neko is not my thing

Capricious Viktor takes a liking to faint-hearted Yuuri. Yurio is the grumpy kitten with eyebrows of judgement who has to live with them.

or the neko atsume au where viktor is peaches, yuuri is my bab pickles, and yurio is macchiato.

@nikooki and I were screaming about au where yuuri feeds cats in his yard and names the cats after figure skaters (one cat he named after his best bud phichit and phichit asks for daily pictures of his namesake). he names the two he sees pining after each other after him and (his one true love idol) viktor and maybe at some point starts an instagram with pictures of his yard filled with kitties and documents cat viktor and cat yuuri’s progress and suddenly everyone in the world is INVESTED in the budding cat romance

krystalsatori  asked:

Sentence #4 Matsuhanaiwaoi ;3c

4.  “I love you from the bottom of my heart, but I don’t trust your cooking. Stay out of my kitchen.”

“Iwa-chaaaannn.” Oikawa rolled over and dropped his head on his boyfriend’s stomach.

Iwaizumi flipped a page in his book, not even batting an eyelid. “No.”

“I didn’t say anything yet!” 

“Whatever it is, it can’t be good.”

Oikawa pouted, blowing a raspberry against the fabric of his shirt. “But I’m bored.”

“Go watch a movie.”

“Not in a movie mood.”

“Social media.”

“Went through everything, and no one’s online. I’m bored.”

“Read a book. Draw. Dance. I don’t know.”

“Iwa-chan, you’re not paying attention to meee.” Oikawa pulled the top of the book down, meeting Iwaizumi’s annoyed eyes. “Give me something to do.”

“I just suggested a whole bunch of things, mop-head.”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa squawked, bolting upright. “My hair’s not that bad!”

“Go ask Hiro, then. He’ll tell you.”

“Fine, I will!” Oikawa huffed, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and standing, marching grumpily to the kitchen.

“Makkiiii,” Oikawa moaned, draping himself over the countertop, “Iwa-chan called me a mop-head!”

“Is that right,” Hanamaki mumbled, eyes fixed on his recipe book. “How would he know?”

“Exactly!” Oikawa shot upright, propping his chin on his hands. “My hair is fluffy because it’s perfect-”

“I mean, how would he know if he’s never used your head as a mop before?”

Oikawa gasped, clutching at his chest. “I can’t believe this- The betrayal- From you of all people- Makki, I thought you loved me!”

“I love you from the bottom of my heart, but I don’t trust your cooking. Stay out of my kitchen.”

A long pause.

“I’m not anywhere near your stove.”

“But you were thinking about it.” Hanamaki shot back, setting the book down to pull flour, baking powder and other baking condiments from the cupboard, only pausing once to give Oikawa an unimpressed look. “Out of my kitchen.”

Oikawa pouted, staring morosely at the raw ingredients. “But now I want to bake.”

“You are coming nowhere near me and my kitchen when I bake. Issei!”

“What?” Matsukawa’s voice carried over to them from the living room, and the sounds of the movie stopped. A moment later, a head of messy hair stuck itself into the kitchen, peering at them. “Did someone call for pest control?”

Hanamaki leaned against the counter, pointing at a spluttering Oikawa with his spatula. “Yeah, that would be me. Remove the mop. It is starved of attention and I cannot multitask in the kitchen.”

“Makki- Honestly- Your insults get better and better every day, but really?”


“On it.”

Matsukawa walked over and grabbed Oikawa around the waist, throwing him over his shoulder with minimal resistance. (Mostly because Oikawa was still busy cursing at Hanamaki.)

He flopped down on the sofa, arms caging Oikawa in, and pressed the ‘Play’ button with his toe. The movie started up again, but Oikawa would not look at the laptop, continuing to fidget and moan about how bored he was. Matsukawa rolled his eyes.

“Tooru, please. You have to stop acting like you’re angry at us sometime.”

“Angry? Who’s angry? Definitely not me. Please, Mattsun, what are you talking about?” The brunet’s eyes darted about the room, refusing to meet his gaze. Matsukawa sighed and caught his chin, forcing him still so he could look him straight in the eye.

This. This switch to our last names, this act of boredom.”

The older still refused to meet his eyes, so he pressed on. “It’s just one exhibition, Tooru. There will be more, okay?”

Oikawa’s eyes snapped up with sudden fierce intensity, causing him to flinch. “If you understand that’s it’s important to me, then why won’t you let me go?!”

“Because there’s a protest taking place on the next street, and we prefer you not to go and remain alive.” Matsukawa let go to nuzzle the side of his neck, arms squeezing him tightly. “We’ll make it up to you next time, alright?”

“But there won’t be a next time for this exhibition,” Oikawa grumbled.

“There also won’t be another you if you went for it and never came back,” Matsukawa pointed out. “Which, let me remind you, nearly happened.”

“But it didn’t! Hajime literally carried me off the street and I was barely out of the house!”

“You were halfway there when the news of the protest came over the radio. We panicked, okay?”

“Sure doesn’t look like it.”

“Tooru.” Matsukawa sighed in exasperation. “Hajime is stress-reading and Taka is stress-baking. The only reason why I’m not stressing is because you’re sitting in my lap and I know you’re real.”

He sighed again, dropping his head onto Oikawa’s shoulder. “Do you remember when we had to split up for college?”

“The long-distance thing where we didn’t speak to each other? No, of course I don’t remember that.”

“Stop being salty for a moment and listen to me,” he groaned. “I’m trying to say that that was painful but can you imagine what it would be like if that happened for real? Long-distance because you’re not even in this plane of existence and not speaking because you’re dead?”

“You’re being overly dramatic,” Oikawa told him, but his voice was softer, quieter, more contemplative.

“Maybe, but it’s realistic,” Matsukawa countered. He lifted his head to press a soft kiss to the corner of Oikawa’s mouth, leaning back before he could ask for more. “We love you, you doofus, and that’s precisely why we’d rather have you suffer at home than potentially get shot in the streets.”

“I keep forgetting we’re not in Japan anymore,” Oikawa sighed, finally, finally leaning into Matsukawa’s touch. “It’s difficult to remember that we’re not mostly safe all the time.”

“It’s a small price to pay for being able to stay together, isn’t it?” His attention shifted as his hand was lifted, a light kiss pressed to the ring gleaming on his finger. Forest green eyes looked up into his as more kisses were pressed to his knuckles, before his hand was flipped over and a kiss pressed to his palm. “If we look out for each other, we wouldn’t have to worry about it.”

Oikawa stuttered, his cheeks bright pink. “H-hajime-”

Matsukawa leaned in, shutting him up with a kiss. “He’s right, you know,” he mumbled against his lips. “You were there right? You said the pledge with us? ‘Till death do us part’, not ‘till stupidity do us part’?”

Oikawa smacked him.

Iwaizumi smiled at their antics, squeezing Oikawa’s hand to bring his attention back to him. “We love you, Tooru. I love you. Being in a relationship means we give and take, so let it go this one time, and enjoy the day with us instead, okay?”

Oikawa sniffed huffily and turned away, but when he spoke his voice was thick with tears. “Fine. Just this once.”

“You’re an ass.” Matsukawa poked him, grinning when he shrieked. “I love you a lot, okay. Get that through that mop-head of yours.”

“I guess I love you to- Did you insult my hair again?!”


Oikawa tore himself out of his grip and ran for the kitchen, flailing wildly. “Takahirooo, Issei is bullying me againnn-”


Iwaizumi laughed and planted himself on the couch, pressing himself up against Matsukawa. An arm came up around his shoulders and he nestled closer, sighing deeply. 

“Tooru will get over it.”

Iwaizumi hummed lowly, eyes fixed on the screen. “He will. It’s better this way.”

A loud crash was heard from the kitchen, followed by Hanamaki’s creative cursing and Oikawa’s squawks of apology. Iwaizumi smiled.

“At least this way, he’s safe.”

Tagged by @erose130 in like February… oops aha~

If you can’t read my sloppy writing:

Meet the Artist  ♥

DoB (date of birth): August 21
Gender: Female (she/her)
INFP (Meyer Briggs Type
Preschool Teacher (my main job)

Making people smile ♥
Cats/cute things
Singing in the shower
Puns :D

Hive minded ideology
My microwave only heating the outside of my food

Speed Paint