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[luvindrr]

Endless hour

Kita Shinsuke x gn reader

Word count: ~800

Tags & warnings: fluff & angst, long distance relationship

Note: HELLO it’s been like a year since I've written anything or been on tumblr, which is wild. I started this so long ago and now it’s clawed its way back out of my heart. Inspired many moons ago by Laura Gilpin.

Tomorrow, when Kita drives you to the station, you won’t cry even though you’ll want to.

You’ll lean out the window of his dusty truck and take in the morning bustle — or, as much bustle as you get in this small town. At the intersection, two elementary school kids will run past with their bucket hats and matching uniforms and a weathered-looking obaasan will chase after them, reminding them to be careful of cars and watch the road. It’s hardly necessary here considering there’s little traffic, and that’s probably what the kids will be thinking too, but they’ll slow down nevertheless and squirm impatiently at the crosswalk before darting off again.

Their parents will already be at work in the repair shop, or the soba place, or the grocery store, and it will make you nostalgic for the hometown you haven’t even left yet. Wistful for the last honey-dipped days of summer. Scared of what you’ll miss once you’re gone.

The midnight-purple grapes of autumn and the jewel-red persimmons of winter. Grandmother’s warm silken tofu and popsicles after dinner. Sticky kisses stolen in the shadow of the camphor trees. What will ‘Samu’s opening night be like? How many games will you miss? How many wins? How many losses? Aran and Suna won’t hold it against you, but ‘Tsumu might. Your group chat will be active at first while everyone is settling in to their new lives and awkwardly falling into new friends, but as time goes on, as ‘Samu works late, as the boys plunge into practice, as the semester gets underway and you get swamped with homework, the messages will slow to a trickle. And you’ll be across the ocean, halfway around the world. It might as well be another planet.

How will Shinsuke fare without your help with the harvest? Will he have to work through the nights to finish it all himself? How many weeks will there be until summer break? Maybe you’ll even have to get an internship, some work experience, a leg up in the industry that will keep you away even longer. And when you do come back, will he still look at you the same way in a year? Two years? Three? The nights will be long, but the days will be longer. Will it be too hard without him? Hands twisting with restlessness, meals cheerless with one body instead of two. Will you have anything in common anymore? Will you grow apart? Will you find someone new? Will he?

Tomorrow, his eyes will still shine with their perpetual luster. You’ll avoid turning to look so your tears won’t fall, and you’ll hope that the breeze streaming in will dry them.

Tomorrow, the sun will crest the hill, and Shinsuke will glow like your own north star.

But tonight, he leads you down to the paddies.

It is a perfect summer evening. The chirping crickets can barely be heard over the drone of cicadas. The stars drape over the fields like a glimmering veil. The moon hangs bright and full. Or, almost full. It’s waning, and not for the first time, you wish the night could go on forever.

Shinsuke pulls you along the curving paths with no sense of haste. He talks to you about his day, his grandmother, the weather, the harvest. His neck bent and eyes fixed on you with every step, as familiar with the paddies as the back of his hand.

Rice plants tickle your calves, heavy grains dipped low, smearing the moon’s reflection across the surface of the water.

He finally slows near the canal at the edge of the farm. Dropping your hand, he presses a finger to his lips and points to the reeds toward a tangle of frogs in chorus, damp bodies glinting as they crawl over one another, a densely layered symphony of kero keros. Gingerly, gingerly, he bends down, and snatches at one, holding it up to your face with boyish glee. And then you’re both off, running, splashing, leaping after the throng of frogs that burst forth like a clammy firework in every direction, mud whirling, laughter erupting.

Like when you were kids. Like every summer.

You catch five frogs. He catches six.

Somewhere, it is raining.

A sense of serenity swells, spilling up and over and out into the endless dark. You stand there in the paddy mosquito-bitten and mud-spattered, smothered by the humid night. You think of Shinsuke draped over you in the wildflowers, the glide of shoji and the grassy scent of tatami, you think of white grains gleaming. He rinses the mud from his hands, pulls you close with damp fingers, and kisses you until you forget there will be a tomorrow.

[luvindrr]

i misssss my boyssss i misss them soooo badddd i miss writing i misss uuuuuu my baby boyy hrghmfnaajdafj

look at him he is so beautiful why isn't he my husband :( (he is)

i'm gonna write for him i swear but in the meantime here's cyberpunk xiao :DDD (I'VE LIVED WAY TOO LONG TO BE WIFELESS PLEASE I DESERVE A WIFE)

[luvindrr]

Remus gets sprayed with weaponized sunscreen

poly!moonchaser x gn!reader (but mostly remus) | fluff | 388 words c/w: remus is 24, comparison of aerosol bottle to gun

Summers with James are easy, lazy. He brings you to the golfing grounds, content to let you lounge on a lawn chair, reading, as long as you occasionally yell flattery to keep up his ego. It’s great.

It’s exactly what you’re doing when a large hand pushes up your sunglasses so they sweep back your bangs. Lips brush against the newly exposed skin- slightly chapped and sun-warmed.

You smile, looking up. “Hi, Rem.”

“Hi, dovey. Still working through that manuscript?”

“Yeah, but there’s something I want to ask you.” You flit through the sheets quickly, landing on a sentence you’ve underlined in red. “I don’t think you’ve worded this right; it doesn’t make sense.”

Remus furrows his brows, accentuating the freckles that have already started to appear. He likes them because they take attention away from his scars. But they’re beautiful on their own- clusters of downy dandelions in valleys of soft grass. They make him look boyish in the way he really is.

It does mean, however, that he hasn’t been wearing sunscreen regularly; he wasn’t this speckled last week. You bring a hand under his chin, tilting his face upwards, beaming at him your sweetest smile. He looks confused- wide-eyed, doe-like- and you almost feel bad for what you’re about to do. “Close your eyes, love.”

You spray him like a fly.

“AH- bloody hell is that?” He sputters, recoiling away from you.

“It’s sunscreen; now come back- I’m not done.”

“You’re mad if you think I’m going anywhere near you!”

You shake the bottle menacingly, pointing it towards him like a gun. “You’re just as bad as Sirius; come here!”

He does, reluctantly, but his pout only makes him cuter. You reach back into your bag, and he eyes the spray, offended, when you replace it with a sunscreen stick.

“Don’t start, Lupin; I knew you’d run.”

He grimaces when you run the balm along his cheeks, but stays still nonetheless. You’re massaging it into his skin when James joins you on the patio, club swung over his shoulder.

“Moony, you look absolutely miserable.”

“He may be miserable but he’s not getting skin cancer.”

“Too bad you couldn’t save him from premature wrinkling.”

Remus scoffs. “I’m not wrinkling; I’m 24.”

“Twenty-four and wrinkly, my love.” James kisses his lips to appease him. “And graying, too.”

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[luvindrr]

poly!Moonchaser

Remus gets sprayed with weaponized sunscreen gn!reader, fluff, 388 words

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Diluc Ragnvindr

Diluc checks the couch when you're not in bed fluff, gn!reader, 188 words

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Diluc checks the couch when you're not in bed

diluc x gn!reader | fluff | 188 words a/n: i took this man's name and i haven't written for him what is wrong with me

Years ago, when Diluc was still a newlywed, he would stash his mask, climb the stairs to the bedroom, pull aside the blanket, and thoroughly, completely panic when he didn’t see you there.

Things have changed since then. Diluc is no longer a newlywed, he no longer bothers to hide his mask, and he no longer panics when you’re not in bed at two in the morning.

Now he knows to check the couch.

“Darling, you shouldn’t be here.”

It’s a familiar conversation, yet somehow the words are packaged with care, with worry, like he’s never said them before. They pull you from slumber just as Diluc pulls you into his arms. They’re stable and strong- perfect for defending, better still for embracing his sweet.

“Neither should you, mister.”

“Perhaps we should retire to bed, then, darling.”

“Mhm…” You nuzzle further into his chest and Diluc sighs as he watches you doze off. It’s endearing, the way you drool on his shirt, the way your brows furrow when a hair tickles you. He can’t seem to want to wake you.

He doesn’t, carrying you up the stairs instead.

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Satoru's always looking at you

satoru gojo x gn!reader | fluff (angst if you saw shibuya lol) | 163 words inspired by this art

“Are you heading out?”

Satoru sighs as he takes off his shirt. “Yeah, they want me there early. Something big in Shibuya.”

“You should probably hurry, then.”

It’s times like these when you’re reminded of how beautiful he really is; aglow in the early sun, pale skin so perfectly smooth it’s a wonder it’s not sculpted in marble. Your fingers reach, just a little, to feel him once more.

“Satoru, come here.”

He obeys, kneeling down to where you're still lying in bed. You reach to push back his bangs, rake through the feathery white wisps before finding the knot of his blindfold. It falls to reveal gemstone eyes- blue like aquamarine and sapphire, blue like the stone that circles your finger.

He brings your palms to his face. “Just wanted to look at me?” There's that teasing lilt to his voice, that familiar smirk.

“Wanted you to look at me.”

“Aw, gorgeous.” A kiss to your palm. “I'm always looking at you.”

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Sirius says house chores are a group activity

poly!marauders x fem!reader | fluff | 349 words c/w: allusion to sex

James watches in stupefied wonder as Sirius Black steps behind you with a squeeze to your waist. That’s not the wondrous part; Sirius is always grabbing your waist. The wondrous part is that he’s not camping out in the basement while the rest of you are cleaning, hoping James doesn’t drag him out by the feet to scrub the toilet.

“Can I help you with that, gorgeous?” He’s using his smooth voice- the silky, low one he deploys when he wants to get in your trousers. Thankfully, you don’t entertain him. “That’d be fantastic, Sirius. You can start with these.” You point to something in the sink- presumably a stack of dishes- and James watches, dumbfounded, as Sirius only rinses off the suds and places them on the rack dutifully.

And he’s not even wearing gloves.

“What’cha doin’ there, lovie?” It’s Remus that breaks him out of his trance, snaking an arm around his waist. “Look!” James whisper-shouts in your direction. “Pads is doing house chores!”

“And he’s not even wearing gloves!”

“I can hear you two!” Sirius throws his head with a huff, hair following with the same indignant attitude. “Honestly, you make it sound like I never do anything around here.”

“Because you don’t!”

He's offended at that one. Water sprays as he twirls to point an accusatory finger. “I absolutely do too, you lying twat.”

“Oh forgive my incompetence; how could I forget you’re the king of lifting your legs when I come by with the vacuum cleaner-”

“You never bother to wipe the bathroom mirror-”

“YOU LEAVE YOUR LONG CURLY SPIDERLINGS-” James mimics mingling legs with his fingers “-JUMPING AROUND ON THE SHOWER DOOR-”

“Y-”

He’s cut off by a mocking, high pitched screech. “HOUSE CHORES ARE FOR HOUSE ELVES; IT’S IN THE NAME-”

“Sirius, please; you’re dripping on the floor.”

“Oh, sorry dolly.” He turns back around, completely abandoning James’ yapping. A kiss to your temple before pulling another dish from your hands. “I’ll take that, thank you.”

James gapes, bewildered. “She’s completely bewitched him, that woman.”

Remus laughs. “She’s completely bewitched me too.”

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Satoru Gojo

Satoru's always looking at you fluff, gn!reader, 163 words

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Satoru's always looking at you

satoru gojo x gn!reader | fluff (angst if you saw shibuya lol) | 163 words inspired by this art

“Are you heading out?”

Satoru sighs as he takes off his shirt. “Yeah, they want me there early. Something big in Shibuya.”

“You should probably hurry, then.���

It’s times like these when you’re reminded of how beautiful he really is; aglow in the early sun, pale skin so perfectly smooth it’s a wonder it’s not sculpted in marble. Your fingers reach, just a little, to feel him once more.

“Satoru, come here.”

He obeys, kneeling down to where you're still lying in bed. You reach to push back his bangs, rake through the feathery white wisps before finding the knot of his blindfold. It falls to reveal gemstone eyes- blue like aquamarine and sapphire, blue like the stone that circles your finger.

He brings your palms to his face. “Just wanted to look at me?” There's that teasing lilt to his voice, that familiar smirk.

“Wanted you to look at me.”

“Aw, gorgeous.” A kiss to your palm. “I'm always looking at you.”

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[luvindrr]

Kenma Kozume

Kenma is harassed into getting his nails done fluff, fem!reader, 773 words

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Kenma is harassed into getting his nails done

kenma kozume x fem!reader | fluff | 773 words c/w: skinny shaming (briefly, once)

It’s a weird building, Kenma thinks, as he pulls into the parking lot. Enormous arched glass on a too-pink wall. It hurts his eyes. The entire street does; it’s all so Barbie-like.

He finds the inside is just as pink when he enters. “Time of appointment?”

“Uh, no, I’m just here for my girlfriend.” Where are you? It smells like alcohol in here. Maybe he should just text-

“Kenma!” His eyes whip towards you, as every other set of eyes whip towards him.

“Your boyfriend?” “He’s very pretty.”

“Very pretty.”

“Like a girl.”

Kenma feels himself go rigid. It feels like a family dinner, where every aunt is scrutinizing his long blonde hair. He points backwards with his thumb. “I’ll just uh- wait outside.” Fuck. Why is he so awkward? This is pathetic.

“You sure? I think I’ll be here for another half hour-”

“PICK A COLOUR! PICK A COLOUR!” Cardstock flurries in his face, and he instinctively stumbles backwards. The sheets are shoved into his arms- some land on the floor- and pushy hands are now ushering him into a chair. “Uh, no, actually, I’m just here for my girl-” He’s shoved into a seat- a very plushy one- before it rams into a table, lurching him forwards slightly. He whips up. Are middle-aged women supposed to be this intimidating?

“I’m- uh, I’ll just-”

“Pick a colour.” The sheer intensity of her glare shuts him up.

Fuck, are you laughing?

“Pick a colour, Kenma!” He whips around, affronted. “We can be matching!”

Kenma looks down at your nails-in-progress. Stickered. Sparkly. Kuroo would never let him live it down. “I don’t think I want that.” You smirk, and he knows you know exactly what he’s thinking.

“You have a My Melody keychain.”

He looks down at his hands, still holding his keys. They certainly are adorned with an obnoxious My Melody plush. You won it at an arcade, but couldn’t fit it on your own keys.

“Oh! You should get Pompompurin. He’s yellow, like you.”

“COLOUR!” He snaps back to the woman in front of him, somehow more irritated and somehow more frightening. He cowers. “PICK A COLOUR!”

Is this normal treatment? Is he paying for you to get your nails done or to be harassed and accosted? Because if this is normal he’s not sure he wants you coming to this place anymore-

“Kenma.” Your familiar scent drifts over him, releasing the tension he didn’t know was there. “You can get something simple. What about this?” You pull out a picture on your phone, but he doesn’t really see it, not when he's resting his head on you behind him. “Whatever you think.” Is that a mistake? Will he regret that later?

Thankfully, he doesn’t see the usual devilish smirk on your face, which surely means you’ve taken pity on him. He stares daggers as you walk away, willing you to come back. Why are you ditching him at the boss level? You’re supposed to be a team; this is supposed to be a two-player game.

“Your hands are pretty! Long fingers!”

“Good nail shape. Very healthy.”

“Too soft. You don’t work?”

When did the crowd spawn? And how the fuck did he get roped into this?

—

The next half hour is a blur. Somehow, he weathered the scrutiny of the mob (“too skinny”, “why blonde?”), paid some ungodly sum, and escaped that Barbie dollhouse hell. Fuck. It’s getting dark. He was going to treat you to boba but the shops are closing so he can’t do that. The shops wouldn’t be closed if your appointment wasn’t pushed back- and your appointment wouldn’t have been pushed if that one rude customer hadn’t been late. What’s up with late people anyway? Fuck them. This is why he became a streamer- so he doesn’t have to deal with people. Now he has to drive in the dark- he hates driving in the dark- he’d fucking die if he crashed the car and you flung out the windshield and paralyzed yourself. He’s not going to be responsible for making his girlfriend a paraplegic-

“Kenma. Your face is weird again.”

He’s never treating you to boba again-

“C’mere; I want a picture.” Kenma lets you manipulate his hand into frame, holding yours when you let him. They’re pretty, your nails. They always are, but this time they’re sparkly, catching the light at every turn. His aren’t bad, either. A simple four-point star in the corner of each. And a Pompompurin sticker on one. It’s cute, actually. They’re nice.

“Okay, let’s go.”

He looks back up to the sun. Probably not too late for boba after all.

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Atsumu Miya

Atsumu will not let you win the toothpaste battle fluff, gn!reader, 583 words

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Atsumu will not let you win the toothpaste battle

atsumu miya x gn!reader (implied short) | fluff | 583 words a/n: fighting over who can squeeze out the last bit of toothpaste

“That was delicious, baby. Thanks so much.” Atsumu places a kiss on your cheek as he passes you, placing his bowl in the sink. He’s rinsing it off when you find your way next to him, setting your own bowl under the water. “Can you rinse mine too? Thanks, babe.” He doesn’t get a chance to respond before you shuffle towards the bathroom with suspicious quickness.

You fucking cheat.

You shriek when he picks you up from behind, throwing you over his shoulder. He’s not even fully in the living room when he tosses you over the back of the couch, your flailing body landing onto the masses of throw pillows. He stays only long enough to be sure you’re unhurt (your confirmation comes as a pillow to his head) before he bolts. He won’t grant you the courtesy of fairness. You didn’t grant it to him.

You race close behind, but 'Tsumu isn’t a trained athlete for nothing. He ignores your cries and bribes (“You can have my ice cream sandwich if you stop right now!”) for the real prize, the real goal. His eyes are hyper-focused, his gaze intense. He’s right there, right at the finish line, just one more stretch-

His entire body slams through the bathroom door. His hands scramble to the countertop, snatching that precious, beautiful, mint-in-a-bottle elixir-

“'Tsumu!” You’re at the door only a few seconds later, red-faced and sulking. “That’s not fair. You went first yesterday!” You lunge for his prize, but he snatches it up with trained quickness, sticking out his tongue when you frown harder. “Well, putting aside the fact that you were cheating,” You huff and cross your arms. “I let you win Mario Kart so I deserve this, I would say.”

“You did not let me win; I won off pure talent.”

He points a big, accusing finger at you. “That is a lie, you big liar.” Now you’re desperate, hugging his torso and trying to climb up his frame. Atsumu makes sure you’re watching as he flattens and squeezes the tube just out of reach, forcing out the last, miniscule, barely-usable amount of toothpaste onto the bristles of his brush. He swirls his toothpaste-coated toothbrush in your face with obnoxious smugness and fully cackles when your scowl grows with hatred. He’s so, so triumphant, watching you glower at him until he feels a tug on his wrist-

“WHAT THE HELL-”

You cackle, a difficult feat with his toothbrush in your mouth. He guffaws, but your attention has already left him. He meets your eyes through the mirror, sees the way you’re scrubbing at your teeth- casually, like you’re not engaging in a disgusting, repulsive, plague-producing sin. He’s sure he feels acid force up his throat; it’s nauseating.

“We share spoons all the time; this is fine.”

He absolutely sputters. “This is not a spoon, this is my toothbrush and it’s completely non consensual-”

“Oh you big baby.” His toothbrush is shoved harshly into his mouth. He gags, spit and foam and brush flying, landing in a puddle on the floor. He clutches his throat, mouth open, staring at you, horrified. You only shrug. “It’s yours.” He’s still when you squat down to shuffle through the cabinet under the sink, and he’s voiceless when he sees his newly deceased toothbrush strewn pathetically across the tile. It shoots a new feeling of disgust up his throat; tears- actual, tangible tears- well in his eyes.

“A toothbrush for me, please, while you’re at it.”

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[luvindrr]

Hi idk you but I just wanted to tell you that your username sounds like that one French dude trying to say "lavender" 😭

I KNOW it's convenient it hides my true intentions

diluc ragnvindr

i luv my husband but didn't want to be bullied <//3

[luvindrr]

AA AA first @emmyrosee read my osamu fic and now @ellecdc has read my james fic i am vv excited

i think this means i should end my half month hiatus

[luvindrr]

the golden trio (but actually just ron), in the interest of investigation follow their professor as he flirts with a student's mom!!! scandalous