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#kita shinsuke missing hours

nariism · 5 months

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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.

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cottonlemonade · 2 months

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Masterlist

art: Studio Ghibli

🌟 Note, all works are x chubby!Reader 🌟

🌷 currently uploading on Mondays/Wednesdays/Fridays 🌷

____________________________________________

Bokuto Koutarou

🫧 How You Met (Falling In Love) word count: 2145, post-time skip

🪭 Well, happy Valentine's... word count: 860, established relationship, post-time skip

🪭 [2.38am] [drabble]

🪭 Pay Attention To Me word count: 819, established relationship, University!AU

🫧 Souvenir [drabble]

🫧 Getting Heavy word count: 519, not quite post-time skip

🫧 When You’re On Your Period [drabble]

🫧 When He Is Jealous [drabble] 🍋

🫧 Distracted [drabble]

🫧 Sneaky word count: 348, friends to lovers, University!AU

🫧 When You’re Being Shipped With Another Player [drabble]

🌱 Scream It From The Rooftops 🍋 word count: 1095

Akaashi Keiji

🫧 How You Met word count: 950, post-time skip

🍡 A Perfect Picture of Innocence word count: 475, established relationship, post-time skip

🫧 When You Nod Off At The Library [drabble]

🫧 Laying Awake [drabble]

🫧 Recon word count: 442, pining

🪭 Recreational Reading [drabble] 🍋

Oikawa Tooru

🌧️ Not Enough word count: 2537

🪭🌧️ If He Could word count: 937, pining, University!AU

🌧️ He Misses You When He Travels [drabble]

🪭 Stuck At The Aiport word count: 1057, established relationship, post-time skip

🌧️ All That Matters word count: 1812, pining, fake dating kinda, University!AU

🌧️ Scattered Belongings word count: 769, implied pining, University!AU

🫧 Studying With Oikawa [drabble]

🌧️ Making Up After A Fight word count: 756, established relationship, post-time skip

🫧 Take Out and Make Out word count: 850, new relationship, University!AU

🫧 Protecting Your Rival 🍋 word count: 1074, rivals to lovers-implied

Kuroo Tetsurou

🪭 Behind Dusty Shelves word count: 450, established relationship, University!AU

🪭 Stuck At The Airport word count: 757, established relationship, post-time skip

🫧 A Chaotic Confession word count: 917, friends to lovers, University!AU

🫧 Sunbeam [drabble]

🫧🍡 Overprepared word count: 947, established relationship, University!AU

🫧 Jealous At Training Camp [drabble] 🍋 [part 2]

🫧 When He Is Jealous (but make it boyfriend) [drabble] 🍋

🫧 Plan B [part 2] word count: 1015, pining, post-time skip

Sawamura Daichi

🪭🌧️ How You Met (and other stuff) word count: 1430, post-time skip

🪭 Actions Have Consequences word count: 729, established relationship, post-time skip

🌱 To Protect word count: 791, pining, not quite time-skip

🌱 Waking Up From A Nightmare [drabble]

Tendou Satori

🫧 Just Crazy Enough word count: 2124, friends to lovers

🪭 After A Long Day [drabble]

🌧️ Just Use Me word count: 649, unrequited love

Iwaizumi Hajime

🪭 POV: you wake up from a naughty dream [drabble] smau, established relationship, aged up

🪭 I Missed You word count: 1340, married, post-time skip

Suna Rintarou

🪭 Keeping Quiet word count: 864, established relationship, post-time skip

🪭 Six And A Half Minutes [part 2] [part 3] word count: 1608, friends to lovers, University!AU

Semi Eita

🪭 Change Of Plans word count: 735, established relationship, University!AU

🍡 Cleaning Day [drabble]

Tsukishima Akiteru

🫧 Confessions After Hours word count: 1124, friends to lovers

Tsukishima Kei

🌧️ 🫧 How To Comfort People by Tsukishima Kei 🍋 word count: 961, rivals to a little less rivals

🫧 He Takes Care Of You [drabble] 🍋

🪭 Camping In A Storm [drabble] 🍋

🫧🪭 Just A Dream 🍋 word count: 806, married, post-time skip

🫧 And Another Thing [drabble]

Kozume Kenma

🫧 How You Met word count: 832, post-time skip

Koganegawa Kanji

🍡 A Clumsy Couple Makes Out word count: 747, new established relationship, University!AU

Kita Shinsuke

🫧 How You Met word count: 927, post-time skip

🪭 Insatiable [drabble]

🫧 Ideal [drabble]

🌱 Breathe word count: 461, established relationship, post-time skip

Sugawara Koushi

🪭 Sunday Morning With Your Husband [drabble] 🍋

Miya Osamu

🌧️🫧 Archnemesis 🍋 word count: 1066, rivalry, pining, 3rd year twins

🍡🫧 Strawberry Lotion word count: 546, established relationship, aged up

Miya Atsumu

🫧 How You Met word count: 1062, post-time skip

🫧 That Time I Made My Brother Hide In The Bathroom To Talk To A Girl word count: 876, post-time skip

🫧 All Is Fair In Love And War [drabble] 🍋

🫧 Call Me Baby 🍋 word count: 723, friends to lovers

🫧🪭 Sunday Morning With Your Husband 🍋

Matsukawa Issei

🪭 The Coziness Of Storagerooms 🍋 word count: 882, established relationship, post-time skip

🫧 500 yen [drabble]

🪭 Noisy Neighbors 🍋 word count: 603, married, post-time skip

Ennoshita Chikara

🫧 Period Relief Plan [drabble] 🍋

Hinata Shoyo

🫧 Chicken Soup 🍋

🫧 So Close [drabble]

Kageyama Tobio

🫧 How You Met 🍋

word count: 1288, post-time skip

Various

🫧 When He Realizes You Are The One (Bokuto, Kuroo, Tendou, your fave) [drabble]

_______________________________

🫧 Fluff // 🌱 comfort // 🍡 suggestive // 🪭 spice // 🌧️ angst/hurt // 🍋 request

_______________________________

01 The Lemonade Stand (100 follower milestone) [closed]

02 The Lemonade Stand (spring) [closed]

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junosmindpalace · 1 year

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come into my arms

☾ ft. shinsuke kita

☾ sfw. kita misses you while you sleep. 1.2k

kita has always been used to waking up early.

since he was a child it was always kita’s way to have a productive start to his mornings, waking up as early as 5am to start his routines. that habit of waking up at absurd hours of the morning proved useful as it carried into adulthood, and today he wakes up early every morning to tend to his farm.

he enjoys the serenity in those hours, the peace the dawn brings. he can focus solely on himself, he can work as slowly or as quickly as he pleases, and this is just the way things have always been.

it wasn't unusual for this habit of his to start rubbing off on you over the years. he’d never want to disturb your sleep, and he takes extra care in moving carefully around the house as he gets ready to start his chores so as to not wake you. but sometimes you’d follow short of him when you’d no longer feel his body heat or gentle breathing beside you. he’d urge you to go back to bed, but you’d insist on starting the day alongside him.

and so kita’s mornings became all the more meaningful and beloved as he gets to enjoy the serenity with you not far from him. at first, he thinks that his routines may be disrupted with you awake, but you only served him more comfort and more joy and proved to be a helpful presence instead of an intrusive one.

early mornings with you were great. getting dressed together, making small talk over breakfast, watching the sun rise…

as kita slowly rose up from your shared bed, he looked over his shoulder at you hugging the duvet close around your shoulders. he smiled at the sight and let his gaze linger on your figure before getting up with a stretch, headeding toward the bathroom to start the day.

even though kita’s sleeping habits have rubbed off on you, you still tended to wake up a while after him, and kita usually takes the bit of extra time to start preparing breakfast. each meal was prepped with the utmost care and consideration for the day. something light? something quick to make? or perhaps something new just to have an eventful start to your morning.

but as he was finishing up, he realized that in the still of his home, he hasn’t heard any noise from your room.

heading to investigate, he took notice of you still laying cozied in your bed, curled up and completely gone from the rest of the world. kita’s eyebrows turned upward with a sympathetic look as he sighed.

your work from last night took you into the early morning, far after kita had already retreated to bed himself. you must’ve been exhausted, catching up on the couple of hours you sacrificed the morning earlier. no matter. kita would continue on with his chores as he always did.

setting aside your meal for when you woke, he proceeded on with his regular routine; checking the weather, getting dressed. usually he’d be mumbling with you as he did so, but as he occasionally looked over at your sleeping figure, he knew it’d be best to let you rest for a while longer.

but something about your one time absence threw kita for a loop. he still took pleasure in watering the plants around his home, in eating the food he made himself, in tidying up some small messes. but he also felt your absence in all of these things, missing watching you slowly feed yourself, missing you in the mirror beside him as he brushed his teeth and rinsed the sleep out of his face, missing a comment or two about his messy hair and having you ruffle it up some more before gently combing through it with your fingers.

he eyed you as he cleaned up your bedside table that had become clustered as you worked last night, and again as he slipped into his boots and coat. subconsciously, he’s trying to find any sign of sleeping wearing off you with each glance into your room, but you only ever shifted slightly to sink further into your pillow.

even though he’d be robbed of your presence as he worked outside, he’d at least have the morning sun to keep him company, and he stood outside basking in the sun's first early morning rays as he worked.

some time went by and as kita finished up his morning chores outside, he found himself giddy as he thought of seeing you up at the kitchen table. to think that he’d miss your presence so much- it was only one morning!

he put away his outdoor gear and glanced over at the kitchen, a small frown morphing onto his face when he realizes nothing has been touched. he slowly makes his way toward your shared bedroom to find the sheets a jumble, a result of you detangling yourself from them…

only to find you still sleeping away.

kita deflates a little at the sight. of course, he wants nothing more than for you to get your rest. rest is healthy, it’s what you need to function throughout the day. but kita also misses you.

he thinks back to a time when he used to handle all his morning chores by himself and wonders how he ever managed them without you as he ponders what to do with himself next. it feels like such a time never existed, and it’s hard for him to think of how to occupy himself.

he settles onto the couch with his laptop and phone and decides to catch up with some friends and respond to some emails. he turns on the TV and makes sure the news isn’t too loud (but also loud enough) and uses it as white noise for his work. every couple of minutes he glances at the time in the bottom right of his screen.

ten minutes. twenty. thirty. his eyes glance over to the kitchen entrance before quickly looking away. he’s getting antsy, he realizes. his mind keeps wandering off, something just not quite right. he tries to focus on his work for another ten minutes. another twenty. and eventually he sets aside his laptop, turns off the TV and makes a beeline for your room.

he would never normally do something such as this. being with you has led him to compromise, he thinks, because only you would be able to break him apart from his usual routine to join you in bed even after he had woken up.

kita changes back into his night wear and slowly slips back under your shared cover, moving closer and closer to you until he’s hugging you to his chest, an arm around your waist and another under your pillow. his head meets your back, and the sudden pressure has you stirring awake a little. he hears you squirm around and his heart starts to pick up speed as he hears you mumble out for him.

“shin?”

“i’m here.”

he moves his head so it’s resting in the crook of your neck, and you turn on your back to throw your arm behind his neck, your free hand cradling his head and slowly carding through his tufts of hair. he immediately relaxes further against you and into the bed, closing his eyes in satisfaction.

“shouldn’t you be up?”

“i finished all my chores. i came to join you.”

because kita can’t imagine doing anything else in that moment but enjoy the rest of the morning in your arms.

#i forgot i wrote this #kita shinsuke x reader #kita shinsuke fluff #kita shinsuke x you #kita shinsuke scenarios #kita shinsuke oneshot #shinsuke kita x reader #shinsuke kita fluff #shinsuke kita oneshot #shinsuke kita headcanons #kita shinsuke headcanons #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu oneshots

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satantica · 11 months

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how haikyu boys would kiss you

you couldn’t go to bed without him. you were patiently waiting for his return from work by reading a book in a muffled light when you heard the door slam. you put the book on the nightstand near the bed as the door in the room opened. he looked exhausted, the tie half taken off, the top of the shirt unbuttoned, eyes extinguished. he slowly sat down across the bed and carefully put his hand on your ankle. he nervously exhaled as he squeezed your ankle a bit harder. you rushed to move closer to him taking his hand and making him look at you. he looked up in your eyes. there was no need for words. you could feel his desperate wish to forget about everything with you. he was tired and couldn’t ask more from you. the muffled light looked so good on him even though he was overwhelmed. your hand drew his head to you. your neck was covered with goosebumps as you felt his warm breath. he started kissing your neck slowly but desperately. he put all his gratitude and adoration in every kiss. your skin responded to every touch of his lips. it was so gentle, so careful and persistent at the same time as he was scared that you would disappear. he moved his hand from your ankle to the scapula pulling you closer. his lips held onto your skin longer with every time. he couldn’t get enough of you.

akaashi keiji, KEISHIN UKAI, osamu miya, oikawa tooru, TSUKISHIMA KEI, SAKUSA KIYOOMI, kenma kozume

you were studying for your midterm as he was sitting in an armchair reading some magazine. “it’s so cold here” he said unobtrusively. you smirked but didn’t look away from the papers “then put some clothes on.” you could feel his unsatisfied gaze at you. he put down his magazine and crossed his legs. “my love, can you bring me my hoodie? i would’ve done it myself but I don’t know where you put it. I think you could use a little break. I bet these papers got the best time of their existence by getting your undivided attention. your eyes shouldn’t work that hard.” you agreed with him and got up. your neck was a mess after sitting with all these notes for several hours. and as you were passing him he grabbed your hand making you fall onto his lap. “seriously, that was your plan?” you laughed. he grinned getting your hair behind your ear “not yet.” he raised his knee so you would lean on his chest. he moved his finger to your chin drawing your lips to his. “god, I missed them these hours” he said before kissing you impulsively, supporting your back with his free hand so you wouldn’t fall. after a while he would grab your other leg managing to get you completely sit on him.

IWAIZUMI HAJIME, terushima yuuji, SUGAWARA KOUSHI, morisuke yaku, goshiki tsutomu, yamaguchi tadashi, SAWAMURA DAICHI, suna rintarou

you both finally got home after exhausting party at work of yours. you two were a little tipsy as you thought it would help to take the stress off. and since when he hadn’t stop from commenting on everything and you hadn’t stop laughing at every his line. you finally took a break and said tiredly "oh gosh, I wish we didn’t have to change and just went to sleep like that.” he glanced at you while taking the shoes off and smiled. “alright.” he effortlessly lifted you in the air holding you under the arms. he carried you this way to the living room. he laid on the couch putting you on him. he was trying to get in the right position so you would feel comfortable. you tried to resist at first but finally let your head rest on his warm, giant chest. you’ve never felt this secure and safe. he patted your head softly, kissing it every time his hand got to your neck. when you fell asleep he couldn’t help it and carefully placed your hands closer to his head, so he would lovingly kiss them in order not to wake you up. this was the moment he wanted to carry with him everywhere for the rest of his life.

azumane asahi, BOKUTO KOUTAROU, haiba lev, wakatoshi ushijima, OSAMU MIYA, kita shinsuke, KENTARO KYOTANI, kageyama tobio

you were having breakfast and tried to concentrate on the amount of things you had to do today. “mood spoiled from the very start of the day?” he tilted his head surprised by how cute you looked. you frowned and put the phone away “just a list of things I got to do.” he smirked “am I on this list? oh fuck, I’m gonna be late.” he pulled your chair closer to him with his foot enjoying the view and then suddenly enfolded your face with both of his hands. he devilishly suffocated you with his lips not letting go of your face. it was so passionate as if he literally drank all the blood from your lips. he stopped as his hand was sliding from your cheek to your chin. he definitely was going to do all of that it again. but then he froze in millimeter from your lips and whispered “don’t forget to return me this one when I get back.” he left giving you an air kiss. oh, this man… what you had to do today by the way?

ATSUMU MIYA, tanaka ryuunosuke, KUROO TETSUROU, yamamoto taketora, tendou satori, OIKAWA TOORU, nishinoya yuu, suna rintarou

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schelamski · 3 months

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Kita Shinsuke in "On and about with the hq-boys"🛫

-a series of airport drabbles.

Previously: Sakusa Kyoomi “Lets go home. You´re freezing and I don’t want you catching a cold.”

Next: Asahi Azumane “No, please don’t stop, I like the sound of your voice!”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You make me proud, you know that right?"

Unable to keep your feet still, you were pacing around the baggage claim at the airport. Only a semester abroad and you were nervous as hell to be back in Japan. Especially because you really wanted to see your boyfriend Shin again. While waiting for your luggage you reminisced about the times before you went away. Kita was really the perfect boyfriend, he supported and even encouraged your decision to go to another university abroad for a semester. Saying good-bye was hard but those nights where you missed him in your bed next to you were even harder. Sometimes all the adventures of the exciting daily life got too much and you simply wanted to cuddle with Shinsuke on the couch on his simple farmhouse, not having to worry about anything. Naturally you couldn’t wait to be with him again. With a soft smile you grabbed your finally arriving luggage and proceeded to get to the arrival’s hall, where you were supposed to meet with kita.

Kita was nervous as well. On the one hand he was really excited and couldn’t wait for your return, on the other hand he was worried. Even before you went away, he had doubts about not being enough for you. The last thing he wanted was to hold you back from reaching your potential but that was hard when he was earning his living with working a rice farm. So, what if you realized now that he indeed wasn’t enough? What if you had gotten a taste of the fast and changing life of living abroad on your own and didn’t want to go back to the simple life on his farm again? He wanted to ask you all those questions but not now, first he wanted you back in all your glory. The rest would show itself eventually. Despite the agonizing feelings in his heart, he couldn’t help but to feel incredible proud on how far you´ve come. So that’s what he whispered in your ear after a soft kiss, that he could never forget, not missing the relieved sigh that escaped your lips.

“You make me proud, you know that right? You are amazing! And even though I never want you to leave me again, I know that you´re bound to do something great. I will support you all the way, even if it means that there will be a great distance between us again.”

“Shin you can´t imagine how much I’ve missed you. To be honest, this experience wouldn’t have been half as good as it was without having your support. I love you so much, I feel like I never want to be away from you for so much time again.”

It took you another half an hour to make it out of the airport without sobbing bodies and sloppy kisses.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #hq drabble #hq x reader #hq fluff #kita x you #kita shinsuke x y/n #kita shinsuke #kita shinsuke x you #kita shinsuke x reader

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emmyrosee · 1 year

Note

mindlessly scrolling through some insta reels then i saw this.....

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CpmLSP-DpYS/?igshid=MjljNjAzYmU=

GOSH I SUDDENLY REMEMBERED YOUR FIC ABOUT THE FIRST WORD OF MIYA ATSUMU'S DAUGHTER 😆 i love all your hq dad scenarios but that one is my faveee 🐥🫶

that's all. just wanted to stop by. hehehe. have a good week!! 💗

NO BECAUSE I 150% IMAGINE THAT ONCE SHE’S TALKING MORE, SHE GOES THROUGH A PHASE OF PICKING UO EVERY CURSE WORD THAT PASSES THROUGH ANYONES LIPS.

God forbid she say other things, just curse words.

You don’t blame her, she doesn’t know better! And admittedly, now that she’s started, you find yourself slipping too, saying a little thing here and there, and cringing when she easily parrots it back.

You cursed when you spilt your drink over some papers- she said it right back for the next several hours.

Atsumu dropped the f-bomb when he dropped a bag of groceries, and from your arms, she dropped it right back.

But this time, the most unlikely person cusses. The one person you thought for sure she’d never hear a cuss from, the one soul you could count on, suddenly betrayed you when Kita Shinsuke accidentally got paint on the floor, and she didn’t miss a beat in repeating it.

“Ssssshit!” He says, just above a frustrated hiss. You gasp. Atsumu snorts.

“Shinsuke!” You laugh.

“Kita-San!” Atsumu follows.

“Shit!” Hisako adds.

“HISAKO!”

236 notes · View notes

suguwu · 10 months

Text

lover be good to me: part three

You meet Kita Shinsuke on a rainy summer day, with a sea of hydrangeas swirling at your feet. You know him instantly, as only a soulmate can. He seems like a good man. Like a good soulmate.

But it’s your wedding day.

masterlist

minors and ageless blogs do not interact

pairings: kita shinsuke x f!reader, oc x f!reader

notes: so this was originally supposed to be three parts, but i hit the limit for a tumblr post, so it's now four. but we're so close to the end and i'm excited to share this part with you! the final part will be up next week.

as always, massive thanks to my beta for both the edits and the endless support throughout the process, especially when i thought writing this fic would never end.

title and part title are from hozier’s “be” and "nfwmb"

tags for this part (contains spoilers for fic): soulmate au (first words), this is a very reader-centric story, slow burn, pining, hurt/comfort, reader and kita are implied to be around their 30s, food consumption, non-graphic partner death (not kita), grief/mourning, healing, love as a choice.

wc: 10k

You’ve been staying up too late.

Or maybe you’ve been getting up too early. You’re not sure you know anymore. The world spills foggy over your senses these days. The sun sets bloody over the horizon as you close your eyes, sinking your teeth into the tender flesh of a dusty pink peach, the juices running sweet down your chin. You open your eyes and there’s a mug shattered on the floor, coffee pooling around your feet, the scent of it heavy enough to taste. You close them again, and you wake up curled around a ghost.

Hours roll into each other, jagged fragments rounded smooth, seaglass blips of time. They slip through your fingers like grains of sand.

You miss the finer details of things. The wake is ephemeral, a cobweb snapping in the breeze long gone before you even know it. Only the ghost of incense on your skin tells you it occurred. Abe and Yoshikawa spend the night; they’re warm around you in the guest room’s bed, their arms thrown over your waist to keep you from shaking apart in the tender wound of darkness.

You curl up in the cradle of them. You can smell Yoshikawa’s mango shampoo as you press close to her, her long hair catching against you. She hums quietly and shifts to accommodate you. Abe scooches closer against your back, her forehead pressing between your shoulder blades.

You fall asleep like that, twined together like a litter of kittens, shifting into each other’s warmth.

You blink awake in your dimly lit kitchen. It’s late; the sickle curve of the moon is low in the sky. Your phone is heavy in your hand.

Kita picks up within a single ring. He says your name quietly, like it’s a secret for just you and him. It startles you out of your daze. You suck in a sharp breath as you realize you actually called him.

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean to call so late.”

“S’alright,” he says. His voice is rough with sleep; there’s a soft rumble to it, like far-off thunder. “You can always call.”

“Did I wake you?”

“S’alright,” he says again. “Do you want to talk?”

You bite at a hangnail. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to talk?”

“Please,” you say, your voice fraying at the edges.

He does. You lean against the refrigerator as he talks, your head tilted back against the cool metal of it. Kita tells you about the seedlings, how he could use a machine to sow them but that this year he’s chosen to do one or two of the paddies by hand. You imagine him crouching in the fields, his big hands tender against the delicate shoots, sinking them into the thin layer of murky water.

His voice is soft, steady, and warm. You sink into it, floating in it as you watch the moon set, a fishhook of light descending towards the embrace of the horizon. He spins out story after story. You think it’s the most you’ve ever heard him talk and something in you twinges.

“Will you come to the funeral?” you ask, the question spilling from you before you can stop it.

Kita goes quiet. You listen to him breathe. It’s steady like the tide, in and out, ebbing and flowing in a way that soothes something in you, a balm against an unknown scrape.

“No.”

You flinch.

“If I come,” he continues, his voice gentle but firm, “it won’t be about your husband anymore. It’ll be about us.”

Kita’s particular brand of logic has always had a cold edge to it. You know he doesn’t mean it unkindly, but it stings to hear the truth spoken so steadily, with such assurance.

You curl in on yourself like a fiddlehead, bringing your knees up to your chest. You sob once, an earthen sound, deep and heavy.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Silence falls. You tilt your head back further and stare at the ceiling, half-blocked by the fan of leaves from the plants perched precariously on top of the fridge. You can almost see him in the lines the paintbrush left behind, his lips thinned and his amber eyes somber.

“I know,” you whisper.

Kita breathes out a sigh. It’s a wisp of a thing. You think it must be bitter on his tongue, laced as deeply with regret as it is.

“Do you want to keep talkin’?”

You glance at the stove’s clock and wince. “You should go back to bed,” you tell him. “It’s late.”

“That isn’t what I asked,” he says, not unkindly.

You watch the clock blink over to the next number. It seems to take an eternity, a lifetime tied up in neon red.

“I don’t know,” you say and the tears are welling up, burning hot behind your eyes. “Shinsuke, I don’t know.”

“S’okay.”

The tears spill over, running down your cheeks in thick rivulets. They catch on your lips, fill your mouth, until all you know is sorrow salty on your tongue. “Shinsuke,” you say, desperate.

“I’m here.”

You curl forward, burying your face in your knees. You fist your free hand in your nightshirt, twining the soft cotton around your fingers until it hurts. You sob once and then catch the next one behind your teeth to swallow back down.

“You can cry, y’know,” he says. “You don’t hafta stop on my account.”

It sets you off. You sob like a child with your forehead resting against your knees, the tears dripping down to dampen your pj pants.

Kita murmurs something, too soft for you to hear over your own sobs. But his voice is sweetened with kindness. It settles into your bones, the warmth of it spreading under your skin, a soothing balm against the sharp, gruesome wound deep inside you. The first tentative stitch of many.

Your sobs peter out into quiet, shaky breaths.

“Good,” Kita says. “Keep breathin’, just like that. Slow and steady.”

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean to cry.”

“Don’t be. Yer hurting. Be more surprised if you didn’t cry.”

You give a watery laugh. “Yeah, I guess. I’m sorry anyway, though, especially for keeping you up. I know you get up early.”

“S’alright,” he says. “Like I said, you can call any time.”

“Thank you, Kita.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Of course,” he says.

“Go back to bed,” you tell him. “I’m okay.”

He hums. It’s a rich, sleepy sound, dripping down the line like thick honey. You press your phone against your ear a little harder and let the sound of him curl around you.

“I don’t mind staying up.”

“I’m okay,” you say again. “Just tired.”

“Alright.”

“Goodnight, Kita.”

“G’night.”

You hang up. A car goes by; its headlights pour in through the window, illuminating your kitchen. The light catches on the little vase of your favorite flowers tucked away on the counter top. They’re wilting, the edges of the petals shrinking back, like shy children covering their faces.

You can’t bring yourself to throw them out.

You tilt your head back against the fridge and close your eyes.

“Wanna come back to bed?” Abe asks.

You crack an eye open.

She’s haunting the threshold of the kitchen, softened by the dim. Her mouth is a tender gash. She waits.

“Not yet,” you say.

She pads into the kitchen. When you don’t protest, she slides down next to you, pressing warm against your side. It feels like childhood again, when you would crowd in close together to read the same manga under the covers with a flashlight.

“Okay,” she says softly. She leans her head against your shoulder as you close your eyes again. “Not yet.”

Another car goes by; the kitchen fills with light. It glitters against Abe’s dark hair for a breath and then it’s gone. In the aftermath, the kitchen seems darker still, Abe just a faint outline next to you, and perhaps that’s why you say, “I called Kita.”

She stays quiet, only shifting against you. Her silk pajamas are soft as they slide across your skin.

“I don’t know why,” you continue. “I just…wanted to hear him.”

“At 2am?”

You bite your lower lip. “I think,” you whisper. “I think that maybe I just wanted to make sure he’s still here.”

“He is,” she says softly. “He’s still here.”

You hum, the sound like river rocks rolling over each other, wearing away at each other. “Yeah,” you say. You scrub away the remnants of your tears with the back of your hand. “He is.”

Abe catches your hand as you lower it. She winds her fingers—bird-boned, all delicate architecture that makes you think of the arcing ceiling of a cathedral nave—through yours. She squeezes.

“Come back to bed,” she says, her words punctuated with a little tug. “You need sleep.”

You let her pull you to your feet. The two of you make your way down the hallway quietly; when you open the door to the guest bedroom Yoshikawa is already awake, her dark eyes gleaming through the dim. You sink into bed beside her. She curls up around you as Abe climbs in from the other side.

“You okay?” Yoshikawa asks.

You go still, a briar patch of cruel words growing sharp as they twine up your throat. “No,” you bite out. Abe goes stiff at your back. “Why would I be?”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.” Yoshikawa’s voice is cool but it does nothing to hide the softness there, nor does it hide the hurt that lurks beneath.

You take a deep breath. “I’m tired,” you say, even though you know you should apologize. “Can we sleep?”

She cups your cheek and gives you a sad little smile. “Of course.”

Abe drapes an arm over your middle and gives you a little squeeze.

“Go to sleep,” she murmurs. “We’ll be here in the morning.”

You fall asleep knowing it’s a promise they’ll keep.

***

The funeral passes quickly.

It’s all flickers of things: a laugh quickly hushed behind hands, a tight-lipped smile on painted lips, the salt of tears lingering on the air like ocean spray, the sickly floral scent of the hanawas thick on your tongue, a wrinkled hand cold against your wrist.

You can barely look at Takao’s parents. He’ll live on in their faces, you think, in the curve of his mother’s lips and the shape of his father’s cheekbones, but you can hardly tell now. Their features are gnarled with sorrow, knotted like the old crabapple tree that you and Takao used to climb in their yard. Each hiccuping sob from his mother echoes in your ears.

You touch one of the flowers of a thick, bountiful hanawa just before it’s collected. The petal is silken between your fingers. It bruises quickly beneath your touch, the thin delicacy of it tearing. You let go.

It’s obvious amid the pristine lilies. You grab another creamy white petal and then another. By the fifth petal, there’s a path of mangled petals behind you, stepping stones of destruction.

“Hey,” Abe says, laying her hand over the top of yours as you reach out for another petal, “let them take it, okay?”

You blink. “Oh,” you say, seeing the funeral director lingering nearby, ready to take the hanawa to go with Takao’s body. “Of course.”

Before you step away, you tug off a single perfect petal, white as snow and faintly dusted with golden pollen. You roll it between your fingers. The satin of it crushes beneath your fingertips.

Abe squeezes your hand. Her touch is a song you’ll always know but it feels distant now, like music muffled behind an apartment’s walls. She lets go when you step away from the wreath.

You follow her to the entrance of the funeral hall. The koden ledger is there, surrounded by white envelopes stacked high. You nudge at one until the flap opens to show crisp yen notes. You stare at the notes until they blur at the edges.

Before Abe can say anything, you reach out and close the envelope up. The stiff mizuhiki knots are rough against your fingers. You trace along them for a moment.

“I didn’t think I’d see these any time soon.”

“I know,” she says softly.

“Someone will collect the ledger?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Thanks.”

She leads you back to your parents and squeezes your hand again before she disappears. You’re not sure where she goes, but you wish you could go with her. Instead, you accept condolences for what feels like hours, each word grating on you, eroding you like a pebble caught in an ocean wave.

When it’s all over your parents bundle you into the car. The city blurs by like a watercolor, gray with splashes of neon streaking through it. People stream along the sidewalk too. You watch and you watch, a statue of old, bearing witness but unmoving yourself.

“Inside,” your mother says, startling you free of your reverie. You hadn’t noticed you’d stopped. She swings the car door open wider. “C’mon,” she says, gentler this time. “Let’s go inside.”

You follow her without a word.

“Tadpole,” your father says as you cross the genkan. “Your shoes.”

You look down to where you were about to step into the house proper; you’re still wearing your heels. “Oh,” you say quietly. “Thanks.”

Before you can reach down, your mother kneels before you. You try to protest, grasping at her elbows to raise her to her feet, but she swats you away and hunkers down to unbuckle them. Her fingers are careful and quick. She traces one of them over the strap of your shoe before she pushes to her feet again.

She cradles your face in her hands, her fingers warm against your cheeks. She rubs her thumb over the curve of your cheekbone to wipe away the tear stains. “Oh, tadpole,” she says softly. “My little girl.”

You bring your hands up and cup hers to you. You breathe her in, the honeyed earth of saffron mixed with the clear, soft scent of the summer irises as they rise proud amid the gardens.

“He’s gone,” you tell her.

She nods. “He is.”

“I’m alone.”

“You’re not alone. Just without him.”

“It feels like being alone.”

She brushes her thumb over the curve of your cheekbone again. “I know.”

When she lets go the heat of her lingers on your face, like how a fire lives on in the warmed hearthstones. You press a hand to your cheek absently as you slip off your shoes.

Your father bends down to take them. Just like your mother, he ignores your protest. He tucks them carefully beside a haphazard pair of Takao’s slippers. The soles are worn thin, especially compared to the thick, shiny soles of your heels.

You suppose you can take new slippers off of your shopping list.

“Go inside,” your father says. “You need rest.”

“I’m not tired.”

“You will be,” he says. He touches his mark gently, as if its charred kanji will crumble into ash beneath his fingertips. “You will be.”

You let them usher you inside. Your father tucks you in under the couch’s throw blanket—patterned with plump lemons, each with a tuft of bright green leaves attached to their stems—when you curl up into an armchair. It’s soft, warm, and it smells of Takao.

Your parents retreat to the kitchen. You can hear them puttering around, likely putting together some food for the next few days.

Your phone is heavy in your hand. For a moment, you look at the contact you’d pulled up without thinking. The little rice emoji next to Kita’s name almost seems like it’s swaying in the wind, the golden panicles draping elegantly next to the kanji. You touch his contact and open your messages and stare at the last few you’d both sent. Even over text, Kita’s steadiness comes through.

You start to type. Stop. Start again and then stop once more.

“Shit,” you mutter, closing out of the message thread and tossing your phone onto the couch next to you. You close your eyes and tilt your head back, sinking into the couch even further.

When you wake up, it’s dark out. You blink. The streetlights have come to life; their fluorescent light slants into the living room, cutting through the dim. There’s a glass of water on the side table next to the couch. There’s a note under it, your father’s spidery kanji unmistakable.

You read it as you scrub a hand over your face, trying to get rid of the last vestiges of your nap. It’s a simple note. Just enough to tell you there’s food in the fridge and that they’re just a phone call away.

You push to your feet, folding up the blanket and putting it back in its place. Your footsteps echo as you head into the kitchen. Each one feels unnaturally loud. Like the tolling of a bell, deep and low, impossible to ignore. You bite at your lower lip.

Halfway through reheating your food, you give in. You grab your phone and dial.

“Hey,” Yoshikawa says as soon as she picks up. “Are you okay?”

“The house is so quiet.”

“I’ll be over as soon as I can, okay?”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know.”

“Seriously, over the phone is enough—”

“My shoes are already on.”

You blow out a big breath. “Thank you, Asako.”

She hums. “Want me to stay on the line?”

“No, that’s okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

She says a quiet goodbye before she hangs up.

You clear away your food, your appetite gone, and decide to water the plants while you wait. The kitchen plants are thriving; they’re bathed golden every morning and it shows. You murmur softly to them as you water them, filling the kitchen with the slow rush of running water and your own voice. The plants tremble as the water hits them, their thick, lush fronds dancing under the shower.

You also refill the vase on the kitchen counter.

You know it’s stupid. Cut flowers are just ghosts, unaware that they’re already dead. These ones are curling in on themselves, their edges going crisp, but you can’t bear to get rid of them.

The door to the house clicks open. You can hear Yoshikawa rustling around in the genkan before she appears.

“Hi,” she says.

You burst into tears.

She’s across the kitchen in a heartbeat, gently tugging the watering can out of your hands. She doesn’t say a word as she wraps her arms around you. You press your face into the crook of her neck and she cradles you closer.

Her skin is cool to the touch. It’s a balm against your heated face, like a breeze on a hot summer’s day. You lean into her even more.

She hums, adjusting easily. She pets at the back of your head. “I’ve got you,” she murmurs, low and promising, and you cry harder.

She lets you cry your fill, holding you for as long as you need. You finally pull away when your head starts to pound. You sniffle as she sweeps her thumb under your eye to wipe away some of the remaining tears.

“Want me to call Natsumi?” she asks.

You shake your head. “She’s got that work thing tonight.”

“She’d leave it.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t call her.”

Yoshikawa hums. “Okay. Want to watch a movie?”

“Yes please,” you say and the two of you promptly get into an argument about what you want to watch.

You give in to her when it becomes clear that she has no intention of letting you win. You’d be annoyed but it warms you instead. Movie chosen, the two of you settle in on the couch again. You curl up against her and she weaves your hands together, giving you a light squeeze before turning her attention to the screen.

You stay tucked up against her as you watch. She doesn’t move, letting you cling to her like a limpet, and maybe it’s that. Maybe it’s how steady she is. Maybe it’s simply because she’s there. The credits are rolling, the music of them a gentle, swaying tune that makes you think of rippling rice fields. Yoshikawa shifts under you, and without thinking, you say:

“Do you think it’s my fault?”

She goes still.

“Is what your fault?”

You do not look at her. “Aoshi,” you say, his name heavy on your tongue. “Do you think it’s my fault?”

She shifts to look at you; when you stay staring at the screen, she cups your cheeks gently and turns you to face her. She studies you for a moment. Her eyes are night-sky dark and they gleam in the low lighting.

You don’t know what she sees in your face, but her mouth thins into a gash of a thing, sorrow tucked up into the open wound of it.

“How could it be your fault?” she asks.

“Soulmates,” you whisper. “We weren’t soulmates.”

“That’s true.”

“What if it was fixing that? What if he died so I could be with Kita?”

She sucks in a sharp breath but breathes it out softly. Her lower lip trembles. “It was an accident,” she says. “It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“But what if it does?”

She knocks her forehead against yours. “Four years of marriage seems like a long time for the universe to wait to course correct you.”

You stay quiet.

She searches your face again. “Listen to me,” she says. “It is not your fault. Do you blame Kita?”

“What?”

“Do you blame Kita?”

“No.”

“Then why are you blaming yourself?”

You twist your wedding ring around your finger. “I just—”

She waits.

A car goes by; the headlights play over Yoshikawa’s face. She gleams golden for a brief moment and you think of a shooting star. The words are heavy on your tongue, sickly sweet, like half-rotted fruit. You catch them there, behind the cemetery gate of your teeth, and swallow them down.

“You asked if I thought it was your fault,” she says softly. “I don’t. It’s not your fault, okay?”

You bite at your lower lip. Yoshikawa meets your gaze head on, her vulpine eyes sharp.

“It is not your fault,” she repeats.

You collapse in on yourself without a sound. Yoshikawa catches you and pulls you close. You rest your head against her breastbone and listen to the sound of her heartbeat.

“You’re sure?” you murmur into her sweater.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” you say softly. “Okay.”

For now, it’s enough.

***

The next day comes too soon.

Yoshikawa leaves early. She examines you before she goes, her gaze careful, but she knows as well as you do that you have to face today without her.

The sky is a perfect blue as you head to the crematorium, the same shade as a robin’s egg, a true spring day. You greet Takao’s parents quietly and with great respect. His mother reaches for your hands and squeezes them. It takes everything you have to not flinch away.

The three of you enter together. You hesitate on the doorstep, your breath catching, but Takao’s father says your name. He’s gentle with it but it’s enough to make you walk into the building.

Takao’s father picks up the first bone. You lose yourself during the rest of the ceremony; all you know is the soft bell of your chopsticks against porcelain, a delicate death knell. You come back to yourself as the lid to the urn closes. Your fingers are so tight around the chopsticks that it hurts.

After, Takao’s mother finds you hunched over by the entrance. She trails a soft hand over your shoulders. You take a deep breath. She gazes at you with tears glimmering in the corners of her eyes. You can’t bring yourself to say anything, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

“Stay in touch,” she tells you.

You nod.

Her pained little smile says she doesn’t believe you.

You watch as both of Takao’s parents get into their car to go to the graveyard. His mother is clutching tightly at the urn, grasping at the last vestiges of her boy before they can slip away. You turn away.

The ride home is like being caught in resin; the world moves around you while you stay still. Once home, you bundle yourself up on the couch in the lemon-patterned throw. You curl up into yourself and swallow down the sobs.

It’s the next day by the time you pick yourself up off the couch. Your head hurts, a slow, steady pulse of pain that’s settled in your left temple. It’s joined by the steady ache of your body, a complaint from your joints that you aren’t as young as you used to be. You groan.

When you check your phone, you’re surprised to see how late you’ve slept. Your messages are a mess, but you ignore most of them, skipping to your group chat with Abe and Yoshikawa. Then you pull up your messages with Kita. You stare at the last few for a moment.

You start to type. Delete what you’ve written. Start typing again, only to stop and stare at your screen.

Finally, you hit call instead.

He picks up before the first ring has even finished.

“Hi,” he says.

You breathe out a soft sigh, his voice melting through you.

“Hi,” you say, your voice watery. “It turns out the bone-picking ceremony is the worst part.”

“Was that today?”

“Yesterday.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice tender.

“I know.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay.”

You’re both quiet for a moment. You listen to him breathe; it soothes something in you, a scrape you try not to think about.

“When’s the last time you ate?” Kita asks.

You blink. “I’m not sure,” you tell him.

“Okay,” he says. “We’re gonna cook.”

“Kita, it’s the middle of your day!”

“And we’re gonna cook.”

“It’s fine, I can just grab something, you don’t need to—”

“I’m not sayin’ it a third time.”

“You’re so stubborn!”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Fine,” you say. “I’m switching to FaceTime, though.”

“That’s fine.”

As the camera comes online, all you can see is the little rice charm he still has dangling from his phone, something he’d kept even after the rain had ruined his flip phone. You hear him hum and the charm moves so he can fill your screen.

In the afternoon light he’s tanner than ever, his skin burnished bronze. His gray hair rustles in the breeze, even under his hat. He’s rosy-cheeked with exertion and something in you pangs. He gives you a small, fond smile, and you can’t help but smile back.

“Hi,” you say.

He looks like he wants to laugh. “Hi,” he says. “What do you have to cook with?”

You list everything off and he nods, looking thoughtful.

“That’ll work with a recipe I know,” he says. “I can lead ya through it.”

“Okay.”

You talk as you cook, but it’s subdued. None of the normal excited chatter is present, but Kita makes a valiant effort to keep the conversation afloat. He gives you time when you have to take a minute to recollect yourself. He’s patient but keeps you on task. He doesn’t give you time to wallow.

Soon, the savory scent is billowing through the kitchen. Your stomach growls. By the time you’re finished cooking, you’re starving.

“Go ahead and eat,” Kita says. “I can stay if you want.”

You glance at him. “Will you?”

He gives you a small smile. “‘Course.”

“Just for a bit longer,” you say.

He meets your gaze. Under the brim of his hat, his amber eyes have darkened to a deep brown, the color of the earth.

“As long as you need,” he says quietly, and you hear the promise in it.

You know it’s one that he’ll keep.

***

Spring, you find, is unconcerned with sympathy.

It keeps blooming into being, all golden sunlight and birds trilling. The trees are budding, little stitches of green sewn onto branches. Flowers unfold under the sun’s tender touch, turning their faces up towards the light like acolytes at an altar.

The world keeps turning and you can’t keep up.

“Shit.”

“What’s up?” Abe asks.

She’s lounging at your kitchen table, carefully trimming the ends of a lush bouquet that’s bigger than her head. It’s a riot of color, thick dahlias spilling over the paper it’s wrapped in, a sunset of a thing, with deep oranges flaring like fire and the bruised purple of the oncoming night. You think they’re for her girlfriend, but she rarely talks about her with you now.

Silently, you hold out the carton you’d picked up out of the fridge.

“Okay,” she says. “Okay, okay, I can take it when I leave. Do you want me to do that?”

“Please,” you say, swallowing down the tears.

You hadn’t even realized you bought it. It’s Takao’s favorite juice, something you never drink, and it’s a brand new carton from yesterday’s delivery groceries.

It’s stupid, you think, to be so affected by something so small, but you can’t stand the idea of it sitting there, never to be drunk. You shove it back into the fridge and sink down to the floor.

Abe’s by your side instantly, crouching down next to you with a gentle hand on your back.

“It’s okay,” she says softly. “You’re okay.”

“Am I?”

It’s scathing, meaner than you’d meant it to be, but you’re so tired.

She winces. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

“I just meant it’s okay to grieve—”

Something ugly swells up inside of you and spills out from behind your ribs, an oozing miasma that you can’t swallow down.

“What do you know about grief,” you snarl, your voice a winter crackle of breaking ice. “What do you know about what I lost?”

She sucks in a sharp breath. She pulls her hand off of you; it leaves some of her warmth behind, a ghost of her kindness.

“That’s not fair,” she says quietly. “You know that’s not fair.”

“Oh, please.”

“Wow.”

“You know it’s true.”

“You don’t get a monopoly on grief,” she snaps and you surge to your feet.

“Get out!”

She pushes to her feet as well. She doesn’t look at you as she collects her bouquet and her bag. It’s only in the kitchen’s entrance that she turns to face you.

“I lost Aoshi too,” Abe says, tears brimming in her eyes. “I lost him too.”

She leaves before you can say anything else.

You stand there, breathing heavily, your hands clenched into trembling fists. The first of the tears start to slip hot down your cheeks.

“Goddammit.”

The couch is your familiar haven; you curl up on it as you scour away the tears with the heel of your hand. You watch the afternoon light shift, how it plays across the living room as the sun sinks in the sky. It swathes the room with gold that melts into the softest shade of blue. When true night sets in rendering the living room into darkness, you finally shake yourself into a semblance of reality.

Your stomach growls and you get to your feet. When you open the fridge, the first thing you see is the carton of juice.

The sound it makes as it falls into the garbage can is heavy.

You grab your phone from the counter. There are no messages from Abe; the group chat is solely Yoshikawa talking.

For a moment, you miss the regretful moments of your childhood, where you never had to worry about what to say. How you could flash a light in the window, a firefly apology, and simply move forward.

Instead, you don’t talk to Abe for three days.

“I just—I don’t know how to say sorry,” you tell Kita over the phone, worrying at the sleeve of your shirt. It’s starting to fray.

“‘Sorry’ is a good place to start,” he says.

“It’s not that easy.”

“Could be.”

You sigh. “Kita—”

“I’m just sayin’.”

“I hate it when you’re right.”

He laughs softly. “You’ll feel better,” he tells you. “But you already know that.”

“I do.”

He hums. It’s a low, sweet sound and you bask in it for a moment.

“I should go,” you say as the sound fades away. “The delivery should be here any minute.”

“Groceries again?”

You pick at your fraying sleeve. There’s no judgment in his words but they weigh down on you anyway, an anchor with a heavy chain. You’re still tilted off your axis; you cried in the vegetable aisle of the grocery store last time you went. You haven’t gone back since.

Most days, it’s easier to not leave the house.

“Yeah,” you say softly.

“Do you wanna cook together later?”

“I don’t want to take—”

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t have the time.”

You twist the fraying thread around your finger. It cuts into you, making your finger swell as the blood is cut off.

“Not tonight,” you say after a moment. You just don’t have it in you. “But thanks.”

Kita hums again. This time there’s a sharper edge to it. You’re not sure he even realizes it.

But he doesn’t push today.

“Alright,” he says. “If ya change your mind later, just let me know.”

“I will. Bye Kita.”

He says goodbye, but there’s something melancholy woven through it, a thread so thin you barely catch it. It weaves its way through you. You sigh.

You don’t bother to put down your phone. Instead, you call Abe.

“You gonna yell at me again?” she asks as soon as she picks up.

You wince. “No,” you say quietly. “I’m gonna apologize for that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Natsumi. You were just trying to help.”

“I was,” she says softly.

“You deserve to mourn Aoshi, too. I’m sorry if I took that from you. It’s…hard to see past my own grief, sometimes.”

“I know.”

“It won’t happen again.”

She snorts. “We’ll see.”

“Hey!”

“You’re grieving,” she says simply. “Sometimes that means doing stupid shit. It’s not an excuse, but I can understand it.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“I know.”

“You’re not supposed to agree!”

“You’re the one that said it!”

The two of you quickly devolve into bickering but it’s sweet at the edges, lined by fondness. Not for the first time, you think of how lucky you are to have the friends you have.

“I couldn’t do this without you,” you say, halfway through catching up on the past few days. “I couldn’t make it without you.”

She goes quiet for a minute.

“You could,” she says. “You could. But you don’t have to.”

The world goes blurry at the edges. You blink back the tears and clear your throat. Abe sniffs, the sound barely audible on the line.

“Are you crying?” you ask.

“No!”

The laughter wells up inside of you before spilling out like a waterfall, flowing fast and free. It fills your living room. You keep laughing until the room is brimming with it, the corners echoing with joy.

It peters out slowly. Even the air feels lighter, you think. Then your stomach sinks, a skipping stone gone too far and falling into the depths.

“Hey,” Abe says softly. “You’re allowed to laugh.”

She’s always known you best.

“It just feels wrong,” you whisper.

“I know. But he would want you to laugh. To be happy. Try to remember that.”

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” she says firmly. “Now let me tell you about—”

The two of you chat for a while longer. Abe regales you with stories that you’ve missed. There’s a shocking amount of them (“I’m a busy girl, you know.”) for the time frame you haven’t been talking. You hadn’t realized how much you missed her until now.

When you hang up, the emptiness of the house comes rushing back in. It’s a tide of a thing, rolling in against the shore of you like a storm, the waves of it lapping higher and higher. You take a deep breath.

You keep the TV on until bedtime, where you replace it with a book. You read and read and read until you can barely keep your eyes open, the kanji blurring at the edges. You put the book down on the nightstand and curl up with Takao’s pillow. You bury your face in it. It still smells like him, just a bit.

It almost lets you pretend that he’s still here.

***

The summer rolls in with a storm.

It’s the first of many, but you think the first is always the saddest. The ground churns beneath the fat droplets as they pelt against the dirt; there are petals scattered around, torn from their stems. You watch one of them float down to the storm drain, a pretty pink sailboat destined to capsize.

The clouds are blue-gray and heavy, bruising the sky. They’re the color of the winter sea and have teeth like it too. There’s no lightning but you can hear the promise of it in far-off thunder, just loud enough to make itself known over the hum of your dryer.

You watch the rain run down the window in rivulets. It’s a bleak picture; even the flowers have been dimmed by the thick gray of the storm, their bright pinks tamped down to a blush of light rose.

“You still there?” Kita asks.

“Sorry,” you say, glancing back at your phone to see him already looking at you. “Got distracted by the rain.”

“S’pouring here.”

“Mhmm, here too. It’s kinda nice for laundry day, though. Even if I can’t hang anything outside. And you get a day off.”

“I suppose.”

You laugh. “You don’t have to sound so put out about it.”

He sighs. “It’s fine. Good day for housework.”

“You keep busy, don’t you?”

“There’s always something ta do.”

You laugh. “True,” you say. “Oh, there goes the dryer, hold on.”

You bundle the warm laundry into the basket, taking a moment to sink your fingers into the mess of clothing, letting it heat your hands.

Kita’s in the middle of mending something when you come back to your phone. For a moment, you just watch him. He’s bent over it, his hair glinting silver in the light of his kitchen, the black tips of it all the darker for it. He moves with steady assurance, the needle flashing in and out of the fabric like lightning. His big hands dwarf the needle but it doesn’t seem to hinder him.

He glances up, his amber eyes finding you immediately. He smiles, soft and fond and a little bit teasing. “Something I can help ya with?”

“Just watching. You’re good at that.”

“Granny taught me,” he says as he finishes, running his finger over the mended tear to make sure it’ll hold. Satisfied, he bites off the thread, his teeth gleaming as he does. “And I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Guess so,” you say, moving your phone and propping it up so you can see him as you fold. You fold up a few of your pants, putting them beside you on the couch. You move without thinking, just talking to Kita as you work, when you come to a stop.

It’s Takao’s shirt. You hadn’t realized it was in the wash—you’ve been putting off washing all of his clothing, afraid that one day you’ll wake up and even the scent of him will no longer linger.

Kita says your name.

You ignore him, running your hands over the shirt instead. You lean down and sniff it and find only the scent of your detergent. You take in a deep, slow breath.

There are more in the basket. You lean down to touch them, grabbing the nearest one. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Kita watching you. He stays quiet.

You fold up another one of Takao’s shirts. It’s soft beneath your fingertips, the cotton worn thin with use. You trace your finger along the pattern. Loop around it, over and over again, until you’re half dizzy with it.

Something in you breaks.

“I don’t think I can do this,” you say, the words spilling from you like an oil slick, catching on your teeth and tongue and coating them with something sour. You fist your hands in the shirt. “Shinsuke, I can’t do this.”

He says your name, quiet and tender.

“It’s just so much,” you sob. “I don’t know what to do without him, I don’t know how to live without him, not anymore. And work—going to the office and smiling like I’m not empty inside, like there’s not this gaping wound inside of me. I can’t do it. I can’t.”

You suck in air in great, gasping breaths, your chest cinching tight, like a marionette caught up in her own strings.

“Breathe with me,” he says, his voice stern. You take in a deep, slow breath, matching his, and then another. “That’s it. There you go.”

Your chest starts to loosen as you breathe; you keep matching with Kita, following his careful lead. When you’re finally steady, you can’t help the way more tears brim on your lash line.

“How am I supposed to do this?” you ask quietly. “How am I supposed to survive this?”

“You’re already survivin’ this,” he says. “It might not feel like it, but you are.”

You lean back and stare out the window. Outside, the cicadas are calling even in the rain, a familiar song; you close your eyes.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” you say softly. “I can’t keep doing this. This big, empty house is killing me. I don’t know what to do.”

“Come to the country,” he says.

“What?”

“Come to the country,” he repeats.

“Visiting isn’t—”

“To stay.”

You suck in a sharp breath and bite your lip.

“Just for a while,” he says softly. “And not with me. There’s a granny outside of town who’s got a room that she rents out.”

“Kita…”

“It’s just an option,” he says. “But I think gettin’ out of the city might do you some good.”

You fidget with your wedding ring, twirling the thin band of metal in place. It’s warmed by your skin.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Okay.”

The two of you lapse into silence as you scrub the remainder of tears away. Your cheeks are still hot and you grimace as a headache starts to make itself known.

“I’ve got a headache,” you say. “I’m gonna go lie down.”

Kita hums, his amber eyes tracing over you. “If you’re sure.”

“Yeah,” you say.

“Okay. I’m just a call away.”

You soften. “I know.”

You bid each other a quiet goodbye. You move the laundry out of the way and curl up on the couch, one hand fisted in one of Takao’s shirts. You bring it to your nose and only smell detergent again. You tighten your grip and close your eyes.

You wake to Abe shaking you.

“C’mon,” she says, giving you another little shake. “We brought dinner.”

“Natsu?” you say blearily, rubbing at your eyes. You swat at her when it looks like she’s going to shake you for a third time. She dodges with a grin.

“Yocchan too,” Abe says as Yoshikawa flashes you a peace sign. “How long have you been asleep?”

“Dunno,” you say. “I was on the phone with Kita and he—”

“He what?” Yoshikawa asks, her sly eyes going sharp.

“I was having a…hard time,” you say. “I had a bit of a breakdown. He thinks I should go to the country for a while. Get out of the city.”

Yoshikawa hums, settling down next to you on the couch. She leans over and rubs her thumb over your cheekbone; you realize that there are still salt stains there. She tilts her head, sending her long hair rippling. It gleams in the light and you think of a lake at night, the surface gone dark beneath the moon’s tender touch.

“That might not be a bad idea,” she murmurs.

“No way,” Abe says, plopping down on your other side. “Unless you want to go?”

“I don’t know,” you say miserably, pressing your face into Yoshikawa’s shoulder. “I don’t feel like I know anything anymore.”

Yoshikawa presses her lips against your hairline. “You don’t need to know,” she reminds you. “It’s just an option. You can decide later. Have you eaten?”

You shake your head.

“We brought udon,” Abe informs you. “Because we’re the best.”

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “You are.”

They trade a glance you can’t quite make sense of. Then they’re chivvying you into the kitchen with gentle hands, pushing you into a seat at the table.

The kake udon is still hot. Steam wisps up from it in tiny curls before dissipating, each one undulating like kelp in a current. You stir it and watch the broth swirl.

“You’re supposed to eat it,” Abe says.

You glare at her. She grins.

You take a bite and flavor comes to life on your tongue, deep and rich. You close your eyes to savor the simplicity of it. When you open them again, Abe and Yoshikawa are watching you with fond little smiles.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing,” they chorus.

You narrow your eyes but don’t say anything. The three of you settle into a conversation, moving from story to story like a skipping stone, pausing only to take bites of your food. The chatter flows like a river, certain in its path, and you bathe in the easy familiarity of it.

You’ve just finished your udon when Abe puts her chopsticks down and says: “So. The countryside.”

“Natsumi,” Yoshikawa groans. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?!”

“You’re always jumping in feet first,” Yoshikawa grumbles.

“I’m just curious!”

“It’s okay,” you say quietly. “It might be good to talk about it.”

Abe sends Yoshikawa a victorious grin. Then she turns to you with a softer look on her face. “You don’t have to,” she says.

“I think I might want to.”

“Talk about it? Or go?”

“Both.”

Yoshikawa hums. “Do you think you might be running away?” she asks.

Abe winces along with you.

“It had to be said,” Yoshikawa says, not unkindly. “I can’t understand what you’re going through and I know that, but is going somewhere else really going to change anything? Or are you just running away from something inescapable?”

“Earlier you said her going might be a good thing,” Abe points out.

“It might be,” Yoshikawa says. “But it might not be either.”

“I don’t think I’m running,” you say. “I just think that maybe I need a break. A place that’s not so filled with Aoshi.”

“Okay.”

“What about Kita?” Abe asks.

You scrunch up your brow. “What about him?”

“Will he take it the wrong way?”

“No,” you say. “He knows I’m not looking for anything from him. That I can’t give anything to him.”

“You sure he knows that?”

“Yeah.”

They trade a glance but don’t say anything. You bite at your lower lip.

“Don’t decide tonight,” Yoshikawa says, getting to her feet and collecting the bowls from the table. She sets them down in the sink and pulls on a pair of dish gloves. “Or even tomorrow. You have time.”

“I know that,” you grouse.

She rolls her eyes. “Consider it a reminder, then.”

“Consider me reminded.”

“Don’t be a brat.”

“Oh, don’t ask for the impossible,” Abe says, throwing you an obnoxious grin when you scowl at her.

The conversation flows on into a different topic. The two of them keep drawing you into it, but you’re stuck in your own head, rolling the idea of the country around it like a pebble caught in a wave. You think of the sunshine bathing the fields in gold and the way the air smells different there. The countryside is a world all its own. A world not built around your life with Takao.

You think you might need that.

***

Kita picks you up from the train station a few months later.

“I could have arranged something,” you tell him as he takes your suitcase from you. “You didn’t need to come and get me.”

“I wanted to,” he says calmly. “This all you brought?”

You nod, already shedding your light sweater as the two of you emerge from the station, out of the aircon and into the countryside heat, a lingering remnant of summer. You follow Kita to his truck—old, but well-maintained, with a carefully stenciled rice plant over the passenger side door—and watch him heft your suitcase into the bed of it. He tucks it carefully into place, giving it a tug to make sure it won’t go anywhere.

As he does, you watch the ripple of his back muscles under his shirt. It rides up when he tugs on your suitcase, a crescent moon sliver of paler skin peeking out from under it. He turns around after thumping the truck bed closed, and you tear your gaze away.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Uh-huh.”

You climb into the truck, shutting the door with a solid thump. Across the cab, Kita does the same. The truck rumbles to life. He puts his hand behind your headrest to reverse out of the parking lot, his amber eyes brushing over you before he concentrates on driving. You breathe in through your nose, far too aware of the heat of his hand.

Once he pulls out of the parking lot, the two of you drive in silence. You gaze out the window, watching as the railroad tracks fade away into the town. The tracks are shiny and new, a testament to how recently the station was put in.

“It’s not a long drive,” Kita says, his voice soft. It rolls over you, steady and sure, an anchor of a sound. “Yoshida’s house is just outside town.”

“Okay,” you say. “Thank you for setting this up.”

He glances at you. He’s as stoic as always, but when he looks at you, something in him softens.

“Yer welcome,” he says. His smile is small but it settles over you like a quilt, warm and well-worn. You ache with it.

“Tell me about the farm,” you say, feeling your stomach twist. “How are the ducks?”

He shakes his head. “The same,” he says, that small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Happily gobblin’ up the little pests in the paddies.”

You lean back in the passenger seat, letting his voice wash over you. You’ve always liked the way Kita talks; he’s to the point and brief, but not impatient. Never impatient. Always steady.

The town gives way to the farmland. The truck trundles along the road, kicking up a little cloud of dust behind it. You can see it in the rear view mirror, lingering like smog. The road is lined by a sea of rice paddies that wave gently in the wind, an eddying tide of plants. They’re Midas-touched, gone gold with the season, and they glint like treasure in the sunlight.

You watch the world pass by and marvel at how big it is. In the distance, you can see the hills, rising green into the horizon’s gentle embrace, cutting through the skyline. There are power towers running along the edge of them; you trace along the lines with your index finger.

A cyclist goes by: it’s a young girl, her hair flowing freely in the wind. Her dress—periwinkle blue, almost the same shade as the sky—flaps around her, too, but her no-nonsense boots are steady on the pedals.There’s dirt smeared on her cheek. She waves cheerfully at the truck. Kita raises his hand in acknowledgement but doesn’t stop.

“You know her?”

“It’s a small town,” he says. “That’s Suzuki’s girl. His youngest. You’ll probably meet her. Her granny is friends with Yoshida.”

You lower your window and let the breeze play over you. It tugs playfully at your collar; it keeps the worst of the humidity at bay. Still, the heat rolls over you in a wet lick.

“S’hot,” you drawl, rolling your head around to look at Kita.

He glances at you and gives you a little smile. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Ugh.”

He smiles again and turns into a drive. “This is Yoshida’s,” he says.

The farmhouse is older, but it’s clearly been cared for through the years. The engawa has several types of windchimes hanging from it; they sing out a crystalline symphony as the breeze picks up. There’s laundry on the line in the front yard and a few small vegetable patches surrounding it. You see squash starting to fatten on the vines and the remnants of strawberry season, the very last of the berries gone a deep red.

“Okay,” you say, wiping your suddenly sweaty palms against your thighs as a woman appears on the engawa. “Right.”

“It’ll be fine,” Kita says, laying a hand over yours. His palm is work-rough, his fingertips callused, and you can feel the strength in each flex of his fingers. He gives you a little squeeze. “You’ll be fine.”

You nod and slide out of the truck at the same time as him. You fidget as he rounds the back of the truck, the bed popping open as he grabs your suitcase. The woman on the engawa comes to the edge of it; she reaches up with a gnarled hand and drags her finger along a chime carved from wood. Its sound is more of a hollow echo than a chime, but she smiles anyway.

Kita comes up beside you, your suitcase in hand. “Let’s go.”

“Right.”

You follow him up the drive and to the engawa. Yoshida’s a small woman, her black hair shot through with gray, like a river stone in dark water. She’s hunched in on herself slightly, and the skin on the back of her hands is papery with age, but her eyes are sharp.

“Shin-chan,” she says warmly as the two of you approach. “It’s good to see you.”

He gives her a little bow. “It’s good to see you too, Yoshida.”

“I’ve told you to call me Granny, boy.”

He smiles. “Yes, Granny.”

“Is this your friend?”

“Yes, this is her.”

You sketch out a respectful bow and tell her your name. She repeats it, testing the sound of it on her tongue. She gives a decisive nod.

“It’s a good name,” she says. “Come, let me show you to your room.”

“Oh, okay,” you say, reaching out to grab your bag from Kita. He sidesteps you easily, hefting it up and gesturing you forward. “Shinsuke—”

“Don’t make Granny wait,” he chides.

You scowl at him but head up on the engawa, ducking beneath a set of clear chimes that are scattering rainbows around on the ground and the side of the house alike. You toe off your shoes at the genkan and slip on the house slippers that Yoshida gestures to.

The farmhouse is cozy as you wander through it, the decor minimal but still homey. It smells warm, like fresh dashi simmering on the stovetop.

The room Yoshida leads you to is small but perfect. There’s a twin bed tucked into the corner and a desk with a little vase of flowers on it, their periwinkle blossoms waving in the breeze coming in from the open window. The quilt on the bed is handmade, each square featuring a different crop in the height of their season, beautifully stitched and filled with care.

You step inside and trace a finger over an embroidered daikon as Yoshida starts to go over the expectations for sharing the house. You listen as best you can but most of your attention is now on the window. It looks over the paddies. You watch them ripple with the wind, a golden sea of slow, sweet waves.

Kita nudges you lightly; you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He smiles at you knowingly, his eyes crinkled at the edges, and you refocus on Yoshida. She’s smiling, too, a little twinkle in her eye, but she doesn’t say anything aside from continuing to talk about shared cleaning duties.

“Any questions?” she asks, hands on her hips.

You shake your head. “No,” you say. “Thank you for letting me stay.”

She waves a gnarled hand. “You remember any questions, come find me,” she says. “I’ll let you settle in.”

She’s out the door before you can respond, closing it firmly behind her. You blink.

Kita nudges you again. “Where do you want this?” he asks. You glance at your suitcase, nestled carefully between his feet.

“Over there is fine,” you say.

He puts your bag where you gesture and then turns to you. He watches you for a moment, a small, fond smile tilting his lips up. “How’re you feeling?”

“Dunno yet,” you say. “It’s all so new.”

“S’fair.”

“I think it’ll be good, though,” you say slowly, glancing out the window again. The countryside stretches far before you, the rice stalks glistening in the sun, and something in you shifts. You toy with your necklace, rubbing your wedding ring between your fingers, ignoring how it tugs on the chain. “I think it’ll be good.”

“Good. I’ll let you settle in some more,” he says. “I’ll be downstairs.”

“Shinsuke?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” you say softly.

“Fer?”

“All of this,” you say, a little bit helplessly. “All of it.”

“Of course,” he says. His amber eyes are almost glowing in the afternoon light, the color of sunlit whiskey, a deep golden brown. He opens his mouth and then pauses.

You tilt your head, but he shakes his head and just gives you a small smile.

He leaves the room with the same confident grace he always has, his lean muscles coiling under his skin as he moves. For a moment, you just watch him. He moves with careful intent. Not a single motion wasted. It’s impressive, the control he has over himself, and he does it so easily.

You sit down on the bed as he makes his way down the hallway. You glance around the room again. You reach up to your necklace again, wrapping your hand around the wedding rings dangling from it. Tears burn in the corners of your eyes.

You lay back on the bed, into the patch of sunlight that’s pooling on the pillow. It’s hot. Outside, the countryside sings, from the quiet melody of the rice rustling to the calling of the storks. The breeze tugs at your clothes and hair as it spills in through the window. It feels nice. Real.

You close your eyes.

When you wake up, it’s gone twilight, night encroaching upon the last light of the horizon. The sky is a bruise of a thing, deep purple and glittering with stars. You rub the bleariness from your eyes and curse to yourself.

Your phone screen is bright in the dark; you wince as it sears your eyes.

Kita has sent you a message about how he didn’t want to wake you and promises he’ll see you soon. You text him back and scrub at your face again to wake yourself up. When that fails, you wander down the hall to the bathroom. The cool water wakes you up quickly. It’s crisp and clean and you wonder if it’s the country or if it’s just in your head.

“Yer up,” Yoshida says crisply when you step into the kitchen. Her words are almost sharp, but her eyes are kind. “I sent Shin-chan home—the boy looked like he was about to wait ‘round.”

“Oh,” you say. “I’m sorry if I kept either of you waiting. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

She waves you off with one hand. “Travelin’ is tiring,” she says. “I’m about to make dinner if ya’d like some.”

“Can I help?”

“You can chop.”

You sit where she gestures and take the squash she hands you. It’s as orange as a sunset, with thick ribs and a wide, sturdy stem. You get to work cutting it into little cubes per her instructions.

The two of you work quietly. The breeze flutters in from the open shoji; it’s still hot but it’s cooling off quickly with night settling in.

“It’s beautiful here,” you say absentmindedly, staring out the open door into the fields again. They’re moonlit, bleached to a soft white-gold, shimmering as they dance in the wind.

“It is. Been here my whole life and it’s never lost that prettiness.”

“I can’t imagine it ever does.”

Yoshida glances at you.

“It’s a good place to take time away,” she says, matter-of-fact. “It’s just different here.”

“Yeah,” you say. “I’m hoping so.”

She hums.

The two of you chat as you keep making dinner. Yoshida’s son—broad-shouldered and kind-faced—comes home from the fields just as you finish, earning a scolding from his mother for being so late. You politely look away but can’t stop the small smile from blooming on your lips. You cover it with a little cough.

He introduces himself sheepishly then joins the conversation easily and happily. The talk carries through the meal, warm and flowing. The night passes quickly with them.

As you get ready for bed, you can’t help but think that maybe this will work after all.

#kita shinsuke x reader #kita x reader #hq!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #bee writes hq!!#.lbgtm

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doingitforbokuto · 4 months

Text

The White Knight - Chapter Four

-> KNIGHT!KITA SHINSUKE X PRINCESS!READER

-> Previous Chapter

-> Series Masterlist

Summary: A relationship between a knight and a princess is impossible, so it is best to just keep the emotions hidden.. but what happens if you can't?

Words: 3,262

Warnings: none

Kita's Point Of View

His breathing was hard as he walked to the edge of the training area. Putting his practice sword down, he tried to catch his breath.

“That was really good, Sir Kita,” the knight he had been training with said. He was his second training partner that day, the first one had already exhausted himself more than an hour ago. He should be tired too, but Kita could not feel the exhaustion in his bones. All he could feel was his heart beating against his ribcage, where he could still feel your hands pushing his armor against him, making his heart beat even faster. Even after hours and hours of training, the only thing on his mind was you - the one thing he was trying to stop thinking about.

“I think that's enough for today,” the other knight said as he gathered his things.

“Really?” Kita looked up at him. He had hoped for another round or two of sparring.

The other knight laughed. “Everyone else has already left for dinner and I'm not gonna miss it.” He shouldered his bag as he left. “You should pack up, too!”

Sighing, Kita looked up at the sky. It was getting dark and if he didn't hurry up, there would probably not be any food left in the knights’ dining hall. Of course, he could go into town and buy some food by himself, but he really did not feel like having to deal with all of the lowlifes that came out at night, streaming into taverns all over town.

“So, what's going on with you, hm?”

Osric's figure appeared out of nowhere, his hand suddenly on Shinsuke's shoulder. The fact that he hadn't even noticed him coming along was a tell-tale sign that he was much more exhausted than he knew or wanted to admit to himself. He wanted to keep going. To try and distract himself, stop himself from going down the road he was currently on.

“Nothing's wrong.” He shrugged Osric's hand off and started to gather his things into his bag as well. They knew each other for long enough that Kita was certain that there was no way in hell his friend would leave him alone now. Better to pack up and leave then.

"Oh, really? Is that why I hear you've been training for four hours without a break?”

Kita huffed in response. He really was not in the mood to talk.

“Hey!” Osric's hand grabbed his arm with more force than Kita expected. “This isn't like you.” His eyes bore into Kita’s. “Remember when we first met and I was overworking myself? You almost locked me into my room to make sure I wasn't doing anything stupid. And now you're doing it yourself! What the hell is going on with you? I've never seen you like this!”

Osric was right and Kita knew it. They had met years ago, when they had both just been knighted. Osric was working tirelessly to improve his skills and become a better knight. But as he was training and training, he was overworking himself. Kita was the one who had forced him to realize that there had to be a balance between working and relaxing, that breaks were just as important in becoming a better fighter as the training was. Ever since then, the two of them had gotten closer and every time they met, Osric was happy to catch up with his old friend, telling him all kinds of stories that made Kita laugh. So Osric knew what Kita was like. And that he would never behave like this if something wasn't seriously wrong.

“It's the princess, isn't it?” Osric's grip on his upper arm softened and so did his eyes.

“What do you mean?” Kita crossed his arms, forcing the other man to let go completely.

“Look, Shinsuke,” he started. There were few people who addressed him like this. Unlike Osric, Kita preferred to be referred to by his last name. The other knight wasn't so “uptight” (in his own words) and had soon after meeting Kita decided that addressing him so informally was appropriate, without even asking. Weirdly enough, Shinsuke could not find himself to care. He actually enjoyed it and found himself wanting to befriend the young knight.

Talking to Osric was refreshing. His other friends were scattered all over the country and none of them were knights, so having one who understood what he was going through was nice. Now it seemed that he understood what was happening in his life more than he would like.

Osric looked around the empty courtyard before he kept talking quietly. “Look, I know what it's like to have feelings for someone you shouldn't.. but there is nothing you can do about it. Trust me. It's not going anywhere, no matter how much you want it to, no matter how much you train and exhaust yourself. The only thing that you're going to do is hurt yourself and if you're not in good shape you won't be able to protect her the way that you're supposed to. Is that truly what you want?”

No. Actually, that was the last thing he wanted. But what other choice did he have? How else could he possibly live through his days, by your side, in agony because he could never truly be the man by your side? Soon, you would get married. Your husband was the man by your side, Kita was just your knight, someone who was supposed to stay in the background and support you silently.

“How do you do it?” Kita’s voice was just a whisper and he couldn't even bear to look Osric in the eyes. No one was supposed to know about this. But if Osric knew, did someone else? What was he supposed to do? How could he stop this dangerous behavior?

“I just.. think about her. And what is best for her. That's what loving someone is all about, isn't it? It gives me the strength to do what is right.” His friend paused for a moment. “It gets better.”

Kita raised his head to look at him. “So these feelings do go away?”

Osric shook his head. “No. But they get easier to hide. You'll get through this. I know you will. There is no one more loyal or disciplined than you.”

His words haunted Kita even as he laid his head to rest on his pillow that night. His discipline was in fact something that he had always prided himself on. Never had he been the best at swordsmanship, never been the one with the longest endurance or the fastest runner. But he had always been someone who pushed himself to never give up. Even if he failed, he kept working on his skills.

He got up every day and made his bed. He kept his body clean, polished his armor. He attended his regular training sessions and endured pain during battle without losing his head. Yes, he was a very disciplined young man. Or at least he had been up until very recently.

But how could he call himself disciplined when he couldn't stop staring at you when you weren't looking? Whenever he was around you these days, his eyes wandered on their own from your hair to your beautiful face, over the only pair of lips that could speak the words that would relieve him from his suffering. His eyes wandered down over your neck, your shoulders and arms to the hands whose touch felt almost healing when they had pushed against his chest. Hands that had ignited a deep, hidden desire inside of him.

He felt ashamed to even admit that he was having these feelings but he did, there was no way around it. Of course he had been interested in other women before he had met you but they hadn't been his princess. To him, you were larger than life, you were the person that he had pledged himself to and in turn, every action of his was supposed to benefit you. The thoughts in his head were anything but.

Now, he was laying in his bed, thinking back to your hands on his chest. In his head, he imagined them sliding over his shoulders and onto his back. Nuzzling his face into his pillow, he imagined how it would feel to be held by you, to lean his face onto your neck, your cheek, as your hands caress his back, fingers running through his hair. To be granted such a soft, tender touch by your hand must be what heaven feels like. Any touch that you were willing to grant him, he would take gratefully. You could slap him across the face and all that he would want to do would be to kiss the hand that touched him. Even if he could never be loved by you, he could be by your side. Every day, he had the opportunity to see your face, smell your scent, hear your voice. That was more than he had ever deserved and he would work hard to protect you, until the end of his days.

In the beginning, he wanted to serve you for a different reason. A heavy weight was on his shoulders and it hadn't lifted yet, a heavy guilt that he tried to erase by helping you. He still felt as guilty about his past as he did back then but now, that didn't matter anymore. He did not protect you for his own consciousness anymore, he did it because he wanted you to live on. Safe and happy. Even if he wasn't the one to make you happy he could be the one to make sure you would live to meet that person.

—

Your Point Of View

Another night was passing in which you were unable to find any sleep. For the past ten days, you had been nothing but exhausted. You barely left your room except for the occasional stroll through the gardens and the meals with your family. You barely spoke to anyone, didn't even meet up with Alysane like you used to.

After what had happened at the garden party, all you wanted to do was go to your room and rest. But when your back hit the mattress, peace was as far away from you as it ever had been. The thoughts running through your head were all over the place - from fear to bad memories of death to anger towards your father to confusion and hurt when it came to Kita's actions.

You could not comprehend what happened in the hallway that day, even after pondering it for hours and hours on end. Why did he leave you alone so suddenly? Well, he did not actually leave you alone but he did back off, stopped supporting you like you wanted, needed him to. His touch had been the one thing keeping you grounded and gave you a sense of security you had almost forgotten even existed. Why would he take that away from you? Had he not told you that it was his duty to take care of you, to protect you from whatever harm may come your way? Still, he left you! Could he not see how much this fear was crippling you? Perhaps he was afraid that you might think that he was feeling something for you that he wasn't. Or was he scared that you might reciprocate the feelings that he did have for you?

Well, that thought was ridiculous. Never would you think of him, your knight, like that. It wasn't appropriate of you to think of him romantically, so you didn't - and he should know that. He was simply a protector to you. You only thought of him as someone who was loyal. Strong. Kind. Caring.

You did not think of how his broad chest felt underneath your palms or how it moved with every breath that he took. You did not think of that one time you saw him train. How the very same chest that you touched heaved as he was catching his breath, his hair a gorgeous mess that was sticking to his sweaty forehead. You did not think about that, at all, no. Only sometimes did you think of how his golden eyes looked in the sunlight. Almost never did you think about his hands. How they had grabbed you when you were about to fall. How they supported your waist and held you upright with a strength unknown to you until then. It felt almost sinful to think of how rough his palm felt pressed against your cheek and how gentle his touch still was despite the callouses adorning his skin. How he cradled your head so carefully, like you were the most precious thing in the world. And you certainly never thought about how close his thumb had been to your mouth. How easy it would have been for you to turn your head.. just a little bit.. until his fingertip touched your lips..

You groaned into your pillow. Hopefully that would muffle it enough for no one else to hear it. What were you getting yourself into? Grabbing your pillow, you pressed it harder into your face. Just then, your hand brushed against something laying underneath your pillow: a handkerchief. The one Shinsuke - Kita - had given to you in the garden. The one that still smelled like him, even after you had cleaned it. You had wanted to give it back, you really did. But somehow, you found yourself holding it up to your nose when you could not find any rest. Late at night, when you were scared and tired, you just let yourself be surrounded by his smell as it lulled you into a few short hours of sleep.

Slowly, you pulled out the cloth and turned onto your side as you brought it up to your face. Tonight, it would not be helping to fall asleep, you could already tell. The thought of him only made your heart beat faster and your mind race. It only made you think more of his hand when it held out the handkerchief to you. And thinking of his hand made you think of his grip on your waist and your arm. It made you think of how it would feel to have his hands move across your skin, your body.. mapping out the curves of your figure.. cradling your face gently while he -

“Argh!” You crumpled up the handkerchief and threw it as far across the room as you could. This was bad. Very bad. You had to do something about this - before it got too bad.

—

The next day you felt the rare urge to leave your room. After a quick breakfast, you took the opportunity to leave with a knight other than Kita. Since it was still early in the morning, the night guard was still on duty and Kita wasn't supposed to be here for another hour, giving you enough time to enjoy a few breaths of fresh air without feeling his presence around you all the time. Especially after the road your thoughts had taken last night you did not feel like you could face him. Just the thought of his eyes looking at you made your cheeks heat up and the butterflies in your belly started stirring. It would be best to get out of here and distract yourself as quickly as possible. Hurriedly, you threw your coat on and left your room.

The crisp air felt refreshing as you stepped out into the sunlight and reveled in the peaceful atmosphere around you. Everyone else was either still asleep or getting ready for the day so you had the outside all to yourself. This really was a good idea, you thought to yourself as you let the few rays of sunshine that came through the trees warm your face. Though you were enjoying these few moments, you did not have a lot of time left. You wanted to avoid Kita, so you had to be back in your room before he came around.

When you reached your room a bit later, you told the other knight to go and find your maid for you. Later today, you wanted to take a bath and knew that it would take more than one maid to heat up the water and fill up the tub so it was best to let them know ahead of time so that they could prepare and gather everyone needed.

The knight did not want to leave you, even though you urged him that you would be safe and sound in your room. Thankfully, just a moment later he spotted your maid at the end of the hallway.

“I'll go tell her,” he finally agreed since he would just be down the hallway. No one could get into your room without him noticing.

Relieved, you reached for your pocket where you always kept the key to your room so you could unlock it. It was a motion you had made a million times already since you had made it a habit to lock your room after an incident a few years ago where a few men snuck into your room and stole your jewelry. But this time around, your pocket was empty. Did you lose the key? You patted down all of your pockets but could not feel it anywhere. Luckily, there was a backup key so it wasn't that much of an issue if you really had lost it. There was a different problem, though: This second key was safe and sound with the one person you did not wish to have to talk to today - Kita, of course. When you had decided that you could trust him, you had given him the spare key so that if he needed to, he could get into your room or if you locked yourself out, like now, the other key would be right by your side. But the embarrassment of having to not only face Kita right now but also have to tell him that you had done something so stupid.. it was too much to bear.

Today, you truly were all over the place. Losing your key, rushing out like that in the morning; you hadn't even put your hair up like you usually did.. then, a thought struck you: In your rush, did you even lock the door?

Hesitantly you reached out to the door handle, praying that it was unlocked and - Thank God! - it was. You let out a sigh of relief, throwing one last look down the hallway. The knight was still chatting with the maid, probably sharing some gossip, like you knew she loved to do, and Kita was nowhere to be seen. Thank God you made it back to your room before he came along!

You slipped into your room and threw the door close, not bothering to look at the door as you took your coat off. Instead, you were already eying the table. Was that where you had left your key? Just as you reached the table and put down your coat, you heard it - the unmistakable sound of a key turning in a lock.

With one motion, you turned around and stared at the familiar face of the man in front of your door as he slid the key into his pocket with one hand and pressed his pointer finger of his other hand to his lips, warning you to stay quiet.

-> Next Chapter

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lou-struck · 1 year

Text

Taste of Home

Shinsuke Kita X reader

Day 19: Taste of Home

25 Days of Ficmas Masterlist

~ You try your hand at making one of Shinsuke’s grandmother's recipes

Although he wouldn't admit it, something has been off about Shinsuke lately.

The holidays have come and gone leaving the two of you a bit tired from the hustle and bustle. While it was fun getting to see your friends and loved ones, sharing gifts, and eating delicious food, someone important was missing from the fun.

Yumie, his grandmother was unable to come to his family's Christmas Dinner after catching a little cold. Although it was nothing serious it was enough to keep the sweet older woman away from the festivities.

Your Boyfriend is very much a grandma’s boy and was crushed by the news. If it weren't for his grandmother’s fragile condition, the two of you would've dropped everything to spend the holidays with her. But neither of you wanted to make things any worse for the number one fan of your relationship.

Christmas dinner was missing more than Yumie’s sweet smile and familiar stories, one thing that noticeably lacking from the tabletop was her delicious cooking.

With the holidays over and Yumie still not well enough to be receiving guests, you decide to take it upon yourself to give your Fiance a little taste of home.

With Kita off making a last-minute rice delivery to Onigiri Miya, you knew you had the perfect window of opportunity to put your plan into action.

Weeks ago when you called Yumie to ask for one of Shinsuke's favorite recipes of hers, she took it upon herself to pen it down in her own hand on a notecard and express mail it to you.

“When you asked why she would go through the trouble of writing it down she chuckled.

“So you’ll always have it,” she said on the phone.

When you look at the carefully penned recipe in your hands it's hard to not feel a bit emotional, Yumie is a kind woman, but she keeps her prized recipes close to her chest. The fact that she gave you one so freely is enough to make your eyes water. You swore then and there that you would go above and beyond in making the dish.

Although the recipe is fairly simple, it took you hours to shop for all the ingredients ensuring that each and every scrap of food you used was of the highest quality because your partner is worth every minute of effort.

With all of the ingredients washed and displayed in front of you, you begin to prep the food. Peeling the carrots, and radishes and chopping the onions into small strips until your eyes begin to water. Blinking away the hot onion tears you turn your attention to the Loin you got from a small butcher's shop. Carving it into small strips and letting it marinate in a bath of seasonings.

When you are so focused on following the steps in front of you, hours seem to pass like minutes.

Just as you remove the finished product from the heat source you see the headlights of Kita’s truck pull down your long driveway. An excited squeak escapes your lips and you hurry to put the finishing touches on your surprise. He comes through the door just as you place his portion at the table dressing it with some chopped scallions just like how Yumie instructed you to do so.

His cheeks are pink from the cold and a few snowflakes rest lightly on his shoulder, you were so focussed on the task of hand you didn't even realize that it started snowing outside. He gently removes his boots and jacket placing them in their proper spot before glancing up at you with a relieved smile “y/n, I didn't realize you’d be home,” he says wrapping his arms around you. The cold on his skin melted away under your touch.

“I had an off day,” you smile as he warms up a bit. It's then he takes a deep breath in and his head pricks up. “Is something wrong?” you ask innocently.

“It’s nothing.” he says shaking his head, “Something just smells wonderful.”

“I did just make some dinner,” you say gingerly taking his hand and leading him toward the kitchen table where his surprise awaits.

“You’re too sweet on me,” he says following eagerly behind you towards the mouth-watering smell.

The table couldn't look any more perfect. The stew you made still steams lightly in the colorful bowl from whence it sits and the candles you just lit burn brightly. When your boyfriend looks down at the all-too-familiar dish he stops in his tracks.

“Is this what is think it is?” he says quietly dropping his hand and sitting down at the table.

“Maybe,” you humm taking a seat across from him. “Does it look familiar?”

“Extremely,” he says lifting his spoon and placing it lightly in the broth. “May I try it?”

It��s then you realize you forgot to taste test the food before serving it. A feeling of panic hits you as you nod slightly. As all sorts of questions run through your poor brain.

What if you missed a step?

What if it’s bad?

What if it’s terrible?

Kita sips the broth before you have time to object. His face is unreadable as he swallows the stew. He just clenches the cutlery tighter and stares down at the dish.

“Shin,” you call from across the table but the words don't seem to reach him. Unable to take not knowing if your cooking tasted edible any longer, you take your spoon and try the broth.

Tasting it you brace for the feeling of a mistake on your tongue, but it doesn't ever come. The broth tastes…good.

It doesn't taste like you made it at all, it's warm and comforting in the way only a grandmother's cooking can be.

Looking back across the table you see that Shinskue’s gaze is now locked firmly on you. “Did you make this?” he says with a shaky breath. His eyes turn glassy as he waits for your response. “It tastes like my grandmother's recipe.”

“I did…” you say “I asked her for the recipe and she sent it over.”

"I-i can't believe how similar it tastes," he says taking another sip. "She has never given out one of her recipes before."

"So you like it?" you ask "I just wanted to do something for you since she couldn't be with us during the holidays."

"I love it, you did an amazing job." he praises getting up from his seat and coming over to hold you tightly. "but more than that, I love you. There is no one else who would do something like this for me."

"You know I'd do just about anything for you," you smile as he tilts your chin up towards him so he can give you a more than thankful kiss.

"And I you," he says returning to your lips to enjoy another comforting taste.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #kita hq #shinsuke kita x reader #shinsuke kita #kita x reader #kita haikyuu #kita shinsuke #kita scenarios #kita fluff #MIU collab #haikyuu fluff #25 days of fic mas

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betbeton · 2 years

Text

𓆱 Ring Ring ♡

Various HQ Men Sending Horny Videos

Warnings - Various 'Vanilla' Kinks

18+ Minors DNI

·GN Reader·

·A/N - my hyper fixations are showing·

TR Version

・❥・ Masterlist

⪧ Tendou Satori

Loud and unashamed

He'll moan into his phone like it's your actual ear

He'll send them to you when you're in public,

so beware opening things from him it could be a cute video of your pet sleeping or his dick. No in-between.

The second you clicked on the message and his loud moans flooded out of your earbuds you panicked. Smacking your phone against your chest as you whipped your head around from side to side making sure no one had witnessed, despite being in the privacy of your office. Taking a deep breath you weighed your options as the lewd noises mixing with his moans grew in volume in your ears. With a little shake you tried to dispel the nerves of opening such a message in public, carefully tugging your phone away from your chest with both eyes squeezed shut. Cracking one eye part of the way open you were met with the sight of Tendou's large hand gliding up and down his slick length as he whined in your ears. Your heart might have been beating a mile a minute, but as you gazed at his hand working over his pretty cock you couldn't help but stuff your hand down your trousers. Your own hand rubbing at your sex as you gasped softly, barely being able to hear own hushed groans over the moans and pleas assaulting your sense of hearing. It's safe to say Tendou was the most smug gremlin to ever exist when you sent back a video of your breathy groans and gasps as you came while sitting alone in your office.

⪧ Kita Shinsuke

You would mostly have to be the one to initiate any type of sexting or video sending

He loves it, but he's just too respectful to send something when he isn't 100% sure you won't be embarrassed in public

He had expressed his disappointment when your work called you in on the one afternoon you both had off together, but he had urged you to go in despite his feelings after all you two could always spend time together another day. You had begrudgingly walked to work that afternoon, the stinkiest expression on your face much to the amusement of your co-workers. Having settled decently into your shift despite not wanting to come in, though your simmering sour mood perked up considerably when you checked your phone only to see a message from your partner. Expecting some cute video of your cat or maybe him baking you choked on your own spit when his pretty cock filled your screen. Practically sprinting into the employee restroom locking the door shut as you pressed your back to it for an extra layer of safety. Tugging your phone out from your pocket once again you tucked a hand into your shorts greedily groping at your sex as you watched his hand move. Soft gasps trickling into your ears from the low volume of your phone, as you watched his hips harshly slam upwards into his tight fist as he came with a whine of your name.

⪧ Miya Atsumu

This rat man will send you your sex tape while he's away

Along with some smug little message like 'miss me baby? 🤗'

He would also video call you immediately no matter the location or time of day if you sent a video getting off in return

It was two in the morning when you groggily groped around your bedside table for your phone. Your hand holding it a little too aggressively as your eyes squinted at the bright light assaulting your tired face, rolling onto your side as you re-read your partner's contact name before pressing on the message. Almost immediately you were verbally assaulted with your own moans and his breathy grunts as you sluggishly blinked while watching the video. For some reason Atsumu thought it was appropriate to send it to you at such an ungodly hour while he was away for a game that you couldn't attend due to work. As you lazily lounged under your blankets while watching his cock bully it's way into your hole, you couldn't deny even in your sleepy mildly irritated brain watching your pretty man fuck you was scratching an itch you hadn't realized needed it. So with a long groan inducing stretch of your body you wiggled to the middle of your mattress, kicked off your blankets with a small grunt of annoyance before writhing as you wriggled out of your sleep clothes. Rolling onto your side again you lifted a leg into the air and snapped a picture of your arousal, cringing as the flash went off capturing your disheveled face in the background of the photo. With a sigh you sent it to Atsumu before turning your phone on silent, purposely to ignore his call that would undoubtedly arrive the moment he saw your picture.

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu drabble #haikyuu headcanons #tendou satori x y/n #kita shinsuke x y/n #miya atsumu x y/n #tendou satori #kita shinsuke #miya atsumu

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classyinnie · 2 years

Text

loving him is like...

彡 kita shinsuke, nishinoya yū ; [gn!reader]

genre: tooth-rotting fluff

notes: i want someone to dance with me under the moonlight too TT listened to ‘i guess i’m in love’ by clinton kane while writing this, now i’m sobbing

➶ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ¹ ⁽ˢᵘᵍᵃʷᵃʳᵃ⁻ᵏᵃᵍᵉʸᵃᵐᵃ⁾

━━ kita shinsuke;

Loving Kita is like being wrapped with a warm blanket on cold December nights. It's knowing what the other person wants without having to say anything. It’s comforting words through silent whispers and lingering touches because no one wants to let the other go.

Kita has woken up way before you and he’s ready to start his scheduled tasks. The problem is he can’t bring himself to start it because you’re still in bed. Kita wants to start his day with you. It’s a common approach now, something he wouldn’t change for the world. But you’re making it so much harder for him today, and as much as he can’t wait to tick off the things he needs to do, seeing you this soft and relaxed makes him want to ditch all plans and just stay in.

“Dear, breakfast is going to go cold.” He lightly shakes you but immediately regrets it when he hears a disgruntled hum from the pile of blankets you've cocooned yourself in.

“5 more minutes please.”

Kita sighs but gives in anyway. Seeing how you have no plans on getting up, he comfortably situates himself next to you. He plays with your hair, subtly and gently detangling some of the strands. Watching you in this soft state was a slap of overwhelming emotions to his face.

And you know what? He can always reheat breakfast, but he can never go back in time. So there and then, he fully slips himself into your cocoon and forgets all his plans.

The movement stirs you awake, “Hey, how about breakfast?” You ask, but you have no plan to get up too. Not now when you’re drunk in peace and content.

Kita kisses your forehead and mumble, “It can wait.”

Loving Kita is as leisure as it gets – knowing full well that you have all the time in the world.

━━ nishinoya yu;

Loving Nishinoya is like walking through a room with no precedence to what you’ll find inside. It’s the sudden rush of adrenaline to challenge life because you know you won’t be facing it alone. It’s whimsical decisions, not planned travels, 3 am trips to the supermarket, or last-minute canceled plans to a formal event because the sudden idea of going to the beach sounds appealing.

To say he was beyond gorgeous right now is an understatement. The moonlight lighting up his cream-colored skin makes you wonder in astonishment at the beauty in front of you.

“Loving the view?” Nishinoya questions, oblivious to your sightseeing.

“It’s lovely.” You finally moved your gaze to the moonlit shore. Noya was right, the weather was pleasant, and it was almost like the sea was singing its lullaby. It’s quite a sight.

“Care for a dance?”

The question caught you off guard; it was barely audible. You would have missed it if you were in a deeper trance staring out at the vast sea. "Right now?" you can't help but laugh incredulously. Despite your puzzled expression, you stood up and took his outstretched hand. It was soft and warm.

“It would be a waste to not put these formal outfits into use.” Noya intertwined his hand with yours, and the other he circled on your waist, pulling you closer.

That's when you notice he's no longer wearing his blazer, his sleeves rolled up, and the top two buttons of his white dress shirt undone. It was nicer to see him relaxed than the composed, almost uncomfortable, stature you both were in a few hours ago. You looked up at him, enjoying his presence and the familiarity of it all.

Swaying in the unexistent rhythm, you whispered, “The view is stunning.” He’s stunning.

The beauty of loving Nishinoya is, of course, him and the spontaneity of it all.

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loveephia · 11 months

Text

anime crushes i've had, why, and if i still like him or not:

neito monoma (bnha)

listen, he can be really handsome. 😭 and the fact that he's canonically handsome (WITH GOOD FASHION TASTE) makes so much sense. i don't like him as much as i used to, but i definitely still giggle whenever he comes up on screen.

keigo takami | hawks (my hero acadamia)

his new haircut in the later seasons had me screaming. 10/10. i made my mha oc have a canon celebrity crush on him, because yes.

shoto todoroki (my hero acadamia)

when i first started watching my hero acadamia, i actually had a crush on katsuki bakugo (which.. i will not explain, nor will i discuss why on this list), but eventually, i came to realize that i loved boys who were more responsible and aloof. todoroki is actually one of the love interests i've been contemplating to introduce to my mha oc.

tōru oikawa (haikyū!!)

i swear, he was like every haikyū!! girls' first love (it was either him, kageyama, tsukishima, or kenma), and no, i do not like him anymore. >:p

ushijima wakatoshi (haikyū!!)

honestly, he has moments that make my heart pound. the "my cute fiancé" work i did make me like him a little bit more. he was the first haikyū!! character i thought of when asked the question, "who would think their s/o's stomach chub is cute?" [next to that would be bokuto kōtarō and osamu miya, of course. (kita shinsuke and keiji akaashi, too!!)]. i still like ushijima, but just below kita and iwaizumi.

kita shinsuke (haikyū!!)

i don't think i have to explain, but i will anyway. something that wins me over is a man who would definitely win my family's heart after the first meeting and is God-fearing. gracefully enough, i have a headcanon where kita is both. also, i think my entire brand speaks for itself as to whether or not i still like kita. HIS NOM-NOMABLE CHEEKS.

iwaizumi hajime (haikyū!!)

i've always sympathized with iwaizumi since his best friend was someone so popular with the girls, while he kinda just idly stands by. i gradually grew more attracted to him because the thought of him being jokingly aggressive with his friends, but kind and soft to me, was so heart-melting. so yes, i most definitely still like him.

atsumu miya + osamu miya (haikyū!!)

right off the bat, i disliked atsumu. his personality irked me a bit, and.. his ha aai ii iiir rrr.. but i eventually grew to like him because i found this trope cute: whereas atsumu would have a lot of fans, but only pay attention to your cheers. also, may i just mention his TIMESKIP HAIR. THE SIDE SWEEP. I SCREAMED.

i started liking osamu after this one scene of him looking unintentionally cute, then when i saw his timeskip job, i thought about him cooking food for me. AAAAAAA domestic fluff >>>!! and the fact that i wanted to study culinary to become a baker furthermore had me tripping over /the/ osamu miya. i'd love it if while osamu owned a restaurant, i could own a bakery, and our shops would be close to each other. (,,> ꇴ <,,)—!!

toge inumaki (jujutsu kaisen)

i'm ignoring the fact that i literally reblogged a "missing inumaki hours" post a few hours ago. yes, i still like him!! he's just so super adorable, and the headcanon of him learning sign language makes me so soft and AAAAAA!! i'd feed him all the tuna mayo onigiris i could make.

xiao (genshin impact)

if oikawa was haikyū!! girls' first love, then xiao would be genshin girls' candidate for the "first love" position (it'd be either him, kaeya, or diluc). i don't like him as much as i did back then, but his fluff-fics are always cute. ^^

childe (genshin impact)

y'know, i actually was in the midst of editing my list, then i went, "genshin has so many characters, why did i only like three?" then i remembered my freakin' childe phase. >:(

shikanoin heizou (genshin impact)

i find his moles (?) so charming, and his personality is just very playful. the hangout event was what made me like him so much, and i very much still do.

albedo (genshin impact)

yes.

special mentions:

ranpo edogawa (bungo stray dogs)

noé archviste (the case study of vanitas)

kurapika (hunter x hunter)

shirabu kenjirō (haikyū!!)

levi ackerman (attack on titan) by the way, i saw this levi ackerman cosplayer in the convention i went to a couple days ago, and he was shorter than me!! (HE WAS ALSO REALLY FREAKING HANDSOME)

#[ phia shenanigans (:3」 ∠) ]#it is #once again #3am.

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