🐞 ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆

talent & instinct in full bloom

[igariharu]

my name's merope! i write for haikyuu ˙ᵕ˙ — 16↑ she/they filo (strawpage ˖ ao3)

recents . . . ✉️

be like a woman. (iwaizumi x f!reader)

what do hq!captains gift their beloved manager? (multi x gn!reader)

cynosure (ongoing ao3 fic, kageyama x model!reader)

🧷 i don't accept requests at the moment! i'm a very slow writer (｡ᵕ ◞ _◟)

© igariharu 2025. please do not plagiarize, modify, translate, or use any of my work.

[igariharu]

olruggio as your lover ⋆˚࿔ may be slightly!ooc (gn!reader, hcs)

for someone with such a rough tone, olruggio can be a sweet talker when drunk, constantly complimenting your eyes and your pretty smile whenever he's under the influence. qifrey once walked in on him twirling a lock of your hair between his fingers with the most lovestruck grin on his face—olruggio couldn't face him the next day when he came down for breakfast.

olruggio's hands are thick and strong from years spent tinkering with metals and new inventions. his fingers are usually adorned with an assortment of rings, the cold metal contrasting with his warm palms every time he laces his hands with yours.

olruggio is a living, walking heater. true to his specialty, it's as if heat never ceases to emanate from his body, making him the perfect human heating pad to cling onto.

this man has a snoring habit. not the obnoxiously loud kind, but the type that would have you waking up every now and then. fortunately, he makes up for it with his irresistible body heat.

his love language is gift-giving—he often fashions matching jewelry for you as a pasttime, whether it be rings that fit like puzzle pieces or necklaces with twin crystal halves. when stressed, he tends to rub his half of the piece, his thumb resting on the grooves that speak of his love for you.

the simple act of sleeping with you never fails to leave him at peace—all worries of unfinished commissions and nagging patrons seem to vanish whenever he tucks your head into his chest, the rhythmic sound of your breathing a sweet lullaby that whisks him off to dreamland.

he never stops reminding you to eat well, to get enough sleep, and to stretch every once in a while—even though he can barely do the same for himself. drag him along so he won't fall asleep at his worktable, will you?

— nervously clicks the post button... hello wha fandom... i know this deviates from my usual haikyuu posts but a friend finally got me into it, and boy did i fall in love with shirahama's work. also, i can't stop thinking of olly's yokshire accent. i noticed that there's been a shortage of fics for him on tumblr so here is my humble contribution!

© igariharu 2026. please do not plagiarize, modify, translate, or use any of my work.

[oikyawa]

hajime iwaizumi & nicknames.

iwaizumi’s pretty used to people not calling him by his actual name. but rather settling for a nickname.

for example, iwa-chan. courtesy of oikawa.

ever since they were young, oikawa shortened iwaizumi’s name to iwa, and added the -chan later on. and since that day that’s the only name oikawa’s used for him.

it’s a fairly normal nickname, nothing special, really.

but your nicknames, are oh. so much worse, and a lot weirder matter of fact.

at first you started of normally, babe, haji, even borrowing the oikawa trademarked iwa-chan at times. just for the fun of it.

but later on in you guy’s relationship, the nicknames got a bit more daring, and extremely unserious.

a ‘juicy boyfriend’ here, a ‘big beefy boyfriend’ there, or bbb for short.

they’re such dumb nicknames, that also come out of nowhere. and iwaizumi questions them every single day, but he still, and will always. let you call him by those.

they don’t really faze him anymore, since he half expects one atleast twice a day. but only if you’re in private that is.

seijoh’s team is currently practicing, like every other afternoon other than monday’s. and like always, you’re watching them. well only iwaizumi but i digress.

you hand everyone water bottles and towels if anyone asks for it, and occasionally chatting with a few members.

iwaizumi’s taken a break. and dragged the first years along with it, telling them a few tips and what not.

and you stand next to him, occasionally butting in the ‘lecture’ he’s giving kindaichi and kunimi. although it’s really just a few harmless tips.

and by butting in i mean totally straying away from the topic at hand, iwaizumi could be telling them about their recieves, and you’ll start about kindaichi’s questionable hairstyle, or talking about something randomly related to iwaizumi.

but he lets you, since there’s no point in shutting you up. since you’ll go on anyways, despite potential protests from him.

kunimi probably doesn’t care about him, and kindaichi’s getting too nervous about how iwaizumi’s staring at him. so it’s almost the same as not saying anything at all.

until, in the middle of a story. you use a particularly odd nickname for iwaizumi.

‘—and then he somehow couldn’t open my jar of pickles, so i went like, ‘can my miraculously sexy boyfriend not even open a jar of pickles?’ there it was. yet another absurd nickname.

iwaizumi froze, kunimi’s expression switched to something resembling horror, and kindaichi tried his hardest to stifle his laughter.

‘—y/n.’ iwaizumi says sternly, although his expression doesn’t match his serious tone.

‘yes, handsome?’ you say curtly, and the much simpler and normal nickname does it for him.

his cheeks and the tips of his ears flush red in a matter of two seconds. and he nearly chokes on his spit.

cue kindaichi still trying not to laugh, but miserably failing, and kunimi inevitably joins him.

‘stay focused, ‘kay? i’ll grab some more water bottles.’ you say simply, although with a mean grin on your face. patting iwaizumi on the back before walking off, acting like nothing happened.

a/n: super iwa obsessesd rn so have this

tag: @akaashiit, @an1ki3gai, @immortalblazethief, @kagstobioisthelightofmylife, @qrxswan, @wave2cal, @tdntu0, @s1ckntw1st3d, @imagoodwriter, @jinshigooner, @bakugosgrenade, @bookworm-center, @levisotakugf, @wellitseugi, @badtzmai

fill in this form, to be added to my taglist

[igariharu]

be like a woman. ⋆˚࿔ i. hajime (f!reader, fluff, wc 344)

"that a new set of earrings?"

your back turns at the sound of your boyfriend's smooth voice reverbrating from the bed. you smile as you draw near, watching how the lamplight bathes hajime's adoration for you in a pretty orange glow.

"mm," you nod as you sink into the edge of the mattress, tilting your head so he can catch a glimpse of the pearly studs. "picked it up while you were away."

hajime reaches out to trace the line of your jaw, keeping your face angled to the right.

"they're pretty," he agrees, his voice a warm rasp.

"will you be around to see me wear them more often?" you whisper, exhaling softly as he runs his hand down your bare back.

hajime hums, playing with the silky straps of your backless party dress. "that depends. do they come with this dress?"

you chuckle. "you like the dress too?"

"i'll adore anything you wear, darling."

you find yourself shying away under his fond gaze. with hajime's never-ending schedule of overseas training camps and international tournaments, precious moments like these have been few and far between.

while your boyfriend sits there and trails his hands down your waist, somehow managing to look the softest in his tough exterior, you start to regret rsvp'ing for your friend's year-end party.

"well? will you be around to see me wear these more often?" you prompt, tearing hajime's gaze away from your slender hips.

"what the lady wants, the lady gets," he responds teasingly, his hands moving to cup your cheeks.

you close your eyes, anticipating his kiss—then your ringtone cuts in, rudely interrupting the moment.

your hands find your phone as hajime begins to absentmindedly press kisses down your neck, and you barely manage to conceal your sighs as your friend informs you that the party's just begun.

some part of you signals your eyes to dart to your heels waiting by the doorframe. though with hajime's longing gaze and wandering hands, you can already tell that you won't be attending the party for a long, long while.

© igariharu 2026. please do not plagiarize, modify, translate, or use any of my work.

[igariharu]

what do hq!captains gift their beloved manager? ⋆˚࿔

bokuto gifts you a gigantic plushie from the arcade. he had dragged akaashi to the nearest mall and tried his hardest the whole afternoon to win your favorite stuffed character from a stubborn claw machine. it's so big that everyone in the hallway ogles him as he proudly carries it to the gym. however, the beaming grin that appears on his face after he receives your sweet reaction rivals the plushie's already ginormous size.

kuroo gifts you matching gachapon rings. it's a little corny, and kenma prods at him by saying that it might even be a little possessive. but he argues and defends himself, saying that he spent all his 100 yen coins to get the matching set. in reality, he had been stuck on deciding on your gift all week, and the rings had been a last resort. he acts all cool when you both slip them on, but he almost melts into a puddle when you give him a fist bump, the matching heads of pukka and garu meeting in a kiss.

daichi gifts you a classic chocolate box. at first, he was afraid of appearing too forward, especially to one of his closest friends. but after a little pushing and prodding from suga and asahi, he finds it in himself to approach you after practice and gift you the heart-shaped box. he's a little more bashful than his usual, firm self, but you accept it anyways—loving how karasuno's strongest captain somehow grows weak in the knees at the sight of you.

kita gifts you a handmade bento. he knows all your favorite food by heart, as well as your tells. every detail is meticulously planned and executed, down to the hello kitty-shaped rice's ham ribbon and the sesame seed eyes of the mini octopus sausages. the miya twins and suna camp out behind the gym just to see him give it to you—though he couldn't care less. let it be known to all of inarizaki that their captain's eyes were set on one heart and one heart only!

ushijima gifts you a colorful package of vitamin supplements. it's for your health, he says. good for rainy days, he adds. in reality, it's cause he can't stand seeing you sick. without you to rely on for your trusty notes and quiet reassurance, how else could he excel on the court? at least, that's what he tells himself. meanwhile, his stoic affection for you is as clear as day to the rest of the shiratorizawa roster.

oikawa gifts you the cutest plush keychain. he took iwaizumi with him downtown and spent hours choosing between different variations and outfits of your favorite character. iwaizumi swears they spent an entire day in that store, but oikawa shuts him up to hand you the precious gift. he's all confident about it, but deep down, he's anxious and fears he might just die if he doesn't see it hanging from your backpack tomorrow morning.

— happy (early) valentines day! 💌 i've been writing a lot more recently, yay me! also i think it's worth noting that karasuno's manager in this hc is NOT kiyoko... i am tanakiyo's #1 fan

© igariharu 2025. please do not plagiarize, modify, translate, or use any of my work.

[showhay]

dear diary

kageyama tobio x f!reader

tobio has the social grace of a wet brick and a heart currently doing olympic-level gymnastics for his best friend.

wc: 1.8k, request

if the human brain were a volleyball, kageyama tobio’s would be a scuffed mikasa that had been slammed against a gym wall ten thousand times until the only thing left inside was the rhythmic, echoing thud of your name. it was a legitimate medical mystery how he hadn't yet collapsed into a puddle of setter-shaped goo whenever you breathed in his general direction. he was beyond “gone”; he was orbiting a planet that consisted entirely of your existence, and he had no intention of ever finding his way back to earth.

living alone was both a blessing and a psychological hazard for someone as far gone as him. his apartment was a shrine to two things: precision-guided sports performance and you. there was no middle ground. the air in his living room felt heavy with the unspoken weight of his devotion, a silent pressure that usually only existed in the final seconds of a five-set match.

he was currently sitting at his kitchen table, his posture so rigid he looked like he’d swallowed a steel rebar. the only thing moving was his hand, clutching a mechanical pencil with a grip strength that could probably crush a boulder. spread before him was his volleyball journal—the sacred text, the holy grail of his daily grind. usually, these pages were filled with rigorous critiques of his finger placement or the exact trajectory of a jump serve.

tonight, however, the technical drawings of court rotations were being colonised by something far more dangerous.

“y/n kageyama.”

he stared at the scrawl. he’d written it in the margin, tucked between a note about protein intake and a diagram of a quick set. he’d written it so many times that the graphite was starting to shimmer. it looked right. it looked like the only logical conclusion to the universe. if he could just sew your lives together with the same surgical precision he used on the court, he would. he wanted to tuck you into his ribcage and carry you around like a heart he’d forgotten he owned.

“stupid,” he whispered to the empty room, his face heating up until he felt like he was undergoing atmospheric reentry.

he flipped to a fresh page, his eyes darting around as if a hidden camera might catch him in his moment of total, unadulterated weakness. he had a list. a very specific, very curated list of english words he’d been memorising. he knew you liked it when people put in effort, and he’d heard you mention a foreign movie once, so he’d spent three hours on a translation app trying to find words that felt heavy enough to carry the weight of his feelings.

“b-beautiful, eks— exque— exqui— exquisite,” he practiced, his tongue feeling like a lead weight.

“y/n is… anjerl— anjiel— angelick— angelic.. y/n is… breat..? breast..? breath— breathtakein— breathtaking..!”

it sounded like he was choking on a whistle. he scowled, his dark brows knitting together in a terrifying display of concentration. he just wanted to be enough for you. he wanted to be the only thing you looked at, the only person you relied on, the only name you ever felt the need to speak. it wasn't just a crush; it was a total system takeover. he was a computer and you were the only software he was capable of running.

the sound of a key turning in the lock made his heart lurch into his throat.

you had a spare key. he’d given it to you months ago, claiming it was for “emergencies” or “if he forgot his bag,” but in reality, he just wanted to know that you could enter his space whenever you pleased. he wanted the scent of your shampoo to haunt his hallways.

“tobio? you home? i brought those meat buns you like!”

your voice was like a physical blow to his chest. he panicked. he didn’t just close the journal; he practically tackled it, shoving it under a pile of sports magazines with the subtlety of a runaway freight train.

“i’m—i’m in here!” he shouted, his voice cracking like a middle-schooler’s.

you wandered into the kitchen, looking unfairly radiant in a baggy sweater, clutching a plastic bag that smelled like heaven. to kageyama, you didn't just walk; you moved through the air like a perfect set—graceful, intentional, and meant entirely for him. his eyes locked onto you with a predatory intensity that would have been scary if he wasn't currently vibrating with nerves.

“you look like you just committed a crime,” you chirped, dropping the buns on the table. “did you finally kill your toaster for burning the bread?”

“no,” he grunted, his eyes following the movement of your wrists, the way your hair tucked behind your ear. he wanted to reach out and touch you, to verify you were real and not just a hallucination brought on by overtraining. “just… studying.”

“studying? since when do you study something that isn’t a playbook?” you laughed, and the sound made his stomach do a backflip into a bucket of ice water.

you reached for the stack of magazines. kageyama’s soul nearly left his body.

“wait—no—don’t!”

it was too late. you were already moving, your curiosity a force of nature he was powerless to stop. the magazines slid off, revealing the worn leather cover of his journal. you grinned, thinking you’d found a secret stash of embarrassing volleyball doodles.

“oh, is this the legendary tome? the kageyama chronicles?”

“give it back!” he lunged, but you were quick—years of hanging out with athletes had given you reflexes that were nothing to sneeze at. you pirouetted out of his reach, holding the book high.

“let’s see… ‘improve contact point,’ ‘drink more milk,’ ‘y/n kageyama, future wife’—wait, what?”

the silence that followed was so thick you could have sliced it with the razor-sharp, lethal precision of a certain overworked blonde office worker’s jawline—the kind that looks like it was carved out of pure, high-grade spite and overtime pay.

​kageyama stood frozen, his arms outstretched like a gargoyle. his face wasn't just red; it was a deep, pulsing purple. he looked like he was about to spontaneously combust and take the entire apartment block with him.

you flipped the page, your eyes widening as you saw the margins. it wasn't just one mention. it was everywhere. little hearts drawn with the mechanical precision of a geometric blueprint. your name looped in his jagged, aggressive handwriting. and then, the english.

“y/n is angelic. y/n is breathtaking.”

you looked up at him, your breath hitching. the sheer, raw devotion radiating off him was enough to make your head spin. he wasn't looking away. he was staring at you with an expression that was half-terrified and half-starving. he looked like a man who had just handed you the detonator to his entire life and was waiting for you to press the button.

“tobio…” you whispered, your heart hammering against your ribs. “did you… write all this?”

kageyama felt the world tilting. his brain was screaming at him to say something—something suave, something english, something that would make you fall into his arms.

“yeah.. it’s because you’re… you’re…” he started, his voice a gravelly mess. his eyes darted to the page where he’d written exquisite. his tongue tripped over itself. his pride, his nerves, and his overwhelming need for you collided in a catastrophic wreck.

“you’re a moron! you’re a stupid fool! give it back!”

he scrambled forward, finally snatching the book from your hands, but he didn't pull away. he stayed right there, his chest inches from yours, his breath hot on your face. he was shaking. the great king of the court was trembling because he’d accidentally let you see into the furnace of his heart.

you didn't move. you couldn't. the air between you was electric, charged with the kind of energy that precedes a lightning strike.

“you wrote my name with yours,” you said, your voice soft and teasing but laced with a genuine heat that made his knees weak. “and you think i’m breathtaking?”

kageyama’s grip on the journal tightened until the leather groaned. he looked down at you, his blue eyes dark and swirling with an intensity that felt like being submerged in a deep, cold ocean. he was tired of hiding. he was tired of the journal. he wanted the real thing. he wanted to be the only person you ever thought about.

“i don’t just think it,” he rasped, his voice dropping an octave, losing its aggressive edge and becoming something much more dangerous. “it’s a fact. it’s a… a biological necessity. you’re the only one i can see. when i’m on the court, when i’m here, when i’m sleeping. it’s just you. it’s always been you. and if you don’t give me back my journal and let me take you to dinner, i’m going to lose my mind.”

the honesty of it was a sledgehammer. there was no “maybe,” no “almost,” no “perhaps.” there was only kageyama tobio, standing in his kitchen, offering you his entire world on a silver platter made of volleyball leather and sheer, desperate love.

you reached up, your fingers brushing the heat of his cheek. “you’re so dramatic, tobio.”

“shut up,” he muttered, but he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing as he let out a shuddering breath. “just… shut up and stay here. don’t go anywhere. ever.”

you laughed, a warm, bright sound that filled the room and settled in his bones like a permanent glow. you stepped into his space, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest. he dropped the journal—his life’s work, his pride, his soul—onto the floor without a second thought, his large hands coming up to clutch you to him as if you were the only thing keeping him anchored to the earth.

he pulled you so close you could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, a frantic, rhythmic beat that spelled out your name in morse code. he pressed his face into your hair, inhaling the scent of you, his eyes squeezed shut in a moment of pure, unadulterated triumph. he didn't need the english words. he didn't need the journal.

he had you. and he was never, ever letting go.

“fool,” he whispered into your hair, his voice thick with a tenderness that could melt glaciers. “my fool.”

you pulled back just enough to look at him, your eyes dancing. “was ‘breathtaking’ one of the words you practiced?”

kageyama’s face flushed again, but this time he didn't turn away. he leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a promise that was as firm and undeniable as a match-point spike.

“yeah,” he breathed against your mouth. “but it wasn't enough. nothing is ever enough for how much i want you.”

and as he kissed you, the world outside his apartment ceased to exist. there were no more matches, no more rivals, no more journals. there was only the heat of your skin, the weight of his devotion, and the absolute, terrifyingly beautiful certainty that you were his, and he was yours, exactly as it was meant to be.

n: i’ve been playing roblox hehez that’s why i’m so distracted and i still have 2 more exams before my classes return.

tobio’s taglist 1/2

@lsirria @cvntyandfasionable @the-bloopsters @trulyylee @highandalive @nelinkythoughts @kukikoooo @sleepykeijiii @n-o-b-o-d-y123 @averys-place @reverd-ck @sxnnee @anzuuhoshi @evilari111 @rabbitcola @s1lly-bon @yeonette @forgottensniper @katzline @michexoxo @asthmaticasma @meonelixir @immortalblazethief @pelicanpizza @x3nafix @knkzshx @han0vyc @meikstv @depressinglyobsessed @keiob @ghostwifeyy @perpetuallydone @mptality @qardasngan @crystal-lilac @methiart @bloodredblessy @wensurr @alyriaschoenheit @rafsbeloved @suha-reads @adagio4strings @sillylule @horanghaepaws @imjustanobody2024 @hibernatinghamster @eri0-0 @imjustanobody2024 @windsblow @fiannee

© showhay — don’t copy nor translate without my permission. i do not own any of the photos that i have used. credits to all the rightful owners !

iloveu

[igariharu]

love me louder! ⋆˚࿔ k. tobio (f!reader, fluff. wc 694)

kageyama tobio didn’t love loudly. at least, not with his words—but in your possessions he’d carry on the daily. 

at first, his teammates just assumed that he had been leaving and picking up random items in his apartment. but they’d start to notice strange habits—from the dainty hairties that adorned his slender wrists every other practice, the cherry lipbalm that fell from his pocket in the locker room, and the flowery hair claw that sat on his backpack strap during a match. by the end of the training season, none of the adlers bothered to pester tobio about whether or not he had bagged a girlfriend already. 

no pretty face on his home screen, no public post on his socials, no name mentioned in any interview. they just knew—after all, never in a million years would the schweiden adlers have guessed that kageyama tobio owned a set of hello kitty scrunchies. 

it was the opposite for you, of course. much to his dismay, you snagged his hoodies and stole his cap every chance you got, flaunting the fact that you had an athlete boyfriend on your arm to all your friends who’d spare a second glance. while you respected tobio’s want for privacy, your chosen expression of love greatly contrasted with his. 

it wasn’t that he didn’t find it endearing, no. it was just that whenever he’d see his old varsity shirt hanging off your smaller frame or catch the smell of his body wash clinging to your neck, a warm, prickling feeling would bare its fangs and take over his whole being. 

the sensation made him uncomfortable, vulnerable even—just like how your sweet smiles and big gestures never failed to tug at his poor, inexperienced heart. everything about you felt new and scary, like a path on an adventure he’d choose to endure on every replay. 

so imagine tobio’s surprise when you turned up at his all-star match wearing his signature no. 20 jersey.

the match had been on timeout, and his eyes had wandered up to the jumbotron where the announcers were playing games with the crowd. the moment his brain registered your familiar figure clad in his white jersey, his entire face lit on fire. 

tobio takes a staggering seat on the bench, scrambling to pull a towel over his face to hide his reaction from his teammates. how the hell did you manage to get your hands on that?!

poor baby tries to collect himself the best he can before going up to the service line, where his clumsy and overeager hands send his jump serve hurtling past the court and into the shrieking crowd.

he painstakingly waits for the match to be over, for once in his life not caring that the other team’s setter had gotten more points than him. he finds you exiting your section (which was miraculously empty) and pulls you aside with an iron grip. 

“tobio, hi-!” 

“you—how—why are you wearing my jersey?” he splutters out, his cheeks and adorable expression painted tomato red.

you try your hardest to bite back a laugh as you take in his flustered appearance, and summon your most innocent voice— “oh, this? it was just lying around at home. with the amount of fangirls wearing copies, i figured it’d be nice to wear the real one.”

tobio drops your hand, his eyebrows furrowing in various directions as his lips struggled to form a coherent reply. the microfiber material of the shirt almost swallowed you up, hiding all the soft curves he’d so casually had his hands on the other day.

“you—you suprised me. by wearing it,” he finally forces out, pulling his gaze away from your waist.

“you wear my hairties all the time,” you reply innocently.

“but that’s—that’s different!”

“tobio, do you not like seeing me in your clothes?” the most adorable pout makes its way to your pretty face, skyrocketing your boyfriend's already airborne pulse. 

“you little…! you’re—you’re evil,” he manages, an almost constipated look on his features. he grabs your hand again, dragging you out the stadium. 

“i’m getting you out of here before the press finds us. and i’m in charge of the laundry from now on!”

© igariharu 2026. please do not plagiarize, modify, translate, or use any of my work.

[lumistill]

★  kuroo tetsurou is an affectionate lover.

you wake to the smell of coffee and something sweet... cinnamon, maybe. kuroo's already dressed, tie slightly crooked, hair its usual disaster, leaning against the counter scrolling through his phone while your breakfast cools on the plate. "made you french toast," he says without looking up, like it's nothing, like he didn't set his alarm early just so you wouldn't grab some sad granola bar on your way out.

it's been like this since high school. since you were seventeen and he'd slide his lunch across the table because you forgot yours again, since he'd walk the long way just to make sure you got home okay. back then his affection was wrapped up in dumb jokes and volleyball stuff you pretended to understand. now it's in the way he kisses your forehead before heading to work, the way he texts you random reminders throughout the day like "drink water" and "love you btw."

you're not even surprised when he shows up outside your office at four-thirty, leaning against his car with that annoying smirk that still gets you. "left early," he says when you raise your eyebrows, catching your hand and pulling you close right there on the sidewalk. he's never cared who's watching. in high school he'd throw his arm around you between classes, kiss your cheek at lunch, let everyone know you were his while you wear his red varsity jacket. now he holds your hand at the store, kisses you while waiting for the light to change, keeps his hand on your knee at dinners with friends.

"you didn't have to leave early," you say, but he's already opening your door, already tucking hair behind your ear.

"wanted to," he says, and that's kuroo. that's always been kuroo—showing up for you, every single time.

© lumistill 2025. do not plagiarize, re-upload, translate, or feed my work into ai.

[igariharu]

blue dress shirt ⋆˚࿔ k. tetsurou (f!reader, fluff. wc 546)

“babe. babe, you gotta stop fussing over me—” 

tetsurou puts his hands up in defeat as your fingers smooth over yet another invisible wrinkle on his otherwise immaculate dress shirt. 

you step back, putting one hand on your hip and the other on your chin as you give your boyfriend another one over. today is his first official job interview at the japanese volleyball association, and you wanted to make sure that he looked his absolute best for his dream job. 

his rowdy hair would never fall flat—that was a universal fact you had accepted since high school. his face, albeit mildly annoyed, was smooth and relaxed, free of the worry that occupied yours. 

your eyes fall back down to his blue dress shirt. red tie—check. collar tucked—check. cuffs buttoned—

you swiftly make for his arm before he evades you, his arms swooping down to wrap around your waist and hoist you up. 

“what the hell— tetsurou!” 

you shriek, pounding helplessly at his back with your fists as he carried you over to his desk, promptly plopping you onto his chair. 

“sweetheart, i am eternally grateful for all that you do for me, but at this point the only wrinkles you’ll be seeing are the ones between your eyebrows.” 

tetsurou has his hands on his hips, his tone a touch exasperated as he looks over you sternly.

“but—”

“i know that you’re worried about my interview, but do you really have such little faith in me?” he interrupts you with a smug grin. “i’m hurt.” 

with that handsome face, you can’t help but give in to your boyfriend’s argument. you averted your gaze, biting your cheek. 

“so, thank you for the breakfast and the reminders and the fussing, but if you keep me here any longer, i’m afraid that the national team will have to miss out on an awesome promoter,” tetsurou says, puffing out his chest slightly. 

you sigh, shoulders sagging slightly. 

“you’re right,” you tell him guiltily. “i know you’ll do great, i just—” 

“can’t help but worry?” he asks, bending over to press a kiss to your cheek. “i know. it’s cute.” 

you frown, hating how your cheeks warmed at his comment so easily. tetsurou flashes you a cheeky grin, moving away to pick up his jacket. 

“besides, i’m pretty sure that having a gorgeous girlfriend already warrants for some sort of achievement,” he adds matter-of-factly. 

you stand up, following him out to the hallway where he slips on his shoes. “yeah, yeah…” 

“aaand now she hates me. ‘how do you put up with this girl?’” tetsurou takes on a mock business-y tone, pouting sardonically as he looks back at you. “sir, i’m afraid she’s a witch. she’s enchanted me beyond belief!” 

he chuckles as you fume audibly, walking over to pull you into his arms. 

then, he says with the most lovestruck look in his amber eyes, “bye, sweetheart. i’ll see you later, yeah?” 

you nod slowly, letting him gently peck your lips. the kiss is slow and sweet, and he smells like musky vanilla and tastes of the salt from your miso soup. 

he pulls away, allowing you one last brush over his suit jacket. 

tetsurou then enthusiastically exits your apartment, waving at you before he shuts the door. 

“love ya!” 

© igariharu 2025. please do not plagiarize, modify, translate, or use any of my work.

[neeska3]

Proud Parents!

Time skip version! I might make them all later!

[diarylector]

good kind / kuroo tetsurou

wc: 557

the nekoma gym was nearly empty by the time you finished tying your shoes. practice had been tough—not because of the physical strain, but because something in the air felt heavier, charged with small silent frustrations and averted glances.

kuroo had been the last one to leave the court. of course he had. the captain who absorbed everyone’s storm, always with a calm smile and a ready joke, even when he was the first to feel the impact of things.

you found him sitting on the bench, elbows on his knees, head lowered, his hair even messier than usual.

“rough practice today, huh?” you said, trying to break the tension.

kuroo lifted his gaze. a smile appeared… the kind that doesn’t convince anyone.

“‘rough’ is… almost too soft,” he let out a weak laugh. “feels like everybody’s carrying something today.”

you walked closer and sat beside him. the distant sound of a few balls bouncing echoed through the gym, but right there, in that corner, it felt like the world had shrunk.

“and you?” you asked. “what are you carrying?”

kuroo frowned slightly, as if the question had hit exactly where he was most vulnerable.

“ah… nothing much.” he tried to dodge. “just mental exhaustion. captain stuff. the kind of… trying to be everything at once.”

you tilted your head, looking at him.

“you don’t have to be everything, kuroo.”

those words hit him like something he didn’t know he needed. his shoulders relaxed a little. the air left his chest slowly.

“yeah. i know,” he murmured, staring ahead. “but sometimes i feel like if i ease up, if i slip… someone else might fall with me. and i don’t want that.”

his sincerity had a beautiful weight—not suffocating, just real.

you placed a hand on his shoulder. his breath hitched for a second, subtle but there.

“you don’t have to carry everything alone. if no one’s ever told you that… i’m telling you now.”

kuroo looked at your hand, then at you. this time, the smile forming on his lips was different. less theatrical. more human.

“you always say things that break people’s defenses, you know that?” he said softly, almost a whisper.

“only with people who deserve honesty.”

he lowered his eyes for a moment—a rare gesture from someone who always kept eye contact like a tactical advantage. and when he looked back at you, there was something deeper there. gratitude… and maybe something he’d been holding back for a long time.

“thank you. really.”

the words were simple, but spoken with a sincerity you could almost feel against your skin.

silence. but the good kind. a silence that didn’t need any explanation.

when you were about to stand up, kuroo gently took your wrist—not forcefully, just enough to ask: stay a little longer.

“hey…” he murmured. “can i… just stay like this with you? just for today.”

you gave him a soft smile.

“of course you can.”

and then, for the first time that day—maybe that week—kuroo tetsurou rested his forehead on your shoulder, breathing slowly, as if he had finally found a place where he could relax without fear.

and you placed your hand on the back of his neck, feeling the tension melt away.

[ctrl-zen]

my sun is here

[tenowls]

iwaois i drew for a photostrip for the hq timeskip travel stamp rally at this years smashcon... ft iwaizumi's terrible selfie skills

[igariharu]

haikyuu cast as your academic rival ⋆˚࿔

𐔌 . iwaizumi, kita, sugawara, tsukishima, & kuroo x gn!reader — fluff ₊ ꒱

— in which hearts beat and intertwine between crisp pages and chalk dust. originally posted on the clock app / inspired by ann liang's many rivals to lovers books :)

IWAIZUMI HAJIME ⋆｡˚

you dream of someday outrunning the iwaizumi hajime, your longtime rival on the track team, with whom you've been competing for podiums and gold medals for as long as you can remember. with the sports festival coming up, you've been hyperfocused on perfecting your laps and reaching the track finals; even hajime calls you out for how hard you've been pushing yourself. despite all his warnings, your body shuts down before you're called to run the final race. just as you're about to swallow your stubborn pride as your couch assigns hajime as your replacement, he pulls you aside and hands you a water bottle. you can’t miss the tender look in his eyes when he says, “don’t pass out on me now. i’m getting you that medal.” when hajime crosses the finish line as winner, he runs to hang the medal over your neck. as his calloused fingers brush over your neck and his mouth quirks to form a grin, you realize that this too, is victory.

KITA SHINSUKE ⋆｡˚

every year, it’s the same two names on the ballot for student council president — yours, and shinsuke’s. you’ve been going head to head ever since junior high, and elections almost always end in a near tie. you keep your head high and pretend to take your wins and losses with the utmost humility, but you'll never admit that you look forward to going neck to neck with shinsuke each year. unfortunately, during your senior year, the student body gets tired of your rivalry and starts rooting for an entirely new candidate. desperate to reclaim your rightful places as presidents, you and shinsuke form an unlikely partnership and run together—with him as your vice president. a shipname is coined, a fanclub is formed, and soon you two win a landslide victory. "maybe i could settle for this," shinsuke says as you both descend the stage after the election ceremony. "for what?" he smiles at your perplexed expression, and replies, "being your equal."

SUGAWARA KOUSHI ⋆｡˚

koushi is your rival on the debate team. never in a million years could you have imagined the sweetest boy from middle school would be the one to absolutely demolish you in a debate. koushi manages to beat you at every single meet, and despite your annoyance, you can’t help but admire his accuracy and firm points. yet to this day, you can't seem to figure out why he always manages to single you out, his keen gaze seeking out yours across the classroom without fail. you get your answer in the form of a love letter in your locker on valentines day, the handwriting shockingly familiar. “has the jury made their final verdict?” koushi asks cheekily when you find him in the back of the school. you find your heart unable to refute his claims, and you move to make your surrender.

AKAASHI KEIJI ⋆｡˚

you and keiji are the school’s official student photographers. you're seen side by side at every basketball game, donning matching press IDs at every school event. keiji’s kind, handsome, even—great qualities that have always managed to piss you off through the years, especially now, during the final photography contest. the theme is remembrance, which you struggle with greatly; how will you look back on memories of school, when all you’ve dreamed of is leaving? you reluctantly dig up old photos of you and keiji as first years and submit those instead, pushing down the fluttering feelings that rise up your chest. to your surprise, you win first place, with keiji as runner-up. his winning piece? candid pictures of you. something softens in your gaze when you come up with keiji to claim your medals; it’s easy to realize that it’s love, when you two are each other’s fondest memory.

TSUKISHIMA KEI ⋆｡˚

you and kei are the most feared students in the classroom. whether it be in spelling bees, pop quizzes, or term finals, you two are almost always at each other’s throats. in fact, it’s almost like muscle memory now, they way you two race to the board after summer break to check the new rankings. you always manage to find yourself in the spot right below him. kei, of course, never misses the golden opportunity to tease you about your perpetual mediocrity. but much to your annoyance, he remains to be your best study partner, and though it tugs at your heart to admit, perhaps something more than just that. “why do you always single me out!?” you ask, your breath winded after beating him to the rankings board one day. “because you’re the only person worth paying attention to," kei replies simply.

KUROO TETSUROU ⋆｡˚

you and tetsurou are partners for your final chemistry project. you’ve been at the top of each other’s classes ever since middle school, and though his persistence never fails to gets the best of you, he makes for a good rival… and partner. the result of your research is met with overwhelming praise, and your professor even offers to auction it off to a famous university. “i’ll take 70% of the profit," you propose, remembering the many nights you spent drafting graphs and charts. tetsurou gasps in mock offense, and counters with a “that’s absurd. we’ll both take 50%.” “...i'll take 60%. you'll take 40%, then,” you argue. “what about 45?” he rebutts with his classic smirk. unable to resist, you finally settle— “fine! 50.” “you’re a terrible negotiator, sweetheart.” you know he’ll never let you live that 50% deal down, but you’re rewarded with the fact that he’s 100% yours.

© igariharu 2025. please do not plagiarize, modify, translate, or use any of my work.

[ottocre]

˚✶ * dreaming of a handsome man w/ iwaizumi or you meet on of your new neighbors

m.list / wc: 836

    wiping your arm across your forehead, you stare out at the boxes covering your apartment living room floor. they’re stacked higher than the kitchen cabinets, only a coat rack sits free by the front door. your hands clench at your sides, a wavy of nausea and anxiety coats over you. there’s a part of you that wishes that these were the last of them, more than a few boxes left in the back of your car quickly coming to mind. 

  letting out a short sigh, you take in a deep breath and walk back towards your front door. your hand slowly pulls the door behind you, locking it with the key you got twenty minutes earlier. turning around, you don’t expect to see someone right in front of you, staring down at his phone with a certain intensity. he bumps into you at a jogging speed, sending you falling backwards. 

  his eyes quickly widen, showing a soft olive green hue, hand reaching out to grab your forearm. however, he isn’t quick enough as you bounce back and hit your head against the carpet flooring. a groan escapes your lips, your free hand resting against your eyes and forehead. “are you okay?” the man questions, standing over you as his hand stays wrapped around your forearm.

  “i’m not sure yet,” you squint, hand pushing up against your hairline, “this is not comfortable carpeting…”

  the man accidentally lets a laugh slip, looking away to hide his smile, “well you have to be doing somewhat okay if you still have a sense of humor. i’m sorry about knocking you over, i was making sure my workout started on an app i use.”

  “well, you might want to pause it considering you’re still standing here,” you finally open your eyes, getting a good look of the man in front of you, watching the morning sunlight cascade over him. 

  a muscle tee stops at his shoulders, toned muscles running up and down his arms. nodding, his hand runs down your forearm, grabbing ahold of yours. his palms are rough and there’s a glean of sweat against his skin. “you’re probably right, but i’d like to at least get a look at you before i go. i am a physical therapist and do know a thing or two about concussions.”

  “and my name is iwaizumi, i live down the hall from here,” iwaizumi pulls you up from the ground in one gentle motion, accidentally pulling you right up against him, his free hand pressing against the small of your back to keep you from falling backwards. 

  you try to say something but the words catch in your throat. biting your lip, you take in a deep breath through your nose, nodding your head slowly. “nice to meet you.”

  “now, can you tell me the year? your name?” he questions, keeping you close to him as his gaze flickers between your eyes. 

  “uh- yeah? it’s 2025 and my name is l/n y/n,” you give a short smile, not wanting to move an inch out of fear that he’ll let you go and you’ll lose the warmth of his touch.

  iwaizumi nods, smiling back at you, lines forming around his eyes. there’s a haze in the way that he looks at you, like you couldn’t actually imagine him standing here holding you up against him. “that’s a good sign, although i might need some more one on one time with you to ensure you haven’t endured any lasting effects,” his face slowly inches closer. 

  “i’d love a little one on one time,” you lean forward as well, closing your eyes as you grow closer.

  “are you okay?” he whispers, sounding louder as it echoes through your head.

  “what?” you quickly question, eyebrows furrowing. 

  “are you okay?” 

  you finally open your eyes, finding yourself back on the floor. he’s standing above you with an apologetic look on his face, one hand feeling the back of your head for any bumps. blinking quickly, your face scrunches up, “uh yeah, god my head hurts.”

  “i’m not surprised, you went down pretty hard. this isn’t the most cushioned carpeting, now, can you tell me your name and maybe the year? i work as a physical therapist so i just need to make sure you’re not suffering from a concussion,” he looks down at you, gaze flickering between your eyes.

  “i’m having an intense feeling of deja vu.. uh i’m l/n y/n and it’s 2025,” you feel your heartbeat racing as he grabs ahold of your hand to pull you onto your feet. 

  “that’s a good sign, i’m sorry again for bumping into you. i’m iwaizumi and i live down the hall, if you don’t mind, i’d like to try another few things to make sure you’re healthy,” iwaizumi takes a step back, keeping your hand in his as he keeps you standing upright.

  nodding, your hand starts to feel clammy in his. his kind smile and your head injury induced hallucination creating a terribly timed feeling of infatuation. 

gen taglist: @nnnyxie @sippn-the-tae @silkloom @megapteraurelia @dazqa @sodaneko @solzscribblez @bluemailhiot @hyunteru @kameyyy @oleander-cup @pomiomi @dumdogs (for you and anon!!)

[differentmonsters]

AU where Ushijima is the new kid at Tendou’s elementary school

[taoisms]

sry i simply cannot stop thinking about adlers!kageyama seeking you out for a kiss after every game like is a post-game ritual of his. bc like. he's a touchy person by nature and whether it was a good game or a bad game, all he wants is to feel u against him, all he wants is to press in close, to be able to press his fingers into your skin, kiss you till ur both a bit dizzy, either it's to commiserate and seek comfort after losing or to celebrate and ride out his own high of winning, it's the thing he looks forward to the most.

during an post-match interview, he's visibly distracted, glancing off-screen, barely answering the interviewer's questions; she laughs and asks if he's looking for his gf cause it's pretty well known by now that he's a simp of a bf despite what he looks like, and he jerks around, nodding like "yeah, have u seen her? i need my uh --" he cuts off, blushing, but the interviewer presses on like "oh, is there a post-match ritual with your gf?"

kageyama just shrugs, "yeah. something like that."

and later, during another player's interview, you can clearly see kageyama and you in the back, you going up on your tip toes and him bending down to kiss you before someone blocks the view but there's def grainy zooms of it on insta and tiktok within MINUTES of the interview going live.

the next time the interviewer asks, kageyama doesn't even try to hide it anymore and just says, "yeah, need my post-match kiss," before bowing out to go find you.