#haikyuu!! fanfiction

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 009 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

c/w. 18+. modern royal au. infidelity. angst. gaslighting. toxic characters. very suggestive. toxic relationships. unedited. kiyoomi is horny. and uh suna too

notes. we are in kiyoomi arccc whewww, also i think i mentioned the word balls like three times. anyways.

wc. 10.8k

series masterlist 

[ NINE ] i know a place, it’s somewhere I go when I need to remember your face. we get married in our heads, something to do while we try to recall how we met

You were still reeling from your shock by the time your Mother showed up beside you. She must have noticed the quite interesting crowd of the royals and their parents, and couldn’t wait to indulge in the drama. A nosy creature, your mother was, but her presence comforted you. You had heard about it before – the tradition of having your last dance on your debutante ball would be your destined lover. Your mother would know; your father was her last dance. But you couldn’t remember it clearly, not when your only memory of your debut ball was the sinking dread of coming out into society and having to be removed from the comfort of your bedroom.

“My last dance,” you mused, plastering an apologetic smile as you turned to the older Prince. “Forgive me, Your Highness. I hadn’t known it was you.”

“As I’ve mentioned, I am the Forgotten Prince.”

Kanami ignored her son’s remark and clapped her hands. “It was a beautiful last dance as well. In fact, I’m certain your Mother remembers it.”

“I do! Oh, Princess, Miss Sakusa is right. I still remember that first time you danced with one of the Princes! It was magical!”

“It must be,” quipped Suna, who possessively wrapped an arm around your waist. He was close enough you could feel his breath on the nape of your neck, and even without looking at him, you could tell he was glaring at his brother.  “Kiyoomi is a fantastic dancer. But tradition aside, fate sure has a funny way of working out because I wasn’t her last dance, yet she married me. I am a lucky Prince for that.”

“You weren’t even at her debut ball,” mumbled the Second Prince, causing your eyes to nearly pop out your head.

You knew it was rare for royals to attend the birthday balls of even noble families, but finding out that your husband hadn’t danced with you on your special night was a different kind of hurt.

“The Crown Prince is a lucky man, indeed,” sighed Kanami dreamily, unaware of the tension between you four – with the brothers ready to tear at each other’s throat, and Iris’ smile slowly transforming into a grimace. An eventful night, indeed. “So, Your Highness, any thoughts on my invitation?”

You didn’t give it a second thought.

“I would love to visit Itachiyama, Kanami.”

“Splendid! Oh, come, come, we have much to talk about!” she stole you away despite your husband’s protests, and soon, you were led away from the crowd. It was all up to your Mother to hold Rintaro back. Glancing back at your husband worriedly, all the worries faded away. Because he wasn’t even looking at you, but rather at Iris, who clutched her head and murmured something while Rintaro fretted over her. The only person who looked at you was Prince Kiyoomi, his handsome face stoic while his mother yapped in your ear.

“You have no idea how happy you’ve made this old woman.”

You turned away from her son’s intense gaze, waving a dismissive hand in the hair. “Please. You are hardly old. I can only hope I look as good as you at that age.”

“Dear, you flatter me too much!”

Smiling at her cuteness, you glanced around the room to look at her again. It seemed like she knew she would be the tonight’s topic, as the Princess’ red lips flattened into a thin line. You almost had the urge to smile wickedly. Almost, if she hadn’t been leaning against your husband for support. You wanted to scoff. She really had the audacity to pretend she was the poor one here – and because of what? Because her mother in law disapproved of her?

She had everything already. She had your husband’s heart, and you couldn’t even keep his attention on you for longer than ten minutes.

The Princess needed to stop acting like a kicked puppy. Otherwise, you would truly give in to the desire to kick her until she whined and cried at your feet.

Gods. Since when had you been so violent?

“As much as I am looking forward to our trip, however, I cannot help but wonder why you seemed… against Princess Iris,” you voiced your thoughts out, feigning innocence. “I am only assuming, of course. I do not mean to say you hold any animosity towards Her Highness.”

“You are not wrong. I do hold some ‘animosity’ towards her,” chuckled the free-mouthed Kanami, almost as if she didn’t care anyone could hear. She was too laid-back for a foreign guest, but you supposed with her wealth and fame, along with the fact she was the biological mother of the Second Prince, her confidence made sense. “I am well aware it is wrong, and I could be gravely punished for speaking ill about the royals, but… I never quite liked her for my son. They were never a great fit.”

“Is it because he is older?”

“Pssh. The age gap hardly matters. He is only three years older. But there is something about Iris… something… off. I mean, I know my place. It is not like I married the King or was promised any security or titles when I birthed his son, but I am still his mother, and surely I have the right to care about his future. That includes who he marries, and quite frankly, I dislike his wife. She seems ingenuine.”

“How so?”

Kanami’s cheeks puckered out. “Well, imagine my shock when my son – who spends most of his time hiding away in his room with his nose buried in a book – suddenly becomes a husband in a fortnight! And to her, no less. It is all too suspicious, I tell you. I have never heard nice things about that girl and her mother.”

“Her mother was an honorable and loyal follower of the Crown. Despite being from Itachiyama, they pledged their lives to the Crown.”

“Which is odd in itself, because Itachiyama is a great country. We are peaceful, and if there are issues within the people, it is resolved immediately. So that whole sham of a story of her mother ‘defecting’ and moving here for a better life sounds unbelievable,” she shook her head, lowering her voice as she hid her lips behind her palm. “And I know her mother. Kate. She has always been ambitious, scarily so.”

“And you know this because…?”

“Because years ago, when His Majesty visited Itachiyama, I was not the one who meant to end up in his bed,” she admitted with a wince, “Kate had always set her sights on greater things. If she couldn’t be his wife, she could be his concubine, at the very least. And oh, His Majesty was smitten with her. She was a wonderful performer, and they shared too many drinks, but… Well, I, myself, am lost on what happened next. The King and I conversed the whole night, and I felt a spark, you know?”

Your head spun with all this information. You always knew the Royal Family Tree was a mess, thanks to the late King’s trysts with multiple women. But hearing about the history of it all caused your head to ache.

“I see. And that night, Kiyoomi was conceived.”

“He was. And Kate never spoke to me again. Next thing I know, I heard she moved to Inarizaki, and I figured she still hadn’t given up on the King. So when my son informed he was now married to Kate’s daughter, I was restless. I am most certain this had to be her doing.”

“Where is she now? Iris’ mother?”

“I don’t know,” she blinked, as if realizing this now, too. “She disappeared one day, and each time I asked Iris how her mother was faring, she’d stop speaking completely.”

“Perhaps she is not on good terms with her mother and is uncomfortable about the topic.”

“Perhaps,” she agreed, and then tilted her head to the side, a smirk on her pretty face. “Is it rude of me to say I wish my son married you instead? I know you are smitten with your Prince, but a mother can hope, can she not?”

The rest of the night, Miss Sakusa terrorized the guests. It was uncanny seeing how different she was to her son, who barely spoke a word. She was bright and lively, lived for sarcasm, and seemed to have a penchant for making Iris uncomfortable. You honestly would’ve felt bad if you didn’t agree to the mean things Kanami said about her. But that aside, you still couldn’t move over the fact that Iris was a huge contrast to Maiko. Maiko and Oikawa’s marriage, you understood. She came from an influential noble family, and so did Tooru. But who was Iris, exactly? How exactly did a citizen from Itachiyama, without a father and a mysterious, greedy mother end up being married to a Prince also in line for the crown?

Could it be that Kanami was right? Did Iris’ mother plan all of this – all to have a spot in the throne? If it was true, then you couldn’t cross out the possibility Iris may have seduced Rintaro when they were teenagers. He was the Crown Prince, for goodness’ sake. There was no quicker ticket to the throne than to have the rightful heir be smitten with you.

All this thinking wasn’t good for the night.

You were supposed to enjoy, and so you stole a glass when a servant passed and down the drink, uncaring if people thought it to be ungraceful for a Princess. It was an intimate gathering, anyway, with only the royal family and some of your closest friends and relatives. Surely they would understand you needed to loosen up.

Breaking free from Kanami, who had now taken her attentions to fixing Kiyoomi’s unruly curls, you watched as your Mother stood in front of the podium. She tapped the bread knife against her class, the clinking sound catching everyone’s attention. When she had them, your mother took a deep breath, searching for you in the crowd as a smile lit up her face.

You stiffened in your seat. Beside you, Rintaro took his place, his hand snaking down to rest on your thigh.

“I would like to thank everyone who graced us with their presence tonight,” your mother began, raising her glass in the air. “And I would like a toast in honor of Her Highness’ marriage, and to the Crown Prince, as well. I wish you both nothing but happiness and may you reign supreme.”

“To the Prince and Princess!” cheered the crowd. Feeling everyone’s eyes on you, you leaned back against Rintaro’s chest and smiled, the perfect image of a couple in love. Rintaro played the part, too, squeezing your thigh and pressing a kiss on the curve of your cheek. You let out a giggle – though it sounded more like a gurgle at the shock. Rintaro chuckled at your reaction, his chest vibrating with the sound.

You couldn’t deal with this anymore.

The night went from perfect to messed up, to you being slapped in the face with reality. You felt bad for yourself for not learning. Just because your husband danced with you, and he’d been perfect the past few days, didn’t mean he wouldn’t run to Iris if given the chance. You’d seen it with your own eyes. How if stuck in a situation where he was forced to choose between the two, he would choose her. And it was pathetic. You had his ring on your finger. You had the burden of his crown and title on your shoulders when all you ever wanted was love. And he couldn’t even give you that. Worse, he meant none of it.

How was it so easy for him to laugh and kiss you like it was the most normal thing in the world when both of you knew deep down he did not want you?

It was becoming unbearable. You needed to leave. Now.

Prying yourself off his grasp, you ducked. “Excuse me.” Rintaro couldn’t get the chance to speak when you darted past him and into the restroom. There, you heard the racing of your heart loud and clear – a song of both yearning and hurt lingering deep in your bones. You couldn’t understand it – not when you glanced at your reflection in the mirror and wondered… why not me? You were beautiful. You were educated. Surely, he must have seen good qualities in you if he chose to court you for two years when there were other more charismatic bachelorettes out there. Or… did he choose you because he knew you were inexperienced? Because you were lonely, shy, and therefore the easiest to manipulate?

The worst part of it all was that he had already made his intentions clear. You knew he loved her. You saw it in his eyes – the way his eyes drooped when he spoke about her, and his voice grew softer. How he yearned for her so badly talking about her hurt. But Maiko had given you false hope, and his sweet gestures didn’t help. This would all be easier if he hurt you, like he had back at your honeymoon, because then at least you would have a greater reason to hate him.

And that was what you wanted, wasn’t it?

To turn all this love into hate.

So letting him go would be easier. Although it never was.

Gripping the edge of the sink, you forced yourself to take deep breaths. Breathe in, breathe out. Count from one to eight with your eyes closed and focus only on the sensation of your lungs expanding and retracting. Do not think about him, do not think about his kisses, or his hand on your thigh, or how he called you beautiful –

“So this is where you were.”

You raised your head. Rintaro swung the door open, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you inquisitively. You both stared at each other like that for a moment, letting all the unspoken words just hang in the air until he broke the silence. “I’m sorry,” he sighed, sounding defeated. And this time, it sounded like he meant it.  “You know I don’t wish to lie to your parents like that.”

You shrugged, turning on the faucet and splashing some water on your face. It became harder to breathe when he was around – all handsome and every bit the piece of your greatest desire.

“It’s just another night we have to see the end of.”

“Are you really going to Itachiyama?” he craned his head, eyes narrowed. “I cannot accompany you.”

“I did not ask you to.”

“I know, but,” he tried to argue, crossing the distance in three long strides. Just like the other night at the Palace hallway, his large frame engulfed you, trapping you between him and the sink. With him this close, you could see the unmasked desperation written all over his face. The frustration. “It’s… it’s Kiyoomi. I am uncomfortable knowing you would be spending days with him. Alone, at that. At least take someone with you.”

“My maids are coming.”

“I do not mean the maids.”

“Then who should I bring? His precious wife?” you rolled your eyes, “In case you weren’t aware, she isn’t invited either.”

“She should be…”

You couldn’t stop yourself from planting your palms in his chest, and gave him a shove. Your stupid husband, all lean with muscle, barely budged. It irritated you further. “Oh, come on, Your Highness. Do not act like this inconveniences you. I will be away for days, and so is your lover’s husband. The two people standing in your way will be out of your hair. Shouldn’t you be rejoicing in delight? No better time to frolic around with your lover when your wife and her husband aren’t around.”

Rintaro’s jaw clenched.

“You are saying I should be happy my wife is going on vacation with another man.”

“It sounds to me like you are afraid of your own shadow,” you mocked, and Rintaro flinched back. He hadn’t expected the harsh truth of your words would pierce this deep. “I am not an adulterer, my Prince. It has never once occurred to me to seduce someone else when I am married. Besides, Iris seemed rather relieved at the prospect of having you all by herself for a week,” you reminded him, having seen the Princess’ newfound relief only moments after Kanami had announced you would be having a trip with her son. It made you want to laugh. “You should enjoy, my Prince. You can even fuck in our bedroom.”

Whatever distance he previously put between you disappeared.

Rintaro growled, slamming his chest into yours until there was nothing but your clothes separating you. He shook with fury, and you delighted in it. How you could provoke this reaction from him. And you laughed, or tried to, because all the noises you made got swallowed in your throat when Rintaro grabbed your throat. Not tight enough to choke you, but the pressure served as a warning. Swiping his thumb on your lower lip, Rintaro huffed.

“Every day you test my patience. I think I rather preferred you when you were more malleable.”

“Sounds like you married the wrong person, then,” you spat out, and Rintaro’s dark chuckle reverberated in the empty space of the room.

“Oh, I made no mistake choosing you, that I assure. You are perfect in my eyes, whether you believe it or not,” and sooner than you liked, your husband was off of you again. But he was still close enough that his fingers intertwined with yours, the touch shockingly gentle despite his apparent anger with you. “And because you are my perfect wife, and my Princess, we will go back out there with all smiles and laughter. We are to appear in love. Do you understand?”

You glared up at him defiantly.

“Fuck you, Rintaro.”

Your husband smirked. “Darling, I wish you would.”

You began packing for your trip to Itachiyama. It wasn’t supposed to be for another three days, since Kanami still had work and wanted to be free by the time you and Kiyoomi arrived, but after everything that happened between you and Rintaro, you were eager to leave. After that dreadful night at the ball where he forced you to hold his hand the entire time, your legs felt uncomfortable with slick.

As shameful as it was to admit, you hadn’t expected your husband’s anger would make you feel things. Sinful things that led you to sneaking your hands down your thighs when you got home. And by the Gods, you bit your lip so hard to not scream his name when he was just in the other room.

Another moment spent with him was just pure torture. So, you were running away.

It wasn’t the bravest thing to do, but you already tried braving it all, only to fail spectacularly. You were still weak around him, and until you managed enough strength to actually pretend you didn’t care about Rintaro, the distance sounded like bliss. Even if your husband eventually supported you in this trip, because ‘he can finally spend more time with Iris.’ Right. You wanted him to be happy about this, but heavens, couldn’t he act a little less eager to have you gone?

You think you would lose it if he truly fucked her in your bed.

“Call me when you get there,” Rintaro’s voice drifted through the wind, and you swallowed. You were now at the airport, and he stood there below the staircase, hands shoved in his pockets. Your heart ached at the sight of him – so handsome with the wind messing up his hair, his cheeks just slighty flushed from the cold, and his lips plump and swollen still from the farewell kiss he gave you. It was all just an act, of course, since there must be some lingering paparazzi, but you still felt him. You could still taste the mint of his toothpaste on your tongue, his strawberry candy lingering at your taste buds.

But of course, he didn’t love you.

You felt the lack of that, too.

“I’ll see you,” was all you said before turning around, already looking inside the plane and spotting Kiyoomi.

He sat on the seat across from you, his eyes closed with music playing in his headphones. He looked so peaceful like this. For once, he wasn’t frowning, and it was then that nervousness settled in you as you awkwardly shifted in your seat. You still weren’t quite too fond of the Second Prince – his dry remarks always baffled you. He always left you wondering if you should laugh it off, or if you should apologize. If not that, his silence itself was completely unsettling. And when he opened his eyes, his body as still as water when he regarded you, you were certain you stopped breathing.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Huh? Oh. Oh, yes. I am.”

The Prince nods, looking outside the window. You did, too, and then regretted it when you caught sight of Iris and Rintaro outside the limos, huddled together for warmth. To other people’s eyes, it would just be two people waving goodbye to their spouses as they left. But you and Kiyoomi knew better.

Wriggling back to make himself more comfortable in his seat, Kiyoomi turned up the volume in his phone. “Well, this is going to be fun.”

You wished you could agree.

When you woke, you had arrived in Itachiyama. It was only a forty-five minute flight, but you dozed off nonetheless, and when you did, Kiyoomi had already wrapped a blanket around you. You thanked the silent Prince for it, but he made no gesture to say whether he heard you or not. He was a gentleman, at least. Holding your hand as you made your way down the plane, opening the doors for you into his car, and offering you drinks as the driver headed to Kiyoomi’s farmhouse.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with my mother. She can be quite persuasive.”

You looked back at Kiyoomi. You had been staring at all the billboards of Kanami; commercial ads, movie promotions, and the like. It stunned you again how this loud and flashy woman was the mother of a silent, brooding man. Even now, he had himself glued to his seat, adamant to put distance between you both with his arms crossed against his chest. “I was delighted by her invitation,” you tell him, glancing outside the windows again at another huge billboard of Kanami eating local ramen noodles. ‘MUST TRY!’ it was captioned, and they colored her cheeks red from the spicy flavor. You chuckled. “Wow. She really is everywhere.”

Kiyoomi followed your gaze. “She’s Itachiyama’s darling,” he shrugged, and then leant forward until his elbows rested on his knees. Sheepish wasn’t a word you would use to describe the Second Prince, but he definitely looked like it right now. “I must let you know, my mother didn’t invite you to visit just because she felt like it. She… well, she wanted you to somehow see Itachiyama as your home.”

“But I already have a home.”

“Yes, but she is fond of you, and she’s delusional that you should’ve been married to me,” he scratched his cheek, purposefully avoiding your gaze. Then, his cheeks flushed red, and you felt heat crawling on your neck at the implication of his words. “Sorry. That was awkward.”

“It’s fine. You are a great man, so it’s not like being married to you sounds entirely bad.”

“Definitely beats being married to my brother.”

“I guess so,” you chuckled, expelling any thoughts of being married to Kiyoomi instead. It wasn’t such a bad thing, to be honest. He was tall, handsome, and respectful. All of the Princess were good-looking in their own ways, but Prince Kiyoomi held the type of regal beauty that you would have oil portraits of hanging on the entrance of your home. He was large, stood tall and imposing, but never did he actually make you feel small or irrelevant. And even with his mysterious and silent demeanor, his intimidating features did little to hide his humble and bashful nature underneath. Which you found adorable, but you would never say it out loud. Instead, you watched as a crowd gathered in the middle of the city. Children ran around laughing, and parents bought trinkets from the stalls set up at the edge of the road.

“What is that?”

“A culture festival. They hold it annually around this time of the year to welcome autumn and give thanks for prosperous harvests. It’s called Kōyō no Matsuri, or ‘Festival of the Changing Leaves.’ It lasts about eight days where the farmers come together and celebrate.”

Unable to contain your excitement, you pressed your palms against the window. “I heard about this from the Crown Prince. Something about Itachiyama being one of the main suppliers of harvest and livestock?”

“We’re mostly a farmer country, whilst Inarizaki is the more advanced and modern one. It’s mostly to do with how our terrain is just richer in natural riches, while Inarizaki boasts in academics and politics,” he informed, “On the third day of the festival, the farmers visit some shrines to offer thanks for their harvest, and on the fifth day, they gather around the old temples and castles before Itachiyama and Inarizaki were split into two.”

“Wow. I hadn’t known your country would be so rich with history.”

“Technically, both countries share the same history. They just took separate paths at the end of it all.”

Pushing yourself off from the window, the driver drove past from the festival commotion until more trees surrounded you. You figured you’d left the city and now travelled somewhere more remote – fitting for where Kiyoomi lived.

“Do you like it better here?”

“Yes. It’s much quieter, and here, people don’t care too much on how I’m supposed to act as a Prince. I’m not their Prince, after all. I’m just a half-blood who happened to be their spokesperson.”

Something about his tone told you there was more he wanted to say, but chose not to. You pondered over it – how the Princes were so different. Some loved their titles and basked in their wealth, while some took their duties seriously to serve their people better. And then there was Rintaro, who was nearly crushed by the pressure to become better than Ushijima, and Kiyoomi… Kiyoomi, who remains an enigma to you. From what you heard about the Second Prince, people called him lazy, rarely attending meetings and showing up only when needed. It made you wonder how he was like as a little boy, who probably just wanted to live normally and in quiet, but because he was a Prince, he had to become someone else entirely.

Letting it go, you decided to change the topic. You were certain the Prince would share more with you about himself when he was ready.

“Your Highness, I would love to attend the festival.”

“Really?” his brows raised, and your eyes caught the motion of his vertical moles following the movement. “I mean, you can, but there would be lots of people. Wouldn’t you rather rest?”

“I’ve been doing nothing but rest the past few days. It would be nice to go out and do something. Besides, I wish to know more about your people.” And you meant it. You were barely a few hours in Itachiyama, but it already reminded you of the peaceful Greenville where you were raised. Itachiyama was starting to feel like home, like Kanami hoped.

Across you, you remained unaware of the Prince’s soft smile.

“I see. I shall take you to the festival tonight.”

Seeing as Kanami still had her schedule filled, you and Kiyoomi had the rest of the day to yourselves until she returned. His mother did his best to welcome you, though, even in her absence. When you arrived at Kiyoomi’s farmhouse, she had already left you a bouquet of roses and a handwritten card telling you how happy she was her ‘daughter’ was now in her home country. It made your heart soften, even more so when she lent you a black-and-yellow floral yukata for tonight’s festival.

“You look nice,” Kiyoomi commented when you descended from the stairs, some flower pins in your hair. Overall, you felt pretty. It felt nice to be out of corsets and long-sleeved dresses. You could tell Kiyoomi approved too, as his eyes lit up, but his lips remained the same with an impassive expression. Offering his arm, you gladly took it, letting him lead you out and into the awaiting chauffeur. “Did my mother tell you to wear that?”

“She did. She said it would be more appropriate to wear traditional clothing fitting for the festival,” you gave a little twirl, and Kiyoomi’s lips curled by the slightest. It was enough to make you happy, and you were practically bouncing in your seat as the city lights came into view. Kiyoomi’s farmhouse rested on the countryside; surrounded by nothing but hills and endless amounts of grass. Signal couldn’t reach there, too, so you left your phone behind.

Tonight, you would simply enjoy this trip.

“Do you attend often?”

“When I can, yes, but… It’s a rather intimate celebration for the farmers, and I feel like I don’t do much for them, so I mostly sit out at home.”

“But you are a farmer, too, aren’t you?”

His eyes narrowed, but the reddening of his ears told you it was more of embarrassment. “Who told you that?”

“Your mother,” you chuckled. Once you’d arrived at the city, and the driver had parked somewhere else, you looped your arm around Kiyoomi’s and ventured into the heart of thefestival. “And I’m not stupid – you live in a farmhouse and have your own barn. I just never thought you would be the nature type.”

“There are lots you don’t know about me.”

“I can always learn.”

Kiyoomi’s gaze casted downwards. You couldn’t read his expression; he was always so guarded. But before you could contemplate on it further, you were swept up in the festivities. Everyone around you wore a yukata, and young couples held hands while wearing matching bracelets. Kiyoomi had told you those bracelets were special only for this festival, that the symbol of the moon was to pay respects to the Heavens for the blessings they bestow. Parents also joined in the night, with their children eating caramelized apples, and other candies. Mostly, the stalls offered food from their harvests such as roasted chestnuts, rice cakes, and pumpkin dishes. There was such a strong sense of community within the people that you were overwhelmed – Inarizaki didn’t feel as homely as Itachiyama.

An hour later, your stomach was well beyond full. You’d tasted and tried everything the farmers and their wives made. And when they saw the delighted way you closed your eyes and moaned at the delicacies, they offered you more and more. Kiyoomi paid for everything despite your protests, saying he was the host, and your only job for tonight was to enjoy.

Well, you surely wouldn’t complain.

Once you’d eaten your fill, and purchased a fox mask that matched your yukata, a group of young men started banging their drums. A woman played her flute effortlessly even behind her crow mask. Beside her, more people in matching crow masks sang in a foreign language. It sounded like a serenade; something about the voices were sweet, calling out to you like you were being seduced, and the hypnotic beats of the drum made your hips sway. But the most shocking part of it all was when people began to join in and held their partners, bumping their masks as if they were kissing, their hands squeezing each other’s waists and chanting along to the song.

You were mesmerized.

“That’s the Harvesting Dance,” Kiyoomi whispered in your ear, “They dance in hopes to bring joy to the ancestral spirits for blessing them with good harvest this year.”

“Must it always be a man and a woman?”

“It’s… an intimate dance,” he struggled to let out, and you craned your head towards him. He’d bought himself a fox mask to match yours, claiming he’d feel more comfortable if people didn’t recognize him. “Like the union of man and woman, they have become one with the ancestral spirits. It’s a time for reconnecting to their old ways, and showing gratitude for the family they’ve been given. And, uhm…” he scratched the back of his ears, which had turned pinkish again, “Well, it’s not just about harvest, really. It is also a dance for fertile crops and fertile wombs.”

Realization dawned on you.

“Oh!”

“It is a newly married couple’s tradition to participate in the dance.”

You nodded at the information, feeling both flustered and entertained at the Prince’s bashfulness. You almost wanted to tease him more about it until you were dragged by a young woman, her male partner already waiting for her in the middle of the dance. She rotated her hips in a circle and jumped to the beat, head thrown back in laughter. You couldn’t help but laugh with her, too – her laugh was contagious, and Kiyoomi was right. There was a sense of freedom when people didn’t know who you were.

“You lovebirds! Don’t miss out on the dance, unless you want the ancestral spirits to take away your virility!”

“Oh, thank you, but–”

“You are newly married, are you not?”

“I am, but–”

“Then come dance so you may be blessed with many healthy offspring!”

Sending a halfhearted apologetic smile to Prince, you dragged him with you. You realized he couldn’t see you, exactly, but your eyes were crinkled enough from your joy. He grumbled a bit, but otherwise didn’t complain. When the music played again, you mimicked the locals’ movements and giggled so hard your stomach hurt. Some of the steps were suggestive – a flirty brush of your knuckles on Kiyoomi’s chest, or him rubbing his mask tenderly at the sensitive spot of your neck. Through it all, you had to remain connected to each other. It was hard to tell who held who tighter – Kiyoomi had his hands planted on your hips with a deliciously vice-tight grip, and the fronts of his kimono had been undone by your teasing, restless hands.

You now understood why the dance encouraged fertility. There was so much seduction with only just your bodies, with no words needing to be spoken. And you couldn’t help but wonder – is this the way to Kiyoomi’s heart? Because he is not the best with words, so you had to touch him at all the right places?

You received your answer when the drums came to a crescendo before immediately halting. Like a growing orgasm, until it exploded from within, and you found yourself pressed up against Kiyoomi’s. Pressed close enough that his breathing matched yours. His eyes, already dark, grew impossibly darker.

“That was fun!” you bumped your mask with his, breathing hard underneath. “Has anyone told you you’re a great dancer?”

The Prince snorted. “I would be surprised if I wasn’t. I spent the good half of my childhood enduring dance lessons, thanks to my mother.”

You laughed hard at that. Already, this was becoming one of the best nights of your life. Back in Inarizaki, you didn’t go out much to socialize. All the other unmarried ladies seemed to be well-versed in charismatic social skills and effortlessly landed a husband within months after their debut into society. You, on the other hand, having grown up as an only child with busy parents, had no one to talk to. You stuttered a lot, and always stumbled on your own thoughts when voicing them out loud. It truly was a surprise to everyone that the Crown Prince found you interesting – even if that seemed a lifetime ago.

But you supposed you really weren’t the same person anymore. Because if you were still the same shy, bumbling young woman from years ago, you wouldn’t be here in Itachiyama, laughing without a care in the world with a handsome Prince at your side. He’d bought you more trinkets, and another set to gift to your mother when you returned home. You found it incredibly sweet, but of course, Kiyoomi only grumbled in embarrassment when you told him about it.

By the time Kiyoomi’s arms were filled with shopping bags, the crowd began to lessen. It was getting late, yet you were in no hurry, walking at a snail’s pace along the closed roads.

Silently hoping this moment would last forever.

“Your homeland is beautiful, Your Highness.”

“Thank you,” he said, and his brows furrowed deep in thought – as if hesitating. “They end tonight’s celebration with a Lantern Lighting Ceremony. Would you like to see?”

Your jaw dropped. Can this night get any better?

“I would love to!”

Since some of Kiyoomi and your security were still discreetly following, he handed them the bags before leading you away from the roads and near a lake, just beside the heart of the city. There, floating hydrangeas decorated the water, looking like it came out of a painting. Lanterns were already being lit up from where you stood – some with a rented wooden boat, and the rest content to just remaining in the concrete pavement, their hands weaved together as they mumbled themselves.

You turned to Kiyoomi in question. “It works like a birthday wish,” he explained, politely bowing to the old man who sold lanterns and match sticks. “You say your greatest desire, and then you let go of the lantern. The ancestral spirits will hear of your prayer and grant it to you.”

Doing as he said, you close your eyes. You could hear Kiyoomi lighting the match as he lit up the lantern, and you wished for more of this – more joyful, peaceful nights. It seemed like a simple wish, but with your current predicament, you had to jump at any chance of luck you could get. After all, you would have to leave Itachiyama someday. Your life wasn’t always going to be like this – of dances, of candied apples, of lighting lanterns and simply feeling alive. Because you knew once you returned home, reality would set in. So you prayed, and desperately wished, to experience happiness.

Satisfied, you cracked your eyes open, beaming at how the golden lantern burned even brighter in Kiyoomi’s large hands. Seriously, his hands were so big and his fingers long he almost encompassed the entire paper globe. However, he only had his eyes on you, his expression somber and lips tight – almost as if he knew you had wished for something impossible, and he, too, wanted your wish to come true.

“Did you wish for anything?”

“No.” He shook his head, “I already have everything I could need. The farmers need the prayers more than I do.” Again, you were stunned by the Prince’s thoughtfulness. He turned to you to ask if you were ready to let go of the lantern, and you nodded, the both of you watching as it soared up high in the sky – the dark night decorated with a hundred little lanterns like stars rising from the lake.

It was pure magic.

“Whatever it is you wished for,” Kiyoomi mumbled, “I hope it will come true.”

Your lips wobbled. “I hope so too.”

He nodded, feeling awkward once more, and you nearly laughed. The Prince clearly wasn’t great at dealing with genuine emotions. “Are you tired? We can return home already.”

“I’d like to walk on the way back to the car. I don’t want the night to end just yet.”

Kiyoomi wasn’t against your idea. You shared the silence in peace, gratitude and pure, unabashed happiness blooming from within your chest. You suddenly missed your mother; wishing you could’ve taken her with you. She would’ve loved it here. She would shamelessly do the Harvesting Dance with your father, because they were still enamored with one another even after years of marriage. They were the reason you believed in true love and hoped to have it for yourself. But alas, fate had different plans for you.

It had made you fall in love with the wrong person and made you a Princess in the aftermath.

Sneaking a glance at Kiyoomi, you noticed he’d already taken off his mask. His handsome features were bathed in the moonlight, making him look even more ethereal than he already was. His features, strong, and dark, and sharp, yet his lips were curved so softly, his dark eyes nothing but tender and patient.

He held none of the malice or greed the other Princes had.

“Do you enjoy being Prince, Your Highness?” you blurted after a while, because talking seemed to be the better option than ogling at his beauty. No, you couldn’t do that. You were both married to someone else – and you would rather lose your title than be unfaithful like Rintaro.

Rintaro. Just the thought of his name soured your mood.

“Not quite,” he admitted, “It isn’t as grand as it sounds. There are lots of things to do, and a myriad of rules to follow. But I still think this responsibility bestowed on me is an honor. After all, not everyone has the privilege to be born with a purpose. Many people spend the rest of their lives looking for it, but mine was handed in a silver platter.”

“Hm. I never thought of it that way. I… I always thought you hated being Prince.”

“I do not despite it, but neither do I like it.”

“What would you be doing, then, if you were born as a commoner?”

He side eyed you, a hint of a smile appearing on his face. “Farming.”

You both laughed. Of course that was his answer. “Why am I not surprised by that?”

“What about you?” he asked, tilting his head to the side and briefly glancing at the fat, extravagant ring on your finger. The sight of it made him wince, but he schooled his face into impassiveness before you could think about it. In return, you searched for his wedding ring too, frowning upon the realization he hadn’t worn it. “What would you be doing if you hadn’t married my brother?”

“Hmm… Managing the household… learning the business, although if you ask me, I really would have wanted to get married, regardless if it was to a royal or not. In fact, I never even dreamt of being a Princess. It just never seemed to be possible for me.”

“You’re a great Princess,” he commended, and that warmth blooming in your chest had fully sparked. “Who would you have married, then?”

“Anyone who loved me and cherished me,” you scrunched up your nose, feeling bashful. “I am quite the simpleton, aren’t I?”

“There is nothing wrong with wanting simple things.”

His words held nothing but sincerity. Coming from a Prince who didn’t indulge in the lavishness he could have with his life, and opted for farming instead, you believed him. And it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulder, like a breath you’d been holding had been released. Kiyoomi was like a breath of fresh air. He was so different from his brothers – so detached from the crown, yet so connected to the world and its humble gifts. Kita was different, too, but he held a sharp edge to him. He wielded his intelligence and knowledge like a weapon, because living anywhere near the throne was a battle in itself, but Kiyoomi was just… different.

In a world of polished gems, he shone brightly as a raw diamond.

“Your Highness, I… I know most of royal marriages are arranged, and rarely does it happen out of love, but why Iris? You are the second Prince. Anyone of you could have had anyone you wanted, and Iris didn’t seem wealthy or influential enough to be a royal spouse candidate. Why her?”

“Because she’s from Itachiyama.”

“That’s it?”

Kiyoomi licked his lips, thinking about his answer before he spoke them. “You are aware I’m the only son with a foreign mother. When I was born, they saw potential in me, to possibly unite the two territories into one again. But I was aloof, and liked to keep to myself, so I lacked in that department. When Iris had been presented to the Queen by her mother and they pledged their loyalty to the throne, she was made a royal scholar,” he glanced at you, gauging for your reaction. “You are right that she isn’t anyone’s first choice to be a Prince’s wife. She comes from a common family with nothing to her name. But she is intelligent, and she has always shown dedication to the throne. That was enough to convince the Queen we were the most sensible pair.”

“And is it working? Are we being united to your homeland?”

“No. Iris has barely stepped foot in Itachiyama,” This time, Kiyoomi turned away from you and licked his lips. “She mostly does work at the Palace.”

“Because Rintaro is there?”

“Precisely.” You knew he would answer that, but the image popping in your head was unkind – of Iris and Rintaro making love to one another while you weren’t around.

“Do you love her? Or hold affection for her, in the very least?”

“Not at all. I never wanted to marry, and my opinion of her hasn’t changed since we married,” the determination in his voice surprised you, a hardness settling over his features. “Royal marriages are always done with a political purpose, Princess. It was, and never will be, out of love.”

The conversation died at that. You didn’t press further, either, because you knew Kiyoomi hadn’t said those words to hurt you. He only meant to remind you. And you were thankful, because he chose to be honest, albeit cruelly, when everyone else made you a fool – a weak fool who had to be fed lies because people believed you wouldn’t be able to stomach the truth. Perhaps they were right, perhaps you were weak, but Kiyoomi didn’t look at you like that. He only looked at you like he despised everyone for even lying, or keeping secrets, and he’d made it his mission to be truthful.

Truly, your unexpected friendship with the Prince had been the greatest gift.

“Thank you for the lovely evening, Your Highness,” you bowed to him, quite ready to retreat back into the guest room once you’d reached his farmhouse.

“It was my pleasure,” he returned the bow, yet remained frozen at the bottom of the staircase, tongue darting out to lick at his lower lip nervously. “Oh, and Princess? Would you… come and like to meet my horses tomorrow? I think you would like them.”

Somehow, the thought of Kiyoomi introducing his horses to you, and nerding out about them, put a smile on your face. Getting to know the Princes was like unwrapping a gift – you never know if you would like what was inside. But you most definitely liked Kiyoomi, and you remained true to your word that you would learn everything about him. His horses, his history, the contents of his heart, and every inch of his farmhouse and barn if he would let you.

“I would love to.”

You couldn’t stop tossing and turning in your bed.

Today’s events still played on your mind like a loop. The festivities, the freedom that came with anonymity, the connection of the citizens to their culture and history – you realized they were so different from Inarizaki. Inarizaki had its great parts, too, like their dedication to the monarchy and the power they held. It was a country known for having many scholars as the academe was greatly funded by the monarchs, but somehow it always felt… detached. Detached from nature, detached from the basic aspects of humanity.

Inarizaki cared about greatness, and so did its people. It was the sole reason why they had such strict customs and adhered to the law like their life depended on it. Itachiyama was different. They weren’t the most advanced – their buildings not as tall, their country mostly surrounded by beaches or forests, with their people preferring the old ways. Yet somehow, you felt more at home here.

It reminded you of Greenville and summers spent chasing dragonflies and lying on the grass to sunbathe.

It reminded you of a childhood long gone.

Sighing to yourself, you slipped out of the covers. The clock read it was just quarter past two am. Kiyoomi’s staff were already asleep, and you were certain each footstep you took would cause the floorboards to creak. Still, there was only so little you could do in your room. The TV didn’t have cable, Kiyoomi wasn’t interested in having Wi-Fi, and the place was rather empty of anything that could entertain you.

Surely a little exploring wouldn’t hurt, though. Slipping your arms into your robe, you tied it around your waist and exited your room. The hallways were dark and empty, and you held your breath, tiptoeing around the halls. You didn’t know why you were so nervous to be caught. It wasn’t like you were doing something wrong, although you did look suspicious turning every knob and groaning when none opened.

What was the point of all these rooms if you couldn’t enter them?

Walking around, you studied every bit of Kiyoomi’s farmhouse. It was grand in size, and nothing about the chandeliers and marble floors were the least bit modest, but it felt homey. There were knick-knacks everywhere, messy childhood paintings and poorly drawn stick-figures hung up on the wall. Upon closer look, you saw Tobio and Tooru scribbled upon the drawings. Smiling to yourself, you took it all greedily – the lack of family pictures replaced by these artworks, the fresh flowers with Kanami’s name tagged on a card lovingly taken care of, and a single portrait of Kanami with a younger Kiyoomi on her lap.

You could imagine how once in the past, the brothers spent many nights in this house, ran around chasing each other with their high-pitched squeals.

They were boys before they became Princes.

They were brothers before they were rivals.

Your hands reached out for the drawings. Even Shinsuke’s was there, and to no one’s surprise, his was the best. The colors were always within the lines, and he had clean, smooth strokes of his brush. Keiji’s was second best, but his looked more like scribbles and sketches than a polished end result. Ushijima didn’t have any drawings, but a certain stick figure drawing from a little Tobio counted eight brothers holding hands. ‘Brothers forever’, he scrawled underneath, causing your heart to ache.

He hadn’t included Rintaro in the picture.

Letting go of the drawings with a frown, you took a step back and collided with something solid. You gasped, a scream nearly torn out your throat when you studied the figure now standing in front of you. Broad shouldered, with unruly curls surrounding his face, and his head tilted to the side in confusion – Prince Kiyoomi looked like a dream come true. One shouldn’t look this ethereal in the dark hallways of his house, with nothing but the moonlight slipping through the glass windows illuminating the sharpness of his cheekbones.

He stood so still and quiet you couldn’t hear him breathe. Had he been here for a while?

You placed a hand to calm your racing heart. “Your Highness. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you’d still be awake.”

“It’s okay,” he mumbles, looking past you and to the drawings just as his brows pinched together. “I didn’t know you’d be awake, too. Is your room not to your liking?”

“Oh, no, no, it is. I’m just…”

“Feeling homesick?”

“Not quite,” you scrunched your nose, “Today was just amazing. I’m still reeling from the joy of it all.”

He nodded, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. You watched him have an inner debate before he nodded again, gesturing to the staircase. “Follow me. There’s something I’d like to show you.”

The Prince led you to the hallway where his room and Kanami’s was located whenever she visited. At the end of the hall stood two grand double doors that could only be opened by a key from his pocket. The doors squeaked as it open, and you both coughed as dust fluttered through the space. Clearly, it hadn’t been used in a while, but that mattered little when he switched on the lights. Rows upon rows of books stood tall enough to nearly hit the ceiling. The room had a dome-shaped structure, with the walls carved in to make more spaces as bookshelves. In the middle sat a velvet red couch with a wooden table decorated with a vase of flowers. However, it wasn’t the books that took your breath away – it was the grand spiraling chandelier that slowly flickered to life like candles being lit, bathing the room in a warm, soothing light.

Unable to help yourself, you stepped inside, jaw dropped at the beauty of it all.

“This is my library.”

“This is marvelous,” you chuckled out, breathily, running your fingers over the spines of the books. They were covered in dust, but otherwise in pristine conditions. Most of them were classic collections too – the types of books you would only find in antique shops. And was that an official journal from an ancient royal? You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. This couldn’t be just a personal collection – these had to be an official record room.

“Are these all yours?”

“Some of it were my father’s. His Majesty liked to read.”

You glanced at Kiyoomi from under your lashes. He stood at an arm’s length away from you, casually leaning against the bookshelf whilst you pull out a random book. The Anthology of the First King, it read.

“You’re the first Prince who ever spoke of him.”

Kiyoomi’s gaze flittered over yours, from your fingers caressing the ancient book delicately, to the way a smile graced your face upon inhaling that addicting old book smell. His voice, if possible, grew quieter. “I know my brothers all dislike him, and I don’t blame them,” he continued, “But His Majesty raised me as best as he could. It may have been because of the power I could wield as a foreigner, but he came here often. He was the reason I grew up with a fondness for books.”

You hadn’t heard of that before. As far as you knew, the late King seemed absent in all of his son’s lives, but then again, the royal family had always been a complexity.

Turning away from the historical section, you beamed at the Prince. “Well, this is quite an impressive collection. His Majesty has taste.”

Kiyoomi fought back a smile. The gesture shouldn’t have looked as adorable as it did, and now you were fighting back a smile, too. You liked him this way – you like him much better here in Itachiyama. Whenever he was at the Palace, you could see the walls he surrounded himself with, how he closed himself from the world. But here? Here, he was just a man eager to talk about the things he loved, and you eagerly followed him when he gestured you to.

“This is my section,” he pointed to a rack spanning from floor to ceiling, then to the shelves next to it. “And that is Tooru’s. The one at the back is Keiji’s.”

Tooru’s section was… surprising, to say the least. He had all of Shakespeare’s books, with a multitude of romance and tragedy novels. His books looked to be the most loved out of everything you’d seen – with cracked spines, folded paper edges, and annotations on the pages. “Tooru’s? These are all romance novels.”

“It may be hard to believe, but he is a hopeless romantic,” Kiyoomi snickered, “Keiji, on the other hand, loves to read historical fiction. And don’t tell him I told you this, but he wrote three of these books here.”

“He’s a writer?!”

“A splendid one,” he boasted, pulling out a book titled The Fall of Belle. “He wrote this about Belleview Manor when he was eighteen. Belleview was notorious for housing the most, er, complicated royals, you see. He was inspired by it and turned it to a kingdom, writing something about soldiers and poets and kings. It’s a really good novel. I highly recommend you read it.”

Kiyoomi was already shoving Keiji’s novels into your arms before you could say anything. Next to Keiji’s was Shinsuke’s collection – unsurprisingly again, were mostly textbooks. The Itachiyaman Law, the Governance, the History of Inarizaki, The Fall of the Union. You weren’t too interested, so you moved onto the next shelves and blinked back at what you saw.

Beside you, the Prince cleared his throat in an attempt to hold back a smile. “That is Tobio’s section.”

“These are… balls.”

Instead of books placed on the shelves, they were balls, all held up carefully by expensive looking holders. Each one of them had signatures written on them with markers, along with a tag underneath of several dates. “Volleyballs, yes. He had these signed by his favorite players, and those are the dates of the matches,” he explained, slowly moving behind you until you could feel the heat radiating off of him. Looking up at the Prince, you saw he wasn’t looking at you, but rather at the sports equipment with what seemed like fondness, and regret, in his eyes.

“He’s always loved playing sports as a child. He was rather good at it, too. Shame he couldn’t go pro.”

“Because he’s a Prince?”

Kiyoomi nodded. “He may be the youngest, but that doesn’t mean he’s freed from his duties. The Queen knows the kingdom loves him so she has quite a grand plan for Tobio to start tours by himself and see if he’d be more successful in establishing connections with others,” shaking his head, the Prince closed his eyes. “He may marry soon, too.”

“He’s too young to be married.”

“He isn’t that young, but I know what you mean,” he said, “Although I think Tobio will find it the hardest to marry out of every one of us.”

“Why so?”

Kiyoomi shrugged. “He’s a romantic. Not like Tooru in the sense that he would recite Shakespeare’s sonnet to seduce a woman he likes, but in the sense that he still innocently believes he can marry someone of his choosing. That’d only work if she was a noblewoman, though. Otherwise he might experience the same fate as Shinsuke.”

Ah. Shinsuke and his maid – a tragedy in the making.

You looked away from Kiyoomi. Shuffling the books in your arms, you shuffled to the lone seat in the room and plopped down on it, wincing when your arms ached from the weight. “You know a lot about your brothers.”

“I’ve spent a long time watching them,” he confessed, and the sofa dipped beside you. He leant back against it, his long legs crossing over the other as he tilted his head back, watching what little he could of the stars visible from the dome-like ceiling. “It wasn’t always like this. There was a point in our lives we used to be closer and didn’t care too much about the throne.”

“Who were you closest with?”

“Tooru and Keiji. They both loved reading, and so did I. I wasn’t very close with the younger ones because they were rambunctious, especially the twins. But I like Tobio a lot,” he smiled, albeit sadly. “I hope the crown never fails him. I would do anything to ensure he stays unaffected by the harshness of it.”

“He’s a precious boy,” you agreed, and then thought back to the drawings in Kiyoomi’s living room. Biting your lip, you suddenly stood up and headed for the last shelf at the end of the room. Silently hoping, wishing, it was Rintaro’s section. Behind you, you heard the Prince shuffle on his feet as he followed you around. “And… Rintaro? Were you close with him back then, too?”

You already expected the answer, but it didn’t disappoint you any less when you heard it.

“No. The Queen always kept him isolated. I rarely saw him growing up, but on the few times I did, he always looked like he wanted to play with us. He wasn’t allowed, though. Her Majesty was… eerily wary of him getting too close with his brothers,” Kiyoomi let on, his handsome face contorting to that of discomfort when you blankly stared at him. Then, his ears reddened, and he coughed out of nowhere, his large palm covering his mouth. “I fear I may have talked too much. Please, look around. I’m sure you’ll find something you’ll like.”

Happy to do so, you left no inch and corner of the library unturned. Tooru had the most interesting collection with his romance novels, but you found Keiji’s section to be the most curious. A moment later, you had a dozen books stacked on top of each other at the nearby table. You just wanted one more – a book about Tobio’s favorite sport so you could ask the sweet Prince about it when you returned home.

Unfortunately, the first five rows of Tobio’s shelf consisted of his signed volleyballs, and his books sat at the top ones. You had to stand on your tiptoes, only for your fingers to barely graze the spine of it. Damn it. Taking your slippers off, you bunched your nightgown and robe in your hand and used your free arm to hoist yourself up. Your feet landed on the wooden boards of the shelf as you struggled to reach for A Dummy’s Guide to Volleyball when your foot slipped.

The ground disappeared beneath you.

Gravity consumed you as you fell, the book you’d been reaching for sliding out of its place and nearly knocking into your forehead. But it never came. Your face never smacked the ground, and your bum seemed safe, too. Instead, strong arms wrapped around your waist until you landed on a hard body with an ‘oof’, the breath knocked out of your windpipe.

Kiyoomi groaned underneath you.

Gasping, you realized you’d accidentally elbowed him in the chest. The poor prince had turned red in the face as he struggled to breathe, and you hoisted yourself up to move yourself out of the way, realizing a little too late how little you wore. Or how thin your nightgown was. Or how you didn’t wear a bra to sleep and forgot to wear one when you left the room, and now your hardened nipples were brushing against his chest. Underneath you, Kiyoomi inhaled in sharply, his dark eyes darting from your cleavage and to the books – the movement so fast you wondered if he had whiplash.

You froze. This was… quite a predicament to be in.

If you slid your body upward, your lace panties would brush against his crotch. If you slid yourself downwards, you’d graze your sensitive nipples on his silk blouse. But if you slid sideways, that would mean you had to rise your upper body to get your knees to stop straddling him, and he’d have an even closer view of your breasts.

In conclusion, nothing would work.

“Let me, just, uh, move,” the Prince groaned beneath you, and you nodded fervently. He could do whatever he wanted at this point as long as it meant you’d both be separated. However, luck was not on his side either. As soon as the Prince gripped your hips to lift you off of him, his hips rose on instinct, accidentally thrusting into you.

The Prince stopped breathing, and so did you.

Within the blink of an eye, the Prince had torn you off his body – and he was suddenly at the other side of the room. Color drained from his face just as his skin from the neck down blistered red, the poor Prince snatching a nearby book to hide the growing tent in his pants.

“My apologies,” he blurted out, looking at everywhere but you. “I didn’t – I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” standing up, you dusted yourself off and wobbled on your feet. Great. Your legs felt weak, and your voice didn’t come out as confident and composed as you liked it to be. Rather, you were both breathless – and you couldn’t tell if it was from the adrenaline, or the delicious way his body molded to yours.

A pleasure you would not be thinking of. Ever. Again.

“Uhm. Thank you. Your library is really nice.”

The Prince nodded, taking his lips between his teeth. “I should, uh. I should go.”

“Yes, that might be for the best,” you croaked out, and just like that, the Prince was gone. The heavy slamming of the doors was the last thing you heard before you were engulfed in a deafening silence.

That night, you did not get any sleep at all.

And you were restless for all the wrong reasons.

[admiringlove]

no one else to turn to. fifth edition of @angstober this year. enjoy <3 masterlist of the event can be found here.

this bar is so dingy.

that was the first thought that stumbled through your mind when one of your college friends (nari? mina? you honestly couldn't care enough to remember anymore) dragged you out of the comforting cocoon you'd built in your room. the funny part was, you barely knew her. she was a friend of your roommate’s. she’d just seen you there, tangled in a mess of blankets and pillows, stuffed animals wedged between your arms, laptop balancing on your knees, glasses slipping down the bridge of your nose. your eyes were swollen, red, but you’d never admit you’d been crying. of course not. too much pride for that.

so you went with her. only because she promised she'd pay for you this time around. it had taken you a good thirty minutes in the bathroom to fix the disaster your face had become. dark circles under your eyes, oily skin that felt too sticky but too dry to touch. when you finally stepped out, the girl (nari? mina? yeah, still didn’t care) was already rifling through your closet, pulling out the most revealing things she could find. fishnets included.

"seriously?" you’d deadpanned, one brow arching higher than the other, your newly applied winged liner crisp against the tiredness in your face, but wildly mismatched with the old pajama pants you were still wearing. "fishnets?"

"obviously. they're hot. and you-" she pointed a manicured finger at you like she was a prophet delivering wisdom, "-need to get over your ex. what was his name again? rin? jin?"

and now here you were. sitting in this grimy bar with nari/mina and your roommate chattering on about something you couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to. you’d ordered a beer, something light, easy to nurse while you tried to look like you were actually participating in life. but, of course, they’d swapped it out for shots the second your back was turned. now, the small glass in front of you gleamed under the weak bar lighting, its contents daring you to down it.

you sat there for a moment, your eyes drifting over the crowd, not really looking for anyone, but searching for something. maybe distraction. maybe an escape, someone to spend the night with. maybe just the strange, uncomfortable feeling of being out in the world again, untethered, alone. for the first time in what felt like forever, no one was clinging to you, no ex hovering over your shoulder. it was just you, out in the open. vulnerable, but somehow... free. you forced a smile, a hollow little thing, and wrapped your fingers around the shot glass, tipping it back in one smooth motion, letting the burn settle into your chest like an old friend.

you couldn't help but be reminded of how much he would probably love this place. old band posters, the kind with frayed edges and fading ink, were trapped in square frames littering the back wall. dark, almost suffocating wallpaper wrapped the room, and the specials were scrawled lazily in chalk on a blackboard wedged between bottles behind the bar. it all screamed suna rintarō. every inch of this place whispered his name in the back of your mind. and you, weirdly, hated and loved it all at once.

"here, take this," your roommate slides another shot glass across the table, and this time, you don’t bother protesting. "this one’s on me, yeah? it’s the first time you’ve left your room since-"

"okay, let’s not talk about that guy!" nari/mina cuts in with a forced cheerfulness, her voice a little too bright, like she’s trying to outrun the shadow of his name. "just drink, maybe find someone to sleep with, and let’s stuff our faces with greasy, high-calorie food before we head home!"

you snort, not bothering to mask the bitter amusement curling in your chest. typical. always trying to drown out the ghosts of the past with alcohol and bad decisions. but for now, you grab the glass and throw it back, feeling the burn take root deep in your throat. maybe tonight you'd let the noise win.

it’s when you hear something familiar, a song, drifting through the bar’s shitty speakers, that you’re reminded of him. of how much he loved this band. he used to play them all the time, without thinking—on repeat in his car, in that stupid, cramped apartment you secretly adored because it always smelled like him, like his cologne mixed with laundry detergent and something unnameable. he’d blast it through his dumb oversized headphones, the ones that barely fit his head so he had to extend them all the way.

you can still feel the weight of that first time he let you share his earphones, back when you were just friends. god, you hated the music. but of course, you didn’t tell him that. you were too soft for him back then. instead, you sugarcoated your words, trying to be polite. "rin, this isn’t really my taste."

"no way, this band is literally legendary-"

you’d laughed then, a light sound that came out before you could stop it. "but i really don’t like them that much. i tried to, though."

he’d looked at you, that insufferable, smug grin tugging at the corner of his lips, and his eyes—that sharp, knowing chartreuse gaze—held yours like he already knew what you were thinking before you did. his hair had fallen perfectly, messily, and you remembered staring for just a second too long. even back then, you’d been a goner, though you didn’t know it yet. you curse yourself now for being in love from the very beginning.

and then, just like that, his gaze softened, his smile turned almost tender. "i’ll make you a playlist. beginner stuff. easy songs, stuff you’ll like, yeah?"

"yeah," you’d whispered, smiling so softly, feeling something bright and fragile fluttering inside your chest, like your heart would burst right out of your ribs and spill across the floor in excitement, like a kid with their first crush; it was so innocent, so harmless back then. you'd had no idea how much those moments would sink into your bones, becoming a part of the fabric of your memories.

so down you went with the shots, sitting in this dingy bar, one after the other. your roommate and nari/mina tried to slow you down—they really did. they swore they were doing their best. but every time you slammed an empty glass on the table, your finger shot up in the air, and the bartender, who had clearly decided to be your accomplice for the night, would refill it without a word. he had a sharp eye, always watching, always ready to pour another, as if he understood the silent plea you weren’t voicing.

it didn’t take long for the alcohol to settle in, for your mind to become heavy and fogged, circling back to him like it always did, like it never could stop. you tried to push it down, tried to drown it in the burn of the liquor, but his face was there, in the back of your mind, waiting to creep in the moment you let your guard down.

"why are you doing this?" you'd shouted, standing in his living room, fists clenched tight at your sides. your voice had shot up, higher and shriller than you intended, and suddenly, you'd felt like a child in front of him. a child in front of his infuriatingly calm, detached demeanor. he looked at you with that same unreadable expression, while fat, hot tears rolled down your cheeks, spilling freely as he put more distance between the two of you. the worst part? he didn’t try to stop them. didn’t even bother to wipe them away. his voice, in contrast to yours, had been so quiet, so measured, as if this was just another normal conversation and not the moment everything was about to break.

"rin, i’m not kidding," your voice had cracked, begging for something, anything from him, "be more serious. please."

"be serious?" he’d snapped, turning on his heel, his tone suddenly sharp and biting, the words spilling out with no filter. "all i am doing is being serious. you’re the one acting like a damn child, yelling, crying, hiccupping like any of this is going to fix what’s wrong." his voice was harsh, cutting deeper with every word, "seriously, when are you going to stop being so insecure?"

the second the words left his mouth, you saw it—the flash of regret, the widening of his eyes as he realized what he’d just said. but the damage was already done. you’d felt it, that shift in the air, the turning point you couldn’t come back from.

then for a few moments, you turned, and your friends were gone. or were you gone? you couldn't tell. your brain was muffled. just a few seconds ago, you were going to the restroom. were you? or were you going to get another drink? your head was spinning.

"goddamn it," you mutter under your breath, cursing yourself for ever listening to nari/mina. these clothes feel all wrong, and the fishnets dig into your skin, each prick like a tiny electric shock, raw and irritating. the walls seem like they’re slowly closing in, inching closer, and the music—loud and grating—scratches at the inside of your head, clawing for attention. you sniff, trying to keep your composure as you stumble toward the bar, your legs unsteady and your mind fuzzy. one hand reaches the cool surface of the bar, anchoring you, and you lift a finger, mouthing a request to the bartender for a glass of water.

"had a little too much?" someone asks, voice low, right behind you, and your heart stutters in response, then slams into your ribs. it feels like everything inside you just stops. you freeze, every nerve awake and alive, and the faint hairs on the back of your neck prickle, rising to remind you of the scent that wraps around you again. that smell—his smell. that god-awful cologne he’d always worn, the one you hated, reeking of cigarettes and something synthetic, chemical, sharp. and you’d laughed about it, complained about it, but he’d loved it.

you don’t have to look to know, but you do anyway. he’s already settled into the stool beside you, leaning casually against the bar’s edge, his eyes studying you with that knowing glint, the one that could read you so effortlessly, the one that tore through your facades. suna rintarō. right here, sitting inches away, just as he always had in the past. your throat tightens, but you force yourself to nod, keep your expression neutral, like his presence doesn’t unravel you from the inside.

the bartender slides a glass of water your way, and you clutch it like a lifeline, hoping the trembling in your hands isn’t as obvious as it feels.

"you look good. didn’t think i’d see you in a place like this—or, uh, looking like that." his words hang between you, weighted with something unsaid, and you know he’s talking about the clothes, the heels, maybe even the makeup you’d piled on your eyes just to survive a night like this. for a moment, his eyes widen, a flicker of surprise and regret crossing his face, and then, in a low voice, he adds, “sorry.”

he apologizes. you blink, trying to process the sound of it. so he knew how to apologize—just never cared enough to do it when it counted.

"didn’t think you had it in you," you say, voice sharp but steady, holding back the anger that simmers beneath the surface. he tilts his head, his brows knitting together in confusion, until the realization hits him, and he coughs, awkwardly. "r-right," he mumbles.

you let out a long sigh, pushing yourself off the stool with deliberate calm, every movement heavy. "have a nice night," you say, your voice soft but cold, the words final. “‘m going home.”

rin watches as you take your first shaky step, wobbly at first, the heel too high and unfamiliar. you almost slip, a quick fumble that you catch by clutching onto the stool. his eyes follow you with a concern that feels too late, a pang of regret in his gaze as you steady yourself and make for the exit. your friends, who dragged you here and insisted you needed this night out, are nowhere to be found now. fine. you’d get home yourself.

outside, the cool air wraps around you, a welcome relief that clears your head just enough. you pull out a pack of cigarettes from your pocket, the weight of the evening pressing down on you as you balance one between your lips. just as you’re about to light it, a hand reaches out, fingers slipping the cigarette from between your teeth. you glance up, and there he is again, standing too close, his face cast in shadows and regret.

"since when did you start this shit?" his voice is low, a little rough, but underneath it is something that sounds almost hurt.

"since you were a shitty boyfriend and couldn’t see that i was miserable with you," you snap back, the words coming out sharper than you intended, each syllable loaded with the weight of all the nights you spent feeling invisible beside him. his face falls, the mask of nonchalance slipping, his jaw clenching as the guilt seeps into his expression, almost painful to watch.

he opens his mouth, hesitating, looking at you as if trying to find the right thing to say—a rare softness in his eyes that you’d once searched for but never saw. and yet, even now, the words seem stuck in his throat, caught behind pride or shame or whatever it is that held him back back then.

"i didn’t know…" he starts, but it trails off, like he’s realizing the weight of what he missed. his hand lingers at his side, fingers flexing as if he wants to reach out, but he doesn’t.

"yeah. you didn’t." you give a small, bitter laugh, and for a moment, he looks like he’s about to speak again, to maybe say something that would make this all less heavy, to bridge the distance he created.

"let me take you home. you're drunk and it's not safe-"

"suna," you start, voice rough, as you blink back tears that are threatening, your tone heavy with something that feels like finality, "stop trying to act like you care. you have to have love to care. and you don't have even an ounce of it."

for a moment, he opens his mouth to respond, brows pulling together as though he’s searching for the right words. "i know you're angry," he starts, his voice softer, cautious, like he’s stepping around broken glass, "but come on. it's seriously not safe. let me at least drop you home-"

"i was alone when i was with you," you cut him off, the words tumbling out raw, unfiltered, almost desperate as they break in your throat. "and i'm alone even now. just… let me be." your voice splinters, hanging in the cold air between you, each word heavy with months of unspoken loneliness.

he flinches, eyes darkening, a flicker of shame crossing his face as he finally absorbs the truth in your words, as if realizing for the first time just how deep the hurt ran. he takes a small step back, jaw tightening as he watches you with a helplessness that’s unfamiliar, a man who thought he knew what you needed but, standing here now, realizes he got it all wrong.

"i didn’t…" he starts, voice trailing off, his gaze dropping to the ground, "i didn’t know it was that bad."

"i tried to tell you," you sigh, reaching to take the cigarette he still held—the one he’d stolen from your lips. you light it this time, hands a little shaky, letting the fire catch. “i really tried to make it work, you know? but i got tired.”

your voice is thick with something old, worn thin and tired, a sadness that almost feels soft in the night air. it’s like you’re still holding onto him, to all the empty spaces he left behind. and part of you is; you miss him. you miss rin like the first breath after waking up from a bad dream. you miss him like a kid clinging to their old toy, like a lover missing the warmth of skin against their own. you missed him so hard these past weeks that it felt like a sickness, something sour and raw sitting in your chest, refusing to go away.

and he hears it—he catches it, the way your voice lingers with all the things you can’t say. he lets out a breath, and you notice the way his shoulders dip, his gaze falling to the ground, his own voice nearly a whisper. "i know."

you inhale slowly, letting the smoke fill your lungs, reveling in the moment of stillness, watching it twist and curl into the night air, like the memories that keep twisting back in your mind. everything feels off-kilter, just wrong enough to ache. but he’s here, standing next to you, and that’s the only thing keeping you grounded, the familiar weight of him there, even when it doesn’t feel the same.

"come on, let’s get you home," he says, his voice softer than it’s ever been, holding a note of gentleness that catches you off guard. “i won’t stay, i promise. just… want to see you safe.”

the thought makes you pause, a flicker of warmth breaking through the sadness. and you smile, just barely—a bittersweet thing, small and fleeting, because the night, the silence, the lingering scent of him all remind you of what you both lost. maybe it’s enough, though, for now. maybe this will be the last thing you share, a walk home in the dark, a quiet promise he’s too late to keep.

"you won’t linger?” your voice is barely a breath, something fragile, almost as if daring him to say he would stay, one last time.

“i won’t linger.”

“okay.”

"okay."

you start walking, his footsteps softly matching yours, just a half-step behind, like he’s afraid to walk beside you. truth was, you had loved suna rintarō, but that love now felt hollow, like a prized possession tarnished over time, something left too long in the attic and covered in dust. he had been a part of you—a constellation of flaws and kindness and that easy smirk that lit him up. he was each familiar angle, each careless comment tucked into some soft, raw corner of your heart, where once you’d kept him like a treasure, a secret.

the love you had was still there, lingering in all the places he’d touched and left his mark. but now, it was a love gone stale, like fruit rotting at the edges, sweet but spoiled. he was the ache in your bones after a long night, the scar you’d kept hidden under fabric. you loved him like a collector loves his hoarded relics—each trait, every feature of his cataloged and memorized, a piece of your memories that you cherished but never dared to bring to light. because when something is hidden that long, it turns ugly; it rusts, it corrodes, like all the unsaid things rotting in your chest, words you’d swallowed and buried until even you couldn’t recognize them.

and he was there, just close enough to feel like home but distant enough to remind you of the thousand small cracks in the foundation. the way his fingers used to trace circles on your wrist, his laugh echoing in his apartment at some stupid show, the scent of his shitty cologne clinging to your clothes. those moments used to mean everything—pieces of him you held close, stored away like honey left too long in the comb, slowly crystallizing, losing its sweetness.

you reach the corner of your street, feeling the weight of his presence beside you like a shadow you’d once welcomed, but now it’s too heavy, too close. he stands back, hands slipping into his pockets, and you can’t help but notice how he doesn’t reach for you, doesn’t close that last small distance between you.

“goodnight, then,” he says, a softness in his tone that feels wrong, like he knows how much he’s broken but can’t reach far enough to fix it.

“goodnight, rintarō,” you manage, voice barely steady. and with that, you step away, leaving the space between you filled with all the pieces of a love that used to be, that’s still there somewhere, but rotten through.

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[moonstruck-writing]

Title: Enveloped in His Kindness Pairing: Shinsuke Kita x gn!reader | Haikyuu!! Rating: Teen CWs: Comfort/mild hurt, there’s emotional distress but it is mainly off camera, and it is never discussed, established relationship, domestic fluff, romantic gestures, physical affection, Kita loves you a lot and wants you to be happy, aged-up Kita, post time-skip Kita, second person pov Summary: When Kita comes back home, he finds you haven’t had a great evening. Nothing will stop his determination to show you how much he cares about you, and to flip your mood. Word count: 1.8k

“Hey babe,” Shinsuke appears under the doorstep to the living room. “What are you doing? Have you been watching a movie?”

It’s one of the few nights Kita takes for himself and goes to play non-competitive volleyball with some people from the neighbourhood. For old times.

The TV is off, and your legs are folded on the sofa. The only thing keeping you company are the lights.

“Yeah,” you answer to not complicate things, because that is the easiest answer, even if it isn’t the most truthful one. “How was volleyball? Are you tired?”

“I definitely don’t have the stamina I used to have, but this old man is building it slowly,” he says hitting his bicep with his opposite hand. He cuts the distance between you in a few steps and sits on the sofa next to you.

“You’re not an old man, Shin.” You reach for him and card your fingers through his hair, pulling his half-dry bangs out of his forehead. “You’ve been working all day in the field. You’ve done so much.”

He gives you a soft smile and takes your hand from his head, to kiss your knuckles.

“What about you, what did you watch?”

You purse your lips, feeling trapped under his attention.

“Just some stuff I had started a while ago.” You hope his lack of interest in movies and TV shows will do the trick. “There’s still some food leftover from dinner if you want to—”

“What’s going on?” He interrupts. Shinsuke never interrupts you, unless it is strictly necessary, like a life-or-death situation. You look away, swallowing the lump in your throat. He kisses your hand again, patiently waiting for your response.

When your shoulders start to tremble, he envelops you in a hug, bringing you to his lap.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he says while squeezing you in his arms. “I am here.”

You inhale his scent, the deodorant he uses, the acrid smell from the sports clothes, and the warmth of his skin.

He is here. He is still a bit sweaty, and tired, and all his attention is yours.

You cry in the safety of his embrace, finally feeling home. When you start breathing slowly again, he kisses your forehead.

“Let’s go to bed, yeah?” He waits for your response and picks you up in his arms, to which you squeal.

“Shin, you can’t carry me to bed!”

“Who says I can’t? Your man is super strong, you see?” And he pushes you higher in his arms for a second. You laugh at his display of strength.

“No, seriously Shin, I’m worried about your back.” You say once your laughter calms down. He looks at you and sees the seriousness in your face. Immediately, he puts you down and kisses you softly on the lips.

“I won’t make you worry.” His voice is as gentle as the hand that caresses your cheek. “But that doesn’t mean you’ll get rid of me so easily.”

He hugs you to his chest again and proceeds to walk towards your room, making you have to walk backwards.

“Shin, I’m going to fall!” You yelp, clinging to the back of his t-shirt for dear life.

“I’ve got you.”

He hugs you as tight as you are hugging him, and even if the situation is as bizarre as it gets, you can’t help but feel safe in his arms. You trust in him and in that warm embrace. There is no way Kita would let you trip and fall.

When you reach the stairs leading to the upper floor —where your bedroom is— he grabs right where your bottom meets the soft flesh of your thighs, and he pulls you up one step.

“Shin, I can go up the stairs myself.” You turn your face and torso, but still, he doesn’t let go. Then, you turn back to face him again, and the height difference —he is still on the first floor— makes you look at him from a different angle than you’re used to.

“I want to take you up the stairs.” He punctuates the sentence by lightly squeezing your thighs. “Will you humour me?” The look in his eyes is tender, and your heart seems to relax a bit. He gives you a soft peck on the lips after you smile at him.

“I love you, Shin.” You intertwine your arms around the back of his neck and briefly caress his nape.

He pulls you up another step, and when he climbs the step you just left, he offers you the biggest smile. You can see the corners and the underside of his eyes wrinkling, and the image fills you with so much joy, you lean forward and kiss him on his cheekbone.

“Oh, thank you for the kiss, beautiful.” A playful shadow takes over his features and a giggle escapes your lips. He pulls you up again, and before the distance pulls him away from you, he presses a kiss on your nose. “Payback.” You run your fingers through the short hair on his nape, massaging his scalp. He immediately closes his eyes, focusing on the sensation of your fingertips running on his skin. “This is dangerous.”

“What is?”

“If you make me relax any more, we’ll fall down the stairs.” He opens his eyes and his gaze connects with yours. “And as much as that would be a sweet death with you in my arms, I still want to grow old next to you.”

“You big softie.” A cheeky smile spreads through your lips.

“And whose fault do you think that is?” Kita’s eyes soften, even as he is playing along.

“You were already like this before me, you cutie.” You push on him slightly, and the sturdiness of his body meets yours.

“But you get all these sappy feelings out of me.” He cocks his head to the side and spreads his fingers, caressing your sides and lower back.

“I just listen, that’s all.” You casually shrug. “Your kindness is difficult to miss, Shin.”

“Thank you.” He pulls you up another step and kisses your forehead gently. “For noticing.”

“Always.” You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Kita is subtle, but not quiet. His words manage to always reach you, and you’re glad yours do the same for him.

The two of you share a few more kisses before you finally reach the bedroom, and you lie on the bed sighing while Kita quickly goes to the bathroom to take a shower.

You try to order your thoughts and your emotions before you two talk. You know that Kita isn’t the type to pressure you into talking if you’re not ready, but you also know very well that even if he doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t bring it up, he’s still going to worry about you crying so suddenly. For him, ‘out of sight, out of mind’, doesn’t work at all. He is patient and gentle, but you don’t want to put him to the test.

The door of the bathroom opens before you can decide how much to tell him, and how to explain the chaos of your heart to him.

“You were quick.” You say, noticing he hasn’t taken a bath to relax after the long day. He is already in his pyjamas, and you realise that maybe you should’ve used the time apart to get changed into yours.

“I couldn’t wait to be with my baby,” he replies, patting his hair with a towel. His expression is relaxed, and he isn’t looking at you as he walks around the bed and plops down on the edge, with his back to you.

A smile spreads across your lips. You are sure Shinsuke has done that so you don’t have to deal with your feelings alone. It is small acts of generosity and care like that one, that makes your heart melt each day, and wonder what you have done to deserve a man like him.

It is difficult for him to say the words ‘I love you’, but that doesn’t mean you never hear them. They bleed from his actions, proving to you again and again that you are his priority. You had known before you started dating that Shin is a man of actions and not many words, but you hadn’t expected to feel so loved.

“Do you want me to blow dry your hair?” You ask, ready to get up and fetch the gadget. His ways make you want to shower him with the same spontaneous affection.

“But I won’t hear you over the noise,” he replies, turning back to look at you. His gaze is intense, and analytical, like he is trying to discern your emotional state in that very moment.

“Your hair is still dripping.” Water droplets are falling from his hair’s end to the wet towel he has around his neck. “It’ll only take a little bit.” You can see him wanting to complain but you disappear through the door before he is able to get a word out.

When you come back, blow drier in hand, you plug it, sit against the headboard, and he moves to sit in front of you, enclosed in the space between your legs. Kita traces idle forms on your feet and legs while you work on drying his hair.

“This was really nice.” He says once you have finished and turn the blow drier off. His voice sounds sleepy, and when you get off the bed to unplug the blow drier, you can see his eyes are closed. He must be exhausted from the day, and the last thing he needed is you running your fingers through his scalp, to send him off to the entrance of dreamland.

Climbing back on the bed, you sit next to Kita, and he slowly opens his eyes again. It is obvious he is making an effort to fight off the sleepiness. He takes one of your hands in his and looks at your face as if waiting. He never forces you to speak, but still, his actions show he supports and cares for you.

“I want to fall asleep cuddling,” you whisper, and Kita nods before pouting slightly. You move down the bed but then get up to quickly change into your pyjamas while he is putting away the cushions to get the bed ready. Then, you two get under the covers, and in a tangle of limbs, you finally find the haven you need to relax, pressed against his body.

“We’ll talk tomorrow.” He murmurs, and you don’t know whether it is meant for you, or if it’s a reminder for himself. He pulls you ever so close to him, and you feel the sadness loosening its grip around your heart.

“Good night, Shin.”

There is enough silence that you start drifting off. When you cross the threshold to unconsciousness, and your breathing deepens, Kita places a soft kiss on your head.

“I love you.”

.

.

.

A/N: First Kita fic <3 Comments, tags, reblogs and likes mean a lot and they help me keep writing! Anon feedback is also welcome.

Masterlist | AO3

Please do NOT repost. Reblogging is okay! Characters belong to their rightful owners, the plot and content here belongs to @moonstruck-writing

[artemisia--hq]

Coffee’s on Me

Hinata Shouyou x Kageyama Tobio

Rated E, 21.6k

College/University AU, Jock/Med Student

First Meetings, Developing Feelings

Getting Together, Eventual Smut

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

At the raise in Tobio’s voice, Hinata returns his glare and the bite in his next words. “I said nothing! I’m just saying you’re way prettier than I imagined you’d be!”

Tobio blinks.

Oh.

Okay.

What the fuck?

You know how their love story's going. Now you get to learn how it started.

Read on AO3

[bokusaka]

Fandom: Haikyuu!! Relationships: kuroken, bokuaka, iwaoi, daisuga Rating: explicit Tags: yakuza au, crime, violence, weapons, blood tw, major character injuries, semi slow burn, mental illness, mentions of past abuse/rape Chapter: 8/? Chapter Summary:

Oikawa's loud laugh cuts off as he slides the door closed behind him. Kuroo rolls his eyes and meets Daichi’s exasperated look with one of his own. They’re just getting back onto the court- Akaashi promising Kenma that he’ll just stay in the back so Kenma can stay in the front- when the doors are thrown back open. Kuroo has a sarcastic retort lined up for Oikawa, but it dies unspoken on his tongue when he sees the look on his face.

yes, this fic does in fact live

[miminiac]

Oikawa sits on Iwaizumi's bed, watching his phone buzz and light up with the hundreds of messages Suga and Akaashi were sending him even though it was 5AM in Japan (meaning the pair woke up early or never went to bed – Oikawa suspected the latter).

Suga: B*tch, if you don't confess to Iwaizumi in the next day, we are telling him ourselves

Akaashi: You better f*cking confess or I'm throwing out your f*ck sh*t hair products

Suga: We spent a lot of money getting you to California, we expect for it to be worth it.

Oikawa rolls his eyes. He debates replying, re-informing them that it had actually been Akaashi's parents who had bought the ticket since they had used Akaashi's emergency credit card. But, that would only fuel the pair into harassing him even more, so he tucks his in his bag.

Iwaizumi returns to the room, carrying various snacks and a couple bottles of water in his arms. After dumping everything onto the opposite end of the bed from where Oikawa was sitting, Iwaizumi quickly glances at his own phone before placing it on the dresser behind him.

"Your friends are a little annoying."

"They are your friends too, Iwa-chan~"

"They are only my friends because they are your friends. An unfortunate circumstance of the transitive property."

Iwaizumi plops down onto his bed and opens a bag of chips. In the silence, they hear the faint buzz of both their phones going off. Oikawa attempts to shake off the curiosity of what his friends might be texting Iwaizumi by scolding him.

"What a terrible host you are, Iwa-chan~. Not even offering me some chips when you opened the bag."

"Okay, but you don't even like these chips."

"It's a matter of principle," Oikawa teases, turning his body to face his friend.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and holds out the bag of chips. "Would you like some chips?"

"No thank you, I don't like them, but I will take that cookie."

Oikawa points to a wrapped chocolate chip cookie in the pile of junk food on Iwaizumi's bed.

"You're an adult, grab it yourself."

Oikawa pouts, crossing him arms and staring at Iwaizumi, who still refuses to budge. Faint buzzing fills the silence once more.

"Iwa-chan?"

Iwaizumi hums, signaling Oikawa to continue. "Do you remember last year when you visited Tokyo?"

Iwaizumi doesn't say anything, but Oikawa can tell he remembers and knows exactly what he is talking about – the kiss they had shared in the kitchen in the middle of the night.

"How would you feel about doing that more often?" Oikawa asks, staring at the pattern in Iwaizumi's comforter.

He hears the rustle of the chip bag and feels Iwaizumi's weight shift on the bed. Before Oikawa can recognize what is happening, Iwaizumi's hand gently grips his chin.

He tugs Oikawa's head up, pulling him in so their lips meet. The kiss is soft, chaste. It reminds Oikawa of finally releasing a long held breath. When they pull apart, they stay close – foreheads touching.

"Just to be clear, I like you and that is why I want to kiss more."

Iwaizumi chuckles, "Yeah, I understood that dumbass." A pause, Oikawa waiting for a returned confession, a pout slowly forming on his lips. "I like you too, Shittykawa."

Oikawa leans forward, kissing Iwaizumi fervently. They continue exchanging kisses for the next hour until they tire and Oikawa settles his head onto Iwaizumi's chest as they cuddle – Iwaizumi's fingers absently playing his with hair. The calm is broken once again by Iwaizumi's phone buzzing on the dresser.

"Do you think you can tell your friends now so they can stop harassing me?"

"Absolutely not," Oikawa says. "They will not be informed until at least a month from now. I need to make them suffer for meddling... Plus, I can't allow them to know they were right – at least not right away."

Iwaizumi sighs. He knows there is no logic when it comes to the trio.

// originally posted October 27th, 2020

Read the full story in the setter fic.

[tottwritesfanfic]

Dream A Little Dream - Chapter 2!

Oikawa is already there when Hajime falls asleep the next night, peering over one of their neighbour’s tall fences without any apparent shame. “What are you doing?” Hajime asks, amazed that even in his own head he can so quickly be torn between irritation and helpless affection. Apparently it holds true for any version of his idiot best friend, not just the real one. Oikawa turns to look at him, and the expression he’s wearing bears that exact blend of almost shameless guilt and indignation which—against his better judgement—Hajime has missed so much.

...It's been 84-

Well. It's been four years, which is definitely long enough between updates. But I am at last returning with an update, so if you're in the mood for some fairly soft and mostly fluffy* IwaOi dream shenanigans, you can read it here!

Chapter Three is already completed, so I'll be posting it a day or so after Christmas for thematic reasons. It's been burning away at me for years that I hadn't finished writing the story, so I hope people are still interested after all this time!

*Listen, I tried, but I make no promises about anything I write being angst-free.

[vannahfanfics]

Vitamin Sea

Word Count: 2,380

Fluff, Established Relationship, Romance, Beach Day

Summary: Rintarō loves Motoya, and it shows in the little things—like going to a beach retreat when he's really not a fan.

Howdy, everyone! Here is the story I wrote for the SunaKomo Summer Exchange! Enjoy the shenanigans!

Rintarō didn’t want to come to the beach today. 

Don’t get him wrong. It wasn’t that he disliked the beach, but he couldn’t necessarily say that he liked it, either. It just seemed to be more trouble than it was worth; one could deal with any number of unpleasant things: crowded areas, sunburn, sand everywhere, salt in the eyes, jellyfish stings… the list could go on. It certainly wasn’t Rintarō’s idea of a weekend getaway, but their captain hadn’t exactly been accepting ideas when he organized this retreat to celebrate EJP Raijin’s victory at this year’s division championship. That being said, Rintarō wasn’t going to refuse some much-needed post-championship R&R, even if the venue left much to be desired for him. 

Besides, Motoya would annoy the hell out of him if he bailed, and that was definitely more trouble than it was worth. Rintarō would take the beach over his boyfriend’s petulant whines about how much he missed him being there. He’d probably say something goofy like, “Come on! Everyone needs a good dose of Vitamin Sea every once in a while! ” Plus, if Rintarō were honest… he would’ve missed Motoya, too. Rintarō was a homebody, especially compared to Motoya, but their shared apartment simply felt empty when Motoya went out while he stayed behind. 

So, here Rintarō was, lounging in a beach chair under the cool shade of an umbrella while his boyfriend and their teammates frolicked in the surf and sand like a bunch of giddy elementary schoolers. Despite the itchiness of the sand clinging to his legs and the stifling heat of the summer sun, Rintarō had a serene smile on his face while watching them; they seemed to be enjoying themselves, especially his boyfriend, which was all he needed to be content. With a languid sigh, he stretched out in the beach chair and sipped on a can of fruit juice while he watched the goings-on. 

Motoya and Tatsuki were embroiled in a rather intense splash fight in the shallows. The both of them were soaked through, hair slicked to their heads and saltwater running in rivulets down their chests as they heaved panting breaths. However, based on the determined grins plastered on their flushed faces, neither had any intentions of yielding to the other anytime soon. Like lions entangled in a desperate war for dominance, they circled one another, matching each other’s steps and not giving an inch. Suddenly, Tatsuki charged at Motoya, kicking up a spray of water to obscure his vision. Motoya shielded his face, having read the attack—but he didn’t predict that Tatsuki would crash through the wall of water and tackle him like a linebacker. 

“Wahhhhhhhhh!” Motoya wailed as he and Tatsuki both plunged into the surf. 

They wrestled around a bit, kicking up sand and sending salt spray into the air as their limbs flailed, but Motoya was no match for the bigger and broader Tatsuki. Rintarō chuckled to himself as Motoya’s squeaks of “I give, I give!” floated up to his comfy perch just above the waterline. A few seconds later, Motoya dragged himself out of the water and collapsed in a sodden, defeated heap at Rintarō’s feet. 

“Maaaaaaan! I can’t believe I lost! I was sure I had him!” he whined, angrily wiggling about in the sand like a writhing eel. Just as quickly as he had flopped to the ground in humiliated defeat, he yanked himself back up into a sitting position to glare at Tatsuki, who was wading out of the surf. “Oi! Don’t rest on your laurels yet!” he shouted at his teammate. “I want a rematch!”

Tatsuki waved a hand dismissively at him, to which Motoya responded by angrily flipping him off with both hands. 

“What are you, a toddler? Take your defeat with dignity,” Rintarō chortled as he leaned sideways a little to avoid the clumps of sand and water droplets that Motoya was flinging everywhere with his tantrum. It brought him close to the cooler, so he flipped it open and retrieved a bottle of water to offer his grumpy boyfriend. Motoya took it with a mutter of “Thanks,” then grumbled his indignance into the lip of the bottle in-between large gulps of the cold liquid. Meanwhile, Rintarō fished around in the half-melted ice for another bottle of fruit juice; while doing so, he took notice of the plump watermelon sitting within. 

Rintarō picked it up only to inspect it, but when Motoya caught sight of it, his eyes lit up. 

“Oooh, great idea, Rintarō!” he cried delightedly. Holding the empty bottle between his teeth, he crawled on all fours over to the cooler to eye the watermelon gleefully. “We shou’d c’ack dis ba’ boy o’en!” he asserted around the bottle, which bobbed up and down in his mouth as he spoke. 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Rintarō huffed with a roll of his eyes, then snatched the bottle out of his teeth. “Now, what?” 

“I said, ‘We should crack this bad boy open!’” Motoya repeated, too excited about the watermelon to mind Rintarō yanking the bottle through his teeth. “Smashing watermelons is the best!” 

“I’ve always found it messy.” Rintarō frowned and scrunched up his nose in distaste. After all, half the watermelon ended up splattered all over the place! It seemed more of a waste than anything, at least to him. But, Motoya looked positively giddy at the prospect, so Rintarō just sighed. “If that’s what you’d like to do, though—” 

“Ooh, ooh, ooh, I’ve got an even better idea!” Motoya interrupted him with a squeal and promptly snatched the watermelon from his hands. He ignored Rintarō’s cry of indignance and instead scrambled to his feet—showering Rintarō head-to-toe in sand in the process—and dashed back to the shoreline, where the rest of the team was getting quite heated over a hermit crab race. He brandished the watermelon over his head and yelled, “Guys! Let’s play volleyball with the watermelon until it smashes! I call it… volley-melon!” 

“‘Volley-melon’?” Rintarō scoffed in amusement as he walked past him to go stand in the sloshing water. He paused to wash off all the sand that he had kicked onto him, then straightened up and regarded his goofy boyfriend with a hand on his hip and a raised eyebrow. “You really think that’s gonna work?” 

“We don’t know until we try!” Motoya snickered, holding the melon atop his head as he danced from one foot to the other. He then turned to their teammates. “Come on! It’ll be fun! We’ll smash it open and chow down!” His grin turned devilish as he looked straight at Tatsuki. “And then, I can whoop your butt in our rematch!” 

“Forget it; you’ve lost three times already,” Tatsuki snorted in laughter, then climbed to his feet. “I could go for some watermelon, though.”

The others chimed in agreement, and they all began to make their way to the volleyball net next to their beach encampment. Motoya followed after them, pumping the watermelon in the air above his head with excited chants of “Volley-melon, volley-melon~!” However, he stopped mid-step and then whirled on his heel to regard Rintarō—who was trekking back to his shady sanctuary—with big, curious eyes. 

“Aren’t ya gonna come play with us, Rintarō?” 

“I didn’t exactly plan on it,” he answered with a slight frown. “I was just going to watch. Watermelon bits on top of all the sand getting kicked up? I’ll pass.” 

“Come onnnnnnn!” Motoya wheedled and wiggled the watermelon emphatically above his head. “It’ll be fun! How can volleyball not be fun?” When Rintarō just gave him an unimpressed stare, Motoya fluttered his lashes and slapped on his best puppy-dog eyes with a trill of, “Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease, Rintarō?”

Damn it all, that golden retriever of a man had Rintarō wrapped around his little finger. There was simply no way that he could refuse. He could never resist those big brown puppy-dog eyes.

“All right, all right, I’ll play,” Rintarō conceded and started for the volleyball court, to which Motoya responded with a delighted cheer. While Rintarō proceeded at a leisurely pace, Motoya sprinted for the court, wobbling left and right as the heavy watermelon he still held aloft disrupted his balance. Rintarō shook his head at his boyfriend’s silly delight, then called after him, “Are you sure this is gonna work?” 

“Well, the watermelon’ll be smashed either way, right?” came Motoya’s snickered response. “So what’s the harm in trying to do it a fun way?” 

Rintarō couldn’t argue with that, so he took his place on the court without further comment. Motoya did one more spinning dance while brandishing the watermelon above his head, then held it to his chest and pointed at the opposite side of the court with a broad grin.  

“Are we ready to play some volley-melon?” he cheered. “The rules of volleyball apply, ‘cept for the need for three volleys, ‘cuz I don’t think the watermelon can take that many whacks, honestly. Just whack it back and forth over the net until it pops open! Any questions?” 

“Do we have to call it volley-melon?” came their captain’s half-amused, half-exasperated reply. 

“Yes!” Motoya asserted with an indignant puff of his cheeks. “It’s a melon, not a ball! Hence, volley-melon!” With that, he flung the watermelon into the air, then jumped up to smack it with the flat of his palm as hard as he could. 

To be honest, Rintarō didn’t expect it to make it across the net. It was far heavier than a volleyball, after all. Much to his surprise, however, Motoya’s powerful wallop propelled the large ovoid fruit in a smooth arc across the net, albeit just so. Tatsuki surged forward to catch it before it hit the ground, instinctively trying to receive it so someone could get in a better hit. It would have worked with a real volleyball, but it was much less effective for a watermelon several times its size and weight; in reality, he just braced it on his forearms as he swung his arms in an upward arc and basically just lobbed it back over the net. It came sailing straight at Rintarō, and he braced himself to catch it against his forearms and propel it back over the net. 

Well, he would have if the damn thing didn’t explode the instant it crashed into him. 

“Daaaaaaaaaaayum!” Tatsuki howled as the chunks of melon flopped down into the sand—the bits that weren’t splattered all over Rintarō, anyway. “Melon couldn’t handle the Man of Steel over there!” The rest of the team responded with similar hoots and hollers of laughter, while Rintarō just tried to shake the sticky watermelon juice and globs of fruit that coated his arms. He heard the sound of someone tromping through the sand, and he glanced up to see Motoya right before he tackled him in a hug. 

“Whoooo! That was awesome!” he squealed. Motoya was literally glowing with delight, which made it difficult for Rintarō to be irritated at the fact that he was covered in watermelon at the moment. 

“Motoya,” Rintarō just chuckled breathily and gave his goofy boyfriend a lopsided smile, “you’re gonna get watermelon all over you.” 

“S’all right.” Motoya shrugged indifferently, and his already impossibly wide smile got a little bit broader. “We can just wash off in the water, yeah?” His eyes gleamed with childish glee, and he continued with a giggle, “Wasn’t that fun?! It was only a couple volleys, but it was kinda exciting, holding your breath and wondering when it was gonna bust open, yeah?” 

 “Yeah, it was fun,” Rintarō admitted with another small laugh. It was a totally silly idea, and he’d ended up splattered in watermelon because of it, but Rintarō just couldn’t deny the fact that he was genuinely entertained. If he were totally honest… “I wish we had another one.” 

“There’s a grocery store across the road!” Tatsuki, who had walked underneath the net to snag a piece of the watermelon, cut in with a point of his index finger toward the indicated building. “We could go buy a bunch of ‘em and see how many volleys we can get in before one breaks!” 

“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Motoya cackled and, apparently having forgotten his burning rivalry with the guy, released Rintarō to exchange a complicated series of fist-bumps and handshakes with him. He dove down to retrieve a chunk of the watermelon, took several large chomps out of it in quick succession on his way back up, and then looked at Rintarō with an eager expression while watermelon juice ran from his mouth in bright pink rivers. “You comin’ with us to the store, Rintarō?”

Normally, Rintarō’s first thought would be, Looking like this? But that wasn’t his first thought. No, instead it was:

“Of course I am, silly.” 

Rintarō didn’t want to come to the beach today, but he was glad he did. It ended up being more enjoyable than he’d anticipated, and even the annoying parts—sand, salt, watermelon bits—were minor inconveniences at best when he considered how much fun he was having. Besides… he’d gladly suffer every minor inconvenience possible if he’d continue to see that giddy smile on Motoya’s face, one full of so much happiness that it shone more brilliantly than even the blazing summer sun. He’d let every single one of those watermelons burst open on himself if it made Motoya laugh and smile with absolute delight. He’d do anything just to see Motoya happy because that made Rintarō happier than anything else could. 

That’s what love was all about, and Rintarō was undisputably, undeniably, unequivocally in love with Motoya Komori—and in love enough to continue to play this totally absurd invention of his that was volley-melon! Seriously, they had to pick a better name. It was a lowkey badass game; why did he have to make it sound so lame?

When Motoya told him as such, he pouted around the watermelon slice that he currently had shoved in his mouth. 

“I couldn’ thi’ o’ a’ythi’ be’er!” he whined around the fruit. 

I can’t think of anything better, either, Rintarō just thought with a chuckle, but he wasn’t talking about the game, not at all. 

Did you enjoy this oneshot? Consider requesting from me by visiting my rules, then either commenting on this story, submitting an ask, or contacting me via DM! 

[chaotickori]

Karasuno's Second Fall - Ch 1:

Rating: T Warnings: Car/Bus Crashes, Major Character Death Word Count: 624 Summary: They had just won against Shiritorizawa, that was a peak in their lives, but everything goes down in flames. Now follow what happens with the crows when they fall once more. AO3 [Next Ch]

The bus buzzes with the excited energy of the volleyball team, but no one can judge them, they're floating on the high of beating the strongest team in the prefecture. Karasuno was ecstatic, they made the comeback they had been talking about, they were going to nationals. Hinata was practically bouncing out of his seat, talking animatedly with a sparkle in his eye “Did you see my spike, it went bam, then swoosh.” Tsukishima could feel a headache brewing behind his eyes, unable to sleep with all of the noise around him.

The tired middle blocker sits up in his seat, sending a lighthearted glare at his teammates, though mostly aiming it at the small spiker. “Are none of you idiots tired, we just played a full five-set game.” Daichi, hoping to placate the grumpy teen, held his hands up, negotiating with the rest of the team. “Tsukishima is right guys, we should try and use this time to restore some energy, so how about we settle down for a bit?” The captain then lays back in his own chair letting his eyes slide shut as he tries to catch some sleep. Soon the bus was quiet with only a small amount of noise coming from where Coach Ukai and Takeda were conversing at the front.

The bus was passing over a cliff overlooking the broad expanse of the ocean, the sun slowly setting into the horizon. A storm passes overhead drumming rain down on the bus, and slicking up the road. Coach Ukai sits in the driver's seat, a cigarette between his lips as he pays attention to the road. Takeda is in the passenger's seat, catching up on some sleep so that he can corral the team when they make it back. Everything is going smoothly, only an hour and a half left in the drive, then they would be back at the school.

Ukai stays concentrated as he drives, a bit wary of the wet conditions on the road. Everything in the bus is calm, the only noise being the light hum of the engine, and the distant rumbling of thunder after bright shocks of lightning. He takes the turn around the corner of the cliff slowly, and carefully, but that doesn’t change what is about to happen. He could see bright headlights coming straight for them, a truck swerving crazily, taking up the whole road.

There is nothing that he can do to stop the inevitable, he opens his mouth to yell out to the team, to try and warn them, but it’s too late. It was like time slowed down as the truck came in contact with the front of the bus. He felt as his body is thrown forward into the steering wheel, knocking the wind out of him, and causing his head to get light. All he could think is that these kids don’t deserve to go out like this. He has no worries about himself, his mind is only on the kids, even in what could be his final moments.

When time speeds up again the bus is mid-air, over the side of the railing, and heading down the cliff. The first impact of the bus on the cliff knocks him out cold. Noise fills the bus as people jolt awake as the bus free falls down the cliff, smashing against the rocks. There are screams, mixed in with the crunching of metal and crashing of glass. The bus hits one ridge particularly hard, a large crash overpowering any other noise, a blur of blonde and black flying out of the window. As the bus continues to descend the cliff at high speeds bodies are thrown out, and others are made unconscious due to the force.

[nana-chosaki]

The best piece of art of our century !

As a film student by day and a renowned porn creator by night, you've hit a creative block on the road of artistic vision.

You're looking to create a masterpiece; the magnum opus of your creative career, the gem that will set you on the road to becoming a visionary in the world of movies and porn alike.

Welcome to your Thirteen Nights of Horror.

(Or alternatively, your Thirteen Nights of Whorror, with the help of some of your lovely college friends.)

NOTE: THIS SERIES IS 18+ - Minors DNI - WILL CONTAIN SOME DARK CONTENT - VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

- AO3 LINK -

CHOOSE YOUR MOVIE:

The Nightmare - Tendou Satori

The Cannibal - Miya Osamu

The Doctor and The Monster - Futakuchi Kenji and Aone Takanobu

The Psycho - Miya Atsumu

The Executioner - Ushijima Wakatoshi

The Shape - Sawamura Daichi

The Ghostface - Matsukawa Issei

The Priest - Kita Shinsuke

A/N: Hello! Welcome to my horror inspired HQ smut series for Halloween! I hope you enjoy them, feedback is always appreciated! As stated before, despite these fics giving the impression that they are being filmed as a porno and are not 'real acts', they will still contain some dark or settling content, so please read the tags at the beginning of each chapter before proceeding. This series will also be cross-posted to my AO3. A huge thank you to a lovely group of friends who gave me inspiration and motivation to start this series. Let's hope I finish it lol.

[justafanbutcurious]

[themightyappreciation]

I’m looking for an old haikyuu fic I’ve read before! please help!

It was a Chatfic where suga and daichi had tumblrs and accidentally messaged eachother and then developed a relationship

I remember daichi was actually living in Australia and suga was in the us? daichi’s family we’re farmers and I remember he had a dog named tobimaru

I think it was based on the writer’s long distance relationship with their partner

would love to read it again but I can’t remember the name!

[makkir0ll]

between you and your husband, you were the one more…vocal about your love for him. leaving him sweet notes with doodles of the two of you in his lunch, ending all heartfelt messages with x’s, planting a big kiss on his cheek that he pretended to cringe at but in reality he looked forward to it everytime he left the house.

people would always come up to you, telling you that he doesn’t reciprocate his love with words and such and asking you how you dealt with it. truth be told it took a while for you to get used to but soon enough you began to see the signs.

it was the way that every time he got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom he would tuck your feet back into bed. the way he spent a solid twenty minutes cleaning your phone screen, and with furrowed brows as he placed your new screen protector on, making sure there were no bubbles. it was when you opened his wallet that you saw all the notes you wrote him saved in one pocket of his shitty leather wallet that was begging to be put to rest. it's the way when you come home after a long night out with your friends he takes his time undressing you, removing and placing your jewelry carefully on your bedside table and making sure to gently take off your makeup and of course do your skincare routine that he has memeorized. when he goes out and he spots a little something with your favorite character on it he buys it immediately, not bothering to look at the price tag because the way your eyes would light up when he brought home the little gift was worth more than a billion dollars to him.

it was when on your third month anniversary when the two of you were still dating, while the two of you sat down on the booth next to each other at a restaurant he held your hand and squeezed it three times. signifying the words, i love you. he knew he loved you from the start but was scared it was too soon to say it and this was his silent way of telling you so. and you picked up on it quickly when he started to do it more often.

and on your wedding day, as the two of you stand in front of all your loved ones and the officiator he says the most beautiful vows ever, telling you that "if death do us part then i hope to find you in every lifetime" and once he ended with that sentence, he squeezed your hand three times. i. love. you.

you always knew your husband loved you because his actions spoke a thousand words to you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜

sigh. TSUKISHIMA FREAKING KEI!!!!!!!!, akaashi keiji (he writes notes back to you), KITA. SHINSUKE., iwaizumi hajime (30) athletic trainer, suna rintarou, USHIJIMA, kageyama tobio (squeezed your hand a lot when you started dating), MIYA OSAMU, sakusa kiyoomi, OH OH OH AONE!!,

[a-pastel-edgelord]

Rintaro Suna believes there are absolutes in life. For example, he'll never score higher than a 75 in social studies, or that chuupets taste best on a hot day... Oh, or that you are totally and completely unavailable.

You call Kita, Shin. You always have ever since he met you. He calls you by your first name as well. He always has ever since Suna knew of your existence.

It's impossible to miss—Kita lives in such a methodical way. Like clockwork you show up in the gym just as practice ends. You help clean up. You make small talk with the team. You wait until Kita is done. Then you walk home together.

Suna didn't think much of you at first, just another person in his orbit. But then, during practice on a particularly hot day you showed up with popsicles and watermelon for the team. Kita scolded you for it, talking about how you spoil them. You shrugged it off, saying you have the right. The rest of the guys rushed to get their treats, Suna gave it a second, too sluggish in the heat. Something cold pressed against his temple. It was you, poking him with a pack of chuupets. You'd gone out of your way to refrigerate them. "You like these right? I saw them on sale so I got you some."

That day, something in his brain stuttered. But not that it mattered because you were taken by the captain of the volleyball team. Even if Kita is a bit of a weird hardass robot kind of guy, Suna likes him. Respects him too much to even entertain the notion of flirting with you.

"Maaaan!" Atsumu whines in the locker room. "I wanna show off my service ace." He's been complaining about you not coming to watch a practice.

Akagi rolls him eyes. "Some people actually study, y'know. Apparently Kita-san is eyein' some fancy university in Tokyo."

"Yeah, Tsumu." Osamu drawls. "Kita-senpai doesn't have volleyball brain like you. So studyin' ain't a lost cause."

Suna pauses halfway through putting on his jacket. "Kita-senpai?" The words are foreign in his tongue.

"Huh?" Gin looks at him. "Yeah. You know. Kita-senpai. They're cousins. We call 'em Kita-senpai so we don't get confused with the captain."

Suna appreciates another absolute as he throws on his shoes and sprints down the stairs to where he knows you're waiting for your cousin. The fact that he is an absolute idiot.

[renardiererin]

just saw a post about men who copy your moans during sex & fuck you with a cocky lil grin so here’s this

rintarou suna who will fuck you with one of your legs over his shoulder, his hand on the opposite hip, other hand roaming up and down your body as he pleases. he’ll switch between rolling your stiff nipples between his fingers to see your eyes roll back & maneuvering his hand down between your legs to draw heart shapes and spell out his name on your clit with his thumb. he’ll do every trick in the book to get you whining like a slut just so he can copy your sounds in the most obnoxiously pornographic manner just because he loves watching your face turn a deeper shade of red as he endlessly pounds into your sobbing cunt. your eyes will be locked on his as your nails grip at his shoulder blades in shock but all he does is smirk down at you, eyes mad with power, dominance all consuming.

“what’s the matter, baby? are ya embarrassed? pretty princess feelin ashamed? ya should be with all those dirty little sounds you’re making, babe. such a nasty little slut, hm?”

he talks down to you while lifting your hips to a new angle, pounding down into that gummy spot inside you perfectly, his head dipping down to leave licks and bites all over your bouncing tits, touching you in ways sure to leave you whining, just to replicate the sound in the most overdramatic, high pitched, mocking voice he can fathom. you can’t even complain when he’s got you bent like that. all you can do is stare up at his pearly smirk and hungry eyes, and try not to cry at the humiliation he makes you feel when he rubs at your clit just to mock your slutty little sounds.

[miminiac]

Some suga rare ship fics I’m reading on AO3 that I think more people should be reading (and making sure to leave appreciative comments to the amazing authors)

Three is a Good Number by @alfrenna. It’s IwaOiSuga. Lots of fluff. Just a feel good fic. Maybe a slight splash of “angst” right before they get together, but everything is very smooth and just nice and lovely (and spicy).

Across the Ages by euphobio. It’s SugaYaku. A reincarnation fic and the pacing and dialogue is just very good.

Adronitis by @alfrenna. It’s MatsuSuga. A Yakuza AU that’s gearing up with all the goodie tropes and it’s only just getting started.

I am sure there are a lot of other amazing suga rare ships out there with lovely fics, so please, share with the class 🍎