# š šš. š × š nineteen š she/they š south asian
hopelessly devoted to two men named osamu š šÆ perpetual daydreamer. hobbyist artist, occasional fic writer š š¼ ̣̣ multifandom (mostly haikyuu) writings + ramblings that should have stayed inside my note app. blank blogs may be blocked at my discretion.
001ļ¹BYF ā 002ļ¹MLIST ā 003ļ¹THO(UGH)TS
000ćļ¹ćhouse rules
š¼ this blog stands for palestine, queer rights, bodily autonomy, racial justice, and treating people with dignity. bigotry of any kind isn't welcome here.
š¼ expect a mix of writing, rambling, and reblogs. dark themes may appear and will be tagged whenever possible. please curate your own experience.
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i love being alive so much!!! havenāt done anything today besides breathing and looking at the ceiling but the concept of existing is hitting so hard right now
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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sometimes the best proposals are the ones you never planned. 1.8k words
you've been wandering the grounds at the summer festival with kita shinsuke for the better part of an hour, though 'wandering' was generous, he'd stopped at nearly every stall to exchange pleasantries with neighbors, and you'd fallen into an easy rhythm at his side.
"kita-san!"
the voice came from the takoyaki stand. a girl about your age - miho, you thought her name was, waved him over with a smile that showed too many teeth. you'd seen her at the last three festivals, always finding a reason to touch kita's arm when she handed him his change.
"your order's ready," she sing songed, sliding the tray across the counter. her eyes flicked to you briefly, then dismissed you just as fast. "you know, my grandmother was just saying the other day, any girl who marries you would be the luckiest woman in the whole district. running the rice shop, knowing everyone, being so..." she twirled a strand of hair, "...reliable."
kita looked at her confused, then took the takoyaki with his usual polite nod. "that's kind of her to say."
"she meant it! kita-san."
you felt your eye twitch. the paper fan in your hand snapped open with more force than necessary, stirring the humid air.
kita stepped back, joining you again as you both moved away from the stall. he was quiet for a moment, until you decided to break the silence.
"she said your wife would be the luckiest girl in the district."
"her grandmother did."
"...right."
kita hummed
"how so?" he asked.
"she was so obviously flirting with you."
"her grandmother?"
"no dummy, her."
you looked up at him. the lantern light caught the silver in his hair, the steady calm of his dark eyes. he genuinely didn't know.
"she wanted to be your wife," you said, perhaps a touch too sharply. you looked away, pretending to be very interested in the goldfish scooping game nearby. "obviously."
"did she?" he sounded surprised. then, softer, "you sound upset."
"why would i be upset?" you snapped your fan shut. open. shut. "i'm just saying. she basically called dibs on being your wife in front of everyone."
kita was quiet again. when you risked a glance at him, he was studying your profile with that unnerving focus of his, the same look he gave rice plants when deciding if they were ready for harvest.
"why would she be lucky?" he asked.
you stopped walking. turned to face him fully. the crowd parted around you, festival-goers laughing and chattering, but you were suddenly in a very small bubble with kita shinsuke. "i don't understand."
"i mean," you said, deadpan, "you are a nice guy. you run a successful business. you're... you know. responsible and mature." you gestured vaguely at him, at the whole package of him that you'd been quietly cataloging for months now. "she meant you'd be a good...husband. probably. i don't know. she definitely wanted to be your wife. that's what she was saying."
kita blinked. once. twice.
"she wanted that?" he asked.
"yes."
"someone would want to be my wife?"
"she did," you confirmed, feeling heat crawl up your neck. you were doing a terrible job of hiding your jealousy. you were practically wearing it like a banner.
well was that your fault? the whole village knows you are in love with kita shinsuke a year now, that girl does too. yet she never misses a chance to wrap herself around his arms and now she's obviously saying she wants to be his wife!
everyone on the farm respected and loved him. he'd always been the perfect example of a man, running a succesful business, taking care of his grandma and even everyone near him, always making sure everything is fine and never raising his voice at anything and you, unfortunately, also had a stupid little crush on your friend. it certainly didn't help that he insisted on carrying the heavier crates whenever you were around, flexing his beautiful arms or quietly leaving bottled tea beside your station during summer harvests, or walked you home whenever overtime stretched past sunset, all while acting as though those things were simply something a friend should do.
"oh" kita responses, he looked down at the paper plate in his hands. you definately didn't see that his ears turned pink. you hummed before turning your head away and continuing your little walk with kita beside you.
kita opened his mouth. closed it. then, in a voice that sounded almost puzzled like he was working through a math problem he hadn't expected to encounter , he asked:
"would you want to?"
the world suddenly stopped around you.
or maybe it was just your heart. your mouth went dry. kita's expression shifted from curious to horrified in slow motion, realization dawning across his face like a sunrise he desperately wanted to stop.
for the first time since you'd known him...kita shinsuke looked completely, utterly panicked.
his eyes widened, his shoulders stiffened and colour climbed all the way to the tips of his ears. "i didn't mean-" kita's ears were turning red. you'd never seen him blush before. kita shinsuke, who handled pushy wholesalers and nosy aunties and team crises with the same unflappable calm, was turning the color of the paper lanterns. "that was inappropriate. i'm sorry. i shouldn't have asked like that."
oh?
you said nothing. could say nothing. your brain had apparently decided to take a holiday.
"kita-san!" old man from the hardware store waved from across the path, saving you both from the suffocating silence. "come settle a bet for us! is it true you're planting the new hybrid rice this year?"
kita looked toward the voice as though it'd just saved his life. "...i'll be right back."
then, after only a second's hesitation-
"...sorry."
you watched him disappear into the crowd, your tea had long since gone cold in your hands, yet you couldn't bring yourself to take another sip.
would you want to... be my wife?
surely...
surely he hadn't meant it like that.
maybe he was still talking about miha from earlier.
maybe he'd simply gotten carried away.
maybe he was asking hypothetically.
except...
kita wasn't the kind of person who asked hypothetical questions. every word that left his mouth was deliberate. every sentence had already been considered before he'd spoken it. which only made the image of his bright red face moments ago all the more impossible to understand.
you found him a few stalls away helping make change for one of the neighboring vendors.
from a distance, he looked exactly the same. calm and composed, talking with the old guy about something you couldn't hear. answering customers with the same polite smile he always wore. and it made you realize that -
kita shinsuke didn't make mistakes.
not like this.
your eyes lingered on him a little longer than they probably should have. every now and then he'd glance toward your stall. the moment your eyes met he'd immediately look somewhere else.
you'd never seen him avoid eye contact before.
your knees decided they'd had enough. you sank onto a nearby bench, hands trembling as you pressed them to your burning cheeks. would you want to? the question echoed, relentless. you'd loved him for years, quietly, hopelessly, watching him from the sidelines of his own life like a fool. you knew the exact moment it had started. two years ago, when you'd twisted your ankle on the walk home and he'd carried you piggyback all the way to your door without a single complaint, just steady breathing and the smell of rice and soap. every festival since, you'd prayed for something to change and feared it in equal measure. and now he'd asked, actually asked and you'd stood there like a statue, letting him apologize and run.
your chest ached with something sharp and bright. he wants me too, you thought, testing the words in your mind like they might dissolve. he wants me too. all those years of convincing yourself you were content with friendship, with being the person he asked to help at the shop, he wants me too , with standing beside him at festivals just to feel his shoulder brush yours, they hadn't been one sided. the hope you'd buried so deep it had fossilized was suddenly, terrifyingly alive. you stared at your hands, still shaking, and realized you were grinning like an idiot at absolutely nothing. somewhere across the festival grounds, shinsuke kita was probably having his own crisis. the thought made you laugh, breathless and giddy.
the festival continued around you. you decided to get up and drift through it, buying dango you didn't taste, watching fireworks you didn't really see. eventually the crowds thinned. the stalls began to close, lanterns dimming one by one as the night deepened.
you found yourself at the edge of the festival grounds, where the paved street gave way to a small hill overlooking the village.
you heard footsteps behind you. kita settled beside you, close enough that your shoulders almost brushed. neither of you spoke for a long moment.
"it's beautiful," you said finally, looking out at the view. "i never get tired of it."
"neither do i," kita said. but when you glanced at him, he wasn't looking at the village. he was looking at you.
you turned back to the view, heart hammering. the silence between you wasn't uncomfortable anymore, but it was heavy with everything unsaid.
"y'know" you said softly, watching the distant lights of his rice shop, their rice shop, you realized, because you'd helped there enough weekends that it felt like yours too. "i think i wouldn't mind being mrs. kita either."
you didn't look at him. couldn't. but you heard his breath catch, heard the small, wondering sound he made in the back of his throat.
"[name]," he said, and his voice was different now, still shy, still uncertain, but hopeful. hopeful in a way you'd never heard from him before.
you finally turned. he was red again, that lovely flush spreading down his neck, but he was smiling. small and real and a little bit terrified in a way that made your chest ache. "was that-" he started. "are you-"
"someone had to say it," you said, bumping your shoulder against his. "since you ran away before i could answer."
"I panicked," he admitted, sounding scandalized by his own behavior. "I've never panicked before."
"kita shin, panicking." you smiled. "i'd like to see that again sometime."
"you'll marry me, then?" the words came out rushed, half-disbelieving. "i mean- i haven't- i don't have a ring, i didn't plan this, this isn't how i would have-"
"shinsuke."
he stopped. breathed.
"yes," you said. "you ridiculous man. yes."
the festival lights flickered and dimmed behind you, but kita's smile - shy and red and utterly unlike his usual composed expression, burned brighter than all of them combined.
you were going to marry him. you are going to marry him, and you would never, ever let him forget that he'd been the one to panic first.
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Ā Ā Ā āare ya seriously stealing my chopsticks?ā you hadnāt even realized the door to your right had opened, nor that osamu was standing there with his hands on his hips.Ā
Ā Ā biting your lip, you look up from the box in front of you, your hands still gripping the sides. your jaw clenches as you stare up at osamu, one of his eyebrows raised in what looks like amusement. ābecause i already bought the building and stealing my stuff isnāt going to change that.ā
Ā Ā āyou are insufferableĀ miya,ā you drop the box a few inches to the ground, rolling your eyes at his attempt at humor.
Ā Ā he watches as you stand up, his shoulders slacking at the use of miya over osamu. āand you havenāt explained why youāre stealing my package,ā osamu leans down to pick up the package, wedging it against his side and under his arm.Ā
Ā Ā āit was delivered to my bar, dumbass. i keep getting your stuff delivered to my back door and i keep having to move it over to your restaurant. hell i even had to have koji move over that giant tv you got,ā you let out a sigh, watching as his brows furrow at the name, āheās the barās chef. not that itās your business anyway.ā
Ā Ā crossing your arms in front of your chest, he looks away, clearly caught by his interest in your life. āso just make sure to keep your stuff on your side and i will keep all of my stuff to my side,ā he looks back to you, the grimace still stuck on his face.
Ā Ā āokay- um, okay. i will be perfectly amicable,ā osamu shifts the box in front of him, holding it with ease.Ā
Ā Ā āsure,Ā miya, i believe you,ā you turn away as soon as a smile starts to creep up on his lips. there was always something so mesmerizing about his smile, and you couldnāt give in to his charm.Ā
fun facts:
- y/n over exaggerates the hatred for osamu sooo much
- like she is so repressed
- osamu was listening to stupid song by olivia rodrigo
- if you canāt tell i am craving beer cheese
- osamu and atsumu love to try to use reverse psychology on each other constantly
- kuroo is a ride or die i love him