noidkeitherwhatimdoing

[noidkeitherwhatimdoing]

one of my fondest hc is that i truly truly believe that the hatfords are either scottish or northern english. and a much smaller gang than the moriyamas/wesninskis in general. it just makes more sense to me.

i like to think that the hatfords are more working class,not in wealth but culturally, and that mary wanted more than that. she grew up wanting to be amongst higher society, to be rich and boast about it too. and when she got the opportunity to leave with a man who offered that lifestyle, the glamour and shimmer and appeal of old dirty money, she jumped at it. she left her family behind, thinking she could do better than them. and she told them that too. she thought she’d be more than she was with her family, be an equal to nathan in his business and at home.

and she was, until she got pregnant. and then suddenly she was a mother, instead of a person. the one who caused a problem by getting pregnant. now nathan had something he had to deal with, to get rid of so he could continue his work with the moryiamas. the cruelty she’d been exempt from till this point was suddenly turned on her and her son. Neil became the only thing she had. and she had to risk everything for him.

and once it all went south, the shame and the guilt, and the belief that the hatfords couldnt deal with problems this big, ate away at her until she was on an island of two. her and neil. and while she loved him, she really loved him, neil had torn her away from the life she had made for herself. from the position she deserved to have, among the prestige and wealth. so she resented him.

what she didn’t know, was that for her, her family would’ve made themselves bigger. for neil, they increased their base and standings in uk and made themselves important to the moriyamas. they extended business overseas. they would’ve fought for her had she asked.

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Mmmm hate sex w Bronya… 🤤

[noidkeitherwhatimdoing]

People calling Kevin toxic for andriel are we reading the same series???

Did you miss Kevin taking care of Andrews's meds which is such a trusting thing on Andrew's behalf because he's gone his life doing things alone but now Kevin's offered to help and not interfere in Andrews's life and business and RESPECTING HIS BOUNDARIES???

Did you miss Kevin threatening Neil to tell him his actual condition and NOT the "I'm fine" bullshit he's constantly saying.

Did you miss Kevin being the FIRST person to see something in Andrew? Even before Neil did, not his cousin, not his brother not the system but Kevin fucking Day saw something in him and promised to give him something to structure his life around??? Kevin believed in him whether on not Andrew was on his meds.

Did you miss Kevin telling Neil to run away when he finds out his identity because he doesn't want Neil to be caught back up with the Moriyama's. It's too late for Kevin to escape, he's been under the limelight for years now and Exy is the only thing he'd been brought up to know. But he wanted Neil to run even if it meant the Foxes couldn't qualify to play he was willing to give up the thing cared most about to keep Neil safe.

"The day Kevin stops playing is the day he dies. He has nothing else. He wasn't raised to have anything else. Do you understand? We cannot lose to the Ravens this year. Kevin won't survive it." KEVIN WAS WILLING TO GIVE THAT UP FOR NEILS SAFETY.

Did you miss how Kevin purposefully feigned disinterest in Andrew when he was with the Raven's because he didn't want to drag Andrew into the nest??

Did you miss Kevin fucking Day grabbing Riko Moriyama's arm- his LITERAL abuser to stop him from hurting Neil?? Did you miss how Riko immediately hit Kevin back but it didn't stop Kevin from trying.

HELL I COULDN GO ON AND ON DO NOT FUCKING TRY THIS WITH ME Kevin saved Andrew and Neil just as much as they saved him goodnight

[noidkeitherwhatimdoing]

Do you think Diluc picks 2 barrels of grapes because when they where younger him and Kaeya filled one each and that he sells it at a lower price so he can see his brother sober

❤️💙

[noidkeitherwhatimdoing]

Aaron in my fanfic: maybe Andrew really hates me bc I’m such a burden

Andrew in my fanfic: why is Aaron not asking me for help when he’s not doing well? Maybe he hates me

[noidkeitherwhatimdoing]

PARFUM D'ÉTOILES

໒꒰ྀི∗ɞ̴̶̷ ·̮ ɞ̴̶̷∗꒱ྀིა .*･｡ﾟ⌒ tobio kageyama x f!reader. sfw / established relationship / non-explicit reference to sex / both parties are naked && in a bathtub / slightly suggestive / lazily proofread / no plot really i dunno . . . m jus prosing abt mega ultra supa dupa lovestruck tobi here T_T / for @rinphoria’s the only truth is music collab! / 1.8k wc ♱ collab masterlist ♱ my masterlist.

tobio kageyama thinks he can see the whole universe in your eyes.

the moon upon your hair and the stars disguised as blemishes on your skin.

he didn’t think he’d ever be one for sappy romantics like this; it was always supposed to be just him and his volleyball, the two of them against the world. 

his mornings were always supposed to start at the crack of dawn, with a run along the west coast shore where he’d stop at the humble little café and grab a biscotti for an early breakfast— one for himself and one for the stray ginger cat that hung out by his apartment— the one that would never let him touch her, or even get near her before running off in the other direction.

his nights were always supposed to be spent getting extra reps out on the court, coming home too late and too tired to make anything new for dinner, eating leftovers while reviewing film for his next match, doing setting drills in his bed and writing in his volleyball journal before passing out on top of his sheets with his ball cradled in his arms.

but then, by fate of the cosmos, he met someone. 

someone who kept him in bed for a little while longer in the mornings with the warmth of her bare body against his, her lips hot against his neck in usually successful attempts to keep him to herself before he went about his day. someone who he’d grab an extra biscotti— or maybe two or three, if she asked— for after his run, someone who helped him gain the trust of that cat, someone who convinced him to put a collar with a nametag around her neck and bring her home.

someone who fed him fresh, warm meals after practice, someone who knew his likes and dislikes inside out, someone who he put to bed every night with tender touches of his fingers and lips over sacred parts of her body under the sheets, someone who put him to bed the same way.

someone he sees so much life in, someone through which he fell in love with the world.

someone who showed him what love is; how to love. someone who was able to see the very outline of his soul. touch it, even.

and now, when tobio kageyama looks at you, he thinks he can see the whole universe in your eyes.

at least, that’s what he thinks, as he watches you— completely enamoured— from the other side of the bathtub. 

the air that fills his bathroom is noisy; it always is on friday nights, where essential oil baths with you have worked its way into his schedule.

the gentle splashing of the water as your fingers tread at its surface and the sounds of rome on a hot summer’s night slip through the open window: incomprehensible chatter from patrons at the bar just across the narrow cobblestone street, the faint clinking of emptied dishes and glasses, the muted whispers of an accordion busker some blocks down. there’s the hum of your voice too— it’s quieter than the ambience surrounding his senses, yet it’s the only thing his ears seem to want to pick up on.

your voice is soft— the timbre of it a little shaky in certain parts where the pitch is either too low or too high for your range— but it carries through his blood so smoothly, enveloping him in a comforting embrace when it spreads along the broad expanse of back, just as your palms do when you knead the muscles under his taut skin there before bed every night.

tobio finds himself drowning in the dreamy lilt of your voice, the melody of your humming all too familiar as he wracks his brain to try and place where he’s heard it before.

did you have it playing from the speakers when you were cleaning the apartment one day? or was it from that one concert you took him to a couple months ago? maybe it was a song from the old italian film you both watched at the drive-in theatre last weekend. he can’t seem to remember.

he’s so caught up in his own thoughts that he barely notices when you shift around, playing with the water suddenly to boresome for you as you instead opt to lean against the edge of the tub, forearms digging into the cool marble while you look out at the city below you.

tobio feels his mouth go dry at the increased exposure of your bare skin— of course, it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before; he knows your body like he knows the lines on the court, having mapped out every inch of your soft flesh with his lips— but he can’t help the way he begins to feel the steady beating of his heart in his ears. 

beauty incarnate is what he thinks you are: under the warm yellow glow of the streetlamps lining either side of the street, the flickers of the tealights set on the windowsill reflecting off the sheen of the perfumed bathwater coating every dip and curve of your frame, the languid smile on your lips and the stars in your eyes that seem to shine brighter than the city lights.

tobio’s body moves on its own when he reaches out to run his fingertips down the groove of your back, all the way to the bottom of your spine where the surface of the water meets your skin, his pinkie grazing over the bath ducky that floats near you. his attention is averted from you to the yellow piece of rubber momentarily, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he’s reminded of how it ended up joining the two of you on your weekly friday night baths; it was a gift to you that he’d purchased from a street vendor on the way back home one day— something about it screaming your name. tobio could never tell what that ‘it’ was.

and as he continues to admire you, he finally recognizes the tune you’d been humming, “that’s that song.”

“hm?” you tilt your head as you turn to look at him, a knowing smile on your lips that goes past tobio’s head.

his eyes meet yours, and there’s a slight hitch in his breath before he speaks hushedly, “the pianist played it at that restaurant, where we—"

“— had our first date… you remember,” your smile grows wider— it’s bright, almost blinding. his eyes briefly flit to the rubber ducky that’s now made its way in front of him. 

the smile on it looks just like the one you’re wearing now.

tobio scoffs, a wordless reply of, “of course i remember— how could i forget?” before his fingers resume their path along your hips, tracing over the faint lightning bolts that line the supple skin there, gently squeezing the fat of it in between his thumb and index finger.

"c'mere," he beckons you towards him with the slight outstretch of his arms, and you do as he says— shuffling through the water until you’re facing him, your frame bracketed by his legs as you kneel in between them and press your chest flush against his, running your palms down the walls of the tub until they fall flat on his thighs underneath the surface.

you feel him tense up under your touch; it coaxes a tiny giggle out of you and has you nuzzling into the crook of his neck, the residual scent of sea salt and wood sage from his cologne clouding your senses as your lips move on their own along the expanse of the soft skin there. 

“y’know my thighs are sensitive…” he grunts into your hair, biting back a pleasured hum when he feels the warmth of your breath over his pulse.

his palms leave their place on your hips to find your neck, cradling each side as his thumbs rub gently at the remnants of rosy glitter you had dusted onto your cheekbones earlier on in the evening— before you took his hand in yours and dragged him to the beach to enjoy the cotton candy sunset and some freshly baked cannoli— another thing that had worked its way into his weekly schedule, another thing that he wouldn’t have found much joy in if it weren’t for you.

you watch as his eyes dart across the expanse of your face— from the stray hairs framing it, to the puzzled pout of your lips, to the bob of your neck when you swallow, to the slight raise of your brows— before they finally settle on your own. 

and as his gaze meets yours, tobio realizes that he's right.

he can see the whole universe in your eyes.

his whole universe. 

through the ridges that line your irises, he can see the stuff his dreams are made of and the whirling ways of the cosmos that pass— all of the stars, and planets, and moons, and galaxies— his entire past, present, and future. 

his heart thrashes around the confinements of his ribs, the thrum of its beating picking up tempo as it travels through his blood and to his eardrums— he would rip it out of his chest and hand it to you on a silver platter, he would hang up all of the moons and stars in each of the 100 billion galaxies in the universe for you if he could.

“what’s on your mind?” the airy whisper of your voice falls onto his ears as a surprise, as if he weren’t expecting you to speak up in the three, now nearly four consecutive minutes he’d been staring at you without an explanation or a sound.

i love you. god, i love you so much. 

that’s what he wants to say.

there’s one other sentence— or a question, rather, that tags along with it— yet he can’t seem to get the words out of his chest. it feels like there’s a black hole where they lie, rooted so deep in the core of his soul that it sucks him in with the strongest force of gravity he’s ever felt— makes him feel like he weighs a million tons and simultaneously nothing at all. he’s nervous, but he’s also calm; clouded by his thoughts, but his mind couldn’t be any clearer.

the words dance on the tip of his tongue and he opens his mouth to speak, but instead swallows back his proclamation with the tiniest bit of hesitancy— like a shot of hard liquor— strong enough to cause a stinging pain to the membrane lining his throat, but warm enough to send an afterglow of chilling comfort through his limbs.

tobio slips his hands down beneath the water to find your own, a knowing smile working its way onto his lips. 

it mirrors the one you’re wearing.

he opens his mouth to speak— one more time— barely noticing how his thumb starts to rub along your bare ring finger, his love for you silently pouring out of his fingertip and wrapping around yours as an invisible band.

“i think you already know.”

taggiez :: @shoyouu @sinfuldxlight @atsumeii @gojotron @eeuphorique @getosbunny @neon-crucifix @t0m-yuu

sawbz i hope dis was okay . . . thx 4 reading i hope u luvd it ໒꒰ྀི∩´͈ ᐜ `͈∩꒱ྀིა comments + reblogs r so appreciated <3

[noidkeitherwhatimdoing]

Rating: Explicit (3.2k) Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard Additional Tags: Soft Neil Josten, Soft Andrew Minyard, Protective Andrew Minyard, domestic andreil, Post canon, Succulent Gardens, Knitting, Journaling, first I love yous, everything is soft and nothing hurts, soft smut, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex

Andrew and Neil navigate post canon domestic life together. From finding new hobbies to tender moments of making love, it’s almost got Neil thinking he might understand being in love.

[noidkeitherwhatimdoing]

thank you so much for all the amazing writing!! if you're not too overwhelmed with prompts, could you write something with andreil + protectiveness??

Reading this back, I’m not sure this is quite the protectiveness you were looking for, but hopefully you still enjoy? Like wow did I diverge. Please message if you want a take 2. Also, fun fact: this is based off a true story in that I too thought Ratatouille was a safe and good movie to watch with my four year old nephew. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t and he cried.

Being a witness in the FBI’s trial takes more out of Neil than he anticipated. Hearing every detail and seeing the photos presented to the court leaves his stomach rolling. It leaves fear and dread crawling through his veins and gnawing at his bones. It leaves the itch to run sparking with each beat of his heart. Andrew is always there, though, to quiet the urge. With a look. With a touch. With simple but strong words. 

But when they finally make it back to PSU, Neil still feels off, like he hasn’t quite got his feet righted against the ground. The Foxes are both suffocating and overly cautious at the same time. They don’t leave him alone, and yet they tip-toe around him, talking in hushed tones they don’t think he hears and watching him with concerned eyes they don’t think he sees. Even if it does start to get under his skin after a few days, they’re his family, and really, Neil does appreciate the gesture. So when Dan suggests a movie night, Neil can’t find it in his heart to decline. 

Keep reading

[noidkeitherwhatimdoing]

Genshin headcanons…

When a customer is rude at the tavern, Diluc intimidates them in to paying double. When Kaeya is too drunk to pay, Diluc will pay for him with the money of said rude customers.

[noidkeitherwhatimdoing]

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” But it’s Scaramouche x Fatui! Shneznayan native who’s just clueless about Scara’s confession 🫠🫠

[noidkeitherwhatimdoing]

you always answered the phone with the same lilt to your voice. whenever kuroo would call you, you’d smother him in the sound of something sweet, melodic tones drifting through static as you answered with hello boyfriend.

he laughed the first time, and again the second, until every mention of his title would leave him with a smile etched into the lines of his face. hello boyfriend, you’d say on summer nights, when he met you outside your window and your lips pursed with held back laughter. hello boyfriend, you’d repeat again when he met you outside your college classes, when he brought you an iced chai and kissed your cheek and watched sunlight splay across your skin.

and of course, there was this morning. despite the engagement ring that had settled on your finger, you said it again. you were going your separate ways, if only briefly, this morning. you, to get your dress put on, to get your hair pulled back and away from your face, to be dusted with the sweet makeup that you’d been fawning over for weeks. and he, of course, was to go see bokuto and kenma and yaku and the lot of them and hope to god that everything would turn out fine until-

well, until you finally walked down that aisle.

but you’d said it that morning. hello boyfriend, a teasing pull to your lips as he dipped down to kiss you—everything you could ever need in the bag that hung off your arm. he laughed into the breath of the kiss, your own lips curling into that smile as your hands found his jaw.

he’d mumbled back his hellos, pulling you closer until he could feel the intertwining of souls, he’s sure, and then sent you off. go, c’mon! they’re waiting for the main event.

and you smiled at him, pressed your lips to his cheeks in a final goodbye, and then left.

he supposes that brings you both to now. the aisle is long behind you both, and both of you can hear the rumbling of the crowd as they stand to go to the reception, but you’ve snuck off. he’s tucked you in the corner of a side-room, let you smile up at him with that venue-lighting shine dancing on your cheeks.

right now, kuroo can still feel little dried tears on his face. during the ceremony, you’d laughed at him, reached up to wipe them away and ignored the officiant’s speech until you both had to say your vows.

you were so much better at this than he was. always have been. he stumbled over his vows, ignored the cards he’d half-written in their entirety, made bad jokes and wanted to cry through just about all of it.

he didn’t cry. you said the vows were great. he watched as you teared up when he said that you are just as much a part of me as my blood or my heart is. i don’t know how else to say it.

and still, your makeup is perfect, there’s a smile on your face, and you’re looking up at him like you know something more than he ever could.

“hello husband,” you say, and though he can see the way you smile up at him, he could hear it in your voice if he was blind, too.

people start to move from the ceremony to the reception, he can hear it outside this little room, but kuroo doesn’t care—he can’t find it in himself, because the sound of his heartbeat is louder than anything he’s ever heard before. each rattle leaves him a little breathless, each pounding of muscle makes him want to pull you closer, wants to make it so there couldn’t even be air between you. he wants to give you the breath from his lungs, the blood from his veins, the words that dare cross his tongue—anything you could ever ask for, he’d give to you. if it meant you would devour all that he is, that you could feel the love spread through your body just as much as the burning of alcohol or a flame, he would.

and so, before kuroo can even say hello back, he feels himself start to cry. for the third time that day, his eyes well with tears, they creep over his lashes and scratch at his throat, and he cries.

“oh, no, tetsu, i don’t think we’re meant to cry this much on our wedding day,” you say, and your thumbs come up to wipe tears away from his eyes and off of his cheeks and he chases after the feeling of your hands. he leans into your touch, pulls your palm close until he can press his lips to you.

“then i’m definitely doing this wrong,” he replies.

you swat at his chest, and he laughs, dipping down until his nose brushes your hair. he can feel the material of your dress, lets his fingers brush along it until he’s sure he would remember it twenty years from now. he breathes you in, lets the smell of lavender dance around his nose and settle somewhere deeper in him.

he kisses the crown of your head, and then mumbles into your hair.

“hello wife.”

you laugh, and then try it all again.

“hello husband.”

[noidkeitherwhatimdoing]

you would never dare tell him, but right now, in the way that atsumu speaks and leans in with laughter, in the way he scrunches the bridge of his nose at the scent of the wine in his hand, in the way his suit fits him just so perfectly beneath those dimmed, romantic lights—he looks pretty.

he’s had you on his arm all night, the insistence of well, i can’t exactly go to this wedding alone, still dripping off of the phrases that he whispers to you. you’d told him you wouldn’t, that you would never, that he could take a stranger well before he could ever try to pass you off as a date.

but then the night before, with glittering eyes and an apologetic gift in his hand, a wine bottle held between nearly-white knuckles and a box in the other, he pleaded with you once more. only when he was met with the brief sigh before your defeated okay did he dare hand you the box, brown and thin and light enough to hold the dress that you wear now.

and now he’s managed to get you close, hands sweet enough to pass as easy affection—fingers tracing red silk and dipped-open backs. your laughter mixes with his, his eyes meet yours, and you desperately want to tell him he’s pretty.

you won’t, you swore you never would. but that can’t help the silent prayer at the back of your throat—words that press against every nerve, that beg to be spoken, that wish to betray you with every whisper, every mumble of some half-baked adoration, every time he leans in close enough that you can smell his cologne.

he hums at whoever he’s speaking with, crossing the space that rests between them to hear them just a little better, the tilt to his head to reach over the music.

“oh! of course, yeah we started dating um,” he turns to you, brows furrowed, something resting on the tip of his tongue that he can’t quite muster out-

“just a few months ago,” you finish, and then lean into him, pressing your head against his chest and a hand against his heart. if you had given yourself a moment to think about it, perhaps you would’ve swore that it burned. “what is it, five months now?”

he laughs, fingers dipping beneath silk to meet your waist. you swear it burns there, too. “right, april’s already so far away, isn’t it?”

and the couple ahead of you, older, with gray hairs kissing at much darker ones, laughs in reply. they mention something about young love, about time slipping away too quickly, about how the two of you should take these moments as you would the tide—don’t fight it too much, but don’t let it carry you away, either.

atsumu’s fingers are on your spine now, a nail drifting between the two halves of you, like he could tie you together if only by the trace of his hands. and terribly, in the worst way that you know, he could. because right now, beneath this romantic light and the silk of your dress and the deep burning red of it all—the wine, your clothes, his tie, your heels, his hands, his fingers, his touch—you feel more whole than you have in a while.

you turn to him, handing your champagne flute off to him in a hurried flush of hands.

“i’ll be right back, i just have to step outside.”

you notice the furrow of his brows before you leave, notice the prick of confusion that dares dot at his voice as he lets a sound of confirmation cross his lips, but you step away before he can begin to say anything more.

you desperately want to run. you don’t, but you trip over your heels and stumble over rolling fabric that twists around your knees, and you mumbles half-spoken apologies as you turn your body to avoid everyone else’s.

and then you’re met with it—the chill of september air. something that leaks past every inch of your skin and into your lungs. you take one gasp, and then another. you look up at the star-crossed sky, catch glimpses of something much larger than you between desperates little blinks of your eyes.

you will not cry over atsumu miya. someone passes by you, their date laughing on their arm—and you remind yourself that will not cry over atsumu miya. the wind drifts between your back and your dress, leaving the places where he touched you to turn cold.

but there’s the sound of footsteps behind you, the suggestion of something apologetic and remorseful and forgiving that dares to creep up and touch your shoulder.

“i’m sorry if that was too much, i’m being stupid, aren’t i?” you don’t respond, but he moves around you until he’s in front of you, a hand still on your arm, and he’s tall enough that you can see the tilt to his head and the furrow to his brow all over again. “i know, i shouldn’t have pushed. i guess i just got caught up. i don’t know.”

and you still don’t speak. you let his hair mix with the night sky, you let his skin reflect every star and every blade of grass. atsumu goes to say something again, to fill the silence with anything, you’re sure.

“you look pretty tonight,” you say, because you’re starting to realize that it wasn’t just the lighting inside that made him like that. you want to convince yourself that it’s the champagne on your breath and not the desire from your chest that finally releases those words, but you never were one to favor lying to yourself.

“you look pretty tonight. it was a lot, and i swore i wouldn’t let you hear it, but i want you to laugh again like you did in there.” you gesture back inside, the distant sound of music making its way out and onto the grass. “so i just wanted you to know.”

he smiles. “you wanted me to laugh?”

you swat at him, taking a step forward as you do, and your hell catches on the soil and sends you stumbling into him. he catches you and pulls you back up, sweet whispers of alcohol slipping past his lips as he stands you back up.

and you wish, deeply so, that you could blame this on alcohol, but you can’t, and so you won’t even try.

“anyways,” you say, “sorry for all this, um, wanna head back inside?”

and atsumu stills, you can see the way he swallows, know by the way he leans in for a moment that he’s considering something dangerous.

“yeah, just, let me try something first.”

and atsumu, who you swore would never do this to you, who you swore would never know that you think he’s pretty, brings a hand up to your cheek. his fingers leave a little trail of static along your skin, his thumb kissing your lashes and fingers finding home along your jaw and somewhere in your hair.

and atsumu, who you swore you would never allow, not once, to get your heart to beat just a little bit faster, brings himself close enough to you that you can smell the alcohol on his breath—close enough that you can feel the air that escapes his lips, no matter how unsteady it is.

and atsumu, who you swore you would never kiss, kisses you. he kisses you like it's something holy, like every prayer that has ever pressed into your throat is being let out in a final moment of revelation.

and so you kiss him. you break promises to yourself and to no one else—you let them snap beneath the weight of your own desire and your own glimpse into something more.

so you kiss atsumu. you kiss him like you never thought you would.

reblogs and interaction are super appreciated ❤︎

[noidkeitherwhatimdoing]

Sun-kissed

A/n: If you can’t tell, Hinata is my favorite sunshine ever, and I adore him with my entire being. Here’s a little something for him because it’s always missing Shoyo hours - there are manga spoilers from around chapter 371 onward though, so be warned!

Pairing: (Brazil timeskip!) Hinata x Reader

Word Count: 2070

*******

The blazing sun of Rio set below the horizon, allowing a taste of salvation to wash over as a cooler breeze swept the bustling city. You sit perched on a plush bed, with brush in one hand and a blow dryer in the other. A towel snugly wraps around your body, but it’s quickly opted out for soft pajama shorts and a flannel that smell uncanny to tangerines and sunscreen. The scent invades your senses like a summer’s afternoon spent at the beach, and you welcome the comforting feeling that settles in your body as the oversized fabric ends at your thighs.

Idly scrolling through recommended shows on your laptop and humming softly to a relaxing song reverberating throughout the room, you don’t register the sound of the front entrance being unlocked nor the shuffling of feet in the living room. When you finally think you’ve decided on something to watch and go to pause your music, the bedroom door opens and filters a warm glow of light into your sitting space.

A smile graces your features when you recognize the figure leaning on the doorframe, his brightening presence ever more highlighted by the rays of the living room behind him.

“Is that my flannel?” he grins, taking notice of your chosen apparel.

“Why hello to you too, Shoyo,” you reply with an air of sarcasm, although the glimmer in your eyes indicates him to your amusement.

The Karasuno alumni pads over to the bedside before unceremoniously flopping onto the mattress, his unruly hair even more of a mess from the baseball cap he’s likely had on all day. “Hi, angel.” His greeting is muffled by the comforter below him, but you can hear well enough what he says. You stifle a laugh and reach a hand over to smooth out his tousled locks. “Tired?”

He groans in response, turning his head to face you with a pout. “Sand is stupid sometimes.”

“If you say that, the sand isn’t going to like you very much.”

“Too bad, it can deal with my annoyance in stupid sandy silence.”

Hinata props himself up on his elbows to examine your setup, a cheeky smile returning when he toys with the fabric of the flannel you decided to wear - yeah, most definitely his.

“You’ve sure settled in nicely,” he notes.

“And you’re sweaty as heck and lying on the bed,” you retort, eyeing his drenched athletic shirt as he splays out on the mattress.

He hums in acknowledgment, but makes no effort to move from his position, instead resting his chin on his palm. He gazes at you with bright eyes.

“Wanna shower with me then? Conserve some water?” he proposes, and you snort at his attempt to sell the idea.

“I just took one actually, but good sales pitch,” you grin while gesturing to your damp hair, still slightly wet despite using the blow dryer earlier.

He whines like a puppy being denied attention.

“Well that’s no fun,” he mutters.

His other hand skims over the back of your own, pulling it towards him and placing a gentle kiss on your palm.

“Did you already eat?” you inquire as your thumb strokes his cheek, temporarily choosing to put aside the fact that the he wanted to distract you from his (very necessary) shower. “Pedro brought back some dinner before he went out to study, so there’s still some left in the kitchen if you want.”

“I got something before I came home, but thank you,” he gives you a hazy smile. “Sleep well today?”

“Yeah. That early morning arrival at the airport ended up working out, since I woke up at a good time this afternoon.”

“If you’re up for it tomorrow, I can show you around the city. Maybe sit at the beach for a bit while I practice too?”

Your eyes light up at the idea, and Hinata chuckles at your excitement. “That sounds nice.”

The male leans towards your face and presses a soft kiss to your lips, full of tender affection and pure warmth. Gentle touch grazes the side of your face to pull you closer, skin on the pads of his fingers quite rough, but his touch still captivating you easily. That scent of sunscreen and sandy shores strengthens with his proximity, and you poke his chest with a giggle after grasping the strength to pull back.

“Don’t think I don’t know your games, sunshine. Shower,” you insist, drawing out the word.

He groans, rolling off the side of the bed and trudging towards the bathroom, snagging some clothes from his drawer to change into. “I was this close to making you forget.”

“Sure you were.”

He was very close to making you forget, actually, but you don’t tell him that.

The gentle cascading of water sounds from the bathroom connected to Hinata’s room, and you turn your eyes back to your laptop. Pressing play on one of your sitcoms, you relax into the many pillows stacked from behind and pull your boyfriend’s flannel even tighter around you. Despite declining his offer to shower earlier, you find yourself sneaking a glance at the bathroom doorway more than once, already missing the soothing warmth he brought with his mere presence alone.

During one of these occasional peeks at the door, your eye catches the glare of a picture frame sitting on a nearby desk, and you smile fondly at it from across the room. Even without being very close, you can tell it’s a graduation photo from the striking amount of orange in the frame, some being Hinata’s hair, and the other being a giant bouquet that he gave you after the ceremony.

You had your arms thrown around him, flowers clasped between your hands near his waist, and both of you were smiling like idiots in the shot. The photo was one of your favorites, and it was proudly on display in your room back home. In return for the bouquet, you gave him a big crow plushie - a gag gift that you didn’t expect him to hold on to for long, but you soon found out that wasn’t the case when it appeared in a facetime call during his first week in Rio.

It reminds me of you, he had said, hugging the stuffed animal tightly to his chest.

The bathroom door opened abruptly, promptly breaking your attention from the photo on the desk. You hadn’t even realized that the shower water had turned off until now. Hinata ruffles a towel over his hair, bringing his mop of orange locks back to its more typical volume, despite it being just as damp as your own. He’s only in a pair of sweatpants, and you are definitely not complaining at the sight of a shirtless Shoyo, sun-kissed skin and toned body very much on display.

Thank you, beaches of Rio.

“See? It feels nice being all showered up,” you nod approvingly, trying to keep your eyes from raking over the male’s upper body - you’re failing quite miserably. Fortunately, for your sake, he decides not to comment on your staring.

“I know, you’re right,” he sighs out, “I just wanted to catch up on lost time with you.”

As he situates himself back beside you on the bed, you give him a quick peck on the nose that leaves his ears a light pink. Even after all this time, he’ll get flustered at the smallest of affectionate gestures with which you surprise him.

“Well, you’ve got me to yourself for two whole weeks, so there’s plenty of time,” you point out.

“Kenma was really generous with all that vacation time at once.”

“There’s a backup editor that he’s been looking to test out on the channel, so he told me to take a break while that happens.”

Kenma - AKA Kodzuken - is indeed your boss, and a very great one at that. He lets you handle all the video editing for his channel, and you’re also invited to come along with him on business travels whenever you’re able. He knew you’d been working diligently when it came to your job, and saw testing the backup editor as a perfect opportunity to give you a break.

When he heard you were planning a visit to see Hinata sometime soon, the former Nekoma student practically forced you to take a vacation and ‘check in on my favorite sponsor’.

You constantly call him Shoyo’s sugar daddy, at which point he’ll chuck his cat plushies at you, but he doesn’t necessarily object either.

“What’re you smiling about now?” Hinata inquires, poking at your cheek.

“I just remembered something funny,” you wave it off, knowing Kenma would come after your ass if you said anything referencing the streamer’s nickname.

Hinata slides over and pulls you into his side, and your head instinctively lands on his chest. The gentle thrum of his heartbeat resounding in your ear relaxes you immensely. His hand traces lazily from your shoulder blades down your arm, and he takes your hand in his own with a squeeze.

“I missed you like crazy, you know,” he murmurs, and you feel like you’ll start melting into a puddle at any moment.

“I missed you too. So much,” you respond, earning another squeeze to your hand.

“Want to stay in my room instead of the guest one tonight?”

You nestle yourself into him even further, eliciting a chuckle from the Karasuno alumni. “Yes please.”

The both of you remain that way for a long time, barely paying mind to the show on your laptop. Warm hands glide gently through your hair, and you trace small patterns on his arms as he does so, just basking in the long awaited presence of his light, that sun-kissed skin so inviting against your fingers.

•••••

The next thing you know, the sound of birds coaxe you awake, eyes fluttering open to find strong arms wrapped around you. A pair of legs are intricately tangled with your own beneath cloud-like sheets, and steady breaths gently fan against your neck. You spot your closed laptop on the bedside table in front of you and realize that you must have fallen asleep at some point last night, Hinata likely taking care of things and getting you properly into bed.

A smile breaks out on your face at the thought of him gingerly placing you under the covers, before quietly getting in next to you. Elated emotions from said imaginations only grow when you feel lips pepper the back of your neck in soft kisses, notifying you that your boyfriend is also up.

“Did I wake you?” you ask quietly, hand reaching back to smooth out Hinata’s messy bed hair. You didn’t even have to be facing him to know that the orange strands were sticking in every direction.

“No, I was already half-awake,” he rasps, voice not yet void of its morning grogginess. You find that you missed the sound of it more than you initially realized.

You turn your body around to face a sleepy Hinata, a hazy grin playing at the corners of his mouth as you let out a yawn.

“Morning, pretty thing,” he chuckles, before stifling a yawn of his own. “Breakfast?”

“Five more minutes,” you groan. Limbs latch around the orange haired male like a koala bear, a lazy attempt to keep him in bed for just a while longer. You know that Shoyo had picked up a habit of getting up and ready for the day at early hours, but you were determined to make him stick around to cuddle - if even for just a moment longer.

A lingering kiss is pressed to your forehead once you’re settled again, and you can sense Hinata’s face breaking into a sunny smile. “That’s perfectly fine with me.”

Even if every blazing star in the sky fizzled out and ceased to shine, you’re certain that wouldn’t matter to you. All the warmth and light you’ve ever needed or wanted could be found in your reach - encasing you in a love so raw, yet you knew it would never burn you. Sun-kissed skin embraces your entire being, and you hardly notice the incoming daylight streaming over the streets of Brazil.

[noidkeitherwhatimdoing]

sleeping next to kuroo is a trap.

he’s never been a morning person—never claimed to be, really—but it’s not until you’re pulling his hands off your waist and letting the sheets slip from your legs that you truly understand how severe it is.

“stay,” he murmurs, a soft little sound that spills across the sheets. “just for a little while.”

and truthfully ’a little while’ sounds terribly appealing. the idea of staying here—of falling back to the mattress, coaxed by the vibration of sleep in his throat and the warmth of his hands and the ache of the morning sun—you’re more than tempted.

but you know better than to tell him that.

“i gotta get up.” you stretch over his shoulder to glance at the time, sighing as his arm reaches towards you. “and you do too, idiot. we’re gonna be late.”

he shakes his head, nose brushing the pillow, the flush of morning still heavy on his cheeks.

“i’ll get ready so fast,” he hums.

“and what about me?”

“you’ll be even faster, obviously.” you raise a brow in his direction, swatting his hand away as it nears your thigh.

“we can even shower together—save a whole twenty minutes.” you laugh—and perhaps you’d feel a little guilty about giving him the satisfaction any other time, but right now there’s a drowsy little smile spreading across his cheeks and a breath of laughter filling the air that nearly swallows you whole.

“five minutes,” you sigh. “you get five minutes.”

and it doesn’t even take a second of those five minutes for him to pull you towards him, knowing well enough that he’ll be making the same plea again the next time you get up.

because kuroo tetsurō—who burns under the rising sun and kisses sweet words into your cheeks and begs you to stay just for a little while—has never been a morning person, so, suddenly, neither are you.

reblogs/interaction is always appreciated

[noidkeitherwhatimdoing]

MORNING MOMENTS

pairing(s): post-timeskip fukunaga, hinata, & akaashi (separately) x gn! reader

tags: some cute morning fluff, bad pickup lines

warnings: minor food mention in hinata & akaashi

a/n: oh to be the lover of timeskip hinata shoyo anyway this has been sitting in my drafts for months so i finally posted it i'll try to write more often i Swear

it’s a familiar day—shohei is singing in the shower like he always is, and you’re standing at the bathroom counter brushing your teeth, watching the mirror steam up. his singing is horrible in possibly every way possible but you’re positive there’s a smile on his face behind the white shower curtain.

“shohei,” you sigh as he takes another breath to start up, pausing abruptly.

“yes? you don’t need to compliment my singing, thank you, it’s a given.”

you snort, toothpaste falling into the sink. “yeah, whatever floats your boat. anyway, what color clothes are you wearing today? i want to coordinate them.”

shohei smacks his lips loudly. “mmmm, wow, fancy. i’m thinking about wearing some fulvous with eburnean, maybe a hint of amaranth while i’m at it? or i can throw in some xanadu and spice it up a bit.”

“you don’t know what any of those mean, do you.”

“no, not in the slightest. how about yellow?”

“yellow is fine.” although, you think, he does look best in pink. i mean, then again, what doesn’t he look good in? and before you can stop them, the thoughts: “you’re handsome in every color.”

he chuckles and even though he can’t see you you throw your hands over your eyes. holy crap that was embarrassing.

“that’s cute,” he giggles. shohei only giggles—he doesn’t really laugh. “can i use your soap?”

“use your own, heathen.”

“i can’t believe you’re divorcing me.”

you roll your eyes with a smile. “you are so extra.”

then there’s a deep sigh, “how dare you. i’m so heartbroken i’m going to use your soap anyway.”

you wash your toothbrush and can’t help beaming as you pull the shower curtain back just enough to smack a kiss onto his lips, which taste strongly of water. he freezes up and he doesn’t even laugh as you open the bathroom door to leave. so instead you do the chuckling for him:

“who’s the cute one now?”

finally you hear his laughter, “that was a horrible line.”

he’s right, but you weren’t even trying to be funny; you really just wanted to hear him laugh.

shoyo wraps his arms around your waist and kisses your ear over the buzz of the coffee machine. “good morning, mi amor,” he hums, tussling your hair. “lazy day, hm?”

“good morning, and, well, for you, maybe,” you step back into his arms to peck his cheek, glancing over his sleep-ridden outfit; a white shirt with plaid pajama pants, his bright orange hair messy and spiky. there’s still some sleep in the corner of his eyes, which you wipe with your thumb. “i’m going for a walk. it’s a nice morning.”

shoyo lets go and steps back, looking over your outfit with a dazed smile. his eyes linger on your legs, accentuated by your pants, and you give him a playful whack. “no staring,” you joke. “i have a husband.”

“hey,” he whines, following you (who’s chuckling) to the cabinet and tucking his face into the space between your neck and shoulder. “i am the husband—doesn’t that count for anything?”

your laugh is punctured by a, “no.”

“unbelievable. your coffee’s done.”

you pour it into two cups, one for him and one for you, making sure to throw in the thousand spoonfuls of sugar he can barely function without. he takes it from you and sips it, closing his eyes appreciatively. “thanks!”

“you’re welcome. gonna head out, okay, baby?”

shoyo winks as he takes your place at the counter. “i’ll have breakfast waiting when you come back.”

keiji is asleep face-down on his desk when you find him, manuscript open on his laptop and cursor blinking. you chuckle and shake his shoulder, setting the fresh cup of tea next to him. “huh?” your husband jumps awake, eyes taking a second to recognize your blurry albeit smiling form, but he gives you a sleepy beam once he recognizes you. “oh, good morning, love.”

“good morning,” you plant a kiss on his forehead and he hums, picking up the tea and sipping it delicately. “did you have a good sleep?”

“terrible, actually. my back hurts.”

you ruffle his hair with one of your hands and reach behind him to lightly massage his back through his tanktop, feeling the curve of his spine and to which he lets out a deep breath at. “maybe if you’d stop working until one am, you could sleep in a normal position and not kill your back,” you tease, although it’s partly a genuine suggestion.

“sorry,” he says sheepishly. “i’ll try not to anymore, love, you know i do.”

“aw, keiji, i was just kidding,” you laugh at the blush that spreads across his face and kiss his cheek, sliding his glasses up onto his face. he blinks, your beautiful face suddenly becoming visible, and he can’t help a lovesick smile. no wonder he got married to you. he feels dizzy with love whenever he sees your eyes.

“want breakfast?” you ask, helping him up. he cracks his back as he stands, and you can’t help admiring all the little details about his appearance—the age marks on his shoulders, the little freckles that litter his chest, the stretch marks on his armpits. you’ve fallen in love with perfection; he hasn’t become any less perfect since you met him all those years ago.

“only if i get to help you make it,” keiji smiles, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “french toast?”

you nod in agreement, kissing his hand, “french toast.”

taglist: @hydrogwyn , @pies-writes-and-more , @elkawholeek , @kenmaslov3r , @tobi-momo , @cigarettest , @aceslittleworks

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[noidkeitherwhatimdoing]

I know Touya is deeply fucked up and hates his siblings but this just won’t leave my head: Endeavour who just loses it one day, goes absolutely apeshit crazy on Shoto and here comes our burnt chicken nugget, with the intent of tormenting his father only to find him abusing the sibling he personally tried to kill once. Pulls him off Shoto and kicks his ass. “Don’t you ever dare abuse your family again like you did today, or I’ll burn the rest of your face off”. He takes Shoto far from Endeavour and sits him down on a bench, intending to leave him there for his classmates to find, but Shoto gingerly clings to Touya’s shirt, reeling from his father’s violent outburst. Touya stands there stiffly, slowly stretching a hand out to stroke his brother’s hair. It’s only when Bakugou’s loud ass is heard coming up to the rooftop that he peels himself away, racing and almost tripping over the building’s edge, not willing to accept that maybe he doesn’t want to be against his siblings, today’s protective older brother behaviour too much for him to process.

Yes I’m aware this is way too ooc, but as someone who also had a toxic relationship b4 losing contact entirely with their older sibling, I can’t help but push my family expectations on to anime siblings with bad relationships just like toxic anime character x reader fics

Should I write a fic abt this and go in to detail?

Likes, comments, reposts… any interaction is much appreciated ❣️

[noidkeitherwhatimdoing]

7:00 AM - AKAASHI X READER

warnings - gn!reader, pet names (baby, love, honey) maybe a little suggestive if you interpret it that way but its not intended synopsis - in which you and your husband wake up 15 minutes before your alarm and decide to spend it in each others arms.

your eyes fluttered open at the feeling of the sun shining through the window. you had your back to your husband, assuming he was still sleeping. you basked in the sun-light for a moment, enjoying the quiet and the light shining down on you. you took a deep breath, closing your eyes again in hopes to savor the last fifteen minutes- that was until you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around you. you open your eyes back up, looking over to see your sleepy husband trying to savor the last minutes as well. you turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck and rest your head atop of his. you sigh, fingers playing with his hair. his head was buried in the crook of your neck. you smiled slightly down at him, placing a kiss on the top of his head.

"good morning my love.." he mumbled tiredly, tightening his hold around you slightly.

"good morning Keiji." you responded, whispering so it wouldn't disturb the peacefulness.

you both sat in silence for a moment, enjoying each others embrace and touch. stroking his hair you quietly mumbled. "we should get up.." you looked at him, watching as he was hesitant to agree.

he hummed, not saying anything back. you smiled, going to sit up before being pulled back down. "mm.. i don't think so baby." he murmured, keeping you close to him.

you sighed, glancing at the clock. not a lot of time passed by. it was only 6:52, you both had eight minutes left until you had to get up for work. your job had a very strict schedule. you were afraid you'd be late, but resting in your husbands arms washes most of the worry away. "Keiji.." you sighed. you weren't about to beg him to let you out of bed, but you weren't going to fight him either. "honey we have eight minutes, please do not worry." he chuckled softly, his breath tickling your neck.

you felt his hands run up and down your back. you knew he wasn't going to give up any time soon. you sighed, easing back into the bed. he placed a kiss on top of your head, then your nose, and lastly your lips. "i didn't even get to say good morning yet." he smiled, finally opening his eyes.

you looked at him and laughed. "im getting up." you huffed, sitting up in bed- him doing the same a few seconds after.

you felt him hug you again, wrapping his arms around you waist. "you were bugging me so much to wake up, and look." he pointed at the bed side clock. "we have an extra minute to spare." he smiled slyly, moving your head to face his, placing a kiss on your lips. "im going to make it worth it."