenty-two, almost new year, almost twenty-twenty-three, the numbers which felt like distant future around forty years ago. he has seen decades change, he's far too familiar with seasons, a little too well versed with minute climate changes to assume the weathers. things are new and unfamiliar and yet, oddly comforting. there are wrinkles on his body, white hair shining like silver on his head under the sunlight; kita is old, he's seventy-two, the younger you wouldn't believe.

time flows like water because it feels like just yesterday, kita had met you. as if it has only been a day since he accidently took his english notebook before test, just a day since you asked him for an answer during the exam, just a day since he cheated for the first time in his life; and it wouldn't be an overstatement to say, he felt like a criminal. even though it was you who poked his back with your fingers, whispering the question you needed the answer to, kita felt equally responsible.

things took a turn when he met you because you bought him taiyaki as a thank you gift for helping you during the test and for some odd reason, kita felt content. the second first thing he did with you was skipping school to attend music festival at a local stadium; the third one was going to the rooftop which was prohibited by the school premises; fourth one being, stealing flowers from a nursery because it was your birthday and he forgot to buy gifts, neither did he have money; and the fifth, kissing you in the classroom after the classes were empty.

kita had shared his firsts with you, from good things to bad, breaking rules, reforming them according to his preferences, in a way that made him feel better, told him that it was okay to let loose at times.

it feels like just yesterday, he asked you out for a date after saving up money for two months, not because his family was financially unstable, but because he didn't tell anyone about his relationship since he didn't know if it's okay to do so, because he wanted to buy tickets to meiko hirota's concert that you'd been dying to attend, because he wanted to take your responsibility from the very first day. it's as if just yesterday, you both were given extra home-work for passing chits in class, just yesterday since his eyes had started diverting to you during lessons instead of the board, just yesterday when kita cried the night you left for college and just yesterday, he felt like he could breathe again when you came back to him, saying studies didn't feel right.

it feels like just yesterday, kita married you at twenty-five.

he didn't believe the moment when you walked down the isle, when he slipped a ring onto your finger, when you looked like the prettiest version of yourself. kita didn't believe what has happening until he got home with his hands in yours, and yours lips against his, and his heart in your hand, with nothing to worry about. he dreamt about spending his entire life with you, and his dream was in front of him, in his hands. kita didn't believe in anything except the moment you said i love you in front of the moon peeping through your curtains and spirits of old lovers dancing in the air.

life felt like the romance novels he read to you on afternoon that were laced with laziness. walks through the sunflower fields resonated of a fever dream, where his hands were intertwined with yours, and the world would reduced to nothing. tiny dates, bunch of flowers— the first thing in the morning, a kiss shared on the benches by the bus stops, long walks up the town, picking grapes, sunsets by the bridges, names carved in the barks of trees, it felt as if you both never grew out of your old highschool love story.

time flows like water, because it feels like just yesterday, he held his son in his arms for the first time and today, kita is a grandfather to two daughters. years passed, the pace of your lives changed, but he still loves you like the very first day. pictures from his golden days that hung up on the wall never let him feel like he has grown old and is no longer able to go on day-long dates with you, because it feels like just yesterday, kita met you, and he has his whole life in from on him to spend with you, even with an IV, even next to a heart monitor, even when he has you next to him 'round the clock, telling him that you love him and having him say it back until when you couldn't hear it back anymore.

kita once asked you if it was fair for him to leave first, if you felt alright because he is leaving you alone, and you said there was nothing unfair about it because you promised to stay with him for his entire life, and you are living up to it. and it feels like just yesterday, you both celebrated your first wedding anniversary.

he would've stayed longer but kita has lived enough. he doesn't have anything left to do, no undone tasks, no loose ends. you're sitting next to him with your hands still intertwined with his because they don't want to let go. kita doesn't have any regrets because it feels like just yesterday, he fell in love with you and tomorrow, in some other life, he would fall for you all over again.

#♡ hues'. #♡ handmade. #kita x reader #haikyuu x reader #kita fluff #haikyuu fluff #kita angst #haikyuu angst #kita drabbles #haikyuu drabbles #kita headcanons #haikyuu headcanons #kita shinsuke #haikyuu kita #kita fic #haikyuu fic #help this has been in my head for weeks now ... didnt know it would be angst tho lawl #i dont count this as angst btw #this is fluff #v much fluff

[taeyamayang]

Hi Pea! To help with Writer's block, how about “Did I just say that out loud?” with either Kita from Haikyuu or Mikey from Tokyo Revengers?

strawberry lips

ㅡkita shinsuke is distracted by your lips

the temperature rises as mid summer crawls. one can only get used to the heat. even the prim and proper perfect boy, kita shinsuke, is sweating under the excruriating sun.

you invited him to refreshen yourselves by eating ice cream under a heritage tree near the patch he's working onㅡhe should thank you for that because even though he profusely refused to eat cold sugar and milk (as he describes), he seems to enjoy his scoop of vanilla ice cream.

"we should travel outside Hyogo before the end of the year." you impulsively propose, dragging your tongue at the side of your strawberry popsicle.

"to where?" he says looking at a point ahead.

"i don't know. maybe Tokyo? Hokkaido? Kyoto? what's your call?" you twist your neck to look at him.

"i don't know either. i have crops to take care of. what's with the sudden plan?" kita finally meets with your eyes.

as if without control, his vision spots your redden lips. the popsicle ice cream you are eating must have been loaded with artifical strawberry flavoring and pink dye to have your lips appear akin to the popsicle you're holding. to say the least, he's distracted. albeit, your voice snaps him back to look at you in the eyes.

"aren't you bored here? i want to travel!" your teeth claws the edge of the popsicle ice cream before biting into it. kita watches as a chunk falls on the base of your tongue as your mouths moves in rhythm.

"no, i'm fine with grandma." kita responds rather quickly, tearing his eyes from your strawberry lips. he clears his throat.

"i'm sure grandma is bored too. maybe we should invite her along!" your distance with him decreases as you anchor your arm to side where he is sat. by instinct, kita whips his head to you.

your eyes shimmer in excitement and he could already tell that you're imagining a vacation with them in your head but temptation lingers like a demon on his shoulder. an entirely different image consumes his mind.

you suck on the bottom part of the ice cream to prevent it from melting on your fingers. drawing back, you tongue rolls on your lips then to the corners to collect jews of ice cream as you innocently stare and wait for him to respond.

how could he not notice the curve and edges of your lips before? years of being his friend yet he's clueless how plump and soft they are. he wonders how it feels when he grazes the pad of his thumb over it.

do you wear make up? maybe he should give you a lipstick of the same shade for christmas and perhaps, even without eating an ice cream, he'll get to see this accentuated pair of alluring lips. completely enthralled by your mouth, kita shinsuke loses his grip on reality. a rare sight for a man who has his life in order.

"you have beautiful lips." he says, eyes locked on your mouth. suddenly you're hyperaware that he's staring at you. on the other hand, he's entranced and at sea, unaware of his actions.

"t-thanks." you stutter at the same time looking away. your heart hammers against your chest like it's about uncage from your ribs. he has never gazed at you like this before and he isn't the type to spurt compliments based on physical looks. he praises you through your skills at work, your intellect, or your kindness but never with the way you look.

kita is brought back to earth as he repeatedly blinks at you. then, he tilts his head to the side, confused.

"for what?" he asks. a pair of deep amber eyes peer at you in wonder. "you're thanking me for what?" you blink back.

what the heck?

you swallow in air. your cheeks feel hotter than the summer day's heat. repeating what he said is even harder than accepting it. "you said my lips look beautiful."

"did i just said that out loud?" kita's lids peel and his eyes round.

"so, you were..." you fix your eyes at his bewildered face. you continue in a hushed tone. "you were thinking of it?"

his answer didn't need words. his bloomed face and the sudden whip his head forward is enough.

he was thinking of it.

you don't know what to do with this information but one thing is for sure, as summer day's heat hits its peak it melts the wall that remains the two of you stuck on the borders of a platonic relationship.

dealing with writer's block, thank goodness i kept all reqs sent eons ago. welp, i hope you guys enjoyed this drabble. as always i didn't proofread this rbs and likes are very much appreciated. bye!

masterlist | hq.list

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #hq romance #hq fanfic #hq imagine #hq drabbles #hq fluff #hq fics #kita shinsuke #hq kita #inarizaki #kita fic #kita drabbles #kita fluff #kita imagines #kita headcanons #kita shinsuke x y/n #kita shinsuke x reader #pea.writes

[moonlit-mizukage]

Hey! Sorry it took me a minute to pick a range of characters. (Also, feel free to ignore any that you don't vibe with — I love Chappell Roan but her songs are definitely on the explicit side of things!!)

Cruel Summer — Taylor Swift (fluff, maybe a bit angsty or hurt/comfort-ish) Kita

Hi Hi! I hope this is okay! I was a little stumped by this song ngl, but hopefully you like this fic:) Thank you so much for participating in my milestone event!! Its sorta hurt comfort, I think ahaha!!

Third Person POV

It was just a simple kiss to prove the Miya's wrong…. Right? Not to Y/n. She craved the touch of Kita again. They were once highschool sweethearts, who are now basically strangers. So why does she feel this way? 

Kita never wanted to end things with her. He only broke it off after finding out from Atsumu she was headed to Tokyo after graduation. He was to stay behind and work on his family’s rice farm. Ending things when he did seemed easier at the time. 

But it was a simple kiss that brought it all back up. Y/n was dared to kiss Kita when he walked in the door of the Miya’s home......

“What the hell just happened?” A surprised Suna said from behind Kita. 

“I want to know the same thing.” Kita said, looking into Y/n’s eyes. 

“You know what? Where’s the alcohol you promised Miya’s? I need a drink.” Y/n said walking away from Kita. 

“So we are just going to Ignore that?” Aran asked, just as confused as Kita. 

Y/n could be seen in the kitchen doing a shot with Atsumu and Osamu pulled out the onigiri. 

“Should we really be underage drinking?” Kita asked Aran. ‘

“We just graduated! Let loose a bit.” Aran said as he patted Kita’s back. 

Kita sighed as Aran went into the kitchen to make a drink for himself. Only Kita was driving as Aran and Suna lived close enough to walk there. 

Y/n looked back to Kita as he began to walk into the house more. Kita made eye contact with Y/n as she looked away quickly. 

Y/n grabbed the bottle of hennessy off the counter and poured herself a drink. She smiled at Atsumu before taking the first sip. 

“Oh gosh.” She said as she swallowed the warm liquor. “That was gross, you got any ice?” 

Before anyone knew what was happening, the party was in full swing. Y/m was very much intoxicated as Kita watched her closely. Her friend Mai grabbed her hands and danced around the room. Kita began to worry as he saw how intoxicated Y/n was. 

Y/n was dancing when suddenly she tripped and fell onto the Miya’s coffee table. She smacked her arm on the corner causing it to bleed slightly. Kita rushed to her aid as he got Atsumu to bring bandaids. 

“I think I should take her home.” Kita announced. No one opposed as he helped her up. He brought her to his car and put her in the passenger seat. He buckled her in as he rushed around the car to the driver's seat. 

Kita began to pull out of the driveway. The ride was silent for just a moment. It was until Kita heard a soft sniffle. 

“Y/n! What’s wrong?” Kita asked as he placed a hand on her knee. 

“Shin…. Shin I just- I just love you so much it hurts.” 

Kita gulped as he pulled the car over to the side of the road. 

“Y/n, you don’t mean that. I know the kiss was a dare.” He said. 

“It was a dare to show I am over you, but it was a lie. I'm sooooo not over Kita Shinsuke.I love him- I mean you- so much.” 

“Y/n please don’t play with my heart right now.” 

“Dudddeeee I am drunk. You think I could- I could lie?” She began to cry harder after she said that. “I love you asshole!” She shouted. She began to undo her seat belt and try to open the door. “Unlock the door, Kita.” She snapped. 

“No Y/n… you’re drunk. I am not letting you wander the streets like this. Besides, I would never forgive myself.” 

“Kita.” She cried. “I don’t want to be near you- it just makes me want you more- i cant- I cant do this.” 

“Y/n, let’s talk when you are sober.” 

“NO!” She yelled. “I need to leave!” 

Kita was running out of ideas so he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her in for a kiss. 

Y/n was taken back and pulled away, sitting back in her seat. She put her seat back on and huffed. 

Kita drove her the rest of the way home in silence. When he pulled up in the driveway she got out quietly and went to her house. 

Kita sighed to himself as he watched her go. 

The next morning Kita woke up bright and early and headed to Y/n’s house. He walked up to the front door and knocked. 

“Oh Kita! It’s been a long time! How have you been?” The lady said from in the doorway. 

“Hello Mrs Y/l/n. Is Y/n home? I need to talk to her.” Kita said. 

“She’s still asleep.” 

“It’s urgent.” Kita said rather seriously. 

“Oh dear, okay come on in. Just go to her room, you know where it is.” Y/n’s mom said. 

Kita walked up to her bedroom door and opened it slightly. He could see her spread out starfish style snoring. He smiled to himself. Kita entered the room as he crouched down beside her bed. 

“Y/n.” He laughed as he shook her ever so slightly.  He got no response, so he tried again, and again and again, until finally he got a response. 

“Whaaaaat?” She groaned. 

“It’s Shinsuke. Can we talk?” 

Y/n jumped up as she moved her hair around out of her face. She straightened up her clothes and looked at Kita. 

“Why are you here, Kita?” 

“Call me Shin, like you used to….please?” 

“Kita you dumped me, remember?” She said, turning away.

“I made a mistake Y/n. Our time apart has been hell on earth. I can’t be without you. I don’t want to be without you… please…” 

“Shin… I will move to Tokyo in two weeks. What would happen to us?” 

“My uncle can get me a job in Tokyo at one of the markets. He said I can live with him and everything.” 

“When did you have time to talk to him about this?” SHe asked. 

“Last week.. I can’t stop thinking about you Y/n.” 

“Shin…. I love you… but that’s not what you want.” 

“It’s only temporary while you go to University. Then we can move back to Hyogo. I’m willing to give it another shot if you are.”

“Shin.. there's nothing more that I want anymore. Without you I feel empty. I hate feeling like this. I hate being apart from you.” Y/n said. 

“Then please, take me back?” 

“Yes, Shin.” 

Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck as she pulled him in for a kiss. She giggled as she pulled him into her bed. He laid down and pulled her into his chest. He stroked her hair as he smiled.  

“I love you so much, Y/n.”

#haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #kita fic #kita x you #kita x reader #kita fluff

[attemptinghaikyuu]

You’re my problem

Geraniums = folly, stupidity

He’s annoyed. You can see it in the smallest scrunch of his brows and the slightest, downwards tilt of his lips. The smirk on your face grows.

Its a relief.

You realized it the first day after you’re outburst in the library. You’re happy to see Kita frustrated. The moment he’d spotted you in your first class together the next day, he had tried to work out what had happened. Come to a harmonious understanding. You refused.

It had been months since you felt so light going to class. When you woke up in the morning, it wasn’t with forced focus, or nervousness over a due project. What greeted you was excitement. Your nerves could choke because damn! You were having fun.

There was a simpleness to doing your coursework. It really was pretty straightforward; kick Kita’s ass at every assignment. Your newfound determination made homework easier to get through. You had a reason to push yourself. A reason to do the homework you figured you could probably get away with not doing. A reason to get up and smile at the thought of a page with one question that had twenty parts to it.

And it was all thanks to the man you hated. The man sitting before you.

You repeat your question with a sincere smile. It doesn’t elicit much of an outward response, just a curt nod. You try pushing him a little more.

“Are you sure..?”

You like prodding him. Pulling little reactions out of him. Half the time you can’t tell if you’re reading him right, you like to think he’s frustrated though. He turns to you then, and for a brief second you wonder if he’ll have a go at convincing you to stop doing this. That type of reaction was an oldie at this point.

“There’s no reason for me to mind,” He moves his notebook, either making room or getting away from you. You can’t tell which it might be. “the seats free to anyone who wants it.”

No arguing today then.

You hum out a thanks and take your place beside him. He looks fresh and crisp, especially in the spot he choose, sun from one of the various class windows shining over him. Each of his movements ripples in the light, and you hate how you automatically follow the movements. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him not look like this.

Bright and like the sun itself. You glare at him from the corner of your eye. He ignores it.

What a jackass.

Kita doesn’t have to say a single thing to get in your head. He can be as perfect and placid as a statue, I mean he was doing NOTHING at the moment. Yet, here you are. Irritation growing as he finds his way under your skin.

You bet he enjoyed it. Borrowing into peoples insecurities and acting like he didn’t know what they were upset over.

It should’ve been clear to him. You had made it clear to him at the library. Yet he tried to act as forgiving as a saint. Trying to ask what might ease the tension between you both, what could be a fair solution.

He must’ve been playing dumb, because the top scorer could not have been stupid enough to miss the fact that what you were doing was the solution. Besides, you didn’t want to repair the damage. Or rift. Ugh! Whatever he wanted to call it. His wording had changed every time he talked to you about it.

The real problem with this whole situation was Kita’s determination. He wouldn’t willingly move from his spot at the top of the grade hierarchy. You just had to beat that and you’d be on top.

The man turns to you suddenly, almost like he knew your mind had taken a vengeful twist. There’s determination illuminating his stare. No doubt about what this meant. He was done wiggling his way out from under you. Finally, you’d be competing with him in this race.

You won’t make it easy. You can already taste the sweetness that would be his defeat.

“I was wondering if I could borrow yer erasure?”

Your first direct battle! You answer with unsuppressed glee. “Of course! I’d be glad to lift someone up in need. Haha, I suppose this means you weren’t taking the proper time and care needed to pack today?”

You sift through your pencil bag. You freeze when your hand comes up empty. Shaking yourself off, keeping your focus off of Kita’s patient gaze, you continue your search in your backpack.

“I just have to get my special one..”

After your second time coming up with nothing you turn to Kita, holding together the pride you know you still have. “Sorry, but I changed my mind.”

He raises his brow at you, and you feel the superiority he has over you coming off in waves.

“Alright, thanks anyway.”

His response is terrible! Didn’t even attempt any kind of faux answer.

You grit you teeth and nod. This is your new routine. Ever since the disagreement you’d had, you’ve been doing your best to show him up. And he’s been doing his best to counteract with his chivalry.

It might’ve been working at the moment, but it wouldn’t last forever.

You can’t tell if you’re doing anything to him yet. If you were honest with yourself, he’s probably not faded. Luckily, you were going to take comfort in your lies.

You were getting to him!

With that state of mind, you have the reassurance swirling in you that he’s intimidated and worried over his status. He’s going to get tired of this eventually. You’re sure as hell he will. You’ll make sure of it.

You pull out a pen and send him a little smile.

— —

Your breath is warm in the nights cold. Curling around you in wisps before fading into the surrounding darkness. The sky above you marks the end of a semi-successful day.

Satisfaction from it swirls around you and mingles with your breath. You’d turned in a project on time, had focused on homework instead of procrastinating, and made Kita deal with a barrage of questions relating to the French Revolution in your shared history class.

You hadn’t been able to help yourself from laughing out loud when he told you it had nothing to do with what you were learning in class currently. He wasn’t wrong, but it was fun to think he was getting fed up with your input on things. The best part was that it did have some relevance.

The French Revolution was a brutal period of time in history where the citizens of France, normal people, rose up in opposition to those in power. They rebelled against laws, actions, and the people in their society with power that were out to hurt them.

You thought it was quite relevant to Kita.

He seemed to have picked up on your drift too. To your frustration he seemed dead set against truly acknowledging it. Which you thought was unfair. Especially considering how long your conversation had been going on for. A half an hour of you talking about old bloody politics should’ve gotten more interesting reactions.

However just remembering his firm, and what you thought might be a fatigued tone made you giggle. He’d told you to focus on what really mattered and you refused his advice. The face he gave you when you continued on talking had you bursting with uncontrolled laughter.

You turn a corner, reminiscent still when you hear a voice.

“I don’t get how you can do all that Kita,”

At the sound of your rivals name, your giggles subside. Looking around, your attention is instantly on the conversation happening near.

“I’m just puttin’ in the work that’s expected, it’s nothing ya couldn’t do Atsumu.”

It’s Kita.

“Nah, I don’t think I could,” What must’ve been Atsumu’s voice said, “I’d probably die if I tried to do as much as ya do, Kita-san.”

You swerve silently to a tree where you can hear the voices clearer and keep out of sight. You could make him out along with three others. His friends, you guessed. It was too hard to tell who they might’ve been in the dark.

“Hmmm, I don’t believe that,” Kita responded. Encouraging, but the sort of thing that you knew was a lie. A very classic, Kita thing to say.

“Yer only saying that cause you’ve got that classmate that’s copying you Kita,” the friend who said that had a hearty laugh and clapped Kita on the back. “Your perception of normal is all screwy.” You step back a little, heart jumping at what you assumed was a mention of you.

“Oh yeah! That persons insane!” You frowned at that remark.

The one who patted Kita, cuts the blonde off before you could think of all the ways he was the insane one. “They’re at Kita’s level of crazy is what they are. Going around, trying to jump the gun on every little thing? That’s some dedication,” he chuckled, but an edge came into his voice as he finished his thought. “the same kind that burns Kita out every once in a while. ”

The group turned towards what you now knew was Kita’s silhouette. He stayed unmoving very briefly, breaking his statuesque posture as he said, “Like I said, I’m just doing what I need too. I’m careful about how much I do, ya all don’t need to look so worried.”

It was hard to tell what the group might being doing in the low light, though it seemed as if the friend who started the burnout talk was sighing. The group’s volume proceeded to rise at Kita’s assurance, but with it went the volume. They began speaking over one another, jumbling the conversation, and ending your understanding of it.

You stay behind your tree as they walk off, their voices still fuzzing together. The shock of one particular statement has yet to subside and for a moment more, you stay put.

Letting yourself move out and into the light of a street lamp nearby, you rub your hands together while thinking.

Kita Shinsuke was the perfect guy. He didn’t get burnt out. The thought that he had and people were worried about it happening to him again was an insane idea. One you found you couldn’t grapple with. His friend even suggesting it had thrown you completely out of the loop.

His view of Kita was so off from who you knew he was.

Kita- someone who was going to hurt himself from overworking?

Work was that man’s fuel.

It was impossible for him to get hurt from it. Telling yourself that, you could breathe a little easier. You were glad to have heard Kita reassuring his little harem, that something like that wouldn’t happen. Or at least not again. You were absolutely going to get a shower to wash off the residue of that conversation, but you felt better knowing the perfectionist had things under control with his posy.

I mean, come on, that was the kind of person he was. Someone who didn’t lose it; from overworking, to not having time for the things he loved, to overwhelming deadlines.

He was the complete opposite of you. He didn’t breakdown in libraries and freak out the next moment because “oh god, I was just a terrible person to the schools perfectionist because he pushed my buttons at the wrong time!”

He wasn’t the one who did that.

The differences between the two of you were potent. You felt a little crazy, feeling the little bit of guilt that had found it’s way into your heart. It wasn’t something you wanted to feel swimming inside you.

The cold night around you feels harsher then when you had stepped out of the school building minutes before. You cross the final street to your apartment, finally reaching your destination. Hot shower, a little studying, and coming up with ways to crush your rival were going to be the rest of what occupied your sweet, little night you decided.

— —

“Thanks for your continued support Ms. Moko, do you need any help loading up?” You ask.

“No, no. Thank you sweetheart,” Ms. Moko smiled. With her spindly arms and wrinkled face, you couldn’t help your question from popping out every time you helped her out at the market. She was too energetic to be held back by her age. Every single offer was denied unless you managed to get to her box of vegetables and fruits first.

“I’ll get the Miss’s if I need help, you know?”

Oh, that reminded you.

“Before you go, do you need any of our strawberries coming in next week? I can have them delivered directly to your place, like we did the lemons a few months back,” you leaned against the stand you worked at, teasingly adding what you knew would embarrass one of favorite customer. “I’m sure the Miss’s will appreciate it, especially since it’s your anniversary soon.”

You couldn’t see any blush on Ms. Moko’s dark face, only her puckered lips and narrowed eyes told you she was flustered. It was funny how she could drone on about her wife and not show any hint of shyness. Yet the moment anyone else brought her up, she was liable to hit you with her cane if she had it with her.

She only hmmmed though, before finally agreeing to the strawberries being delivered. You happily made the arrangements and wished her well. She gave a warning look when you jokingly grabbed her box, which you responded to by making a show of being hurt. She pointed her finger to where she wanted you to set it back down, all the while you were acting pained by her pointing. Eventually she had her groceries and was fading into the crowd, hobbling home to her wife.

It always made you giddy seeing the older woman. One reason being her amazing recipes, which if you were lucky and caught her in a good mood, she’d share. Another reason being her relationship. She always gloated and showed off her wife. And when they were with each other, she might’ve been more boisterous then usual. Regardless of that, when the two were together… well, they made life seem peaceful. They smiled at one another and all of a sudden it was just the two of them. You couldn’t help daydreaming about yourself in their places. Wouldn’t that be nice, to be in love like that?

You decide, you won’t tell your boss about the little discount you added to Ms.Moko’s sale.

— —

You love your market stand job and you love fruits and you love vegetables. Except maybe you hated all of those things right now.

You bite into a shitty, SHITTY carrot. Again.

The crunch of it has you feeling a type of angry you usually reserve for breakdowns and Kita. Both of which would sometimes coincide to make even bigger, angrier feelings.

This carrot however- it might, just might be beating that combined anger.

Of all the days you could’ve had this kind of mix up it had to be today. And of all the foods, it had to be carrots.

You liked carrots as much as the next person, but this was too much. You were on your fifth one and you were sick of the taste and you weren’t even half way to being full. You had recently gotten bushels upon bushels at the stand in the market that employed you. Your boss had explained they’d miscalculated how many would grow, from when they first planted the seeds.

They had let you and their two other employees take a bag home. At the time, you had joyfully grabbed them, filling your empty lunch sack. It was empty thanks to your lunch break only an hour earlier.

They were nice carrots, rich in color and flavor, and maybe if you let yourself enjoy them, the fact that you had brought them as your only source of food for class today, would fade from your mind.

You tried that for about five seconds, till the look on your face had your friend next to you scooting a foot away.

You shoot them a sour look. “Are you the one eating the carrots?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! But you look like your gonna take the pointy end of that thing and stab someone,” She looks apologetic as she tries to cover up her small giggles, adding, “that someone being me.”

In response, you bite down on your carrot.

“Come on,” she laughs, before the look in your eyes has her sobering up. “I would’ve shared food if had any today, you know I only had the one class.” You feel her poke your stomach. “I seriously didn’t know you were gonna bring your whole carrot garden to Bio.”

You huff, “Yeah, I know… It’s just not fair that the one day I do this to myself,” you gesture at the full bag of carrots. “The one person I know who always bring snacks- just.. doesn’t.”

“I’ll bring cookies next time?”

You give your friend a light shove and you both can’t stop smiles from popping out. Your friend, Clara, did have killer cookie baking skills. So, you could forgive her this time.

After a little more chatter, you put away your orange monstrosities and bid your friend goodbye, heading to your next class.

You get there sooner than usual. For this class, your usual is around five minutes late. Despite everything, you couldn’t seem to get to this one on time. Not even your rivalry with Kita had helped. It was an enigma. You’d basically given up on knowing what was going on in the first few minutes of this class.

So letting yourself feel triumphant on your early arrival, you take a free seat at the front of the class. The teacher might feint when she got a load of your timing skills today.

If only your timing and your lunch packing skills were at the same level… your stomach was growling again. Why did your belly have to be so demanding? You’d get it food as soon as you could. Food that wasn’t carrots.

Your stomach growled louder than ever at that inner declaration.

Fine then, a couple more orange toothpicks to buy silence.

Pulling your carrot sack back out you grabbed two decent sized ones. You’d crunch through them to keep your stomach satisfied. However, it felt, to put it simply, terrible. Eating just to quench the squirming hunger in your belly left you a little sick.

You liked enjoying your food. You wouldn’t have gotten a job at a vegetable, fruit, and occasional flower stand if you didn’t. Food that was well cared for had a taste, and you loved it.

These carrots had been grown with that care, and they tasted good.. it’s just.. eating what was now your 12th, with nothing but the only taste it could provide on it’s own, was bland after a while.

Your head turned at the sound of a familiar voice.

Kita’s voice carried across the room. His tone was serious and quiet as he talked with the teacher and without realizing it, on some bizarre instinct, your head tilted with a mocking smile.

As they finished up, he sported what might be called an almost frown. He looked berated, and truly, you swear. You couldn’t help what you did next.

As he walked past wear you sat up, you called out to him, “Hey sunshine! We’re you going looking so happy?”

For a moment, it seemed he might be mad from your words. The light caught his face wrong, you guessed, because his reply came out polite.

“To meet up with my friends.”

That didn’t exactly satisfy your sudden sparked curiosity. Much like your carrots weren’t satisfying your hungry stomach.

“That’s nice,” you drawl, making him pause. He’d always stop to talk with others if they were speaking to him.

It’d be rude to leave when someone was clearly still talking to you (that was his life motto you guessed).

“What we’re you and Kaen chatting about?” You prod, throwing most if not all subtlety out the window. You were practically on the edge of your seat, you wanted to know what had him down in the dumps so bad.

“Nothing that concerns you.”

Was that a jaw tightening? And was Kita avoiding your question..? It looked like he’d much rather run than stay for a minute more. It looked like for once you actually had him.

You hum, giddy at how easy it was keeping him stuck in place, as you think through your next question.

“Is that because you think it’d go over my head or something?”

You take a bite out of a carrot and try to hide the sudden grimace, hellbent on forcing it’s way onto your face.

That’s when it happens. You lose the game you had only just started.

“No, I’m sure you’d understand clearly if I told you.” He says with what you think could be gritted teeth, and reaching into his backpack he pulls out something you can’t quite make out. “Im not telling you, because there’s no need for anyone to get wrapped up in it. It’s a problem for me to deal with. So again, please don’t concern yourself.”

With that, he forces a crinkled rectangle onto your table and walks away in a storm. His backpack is thrown on with more force then you think you might’ve ever seen from him.

You stare at the rectangle.

With stubborn reluctance, you pick it up, and unwrapping it, think back to the look on Kita’s face.

He had been blazing. Emotion had enveloped him, and you’d felt frozen in place when he answered your questions.

Whatever that had been, you’d lost. You lift the bar to your lips and bite down, shoving your confusing feelings down along with the food.

You’re not going to say thanks for the granola bar.

— —

It wasn’t cowardice from the previous days tussle with Kita, that made you choose a seat behind him.

It was the belief and the sudden epiphany that this spot was better for productivity. How was it better? Well hey, your intuition said not to worry about the how’s of it. Plus, the trash can was only three rows away now. Perfect for throwing away wrappers. Like granola bar wrappers.

NO. Not that, because it was.. it was actually great for banana peals. Yeah. Perfect for them since fruits and vegetables were the better choice. Obviously the better choice when you were a gardener.

You watched Kita, who’s attention belonged to your professor. Who’s attention had belonged to the teacher since the very start of class and was still somehow on the teacher now, at the end. He was rapt, like if he ended up missing a single thing, it’d be over for him. He sure didn’t know how to relax.

You huffed, annoyed suddenly by your choice to sit back. If Kita stayed focused on the lesson all of class while you stared at him, there would be no progress in overcoming him. You could strangle your laidback, self assured self. It needed to stay out of the way til you accomplished what you’d been working towards.

You tapped your pencil, trying to think of what you could do. Kita was in such a state that he wouldn’t even notice an earthquake if it hit right now. He’d pick up nothing other then the words coming out of the teachers mouth.

But maybe you could get his attention if you asked for it. Or better then yet, force him into giving you his attention.

Your pencil was a simple yellow no. 2, it’s eraser half gone thanks to the mistakes you’d made using it. Combined with your outstretched arm, it was long enough to reach Kita. Leaning forward in your seat, you jab him in the center of his back.

He starts, turning to face you after a moment of recollecting himself. He says your name slowly, like he’s testing it to make sure it’s safe. You grace him with nothing less than a condescending smirk. He study’s your face and you ignore how nervous you are under his questioning eyes. Finally, “Did ya need something?”

It’s uttered softly, with an edge expertly hidden in its depths. One you’re sure only you can pick up. Its like he’s sitting you down and trying to get an explanation for your bad behavior. You feel yourself tense up.

The edge is something you often notice when he talks to you. It follows you around, judging, falling off when he talks to his friends, or teachers, or anyone other than you. You can hear it fade and come back in, like the ocean’s tide. It pisses you off.

You let your smirk fall away and answer truthfully.

“Just you.”

He frowns slowly, shaking his head as he says, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

You speak carefully, eyes darting to what the teacher is showing on the rooms big screen.

“I need you,” you begin. Kita shakes his head slower, watching you with his full attention.

“I still don’t understand.” He says carefully.

You smile while fishing out your phone. Kita’s eyes still on you, taking in your movement’s, trying to puzzle out what you’re saying, as you snap a picture of the screen and finish. “To give me your attention.”

With a flourish, you stand up, shoving your things away, watching as Kita turns back around to the screen just as it’s shut off by the teacher.

Shock plasters his face, and then understanding. His mouth is a thin line, a big contrast to your large grin.

“See you later Kita!” You bound away, mood lifted from any weight previously pushing down on it.

You don’t see the expression left on Kita’s face as you walk away. You don’t wonder what it might’ve been until later.

— —

In your lifetime, you’d gotten plenty of comments about being a bit of an idiot. Those were easy to ignore. The feeling in your chest saying that you definitely are one is not.

You feel wound up tight, like all the parts of you are trying to find where they fit and getting twisted around each other instead.

When starting a conversation with Kita, there was the expectation that he would respond back and be attentive, no matter what. The subject or if he was comfortable or even if he despised who he was talking to. There was always the assurance that it didn’t matter to Kita.

You relied on the fact that he responded to people the way that he did. You relished in it.

And yet, you’d found that you were talking to yourself with him that day.

His head had turned in the opposite direction and for far too long you’d continued on speaking, ignorant to the new development you had no idea how to handle. When you finally understood that something was wrong, you’d moved yourself in front of Kita and repeated your last sentence.

You were met with the kind of facial expression that would forever be imprinted in your mind, but couldn’t describe as it had really been. If you were to try; then it was as if you had gotten on the wrong bus and off at the wrong stop, asked for directions from a local, only to find they didn’t speak your language and just wanted you out of their way.

The lost feeling rushing inside you had spiked when he turned his body away from you.

Well, it was stupid of you (who’s really surprised by that), but you ended up laughing and talking a little longer, only walking away after you’d had the last word. Which is funny now thinking back on it. Kita hadn’t exactly contributed any words in that conversation. Of course you’d have the last one.

All you can do is think whatever rather childishly. But it’s not like you needed that guy to talk to you. He was the one who was going to need your help eventually. Acting the way he was, it just showed you how he was exactly the kind of person you hated.

You could live with your insides being twisted and unsure of where to go. They’d learn to work it the hell out. And it was sad that he was going to give up after one tiny win from you.

You don’t need someone who pushes back on everything except, apparently you.

Really thinking about it, it was what you’d wanted. All this time, you’d just been waiting for him to do this. In the library when you were panicking and in tears, with everything crumbling and falling apart around you-

you’d just wished he hadn’t been looking at you.

You were getting what you wanted.

— —

It was a mantra.

You were glad Kita wasn’t paying attention to you. You were glad Kita wasn’t paying attention to you. You were glad Kita wasn’t paying attention to you. You were-

His stupid face popping into your space during your classes was the real reason you kept having to repeat it to yourself. The two of you had been partners in one class, at your insistence, and now that you weren’t speaking to one another you’d switched to soloing things.

Currently, the class was working on projects that focused around growth and change.

It wasn’t hard deciding to document the growth and change of one of your personal plants at home. Though, looking at the parameters of the project, you needed to document a lot of your chosen plant. You settled on a seed. It’d show the most progress that way. The end result where the plant would be in full bloom would also add to the contrast of where it had started.

You were actually pretty excited about it.

You’d get to bring in your plant when you were finished. Show it alongside your paper, where everyone would ohh and ahh over them both.

The project made you especially glad when you thought of Kita. You doubted he was the type of person to find seeds and plants exciting. You didn’t have to talk with him about it, knowing he was only fake listening. He’d probably done that countless times. Paying attention because he had to. Not because he enjoyed what you were saying to him.

What an annoying, conniving person. You hated knowing he was writing a boring paper about the change and growth in the paper clip industry or maybe air conditioners over the years. Ughhh, it was going to be something simple and painfully long like when he did his Bio presentation on naked mole rats.

His time had got cut because of its length and you’d had to ask about it after class since he’d got stopped at a cliffhanger of a spot. Kita seemed happy to oblige and talk about it with you at the time, but honestly he must’ve been faking that. If he was that glad to talk to you, there was assuredly some other reason he was wearing a smile.

Maybe he thought it was dumb you wanted an in-depth explanation on the animal’s insane breeding habits..

Was it really that weird if you wanted him to explain it? To hear him talk like he was excited to be in your company and- ah fuck.

You were thinking about him again.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

You were glad Kita wasn’t paying attention to you. You were, you were, you were.

— —

Seconds turn to minutes turn to hours turn to weeks.

And suddenly. There’s only 2 of those weeks left till your project is due.

It’d gone by slow at first. Time only slipping away when you turned your back on it. Lately it had been speeding up, and you couldn’t help thinking it was the way you’d tucked Kita away into a small corner of your mind.

Focusing on your work, both in classes and at your job, has pushed him to a corner you didn’t frequent. There was no more of him to bother and distract you with.

You feel the triumph of it and realize it’s similar to the first days of when you’d begun pushing yourself to outdo Kita. It was a relief to be back in that headset.

It was also a relief to know your boss was going to give you a raise. Sure, you enjoyed what you did at the stand, but ohh, you were excited to be making a little more an hour. The thought of it and your renewed vigor towards your battlesque relationship with Kita, had you skipping around the market stall.

You were so lost in your happy bubble, that you didn’t even realize Ms. Moko was behind you. That is till she took her cane and gave a bop that, while didn’t hurt, was hard enough to make you whine.

You glared at the woman.

“Your favorite food supplier is fragile you know?”

All she did was laugh at that. You narrowed your eyes. “What’s so funny?”

“How do you know you’re my favorite, dear?” She snorted, while composing herself. “There happens to be a very nice young man who’s company I also enjoy here at the market.”

“Oh, really?” You cross your arms. You refused to believe that. Absolutely refused. “I think you’re just saying that. I know I’m your favorite.”

“Well, I can’t deny I don’t enjoy your personality a dollop more. Much spunkier then the lad,” she made a tut sound, as she shook her head sadly. “The boy doesn’t argue against a thing. Oh!”

She turned around suddenly as if the man himself could overhear, before leaning closer and saying in a conspiratorial tone, “I demanded he give me a pound of rice for free once! I said I needed compensation for something or other, but just as a joke! Imagine my surprise when the darned boy took me seriously, wouldn’t let me not take the rice after.”

You scrunched your nose. “So you actually have another supplier you like more then me?”

Ms. Moko raised an eyebrow, “Did I say that?”

“You didn’t have to,” you sigh dramatically. “The guy gave you two pounds of free rice after you messed with him. I’d have given you rotten food if I was him.”

You laugh when you feel the light wack of a cane on your leg. You grab a couple of fruits and turn to organize them on a stand. You giggle.

“Seriously Ms. Moko, how can I compete with this mysterious angel?” You teased.

“Give me a discount on those raspberries over there and you can be my favorite.”

You couldn’t help the burst of laughter that tumbled out of you, as you grabbed the raspberries your favorite costumer wanted. Her self satisfied smile as you priced the item down made the warm feeling in your chest burn bright.

It was nice talking to someone who you understood. Even if they did hit you with a cane.

“Do you need help getting these to-

“Ah ah ah! No help! I don’t need it.” She glared for good measure before turning away.

You turned to go back to your organizing when a thought struck you.

“Moko! Ms. Moko! Wait,” you called, hurrying over to her.

“Dear, please,” she started, exasperation clear in her voice.

You talked fast before she could tell you not to help her.

“Introduce me to your angel sometime,” you smiled. “If he really does exists, I wanna showoff my position as your number one, best market helper, ‘kay?”

— —

You wished you hadn’t.

It’s Kita. He’s crouching down and suddenly he’s lifting a crate that looks too big for his medium stature.

It’s probably got rice in it, you think numbly.

Rice. Like the same kind he gave to Ms. Moko.

You feel like laughing as Ms. Moko chatters on about the “sweet, considerate young man” who is Kita fucking Shinsuke.

You can’t even be mad. You did this to yourself and now you’re going to have to walk over to Kita and try to talk to him and have Ms. Moko watch as he ignores you.

You laugh a little as you think about how Ms. Moko described Kita. He wasn’t that considerate if he was petulantly ignoring you over a joke. Or maybe it was self preservation against someone he looked down on?

Either way it wasn’t sweet!!

Thinking about it, as you watched him walk with rice crates, you couldn’t help a wave of superiority hit you. Kita… was ignoring you. He was actively ignoring YOU. Even though he talked and was kind to everyone. Even though he was perfect.. he actually wasn’t?

He wasn’t perfect if he couldn’t keep the perfection he had up with you! He wouldnt even listen to you, how was he considerate if he didn’t even listen to you?! Ha!

You suddenly felt a lot better about going up to “talk” with Ms. Moko’s rice man.

He’d greet his favorite costumer.. only to look over and see you- His favorite costumer’s, real favorite market employee! Mwahah!

He’d be humiliated knowing he was engaging with Ms. Moko who was super close to you (closer than he was with her). Suddenly, Ms. Moko would find herself face to face with a rude, petty person.

And there was only room for one of those kinds of people in her life!

You!

She’d leave Mr. Angel; then you’d get the best score on your plant, growth essay, and be seen as the sweetest person at your school and market!

You felt your satisfaction curl inside you expectantly as Kita deposited his last rice box and finally turned towards Ms. Moko and you.

Biting your lip to keep down a smile, you followed Ms. Moko to meet her angel.

“Hi there stranger!” You greeted cheerily. You were ready to see Kita lose his customer.

His eyes met yours, and without missing a beat he greeted you.

“Hello, stranger,” a smidge of humor present in his voice, he talked to you to your open mouthed horror.

“It’s a pleasure to meet ya.”

You saw his hand reach out to shake yours through a fog of astonishment.

You felt a nudge on your shoulder and looking to your left, saw Ms. Moko giving you the stink eye. Though you were sure that the look was actually concern. Straightening yourself, you reached out to Kita.

His hand was warm and calloused, and fit snuggly in your own.

“Super nice,” you say. “Er, really, it’s nice to meet you.”

Trying to keep yourself enthusiastic, so as not to show anything to Moko, you switched your hold on Kita’s hand.

You ignore the raise of his brow as you drag him away from his stand, all while yelling. “Ms. Moko tells me you’re a bit of an angel, but I happen to know for a fact that out of the two of us-

I’m the one with a halo,” you gulp air down, suddenly realizing you were out of breath as you let go of Kita’s hand and grab a couple of deformed veggies you had stowed away earlier in the day.

What were you doing? A good question your brain was asking, but not important enough as you watched Ms. Moko’s angel pick up the veggies you had set before him. They all had unusual deformities that made them hard to sell. The common trait that the vegetables all had in common was the loose circle shape they had grown into.

They resembled a halo. His expression was unreadable to you as he looked them over.

“Did ya grow ‘em?” He finally asked, emphasizing the you (well, the ya). You tried not to take offense to the question. Instead of overthinking the way he had asked it or why, you forced your head into a silence and answered.

“Well no, not any of these. I have my own garden at my apartment with similar types of veggies but these are from my bosses field, they usually get discarded unless any of the employees want them, so uh..” you clear your throat, pushing the panic away and letting the adrenaline keep you talking. “So you can have them if you want.”

Wondering what you should add to your vegetable gift so he knows it’s to one up him, you think it’s quite silly when no words to show him up, pop into your head.

The beat of your heart drums in your ears as you watch Kita. He looks a little taken aback and you find that you can understand him in this moment. You’re also taken aback by your sudden actions.

Pursing his lips in a way that makes it seem as if he’s holding back a smile, he thanks you.

You nod your head, wondering when this interaction will stop so you can stop feeling so out of sorts. You weren’t usually so impulsive.

You immediately backtracked on that thought since it wasn’t true. Feeling flustered you turned your body away from Kita’s, keeping him in the corner of your view. He was gathering up the pile of vegetables, consisting of mostly squash’s, and was taking his sweet time arranging them so none would fall. He didn’t need to be so gentle. But you supposed it was nice of him to be so careful, especially when you now knew how much hidden muscle power he had in his arms from rice carrying. And rice growing too perhaps?

Turning your head just a smidge more towards him, you see that the almost grin you thought you saw was a full fledged smile.

You smile seeing it.

And whip your head away when he turns to you, a question written all over his face.

You don’t get to hear it.

“Did neither of you consider slowing down for the disabled seventy year old lady?!”

You both startle as Ms. Moko appears in your stall, huffing.

Realization hits that while you had just done that for Kita to avoid suspicion from Ms. Moko, you had left her behind in your hurry as well. Tripping over yourself as you begin an apology, you hear Kita do the same while Ms. Moko gives indignant glares to both of you.

“Honestly, can’t my favorite discount givers get along?” She asked, trying to look hurt by her abandonment, all while a gleam shone clear in her eye.

You can’t help but laugh at that and feel a bit of warmth blossom when you hear a small laugh come from Kita as well. Both of you understood Ms. Moko’s intentions pretty well apparently.

If you two could get along, she would be reaping the benefits.

— —

It’s an odd companionship. One you still felt reluctance towards.

You got silent treatment to the max in every single one of your classes still, but a barrier had been broken. One that for weeks before had prevented any conversation between you and Kita.

His presence in the market was something you were becoming keenly aware of as he began inserting himself in your market stall. After your first run in, he had begun to drop by with what you had deemed Very Important Questions.

“What kinda’ fertilizers do ya use?”

“Have yer chives flowered yet? I haven’t seen any blooms from mine.”

“Did ya know I tried the cider recipe my grandma gave me, and ended up nearly poisoning Osamu with the end result?”

You laughed at his inquiries more than you would like to admit.

The overlapping interests you both shared had created a bridge. One you were both rushing to cross at all these perfect questions you had for one another. Questions you didn’t get to ask anyone else. You couldn’t hate Kita while you were both at the market is what you finally conceded. The benefits you reaped from the interactions could obviously override any minor annoyances you felt towards him while working.

Besides, you still had your desire to one up him in your classes. A goal you were steadily making progress at. Already the D+ you used to have was a B- and all the C’s and B’s were A’s. It was clear that you could give him a little leeway at the market where grades weren’t involved.

There was also the dilemma of how you’d been wrong about Kita. Your surety that he would hate participating in a conversation about plants was proven wrong. Eat every opportunity, Kita jumped to talk plants. It was beginning to become clear that plants were the biggest thing in both of your lives. And the way he couldn’t stop the happy looks that would take over his face as he discussed his growing techniques and the farm he had. Well, it was the same kind of look you got when you talked about your garden at your apartment. Or your hopes of opening a stand of your own someday.

It was nice having that in common with someone your age.

So yeah, he made your market interactions worth it. Even when you learned more about him then you asked and found yourself sharing personal things too, you could live with it. It meant getting to your shared interest; plants.

Your personal plants were all growing greener and you knew that it was probably thanks to the man you despised. At school, that was. He was fine elsewhere.

All a byproduct from your newfound draw at the market. And, you realized, Ms. Moko’s little push in each other’s direction.

Following that line of thought, you felt bad for her. She wasn’t actually getting more discounts from you and Kita. To her chagrin, the bond she’d helped form was actually having the opposite effect. It must’ve been the biggest downside to the strange companionship.

With you talking to Kita, you had the ability to hold certain plant related pieces of information hostage to get the “angel” to hold back on his discounts.

You’d feel guilty if you weren’t helping Kita’s rice business. It would never get bigger with the way he priced his rice!

This sweet gesture on your part, was more for his grandma than him. Forcing his hand in upping the prices was important to keep their farm up and running. She was his only family you had quickly learned, and with Kita being the provider you were anxious at the thought of an accident leading to bankruptcy in the little family.

It was therefore reasonable for you to threaten to never share how to grow orchids (a very tricky flower to keep alive) with Kita, if he didn’t keep his prices more consistent.

Let it be known, that this had been very hard with the way Kita had frowned. Your heart had twisted, which was also reasonable, since you too wanted to discount food for people.

These exchanges were building up everyday. Before you knew it, your mind was wandering to when Kita would come along and ask you about your fruits at home. You were agonizing over how to talk to his grandma if you ever ran into her. There was even the occasional unsure moments of wondering when you should run over to see him, obviously at the slowest times of his stalls day, but figuring out when that was was tricky.

You didn’t always get a full conversation with him at his stall. It made you wish that you had the same ease with him at school. Then you could take all the time you needed to talk. Maybe you could start a small discussion over plants with him in Bio class and see what would happen..?

That was too much though, you already knew. The way you both acted there was too different.

You were sure Kita still hated you there.

— —

You want him to turn around, and maybe if you think it hard enough he’ll do it.

It’s a thought that’s been rotating in your head for the past twelve minutes and 10, 11, 12 seconds. (Fine, you hadn’t really been counting that exactly but the dramatics mattered to you) Your feelings had felt jumbled since your presentation that morning. If you could get Kita to turn around, maybe you could deny what was happening in your chest.

The day to present your plant, which had bloomed perfectly- and essay on its growth had come at last, and with it a good luck from Kita.

It had surprised and left a hit, nervous energy behind with it. One that distracted you from the sentences and words on your notecards, the thing you really needed to focus on. But it was the first time you’d talked together in two months!

Or at school it was anyway.

There was talk from classmates around you about the good luck that hadn’t helped your focus either. When you’d said the final word, from your final essay, with the confidence that you had just scored an A, you were met with a pot of flowers. The distraction had returned full force, and with it a burning sensation. Kita had hidden them away during the classes presentation’s and brought them out after as a congratulatory gift.

He’d given them with a little speech.

“I’ve never known anyone with the kinda drive ya have: for plants, good grades, or for helpin’ the people around ya. I know we don’t always agree on certain things or get along, and that maybe you still don’t like me fully.. but ya’ve helped me in a lot of ways and I want ya to know it means a lot to me.”

It should’ve pissed you off.

The flowers were brilliant. Healthy and tall, and when you looked up the type they were later on, you’d discovered they were a hard to grow genus.

They were much more impressive then the sunflower you had grown and presented to the class along with your presentation on it. Yet, you found you didn’t care. It hadn’t mattered at all that he was technically showing you up. You knew the gesture might be him trying to one up you.

But you also knew it could’ve been him saying he cared.

That he had probably thought of you as he picked them out. Or there was the possibility that he had grown them himself. Growing them until he could present you with a physical sentiment of a passion you both shared. It squeezed your heart.

The flowers had left you unable to look Kita in the eyes. The feeling inside of you had been around in the past, pricking you and branching out slowly, only now reaching this point where it was nearly bursting from your chest. You knew you couldn’t deny what was happening any longer.

You didn’t hate Kita. You liked him so much, it was hard to think clearly around him.

#haikyuu!! #kita shinsuke #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #kita x reader #kita x y/n #kita x you #haikyuu kita #hq fluff #part 2 hehe #haikyuu fic #ohhh my god #oh my goddddd #it’s done it’s here #kita fic #enemies to lovers #or is this rivals to lovers?? #please tell me your thoughts #writing this was an act of both self love and hate

[keijislvr]

to be loved by a god | kita shinsuke x reader

cw: mentions of death, murder, violence though not in detail. mentions of blood, grief. angst. god!kita and grim reaper!reader.

an: i am honestly so sorry to kita, i literally cannot give this man happiness for the life of me. everytime i write for him, it's angst and he deserves more.

“shinsuke.”

the god remains quiet as you approach. his gaze doesn’t shift from the bloodied field before him, drying grass stained scarlet, angry and red under the light of the setting sun. somewhere further along, just in your eyesight is a house – the one in which the twins lay peacefully, surrounded by the flowers kita had picked out carefully for them. he has already laid them to rest.

“you cannot save everyone.”

you tell the god softly, sitting down beside him, glancing at the empty piece of sky he stares at. even if you didn’t understand it fully, it was still there, that voice inside of you, that one part of you that knew what it really felt like to have someone close to you die; to live with that fact and never be able to move on. perhaps you haven’t become as desensitised as initially thought since you took on your role as a grim reaper. shinsuke says nothing.

“you can hardly blame yourself now. this was a savage act from the enemies of their land. you could not have stopped them.”

the god smiles bitterly. you can see where he sucks at his teeth, the small dimples in his skin appearing across his jaw. his eyes flicker up and catch yours, piercing and sharp. he shakes his head, a small gesture, almost imperceptible.

“i am a god. i could have done more.”

you sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder. he shivers at the contact, but allows it nonetheless. “you could not go on delaying their deaths forever, shin. you know well they were never meant to live this long in the first place.”

there is a silence, sad and heavy, between the two of you. the wind picks up, rustling through your hair. the god’s hand lies limply against the ground, his fingers splayed over the earth. it’s the closest you’ve been to him for a long time now, the days where you would lounge together in bed long gone. if you close your eyes and clear your mind for long enough, you can still feel the soft, ghostly feeling of him pressing kisses along your spine, his fingers curling around your hips.

“have i done them a disservice by delaying their deaths then, (name)? did i do wrong by them? perhaps...if i had left them to their fate, would they have been killed so brutally?” shinsuke looks to you with desperate and wild eyes, a frenzy taking ahold that you hadn’t often seen on the god. his care for the younger boys was, and still is immeasurable, but you wonder how long it will take for him to burn under the heat of his own love for them. especially now that they had passed on.

you take his face in your hands, palms against his soft skin as you bump your noses together. “you did what you felt was right in your own heart. you loved them their entire lives. who knows what the fates may have had in store if you chose one path or another. it doesn’t really matter, if this is the end result now.”

“what you mean to say is, they would die either way.”

“what i mean to say is, you have given them a good life.”

his eyes flutter closed. you kiss his forehead again and sigh. “they will always be your boys. i know you are worried about the next world, but you mustn’t burden yourself with all the guilt you carry within you. they’ll be okay.”

kita looks at you then, a pained expression twisting his features. a tear falls down his cheek, a few more follow soon after. he wipes it away with the back of his hand and turns his head towards the all too familiar home in which the twins have been laid to rest. the house does not move, neither does the bloodstain in the centre of the fields.

“must you take them?”

“i must.”

a searing pain stirs in your chest but you ignore it in favour of interwining your fingers with his. looking at kita shinsuke – the god of produce and crops, protector of inarazaki – you see a tired man, with hair like a halo spun of silver. his eyes are reddened with a sadness that cannot be weighed, and his usually perfect posture collapses with every breath he takes. generally, gods cannot be killed. but a god without a purpose is as good as dead.

you cannot bring yourself to tell shinsuke, a lover you have never quite gotten over, that you were told to lead back three souls from inarizaki today. you cannot bring yourself to tell him, among his grief, that he no longer serves a purpose and must be removed. and you cannot bring yourself to utter the words, those three little words you know he must hear. you must die.

you press a kiss to the god’s cheek, hoping to pour all of the love you can into it. if he must be taken to the afterlife, then let him do so knowing he has been cherished. if he must go, then let him go in peace. “my darling, shin.”

“it has been decades since you have called me that,” kita whispers, his hand tightening around yours. he rests his head on top of yours. “my sweet angel. i wish you had not left. is that selfish?”

“yes. but i understand it.”

“what do i do now, (name)? everyone i love has died or moved on.”

a lump grows in your throat at the vulnerability in his voice. you turn to look at him, and brush a piece of his hair from his eye. his irises are watery and his lashes are wet. the last vestiges of life shine bright beneath his pale skin, shining as brightly as the sun above you. you do not know what else to say, other than “kiss me.”

he complies without question, cupping your face in one of his warm hands. his lips are slightly chapped, which is not surprising but, nevertheless, it sends a wave of warmth coursing through you, making you sigh and rest your head against his shoulder. his other hand comes up to tangle in your hair.

and, finally, you break the kiss, pulling apart reluctantly. you watch as kita wipes furiously at his tears with his sleeve, trying and failing to disguise the fact that he is crying. “i love you. stay with me.”

you nod, unable to refuse. the two of you lean in again, lips meeting in another gentle kiss, one that lasts a second or an hour. the sun has already started to lower in the sky, but your skin still prickles uncomfortably, turning the grass beneath your bare feet into a sticky mess. the smell of iron and smoke hangs heavy in the air, mingled with sweat and blood and the scent of the dried grass.

“i love you too, shin.”

you know it is now time.

for the last time, he closes his eyes and leans his forehead onto yours, sighing. the last breath you will ever know from him, as the wind whips around you both, carrying his next words away with it.

you let him go, and watch quietly as the sun sets below the horizon.

#haikyuu #kita shinsuke #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #hq #kita x reader #kita fic #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fics #hq fic #hq hcs #kita headcanons #kita shinsuke x reader #kita shinsuke x y/n #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #kita imagines #hq kita #haikyuu!!

[h4mmiee]

evening on the farm

#i had a whole fic idea for this scene but i cant write so you get this instead #oh look its 10-1 that's a funny coincidence #kita shinsuke #suna rintarou #inarizaki #haikyuu #haikyuu fanart

[nariism]

a place to call home — k. shinsuke

one bed + childhood rivals/friends to lovers

synopsis. "be kind, shinsuke." that's what yumie always told her grandson. and he would live by those words—even if it meant sleeping on the floor every weekend.

wc. ~2k

— for @mastering-procrastinating & an anon bff! 🫶 | event masterlist ✉️

The day after Kita Shinsuke turns six years old, the vacant house across the street suddenly springs to life with occupants.

His life spirals from being humble and quiet to chaotic in 24 hours. Suddenly, he's responsible for taking care of the bratty kid next door even though they're his age. His bedtime gets thrown out the window because he needs to chase them down to get them to brush their teeth, and his dinner always has some suspiciously missing elements that he never finds.

You become the centerpiece of his entire existence—a floating memory in every crevice of his mind.

Kita hears your laughter in the songs of his childhood; feels your hands roughly pushing him and dragging him around by the wrist; smells the minty toothpaste he forcefully shoved into your mouth after finally catching up to you. 

It seems as though you and him were born to be polar opposites. Where he climbs you stumble. Where he sits quietly at the dinner table, you have a never-ending stream of anecdotes to tell Granny (even though half of them are greatly exaggerated—he was literally there to witness it). Where he behaves like a normal child, you can't even sit still during storytime in class.

However, your differences do little to remove you from his life. Where he goes, you go.

It's a consequence of growing up thirty meters from your front door and having you over when your parents suddenly uproot to go on week-long business trips.

And he wouldn't care so much, really, if it weren't for the fact that Granny had equal amounts of love to go around. That, and he would have to sleep on the floor whenever you came around.

For someone so disciplined and grounded, Kita Shinsuke was an envious child. He hated having you in his home, because it meant that his beloved Granny had to split her attention between the two of you. Because she would always tuck you in before him. Because you were louder, more needy, more everything. Because he often woke up with back pains at the ripe age of six years old.

When Kita turns eight, he finally bubbles over.

You're on the swings behind one of your friends, standing on the back of the seat and clinging to the chains. You're being careless, and he would be remiss if you were to hurt yourself.

"Get down from there," he scolds, standing in front of the swing set to stop you from continuing.

"Make me!" You exclaim back, childishly sticking out your tongue and rocking the swing back and forth, gesturing to your friend to keep going.

"Stop."

He comes up behind you and tugs at your shirt, making you wobble.

"Quit it, Shin!"

"You'll hurt yourself!"

He convinces himself that he only cares so much because Granny would have to spend more time with you to patch you up if you fell, and not because he would hate to see your snotty, crying face.

No, it doesn't make his heart squeeze. Not even a little.

Eventually, you end up face first in the wood chips anyway, with Kita hovering over you looking guilty as ever. He hadn't meant to pull you off so roughly, nor had he meant for you to land on the ground like that.

Oh. Why does it hurt him so much?

That night, you don't sleep in his room.

You end up tucked into Granny's bed instead, down the hall. He misses your presence—he even ends up on the floor though the bed is empty for him to take.

He blinks up at the space where you should be and feels bitterness swelling in his throat. 

"Shin." His Granny calls softly when she eventually comes into his room. She doesn't sound the least bit angry, but he still aches with nothing but guilt.

"M'sorry." He knows the apology should be for you, but you couldn’t even look him in the eye over dinner.

His Granny only sighs, kneeling down beside his futon with a tired huff. A reminder of her age. He only feels worse.

"Be kind, Shinsuke."

"I'm tryin'," he argues weakly.

She's silent for a pause before she carefully tucks the silver hair from his eyes.

"You'd be lonely too if I were gone all the time, eh?"

"..."

Kita pulls the covers closer to his chin. Yes, he was aware there was a reason you were always here. There was a reason your house was devoid of life despite being filled with furniture. There was a reason you wanted Granny to love you so much, cementing in the gaps where your parents were always absent.

Did you ever want him to love you like that, too?

The next night, he sits you down on the edge of the tub with no complaints. And he's surprised that you accept the toothbrush into your mouth so easily, no resistance and no qualms like you usually have.

He sees the tired defeat in your eyes, feels the awkward tension in the bathroom, and guides your hand to the end of the brush so you can do it yourself.

"I'm sorry," he tells you without elaborating. You never need him to. (When you reminisce about this day, you sometimes laugh to yourself. You always did love how straightforward he was.)

His words are followed by a tense hug, his hands holding your head against his tummy. The brush stops moving in your mouth as you hug him back.

It dawns on him then: he's just as much of a kid as you are—feeling something as petty as jealousy when all you needed was a hug.

One day, he swears, he'll make it up to you. And he'll be nicer, too. It's the least he can do if he's all the company you have until your parents return.

Be kind, Shinsuke. That's what Yumie always told her grandson. And he would live by those words—even if it meant sleeping on the floor every weekend.

The day after Kita Shinsuke turns twenty-two years old, your apartment floods.

Of course he's the first one there, helping you move what you could salvage from the apartment into suitcases and onto the back of his truck. Of course he's the one to offer a place to stay, because if not him, then who else? And of course he's the one who holds you when you're stressing about what to do and where to go, hand firmly on your back as he lets you snot on his shirt like you've done since you were six.

For a brief moment, it feels as though he's just a little kid again with you making a mess of the home he grew up in.

Well, mess is a stretch—you've infinitely matured since starting food wars with him over dinner, but the point stands when he ends up helping you with an assignment. It had been pushed to the backburner with everything going on, whilst you were moving essentially everything you owned into his house as if you paid rent there.

He should have known that some things never change.

"I can't believe you kicked me out onto the floor."

Kita shuffles in the comfort of his duvet, resting atop his mattress. He stares at you with honey brown eyes swimming in conflict from the bed.

You curl tighter into a ball on the futon. And he knows this ploy—knows that you're trying to guilt trip him into swapping places with you. You've always been manipulative when it came to him, and god-forbid he be anything but an angel to you. (Because his Granny told him to, not for any other reason at all.)

"M'not the one who made a bet they couldn't win."

Words straight and cutting as ever, like a blade through your heart. You pout childishly, rolling over so that your back is turned to him.

It was your idea to challenge him when he said you were on your phone too much while working. It was your idea to be a brat and defiantly say that you could finish your assignment by midnight. It was your idea to bet this all on the most beloved yet war-inducing place in the entire house: Kita's bed.

It's hardly his fault that you got distracted with YouTube.

"I hate you, Shin."

"No y’don't."

"I do."

"No. You don't."

"Okay fine, I don't, but can we please swap now? It's freezin’ down here."

He can practically hear the pout still engraved into your face right now. And it takes every ounce of fight in him not to give into you with the snap of a finger. To argue back and list a million reasons why he should be allowed in his own bed.

Yet here he is, slipping out of the sheets almost instantly and crouching down beside the futon. He shakes your shoulder.

"Fine. Get goin' before I change my mind."

Any resolve left in his body melts away when you shoot upright with a bright smile, victorious as ever.

Sometimes you made it hard for him to imagine why he cared about you at all. You were too sly for your own good. How could he ever deny such a smile? It's not fair.

You scurry into his bed instantly, making yourself comfortable where you have hundreds of times before. "You should make sure I'm comfy. I am a guest in your house, y’know?"

Yes, Kita knows this all too well. You're trying to provoke him, to see how far you can push him until he breaks. Stubborn and obedient, he reaches down to slowly pull the blanket over your body.

There's a pause from you as he drapes you in warmth, blinking up at him dumbly as if you weren’t expecting him to do so without complaint.

"I'm..." You seem to choke on your own words, silently contemplating whether or not you should push further. "My face is still cold."

His hands hold your face instantly, warming your cheeks skin-to-skin. You stare at him with wide eyes, looking so surprised that he wonders if what he's doing is a mistake. But then your hands gently cover his, and you tug him closer until his knee is sinking down on the mattress beside you.

"M'super cold."

"It's twenty-two degrees in here," he informs you flatly.

You make a face, nose slightly scrunched in thought and brows pinched. It's such a troubled expression that he can't help but scoot a little closer.

He's being kind, that's all. He's just making sure you're okay as a friend. No, not even a friend—an obligatory companion. The lifelong thorn in his side. The reason why his back still aches some days.

Be kind, Shinsuke.

When did being kind turn into this? Into moving involuntarily, into having a second nature response to you? Into a stubborn body only movable by one soul, one voice, one pair of hands?

"Keep me warm, Shin."

He gives in to your whims without reason, without logic or hesitation. You are the sole person able to break down any semblance of routine that's been methodically coded into his muscles.

He doesn't get you, perhaps he never would. He would never completely understand your wishes, or how your cheeks were so cold yet burning hot at the same time, or why he was submitting to you so easily.

The only thing he knows is that you are still somehow the centerpiece of his life, dancing in the middle of it all like a black hole sucking in everything else; the whirlpool swirling in the center of calm waters; the supernova of his galaxy.

"...'Kay."

Maybe he doesn't need a reason to care about you. Maybe your very existence is reason enough. And he’s okay with that for once in his life. He had never been the type to go with the flow, but your hands are dragging up his neck and pulling his body onto the mattress.

That night, you both fall asleep in the bed.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

#— whispers in the wind: 1k event ✉️ #haikyuu #hq #kita shinsuke #kita shinsuke x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fluff #shinsuke kita #kita shinsuke x you #kita shinsuke x y/n #shinsuke kita x reader #hq fluff #hq x you #haikyuu x you #haikyu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu!! x reader

[teamatsumu]

kinktober 2023 -> day 28

double penetration - kita shinsuke x reader x miya osamu

word count: 1186

warnings: smut, swearing, kita and reader are in an established relationship, fluff towards the end

kinktober masterlist

You liked to believe you knew your boyfriend, Kita Shinsuke, pretty well.

You had met as mere kids in diapers. You had grown up with him. You knew of his careful routine, his vigilant schedule. You knew how caring he was, how wonderfully attentive. His love for his profession, hours and hours put into his precious fields, to earn a living for himself and you, his loving, doting housewife. All of these qualities, and more, were what made you fall in love with him in the first place.

Never in your wildest dreams did you think Kita would ever suggest something like this.

You stared into his burning gold eyes with tears in your own, mouth dropped open, struggling to breathe. He reached for your face, careful thumb brushing over your wet cheek. You inhaled deeply as your body was jostled forward again, your stare with Kita breaking as your eyes squeezed shut and a low groan sounded from behind you.

“Go slow, Osamu.” You heard Kita say. “She’s hurtin’.”

A huff from the man in question. “I thought ya said ya prepped her for this.”

“Apparently not enough.” Came the reply.

It took another few minutes before Osamu was fully buried inside you, both men finally filling you up to the hilt. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, shaky and broken.

“Relax, sweetheart.” You heard your husband’s voice, gentle and doting in your ear. You felt his hand run through your hair where your head rested against his shoulder, trying with everything in you to undo how tense your muscles were. You weren’t used to this. You and Kita enjoyed a very vanilla sex life. It wasn’t even until one month ago that Kita had started playing with your ass, experimenting by prodding it, then entering, fingering, fucking.

You had loved it.

“Shinsuke,” you lifted yourself up, supporting your weight with your hands on Kita’s chest. You felt your back brush against Osamu’s front, felt his breath hit the back of your neck as your movement caused both men to shift inside you.

“You okay, baby?” Kita intertwined the fingers of his right hand with your left, the other running slowly down your side for comfort.

You nodded. “Feels- feels good.”

Kita’s lips turned up slightly in a smile. “Yeah?”

You nodded.

Kita shifted his hips then, just enough to change the angle of his cock in your pussy, causing you to whine. Behind you, Osamu groaned.

“Don’t do that, Kita-san.” His voice was so strained it caused worry to stir in your chest. “She’s clenchin’ round me so tight. I’ll cum too quick.”

Your cheeks burned at how crude he sounded, and you would feel embarrassed if you weren’t so preoccupied with how stuffed you were. Growing up with Kita meant growing up with Osamu too. He was your friend. And now here he was, buried balls deep in your asshole.

“Move, Osamu.” Kita finally said, before holding your hips tight with both hands, planting his feet steadily on the bed, and thrusting up into you.

You cried out and Osamu groaned, immediately following suit. You felt the breath get knocked out of you, eyes rolling up as both men began moving in earnest.

The sounds filling the air were nothing short of filthy, wet squelching that caused your body to heat up in embarrassment, yet somehow made you even more horny. God, you had never felt like this before. Never for one second were you left empty. If Kita pulled out, Osamu thrusted back in, and when Osamu left you, Kita filled you up. You couldn’t breathe with how shot every nerve in your body was, eyes crossing when Kita quickly found your sweet spot, making you yelp and arch back, once again making soft contact with the sturdy torso behind you.

Osamu’s arm wrapped around your waist, holding you in place against his chest. His teeth grazed the side of your neck before leaving a tiny bite on the skin.

“Watch it,” Kita choked out. “No marks.”

Osamu’s lips replaced his teeth then, moving up to nibble at your earlobe. Throughout all of it, neither men even slowed their pace. You felt your body jerk and jolt, manhandled by these two men as they used you for their pleasure. You moaned loudly at the thought.

“F-fuck.” Osamu groaned into your ear. “F-feels so good, Y/N-san. Yer tight as anythin’.”

The undulating of three bodies felt heavenly. Touches felt on every part of you at any given time. Your holes ached, as if protesting the intrusion, the carving of big cocks inside your tight insides. Kita’s hands ran over your thighs, soothing any ache that formed with your position, while Osamu’s big hand ran over your front, groping and squeezing your breast with eager motions. Kita’s noises were low and consistent, small groans leaving his lips every few seconds. Osamu was louder, whining and cursing in your ear as if he was losing his virginity all over again.

You were so turned on you couldn't think straight.

You felt a familiar thumb find your clit, clenching hard when Kita started working it in tight, hard circles. You wailed at the feeling, almost trying to push away from it. It was too much. It was all so overwhelming-

“I’m gonna cum,” you weeped, eyes catching your husband’s while your nails dug into the arm Osamu had wrapped around you. “Shinsuke, I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it, baby.” He replied, tugging you down onto his body again and holding your hips still as both him and Osamu picked up the pace. You screamed and cried as your orgasm hit you full force, briefly whiting out your vision and making your body twitch and jerk all over. You heard Osamu moan, low and loud, before he buried himself in you to the hilt and warmth spread inside you. Kita was next, thrusting a few more times before he came as well, groaning and huffing in your ear.

You fell limp onto Kita, wincing when Osamu slowly pulled out, his cum dripping down to where you and Kita were still joined. Kita made no move to do the same. Instead, he wrapped his arms tightly around you, turning you both to your sides.

You heard Osamu mumble something about a shower before pattering out of the room, leaving you in the warmth of your husband’s arms. You let your eyes fall shut.

“You okay?”

You hummed and nodded, hugging him tighter. You felt him lay a kiss on the crown of your head.

“I take it that you’ll wanna do that again?”

You giggled and looked up at him, grinning sheepishly. “Was it that obvious?”

He ran a hand through your hair, pushing it off your forehead. “You shoulda’ seen yerself, baby. Pretty little thing, moanin’ and cryin’ on our cocks. Ya looked like ya were gonna pass out.”

You groaned and buried your head into his chest again, feeling it vibrate with his laugh. A smile tugged at your lips when you heard the shower turn on in the next room.

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats s @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles @argwein

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

#kita shinsuke #kita shinsuke x reader #kita shinsuke x y/n #kita shinsuke x you #kita shinsuke smut #kita shinsuke fluff #kita shinsuke fic #kita smut #kita x reader #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu smut #miya osamu x you #miya osamu x y/n #miya osamu fic #haikyuu smut #hq smut #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #haikyuu imagines #kinktober

[clubkira]

FIREWORKS.

── SHINSUKE KITA. ┊ HAIKYUU!!

raining in japan m.list. // hq. masterlist.

premise. the perfect fireworks display ending to your first date with kita gets cancelled due to unforseen weather changes; and he seems more upset about it than you are.

content. shinsuke kita / f!reader. somewhat established relationship (first date). set pre-timeskip.

word count. 2k-ish

soundtrack. rainy tapestry : lamp.

19:57

“Attention all park-goers, the fireworks display for tonight is cancelled due to the untimely weather.”

The overhead speakers loudly declare several times to the entirety of the amusement park of the recent development, with a few still turning their heads in confusion at the sudden announcement.

“Please make your exit out of the park, and have a great rest of your night.”

Kita’s hand is grasped firmly in your own as he leads you out of the designated fireworks viewing zone, in tow behind you both are the several hundreds of other disappointed families making their way out.

Unclear at first glance in the darkness of the night, rain clouds have already begun to form over the park. Light trickles of rain start to shower above, quickly increasing in intensity at an alarming pace and drenching those caught in the downpour.

Dozens of children can be seen and heard crying into their mother’s laps across the viewing area, covered in hastily bought clear ponchos while holding their extinguished sparklers. Some quietly trudge behind their parents in sadness, their sneakers and socks getting soaked by the puddles of water that have begun to form on the ground while they walk.

Passing by a small girl sitting on a bench crying to her parents about missing the fireworks show, the slight dip in Kita’s usually relaxed expression doesn’t go unnoticed by you. His hold on your hand tightens ever so slightly the more saddened families he walks past, the pace of his footsteps quickening with each puddle he unintentionally splashes in.

“.. I’m really sorry,” He manages to speak after some time, the exit of the amusement park becoming clearer in the distance with a sigh.

“I didn’t know it’d rain so hard tonight that they’d have to cancel the fireworks display.”

Your head perks up to meet his own as you give him a sympathetic smile, “no, it’s okay. You couldn’t have known this would happened in advance.”

It was true, nobody had prepared for this outcome at all. The weather forecast for the night said it would only be a light drizzle; with the park’s staff not even being aware of the cancellation until fifteen minutes before the viewing, when they were told to rush out the emergency ponchos and begin handing them out to the guests who were waiting for the fireworks show before one of the staff got on the loud speaker to address the viewers.

“I know, I know,” Kita runs a hand through his hair disheartenedly, eyebrows knitting in frustration when he pulls the both of you underneath a nearby overhang to shield you from the ensuing rain. “it’s just, awful that our first date ended up like this.”

Kita’s pristine, cleanly pressed and ironed white shirt is now stained with little specks of rain, wrinkled with splotches of water lining the chest area and his watch decorated in tiny droplets that slide off and drop to the ground. Eyes shifting around the entrance, the other families slowly begin to trickle out group by group just as disappointed as before.

The crease in his eyebrows becomes more prominent than before, his frustration clearly showing with how he stares angrily at the soaked stone tiles beneath your feet with a huff.

“I can’t believe this..” you hear him mumble underneath his breath, looking up and around at your surroundings when the rain begins to pick up, several families standing around nearby as some are looking at signage for bus routes or getting into their cars in a hurry.

“Our first date, and I’ve already screwed it up.”

Your stare quickly hardens at his words, “You didn’t screw this up,” comes a sigh, eyes flickering to meet his.

Even in the chaos that surrounds the two of you, your quiet words manage to reach his ears when you notice the way his gaze visibly softens upon seeing the concern your eyes hold for him. His shoulders relax, untensing as his arms fall to his sides.

You’ve never seen Kita so frustrated before, and over something he has no control over. He’s always been levelheaded no matter the circumstances, usually being the type of person who doesn’t go undeterred when things don’t go his way or how he intended.

But you can’t deny the annoyance displayed prominently on his face and in his body language when it’s presented right in front of you. The way his knuckles tense when he feels the rain beginning to come down harder around you two, bouncing off rocks and soaking into the grass below.

The calm mask that Kita normally wears seems to slip off for a brief moment as he visibly swallows, shoving his hands into the damp pockets of his pants. An awkward laugh bubbles it’s way up his throat in his attempt to soothe over the situation.

The smile he gives you doesn’t even reach his eyes.

“Ah, I’m sorry things had to turn out like this.” He apologizes again, like he’s been doing repeatedly in what only feels like the past fifteen minutes; an attempt to assure you that he genuinely is. “I really am, is there anyway I could make this up to you?”

You shake your head, “I told you it’s fine, you don’t need to keep apologizing for this, Kita.”

“But it’s not fine,” he laments, grimacing when the rain from his hair trickles and drips down onto his face, wiping the raindrops away with the sleeve of his shirt. “I wanted to do something special to end off tonight,” his voice is tinged with disappointment, a reflection of his own self-frustration.

He looks away from your eyes, staring off to the paved parking lot ashamed, “Someone like you deserves a better first date than.. this.”

You scoff at his statement, huffing when he keeps depricating himself, “Kita, what’s so bad about this first date, hm?”

Kita’s face morphs into something of somewhat confusion, stuttering lightly when he turns back to face you. He chuckles unsurely like you’ve just told a good joke, “What do you mean? Do you not see what’s happening around us right now?”

He gestures to the still remaining families surrounding the entrance of the amusement park nearby, the children having calmed down but still visibly deflated by the rain and cancellation of the fireworks. Most are preoccupied with a device or toy of their choosing while being shielded from the rain by coats, signage or the strollers of their younger siblings.

Disgruntled parents stand just out of reach trying to figure out the best routes to take home, arguing with the park’s staff about refunds for the fireworks show while heckling them about the poor management and lack of communication with the staff and park-goeres.

The chill of the wind can be felt through your soaked clothes, goosebumps rising all over your arms that cause you to shudder. Everything begins to slow down to what seems like a barely moving standstill; anything from outside of your little bubble with Kita being reduced to a snail’s pace in your eyes.

The movements of those surrounding you become like smear frames in the distance, the raindrops still raging on even more heavily now serving as the only remainder of reality; the only constants being the sounds they make when they fall from the darkened sky up above onto the two of you.

“Does this look like a perfect first date to you?”

Kita’s question snaps you back momentarily, the pace of the world resuming in an instant. He turns to face you; arms crossed over his damp shirt and wearing a skeptical expression on his face that is mixed with something else that you can’t quite discern otherwise.

Confusion, frustration, desperation?

Your lips purse in thought for a brief moment, which he takes as his answer as he rambles out another hasty apology before you can even respond. “See what I mean? Look, I’m so sorry about all this. I swear, if you let me take you out again next time I can do better—”

“Shinsuke.”

The sudden use of his first name shocks him into silence, gulping as he waits for your reply. A sense of worry envelops him when you don’t respond immediately, uneasiness in his voice when he speaks again.

“Yes?”

Stepping towards him, the feeling of the soaked soles of your shoes slosh around in the puddles underneath make shivers shoot up through the calfs of your legs. Kita’s gaze follows you expectantly, eyes afraid to leave yours when you reach for his hands from deep inside of his pockets.

They’re cold to the touch from the cold rain and wind chills of the night when you hold them in your own, thumb brushing over his dry knuckles and settling into the folds of his palms.

“You haven’t even asked me about how I felt about the date yet.”

Kita blinks owlishly, his eyebrows unfurrowing as confusion settles into his face again at your response before letting out an unsteady laugh, shoulders shaking with mirth.

And the timid smile he shows you this time does reach his eyes.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” he apologizes again, this time more freely before pulling you in closer by the hip. His head settles into the crook of your neck with a hum, “What do you think of the date then, hm?”

Kita’s breath feels hot against your skin, a sharp contrast to the chill that circulates in the air around, carried through the rain and wind in it’s journey. Bodies swaying blissfully in the darkness, hidden away from the blaring headlights of the cars pulling out of the parking lot underneath the overhang.

Sparkling specks of water drip and fall down around you, pooling into that puddles that have for sure already begun to ruin the bottoms of your shoes. Rainwater has begun to seep through the soles, your socks becoming victim to the nature of your circumstances.

The wet fabrics of your clothing clings to the sides of your figures, the image of Kita’s collarbone and upperhalf of his chest glazed underneath his shirt.

Kita’s hair is fully drenched, now clumped and pushed to the side from when he ran his hand through it. Droplets of water litter his cheekbones and eyelashes in perfect spheres, cascading down the edge of his jawline in a resemblance of tears.

Even when soaked to the core, like a housecat who was caught in the sudden rain; Kita looks as handsome as the day you returned his feelings.

Your voice is low, settling into the background sounds of the rainfall. “I think, that our date was wonderful;” you reassure him, “even without the fireworks.”

Kita looks unsatisfied with your answer, confused and asking you questions in rapid-fire succession. “But the fireworks were the whole reason you came here—” He begins to say, “Aren’t you, disappointed..? That you didn’t get to see them?”

“No, Shinsuke,” you chuckle, “I didn’t come for the fireworks, I came for you.”

As wonderful and flashy as fireworks are, and indeed what could be considered major highlight of a trip for many of the visitors of the amusement park, your heart was never dead set on seeing them.

Fireworks can be seen anytime, but your first date with Kita can never be repeated.

“I’m pretty sure you didn’t come to get rained on at the end though,” he chuckles, bringing a hand out of his pockets to cup your warm cheek. The warmth radiating from your skin defrosts the chill in his palm almost instantaneously, “I wished to have a very dry end to our date, preferably,” his choice of words makes you snort.

“You wanted a dry end to our date?” You repeat jestingly, “Maybe you don’t actually like me in that case, Shinsuke.” His head drops in quiet laughter, “Fine, fine. I’ll rephrase what I meant then.”

His fingers smooth over your jawline tenderly, eyes soft and heart full of love. “I wished to kiss the most beautiful girl underneath the fireworks as the perfect end to our date, how does that sound?”

“Who said it had to be under the fireworks?”

“No one,” he smiles, “But it would’ve been very romantic if we did.”

A grin of your own tugs at your lips, “We can still kiss right now if you want.”

“While we’re soaking wet?” He laughs, drawing his face closer. His hands itch to grab hold of your face and pull you in, but he holds himself back in fear of overstepping his boundaries.

“Are you sure?”

Kita looks to you for permission, lips barely an inch away from your own. The steady rising and falling of his chest is accentuated by his sopped shirt clinging to his frame, hot breath fogging up in the cool night air.

You nod, without a doubt in your mind, finally connecting the distance between you two. Kita smiles into the kiss, eyes closing in satisfaction while his hands stay planted at your hips, never straying away from their hold.

The taste of rainwater is evident on both of your tongues, the two of you giggling as the twinkling sounds of rain and ripples of the puddles flow through the atmosphere around.

Kita’s the first to pull away, hesitating when he chases your lips one final time before reeling his head back to catch his breath.

Even in the darkness, only illuminated by a street lamp several feet away; Kita’s cheeks are rosy with euphoria, eyes crinkling with sparks of happiness flying throughout.

His forehead leans against your own, the wet strands of his hair sticking to his head. The whites of his teeth gleam when he smiles, quietly whispering for your ears to hear only.

“Maybe I should make sure it’s raining when I take you out on a second date.”

reblogs are appreciated .ᐟ ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

© SHOYOSTAR 2023 — do not repost, copy, translate or edit my works. do not recommend my account outside of tumblr.

#haikyu!! #haikyuu!! #haikyuu fluff #shinsuke kita #kita shinsuke #kita x y/n #kita x reader #kita x reader fluff #kita x you #kita fluff #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fic #haikyuu #haikyuu x y/n #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu kita #haikyuu x self insert #haikyuu x female reader #haikyu imagines #haikyu scenarios #haikyu x you #haikyu x y/n #haikyu fluff #hq x reader #haikyuu oneshot #( 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓉𝓎 𝑜𝒻 : 𐚁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒞𝓁𝓊𝒷 ) #𝒮𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓉𝓈 𝓃’. 𝒯𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝓈 ෆ

[lees-chaotic-brain-reblogs]

Haikyuu Fic Recs

Note: I do sometimes link my reblogs bc there is literally nothing I hate more than clicking on a link only to arrive at the ghost blog page.

Blogs to just read through: @emmyrosee @screamin-abt-haikyuu @quirrrky @kairakeiji @augustinewrites @mysterystarz @tahdashi @haikyuuphilia @kitashinsvks @adoringhaikyuu

Oikawa

@atsumwah

If You Had to Pick (fluff)

@ktsumu

Fifth Time's the Charm (fluff)

@verahella

Dad Moments (fluff)

@earthtooz

Young and Beautiful (fluff)

@teddybeartoji

Helping him Stretch (suggestive)

@livinghostly

Back to It (fluff)

@oreosmama

Voicemails After Breakup (angst)

@chimielie

And They Were Roommates (misunderstandings)

Kuroo

@tetzoro

Loser Boyfriend Kuroo (fluff)

@rintaroll

Truth or Drink (exes to lovers)

@tetsuskei

Colleague (office au)

@clubkira

Power Outage (comfort)

@a4nnnnn

Love at First Bite (fluff)

@bluebird-in-the-breeze

The Cafe Critique Project (fluff)

Iwaizumi

@fuyuluvr

I Didn't Mean It (hurt/comfort)

@dumbseee

Idol Girlfriend (fluff)

@sugarlywhispers

Do Something Cute (fluff)

@bananawafers

The Perfect Fit (fluff)

@arhvste

Instagram (fluff)

Akaashi

@fuyuluvr

I Didn't Mean It (hurt/comfort)

@luvring

University with Akaashi (university au)

Ushijima

@ktsumu

A Childhood Bedroom (fluff)

@strwbrryeyes

As a Best Friend (fluff)

Kita

@atsumwah

If You Had to Pick (fluff)

Bokuto

@bananawafers

What Dating him Looks Like (fluff)

Tsukishima

@livinghostly

Cat's Out of the Bag (fluff)

Kenma

@verahella

Dad Moments (fluff)

Kageyama

@verahella

Dad Moments (fluff)

Nishinoya

@sugarlywhispers

Nightmare (comfort)

Tendou

@oreosmama

Voicemails After Breakup (angst)

Daichi

@atsumwah

If You Had to Pick (fluff)

Atsumu

@gojoath-deactivated20240402

Stay for Breakfast (fluff, comfort)

@hihello-pinky

Varsity Crush (fluff)

#lee's brain food #ushijima x reader #fic recs #oikawa x reader #daichi x reader #kageyama x reader #kenma x reader #tsukishima x reader #bokuto x reader #kuroo x reader #akaashi x reader #nishinoya x reader #kita x reader #tendou x reader #haikyuu x reader #asahi x reader

[gardenofnoah]

there are reasons why a body stays in motion

summary: you work too hard—kita knows it the second he meets you. he’s not expecting you to take him up on his offer. you don’t either, until you end up on his farm.

tags: shinsuke kita x reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, smut (oral, reader receiving), afab reader (no pronouns used, terms for body parts used("clit")), reader is a first responder, kita is a mother hen wc: 4.7k

the farmer’s market is quiet. mostly because it hasn’t opened yet.

you walk between stalls as the owners of them set up, smiling softly at those who greet you. it’s still a little dark out—the grass under your feet still a little dewy without a sun to warm it. if you were anyone else, you might still be in bed.

but you never made it to bed. in fact, you’ve been up for more hours than you care to count. that much is obvious by the way you sway slightly on your feet in front of Hanaka’s tomatoes.

“hey, you,” she murmurs, affectionate and maternal—reaching beneath the wood top to grab the coffee she’s brought you, as is your weekly tradition. “long night?”

“mm,” you hum around the plastic lid, tipping your head back. the coffee is a little bitter and a little grainy, but it doesn’t matter. truthfully, you’ve been up for so long that things are starting to lose their taste. in this case, that might be for the best. “on call. the phone just kept ringing.”

she nods, sympathy apparent on her face, and you know she understands. Hanaka is retired now—blissfully so, she says—but when you met, she was your coworker. she’d adopted you as some sort of pseudo-child, teaching you and looking out for you. it was a loss when she left, but you were happy she finally was getting to rest. when you found out she’d reserved a stall at the market, you made the effort to be there. even if it meant losing out on your rest.

“silly of you to come straight here,” she admonishes you sweetly, in the way that only she can. it makes you smile.

“and let the coffee get cold? never.”

she rolls her eyes, turning to busy herself with stacking deep green cucumbers into weaved baskets. you let your eyes roam the spread in front of you, reaching to brush a fingertip over the waxy skin of a tomato. your stomach growls—abrupt, and loud.

Hanaka snorts, shaking her head as she calibrates the scale. “head down the row,” she says, pointing in front of her without looking, “there’s a stand that does rice.”

you feel a bit like a zombie as you move among the crowd—still mostly vendors, until you can smell someone cooking. your feet bring you to a halt in front of a grey-haired man, shaping neat triangles of rice around what appears to be pickled cabbage and bean curd. your mouth waters.

"we're not quite open yet—oh." he pauses when he looks up at you, concern immediate and all over his face, "you need to sit down, darlin'?"

it makes you laugh. "is it that bad?"

he smiles at you, directing the man to his left to bring you a folding chair. you thank him, plopping unceremoniously into the seat. when you look up, there's an expertly assembled onigiri in your face.

"ah." it's warm in your fingers and you fight the urge to unhinge your jaw and shove the entire thing in your mouth. "thank you...?"

"Kita," he says, and his smile is kind in a way that feels a little disarming this early in the morning, "don't mention it. can't have you passin' out in front of my stall—s'bad for business."

you chuckle around a mouth full of rice—and holy shit, is it good. you try to tell him that, but to stop eating does not feel like an option. it makes him laugh.

"glad to hear it. can't take credit for the recipe—but the rice is from me."

"you're a farmer?"

"mm. have been for more than a few years now. just started comin' to the market though."

you nod, shoving the last of the onigiri in your mouth and greatly suppressing the urge to lick the stray bits of grain off your fingers.

he goes back to work, packing and shaping in a way that feels casual, but you have a hunch that the motions are some that he's practiced greatly. your lack of sleep emboldens you to let your eyes wander—his hands are calloused and careful, and it's obvious what he does just by the look of them. corded muscle flexes under sun tanned forearms as he shapes each onigiri with great focus, and you find yourself fascinated by the repetition.

"y'think you're closer to livin' now?"

you look up and find his eyes already on you, mirth all over his face. you grin, caught, warmth spreading up your neck.

"think so. what do i owe you?"

"nothin'," he waves you off, brown eyes crinkling. "just go take a nap."

you smile—warmed by his generosity. you get up and leave of rough estimate of coins on top of his register anyway. "see you later then, Kita."

.

..

later comes quicker than you thought. the very next week, as it turns out. you're a little more rested when you see him again, and it's the first thing he notices.

"y'look like you slept." he says by way of a greeting, handing you another perfectly formed onigiri—this time with pickled plum and what you suspect is salmon. it falls apart decadently in your mouth, the flavors complimentary and not overpowering against the rice. it's good.

"i did," you tell him around a mouth full, "wasn't on call last night."

he smiles, gentle around his eyes, as he watches you. "work?"

you nod. "social work—kids, mostly."

he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the counter. he considers you for a moment before he speaks again.

"so not sleepin' is normal for ya."

you shrug, avoiding his gaze. it's a little too early in the day to feel chastised by a man you only just met last week, even if he is admittedly a little handsome and insists on feeding you. he sighs, reaching for a stray piece of register paper.

"you like ducks?"

"like, the bird?" you look up at him, eyebrows arched in confusion. "yeah, i suppose i do."

he smiles down at the paper, scribbling a few lines down on it and handing it to you. "have a few babies that just hatched in the paddies. come by and see 'em if you ever feel like y'need a rest."

he waves you off, turning back to his work, and leaves you a little shellshocked as you look down at the paper. it has an address on it—for what you assume is his farm. you fold it neatly and push it down into the pocket of your jeans with the mental reminder of taking it out before you wash them. you shake your head, smiling to yourself as you turn and head back down the lane, dodging a few folks that are entering the market. you have a few hours before work—just enough time to knock out on the couch.

.

..

a few weeks later, you find yourself bouncing down a rocky lane, rice paddies on either side of the thin road. you figure you have to be in the right place, but feel a little nervous until you arrive to a little cabin at the end of the gravel, the numbers on your paper painted neatly on the side of the mailbox.

it's late—probably too late to be stopping by unannounced—but Kita didn't give you a phone number, and the day had been long. the thought of baby ducks and looking at anything that wasn't the blue light of your laptop felt like a lifeline.

he's leaning against the doorframe as you shut the car door behind you. you smile when you see him—maybe sneaking a little peak at the way his white t-shirt stretches around the biceps he has crossed over his chest. he doesn't say anything until you clear the porch steps.

"y'alright?" he asks quietly. it's a little startling—you're always careful not to let the effects of the day show. you feel exposed in front of him, and it has you shifting on your feet.

"i believe i was promised baby ducks."

the corners of his eyes crinkle and you find yourself genuinely charmed. he doesn't acknowledge your lack of an answer, and you're grateful for it.

"sit," he says, gesturing to a wooden rocker on the porch, "i'll grab 'em."

you do as he says, leaning back and taking in the view. the sun simmers a deep red on the horizon, bathing everything in it's hue. the paddies stretch on for what feels like miles. the house itself feels like an island—the one lane road it's only connection to life beyond it.

the rocker creaks as you push your toe against the porch, swaying gently back and forth. it's quiet, save for the chirp of the cicadas and the occasional bloat of a bullfrog. you jump when you feel something furry rub against your shin.

you look down and are greeted by an orange cat with the most round cheeks you've ever seen. old and a little ratty, it chirps at you, headbutting your leg.

"hello there," you smile, bending forward to scratch behind it's ears. "where'd you come from?"

"that's Barn Cat," Kita says, trudging up the wooden steps. "he hangs out in the fields."

you chuckle, looking up at him. "his name is Barn Cat?

"yup," his grin is contagious. you let your eyes roam around him, looking for the ducks he was supposed to get. they stop on the pouch he's created out of his shirt—widening as you hear several little quacks come from inside of it.

"hold out yer hands," he says, standing in front of you now. you do as your told, and a few seconds later, there's a teeny tiny baby in your palms.

"oh my god," you breathe, not quite able to wrap your brain around how something can be so small, "oh my god."

Kita chuckles, smiling when you look up at him. something about it brings you back to this moment—you're suddenly very aware that you've interrupted this man's evening and ordered him around at his own house.

"i'm sorry for showing up like this," you say quietly, running a fingertip over the downy-soft little body that's now nestled in your lap.

"no need. i'm glad yer here."

you can feel that the smile you give him doesn't quite reach your eyes, and you know that he notices.

"long day?"

you hum, watching the tiny duck tail twitch in its sleep. suddenly feeling a little envious of the rest it's able to get, and how simple its life will be. wake up, swim around, eat bugs, go to sleep. it won't ever think about anyone else. its little conscious will always be clear.

"yeah," you murmur. "it was."

he moves to sit down in the rocker next to you, smiling at the little duck that has taken up all of your attention. when you look up, his eyes are gentle and unwavering from yours. you're certain he's looking too deeply, but you know there's nothing you can do.

"i should get going," you say, mostly to convince yourself that it is true. Kita's mouth turns downward for only a moment, and then that soft smile is back again.

"give me yer phone," he murmurs, extending a hand toward you. you shrug, pulling it out and handing it to him. he types something quick and hands it back to you, Shinsuke Kita and a phone number on the screen.

"meant it when i said you can come by anytime," he tells you, hand lingering still in your space. "call me if ya need anything."

.

..

you get to texting, after that. it's funny—he's a man of few typed words, so you learn about his days through pictures. a criminally early shot of the rice paddies. the baby ducks that look bigger each day. Barn Cat sprawled out in the sun on the porch. dinner there, too—filleted tuna and rice under a waning sun. sometimes he calls, when your schedule allows it. the low timbre of his voice through the speaker frequently (and embarrassingly) lulls you to sleep. you have a hunch that he does it on purpose.

you've showed up at the farm enough times now that you're unable to use the excuse of the ducks anymore, especially now that they're bigger and far less cuddly, but neither of you acknowledge it. he starts showing you around. walks across narrow paths in the fields become excuses to bring you inside—into his home. the cabin is quaint and cozy, and decorated in a way that surprises you. pictures cover the walls—some of Kita as an adult, but mostly of Kita as a child, which makes him bashful and you smile. you stop at one of him as a chubby toddler, sitting in the lap of a woman he's clearly the spitting image of.

"that's gram," he says quietly, behind you. "this is her place. i moved out here when she got sick, and then i just..."

"stayed," you whisper, tracing the edge of the frame with your fingertip. he hums, closer to you now.

"didn't feel right t'leave."

you think it's admirable, but you don't want to embarrass him, so you keep it you yourself. he leads you down the hall, pointing out rooms as he goes—bathroom (you can't hide your surprise at the massive clawfoot tub in the center of it. he just shrugs, continuing down the hall—flushed up to his neck. it makes you smile.), guest room ("mostly unoccupied," he says, and you wonder if it was intentional). his bedroom is slightly larger than the guest room and considerably less decorated, but still tastefully so—the bed is large and looks temptingly soft, and the dresser adjacent to it is an antique, heavy and well-loved. you both linger in the doorway, coated in warm lamp light and shoulders brushing, not talking much and still saying a lot between you.

"you hungry?" he asks, voice a little gruff. you shrug, following him into the kitchen. you take a seat at the bar stool on the other side of the counter, watching him work.

he doesn't ask what you want and truthfully, you know he doesn't need to. there hasn't been a time yet that you haven't liked something Kita's made you. he moves with the same fluidity and grace he does at the market—he prepares your food with the same care, too. you watch him blatantly, this time. his brow furrows a little as he plates it. it's cute—it makes you ache.

you're expecting it to be good, but this is really good—unagi over rice, soft and chewy when it hits your tongue. you groan audibly, savoring each bite. Kita grins at you across the counter.

"good?" he asks, even though he doesn't need to.

you nod emphatically, not bothering to pause long enough to answer him.

"good." he looks awfully proud of himself. that ache twists in your chest again. "don't make it too often. glad ya like it."

it's quiet between you as you eat—you try to leave a few extra for him because he was nice enough to make you something so luxurious, but it's hard to stop yourself.

you linger in the cabin for the next hour or so, finding every reason to stay until you can't anymore.

"y'know," Kita mutters, looking a little shy, "yer welcome to stay in that guest bedroom. s'not like anyone else uses it."

he goes red immediately and it makes you smile. you fight yourself hard to keep from teasing him.

"i have to work early tomorrow," for the first time, that fact feels disappointing. "but i'd be happy to next time."

the smile he gives you leaves you a little breathless. "be careful gettin' home."

.

..

next time comes sooner than you thought it would.

the weekend comes and you shoot him a text, asking him what he's doing tonight. his reply comes immediately—whatever you're doing. come over—i'll cook.

you sit outside to watch the sunset after dinner. it goes down past the hills, extinguishing the light like the flame of a candle. you kick your feet out over the rail in front of you. the cicadas sing from their perches in the trees and the paddies look like an undulating, dark sea from where you sit. the only light is the dim bulb above your head, and the stars don’t pay it any mind. bright and shining, you can’t remember a time that you’ve seen so many.

“do you ever get lonely?”

he’s watching you—you can feel your skin warm where his gaze lingers, but you keep yours in front of you. Kita’s been the picture of hospitality, sweet in the way he’s shown care to you—but he’s seldom talked about himself. you feel vulnerable, toeing the line. he’s silent for a moment, and then it stretches on long enough that you start to regret asking.

“s’hard to, out here with all of this noise.” he says it lightheartedly, but you wonder if he’s deflecting. you have your answer a moment later when he says, quieter, “at night, mostly. y’notice when yer the only person for miles.”

you hum, picking at a splinter in the wooden arm of your chair. you feel the same, somehow. though you have trouble understanding how you can feel lonely being around as many people as you are. you tell him as much.

“they don’t really see you though, right?” he asks, but it’s rhetorical. “you help ‘em but it’s one sided. they remember what y'did but they don’t know who you are.”

it never fails to rattle you, his ability to see right through you. your face heats. “that’s the way it should be.”

“sure,” he says, smiling softly. “but it weighs on ya.”

you tuck your knees under your chin and close your eyes—frustrated, knowing that he's right and still wanting to fight him on it. you jump when his knuckles brush against your own.

"i didn't mean to upset ya, darlin'."

"you didn't," you murmur, shaking your head and willing your limbs to relax, "you're right. i just wish you weren't."

he smiles and keeps the back of his hand pressed to yours. it's a sonic interruption to the silence—you're so aware of the warmth of his skin that you feel it in your eardrums. you wonder if he can, too.

it's a while before you speak again—to bid him goodnight, even if you don't want to.

"goodnight, darlin'." his voice is low and soft, nearly a whisper over the cry of cicadas. you still hear it like he screamed it. "extra quilts're in the closet."

it makes you smile, how he can't help but make sure you're comfortable. it would be easy to mistake it for something else—something more.

"goodnight, Kita."

.

..

you get in the car and drive on muscle memory alone. eyes burning, you dial the number you now know by heart.

"hey darlin'," Kita's voice comes through the speaker like a warm blanket. it helps to settle you.

"hi," you croak, immediately wishing you'd taken a minute to get it together before you called him.

there's a pause. "you been cryin'?"

"only a little." you don't see a point in lying to him. "you around?"

"yeah, i'm here—where are you? i'll come get ya, don't want ya drivin' out here upset—"

you let out a wet laugh, shaking your head. "i'm alright, Kita. i'm already halfway there. i just wanted to let you know i'd be over."

there's another pause, and you can hear the way he's fighting with himself on the other end of the line.

"alright," he says finally, "be careful."

he's waiting on the porch steps when you pull up to the cabin. you're barely out of the car before he's pulling you into his chest. new tears threaten to spill over into the fabric of his shirt. you can feel the way he softens himself to hold you—like you'll shatter in his arms if he's not careful.

"c'mon," he whispers into your hair, "let's go in."

he takes your coat (and your shoes, and your bag) before he's pulling you closer again—keeping you tucked under his arm like something will swoop down and snatch you up if he's not careful. you'd laugh if you weren't soaking in every second of his affection like a sponge.

"can i run a bath for ya?" he asks, reaching to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. the callouses on his fingers brush the curve of it and it makes you shiver. you nod.

he only leaves you for a few moments before he's back, corralling you down the hall and into the bathroom. there's a pile of comfy sweats folded and set on the toilet, and a fluffy towel hanging on the hook.

"holler if ya need anything."

you smile at him, a little more genuine this time, and he leaves you to it. you strip the clothes from your body slowly, hoping that if you do it right, the day will come off with it. you sink down into the warmth of the water and sigh. your eyes start to burn again as you lean your head back on the rim of the tub, this time just at Kita's kindness. you feel guilty for relying on it.

you feel guilty knowing you've been keeping what's in your heart hidden from him.

you use his soap, knowing you'll smell like him—knowing it won't be enough to satiate the longing you feel, but doing it anyway. you're not sure when it started—if it hadn't been there all along—but it's been tearing up your insides for months. he makes it worse with the way he cares for you. it's almost cruel.

you drag yourself out of the tub eventually, drying off in record time just to be swallowed by his clothes , soft and warm and smelling of him. you brush your hair out in the mirror and tie it up on top of your head. you feel a little more like a person now.

Kita's up and hovering at the end of the hallway as soon as you open the bathroom door. you manage a little laugh this time—mostly content and only a little guilty, letting him mother hen over you. you close the distance between you, looping your arms around his middle. you feel him relax, just a little bit.

"you need to talk about it?" he asks, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you closer. you shake your head. "alright. come lay down."

he penguin walks you down the hall, grinning when you laugh. he moves right past the guest bedroom and into his.

he arranges you on the bed to his liking—cocooned in blankets and reclined against his pillows. he lays down next to you, on top of the comforter. respectful of your space, even if you wish he wasn't.

"thanks for taking care of me," you whisper, turning your head to look at him. "sorry for turning up like this."

his eyebrows knit together like he's never heard a more wrong thing in his life. "i'll have ya any way you turn up."

you blink at him, feeling like you've short circuited. you huff out a laugh, closing your eyes. "how unfair."

"mm?"

you open your eyes and feel stuck, pinned to the bed underneath his stare. there aren't many other options than to spill your guts onto his sheets.

"you make it hard not to love you, Kita."

he freezes, eyes locked on yours. your stomach ties and unties itself, but you can't look away.

it's another agonizing moment before either of you even breathes, and then you blink, and he's hovering over top of you, hands planted on either side of your head.

"say it again."

"i love you." it feels like the easiest thing you've ever said.

"tell me i've got it wrong," he rasps, leaning in to nose along your cheek.

"you don't."

your hand fists around the material of his shirt and you yank him down to your waiting mouth. it feels exactly the way you knew it would—warm and soft, not unlike the feeling you get every time you walk through his door. it’s gentle and unhurried, and you know he knows no other way. you let him break you apart slowly. 

he pulls away from your lips, only to press soft kisses to your cheeks, your chin, your brow bone. his mouth brushes against your temple and to your horror, you let out the world’s most pitiful little moan. 

his eyes go wide as he looks down at you, flushed and breathing hard beneath him. your fingers still tangled in his shirt, he closes his own around them and brings them to his lips. he keeps his eyes on you when presses them to the sensitive skin of the inside of your wrist. 

you feel no control of your reaction—your eyes flutter closed as the rest of you shudders underneath him. it’s so little and it’s almost too much. you know he’s figured you out when you’re able to meet his gaze again—deep brown filled with as much adoration as they are hunger. 

“tell me what you need, darlin’.”

"your mouth," you whimper, feeling hot.

"where?" his smile turns a little wicked, still pressed to your skin.

"everywhere."

if you were overwhelmed before, it would pale in comparison to this—his kisses turn hard and heavy, soft lips sucking harsh bruises into your skin. you keen and whine underneath him, writhing both toward and away from his searching mouth. he doesn't take his sweatshirt off of you—he just pushes it up to kiss every inch of skin it exposes. he only pauses to check in with you, only stopping for a second to ask half of a question you'd already started answering before he'd asked it.

he cradles your waist in strong, wide hands and bends down to lap at your navel, nipping sensitive flesh, tongue slipping inside the dip of your belly button.

your hips buck violently, whimpering into the crook of your elbow while you reach down to card your fingers through silver strands. you feel yourself making a mess of his sweatpants.

"please, Kita," you hiccup, nearly slurred in his onslaught. he hums against your skin and you feel it in your belly.

"s'alright sweetheart," he murmurs, pressing gentler kisses between your hipbones, taking the elastic of the sweatpants down with them. "i got ya."

he reduces you to something less than human with the hot slide of his mouth against the inside of your thighs, licking and sucking his way up to where you need him the most and then back down, too far away. it takes a wholly unreasonable amount of begging to get him there, and to get him to stay.

"please, please i just need—oh," your spine bows off the bed and then pulls taut at the feeling of his tongue sliding slowly through your wet heat. he lets out a groan at the taste of you, and you watch through hooded eyes as he grinds his hips into the mattress.

one hand keeps a steeled grip in his hair, and the other one sneaks under his sweatshirt to pull at your nipples. it's sensory overload—the feeling of the pebbled flesh under your fingers and the way Kita suckles gently on your clit has you squealing. he opens his mouth, panting and tongue lolled out, encouraging you to ride it. you don't need to be asked twice.

every snap of your hips against his face pulls a weak moan from him, and a louder one from you. everything is wet and hot and your thighs shake around his head with every drag of your achy clit across his tongue.

"Kita," you whimper, feeling the warmth start to spread, "gonna cum—i'm—"

it damn near melts you into the mattress. every muscle in your body contracts and then releases, leaving you immobile under his tongue. he holds your thighs apart, sucking on your clit while you shake and cry under him. it doesn't stop—every brush of his tongue pulls another dizzying contraction from deep inside you. he only relents when he's licked up every last drop of you.

he kisses his way back up your body and you feel like you're on fire. when he presses his lips to yours again, finally, it douses it. you only smolder underneath him now.

forehead pressed to his, you can't help but let out a little giggle. he grins, his pretty mouth pulled up in the corners, and presses another round of kisses to your jaw.

"i love you," you sigh, pulling him closer. he hums.

"i love you," he nips at the point of your chin, "and you're callin' out sick tomorrow."

there's nothing in your heart that wants to argue with him.

#something possessed me and wrote this today #sad? fuck a rice farmer #shinsuke kita x reader #shinsuke kita x you #shinsuke kita smut #haikyuu x reader #hq smut #hq fic #bea writes ♡

[taeyamayang]

HI PEA!! CONGRATULATIONS AGAIN ON 1K!!

ID LOVE TO JOIN YOUR EVENT :D

kita shinsuke from haikyuu, 7, 24, and 3

HOPE YOURE WELL!! <3

a/n: KAAAALE it's always lovely to see you here 🥰 and gosh kita shinsuke?? damn?? didn't know you simp tor him too. you are the primary reason why my feels for kita keep crawling back ngl i love it. i get a lil excited when i see a kita req. so thanks for joining!!

note: reader uses she/her pronouns. mentioned twice only. the verb tense is a bit confusing hsnebe sorry

• kita shinsuke ; there's only one bed trope with a twist ; romance ; strangers to lovers; fantasy ; soulmate-ish type

• "5 times Person A woke up without Person B and one time they woke up together."

• major character death

--

it began a few months ago, like sudden a glitch that came unexpectedly from nowhere. neithe4 the sky were not splitting apart nor the sun was not losing it's vibrant shine; it was an ordinary day. perhaps, the only outlier on that particular day is the heavy downpour despite the sunny weather forecast.

who would've thought that a change in weather, if that's the cause of it, will turn your fate around?

five nights and one night.

five nights without him and a night waking up in a stranger's bed. you have not seen him before, not acquainted, and never met a pair of sharp russet orbs, but out of the blue you find yourself in bed with him.

he was equally startled as you are, jumping to your feet as soon as sleep wears off. similarly to you, kita, the stranger, is not a heavy drinker so there is no way an alcohol-induced one night stand could have happened the night prior. in fact, he's a workaholic just like you. a night out at a bar cannot slip through his busy schedule.

the first three nights were baffling but as nights passed by, the two of you noticed the pattern and kita began to grow suspicious. he became hyperaware of his surroundings, observing every detail in his everyday encounters. at first, as a man of science, he concluded that you might be sleepwalking but that can't be the case since sleepwalkers only travel to places they have been toㅡyou first step your foot on Hyogo on the morning you woke up in his bed.

hence, you assured him that you have no existing diagnosis that stems to sleeping disorders. although left with no answer, kita proceeds to investigate.

"do you ever think that it's weird that i'm the only one between the two of us who is travelling all the way from my place to yours and not vice versa?" you ask, folding his blanket.

after countless nights waking up in his bed, the both of you have grown accustomed to it. kita even prepares himself on the night of your arrival. he makes sure to wear a decent pair of clothes to bed and to plan a breakfast to serve you the following morning.

"i though of that too." his morning voice rumbled, keeping his eyes stuck to the head of the bed as he pats on the used pillows.

"maybe we need each other." your voice was clear, reeling kita's attention. it may sould a bit over the line to say it since the only relationship you have with the him is the phenomenon, but something inside you urged your tongue to verbalize it, as if you're certain of it.

with the way kita shifted his gaze to you, lashes fluttering in lazy yet graceful manner, his face adorned with traces of sleep, and the morning sun lavishing life on his bare features you can't help but feel intimidated. you have never seen him in this lightㅡethereal and raw.

"i thought so too." his lips moved as his hoarse voice echoes in the room. for a moment you were struck by him. an uneasy yet comfortable feeling sits on your stomach as you generously let your eyes be fed by his ravishing appearance.

yet, a thought knocked on your consciousness.

have you seen him before?

"is that a tattoo?" he asked, popping your bubble. his brows furrowed lightly as he stared at your wrist at the side of your torso. he had not seen a tattoo that lights up and had never heard of an invention of that sort.

"i don't have a tattoo." you quickly shook your head, your fingers traced the spot where kita's eyes are at.

"you have something here." kita rolled a sleeve up then points at his inner wrist. albeit, your eyes round.

"you have a blue line in your inner wrist, lying parallel to your arms and it... glows." your were baffled, complete overthrown by amusement as you look at the image on his skin.

"i don't-" kita paused, brows crossing as he examines himself. his eyes rallied on his wrist and to yours. bitting his lower lip, he spoke. "i can see yours and you can see mine. this is not a coincidence."

right then, the atmosphere changed. somehow, without anyone of you admitting it, each of you are convinced that there's a special bond between the two of you. in between unraveling the mystery, the two of you kept your inbox active by throwing small talks back and forth. since then, you felt so much closer to him. you felt that you were more than just 'the girl who randomly woke up next to him'.

however, in a single morning everything turns around.

the day before it you both agreed to see each other at a café near your workplace but as minutes turn to hours, no sign of a farmer boy showed up. worry begins to stir your mind to overthink and as you become restless in your seat, you decide to head to his place.

just about two prefectures away from your hometown, you head to Hyogo for the first time. you won't forget his house as it is the place you spend one morning each week.

as you are about to rap knocks on the front door of his humble home, the sound of crunchy leaves meeting with the sole of a boots perk your ears up. turning your attention to the sudden noise, instantly, your eyes lock.

"goodafternoon, do you need anything?" he says, holding a sack of rice in one hand.

"shin-, kita."

"yes, that's me and you're here for?"

"we are supposed to meet at the café this afternoon. did you forget?" the clueless look on his face as you said those words send warmth to your face. you weren't imagining it, right?

"i'm sorry but..." kita shoots you a smile. "i don't know you."

if there's one place where you want to be at this secondㅡit is the ground beneath you. you wish for the earth to swallow you whole as embarrassment, confusion, and fright clouds your mind.

you take a step back, mouth ajar as you stare blankly at the farmer boy. he might have called for you to come back or ask your name when you immediately ran away, but your sense of hearing have grown numb. you couldn't hear his voice nor the sound of nature around you.

you went back to your place, completely rattled by what happened. your fingers coil around the strands of your hair as you slid down to the floor. the only way to know what's going on is to sleep. tomorrow is the 6th day, the morning you wake up next to him.

you should wake up next to him.

-

kita grows impatient waiting for you at the front door of the café near your workplace. prior this afternoon, you sent him a message informing that your work ended early. instead of waiting for him at the café hours before the meeting time, you told him that you'll be at your apartment. but as the sun gradually meets with the horizon, kita becomes aggitated standing outside the café. the time consumed travelling from your apartment to the café only takes a couple of minutes. he glances on his wrist watch and realizes that more than two hours have passed. right then, for no clear reason, he felt his heart drop. worry sets in and before he knows it he's on his way to your place.

you mentioned your address to him before. he remembers it being on the third floor of an apartment blocks away from your workplace. kita strides through the staircase and finds himself standing before a wooden door. he has never set foot at your apartment as it has always been the other way around.

just as he was about to rap knocks on your frontdoor, an old lady with a handkerchief tied around her head appears by the door. she holds a white envelope in one hand and a large plastic bag on the other.

"goodafternoon, young man. do you need anything?" the old lady greets him. her wrinkles cover her face as she grins at him teethless.

"room 305, Mitsui Building?" kita asks to confirm.

"yes, this is it and you're here for?"

"the person that lives there."

"oh! she's not here yet. i'm cleaning the apartment before she arrives. the new tenant is a bit of a perfectionist, the owner said." the old lady gushes as she crinkles her nose in a playful manner. on the other hand, kita is muddled over with what she said.

"i believe she has lived here for years. she told me, (y/n), i mean, and never mentioned about moving out."

"oh. you don't know?" the old lady's cheerful disposition washes over her face. she speaks. "then you must be him and this must be for you."

the old lady hands him the white sealed envelope in hand. at the back of it is his name, handwritten as if it was addressed to him. kita quickly tears the the side of the rectangular envelope and fishes out a torn out page from a notebook. he unfolds the letter and reads it with his eyes.

"i'd die for you a thousand times but in our next lifetime, please remember my face, my love.

-(y/n)"

masterlist | hq.list

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #hq kita #kita shinsuke #kita headcanons #kita imagines #kita fic #kita drabbles #kita one shot #hq shinsuke #kita x reader #kita x you #kita x y/n #hq fanfic #hq imagines #hq drabbles #hq oneshot #kita shinsuke x reader #kita shinsuke x y/n #pea.writes #pea.events

[justnnyx]

just haikyuu boys being sappy

As your fingers caress his back, he shivers. Your touch is cold and yet, you're so warm.

You breathe his name into his chest, and he wonders how a single word could have such an impact on him. How a word from you could have him feeling so... loved.

He feels the soft press of your lips on his cheek, then his neck, then his collarbones, each kiss washing over him like a gentle wave.

You hold his hand in your arms, embracing him in your warmth.

With you comes the end of winter, and the arrival of spring. With you comes comfort and warm temperatures and flowers and birdsong. Your presence alone is enough to ease him.

He doesn't care if he's being cheesy. He doesn't care if his thoughts right now are embarrassing. It's just that your flushed face makes him feel so happy. So, so happy.

"I love you," he mutters in between gasps. "I love you."

KITA, akaashi, sakusa, ushijima (!!), aran, kageyama, kyotani (i will die on this hill.), daichi, KUROO, atsumu

#these boys def sappy af #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu!! #fics #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #haikyuu smut #kita x reader #kita shinsuke #sakusa x reader #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #daichi x reader #daichi sawamura #aran ojiro #aran x reader #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo x reader #kyotani kentaro #kyotani x reader #haikyuu hcs #haikyu x reader

[attemptinghaikyuu]

Just a few images to sum up what’s going on in part 2 of my Kita fic

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #kita shinsuke #kita fic #haikyuu thoughts

[cerisesakurainspring]

KITA SHINSUKE × READER

~~A compassionate love you will never trade for any riches.

"Anata?" You call for your husband.

You had just put your twins to sleep not long ago and were about to retire for the night when you saw Kita wasn't on the bed in your room. You like to think you knew him like the back of your hand, so with your confident knowledge of his routine, you decided to go to a place he frequents.

You ascended the attic with a lamp in your hand, then climbed through the mini-steps that led through the rooftop. Against the window frame was your husband leaning his shoulder on it. You smile at his serene expression and how it softened further when he saw you.

"How's our two little rascals doing?" He held his hand for you to take, and you took it gratefully.

"Finally fast asleep." You wrapped your arms around his waist and snuggled closely, craving his warmth in the chilly night. The silver-haired lad indulged you by wrapping his well-built arms around you and giving you a peck on the temple. The view in front of you was one of serene ambience and you could not help but feel relaxed in the calmness of the night.

Kita has always loved connecting with nature. He much preferred the clean air and peace of the countryside to the hustle and bustle of the towering main cities. This was one of the reasons why he chose to start a farming business instead of taking on a salaryman job. Quite a stretch away from the standard practices of men his age.

You nestled closer into his embrace and sighed contently, the memories of yesterday pulling you back to when your life started turning for the better. Five years ago, you gave birth to twins and Kita was slightly anxious about the fact for he had experience dealing with twins. He was nonetheless the happiest man on earth when he held them both in his arms as tears of joy cascaded down his alluring features.

Occasionally, his former volleyball teammates would visit and play with your adorable children. To no one's surprise, they bonded with the Miya twins the most. Two twin flames merging and creating an inferno, for every time they visited, trouble was always guaranteed.

You remember seeing an angry Kita for the first time when Atsumu taught your kids how to prank his brother. Osamu was to pick up sets of rice sacks for his onigiri shop then, and when he lifted the last sack, the grain came bursting from the hole the three monsters had created. Two mini monsters incited by a supposed mature adult. The full-grown monster Atsumu.

To escape the wrath of the silver-haired Miya, Atsumu carried both your twins on his shoulder and ran across the rice field. The two 4-year-olds giggled as they bounced on the pro player's shoulder while he skipped through the run-off platform. This was a bad move on his part for it had just rained the day before, so the soil was still moist. To his bad luck, he slipped and the three ended up falling into the rice paddies.

What would have been a fun play of tag ended severely for all of them.

The older of your twins cried his lungs out when he fell, and Kita came running from the rice mill. The fear on your husband's face was still vivid in your memory, and he was pretty livid when he found out Atsumu was the one liable.

The fury in his demeanour was enough to root all five of you in place that even the crying twins hushed down. Kita stared down at his kouhai with anger no one expected him to have.

You remember him pointing at the parked car with gritted teeth and only saying, 'Leave.' and all the Miya twins could do was bow their heads in apology and rush out.

Poor blonde Miya was almost banned from visiting your twins.

The memory made you giggle, and your husband turned his head to look at you, curiosity dancing in his breathtaking eyes.

"I guess twins are naturally born to be troublemakers," you proposed.

Kita chuckled at your remark and then kissed your temple once more. "You're doing a marvellous job keeping them on their toes."

You melt in your husband's embrace and let the gentle breeze caress your skin as it carries the scent of earth with it. The rice field before you swayed softly against the whispers of the wind, and it seemed to be in tandem with the crickets singing. 

It was like watching a concierto of nature made for just the two of you.

You stare at the stars above as it continued to twinkle in the velvety sky. The moon towering over the nocturnal landscape seemingly made the moment feel like a dream of wonder. Time seemed to crawl at that moment, and the sense of harmony and tranquility permeated your very core.

A content sigh escaped your lips as you realized nothing could make the moment more perfect.

You were grateful for the man beside you and the two little munchkins you were gifted with. Even though you were a full-time mother, you were very appreciative of the affluent yet simple lifestyle Kita has provided for the family.

It was like your own little paradise. Full of warmth and laughter.

Your husband's brown eyes look over the field stretching out far with a happy smile on his lips. For him, there was no greater joy than living a farming life with you and the twins. He was content to live out his days, experiencing the simple pleasures of what life offered him.

He did not need anything more.

To Kita, the three of you were his ikigai, and that was more than enough.

This is part of a one-shot series called Haikyuū Lovers. It was previously called Haikyuū Husbandos, but I had to rename it because it started to sound cringy, lol.

It is also up for reading on AO3 and Wattpad with the same title and pen name.

#haikyū!! #haikyuu #haikyuu fic #hq fic #haikyuu x reader #hq kita #haikyuu kita #kita shinsuke #inarizaki #inarizaki kita #kita shinsuke x reader #haikyuu fanfiction