When You And Katsuki Argue

how about shoji, sato, and Tenya on your anniversaary (if u write for them)

what would they do on that day? how clingy are they?

anniversary day with them - mha

genre: fluff, gn reader warnings: none ft: iida, kirishima, bakugo a/n: hiya,, i don't write for the first two (idk how to portray them) but i included iida !! thx for the req <3 i know they all end the same but i want the day to end like that 🤧

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TENYA IIDA ⤷ he has everything planned— he'll try to make it as special as he can. maybe an amusement park, or a restaurant in the higher class, he'd go wherever you want!! he'd be super nervous because he'd want the day to go perfectly, but that anxiety is boiled down to nothing when you assure him that you're having fun. "thank you for this, tenya. i love you so much." he smiles, relieved. "i love you too, y/n."

KIRISHIMA EIJIRO ⤷ with kirishima, it's always an adventure, and there's no exception this time. he'll take you hiking! but if you don't like vigorous activities then he'd settle for a picnic. he took a deep breath and shouted, "I LOVE YOU, Y/N!!!" you laughed and pulled him down, "hey! you idiot, stop that!" you held his face and kissed him briefly, "but i love you too."

BAKUGO KATSUKI ⤷ he doesn't shoot for anything big, you might go outside to eat for an hour or two, then spend the rest of your time at home watching movies together. i'd like to think he'd be extra affectionate, maybe not outright, but in subtle ways. "i love you," he mumbled, his usual angry demeanor nowhere to be found. "i know i don't show it much, but i do. happy anniversary, y/n." you chuckled, "i love you too, 'suki."

reblogs are appreciated!

---

I loved that househusband AU soooooo much! Made me wish it was reality 😭. But no, tis not my reality.

You said you were open to ideas for this AU? Well what if you did an edition with remote working? S/o now is at home and the guys get so see what s/o does throughout the day (see’s s/o as a BOSS)

Oooh what about someone bashing the couple for their “untraditional” lifestyle?

you dare overstep your mortal authority ?!

sypnosis: how they’re like when someone attempts to bash the two of you because of your lifestyle. ( i dont condone to bashing and any forms of harassment. )

characters: zhongli, diluc, itto, xiao, kaeya, thoma, childe, and scaramouche

content: mafia!au, mentions of harassment (bashing), mild swearing, violence, threats, hint of torture, insults

post-script: don’t we all wish it was a reality 😔💔 how does it feel to live our dreams y/n 🎤🎤🎤🎤 on the other hand, im planning on making a separate post about the remote working s/o (bcuz theres sm to say about this) sooo stay tuned for that 😈 for now tho, lemme share the goody details on the last part hehe

the way of the househusband au masterlist

INTIMIDATES BASHERS - zhongli, diluc, itto, and xiao

ZHONGLI’s rolled up sleeves that shows his battle scars are enough for people who attempt to bash the two of you to not do anything at all, giving the ex-yakuza all the more reasons to be proud of his scars and not be ashamed to show them. though, you gotta admit, you’re surprised that it intimidated people despite the apron he always wears.

when you do encounter a basher that actually has the nerve to bash, zhongli first lets his scars intimidate the person and try to reason with them, keeping you beside him protectively in hopes of the basher not trying to harm you.

if the basher is stubborn and tries to harm the both of you regardless of your lover’s attempts, this is when rex lapis comes out in the light instead of zhongli.

you could only watch as your husband grips the basher’s shoulder in a tight manner, his eyes narrowing as the atmosphere grew tense.

“how would you feel about living in prison for a while?”

DILUC’s aloof attitude alongside his muscular form often intimidated people around him and he definitely isn’t complaining — especially since it backs off those who could attempt to hurt you because of your lifestyle with him, so the chance of getting bashed was only a 1% possibility.

however, the possibility is never a zero.

your harasser didn’t even know that your husband is the intimidating bartender that cleans glasses 24/7 because he only overheard you gushing to your friend about your lovely househusband in the bar where he drinks, so things didn’t go well with the person when your husband caught him sputtering insults and nearly punched you when you insulted him back.

customers and your friend could only watch as some asshole who didn’t know anything better get scared by diluc’s haunting glare and cowardly backed off when the red-haired man calmly ordered him to get out, causing your harasser muttering out insincere comments before taking his leave.

despite the situation being dealt with, we all know diluc would feel guilty if you ever get hurt because of him being a househusband :((

nevertheless though, his guilt that sometimes creeps in him disappears when he sees you giving such a blessing smile, telling him how you’re grateful to have a wonderful househusband like him and how you love him so much despite his past :))

ITTO honestly didn’t intend to intimidate people with his stature and muscular scar-covered body and he’s incredibly oblivious from that fact. however, you are really thankful that his intimidated appearance is enough to make bashers back off - especially since your neighbors warned you and itto about bashers that lurks around the small town.

if there was someone who somehow had the metal balls to bash you not knowing that your househusband is a literal beefy muscular man who can probably crush someone’s head with his bare hands who’s standing nearby, he’ll immediately tackle him down and make you call the police for an attempted harassment.

although your husband isn’t as… violent as most househusbands in this post, he’s the only one who does the most rational thing and call the cops, simply because he’s a literally nice guy that just follows the law now.

XIAO’s eyes are something that catches people’s attention, only for them to immediately feel scared of him because of his rest-bitch face. if looks could kill, xiao would’ve already killed millions, that’s what people will think to themselves whenever they walk pass the ex yakuza.

unfortunately, this doesn’t go the same for certain people because of xiao’s height, especially that one basher that spat out insults after insults because of your lifestyle with xiao — that is, until your husband takes one good look at the basher with a scary glare with intent to kill — and that was enough for the person to shut his mouth up and stare in fear.

you gotta admit, it was pretty hot. but scary as well. but mostly hot.

THREATENS BASHERS - kaeya and thoma

KAEYA will instantly take a hold on the person from going after you, staring at them with a cold gaze that replaced the loving look he gives to you and only you.

he may have promised that he wouldn’t hurt anyone anymore to you, but it doesn’t mean he promised that he’ll not do it verbally. all it took was for your husband to lean in on your assaulter’s ear and whisper a few words that made him shiver in fear and try to get away from kaeya.

when you asked kaeya what he said to the basher, his expression instantly comes back into a loving one, cupping your cheek with his one hand as he tells you it’s nothing for you to worry about.

THOMA will immediately put himself between you and your basher before stopping them from their attempted harassment. it was definitely strange to see your husband taking the situation so light heartedly as he treats your harasser like they’re old friends — but then the blonde haired man whispers something that made the basher look at him in confusion, giving you and thoma a chance to walk away from the incident with no injuries and worries.

so imagine your surprise when you saw your basher standing at your front door the day after the incident, muttering so much apologies as he kneels on the ground and begs for forgiveness to you. just what did thoma do to scare this poor guy?!

FIGHTS BASHERS BACK - childe, scaramouche

CHILDE will not take the basher slightly — especially if they were aiming to attack you first under his watch. seriously, were they asking for a death wish when they tried to hurt an ex-yakuza’s spouse right in front of him? childe amuses to himself, watching as the basher cowardly steps away when he sees childe bringing out a gun.

oh, you don’t have to worry about witnessing the poor bastard’s death by your husband - the gun is simply a prop that can scare off people like your assaulter, so no need to try and stop him, just watch the show and see if the man learned his lesson <<3 you wanted to ask why on earth your husband has a gun prop, but you honestly don’t wanna find out.

what’s not a prop are the two blades that childe brings out when he stands in front of the basher’s home, smiling menacingly as he goes closer and closer to the front door.

despite failing in being intimidating to others outdoors and not in his old organization anymore, SCARAMOUCHE makes it up through his violent verbal assault. he’s probably the only househusband that made you encounter a few bashers who aren’t scared of scaramouche’s appearance.

however, your lover is one of the only househusbands who won’t hesitate to go violent (verbally and physically) against someone who’d have the audacity to assault you. it didn’t matter if the incident occur in public, his major priority is you and your safety, so he’d be damned if he’d let this bastard’s disgusting behavior slide just because he has an audience.

so when a certain basher took things way too far, it simply end up with the basher feeling like an embarrassment to this world and a traumatized memory of scaramouche’s colorful words.

---

Kuroo Tetsurou knows how to tie a tie. He wore one every day of high school, after all. It's not a difficult skill to master. Truthfully, he could probably do it in his sleep.

But, all those years ago, you offered so sweetly. It wasn't hard for him to say, sheepishly, "Sure. I'm not too good with these things."

Ever since, it's one of the most cherished parts of his morning routine. He watches as you hold up random ties from his collection, eying them thoughtfully before making your selection. You stand so close to him, your gentle fingers turning up his collar and looping the tie around his neck. He can smell your shampoo, feel the warmth of your skin. Your fingertips brush the sensitive skin of his neck as you make the knot, sending tiny thrills of electricity through him each time.

"There," You always say as you smooth his collar down, "Perfect." You give the knot one final tug, and it's a familiar signal. He closes the gap, pressing a kiss to your lips as you finally let go of the tie.

"Thanks, babe," He always murmurs against your lips before he pulls away.

You always grin. "Have a good day, today."

He thinks he's done well, all these years, hiding the truth from you. His one harmless fib.

It's his cousin's wedding. He's surprised to learn how many of the groomsmen really don't know how to tie a tie. He's going around the room, tying one tie after another, when he hears a familiar voice just inside the door. Freezing halfway though the final one, he slowly turns, caught in the act. You're crossing the room before he can even begin to feel foolish.

"I always knew, you know," You say simply, a teasing smile making your eyes dance. You tug the tie draped loosely around his own neck, the one he'd been saving for last. "Need a little help with that?"

As you carefully tie the tie for him, then tug him down for a sweet kiss, he thinks he might be falling in love with you all over again.

(part 2)

8:54 PM

xiao.

“you’re pretty,” xiao drowsily murmurs, warm breaths tickling the crook of your neck. “have i ever mentioned that?”

“about twenty times tonight, yeah.” you giggle, poking his reddened cheek. “it’s ‘cause you’re drunk, love.”

“no, it’s ‘cause it’s true.” he huffs childishly, and your heart flutters at the innocent sight of it. though it wasn’t always characteristic of xiao to become so vulnerable, him being tipsy somehow spoke a different story. it was like he was everything he restrained himself to be during a sober state.

“maybe i don’t say it often, ‘s why you won’t believe it.” he slurs in disappointment.

“oh you say it a lot, alright.” you smile, feeling him shift his head on your shoulder, as your fingers playfully fumble against his.

“i like it when you smile,” he hums, lazily tracing patterns on the skin of your hand. “how else can i make you happier?”

“you already know how to make me happy, xiao.”

“sometimes i still feel like i don’t.” golden amber eyes raise to yours. “everything makes you happy.”

you’re about to interrupt your boyfriend with what he was talking about, until he suddenly thrusts out his fingers in a daze, ticking the words off. “i’ve tried everything, haven’t i? gifts, words of affirmation, acts of service—”

“pfft,” you stifle your laughter with pressed lips, fighting a grin on your mouth when xiao glares at you for interrupting him. “what, are you researching things now? i thought you were the one who said google wasn’t reliable.”

he sighs heavily, shaking his head at your accusation. “i want to know how to make you happier.”

your heart flutters at his honest words. “you know,” you repeat quietly, cupping his face in your hands. “more than anyone.”

he stares at you, contemplative and silent for a moment…before a smirk slowly crosses his flushed face, and you feel his muscled arms wrap around your waist as his nose bumps tenderly against yours. his breath reeks of alcohol and intoxication, but strangely you feel slightly more attracted to him because of it.

“like this, huh?” he mumbles against your lips, painfully aware of the effect he had on you.

“mhm,” you nod lightly. “and being here with you.”

“so that’s your love language.” he murmurs in a low breath, before pressing a series of warm and wet kisses on your mouth. you gently tilt your head to meet his lips better, and a husky sound rumbles from his throat at the mild gesture, cradling you closer towards his chest.

“‘m i speaking it better now?” xiao asks when you’ve both eventually parted for air, leaning against each other’s foreheads with red faces.

“yeah,” you grin, peeking at his bruised lips and kissing him all over again.

“you can talk your shit all night.”

---

commas of care,

↳ CHAPTER III. DAYLIGHT

kita shinsuke x reader, 15.7k

SUMMARY: Kita used to dream about being free. But now, he’s 28, years into a career and married to someone he doesn’t know.

series masterlist

a/n: here she is... the final chapter !! i'm getting sentimental about it all over again but writing this chapter was very therapeutic. especially because it touched on the theme of childhood hurt, something i can relate to very well. but alas, i'll save the rest of my speech for my end notes. i hope you enjoy ! the playlist is also finished so check it out from the masterlist <3

Kita doesn’t want to say your first date was life-changing, primarily because you already tease him by actually calling it that.

And to be honest, nothing super drastic has happened after the date to be throwing the word life-changing around.

You both do the same little things, and the structure of your days are essentially the same. Wake up, do your jobs, spend time together, then sleep.

There are changes, though. They're just… more subtle, like somebody had turned on a light and his life glows a tad bit brighter than before.

It's hard to completely articulate how he feels, but all he knows is that the person to thank for all this light is you.

He’s always thought all the movies were so silly for describing love as a thing that narrows the circumference of the world to a single person. It’s still a little silly, Kita thinks, and he’s not quite in love yet. But it would be a lie to say that you don't occupy most of his thoughts throughout the day.

The thought of you puts a certain skip to his step, a little absentmindedness in between meetings, and zeal to be super efficient with his work so he can go home earlier than usual.

He feels a little bit guilty about wanting to go home early, but their division is performing well and they’ve recently secured several high-profile projects. He thinks he’s earned a couple days of going home earlier than usual.

In any case, it’s hard for him to even remember the guilt once he’s home. Not when his wife welcomes him home with hugs and kisses. Some days, he doesn’t even get a chance to take off his shoes before he finds his hands full of you kissing him stupid against the front door. You pull back only after Kita is breathless to ask, “Did you have a good day at work, baby?”

You find yourselves going out for dinner dates more. You found this listing of all the best restaurants in Tokyo, and you've both been slowly but surely going through it. There's this new Vietnamese restaurant you went to recently in Roppongi that you both fell in love with on the list. You're determined to try out everything on the list first before starting to go on repeats, but Kita's hoping you make that one restaurant an exception.

They go on other types of dates too, like this one time you got tickets for an outdoor cinema experience. It played an older movie, one of the first Batman films, and he had brought blankets (so you could sit on the grass) and packed their own food (so they could have a little picnic as they watched).

Another time, they end up at a museum, where you give him the low-down on art history. You walked him down the different exhibits and acted as his own personal tour guide. Kita learned a lot of different artists that day, but he thinks he learned more about you. It’s in the way you talk about different painters that reveal you. How your voice booms with disdain when you talk about Gauguin but drops into soft dulcet tones when you reach Monet and Van Gogh. How you pause to admire a Bernini sculpture before giving him background on who even Bernini was. How you completely skip past the whole section of Medieval art with the excuse, it reminds me of when my mother forced me to go to church.

It’s how they’ve been getting to know each other for the past couple of months and still, he realizes there’s a lot left to learn. It really does feel like they’re in some weird, advanced level of dating, but he doesn’t mind because it’s really fun. All the stupid rules surrounding dating are gone, bulldozed by the fact that you’re already married.

It’s during this time too that he finally gets the chance to paint under your careful instruction.

“Wait,” Kita says, squinting at his canvas, “So what should I do?”

“Whatever you want,” you say from behind your canvas, “Follow your heart, Shin.”

So maybe the instructions were less careful and more vague. Kita stands up to see what you’re doing, “What are you gonna paint?”

“Whatever my heart tells me to,” you say. You look up at him with narrowed eyes, “No, I’m not painting you.”

Kita scoffs, “I wasn’t even going to say that.”

“Uhuh,” you tease, “But since you’re here, wanna give me a kiss?”

“No,” Kita says, walking away back to his place. He acts hurt, “I’m just gonna paint you. If it’s ugly, it’s your fault. You taught me nothing.”

Now it’s your turn to scoff, “This is supposed to be fun. It’s okay if it turns out ugly. You’re not being graded. Just relax, babe.”

Kita rolls his eyes, but he ends up doing what he’s told. Activities like this, where instructions are vague and don’t have a goal, usually stump him, but he takes a deep breath and focuses. He can do this. He can paint the ugliest painting of you and hang it in the living room.

He starts with your head, which is an easy enough thing to paint. You’re a circle on a stick but cuddly at the same time, so maybe he should avoid doing a stick figure. He gets lost in figuring out these tiny details and forgets his surroundings until he hears a phone ring.

“Sorry,” you grimace, silencing the call.

“All good,” Kita says, humming as he goes back to painting. It hasn’t even been a minute until he hears the same ringtone.

You groan, “If a person isn’t answering, it usually means they’re busy. Ugh, leave a voicemail.”

Kita laughs, “Maybe it’s important. Just answer it.”

“No,” You dismiss, “It’s just my agent. They’ve been pestering me to do more work. But I told them I was taking a break and to only bother me for administrative things or charity functions. And I’m already doing people favors.”

Kita frowns, “Maybe you should get a new agent. This one doesn’t seem to respect your wish for time off.”

“I wish,” You sigh, “This one’s pretty good though, and they know what they’re doing. They’re just being pushy because I’ve been avoiding a lot of the public engagements they’ve been asking me to do.”

“Why have you been avoiding them?” Kita asks.

You don't answer immediately. Kita paints while he waits.

“All of them are abroad,” You finally say. “And we haven’t been married for that long, and I didn’t really want to do anything overseas until we got settled in…”

The words make him pause. He puts his brush down and moves his seat, so he can look at you properly when he says, “I really appreciate you, you know that right?”

“Hm?” you make a confused noise. “Where is this coming from?”

“Just wanted you to know since it’s something that I’ve been thinking about a lot, but also just because of what you said. I shouldn’t be surprised at this point, but every time I find out all these little things you’ve been doing, it just really hammers the point that you’re so considerate of us,” Kita swallows, “And I just appreciate that.”

“Shin,” you say, touched.

“But baby, look at us,” Kita reaches for your hand and you meet him halfway. With your hands clasped together, he says, “This isn’t going anywhere. You don’t have to hold yourself back from these opportunities. You love your work and you deserve to go to all these places and showcase your work. I’ll only feel bad if you keep declining them.”

You exhale, “You’re right.”

Kita smiles, “I know.”

.

.

.

Okay, Kita knows what he said but now he kind of regrets it.

Not because he doesn’t like that you’re off doing great things, but because trips abroad tend to be a couple days long and Kita kind of misses you. That wasn’t a reality he had thought about until he came home from work and you weren't there to greet him. His dinner doesn’t taste as good, eaten alone. Watching tv feels uninteresting without you providing commentary at his side. And worse, when he settles into his own bed at night, he’s cold.

He sighs as he twists and tosses around his bed, unable to sleep. He hates how foreign this bed has become in so little time.

He wonders if he should just sleep on your bed instead, but he wonders if it would be weird without its owner. He doesn’t think you’d mind, considering you’ve been sleeping together every night.

He sighs, slowly getting up and crossing over to your room. It’s not like you’ll know.

.

.

.

Sleeping in your bed helps, but he still misses you.

It feels pathetic, but when you start getting used to having someone in your life, when someone is baked into your routine, you just miss them when they’re gone.

The only thing that consoles him is that you miss him too.

You’re in New York, which is about a thirteen hour time difference. When Kita wakes up, you’re about to sleep, and when Kita is about to sleep, you’re just waking up. There’s barely time throughout the day to talk, unless one of them stays up late or wakes up really, really early.

Which is why he gets surprised when he receives a Facetime call from you as he’s getting ready to go to bed.

“Hello,” He answers as he reaches over to turn a light on.

“Wow,” your sarcasm carries so clearly through their thousands of miles difference. “Can I get a more enthusiastic response? Did you even miss me? Are you even sad? Are you not crying every night at my absence?”

“No,” Kita responds, as he gets comfortable in his bed. He’ll move to your bed after this call. When he hears you go on about how offended you were, he smiles, “Do you miss me?”

You roll your eyes, “No. Because you said you didn’t miss me. Rude.”

Kita chuckles and finally notices that you were still in bed too, lying on your side. He copies your position and lies on his side too. This way, even if it’s through the screen, it’ll feel like you’re lying in bed together.

“But the truth?” Kita asks.

You look wistful on screen, “I missed you too.”

You let those words lie between you and for a moment, you just stare at each other, floating through the river of your own longing.

Kita breaks the silence first, his words coming out like they’re coming up for air, “When’s your flight home again?”

“In two days,” you say..

“It’s not too long, baby,” Kita says, “We’ll be so busy with work, it’ll be here before we know it. How’s everything been for you?”

“Ugh, my English is so rusty, but my agent hired an interpreter so it’s fine. Besides that, I love New York a lot, actually. It’s a bit chilly since it’s winter right now, but everything is so pretty. I should have sent you a photo, but it was snowing and I felt like I was in those snow globes. You’ve been here before, so you know what I’m talking about, right?”

Kita shakes his head, “Nah, I went to San Francisco actually. On the other side of that country, babe.”

“Ah, I see,” You say, “We should go here for fun someday. I feel like we’d both enjoy it.”

Kita can see it. “You know,” Kita starts, “We still have our honeymoon to go to. We never went on one.”

You snort, “Imagine if we went on one, right as we got married. It would have been so awkward.”

“Hey, you never know,” Kita says, “Maybe we would have gotten closer much faster. Maybe it would have broken the ice.”

“Our way is nice too,” You defend. “Feels like we really worked for it.”

Kita hums. They really did. “Anyway, honeymoon. We should do it. I want to do it.”

“I don’t want to do it in New York, though. I want to go somewhere special,” you say.

“We have time to think about it,” Kita says, “Given our schedules, we probably can’t go for a while anyway. I’ll have to rearrange things, and it depends on how long we want to go.”

You laugh, stretching out on your bed. “It needs at least be a two week vacation. Even if we’re just a week away somewhere and then we spend the rest of our honeymoon at home.”

“Anything works for me,” Kita says, “I just want to spend time with you.” you make a pained noise, pouting at the screen, “Don’t say that. That just makes me miss you more. What am I gonna do when you actually properly vocalize that you miss me, huh? I’m gonna end up booking the earliest flight home just to see you.”

Kita laughs, “Okay, okay, I won’t say it then.”

At least, not then. He says it a night later, in a voice message, and sends it to you right before he sleeps.

You make good on your promise and come home a day early, catching him sleeping on your bed. The embarrassment he feels lasts barely a second, making way to the swooping feeling in his chest when he realizes what you had done. He doesn’t even get a word into his explanation before you’re climbing over him, raining kisses on his face.

He thinks he's beginning to understand the term marital bliss.

.

.

.

Unfortunately for them, this marital bliss doesn’t last long.

The moment you stop being busy, Kita is suddenly drowning in work—to the point where he actually has to work late nights at the office.

He should be used to late nights at the office. They used to be his life. This used to be where he lived. He’s even slept here before. And yet, every bone in his body protests at being in this office past six pm.

Kita sighs, putting his pen down, and leaning back against his chair. He thinks about how he’s missing dinner with you, while you’re probably eating by yourself right now. Maybe you’ll eat in the living room and put on Netflix to have something to keep you company. Or maybe, you’ll go out and visit Mina, so you won’t have to eat alone.

The thought of it pricks at his heart. Work is work, and it is what it is—but still.

Kita shakes his head, and with it all his regrets about tonight. The only thing he can do is keep his head down and finish work as fast as he can. After all, the faster finishes this, the faster he gets to go home. Maybe he’ll even be able to catch you awake.

He picks up his pen and goes back to work.

He falls deep into his paperwork, so much so that he barely catches the knock on his door.

It must be his dinner. He had almost forgotten about it. It really has been so long since he’s eaten dinner at his office, but trust Atsumu to be on top of things.

“Come in,” He says, not looking up from his papers. He hears the door open and says, “You can just leave it on the coffee table. Thank you—”

“You know, you should look at the person you’re saying thank you to.”

That voice. Kita immediately looks up and is met with the sweetest sight, “Y/N?”

“Ta-da!” you grin, holding up a plastic bag, “I brought you dinner. Called your assistant and told him not to buy you dinner.”

“You did?” Kita can’t believe you’re here. It’s actually the first time you’ve ever been here, and you stand out in a fluffy hoodie and sweatpants against the sleek, posh furniture of his office.

You look like home.

“I thought it would be nicer than eating whatever sad takeout you were gonna have,” you reason, setting up the food by the coffee table Kita had pointed out earlier.

Kita finally stands up and walks over, giving you a hug and kiss on the cheek hello. “Yes,” Kita says, right as he pulls back, “This is much nicer than takeout.”

You give him a pleased smile, opening a tupperware, “I’m glad you agree. Anyway, I just felt sad at the thought of you eating takeout, and we had all this extra food at home. I don’t want to distract you from your work though, so I’ll be going—”

Kita makes a noise of protest, “Did you eat already? You’re not bothering me at all. I needed to take a break anyway.”

Need to take a break, Kita can’t help but make fun of himself internally, Didn’t know you knew what that meant.

“Are you sure?” you ask, looking at him with eyes that betray his hope, “Because I can just eat at home—”

“So you haven’t eaten yet?” Kita smiles, utterly pleased at the turn of events, “Let’s eat together. I know you don’t like eating alone, and you’re here already.”

Besides, it’s more than enough food for two people.

You settle down on the seat next to him, “Okay.”

As they’re eating, a thought pops up in Kita’s head, “How did you get up here, by the way? Security escorted you?”

The question sets you off.

You put down your chopsticks with a groan, “They barely did. I told them I was your wife and they took one look at my clothes and didn’t believe me.”

“We need to get you a badge,” Kita decides, “They should have known to let you in. Can’t believe we missed that. I guess it never occurred to me that you would have any reason to ever stop by.”

“Yeah, this building feels a little too stuffy for me. Too corporate,” you laugh, “But you’re here, and I think that’s reason enough to stop by.”

Kita swallows his heart, down with the rice he stuffs in his mouth. Cute, cute, cute.

He rarely gets friends visiting him at the office during the workday. At least, not without a scheduled meeting. He knows he’s mostly to blame for that. Everyone knows his days are packed with meetings already or that he had too many things to do to be entertaining people.

But here was someone—and not just anyone, his wife—who would come and stop by just to see him. Just to make sure he was eating well.

“Anyway,” you continue your story, “I showed them our wedding ring, and they were like, how are we supposed to know if that ring matches what Kita Shinsuke wears? So I had to resort to pulling up our wedding photos—”

Kita laughs, “You did not—”

“I totally did,” you smirk, “Now I’m kind of glad we had a public wedding. They were still kind of suspicious though and were about to call you to confirm, but Atsumu caught me as he was leaving. You need to give him a raise, by the way.”

“I pay him well,” Kita retorts back, “I know I’m not easy to work with and manage.”

“I still can’t believe I’m married to a workaholic,” you shake your head.

Kita smiles at his food and softly says, “I’m not as bad as I used to be. I used to sleep on this couch, you know? Only came home to shower and change.”

This was an admission hidden and buried within a story. An embarrassing thing to say out loud, but a part of him (one that recently revealed itself) wanted you to uncover it. To pick him apart and read what’s hidden between the lines:

I’ve changed because of you. Do you know that?

“Ah, Shin. Even if you tried I wouldn’t let you,” you say, so sure of yourself and your ability to drag Kita out of the office.

Kita raises a brow, incredibly interested, “Oh? What would you do?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you tease, “Try it and you’ll see.”

Something in your smile dared him to try. To fuck around and find out. “Should I?” Kita bites his lip, “Should I not come home tonight?”

“Do it,” you say, voice turning low and soft. All it did was pull Kita closer—close, close, close, only stopping because you turned your head to look at him too, a sidelong glance through long lashes. “Sleep here so I can call you right before I sleep. Tell you, my bed is comfy and nice and warm but I can’t sleep because something’s missing.”

Kita holds his breath as he hangs onto your every word.

“What’s missing? You’ll ask,” you muse, a slow growing smile on your face. Kita doesn’t understand what’s so amusing. “I’d laugh at you for asking. You should know what’s missing.”

“I should?” Kita asks, watching as you nod. “What if I don’t know?”

You throw your head back laughing, pulling away. Kita almost follows you. You stand up, choosing to walk around to look through his office, “That was cute of you, Shin. You’re too smart to be pretending not to know.”

Kita stretches on his couch, right before standing up and going back to his desk, “Just playing the same game you’re playing.”

“Game?” you dramatically gasp, turning to him, “You think I’m joking? I’ll totally call you—”

“No need,” Kita rolls his eyes, pretending to look over his papers, “I’m definitely coming home tonight.”

“Yeah?” you ask, coming to stand beside him, leaning over to look at the files on his desk, “What are you even working on?”

“I have to review the presentation we’re giving tomorrow for a big partnership deal,” Kita explains, pointing at the notes he was making on the slide deck, “There was a last minute change in our strategy, which is why I’m reviewing it this late. We have a pre-meeting right before just to go over any further comments I have.”

“Some big words you’re using here,” you squint at a page, “Never thought I’d see them outside of class.”

“You took business classes?” Kita asks. “Thought you were an art major.”

Your mouth twists in distaste, “Yeah, I double majored actually. A compromise. Just in case the art thing didn’t work out.”

Kita can’t imagine you working in an office. It feels wrong. He thinks of your paintings, how much care you put in it, how every one of them felt like a child—your blood, your essence on a canvas. Kita is glad it worked out for you.

“You were probably super bored,” Kita murmurs.

“Some of it was actually interesting,” you say, hand moving to rest at the nape of Kita’s neck. Kita fought the urge to lean against it completely. “Taught me a little bit how to at least negotiate my contracts.”

“You don’t use a lawyer?” Kita asks.

“I do,” your thumb rubs against the side of his neck. “But I like doing a first glance in front of them just so they know I’m not some stupid, stuck-up rich girl they can fool.”

Kita oohs to tease, but it comes from a genuine place. His wife has a spine, made partly of steel, while you ran partly on fire. You slap him on the shoulder, “I do have pride. I’m barely part of the business, but I’m a Fukuda.”

“Not quite a Fukuda anymore though,” Kita reaches up to lightly touch your wrist. “You’re Kita Shinsuke’s wife now.”

God, you make him feel like a teenager, have him flirting like a teenager too. He cackles when you make gagging noises. “That was terrible. I’m going back. I’m not going to wait for you. Goodbye.”

Kita pulls you back before you get too far, “Okay, but give me a kiss before you go back.”

“A kiss?” you repeat, with a raised brow, “Just a single kiss.”

“Well yeah,” Kita says, glancing at the unlocked door of his office. Not that the unlocked part matters. Nobody else is here. “I actually do have to finish work and I don’t want to sleep here.”

“‘Kay,” you agree, leaning down to kiss him.

Kita cradles your cheek and meets you halfway. He meant it when he said one kiss, but he should have known that he’s too greedy to settle on just one. Thankfully, you are too.

What starts out as a short kiss goodbye soon becomes one long open-mouthed kiss to another. A polite hand on a cheek moves way past politeness, settling to a tight grip on your hip.

“Sit on my lap,” He breathes out in between kisses.

“I shouldn’t,” you say after pressing swift successive kisses against his mouth, “If I sit on your lap, I’m going to have to take you home.”

Kita pouts, which you press one last kiss against before finally pulling away.

“Fine,” Kita says, running a hand through your hair. “Drive safe. Don’t wait up for me.”

“I won’t,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. You stand there for a moment, leaning against his desk, then say, “Please come home. I won’t wait up, but—”

“But?” Kita prods.

Your nose crinkles, before shaking your head, “It’s nothing.”

Kita wants to know, wants to ask, but you’re already moving away. Kita ends up watching you pack the tupperwares from the dinner back into the plastic bag, and is only able to say, “Good night,” to a retreating back.

Kita sighs. Rubs his eyes, before staring blankly at his papers.

He’s thought about this before, this side of you who keeps your cards close to your chest. He wonders what it would take for you to stop hesitating. He wonders if there’s something he could do to convince you that you can.

You probably just need a little bit more time. Maybe you don't trust Kita enough just yet.

He’ll think more about it later. His brain puts its foot down for now, reminding him of the work he still had to finish tonight.

With that thought, he picks up his pen and wills his mind to forget about everything but this proposal in front of him.

He finishes way later into the night, close to midnight. A part of him wanted to sleep on his office couch, but he promised he’d come home. And promise or not, he wanted to be home.

He sped through the streets in his car, mind on auto-pilot, too weary to be thinking of anything else. He thinks he gets home in record time.

He barely remembers the ride up to their floor. Punches their code in with an absent mind. Feels his knees crack when he bends down to toe off his shoes.

He’s aching to lie down by the time he reaches the top of the staircase to his room, but he pauses when he sees light coming out of your room. The door had been left slightly ajar.

Kita frowns. You said you weren't going to wait up.

He sighs, ready to say something. Though when he enters your room, he finds you asleep.

You lie curled on the bed, hand gripping your phone tightly. Were you actually going to call? Kita wonders as he brushes the hair off of your forehead. He leans over and kisses your forehead, lips lingering for a moment.

“Thank you for bringing me dinner,” Kita whispers. “Thank you for thinking of me. I was thinking of you too.”

He pulls your phone out of your hands, plugs the charger in, and turns off the light. Shuts the door closed.

Even if you keep things from him, it’s fine. It doesn’t change the fact that you have genuine feelings for him and care for him in a way nobody has for a long, long time. Whatever it is, it’s worth waiting for, no matter how long.

.

.

.

After what feels like an eternity of missing each other, you both finally manage to find some time to go out on a proper date.

Naturally, Kita is super excited for it. He makes a reservation at this famous restaurant in Shinjuku that’s earned two Michelin stars, and then plans to just walk around the streets with you. It might be a little chilly given the weather, but he thinks it would be nice to just be out.

The night starts off nicely—he got you flowers again, a gesture he’d been rewarded kisses for—and then dinner had only elevated the night. The food had been high-class, truly deserving the Michelin stars it had been awarded with.

It’s at Shinjuku that the night gets derailed, though.

They briefly stopped at a cafe to get some hot tea to drink as they found a park bench to sit on. However, after finding a nice spot, you accidentally elbows his tea out of his hands and he ends up having to buy another one.

The cafe is close enough, so he tells you that he can just go by himself and return in a couple of minutes.

When he comes back with a fresh cup of tea, he finds you with someone else.

At first, he doesn’t know what to make of it. He’s having a hard time recognizing the man you're with, because they’re wearing a dark cap and a face mask.

Kita is about to step in when hears the man say, “I miss you, Y/N.”

“You don’t have the right,” you reply, coldly.

“It’s not what you think. I know how it looks when it all went down, but it’s not what you think. You didn’t even let me explain, and you blocked my number. You said you loved me,” This stranger says, heated with despair, trying to reach for your hands.

You take a step back, not letting the man touch you, “How dare you? I loved you completely, and you ruined it. I saw everything… what else is there to say?”

“Then forgive me. We can start over,” He says, desperately, “I still love you. I’ll do anything—”

“I’m married,” you hissed, “Leave me alone. If you ever come near me again, I will ruin your career—”

This stranger doesn’t give up easily though. He grabs your wrist and says, “I don’t care if you’re married. I just want you back in my life—”

“Let go of me,” you say, trying to pull your arm away, but this man’s grip is tight, “You’re hurting me.”

Kita’s been watching this whole interaction with dread so heavy he can’t move. There’s so much here to process, he doesn’t even know where to begin. Whoever this stranger is, he’s clearly not a stranger to you. Not even close.

Whoever he is, though, he doesn’t have a right to hurt you, and it’s the pain on your face that moves him out of his spot and has him grabbing the man’s arm.

“She said you’re hurting her,” Kita says. He tries not to sound angry, but just looking at this guy has his blood boiling. “Let her go, while I’m still asking nicely.”

The man lets go, but not without asking, “Who are you?”

“I’m her husband,” Kita says, turning to you, watching as you cradle your wrist close to your chest “Are you okay?”

You nod, “It just hurts a little. But I’m fine.”

“Do you want to go home?” Kita asks, cradling your cheek.

“Yes,” you say, and that’s all Kita needs to know. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side and kissing your temple. He doesn’t even spare this not-stranger a glance as he walks you back to the car.

The walk back is silent, even though Kita is brimming with questions. He has an inkling of who that person used to be, but he’d rather hear it from you. There’s a fear that keeps him from asking though, and it’s the possibility that you might not tell him, even if he asks.

So he doesn’t ask, and you sit in silence on the way home too.

Back at home, Kita decides he’ll just give you space for the night and resolves to try to speak to you tomorrow morning.

When he tries to go to his room though, you grab his hand to stop him.

“Are you upset with me?” you ask, in a quiet, fragile voice.

“Baby, why would I be upset with you?” Kita reassures you, reaching for your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I swear I’m not.”

“Then why are you going to your room? Do you not want to sleep with me tonight?” you ask.

Kita shakes his head, “I thought that maybe you’d want some space for the night.”

“No,” you say, tugging on his hand, “I don’t want to be alone.”

Kita exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, let me just get ready for bed. I’ll join you, I promise.”

You let him go, but not before kissing him long and hard. When you pull away, there’s an unreadable look in your eyes, even as you say, “Thank you.”

Kita doesn’t know what to make of it, but he does keep his promise.

After getting ready for bed, he carefully enters your room and finds you’re already lying on the bed. There, on the left side, is the space where Kita’s taken to sleeping on. Left open for him.

He climbs in, and as has become muscle memory, your bodies naturally turn toward each other. Your head on his shoulder, arm around his waist, and legs tangled together.

“Shin,” you say after a moment. “How much did you hear?”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Kita says, even though he’s aching to know. “I heard most of it...I think.”

“I...I don’t really want to talk about it in depth. At least not right now. Maybe not even tomorrow,” you say. You lift your head, propping yourself up with a hand on his chest, “Is that okay?”

Kita bites his lip, “Would you tell me someday?”

“Yes. I promise,” you say, sealing it with a kiss.

You pull away, resting your forehead against his. Kita nods, “I’m okay with that. Would you… tell me who that was though? So I’m not in the complete dark? I have an idea, but… I don’t want to assume.”

You nod, “That’s fair. It’s probably what you’re thinking. He’s my ex-boyfriend. We dated for three years, before I married you. It ended badly. That’s all I can say.”

Three years. That’s a long time to be with someone. The next question is out of his mouth before he can think about it, “Do you still love him?”

“God, no,” your expression twists in disgust, as if you can’t even bear the thought. Kita feels something dislodge in his chest at your answer. He’s so relieved. Your expression softens, “I wouldn’t have married you if I was still in love with him. Okay?”

“Okay,” Kita says, stroking your hair. “Let’s go to sleep.”

.

.

.

Kita tries hard not to think about your ex.

Still, sometimes, he catches himself thinking about it. The hurt in your voice. The desperation in your ex’s. The three years they spent together. A relationship like that couldn’t have been anything but serious.

He knows he could probably ask Suna and be able to get answers, but he decides to trust you on it.

You promised, and someday, he’ll know.

In the meantime, he’ll focus on their relationship, and what better way to do that than to focus on preparing for your honeymoon.

Your honeymoon destination is Nami Island, South Korea, and you’re going at the heart of winter.

(When Kita had first told his friends that, he’d been met with confusion at first. Suna had frowned, Aren’t honeymoons usually somewhere hot? Somewhere tropical with beaches?

You guys could have gone to Boracay or if you wanted somewhere farther, you could have gone to the Maldives, Aran had whined. You only get married once!

Kita felt defensive at their words, Nami Island is perfect for us. It’ll be quieter and more intimate—

Oh, Aran smirked. You wanted it to be cold so your wife could hold onto you—)

Kita put a stop to that conversation fast. He wasn’t even thinking of those kinds of things. He’s sure you weren't either. You had both just wanted to be alone, a chance to forget the world and focus only on them.

They can vacation anywhere else in the future, but they can honeymoon only once. You want to make the most of it, and he feels that’s best done at a place where they can focus on them and their relationship. Forget the world. Forget their families. Forget exes and everyone else.

Just you and him.

.

.

.

Almost everything is set for the honeymoon. Kita just has a couple things left to set up and arrange at work, then he should also be good to go.

One of them is submitting his request for time off.

"I'm taking time off work," Kita says, casually, handing the appropriate paperwork to his father, the CEO.

His father finally looks up from his work at that, "You know this has to go to Human Resources first, right?"

Kita sighs, pointing to the files, "It already has. And as I directly report to you, all I need is your express approval."

"Your secretary could have done this, son," His father finally grabs the files and takes a moment to read it. Kita tries not to look impatient. "Oh? You're taking time off for the honeymoon?"

"Yes," Kita answers, short. "I've cleared my schedule, assigned my responsibilities to appropriate people who can cover them, and moved forward everything that I can. In addition, I've recently secured the deal with that entertainment company you wanted me to handle."

His father raises a brow, setting the files back down on his desk, "Why are you telling me all of this? Did you think I wouldn’t let you go on your honeymoon?"

Yes, Kita thinks. There is nothing Kita hasn't received from his parents that hasn't been earned.

"Don't look at me like that," His father frowns, reading his non-response for the accusation that it is. "You always work hard and I recognize that. You've done amazing work for the company. And a honeymoon is a honeymoon. I'm surprised it took you so long to take it." More quietly, his father continues, "I'm glad you're taking it. I'm glad your marriage is going well."

Kita doesn't know what it is about his father's words that annoy him. He's never been the rebellious sort of son nor has he ever been the type of son who spoke back to their parents. But there's something about his father being glad that he's taking time off to go on his honeymoon that pricks at him.

Maybe it's the attempt at closeness. Growing up, he was never close to his father. If his father loved him, it was a love so mild Kita could have barely felt it, and it was further eclipsed by the love his mother had for him. Though that, Kita wasn't sure he could call love either.

In any case, he's twenty-eight now and his relationship with his father has barely changed. He prefers the business relationship they've cultivated. It's cleaner, less messy. He's better as a boss than a father. Now, he gives Kita what he needs.

And maybe it's because he's twenty-eight now, with all the cards shaken up and laid out on the table, that he says this, "I don't understand your surprise. The marriage is arranged, there's a lot of work to be done at the company, and you know how I am about my work."

His father looks taken aback, "Son—"

"And please," Kita says, unyielding, "you don't have to pretend you care about my marriage. If this is about what I said last time to mother's comment about the divorce—"

"No, no," His father says, pained, "Ignore your mother. You know how she is. I'm genuinely glad it's going well. I know it's arranged and our motivations for it… were more on the practical side, but it's good to see you happy."

"Happy," Kita repeats in disbelief. He looks imploringly at his father, "Isn't it a little too late for sentiments like this?"

His father gingerly stands, which Kita watches warily. When did his father grow so old like this? "My son, I know I haven't been the best father, which is something I have thought about a lot. It's something I've been hoping to correct. Shin—"

His father reaches for him, and Kita hates, hates, hates how he doesn't back away. How a part of him craves this, has always craved it.

His father pats him on the shoulder, the gesture of it awkward. If this was years ago when he was still a child, it would have been enough.

But he's twenty-eight now. He's not a child anymore. And it'll take more than this—this awkward pat on the shoulder and small words backed with no action—for Kita to forgive him.

If this relationship ever mends, it'll be on his own terms.

"You know, I didn't realize this until recently," Kita smiles, though it holds no sweetness, and his father's hand slowly drops back to his side. "But I've been an open wound all my life. And you've done nothing to fix it. You've never even acknowledged it at all. I know mother never will. I've always wondered if that's because you've never seen it, busy as you are with work. But you know what? You see it, and it kills me," his voice breaks into a whisper at the word, "that the only person who's acknowledged it properly is the stranger you married me to. And it makes me wonder if you've seen and just chose to look away. I don't know what version of the truth hurts less."

"If you want to be a good father, you have to earn it." Kita says, because a part of him will always be molded in his parent's image. His father's eyes look glassy and Kita looks away, unable to take it. Finally, he says, "Now please, could you approve my vacation paperwork?"

.

.

.

They arrive at their hotel in Nami Island with bodies weary from multiple connecting journeys.

“I’m starting to rethink our honeymoon destination, babe,” you say, lugging your suitcase up the stairs, “Or at least, your decision to get us the suite on the highest floor.”

Kita snorts, “Maybe if you worked out with me, you wouldn’t be struggling. Do you need some help?”

“No, I got it,” you say, but you stop on the step you’re on to catch your breath, “I can do this. Just stay there and look sexy, so I have motivation to keep climbing.”

Kita shakes his head, watching you carry your suitcase with so much determination you’d think you were saving the world or something. You finally make it to the top and give Kita a smug look, as if to say, see, I could do it!

Kita puts his arm around your shoulders and squeezes. “Good job,” He teases.

You lean your head on his shoulder and pucker your lips, “Thank you, now give me a kiss.”

“You never miss an opportunity, huh?” Kita says, giving you a quick smooch that causes you to whine. “Let’s kiss later. We haven’t even made it to our rooms yet. Come on.”

Their suite is pretty easy to find, since he booked the penthouse suite. He swipes their room cards and goes in.

Kita has stayed at a lot of expensive hotels, often in different countries, so he’s a bit used to beautiful, ostentatious accommodations. But as they walk into their suite, as he’s greeted by beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows that present snowy views of Nami Island, he’s admittedly breathless at the view.

You leave your suitcase by the door and rush to the windows. “This is super nice,” you say, turning back to him. “Tell our vacation planner that they did a good job.”

“I picked this place!” Kita rolls his eyes, as he closes the door behind him. “He did help, but I chose a lot of it.”

You walk back to him, arms wrapping around his waist. “Oh yeah?” You coo, “You did so good, baby.”

Kita runs a hand through his hair, feeling pleased, “It is super nice, right?”

You laugh, “Yes, an A plus for you.”

“Oh, I love that,” Kita nodding, seriously, “Keep giving me these grades. They’re music to my ears.”

You smack his shoulder, letting him go. “Stop that! I am not encouraging this.” You walk away, grabbing your suitcase, “I’m going to go check out our bedroom.”

Kita laughs, following behind you, only to see you stop in your tracks. “Why’d you stop?”

You turn to him, looking so betrayed. “Shin. How could you?”

“How could I what?”

You gape at him with disbelief, pointing to a room, “What is this?”

“What is what? Babe, use more words.”

You point to another room, unimpressed. “Why are there two rooms? Are we sleeping separately?”

Kita’s brows knit together, “We can if you want?”

“Why is that even an option?” You narrow your eyes, “This is a honeymoon, Shin. You’re so stupid. You get an F for this.”

You make an agonized noise, before stalking into one room and throwing yourself on the bed.

It takes a promise of a thousand kisses and a half (please don’t ask about the negotiations process) for you to forgive him.

“I’m sorry I gave you an F,” you say, in between kisses. You look too pleased for someone who was pinned down and tickled into submission. “You’re not stupid. I overreacted. You were just being considerate. Besides, it’s an easy fix. We’ll just use one bed.”

“You’re so awful,” Kita manages to get out, before you pull him back in for another kiss. You’re insatiable today. When he manages to pull away, long enough to catch his breath, he says, “It’s literally just how we have it at home.”

You raise a brow, “Yes, and we are not at home.”

Kita gets off you, rolling on his back and gets a glance of the world outside their window. All he can see is white snow. It really does feel like they’re the only two in the world.

He grabs your hand and presses a kiss to it, turning to you once again, “No. We’re definitely not.”

.

.

.

Maybe they call it a honeymoon because it’s a moon’s worth of sweetness packed in such a short period of time.

With you threatening to throw his phone out of his window if he even dares to check his work email, he ends up fully checked out of work.

Their days usually begin like this:

They wake up and just do whatever they want. If they wake up early, they spend the morning tangled up in each other before hauling themselves out of bed for breakfast. If they wake up late (which is really mostly just Kita being held captive by you cuddling him until you’re ready to wake up), they get room service for breakfast and get ready to hit the slopes.

Each successive day they spend in Nami Island, they try hard to level up their skiing skills. They humble themselves to the kiddie slopes on the very first day, cheering and laughing at each other’s successes and losses.

Some days, when they want a break from skiing, they take their time and explore the surrounding villages in the area. There’s some small but highly regarded restaurants that they try. There’s even cute little souvenir shops that they can peruse.

When they take a break like this, it’s usually because their bodies are sore and aching from the previous day’s activity. For that, the town also has something to offer: a spa. They book full body massages and it feels like heaven on earth, relaxing as they’re surrounded only by the trees. The pain and the stress—from almost everything—melts away. They don’t remember any other time they’ve felt more relaxed.

And whether they’re ending the day tired or relaxed, the one constant is this: they always welcome the night happy.

Some nights, they watch a movie until they fall asleep. Some nights, their bodies are so tired they fall right into it the moment they get into bed.

Some nights their bodies are thrumming with too much energy. They lie there, holding each other in silence long past after even the movie credits have ended.

Nights like these, they talk.

"Tell me something I don't know about you," you say, listening to the beat of his heart. "A secret or just something you've never told anyone."

"When I was younger," Kita says, feeling himself sink into the past, "I had this dream that I would get away from my life somehow. Nevermind that I'm the heir to my parent's fortunes and dreams, I had plans upon plans. I would leave everything behind and start a new life in the UK when I went for university. I would make my own name and I'd do whatever the hell I want. Date whoever without wondering if their name would pass my mother's approval. I'd have a new family, new dreams, new life."

"What happened to those plans?" You ask against his chest, arms tightening around his waist, as if Kita would go through with those plans now and fly away.

Kita shrugs, "Time, I guess? I got so busy focusing on pleasing my parents, on working hard to meet their approval, that I lost sight of anything else. I kept saying someday, someday, and then I got older and I got scared. What if I was free but I was nothing? What if I got away but I was more miserable? I was a bird in a cage with its door open, but the cage felt like home. I don’t know… looking back now, I was only twenty then, but I felt so old already. I came back home when I was twenty-three.”

"Twenty-three is still super young," you comment.

"Compared to the twenty-eight that I am now, yes," Kita agrees, "But back then I felt like my life was already made with bricks. Built. Unchangeable. Unmoveable. Like this was it and there was nothing I could do about it. That it's too late to do anything. Which was crushing, you know? Everybody else had this nice childhood where they got to do whatever they wanted. Youth was supposed to be the most beautiful moment of your life, but nobody ever tells you what to do when you don't get the chance to make it beautiful. It's not fair."

There's an undeniable hurt that slips into his voice, and at that, you pull yourself up to a sitting position, and Kita has to look up at you.

"Babe," you frown, "Tell me you still don't think this way."

Kita tries to smile for you, tries to lighten it up, "It's not that I'm unhappy. Like, I have you and we're on our honeymoon and baby, I love this—" you lean down to kiss him and Kita meets you halfway and takes and takes whatever you have to give.

"I just want you happy," you say when you pull away. Your voice aches like Kita’s pain is your own. "I know we can't always be, but I don't ever want you to feel trapped. I don't ever want to make you feel like the way your parents made you feel."

"You don't. You never have," Kita holds your hand and presses a kiss against the back of it. "I just think about the past sometimes and wonder how I would have turned out if I did everything like I intended to. If I wasn't so scared. I just feel like I missed out on something big when I was younger, and I just mourn the loss every now and then. It doesn't mean I'm not happy with you right now, but it really makes you think, right?"

Your frown looks heavy, like you’re the one holding all of Kita's pain.

After a moment, you say, "I used to believe that youth was special and extraordinarily beautiful too. Everything was new and I think there's a certain beauty to that. That even in our struggle, we were so beautiful. Looking back on it now, I don't think that's true. And the older I get, the more I'm convinced that the people who believe that peaked in high school or university. I think our youth could be beautiful, but I don't understand how other ages of our life couldn't be beautiful either. I don't think happiness or beauty could be measured or compared. The flavor of it is just different."

You sigh, "I just… think it's sad if youth was the peak. Life is so long. And I think you're so valid to be sad over the loss, but also, I hope you're more comforted by the fact that better things can and will come."

Your words are a comfort, in the same way that everything else about you is too. And for the moment, he is comforted, but he knows himself, knows the routines his brain loves to lean into when he's tired and low and feeling the loneliest color of blue in the world. So he says, "I am comforted, but if I forget, could you just remind me?"

"Oh, Shin," you lean down again and kiss him on the forehead, and Kita nearly cries at the tenderness of it. "We'll make so many good and beautiful memories that I won't have to. But if you forget, just tell me, and I'll hold you like this and remind you again and again."

It’s moments like this that make Kita feel like all the pain of the past has been worth it. His early life had been cold like winter, but it doesn’t hurt as much knowing it gave him you, something as bright as the lemons and oranges that were born during the harshest season of the earth.

Because even now, with snow falling heavily around the tiny home they’ve built around each other, he feels perfectly warm.

.

.

.

For all their emphasis on being in a more secluded honeymoon destination, they do end up spontaneously deciding to spend the night in Seoul.

They leave early in the morning, taking only one suitcase with them filled with enough clothes to get them through the trip. They’re coming back to Nami Island after all.

It’s nearly a two hour train ride to Seoul from there. Two hours is a long time, which they spend either asleep or just staring out the window, watching the world outside pass by in a blur of whites and blues. You fall asleep within the first ten minutes, head lolling about until Kita presses it against his shoulder.

He eventually falls asleep too, with your hands in his lap and the sight of your rings glinting under the soft morning light in his mind.

Once their train arrives at the station, they’re woken up by the conductor’s announcement.

They stand outside the station, watching their breaths mingle with the air. You shiver, even though your body is wrapped up in a fluffy coat and your neck is hidden by a thick scarf and your hands are kept warm by mittens. You burrow yourself by Kita’s side, and maybe now, Kita can admit that Aran was partly right.

He does want it to be cold, so that his wife could hold onto him like this.

“Did you find us a place?” You ask. “Maybe we should have thought this through a little more.”

Kita turns to you, “Oh, now you want to be less impulsive. What did you say last night? Shin, we’ll figure it out. Stop overthinking it like a hag.”

You pout, “Because I was cold! And you were on your phone, far away, and not paying attention to me. What was I supposed to do?”

“How old are you, darling?” Kita pinches your cheek. They turn pinker at the squeeze. “I can’t believe you bullied me into this. We didn’t even book a hotel. What if they’re all fully booked?”

“They won’t be,” you say, pushing his hand away and rubbing your cheek. “I’m just complaining right now because it’s cold. You’re not stressed, are you?”

Kita wasn’t, but now that the possibility of not finding a hotel is brought up, he finds that yes, he is a little stressed. What would they do?

“You are!” you shake your head, “Don’t be, babe. Hand me your phone. I’ll handle it.”

And you do handle it, even if you have to take off your mitten to work the phone and you have to blow on your hands to warm them up. It doesn’t even take you that long to find a place to stay.

“Here,” you say, handing his phone back to him. “Let’s quickly get a taxi so we can drop off our luggage and go exploring.”

“Hey,” Kita says and waits for you to turn to him before he presses a kiss to your cheek.

You blink, “What was that for?”

Kita shrugs, averting his eyes, “I don’t know. For taking care of me, I guess.”

You soften, “It’s nothing. You would do the same for me.”

It’s easy from there. They check-in at their hotel to drop off their luggage. From then on, it’s an exercise in spontaneity led by you, who claims that all Kita has to worry about is holding your hand.

And what does a day trip led by you look like?

It’s pretty fun. They take the train to get to the center of the city and then they begin to explore starting there. They’re both well-traveled and have seen more tourist spots than either one can bear, so they spend their day just walking around. It’s a nice way to discover a city without the burden of having to see certain sights just because they’re supposedly famous.

This way, they end up stumbling into a variety of things. First of which is an honest-to-god Snow Festival that neither of them knew was happening but are super stoked about. It’s an amazing parade of ice sculptures, and they go around and try to decide which one they think is the best. Kita thinks the best one is the sculpture of an actual temple. It looks too real and detailed not to be the best. You think the sculpture of Pikachu is the best. When Kita asks why, you say it’s because it evokes an emotional response from the heart. Kita thinks you chose it just because you think it’s cute.

Another thing they stumble upon is this amazing restaurant for jjajangmyeon. It’s tucked in behind an alley and they only find it because of the line beginning to gather outside it. It’s a gem of a find; it’s amazingly savory, the combination of the salt coming from the sauce and the tender meat. It’s so good he even risks the threat of murder by stealing a slice of pork from your bowl.

After that, they end up topping off their lunch with a trip to confectionary factory. You had pulled him towards it with starry eyes, and Kita was powerless to refuse. They take their time exploring the place, watching experts make chocolate and letting themselves be your sweet tooth craves it. He lets you feed him some, and they’re pretty good. But that’s probably only because you’re the one feeding him.

And because the world is small, they stumble into someone he knows too.

“Kita Shinsuke!” He hears someone call him as he’s waiting for you to come out of the restroom.

He’s wrapped in a hug before he can even process who it is. The person pulls away and to say he’s shocked is an understatement, “Ichika?”

“Shin,” the woman smiles brightly, taking him in. “You look good. I did a double-take just now, because I thought I saw someone familiar. And I was right! Don’t know anybody else this tall and good-looking.”

“Ichika,” He says, embarrassed. She’s always been so direct, and he sees that she hasn’t changed. Same old Ichika, with her sharp hair cut short and sharper personality.

She hits him on the shoulder, “You haven’t changed! Still can’t take a compliment without wanting to die, huh? How have you been?”

“I’ve been fine,” Kita says vaguely, not wanting to get into a full blown catch-up in the middle of a street, “What about you? What are you doing here?”

Ichika sighs, running her hands through her hair, “I’ve been so busy. You know how it is in the fashion industry, it’s always about trying to chase the new thing. Being ahead of the future, so that we can set the trends.”

“Same job, then?” Kita asks, “Still working for that fashion boutique company?”

“Yup,” Ichika nods, before smiling slyly at him, “Unless… you have a spot at yours?”

Kita laughs, “You really, really haven’t changed. I’ll see if anything’s open, just send me an email in case I forget.”

Ichika exclaims, “An email? Kita Shinsuke, am I dirt to you?” She pulls out her phone, “I am not sending a work email to you. That’s weird. Is your number still the same?”

“I thought you deleted my number,” Kita raises a brow.

“I was just kidding when I said that. Is that why you never bothered texting me?” Ichika narrows her eyes. She sighs looking away, “I… understood why you did it. It was decent of you to let me know.” She looks back at him with a considering glance, “I’m still fond of you… Shin, if you ever change your mind—”

“Ichika-kun,” Kita shakes his head, uncomfortable at where her next words were about to lead. “I’m married now.”

She pouts at him, “I said if you ever change your mind later. In any case, we should definitely catch up. How long are you in Seoul?”

How does Kita respond to this without leading her on? Before he can come up with an answer, he hears somebody else call his name, “Shin!”

He turns and he sees you walking up to him with a bright smile on your face, grabbing a hold of his arm, before turning to Ichika,  “Oh, hello.”

Ichika smiles, “You must be the wife.”

“Yup, that’s me,” you chirp. You don't extend a hand when you introduce yourself, “Kita Y/N. And who are you?”

“Sato Ichika,” she introduces, though she glances at Kita when she says that. “Kita’s old friend. Just saw him as I was walking around and thought, what a coincidence.”

“Ah, Shin has never mentioned you,” you pout at him, “Any friend of Shin’s is a friend of mine. Are you busy? Would you like to have dinner together? I would love to get to know you more.”

Kita is praying Ichika says no, and for once, his prayers are answered. She smiles politely, “Sorry, I’ve got plans tonight already. Maybe some other time. It was nice meeting you, Y/N. Shin, it’s really good to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you too,” Kita says, feeling like he dodged a bullet when they say their goodbyes.

But as the day goes on, it doesn’t feel that way.

Your bright demeanor darkens, like the sky as its sun sets slowly but surely in the horizon. Kita doesn’t feel anything amiss at first.

You talk to him like nothing’s wrong, laugh at all the right things, and hold onto him tight. But by the time they get to dinner, you’re playing with your food, which doesn’t feel right. You’ve both been walking around all day, so you should be famished.

But when he asks you what’s wrong, all he gets is this: “I’m just tired, Shin. Do you think we can go back to our hotel room?”

Even then, he tries not to read into it. It makes sense that one would be tired, but when he tries to kiss you on the lips, you turn your head and his mouth awkwardly lands on your cheek.

And when they get back to the hotel room, you immediately pull away, making a bee line for your clothes and entering the bathroom with a few bare words.

You’d been fine, Kita thinks, until Jiwoo. Fuck, how much did you hear? Kita replays that conversation back, but thinks it’s fine? He had drawn the line clearly with her. Besides, if you had problems with it, you wouldn’t have invited her for dinner. You would have told Kita immediately if anything was wrong, so maybe that’s not it.

But if not that, then what?

Kita doesn’t remember doing anything wrong. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t do anything wrong either. He’s about to tear his hair out when you step out of the bathroom in pajamas and eyes a watery red.

“Baby,” Kita stands up immediately, feeling like his heart’s been pierced through, “What’s wrong? Were you crying?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you say, hiding your face by drying your hair with a towel.

Kita understands the need for space. He does, he really does. And any other time, he’d give it, but every part of him says this is something they shouldn’t sleep on. Especially when he feels like he’s the cause of it. He walks up to you, bending low to make eye contact, and says, “Y/N, I think we should talk about it.”

“Not right now,” you say, moving away again to avoid his gaze.

“Then when?” Kita asks, wanting to plead, don’t pull away, not from me.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, sounding tired and weary and a little bit of something else. Frustrated, maybe, but Kita can’t tell for sure. It feels like you’re closing up, with every step he takes. “Just leave it.”

Kita bites his lip, “Is it something I did? You—”

“Shinsuke.” you say. His name has never sounded so harsh coming out of your mouth. “I said to just leave it.”

You start stalking away to the other side of the room, and Kita can’t help but follow, grabbing a hold of your hand. But it’s barely in his grasp, before you take it away from him.

It reminds him of how easily good things can slip away in the span of a moment, and something desperate claws its way through him, “Don’t walk away from me, please. Y/N, come on—”

“God,” you angrily cursed as you whirl around to face him, “Can you please leave me alone for a second? Can you leave me to just process this before we talk about this? Can’t you see that I’m trying hard to be composed about this?”

Again, if it were anything else, Kita would. But he feels so strongly in his gut that this will only fester if he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want you to go to bed angry at him, especially when he doesn’t even know what you’re angry about.

“What are you trying to process?” Kita says, wanting to tear his hair out. “I’m hoping it’s not this, but I can’t think of anything else. Is this about Ichika-kun?”

You give him a withering look, “Ichika-kun?”

“Yes!” Kita confirms, eyes widening in disbelief at your tone. “Are you jealous? Is that it? Y/N, we’re married.”

“That’s not what it looked like back there,” you cross yout arms, looking away.

Kita frowns, “She’s just a friend.”

You scoff, “She’s not just your friend. She’s literally your ex-girlfriend. Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I didn’t hear her ask for your number? That she wasn’t inviting you out even though she knew you were already married?”

“So, you did hear that,” Kita says, which ends up being the completely wrong thing to say because it just darkens your expression even more. “How… did you know she was my ex?”

“You might not have cared who you were going to marry, but I did,” you say, like the reminder pains you. “I told you. I did my research. And that’s the last person you dated before you married me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kita swallows, “Because… I thought it didn’t matter. It was a good break-up and we promised to stay as friends.”

You don't say anything to that for an agonizing moment, before nodding. That’s all you do though, and it’s just not enough.

“You have no reason to be jealous,” Kita says, wanting badly to reach out and touch you. He doesn’t think you would let him though. “I promise. Don’t be. I’m yours.”

“You say that now,” you say, sounding out of reach. “But maybe later, you’ll feel differently. I mean, it’s not like you wanted to marry me in the first place. I knew that from the very beginning and I still fell for you. I still fell hard enough that I excused the fact that I’m always the one making the first move, that I always have to pull what you want out of you. I used to get scared of making requests of you, because I didn’t want you to say yes just to please me. What if your mother told you to keep me happy, so this marriage wouldn’t fall through? Am I forcing you into this? Maybe,” you swallow, shaking, “you don’t want to be with your ex, but maybe there’s somebody else you want to give your heart to? Is that something I should be worried about? Is there going to be other people in this marriage—”

“Baby, no,” Kita says with horror, grabbing a hold of your hands and trying to unfurl them from the fists they’d become.

You continue, as if you didn’t hear him, gaze hard and intolerable, “If there’s going to be other people, you have to let me know now. I don’t care if this marriage is arranged. I don’t care if it’ll plunge your parents’ or mine’s companies into bankruptcy. I’ve been cheated on and used for my parents’ name before and I refuse to suffer through that again. If you put me through that, I will leave you and take half of your assets.”

Kita barely even knows where to begin. There’s so much to parse through with what you’ve said, but he figures he’ll start with the words that stand out the most, “You’ve been cheated on?”

You don't answer. But you don't need to. Your silence speaks of shame, and Kita can hear it clearly. Slowly, the pieces come together and create a picture that starts making sense.

“Your ex,” Kita says, “That one we met. That one you didn’t want to talk about. He’s the one who cheated on you.”

You nods, and the confirmation fills Kita with the understanding of why good people commit murder. Right there and then, Kita wishes he had asked Suna for all the information he could get on your ex. He wishes he had punched the guy when he’d seen him.

But this isn’t about how Kita feels right now. This is about you and how scared you feel that Kita might do the same thing.

“I’m sorry that he did that to you,” Kita says, cupping your cheeks, “Nobody deserves to be cheated on, least of all you.”

You blink and a tear slips out. Kita wipes it with his thumb, and somehow, it’s that gesture that breaks you down. “I’m sorry,” you cry.

This time, Kita doesn’t hesitate to gather you in his arms. He holds you, stroking the back of your head until your tears subside. And when you’re done, he doesn’t mention how tight your hold on his shirt is. He doesn’t mention his tear-soaked shoulder. He doesn’t say anything at all until you break the silence.

With your flushed cheeks and red nose, you tell him, “Shin, I promise I’m not in love with him.”

Kita makes a surprised noise, “I know. I believe you.”

“I don’t know why it still hurts. I’ve moved on from this. I’m over him,” you say, “I swear I am.”

“And I believe you,” Kita stresses, “I wish it didn’t hurt you still, but I understand if it still does. Even if you’re over him. That kind of thing, that kind of hurt almost always outlasts the event. Do… do you want to talk about it?”

You sigh, “Yeah...yeah, I think you should know.”

They sit on their bed, and Kita waits patiently for you to begin, “I don’t know how much you know about him, but he’s an idol. He’s the reason I became really popular actually, because he was a fan of my work and he spoke about it on social media. Anyway, because he’s an idol, we had to keep it a secret that we were dating and that went on the whole time we were together. But on New Year’s, Dispatch came out with this story that he was in a relationship, with evidence and everything,” you smile bitterly at him, “It was with someone else, another idol, and I thought at first that maybe it was a mistake, but their companies went ahead and confirmed it too. They’re both really popular, so their fans were actually super happy for them. I…  met up with him only once after, to properly break up with him and give him back everything he ever gave me. And then I never talked to him again, until we saw him at Shinjuku.”

“I really thought I’ve moved on from it, but today, seeing you with your ex, I just lost my mind,” you say with a frown, “At first, I was just annoyed because how can she just say that when you’re already married and act perfectly normal when talking to me. But then, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And the more I thought about it, the more I spiraled until I couldn’t see straight and all I could think about was the possibility that you’d leave me for somebody else too.”

He grabs ahold of your hand, both of which were clenched by your sides, and unfurls your fingers so that he can hold them. “You have to know that there’s not going to be anybody else. I don’t know how much words mean to you right now, but I swear to you on everything that I have, it’s just you. And just in case it needs to be said, I wouldn’t want you to bring anybody else into our marriage. I don’t want an open relationship. Is that okay with you?”

“Yes,” you say, sounding and looking so small. Kita wants to hold you again. “Is there anything else you want? For us?”

Your question reminds Kita of what you’d said earlier, “What I want… I don’t know what I want fully. I just know that I want you, and I’m sorry if you feel like you’re always the one making the first move,” Kita pauses, trying to find the right words to say, “I’m still learning to be okay with chasing after what I want. To actually voice it out. But I’m trying really, really hard.”

Kita sighs, squeezing your hands, “And I’m not doing that for my parents. I’m doing that for you, because you mean so much to me.”

And if Kita’s being honest, he’s doing it for himself too. When you grow up with parents who never seem to love you unless you’re doing well, you grow up with the idea that you’re only wanted when you please someone.

But you have never made him feel that way. You always make Kita tell you what he wants first, before saying anything. And it’s not about pleasing you so that you would want him. It’s about reciprocating the gesture, so that the person he cherishes is happy too. And he loves that he gets to practice that here, that he gets to prove to his younger self who was so convinced he’d been cursed because his parents never taught him how to love that he absolutely can. You’re not ruined, he wants to say.

His words seem to have thawed you completely. “Shin,” you say, touched.

“Come here,” Kita says, patting his lap and you climb on without hesitation. Kita lets you straddle his lap, simply wrapping his arms around your waist, just as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. This, Kita thinks, this is how close we should always be.

“I’m sorry again,” you say, “For blowing up on you. I just got scared. I shouldn’t have thrown the fact that you didn’t want to marry me when I know how it’s been for you with your parents. This is an arranged marriage, it was for my name—”

Kita cuts you off, “It doesn’t matter how it started, because what I feel for you right now has nothing to do with your family’s name. It’s purely just you. I love coming home to you for dinner. I love doing all sorts of fun things with you on the weekends. I like going to bed with you. I even worked super hard to get this much time off work, so we can spend all this time together on our honeymoon. You’ve upended my sad life and made it happy, Y/N. You, and only you.”

You sniff, hiding your face against Kita’s shoulder, “I’m going to cry again. Maybe you should keep holding your feelings in. It’s not good for my heart to hear you say all of that. I’m embarrassed.”

Kita laughs like a child at your words, wholeheartedly endeared. You lift your head at the sound, and Kita settles at the sight of your face. Your nose is still red, your eyes are puffy, the whole of you looks tender, and still—you’re the most beautiful thing Kita’s ever seen. “Can I kiss you?”

“No,” you say, immediately covering your face, “I look ugly right now.”

“Are you fishing for compliments right now?” Kita raises a brow, “I know that you know that you’re absolutely gorgeous.”

“But I was crying just now,” you reason, peeking between the spaces of your fingers, “I can’t believe you saw me ugly. You should only see my good side, Shin.”

Kita helplessly sighs, slowly unfurling your hands from your face, uncovering you like a rose, petal by petal, and says, “But what can I do? I want every part of you.”

And then he kisses your red mouth tender until you completely understand just how much Kita wants you.

.

.

.

It’s in the morning after that it hits him.

Maybe it’s the way he wakes up—sleep-drenched and kiss-drunk and to your beautiful face. Maybe it’s the emotional night they just had. Maybe it’s just the natural culmination of every day and every night they’ve spent together since their wedding, but he wakes up today and just knows.

He rains kisses on your face, from your forehead to your temples to your nose to your cheeks until he reaches the endless road to your mouth.

You wake up giggling, hand pushing his face away, “Let me sleep, please, please, please. You can’t expect me to sleep late and wake up early to entertain you.”

Kita pretends to think about it and then says, “I’ll consider it if you give me a kiss.”

“Demanding,” you comment with a shake of your head. Kita only puckers his lips as a response. You groan, hold him by the chin and give him a kiss. “There. Happy?”

“Sooooo happy,” Kita dives in for more kisses, until he can’t kiss you anymore because you’re both too busy laughing.

When he settles down and you’re still mid-beam, he feels it so strongly in his chest. Without thinking, he says, “Y/N, I think I’m in love with you.”

“You, uh, what?” You sputter with wide eyes.

“No, not I think,” Kita pushes forward, grabbing both of your hands and holding them to his chest, “Y/N, I’m in love with you.”

You breathe, looking at him like you’re seeing him for the first time, “Shin, I—”

And Kita waits and waits with bated breath until he realizes that you might not feel the same just yet.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” Kita reassures you, but he winces when he realizes that disappointment has seeped in his voice.

“Shinsuke,” You say, looking at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes, before burying your head into his chest.

Kita sighs, threading his hand down the back of your head. “It really is okay. I’m sorry if it made you feel uncomfortable. I wasn’t thinking and I just said what I felt because I woke up and just knew.”

You peek up at him with a frown, “Don’t apologize for being in love with me. I… I like you a lot and I care for you a lot and I adore you a lot. And I wasn’t uncomfortable, I was just surprised. I just thought that if we were to ever get there, I would get there first. I didn’t expect you…”

“You didn’t expect that I’d be there already?” Kita asks. “I’m glad I can surprise you too. But is it really surprising? Who wouldn’t fall for you?”

“Stop it…” you say, embarrassed to the point where you’re hiding your face again.

Kita laughs, not letting you hide. “You’ve been so shy lately. Last night too. Where’s my wife and her hubris so high it could reach Olympus?”

“What happened to my husband? I miss him. Where did you hide him? He was so cute and earnest,” you lament. You frown at him, “You’re so lucky I like you so much, you bastard, it drives me crazy sometimes…”

Kita closes his eyes, pretending to savor his words, “I like you so much, you bastard, that sounds almost as sweet as I love you.”

You smack him, “Shut up! Stop embarrassing me—”

Kita laughs, managing to catch your wrist before your hand could get another swipe in, “Stop hitting me. I’m literally in love with you. Baby, I love you—”

The reminder stuns you to silence, your whole face blossoming red. Kita softens, “Let me be sincere, even if it’s embarrassing for both of us. I love you and it really is okay if it takes you a while to catch up. Let me lead in our relationship for once, okay?”

You nod, “I’m almost there anyway. Just wait for me.”

“Oh yeah?” Kita bites his lip. “How close is almost there?”

“Shin!” you admonish, “I thought you said it’s fine if it takes me a while.”

“It is!” Kita says, “I just want to know how far you are from my heart. And also if I can do anything to help you get there faster.”

You press yourself against him, curl your leg around his hip, face close, mouths a breath apart, “I’m this close. Just love me as you are. And I’ll get there soon enough.”

“Okay,” Kita says, against your lips, “I can do that.”

.

.

.

Eventually, their honeymoon ends and they're due for their flight back home.

You're lying in the bed while Kita tries to finish packing his clothes.

"I don't want to go home," you say, voice coming out muffled from having your face squished into a pillow.

"Me neither," Kita says, steadily folding his clothes, "But we have to. We've already extended a couple days. Time to face reality again, babe."

You roll dramatically to the edge of the bed, where you easily poke Kita's back with your foot, "It's like you're excited to go back home."

Kita rolls his eyes, turning to you, "I literally just said I don't want to go back either."

You continue, all forlorn like you didn't hear a single thing that he said, "Going back to being my husband's side hoe. He's coming home to his real first love, his work."

"You're ridiculous," Kita laughs. "Remember when I came home expecting cuddles, but you decided to put your work first instead of me."

"Yes, that's because you're also my side hoe," You lie on his side, propping your head up with your hand. You look at him, like you’re appraising a painting, and say, "My pretty, pretty side hoe. You should let me paint you some time. I swear you could have been a model in another life."

Kita flushes at the compliment, feeling pink and pleased, "You think so?"

You covers your face, "You're so fucking cute when you get shy." you demand, "Come here. Come here right now and kiss the love of your life."

Kita wishes they were still at that part of their relationship (which was a couple nights ago) where you would get embarrassed at hearing I love you. Here they are now, with you unable to go a single moment without bringing it up. The audacity of this woman.

"Just for that, I'm going to continue packing," Kita turns back to his clothes. He's almost done with it anyway.

"Babe!" You whine, but Kita doesn't budge, "Y/N come here. This is really cutting into our cuddle time. We could both be done at the same time, but then I'm going to be done while you're going to have to still pack your stuff. Which really isn't ideal."

You stay silent for a moment, considering his words, before you say, "Fine. You make a great point."

You finally get out of bed and grab the suitcase you’ve been storing in the other room and then carry all your clothes into your current room as well. "Still can't believe you got two rooms. What a waste of money," You say, shaking your head as you open up the suitcase.

"You are not bringing this up again," Kita knows he will never live this down. He's sure he'll hear about this from his friends too, because you’ve decided Aran is your new best friend and doesn't know how to keep a secret. "I was just giving you options."

You hum, "Uhuh… we were already sleeping together in the same bed every night. Why would I suddenly choose to sleep in a different bed with you on our honeymoon?" At Kita's non-response, you sigh, "What am I gonna do with you, Kita Shinsuke? Are we gonna go back home and sleep in separate beds too?"

"You're so terrible," Kita says, throwing a dirty sock at your face. "As if you can sleep without me."

You narrowly dodge the sock and huff, "It's not my fault you're so warm." You throw the sock back at Kita, who doesn't dodge on time. Sometimes, the world wants to see you suffer.

You clear your throat, "By the way… I was thinking about how we should talk about our separate rooms back home. It's kind of odd to be talking about this, you know… considering we're married and all..."

"It's okay, this isn't really a conventional relationship." Kita reaches for your hand and holds it. "I do want us to share the same room. I can move my stuff around in my room, you can redecorate to however you want it—"

You gasp audibly, "Why not move to my room?"

"Well," Kita starts, "because my bed is bigger, and my room is bigger."

You raise a brow, "Then why do we always sleep in my room?"

"Because we always end up there," Kita shrugs, "Because you always pull me in and I can't say no to you. Because I really like the vibes of your room. Take your pick."

"Then why are we moving to your room?" You cross your arms over your chest.

"So we can combine our stuff in one place and have enough space for it," Kita explains, "Come on, wouldn't it be nicer to have a bigger bed?"

You roll your eyes, "My bed is barely smaller than yours. But… fine. I'll move in with you."

"Yay," Kita leans over and smooches your cheek. "Thank you. Love you."

Whatever frown you wear disappears, smoothed over by simple words. Looking at your small but unmissable smile, Kita thinks he should take back his previous statement. There's nothing to miss about you being embarrassed about hearing I love you. Not when you’re this happy hearing it. Not when you’re this pleased to know you’re married to someone who loves you.

Not when you’re here, ready to say I love you — something for Kita to look forward to.

.

.

.

They go home.

Their honeymoon begins to feel like a distant dream, but it’s alright. Life comes together so beautifully after that.

His days begin to blur into each other like this, hues of work and home all blending into contentment, until one day those days turn into months, and he realizes he’s happy.

And there’s so many reasons for it:

There’s going home to a warm meal, a beautiful home, and a wife whom he loves.

There’s the weekends, where they take trips to far out places just because they can.

There’s dinners, group dates, outings, and even weddings with their friends.

There’s new traditions, like decorating their home in red and green and hanging up a tree for Christmas. It includes suffering through insufferable dinners together with his family, and being overwhelmed at the welcome he receives at yours. It includes exchanging gifts and realizing how well you’ve come to know each other, how far you’ve come.

There’s New Year’s too, when their friends somehow convince them to throw a party.

This, Kita hopes, doesn’t become a tradition. It’s fun but loud and involves more people at their home than expected.

In the middle of decadent cakes and champagne, of fireworks and New Year’s Eve countdowns, there’s you wrapping your arms around his waist, whispering into his ear: people say you’ll spend the rest of the year with the person you kiss when the clock strikes twelve, and then proceeding to kiss him stupid.

This, he hopes, becomes a tradition.

There’s birthdays too, and the first birthday they celebrate together is yours.

He throws a little dinner party for that too, at some beautiful rooftop in Tokyo, with the city glimmering around them.

It’s unfortunate that there were no stars visible in the sky, but seeing you, surrounded by family and friends, more than makes up for it.

You both go home, half-stumbling, tipsy on champagne and happiness.

“Baby,” Kita says as he tries to input the house code while trying to support your weight, “You’re not only getting older but heavier.”

“Stop reminding me I’m old. I’m still young and sexy,” you complain. “Besides, you’re the one that’s almost thirty.”

Kita laughs, “Hey, this isn’t about me. This is about you. And the fact that you’re twenty-eight. That’s real late twenties. Remember when you were comforting me with the fact that there’s beauty in all ages?”

“Okay, I know what I said,” You stand upright, looking so seriously sober Kita wonders if this mini existential crisis absorbed all the alcohol in your body. “But I really can’t pretend to not be a real adult anymore, you know?”

“Hate to break it to you, sweetheart,” Kita pushes the door open and in they go, “But you’re not only twenty-seven, you also have a career and you’re married. I think you’ve been a real adult for the past couple of years. Just because you stay up until three in the morning while I’m asleep doesn’t change that.”

You stare at him, “How do you know I do that? I make sure to put a pillow in your arms, so you don’t notice.”

Kita stares right back, unimpressed, “You think a pillow could replace you?”

You suddenly look very, very pleased with that statement, “You’re unreal. Stop flirting with me.”

“You always say that when you want me to continue,” Kita rolls his eyes, “I know you so well.”

You sigh, the sound of it sweet. “Yeah, you do.”

And then after a beat:

“You know what,” you say, like you just thought of it randomly as they’re taking off their shoes and putting their slippers on, “I love being married to you.”

It’s not an “I love you” by any means, but god, does it feel like one.

The words unmoor him, has him steadying himself against the wall, his socked feet halfway in his slippers. When he manages to find his voice, it comes out thick with emotion, “You mean that?”

Upon hearing his voice, you turn to look at him, frowning when you meet his eyes, “Of course I do. Listen, we’re still at the beginning and the road ahead is long, but I love that it’s you I’m doing this with. Didn’t I tell you that I chose well?”

“Mhmm,” Kita nods, his hand coming up to hide his face. “You did,” He says, wetly.

“Are you crying?” you say, voice coming down to a whisper, the way adults usually do with crying children.

Kita hates feeling like a child, hates being treated like one even more, but he finds that he doesn’t take offense at the way you’re talking softly like this.

Maybe it’s the way this hurt you’re soothing is as old as a small child. Maybe it’s the way your words pierce through time, straight through to the child Kita once was, the one that wanted to be loved just the way he was.

Either way, there’s a weight lifted off his chest—unbearably heavy but unnoticed until it was gone. How long did he bear it?

Kita rubs his nose, sniffling as he does, “It’s nothing. I’m just really happy you said that.”

You wrap him in your arms, letting Kita bury his face against your shoulder, softly rubbing his back as you say, “I got lucky with you. I don’t know how I managed to pick someone with a heart so big and rare. Someone who’s also talented and driven and smart. I don’t know.”

Kita feels the same. He got lucky and he doesn’t know why.

But maybe it’s not about deserving. Maybe that part doesn’t even matter at all.

All he knows is he’s never letting go.

HAIKYUU MASTERLIST

angst/hurt [a] ; fluff/comfort [f] ; crack/humor [c] ; suggestive [s] ♡ personal faves

[ BACK TO MAIN ]

# KARASUNO

# NEKOMA

# AOBA JOHSAI

# FUKURODANI

# SHIRATORIZAWA

# INARIZAKI

# OTHER

---

He confesses to you with a letter. 

The letter was something you weren’t really ever expecting and it took you three times to read over it to fully process what it was. What he was saying. 

For a moment you wondered why he just didn’t call you, or tell you how he felt in person, but then again a writing you a letter seemed like something he’d do. 

It was simple, not too long; about one page of neatly written words that held so much more meaning in them than any other letter you’ve read before. 

With each and every word you read your heart beat quickened until your heart was practically jumping out of your chest. 

What he’d written wasn’t completely out of the blue, the connection between you was strong and something more special than you’d felt with anyone in a long time. But still you found yourself more shocked at the confession. 

What stuck in your head the most was the very last line.

‘”I’ll wait for you, love. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

When you can finally think clearly again you waste no time in calling him, hands trembling as you find his contact. 

“Hello?”

“I don’t want you to wait.” You words are more rushed than you’d like them to be, barely giving him time to answer before you cut him off. 

“What?” You can hear the confusion lacing his voice when he speaks again. “Wait-”

“I got your letter.” You say almost breathlessly heart still pounding in your chest.

“Oh, you did?” He’s quiet for a moment and you can practically hear him tense through the phone. “And?”

“And I think you should come over.” 

Your response is quieter than everything you’ve said before and for some reason you feel nervous, like you aren’t holding his literal confession in your hands. 

“Want me to leave right now?”

“Yes, if you can I mean.” You stop yourself taking a deep breath before continuing. “I don’t think I can wait long enough for you to get my letter saying the same thing.” 

“Okay, I’ll be over soon.” Just like that the uncertainty in his voice was replaced by an audible smile, one you couldn’t wait to see.

AKAASHI, asahi, KITA, semi, ennoshita, sugawara

---

fall / in love

Pairing: Al-Haitham x Reader Warnings: fluff, slight angst with a happy ending Word Count: ~1.3k A/N: writer's block is hitting hard rn so here are some feelings with our fav grumpy grand scribe

“You’ve been avoiding me. Why?” The last person you want to see stands in front of you. You can feel your desk digging into you from behind as you’re cornered in the quiet walls of your office with nowhere to run. Petty excuses are futile in the presence of Al-Haitham, and his looming shadow makes you feel impossibly small.  

You cannot fall in love with him, you’ve told yourself this over and over again. They are bitter words to swallow down, stuck in the back of your throat as you force a practiced smile to hide every confession that threatens to tear through. There are certain things that cannot be said because they will tear down the walls you’ve so carefully constructed, and you know better than anyone how terrible he is at lending a hand when it comes to emotions. Al-Haitham is a man of titles: the Grand Scribe of the Akademiya, the current Acting Grand Master, a saviour to Sumeru (whether he acknowledges it or not), and a good friend. So you cannot fall in love with him because that will threaten everything you have built thus far.

And yet you free-fall, stumbling into these emotions you struggle to push away. You remind yourself to re-read the label that describes your relationship: childhood friends. Keep it that way, you say to yourself. Don’t fall in love, don’t fall for silly words and actions that have no deeper meaning. Falling in love is dangerous, and falling in love with Al-Haitham is possibly the most dangerous of all. You know this and yet you cannot bring yourself to draw the line. He pushes his way into his life without care, his body fitting the indent on your couch from sleepless nights of research and escaping from Kaveh’s hammering in the middle of the night.

Don’t fall in love. Instead, push him away, pull yourself out, place every obstacle you can on this chess-game like friendship that’s cornering you. So how is it that he’s cornered you now, arms crossed over his chest as he stares you down.

“I’ve been busy.” You sigh with a shake of your head. It’s not a lie, you have been rather busy with the sudden influx of paperwork and rebuilding that comes with the rebuilding of the Akademiya. But you’ve still made an effort to steer clear of Al-Haitham when you could. It was changing your daily routes, choosing to take longer walks around the Akademiya to get to your office in the morning, and instead taking up Kaveh’s offers to get lunch at the cafe across the city rather than the one just outside the Akademiya. 

Al-Haitham rolls his eyes ,”Do you think I’m that stupid? You’ve been actively avoiding me. This is the first time I’ve seen you in almost two weeks. So why?” You hear the slight waver in his voice as his words end. There’s a flicker of worry in his eyes that lasts for just one second, but it’s that one second that punches through your pride. It’s too late to back out now.

“Because— I don’t understand you! You buy me my favourite pastries and then tell me it’s because you wanted one too but I know you hate how sweet these are! You ask for book recommendations but I know you hate the books I read because you have this odd enjoyment of reading physics books! You seek out my company and claim it’s only because you have nothing better to do! And I don’t understand what you want from me!” He remains quiet at your words and you shake your head slightly. Of course he doesn’t say anything. When you finally put him in check, he doesn’t know what to say. His pawns are gone, chess pieces not set up for your play, so he stays quiet. 

“I don’t like feeling whatever this feeling is.” Your hands tremble as you bring them to your chest. The words bubble up from your chest and there’s no stopping them now. Not after you’ve pushed them down for so long and watched from a distance, because this distance is what has kept you going for so long. 

“I see you and— and suddenly I have this stupid smile on my face and my heart beats faster and you don’t even know!” You cry out, “You don’t care that time and time again I have to turn away just because I get so worried that you’ll see me and know.!” He stares at you blankly and you hate it. You hate that you can’t read any emotions in those pretty eyes of his. You hate that his mouth hasn’t moved, not a twitch or a smirk, or a smile, or anything. You hate that his hands reach up to grasp yours, the surprisingly soft texture of his gloves stark against your clammy palms.

He opens his mouth and you brace for the worse, only for him to say softly, “Breathe, please.” A shaky breath rattles your lungs as you stare at him, mouth parted in a mix of surprise at the sudden contact and how damn close he is. There’s a mix of something in those pretty eyes of his as he ducks down to look at you from behind his grey swept hair. A smile, a rare, genuine one tugs on his lips and you can only stare. You’ve laid out your emotions bare for him to see, put him in check position and can only wait for him to make his next move.

And what you hate the most about Al-Haitham is his infuriating ability to take his time, even in the most stressful of situations. You’re acutely aware of your breathing, the rise and fall of your chest and his as you stand in silence. Your hands, no doubt sweaty, still shake even in his gentle grasp and you  know that he can see the way your eyes dart around nervously, refusing to hold eye contact with him.

“After knowing me for so long, I thought that you might be able to read me just as well.” Forget how nervous you feel at the moment. You want to strangle him for his cryptic words. He’s always been good at this, dangling the truth in front of everyone’s eyes under the disguise of honey coated words and half-truths. Perhaps, at another time, you would indulge in riddled words and bite back with some of your own, but now they only irritate you. And Al-Haitham knows it. Just the thought of it brings a teasing grin to his face, one you recognize immediately.

“Don’t you think it’s rather foolish of you to avoid me like this?” Al-Haitham hums and steps back to give you some space. He doesn’t let go of your hands. “After all this time, you’d think that maybe you might realize that I care for you just as much, if not more, as you do for me.” You let the words sink in, bask in their warmth before scowling at him. Tugging your hands from his grasp you push at him gently, ignoring the feeling of his chest against your fingers as you look away.

“Just say you like me too.” You grumble. Al-Haitham’s fingers come to drag along your skin, teasing yet comforting as he laughs, “What a childish way of putting it.” You roll your eyes but stay in your spot, relishing in the turn of events. Quick as it may have been, and far too unexpected for your liking, you’d be lying if you said this wasn’t something Al-Haitham would do.

He hums, catching your attention once more. “So, are you done avoiding me?”

“Keep up this attitude and I won’t be.” Al-Haitham grins and you can’t help but match his expression. But nothing prepares you for the brief kiss that his planted on your forehead, a promise sealed without words, an act of comfort and honesty. And in the confines of these four walls, you let yourself fall in love again. 

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3

synopsis. you’ve been deliberately dodging atsumu miya. he wants to know why.

pairing. atsumu miya x fem!reader | wc. 2.0k (it wasn’t even supposed to be this long) | genres. (implied) university au, tbh i don’t even know what this dynamic is, he calls us princess, reader’s kinda bad emotionally, rain confessions

notes. for my birthday (not gojo’s eff him (/j)) i decided why not take one of my favorite tropes of all time and pair it w the loml. you’re so welcome. this is very dialogue heavy, barely proofread, and a hot mess, but i hope you enjoy regardless.

"(y/n)." the very familiar, sultry yet aggravating voice says the moment you step out of the cafe.

"oh my god!" you jump, clutching a hand over your heart that skipped a beat. it's immediately followed with a glare towards atsumu. "what the fuck, miya? you don't just come up to people like that."

"sorry." atsumu apologizes but his nose scrunches at the word. "nah, not really. didn't know how else to get to ya."

"so you had to find me at my job?" you raise an eyebrow in disbelief.

he shrugs. "yer really not leavin' me with any other choice."

"what are you on about?" you roll your eyes as you take a sharp left, carefully exhaling out. the street is nearly deserted now that the sun sunk past the horizon, leaving only the street lights and the moon to illuminate what would be a pitch black scene. puddles of water are scattered along the walkways, remnants of the downpour that occurred earlier in the day. you had clocked out later than usual, and the next flash of rain is predicted to fall within the next few minutes. you want to get back to your dorm before the worst of it happens.

"ya know what i'm talking about." atsumu huffs. "yer clearly avoiding me."

your shoulders tense when he brings it up, and you pray that atsumu doesn't catch it. "i'm not." you lie, your heart speeding up.

"yer a shit liar. i hope ya know that." atsumu shuts you down right then and there. the fact he's able to makes you wince. that's one of the many bones you have to pick with him. he can always see right through you, and it allows him to get under your skin easily since he knows exactly what to say if he wants to get a reaction out of you.

it's because of that reason that you've been avoiding him. you know yourself well enough that if you were to stand face to face with atsumu miya as you are now, he'd figure out the secret that you've been hiding for two weeks.

atsumu presses his lips together, sighing once he realizes that all he'll get from you from this point forward is silence, but he tries his luck anywayy. "can we talk?"

you let his question fizzle out in the air, continuing down the sidewalk as atsumu follows by your side. the first drops of drizzle fall onto your hand and cheek. atsumu feels them too.

"look, it's gonna rain soon. could ya at least let me take ya home? yer gonna get soaked." atsumu gently reaches out for your hand. the sudden contact and its spark of heat makes you jump. instinctively, you yank your hand away from him. your widened eyes snap towards him, and shame washes over you. maybe the street lights are playing tricks on you, but you swear there's a flicker of hurt in his gaze. you turn away from him because you can't bear the sight of it.

"are ya mad at me? did i do somethin' to upset ya?" atsumu continues.

no, you answer in your head. you can't trust yourself to say it out loud without betraying anything else. it's not that.

"(y/n), please. talk to me." atsumu pleads. you don't think you've ever heard such desperation in his voice before. you've never seen him so raw. it's almost enough to break you, but you refuse to let go the threads of your resolve. the rain is picking up; it's cold as it soaks the threads of your clothes.

"princess." atsumu throws in as a last ditch effort. you know it is because it's the one nickname that gets you riled up the most. it sparks a reaction that atsumu knows will get you talking, but unbeknownst to him it's not for the reason he expects. he wants you to snap with anger, but all your heart does is ache. all it does is melt you into putty in his hands.

"don't call me that." you finally come to a stop, turning so that you can face him, defeat in your gaze. atsumu's blond locks are beginning to lose volume; they stick to his forehead as droplets continue to fall. his hoodie is littered with small, dark stains, a physical consequence of the rain.

"oh now i got yer attention." atsumu scoffs, poking his tongue into the inside of his cheek.

"miya." you warn, voice shaking. he ignores it.

"yer not being yerself, and ya haven't been for the last two weeks." he tells you as if you don't already recognize it yourself. "what's goin' on with ya?"

"nothing!" you deny. "i'm fine!"

atsumu rolls his eyes. "cut the crap, princess."

"seriously, stop calling me that!" you spit back at him.

you're shivering. you can't tell if it's because of your cold, wet clothes or your frustration that keeps reaching new levels. you can sense it; you can sense that your heart is about to claw itself out of chest and dump itself onto the feet of atsumu miya. your hand fists the fabric of your soaked shirt as if to keep it in.

"then tell me what's wrong!" the blond in front of you demands, running a hand through his hair. his voice projects over the brutal force of the rain.

you grimace. that's the one thing you can't do, especially since it involves him. you bite your tongue, hiding your face so that atsumu doesn't see the glassiness of your eyes. "miya... please drop it." you ask him pathetically.

"why?" he pries. this is the other issue with him. he's so damn stubborn to the point that it's infuriating. atsumu miya never backs down until he gets what he wants.

"because it's you!" the first wave of tears break free. they cascade down your cheeks, mixing in the stream of rain on your cheeks; all while your hand remains pointed at atsumu. "because i fell for you!"

atsumu shuts his mouth, going completely silent. you shake your head, laughing bitterly. "i bet you didn't expect that, did you? believe me, i didn't either. day in and day out all we've ever done was argue so i don't know how this happened. i don't know why i have these feelings for you."

wiping your face is a futile attempt yet you still do it anyway. a sob gets caught in your throat, and you choke on it. "i can't stop thinking about you. i can't be near you without my heart attempting to leap out of chest. and so yeah, i've been avoiding you miya, and it's because you've made me so damn weak."

your stare finds atsumu's. you can't get a read on him, but you don't have to second guess that he can see the pain swirling in your eyes. it's so humiliating that even now the first thing that crosses your mind is how good he looks even as you feel your heart being torn apart. his hair is completely stuck to his forehead. his blond ends that are soaked through and through drip their excess water onto his face. you want nothing more than to brush them out of his line of sight, but you can't. you fight that desire by balling up your fists.

"so please just leave me alone. stop trying to find me because i can't take this anymore." you beg through hiccups.

you wait for a response. you wait to see if atsumu will kick your heart aside. in an even better scenario, which is far from likely, he accepts it. you'll take either or.

but he does neither, and that's fine too. you leave atsumu by himself on the sidewalk, and your lack of presence pulls him out of his trance. he jogs to catch up to you, reaching from behind to clasp your hand in his.

"miya, let go-"

"no." he says firmly, a newfound fire burning behind his eyes, one that exceeds the one you feel on your hand. the sight makes you gulp. "ya can't just confess yer feelings for me and leave."

you chuckle weakly, trying to pull yourself free from his grasp. "i think i can."

"no, ya can't. ya didn't even give me a chance to say anythin'." atsumu argues. he doesn't relinquish the hold he has on you.

"what more do you have to say? you don't feel the same, and that's fine-"

"could ya stop assuming things?! i never even said that." atsumu squeezes your hand ever so lightly in frustration. "and by the way, i'm not gonna leave ya alone. i'll follow ya to the edge of the earth if i have to."

you're still crying at this point, and atsumu's words are only making you more upset. "why?! why are you so fixated on me?! why can't you just-"

"because i'm in love with ya!"

in that moment, you swear the rain stops in its place, suspended in the air. surely, you must've been hearing things wrong. atsumu miya, the guy who has everyone dancing to the tune of his hand, is- no that doesn't even sound right. how could he possibly-

"god, i've been in love with ya for so long." atsumu laughs, like it's a relief to finally get it off his chest. "but ya nearly ripped my heart to shreds over these past two weeks."

atsumu squeezes your hand before letting it fall to your side. his own flex by his side as if to hold himself back. "(y/n), ya can insult me to yer heart's content if that's what makes ya happy, but don't dodge me like i'm the damn plague. i hate it. i really do."

atsumu picks up his tear-filled eyes; it makes your own fall even faster because you realize that this hurts him. you want to apologize, but the words are backed up in your throat. your cries steal away your ability to speak.

so you pull him in, yanking him by the drenched fabric of his hoodie and closing the distance between you two. your lips crash onto his, praying that this action is enough for him to understand. it takes a moment for atsumu to react, he's unmoving against you, and once he realizes what's happening, he relaxes. his hands fly to your neck, resting one on either side as he kisses you back.

it's carnivorous. he kisses you like he's been deprived of you. you feel how badly atsumu's been wanting this, how long he's been waiting for this day. you can barely keep up with his hunger. it's hot enough to overpower the chill that comes with the rain beating down on both of you. you'd kiss him forever if you could, but your lungs are begging for air.

when you pull away, atsumu's eyes reveal that he's in a daze, a happy one, like he just came back from soaring through the clouds. his damp hair presses onto your forehead as you both catch your breaths.

he pulls back. atsumu wears a soft grin as he admires you, even though you probably look like a wet dog. one of his hands find their way up to your cheek. you look at him expectantly. "(y/n), i want all of ya. i want yer stubborn ass attitude and yer insults. i want ya to be the only person who can bring me back down to earth. i want yer smiles and all yer laughs. i want to continue lovin' ya." he professes with complete certainty. his flowery words make you beam so brightly that it makes your cheeks hurt.

"i'll give you all of that and more." you swear. "but miya, i need you to kiss me again."

"oh? it seems like i got myself a needy princess." atsumu smirks, but he's already leaning in.

"shut up."

"gladly." atsumu agrees, pressing his lips to yours, smiles on both your faces.

you catch the flu the day after, and so does atsumu. but man, it is so, so worth it.

gratitude

pairings (separately!) - diluc ragnvindr, kaeya alberich, albedo childe/tartaglia, zhongli, xiao, kaedehara kazuha, scaramouche, dainsleif x gender neutral reader

word count - 3113

genre - fluff, comfort

format - drabbles

warnings - skinship

summary - he's looking at you like no one ever has, and you can't help but thank him

a/n - i've always wanted to write something like this :D many people have waited so long to find their partners and it's really a euphoric feeling when you do :) also yes i did write a frickin haiku just for kazuha's HAHA

all around you is perfectly still.

nothing moves, time is frozen save for the steady thump of his heart against your ear and the slight, gentle scratch of his nails on your scalp.

he exudes nothing but warmth and compassion. his firm arms cradle you tight against his body as if you were crafted of the finest china or the silkiest glass. he situated you on his lap like a plush pillow and pressed his heart against yours to beat in sync.

your senses are filled with him: the touch of his finger pads on your back, his alluring scent, that beautiful voice that riles up the butterflies deep within your stomach, the stunning image of his radiant visage and rose colored irises, the taste of his words on your palette and the brush of his lips against yours.

overwhelmed might be a way to describe it, but in the moment where he looks you straight in the eye with nothing but love and adoration swirling in those misty pools of his, you can't help but feel like putty in his arms.

"thank you," your searing hot hands come up to hold his slacked face, just above a whisper, you hardly recognize your voice that dripped with affection and filled itself with love lined with gold, "thank you for loving me."

diluc.

diluc and the idea of "romantic love" have never gone well together in his mind. many times had he found someone in his youth who fancied him and many times has he blown them off as gentlemanly in nature as he could. though, he could never deny his curiosity for such affections. with a windwheel aster in one hand, he plucked until it was down to the last petal where the words "they love me" rested on his lips in a whisper instead of "they love me not", though he did not know who he wanted to love him.

but here you sat on his lap, holding his face as if you held the world in your hands and thanked him for loving you. it almost baffled him, just how lucky he was. it was as if he'd been searching in a field of three leafed clovers and finally found a stem with four protruding leaves. but instead of plucking it, he gently nursed the tiny plant and came back to it each day with something new. you were his luck, his most beloved person, someone for which he would bring down heaven and walk into hell barefeet.

no longer did he lay awake at night, holding his pillow close to him and wondering what it would be like to be able to hold someone within his arms. nor did he purchase lovely roses for no one in particular, and place them on his desk as if awaiting to one day give them to someone.

no, you were here in his arms, thanking him for loving you unconditionally. but in reality it was him who knew you held his heart in your hands and gently cradled it within your love.

"the pleasure of loving you belongs entirely to me, my love." he whispered into the palm of your hand and finalized his words with an inward kiss.

kaeya.

love was a preposterous idea for someone like kaeya. he knew this and he knew it well, better than anyone else. love was fickle, unsteady, and uncertain. if one truly peered beneath his arctic waves and caught sight of the monstrous iceberg that lay underneath, would they truly stay? his resolution was firm: he would never fall in love. and yet, much like his brother, his curiosity would often get the better of him when in the privacy of either the winds of barbatos or the brick-walled confines of his office.

he'd place his palm on the skin of his chest and feel for his heartbeat, and wonder one day if his heart would belong to someone—someone who would see all of him and keep their feet planted firmly by his side. kaeya thought himself stupid, that he asked too much. someone like him deserved to be all by his lonesome so when the storms finally ravaged his world, there wouldn't be any collateral damage.

and yet here you were, hand on his chest feeling the heart that belonged to you thump ferociously underneath the thin skin of his chest. you were thanking him. the idea almost made him laugh, for how could someone as radiant as you be thanking him for his love. you'd managed to wriggle your way into his life and cause a mess of his resolution until he gave into his desires and made you his.

he still placed his hand on his chest from time to time, to remind himself of his humanity, and to be reminded that this heart that beat so tenderly not only beats for him but thunders onwards for you.

"i should be the one thanking you, but i have a feeling we'd be here all day if i started that war." he mused against your lips with a smile and locked you in once more for another intoxicating kiss.

he was willing to set aside his convictions, just this once.

albedo.

baffled is what he is. albedo is a man of logic and of precision and love is neither of those things. logic can't explain the desire to see you in the wee hours of the night when he plagued himself with nightmarish visions intertwined with formulas with letters he couldn't make sense of. love confuses him, but he finds himself rather intrigued. he's first introduced to the concept through a novel—impulsive procurement. he often never realized it much once he finished the novel, but his slender fingers would come up to his scalp and gently rake through his soft, tender locks as if his hand didn't belong to him—as if his hand had turned into his lover's that didn't exist.

shame overwhelmed him for such actions, but the feeling often crept up on him while his mind lay idle, awake at night wondering what chemicals are released when one kisses someone they love dearly. sketching would take his mind off of the desire, but alas, he found himself sketching two silhouettes on the backdrop of beaches and forests lined with gold and silver, their hands always intertwined.

now, his sketchbook was filled with sketches of you. pencil lines marks the edges, grooves, curves, and dips of your face and body. each line had been carefully drawn with love and precision. it was no longer his hand that raked through his locks, pretending to be his lover's hand, but instead your own hand lovingly tended to the tensed strands of ashen blonde hair on his scalp and pressed kiss after kiss to the skin where just below the bone lay a magnificent mind.

"thanking me is a fruitless action," he gently grasped your palm and pressed a kiss to the inside of your wrist, "for i'm still learning from you each and every day, what it truly means to love. for that, i am eternally grateful to you."

childe.

love is gentle, tender, and patient, nothing like childe. he lusts for chaos and craves disorder. love—romantic love—was the furthest thing from his mind whenever he drew his weapons and charged forth with a charming grin and a palpitating heart. although, there were times when he'd come across fields of brilliant flowers stilling in the wind, stretching for miles in hues of all kinds and he'd find himself at a loss for who he could show such a magnificent sight to. he'd brush his fingers against the skin of his calloused and scarred palm and wonder what the feel of another hand in his would be like. would it be akin to the handle of his blade? or that of a delicate flower stem?

what a true predicament he's found himself in, yearning for the soft touch of one filled with the blessing of eros yet finding himself engrossed in giving into the urges brought forth by ares himself. conflict waged wars in his mind but they always came to a halt when he felt the soft skin of your hands anywhere on his body.

you held the power to subdue his primal urges and smooth over the rough bumps and edges that carved themselves into his skin. even now as he cradled you in his arms, it felt unreal to believe that you were thanking him for loving you. his hand felt barren of warmth no longer, instead an irreplaceable tug filled the void and tugged at his heart.

"i will always love you, so there's no need to thank me, sunshine." he took your hand and intertwined it with his, letting you bump your unsullied fingers against the deep ridges and scars that lined his hands.

zhongli.

to love is one of the most blessed acts in zhongli's mind. there was once a time where he believed love was weak, to love was to be mortal, such acts are beneath an archon who must fight to the death for sustainability. yet there was a tender part of his buried beneath the bedrock of his heart that pulsed and beamed with every moment he breathed. he often wondered if he was truly capable of love, or of loving someone in their entirety.

discipline was written on the back of his hands and imprinted down the line of his spine, but he truly was fascinated with mortals. not only mortals as a whole, but their capacity to feel the thing they called love. he'd lay awake at night and wonder if he too could love, while clutching his throbbing heart that ached for something he couldn't define.

you seemed to define it all: what love was to him. love was tender in the way you longingly looked at him with those doe eyes of yours. love was confusing in the way you'd beckon for his presence late at night to hold you close while you drifted out of consciousness. love meant many things to him because of the way you fiddled with the broach on his tie or the subtle tuck of his hair behind his ear courtesy of your smooth fingers.

with nothing but adoration in your eyes, you stared up at him and he felt the rush of gold flow through his veins. a god possesses many things but love is never usually one of them. zhongli, however, can say different.

"my lily, you need not thank me for loving you," his hands overlapped yours that held his face while his nose gently bumped against yours, "know that i am truly the thankful one for having you to stand by my side until my memories are nothing but dust."

xiao.

love isn't in his vocabulary nor is it an emotion that comes naturally to xiao. he considers himself a weapon, a tool, and inanimate objects are not capable of love. he is a man of discipline, nothing shall ever tempt him from his true duties. yet the very human part of him cannot help but entertain ludicrous ideas. like the feel of a warm body pressed tight against his, or the sensual touch of nails gently trailing down his tattooed arms. his mind wanders when all is quiet and the lands are peaceful, but that was all it ever was: a dream, a pastime for until when he'd need to sacrifice himself and become a weapon yet again.

but his mortal indulgences were all he had to feel as though he weren't suffocating beneath a thick, black, wave of fog and hazing dust. his palms were cold but he imagined they held nothing but warmth when he placed his palms onto the line of his jaw and pretended that someone held him not like a tool or a weapon, but as a regular man who was allowed to be human.

the feel of your hands on his face never felt real, despite his pinches and slaps to his face to see if it was all a dream. your hands were so very warm, warmer than his could ever be and they ignited a fire within his chest whenever they found solace holding his face. your nails traced the shapes of the tattoos on his biceps and your kisses made a home for themselves nestled in his soft locks. to say he was out of his element would be an understatement, you brought him light amidst a slew of black holes and carried warmth where frigid ice reigned supreme.

he needed to say nothing, if he tried he wasn't sure he could form the right words at all. your kisses took the breath away from him and he'd be happy to give you all that he was, and you felt it in the way his grip on you tightened and the press of his forehead against yours in a silent promise to forever protect you with his life.

kaedehara kazuha.

like swirling red leaves

that fall swiftly to the ground

my heart stills once more

love is poetry and as free as kazuha himself. there are many ways in which the winds can blow for him, and yet he finds solace in treading along the most gentle of breezes. love is whatever comes along his way, and his patience knows no bounds. but there are nights where he sits atop a perch of the alcor and traces patterns of stars with his eyes. words of a poem begin to slip from his lips and yet there are no ears to listen. his private indulgence of whispering poems of love for no one in particular are what manages to keep him sane, but he knows that such a blessing can only come with time. so he waits.

his notebooks are lined with words which he one days yearns to speak, and yet time has deemed that he is not ready yet. the words he'd created felt like sugar on his tongue, sweet and burning hot to the touch yet he'd still swallow as if it were nothing but water.

practiced to perfection was his soothing voice against the shell of your ear, whispering line after line of all the words that lived within his mind. your beauty makes the stars pale in comparison, to hold you was almost akin to holding the last bit of a comet, the tail that shone the most voluminously. his patience had rewarded him with you, all the time he spent alone writing away at what he wished to say now found a new home etched into the grooves of your brain, written in thick ink in the most beautiful of cursive.

you had given him the world, and still thanked him with that lovely voice of yours.

"i am thankful for you as well, my beloved. you bring heaven down to earth for me." he whispered against your temple and cradled you like you'd slip away from his grasp if he let go too soon.

scaramouche.

love was dumb, simply put. whatever scaramouche could not comprehend became immediately dubbed as "dumb", and love was the number one item on this list. such ludicrous feelings were far below the stature of the sixth harbinger, nor did he have the time or patience for love. he spoke these words loud and clear for all to hear, but the silent ache of his heart spoke unsaid words that clung to him and made a mess of his life.

he denied himself curiosity, or to look past the whirling storms that encircled his heart. but every so often when the moon sat high in the sky and he'd stripped himself of his title, scaramouche would faintly trace the sides of his torso and imagine the tender hold of another on his waist. his pillow was too hard to imagine as a human body, and such a silly thought had him fuming the next morning.

love was dumb and yet here you were in his arms, hands around his torso just like he'd imagined and your lips hovering over his own, thanking him for loving you. to deserve someone like you, someone who looked past his stormy exterior and found a gentle core pulsing with violet fervor. where he grew horns and bared his fangs, you showed your wings and smoothed down the frazzled ends of his locks. gentleness was not a word in his book and yet you took a pen and rewrote all of his pages.

"you're a dumbass, y'know that?" scaramouche grinned wickedly as the soft give of your cheek pulled in his forefinger and thumb despite your whining protests.

"but you're my dumbass, you don't need to thank me for loving you. if anything it should be the other way around." he suddenly pushed your face into the crook of his neck and ensnared your body within his arms, letting his words be absorbed by your burning skin.

dainsleif.

a sole wanderer, destined to pursue a fruitless goal amidst loneliness and destitute caverns of fragility. there was no time for love, no time to think about it or indulge in it. but dainsleif has always defied the odds, and even then as he lay by his lonesome beside another quiet fire, he thought of love. the feel of a hand raking through his soft, feathery locks, the gentle press of a kiss on his forehead, the innocent intertwining of pinkies or hands. he thought himself a fool, waking up with flushed cheeks and a mind full of temptation.

but such feelings no longer lived alone in his mind. the feel of your hands combing through his locks were real, as was the persistent kisses to his flushing face and the innocent intertwining of your pinky against his. he would forever be at your mercy and yet it was you who thanked him for the love in your eyes.

baffled and bewildered, he doesn't quite understand why you thank him when it was you who allowed him to shed himself of his duties and become simple dainsleif, who loved you and would give his life for you.

you were real, in his arms and thanking him for his love. you were real and you weren't going anywhere. as tenderly as you held his face, his palms came up and cupped your jaw as if it would break under his touch.

"gratitude is not what i seek, but you hold my heart within your hands and that is more than enough for me." dainsleif sealed his words with a gentle kiss on your forehead doused with adoration and crafted of love.

date published: july 29th, 2021

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