Tags & warnings: fluff & angst, long distance relationship
Note: HELLO itâs been like a year since I've written anything or been on tumblr, which is wild. I started this so long ago and now itâs clawed its way back out of my heart. Inspired many moons ago by Laura Gilpin.
Tomorrow, when Kita drives you to the station, you wonât cry even though youâll want to.
Youâll lean out the window of his dusty truck and take in the morning bustle â or, as much bustle as you get in this small town. At the intersection, two elementary school kids will run past with their bucket hats and matching uniforms and a weathered-looking obaasan will chase after them, reminding them to be careful of cars and watch the road. Itâs hardly necessary here considering thereâs little traffic, and thatâs probably what the kids will be thinking too, but theyâll slow down nevertheless and squirm impatiently at the crosswalk before darting off again.
Their parents will already be at work in the repair shop, or the soba place, or the grocery store, and it will make you nostalgic for the hometown you havenât even left yet. Wistful for the last honey-dipped days of summer. Scared of what youâll miss once youâre gone.
The midnight-purple grapes of autumn and the jewel-red persimmons of winter. Grandmotherâs warm silken tofu and popsicles after dinner. Sticky kisses stolen in the shadow of the camphor trees. What will âSamuâs opening night be like? How many games will you miss? How many wins? How many losses? Aran and Suna wonât hold it against you, but âTsumu might. Your group chat will be active at first while everyone is settling in to their new lives and awkwardly falling into new friends, but as time goes on, as âSamu works late, as the boys plunge into practice, as the semester gets underway and you get swamped with homework, the messages will slow to a trickle. And youâll be across the ocean, halfway around the world. It might as well be another planet.
How will Shinsuke fare without your help with the harvest? Will he have to work through the nights to finish it all himself? How many weeks will there be until summer break? Maybe youâll even have to get an internship, some work experience, a leg up in the industry that will keep you away even longer. And when you do come back, will he still look at you the same way in a year? Two years? Three? The nights will be long, but the days will be longer. Will it be too hard without him? Hands twisting with restlessness, meals cheerless with one body instead of two. Will you have anything in common anymore? Will you grow apart? Will you find someone new? Will he?
Tomorrow, his eyes will still shine with their perpetual luster. Youâll avoid turning to look so your tears wonât fall, and youâll hope that the breeze streaming in will dry them.
Tomorrow, the sun will crest the hill, and Shinsuke will glow like your own north star.
But tonight, he leads you down to the paddies.
It is a perfect summer evening. The chirping crickets can barely be heard over the drone of cicadas. The stars drape over the fields like a glimmering veil. The moon hangs bright and full. Or, almost full. Itâs waning, and not for the first time, you wish the night could go on forever.
Shinsuke pulls you along the curving paths with no sense of haste. He talks to you about his day, his grandmother, the weather, the harvest. His neck bent and eyes fixed on you with every step, as familiar with the paddies as the back of his hand.
Rice plants tickle your calves, heavy grains dipped low, smearing the moonâs reflection across the surface of the water.
He finally slows near the canal at the edge of the farm. Dropping your hand, he presses a finger to his lips and points to the reeds toward a tangle of frogs in chorus, damp bodies glinting as they crawl over one another, a densely layered symphony of kero keros. Gingerly, gingerly, he bends down, and snatches at one, holding it up to your face with boyish glee. And then youâre both off, running, splashing, leaping after the throng of frogs that burst forth like a clammy firework in every direction, mud whirling, laughter erupting.
Like when you were kids. Like every summer.
You catch five frogs. He catches six.
Somewhere, it is raining.
A sense of serenity swells, spilling up and over and out into the endless dark. You stand there in the paddy mosquito-bitten and mud-spattered, smothered by the humid night. You think of Shinsuke draped over you in the wildflowers, the glide of shoji and the grassy scent of tatami, you think of white grains gleaming. He rinses the mud from his hands, pulls you close with damp fingers, and kisses you until you forget there will be a tomorrow.
poly!moonchaser x gn!reader (but mostly remus) | fluff | 388 words
c/w: remus is 24, comparison of aerosol bottle to gun
Summers with James are easy, lazy. He brings you to the golfing grounds, content to let you lounge on a lawn chair, reading, as long as you occasionally yell flattery to keep up his ego. Itâs great.
Itâs exactly what youâre doing when a large hand pushes up your sunglasses so they sweep back your bangs. Lips brush against the newly exposed skin- slightly chapped and sun-warmed.
You smile, looking up. âHi, Rem.â
âHi, dovey. Still working through that manuscript?â
âYeah, but thereâs something I want to ask you.â You flit through the sheets quickly, landing on a sentence youâve underlined in red. âI donât think youâve worded this right; it doesnât make sense.â
Remus furrows his brows, accentuating the freckles that have already started to appear. He likes them because they take attention away from his scars. But theyâre beautiful on their own- clusters of downy dandelions in valleys of soft grass. They make him look boyish in the way he really is.
It does mean, however, that he hasnât been wearing sunscreen regularly; he wasnât this speckled last week. You bring a hand under his chin, tilting his face upwards, beaming at him your sweetest smile. He looks confused- wide-eyed, doe-like- and you almost feel bad for what youâre about to do. âClose your eyes, love.â
You spray him like a fly.
âAH- bloody hell is that?â He sputters, recoiling away from you.
âItâs sunscreen; now come back- Iâm not done.â
âYouâre mad if you think Iâm going anywhere near you!â
You shake the bottle menacingly, pointing it towards him like a gun. âYouâre just as bad as Sirius; come here!â
He does, reluctantly, but his pout only makes him cuter. You reach back into your bag, and he eyes the spray, offended, when you replace it with a sunscreen stick.
âDonât start, Lupin; I knew youâd run.â
He grimaces when you run the balm along his cheeks, but stays still nonetheless. Youâre massaging it into his skin when James joins you on the patio, club swung over his shoulder.
âMoony, you look absolutely miserable.â
âHe may be miserable but heâs not getting skin cancer.â
âToo bad you couldnât save him from premature wrinkling.â
Remus scoffs. âIâm not wrinkling; Iâm 24.â
âTwenty-four and wrinkly, my love.â James kisses his lips to appease him. âAnd graying, too.â
diluc x gn!reader | fluff | 188 words
a/n: i took this man's name and i haven't written for him what is wrong with me
Years ago, when Diluc was still a newlywed, he would stash his mask, climb the stairs to the bedroom, pull aside the blanket, and thoroughly, completely panic when he didnât see you there.
Things have changed since then. Diluc is no longer a newlywed, he no longer bothers to hide his mask, and he no longer panics when youâre not in bed at two in the morning.
Now he knows to check the couch.
âDarling, you shouldnât be here.â
Itâs a familiar conversation, yet somehow the words are packaged with care, with worry, like heâs never said them before. They pull you from slumber just as Diluc pulls you into his arms. Theyâre stable and strong- perfect for defending, better still for embracing his sweet.
âNeither should you, mister.â
âPerhaps we should retire to bed, then, darling.â
âMhmâŚâ You nuzzle further into his chest and Diluc sighs as he watches you doze off. Itâs endearing, the way you drool on his shirt, the way your brows furrow when a hair tickles you. He canât seem to want to wake you.
satoru gojo x gn!reader | fluff (angst if you saw shibuya lol) | 163 words
inspired by this art
âAre you heading out?â
Satoru sighs as he takes off his shirt. âYeah, they want me there early. Something big in Shibuya.â
âYou should probably hurry, then.â
Itâs times like these when youâre reminded of how beautiful he really is; aglow in the early sun, pale skin so perfectly smooth itâs a wonder itâs not sculpted in marble. Your fingers reach, just a little, to feel him once more.
âSatoru, come here.â
He obeys, kneeling down to where you're still lying in bed. You reach to push back his bangs, rake through the feathery white wisps before finding the knot of his blindfold. It falls to reveal gemstone eyes- blue like aquamarine and sapphire, blue like the stone that circles your finger.
He brings your palms to his face. âJust wanted to look at me?â There's that teasing lilt to his voice, that familiar smirk.
âWanted you to look at me.â
âAw, gorgeous.â A kiss to your palm. âI'm always looking at you.â
poly!marauders x fem!reader | fluff | 349 words
c/w: allusion to sex
James watches in stupefied wonder as Sirius Black steps behind you with a squeeze to your waist. Thatâs not the wondrous part; Sirius is always grabbing your waist. The wondrous part is that heâs not camping out in the basement while the rest of you are cleaning, hoping James doesnât drag him out by the feet to scrub the toilet.
âCan I help you with that, gorgeous?â Heâs using his smooth voice- the silky, low one he deploys when he wants to get in your trousers. Thankfully, you donât entertain him. âThatâd be fantastic, Sirius. You can start with these.â You point to something in the sink- presumably a stack of dishes- and James watches, dumbfounded, as Sirius only rinses off the suds and places them on the rack dutifully.
And heâs not even wearing gloves.
âWhatâcha doinâ there, lovie?â Itâs Remus that breaks him out of his trance, snaking an arm around his waist. âLook!â James whisper-shouts in your direction. âPads is doing house chores!â
âAnd heâs not even wearing gloves!â
âI can hear you two!â Sirius throws his head with a huff, hair following with the same indignant attitude. âHonestly, you make it sound like I never do anything around here.â
âBecause you donât!â
He's offended at that one. Water sprays as he twirls to point an accusatory finger. âI absolutely do too, you lying twat.â
âOh forgive my incompetence; how could I forget youâre the king of lifting your legs when I come by with the vacuum cleaner-â
âYou never bother to wipe the bathroom mirror-â
âYOU LEAVE YOUR LONG CURLY SPIDERLINGS-â James mimics mingling legs with his fingers â-JUMPING AROUND ON THE SHOWER DOOR-â
âY-â
Heâs cut off by a mocking, high pitched screech. âHOUSE CHORES ARE FOR HOUSE ELVES; ITâS IN THE NAME-â
âSirius, please; youâre dripping on the floor.â
âOh, sorry dolly.â He turns back around, completely abandoning Jamesâ yapping. A kiss to your temple before pulling another dish from your hands. âIâll take that, thank you.â
James gapes, bewildered. âSheâs completely bewitched him, that woman.â
Remus laughs. âSheâs completely bewitched me too.â
satoru gojo x gn!reader | fluff (angst if you saw shibuya lol) | 163 words
inspired by this art
âAre you heading out?â
Satoru sighs as he takes off his shirt. âYeah, they want me there early. Something big in Shibuya.â
âYou should probably hurry, then.â
Itâs times like these when youâre reminded of how beautiful he really is; aglow in the early sun, pale skin so perfectly smooth itâs a wonder itâs not sculpted in marble. Your fingers reach, just a little, to feel him once more.
âSatoru, come here.â
He obeys, kneeling down to where you're still lying in bed. You reach to push back his bangs, rake through the feathery white wisps before finding the knot of his blindfold. It falls to reveal gemstone eyes- blue like aquamarine and sapphire, blue like the stone that circles your finger.
He brings your palms to his face. âJust wanted to look at me?â There's that teasing lilt to his voice, that familiar smirk.
âWanted you to look at me.â
âAw, gorgeous.â A kiss to your palm. âI'm always looking at you.â
osamu miya x gn!reader | fluff | i'm going back to 505 words
cw: reader doesn't have an apetite/doesn't eat much, samu is a lil insistent you eat
a/n: this started as haji and godzilla turned samu and shrek. does shrek even bully peasants in the sequel
Itâs kind of corny how much Osamu likes Shrek. He stores DVD copies of the entire franchise in the TV stand even though he hasnât owned a DVD player since 2012. Once, Netflix removed the Shrek holiday special from their service- the one he never even watched- and his comedic fit of outrage had left him huddled on the ground, heartbroken. So itâs only natural that once again, you sit in front of the TV as the opening to, in his words, the unchallenged supreme reigning cinematic masterpiece that is Shrek 2 plays its soundtrack.
âPause it!â yells Osamu from the kitchen.
âYou know it by heart!â
âI know,â Osamu appears beside you, holding two bowls. âBut I need the full experience.â
You take a moment to see what heâs made. Oyakodon- a warm, soupy broth of chicken and eggs served over white rice. It looks good, it really does, but you donât have much of an appetite and you know you probably wonât eat it. Osamu places it in your hands anyway and you donât have the heart to tell him no, not after he spent an hour in the kitchen for you. âThank you, 'Samu.â
Youâre halfway through the movie when Osamu lifts the bowl from your hands and shifts you into his lap. You donât notice, not really, because Shrek is in the middle of abusing another peasant and itâs just so perfectly ridiculous you canât help but be entranced. So you donât think twice when Osamu whispers a soft open by your ear and you hardly process it when you swallow something down. He does it again and again and again, until you look up and Osamuâs smug, triumphant, holding up another spoonful.
ââSamu!â You push against his chest and he falls back a little. âI can feed myself, you know.â
âDidnât look like it.â
âI wasnât hungry!â
âYa ate half thâ bowl!â
âYou tricked me! Those bites donât count.â
Osamu laughs. Itâs loud and happy and rings in the air- rings over even Shrekâs roars. He grins at you again. âBite?â
You purse your lips. âNo.â
âWhy?â
âBecause youâre being annoying!â
He swirls the spoon in the air. âHere comes thâ airplane!â
âNo, 'Samu!â You beat at him and bury your face into his chest. He laughs, and you hear the clink of porcelain on the coffee table before his arms wrap around you too.
âYa just hadnât eaten all day.â Softer this time.
âI know.â
âNeed the protein to get big anâ strong!â
âMhm.â
âSo youâll take another bite?â
You nuzzle further into him, hiding your face. âNo.â Silence for a moment. âMaybe.â
Osamu smirks. âItâs really good, ya know.â
You sigh, releasing yourself from his chest. You reach for the spoon and let the rice fall onto your tongue. The chicken is tender, the eggs delicate, and the subtlety of scallions paired with the salty broth create a comforting taste in your mouth. âIt is good, âSamu.â You mean it.
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