BRUH THIS SORE THROAT HURTS LIKE A BITCH GIMMIE SOME REMEDIES THAT DONT INCLUDE HONEY AND TEA

BRUH THIS SORE THROAT HURTS LIKE A BITCH GIMMIE SOME REMEDIES THAT DON’T INCLUDE HONEY AND TEA

no bc iwa used to try and embarrass oikawa in front of his crush when they were kids but then iwa meets you,, oh how the tables have turned

HAIKYUU BOYS AND SHARING A BED TROPES

PAIRINGS: Iwaizumi Haijme x Reader | Miya Atsumu x Reader | Suna Rintarou x Reader | Kozume Kenma x Reader

GENRE: Fluff | Crack | Comfort | Enemies To Lovers (Atsumu) | Friends To Lovers (Hajime/Rintarou)

WARNINGS: Cursing | Implied Panic Attack (Kenma) | Wholesome Shit.

A/N: HI THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO MAKE OMG I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE THIS PLS I MYSELF LOVE IT SO MUCH PLS ENJOY

HAJIME — The "You're Sleeping On My Bed So I Sleep On My Floor" trope:

You didn't mean to stay at his house this long, almost drifting away on his shoulder while the television screen blares some old cartoon and the feeling of his stiff body hesitating to lean into yours keeping you from completely losing consciousness. "M' tired, Haji, I'm gonna go home, now," you groan with a tired voice. "No, you're not," he says as if you said the stupidest thing he's ever heard. "You're too tired, you'd probably pass out in the middle of the road. Just stay here." The tone of his voice grew quiet, quite like he was nervous, or something. "Uh, are you sure? I don't want to impo—" "Just get on my bed, already," he mutters loudly in a firm voice. "oh, okay." When you saw him bring another futon, you grew confused. "Hajime?" "What?" "What are you doing?" "Making my bed?" "Why?" He grew annoyed with your questions, stopping his motions in irritation and looking at you. "You're sleeping on my bed what else am I supposed to do?" "Sleep...in your bed?" His eyes had widened, and his face looked hot— did you need to take his temperature? "What? No." "Just sleep in here with me. It's not that big a deal." He shakes his head, "no." "Oh my God, Hajime, get in here," you laugh while your hands flip the covers open for him. You watch him slide in carefully and scan the lumps in the bed so he doesn't touch you. He sighed once he settled in, watching you get comfortable yourself. His eyes accidentally traced the outline of your torso, wandering around your hips and your waist until he looked up to meet your pupils. You smiled, scooting yourself closer to his nerve-wracked body. "Goodnight, Haji," you whisper in his shoulder. It takes a second for him to respond as his breath hitched, "Goodnight," he whispers before making the ultimate decision to drape his arm across your waist. You couldn't wait until his legs allowed themselves to thread with yours.

ATSUMU — The "There's Only One Bed" trope:

The fact that you two were put together on this trip was ridiculous, let alone how the hotel only has one vacant room left. He was the last person you'd ever want to sleep in the room— building as. When he opened the door with the key card, that was the moment you regretted ever coming. There was only one bed. He groaned annoyingly, setting his bag next to the door and looking around the room. "Well, shit. What do we do, now, Sweetheart?" Your face contorts in disgust when your pet name leaves his lips, "just find somewhere else to sleep. Can't you go with Hinata or Bokuto? Sakusa?" He shakes his head as he continues to walk around, "they said they already had people with them, can't switch." "Fuck," you cursed, staring at the thing that caused your demise. "Relax, it'll be fine, we can just share." Your head bucked back in offense as your eyebrows furrow. "What? Absolutely not! I'll take the floor if you want it so damn badly." "Uh uh, yer not sleepin' on the floor, Angel." "Oh, yes I am." "Not an option." "You can't make me sleep on that bed." You regret saying that two hours later when you settle in the sheets next to him. "Give me your pillow, Atsumu." "What? Why?" He questions as he lays flat on his back. "Because to prevent from getting your germs all over me, I'm making a wall of pillows." "Ya can't be serious," he deadpans. Your face yelled at him that you were, your glare forcing his hand to slowly grip his pillow and pull it to you to let you drag it from him and stuff it between your two bodies. "Happy now, Darlin'?" "No," you say firmly. "Just go to bed, Atsumu. We have a long day tomorrow." "Fine, only because ma Angel wants me to." "Shut up," you grit. Hours have passed and you haven't slept a blink— your mind focused on the way his warm hands caress your stomach so lightly and pull your abdomen towards him. His breath lingers on your neck, and his legs intertwine with yours as he sleeps safe and sound. There seemed to be a tingly pool of butterflies in your stomach for some reason. There was no way you were enjoying this, was there?

RINTAROU — The "You Just Fell Asleep On Me And Now We're Cuddling" trope:

It was almost casual: how your body laid atop his on his bed so comfortable and warm— how your hot breaths stuck to his neck and your legs draped over his, almost wrapping around his waist as you lightly snored on him. He chuckled as he scrolled through his phone while his head rested on his pillow, his other arm laying on your back, and his fingers gently scratching the surface of the fabric you wear. He wasn't confused or startled, he wasn't nervous one bit. He liked having you sleep on him— it was a relaxing feeling, having your breaths match up and feeling your slow pulse wrap around his torso like it was supposed to be there. It was calming. He didn't know how you woke up, or why you were so frightened by having him under you like that. "Wh—what I'm so—" you frantically wave your hands and unweave your legs from his, sitting on the opposite side of the bed in awkwardness, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, I swear—!" He was a bit confused now, after watching you run away. "It's okay, don't be sorry," he dismisses as if it was stupid to think that in the first place, "I liked it." "You— huh?" You had to trail back in your memories to see if you heard that correctly. "Yes. I liked it, now come back," he nonchalantly grips your wrist and drags your weight back onto his, caressing your hair with his nimble fingers and tilting his head to lay the tiniest kiss on your temple, basking in the heat you provide from your obvious mortification. It was only when he fell asleep with you, his phone falling from his fingers and his eyes finally drooping completely closed as his head leans on yours, when you could really feel it. Your pulses slowing together and your breaths caught in each other's skin and your chests rising and falling at a syncing pace. It was nice. You liked it, as well.

KENMA — The "You're Really Sad And This Is The Only Thing I Could Think Of" trope:

His breath quickened as he hid under his blanket for support, the sweat glossing his face and his trembling hands not finding a grip on reality. He sat in the corner of his room in the dark where he was most comfortable, his eyes wide as they try to catch the non-existent light underneath the thin fabric. He doesn't want to move, he doesn't want to make a single sound, but his shivering body and his whimpers of emotional pain wouldn't listen to him. He didn't even know what he was sad about, he was just sad. Afraid. Anxious? He didn't know. He didn't know why he heard the door creak open or why he heard footsteps increase in volume as they grew closer to his shakey ball. He couldn't figure out why the blanket that shielded him was currently peeling away from his hot skin, forcing the cold air to mix with the sweat that aligned his shape. "It's gonna be kay, Kenma, I got you," a voice whispers, pulling his arms and lifting him up off the ground. His legs seemed to work miraculously as they walked to the end of his bed, allowing a hand to lightly place him on the mattress, opening the sheets for him and letting his body seep into the sweet scent of his sheets. He didn't bother to look at who helped him— he knew who it was. He needed them right about now. It seemed as if they knew that, too. What a relief. "Let's go to sleep, alright? You might feel better after, okay?" And with that, he closes his eyes with ease, ignoring the stinging pain from how long he kept them open from before, and let his body lean into the figure behind him. They wrapped their arms around him, caging him in their protection and mixing their legs with his so he could feel a little extra warmth. He was appreciative of this. He was really grateful. Putting all the effort into his sentence, he mutters, "Thank you, Y/n." And with that, the figure smiles against his neck, applying their lips to his skin before replying, "Of course, Kenma. Now get some sleep."

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Could we maybe get wholesome hcs for a movie night with the bucci gang?

ahh i feel like some fluff this morning so here you go anon!

You will absolutely have to be the one to choose the film. The others cannot agree on anything. Mista wants to watch a cheesy rom-com; Giorno wants to watch a documentary. Narancia wants to watch some crude comedy film, Fugo wants to watch an artsy prestige film. Abbacchio wants to watch a horror movie, Bruno wants to watch something that leaves him feeling uplifted. There’s no proper way to settle this; there’s no film that will please all of them. Eventually, you’ll probably go for a feel-good family movie just because it’s closest to what Bruno wants and no other member of the gang is going to begrudge him that. 

Bruno steadfastly watches the movie, probably at the centre of the sofa. The younger boys gravitate towards him; Fugo’s head on one shoulder and Narancia’s on the other - if you want to be involved, he’ll motion for you to put your head on his knee. It’s not romantic - it’s just . . . soft. Domestic. There isn’t a lot of room in the gang’s living room (it’s probably Bruno’s living room; cosy but small) so you have to find the nooks and crannies of comfort where you can.

Abbacchio pretends that he is above this - makes fun of your choice of movie, rolls his eyes, and only settles down when Bruno gives him a stern look. If you watch him closely, though, you’ll see that at the dramatic emotional climax of the film, he rubs tears out of his eyes. Crying? Him? No, you’re just seeing things--

Fugo points out the inaccuracies whenever he sees them and gets very frustrated by them; he wants to watch the credits just so he can see who was responsible for this downright awful fact-checking. He’s, surprisingly, a fount of knowledge about movies and actors, though - he explains any references that go over other people’s heads and can spot when a scene or line is an homage to something else.

Giorno is very serious. He doesn’t quite know how to do ‘movie nights’ - he’s never been to one before. Even whilst at school, he preferred to be alone. So he watches warily to see what he should be doing, only to be drawn completely into the fray by Bruno’s quietly murmured observations and Mista shoving the popcorn into his lap and you smiling quietly at him. 

Mista eats all of the snacks. He tosses popcorn into the air for the Sex Pistols. He gets very soft when the main character’s mother finds love again, sighing and mooning around a little dreamily. 

Narancia gets very into the movie; he almost immediately is considering every character his friend and referring to them as such. It’s cute, the way he bounces where he’s sitting as he provides a running commentary as if you’re not all watching the same movie. He’s also very excited by listening to the soundtrack, especially when he can pick out songs he recognises. He also cries at the end. 

trese really do be spitting facts about how the police and government sees its citizens; nothing but mere numbers and statistics. police brutality, the failed war on drugs, and even the poor measures against the pandemic. pilipinas, ang hirap mong mahalin.

i love this it’s so cute

atsumu would suddenly pull that “where have ya been all ma life huh?!” shit on you while you both are cuddling.

he adores you so fucking much that he gets so aggressively affectionate with you. squishing your cheeks, biting your thighs, showering you with kisses- everywhere, pulling you in a bone-crushing hug. “fuck, i love ya so much!”