Tags & warnings: fluff & angst, long distance relationship
Note: HELLO it’s been like a year since I've written anything or been on tumblr, which is wild. I started this so long ago and now it’s clawed its way back out of my heart. Inspired many moons ago by Laura Gilpin.
Tomorrow, when Kita drives you to the station, you won’t cry even though you’ll want to.
You’ll lean out the window of his dusty truck and take in the morning bustle — 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. It’s hardly necessary here considering there’s little traffic, and that’s probably what the kids will be thinking too, but they’ll 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 haven’t even left yet. Wistful for the last honey-dipped days of summer. Scared of what you’ll miss once you’re gone.
The midnight-purple grapes of autumn and the jewel-red persimmons of winter. Grandmother’s warm silken tofu and popsicles after dinner. Sticky kisses stolen in the shadow of the camphor trees. What will ‘Samu’s opening night be like? How many games will you miss? How many wins? How many losses? Aran and Suna won’t hold it against you, but ‘Tsumu 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 ‘Samu 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 you’ll 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 you’ll 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. You’ll avoid turning to look so your tears won’t fall, and you’ll 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. It’s 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 moon’s 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 you’re 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. It’s great.
It’s exactly what you’re 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. “Hi, Rem.”
“Hi, dovey. Still working through that manuscript?”
“Yeah, but there’s something I want to ask you.” You flit through the sheets quickly, landing on a sentence you’ve underlined in red. “I don’t think you’ve worded this right; it doesn’t make sense.”
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 they’re 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 hasn’t been wearing sunscreen regularly; he wasn’t 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 you’re about to do. “Close your eyes, love.”
You spray him like a fly.
“AH- bloody hell is that?” He sputters, recoiling away from you.
“It’s sunscreen; now come back- I’m not done.”
“You’re mad if you think I’m going anywhere near you!”
You shake the bottle menacingly, pointing it towards him like a gun. “You’re just as bad as Sirius; come here!”
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.
“Don’t start, Lupin; I knew you’d run.”
He grimaces when you run the balm along his cheeks, but stays still nonetheless. You’re massaging it into his skin when James joins you on the patio, club swung over his shoulder.
“Moony, you look absolutely miserable.”
“He may be miserable but he’s not getting skin cancer.”
“Too bad you couldn’t save him from premature wrinkling.”
Remus scoffs. “I’m not wrinkling; I’m 24.”
“Twenty-four and wrinkly, my love.” James kisses his lips to appease him. “And graying, too.”
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 didn’t 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 you’re not in bed at two in the morning.
Now he knows to check the couch.
“Darling, you shouldn’t be here.”
It’s a familiar conversation, yet somehow the words are packaged with care, with worry, like he’s never said them before. They pull you from slumber just as Diluc pulls you into his arms. They’re stable and strong- perfect for defending, better still for embracing his sweet.
“Neither should you, mister.”
“Perhaps we should retire to bed, then, darling.”
“Mhm…” You nuzzle further into his chest and Diluc sighs as he watches you doze off. It’s endearing, the way you drool on his shirt, the way your brows furrow when a hair tickles you. He can’t seem to want to wake you.
satoru gojo x gn!reader | fluff (angst if you saw shibuya lol) | 163 words
inspired by this art
“Are you heading out?”
Satoru sighs as he takes off his shirt. “Yeah, they want me there early. Something big in Shibuya.”
“You should probably hurry, then.”
It’s times like these when you’re reminded of how beautiful he really is; aglow in the early sun, pale skin so perfectly smooth it’s a wonder it’s not sculpted in marble. Your fingers reach, just a little, to feel him once more.
“Satoru, come here.”
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. “Just wanted to look at me?” There's that teasing lilt to his voice, that familiar smirk.
“Wanted you to look at me.”
“Aw, gorgeous.” A kiss to your palm. “I'm always looking at you.”
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. That’s not the wondrous part; Sirius is always grabbing your waist. The wondrous part is that he’s not camping out in the basement while the rest of you are cleaning, hoping James doesn’t drag him out by the feet to scrub the toilet.
“Can I help you with that, gorgeous?” He’s using his smooth voice- the silky, low one he deploys when he wants to get in your trousers. Thankfully, you don’t entertain him. “That’d be fantastic, Sirius. You can start with these.” 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 he’s not even wearing gloves.
“What’cha doin’ there, lovie?” It’s Remus that breaks him out of his trance, snaking an arm around his waist. “Look!” James whisper-shouts in your direction. “Pads is doing house chores!”
“And he’s not even wearing gloves!”
“I can hear you two!” Sirius throws his head with a huff, hair following with the same indignant attitude. “Honestly, you make it sound like I never do anything around here.”
“Because you don’t!”
He's offended at that one. Water sprays as he twirls to point an accusatory finger. “I absolutely do too, you lying twat.”
“Oh forgive my incompetence; how could I forget you’re the king of lifting your legs when I come by with the vacuum cleaner-”
“You never bother to wipe the bathroom mirror-”
“YOU LEAVE YOUR LONG CURLY SPIDERLINGS-” James mimics mingling legs with his fingers “-JUMPING AROUND ON THE SHOWER DOOR-”
“Y-”
He’s cut off by a mocking, high pitched screech. “HOUSE CHORES ARE FOR HOUSE ELVES; IT’S IN THE NAME-”
“Sirius, please; you’re dripping on the floor.”
“Oh, sorry dolly.” He turns back around, completely abandoning James’ yapping. A kiss to your temple before pulling another dish from your hands. “I’ll take that, thank you.”
James gapes, bewildered. “She’s completely bewitched him, that woman.”
Remus laughs. “She’s completely bewitched me too.”
satoru gojo x gn!reader | fluff (angst if you saw shibuya lol) | 163 words
inspired by this art
“Are you heading out?”
Satoru sighs as he takes off his shirt. “Yeah, they want me there early. Something big in Shibuya.”
“You should probably hurry, then.”
It’s times like these when you’re reminded of how beautiful he really is; aglow in the early sun, pale skin so perfectly smooth it’s a wonder it’s not sculpted in marble. Your fingers reach, just a little, to feel him once more.
“Satoru, come here.”
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. “Just wanted to look at me?” There's that teasing lilt to his voice, that familiar smirk.
“Wanted you to look at me.”
“Aw, gorgeous.” A kiss to your palm. “I'm always looking at you.”
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
It’s kind of corny how much Osamu likes Shrek. He stores DVD copies of the entire franchise in the TV stand even though he hasn’t 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 it’s 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.
“Pause it!” yells Osamu from the kitchen.
“You know it by heart!”
“I know,” Osamu appears beside you, holding two bowls. “But I need the full experience.”
You take a moment to see what he’s made. Oyakodon- a warm, soupy broth of chicken and eggs served over white rice. It looks good, it really does, but you don’t have much of an appetite and you know you probably won’t eat it. Osamu places it in your hands anyway and you don’t have the heart to tell him no, not after he spent an hour in the kitchen for you. “Thank you, 'Samu.”
You’re halfway through the movie when Osamu lifts the bowl from your hands and shifts you into his lap. You don’t notice, not really, because Shrek is in the middle of abusing another peasant and it’s just so perfectly ridiculous you can’t help but be entranced. So you don’t 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 Osamu’s smug, triumphant, holding up another spoonful.
“‘Samu!” You push against his chest and he falls back a little. “I can feed myself, you know.”
“Didn’t look like it.”
“I wasn’t hungry!”
“Ya ate half th’ bowl!”
“You tricked me! Those bites don’t count.”
Osamu laughs. It’s loud and happy and rings in the air- rings over even Shrek’s roars. He grins at you again. “Bite?”
You purse your lips. “No.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re being annoying!”
He swirls the spoon in the air. “Here comes th’ airplane!”
“No, 'Samu!” 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.
“Ya just hadn’t eaten all day.” Softer this time.
“I know.”
“Need the protein to get big an’ strong!”
“Mhm.”
“So you’ll take another bite?”
You nuzzle further into him, hiding your face. “No.” Silence for a moment. “Maybe.”
Osamu smirks. “It’s really good, ya know.”
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. “It is good, ‘Samu.” You mean it.
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