#i'm just in a kita + taylor swift mood today i guess

[rinstagrams]

sweet nothing. kita shinsuke x reader. inspired by "sweet nothing" by taylor swift.

they say the end is coming, everyone’s up to something i find myself running home to your sweet nothing. outside they’re push and shoving, you’re in the kitchen humming all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing.

the rain is gathering on your shoulders as you step inside the house, shaking the water off your umbrella before sticking it into its holder by the front door. a sigh, heavy with exhaustion, leaves your lips as you slip off your shoes after a long day at work. “i’m home,” you say into the silence. 

there’s no verbal reply, but you’re greeted into the house by a warm light and the smell of something delicious. “shin?” you say softly, your stomach growling at the smell wafting through the air. it’s coming from the kitchen, you deduce as you make your way over. 

you find your husband there, back to you as he works at the stove.

a smile spreads across your face like butter. 

there’s a song playing from his phone on the counter, you realize. he must not have heard you come in. it’s low, but you can hear the sound of humming from his closed mouth, probably spread into a smile as he cooks. though you’d usually have your arms wrapped around his waist by now, you lean against the wall and watch with a small smile. all the exhaustion and irritation you'd felt from work just a minute earlier fades away.

you never thought you’d ever want this, let alone have it. a small house on the farm, which your husband cares for while you’re at work. coming home to him after a long day. such a life seemed so simple, so mundane to you as a teenager, but now you realize that it’s everything you could ever ask for. shinsuke, you know, is all that you need. nothing else. 

“oh—you’re home.” your husband turns on his heel and you chuckle at the fluffy pink apron he has on. at the sight of him opening his arms, you immediately rush into them and find yourself pressed flush against his familiar chest. “you made my favorite,” your voice mushes against his shirt.

“‘course. your favorite meal for my favorite girl.” 

“mmm,” you hum. “i love you, shin.”

there’s a kiss pressed to the top of your head. “i love ya too, sweetheart.” 

finally, you’re home.