#haikyuu tropes

[haztory]

['sex' by the 1975]

⤷ atsumu miya x f!reader; best friends, references to infidelity, pining, sexual content (w.c 3.1k)

“it’s not sex.” he insists between mouthfuls. a drop of mustard dots the corner of his mouth. you stare incredulously.

“are you joking?” you ask. atsumu just shrugs his shoulder, intense focus saved for the burger held in his hands. practically inhaling a third of it in one bite as he brings it up to his mouth.

“‘s not like it’s the real thing.” he bobs his head side to side in consideration of the sandwich before he’s grabbing at the fries in your lap, “can i haf some.”

the carton lays practically emptied from his pilfering next to your abandoned chicken nuggets. three remaining, absent of consumption in favor of a bewildered stare at the man seated beside you on his bed. 

“fingering is penetration, that’s sex.” you say simply.

atsumu raises a brow, “yer gyno having sex with ya?”

“that’s different.” you level a stare at him, one that’s serious and fierce and that communicates everything you mean in the single look alone. he meets it with one of his own, familiarity and uncommunicated languages all the rage between the two of you. “she doesn't make me cum.”

“neither does yer boyfriend.” he shrugs, taking another large bite of his burger as you screech in offense. your hand meets his bicep with a sharp slap and he grabs at it in pain. “ow! ya were the one that told me that!”

”some people take a minute to figure it out.”

”sounds like its taking a lot longer than a minute.” he mutters to himself. “look, its a lost cause. just dump the guy before it gets anywhere. ya haven’t had sex yet, he’s got a weird face, dude cant tell a fake orgasm from a real one. why are ya fighting me on this?”

“fingering is sex! your body count would be zero if fingering didnt count.” you insist loudly and atsumu rolls his eyes. he crumples the foil his burger came in and throws it across the room, cheering loudly when it makes it into the bin in the corner of his room. 

his room is much the same since the last time you visited. photos of passing years sit framed on the desk— an image of he and osamu with their arms wrapped around each other, taken right before atsumu left for the olympics. another of you and atsumu placed right next to it, you leaning over his shoulder and him laughing loudly, beer bottles held deftly in hands and drunken flushes decorating your faces. momentos of faded high school memories, interspersed with flashes of young adult realities. 

its more sophisticated than it once was. minimal in furniture, and of the items that decorate the room they’re the perfect reflection of a twenty-four year old athlete. his closet is lined with designer gifted clothes, but his desk chair remains stacked with undone laundry, the basics of his everyday life found in the plush cushion more than on the hangers. the jacket you’re currently wearing was stolen from the top of that pile just after delivering a pointed comment at how cold he keeps his apartment. 

its a far cry from the bedroom he used to share with his brother, the one you remember at the dusk of previous memories. it was cramped and contained, lines between the two boys constantly blurred and you having to learn rather quickly where to step and when. but even now, as he lives on his own in a city a bit further from you than you’re comfortable with, not much has changed. you still sit on the left side of the bed and he takes the right; you still eat burgers on his bed and steal his jackets, and he throws papers into trash bins and insists he could’ve made it professional were he not already in volleyball; you still moan and complain about the woes of daily life and he still listens to them endlessly, interjecting the same amount of dumb enthusiasm as you know him to have. 

there is still much in common that remains between he and you. trusted familiarity, endless comfort; a bubble that remains whole and precious, unaltered despite life dealing its hand to you. you’re convinced there’s no one else in the world that gets you quite like atsumu does. 

there’s also no one in the world that works you up, quite like atsumu does.

atsumu stands from the bed, retrieving your own trash from your lap and chucking the rest of it in the bin. lithe and lean, he moves with a body that is sculpted to perfection as he turns off the overhead light and instead turns on the desk lamp, submerging the room in the lowly warmth of its glow. days are shorter now and the sun has just made it return home, leaving you to the dim luster of a pleasant comfort. 

its quiet, intimate. words entirely inappropriate to describe the weekly hangout with your best friend of seven years. 

pushing thoughts aside, you fight to remember what the whole point of the conversation was about. a boyfriend, right. your boyfriend.

right. 

“and he does not have a weird face, he’s just… interesting. it’s what i liked about him.” 

“revolting. i’m this close to spiking a ball in his face. it would be plastic surgery for the dud.”

“you’re being mean.” you tell him. 

atsumu scoffs loudly, “and yer being stupid! yer the one that’s complaining to me about it. yer really gonna date a guy who can’t figure it out when he fingers ya? what happens when ya actually have sex with the bozo?”

“it takes practice. i don’t blame him for not being able to get me there on the first try. i see him later tonight so i’ll talk to him about it. it’s hard to figure out how to turn someone on and then try to, you know, get me there—“

“woahwoahwoah—timeout.” atsumu hold his hands perpendicular to one another, forming a ‘t’. his eyebrows practically touch the hairline of his bleached hair. “he doesn't even turn you on?”

“not everyone is good at everything, like you.” you mean it sarcastically, but it comes out short and meek. it’s embarrassing to have to cover for the misgivings of your current beau, but there’s an obligation to. a point to make, especially to the man in front of you. 

you’ve met the ex-girlfriends, heard their feedback for the man before you. an average of six out of ten in boyfriend material, but he knocks the ball out of the park when it comes to the bed—or so you’ve heard. 

(aya, the most recent girl to have made her grand exit, followed you on instagram and asked you to not be a stranger. whether that was so she could have her in for atsumu or because she really wanted to be friends is still up for debate, but the gesture ended with a message in your directs.

[9:17] it sucks, he’ll always be more in love with volleyball than any girl he could ever date. and even if he didn’t, you’re his number two anyway, so there’s really no way i can win.

[9:20] i’m super sorry, aya. if it’s any consolation, i really liked you two together. he’s just slow, i’m sure you guys will figure it out.

[9:20] you were our biggest argument. 

[9:20] so no, i don’t think we will.

[9:21] i’ll miss that dick tho, best orgasm of my life. rip

there’s not much you can say to a message like that. there’s not much you can say to the surge of smugness that courses through you either, so you don’t.

you don’t tell atsumu about it.)

“alright. sit up then.”

his voice startles you. “what?” 

suddenly, he stands before the side of the bed, looming horribly tall over you as he peers down at you. he shoves his hands in the pockets of his gray sweatpants, the fabric unintentionally pulling down ever so slightly and the waistband of his black boxers peeking out in greeting. the light of the desklamp casts a halo over his silhouette.

your attention is drawn upward and it’s hard to deny the familiar pang that tends to strike through you every so often in times like this. the simple effect of being near him. atsumu is unfairly handsome, and while it’s hard to put a name to the feeling that pulses inside of you when the light catches him just right or when a smile is even more charming than usual, the ache is always the same.

it’s fleeting, you convince yourself. something you refuse to settle on for too long. contexts and suppressed hopes pushed to the back of your mind along with the other unspoken things.

“come on.” he gestures two fingers upward. “i’ll show ya how easy it is to turn a girl on.”

its curiosity that has you standing up on your knees on the comforter, nothing more. its the wonder of how exactly your best friend makes his move on women that leads you to be so close to him, chests practically touching. breaths intertwining as atsumu stares a kind of serious into you that you’ve never been in the receiving end of before.

“im gonna touch ya.” his voice is low and your heart beats erratically in your chest. you nod. 

lifting his right hand, cold fingertips run across the heated skin on the back of your arm. digits trailing upward as he paints a pathway up. and it’s nothing—just his hand on your arm, nothing new or different, and yet your breath hitches. innocent in theory, but something solidifies on atsumu’s face, the familiar signs of determination playing out on his face. it’s less babied now, more formed and angular with the growings of an adult man, but it’s the same focus in his eye, the same clench in his jaw. 

his fingers trail up then down, repeating a circular figure on your skin. the sounds of your mingling breaths the only whispers between you two. your eyes dart down to his lips, but his stay fixed on you. studying every flicker of your eye, every inhale. 

his fingers break from their pattern and trails down to your wrist, then your palm, then your own fingers. tracing them, dancing with them, intertwining them slightly only to pull them away. 

“we should stop.” you whisper after a moment of his caress.

“why?” he asks and a quick glance to his gaze reveals that he knows why. he’s just making you spell it out.

it’s unfortunate that the only reason you want to stop is out of principle, and not because you truly have any reservations about any of this. your boyfriend of three months all but an annoying buzz in your ear.

“this feels like cheating.” you tell him simply. atsumu cocks his head to the side, charming smirk pulling across his lips. 

“i’m touching yer arm. this isn’t anything, yet.”

“you shouldn’t be touching my arm like this.”

“why? cause it’s working, right?” his voice drops to a low rumble, words vibrating through you and shooting straight to your core. “see how easy it is?”

“that means this is cheating then, right?” the question is posed, but it’s obvious it’s more to convince yourself than him. because all that he’s done is touch your arm and you’ve felt the bubbling of that unnamed something heat within you. it feels the exact same as it did seven years ago when you met him; feels identical to the moment four years ago when a drunken night led to a drunken kiss that was forgotten about the next day; feels the exact same whenever he looks at you like he does now, like you're open for the taking. a pointedly very different response to the dread that comes when getting intimate with your actual boyfriend. 

and while atsumu may be doing this to prove a point, to rub it in your face that he was right and you were wrong, you don’t trust that you’ll be able to not carry this with you. to not want more than you should. 

“nah.” he says simply, knowingly. “if i kiss you then it’s a problem.”

“oh, so kissing is cheating, but fingering isn’t?”

“can you shuddup? always runnin’ that damn mouth.” he renders you quiet. 

satisfied with your silence, he brings his left hand to cup your jaw, thumb and index finger grasping your chin and tilting your head to the left, leaving your neck exposed. he leans in, nose tracing a line up the column of your neck until he meets the juncture between that and your jaw. it’s a simple movement, and yet it feels like eternity in his hands. his breath hits steadily against the expanse of your cheek as he whispers into your ear.  “does he touch ya like this?” 

the gasp you release is guttural.

the arm previously fiddling with your fingers quickly wraps around your waist, pulling you flush to him. you have no choice but to embrace him with your own arms, hands cupping the back of his neck to steady yourself. it’s impulse to run them down the expanse of his back, to feel the muscles that he’s worked so hard for, but you resist. keeping yourself locked on his neck and nothing more, as though you being pliant to his ministrations wasn’t jeopardizing enough.  

his thumb inches upward, stroking the corner of your lips sweetly. “does he take his time with ya? cause i would.” 

its then that his lips meet the skin of your neck, tingles erupting from the connection. all of its effects causing an inadvertent clench within you. “it’s not about shoving fingers inside and just doing it. its about doing it the way you like it. and i’d make ya tell me how ya like it. since yer always runnin’ that damn mouth, might as well put it to good use.”

its all-encompassing, the traitorous burn between your thighs. and yet, this is the unnamed something, all that you’ve pushed away.

“astumu—” you whine and its in that exhale of yours that he releases a sigh of his own. one that almost sounds restrained.

“tell me to stop.” he says quickly, lips mouthing against your neck as he utters the words. 

and you don’t want him to. not really. the desire is feverish, unlike anything you’ve felt before and to end this is to end the sweetness of something you’ve yet to taste. if it were to be with anyone you would want it to be with him.

you could take the teasing, the “i-told-you-so” from osamu, the obliteration of a friendship for the uncertain promise of something more. but it isn’t right. not like this. if mountains were to come to a head, you want it to happen because they were gravitated to each other, not because the earth told them to do so.

“stop.” you tell him, and it’s like a hot brand that strikes him. he’s immediately pushing away from, untangling his limbs from you and stepping back into the swath of darkness in the room. 

his breaths are deep and heavy, that much you can tell from the distance. shuttering exhales that wrack his chest. you can hardly make out his irises, only see the intensity of dark pupils. it’s hard to believe that he could be feeling the way you do, just from the simple touch alone. a quick glance down to his grey sweatpants proves otherwise. 

a moment, then two, pass by. ragged breaths filling the distance, words spoken in the silent language you’re both fluent in. 

“does this mean i’m easy then?” you ask quietly, an effort to ease the wall of tension. 

“no.” he shakes his head gently, “just means i know ya.”

he knows what he means to say, the words and all of their yearning practically knocking against his teeth to escape. it’s the long haul, almost a decade long game of carefully advanced chess pieces to get to this point. blocked, temporarily, by the appearance of the new guy. a boyfriend of yours that atsumu met once, a guy he barely attempted to learn the name of. for reasons of his own, their knowing pertinent only to him. held deeply within the urges of being seen, the desires of having you wholly, completely.

there are plenty of other ways that he could do this—probably be more eloquent about it. admit pushed away feelings when you’re not in the midst of ranting about how your boyfriend just can’t get you off. 

but the tension irks him. thick enough to cut a knife, always following the two of you in the long held stares and closeness in which you two gravitate towards each other. the answer to your boyfriend problem is standing right in front of you. he knows what he wants you to do when you see your boyfriend later tonight. 

there are certain shoes that atsumu is convinced he could fill better than your boyfriend.

your face is flushed, and the desk lamp makes you look angelic under the lowlights, and you're wearing his jacket like you always do in a way that makes him believe it was always meant for you. and he’s not entirely convinced, even without the cloud of lust that hangs over him, that you don’t want this just as bad as he does.

osamu once said that atsumu wouldn’t admit his feelings to you even if they hit him over the head. they’re here, now. settling in the distance between you two, bobbing in the capsizing waves of want. they ache to be spoken, knock repeatedly against his gritted teeth. 

but a choice is made in that moment, with you looking at him as wild as you are. atsumu will admit to the selfish and prideful part of himself, but this—you— aren’t something to just take. the taste of your neck, the feel of your body against him, it must be given to him, earned. not because he needs to make a petty point, but because you want him to. 

he cares for you too much to be reckless in how he plays his cards. even if osamu will bust his balls for it later.

you have a boyfriend. and he can’t force you to change that. it wouldn’t be right, he’s given you the taste, he hopes it will be enough.

“like that.” he says after a moment, pushing down his pride and long held desires for you. “tell him ya like it like that.”

a/n: why is it that whenever i stop writing for kuroo, the one i always want to write for is atsumu. also big ups for my beta who entertains me and proofreads me at all hours of the day. i love you sanju!!!!!!

#miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #atsumu #atsumu fic #i love a best friends trope wtf #also i promise i was writing my boss kuroo fic and then i heard this song and was derailed for THREE DAYS #BIG THANK YOU BY THE WAY TO MY BETA

[ktsuk11]

he would never admit it, but tsukishima has always been affectionate.

no, he wouldn’t even utter the words even if hell froze over this very second. but as he sits at the edge of your shared bed, he can’t help but pull your standing form closer to him.

the feeling of your fingers combing through his blonde locks as he rests his head on your abdomen slowly breaks down all his walls, relishing in the warmth of your body as you mumble on about your day. the slender hands on your waist wrap around your waist in an attempt to bring you even closer. you chuckle at the feeling, at tsukki. moving your hands from his hair to cup his face, you finally get a good look at him.

he was tired, you noted. the slight red color in the whites of his eyes telling you all you needed to know. he looked cute.

and he looked even cuter as he leaned in to plant a soft peck on your stomach. a smile graces your face as the action tickles you a little. as he plants more and more kisses, you can’t help but let out a hearty laugh.

because whether he admitted it or not, tsukishima has been and will always be affectionate.

#i hope this makes sense #my favorite trope is secretly affectionate tsukki #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #tsukishima fluff #kei tsukishima #my kitty tsukki #not proofread

[breakingpengui1]

world cold and hard, ushi warm and soft

#i love the “always cold person with a partner that runs hot” trope 🥺 #ushiten #tenushi #tendou satori #ushijima wakatoshi #tendou #ushijima #tendou x ushijima #ushijima x tendou #tendo #haikyuu #hq #fanart #myart #art #my art #satori #tendou art #tendou satori art

[moonchildsisan]

something so erotic about fighting the enemies together

#satosugu #bakudeku #todobaku #soukoku #shin soukoku #eruri #every attack on titan duo basically #kagehina #volleyball matches are like world war to haikyuu fans #its me iam haikyuu fans #bokuaka #kuroken #iwaoi #rinsagi #bachisagi #we love sports gays #itafushi #renga #dont tell me you forgot adam was technically their enemy #tropes #battle duos #jancy #dont tell me you didnt feel that tension when they were planning for the monster hunting together

[mavrintarou]

Lord Series master list

There's no exact order on who I will write for - it really depends on my mood. Initially, I had only planned to write it for Haikyuu characters but I'm thinking of broadening this AU to other fandoms. Stay tuned!

Haikyuu

Lord Sakusa Kiyoomi [1] [2] - completed Lord Suna Rintarou [1] [2] [3] - completed Lord Kita Shinsuke [1] [2] - completed but under review Lord Miya Atsumu [1] [2] [3] - completed Lord Miya Osamu [1] [2] [3] - completed but under review Lord Ushijima Wakatoshi [1] [2] - completed Lord Akaashi Keiji Lord Kuroo Tetsuro Lord Oikawa Toru Lord Iwaizumi Hajime Lord Tsukishima Kei

JJK

Lord Gojo Satoru [1] [2] Lord Geto Satoru

Naruto (coming soon)

Lord Uchiha Itachi Lord Uchiha Shisui Lord Hatake Kakashi Lord Sasori

Tokyo Revenger (coming soon)

Lord Haitani Ran Lord Haitani Rindou Lord Matsuno Chifuyu Lord Sano Manjiro Lord Kokonoi Hajime Lord Sanzu Haruchiyo

Blue Lock (coming soon)

Lord Bachira Meguru Lord Itoshi Rin

#haikyuu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu suna #suna smut #sakusa smut #kita smut #osamu smut #atsumu smut #haikyuu lords #lord trope #ushijima smut #gojo satoru

[lemurzsquad]

Hand Sanitizer

Pairing: Sakusa x gn!reader (platonic or romantic, up to interpretation)

Summary: You and Sakusa hate each other with a passion, and it's almost always a disagreement over hand sanitizer. So when you leave to wash your hands and don't come back, Sakusa learns why exactly you avoid using it so adamantly.

A/N: Okay so this fic. Hooooo boy. This fic. I've been wanting to write it for a while and finally have. It started as a "Reasons why I'm pretty sure Sakusa would hate me irl" and turned into this.

So I have a skin condition known as aquagenic wrinkling of the palms (or AWP), which affects my hands when they come in contact with water, which is what this fic is about. I never hear about this condition anywhere, and it's very lonely sometimes, and there's no real treatment for it (from what I've seen). So this is essentially a vent where I take my skin condition seriously for once instead of just making water allergy jokes to cope lol

(More info about AWP here)

Word count: 3898

cw: skin condition (non-graphic descriptions and discussion) (AWP - please read above), hurt/comfort, angst, crying, enemies to friends...?, emotionally constipated apologies from Sakusa, hand sanitizer is evil /j, vent, not proofread because I just wanted to get this done and posted to do literally anything else, (please lmk if I should tag anything else)

(Disclaimer: I am not a doctor, and everything written here is purely from my own experiences and observations. If you would like to learn more, please do your own research; this is not designed to be informative. It's purely for myself and for awareness.)

You and Sakusa had never gotten along.

You were certain you knew when it started, having been completely oblivious of one another up until that point.

It was when you were both first years in high school, and there happened to be a lizard in the classroom. You, upon seeing it, immediately proceeded to pick it up and ask the teacher to let you put it outside, to which they agreed.

You came back to the classroom, dusting off your hands, when a curly-haired boy took it upon himself to comment, “Go use some hand sanitizer, would you?”

You squinted at him, partly confused as to why he was talking to you and how you had never noticed he sat there before. “No thanks,” you answered, “I'd rather just wash my hands.”

“I don't think just washing your hands would be enough,” he rebutted with a sharp look behind his bangs. “You probably don't even know how to properly wash your hands.”

“Well, too bad! I'm not using hand sanitizer!” You were starting to get annoyed, crossing your arms.

Somehow, that seemed to make him even more disgusted, possibly at the thought that you were spreading whatever it was on your hands onto your clothes now, too.

The two of you threw jabs back and forth until the teacher separated you, which you were both happy to oblige. The animosity between you never seemed to quite dissipate even as the year went on and you became second years. You almost felt bad for the misunderstanding, knowing it was entirely your own fault, but how were you supposed to explain to this random kid that you couldn't use hand sanitizer even if you wanted to? At least, in your head you couldn't.

At some point, you and Sakusa became something of enemies within your class—renowned ones, at that. People would often ask the both of you why you hated each other so much, but your answers were vague at best.

“He's just so pretentious,” you said once.

“They're just so obstinate,” he said once.

And thus, an impasse stretched between you. You hadn't even learned his name until months after your first encounter, too bitter to really care.

Despite the efforts you both went through to avoid being within the presence of the other, you somehow still ended up nearby. Maybe it was your teachers attempting to make you get along—maybe it was the universe laughing in your face.

Throughout that entire time, you still faithfully avoided hand sanitizer like the plague. The one time the nearest bathroom was out of order for a little while and you couldn't wash your hands, you used as little of the accursed substance as you could. Whatever microscopically thin layer that coated your hands there was, you shook it off almost violently, simultaneously disgusted by the feeling of something on your skin and afraid of what it might do.

The disapproving look Sakusa gave you when he saw that was palpable.

At some point, you hated each other mostly out of principle. You'd both kept it up this long—it would be weird to suddenly just let it go since your flimsy justifications seemed enough until now. To admit that you were being unreasonable would be worse than getting along, you separately reasoned.

So when you were paired up for a project, you couldn't help but grimace. Sakusa was the first to go up to the teacher about it.

“I can't work with them,” you heard him say. For once, you agreed with him.

The teacher, however, dismissed his concerns with a wave, saying, “In life, you don't get to pick who you work with. Sometimes you'll have to try to put aside your differences to get your work done.”

It sounded stupid to you, like some half-hearted excuse so they wouldn't have to rearrange seating or partners. But it's not like you had any place to argue, so you resigned to just sucking it up.

Instead of working together, you both divvied up tasks as quickly as possible and did what you assigned yourselves—separately.

All was going well; you ignored each other and worked on the project silently. Despite other groups discussing their plans and the room being filled with chatter, your share corner was dead silent save the sound of pen on paper.

Which didn't last long when suddenly the tip of your pen snapped off. The now open ink tube spilled onto your hands, and when you tried to minimize the damage, it only got worse. By the time you dropped the pen onto your open notebook, raising your hands in surrender, they were absolutely coated in black splotches. A sense of defeat washed over you as you watched your words get covered and your paper stained in ebony.

Taking a moment to glance at your already ruined hands, you just resigned to picking up the pen and throwing it out. It was your favorite pen, which was unfortunate. It couldn't be helped, you told yourself.

Sakusa had noticed you flailing about your desk, silently judging you for the clumsy mess you made when you should have just thrown out the pen the second it broke to avoid the noir crime scene that now covered you and your area. He scowled knowing you would now have to redo whatever you had written for the project.

It was nearing the end of school, the class you were currently in being the final one of the day. You approached the teacher's table and asked if you could go wash your hands. They checked the clock to see about twenty minutes left before replying, “Make it quick.”

You walked past Sakusa's desk on your way to the door. He made the snide remark, “You could get the ink off really well with hand sanitizer.”

It took everything in you not to snap back at him, but you just hurried past, careful not to touch anything on the way out.

Sakusa knew he would never understand you. From the moment you met, you stubbornly refused what seemed to be basic courses of action. Touch something dirty? Use hand sanitizer. Eating? Wash your hands before and after to keep from touching anything.

The couple of times he had seen you wash your hands, it was very brief, and you seemed to avoid using the air dryer, opting for paper towels that were arguably undoing whatever progress you made in washing your hands.

At the same time, you avoided any task that would require you to touch dust or water. You always asked to sweep or clean windows, so much so that everyone just ended up giving you those tasks to get you to stop asking. If you did get something on your hands, you immediately wiped or shook it off, seemingly disgusted. You would even briefly run it under water just to dry it on your clothes so they weren't wet. It seemed there were things worse than water if you were willing to rinse them off.

But it was still that one avoidance that came between you: the hand sanitizer. It was practically the same as water, and it dried quickly. Even if it was comparable to washing your hands, it was still much more convenient in most scenarios. Yet you continued to adamantly refuse to ever use it. At some point you declared, “I would rather die,” when he had tried to squeeze some on your hand, earning him his wrist grabbed and pushed away. 

He just didn't understand.

So when he found you sobbing in front of the stairs, opening your hands and clenching them closed into loose fists repeatedly, he was beyond confused.

You hadn't come back to class after leaving to wash the remnants of your broken pen, so the teacher decided it was your project partner, Sakusa, who should find you and return the belongings you left behind. He went over to your open notebook that remained just where you left it and noted the handful of words that were still visible. 

Sakusa folded the cover over, enclosing the now dried puddle of ink. The remainder of your things he scooped into his arms, leaving the room once the halls had cleared a significant amount. As much as he wanted to just leave your things and go to volleyball practice, he figured it would end poorly.

Plus, what could possibly have kept you out of class for so long that you would have left everything behind? There was no way it had taken that long to get most of the ink off of your skin, so either you had just skipped the last bit of school or something happened. Since you hadn't taken your wallet with you with your IDs (he checked your bag when he put the notebook back inside, sure that it was completely dry), he reasoned it was probably the latter.

“Tsk.” They would have been able to get it off with hand sanitizer, he thought, brows furrowed. This is such a waste of time.

Sakusa wandered through the halls when he didn't find you by the bathrooms. He was starting to think it was a lost cause trying to return your bag; he even had to text his cousin to tell him why he would be late. It wasn't until he got to a particularly empty hallway did he hear something.

Quietly, in a dark alcove with a set of stairs leading up, a figure was huddled against a wall. Their tears were soft but anguished, stifled because it was in the environment of school. Sakusa had tried to ignore them until he realized it was you.

You held your palms up just past your knees that were pressed against your chest. You opened and closed your hands, a fresh cascade of tears painting your cheeks as you choked back a sob. You pressed—with more pressure than could have been painful—your thumb into the center of your other palm, nails digging into the back of your hand. You set your closed eyes on your knees with the hope that it might stop the water that leaked from them.

Sakusa, with great caution, approached your hunched figure. He didn't want to, he really didn't. You were the person he probably hated the most at his school, but somehow he knew he'd seem like an awful person if he didn't at least give your belongings to you directly—he wouldn't give you the satisfaction of another thing to hold over his head.

And yet those thoughts went to the back of his mind when he crouched down in front of you. His mask and curly hair obscured his focused expression as he tried to study your current state. The moment you seemed to hear him there, you held your breath and repressed your already quiet cries.

When Sakusa got close, you buried yourself further in to hide your face behind your knees and clenched your hands even more.

He frowned and something in his chest tightened. His brows furrowed deeper over his eyes and he huffed. He saw your nails digging into the skin on the backs of your hands.

“That's going to leave a mark if you keep doing that.” It came out more biting than he had meant it, but he was being serious.

It was then that you could no longer hold back your sobs, almost choking on your own tears. The grip you had of your hands softened and unlinked; instead, you lightly shook them apart from each other. Sakusa had to take a moment to process, but it almost seemed like there was something wrong with them. 

He just wanted to get you to stop crying so he could give you your bag. As much as he hated the gesture, he asked, “What's wrong with your hands?”

You curled your lips in to bite down on them, fighting back hiccups. With your eyes tightly screwed shut, you upturned your palms.

The sight alone made Sakusa's eyebrows fly up in shock. 

He didn't mean to, but he grabbed your wrist to get a better look. Ignoring the ink stains that faintly persisted, there were pale, patchy splotches in the center of your palm and on the side edges of your fingers; there were even some tiny pale rings on the periphery of the bigger splotches. But underneath that, the skin seemed as if it had soaked in water for hours or maybe even days. Not only were there dozens of deep crevice lines trailing from the tips of all of your fingers to their bases but the lines on your palms were more prominent, surrounded by profound, dense wrinkles that spanned the entire surface.

His eyes darted around your hand for a few moments just trying to comprehend what he was looking at. It looked unnatural—it looked painful. And when he met your gaze, he saw unidentifiable emotions flash across it. Was it shame? Regret? He couldn't be sure aside from the blood that seemed to drain from your face.

You tried to pull your hand away, but Sakusa wouldn't let go. His eyes never left yours, searching for some kind of answer. When he couldn't find it there, he asked, “What happened?” It was soft, calm, and even, enough to make you tear up a little again.

The second time you tugged, he released your wrist. You pushed your thumb into your palm again, looking away. Hiding your hands away in the space between your stomach and where your legs were still tucked against your torso, you sniffled a few times and tried to even out your breathing.

“I-It's normal… it just h-happens when I-I touch water…” You stuttered and mumbled between hiccups.

“That is not normal,” Sakusa said a little too quickly and curtly, realizing it probably would have made it seem like he was berating you.

With another sniffle, you said, “It's a– it's a skin condition.” You started to scratch your palms partly out of stress and partly out of the persistent stinging. “It reacts to water i-if I touch it for too long.”

His eyebrows knitted in concern. “Was that from washing your hands then?”

You gave a small nod, still avoiding his gaze. “I couldn't get the ink off and ended up w-washing them for too long…”

“You could have just used hand sanitizer,” he said genuinely. For the moment, he almost forgot he was supposed to hate you, more focused on being worried than anything.

Your answer was your head shaking rather fervently. “No, I can't.” You lowered to set your forehead against your knees again. “Well, actually, I don't know. I-It just scares me and I don't want to r-risk any more pain than I already have. I haven't h-had good experiences with it…”

“What did hand sanitizer ever do to you?” It came out snarkier than Sakusa had meant. He slowly lowered himself to sit with his legs crossed in front of you, your bag still next to him.

You let out a heavy breath. “I was a dumb kid in elementary,” you started. “I had an obsession with scented hand sanitizer for probably a few months. I used it multiple times a day, and even though I don't know for sure if it's related, my hands got worse after that year I think. Only after that did I finally go to the doctor to get it diagnosed after my mom did a ton of research. I agreed to avoid hand sanitizer from then on. I just don't want to risk being in more pain…”

You both went silent.

“Oh…” It was all that left Sakusa's lips. A sudden wave of guilt crashed into him. All of the times he had berated you for not using hand sanitizer and all of his snide, rude, annoyed remarks resurfaced in his conscience. He felt terrible. He felt bad. Someone was hurting and all he did was throw lighter fluid on their problems—for months—and it seemed there was finally a spark to set it all ablaze. The thought that he started it all made it worse.

“Stop with whatever weird look you have on your face.” You squinted at him and his downturned, scrunched face. You'd calmed down enough to be making quips, it would appear. “It's not like I can do anything about it.” You shrugged, half-hearted.

He searched your face again for any sign of emotion aside from blank resignation, but he couldn't find anything. “Is there no treatment?”

You shrunk down further into your huddle, not vocally answering, but the answer was still clear.

Something about the whole situation made his heart hurt; it made him upset, he realized. “So what, you just have to avoid water?”

The nod of your head to the side looked pathetic as you avoided his eyes. After several seconds of silence, you said, “I used to love swimming. It's not like I can't, it's just… it hurts and it makes me feel gross. I don't even like the beach anymore because if I go in the water and get my hands wet, there's no real place to dry them off.” You laughed humorlessly. “It's stupid. You'd think I would get more used to it and get over it as I got older, but it just made me more upset. Why me? Why did I have to get stuck with a condition that's rare and isn't really bad enough for people to care enough to find a treatment? At least, it feels that way…

“I know it's awful, but I sometimes wonder, ‘Why didn't I get stuck with something worse? Then I might have a way to treat it. Then people might care.’”

You glanced up to judge Sakusa's reaction, instantly regretting spilling your feelings and questioning why you did. Tears threatened to flood over again and spill from your eyes. You felt helpless; not only from your condition but also from being stared down by the person you were certain despised you more than anyone. You were giving him more ammo to be disgusted and to detest you, too.

But you couldn't find his face. His ebony bangs hung down like a curtain and his mask further obscured your view, his downturned line of sight completely blocked out.

When the silence was beginning to crawl around on your skin and became almost deafening, you took in a sharp breath and held it for a moment before breathing out a tiny apology. “Sorry… you don't wanna hear about this…”

“No.”

“...No? No… what?”

“No…” 

Sakusa was struggling to get out the right words. How does he say sorry to you in a way that you might actually believe? How does he tell you that you're allowed to be upset, that you can talk about it? How does he make you understand that it's okay?

And how is he supposed to get you to believe it when it's coming from him?

His voice sounded almost angry but not at you—it was for you. “You can be upset,” he said between gritted teeth, hands clenched into tight fists. “No one deserves to have to live everyday avoiding something so common just to not be in pain. And no one deserves to have some jerk constantly making light of it even if they don't know.”

The way your eyes widened and water dripped down your cheeks in sudden streams said it all. “Oh…” was all you could muster before you completely broke down. No one you had ever told about your condition had seemed to fully grasp how much you were hurting inside, how every day was a struggle to avoid reminding yourself of how awful your hands were, how even looking at your own hands sometimes made you ashamed and loathing of yourself. It was a constant reminder that there would always be something wrong with you; you would always be broken, and there was no way to fix it.

Sakusa let you cry with the renewed emotional rush. He remained firmly planted where he sat, not moving an inch. He was not going anywhere.

And he didn't, even as your sobbing slowed to quiet sniffles and wiping mostly dried tears. It took a while before you finally muttered, “Thank you… No one's ever said that to me before…”

“Well, they should.” His words were curt but lacked any sharpness to them.

When you looked up to meet his eyes, he turned them away from you. Hesitantly, he uttered, “Look, I can't promise you that we'll get along, but I can assure you I'll try not to bother you anymore. No more stupid hand sanitizer comments anymore, either.” It was the only peace offering he could make for a chance to pave a path towards making amends.

You let out a breath through your nose that was close to a laugh before hiccuping, “Next thing you know, you'll be telling me we'll work on our group project together.”

“Don't push it,” he answered, quickly and humorlessly. It only made you laugh, although he couldn't comprehend why.

“It's getting late,” Sakusa tried to divert. “You should head home.”

You reached for your phone, and the little numbers on the screen confirmed his statement. Suddenly, a flash of panic crossed your face. “I don't have my bag,” you state frantically, “or any of my stuff.”

It was then that Sakusa held up the original object of his search for you, gently lowering it to the ground. “The teacher told me to bring it to you since you never came back.”

Relief washed over you in a calming rush, and you finally seemed to relax. You pulled your knees away from your chest and sat with your legs crossed. Confirming that everything was in your bag, an immensely relieved sigh left your lips in a gust.

“Thank you.” Your gaze was earnest, trying to convey just how much you meant your words to make sure it sunk in.

Sakusa just grumbled, “Whatever.” He was back to his usual self despite how he stumbled embarrassingly when he got up and realized his legs had gone numb. He reluctantly offered up his hand to help you stand, but you only looked at it for a moment, mouth pressed into a line, before you got to your feet on your own.

He pretended he hadn't tried to assist you, instead pivoting on his heels and shoving his hands in his pockets with a slouched posture. Without another word exchanged, you both headed towards the school's entrance.

The air fell into a comfortable quiet until then. When you did reach the entrance, however, you both stopped in your tracks. You turned to Sakusa, giving him a soft smile and a small wave, and headed down the street. Only when you turned the corner, out of sight, did he head back towards the volleyball gym. He was so horribly beyond late that it was almost laughable.

But he didn't care, knowing it meant someone was there in that very moment for you when you needed it most. So what if he also started to mend whatever nonexistent relationship was there in the process? What mattered was that someone told you that it was okay.

And Sakusa was okay with that. Being late to practice wasn't nearly as pressing as his long overdue apologies. What could be more important than that?

Do not copy and/or repost!! Any likes or reblogs are appreciated, though! (c) 2024 LemurzSquad

#haikyuu #haikyu!! #haikyuu!! #sakusa x reader #sakusa x y/n #sakusa x you #sakusa x gn!reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x gn!reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #hq sakusa #lemurz writing #hurt/comfort #angst #enemies to friends trope #skin condition #writing #fanfic #haikyuu fanfiction #hand sanitizer #platonic or romantic

[coralpaperthoughts]

if I had a nickel for every ginger and dark haired duo who are self-proclaimed rivals but are also jaw-droppingly powerful as partners and nobody can ever come between or above them... I'd have two-

#all im saying #is that this is my favourite trope #anime #bungo stray dogs #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #soukoku #haikyuu #kageyama tobio #hinata shouyou #kagehina #no coz why are they the exact same #just different font #coralbabbles

[transvalkilmer]

Yeah, the homoerotic nature of sword fighting but what about the homoerotic nature of not being able to think of one character without automatically thinking of the other because they were designed to be thought of as a pair

#spirk #spock #james t. kirk #star trek #naruto #sns #sasunaru #narusasu #iwaoi #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tooru #haikyuu #I can't think of more rn aks;djf #tropes #fanfiction tropes #ship dynamics

[clearancecreedwatersurvival]

Never seen a homoerotic rivalry I wouldn’t ship.

#except bakudeku maybe I just never watched far enough in bnha to care but. idk. bakudeku did not spark joy #anyway I’ll just tag a couple recent ish fandoms for me #obviously since I got into one piece I was immediately like ‘oh yeah I get this’ about #zosan #I think technically these two count just based on how their dynamic works #fengqing #could tag just about any ship from haikyuu tbh but I’ll just go with the main duo and leave it at that #kagehina #the pairing that really started this for me though (and sorry to wizard book mention but I gotta be honest) was of course #drarry #now that I have added that tag obligatory: terfs fuck off okay moving on #hmmm. does griddlehark count. or are they just codependent homoerotic frenemies. #there’s some nebulous dividing line between All That and plain rivalry #I would tag harrianthe but I still haven’t finished harrow so like. I can’t confirm that personally yet. #after some reflection on another post I have decided to include these two because I think their dynamic counts #matchablossom #caitie speaks #animanga #shipping #tropes

[lovesyarnandnancydrew]

One of my absolute favorite fanfic tropes is what I call "the only exception":

Character A is a well-known hermit among their friend group and would rather die than go out with you. But then you look at Character's B Instagram and see Character A in almost every picture because they keep trying new cafes together, going to movies, visiting museums, and doing craft lessons.

Character A is the only person in their friend group capable of cooking, while their other friends are walking fire hazards. Because of this, they are permanently banned from the kitchen and Character A will chop into stew anyone who dares to step foot into their territory. But then you woke up from a nap and stumbled into the kitchen to get a glass of water only to notice Character B sitting on the counter swinging their legs and stealing pieces of carrots from the cutting board. Character A lets them do that without a single word, only mumbling about Character B losing their appetite from all the snacks.

Character A is not much of a talker and would avoid conversations at all costs. If they have no other choice, Character A will simply nod or shake their head when necessary. But then you see them in Character B's company, the biggest chatterbox imaginable, talking Character A's ears off, and they not only don't mind it but also answer back, indulging in the conversation.

Probably the most popular one - Character A doesn't like physical touch and is known to actively avoid it from his friends and family. Getting to hold their hand is like a reward, and hugging them is the ultimate win in life. But then you notice Character B laying their head on Character A's shoulder without being pushed away. When Character B landed in Character A's lap, the latter simply adjusted the phone so they both could see the screen. If Character B hugged Character A from behind, the latter would simply lean into the touch.

And the best part? When you dare to ask if they're dating or not, the answer is always either "What? No!" or "Are you dumb?"

#fanfic tropes #fanfic prompt #fanfic inspo #the untamed #my hero academia #haikyuu #boku no hero academia #wangxian #bakudeku #sakuatsu

[sixosix]

akaashi keiji: childhood friends is a language on its own

gn!reader, reader is sad, title summarizes everything, wc 356

when kuroo entered the gym, he certainly didn’t expect another figure next to akaashi that isn’t bokuto, much less have said figure’s head on akaashi’s shoulder. you have your face buried on your palms, with akaashi nodding sagely.

“ugh,” you whine. “uuggghhhh!”

“yes, y/n-san. i know.”

“keiji, it was so uughh.”

“is that so?”

you start grumbling more noises. kuroo thinks you’re actually speaking, but all that comes out is a series of ouuurgggh. bokuto hums thoughtfully in response from kuroo’s side; if he’s trying to understand why you’re grumbling or what you’re trying to say, kuroo doesn’t want to know.

akaashi frowns, decoding your words. “that’s not nice.”

“ouuuuuuuaargh.” kuroo feels crazy.

“please calm down,” akaashi says softly.

kuroo blinks, finally gaining sense. “the fuck is up with those two?”

bokuto grins proudly. “they’re childhood friends!” he says as if that explains everything. no, it makes it worse, actually. kuroo didn’t even know akaashi had a childhood friend.

kuroo blinks again, with more feeling. “so are kenma and i but we didn’t gain telepathy.”

yamaguchi and tsukishima come in a few seconds later, watching the scene before them for a beat. then yamaguchi turns to the blond, eyes wide.

“tsukki, do you think we could do that?”

tsukishima actually gives it some thought. “no. that’s the same as attempting the freak quick.” yamaguchi seems to understand.

you look up from your palm, peeking at the boys. your eyes are puffy and you pull the jacket -- kuroo only now realized it belonged to akaashi -- closer to yourself. akaashi curls a protective arm around you.

“keiji,” is all you mumble, your voice soft as a whisper.

kuroo watches as akaashi, with uncharacteristic fierceness, glare at them. bokuto yelps, standing up straight -- kuroo probably made the same noise, recoiling at the assault akaashi’s eyes attacked them with. he shushes them all with a finger.

akaashi sighs, facing you. “we’ll get a snack, i promise. don’t make that face, please.” you don’t say anything else, only knocking your forehead against his shoulder and mumbling something incoherent no one but akaashi understands, but kuroo thinks that akaashi’s soft smile means it’s okay.

#this does not make sense but ive always found tropes like this fun #character a: says something that absolutely makes no sense #character b: i see. #everyone else: ???? What #606:HQ #606:FKRDN #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu drabbles #akaashi keiji imagine #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keji x reader

[emmyrosee]

Kiyoomi thinks play fighting is childish.

Fairly standard things, he knows Meian and his partners do it, and he knows atsumu has a track record of losing to Hinata, Bokuto is notoriously playful after a big win, but it never appealed to Kiyoomi like it does them, and in turn, they know better than to test and try his patience.

Unfortunately, for Kiyoomi it seems you don’t get that same message.

It wasn’t his fault Meian needed him so suddenly, messing up the dates for their new sizing for the team jerseys, and he doesn’t want to leave and more than you don’t want him to, but Kiyoomi must oblige for his career’s sake, and for the love of the gods, where the hell did he put his keys-

“Oh, you haven’t left yet?” You hum brattily, and Kiyoomi feels the vein in his head throb.

“No,” he grumbles, a hand carding back his curls as he stands up straight. “Baby, you haven’t seen my keys have you? I could’ve sworn I’d left them-“

“Oh- you mean these keys?” There’s a jingle that prompts the end of your tease, and goosebumps of irritation rise from his skin.

“For fucks sake,” he groans, finally turning to face you. “I’ve been looking all over the place for them, why would you take them?”

“Because I don’t want you to leave,” you shrug, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Which it was, but he’s never going to let you know that.

“Give me my keys, I’m going to be-“

“No.”

His brows shot up in surprise, taken aback by your defiance for his demand. “What do you mean ‘no?’” He snips, taking a step towards you, and snarling when you take one back confidently. In reality, there’s a feeling brewing in his gut at your words, almost like an excitement and eagerness for a challenge. He doesn’t want you to see it though, he’s an adult and there’s no reason for such an emotional response to come from your audacity.

“I’m sorry, what letter is tripping you up?” You say, a mocking brow cocking upwards as you jingle his keys in your fingers. “N. O.”

Oh, you’re so in for it.

“Watch yourself,” he snarls, but the glimmer in his onyx eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by you, and it makes you lick your teeth in excitement. But there’s absolutely nothing, no warning, no thoughts that could prepare him for the low, snarky little words that fall from your lips next.

“Make me.”

“You little brat,” he growls, but he’s unable to fight the smirk on his lips as he drops his bag and absolutely sprints towards you, relishing in your screams as you try to run fast and far from him. He’s an athlete, surely you must’ve known he’d catch up to you, but even if you do, you cackle and shriek in surprise when long fingers grip the back of your shirt and positively yanks you back towards him, threads popping and your legs kicking wildly to escape. It’s unsuccessful, and he’s on full adrenaline and excitement when he pulls you up and over his shoulder, fists banging into his back.

“Since when are you so strong!” You whine around cackles.

“I can physically lift and move Bokuto, you think you’re a problem for me?” His answer comes quick and in-between pants, his cheeks hurt from the grin that splits his face, and even before you can beg and plead for giggly mercy, he hauls you into the bedroom.

He tosses you carelessly enough on the bed to have you scrambling to face him, your eyes glimmering from laughing so much. His heart squeezes, and if he weren’t on absolute adrenaline right now, he would’ve bent down and kissed the giggles out of your mouth.

But alas, he holds himself back and instead, when he lowers his hands to try and grab his keys, yours bat them away, the keys stabbing his knuckles one too many times for his liking.

“Oh you fucking-“ he growls as he flips you back onto your belly to face away from him again, and when you try to flip over with your free arm, he knocks the weight out from under you, pinning the arm without the keys behind your back, the arm with the keys flailing for freedom over the edge of the bed.

“Omi!” You whine around howls of laughter, your arm bent in an awkward angle, but you’re not fighting back as rough as he’d expect, and he takes it as a sign you’re still having fun. He snarls and moves your arm higher up your back to ease the tension, and you merely bury your face in the mattress as you cackle.

Then, a massive paw claps a playful smack on your ass, and he absolutely loves the sound of your shocked scream. “Kiyoomi!” You scold, head whipping around but the grin on your face still beaming wildly. You’re clearly surprised to see him in such a state, but he can tell just by the body language that you love it. “Don’t do that!”

He smirks, “you gonna give me my keys?”

“No! You promised me- OW!”

Another rough smack lands on your butt, and your legs kick out with a giggly “stop it!” to which he prompts another smack. Then, a squeeze to your hips to make you writhe and shriek at the ticklishness. And one final slap when he hears the clatter of his keys hitting the floor.

After deeming you punished enough, Kiyoomi releases you to curl up and giggle on yourself, his pulse beating wildly from the adrenaline and exhilaration pulsing through his blood stream. “Don’t test me again, brat.” He cards back his curls and makes his way over to the dropped keys, and he crouched down to pick them up, planting a kiss on your head as he stands back up. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Who knew the impenetrable Sakusa Kiyoomi could be so playful?” You hum, smiling innocently up at him. He gives you a deadpanned stare and a flick to your head to make you whine.

“Come back to me, ‘kay?” You whisper, sitting up and pouting you lips out for another kiss. He rolls his eyes and complies, a large hand tenderly stroking your jawline, and lips whispering a soft “of course,” against yours.

“I’ll always come back to you… even if you are the bane of my existence.”

——-

@meloomi IM SO SORRY I HAD TO TAG YOU, IF I GO DOWN YOURE COMIN WITH ME-

#god I love play fighting smh #they’re some of my fave tropes uGH #also if someone dare @ me for this you’re uninvited to my birthday party #let me enjoy my squishy kiyoomi smh #also I’m 95% sure this is gender neutral but if it’s not pls correct me #don’t let this flop bc I will shove it down all your throats PFFFFF- #i never post in the day in my neck of the woods so 💅🏼 #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi fluff #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader fluff #sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader #sakusa kiyoomi imagine #sakusa kiyoomi haikyuu #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gn!reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x yn #haikyuu x y/n

[wake-uptoreality]

❦❦❦❦Best HQ love tropes❦❦❦❦

friends to lovers ⇒Komori, Yamaguchi, Lev.

Stuck together ⇒ Sakusa, Nishinoya, Futakuchi.

Enemies to lovers ⇒ Tsukishima, Semi, Kindaichi.

Forbidden love ⇒ Aran, Iwaizumi, Osamu.

Destined to be together ⇒ Akaashi.

Fake relationship ⇒ Atsumu, Asahi, Hirugami.

Exes to lovers ⇒ Oikawa, Suna.

Strangers to lovers ⇒ Kageyama, Hanamaki.

Second choice ⇒ Tendou, Ennoshita, Goshiki.

Workplace romance ⇒ Kuroo, Kunimi, Shirobu.

Lost memories ⇒ Bokuto.

Childhood friends to lovers ⇒ Kogane, Hinata, Yaku, Kyotani.

Literally married couple ⇒ Sugawara, Daichi.

Engaged marriage ⇒ Ushijima, Kita, Matsukawa.

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu love tropes #hinata x reader smut #kageyama x reader #sugawara x reader #daichi x reader #asahi x reader #nishinoya x reader #tsukishima x reader #yamaguchi x reader #kuroo x reader #kenma x reader #bokuto x reader #akaashi x reader #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #ushijima x reader #tendou x reader #atsumu x reader #osamu x reader #kita x reader #suna x reader #sakusa x reader #semi x reader #aone x reader

[floralcavern]

Wdym? I don’t have a favorite relationship trope!

ok.. maybe

#I love the hates everyone x the one person that they can’t bring themself to hate #i eat that shit up #Shipping #tropes #romantic tropes #shipping tropes #courtney total drama #duncan total drama #Total drama island #duncney #Mlp #my little pony #fluttershy #discord #haikyuu #tsukishima kei #yamaguchi tadashi #Tsukiyama #mha #my hero academia #Katsuki bakugo #kirishima eijirou #Kiribaku #poprocks

[ittetsuspecs]

The ship trope :3

#ukatake #takeda ittetsu #ukai keishin #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #ship tropes #hes a tired middle aged man #Ittetsu need help too lol #this is based on the fic i read #I love them sm #i love them sm

[rinniemybeloved]

[☆] - 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐕 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒

notes : kodzuken pls pay my bills

warnings : kinda ooc shirabu, atsumu not rlly wanting to be a dad

pairings : various setters x fem!reader, reader is Iwaizumi's sister in oikawa's part

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐌𝐀 𝐊𝐎𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐄 - 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

He's a very busy man. Being a stock trader, a pro gamer, a youtube content creator, and a ceo all at once wasn't something many could do. It was clear that he didn't wan't to be in a relationship and didn't have time to be in one anyways. But, his mother has always loved the idea of her son having a 'traditional' family. He didn't want to upset his mother, so he agreed to marry the girl his mother picked for him, you. At first, he tried to ignore you, but how long can you ignore someone who literally lives in the same household as you?

"If you want to live here, you have to make yourself useful."

𝐊𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈 𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈 - 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

You and Keiji had broken up a long time ago. The last year of highschool, to be exact. It was just a normal first relationship and you both broke up on good terms. It only lasted a few months, anyways. But within those few months, you developed a special admiration for him. He wasn't just 'any other guy that you had dated', he was politer and his reserved nature made you feel comfortable. So, when you two bumped into each other seven years later, you two tried to give it another shot. That's when you realized that Keiji didn't really change at all, he was still him.

"It was right person wrong time, and this might just be the right time."

𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 - 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃

You're the younger sister of Hajime Iwaizumi, so you've known Oikawa for many years. You were really close to him, you even knew some things about Tooru that not even your brother knew. There was always a bond between you two, but you thought that Hajime would get mad if you spoke out about it. During Hajime's wedding, Tooru had had way too many drinks and was saying whatever comes to his head without thinking. You were having fun watching him slur his words and say the dumbest stuff ever, until he said something about you.

"No, I am not drunk! If I was, I'd say how much I wanna kiss you right now."

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐔 - 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

He was one of the most successful doctors in the country, while you were just an average nurse. You were scared of approaching him, it didn't seem like he wanted to waste his time talking to someone like you. You knew that it wouldn't be good to keep your feelings hidden, so you managed to pluck up the courage to finally go up to him during his lunch break. You asked him a few things about his job, and luckily, it went well! You tried not to get your hopes up after just a small interaction, but you could feel that everything would continue to get better after this.

"You're not one of those girls who're gonna ask me for my snapchat, right?"

𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀 - 𝐂𝐎-𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

You got pregnant at seventeen, so it was expected that Atsumu didn't want to ruin his bright future by taking care of a kid. The boy tried to avoid talking or even thinking about you and the baby at any cost. You were a girl of the past to him. But, that hatred he had for you all faded away when he saw you with your 3-year-old daughter, he couldn't help but want to be in his daughter's life. He was brave enough to reach out to you and ask to start over. So, you gave him the chance to visit his daughter once a week. But, he wanted more than that.

"Is wanting to be a part of both of your lives too much to ask?"

𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐌𝐀 - 𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍

If he was the moon, then you were his sun. Even if he would never admit it, you made his day brighter by doing the smallest of things. Unfortunately, you two never had the time to actually hangout and spend time because of him always being attached to volleyball. Even with the small part of his daily life that you were in, you almost always seemed to make it better for him. He didn't really even know why. You packed his lunch, helped him with his studies, tied his shoes (he can't tie shoes lol), the list just goes on. There were some times when he thought—

"Do I make her as happy as she makes me?"

Requests are open!

#haikyuu!! #hq #hq!! #kenma kozume #x reader #atsumu miya #shirabu kenjirou #tobio kageyama #oikawa toruu #haikyuu fluff #book tropes #[☆]