ROMANCE TROPES [HAIKYUU]

ROMANCE TROPES — [HAIKYUU]

characters: hinata shoyo, miya atsumu, bokuto koutarou, sakusa kiyoomi content: gn! reader, the msby four, rich sakusa (i am a rich sakusa truther until the end), bokuto picks you up, sakusa is implied to be taller than you notes: omg i lowkey want to do a fuller version of sakusa’s part 

hinata shoyo ✶ love at first sight

slouched in a plastic airport seat, hinata’s leg bounces anxiously as he awaits his flight. rain beats down the side of the windows and he prays to whatever universal force there is that the flight leaves at the right time. he couldn’t fly with everyone else earlier since he celebrated his grandmother’s birthday with family but it put him on a late night flight that lined up with an incoming storm. 

he scrolls mindlessly through his social media feed, double-tapping a photo of oikawa’s reunion with his high school team and tanaka’s anniversary post for kiyoko. 

the speaker system crackles to life. “attention, passengers of flight 7644 to sapporo, due to inclement weather conditions, the flight has been delayed an estimated two hours. we apologize for the inconvenience and thank you for your patience.”

hinata curses under his breath, already on his way to pulling up the black jackals’s group chat to tell them. he pulls his cap off, running a hand through his hair with a long sigh. his phone begins to buzz with texts, no doubt from his coach telling him to keep them updated. 

he rests his forearms on his knees, slumping forward and skimming through the messages. then, he feels a cautious tap on his shoulder and a soft voice asks, “excuse me, do you have a charger i could use?”

when he looks up, hinata thinks the greater powers that be answered a different prayer of his. because holy shit he has never seen anyone as beautiful as you. you’re in a comfy-looking pullover and sweatpants and hinata only realizes he’s just been staring silently for a few seconds when your expression turns apologetic. “i’m sorry to bother you, i’ll ask someone else!”

“no, no, i’m sorry,” he says, words tumbling out of his mouth. he scrambles to unzip his backpack, rummaging through until he triumphantly pulls out his charger. he hands it to you and you thank him. before you can leave, he blurts out, “i’m hinata.”

“oh!” you stick your hand out and tell him your name with a small smile and when you do, hinata knows that he’s gone. 

miya atsumu ✶ brother’s best friend

osamu’s not sure how atsumu managed to weasel his way into his plans. it was a bit of a blur, atsumu practically crashing through the door of onigiri miya as osamu closed up shop to go get drinks with you, begging to be included. he supposes to reason was pity and atsumu’s pleading look as well as the fact that you work far away that had him agreeing to his brother tagging along. 

it was in your last year of high school that osamu figured out his brother had a big, fat crush on you. honestly, it should have been more obvious, especially with the way atsumu flaunted himself and often paraded around the house shirtless when he knew you were coming over. it bothered him at first, thinking bitterly that ‘tsumu couldn’t let him just have one thing to himself? but over time, the annoyance faded as he saw atsumu prove that this wasn’t just a flight-of-fancy, and osamu has already made peace with the very real possibility that you could be his in-law someday. that is, is atsumu could even tell you in the first place.

it’s a little disturbing, osamu thinks, watching the way atsumu flirts with you and wondering if he too makes the same googly-eyes at someone he’s crushing on or if that’s the way he sounds. you giggle when atsumu tries to take a sip of your margarita, telling him, “order your own then, ‘tsumu!”

“nah, yours tastes way better.”

“can’t take this scrub anywhere,” osamu says, earning a laugh from you and a glare from his twin.

you pat atsumu’s shoulder and osamu can’t believe you don’t feel how atsumu melts into your touch. “i’m actually glad both of you are here,” you say, “because i wanted to tell you guys that i’m moving back to tokyo! my boss promoted me so i’m back at main headquarters! isn’t that great?”

“that’s awesome,” osamu says, speaking for both himself and atsumu, who looks like he just won the lottery. 

bokuto koutarou ✶ opposites attract

whenever akaashi introduces you and bokuto as a couple to new people, he always gets pulled over to the side and asked in a whisper, “how did those two get together? he’s so… and they’re less…” 

akaashi can’t say that he wasn’t surprised when you and bokuto started dating back in high school, given that they two of you were on very different trajectories. obviously, bokuto was the captain of fukurodani’s volleyball team while you were student council president and vice-president of chess club. bokuto’s grade sat at the lower end of the spectrum while you were always within the top five students in your class. bokuto liked loud, screaming parties while you preferred a quiet night with a few friends. 

so when bokuto grabbed him by the shoulders one day and shook him, saying that he needed to tell you how he felt, akaashi was taken off-guarded. he didn’t even know you knew each other beyond having a mutual friend, him. 

maybe back then, akaashi would have agreed with the person asking him but now, he just tells them to observe the two of you. because when akaashi does, everything falls into place. like right now, as he and bokuto sit in the stands, watching your final chess match. if you win, you’ll hold onto your spot as a national champion and go on to compete internationally. 

out of the corner of his eyes, akaashi watches as bokuto sits at the very edge of his seat, chewing on his bottom lip. it’s clearly killing him not to cheer and it’s a testament to both his devotion to you. your hand hovers above the bishop before you switch quickly to the queen and move the piece with confidence, setting it down and announcing, “checkmate.”

the crowds erupts into the cheers and you’ve only barely finished shaking your opponent’s hand when bokuto flies out of his seat and barrels towards you. he sweeps you off your feet, spinning you once and setting you down before planting a big kiss on your cheek. you’re beaming as you’re handing your trophy, and bokuto steps back to let you soak up your spotlight. akaashi can’t help but notice that bokuto is beaming too and clapping the loudest. 

as the crowd starts to disperse, akaashi and bokuto join you again, ready to take you to your planned dinner. before you leave, bokuto says, “i was going to do this later but i can’t hold it in anymore, babe.” and he gets down on one knee with a ring box akaashi is all-too familiar with. 

sakusa kiyoomi ✶ reunited childhood sweethearts 

“try not to look so dour, sweetheart,” sakusa’s mother tells him as she fixes his tie. sakusa wants to grumble some choice words but he knows better than to complain to her. besides, he’s only partially paying attention, eyes darting about the crowd and back towards the venue’s entrance. 

he settles on adjusting his mask with a barely audible sigh and mumbles a quiet thanks as she flits to fuss over his older siblings. he glances again, disappointed as a different group of people waltzes in. he knows his older sister wouldn’t be so cruel as to lie to him that your family will be in attendance but the anxiety is making his antsy.

the two of you were inseparable as children with you being one of his only friends growing up.  you spent you days squirreled away in some nook reading or outside playing volleyball. your mothers always cooed that you two would get together one day, and as he got older and learned what that really meant, sakusa found himself hoping too. but then your parents took you and your siblings abroad, leaving him alone and heartbroken. he cut you off, hoping the distances and time would make your departure hurt less, but it didn’t.

sakusa doesn’t recognize the voice that calls his name but his head snaps towards the doorway. you’re standing in between your older sister and younger brother, waving at him. his heart skips a beat. your social media postings don’t do you enough justice; you’re even more attractive that the pixels he’s spent hours staring at. 

you still have that ever-present smile on your face and you quickly break-off from your family to bound over to him. without even thinking, his arms close around you as you embrace him tightly. you feel so familiar and he doesn’t want to let you go as you part. evidently, you don’t either as you keep him close still, only leaning away to look at him. “you’re so tall,” you laugh, more shyly you add, “and very handsome.”

this time, sakusa thinks his heart stops. 

OUT OF MY HEAD, HALF BURSTING ┊ MIDORIYA IZUKU

synopsis: japan’s sweetheart and saviour is in a quirk induced coma. you’re the only one that can bring him back.

tags: GN reader, post canon au, pro hero deku, quirk accidents, fluff + angst, hospitalisation, mutual pining, intimacy, technically doctor/patient but they know each other, friends to lovers, reader has quirk (‘dream walker’), memory/dream sharing, referenced depression, getting together, kissing, cheesy idc idc

wc: 5.2K

In your years wading through patients' memories, you’ve found that people have the most uncanny ability to resign themselves to their fate. You’ve wondered time and time again whether it’s instinctive to ruin things—if humans couldn’t help but stumble and make a mess of the things around them.

You recall that thought process now with a weary sigh, as your eyes skim over the patient's name for the tenth time in as many seconds. Midoriya Izuku.

“Well? Are you gonna do it or not?”

You’ve been staring at the medical file for long enough that an uncomfortable silence has dawned upon your office. Two weeks prior, a villain named Catatonic used her quirk to force Deku into a comatose state, that which he has yet to wake from. Even after the liberal use of quirk inhibitors, countless visits from Eraserhead and the administration of various stimulants, Deku would not stir. Realistically he should’ve roused from the coma naturally as soon as the quirk was cancelled. But he hadn’t, and his doctors can only assume it’s because he can’t, or refuses to.

Thus the case in your lap. A last resort.

“I’ll do it,” you intoned, thumb flicking at the corner of the manila folder. There’s already a deep crease there. The file itself is the heaviest you’ve ever had in your hands. Dense in a way that makes you ache. You and Deku are good friends—the kind of friendship that forms mainly because you frequent the same places. That place in particular being the hospital, except you were there to work, and he was often wandering the hallways listlessly to burn off the dregs of whatever sedatives he’d taken or visiting with patients.

Awkward small talk eventually blossomed into real, fulfilling conversations, and you started to like him, a lot more than you should. You kept the memory of his small, sincere smile close to your chest; nothing like that dazzling grin he wore on duty, it was softer, something private, and you relished being on the receiving end of it.

He was skilled at talking around his injuries. Sometimes if you felt especially bone-weary after a shift you’d be so relieved to see him that you forgot to ask. That sits with you. Deku is a hero. A good one, the best one. He’s brilliant at what he does—keeping people safe, protecting them from harm. In the entirety of his career, it appears he rarely, if ever, turned that care and consideration onto himself. You’re not a licensed therapist, and barely a doctor. Still you contemplate his medical history with a cold sense of regret.

“You realise there’s a large possibility I’ll end up seeing a lot of confidential stuff while I’m in there”.

“Don’t care. S’not like you can tell anyone”.

“I don’t think you understand how invasive this will be. I’ll see personal things. Private things, Bakugo. He won’t be happy”.

“Don’t care. If he doesn’t like it then maybe he should fuckin’ wake up”.

“This might not work, you know,” you finish tiredly.

Bakugo arches his brow at that. Despite the shadows under his eyes there’s no defeated slope to his shoulders, only a fierce scowl. “Either you can do it or you can’t,” he says, voice unsteady as if reeling between rationality and outright aggression. “You’re supposed to be the best at what you do”.

“I am the best at what I do, Bakugo. I can promise you I’ll find him”.

“Then what’s the damn problem?”

The file feels heavier. It feels like a foregone conclusion. You swallow, your throat dry. You don’t bother attempting a smile. You’ve lost the will to maintain your professional veneer.

“I can’t promise he’ll want to come back”.

Dream walker.

At twelve years old you thought it made your quirk sound whimsical, and gentle, and not at all the invasive thing that it actually is. After all, your reach didn’t end only at dreams. You were able to project your consciousness into another’s mind if it pleased you, parse through every memory, ambition, fantasy, trauma and fear, and manipulate them however you liked. Back when your control was non-existent you would drift into people’s heads whenever you slept like some wayward soul and saw far too much far too young.

The need to understand yourself and your quirk is what drove you to studying medicine. Neuropsychology, mainly. You carved meditative techniques into the very recesses of your own brain and learned to keep your consciousness tightly moored but had no real ambition beyond that. After the war and the complete upheaval and reform of hero society, it was difficult to find your place.

Until Okumura Yukiko.

At the small age of eight, Yukiko fell under the effects of a severe nightmare quirk, and despite the quirk being canceled she couldn’t wake up naturally. You had carefully walked through the delicate threads that made up her young mindscape—quirk-infested by formless shadows with knife-sharp teeth and worse, eerie figures that wore the appearance of her father—you found her trembling inside her mothers figmental wardrobe, took her hand, and guided her out.

When you came to she was curled up in the swaddle of your arms, trembling still, but awake. Her timid incantations ring true in your ears even now. Those tiny little thank you, thank you, thank you’s inspired the person you are today. Not quite a doctor, or a therapist. A specialist for special cases.

Something in your gut told you that traipsing into Midoriya Izuku’s mind wouldn’t be simple. That it would permanently change things. This isn’t some stranger, or a patient you’d never cross paths with again. He’s important to you in a way others aren’t.

Your hand hovers over his face, fingertips brushing his temple. You push your fingers into his thick green hair, rich in colour and soft, no knots to catch on your knuckles. His friends have been visiting in shifts, keeping him comfortable and presentable.

Bakugo had managed to keep the Hero Commission at bay for the time being, but if you came back without Midoriya tomorrow there would be far more than one scowling man looming in your office. Though the possibility left a bad taste in your mouth you can admit, in the privacy of your thoughts, that you’ve contemplated prolonging his recovery for the sake of allowing Midoriya rest. There must be something keeping him under, his genuine reluctance or worse; you’ve been reassured repeatedly of All for One’s death and the absence of the previous quirk holders but it’s best to exercise vigilance.

Midoriya does not react, not even a twitch of his nose, but there’s a flutter beneath his eyelids and a sleepy-sweet warmth to him that has you smiling, fond. Tucking your feet around the legs of your chair, you scoot it forward and bend closer, elbows resting on the edge of the hospital bed. “I’m not sure you can hear me in there. Maybe not. But I hope you won’t hate me for this,” you tell him.

Midoriya’s face remains serene as ever—more so than you can remember. It makes you wonder how much pain and discomfort he’s been hiding throughout your interactions. The tension has been sapped from his expression, lashes fanning over his cheeks. You’re close enough to count each individual freckle. Lightly, your thumb taps the space between his brows. “There are a lot of people out here that love you. They’re waiting for you to wake up, so I’ll have to have a look around your head a bit. Okay?”

Nothing. Heartbeat monitor pulsing a healthy rhythm, broad chest rising and falling, Midoriya continues to sleep. You sigh and cast a final glance around the private hospital room. The clock reads 18:22. Outside the window you see a single cloud, wispy as a dandelion, slowly disintegrate across the dusky sky. You make a cradle with your arm, head resting in the crook while you take Midoriya’s hand and try to relax. Anticipation turns in your gut. Years of experience aside, you’ve never really acclimated to the feeling of that first step into another’s subconscious.

Pressure gathers inside your skull as your quirk activates. You inhale a quick, wounded breath at the sensation. Your eyes roll back, vision swallowed by abrupt darkness, and you jerk against the distinct sensation of falling as your stomach roils. You’re overwhelmed by a cacophony of images and sounds—a determination that happiness would come, then moored to the burden of expectation, any optimism muffled under exhaustion and pain, replaced swiftly by a sense of discontent, grief and regret that swelled over time.

And then everything stops.

Your arms feel empty. Your chest feels hungry. You ache with it, the disquieting loneliness. Fog leaks into the memory, surroundings concealed beneath a thick mist. Behind you is a small pond. There’s a notebook soaking in the water. The koi are mouthing curiously at the weathered corners, faint black tendrils of ink curling off the charred pages. Scrawled boldly across the top is ‘Hero Analysis for The Future: No. 13’. Your strikingly young reflection ripples as you plunge your hand in and fish it out, holding it at arm's length as you shake the excess away.

Sufficiently less soaked, you draw the notebook to your front and carefully turn the cover to read the first page. You can feel the slight indentations on the back where a pen has been pressed hard enough to score the words through the page. Written inside, smudged but undeniable, is Midoriya Izuku’s name.

“Uh—excuse me…” a shaky, pitched voice comes from behind you, belonging to a very familiar pair of teary eyes. Midoriya is not just small, he’s scrawny. His hair is longer, unable to decide on which direction it wants to grow, and his middle school uniform is slightly ill-fitting, as though his mother bought it a size bigger for longevity. He ducks into the higher collar to hide his reddened face when you look at him.

The urge to bundle him up and hide him from the world is fierce. The situation is odd, but you offer a smile and his blush worsens. “Is this yours?” you ask, holding up the notebook. You try not to grimace at your own childlike voice. Midoriya nods frantically. His hands flex around the straps of his backpack. Smaller than the broad palms you’re familiar with, neither scarred nor crooked, trembling where they motion to clasp around the notebook. Your fingers brush and he attempts to swallow the yelp that bubbles in his throat.

“Thank you,” he stammers, pressing the notebook flat to his own chest. Midoriya swallows. His gaze never strays from you, growing brighter with each passing second as the idea in his head takes shape.

“Do you go to school here?”

“Oh,” you blink and the shadows have elongated. The pond is now hugging a school building. You recognise it despite never having seen it before. Aldera Junior High. “I don't,” you answer, sounding sorry. He predictably deflates. “I live close by, though!”

Midoriya perks up again. He shifts his weight between each foot. Red faced and unsteady, he quietly asks, “Do you think we could be friends?”

Your mouth slacks a bit, answers dying in your throat. You look down at your hands, palms upturned and unblemished. The dappled sunlight passes through your incorporeal form. Interaction with anything aside from the true patient during your work is incredibly rare though not entirely unfounded; people who daydream in vivid detail or ruminate chronically on old regrets usually had false memories in excess. Their minds seem to naturally meld around your intrusion, but they never went so far as to seamlessly incorporate you. Which can only mean one thing.

You fit because Midoriya has imagined this numerous times before—befriending you as a child.

Before you can respond you’re being dragged abruptly into a memory, the echo of a blinding flash of pain rippling through you. A reflexive gasp has your chest heaving and you curse at your lack of control. There’s barely a shard of light. Behind you is a hard, jagged surface but below is loose, uprooted. Attempts to move are futile, and agonising. You slump into the displaced rubble, silt and icy embrace, and listen. From above there is only a haunting silence but only a few feet ahead you hear muffled crying and Bakugo’s strangely tinny voice.

Your vision adjusts in increments, from pure darkness to a soft outlined blob to a comfortingly familiar silhouette. Midoriya is poised like an Atlantean statue, holding up the creaking structure and keeping it from crushing the young girl cowered in front of him.

Another wave of pain washes over you as the rubble groans. Midoriya bites back a whimper. His body is sinew and bone pulled taut, skin stretched over a drum. Everything seemed to swell dramatically around him.

“We’re almost there, kid. Two minutes,” Bakugo’s voice spills jarringly from the bulky earpiece hugging Midoriya’s ear. “Now look at Deku for me. You lookin’?” the young girl does as he commands. You see her trepidation falter at the easy smile Deku is wearing. “Bet he’s got a big dumb grin on his face right now, yeah?”

“Y—yeah,” she echoes, clutching the dirtied hem of her dress.

“You think he’d be smiling if there was anythin’ to be scared of?”

Her shoulders slant, the tension released, and she offers a tremulous smile of her own, “No”.

But you can feel, quite viscerally, how scared Deku was in that moment. The nauseating pain in his arms has dwindled into numbness and he daren’t spare himself more than the occasional shallow breath, as if the bloating of his lungs alone might disrupt his balance. Not once does his smile falter.

The surroundings warp again. You struggle against the whiplash, flung unwillingly into another memory. Breath forced from your lungs, the echo of Izuku’s pain dissipates in a blink and you land on unsteady feet, coughing and spluttering in the middle of an eclectic café covered in tinsel.

A sign written in cursive above the chalkboard menu reads ‘Mean Mug’. Melodious Christmas music plays quietly overhead, and the bell above the door is soft enough to get lost in the smooth notes. You’re cocooned by heat and met with bold patterned wallpaper. The unifying palette seems to be warm-toned colours; red, orange and brown come together amidst the mismatched decor to create a cosy atmosphere.

A half heartedly disguised Midoriya shuffles awkwardly by the counter, looking up at the door with trepidation every time the bell chimes to signal another customer. He grins once Uravity arrives in a casual disguise of her own, eyes still bright beneath the shadow of his cap.

They order and settle in a quaint alcove away from the windows and any prying eyes. Neither hero notices your presence as you seat yourself at their table and listen to their conversation. There are things you don’t understand. Code words to be used when discussing sensitive matters outside of their agencies. Inside jokes that you weren’t there for. But most curious of all is the knowing look on Uraraka’s face when Midoriya mentions that he saw you at the hospital that day.

“You’re hopeless, Deku-kun,” she says, as fond as she is amused. “What was your excuse this time?”

Midoriya clears his throat. He grips his cup, pressing until his knuckles turn white. It draws your attention to the thin cast splinting his ring and middle fingers together. “I broke my fingers sparring with Kirishima”.

You remember that, though too entrenched in his memory to attempt receding into yours for details.

“So you leapt halfway across the city to have them stuck together despite the fact that your agency has an on-site infirmary,” Uraraka’s hair falls in a gentle swoop beneath her jaw as she laughs. Midoriya shrinks into himself ever so slightly and her eyes soften. She pokes at his forearm. “C’mon Deku—why haven’t you asked yet? Do you really think you’ll get rejected?”

Glancing back and forth between them, your heart beats a tattoo across the inside of your ribs. You feel as if you’ve both missed something quite important and heard too much. You push your chair backwards and fall away from the table, and the memory, before Midoriya can respond.

With renewed determination—and heat rising to your cheeks—you reign in your quirk, steering cautiously through Midoriya’s subconscious mind as you should’ve in the first place. Images flicker in and around your periphery, each as desperate to draw you in as the last.

You see Midoriya crying, bleeding, lashing out in anger. You see him in a sterilised room, lulled by monotonous beeps, flesh stitched back together. You hear the doctor's voices coalesce into white noise. You watch as he’s handed crudely drawn thank you cards, coffee-stained police reports and thick manila envelopes marked as confidential in large red letters.

You turn away as Eraserhead approaches, a solemn expression, a quiet clink accompanying his footsteps, unnaturally heavy to one side, a young girl with silver hair following right behind him.

Your heart leaps to your throat when he screams in agony. You look down. There’s blood running down the street in rivulets, skin coming apart like wet paper.

You close your eyes. Next you risk a glance All Might is there, thinner than ever. He’s sitting in a wheelchair by a large window swaddled in a thick knitted blanket, watching over the city, smiling.

You turn away, feeling a pang of grief. Midoriya is expressionless, examining his battered body in the mirror, condensation still lingering on the glass, tendrils of heat curling upward as the shower drain gurgles.

Then he’s in a dark room bringing a stranger's hand to his mouth, kissing the centre of their palm, drawing the finger into his kiss-bitten mouth and sucking with a hazy gleam in his eyes.

It’s overwhelming. You stumble and suddenly Shouto is eating across from Izuku. He brings his chopsticks to his lips, noodles hung limp between them. “It’s obvious you like each other. You should just confess,” he says before shovelling his food.

Too private. You turn on your heel and find a patient of yours on the bed, unresponsive. Izuku is beside you, muttering under his breath, thumb pressed to the shadow beneath his lip. He reaches back to brush your wrist and offers a tentative touch of reassurance. You watch yourself lean against him for a moment and then retreat, grateful for his consideration, unneeding of it, and desperately wanting it, all at once.

The scene ripples violently. A reporter is staring up at Izuku with sparkling eyes. Her hair cycles through an array of colours as she shakes with excitement. “It’s amazing, Deku-san,” she insists. “For your spirit to be so heroic that it physically steers your body… that’s special!”

Izuku conceded with a strained laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. You feel how his stomach knots. “I used to think so too,” he says, sounding far away.

It’s the middle of the night somewhere when your search finally comes to a halt. You find you’ve landed on an empty street, in that dense, heavy darkness that makes you feel like the only person in the world who’s awake. There’s a tall residential building hugging the pavement. Intuitively, you know this is where Izuku lives.

Your footsteps are made heavy by Izuku’s lingering hurt and exhaustion. It’s disconcerting, the way he feels about his apartment. Coming home should be effortless. People come home in the same way they draw breath. But to Izuku, it's a weary, miserable journey that he must consciously think about and do. His perennial loneliness is overwhelming, a near physical force repelling you from opening the large glass door.

One foot in the lobby and the surroundings undulate. You’re dropped in the middle of his living room. It’s vacant. There’s a large box of case files tucked under the coffee table, an old takeout box left out on the counter, a blanket strewn haphazardly over the couch cushions. You pinch the soft fabric and rub it between your fingers, bringing it to your nose as you’re overcome by the urge to smell it. Izuku’s warm scent floods your senses.

Something thuds outside, followed by a tinkling of keys on a chain. Your blood runs quicker as the front door abruptly opens. Izuku looks harried as he ducks into the genkan, quite visibly frayed. The upper half of his hero suit is unzipped, pushed down to hang over his hips, littered with debris and dry mud. You hold your breath as he kicks off his shoes and lifts his head, meeting your wide-eyed gaze. The air around you is charged. Trepidation prickles at your nape.

Then the shadows over his stormy face recede. Izuku gentles, light returning to his previously empty eyes. “I’m home,” he breathes. “I missed you”. His voice shivers down your spine—you know in your gut that this is him, the real Izuku, but that fact is hard to believe while he’s looking at you like he wants you.

“Welcome home,” you smile back, slipping the blanket around your shoulders as you move toward him. “Hard day at—?”

Your intentions are to sit him down, keep him calm so as not to be ejected, and explain what’s happening, but before you have the chance his larger body crowds you against the wall—the dull impact reverberates through your ribs, knocking the breath from your lungs and he’s kissing you as if it’s something he always does.

Though it’s more of a collision than a kiss. The sensation is indescribable. Information spills into your mouth, your quirk reflexively absorbing his every fantasy, ache and want. Your knees almost buckle. The blanket puddles at your feet. Fingers snake into his thick hair, nails dig into his roots where skin becomes earth as you try to reciprocate his fervour.

Under your tongue you feel the cut on his lip, under your palms the dark swell across his cheek. You shake off the cloud of desire. Too many lines have already been crossed. “Izuku,” you whine. His name comes naturally now; you know him deeply enough. Blunt teeth graze at your jaw, your throat. You lean away for air only to catch a glimpse of another angry ivory-red bruise peeking from beneath his loose collar. “Izuku,” you tried again. Then louder. “Izuku, that’s enough”.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Izuku rasps as he rears up from the crook of your neck with wide, glassy eyes.

“No—I’m,” your heart beats hard in your ears. Dread sinks low in your belly. “It’s me. I’m really here, Izuku. You’ve been away for too long. I had to use my quirk. We need to wake up”.

“Wake up? You’re… oh,” his eyes grow wider, then shutter closed on a shaky exhale. The cut on his bottom lip has started bleeding again. Rivulets seeped into the cracks between his teeth and stained his gums red. You yearn for the searing heat of his hands as he releases you and staggers backwards to scrub at his face. “Oh my god”.

“Wait. Please don’t throw me out,” you say quickly, reaching to clutch at his wrist in case he panicked. Izuku tenses at the contact only to relax a beat later, his fingers spreading over his eyes so he can get a peek at you. “It took me forever to find you here. There’s a lot of stuff in your head”.

“I won’t. I wouldn’t,” he mumbles. You could collapse in relief. He’s not angry, he’s embarrassed.

“Thank you. I promise I tried not to look at anything too private”. Your mind didn’t make it easy, you think. It was almost like he wanted me to see everything.

Izuku groans and lets his hands drop to his sides in defeat, revealing an entirely pink face. You keep your fingers curled around his wrist, his pulse light and fast. “Okay. I’m okay. We should probably sit down for this,” he eventually croaks, a tremulous smile working its way across his lips. “Drink?”

You pick up the blanket and make your way to the couch while he briefly disappears into the kitchen. Around you the apartment takes on a rosy sheen. A dull clink shudders through the silence as Izuku sets a cup on the coffee table in front of you. It’s your favourite work mug down to the smallest details.

“You remembered this old thing?”

Shaped like a cat, the handle curved in and away like a feline’s tail. It’s piping hot, steam already curling up from it like a crooked finger, like the invitation he meant it to be.

Izuku nodded awkwardly, perched so far forward that it stretched credulity to say he was on the couch at all. He tracks your movements with intensity when you lean to pick up the hot drink. The initial sting to your palms quickly dwindles into numbness as you bring it closer and realise what’s inside. Hot chocolate. The surface sprinkled with those small, cube shaped marshmallows that he likes.

You swallow and feel the warmth spread through your body. A smile pulls at the corner of your mouth as the thick, saccharine flavour floods your senses, washing back the bitterness and thawing your anxiety. You can hear the tension in Izuku’s shoulders snap as he slumps forward, arms hung over his knees and head low in relief. His reaction is oddly vindicating, if not contagious.

“How long have I been asleep?” he asks. “Time is weird here”.

“You’ve been comatose for over two weeks,” you reply. “They tried everything they could before Bakugo insisted on bringing me in. You have a lot of people waiting for you”.

Izuku inhales sharply. He makes an aborted motion to scoot closer before thinking better of it. Your attention strays to the nervous wringing of his battle worn hands. Endeared, you put your mug down and close the distance yourself. Pressed thigh to thigh, you envelop his tightly curled fists, bringing them into your lap. The shaky breath he takes is loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“Honestly I’m surprised you’re still working”.

He looks at you with an unsure, watery smile, sunlight caught in glassy eyes. His voice is thick as he asks, “What do you mean?”

You smile sadly and run your thumb over his knuckles. “You’ve been on patrol. I thought you might’ve locked yourself in your head because you needed a proper break—and who could blame you, really. But you’re working yourself thin even in your dreams”.

Izuku huffed a laugh, more breath than humour. “I love being a hero. It’s what I’ve always wanted,” he says, his voice tight. You sink into his side and feel his diaphragm stutter. “But it isn’t everything. It felt like I was suffocating and I needed something more. Something to come home to for a little while…”

His red-rimmed eyes quickly return to his lap when you meet them. “I still can’t believe you’re here. Your quirk really is incredible”.

You can feel the shame swatting at you like a summer-born heatwave, reminded of just how deeply you’ve invaded his privacy, and how easily you overstepped your bounds.

“I’m so sorry,” he continues, at the same time that you tell him, “I’m sorry, Izuku”.

“Please. Let me go first,” he murmurs like a question. You nod your assent. “I’m sorry I forced myself on you. I thought you were a part of my imagination, like the rest of this place. I should have realised you weren’t. I’m sorry,” he rambles on. “I wanted to be closer to you but I got carried away and I’m sorry”.

“You couldn’t have known. I should have told you it was me as soon as you walked in,” you firmly interject. Izuku doesn’t look any less stricken in your periphery, cheek sunken where he’s gnawing at the flesh. “And you didn’t force anything. I hardly pushed you away,” your brow wrinkles and you smile despite yourself. “I got a little lost in your head, too. Not my most professional moment. But I wouldn’t want to leave either, if we were cuddled up in here all day”.

“Really?” Izuku blinks. Hope colours his cheeks. He clears his throat and shifts in place as he tries very hard to appear unaffected. “You don’t think it’s creepy—me picturing all this with you?”

You think of that young boy yoked with the burden of expectation and feel your heart crack. You can still taste his desires. They’re insipid, belying their age, as though they’d lingered long enough to stale. Izuku treasured his friends and fans', their love and loyalty; yet he felt guilty for allowing them to foster such a blind faith in his goodness. He was a man with faults like any other, capable of making mistakes, of inflicting harm. More than anything Izuku longed for someone to see the darker, uglier corners of his life, and make room for all of him. You wanted to be the one to do it.

“I’ve imagined this with you. This and more,” bolstered by everything you’ve seen, the confession spills out with startling ease. Your eyes squint above the curve of your smile. “I like you too,” you coaxed his fist open as you spoke, mapping out the carved furrows, shallows and depths on his palm. “A lot”.

“Oh,” he exhales, slowly entangling your fingers.

You give an emphatic nod.

“How mad is Kacchan?”

“Pretty mad. But when is he not?” you laugh at his grimace. “I’ll be there as a buffer when you wake up. It’s my professional opinion that you need a few more days to recuperate and take me out for crêpes. So will you come home with me?”

There’s a gleam in his eyes—a combination of warmth and weight that tugs at your chest. His gaze flickers across your face, from your lips to your eyes in askance. You lean in and he kisses you again, sipping gently at your mouth, firm and slightly sticky with congealed blood. Strange. It feels so real. You suppose it is, in all the ways that matter.

“Okay,” he whispers after one last peck to your lips. You get to your feet as he stands and gestures nervously toward the genkan. “I, uh. I don’t really know how to get out of here so… lead the way?”

You laugh and take him by the hand. “Don’t worry. The way back is always a lot faster. It’s a little disorienting—watch your step,” you warn as he follows you through the front door. Rather than the lobby, or a stairwell, both bodies are swallowed up by darkness.

Spat out just as abruptly, your senses return to you piece by piece. Breathing through the vertigo you peel your eyes open to the rapid rise and fall of Izuku’s chest as he reorients himself. A crick in your neck, a knot in your spine. The clock reads 07:12. There are already nurses bustling around the hospital bed, likely alerted by the frantic heart monitor; that which does little to hide the way Izuku’s pulse stutters when you lift your head to get a look at him.

“I’m home,” he says, throat rough from disuse.

Your hands are still entwined, albeit a little sweaty. You smile, “Welcome home”.

HAPPY ENDING

t.shigaraki x reader

cw: mentions of past traumas but vague, shigarakis whole backstory, child abuse

No one in the League has had a "normal" childhood. Everyone has a tragic villain origin story, everyone has the moment the snapped. Its an unspoken rule to just never inquire about anyones past.

Shigaraki doesn't follow any rules though, so when he asks you one night while you both take a rare trip to a grocery store to pick up essentials, he asks what made you switch teams. He asks what happened to you, someone he can't imagine hurting him, or anyone from that matter what made you snap.

Shigaraki doesn't let people in, he can't afford it, especially not in his current position. But he feels like he knows you, which is silly because it's only been a year, but in that time he's seen your never ending kindness. You used to feed the stray cats outside the bar before it was destroyed, you used to sew up Toga's clothes and offered to let her lick the blood off your fingers when you pricked yourself. You bring Dabi relaxing teas every Tuesday without fail.

And for weeks you treated Shigaraki like he was your world, you were the only one listening to those long anti hero tangents when he was drunk at the bar, you're the one shuffled up next to him pressed shoulder to shoulder to watch him clear a handheld game, enjoying his warmth when hes done nothing except allow you to stay next to him.

So Shigaraki doesn't expect you to answer, and something inside of him deflates but he isnt sure what. He knows he doesn't have the right to your trust, and your story, so when you don't answer he opts to drop it.

He doesn't expect you to look at him with such a jaded look and tears welling in your eyes at the thiught of whatever happened to you, and hes quickly pulling you deeper into the shadows so that no one could see one of his subordinates friends in such a weak state.

"Its stupid." you dryly laugh in attempts to lighten the mood "I don't have whatever you and Dabi have going on." you try to explain to him, but its not coming out right. He doesn't know what to do, you're sat down in front of him thr way a subject kneels before a God. Shigaraki is no God, at least not yours. He doesn't want to be.

So he crouches down in front of you, and he just stares. He's trying to say take your time, but it never comes out, so he keeps staring at you with crimson eyes. He wants to reach out, to hold you, but it doesn't come out either.

You do tell him though, that its so so stupid but it's just because you weren't wanted. Not in the way Dabi alludes to and the way Toga speaks about her past, but in the way that you were a backup plan and never first. Your entire life was for the convenience of others, your mother spoiled your brother and barely remembered your birthdays, your father insisting it was a 'Father and son' thing.

You told him it wouldn't have been as bad if it wasn't your friends too, never invited unless someone else had to back out, never remembered for a birthday, conveniently left out for secret santa, and having to do prom dress fittings alone because they already did theres together.

Its funny, you laugh to him and Shigaraki continues to stare at you. So you tell him about your prom night, because that was the night you left. You had gotten a date with a boy you harbored a small crush on for a while, and he asked you to go with him so of course you and your naive heart said yes.

You waited for him for a while, thinking he was late, and when he was fourty minutes late you decided to give up, thinking he forgot. Only to go home already in tears to open snapchat and see his story with him dancing with another girl, your only message was from him saying his ex got back with him so he didn't 'have' to go with you anymore.

You cry, not because of the heartbreak but because of the frustration. You have never gotten to be wanted by other people, you've never gotten that feeling of being accepted for just being you the way everyone else does. Thats why you left, because no one wanted you around enough to stay, and at least in the League you can pretend you had a purpose.

You're laughing now, because the butterfly effect is so hilarious you can't do anything but either laugh or cry. If you had just gotten that dance that night you wouldn't be labeled a domestic terrorist. You tell that to Shigaraki thinking it'll lighten the mood, but he stares at you still with that blank face.

"I wasn't wanted either." Is all he says before he stands up and offers you a hand to help you up, and when you carefully take it he yanks you up and pulls you close to his chest.

"I don't know how to dance." he says carefully

"What?"

"You said you wanted someone to dance with you."

That wasn't the moral of the story, you note in your head. But you decide to show him the steps anyway to a basic slowdance, and he eventually gets more comfortable with it and starts to lead you on his own, the only sound now is awkward feet shuffling in the quiet alleyway.

"Im sorry there's no music." You eventually say awkwardly

"Its ok." is all he says

You enjoy this, you realize. You're glad Shigaraki is the one dancing with you and not that boy from those years ago. You rest your head on Shigaraki's chest, you feel him stiffen, but he relaxes into it. This is good.

"My father didn't like me either." Shigaraki quietly says "He hated that me and my sister were born." he pauses, wondering if he should even be telling his story when you just told yours, but opts to anyway. "He hurt us, and I always wondered why he had us if he just hated us."

You look up at him, and he stares back down at you. You wait for him to continue and he does "So when my quirk manifested, I killed him." He chuckles dryly, even if he doesnt remember everything else entirely, he remembers that moment when everything felt so clear, and the itching finally stopped.

He slowly lets go of you now, deciding the dance is done, and you do too. Not sure what to do to break the silence.

"Will you go back now?"

"What?"

"You said that if you had just gotten that dance, you wouldn't be a domestic terrorist. I just danced with you, so will you go?" He asks, and he doesnt realize his heart has made his way to his throat as he asks, he realizes he doesn't want you to go, he wants to do that again and again and again and again.

You realize what hes asking and you cant help but let your mouth curl into a smile, so you carefully intertwine your fingers with his, careful to not brush his pinky with yours.

He jumps at the contact, and stares at your hands together for an uncomfortably long time before looking back at you "What are you doing?" and you shrug before leading the both of you out of the alleyway and into the moonlight.

"Im gonna stay with the people who want me."

Shigaraki's heart lurches in his chest, and he feels so warm inside he thinks hes going to explode. But instead he opts to give a squeeze back "Good. I wouldn't have let you go back anyway."

𖤓 Being married to Lucifer would include 𖤓

Pairing: Lucifer X Reader

Warnings: Mentions of depression and slightly suggestive content. Reader doesn't have a defined gender.

Waking up with morning kisses ❣

• He likes to hug you before you two sleep, is almost funny seeing him trying to be the big spoon when he's so tiny.

• It's no surprise he's a very clingy man, and that would just double when you two got married.

• Kisses aren't limited to morning tho, he'll get any excuse to give you even a peck. Lunch kiss, Goodnight kiss, Afternoon kiss, anything you can think of will be a good time to plant a smooch on your lips.

Eating the best of what Hell has to ofer ❣

• I believe with my whole being that Lucifer is a fenomenal cooker.

• He can bake anything you ask for, doesn't matter what, he will do whatever he can to make it the best meal you ever had.

• You can expect to have breakfast on bed at least once in a week, he'll sit besides you in bed and wait until you finish eating, wings around you and smiling like a idiot because he just adores seeing how happy his cooking makes you feel.

• He will ask you to cook with him too, he especially enjoys baking apple pies and pancakes and will often make cookies shaped like ducks. He sits and waits in front of the oven until it's ready and really enjoys when you also make him company.

Deal with his rubber ducks everywhere ❣

• Lucifer isn't the most organized person, yes, he enjoys doing the cleaning most of the time, but he finds it a hard time making sure all his ducks are in place.

• Sometimes you'll be going normally with your day, walking by the house and suddenly you will step on one of his rubber ducks, making it squeak.

• You tried putting them on a shelf once, making sure they were out of the floor, but in less than a week that shelf would be full because he would just keep making even more ducks and having nowhere to place them.

• His solution to it is to just shove them into his office, making piles and more piles of yellow rubber creatures, they will stay there until you two can think of a better solution.

• He gifted a bunch of those to you as well, you have your own place to put your collection, it's full of duckies themed of things you like, one of them looks like Lucifer, the other looks like you and a smaller one that looks like Charlie, the three of them have a special place and are always together in your collection.

Help him to clean himself ❣

• Sometimes his depression can get the best of him, when it happens he doesn't have the energy to even get out of bed, you'll have to help with all his chores and simple things.

• Help him get up, help him shower, brush his theet, fix his hair, help him get dressed and make sure he eats, sometimes even hygine is hard for him to do alone and the help you give him means the world.

• Also, make sure to tell him that you don't mind helping him, even with menial tasks like those, he's very insecure when these episodes happen and is scared that you might leave him because of them, he doesn't want to be a burden, so tell him how much you appreciate being his partner.

“I'm sorry for making you do this...” he silently says, head resting on your lap as you bursh your hand through his blond hair, it was one of those days and you two were sitting togheter on his office couch, he didn't have the will to do anything today and you had to help him even clean himself up, he felt like shit. “I'm such a piece of trash.”

You shake your head, grabbing his chin and making him look at you, he looks so tired and defeated, and at the same time looks at you like you're the only thing making him less miserable.

“Don't say that Luci, you know I love you a lot don't you? I don't mind helping you when you're feeling down” you move him around, enough to be able to give him a hug, pulling him closer to you so he could be comforted, you hated seeing him like that, you wish he could see how amazing he truly is, see himself the way you see him. “And hey, you were able to brush your theet by yourself today, I'm so proud of you for that.”

He's at verge of tears when he hears you say that, he pulls you closer using his wings, putting his head on your chest. “Thank you so much dear.” He's glad he has someone like you in his life.

Having to deal with bite marks ❣

• Lucifer is... How to put it. Rather possessive.

• But not in a creepy or unhealthy way! No no no, he simply adores you so much he can't help but mark you as his sometimes.

• His sharp theet can make a real number on you, he tries his best to be as gentle as possible, asking your permission before ever biting you anywhere, but he always aims for visible spots.

• Sometimes it makes you so embarrassed that you ask yourself why did you let him bite you in the first place, like when Charlie asked about it once and you had to make the worst excuse ever just to not tell her that her father was the one who did it.

• When you told him about it he just laughed, that made you a little annoyed but he promissed he would be more careful later. (This time he gave you a mark on your thigh before putting his tongue into work)

Hearing about his wishes to form a family ❣

• Man daydreams about forming a family with you, he can't help but just think about how precious it would be for you two, Charlie and a new child to take a new family picture.

• He doesn't force that idea onto you, he drops here and there how much he would love a new child, but if somehow you showed that you were uncomfortable with it he would stop, you and Charlie are enough for him and he won't try to change it for a fantasy.

• But if you want to adopt, probably a Hellhound or even a Imp since there's no human children in Hell, he will absolutely be supportive and be there with you through the adoption progress. He'll make sure to treat the child as his own and give them as much love as they deserve.

• If the adopted child is a girl then? He'll just be the happiest man alive, he's going to spoil her, never want to let her go and will dress her up in every opportunity. He'll for sure cry before you all take a family photo and say how much he loves you and his daughters.

hey hey hey!! You're one of my favourite writers and seeing your requests open makes me so happy! can I request: how would daichi, aone, ushijima, tsukishima, and iwaizumi act when they're pining for a fem!reader who's just completely oblivious?

characters: ushijima wakatoshi, sawamura daichi, tsukishima kei, iwaizumi hajime, & aone takanobu, all with a fem!reader

warnings: i think i swore somewhere lol also a very slightly suggestive ending for Iwaizumi’s

a/n: my heart is DYING seeing this :') anon you're much too kind! but I love this idea!! gotta give a HUGE thank you to @satan-ruler-of-hells for helping me out with Iwaizumi’s!!!! also i’m so sorry that i turned these into practically fic sized haha i got so carried away with the ideas! also sorry if some of the yn’s are more oblivious than others LOL none of the following gifs are mine - all credits to the creators!

haikyuu masterlist

In full honesty, Ushijima probably already thinks you two are dating. He stood in front of you one time, clearing his throat before just saying, “I like you,” in such a mundane and casual way, you hadn’t thought of it as anything out of the ordinary.

You thought the two of you were just friends, and that Ushijima was just saying he liked having you as a friend. So you beamed up at him and nodded, saying,  “I like you too, Ushijima!” 

And you were happy with being friends with him! Who wouldn't be? Ushijima Wakatoshi was one of the greatest volleyball players in Japan, but even more than that, he was actually really fun to get to know. He was always so gentle with you, compared to how you saw him with his teammates. On the Shiratorizawa volleyball team, Ushijima was the stoic captain with strength beyond anyone’s imagination. But with you, Ushijima was just a giant with calloused hands that sometimes held yours.

It probably would’ve been months after Ushijima’s confession before you two realized the differences in what you two thought your relationship was, but thankfully Tendō embarrassed you both a few weeks after.

“Shiratorizawa’s captain has found a loverrrr, a lover like no otherrrr,” he sang happily around you two, sending you a playful wink as the three of you walk across campus as you headed to one of their games.

“Tendō you’re so embarrassing!” You laughed, shaking your head. Your face felt so hot the more he talked about it. How could he possibly say such things so casually?

“Oh come on, Y/N!” Tendō grinned. “It’s not every day that my best friend finds a girlfriend! I’m just glad you manned up enough to confess!” The red head nudged his friend, continuing on humming his melody.

You stared at him for a moment, looking between the two afterwards and wondering why Ushijima wasn’t telling him otherwise. “Girlfriend?” You repeated.

The boys looked at you in as much confusion as you were looking at them, a tension rising in the air. “Sorry, have you guys not labelled things? I just thought that when a guy confesses and a girl agrees, it’s natural to assume they’re dating.”

You were going to throw up. What was happening? Why wasn’t Ushijima saying anything? Why was he just staring at you with that almost blank no-thoughts look on his face?

“D-Dating?” You repeated again, choking a bit on your words. Of course you wanted to date Ushijima, but there was no way you were admitting yoru feelings like this. You had been crushing on this guy for months now and there was no way that you would embarrass yourself, or rather have Tendō embarrass you, about your feelings now.

Tendō just continue whipping his vision from you to Ushijima, obviously very concerned that he had gotten something wrong. 

“Is there something wrong?” Ushijima finally asked, a slight crease in his eyebrows. “Was it wrong of me to have told Tendō? I didn’t think there was any reason to keep it a secret.”

Had you magically woken up in a different universe where you were actually dating Ushijima? Had you hit your head too hard and this was the dream your subconscious wanted you in? All your conspiracy theories started to build up in your head as you stared up at this boy you were practically in love with already. What was he talking about?

“I thought you said you confessed,” Tendō murmured not-so-softly to his best friend.

“I did,” Ushijima responded back flatly, but there was a slight panic in his eyes. He looked at you, stepping forward and taking your hand gently like he had before so many times. “Was it not a good confession?”

You tried to think back to all the encounters you had had with Ushijima recently. None of them had seemed out of the ordinary... and he had never mentioned liking you like that... or had he?

“I... I didn’t know you were confessing,” you admitted nervously, your heart starting to pound against your chest. 

Ushijima’s eyes faltered a bit, glancing at the floor before looking up at you, “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

He started to walk away but you grabbed his hand and tried to pull him back, “Ushijima wait! I... I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I just... never realized you would feel like that about me.”

Tendō let out a sort of cackle from behind you two, shaking his head, “Come on, Y/N, how many times does a guy have to reach for your hand for you to realize he likes you? Doesn’t Ushi here walk you home every night too? Text you good morning? Send you good night texts? Doesn’t he stay on video chat with you while you’re doing your homework?”

Ushijima’s cheeks were going a rosy sort of colour as Tendō listed all the things that he had done. He always worried that he was being too forward with you so he never gripped your hand too hard so you could pull away if you wanted. He always told you you could go home when he can practice in case you didn’t want to walk with him, never insisted you text him back, never made you stay on a call for longer than you wanted to... all this time he thought he was being too much... had he not been doing enough?

You stared up at the ace volleyball player in surprise, unsure of how to take all this information. Sure, Tendō made a lot of good points... what other guy would do all that for you? Aren’t they all typically boyfriend things to do?

“I’m sorry, Ushijima!” You exclaimed as you let the realization sink in. “I do like you too, I just... I thought you meant you liked me as a friend,” you explained to him, squeezing his hand slightly.

Ushijima gave you a small smile and reached his hand up to pat your head, “It’s okay. I like you more than a friend... is that alright?”

You giggled at his still-stoic demeanour, nodding quickly, “Yes! It’s more than alright!”

Ushijima’s smile grew just a little bit and he pulled you closer as the three of you started to walk again.

“Ya know, Ushi, if I had know that you were going to just tell her you liked her, I would’ve written you a speech! You could’ve used one of the confessions that I’ve read in mangas - girls love that shit!” Tendō pointed out with a snicker.

“No, it’s okay,” you laughed, smiling to yourself. “Even though I missed all the signs, I’m just glad I know now.”

“Yeah you’re right. Ushijima was being so obvious with how much he liked you too. It probably wouldn’t have even worked if he gave a big speech. Probably would’ve gone right over your head,” Tendō laughed and you swatted at his arm with a playful glare.

Ushijima didn’t really mind having to confess twice - he hated how nervous he felt waiting for your answers but the relief he felt after, knowing that you liked him too, made it all worth it.

Daichi wasn’t sure what else to do to make how he felt about you more obvious. He thought he had tried everything. He had brought you your favourite sweets and asked you if you wanted to see a movie with you, but you were so busy with club activities and exams, you couldn’t attend. Then he tried to invite you to have lunch with him but you saw Suga and Asahi nearby and assumed they were joining (so of course they did). He even tried to tell you how he was feeling and you mistook his nervousness for being worried about his upcoming game.

“Y/N... I... I’ve been trying to get the courage to tell you all this for a while now-” he had started to admit when you cut him off.

“Don’t worry, Daichi!” You told him with a huge grin. “I know you guys will be great!”

“S-Sorry?” Daichi blinked, unsure of what you were talking about.

“Your game!” You explained. “That’s what you’re talking about isn’t it? Don’t worry! I know that you’ve got a lot on your shoulders being the captain and all but there’s nothing wrong with a guy being nervous!”

Daichi had been so caught off guard with your perfect smile and the way you were trying to comfort him, he just rubbed the back of his head nervously and gave you a smile.

Daichi was starting to think that you were purposefully avoiding his confessions and date ideas. Everytime he tried to grab you and confess, you always seemed to wiggle out of the conversation. You had such a lighthearted way of doing it, he wasn’t sure if you were just oblivious to his feelings or if you really were trying to let him down gently. “What if she just wants to be friends? And she’s trying to keep us as just that?” He suggested as the third years had a brain storming session.

“No way,” Sugawara shook his head.

“How can you be so sure?” Asahi asked curiously and Suga just gave him a smirk.

“Because I heard from Y/N’s best friend that Y/N’s been into Daichi for a while now. She definitely like you, Cap,” Sugawara insisted. “Though, I did also hear that she thought you were dating Michimiya.”

Daichi let out a splutter of excuses, insisting that he only liked you, a blush across his cheeks.

“Oh calm down, Daichi, you don’t have to convince us,” Sugawara laughed as he and Asahi snickered over how quick Daichi was to defend his feelings. “Maybe you’re just going to have to come out and say it. Set up the whole environment, ya know? Bring her on a date, bring her flowers, and then bam! Kiss her goodnight!”

"Can’t you be less bold?” Daichi insisted, blushing at the mere thought of getting to kiss you goodnight. But Suga had a point. Maybe it was time to just rip the bandaid off and see what happens.

And that’s who Daichi ended up on your front doorstep, holding a small bouquet of roses and a cue card with little points of how he felt about you that he didn’t want to forget.

“I’ve been trying to hint to you how I felt for the past few weeks now and honestly, I thought maybe you were trying to avoid me,” he admitted softly, watching your eyes carefully as if trying to see if you were getting uncomfortable. “But I like so much about you, Y/N, and I was really hoping that maybe you’d want to come on a date with me. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy or serious if you don’t want it to! Maybe just... a movie or maybe ice cream. I just... I really like you and I don’t want to go the rest of my life wondering what could’ve happened between us because I didn’t have the courage to come tell you how I felt.”

Needless to say, you were thrilled to receive such a sweet confession. Of course you accepted, and quickly invited him in so you could put the roses in some water.

“How come you didn’t say anything before?” You asked with a smile. “Not that I didn’t like your whole speech, and that adorable cue card, but you didn’t really have to do all that for me, ya know.”

Daichi just laughed and poked you playfully, “What do you think I’ve been trying to do lately? Always pulling you away from your friends? Bringing you your favourite snacks?”

You blinked in thought, thinking about how nervous Daichi seemed recently, “Oh! I... I honestly just thought you were thinking about volleyball.”

“Who could think about volleyball when you’re around?” He winked at you, giving your hand a squeeze and making a promise to you that he’d take you for ice cream the next time you were both available. After you promised to stop cutting him off mid-sentences that is.

Tsukishima wasn’t really sure what to do with these feelings he had suddenly caught from you. He always found you rather interesting and would listen intently to your answers in class, or your conversations with Yamaguchi as the two of you laughed over some anime the both of you watched. You were... interesting. And these feelings were surely just curiousity.

But the more Tsukishima started to interact with you, the less he could argue that he was merely curious about you. Soon, he was faced with the problem of everything she smiles, I feel like my heart is beating too fast and lately I’ve been pretending like I forgot all my pencils because I like the brush of her fingers against mine when she offers me one. He knew he liked you, even if he wasn’t quite sure how to put it in words.

But it didn’t matter how nice Tsukishima was to you (though, Yamaguchi argued that he was always giving off mixed signals), you never really seemed to pick up on his feelings. He knew you weren’t an idiot, because you were much smarter than him in some classes. Maybe you were just oblivious?

So Tsukishima decided to step up his niceness, standing over your desk one day and waiting for you to look up at him before mumbling, “Don’t bring lunch tomorrow.” Before you could even really ask any questions, the blond boy had disappeared, walking home quickly while Yamaguchi teased him slightly for being so nervous.

“I’m not nervous,” Tsukishima insisted, but his palms inside of his pockets were sweating and he could swear his chest was growing more and more tight.

“I think it’s sweet,” Yamaguchi laughed and Tsukishima shrugged it off, but started to mentally prepare what his evening would look like.

His mom didn’t even question it, as Tsukishima awkwardly asked her if he could make an extra lunch for tomorrow. She had noticed the softness in his eyes when she asked if it was for Yamaguchi, and instead he told her it was for a friend. She watched as he moved around in the kitchen, packing two matching bento boxes, and offering some small snacks or other side dishes to pack as well because her son had never talked about another friend the way that he was talking about you.

The next day, when Tsukishima plopped the container in front of you at lunch time, you honestly found yourself at a loss for words. “W-What’s this, Tsukishima?”

“Lunch,” he stated simply, as if it were obvious. You watched as he reached for cutlery instead of his headphones like he usually did, and then glanced around and found that Yamaguchi wasn’t around like he normally was either.

“Did you pack lunch for me, Tsukishima?” You asked with wide eyes, peeking under the cover.

“It’s not a big deal,” he mumbled, but his cheeks were flushed pink to match the tip of his ears.

You beamed as you found some of your favourite foods packed in the box, digging in excitedly. Much to Tsukishima’s content, you started to fill the silence with conversation, asking him about volleyball and telling him about your own extracurriculars. It was so easy to talk to you, he found, you didn’t make him feel weird for his opinions, and actually listened intently as he told you about his favourite topics or favourite musicians. 

It soon became an every other day event, one of you bringing lunch for the other because you insisted that you bring him lunch as a thank you for him bringing you yours. After a few weeks of this, Tsukishima held out a bento box to you and as you opened it, you found some of the meat arranged to make a little heart.

You stared at it in silence for a moment, wondering if it had magically done that itself or if Tsukishima had actually meant for it to be like that.

“What?” He asked bluntly, shifting in his seat as he watched you stare.

“W-What’s that?” You asked softly, showing him what you were seeing. Your face was warm with nervousness as you tried to read his expressionless face. His eyes glanced at yours and then back at the little heart and gave a careless shrug, “Nothing.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a heart.”

“I can see that, Tsukishima.”

“It doesn’t have to be if you don’t want it to be,” he muttered, his fists clenched up in his lap as he looked away from you. “Whatever, don’t make it into a big deal.”

“What do you me, if I don’t want it to be?”

Tsukishima sighed, glaring over at you, “Are you really that dense? I thought you were smarter than this.”

“H-Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” You whined, unsure of where this animosity had suddenly come from. 

“I like you! How can you not see that? What else would a stupid heart mean? I wouldn’t be having lunch with you all the time if I didn’t, idiot,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes. He wanted to reach for his headphones, he wanted to shove everything back into his bag and run away because this wasn’t going the way he wanted it to and he couldn’t even look at you now because you were defintely going to reject him-

"Oh. Well i like you too, Tsukishima,” you admitted, taking out the chopsticks and happily starting to eat.

“H-How can you be so casual about this?” Tsukishima asked after a moment, his heart still racing as he tried to process what you just said.

“Casual?” You repeated, munching on a bit of veggies. “Hm.. I guess it’s because everything just seems to easy with you. I never thought you actually liked me back and... I guess I’m sort of relieved to hear you say it. Besides, if you count all the lunches we’ve had together, it’s practically like we’re dating already, isn’t it?” You giggled, grinning up at him as you noticed how taken aback he seemed.

“N-No! I’m going to take you on a real date, idiot,” he huffed, starting to eat his own food but not before flicking you in the head. “God, you’re impossible.”

“Well that’s good because it’s impossible to put up with you too,” you teased, sticking out your tongue at him. The two of you ate for a little bit more before you started to laugh, “Dang it, I should’ve taken a picture of it. Tsukishima Kei made me a little lunch heart,” you giggled.

“Oh shut up,” he blushed, rolling his eyes like it was no big deal, but still shovelled some of your favourite parts of the bento from his box to yours. You beamed up at him because Tsukishima finally confessed to you in the cutest, most Tsukishima way, and you couldn’t be happier.

Iwaizumi didn’t realize how fast he could fall for someone before he met you. You had been such a big part of the team, he honestly thought that his excitement to see you was really just excitement to play volleyball. But even when he got to play, when you weren’t around, he always felt disappointed.

Oikawa didn’t even need Iwa to tell him how he felt about you, he had known long before Iwaizumi came to the conclusion that the mom and dad of the team were destined to be together, and he would do anything to make that obvious for you two.

“Why’s Iwa mad now?” Matsukawa asked as he came into practice, noticing Iwaizumi spiking a little harder than usual.

“I”m not mad!” Iwaizumi insisted but the frown on his face was secure.

“Because mommy and daddy had a disagreement and like usual, mommy won,” Oikawa chuckled, holding up his hands in his defense when Iwaizumi’s glare turned to him.

“Why does everyone always refer to us like we’re married?” You huffed as you cleaned up some of the balls rolling around.

“Because we all know you two would be the main couple in an anime,” Oikawa stated with a grin, Iwaizumi throwing a volleyball at him in retaliation.

Maybe that should’ve been your first clue, or maybe the way that Iwaizumi turned so red so quickly should’ve been. But you shrugged it all off to Oikawa being an idiot (because when was he not annoying the shit out of his best friend?)

The mom and dad jokes never really went away, everyone always playfully calling you Mom until it wasn’t really said in such a teasing tone anymore, and you didn’t answer to it with a glare as often. Now when the team called you Mom, you responded with as much attention as you would have if they called you by your name. There was even one time when Kyōtani gave a quick, “Thanks mom” under his breath as he snatched his water bottle from your hands.

Calling Iwaizumi Dad still remained as hilarious as ever because Iwaizumi would just roll his eyes and throw whatever was nearest to him at the teammate who had addressed him as such. It was an annoying nickname... unless he was addressed as Dad and you were around to play Mom. Because he didn’t mind the idea of being a father with you around... a father of these idiotic teammates was a god awful nightmare, but... he couldn’t help but blush anytime someone called you his wife jokingly or teased him about making Mom mad.

Iwaizumi knew that the moment he came to the realization of how he felt about you, he had to tell you. He didn’t want this feeling in his chest to just sit there forever - he needed you to know how he felt and either feel the same way so he could make you happy every day for the rest of your life, or have you reject him so he could forget about ever feeling like this.

“So...” He cleared his throat one day, standing next to you as you started to put the equipment away. “I... I love you, Y/N.”

“I should fucking hope so,” you huffed, trying to push one of the net poles away. Iwaizumi’s eyes grew wide as he heard you accept his confession so casually.

“W-What?”

“We’ve got like 7 kids, Iwa, you can’t leave me a single mother of all of them. Oikawa would drive me insane and I’d have to leave him on the side of the road or something,” you sighed, standing up and brushing off the dirt and dust on your hands. “All done!”

Iwaizumi just stared at you, amazed that you could be so fucking oblivious, or at least deflect a confession so easily. Had you really been confessed to so often that you weren’t even fazed by the words anymore?

“Mommmm! Daddd! Are you guys almost done? You aren’t doing weird things in that storage closet are you?” Oikawa teased, poking his head in. “We were all thinking about grabbing something to eat if you guys were interested?”

You thought about it for a moment and glanced over at Iwaizumi who still seemed faze for whatever reason, “Sure! If Iwaizumi is coming,” you shrugged.

“Well hurry up then because we’re leaving now. You two will have to catch up if you keep dragging your feet!” Oikawa smiled his perfectly pretty boy smile, grabbing the rest of the team and pulling them all out with the promise of food.

You walked out of the storage closet, grabbing your bag from the floor, “Come on, Iwaizumi, I’m starving-” you started before turning to find him standing right behind him, making you jump a little. “Sheesh you okay? You look so dejected, what’s up with you?” You raised an eyebrow at him as you leaned against the wall behind you, Iwaizumi slowly closing the gap between you two.

He frowned, looking down at you as if measuring something in your face.

“Iwa?”

“Is my confession really that easy to reject for you?” He demanded harshly, leaning his hand on the wall behind you so he was practically towering over you.

Your mouth suddenly felt very dry, your chest tightening as you realized just how close he was to you, “C-Confession?”

“I just told you I love you... and you’re not even phased by it.”

Your eyes widened as you thought back to his voice saying those words to you... you hadn’t even considered the fact that he had actually meant it, “I... I don’t understand I thought... I thought you didn’t... that we weren’t...” you mumbled nervously, gulping slowly as he brought his other hand to your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

“I love you, Y/N,” he repeated it again slowly, his forehead pressed slightly against yours. “If you’re going to reject me, at least look me in the eyes and do it.”

“I-” you felt your voice waver a little, looking up at his determined eyes. “I don’t... I don’t want to reject you, Iwaizumi. I love you too... I just... I didn’t think we were ever going to be more than friends.”

“I can prove to you otherwise if you’d like,” he teased with a smile and you could’ve sworn his thumb ran over your lips but it was so light it felt like a ghost’s touch. 

Needless to say, you two were very late for dinner and Oikawa chewed you two out because of it. 

You remembered the first time that Aone brought you flowers like it was yesterday, mostly because it had caught you so off guard. You had been sitting in the library, going over your notes for your upcoming math test, when suddenly a large shadow was over you.

You had practically jumped, seeing Aone there, because for some reason this large man was also really quiet and always seemed to surprise you.

“Hey Aone!” You beamed, moving your stuff over slightly. “Did you come to study with me?” 

He shook his head and glanced back at some of his teammates who seemed to be waiting for him near the door. 

“Oh do you have practice?” You asked, glancing at the time. He nodded and just stood there for a moment more as you wondered if there was a reason for him stopping by. “Are you okay, Aone?” You finally asked, blinking up at him.

Aone nodded slowly and moved his hand to you, showing a few small wildflowers that he was holding. He was very gentle with them, even though his hands were practically two times bigger than they were. But he set them down on your books and before you could even process what just happened, Aone had disappeared along with the rest of his teammates.

It was such a sweet gesture, and even if you weren’t really sure why he did it, you enjoyed looking at them. 

It became a sort of calling card for Aone, flowers taped to your locker, or just lying on your desk. You knew they were from him because he always seemed to linger and watch you find them, watch as you’d smile and look for him. And sometimes, you could swear he was smiling too before he’d go off and disappear again.

Other days, Aone would bring them to you. Sometimes it was during lunch, and he’d find you while you were sitting with your friends, and place them on your lap.

“They’re so pretty today, Aone!” You’d beam, touching the delicate petals with your fingers. “Thank you!”

He just nodded and patted your head gently before walking off like it was nothing.

Your friends always questioned you about the big Date Tech blocker, teasing you about his supposed affections for you. “Don’t be silly, I think he just likes flowers. Maybe he heard I kinda like them too.”

But honestly, Aone probably thought you had gotten the picture by now. Futakuchi insisted to him over and over again that he had to give you some sort of other message because flowers weren’t enough but Aone was never sure what kind of message would be. He wasn’t very good at putting words together and it’s not like he was known for his calligraphy either. How was he supposed to let you know if not with actions?

But after weeks passed and you always seemed to smile just the same at his gifts, Aone started to wonder if Futakuchi was right. Did you really not know? What could you possibly think the flowers were for if not a silent confession? He sighed as he tried to go to a flower shop, awkwardly asking the lady who worked there what kinds of flowers would be good for a confession. She showed him some smaller bouquets that wouldn’t attract too much attention, but would still show an affection, and once Aone had those, he decided it was time to actually try to say something.

He spent the whole night before, writing over and over again script on a small page, trying to make his calligraphy seem perfect. But no matter how much he tried, it always seemed too messy, too large, not delicate enough. He sighed as he looked at the heaps of crumped paper around him, frowning tightly as he tried just one more time. Maybe it didn’t have to be perfect, even though you deserved perfect. 

When you got to school the next day, Aone was standing there at the entrance that you usually came in from, with this adorable bouquet in his arms. Girls everywhere were whispering, eyes watching from all directions as if trying to pick out who he was confessing to.

“Aone?” You called him as he started to walk towards you. He pushed the flowers in front of you, eyes watching your carefully as you took the flowers in your hands. “What’re these for?”

He nodded towards a small piece of paper that was tied to the stems and you couldn’t help but smile at the small confession of “I like you” written on it.

“More than a friend,” Aone added quickly, as if worried you wouldn’t get it. “If that’s okay.”

“O-Oh... I always thought you just... I thought the flowers were just...” you stammered out nervously, thinking back to all the lovely small flowers he would give you. “That’s more than okay, Aone,” you finally managed to get out, grinning as you looked at the beautiful flowers in your arms. “They’re beautiful... but I liked the wildflowers you got me before more, you know. Don’t go spending so much money on bouquets.”

He nodded quickly and firmly, as if reminding himself of this for next time. You smiled up at him and he gave you a small smile gave, patting your head gently and lovingly. At least with these flowers, you finally got the hint.

haikyuu taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added):

@al0ehas @aurumk @neko-chii1 @thisnoodlewritesao3 @satan-ruler-of-hells @trashy-simp @jeppiet @tobi-momo @darkvadeeer @haikyuutothetop @livy384 @babyshoyo @jesssobs @b-bakana @just4readingfics

ukai keishin x gn!reader minors and ageless blogs dni

ukai loves to spoil you. but not in a "buys you whatever you want" and "lavishes you with expensive gifts way." ukai spoils you in a softer way.

he saves the last slice of cheesecake in the fridge for you, telling you that he's not a big fan of cheesecake because he thinks it's too rich even though you know for a fact it's his favorite dessert. after all, for his birthday, he always wants a cheesecake from his favorite bakery instead of a proper cake.

whenever you disagree over what to watch, he's always caves first and goes along with your choice. he'll grumble about it as you're navigating through your apps to find whatever he's agreed to, but he always makes a good faith effort to at least appear interested.

he always tries to get to chores around the house before you can. he knows how much you hate having to fold laundry so he's already putting things in drawers before you can even check and see if the clothes are dry. the trash is always emptied before you have the chance to wonder if it's time to take it out. even when your hands are elbow-deep in soapy water at the kitchen sink, he'll nudge you aside with his hip, wordlessly letting you know that he'll finish up for you.

although he prefers sleeping on his stomach, he often falls asleep on his side so that you can sleep how you like, curled up closely into his chest. one night, on the verge of falling asleep, you apologized to him, saying you knew that he didn't like sleeping on his side, but he just held you closer and said that sleeping on your stomach is actually bad for your spine.

and when he's at home between your thighs, grinding against you, grinding into you, as you whine into his neck, begging him for more, he never even thinks of denying you. he just groans low and asks, "what do you want, baby?" right into your ear through heavy pants. and as soon as you've answered his question, "your fingers. your mouth. you." he gives you exactly what you want.