229zmi

[229zmi]

ATTACHMENT LOVE

🧺 #11: "you and i don’t love each other but i know too much about your mother / we’ll make this work" with hinata for @quikhs ! :-)

warnings: gn!reader, reader’s mom wants to have dinner (just a mention) (song link)

it’s been 3 months since hinata’s stayed the night at your apartment.

practice, work, outings with people other than each other—nothing seemed to line up, and when they did, it seemed too a heavy task for either of you to reach out, exhaustion and something else between the gaps of your bones and schedules.

you’re not sure what that something else is, or if he feels it too. you’re not sure if you want to know. but you feel it in dwindling good morning’s and plans cancelled long before his last sleepover, feel it fill the space your boyfriend used to as you wash his scent out of borrowed sweaters.

but shoyo’s here tonight, and that’s what matters, you think.

his toothbrush from 3 months ago slides as you move to change your own, and you figure you might as well change his too.

“changing our toothbrushes, do you care what colour yours is?” your voice bounces back at you while you look in the cupboard. there’s only three in the pack you have—primary coloured—and you figure he’d like yellow most. you grab red for yourself.

shoyo rubs his feet together, sitting on the edge of your bed instead of sprawling across. “mm, you can leave it for now, it’s okay,” he reassures you.

“...you sure?”

“yeah.”

“...okay.”

your eyes hover on the unused face masks he bought you for your birthday, and you let the noise of cardboard backing ripping from plastic fill the space neither of you can seem to.

shoyo calls you from the room over.

that something else roots in your stomach. “yeah?”

he doesn’t say anything for a second, two, and you take a breath.

“i ran into the girl—remember the one who, uh, kept trying to unlock the door one night because she was drunk and didn’t realize she was on the wrong floor?” you pull the memory up and along with your voice while your fingers tremble, stumble on their way to place the last toothbrush in the cupboard and almost drop it to the marble below.

and maybe shoyo notices what you’re doing—he must. he always does. “...yeah, and i thought i was gonna have to fight someone with your vacuum somehow. did she try apologizing again?”

“she almost did,”—you half smile, save the memory, that night, from sinking and drowning—“but i saw her stop herself. we just said hi and talked a little. found out she has a cat so i wanna drop by at some point if you wanna come.”

you’ve made your way back to your bedroom, and shoyo’s still sitting on the edge of your bed. he smiles, and it’s kind, not apologetic or pitying, but understanding all the same.

you’re not sure if its toward her or you.

he says your name again. quieter this time, but steady as he always is.

you purse your lips.

“and my mom wants to have dinner with us.” you grasp at the next thought. “she said she has some new recipes she wants us to try before she brings it to the next holiday party, and she wants to see your mom, too, and natsu, since it’s been so long. if that’s– if that’s okay with them– with you.”

“is that okay with you?” he squints, just a little.

the floorboard creaks as you shift your weight under his gaze, and you fiddle with your hands behind your back so he can’t see. (it doesn’t matter—he knows anyway.) “why wouldn’t it be?”

shoyo takes a breath while you hold yours.

“...yeah, okay.” his exhale is deep. “i’m not as busy this month, so i’ll ask my mom what her schedule looks like. natsu’ll be excited so i’m sure she’ll be good to go whenever.”

he moves further onto your bed as he thinks out loud. “you know i think she likes your mom’s food more than mine– i tried cooking lunch for her a while ago and the look she gave me. is my cooking that bad? i thought i stopped adding too much salt but maybe my salt senses are just dulled?”

and just for a moment, everything’s back to the way it was months ago: shoyo rambling, hands planted behind him on the mattress, you smiling as he whines, both of you in your pajamas for a night in.

but your mind lingers on the toothbrush still sitting next to your new one, and the way your boyfriend won’t lie down on your bed—an old acquaintance unfamiliar with a place that used to be as much his home as it is yours—and that something else that’s been creeping in the space between you knocks at your chest incessantly, an unwelcome visitor that has the decency to wait for your permission to enter.

you wish it would just leave or break inside.

“sho.” your voice is quiet, but catches his attention all the same. the sunset drifts over tangerine strands and honey brown eyes, lights up the dust that twirls around as he looks up at you, and you wish you were asking anything else but what you are.

“is this okay?”

whatever this is.

shoyo blinks, once, twice. sighs and smiles one more time. “i don’t think so.”

qui !! thank u so much for joining and ur ask 🥹🥹!! IT MEANS A LOT TO ME!! this one was a toughie,, doesn't play out exactly like the song. shoyo has a lot of emotional intelligence but i think he struggles in this case because he’s never had a break-up before and. it’s you. he still cares for you, even if it isn’t in the same way, and he doesn’t want to hurt you and ..? he came tonight because he knows you should talk but. he gets there and he sees all the evidence of him and your life together and everything’s harder when the time comes isn’t it. hm. anyway. if u ever write something ur proud of feel free to tag me !! i'm vry happy u enjoy mine,, thank u again!! 🥹🥹

[229zmi]

palestinians who have reached out to me via ask and their vetted campaigns

Wafaa @wafaaresh | 15k/100k reached -> gfm

Bilal @bilalassadabedrou | 5k/80k reached -> gfm

Ashraf @ashraf-family2 | 15k/20k reached -> gfm

Mohammed @m0hammed1 | 7k/15k reached -> gfm

Amira @amira-world | 18k/20k reached -> gfm

Ghazi @ghaziyounes1967 | 2k/50k reached -> gfm

Mahmoud @mahmoudkhalafff | 18k/30k reached -> gfm

Hanaa @hanaa987 | 6k/20k reached -> gfm

Fidaa @fidaa-family2 | 3k/10k reached -> gfm

Mohamed @save-hijazi-family2 | 6k/20k reached -> gfm

please donate if you can and share this post in order to spread their fundraisers!!

[229zmi]

Grilled Cheese - Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader

for @shoulmate

Eyes closed, stretched out on the Couch, you take the first deep breath of the day.

Today has been a special kind of hell, one that started with a headache in the morning, coffee spilled on your favorite shirt, and a missed breakfast over having to change again.

You're never fond of rushing through things, and maybe that's just a lack of skill, but having to race through a store, trying to gather all the things you need in the shortest time possible, hasn't made your day better.

A key turns in the door.

You half expect Hajime to call out for you, but he stays quiet, slipping off his shoes at the Genkan and padding through the living space and into the kitchen.

Maybe he thinks you're napping. It wouldn't be the first time you completely slept through him coming home after work.

You wonder what it looks like. The basket with the clean laundry sits by your feet, a half-drunk bottle of your favorite drink on the table to your right. With every other man, scratch that, person, you'd probably feel ashamed.

Of the mess. Of your inability to handle it.

But this is Hajime. He's probably just trying not to wake you, thinking up ways to take the laundry off your hands as well.

As if he's not already doing the cooking and the cleaning anyway.

The fridge opens and closes. You don't hear the telltale fizz of his sports drinks. Instead, plastic crinkles.

A knife scratches over bread, the stove comes to life with the distinct click you know so well.

You've got half a mind to get up and check in on him. Is he cooking something? It sounds like that, but what could it be?

You blink lazily through half-closed eyes. You can barely make him out from here, just a sliver of his shoulder and the back of his head. It's a pretty head, you think, not for the first time.

The sounds of him, moving, breathing, existing, calm you down. Hajime is here. The knowledge of it, of his soothing presence, is enough.

You close your eyes again, feel the exhaustion nip at your heels.

"Here," soft lips brush your temple. "Eat."

"Wh?" You ask, groggy from the quick nap.

Hajime's lips quirk into a smile pressed to your skin.

"I made you a grilled cheese."

"Why?"

"Because you looked like you needed it."

"That's so-" You feel tears well up, but he wipes them away, pulling you in.

"Come on," he urges you quietly, "Sit up. You can't eat like that."

"I can sit at the table."

"Nah," he chuckles low. "It's comfier that way. Now open your mouth-"

And with everyone else, you'd be ashamed.

There's still the laundry that needs to be folded, your drink on the table, forgotten.

But this is Hajime. He promised to love you, in sickness and in health. And in the messiness in between as well.

[229zmi]

These Palestinians with vetted fundraisers have reached out to me via asks so I decided to make a post combining them. Please share and donate, every dollar can make a difference!!!

@yahyaahmed5 vetted here and you can donate here. They have raised only $885/$50,000 USD @salahaldinahhorsblog vetted here and you can donate here. They have raised only €4,406/€40,000 @fatma93-gaza vetted here and you can donate here. They have raised only €3,085/€20,000 @hadeelchilds vetted here and you can donate here. They have raised only €11,305/€35,000 @ayamaher444 vetted #216 here and you can donate here. They have raised only €6,238/€25,000 @ranin3344 vetted here and you can donate here. They have raised only €5,488/€80,000

@mohamed-mikki vetted here and you can donate here. He has raised only $1,038/$20,000 USD @hayanahed vetted #26 here and you can donate here. They have raised €64,745/€100,000 @ashraf-family2 vetted here and you can donate here. They have raised €16,207/€20,000

[229zmi]

This Week's Verified Gazan Evacuation Fundraisers

hello again! just like last week, i am putting together a round-up post of the evacuation fundraisers of those who have reached out to me this week and who i have had the privilege of donating to and sharing. please do also check out and share last week's post, as those campaigns are still ongoing and in need of funds! i am so, so happy to see how many of those numbers from last week have gone up. please continue to support all these wonderful people. (there are also some repeats on this week's list).

To everyone who reads this: I challenge you to donate! Do it right now, before you reblog, or right after. Pick at least one of these funds, any one of them, and donate any amount -- €10, €5, even €1. Pick one right now, and donate right now. And then share!

@ahmed-ostaz Ahmed Al Ostaz, Help Evacuate My Family from Gaza to Safety. €15,841/€70,000. [DONATION LINK] [reblog link] [verification link #125]

@mahmoud66262 Mahmoud Balousha, Help us achieve a better future for our children. €17,725/€52,000. [DONATION LINK] [reblog link] [verification link #234]

@hillesmahmoud Mahmoud Hilles, Save my children from death. €23,363/€31,000. [DONATION LINK] [reblog link] [verification link #170]

@salem-baker Salem Alanqar, Save My Family from the War Nightmare in Gaza. €2,029/€38,000 - LOW ON FUNDS. [DONATION LINK] [reblog link] [verification link]

@ahmedabuyamin Ahmed Alanqar, Helping Ahmed's Family: Escaping War to a New Life. €43,890/€49,000. [DONATION LINK] [reblog link] [verification link #264]

@amira-world Amira Alanqar, Amira's Story: Between Hope and Resilience - A Call for Soli. €18,153/€20,000. [DONATION LINK] [reblog link] [verification link]

@safaabed8 Safaa Al-Habil, Help us build new hope for me and my family. €18,260/€50,000. [DONATION LINK] [reblog link] [verification link #241, another verification link]

(for larger donations, (according to these prices) I will draw something for you!)

DONATE, REBLOG, SHARE

[229zmi]

emmy could you write something about iwa for me ?? Anything is fine( please no angst)... Pretty please please please? 🥺🥺

Hajime watches in the doorframe as you start your skincare, watching as you massage your moisturizer into your skin. “So, you’re going shopping?”

“For the ninth time, yes, baby,” you chuckle, looking at him in the mirror. “Once im done with my skincare. I need to get an outfit for date night, some of your protein shakes, more treats for Issei Junior.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t call our cat that,” he snickers, eyes flicking up and down. You’re still in your jammies and your skin care isn’t finished, he’s got at least three hours on his PS5 with Hanamaki.

He’s been absolutely ecstatic to play his new game, one you bought after he’d basically raved about the release for months- when you surprised him with it, he scooped you in his arms and immediately spun you around, so excited like a kid again.

Now, of course, is the perfect opportunity to make progress in it.

There’s nothing in the world Hajime enjoys more than spending time with you, carrying bags and holding your purse, pushing the shopping cart and buying you the overpriced drinks at your favorite cafe. But he’s not going to complain about potentially being able to play his video game for a few hours.

Plus… hey, maybe it would be nice to be able to play without scolding you for trying to paint his toenails.

He lets you out of the bathroom to finish getting dressed, jogging down the hallway to the makeshift gaming room you’d both made to share. He turns on the console and grins up at the screen, bracing himself to start playing, and-

“Haji?”

“What’s up?” He hums, pausing his sliding on of his headphones. When he turns to face you, you’re pouting, and he moves them back down. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“You’re… not coming with me?”

Oh.

Oh.

“Oh! Yeah, I’ll come,” he says, turning his console back off and placing his headphones down. “Yeah no, I didn’t really want to play.”

“Really?” You ask.

“No, it was mostly just to pass the time until you got back,” he lies.

But what can he say? The way you light up at his words makes his inability to play worth it. You beam and make your way out of the room, and he’s quick to slip out his phone and text Hanamaki that sorry, something came up.

Anything, for you.

[229zmi]

OMG! (olympic muffin greed)

michael kaiser / reader

established relationship, (affectionate) slut shaming as a joke towards michael, michael is down bad

you: <link attached>

you: film and post a mukbang

you: tw emotional

micha!!: ????

micha!!: it's just an ordinary chocolate muffin what

you: bro do you not see the swimmer guy tweaking out over these damn muffins they gotta be good

you: i need you to try them and report back to me

You see Michael's chat bubble alternate between typing and pausing at the bottom of your phone screen. Right as you're about to call him out on his indecisive buffoonery, you get a FaceTime banner and immediately pick up with pure, non-devious intentions.

Michael's face pops up on the screen, a white towel resting on his bare shoulders as wet, messy hair frames his face. Strands of blue and blond get pushed away as Michael drags his hand through his hair.

"Almost two years of dating and I'm still being called 'bro'."

"Hi Micha! Don't complain and don't contact me until you try the Olympic Chocolate Muffins ©"

Michael groans your name in annoyance, barely covering a laugh to your persistence. He sits on his bed and throws a shirt over his head before responding. "You're saying that as if you're not the one that's going to be spam texting me five minutes after we hang up."

"The only reason why you aren't as clingy is because you're a slut and spending all your time on your side pieces."

"A what?! You need to stop calling me that. Just because I'm hot doesn't mean I'm cheating on you. If I was, I would be inviting you to join."

"I'm so desperate, you don't even understand." You groan in frustration, imagining the ooey chocolate chunks melting into freshly baked muffin batter being abandoned by your boyfriend, the pastries crying out for the slightest bit of attention from the number one sexiest soccer player ever (scientifically proven). "I'm so bored without my super amazing cool awesome hot athletic hunk whore of a boyfriend, I miss you and therefore I need you to humor me a little."

"Don't say I don't love you after this."

"Micha what are you going—"

you: michael

you: michael what are you up to

you: michael pls don't kill the entire village

you: hello why did u hang up

you: 2 minutes no michael kaiser i can't hear out of my eyes anymore my blood oxygen levels are rapidly declining i can't do this anymore

micha!!: <image attached>

micha!!: how many do you want me to bring home

you: MICHAEL WHAT THE FUCK HOW DID YOU SWIPE SO MANY IN 3 MINS

you: BRING ALL OF THEM BUT 20 MUFFINS IN YOUR BAG???

micha!!: you wanted them and who am i to deny my kaiser-deprived partner of their wishes

micha!!: and i'm agreeing to your mukbang idea as long as you do it with me

micha!!: going through that by myself is humiliating and i have an image to maintain but you'll make it slightly more entertaining

you: omg this is so romantic

you: i love you <3333

micha!!: i love you too

micha!!: see you soon :)

[229zmi]

yearning with kenma !! ༘˚⋆𐙚.𖦹

kenma shouldn’t have let you drag him into this.

but then again, he can’t ever deny you— if he did, the guilt would gnaw at his bones until the marrow of them splintered and gave in.

so he’s here, pressed between the wall of his bedroom and your arm, gripping his phone with a white-knuckled vengeance. on the screen, one of the otome game’s love interests returns kenma’s glare with a dazzling grin.

you giggle at something the male lead says; he’s tall, outgoing, sparkly-eyed and everything kenma isn’t but wishes he was if it meant you would look at him like that, giggle at him like that.

then, you’re slumping to rest your temple on the shoulder of his old, pilled sweater (it’s your favorite of his) and the warmth of you seeps through the thin fabric, takes root alongside his veins. kenma watches the game through the glass of your pupils, blown wide by the love interest’s saucy voicelines.

the male lead has dark, messy hair. it grins wide on the screen, intertwines its fingers with your avatar, pins them against the wall in a kabe-don. it looks a bit like kuroo.

"he's so cute," you mumble, tilting into kenma without a thought. he can smell your shampoo, and something ugly twists in his gut. "look, he's got dimples."

kenma’s resigned sigh matches your lovesick one. he rests his temple on top of yours and yearns.

pls pls pls interact (comments && reblogs) !! © mawaaru 2024 :: do not repost, plagiarize, translate, modify, or use ANY works to train ai

[229zmi]

Tummy Aches - Multifandom - Kuroo Tetsuro

Inspired by this post by @alienaiver -> Komori -> Shinsou

Warning: Bathroom talk. Nothing too graphic, but if that's not your thing...

“Perfect consistency,” Kuroo announces as he takes a seat at the breakfast table. “Color is a bit off though.”

Kenma curls his nose in disgust. “Please! Can you not talk about your shit for one day?”

“You did eat a lot of ice cream yesterday,” you comment, ignoring Kenma. “Do you want some probiotics?”

“No, thank you, but do we have some Kombucha left over?”

“Oh, fantastic choice. Do you want some too, Kenma?” You turn, but Kenma’s pulled away, curling his hands protectively around his gigantic coffee mug. You suspect he brought it with him, it didn’t fit the vacation rental’s aesthetic at all. 

“Leave me alone with that stuff,” he hisses. “It’s disgusting.”

“It’s healthy,” Kuroo cuts in, plopping a perfectly peeled orange onto your plate. “Here, you need more Vitamin C.”

“Thank you. Did you put on Sunscreen?”

“Ah,” Kuroo grins. “I forgot. Can you do that for me later?”

Kenma rolls his eyes so hard you fear he’s going to faint.

-

“Cold?” You ask as Kenma huddles into his hoodie.

“No,” he huffs. “I always dress myself so I sweat like a pig.”

“Pig’s don’t sweat,” Kuroo point out, approaching. “Here. Your water is almost empty.”

“Oh, thank you.” You take the bottle, unable to keep from smiling at the sweet gesture.

Kenma snorts.

“Did you catch a cold?” Kuroo asks, already all over his - your - best friend.

“No. But you know what? I want to go onto the Ferris Wheel.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea.” You nod. “Let’s go there.”

The Ferris Wheel is not far, a proud fixture at the Beach. Surely a ride would be even prettier at night or at sunset, but even now it’s nice out, the clouds hanging in the sky like puffs of cotton. 

Kuroo’s hand brushes against yours as you walk. More than once his pointer finger curls around yours. Pointedly you keep looking at Kenma as he talks, a lump in your throat.

Soon enough you’re settled in the little cabin, barely room enough for the three of you.

“All set?” The guy working the Ferris Wheel asks, grinning at the three of you.

“You know,” Kenma says, clearing his throat. “I think I changed my mind.” He jumps out of his seat like he hadn’t just complained in length about how drained he’d been feeling. “You two have fun. Don’t forget to kiss at the top.” 

He’s out and about before you can disagree, your mouth still open from his comment.

“Well, off you go.” And before you can say anything, your little cabin moves, up and up and up.

Your left side is pressed against Kuroo, thanks to you trying to make space for Kenma. He’s warm next to you, a familiar presence.

“It wasn’t even my idea,” he mutters lowly under his breath, barely loud enough for you to catch.

“But?” you ask, heart in your throat.

Instead of an answer, his hand curls around yours. You lean your head against his shoulder, let your heart do what it wants. What it wanted to do all along.

-

“So?” Kenma asks as you step out of the little cabin, hands joined.

You can’t wipe the smile off your face. Kuroo looks a little dazed.

“I think we need to eat something with blueberries,” you say and Kuroo perks up like his name has been called.

“Oh,” he says, grinning. “The phytonutrients in them are good for your heart.”

“Exactly.”

Kenma groans. “Fine. As long as you stop talking about your digestion.”

“They can change the color of your poop too,” Kuroo interrupts him, winking at you. “Just so you know.”

-

If you're wondering why Kenma was third-wheeling that vacation, he was not. I'm the fourth person in this vacation setting but I've caught a stomach bug and had to stay behind at the AirBnB, resting. 😅

[229zmi]

Urgent 🚨 🚨

My mother makes us bread despite the difficult situation and the lack of necessities of life 😔

The war has entered its ninth month and everything is getting worse 💔

Please help me get my family out of there and protect them from war and bombing🙏🙏

[229zmi]

There is an extreme shortage of eSIMs right now! If you have some money to spare please consider buying eSIMs for those in Gaza.

🔗: http://gazaesims.com

Organizer: @/mirna_elhelbawi

Proof of eSIMs purchase also counts towards ficsforgaza so feel free to use your receipt towards requesting a fic from the 100+ creators on our masterlist.

This is critical to keep the people of Gaza connected to the rest of the world.

[229zmi]

i'll keep every promise (if it's a promise with you) | oikawa tooru x reader

oikawa tooru has a bad habit of breaking promises and running from his first love. or: the four times oikawa breaks his promises and the one time he keeps one

( a / n ) - oh my god this is my magnum opus... my baby.. its a little bit of angst and a little bit of fluff and a little slice of life. u go through ages 6 to 28 LMFAO. iwaizumi + you + oikawa were such a fun trio to write for and i hope u guys enjoy !!

gn! reader | 2k words | happy birthday OIKAWA

Oikawa Tooru has a guilty conscience and a bad habit of breaking promises. 

For every promise made and every promise broken, Tooru repents: 200 yen slid in a saisen-bako, a ninety degree bow, two wishes at the shrine. An offering to counter every promise he breaks, ample water to wash away his sins, and apologies written on wood.

 ( Iwaizumi has made the grand suggestion of: Maybe not breaking your promises? on several occasions, but Tooru can’t help it. ) 

He’s broken four promises and made eight wishes so far: four on blue Tanzaku and four atop Ema boards, followed with a prayer and an offering if the promise broken was particularly heinous or particularly his fault. 

He breaks his first promise at six years old– one made with you and Iwaizumi when the three of you were four and freshly neighbors. It was Tooru’s birthday, and he had promised this: 

I swear that I will take us all to the Ryokan before I turn six.

It’s a small promise: one that neither you nor Hajime had expected him to follow through with. But Tooru believed it, and Tooru had tried. He takes every single chore and odd job in the Oikawa household, scraping together a two-year-old Ryokan trust fund with mismatched coins and crumpled bills. He saves his allowances and puts everything in a glass jar next to his bed, and dreams.

Two Julys pass. Oikawa blows out four candles and then five, the jar gets bigger, you start Elementary school, and you and Hajime forget about the Ryokan. And then, on the third July, when Tooru turns six, you and Iwaizumi find Tooru in tears mumbling about a broken promise— courtesy of his failure to take the three of you on an all inclusive trip to that Snow Monkey Ryokan that Iwaizumi wanted to go to. 

So he apologizes through prayers at a shrine and two wishes under a red Torii gate. It’s a thirty five stair climb to the neighborhood shrine: Hajime and Tooru race up and you come last, but the view is gorgeous and Tooru feels considerably less guilty. It is 100 yen for each slip, and Hajime grumbles, but still drops his coin into the Saisen. Hajime drops one coin, Tooru drops four, you drop two. Seven thunks. 

Tooru is short–he’s 100 centimeters and his legs are slightly sore and a little bruised from catching cicadas under a burning sun with Hajime and you– but Iwaizumi is only 97 centimeters and you’re even shorter, so Tooru gets the honor of tying your Tanzaku. 

His is blue, Iwaizumi’s is red, and yours is pink. Iwaizumi’s wish is messy and Tooru has to squint to read it, but it says something about well wishes for volleyball and you and Oikawa and cicadas. Tooru’s got two wishes— a cyan one and a turquoise one, but he only lets you and Hajime read the cyan one. His cyan one is a little neater than Iwaizumi’s and reads:

Sorry I couldn’t take us to the Monkey Ryokan. 

He hangs the red one on his tippy-toes. Cyan next. Hajime cheers a little when Tooru hangs turquoise and pink, and then asks: 

“Whaddya need two wishes for anyways?” 

He shrugs. 

“Guilty conscience.”

You’re thirteen when Tooru promises that he is going to ask you out in two years. Tooru is not allowed to date until he’s in high school, so he tells you under a blanket of stars that when the two of you are a little older, he will ask you out properly and maybe take you on a date. 

He walks you to school every morning. Hajime comes too, but the pink skies before the sun rises are for you and Tooru. Moments before you make it to Iwaizumi’s block are moments that Tooru gives you his scarf, and then his gloves, and when the wind bites at your cheeks too hard his jacket is draped over your shoulders. On rainy days, Tooru holds the umbrella and laughs as your fingers brush and your cheeks flush. Some mornings he brings you toast: and tells you in hushed whispers to eat it before Iwa-Chan sees. 

Oikawa and Iwaizumi walk you home after cram school and volleyball and meat buns. Hajime’s house is first, so Iwaizumi bows first, heads back inside first, waves goodnight first. When the door closes and the light turns on, the black sky and twinkling stars are for you and Tooru. He always says Good Night saccharine sweet with a smile like the sun that makes you feel like you really can’t wait to turn fifteen. 

Oikawa blows out fourteen candles. The three of you graduate in blue and walk home like usual. Summer passes, another July goes by, and Oikawa blows out fifteen candles. You learn several things in your first year at high school: you really like the student council, Hajime is actually pretty smart, and Tooru is afraid of commitment. 

Tooru is popular: he is athletic and tall and the Volleyball Club’s golden first year. He smiles at the girls in his class, he slings arms around their shoulders, he winks when he passes by the student council room, and he preens a little and shines a lot. Oikawa is fifteen when he goes on his first date with a girl from another school: and when he tells you and Iwaizumi after he gets home, he plays dumb as Hajime gives him a look and takes you home, overhearing Iwaizumi’s apologies and your crestfallen voice as you say something about a promise.

Oikawa’s chest hurts that night so he walks to the shrine with 200 yen in his pocket and a sorry scrawled on two pieces of colored Tanzaku. 

Oikawa turns sixteen and goes to the shrine again. 

This time, it’s a broken promise with a girl in his class. She was popular– she smelled like cotton candy and reminded Tooru of strawberries and daisies, so when she asked Tooru out, he had said Sure, and he had smiled like she was the sun. 

But he’s a bad boyfriend– a terrible boyfriend– because he’s only there when it’s convenient and he ditches her for volleyball practice and maybe sometimes he catches himself thinking about someone else when she holds his hand and buys him milk bread at lunch. 

She was sweet and she was terribly pretty, but he doesn’t feel anything when she kisses him or when she rests her head on his shoulder. Iwaizumi asks him what he’s running from after practice one day. Tooru knows Iwaizumi is asking why he is running from you. 

Tooru is a little scared of how you make him feel too much. Oikawa likes being in control and Oikawa likes stability, so when his heart thumps whenever you’re around and he finds himself all consumed with thoughts of you and a burning desire to please you; he rejects and refrains. And runs.

His girlfriend dumps him after a few months, Tooru says sorry, and then he faintly remembers about that promise he made with her four weeks ago. 

I swear I’m not in love with someone else. 

from: tooru (23:20) shrine time!!! ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶

from: hajime (23:21) Ur a piece of shit. 

from: tooru (23:22) iwaaa chan U￣ｰ￣U  ur so mean !

from: you (23:24) bro  ur a manwhore !!!!

from: hajime (23:25) Average Shittykawa moment

from: tooru (23:25) i can’t help it !! (✿ ♥‿♥)  everyone wants a piece of me !!! ill pick u guys up and we’ll go to the shrine and ramen after plsss ☆

from: hajime (23:26) Ur treat?

from: tooru (23:27) iwa-chan’s treat !! i’m going through a nasty breakup, remember ? \_( ◉ 3 ◉ )_/¯

from: you (23:29) hajime we know his address we can burn his room down

from: tooru (23:30) OK FINE my treat! it’s on me!!! everyone say thank you tooru !!!

from: hajime (23:31) thank you tooooruuu chan (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

tooru and y/n reacted with: Scared !

from: tooru (23:32) um please don’t do that ever again

Oikawa’s fourth promise is one to himself and one to Seijoh. 

We will make it to Nationals. 

He doesn’t leave his room for a week when he breaks it. He’s inconsolable. He says he’s sick: he’s got a bad fever, it’s contagious, he’s bedridden, he’s fine. But the lights are never on in his room, his curtains are always drawn, and you know that Tooru devoted everything for a chance and a dream and a volleyball. 

He comes to you first. He’s standing in your doorway and there are bags under his eyes and he says, Hi, and then, I’m fine. He tries for a smile— and then you give him a look, and suddenly he’s in your arms and sobbing. 

He cries for two hours. Tooru ugly cries– his chest racks when he sobs and his arms are tight around you and digging into your back. Oikawa Tooru is not weak: but he is not a prodigy and he is not a genius and maybe he was destined to fall to those born talented. 

He falls asleep in your bed with his head in your lap and your hands in his hair, but his eyebrows are furrowed and he’s shifting a lot and he’s probably having a nightmare. You call Hajime before gently shaking Tooru awake. 

He blinks up at you— all puffy eyes and tousled hair and swollen cheeks, but he sees you and he softens.

“Wanna go to the shrine?”

Iwaizumi still grumbles the whole way up the thirty five steps, but he’s quiet as Oikawa slips two coins into the saizen-bako. Hajime wraps an arm around your shoulder as the coins rattle in the box and you know he’s upset too— his hands are slightly shaking and he keeps sniffing. Nationals might have been Oikawa’s dream but Iwaizumi was also a dreamer, and sure, Oikawa was going to go, but they were going to go together.

Tooru hangs two Ema boards and for the first time, he bows at the Honden. Two claps. Head down and hands together as he prays. Iwaizumi joins him: and you watch as Oikawa apologizes to him and Hajime shakes his head- because it was Hajime’s promise too. 

Oikawa is twenty-eight and on a plane when he finally keeps his first promise. 

It’s a small promise: but a promise nonetheless, one that he made before he left for Argentina. He tells you he loves you at the airport but he has his boarding pass in one hand and his passport in the other. And you tell him you love him too, but also that he’s being unfair, and no you won’t go out with him. And Oikawa knew you would say that, but he still finds himself making a promise– a promise you laugh at because Oikawa Tooru never keeps his promises.

If we’re still single in ten years, I’m going to find you, and I’m going to ask you out. 

You cry, and Tooru wraps his arms around you and cries too— and then Iwaizumi’s there, and Iwaizumi’s crying, and you don’t know which part of you is Oikawa or Iwaizumi. Oikawa leaves for Argentina with a heavy heart but a hunger for the future. 

In the ten years that pass he plays a lot of volleyball. He tans a lot. He learns some Spanish. He tries beach volleyball. And then, he buys a plane ticket on his birthday. 

from: y/n (21:12) happy birthday tooru !! me n hajime r having an honorary drink for u. hope ur having fun in argentina!!! hajime and i say te amo !!!!

from: tooru (21:15) i’d like a hot sake plssss thank u!!! ( ˙▿˙ )

from: y/n (21:15) LMFAO. no. me and haji r drinking ASAHI DRRRRRRYYYYYYYY for u bro also hajime got BUFF wat the hell hope ur tanning good in argentina 

from: tooru (21:16) well tell BUFF iwa chan that ill be there in 5 and i want a HOT SAKE and also YES i tanned good SO EYES OFF IWAIZUMI

from: y/n (21:17) ? what? ur funny lol … TOORU?

Tooru is twenty eight and might retire soon. Thirty five stairs is too many to climb and keeping promises is far more fun than breaking them. So he taps your shoulder, hands Iwaizumi your bouquet, and takes your cheeks in his palms to tilt your chin over. 

“Hi!” He says. 

 Tooru bends down to kiss you. 

[229zmi]

Streaming Adventures - Kenma x Reader

inspired by @satorisoup and her questions for the #ask.revival 2024

“Hello and welcome everyone to today’s stream. We’re doing ‘my girlfriend does my makeup’.” Kenma announces, his voice as unenthused as it could possibly be.

“Hey!” You turn. “You’re supposed to-” He silences you with a kiss, smirking into the touch.

“He’s supposed to do my makeup!” You say as soon as he pulls back, your voice loud, although a little breathless. 

“Fine,” he huffs, his grin betraying the sound of his voice. “I’m going to do your makeup. And I bought some stuff.”

“You bought some stuff? Why?”

“You don’t have enough. Like this.” He picks up a pen. “This is a brow pen.”

“I don’t need a brow pen.”

“Ah,” Kenma clicks his tongue. “That’s what they all say. It’s called Brow Blindness.”

“No,” you giggle. “I don’t think that’s true-”

“And I got you a new eyeshadow palette.” He lifts it, even puts his hand behind it to show it to everyone watching. “Oh, Gimme!” You make grabby hands, squealing when he hands it over. “It’s so pretty! Why did you pick it?”

“It has the word Glitter in the name,” his voice is soft as he leans in, “I knew you’d like that.”

“I love it. Thanks. Can you do that color?” You point at it but he tuts. “Don’t tell me what to do. You can’t control creative genius.”

“Okay,” you laugh. “Do your thing then, creative genius.”

.

It’s not the first time Kenma’s done your makeup. No even the first time he’s done it for his stream. 

There’s just something there, in the closeness of it, the gentle touch that’s needed, that soothes the two of you simultaneously.

Kenma feels the most at ease when he can focus, when no one interrupts his thoughts. And you’ve learned to trust him, the barely there touch of his hands when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear or dusts a light blush over your cheeks.

-

“What are you doing?” You ask when there’s a pause. Kenma giggles.

“What are you doing?” You ask again, faking a panicked tone.

“I’m letting the chat choose the color of your eyeshadow.” He explains. “Keep your eyes closed. No cheating.”

You pout, but below the table, where no one can see, Kenma’s hand closes around yours, squeezing tight. You squeeze back, not at all worried about the outcome. 

Soon enough, his breath washes over your face. 

“Don’t move,” he warns you right before he draws on your eyeliner.

“Am I getting cat eyes?” You ask. Kenma snorts. “No other animals are allowed in this house.”

“We have a dog, baby.”

“Still.” 

It’s a shame that you have to have your eyes closed for this. There’s nothing better than watching him, the tip of his tongue peeking out between his lips as he fights for a steady hand. It always makes you want to kiss him, not that he likes being interrupted. 

“How’s it looking?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Pretty,” he hums back. “The makeup’s shit though.”

You giggle. He taps the side of your face, pretending to be cross. “Don’t move,” he huffs again. You can hear the chuckle hiding in the words. 

-

“Ooooh,” you look at yourself in the viewfinder, amazed at his artwork. He even drew the tiniest cat face on your eyelids. “It’s so pretty Kenma!”

Your boyfriend blushes, hiding his face behind his hair.

“It’s decent,” he huffs, digging his nose into your hair. “Glad you like it,” he whispers into your ear.

The chat’s long forgotten.

[229zmi]

Whispers - Akaashi x Reader

inspired by this post - tagging @6okuto and @lees-chaotic-brain-reblogs

"He's so cute!"

"Oh my gosh, yes, and the glasses!"

You look up from the book you'd been reading at that. At first you thought the whispers had been about Bokuto, because it's not every day that a 6'2 Pro Athlete rides the bus this casually. Although, at a closer look, he's not that attractive with the way he's fallen asleep in the row in front of you, his head leaned back, mouth open as he snores softly.

It doesn't take long to spot the girls. They're probably high schoolers, their uniform skirts hiked a little higher. Their eyes are on you, no, on Keiji, who's sitting on your side, leaving the window seat to you. He's always worried like that, worried that someone will snatch you out of your seat when you're not looking.

"Keiji," you whisper. He turns, uses his thumb as a bookmark. You hate that he does it, hate the look of it, that pretty thumb adorned with a ring you bought him on your first anniversary. The girls are swooning about it two rows down.

"Yes, Love?"

"They're talking about you." You say, your eyes flickering over and back toward him. You can't really fault them for noticing how attractive he is. His hair has grown out a little, falling perfectly to frame his face. His Glasses fit him so well you usually just want to jump into his arms the moment he slips them on and coupled with the tired look after a day of work, he's swoon-worthy, nothing less.

"So?" He asks, smiling softly.

"So? They're talking about how pretty they are."

"So?" He asks again, lips quirking up a little. "Didn't know that was a bad thing."

You gasp. "Are you trying to cheat-" Bokuto snortles in front of you, loud enough to interrupt you. But he doesn't wake up. "Are you trying to-"

Keiji leans in, quick enough to surprise you, and presses his lips to yours. He's grinning as he pulls back. "Sorry," he teases. "Can't help that I'm pretty."

"Keiji," you whine, stomach filled with butterflies. Would it be terribly rude if you kissed him again?

"What?" He's smiling, eyes crinkling. "Do you want me to shave my head? You told me not to cut my hair just this week."

"Yeah, but-"

"Oh, I'm going to grow a beard." He nods to himself, flicking through the pages of his novel as if he could care less. "Do you think a Goatee would make me look uglier?"

"Keiji," you whine again, leaning into him. He buries his nose in your hair. The whispering has stopped.

[229zmi]

I don't know why there are fake people distorting our image. I am Moataz from northern Gaza, a graphic designer, and this is my Instagram account. I photographed almost the entirety of northern Gaza. You can visit it and make sure. Unfortunately, we have gone through a lot and there is no passion to delve into the controversy of what is happening outside the world.

IG @moataz_art

For this reason, I unfortunately do not receive any donations

This is my campaign, and I will continue to fight to reach its long-term goal and rebuild my home, just as I fought throughout 257 days of war to stay alive. This is all not for me, but for the sake of my daughter, my wife, and our future children. My brother was martyred a week ago, and this is the biggest thing that has happened to me in this war, but I cannot surrender. I will keep trying just for the sake of my family.

[229zmi]

with you, i'm first | miya osamu x reader

in which miya osamu is used to coming second to his brother. but with you, he's always first.

wc: 1113 | gn!reader | fluff

Miya Osamu is used to coming second. 

It starts with Atsumu, like most things do. October is cold and gray and Atsumu comes first, a small body with a large presence that fills the warm hospital room. His cries are loud and he’s a little underweight, but with him comes the sun. 

Atsumu is born under a partly cloudy sky but the nurses swear he was shrouded in sunlight. 

Osamu comes twelve minutes later. His parents are crying and his Ma is close to passing out. If he thinks really hard he can almost feel her warmth, Atsumu’s sobs, and a mumble of prayers that October has safely brought Atsumu and then Osamu.

He asks Grandma one day what the weather was like when he was born. She says, with confidence, it was foggy.

Atsumu doesn’t get along with his classmates. He is too loud and too rash and lacks social cues, and Osamu is angry because Stupid ‘Tsumu cares too little: and he wants everyone to know Atsumu like he knows Atsumu.

They fight and they yell and they argue until Atsumu says, 

‘Samu, I don’t care about ‘em. Why do ya care so much? 

And Osamu throws him across the room. The argument ends there, he says sorry, and Osamu lies awake that night thinking about his brother. Atsumu is hotheaded. And an idiot. A loud snorer, too. But he turns on his side and curls into a ball because he knows it was sunny when Atsumu was born and all of a sudden he really wants to be his brother. 

Atsumu dyes his hair first: it’s a shitty box dye from the pharmacy down the street, and it looks terrible. It’s a little yellow and a little neon, and Osamu laughs until his sides hurt when Atsumu shows him. 

But Atsumu is proud, and he is confident, and he goes to school with a hundred watt smile and a group of girls trailing after him. 

Osamu goes to the pharmacy that night and buys a box of gray, cloudy dye. Atsumu helps him bleach his hair under their bathroom sink with the faulty tap and tells him he looks like the moon.

His Ma says that Atsu is hot and Samu is cold after the two have a particularly bad fight. Atsumu is gleeful and smug as he gloats that he was born to be hotter and warmer and better, and Osamu punches him. 

He remembers his Ma sitting on the porch, an arm around his shoulders as he pouts. 

“‘S not fair,” Osamu had said, his chin in his palm. “Why’d ya name Tsumu that?” 

His Ma had laughed, quietly, leaning her weight into his side. And she had held his cheeks between her palms and told him with a fire in her eyes that Osamu means To Rule. 

He meets you for the first time in February. 

You were standing in front of him, a little sheepish, with a box of chocolates in your extended palms. He remembers feeling something heavy in his chest. Because, yeah, Atsumu was definitely going to accept your confession. 

You had said, IReallyLikeYou, and Here’sSomeChocolates, and Please Accept Them. 

You were shorter than him, and your hair was done nicely, and you were blushing and nervous. And you were really fucking cute. But Osamu is used to coming second, so the only thing that comes out of his mouth is, Why? And then, Tsumu’s in tha next classroom ov’r. 

He doesn’t remember what happened next, only Atsumu’s laugh and the slap echoing through the halls. You leave with his cheeks stinging and hot. And Atsumu had teased him the next day, behind his mountain of chocolates and confessions, because Osamu’s face was still red twelve hours later. 

He sees you a lot the year after. 

You’re in the same class as him and ‘Tsumu, and you smile every time you see him. You sit two rows in front of him and you’re not very good at tying your uniform. Every lunch, Osamu watches you pull out the same gray bento with a wrapped onigiri on the side. He tells you one day that he really likes onigiri. And then, Osamu watches as every lunch, you pull out the same gray bento with two wrapped onigiris on the side. 

With you, it’s always Hi Osamu, first, and then, Hullo Atsumu. With you, it’s an onigiri dropped on his desk when the lunch bell rings. With you, Osamu thinks back to a conversation with his Ma on a porch. 

Osamu means To Rule.

The menu is this: Tuna mayo on Mondays and Thursdays, Ume on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Friday is plain. You don’t ever bring onigiri for his brother. 

He asks you, on a hot night in June, what your favorite type of weather is. You had your knees tucked to your chest, a sparkler in hand, and then told him cloudy. Cold. Foggy. Winter. Snow is nice, too. You say it all with no hesitation. 

Osamu kisses you for the first time that night. 

It’s New Years and you’re cooking Ozoni on the stove. The curtains are open, it’s snowing outside, and Osamu wakes to the smell of miso and the sound of carrots on a chopping board. He gets out of bed, padding to the kitchen with half-lidded eyes and a stifled yawn, and then he thinks his heart stops when he sees you. 

Because what Miya Osamu is not used to is this: coming first and having something unequivocally his. 

But you’re bent over the counter, fiddling with the oven as you read the instructions on the back of the packaged Yakimochi you bought the other day. And you’re wearing his shirt, it falls right below your thighs, your hair is still messy from using his chest as a pillow, and you look beautiful. 

“Mornin’ ‘Samu, come help me with this.” You say, looking back at him with a smile, pointing to the fresh pot of rice on the counter. “You’re in charge of onigiri.”

He hugs you instead, his arms around your stomach with your back to him. 

“But I like yer onigiri,” He says, his chin on your head. His eyes are watering and it must be from the steam of your boiling dashi. 

“‘Samu,” You complain, giggling as he presses kisses into the crown of your head. “I made enough for ya in high school.” 

It’s cold outside and snowing, and Osamu knows he’s going to make the onigiri. 

He also knows that if his name means To Rule, he’s okay with coming second if it means you’re by his side.

[229zmi]

reader with roommate!kuroo

a/n: absolutely

“dude, did you eat my ramen noodles?”

you ask your roommate, kuroo as you rummage through the cabinets for the package of your ramen noodles that you were going to eat for breakfast.

“maybe,” he says sheepishly as he sips on his boba tea — of course he had boba tea, when did he even get it?

“tetsu!” you exclaim, groaning, “when did you even eat it?”

“midnight snack,” he says, shrugging, “i was up late and i was hungry,”

“dude,” you deadpan, rubbing your face, “i was supposed to have that for breakfast.”

he frowns, “since when are instant noodles made for breakfast?”

you raise your eyebrows at him, “since when are they made for a midnight snack?” okay, you’re losing this one.

“that’s literally what they’re for.”

“don’t you like, play volleyball or something?” you ask, “aren’t you supposed to stay healthy?”

“it’s a one time thing,” he argues, and you scoff, “you owe me a whole pack of instant noodles for this.”

this was the usual arguments between you and your roommate nearly every day. kuroo was the infamous heartthrob on unis campus, and he was your roommates because of course he is.

it’s not like you hated him, you liked him and you enjoyed his company but sometimes stuff like this happens and you wonder why god cursed you with such a man for a roommate.

“don’t worry,” he chides, “you’ll have it in your room by this evening,” he gives you one of his famous smirks and you huff — one thing about him though, is that he always paid his debts, if that’s what you’d call a debt.

“i think you need to start eating healthy though.”

“shut up.”

“okay, how about this,” he starts, “i make you an actual healthy breakfast and you kiss me in payback,”

“oh my god,” you groan, “would you stop with that already?”

the thing about him being the heartthrob of campus had him cocky, and since you were in no way attracted to him, his plan was to woo you in any way possible.

all while ignoring the fact that he was the one head over heels for you, of course.

“come on,” he chides, “it’s a great deal.”

“no it’s not, you need to stop.” you say but you can’t help but giggle as his facade falters.

“fine, stay unhealthy then.” he scoffs, but the corners of his lips twitch as he watches you giggle — god, he was so helpless for you and for what.

“i’ll take that over kissing you any day.”

okay, that was a blow to his ego.